DLClayMongoose

Eve with her stuffed Hello Kitty and a size 6 Luvs from the early 2000’s (when their adventures are most likely to be set). I would love to get somebody on board to illustrate scenes from these stories, but who’d have the courage to do so?

There’s also the question of what happens when/if the kids outgrow size 6 diapers.

I really need someone who can draw human child characters and backgrounds, but everywhere I go, commissions are closed or they aren’t comfortable with the job!

I’ve been wanting to do a series for a long time about two twins who navigate the typical preschool/kindergarten/first grade experience when they’re “on the clock”, but their mother brokered a deal to allow the two to keep their baby stuff… something stemming from a big war to get the two started using the potty in time for pre-K. That said, I have been thinking about WHEN it should be set. 1. PRESENT. Probably the obvious choice, but there’s also… 2. EARLY 2000’S. This was a bit of a magical time for me. It was when I was awakening to my DLism, so I have a lot of nostalgia for the diapers of this era, plus I feel it’s sort of an underrated era, compared to the third option. 3. Somewhere between 1988 and 1993. Much of my early childhood transpired in this period, plus it had no shortage of excellent video games, cartoons, music, and movies. Which do you think would work best?

Helps answer my question. That plus rewriting the first lines.

If you had/have babies of your own, how common were poopy diapers first thing in the morning? I’m asking for story purposes.

Ch These are characters for a series of slice-of-life stories I’m planning; I just drew them for reference. Just look at those hands, awful! The legs and shoes, too! The noses and eyes… I stink when it comes to drawing humans and have to outsource when I need a picture done of them. The problem is these two are small kids and I’d have to move mountains to find someone willing to do illustrations involving them! But everyone’s either booked or uncomfortable with the subject matter. It’s not like I’m planning on anything sexual going on in these stories. I just need someone who isn’t afraid of drawing the subject matter of preschoolers/kindergarteners doing baby stuff.

Why not make our own?

In light of all the wars (and especially today), disasters, and economic woes over the past four years, I think God’s causing everything to go wrong because of my thing with diapers. It’s as if putting one on and using it causes catastrophe and evil somewhere in the world. Is this just His way of saying “I disapprove. Keep it up and I’ll shove an asteroid down your throats.” I’m no war hawk, but I really fear for the near future.

This is an old one. At least twenty years old.

PART 6 The Old Willows Place Eight cops formed a parameter around the decaying building, Robbins, Kelton, and Martin had gone inside. It wasn’t long before the trio came to the parlor and found Strowsky’s stuff. The captain sat down on the ancient couch and plundered the dead man’s briefcase. The papers inside were all in Russian, and there was nobody in the group who could translate. They did find pictures of an old man he deduced had to be Vornoff. “It would seem that Mr. Strowsky’s monster stories were all a front to find this guy.” “Captain, smoke!” Robbins alerted. Black vapor billowed thinly from behind the bricks in the back of the fireplace. Suddenly, a huge puff burst out as the back opened and Craig and Pam hurried out. Pam coughed. “We need to get out,” she said, “the house is burning from the bottom up!” The fivesome rushed outside. The wind was picking up; there was no rain yet, but plenty of thunder and lightning. “Captain, look!” one cop on the east side of the house shouted. A green, lanky creature in a shredded lab coat carrying a woman in a white gown emerged from the bluff and rock-strewn hill dominating the other side of the lake. Some of the officers were muttering about whether or not that was the monster, but Pam shouted “It’s Vornoff!” “He’s got Janet!” added Craig. “W-What?” asked Robbins, surprised. “It’s a long-ass story, cap,” said Pam, “but he got turned into a monster.” “It’s impossible.” “This isn’t time for a facts-versus-fiction debate,” Pam told him, a bit miffed. “We need to stop him!” Kelton, Martin, and Robbins began to draw their Glocks and started to make their way toward the mutant. “W-Wait! You might hit Jan!” Craig warned. Robbins nodded, heeding the warning. Pam joined the cops, tailing Vornoff along the beach, Mr. Uzi in her hands and Bessie at her side. KRAGOOOM!! A lightning bolt came down on the burning house’s Victorian tower, blasting part of the old bungalow open and igniting it on the upper levels. The blast caught the attention on the Vornoff-monster, who took notice of his pursuers. He laid down his captive and with a snarl. He looked away from them and at the rocks in the water below. The wind made the water lap against them. Pam said what was assuredly on everyone’s minds: “If only we could get him in line for a good shot…” “Could I suggest something, Captain?” asked Kelton. “No,” Robbins said, pointing at the rocky hill the cliff stood at the foot of. “You climb those rocks. Get up over him!” “T-That’s what I was going to suggest.” “Can the chatter and get into action,” the Captain ordered through his teeth. Kelton made off to the top of the hill, while the abomination reached the edge of the cliff. Unfortunately, the young ladder-climber tripped over a rock on the way up and let out a loud scream. It distracted the mutated Vornoff for a moment, who quickly put down the girl and started toward the fallen rookie. “Now he’s clear!” Robbins announced. “Give it to him!” Craig made a mad dash up the hill as Pam and the cops readied their guns. Pistols blazed, Mr. Uzi rattled, but the ammo didn’t seem to scratch him. Not even slowing his momentum, Pam thought. Did those rays give him an R-field? On the corner of her eye, she saw Craig on the crest of the hill, trying to shove a boulder. It dawned on her what his plan was, Vornoff just had to stand in place. She dashed ahead with a shout of “Yo, Tiny!” “Sato, what the hell are you doing?” Robbins motioned to stop shooting. She stood about ten feet away and began unloading what was left in the clip. Still no effect, but the perpetually wide-mouthed beast-man snatched her by the throat, causing her to drop her SMG, and lifted her high off the ground. “Wanna meet my friend Bessie?” she forced out as she whipped out her sidearm. I sure hope this guy’s not as tough inside his mouth. It would be a mystery which would never be clearly solved. Only a split second after firing off the Beretta, the boulder slammed hard into them, pushing her part way over the bluff and Vornoff into the water. Martin went over to help Kelton, Robbins pulled Pam up from the ledge, and Craig went over to Janet. Everyone got front row seats to watch the mutant they had chased down struggle in a mess of tentacles. One monster was dragging the other toward the raging inferno which had been the old Willows place and they both vanished beneath the dark water. “There really was a monster?” said Robbins. Pam hung her head in exhaustion. Her voice sounded final. “I wouldn’t have come if not for these monster reports and Vornoff’s ties to them. My job is done here. I need to contact my boss.” “Ms. Sato…” Janet felt bad for the agent for some reason. Her demeanor really gave off a sense of anguish. “No doubt this has been one of the weirdest experiences of your lives,” said the agent, “but I’m something more horrifying than any monster.” Picking up Mr. Uzi, she made a long, silent walk back toward her car. Castle Dracula, Crypt Gorgolov and Helga surveyed the charred bones of the castle’s namesake, now assembled in a stone sarcophagus. A ring had been fixed on the ceiling, with a rope through it. A young woman trying her best to look sexually ambiguous dangled from it, still unconscious. By the chamber’s entrance stood two Red Guards, armed with Mosin-Nagants with bayonets. It was well after midnight where they were, but the next step in the operation would be impossible in the morning. “Fritz and Igor have left for Brasilia this morning,” Helga said. “Karl will return tomorrow.” “Excellent,” said Gorgolov, hearing the bound guest coming to. “Good evening, Ms. Boldt.” “You let me down from here, you-you… reactionary!” the woman snarled. Gorgolov laughed. “How am I reactionary?” he asked. “I seek to crush capitalism, but I don’t need dead weight.” “What are you saying?” “Simple: you’re useless!” he told her. “You refuse to fight or work for the Revolution, and you refuse to learn either. Furthermore, the decadence of your Western trappings has infected your mind as it has done with the majority of young socialists these days. You believe in fantasies and simply assume you will be afforded a place in the central committee. You don’t love the Revolution. You simply want to escape from work.” Boldt looked as if she had been slapped. “Do you really think I’m that shallow?” “Yes,” the doctor confirmed. “You probably wouldn’t even be competent enough for agriculture, if the images from that little commune in Seattle was any indication. Nevertheless, we have a way you can serve the international proletariat. Guards, flank her!” “RIM! It’s rim, not her, you-you-you FASCIST!” She was so upset by the manner in which the old man had addressed her, she barely noticed the two men approaching. “You’ve just demonstrated the delusions of which I just spoke of,” said Gorgolov, coldly. “I would have you know that I don’t take the word fascist lightly. During the Great Patriotic War, my father was a submariner for the Baltic Fleet, and his brother gave his life at the Seelow Heights. Had they and my countrymen had been like you, Hitler would have been holding a victory parade down Tverskaya Street.” He nodded. The guards raised their guns. “What are they doing?” she said, worriedly. “They are about to make the best possible use for you.” “I don’t believe this!” said the activist. “How could someone who fought fascists raise such a… fasc…….. ist…?” The bayonets entered the sides of Boldt’s body and cut downward, eviscerating her innards. Blood and tissue rained down on the vampire cadaver, which seemed to absorb every drop. Soon the stone box was awash in Boldt’s gore. The skeleton seemed to writhe as sinews formed, as if by some dark magic. Muscles and veins came into being and pointed ears took shape. Soon, the body was groaning and moaning. “Get the choker ready,” Gorgolov ordered Helga. Sickly pale skin came into being, along with silky black hair. The creature leaned forward and a thin dark band was snapped on around his throat by Helga. Bringing its talon-like hands to his temples, he rubbed the sides of his head as if he were fighting of a bad hangover. His crimson eyes fluttered open and he looked around at the strangers about. “Welcome home, Citizen Dracula,” the doctor greeted. “I am Dr. Vsevolod Gorgolov and this is my assistant, Helga von Housen.” “What are you doing in my castle?” the vampire asked. “It is hardly your castle any longer,” said Gorgolov, matter-of-factly. “It has been claimed on behalf of the global working class.” The resuscitated count rose, his eyes blazing with fury and paying no mind to the dangling corpse of the lady used to revive him. “You... and your companions… will leave.” Gorgolov was undeterred. “At present, citizen,” he said, firmly “your request cannot be fulfilled. This castle is now property of the Communist Party of the Transylvanian Workers’ Republic.” Dracula snarled. “Impertinence!” He lunged toward the old man with all speed, but halted in pain. Three small lights on the collar hastily fastened to his throat shined a bright green. The vampire clasped his neck and collapsed, writhing in anguish. Gorgolov pulled a small, radish-shaped remote from his housecoat, whose sole button he had a thumb on. “You are now experiencing the influx of electricity generated by the restraining choker Comrade Von Housen here has bestowed upon you,” he explained, before giving the button a rest. “All the Red Guards are equipped with remotes like this one. Should you make any attempt to remove yours, you will receive a shock automatically.” Dracula glared at the old man, baring his teeth. Gorgolov merely gave a smug smirk. “I wasn’t planning on reviving a vampire without countermeasures in place to insure he cooperates.” The old man looked toward the stairway and began to hobble toward it, with Helga following. “Comrades Habe and Darota,” he ordered the two troopers. “Please get some clothes for Citizen Dracula and see him nourished before dawn.” The old man then took notice of the suspended, lifeless body of Gwen Boldt. “And get that garbage down from there before Karl returns.” Oxford, Super 8 “Well, there were two monsters I’d encountered down here: an octopus in the lake and Vornoff after he got mutated. There was a debatable third in Vornoff’s assistant, he likely died when the Willows place was destroyed.” With nothing better to do, Pam went back to the motel and called Baldwin to debrief. “Did he have any information on Gorgolov’s whereabouts?” the boss asked. Pam shook her head, not that Baldwin could see it. “They severed ties long ago, he said. He didn’t know where he is now. Another man, Strowsky, came looking for Vornoff as well as this gung-ho journalist, but she was more focused on the monster stories. Truth be told, it seemed like Vornoff was trying to strike off and do things himself.” “What about that octopus?” “Still out there in the lake,” said Pam. “Not sure if we’re going to leave it, collect it, or kill it.” “We’ll make a decision.” Pam could see a face in the mirror on the wall, it grimaced on the girl in wet Cushies. “Still wearing those things?” The phantom mother came back for another visit. She shook her head and faded. The young agent heaved a sigh. “Mr. Baldwin, I’m going to turn in,” she said. “When the next job’s ready, let me know.” “Very well. Goodnight, Agent Pampers.” The call ended. Pam poked her padding. She hadn’t changed yet, as she felt the diaper wasn’t stinky or soaked enough to warrant a new one. She’d just go to sleep in it and finish it off in the morning. “What do you say to a bedtime story, Macho Bunny?” She scrolled through her phone and picked one out. She crawled under the covers and turned the lamp off. I’m sure by morning a new case will be waiting for me. I’m resigned to my destiny: Pamela Sato, agent of SERAPH and a miserable ABDL... The story began to play: “Once upon a time, there was a poor husband and wife who had three sons. Their names were Genius, Average, and Moron…” TO BE CONTINUED… AUTHOR'S NOTES: So ends the first entry in my ABDL Monster/Actioner. If any of it seems familiar, this introductory chapter was an adaptation of Edward D. Wood Jr..'s 1955 low-budget opus Bride of the Monster, whose working title serves as the title of this chapter. You can also track down the MST3K treatment it got. Working from the original shooting script, I merely changed a handful of things here and there, namely making certain things make a little more sense and even combining scenes for better cohesion. The Gorgolov scenes, however, are 100% original. The bit with the Canadian college student during those portions was something I had expected to land me in hot water when I attempted to post this chapter on ADISC, but they locked the thread over there, so I can't update. Their loss! If you liked this story, please leave a comment and consider leaving me a little tip in the tip jar. It would really help me out. Thank you for reading. Now to start on the next chapter...

Ban was lifted at midnight, but the GG thread there is locked. I was expecting to get in trouble with this entitled millennial character. Whether it was the warning or ban, the thread got locked. Their loss.

PART 5 Bistrita, The Golden Krone “Thank you, Crown.” Gorgolov emerged from the passenger’s seat of the car which brought him to town and beckoned his comrade to wait for him. The old man was modestly dressed: shirt and tie, a fedora, a black coat. He ambled inside with his trusty cane. The tavern was established in the late-1700’s, but fighting in the Second World War saw the original building leveled and a more modern-looking place stood on its spot. Patrons danced to lively regional music played by the band on stage, others sat at their tables, watching and eating their meals. It wasn’t that hard for Gorgolov to find the woman he was appointed to meet with, but he felt let down seeing her. Gorgolov didn’t know what to make of Miss Boldt. Structurally, she appeared female, but seemed to be trying to blur the distinction of her sex. Most of her hair had been shaved off, save for a small mohawk dyed ultramarine, and had a piercing where her nose met her forehead. He kept his thoughts to himself and extended his hand. “I am Dr. Vsevolod Gorgolov.” “What are your pronouns and how do you identify?” asked the guest. Gorgolov’s eyes widened a bit at the bizarre question. “I am obviously a man, am I not?” “Or so the doctors assigned you,” she responded. “Gwen Boldt, re/ris/rim.” “W-What?” “Those are my pronouns,” Gwen explained. “I do not identify as male or female.” “You speak nonsense,” said Gorgolov. “You are clearly a woman.” “Drop that Victorian mindset,” she said, growing irritated. “I did not come to be misgendered by some old White man.” Gorgolov frowned. Worse than I feared. “But you agreed to fight against the capitalists,” he countered. “Of course I did,” she answered, giving a slack-jawed expression as if to say “What are you, stupid?” The old man glowered. She didn’t seem to have any respect for him on account of his age, sex, and skin pigmentation. “I suppose this… identity you made for yourself is why you avoided…” “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” She said, acting offended. “I did not make up my identity, I discovered it.” Gorgolov heaved a sigh through his nostrils. “Your form indicates that you were I your sophomore year at the University of Toronto,” the old man said, looking over the document with the occasional raised eyebrow. “You’ve majored in… Creative Writing? Minor in Women’s Studies. It also says you never held an occupation before?” Boldt wasn’t really paying attention to him. She was typing in notes on her phone, little reminders for trivial things. “Would you be willing to fight and die for the Revolution?” asked Gorgolov. “Fight? Like, use a gun?” asked the woman, disgusted. “Hey, some of my friends might agree to that, but I don’t kill.” “Ah! Then it’s the factories for you,” “Uh, no? I don’t do manual labor.” The doctor glared. “You do know we can teach you how to build, yes?” She didn’t seem to want to respond to him. He heaved a sigh through his nostrils. “So why did you decide to volunteer?” “To escape the capitalist hellhole I used to live in,” the activist answered. An awkward silence came over the table as the old man watched Gwen fiddle around more on her phone. Finally, he spoke. “I think I know what you can do now. Will you come with me outside?” Stashing her phone, Boldt followed Gorgolov. “So where are we going?” she asked. “I’m taking you to the Transylvanian Workers’ Republic,” he explained. “It’s not too far away from town.” Soon, they were walking toward the car the old man came in.” “So what are you going to have me d—AAUGH!!” A strong arm wrapped around the girl’s neck, while its owner’s free hand pressed a rag up to her nostrils. In a matter of seconds, the visitor was unconscious. “Well done, Boris,” said Gorgolov. “Let’s put Miss Boldt here to good use.” Mississippi. On their way back to the city, Craig and Martin spotted a truck of the same make, model, and color as the one that came to the station yesterday. They pulled up alongside and got out to confirm if it really was Strowsky’s. Everything seemed to check out: it was a rental and had come to the same area where these monster stories were running wild. “Now for that age-old old question,” Martin mused, “‘which way did he go?’” The two men were startled by the sudden appearance of Pam coming out of the woods. “Lieutenant!” she said, out of breath. “Thank God I bumped into you!” “What happened?” “I came out here this morning to try to see if there was any truth to Miss Lawton’s monster stories and worked my way toward the lake,” she explained. “I was a little ways down from this old house down there when this big fella came outside and threw a dead body into the water.” “Old house? You mean the old Willows place?” asked Craig. She nodded and looked back in the direction she came in from. “I’m still not certain there really is a monster down there, but for some reason the body was abruptly dragged underwater.” Craig could scarcely believe it. “Did you get a good look at the body?” “I had my binoculars,” she told him. “An old man got out of this truck about the same time I got here. The corpse that got thrown in the lake looked like his.” “Strowsky!” Craig exclaimed. “You head down to the beach and I’ll go through the swamp and around by the old Willows place.” Martin nodded. “I didn’t think anybody lived there.” “I didn’t say anybody does,” said Craig. “We’ve checked it before. Nothing. Night prowlers tell stories of strange lights and noises, but we never found anything on the inside. It’s just a deserted, rundown old house.” “The swamp plays strange tricks on people’s imaginations,” said Martin. “Especially at night,” Pam added. “But what I saw go down happened in broad daylight.” She looked skyward; a mass of grey storm clouds were steadily moving in from the southwest. “Though given what the weather’s got in store for us, we won’t have much time left. I’m coming with you, but I need to grab a little extra firepower real quick.” It took a couple of minutes for Pam to sprint to her car and pop the trunk, but neither Craig nor Martin expected her to return with an IMI Uzi! Knowing they’d question her having such a weapon, she whipped out her badge. “As I said. I’m with SERAPH.” The Daily Globe Building Robbins couldn’t run in the building, but he walked at a brisk pace toward a door labeled “Morgue Files”. Behind it, he found a woman behind a desk with chestnut curls and a pencil behind her right ear. “Are you Tillie Smith?” “Yes,” said the lady. “How may I help you?” He held up his badge. “Captain Robbins, Homicide.” “Why, Captain,” she said with a laugh, “I haven’t murdered anyone in a month of Sundays!” “Did Janet Lawton stop in here late yesterday afternoon?” “Just like a policeman,” the clerk sighed “no sense of humor. Yes, she stopped by late in the afternoon.” “Do you remember the time?” “Not to the second, sir.” Tillie explained. “Came in around, oh, 2:00 and left about 3:30. Then again, that’s not too late, is it?” “What’d she want?” “She was looking for information.” “That I’m sure of,” Robbins told her. “Do you know what it was?” “Sure.” “Well?” “Well what?” “Must we play games?” “I-I didn’t know we were.” Robbins groaned. “What was Ms. Lawton looking for in the files?” It finally dawned on the clerk. “Oh! Why didn’t you say so in the first place and not all that chit-chat. She was looking in the real estate files of November 2017.” “She find what she was looking for?” “I guess she did, or at least the sales notice. Saw it myself after she rushed out. Left the paper open at the November 28 date. Wanna see it?” “Very much!” Robbins nodded. “There it is,” Tillie said, pointing to the document still sitting on top of a cabinet. “Haven’t had time to put it away.” Robbins, finding what he needed, immediately phoned headquarters, demanding all possible intel on Dr. Eric Vornoff. The Old Willows Place, Vornoff’s Lab Lobo followed his master as he checked the tables and instruments. The ambience of electric humming filled the air. Vornoff seemed grimly certain that the operation would succeed this time. “Strowsky was a fool,” he said. “I do not need that would-be czar Putin’s blessing to succeed.” He turned to Lobo. “We are now ready for the girl.” He looked at the door across the room and stared at it, his gaze becoming more tense, more hypnotic by the second. The knob turned. Out came Janet in white negligée, walking slowly toward the operating table with a zombie-like demeanor. Lobo could only look at the young lady, unable to make a sound. Not breaking his gaze, he pulled the angora beret she had been wearing from his pocket, gently stroking the fur with his thick fingers as if it were a small animal. She reclined on the table without a sound. “Strap her in,” Vornoff ordered. Lobo didn’t seem to respond. He had an air of confusion about him. He looked to Janet, then to Vornoff and back, still clutching the former’s hat. “Do as I command you!” The hulk glanced down at the beret and then fixed his eyes on the woman. “I will teach you to disobey!” He rushed across the room to grab his whip. Each lash forced the poor giant to follow his orders with a horrified moan. “Strap her in!” the old man commanded, swinging savagely over and over until he exhausted himself. The frightened Lobo didn’t dare stop, even when Vornoff’s old body made him put down the whip. Outside… “You found her car?” Pam asked, as she followed Craig through the wetlands. “Bogged down on the dirt road in,” said the lieutenant. “I called a tow truck to move it in case I needed back up.” Pam growled. “Does it ever not storm around here?” she complained. “It’s already 12:30 in the afternoon and it’s like it’s the end of the day.” They finally emerged from the trees with the lake and the old house there to greet them. The rotting boards creaked as the pair stepped onto the porch. “If you search the second floor, I’ll check downstairs,” said Craig. “Sounds like a deal,” said Pam. She was the one to open the front door. “Not much better on the inside,” she remarked. The duo soon split up, with Pam looking for the stairwell and Craig making his way toward the parlor. It wasn’t long before Craig found a briefcase, hat, and cane, all looking identical to that Strowsky fellow’s from yesterday amid an area near the fireplace where a mess of footprints had been left on the dusty floor. There had been a little activity there, given the disturbed dust. Even some blood. “Ms. Sato! Come down here, quick!” he called out. Craig looked into the briefcase. He couldn’t read any of the documents’ Cyrillic script, but eventually came across a black-and-white photo of an old man. He didn’t know who he was, but the red stamp on the image implied that it was important. Pam, clutching her SMG, hurried up to the policeman. “This stuff belonged to Strowsky,” he said. “There was a struggle here.” “That’s Vornoff!” said Pam, pointing out the picture Craig had. “That’s the man I’m after!” “Now we’ve got to find where he is,” the lieutenant remarked. “Wasn’t upstairs for long,” she said, looking back in the direction of the stairs. “From what I saw it looked a little better-maintained than down...” She trailed off, her eyes catching something about the fireplace. “Look at that. That one tile on the mantle has been touched a lot.” Craig took notice of it too. “You’re right. You don’t think some dust was rubbed off in the fight?” “No,” said Pam. “It’s at least a yard away from where the scuffle took place. I wonder…” She pushed the tile. First came a click, followed by the sound of sliding bricks. An opening was made in the back of the fireplace. “Like something out of Scooby-Doo,” she remarked. Whoever was hiding out here was down that passage. Now or never. Vornoff’s Lab Stationary on the table, Janet eventually blinked. Whatever trance Vornoff had put her under had worn off and she found herself bound by leather belts. “What are you doing?” Vornoff smiled wickedly, looking up at his apparatus aimed at Janet. “Don’t panic,” he told her. “It will hurt but only for a moment… but you will emerge a woman of super strength and beauty—the bride of the atom!” “Y-You’re insane!” said Janet, terrified. “My paper knows where I am, you can’t hurt me and get away with it!” “When my experiment is complete,” Vornoff said, assured, “no one—American, Russian, or whatever—can ever touch me. I will make the laws.” Janet looked around. Vornoff hobbled away from the table. Lobo, meanwhile, cowered in the corner by the archway his head shifting back and forth between his master and her. As scary as the ogre looked, he was visibly afraid and befuddled. Afraid of Vornoff. “Let me… go!” she demanded. “It will not hurt very long, either way,” said the old man. “You heard her!” Craig and Pam had entered the lab, brandishing their respective Glock 22 and Uzi. Neither had seen Lobo cringing behind them. “Who are you?” Vornoff asked, casually. “The police and SERAPH,” said Pam. “Let her go.” Vornoff chuckled. “You get that girl loose,” Craig told him, “and you’d better do it fast!” “Yes,” said the doctor, playfully. “You have the advantage for the moment.” “I would put holes in you than a four-year-old’s alibi if I had it my way,” Pam said coldly, “but I’d rather talk Dr. Gorgolov—Where is he?” Behind the two, Lobo was creeping up (as stealthily as a man with his body type could manage) with his out hands clasped over his hairless head. “Dick, behind you! Look out!” Janet screamed to no avail; the big guy’s double ax-handle knocked out Craig. Skipping a good distance away, Pam pointed the Uzi at Lobo. “You make one step toward me, Gargantua, and you’re hamburger!” He lumbered toward her, prompting Pam to let the lead go flying. The rapid hail of bullets didn’t even seem to leave a mark. Lobo simply batted the gun out of her hands and gave Pam a hard slap. The agent took one more glance at the mass of muscle and lost consciousness. “Tie them,” Vornoff ordered. “Quickly!” On the shore of Lake Marsh. The removal of the Mercedes made it visually easier for Martin to get his patrol car down to the beach, but neither Craig nor that SERAPH agent was there to meet him. Perhaps they went on to the old Willows place and ran into some trouble? He lit up a Winston and stared up at the overcast. Cracks in the clouds flickered, followed by rumbling. Three other police cars came rolling in, lights flashing, from up toward the main road and all parked alongside the one he and Craig had come in. Martin emerged from his car, followed by Captain Robbins from his. Other cops were there, including that greenhorn Kelton. “Where’s Lieutenant Craig, Martin?” asked Robbins. “He and that SERAPH girl went off through the swamp,” he explained. “We found Strowsky’s truck up at the field and he told me to wait for him here.” “Where were they heading?” asked the captain. “The old Willows place,” Martin said, pointing. “This is your first time out, Kelton,” Robbins said, firmly, “don’t screw this up.” “Yes, s—I mean, no, sir!” Robbins looked at all the other men who had come with him. “You all spread out, get to the Willows place, ASAP!” The police all left at different angles, but heading in the same directing. Martin and Kelton followed closely behind Robbins. The Lab… Pam came to, finding herself bound to a cot with blue twine, the type one would see holding a hay bail together. It was a bit tight, but she thought that if she worked at it, she could get loose. An iron ring on the wall nearby had a rope running through it; the rope was tied around Craig’s wrists, his hands high over his head. The smug old Russian ex-pat placed his hand on Craig’s shoulder. “I’m sure my experiments on the young lady will interest you.” “Buddy, I’ll live to see you hang,” the lieutenant said through his teeth. Vornoff chuckled. “There are more important things at hand.” Pee trickled into Pam’s diaper as she struggled in her bindings. “Tell me what I want to know,” she yelled as she tossed and turned. “Where is Dr. Gorgolov?” “I washed my hands of Vsevolod Feliksovich a long time ago,” he explained. “He still lives in the past, fantasizing about the old days. I don’t know where he is now, but he’s one the opposite side of the coin Strowsky was on.” “Was? You killed him?” asked Craig. Vornoff said nothing. The devious smile he gave did all the talking. He walked toward the strapped-down Janet and studied the belts restraining her. “I trust the straps are not too cutting. Such lovely skin should not be scarred.” Pam tried pushing her body upward against the twine, hoping to loosen it and possibly free one of her limbs. Around her, Craig and Janet struggled to get loose as Vornoff advanced to the switchboard. That big meaty guy, meanwhile seemed to be turning his head back and forth between Janet and some fuzzy object he had in his massive hands. A loud clunk was followed by loud whirring; Vornoff had pulled a lever. Time was almost up. With a thunderous “RRAAAAAA!!”, Lobo charged Vornoff like a bull, knocking him to the floor. Threatened, Vornoff whipped a pistol from his pocket and fired two shots in desperation. Pam, watching the whole thing question why. If her Uzi didn’t scratch him, what good would that do? The massive man picked up the old scientist and hurled him over the operating table like a rag doll. He dropped the gun upon landing. The giant moved back to the switchboard and pushed the lever Vornoff had just thrown. The humming stopped. “Geez!” Pam muttered “If Macho Bunny could only see this…” All the rocking Pam had been seemed to be working. The strings keeping her torso down seemed to be giving way. If she could only work some more on her legs... The human mountain moved over to Janet, and quickly unbuckled her. Once free, she scooped up the pistol Vornoff was using, raced over to Craig, and stuck the weapon in his pocket. The monstrous man then turned his attention to his unconscious master. He lifted his numb body and placed it on the bed Janet had occupied just moments ago and strapped him in. “Now what’s Jumbo doing?” Pam asked, trying to wiggle her legs. Craig and Janet’s eyes were fixed on the strong man as well, as the latter messed around trying to free the former from his bonds. The henchman turned the machine back on. Vornoff had done most of the work for him, so all the big palooka had to do was throw a couple of toggles. Vornoff had finally woken up and quickly took in his current predicament. “LOBO! STOP! I COMMAND—AAAAAAAAAUGHHH!!” The three captives watched in horror as focused radiation belted the hapless old man, who screamed his throat out, unable to move. His lackey stood by, laughing silently. Craig got his left hand free first. “I’ve gotta stop him!” “You can’t!” shouted Pam, who had just managed to free up her right arm. “He’ll kill you!” “Wouldn’t be surprised if he did!” Craig responded just as he was completely free. He rushed over to the giant man, only to get swatted aside, stunned once more. Meanwhile, Pam was able to slip under the loosened twine. Her upper torso and arms were free, but her hips were giving her trouble. She shimmied a bit, and came out of her daisy dukes, wet diaper on full display. Yet greater focus was on the operating table. The radiation had warped Vornoff’s entire frame, increasing his height by roughly thirty percent. His limbs became longer, his jaw became locked in place, and his skin had become sickly green. He broke free of the leather bands and stood up, hunched over. The monstrosity which had formerly been a doctor bounced toward his lackey, issuing a gurgly growl and a strong swat across the face. Both monsters locked hands like sumo, but it was clear that the Vornoff-creature had the advantage in strength. He kicked his henchman in the guts, pushing him into the switchboard. Sparks drifted around like cherry blossoms. The green beast then lifted the hapless behemoth high above his head and hurled him into the hardware. Flames began to lick the immobile mass of muscle and the trappings which surrounded them all. Janet struggled to snap Craig back to his senses, but the mutant gathered her up in his arms and left through the archway. Feet on the floor, Pam found her sidearm on the table and her Uzi still on the floor, not too far away from Craig. She patted him frantically on the cheek. “Lieutenant! Lieutenant! Get up! This whole joint’s barbecue.” Craig came to, but Pam had to help him up. “What… Ms. Sato? Where’s…? Why are you…?” “No time!” she yelled, pulling her pants up. “Vornoff took Janet and went—” as if on cue, a beam of burning timber, came down, blocking the archway “through there…” “The way we came in,” said Craig, breathing heavily. END OF PART 5 —— If you like this story, please consider leaving a tip in the tip jar. Every little bit helps!

Yeah, I think I was instrumental in them nuking their Politics forum because I question the left wing, but I digress.

The growing young version or the political version?