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  1. 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.”
    3 points
  2. I'm having a bit of fun for the next few days. I live in a shared house with three other people and our bathroom is getting re-tiled. They just ripped out the old tiles but the guy said that the concrete underneath is cracked in places and so he has to put down new concrete before doing the tiles again. We are friendly with the neighbors and share the same landlord so we can use their bathroom however I've decided to make a game of it and go 24/7 for the next few days. While I'm happy I have daytime control its kind of fun to literally not have access to a toilet in you're own house for a brief time.
    1 point
  3. An old friend used to say that "offense is taken- not given" and to a point I agree. Those who are easily offended need to avoid situations where they can expect to become offended and if they don't then part of the blame is their own But when someone does something offensive and knew that it is likely to offend then they alone bear the blame Kind of tough knowing where to draw the line sometimes, but in other cases the line is quite clear. Specifically if you expose your diaper to someone who any sensible person would surmise that they would rather not see it (like a Doctor) then it's all your fault and the exposure is unforgivable Yet if you need to wear diapers then that situation changes because your wearing to the Doctor's was in no way meant to be offensive. So part of the process in deciding where the line is at is based on whether it was a necessary act or not. Which in the OP's case it might not have been totally necessary but the wearing was a prudent act regardless. Had they worn to the doctor's when they didn't have any need to then it would be wrong, but that isn't what happened so don't bash the OP or those in a similar situation. If you do something with the intent to be offensive then you're wrong. In those cases you deserve the bashing you'll get and you have no right to complain. The same principle goes for exhibitionism If you become offended by something which was not intended to be offensive and would not be seen as being offensive by the average sensible person then you are wrong and you deserve the bashing you feel inside Everyone has the right to feel offended; indeed it is a common feeling and not necessarily wrong. But that doesn't automatically give you the right to cause the offender to change, nor does it give you the right to be offensive back to them in return. When you feel offended the correct response is to first ask yourself why you feel like that If you can't find a logical reasonable cause for the offense then maybe the problem is you, not them. Next is to look around and see if other seemingly sensible people are also being offended; if they are being affected too then maybe you're right, but if they aren't then you need to do some deep thinking about yourself. Regardless all this, you never have the right to be offensive to others intentionally, even in return to their clear intentional offending of you. Such hypocrisy is never right no matter what. Bettypooh
    1 point
  4. Liam walked in holding a bottle for Mya. He smiled seeing her snuggled in bed. "Mya, I got your bottle here..." Liam climbed into the bed next to her and laid on his side facing her. He plopped out the paci and in the bottle. "There..." Liam rubbed her tummy as he held the bottle in her mouth. "Just think of happy thoughts Mya...think about watching the shows you like...or playing in the pool..."
    1 point
  5. I would recommend to try diapers designed for ABDLs - for example Rearz, ABU or Bambino. They are way better than conventional adult diapers. I am very satisfied with them during night time. :-)
    1 point
  6. Kinsey, I'm sorry you are getting this here, we should all be more clear on consent. I think your description of when consent is needed(when a person is or may become aroused) is bang on. I like the fact that you advocate for wearing discretely in public, and draw a distinction between that and using strangers for personal gratification. I agree. I think many people in this lifestyle are desperately lonely, and I was-- for decades. After a while, I could see people being tempted to intentionally exposing themselves because they are going crazy from deprivation. After all, wearing a diaper without anybody ever noticing is like a tree falling in the forest: does it even matter? Sure, it feels nice, but how lonely to never talk about it. Our sexual expression needs to be seen, it's part of the creative/expressive part of our brains. That's why it's important to be intimate with others, as hard as that may seem. Some people have given up, thinking "no normal person will want me, and the diaper girls are all taken!" And yet there is this desire to share this intimate part with somebody. I've spent a lot of time on the topic of AB/DL and gender comparison, like, WAY too much time, lol. I eventually understood what I needed too, after fighting for years with this topic. They share qualities (secrecy, judgement, isolation, etc) but they originate from totally different needs. This is impossible to prove, because we are in the land of constructs, rather than concrete facts, but let me share the final place I got to after much discussion: I sometimes get "diapered out," and the ABDL desire wanes. Its not that I stop being ABDL, but I don't feel up to it. When I was younger, I would purge in these negative cycles, but I've learned to accept them, and just put my stuff in the closet. Let me be clear: I have been an ABDL for my whole life, and will always be one, but sometimes I just don't want/need it. A lot of you can relate to these moments, it's a very common experience: "I just can't little out," or "I need to take a break." Those of you with actual kids, like me, know this even more so. When you take your little toddler kids to the park and play on the equipment with them, you don't get a "thrill" out of it (even if you go to the same park after dark to feel little). When you parent, you switch this off. I had an MtF girlfriend for a while, who was also ABDL. She sometimes felt she wanted to take a break from ABDL, but NEVER did she say "I think I am tired of being a woman today." I hope that helps some of you wrestling with this. Read it again if you need to, it's a massive revelation I had one day that liberated my mind. There may be people out there who are truly age-dysphoric, but I think that is very rare, and most of what we talk about here is intermittent sexual expression. I also acknowledge that there are some gender issues here around sexual expression. Men are taught to pursue women, to "be a man" by "getting the girl" like some big Zelda game. Yet society hates men for it. We encourage and reward sexual aggression, but persecute men for engaging in it. We are in general, disgusted by male sexuality. Compare the image of a woman pleasuring herself to a guy "fapping." Disgusting, right? Women are taught to keep sexual desires hidden, and that sexual expression should be subtle. Yet we love it when women express themselves. They are conditioned to be "nice," but really, female aggression is very respected and admired. All these issues tangle together, so don't hang your hat on anything, we are evolving as a species, and there will be some disagreement. I have been with a mommy for 5 years now. There is no end to our love for each other, and as that has developed, my need to be witnessed has disappeared. It's like a healing journey of going back to being a vulnerable little boy and doing this properly. She was totally vanilla, but she loves this, and consents to every single inch of it. I get everything I ever wanted, even the most taboo aspects, and I just need to be honest, respect her, and ask for consent. Asking for consent is the happy, balanced experience of "being a man" I was missing all those years. I know it may be frustrating to hear, but if you are isolated, and going to parks late at night sitting alone and feeling empty on the swings, you need to get back to finding a partner. You can do it! PM me if you feel lonely and like you'll never have a partner, I will help you if I can. Sorry for the long post. Forgive me if I have offended anybody in my ignorance, and feel free to correct me. I seem to have no shortage of ignorance, lol.
    1 point
  7. I know Toys R Us is going out of business but I also have heard they want someone to take over the Babies R Us part and I hope someone does. They are the only place I know where I can get my diaper inserts. When you think of it, focus has shifted among kids. They are more into electronics and iphones than they are toys anymore. That goes for a lot of other things too. People buy off the internet these days and have so many choices on where to get the lowest prices. It's not like it was 30 years ago where your only options were going to the local stores or ordering from the Sears catalog. That's the reason so many stores are closing up these days. Look at toys. Kids interests have shifted from the types of toys places like KB and Toys R Us sell so it's natural they can't keep selling and making a profit. On the other hand, people still like to have sex and therefore there will always be a need for baby items!
    1 point
  8. If I'm awake and wearing a diaper I don't mind a minor leak on my clothing. It reminds me I've "had an accident". However I do not enjoy sitting in soaked pants. When I wet the bed I don't mind sleeping in it, especially when I wake up cold/wet and realize what happened. At that point the bed and I are already wet, and the bed is protected so I let go and warm things back up down there. But once in fully awake and aware I need to get up and outta my soaked bed and PJ'S. Cheers
    1 point
  9. If you have decided to wear 24/7 and are trying to become incontinent you have to live with your choice with real incontinence you donot have a choice but to wear all the time even in embarrassing situations once you start to have real issues from wearing and using 24/7 Diapers will nolonger be optional. People will find out and will need to know (ie doctors, Spouse, close friends and family you stay or travel with.) incontinence is not something you can turn on and off once you pass the point of no return be prepaired to accept and live the rest of your life in diapers if you decide to continue down the road to forced incontinence. be careful what you wish for you may get it and if its what you really want then accept your in-diapers 24/7 in all situations
    1 point
  10. wanna know how to really accidentally Wet yourself? by accidentally driving through a giant puddle. whoops. xD
    1 point
  11. Just love water sports but cannot find anybody to share my likes. I like wetting clothed in anything from jeans to sissy underwear, or just in lacy bra and knickers and letting go all over and everywhere. It turns me on so much I usually orgasm before I have finished wetting myself. Would really like a like minded bloke to play with. Also moving towards diapers as well.
    1 point
  12. 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.
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  13. I don't think you really missed anything when are you are truly fecal incontinent you'll understand I love my diapers but hate being incontinent
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  14. DUDE. DUDE!!! This is what I've been missing out on?! I just made my first dirty diaper, and it just feels so right! One step closer to babyhood!!!
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  15. I think this is the difference for me. Someone has to bend down, weather in a store, working, crawling under a cupboard or crawlspace and their shirt rides up exposing their underwear, or in most cases their hairy butt crack, that is an accident but still makes me feel, "Ewwww!". Sometimes some of them take precautions to try and keep it from happening (although they could do more) but it still happens in their daily work. Others who purpously let it show for whatever reason is the big difference, weather that be diapers, thong, panties or boxers. They have some motivation for showing off their underwear, and that includes the stupid punks who buckle their pants around their butt or theighs and walk around with their boxers showing. Maybe they want to show affiliation with a gang or something. I laugh thinking those are the kind of people who get in trouble with the law and I picture them trying to run from the cops and tripping over their pants because they are buckled so low they can't run! It's just as intrusive to people around them as it is to see someone's diaper showing way out their pants or someone's hairy butt crack when they bend down. Personally, I'd rather not see any underwear showing, but if it came to a choice between a diaper showing, a hairy butt crack or some punk walking around with his pants half way down his legs, I'd say the diaper is the lesser evil of all of them.
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  16. I read about Kim Petras in the Sunday New York Times. What a lucky girl!
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  17. 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…
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  18. Gertrude went to the pantry door and opened it. She held the lantern up, smiling sadly. She almost felt like a child playing hide and seek. Magda was as skittish as a newborn calf- so different from the bold, chubby girl who never hesitated to sneak onto the farm to play with Gertrude and Heidi. Such a huge change helped convince Gertrude that Magda was telling the truth about the horrors she’d witnessed. The pantry door squeaked softly on its hinges. At first Gertrude didn’t see Magda hiding amongst the piles and heaps of junk. She certainly smelled her; the girl reeked of stale urine. She wondered how Magda hid so well in the dark. Maybe she’d had a lot of practice. “It’s just me.” Magda’s head popped up from behind the remains of an old, broken vacuum cleaner and a stack of old pots and cracked mixing bowls with a chipped tureen balanced on top. “I heard footsteps upstairs. Doors. So I hid.” Gertrude smiled. “That was me. I tried to be quiet.” She picked up an old, chipped wash basin and pitcher that was from her great grandparents’ time. “I got some soap and clean clothes. I thought you might like to wash up.” Magda actually smiled at that. It was a faint smile, but it gave Gertrude hope. For that brief moment, Gertrude glimpsed her old friend. Magda followed Gertrude to the sink. Gertrude filled up the porcelain basin with warm water, put a towel on the floor for Magda to stand on so water wouldn’t splash everywhere, then handed Magda the bar of soap and a washcloth. “Just toss your dirty clothes on the floor. I’ll take care of them. While you’re cleaning up, I’ll fix you some leftover stew.” Magda just nodded, but her eyes lit up at the sight of the soap. Gertrude turned her back to give Magda some privacy. She dug through the icebox for the leftovers. Magda’s soft giggle filled the quiet kitchen. “Thank you, but don’t worry about it. In the ghetto, I had to shower with other women to save on water. I’m used to it. An old friend seeing me naked is better than a stranger.” Did that mean Magda trusted her now? Gertrude wasn’t sure what to make of that. “There’s no meat in the stew, but my Tante Johanna’s real good at canning veggies, so they taste like they’re fresh picked.” Behind her, she heard the rustle of clothing as Magda undressed. The wet plop of a saturated diaper hitting the hard floor filled the silent night, followed by the splash of the water basin. She heard Magda’s little sigh of pleasure as she scrubbed down in the warm kitchen. “I’m sorry it’s not a real shower. It’s just- the bathroom’s upstairs and everyone’ll hear the water running.” “This is fine.” Magda waved off her apology. Gertrude still kept her back to Magda as she pulled out a pot and heated up the leftover stew on top of the wood stove. She also warmed up a glass of milk. While she was waiting for the stew to heat, she fished an old tin from the back of a cupboard and filled it with Magda’s favorite Christmas cookies. Some stollen, pfeffernusse, and allerlei cookies. She almost slipped in some swastika shaped ones but caught herself just in time. Packing a tin of Christmas cookies for her friend flashed her back to childhood. As a Jew, Magda didn’t celebrate Christmas. But Gertrude had always snuck her a gift of yummy cookies. And on Hanukkah, Magda snuck her a tin of sufganiyot- fluffy, jelly stuffed donuts deep fried and dusted in powdered sugar. Gertrude slipped the tin into the knapsack, along with some home-canned vegetables grown in the garden. She gave what she could spare without arousing suspicion in the rest of the family for missing goods. “It’s not much. I wish I could do more. But here’s clean clothes and some food. A few Marks I’d saved up. I was gonna give them to Heidi...and Heidi’s...underwear in here. Y’know. Just in case.” She hedged around saying diapers. Magda might be okay with talking about them out loud, but Gertrude wasn’t. “It’s more than I could ask for. I don’t have much further to go. I-” Magda abruptly cut herself off. She headed into dangerous territory; the multitude of things left unsaid between them. How had Magda gotten here? Gertrude had figured out that much- she ran away, obviously. Escaped from a train headed to a Nazi camp. Buchenwald? Maybe she’d have met Josef there. With his rifle. Did Josef shoot Jews? Would he shoot Magda? Gertrude shuddered, cold all over from those thoughts.
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  19. Here, finally, thanks to the encouragement of Sophie and Pudding, and the invaluable assistance of my amazing editor, is Interlude 3! This is the last interlude before Issue 3, and I'm very excited to get back to the main plot! A Note: This chapter is *much* darker than usual, and contains emotional manipulation and an detailed discussion of suicide. While I hope you enjoy it regardless, it is absolutely fine to skip it if that's going to be painful or triggering. It's something I have personal experience with, and would absolutely never wish for anyone. As always, comments and questions are the best. Interlude 3- That She May Devour At first, there was nothing but the cold of the silver snake's metal gullet, and the unyielding dark within. There was nothing, therefore, to distract from the searing indignity of her recent defeat. Her eyes narrowed as the image of the face of that impudent child who had dared stand in her way floated before her. Then, right as she was considering what terribly inventive torment she would visit on this girl for having the temerity to oppose Kimmy Schaeffer, Consulting Demonologist, the sinuous slide abruptly ended. As she sailed out the mouth of the slide, styled like a silver serpent's head, bright green flames flared to life, burning like hungry eyes in a pair of braziers on a far wall. By the time her head cleared enough to register what had happened, she barely managed to extend her staff and spit out a brief incantation to slow her speed, before her momentum would have sent her straight into the wall. Still, her landing couldn't be called graceful; she staggered forward with the impact, and fell to her knees hissing in pain, right in front of the silver filigreed hieroglyphics that danced uncaring in the torchlight. “Damn it!” Kimmy whispered under her breath. She used her staff as a support, and found a handhold in the hieroglyphics to pull herself to her feet. When she rose up to her full height, she suddenly realized that her full height was much less full than she had expected. Her head was usually just below the torches, but she was barely half as tall as that now, face to face with a hieroglyph of a jackal that she usually would have had to stoop to read. Kimmy shook her head, trying to clear it. But when she did, she felt the familiar brush of pigtails against the side of her neck. She let out a sharp sigh; normally she'd be quite content to stay in her childish form for a while after a mission, but right now, feeling smaller than she already did was the last thing she wanted. She struck the ground with her staff, willing its power to rush forth and withdraw the glamour from her. But when the green flame receded, the room still loomed enormous around her. With a grimace and a hiss, she grabbed her staff with both hands, and rammed it into the floor. The sudden flare of light stung her eyes, and dark blobs danced in her vision for a few moments after the spell completed. Nevertheless, despite the outpouring of magical energy, her form was unchanged. “Stupid staff,” she exclaimed, hurling the offending implement against the wall and stomping the floor in irritation. “Of all the times for you to f-” “Such a dirty mouth, little sorceress. What would the Mother Goddess think” Kimmy jumped a little at the sound of the voice that filled the gloomy chamber. It was deep, and loud enough to make her whole body vibrate, and the sibilant sound of it coiled around her. She took a reflexive step backward, and gasped when she felt a pair of arms close around her waist, and lift her a full two feet from the ground. Kimmy let out a yelp of surprise, and thrashed as hard as she could. She kicked her feet and flailed her arms, but to no avail. “Ah ah ah, don't squirm, wiggle worm. Resistance will just make it worse.” Kimmy tried to crane her neck to see the identity of her assailant, but the face above her was unfamiliar. It was copper-skinned, with all sharp angles, and muscle rippling in all the wrong places where fat should be on any normal human. When he smiled down at her, even his front teeth looked honed to a razor edge. His shoulder-length black hair darkened his face like a hood. “Who the hell-” she tried ramming the back of her head into his face, but again forgot to account for her reduced size; she groaned as she hit his immovable shoulders. “What, you don't recognize me, even after what your stupidity put me through? You really are a child; this should be well within the power of even a stripling mortal mage such as you.” He snorted and yanked her hair back violently, forcing her neck to strain and her eyes to meet his. As she did, his black pupils grew long and slim, until she was starting into the slit eyes of a snake. “You wasted my physical form, using me to cover for your mystical incompetence. Perhaps I should return the favor.” “So what, Apophis? I've been empowered by Lady Uto, and you're just her thrall, at my beck and call. It's not like you can do anything.” Kimmy knew that this was almost certainly not the case, but still, she was Kimmy Schaeffer, Consulting Demonologist, and wasn't about to stand for some snake demon mouthing off to her. “Whatever you've done to my form, release it, and I may be lenient.” “I, a mere thrall? Such talk from one who would be barely a glimmer in their own eye without Lady Uto's gifts. Would you truly wish for me to withdraw all that has been done to you in Uto's name? Then let us begin.” As Apophis spoke, the torches flickered, and a stream of sickly-sweet smoke billowed up from the braziers. Apophis breathed it in as though it was the scent of flowers wafting through the air, but it stung Kimmy's eyes and burned her throat. When her vision cleared, she thought for a moment that she had returned to her full height. It quickly became clear, however, that Apophis had somehow used the smoke to bind her, and she now dangled from the ceiling, as far off the ground as she normally stood. Even though it should have been light enough to brush aside, the smoke held her like thick rope, and she was helplessly trussed up in its coils. Kimmy tried to fight through the burning pain that seared her wrists when she attempted to wriggle free, but she found that she could barely move. Realizing her predicament, she narrowed her eyes at Apophis and fixed him with her best hateful glare. but there was a part of her, below the resentment that welled up in her chest, that felt a shameful thrill at the feeling of being held helpless, a tingling delight that grew with the realization that her struggle was utterly futile. Not that there's anything strange about that of course, she told herself. Merely a mage's proper fascination and hunger for a newly discovered source of power. Apophis reached up and danced his fingers under Kimmy's chin, and smiled a mirthless smile. She instinctively pulled away from the sensation; his hand should have been warm, if ungentle, but it was cold as ice, and eerily smooth. As she tried to squirm away, his hand closed around her throat like an icy vise. “Perhaps, you require a...harsher reminder of the magnitude of our Mother's kindness.” The muscles of her neck strained against his grip, but then, as quickly as he had grabbed her, Apophis released his hold. But where he had held his hand, she felt a bulge in her windpipe that hadn't been there before, but was still horribly familiar. He held her bound hand in his, then kissed it, in an absurd parody of a display of courtly affection. Kimmy shivered as a wave of numbing cold washed over her. When sensation returned to her hand, though, she almost wished it hadn't. She could feel them growing larger and more unwieldy, and felt the itching pinpricks of long-dormant follicles spurred to life again. When the same sensation followed the touch of Apophis's hand and spread like chill wildfire across her face, she screamed, or would have screamed if she'd dared to. Logically, her voice should still be her own, but she couldn't bear the thought that she might hear the low, guttural sound of years of work undone in an instant. Kimmy fought desperately against the chains, twisting and rolling the best she could, now driven more by animal fear and instinct than any kind of rational thought. But the more she strained, the tighter they drew, until her skin burned with their cold. Tears ran down her cheeks, brief and feeble points of heat against the mounting waves of bone-deep cold. Finally, able to endure no longer, Kimmy's head swam, and the darkness behind her eyes replaced the dim and dusty tomb. Kimmy suddenly felt the harshness of bare blacktop beneath her, its thousands of tiny jagged stones biting into her skin. The supernatural frost that she'd felt before was replaced by the all-too-material feeling of waterlogged clothing clinging, sodden, to her flesh. Her chest burned, her cursed chest that she could feel grown flatter, broader, and terribly alien and hopelessly familiar. She knew the heat, of course, the heat of a wound, cut by her own sacrificial dagger, the same knife whose blade she'd spent untold dark hours honing, gazing at its point with a forbidden longing. All these years later, she still remembered the detached euphoria of that first stab, when she finally pushed past that cursed instinct for self-preservation, and inflicted a punishment on the body that had housed her, betrayed her, imprisoned her, for so many years. Finally, she could go of the vain hope of slow rituals that only dulled the pain, and would never grant her the object of her longing. It had felt so good to finally punish the true source of her suffering that she had barely minded the deadly pain, even cherished it, in a twisted sort of way. Or at least she had, before the new life Uto, moved by her sacrifice, had bestowed upon her. Kimmy had always thought she'd rather die than live a lifetime as her old self. She'd even done it once. But the thought of losing her new self, the one she'd always wanted since before she'd had the words to express the longing, spurred her to fight on as she hadn't that day. With a groan of effort, she lifted her head up from the pavement. As she expected, the shadow of a passer-by fell upon the ground as its owner moved toward her, its shape obscured by the dark, save for the outline illuminated by the dim halo of a streetlamp. “Oh, my poor, sweet little Kimmy. How did you get yourself into this, little sweetling?” The voice was soft and maternal, sounding at once loud and strong enough to fill a stadium, and as close and soft as a gentle, loving whisper. Even ensorcelled in a serpent's dream and on the verge of death, Kimmy couldn't mistake the voice of Lady Uto, Devourer of Corruption, Last of the Triumvirate. And sure enough, the figure that stepped -or rather, slithered -up to her was not a teenage Isis, but the Mother Goddess herself. Kimmy's gaze followed the sinuous shape as it approached, taking in the shining black scales laced with silver that caught the light as the goddess moved across the ground, and her pale, blue-green underbelly. From the waist up she was human with skin as black as her serpentine half, save where her white tunic covered it, and gold glinting around her neck and head. Her eyes that looked down on Kimmy with pity were like shining green lamps in the darkness, and her hair undulated with a hiss. An observer might have considered her like the mystical Medusa, but there was no way that any sandal-clad Greek warrior wielding a bit of bronze could ever possibly challenge her. The goddess reached down and gathered up Kimmy in her lithe and muscled arms, as though the full-grown woman was little more than a doll, and nestled her against her chest. It was so soft and warm, that all the fear, terror, and bitterness just fell away, until the sense of closeness with an impossibly strong and wise power was all she could feel. It wasn't enough to say that she felt that nothing and no one could harm her; that was a mortal kind of strength. No, as Kimmy felt Uto's arms embrace her, she knew that no one would even dare to try. “There there, see? All better..” And as Uto said these words, the nightmare of her first death faded from Kimmy's eyes. She was back in the tomb, Apophis still standing in his human form before her as she dangled in his chains. But he was utterly dwarfed by Uto, and seemed faded and shrunken in her presence, as though he had shriveled in the light that shone from her golden headdress. “Now,” she said, her brow furrowed and her tone sharp and reproachful.“Just what, pray tell, is going on here?” She fixed them both with her emerald stare, and it took all of Kimmy's mental fortitude not to look away in shame. Uto's eyes were so bright and searching, it felt like lies told beneath her gaze would vanish like mist in the glow of the morning sun. After meeting Uto for the first time and negotiating the terms of her first job, Kimmy had tried everything she knew to avoid this sensation, the terrible smallness that she felt in the presence of the Mother Goddess. But the second time, when Uto saw all the charms and spells Kimmy had woven around herself, she simply laughed, and told her what an impressive priestess she would make one day. Kimmy hadn't know what to say then, and was no better prepared now, though she consoled herself that at least she hadn't blushed. Apophis spoke up first:“Lady Uto, she is an incorrigible little brat,” he spat, “who shows no gratitude for the new life you have given her, refusing even to give you the fealty you deserve, and wasting the power that belongs to your faithful servants.” He smiled smugly. “I simply wanted to show her that she'd be nothing without you, and remind her of her place.” “I see. I will certainly have a talk with Kimmy about properly using her resources.” Apophis grinned in triumph, and Kimmy's heart sank. Something about the way Uto said the phrase made it more terrifying than the worst possible punishment. “But,” Uto said evenly, “tell me, Apophis, did you ever consider why I have given the gifts that I have?” Apophis's grin turned into a scowl of confusion. “No, milady, I had not, I merely assumed-” “Assumed I was like that foolish feline, giving and withdrawing favor as suited my whim? For one so quick to judge impudence, you might consider your own thoughts more carefully, my servant.” Apophis stepped back, eyes suddenly sepentine and wide with fear, as a flash of terrordisrupted his concentration on his glamour. “How about you, Kimmy? Do you know why I chose to help you?” “B-Because I gave you an offering you liked,” Kimmy replied sullenly. That was what all magic was about, of course: a mercenary exchange. Favor for favor, strength for strength, and nothing more. “Half right, little dear.” Uto cooed. Kimmy wanted to protest that she was neither little nor dear, but one look at Uto's massive scale stopped the words in her mouth. “A body that fails to develop as it should, and drives its inhabitant to kill themself-” Kimmy felt a cold lump in her throat when Uto talked about that day. The burning satisfaction that she'd felt when she'd first done it, and again when Apophis had brought the memory surging back cooled to a leaden weight of shame in her chest when Uto talked about it so forthrightly. “-is certainly corrupt, and a worthy sacrifice.” She licked her lips. “But what I appreciated about you, my child, was your zeal. The joy of the executioner whose blade finds a deserving target; it is so rare to find a mortal who feels it as purely and keenly as I do, unalloyed with baser motives.” “I would be overjoyed, Kimmy, if you would take the bargain I offer, seal it with the souls of that cur I sent you after. But I will never force you; I am no tyrant. Nor will I hold your body ransom.” Uto reached out a hand, and ran her fingers through Kimmy's green hair, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. As she did, Kimmy felt her body return to normal, all the awful changes Apophis had made undone, and her full size restored save that her heart quickened, and her face burned with a heat that was not entirely due to embarrassment. The chains that held her dissolved again into smoke, and she floated down gently to the floor. When she went to retrieve her staff, she found it already in her right hand. Uto straightened up and waved a hand. An oval, easily large enough for Kimmy to step through, and rimmed with the unmistakable glow of mystic energy, appeared on the opposite side of the tomb. Through it she saw a familiar street, empty beneath the midday sun. “If you choose to return, I will leave you to your new mortal life, and you will make your own way.” Uto turned around, so that Kimmy could see her black scales, and the green serpents that coiled and uncoiled on her head. Kimmy took a few steps toward the portal, but stopped in front of it as the scent of the world outside reached her nose. On the one hand, it was so rare to get what Uto had given her with no strings attached, and unlimited freedom to use it how she wished. One unfortunate loss certainly didn't mean she wouldn't be able to pay back those self-righteous assholes who hid their cowardice, indifference, and smug satisfaction behind colored masks of virtue. On the other, no one had ever spoken to her the way Uto did, valued her the way Uto did. And she had enjoyed playing the part of the priestess. In her last battle, she'd announced herself as a servant of Uto, almost without thinking, it had felt so...right. She'd even enjoyed the childish form that Uto had given her, it fit so well that she'd hated to leave it every time she used the advantage of surprise it offered her. She could certainly keep it if she left now, and use it out in the world whenever she wanted. Her cheeks grew pink at the thought. Still, she knew all too well that the world would not be kind, even to a child with mystical powers. Kimmy turned her head to look back at Uto, whose body was in set in profile against the green torches, one lamp-like green eye watching her. The world she would return to had no one like her; no mortal could ever replace the Mother Goddess, or offer the kind of warmth that she did. So... “I-I...” she stuttered, “I want to stay.” Apophis hissed in surprise, but when Uto turned around, a knowing smile was on her face. “You would? You'll be my little priestess?” “Y-Yes.” “Well, then, my sweetling, repeat after me.” “Give your virtuous over to Isis, that She may teach them.” “Give your virtuous over to Isis, that She may teach them.” Obediently, Kimmy repeated the words, and she felt the world grow larger around her, until she had to crane her neck to look into the light of Uto's eyes. “Give your clever over to Bast, that She may hone them.” “Give your clever over to Bast, that She may hone them.” Kimmy's voice started the phrase as the one she'd made her own, but by the time she got to the words “hone them,” her voice had grown higher, and taken on an unmistakably childish lisp. “Give your wicked over to Uto, that She may devour them.” “Give your wicked over to Uto, that She may devour them.” As soon as the words left her lips, a man's anguished cry filled the tomb, and the soul of Darius Morgan, which had spent the whole ordeal in its prison-jar at Kimmy's waist, twisted and formed a glowing green chain connecting Kimmy's now child- sized heart to Uto's massive one. The bindings wrapped around Kimmy's body, holding her utterly immobile. But she felt no fear as Uto's power embraced her. When the bonds drew tighter, she only grew more certain that this was where she belonged, and who she ought to be. And so, in a flash of green light and a serpentine hiss, Kimberly Schaeffer, Consulting Demonologist, died a second time. And with a second flash, held tight to the breast of her goddess, the Emissary of Uto was born. Her hair was bound again into tight pigtails, but in the place of her blue trenchcoat dress, she wore a child-size version of Uto's own tunic, save for an emerald green ribbon tied into a bow at her chest. “A shadow from beyond descends upon the world, my little priestess. But I am certain,” she intoned, “that when the time comes that we must act, you will make me so very proud.” Uto kissed her new priestess on the top of her little head, and her eyelids fluttered closed. As tiny little snores echoed through the tomb, Uto's serpentine servant dropped his glamour, and slithered round his mistress, resuming his place upon her head with a quiet hiss.
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  20. Here's the conclusion of Of Capes, Cowls, and Cuddles Issue 2: Power in All Its Forms. I want ti thank everyone who's read this far, and especially everyone who's commented with thoughts, questions,corrections, or images of my hat being stolen. As was the case with Issue 1, there will be an Interlude or two checking in on other characters in the story besides Bridget before we go into the next issue. There will also be a poll asking about people's favorite character as of the end of Issue 2, and it would mean so much to me if people who read and enjoy this story would vote. I won't promise anything, but I certainly did think about the results of the Issue 1 poll when I was planning the rest of the story. Lastly, I'd like to give a shout-out to my wonderful sister, who has helped me immeasurably by being my editor, sounding-board, and the mind behind some of the neatest things in this story (like Stell!). It's no exaggeration to say that without her, this story would be much shorter, much worse and much further behind schedule. The events of these last three Gala chapters were some of the earliest scenes we worked on together, and it's amazing to me that we made it fa enough that you all can enjoy them. And I certainly hope that you do Now, without further ado, I present, Issue 2: Chapter 12 Part 3: Chief Executive Bridget followed behind Stell and her escorts as stealthily as she could, dodging between gaggles of well-dressed attendees, and stopping to take some hors d'oeuvres from a passing server, while keeping her eyes trained on her quarry. She managed to creep her way back into earshot just as Sonia Quentin was finishing her pitch to Leanne. “-so, as you can see, a partnership with Vector would remove all practical limitations on your technical capabilities, and provide a vehicle for a vast expansion of the Stalwart Six's budget. In exchange for some minor assistance in materials testing and your participation in a few public relations events, of course.” Leanne rested her chin on her hand thoughtfully, then sighed. “I'll need to confer with the rest of the team, if you could give us a few moments,” she replied evenly, her face impassive. “Certainly.” As she backed a few paces away from Leanne, and let Isis past to go collect Kendra, Sonia Quentin looked over her shoulder, and her eyes locked with Bridget's. But the executive's imperious stare was changed, replaced by something dark and inhuman. They had become two pulsing black pools, as though the white and iris had been swallowed up by her pupils. Bridget wanted to look away, but could only stand there transfixed, as they pulled her in to be devoured by their emptiness. <<Well, what have we here, little flesh thing? Your scent and your sound are incongruous. The Void resounds in you, but you are not mine.>> Bridget heard the psychic voice of the creature that wore Sonia's skin. It was soft, but the feminine hiss of its whispers was full of menace. <<Flesh>> <<Scent>> <<Sound>> The words rang through her head more insistently than Val's did; their echoes refusing to release their hold on her mind. “So, does this mean Vector will pay our tuition and everything?” Ms. Quentin's head toward Sami to answer in the affirmative, and Bridget was no longer trapped woman's terrible gaze. She shook her head, trying to clear the image out of her mind. She was amazed that no one else had reacted to the horrible display. Surely, even if she was the only one who could hear the Voidwalker's voice, other people had to have noticed the eyes. But no one else had let out even a gasp of surprise, and nearly everyone was carrying on their conversations as though an alien horror had not just announced its presence. Phoebe was the only exception; she tilted her head, as though her superhuman ears had picked up a sudden sound, but she stayed silent, her face covered and unreadable, and after a moment, she turned back to her teammates. Val, what do I do? Bridget thought frantically, rooted to the spot a table's length away from the alien she couldn't get out of her head. But it wasn't the familiar brusqueness of Val's voice that she heard. <<Tell me, little spawn. Do you carry my scientist in your brain? Or is it just her corpse, the strangled refrain of her essence, that lets you see the truth beyond your little world of meat?>> <<Spawn>> <<Strangled>> <Little o...> The sound of the stranger pounded at her head, but she could just barely hear distant snatches of Val's voice over the psychic gale that buffeted her. <-don't...do any...> Val faded in and out like a signal from a bad radio. <<Corpse>> <<Brain>> <...react> As Bridget fought to clear her head, she saw that Kendra had returned, and had joined the negotiation. “Could you show us the exact wording? I'd like to run some calculations.” Bridget staggered forward a few steps, hoping that Sonia would be distracted enough that she could get closer, even though the primeval part of her brain screamed at her to run from the monster, to hide in a closet somewhere until it found something else to devour. The executive turned her head, but it was only to issue a command to her subordinate. “Show them the terms,” she ordered curtly. “Of course, miss,” came the woman's reply. Her voice was high and sharp, but there was an utter fanaticism in even that short statement that made the hair on the back of Bridget's neck prick up. The secretary reached for her tablet, and began poking at it, but Bridget didn't see what happened after that. Instead, the eerily familiar voice of the secretary brought forth a sudden memory, and in a flash of Val's purple energy, she found herself in a dark passageway, its metal walls illuminated only by a sliver of violet light from behind her. She looked down at herself, and after another flash and burst of static, saw arcs and tendrils of dim Voidwalker energy where her body ought to have been. She recognized the passage as the one in Val's memory of the death of Echo. But before she could finish orienting herself or figuring out what Val had wanted to show her, there was another burst of static, then the all-too-familiar human voice of Discordant Aria, her words punctuated by the clang of her high heels on the laboratory's metal floor. “Cadenza! I know you're here somewhere, you worthless cloud-worm!” she bellowed. With a start, Bridget realized that her voice was the voice of Sonia Quentin's assistant, save that in her guise as a secretary, her words lacked the venom and hatred that she now hurled at her nemesis. Val kept moving, and didn't respond as she glided down the passage, which plunged into total darkness as soon as she turned a corner. With each new burst of static, Bridget could feel Aria's words getting further and further away. Aria too, must have realized that her quarry had eluded her. There was no more sound of heeled footsteps, and her parting shot sounded as though it came from far off, though its malice was undiminished. “I swear, Cadenza! I will hunt you to the ends of the universe! And when I find you, it will be my hand that forces you to answer for your foul sedition against Quantum Sonata, Warmistress of the Voidwalkers!” Suddenly, Val stopped short as the passageway came to an abrupt dead end, and the scene dissolved again into static. An instant later, Bridget found herself back in Shelby Hall, staring directly at what she now knew was the human disguise of the being whose dearest ambition was to devour the whole world. Aria's reverence for Sonia Quentin, and the sheer power that Vector's CEO wielded were clear evidence that she couldn't be anyone other than the Warmistress herself. As Bridget stood there, she was suddenly struck by the utter futility of resisting this ancient galactic monster. As if to underscore the point, the voice of Quantum Sonata assaulted her mind once more. <<No response, little spawn?>> the Warmistress asked. <<Well, then, perhaps the best way to discover what you are, is to find out what happens when I squeeze.>> <<Squeeze>> <She ca...> Val's voice was a whisper, hovering on the edge of silence. <<Squeeze>> Bridget felt a sudden, crushing pressure in her chest. She tried to take a breath, but she felt only a burning pain, and a sensation as though someone had clamped her lungs in a vice that refused to let them expand. She tried again and again, but the pain only worsened, as her body cried out for air that it couldn't receive. Val! Val! Bridget thought frantically. What do I do? Help me! She tried to reach for the warmth of Val's presence, but she found only the scantest trickle where an ocean ought to be. Bridget felt tears burning in her eyes, but she looked defiantly at Quantum Sonata nonetheless. She hoped against hope that the shape of her energy signature might offer some way to escape. But it only conformed just how doomed she was. A tendril of blackness was burrowed into Bridget's chest, tying her like a disobedient dog to Sonia Quentin's right hand. No, no no no no no! Bridget tried to retreat, hoping to block the energy with one of the tables of guests, putting some life energy in the path of the gravitic tentacle that was slowly suffocating her. But it was no use. It followed her as naturally and easily as water flowing into the sea, altering its course without offering a moment's respite. <<Pitiful. I thought I had found something of value. But you are nothing at all, just an errant spark to extinguish. Farewell.>> <<Nothing>> <<Extinguish>> The world around Bridget began to blur, and blackness began to eat away at the edges of her vision. She could barely make out Sonia Quentin, contract in hand, proffering the agreement for Leanne's final inspection. The rest of the Stalwart Six mumbled among themselves, but Leanne was about to put pen to paper, and condemn her team, and everyone on the planet, to the service of the Warmistress. Bridget had no clever ideas, no plan, or no final trick left up her sleeve.. Val might have, but the voice of the Warmistress overpowered the last strains of her voice as Bridget suffocated. Her thoughts grew fuzzy, and it was harder and harder to hold them together; as fast as she could think them, they slipped out of her grasp. The only thing she knew was that she had to do something, and that something couldn't be using her powers. At that moment, as the blackness filled more and more of her vision, she saw Leanne lift the pen, and she acted on her oxygen deprived-brain's first and most basic instinct. Shielding her eyes from Quantum Sonata's terrible gaze with her right arm, she used all the strength she had left to charge directly toward the Warmistress and the leader of the Stalwart Six. “FUCK NO!” She wheezed out the last of the air in her lungs as she tried to elbow the Warmistress with her right arm and grab at the contract with her left. There were eight simultaneous gasps as the heroines and the Voidwalkers all stared at her in shock. But this final effort was too much for Bridget in her weakened state. Her wild grab missed its target, and her blind rush sent her careening into the table. It was an impressive, expensive table, made from mahogany and covered in a hand-woven white cloth, more expensive and higher-class than anything Bridget would ever own. But, well made as it was, it couldn't withstand the sudden addition of Bridget's weight on one end, and so, with a slow, creaking groan of protest, it began to fall. The motion sent the contract, the tablecloth, the table, and Bridget collapsing to the floor with a cacophonous crash, right where Quantum Sonata stood, eagerly awaiting her victory. Sonia Quentin staggered and buckled under the weight of the impact, and Bridget felt her lungs fill again with giant gulps of air. For a moment, the room fell completely silent, so that the only thing she heard was a terrified cry of <<Little one!>> that sounded in Bridget's head. Then, all at once, the room erupted into chaos. END OF ISSUE 2
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  21. Thank you so much for the compliment, kerry. We'll see how bad this really turns out to be for poor Bridget. Here's the second of the three parts, with one more that you'll get to read tomorrow. As always, questions and comments are wonderful. Incidentally, I have the full speech that Leanne gave, but Bridget wasn't paying much attention to. I could post it, if anyone would be interested. For now, however, here's the next part Issue 2: Chapter 12 Part 2: Unusual Suspects Leanne concluded her speech, thanking the whole team, and the whole room applauded while the Stalwart Six descended from the stage and back toward their table. The silence of the room was broken as many side conversations began at once, and people got up and began milling about. “Nice job, oh fearless leader,” Isis congratulated, as they resumed their seats. “All the stuffy society people really ate that up.” There was a chorus of assent from the other team members. “Well, thank you. I did try to fit the tastes of the audience,” she replied with an uncharacteristically impish smirk. “I assume, dear, that you'll be engaging your standard protocol for events like this.” “Yep!” Isis said cheerfully, shifting to her cat form in a blink. She let out an excited mew, and streaked off in the direction of the hors d'oeuvres. “Um, Leanne?” Stell asked uncertainly. “I think I'll go mingle. There's...someone I want to talk to.” She nodded her had in the direction of the VIP table. “Certainly. It's good to get used to socializing at events like this. That goes for all of you of course,” she said, surveying the team. “You're welcome to stay here and field questions for the team with me, or do whatever you like. If there's a problem, just give the signal, and Isis will be there to give you an out.” <<Now, little one, the real work begins. Let's->> Tail the Star Warden? Bridget finished for her. <<Indeed.>> Bridget waited a few seconds, then got up and followed Stell, swerving only to avoid passing by the table where her parents sat, and the death glare her mother was no doubt sending her way for her earlier breach of decorum. Bridget did her best to look innocuous, as she made her way quietly to the VIP table, carefully making sure that Sami was too caught up in conversation with some older heroes to notice or complain that she wasn't with the rest of the family. As she sidled closer, she could hear the garish butterfly-woman engaged in loud, spirited discussion with her white haired male neighbor. The bubbling, transatlantic-accented torrent of her chatter carried through the air in a self-involved stream of conversation, ostensibly directed at one person, but performed for all to hear. “...they're just so DRAB, Karl. They might as well just hang TOWELS over their shoulder and flap them around in the breeze! I mean, look at that girl over there; precious thing, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as a little squirrel. And quite frankly, squirrel pelt would be at least SOMEthing original about her. Star theme, bright colors, form-fitting tights. I'm feeling my wits dull just looking at that travesty of a Soviet reject.” The woman lifted a hand with turquoise nails to point to the table where Sami was waiting to talk to an elderly man with short-cropped salt and pepper hair, and the twin scale emblem of the League of Virtue on his chest. Bridget barely restrained a giggle. I changed my mind. I like this lady, she thought to Val. <<Stay focused little one,>> Val admonished. <<Don't let yourself be distracted from our vital mission by petty personal concerns.>> “You see, Karl?” the woman continued. “This young lady's costume is fanTASTically daring. As she turned away from Sami in disgust, er eyes fell on Stell, who had wandered nearby. “There's so little here, but it says so much! Clearly THIS one at least was designed by someone with half a brain!” She reached out to grab a pinch of the blue material of Stell's costume and run it through her fingers. “In fact, I'd even say it has some of the hallmarks of my own ingenious design!” She clicked her tongue as she looked Stell up and down. “Yes, yes, all the BRILLiant Cecelia Aster trademarks are here. A bare midriff to display a raw, eleMENtal power, an excellent choice of contrasting colors, no cape to ravage the unity of theme, and a skirt to keep a touch of femininity in the midst of battle! Surely one of my students gave form to this masterpiece!” “Um, actually Ms. Aster,” Stell said awkwardly, “I designed all the uniforms for our team. I've been a fan of your designs for ages though.” <<A likely story, glow worm,>> Val scoffed. Cecelia Aster, however, was much more easily swayed by Stell's attempt at flattery. “Oh, but of course you are, darling! Tell me, which team do you design for, dear? You seem a little green to be designing for the League of Virtue.” “Oh, um, the Stalwart Six?” Cecelia Aster paused for a moment, one finger on the side of her cheek, as though she was having trouble remembering. Seriously lady? Bridget thought, indignation welling up on Stell's behalf despite herself as her opinion reversed in an instant. How can you be so self-centered that you don't even remember the name of the group the gala you're at is for? After a few long seconds, the bombastic fashionista was able to remember something, at least. “Ah yes, of course! So you were the ones to dispense justice to that terrible Dreadnought character, and spare us all the agony of his atrocious bronze pauldrons,” she said, her face scrunched up in disgust. “Well, that's certainly an act of heroism for which we should all feel the most profound gratitude. Don't you agree, Sonia?” Ms. Aster turned expectantly to a woman in a sharp black pantsuit with meticulously polished golden buttons who was diagonally across from her, who was looking intently at her tablet. What Bridget could see of her face from the side was dominated by the swirl of her straight-cut mod hairdo, visible only for a moment as she looked up long enough to reply with a dry and perfunctory “Indeed.” Having engaged in the minimum required degree of politeness, Sonia returned to her reading material. She paid no attention to the scowl that had formed on Cecelia Aster's face as the consummate socialite realized with a huff that she had been summarily blown off like some half-witted debutante. “Well! I am sure what Ms. Quentin meant to say was-” Cecelia Aster began, shooting Sonia a reproachful look. “Estella Annabelle Roarke.” Ms. Quentin interrupted, her voice a steely monotone. “I have a query to pose to you.” “Um, I- okay?” Stell was obviously taken aback by the use of her full name. “Why are you out on the front lines in the city's battle against criminality? Those in Ms. Aster's profession seldom have much taste for warfare.” “Oh. Well, I was out with kendra on a routine patrol to test her new equipment when things suddenly went south, and no one else could get to us in time. And I had never figured that I would make much of a fighter, but I turned out to be better at it than I expected.” “Better than you expected? What precisely do you mean by that?” Ms. Quentin's mouth was a straight line, and the piercing look she gave Stell made it clear that she found the heroine's vagueness both intriguing and suspicious. <<Finally, someone in this city has the sense to be suspicious of a being who can construct anything out of light and has the combat prowess of a fully-trained commando, but purports to be a mere stripling artist.>> “Still, to fight many meta-human criminals at once by yourself is no small feat, especially untrained. Did you have some power that enabled you to prevail?” “Well, I have my power that's kinda...” she paused for a moment thoughtfully, “in my skin, and it makes me pretty hard to hurt when I'm in my star form.” Stell breathed in, and suddenly her skin glowed with a light that stung Bridget's eyes as it flared, and looked as though it were sheathed in millions of shining crystals. Val let out a mental yelp of surprise, and the sheer shock of her passenger's sudden emotion made her flinch backward. Sonia did the same, and it took her a moment to regain her composure. Ms. Aster, meanwhile, positively squealed with delight. MagNIficent, darling! Why, if you could incorporate a feature like that into your designs, you could become truly legendary!” “Oh!” Stell said, “That would be amazing, but I can't really do it for other people. Even if I were to encase them in my shooting stars, they'd fade as soon as I stopped concentrating on them.” To emphasize the point, she let her star form drop, and in a moment, her light faded. Sonia Quentin pursed her lips thoughtfully, then spoke. “Ms. Roarke, I find your abilities quite intriguing. Scientific research is never a certain endeavor, but I believe, if you would be favorable, my company and I could help you develop your powers to achieve the level of permanence that would be necessary to augment others in a similar fashion.” She handed Stell her business card. Ms. Aster nodded encouragingly. “It's quite the opportunity, darling! It would certainly bolster your curriculum vitae.” “Thanks, I -” Stell began, then did a double-take as she looked down at the card. “Wait, you're the CEO of Vector? THE Vector?” “Indeed,” Sonia said, dryly. “B-But this is amazing!” Stell sputtered. “I think it will be quite the mutually beneficial arrangement, and will enable both of us to learn much.” She gave Stell the same steely stare from before; it made Bridget quail a little just from being in its line of fire as she stood behind the sparkly heroine. “In fact, if you would be amenable...I had considered offering Vector's sponsorship to your entire team. Do you think you could prevail upon Ms. Shelby to see the wisdom of such a move?” “I...well, I can certainly try,” Stell said brightly, betraying a tiny quaver of uncertainty in her voice as she did. “Splendid. These contracts are fairly standard, but I'll have my assistant retrieve the details.” She snapped her fingers imperiously. Then, a woman in a bright red dress and black stockings, her hair in a tight, high ponytail emerged silently from thin air barely a foot to the left of Bridget, holding a massive suitcase that must have weighed forty pounds in one hand. She strode, heels clacking on the floor, to stand behind and to the right of her superior. <<WHAT?>> Val gasped. <<How did she-?>> Bridget herself nearly shot straight up in the air in surprise, but just barely managed to hold her composure, as Val found hers again. <<Quickly, little one! Look at her energy signature!>> Val commanded, and Bridget hurried to obey, feeling the rush of Val's power into her eyes. Sure enough, as Bridget looked at Ms. Quentin's assistant, she was surrounded two overlapping auras of dark energy. The first was the same massive concentration she'd seen from afar, but the second clearly radiated out from the center of the woman's body. <<B-but that shouldn't be possible. I am the Chief Science Officer of the Void Fleet! There's no way some random flunky could have eluded my-our senses.>> But she was invisible, maybe that- <<We should still have been able to see through it!>> Val snapped. The Voidwalker and the executive, however, did not give Val the time to deduce why the impossible had happened. “Well, Ms. Roarke?” Sonia gestured to the table where Leanne sat, surrounded by a gaggle of other party guests, with Isis perched on her shoulder, nose deep in a deviled egg. Phoebe stood nearby, idly running a hand through Isis's fur, observing everything through blindfolded eyes and well-honed ears. “Shall we?” Stell nodded her assent, and the trio rose and headed in the same direction. She took the lead, Ms. Quentin followed behind, and her assistant walked in her shadow. <<If we let the Voidwalkers get their tentacles into the Stalwart Six, there's no way we'll be able to persuade them to our side; they'll all be attuned before long.>> Yeah, but what are we going to do about it? It's not like they'll believe us if we tell the truth. <<Don't worry, little one. I'll think of something.>> -
    1 point
  22. 2.) Oh. I had expected a million different things on the other side of those double doors, but this was not one of them. There was electricity? There was music! Everything had a slightly warm glow to it and the floor wasn't covered in water, but a sea of carpet. Red carpet? Or was that just the lights? Did someone... live here...? "We should go," I mumbled and stepped backwards softly, scanning the room as I reached for Bridget's wrist. "No way! We should take pictures and lots of them." Of course, I had no bars down here it seemed, but we were in the basement and that made perfect sense. A shame not to be able to Instagram this place live, but what could you do? "Look, there's no water on the carpet from when we opened the door, and we opened them three times now." The only water, in-fact, were the footprints we left in the plush ruby carpet. "Look at the furniture..." This actually felt less like a room and more like the lobby to a theater. "I really don't like the look of this," I mumbled, pacing nervously around the room. I went back to the double doors and pushed them, maybe to see if the water would follow us in, but the door was stuck. It wouldn't budge. I tried pulling it instead but I couldn't get my fingers into the cracks. What the hell? "Help me with this." "Don't be a baby, we'll figure it out, it's probably the water pressure or something. There'll be other ways out, lets look around!" I was wandering away from her anyway, walking towards a door against one of the walls in the grand space, with a brass plaque that read Treatment etched into the pristine looking surface. "How is everything in here in such good condition? This is surreal, do you-" I looked over my shoulder, and Ria was still tugging at the door we came in. "Ria, come on, keep up!" I looked back at the door nervously and followed my best friend through the lobby and toward one of the other doors. My heart was racing. No such thing as ghosts, no such thing as ghosts... "There's lights on though, Bridget... were lights even a thing when this place opened?” Curse my lack of historical knowledge. "Someone obviously still comes here... we can't stay here." "Maybe the lights are just gas burning, we can't tell." They did have a warm, flickery glow to them, after all, and it was hard to tell from this angle. "If someone still comes here, then it's gotta be a secret that they do, and maybe we can become YouTube famous for revealing it." She looked less convinced than I sounded. "Here I'll film, you're cuter. Lets check out the Treatment room, okay? Sounds interesting.” She shoved me through the doors with her phone camera in my face. "And here we are, Ria and me, in the basement of Calhoun Gardens children's asylum! But look! Lanterns are on. Could someone be living here still? We're gonna get to the bottom of it!." "Narrate quieter," I urged. "We gotta be able to hear it for the fans, dummy!" This was weird, because the warm soft music from the foyer area was replaced with what sounded like a faraway music box and there were four large windows with four doors next to them, two on each side of the room we'd entered; like exhibits in a zoo of some sort. "So these look like cells, right? Man people used to be so messed up, right? And..." I was quiet. We were both quiet, because sitting on the floor in the first window we looked in was a girl. A girl our age. A girl we knew. Soren Jones. She'd moved out of town to a different college, suddenly, six months ago. And she was dressed up like an antique doll, and playing with blocks, completely oblivious. "Is that..." Now I was quiet. Now I whispered. I knew her. We both knew her. Soren Jones was a girl in our Childhood Development class last semester. In the middle of the term she dropped out. I never really thought twice about it, but seeing her here, now... I shook my head and went ahead of Bridget to glass window. That was her. That was definitely her! We she living here now? Without thinking, I opened up the door to her cell and went inside. "Soren?" There was no recollection on her face when she looked up, and she giggled and knocked over her block building, putting thumb straight to mouth. "Soren, hey," I'd put my phone down on a desk by the entrance to the room because this seemed far less like a fun trip now and more like something serious, and I knelt down beside her, doing a quick crisis evaluation. Hand on cheek, eyes looking into eyes. She looked at me dumbly. "Soren, it's me, Bridget, do you know where you are? What are you doing here?" She was dressed so ornately, in clothes I couldn't imagine outside of a LARP get-together, and she seemed entirely comfortable. "Are you hurt? Soren, listen to me." It was like she didn't even know who I was... or she didn’t even care. All the thoughts I had about Soren running away and hiding in this building started to fade away. She wasn't acting like herself. Dressed like that? In a place like this? I was starting to worry that this wasn't a very safe place after all. "Come on, Bridget. Let's get her up. We need to get out of here right now!" "Alright, uh, let me get my phone, and then I'll..." I knew I left my phone on that desk, and it was gone, just... gone. What? I felt my chest begin to swell with anxiety and marched out of the windowed cell back into the room outside, huffing. "This isn't funny! I'll use Find My iPhone to find where you are, so you should just give it back!" Nobody answered, though, nobody else was here... except, it seemed, as my heart sunk... there was another girl in another of the windowed cells. "Ria, there's someone else locked up here, too." I had managed to get Soren to her feet, but just barely. Luckily, she was very cooperative. She walked alongside me as long as I propped her up. We had just gotten out of the cell when Bridget called out about the other girl. Another girl, in another cell? This one, though... I didn't know who she was. I let Soren go and she immediately slid to the floor. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was going to have a panic attack if we didn't get out of here. "Just get her and let's go!" "Alright, okay." I pushed the door open to go inside, and the other girl - she was Japanese, or Korean maybe, I couldn't tell, but she was dressed just as stupidly as Soren was. And worse, there was an overwhelming smell of something in the room when I went inside, and I had no idea what it was until I'd picked her up and helped her to her feet; spying the very obvious diaper under her dress. "Gross..." The problem was, when I got her to the door... it wouldn't open. "Hey, it won't open! Can you open it from that side?" I tugged at the door, and Ria did the same thing, but in neither direction did it move. "Okay stay calm, um... take Soren, alright? Take her to the car and call 911 alright? I'll be right here. It'll be okay." But the nagging fact that the double doors to this wing of the asylum wouldn't open earlier wouldn't leave me.
    1 point
  23. the story u are looking for was made by Cow and its called change the channel Seven o'clock in the evening arrived in the form of the clock over the mantlepiece chiming in the Lorland household. The house was in a state of mild disarray, with both Mr. and Mrs. Lorland rushing about, each completing the final stages of preparation for the highly anticipated Halloween party that was to take place at a friend's house in only an hour. Ironically enough, the only person not scooting around at a frantic pace was their daughter, a young girl named Chelsea who was only nine years old. She sat primly on the living room couch, carefully applying herself to the colored pencils and coloring book in her lap. "Now, you're going to be good for Ms. Lauren, aren't you, honey?" asked her mother, whizzing by to briefly pause in front of the mirror mounted on the wall and adjust her hair. "I'll be good, momma," dutifully recited Chelsea, not taking her eyes off of her coloring book. "Such a good girl," vaguely said Mrs. Lorland before disappearing out of the room again. Chelsea's father came in right as her mother was leaving, pausing to adjust his tie in the same mirror. "Honey?" he yelled at his retreating wife. "What time did you tell the babysitter to show up?" "Seven o'clock, dear. She should be here any moment," responded Mrs. Lorland, also yelling. Right on cue the doorbell rang in announcement, signaling the arrival of the babysitter, Lauren. The college freshman was undoubtedly attractive, with a shapely body, smooth skin the color of chocolate and curled black hair cut short. The only real fault to be noticed, and then it was a matter of taste, was the certain amount of plumpness to be found on her body. She greeted Mr. Lorland with a bright smile as he opened the door. "Good evening, sir!" "Good evening, Lauren," returned Mr. Lorland distractedly, ushering the young woman inside. He made a vague gesture towards Chelsea seated on the couch, saying, "This'll be Chelsea, of course. We really appreciate you filling in for Kayla and especially on such short notice." "No problem at all, Mr. Lorland. It's my pleasure," said Lauren perkily. She approached Chelsea who was still lying atop the couch and bent down slightly, placing her hands on her knees and asked in a very much "talking to children" voice, "How are you doing, Chelsea?" Chelsea, who was already in a bit of a sulk about being told she was too young to come to the kind of party that Mr. and Mrs. Lorland were going to, did not appear very impressed. Nevertheless, she responded in a monotone: "I'm fine, thank you Ms. Lauren." "Oh, just call me Lauren, please," bubbled Lauren. At this point, Mrs. Lorland had joined Mr. Lorland and both were standing by the door, looking slightly hurried. "Well, it looks like you two are getting on very well," beamed Mr. Lorland, his hand on the doorknob. "We've left emergency numbers on the refridgerator and you're free to help yourself to whatever you would like out of it. We'll be back around twelve. Call us if there are any problems." "Oh, I'm sure that everything will be alright," assured Lauren. "You two go out and enjoy yourselves!" The Lorlands smiled and nodded their heads before excusing themselves, leaving Chelsea and Lauren alone. The change in Lauren was almost immediate. The young woman moved back over to the couch and none-too-gently pushed Chelsea's legs aside. "Make room, squirt," she said before settling herself down. At this point, Chelsea had put away her coloring book and turned on the television, casually flipping through the channels. She was surprised when Lauren plucked the remote right out of her hands and began to surf through the channels herself. "I was going to watch something!," squealed Chelsea, indignant. "Tough," unsympathetically countered Lauren before finally coming across what she had been looking for. She had settled upon a horribly violent slasher film, the kind that were usually shown on and around Halloween. It really was atrociously violent. Chelsea couldn't help but wince after only a few seconds. "I'm not supposed to watch this kinda thing," said Chelsea unhappily, holding her hands over her eyes. "Close your eyes then, you big baby. I was watching stuff like this when I was your age all the time," responded Lauren, which probably went a lot in explaining why she was the way she was. "That's not fair!" insisted Chelsea with a quiet whining noise, prompting an indifferent, "Life's not fair," from Lauren. The girl sat frowning, glancing frantically between the television and Lauren before she suddenly struck out, attempting to wrestle control of the remote from Lauren's hands. She managed to change the channel before Lauren caught wise, the babysitter grabbing the remote right back before attempting to change the television channel back to the atrociously violent movie. A brief struggle ensued, the television oscillating wildly between channels as each girl attempted to wrestle the remote away from the other. Things finally culminated in a loud popping sound from the television, the shock of the noise sending both girls landing roughly on their behinds with the remote control landing roughly against the wall. "You broke it!," accused Lauren as she stood up and brushed herself off, quickly walking back over towards the television, which was now displaying a static screen and making a low and ominous droning noise. She squatted down in front of it and began to play with the controls mounted on the side, frowning. Meanwhile, Chelsea was left to nervously retrieve the remote control from where it lay against the far wall. She picked it back up and walked back to the couch where, experimentally, she pointed the remote at the television and pressed a button. The result was immediate! Almost instantly, the quiet droning noise became almost painfully loud and the screen went completely blank. The shock of the noise was enough to frighten Lauren into tumbling backwards again and she landed in a heap in front of the television. "You little brat!," she squealed, struggling to right herself. "You did that on purpose!" She began to head directly towards Chelsea with vengeance burning in her eyes and, on reflex, the frightened young girl covered her head in her arms, hands balling into fists and, in the process, pressed a good number of buttons on the remote without even realizing it. Chelsea stood trembling, waiting for a blow that never came. After a few moments, she tentatively removed her arms from over her head and glanced about the room. The living room was now completely empty, the dark interior faintly illuminated by the now dim glow of the television screen. Chelsea was totally perplexed -- there was nowhere that her babysitter could have gone in so short a time and it was all that she could do to stare blankly around her when she heard, faintly at the edge of her hearing, her name being called. After a few moments she realized it was coming from the television. She turned, stared and her eyes widened. On the screen of the television, in what appeared to be a kitchen set, was unmistakably Chelsea's babysitter Lauren. Lauren glanced around in mute confusion before saying something that was too quiet to be made out. Obligingly, without thinking about it, Lauren pointed the remote at the television and turned the volume up. "W-what's going on? Chelsea, where are you?" Lauren's voice came through the television receiver with perfect clarity. Not quite sure of what to make of this, Chelsea responded with the immediately obvious answer, saying, "Can you hear me, Lauren? You're in the television!" "What? Don't be ridiculous! You can't b--" Lauren was cut off, surprised by the sudden arrival of another person in the kitchen. Inside the television, she blinked blankly as a woman, a bit older than her, entered into the kitchen and moved towards the pantry, withdrawing a familiar looking box of cereal before moving over towards the cabinets to retrieve a bowl. Lauren was dumbstruck as she watched her grab a carton of milk from the refridgerator before moving towards the counter where Lauren was standing. "When my little girls sit down to breakfast, I like to know that they're getting the nutrition they deserve," she began, pouring cereal into the bowl and turning to smile out at apparent nothingness. "That's why I choose Sugar Cubes, the choice made by responsible mothers." She poured the milk into the bowl before picking up the cereal box and hoisting it slightly, again smiling out into nothingness and striking a small pose. Chelsea was the first to catch on. Mouth agape in marvel, she exclaimed, "You're in a commercial!" Lauren was momentarily stunned. Her mind told her that this was completely ridiculous but the impossible evidence of what was happening was all around her. Meanwhile, the woman with the cereal had turned her attention back onto Lauren. She pushed the bowl of cereal across the table, the huge grin still on her face. Lauren found it unnerving. "Have a bowl, honey!" cheerfully enthused the woman. "Get me out of here," yelped a suddenly frightened Lauren, taking a step back. "I don't know how," whined Chelsea's voice from the ether. The woman took another step forward and Lauren took another step backwards. "Press a button, change the channel, do something!" screamed Lauren as the woman took another step forward, brandishing the cereal bowl. The woman was just a single step away when Lauren felt a horrible sense of vertigo. The world around her went dark as reality shifted and a few moments later she was leaning up against the wall, fighting away the mild mental discomfort of what had just happened. "What'd you do, Chelsea?" she groaned. "You told me to change the channel," came Chelsea petulantly, her voice seeming to come from everywhere around Lauren. The babysitter finally got a chance to glance about and examine where she was. She was in a bedroom, though it certainly wasn't her bedroom. Things seemed to be normal enough, though there was something disconcertingly familiar about it all. Even though she wasn't able to identify exactly where she was, Lauren was certain that she had seen it before. She glanced down at herself and noticed that her clothing had changed along with the reality around her. She was now in a cheerleader's uniform for a high school she didn't recognize. Again, there was the strongest sense of deja-vu. "Well, this is a little better," acknolwedged Lauren grudgingly, seeing that she wasn't, for the moment, being viciously bombarded with offers for breakfast foods. "I can'tt help but feel like I've seen this all before... it just feels weird," she finished lamely before being struck by the oddness of all that happened. She confronted Chelsea again, glancing around before saying, "You need to figure out a way to get me out of here, Chelsea!" "What is it that you want me to do?" whined Chelsea, now seated on the couch back in the living room and watching her television curiously. "Press buttons! There has to be something on there that'll get me out!" "Fine," huffed Chelsea. She began to pick through the buttons on the remote control, leaving Lauren to impatiently begin to pace around the room. After a moment she opened her mouth to saying something, most likely another beratement, but to her puzzlement only the faintest squeak came out of her mouth. A confused expression crossed her face and then she tried again, eliciting the same squeak. "Guess volume control isn't going to help," said Chelsea thumbing the volume back up in a tone of voice far too cheery for Lauren's liking. She angrily began chewing out her young charge when something suddenly happened to make her stop. "Listen you little brat, I don't wa--" Music had suddenly started playing. Deep, foreboding and intimidating music. Lauren found the low tones just as familiar as everything else had struck her and her eyes suddenly widened as realization struck her. It was the horribly violent slasher movie. Before she could yell a command for Chelsea to change the channel, her door suddenly burst open. Filling the door was the most unpleasant individual she had ever seen but what stole her attention was the large and intimidating chainsaw clutched in his hands, its industrial whine completely filling Lauren's world. The horrifying figure made to advance and Lauren acted on pure adrenaline, running to the window to push it open and throw herself outside. It wasn't long before she found herself outside, running into a suitably frightening and densely-packed forest right outside the window that, to Lauren, looked horribly familiar. Thankfully, the sound of the chainsaw was beginning to die into the background to be replaced with the furious sound of her beating chest and her own panting. Lauren finally stopped her running, bent over in a clearing and began to pant loudly in an effort to catch her breath. "C-change," gasped Lauren, fighting for breath. "C-change the channel, Chelsea!" She straightened up and glanced around, still panting. Everything was so familiar! She was getting the strongest sense of deja-vu, her memory fighting to recall the shape of the horribly violent slasher movie that she had become trapped in. "I've got to get out of here now!" "You're not going anywhere," breathed a voice nearby, deep and horrible. Lauren's eyes widened as she turned around to see the horrible slasher, moonlight giving his twisted face wicked shadows along with glinting off of the large and terrible knife clutched in his hand. Lauren immediately turned and began to run again but, in the very best traditions of these kinds of movies everywhere, her foot caught on an exposed tree root and she tumbled, giving a loud squeal as her body landed heavily on the ground. There was simply no time to recover. Before she could pull herself off the ground she became aware of the shadow falling over her, the violent slasher blocking out any chance of escape. Memories flooded into her mind and Lauren knew: this was the point at which the leading female, the one whose role she had stepped into, was horribly butchered. She held her hands up placatingly for all the little good it would do, whimpering. She became vaguely aware of a hot trickling between her legs and pooling underneath and became aware that, adding insult to injury, she had begun to wet herself in fright. Lauren's eyes watched as the violent slasher began to bring his knife down with a vicious whistling sound and closed her eyes, bracing for the impact. Lauren was aware of a sudden sense of vertigo and dizziness. The young woman was suddenly aware of another change in the world around her taking place. When she finally dared to tentatively open her eyes, a sense of relief passed over her. The forest was gone, replaced by a gently decorated room. The walls were painted a soft pink with a cloud motif on the ceiling. Across the room was an unusual looking table with drawers against its side, along with a rocking chair not too far from it. The floor was made from a soft white carpet and Lauren noticed out of the corner of her eye a small playpen in the corner. What was slightly disconcerting was how big everything seemed to be -- it was like a room made for giants. Lauren doubted she'd even be able to pull herself up onto the rocking chair as huge as it was. Lauren gradually became more aware of where she herself was -- she was sitting up on a soft cushion with large wooden bars that went straight up looming all around her, higher than she could possibly reach. As she pushed herself to her feet, finding her legs unusually wobbly, her mind filled in the blanks and found the world 'crib'. She realized that she was in what could only possibly be a giant nursery, currently standing in what could only be the crib. At the same time, she also became aware of an unusual feeling between her legs. Lauren glanced down. Gone was the cheerleading uniform -- in its place was was a brightly colored yellow t-shirt that didn't even make it all the way down to her waist and, underneath that, hugging her hips, a thick disposable diaper, the thick padding pushing her legs apart and forcing a waddle into every movement. Across the front was a brightly colored tape with Sesame Street characters smiling brightly. Lauren was also aware of a suspiciously warm feeling and she shyly reached down, rubbing her hand across the front of the crinkly plastic and confirmed it: the diaper front was warm to the touch. She was soaked. She felt a trickle going down the inside of her leg and realized suddenly that her wetting had gone beyond a simple soaking. Lauren was immediately mortified. She tugged the soft blanket lying around her feet and pulled it up over her front, as if she could hide the incriminating garment. "Chelsea, change the channel again! T-this is just as bad!" Chelsea had no such intentions. Lauren could hear appearing from the ether a smattering of badly-repressed giggles, the young girl back in her own living room quite pleased to see her bratty babysitter reduced to such a position. "What's that?" she teasingly lilted at the television screen. "Why, yes, I do think you need a change!" Lauren's furious blushing increased in intensity. She stomped her foot insistently into the crib mattress, a childish tantrum of a response. The diapered woman yelled, "Chelsea, I'm not kidding! When I get out of here, I'm gonna --" Chelsea never found out exactly what Lauren was going to do. She watched in delight as the view on the television suddenly panned over to the door, which opened to reveal an older woman somewhere in her late twenties, her serene expression and gently curving body radiating an expression of 'new mother'. "Is my little girl feeling fussy?" she cooed cheerfully, gliding towards the crib. Lauren watched with wide eyes as the woman bent down and wrapped her hands around her middle, easily hefting her and bringing her onto her hip. She realized the woman's intentions when she felt the leg band of her diaper being gently pulled away and a finger inserted to check on her soggy padding. "My, my, leaking already," the woman tsked before resettling Lauren in her arms. She placed the young woman in the crook of her arm and began to drift towards the changing table, speaking aloud to the invisible television audience. "I find that most diapers just aren't enough to keep up with my active little baby," said the woman, settling Lauren on her back atop the changing table. Realization of what was about to happen struck her and she began to squirm and wriggle, trying to pull herself up, but all she got was a strap over her tummy and arms for her efforts. Struck with the humiliating realization that Chelsea, watching with a gleeful look back in the living room, could see everything, she began to kick her legs to try to delay the inevitable and called out for help. "Chelsea, you've got to change the channel now! Please!" Lauren watched, completely helpless as the gigantic motherly woman began to manipulate the tapes on her babyish disposable, pulling back one and then the other. A barely restrained giggle from the ether greeted Lauren's pleas, followed by Chelsea's teasing voice. "Are you sure? This channel seems a lot safer than all the other ones. The only thing that you need to worry about is diaper rash!" A furious blushing spread across Lauren's face, both from the embarrassment of Chelsea's words and the fact that this commercial mother had finally pulled back the soggy disposable front of her diaper, revealing Lauren's moistened crotch to the world. There was nothing that the poor young college girl could do, squirming back and forth in the gentle confines that the changing table and the strap provided. Lauren was made to suffer the embarrassment of the gigantic woman tugging the soggied disposable diaper out from underneath her rear and tsking as she balled it up and threw it in the diaper pail placed right beside the changing table for just such a reason. Lauren knew what was coming next, but that didn't make it any less humiliating. The woman towering over her produced a wipe and began gently but thoroughly cleaning her. Poor Lauren was mortified, unable to do anything but twist and squirm as the warm wipe was carefully and effeciently rubbed over the most intimate spots of her body. Soon, after what felt like forever to Lauren, the woman finally finished cleaning her up. She began speaking again, rummaging through one of the supply cabinets underneath the changing table as she did so. "That's why I only trust Dryclouds Extra-Duty brand diapers, because only they can give the thick protection that my little ones deserve." Lauren's eyes widened as the woman straightened back up, holding in her hands a babyish diaper that, if anything, looked even thicker than the one that she was just changed out of. She renewed her pleadings to Chelsea, squirming more frantically than ever. "Chelsea, please, you can't let her change me into that! I promise I'll be nice, just l--mph!" "Such a fussy one," crooned the commerical mother, having just pushed a pacifier into Lauren's open mouth. Lauren, helpless to the whims of the commercial's reality, felt her mouth involuntarily beginning to suckle, her body beset by a sudden wave of drowsiness. She could only watch helplessly as the gigantic woman gently lifted her legs, putting her shapely rump on a momentary display before sliding the thick and babyish diaper underneath her rear. She was vaguely aware of Chelsea's giggles echoing all around her as the woman reached for a can of baby powder and applied a liberal sprinkling to Lauren's crotch before bringing the front of the diaper up between Lauren's legs and taping it into place. The diaper felt so thick! Lauren could immediately feel her legs forced apart as the woman taped it up between her legs, frosting on the cake that was her embarrassment. She watched the ceiling intently in her humiliation as the woman undid the strap circled around her waist, still sucking her pacifier without a thought about it and hoping that her embarrassment was, at least, at an end. She was mildly surprised when, instead of going back in the crib, the woman settled down in the rocking chair, still holding Lauren in her lap. She stroked Lauren's head and quietly remarked, "My baby seems very fussy today, doesn't she? Well, mommy knows how to fix that." Lauren was a little confused. She certainly didn't remember this part in any commercial and she got a vague sense of foreboding. This only intensified as the woman, using the hand that wasn't supporting Lauren, began to unbutton her blouse to reveal the heavy and ripe breast positively bursting underneath it. Lauren began to squirm as if to try to get away as the nipple came into view but, without a second thought, the woman pulled the pacifier out of her mouth and brought Lauren closer to her chest, brushing her lips against the nipple. Compelled by the same reality-imparted urges that forced her to suckle on the pacifier without a choice, Lauren began to nurse at the gigantic mother's breast. A few seconds later warm milk began to trickle into her mouth before rolling gently down her throat, sweet to the taste and filling her tummy with warmth that immediately made her feel drowsy. At first Lauren tried to kick and squirm, completely humiliated by what her body was betraying her in doing. The lulling effect of the milk, however, combined with the mother's gentle stroking of her back and quiet humming soothed her against her will. A dozy look fell across her face and the seconds drifted into minutes, her little arms pressed hungrily against the gigantic breast as she drank her fill. Some time later, Lauren became vaguely aware of the fact that she was being lifted from her cozy spot. She felt herself being laid across something a little less comfortable, followed by a gentle but insistent patting on her back. What brought Lauren back to her senses was the babyish belch that issued from her own mouth, but Chelsea's subsequent giggling that seemed to come all around her. The girl that she had been babysitting had seen everything, and that more than anything positively crippled Lauren with embarassment. She began to open her mouth to begin her beratement, but before she knew it the pacifier was being pushed back in and her involuntary suckles began again. "My little girl feels all better, doesn't she?" crooned the woman, straightening up and patting Lauren gently on her crinkly padded rump. Lauren, for her part, was too swept up by all that had happened to even move -- she still felt drowsy and, humiliating as it was to admit, the most pleasant warm feeling was spreading from her milk-filled tummy. She felt herself being carried over towards the playpen. She was settled down on her gently padded rump and her chin gently tickled. "You can have some fun here and Mommy will be in to check on you in a little bit, alright sweety? Be good for Mommy," soothed the gigantic woman before straightening back up and quietly exiting the nursery. Lauren blinked drowsily. It took her a moment to recover her senses but she soon came to. She glanced around in a mild stupor before turning her eyes down at herself. She was dressed like the littlest of infants. Her mouth worked in a rote suckle, nursing on the pacifier. She was still dressed in the gentle yellow t-shirt while now, hugging her hips, was what was the thickest and most infantile baby's diaper she had ever seen, pushing her legs fiercely apart. She was vaguely aware of a pleasant tingling warmth from her tummy that was, she realized with no small amount of embarrassment, from the tummyful of milk that she had just nursed from the mother. A wave of crimson humiliation spread over Lauren's cheeks. Acutely aware of the fact that she was even now being watched by her charge, she unsteadily pulled herself to her feet, gripping the wall of the playpen for support in an attempt to muster as much dignity as she could in the babyish position that she had been put into. "C-chelsea, I know you're there! Listen to me or else! I-If you don't get me out of here right now, you're going to rue the day you were born!" Sure enough, Chelsea's tinkling giggle answered her. At this point, the young girl was stretched happily across the couch, pleased with the show that unfolded in front of her. She mischeviously replied, "Are you sure, Mrs. Lauren? I think your mommy said she wanted you to stay right there." Lauren's blush intensified. The bratty young woman's temper flared in reaction to the humiliation and embarrassment that she had endured and she suddenly snapped, yelling, "Listen, you little brat! You take orders from me! I knew that you were a horrible little girl from the moment that I saw you and when I get out of here I am personally going to make sure that you're spanked so hard that you won't be able to sit down for a month! Furthermore, I... f-furthermore..." Lauren was aware of an unfamiliar rumbling feeling from her tummy. She shifted slightly, gripping the side of the playpen for more support, blinking. Before she could realize what was happening, the inevitable started to occur. Lauren's legs bent at the knees as she began forcing the contents of her bowels into her diaper. There was not a thing that she could do to resist the reality imposed on her by the commercial and it was all she could do to stifle the tiny grunts as the seat of her diaper expanded considerably to accomodate the warm mushy mess. It was over relatively quickly. Lauren was positively agape with shock and humiliation, fully aware of the way that her legs were pushed even further apart by the mess that was now hanging between her legs. She made an attempt to shift her weight from one foot to the other as if to find the position that would afford her the least contact with the humiliating lump in her diaper and, to add insult and injury, she accidently overbalanced. With a squeal, she toppled, landing full on her messy diaper seat and becoming intimately familiar with it. Lauren became aware of Chelsea's mocking laugher all around her. Her temper flared and briefly threatened to drown out her embarrassment, but before she could, the young girl had already began to speak. "Little brat? At least I'm not the one who just messed her diaper and is sitting in a nursery about to cry for her mommy! You're the jerk here and if you're just going to yell at me, you can just stay in diapers forever!" Lauren was stunned. It was all that she could do to blink, confronted by the sudden temper of her babysitting charge. She blinked several times in rapid succession and had just begin to open her mouth to yell back a reply when she became aware of an odd feeling. Things seemed to pause in a split second before resuming again and one of the oddest feelings that she had ever felt washed over her. When she had finally regained control of her senses, she felt oddly alone. Lauren blinked, trying to fathom what had just happened, when she realized what it was. The link with Chelsea had been severed and it was just her in this nursery now. Curiously, this struck Lauren as a much more horrible thing than having her here to see everything and a suddenly urgent and upset feeling overtook her. Without knowing exactly why, the messy-diapered young woman burst into tears. It wasn't long at all before the gigantic mother was soon back inside the nursery. She moved immediately over to Lauren and hefted her gently in her arms. She began rubbing the young woman's back, bouncing her gently in her arms and saying, "Sweety! Sweety! What's wrong?" The smell from Lauren's mushy diaper hit her nose then and she knew. Still trying to soothe her crying baby, she gently carried Lauren over towards the changing table and laid her back down atop it, though Lauren hadn't stopped crying in the least. She would have a chance to get used to it, of course. She would continue to have her diapers changed by her mommy for a very very long time. Elsewhere, in another dimension, Chelsea glanced with curiosity at the video tape that was in her hands, fresh from the VCR. She hadn't been entirely sure what would happen when she pressed the RECORD button on the remote control, but her intuition has turned out to be right. She was very pleased. She hadn't liked her babysitter from the start. Later, when her parents came home, they would be surprised and confused to find their daughter sleeping quietly in her bed, apparently having gone to sleep of her own violition. Of Lauren, there was no clue as to where she was. When woken up and pressed for answers, Chelsea was only able to shrug her shoulders and say that Lauren had decided to leave and had never come back. No trace of her was ever found. And that was that.
    1 point
  24. Mimi awoke with a start. At first she wondered why, as most people do in the brief moments after waking, but she soon got that familiar feeling which had woken her many times in the past. It wasn’t a strong feeling, for which she was very impressed at herself, but it was still there nevertheless. Slowly forcing the will into her body, Mimi got out of bed and fumbled around for her glasses; she was going to need to see where she was going. After a few moments delay, the large round spectacles were finally perched on her nose. The light switch came next, which also took a bit of time finding and was disappointingly not as near to the door as she would have liked. Because she hadn’t accounted for these two time consuming factors, by the time she got to the door of her room Mimi’s need seemed a lot more urgent, but at least she was up. And this time, she would make it. Confident, Mimi opened the door just a crack but was immediately thwarted by yet another road block; the hallway light was off! It just wasn’t turning out to be her night; the hallway light was always supposed to be on in case anyone needed to get up! Despite this set back, Mimi was determined to reach her destination; she hadn’t already come all this way just to give up now! And besides, she knew that giving up would only create worse problems for her in the long run, so very cautiously, Mimi edged her way into the hall. The light cast from the open door of her room was doing a poor job of illuminating the rather large hallway which now lay before her, and would soon be extinguished once the door swung shut behind her. She tried to delay letting go of the handle for as long as possible, just long enough to pin point where she thought the light switch was, then let go. The darkness came flooding over her like a wave of shadow before she could even set out. Mimi felt like she was lost in another dimension, totally unable to see or know where she was going as the journey seemed to take forever. She picked up the pace, partly because she was becoming more and more worried in the dark, but also because her inner feeling was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. With her arms out stretched, Mimi finally made contact with the wall, and after a brief frantic exploration found the light switch. In a single moment, the light came on, and Mimi ran. Thump thump thump, every bound brought her closer to the goal but doubled her predicament, a risky trade off she knew, but time was running out. Not slowing down until the last moment, she nearly collided with the very door she was supposed to be going through. A gasp escaped from the young girl as she almost lost the battle she had been trying so hard to win, but a desperate last resolve that she summoned from seemingly out of no where allowed her to make it through the door and into the bathroom. She had made it! The prize awaited her. Unable to keep still for even a second Mimi was in a desperate situation, but relief was merely a few excruciating moments away. One, two, three steps closer, up went the lid, down came the pyjamas, and then… “Noooo!” squealed Mimi, albeit a rather subdued squeal. She had completely forgotten about the last stage of the ritual, and now that the final moment was upon her she was going about it entirely the wrong way. Lost in a state of desperation, she tugged and pulled, trying as hard as she could to get the damn thing off but it was on too snug. Frustrated, Mimi shook her fists at nothing in the air, reduced to a helpless fit of tears as she finally couldn’t hold on anymore. The defeated girl could only hop around the bathroom powerless and in vain, as she began to pee straight into the crotch of her diaper. Mimi was awake a short while before her alarm clock went off, as sometimes happened, but like always she decided to wait all the same. She was of course wet; last night’s bathroom fiasco had seen to that, but she certainly wasn’t happy about it. “Stupid diapers…” she mumbled to herself, “If only I didn’t have these stupid tape-ons, I wouldn’t be wet!” Being wet often made Mimi cranky, but it usually didn’t last. By the time the alarm finally did go off she had stopped caring, and was now thinking about how annoying the alarm sound was. Being already awake, all she had to do was turn it off, after which she continued to lie in her bed until a few minutes later when her mom knocked on her door. “Rise and shine Mimi, its time to get up.” She said, not waiting for a reply as usual before opening the door and entering. “Oh, you’re already awake honey! Good girl, did you sleep well?” Mimi simply rolled her eyes until she was avoiding her mothers gaze. “I guess…” she sighed, more out of apathy than annoyance. She knew what was coming next, so without having to be told, Mimi pulled back the bed covers and turned her head to the side. Her mother in turn gently lowered her daughter’s pyjama bottoms and proceeded to check the young girl’s diaper. She was obviously wet. “Awww, did you have another accident last night Mimi?” “I was so close mommy, I nearly made it!” Mimi answered desperately. “I’m sure you did dear…” she replied, rather insincerely. “I mean it! I got all the way to the bathroom, but I couldn’t get my diaper off, and before that the hallway light wasn’t on, and then…” “Of course Mimi” her mother interjected, clearly not paying attention, “I’m sure you’ll make it next time.” “Mommy, if you just stopped making me wear diapers…” once again her mother was quick to interrupt. “Now Mimi, you know what would have happened if you didn’t have your diapers on. As soon as you stop having accidents…” “Why can’t I at least wear pull-ups to bed? It’d be just the same.” “Pull-ups won’t be enough for you-know-what young lady, you know that.” “But mom!” Things were starting to get a little unfair as far as Mimi was concerned; not only because her mom never believed her, but because she wouldn’t even give her a chance. She’d accidentally pooped her diaper over two months ago, but her mom was still holding it against the poor girl. “Please Mimi; let’s not have one of your tantrums. Once you stop having accidents we’ll think about letting you wear pull-ups to bed, o.k?” Knowing that she was practically being ignored, Mimi pouted; her mom never listened to her. “Come on missy, your breakfast is waiting.” Pulling her pyjamas back up, the young girl hopped out of bed and was promptly taken by the hand. Her mother led her straight out of her room and along the hallway, which seemed a whole lot smaller to Mimi in the natural morning light. She hoped, as she always did, that her mom was leading her to the bathroom, but instead they kept walking on past the door and down the stairs. It was a vain hope Mimi knew; being wet meant that her mom wouldn’t take any chances, and that she wouldn’t be changed out of her diaper until after breakfast. Still being held by her hand, Mimi was led through the kitchen and into the dining room, where her bowl of cereal was already waiting. Her father was in the kitchen as she passed through, and as usual he was in a rush to finish his coffee and get out of the house. Her father was a very busy man, and Mimi didn’t see him much, but he still managed a “good morning princess” in between gulps of coffee, before kissing both women on the cheek and heading for the door. In addition to Mimi’s breakfast, her little sister Ally was also present at the table, happily eating her own cereal. The two girls didn’t acknowledge one another at first, and even once Mimi was seated they simply exchanged a brief glance before ignoring each other, each for her own reasons. For Mimi, it was mostly embarrassment. Her sister knew the routine, and she knew what it meant when Mimi came to breakfast still wearing her diaper, but she also knew better than to say anything. Mimi often felt very embarrassed when she was in the presence of Ally, knowing that her younger and very much smaller sister did not have to wear diapers in any sense, and had not for quite a long time. She knew it wasn’t deliberate, but Ally made her feel small, ashamed and upset, and it only got worse the older they got, so whenever the two were together Mimi would make an effort to be as distant as possible. Ally on the other hand revelled in Mimi’s company. She knew better than to mention her older sister’s diapers, because poking fun was not tolerated by either of their parents, but she was more than content just to maintain the silence. She loved her sister very much, and often felt sorry for her situation, but she also enjoyed Mimi’s deference. As the younger sibling, Ally felt empowered by the role reversal that came from having something so significant over her sister, something that she didn’t want anyone to find out; a definite ace card in waiting. She could feel Mimi’s discomfort like a heavy aura, and would try to emit her own aura of sympathy right back, because caring for her sister was to Ally the most subtle way of maintaining her status. Mimi of course could feel Ally’s air of sympathy, which only made it harder to hide her discomfort. She often wished that Ally would go ahead and make fun of her, because at least she would gain a victory knowing she would get into big trouble. The fact that her sister was constantly nice to her meant there was nothing she could do to quell the inferiority that she felt without making things worse. And so the atmosphere at the breakfast table this day was much like any other, which to an outside observer would only appear plain with a hint of sibling intolerance, totally masking the complicated psychology that occupied the minds of both girls. As soon as she had finished her breakfast, Mimi couldn’t excuse her self quick enough. She waddled into the kitchen away from her sister, and was once again taken by the hand, despite objection, and led away up the stairs. Ally meanwhile made her own way upstairs to get ready in her own time. Mimi didn’t like being led around; it was as though her mom didn’t trust her to go where she was told, and she certainly didn’t like having her diaper changed. It wasn’t even as if she had anything hard to do; on a morning she only needed to change out of her diaper, but she knew that her mom wouldn’t trust her to do it. At least Ally hadn’t been around to see her objecting; protesting that you shouldn’t have to wear diapers to bed made for a pretty embarrassing display while you were still wearing a wet one… Her protests went unheard though, just as they always did, and Mimi was already half way through being changed before she got tired and gave up. She had been sitting on her bed while her mom had been cleaning her up, but now that she was through being awkward she decided to lie down to make things easier. It didn’t take very long, and upon completion her mom left Mimi to get ready for school on her own, taking the wet diaper to the trash with her (nothing to do with Mimi’s diapers were kept in her room). Mimi was glad for the brief moment alone, and even after she was finished getting ready for school she made sure to wait as long as possible before going back downstairs. In the end it wasn’t too long, because there was no sense in making herself late which would only get her into trouble at school. Nevertheless, when she re-entered the kitchen both her mother and her sister were already waiting to go. “Its about time Mimi, you’re gonna make us late!” chimed Ally. “Sorry, I was just getting ready. But we can go now.” “One second dear, you can’t go anywhere just yet.” Her mother said, reaching into a bag on the side of the kitchen table. “But mom, I don’t want us to be late!” “Nonsense, it’ll only take a minute, and you know you can’t go without it.” Mimi sighed. She knew what was coming, and she knew it was pointless to try talking her mother out of it. She just wished Ally wasn’t there. “Come on, hope on over.” She called, holding open a disposable pull-up. Reluctantly, Mimi walked towards the table and lowered her panties, which earned a definite frown and a grumble from her mother. Mimi knew she wasn’t supposed to put panties on before school, she needed her pull-ups. Rather ashamedly, she kicked away the underwear and stepped into the pull-up, holding her skirt so that her mother could pull the garment up to her daughter’s waist making it snug. “There you go Mimi, now turn around and I’ll put two spares into your bag just in case.” Mimi complied and turned around, releasing her skirt so that it fell into place covering her secret. Unfortunately, she was now facing Ally who in turn was staring right at her. Beat red, Mimi lowered her head in an attempt to escape her sister’s attention, but it was no good; she could feel Ally’s gaze burning right into her, while her mother seemed to take forever fiddling around with bag on her shoulders. At last, she heard the sound of a zipper closing and felt a gentle pat on her head. “All done, now run along girls or you’re going to be late for school!”
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