WBDaddy

I do like playing around with suspense elements where something is happening, it's very shocking, and I wait until you absorb that shock before I tell you what predicated it. But I also gave breadcrumbs when I described the cell upon her initial entry. Her reaction to what was on TV set up the scene where crazy guard goes all dominatrix on her for disrespecting the "men of God".

I would dispute the "no real treatment" part. I'm working with one of the docs from This place right now, and he indicates that there are viable disc replacement options for the lumbar region. And I know for a fact that there are treatment options if you're having either shooting pain down your legs or even just pain localized to the back. 17 years ago, I was in your shoes. Two levels of disc degeneration (L3-L4 and L4-L5). I had an IDET procedure done, and it got me to walking easily and only having really bad back days. Only reason we're revisiting the situation now is because the tech has finally evolved to a point where better solutions to stabilize the region are available. Give them a call. They'll want to see your MRI, so plan on getting a CD from your doc for them. It might be a hike down to Orlando from your spot, but it sounds like it'd be worth it to you. PS: This guy has already basically rebuilt my right arm, so I'm much more willing to trust him with my back.

I feel like I should make my babygirl read this episode. Every day things come in the mail for her, and she has no idea what they are or when she ordered them.

Well, she's lucky she's not in a work camp at a former landfill... ...maybe...

For the record, "My Summer in Hell" is not about a trans girl except in the most absurd caricature way possible. It's the fever-dream of a sissy, written as a tongue-in-cheek commentary about the double standard of where "child abuse" becomes a thing in stories depending on whether the parent is male or female and whether the child is male or female.

And now we find out how bad that agreement was.... ----------------------- 7 Less than half an hour later, Penny found herself in a courtroom behind plexiglass. The bailiff that led her in stood just a few feet behind her, but at least her shackles were off. A second bailiff in the courtroom called, “All rise for the Honorable Judge Martin!” Everyone stood, including the DA, who was sitting at what Penny presumed was his usual spot at a table on one side of the courtroom. The judge walked in and took his seat, as did everyone else except Penny, who had nowhere to sit. “Good morning everyone!” The judge’s voice boomed across the courtroom as he leafed through papers in front of him. “What’s our first case this morning?” The DA spoke up. “People versus Penelope Russo, your Honor.” “People’s position on bail?” “We’ve reached a plea agreement with the defendant.” “Let’s see it. Approach.” Penny was a little nervous; she didn’t know the judge had to approve what she just signed. What if he didn’t? She shuddered at the thought. The DA brought the paperwork up to the judge and handed it to him. “Ms. Russo, you understand that you are pleading no contest to the charge of first-degree possession of a controlled substance?” “Y… Yes, your Honor.” “And by doing so you understand that you are waiving your right to a trial, and you agree to be remanded to the Haven Hill spiritual rehabilitation clinic?” Spiritual?! Penny thought she was getting sent to a drug rehab! What were they going to do, beat her over the head with a Bible until she promised not to do drugs anymore? “Miss Russo?” “I… um… I’m sorry your Honor, I just… thought they were sending me to drug rehab.” “Are you saying you wish to withdraw from this plea agreement?” The judge raised his eyebrow. The DA stood. “If I may, your Honor, I think I can clear this up fairly quickly.” “Go ahead.” “Miss Russo, the center named in the plea agreement handles a variety of behavioral issues, not just drug rehabilitation. But they do have a highly regarded drug treatment program, which is what you’ll be enrolled in. Does that make sense?” “Um… yes, that’s fine.” She still didn’t like the religious connotation of the name, but it seemed like her only alternative was to back out of the deal and go to trial, which she definitely didn’t want to do. “Good. Unless there are any further objections?” The judge looked back at her. “No, your Honor.” “Then I do hereby remand you to the custody of Haven Hill spiritual rehabilitation clinic for a period not less than three months, followed by nine additional months of probation, at which time this case will be dismissed with prejudice.” His gavel smacking the desk made Penny jump a little, but it was as though a huge weight fell off her back all at once. She took a breath and exhaled slowly as the guard led her back through the meeting room and back down the hall toward the rear exit. She didn’t even care that much about him putting the shackles back on her wrists and ankles. It was a much longer ride in the windowless van before she saw daylight again. But when she did, it was an awe-inspiring sight. The building was drab, white, not very interesting, though it looked clean, well-kept. Surrounding it, though, was trees and grass everywhere, a landscape Penny had never witnessed before. She turned around, and a forest (briefly) met her eyes before she was herded forward toward the entrance. Living in New Gomorrah her whole life, she’d only seen foliage like this in pictures. “Let’s move it, Russo. This ain’t a nature walk.” The cop gave her a shove toward the walkway which led to the building’s front entrance, and she stumbled a bit, but kept her balance. The two cops marched her to the double doors, and a tan-skinned woman about Penny’s size opened the door with a smile. “Come in, come in.” Her voice was disarmingly soft and friendly, a welcome change from how law enforcement had treated her the last several days. They led her in and stopped in a spacious reception area, the door shutting behind her with a loud click. One cop handed the woman a form and a pen. “Just sign here and she’s all yours.” “Thank you. And welcome, Penelope. My name is Adweta, and I’ll be your primary nurse and case worker during your stay here.” She signed the form and handed it back to the one cop while the other unlocked Penny’s shackles. “Th… thanks…” was all Penny could muster, still expecting a hammer to drop on her here somewhere. “Miss Patricia, would you hand me Penelope’s file and a gown and buzz the officers out, please?” the tan-skinned woman said. “Sure, Miss Adweta. Got it all ready for you here.” The woman behind the reception counter stood up and passed a pile of cloth and a remarkably full-looking file folder, from Penny’s perspective, to Adweta. “Thank you Miss Patricia. Right this way, Penelope.” The woman put her hand on Penny’s shoulder and aimed her toward a large, heavy-looking door with a small safety glass window set well above Penny’s head. A buzz sounded behind her, and the two cops exited the front door. The heavy-sounding click as the door shut behind had an ominous finality to it, and Penny shuddered a bit. “Umm… please call me Penny.” “Alright, then, Penny. We have a few minutes before the weekly dorm discussion group starts, so you’ll have time to get changed.” She flashed a keycard in front of a panel, and the door clicked. “Um… can I just lie down or something? I’m exhausted,” Penny said as Adweta opened the door. Adweta turned and put both her hands on Penny’s shoulders, looking her square in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Penny, but because of your specific circumstances, full compliance is absolutely necessary.” The nurse’s face took on a somber appearance, but there was no anger that Penny could detect. “I have to report anything you miss - a group session, a counseling session, therapy, whatever it happens to be, to the DA for review, because technically it’s a violation of your plea agreement. He has the discretion to revoke that agreement and send you to the work camps. I don’t want that for you, and I’m sure you don’t either, right?” Adweta’s little head-cock and sad smile were disarming, but her words were like boulders falling on Penny’s shoulders. Whatever fatigue Penny was suffering from swept right out of her. “No!” “Good, then let’s hurry, okay?” As they marched down the wide hall, doors on either side, the idea that this “rehabilitation” was not going to be as easy as it sounded in court began to set in.

Well that was spicy. Still trying to figure out where between the last chapter and this one the handcuffs came off. I will say that Molly's narrative about Alice makes Steve positively compassionate by comparison, considering he at least waited for them to leave before he finished his business. Still an asshole, but...

They literally did work well together. Until it was decided that Clark was no longer an adult.

The psychological warfare is the engine that makes this story run. Beautiful crafting.

Gotta have kraut with that chili! Just makes it!

Oooh, two chapters in two days! Someone's on a kick!

Ah, gringo style. Got it.

Well, if I've somehow confused you incorrectly with the original Baby Candi (who was also a sissy, from Australia), then my apologies.

Yet this sentence is nearly perfect. Draw your own conclusions. I mean, honestly, I know your work. I've read it for nearly 20 years, in between you being banned from various sites for excessive underage sexuality, and causing casualties from truly great authors in the wake of those bans. I know you know how to manage dialogue, it's just a matter of whether you can be bothered to hit the "enter" key when it needs hitting. Begging off like this is beneath you.

Look at you, teaching me a new word and everything!

Tacos can be smart and sensible! Pescado with nice rare tuna and a citrus slaw with pickled red onions = yummy and healthy!

I was making a joke about American evangelicals embracing him as some kind of Messiah on social media. 100 years in the future, and someone added The Art of the Deal to the Bible.

There is actual reason and rhyme to how McD's goes about cycling McRib in and out of their menu. When pork belly futures hit a certain low, they buy in, take delivery, and about three or four months later, you have McRib for a while. Because McD's is such a huge player in those markets, they never stay that low for long, so once they run out of those initial supplies, back off the menu it goes.

I can't recommend enough Dragon Naturally Speaking software. It was slow working with it after I had my carpal surgery, but it was hella faster than typing with one hand. And for personal use, it's pretty cheap.

So, "Trump, chapter 7 verse 4" didn't seem odd to you?

I'm waiting for someone to take note of the "current events" Easter egg I slipped into the last chapter. Completely tongue-in-cheek, and an even bigger joke once you pick up on it, re-read it, and do some googling. Of course, I tried slipping Easter eggs into "Little Legal Issue", but they were much too obscure for anyone to even pick up on unless they were given clues about their nature. Yeah, I can't help but think it was a mistake to reference that series at the outset. I was mesmerized by that show, even as gruesome and disturbing as it got at times. This is relatively tame by comparison - but I felt like the setting had enough parallels to be worthy of the mention. *shrug* Nice reference. I had originally envisioned throwing bible verses into virtually every chapter, but it would have seemed forced, based on where the narratives and dialogue went.

Ironically, he was a bit player in this little drama. But he certainly had a role to play in casually explaining to our readers what the hell happened in this future dystopia. Thanks. I can't help but feel like I'm failing to engage the audience, either because of the overt misogyny in the setting or because they pretty much feel like they know how this movie ends and aren't interested in following it to its conclusion. It's frustrating, because I've got big twists in store, but if I can't get people hooked on it, they're not going to amount to much.

6 Penny lost track of how many hours had passed, but all that mattered now was the pain. The pain, and apparently every word coming out of that television set. Her bladder was screaming for relief, her backside was on fire, and her knees pulsed with a dull, cold ache from the concrete. Still she kneeled, her head bowed, her hands folded in front of her, and her back as straight as she could manage, Mildred’s riding crop at the ready should her posture falter or she fail to respond with timely “amens” when the televangelist demanded them of the audience. It started with what Penny thought was an innocuous comment about how they all sounded the same. When Mildred launched into a tirade about blasphemy and how if Penny “had a little more Jesus in her life”, maybe she wouldn’t be a worthless drug addict convict like she was about to become, Penny realized just how wrong she was. Let us read together the inspired word of God, from his prophet Trump, chapter 7 verse 4. Penny cringed. Another call-and-response. It never stops, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. “It never stops, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Penny’s trembling voice squeaked out, punctuated by a sniffle. I try to learn from the past, “I try to learn from the past,” But I plan for the future by focusing exclusively on the present. “But I plan for the future by focusing exclusively on the present.” Yes, my children, Jesus wants us to live in the moment. In Matthew six, he tells us, “Worry not about tomorrow, for tomorrow will take care of itself.” All Jesus wants from us is our faith in his plan for us today! Let us pray together for the inspiration of the word of God. The sound of keys in a distant lock and the groan of iron distracted Penny from the insipid prayer blaring from the TV set. She looked up, and yelped as Mildred’s crop bit into her backside. THWACK! Worse, a trickle of urine streaked down her leg. Despite the pain, Penny doubled down, squeezing her thighs together to stop what seemed to be the inevitable. “Nobody told you to stop praying, heathen!” Mildred shouted as fresh tears filled Penny’s eyes. “Don’t you dare move from that spot until I tell you!” Mildred’s footsteps walked toward her cell door. Keys opened the lock, and an identical sound of groaning iron reached her ears from much closer. The door slammed shut, and she heard Mildred’s boots march down the hallway, followed by hushed tones of a conversation she couldn’t understand. An eternity later, she heard boots approaching her cell. Flinching just for an instant, she resumed her praying posture, bracing herself for what was coming. The sound of a man’s laughter took her by surprise. “Get up, Russo. Church is over.” At first she dropped to the cold concrete, her legs exhausted from holding that position for so long. Then fatigue gave way to panic and she scrambled to her feet, bracing for the sound of keys in her cell door. Another tiny spurt leaked out of her as she turned to look at the body attached to the voice; he was tall, heavy-set, a bald middle-aged man with unremarkable features other than the glint of his brilliantly white teeth as he grinned at her from through the bars. “So you talked shit about Mildred’s favorite TV pastors, eh? Bad move, kid. Anyway, lights out in five. I suggest you take care of business and get comfortable.” Penny didn’t need a second invitation. She staggered toward the toilet, and, thankfully, the guard turned his back as she straddled the bowl, terrified of the filth, and let loose. She wiped down afterward and collapsed on the bed, gritting her teeth against the protests of her sore bottom. She dared not ask what time it was, for fear of more retribution. “I hear you missed dinner. I’ll make sure breakfast is here early.” He laughed again and strode down the hall. Penny heard the loud click of a light switch, and the cell went dark including, thankfully, the TV screen. Unfortunately for Penny, while the noise from the TV stopped, it raged on in her head as she struggled to sleep. Eyes open or closed, it didn’t matter, all those preachers pointing their fingers at her, calling her things like “heathen”, “harlot”, and “degenerate”, seemingly in time with the bite of Mildred’s riding crop on her backside. No matter how she lay on that hard bed, the welts Mildred left behind protested the pressure she put on them, until she finally gave up and lay flat on her stomach. It didn’t help her sleep, but at least the welts just stung in the background in this position. Every time the voices quieted and it felt like she was going to drift off, that ominous pair of boots made their way down the hall, their echoes on the concrete jolting her back to consciousness. And so went the cycle, over and over, until the first light of daybreak through the window opposite her bed cracked the darkness. Shielding her eyes, Penny groaned at the dawn. The only good thing about this moment was the realization that she had in fact survived a night in jail. Which meant that in a few hours she’d be leaving this place, so long as that DA kept his word. From what she could recall, it seemed like the guard came through with that infernal flashlight not long before, so she took her chance and relieved both bowel and bladder, scrubbing herself with as much toilet paper as she dared use before flushing. She sat back down on the bed gingerly, her backside still sore, but not as much so as a few hours before. The light switch down the hall clicked loudly, and now the cell was fully lit up. Boots coming toward her; the same guard appeared in front of her cell door with a tray. He bent over and shoved it through a slot at the bottom of the cell door. He stood back up and said, “sorry, kid, Monday means vending machine breakfast. Enjoy.” Penny stared at the tray. A sad looking muffin wrapped in plastic and a small cup of what looked like black coffee stared back at her. Still, she was hungry, and she ate quickly and quietly while the guard watched. When she finished the last of the bitter, lukewarm liquid, the guard unlocked the door and stepped in. Penny flinched as he approached. “Don’t worry kid. I’m just getting you ready for transfer. Stand up and face me.” Penny silently obeyed his commands, and he secured cuffs back onto her wrists, sliding chains through what she thought were belt loops on her dress, then affixing similar cuffs to her ankles. He led her down the hall, where the tall, muscular cop that brought her here was waiting. They chit-chatted while signing paperwork, and the tall one led her out to a waiting van. He helped her climb into the back, closed the door, and soon they were on the road. A short while later the van stopped, and the cop led her back out of the van on the side of the municipal courthouse. He handed her off to a bailiff after signing some more paperwork, and then he was gone and she found herself seated in a conference room. “Excuse… me… Sir?” She looked up at the bailiff nervously. “Can I help you?” “What happens now?” “The DA will be here shortly. Your hearing starts at nine.” She looked at the clock. 7:45. She sighed, slouching a bit in her chair, and folded her hands with a faint jingle. The next 45 minutes took an eternity to pass, but there finally was a knock on the door next to the bailiff, and he opened it. In came the DA. “Good morning, Miss Russo. I have the plea deal all ready for you to sign.” He sat down, opened his briefcase, and withdrew a folder. He opened the folder and turned a document around to face her, then handed her a pen. “You understand that, by signing this document, you are pleading no contest to the charge of possession of a controlled substance. The mandatory minimum sentence of 10 years will be suspended so long as you successfully complete a rehabilitation program of not less than three months, and your judgment will be set aside so long as you do not commit any further crimes in the next calendar year.” “I… I understand.” Penny scanned the document, but she had no idea what she was reading. With a trembling hand, she signed, praying that what he was telling her was the truth.

This is probably the first time someone started with a "payoff" (Main character in diapers right out of the gate) where I was interested in what happened after. Good job.

That's fair. By all means, I definitely would like people to enjoy my stories and preferably confine the discussion to the story. Fair warning, though, I do have a couple of tongue-in-cheek references to current events tucked into future chapters. I hope you don't take offense to their presence.