Baby Jemma

Just got to reading the whole story, front to back, and damn, I feel so sorry for Varis. His life got completely turned around. And now Larry, that...I can't say it for fear of being banned, is now threatening him?! After the poor guy had his marriage dissolved, and people like Mike being condescending, and his whole life changed as a result? Varis is right: it isn't fair... But I'm glad Mari is still a rock, and Josh is helping a ton. But seriously, (censor) Larry.

@Panther Cub Playtime will have to wait. They still have to get to their destination first, you know? And juicy, juicy conflict...mmm...conflict and fallout... *giggles* And now, the chapter! - Chapter Five: Waking Up in a Bassinet - Agnes was slow to wake up, her head in a giant haze. There was a scary voice about pirates in her head, a bunch of funny smells that filled the cougar’s nostrils, an odd, squishy, mushy feeling on her bottom. The corn starch smell was still in her head, as she woke up…to see herself in a huge rocking bed, the wooden walls higher than her, a comfy pile of blankets covering her. That’s strange. These blankets are far nicer than the insect-infested ones we had. She noticed other things, too; for one, she was wearing a short pastel-blue dress that didn't hide…wait, what was that?! Am I wearing…a diaper? The cougaress’s golden eyes flew open in shock. She was wearing a diaper, and she had completely wet and soiled it. Tears flew unbidden to her eyes as she started to cry for her mom who was murdered when she was young. “Mommy!” she wailed. “Mommy, I made a poopy!” “I made a poopy, too! Mommy!” Wait, is that AVIS talking? “Avi!” Agnes called, trying to get to her paws. Thankfully, the walls - which she now realized was a bassinet - were not too tall, and she managed to stand up to see the cheetah, who was wearing a coif on her head that looked quite childish. The cougaress’s paw flew to her head, as she realized she was wearing something similar, and tears leapt to her eyes again. “Agy?” the cheetah called back, sucking on her paw. “Wherth’s Mommy?” “Dunno!” Agnes said, her paw flying unbidden to her mouth, the soothing feeling of sucking on something taking over. More crying from the room, as the rest of the crew realized their predicament. Every single one of them had wet and soiled diapers, and the smell of corn starch was everywhere. What none of them saw was Florence. “See, I told you it was cursed!” Sybil cried, the tigress wearing a pink smock. “Where is that bitch right now?” Cecily snarled in a similar pink smock. “I wanna wring her damn neck!” “Calm down!” Grace’s voice cut through, still deep, still proving that all of them still, at least, had the bodies of adults. “Let’s just get out of our bassinets first, see what’s what.” Agnes was furious…but she accepted the pantheress’s logic. Each of the crew got out of the bassinets rather easily, realizing that even though their diapers - much, much thicker than normal baby diapers - were causing them to waddle, they could still walk without any problems. “I am going to wring that bitch’s…mean neck.” Cecily’s eyes widened as she couldn’t say the most common word of any sailor. “Meanie! Stupid! Floofy!” She sat down with a squelch and pouted. “The HELL is going on?!” Isabel growled. “I did NOT ask to be dressed like a baby!” “I did not ask to POOPY like a baby either!” Denise snarled, trying to enunciate “shit” without any success. “It was that voice, that older woman,” Emma pointed out before sucking on her paw. “Yeah, that makes sense,” Millicent said diplomatically. “If we’re cursed, it has to be that voodoo witch who lost her husband…” “But if it is, then what the hell happened to our captain?” Winifred asked in a worried tone. “She clearly said Flory was going to get it the worst…” “Good,” Cecily growled, still pouting on the floor. “I hope she’s suffering, wherever she is.” “Listen, Ceecee, I don’t like this any more than you do, but Florence doesn’t deserve it,” Grace said. “We all wanted that treasure. We could’ve easily overruled her, and-” “SHUT UP, GRACIE!” Sybil snarled, the tigress hearing a hiss as she wet herself more. She started to cry. “Dammit! I hate this!” “Shh, it’s okay, Sibby.” Avis came over as the cheetah hugged her crewmate, as Grace started to cry. “Why are you being mean to me?!” the pantheress bawled, as Millicent and Winifred waddled out of the crew’s quarters into the room where the treasure was being stored. “Because YOU said to not leave the first chance we got!” Agnes snapped, the cougaress’s tail lashing side to side (or about as side-to-side as her thick diaper allowed) in fury as she sheathed and unsheathed her claws, finally venting her spleen on something tangible. “And our STUPID captain wanted to take all of the cursed treasure! I hope she’s DEAD!” Denise and Isabel started to cry, and Emma glared at Agnes, through tears of her own. “You don’t mean that, Agy,” the snow leopardess said. “Leave Gracie alone; she tried the best she could with what she was given.” “SHUT IT, EMMY! I HOPE THAT POOPY FLOOFFACE BITCH OF A CAPTAIN IS DEAD AND BURNING IN HELL! SHE CURSED US! FOREVER! WE’RE GOING TO BE MAKING POOPIES IN DIAPERS FOREVER! WE’RE GOING TO BE PAWSUCKING TODDLERS FOREVER! ALL BECAUSE THAT BITCH GOT GREEDY! SHE COULD’VE TARGETED A PERFECTLY GOOD MERCHANT SHIP, BUT NOOOO, GO FOR THE FLOOFING CURSED TREASURE! I HATE HER, I HATE HER, I HATE HER!” Agnes threw herself on the surprisingly soft floor, throwing a tantrum worthy of any two-year-old, as even the normally calm Emma started to cry, snot and tears running down her face, as the adult kittens wished that their mommies were there. Then Millicent and Winifred came in, their faces pale. “Flory…” Winifred said sadly. “I just…I didn’t know…” Millicent mumbled. “Is the bitch dead?” Cecily said coldly. “Is she at least suffering?” Sybil spat. “Um, you girls are going to have to see for yourselves,” Winifred said, her eyes serious enough that even Agnes was curious. “She better be a floofing newborn…” Agnes snarled to herself as the group went into the captain’s chambers…and gaped in shock. It was a full-blown nursery now, various shades of pastel pinks and blues adorning the room. The treasure that had been packed in was gone, replaced by everything an infant would need: diapers, honey sticks, cleaning supplies...but not even a single silver coin could be seen. A large bassinet lay in the middle of the room. Florence was sleeping fitfully in the bassinet, completely swaddled like an infant, drooling on her bib, whimpering in a pained voice. “No more, Momma…why don’t you love me, Momma? Why don’t you want me? Why are you hurting me? Why are you bringing in men that hurt me? Momma, pweash…” “Florence, enough dreaming!” Agnes snapped, ripping open the swaddled blankets, revealing a diaper that was leaking so much it could’ve burst. “It’s time to wake the hell up!” The black vixen fell on the floor with a start, waking up to see her diaper, and she knew, and started to bawl unintelligibly. “Shut up! We’re all like this. Now get the HELL up and let’s get to Tortuga!” Agnes tried to bring the captain to her feet and drag her, but the vixen immediately fell on her bottom and started to wail even more. “OH, FOR FLOOF’S SAKE, GET UP!” “Agy, I don’t think she can!” Avis said, the cheetah’s eyes glaring at her friend so much that the cougaress immediately stopped, trusting in her friend to handle it. “Flory, can you move your feet?” Agnes stared in shock as the still-adult, black-furred vixen shook her head sadly, ignoring her hated nickname - no, not just ignoring, but accepting it happily. “Me no wawk, Avi,” the vixen said, drooling even more on her bib. “Me twy…” She tried to stand up but fell on her bottom with a squish and a sobbing whine. “It’s okay, you’re just not old enough right now,” Avis said calmly. “Can you still do the things of a captain? What is two plus two?” “One, tawoo…one one?” The vixen was looking at the cheetah hopefully, as the entire crew started to realize…she really did get it worse than they did. “Flory, crawl over to me,” Avis said. “Maybe we could change each other-” “Poopy…” Florence’s eyes glazed over as she did just that, the horrid stench going through the room, as she continued to drool and started to suck on her paws. “Oh my God!” A male voice. All of the babyfied women turned around to see a large raccoon and a bunch of various animals staring at them in horror, crossing themselves, dropping to the deck in shock, or praying to whatever God they believed in, all in their native languages. “The curse, it’s real!” “Querido Dios!” “Mère Mary, Jesus Christ, pardonne-moi, car j’ai péché…” “You demned fools…you demned fools, going after a treasure that was obviously cursed…” The raccoon, Captain Richard Toler, one of the heads of Tortuga’s conclave, shook his head in disgust, as he began to order his crew, “Don’t touch anything other than them. Get them the hell out of here, get them demned well out; I don’t care if you drop them off in the demn streets, just so long as these stupid bitches are out of sight, and away from any able bodied man or woman. I don’t want them anywhere near any of our ships; we need all of the help we can get against the East India Trading Company…” Somehow, the Catastrophe had arrived in Tortuga…and it was one of the worst receptions the eleven animals could’ve gotten. - Hope you enjoyed~

Well, time for the next chapter of The Tale of the Dying Night. Hopefully this it to y'all's satisfaction~ - Chapter Four: A Ghost Ship - The gangplank had to be raised for the Catastrophe to reach the top of the ghost galleon. Thankfully, Sybil was a solid carpenter and managed to get a few extensions to help it reach. Florence was the first to board, and the second she did, she felt a supercharged jolt go through her, as nothing about the galleon made sense. It seemed to be abandoned completely, with no cannons, only one door (the captain’s quarters; there wasn’t even any sign of a deck below), and an odd, yet strangely familiar smell in the air that her nose couldn’t figure out. The vixen sighed. They wouldn’t find the treasure by standing around. “Is everyone getting on?” she called to Grace. “Yeah, we’re coming, we’re coming!” The crew, either scared of their captain’s shouting match, curious about the abandoned ship themselves, or both, all clambered on the gangplank, getting on board the galleon. The smell was almost overpowering to Florence at this point, and yet she couldn’t even describe it. Why was it so familiar…? “WAIT, WHERE THE HELL IS OUR SHIP?!” Florence raced over to the starboard side where Millicent and Winifred were. The Catastrophe was gone. “Did our ship sink?” the black vixen demanded. “No, there’d be bubbles, signs that she sank,” Emma said, the snow leopardess’s eyes showing a rare sign of emotion: fear. “Nothing. She just…vanished.” “Ships don’t vanish! She’s somewhere…keep searching! I’m going into the captain’s quarters, see if there’s anything there.” Florence barged into the captain’s quarters…only to see a long hall with a door at the end of it. Is this a jest? Then the door slammed behind her without any warning. She looked back for a moment...before moving forward towards the door ahead. Always go forward, never back; that was her personal motto. Nothing to do but go forward. She walked at a brisk pace, and yet the hall seemed to go on longer, a terrified voice in her head telling her not to go further. Florence, are you sure this is natural? It’s the treasure, shut up. But- SHUT UP! The black vixen ran towards the door angrily, only to see it tease her by stretching out further. The terrified feeling in her mind was screaming, but she swallowed it down and leapt towards the door…only to slam into it when it had moved without warning. She swore like a furious sailor (and she knew plenty enough words, having spent her entire life amongst ex-sailors), holding her bleeding snout, licking the blood off of her fur and paws with her tongue, dancing around with pain. When she was done, she took the handle and opened the door. Her brain stopped working for a second. Her eyes widened in sheer awe. Her brain told her eyes that this couldn’t be real, to look again. Her eyes told her brain that they were definitely looking, that this was definitely real. It was a room. Just a nondescript room with only one thing that separated it from the other nondescript rooms of the world: treasure. The treasure of The Dying Night was more than anyone could’ve ever imagined, beyond even Florence’s wildest dreams. Gold and silver of all kinds - coins, bars, goblets, necklaces, anything one could imagine - filled the room to the top, spilling out to her boots. Gemstones of all different colors dazzled within the gold and silver coins. Diamonds bigger than her paws; rubies, sapphires, emeralds, topaz, peridots, all of them as big as oranges. Dear God…this is…this is it! she thought excitedly. And it’s all ours. No, it’s all YOURS, a selfish part of her mind said. None of the others believed. Why shouldn’t it be yours? It’s not that they’ve ever done anything other than second guess you, doubt everything you say, even after everything you’ve done for them, even after all of the freedom you gave them. You’re the only one who believed in it all along. Why not you? But…they’re my friends. They deserve to share. Then you get the biggest share. You’re the captain, it’s yours by right. They get enough to start their stupid families. You get to live in luxury. Hmm…you…have a point…but not too much? No. Take it all, put it on the Catastrophe. It’s only one room full of treasure; you’ll have plenty of room on your ship. But… No buts! You can get this treasure on your ship, be a rich woman for the rest of your life, do whatever you want, with nobody to tell you “no”! That does sound awfully tempting… Then do it. Get the treasure on your ship. Give your merry band of cutthroats their meager share, take all of the rest, as is your right as captain. Well…okay… “CREW, I FOUND IT!” she shouted, opening the door behind her…to see the deck of The Dying Night, her crew staring at her in shock as coins spilled out. “Florence…we found it…” Grace whispered in shock. “No. I found it,” the vixen growled. “Therefore, I get the biggest share.” “That’s not how our code works!” the pantheress sputtered, her eyes wide with stunned disbelief at what her captain was saying. “Equal shares! Equal rights!” “REALLY? THEN WHO FOUND THE DAMN TREASURE? ME! I OPENED THE DOOR TO IT; YOU MERELY STOOD THERE AND WATCHED!” “Florence, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but this stops NOW!” Grace towered over Florence as she snarled at her captain. “We’ll take the treasure…but it WILL be equal shares, as according to the code you set!” The quartermistress’s voice got to something in her, and her eyes widened in shock. “Sorry, sorry, I don’t…I don’t know what came over me. It’s the first big score we’ve had, and I guess…I guess I lost my head. I’m sorry…” “It’s okay, just…we all believe in you,” Avis said, the cheetah giving the vixen a quick hug. “It’ll be all right. We’ll have enough to do whatever we want.” “The Catastrophe’s back!” Denise’s voice called…from the port side. The crew ran over to the port side, quickly noticing their beloved frigate, confused for a bit. “Wait, why is our ship on the opposite side?” Sybil asked. “We docked at the starboard side…” Cecily said nervously. “Let’s get it all on, then!” Florence shouted in a giddy tone. “Will we have enough room?” Denice asked, the lynx’s short tail curled between her legs. “That’s…a lot of treasure. And we still have to find room for food and drink…” “We did not come all this way, go through all of that danger to halftail everything and take less than what we deserve!” the black vixen growled. “We’re taking it all. I want to see everything, down to the last silver coin, on our ship. Let’s get moving!” The crew sighed, seeing the fox’s typical stubbornness come out again and quickly followed the order. Both captain and crew had gotten the chests from their ship, packing every bit of treasure they could find in, and when the daylight was fading, they had loaded the Catastrophe. Florence looked at the dilapidated galleon with the odd scent one last time with a strange emotion in her mind: regret. She was a fine ship, at one point, fitting for a pirate king or queen. What had happened to her to make it this way? Where was her crew? “That ship and her crew stole everything from me.” Florence whirled around, looking for the voice in confusion. It wasn’t any of her crew’s voices; it was old, raspy…wise. “Just imagining things,” the vixen said with a laugh, as she boarded her ship with her crew. She was going to leave this ship behind forever, get rich from the treasure, do whatever she wanted. The scent had carried over to the Catastrophe, and recognition came to Florence’s mind. She knew what the smell was. It was something she had thought she would never smell in her life again. “Why does everything smell like baby powder?” Isabel asked. “It’s just corn starch, Izzy,” Agnes growled. “Probably part of the dead ship, probably all the crew had to eat before they died themselves.” “No, I mean, this is…definitely corn starch used for baby powder,” the jaguaress insisted. “Oh, tosh-oo!” the cougaress sniffed and sneezed. “Bless ya-choo!” Grace sneezed. The crew was sneezing uncontrollably from the smell, almost choking on it, before it overpowered them, and the mist swirled over the ship, making it impossible to see. Florence could hear a loud voice burning a brand in her brain before everything went dark, and the voice echoed in the black. “You pirates are all the same. You took away my husband, my light, the love of my life. Not satisfied with that, you took our baby from me as well. Well, I am not cruel like you. You will find love yourselves if you take but a single coin…but it will not be the love you expect. And you will never be able to hurt anyone ever again. This is your curse, from now until the end of days.” “As for you, Florence Goodluck, you will receive the biggest blessing for your greed and selfishness. Pirate captains are selfish, greedy, cruel, evil monsters. The only difference is that you happened to be foolish enough to discount my warnings, unlike your brethren. Your crew will have freedom, but you never will. That is your blessing and your curse, from now until the end of days.” Then even the darkness faded into sheer nothingness. - Well, I hope you enjoyed, fellow reader~

Actually, I did not mix them up; Millicent was the one speaking, but Winifred had turned to face her...but you did point out that it was vague who was speaking, so thank you so much, Panther~ And...well, definitely a lot more than just soggy~ :3 Anyway, here comes the third chapter: - Chapter Three: A Sea Shanty. - “HEY!” Grace was having a good dream when Florence’s high-pitched soprano cut through. The pantheress groaned, getting to her paws, when she saw the black-furred vixen looking down at her with a smug look on her face. “It’s night’s death,” Florence said with a smirk, “and there’s no more mist.” Grace felt so tired…but the captain was right. The mist had vanished, revealing an absolutely beautiful forest with a river that was big enough for their frigate to pass through to their immediate left. She got to her paws unsteadily, towering over her captain, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. “Everyone, stir your paws; we have a lot of rowing ahead of us!” the pantheress roared, shocking every one of the crew into wakefulness. Agnes glowered at Grace, but she ignored the cougaress and got an oar out, ready to row alongside Florence. “Told you this was it, didn’t I?” Florence whispered with a snicker. “We’re all going to be so rich-” “If someone hasn’t already pilfered the ship before, Flory,” Agnes said, sniffing in disdain. “HOW MANY GODDAMNED TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU ALL NOT TO CALL ME THAT?! HOW - MANY - GODDAMNED - TIMES?!” All of the felines were shocked at the reaction from the vixen captain. Not that she had shouted at them (part of being on a ship was that shouting was not only expected, but necessary), not that she had told them not to call her by that name (even though they would say it behind her back), but by the flowing tears in her eyes that leaked down her face, for Florence never cried. She quickly wiped them away, rubbing the fur on her temple again. “Sorry, I just…there’s treasure to get to.” The steely-eyed look of sheer determination was back. “If I have to go on a rowboat alone to bring it back, I will. But I’m not leaving without this. This is our time. Let’s shine like the constellations in the sky, okay, ladies?” The crew gave a collective sigh and got to their oars. “Hey, Avi, give us a tune, all right?” Grace’s voice boomed, as the cheetah, the only animal not rowing, brought out a fiddle and started a small shanty in a beautiful soprano tone. “I thought I heard the old bird say, ‘Leave him, Janey, leave him.’ Tomorrow, ye will get your pay-" “And it’s time for us to leave him!” the rest of them sang, getting in tune, rowing down the largest river, as the leafy forest quickly passed by in shades of green. “Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!” “Oh, the wind was foul, and the sea ran high-” “Leave him, Janey, leave him!” “He shipped it green an’ none went by-” “And it’s time for us to leave him!” The river’s rapids were drowned out by the singing. To Grace, it almost seemed like the Catastrophe was in a whirlpool spiraling downward, except it was more…peaceful than a whirlpool. Maybe it was them singing? Who knew? “Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him, Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!” “I hate to sail on this rotten tub-” “Leave him, Janey, leave him!” “No grog allowed and rotten grub-” “And it’s time for us to leave him!” Grace saw something with her keen eyes. A lake? Maybe… “Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him, Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!” “We swear by rote for want of more-” “Leave him, Janey, leave him!” “But now we’re through, so we’ll go onshore-” “And it’s time for us to leave him! Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him, Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!” They had gotten to a giant lake, the waterfall crashing down in a cascade of rainbows, the sunlight clear. “This…this is not on any map I’ve ever done,” Isabel said, her face pale. “This is the legend!” Florence’s tone was filled with excitement, almost a squeak before she cleared her throat. “This is it. Now let’s search for the ship, a league away from the waterfall, directly. Emma, take the helm! Isabel, your telescope! Everyone else, half sails!” “You heard the captain, half sails!” Grace’s voice boomed. The winds were surprisingly gentle, almost like a summer breeze than a spring gale, and they carried the Catastrophe. Grace then overheard a whispered conversation between the lioness and tigress sisters. “What if it’s…taking us there?” Cecily whispered. “What do you mean ‘taking’?” Sybil whispered back to her sister. “Like…the winds are far too gentle and the waves too light. This is the beginning of spring, everyone knows the story that goes with it. Harsh winds, rain, heavy waves…this has none of that.” “So you’re saying this treasure wants to be found?” “I’m saying this isn’t close to being natural. I don’t know if it’s a curse, but…” “It’s good luck!” Florence had finally overheard, clapping both sisters on their backs in excitement. Grace had not wanted to step in…for the sisters did have a point. The weather had changed far too quickly. The river had taken them down to the lake far too quickly. It was a little suspicious, to say the least. What if it’s the curse? she thought. What if that voodoo woman wanted the curse to continue, continue seducing the pirates that killed her love? What were the words she said for that curse? What were the words…? But as much as the pantheress searched her mind for the answers…it floated away, a scrap of paper on the wind, fluttering into the heavens for God to read. The words were right there, but she had no luck remembering. This is not right…something about all of this is very, VERY wrong… “Captain Florence?” she said to the vixen, whose paws were holding a telescope to peer in the distance. “Yes, Grace?” She had not moved from her position, her eyes still fixed to the telescope. “I just…don’t you think it’s a tad…odd?” “Odd?” “Yes. The weather’s changed for the better, the river’s taken us down without a single shallow, it’s just…are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” “Are you saying there’s a so-called ‘curse’, Quartermistress?” The terse tone cut through the air, as the crew watched the two talk, the silence from all but vixen and pantheress so still that one could’ve dropped a feather on a field of grass and it would’ve made a sound. “I’m saying that we should tread with massive caution. Surely you heard of the words regarding this?” “Quartermistress, I don’t give a damn what you or the rest of the crew think about a supposed 'curse'.” Grace took a step back in shock as Florence snapped the telescope shut to glare daggers at her, her yellow eyes barely able to meet her captain’s green gaze. “There is no such thing. It’s a bunch of superstitious drivel by old pirates past their time that I don’t have patience for, that I’ve never believed in. We are a skilled, clever, and - yes - a very lucky crew to have the weather shift for the better after getting here, but don’t give me any shit about curses. “This is a score for us, we’re lucky, we will get to retire early, and nobody will bother us ever again. We will NEVER go hungry ever again! We will NEVER want for anything ever again! And if you and the rest want to pursue the life of a family, that’s all well and fine, but I’m going to be spending my time with my share of the treasure ALONE! I am SICK AND TIRED of being second-guessed by EVERYONE HERE! IF THIS IS FAMILY-” the word spat out with so much venom that the entire crew bit their lips to stop from crying. “-I WANT NO PART OF IT! IF THIS IS FAMILY, I’M BETTER OFF ALONE!” Grace was crying at this point…but she noticed that the black fox was crying as well. Only Emma had seen what was ahead. The snow leopardess bellowed, “SHIP AHEAD!” “There, now will you stop second-guessing me, all of you?” Florence snapped, as the ship came into view, as the crew milled around, staring at the vessel in shock. It was a giant galleon, astonishingly looking quite well for the time it had been there, the black-painted teak woods gleaming in the sunlight. The anchors had been lowered, and barnacles had grown on the underside and the metal. The sails were torn, no, ripped to shreds, as if by some wild beast. It dwarfed the Catastrophe by a large amount. “Emma, wheel around the anchors, settle to its starboard!” Florence shouted out. “The rest of you, get a gangplank to board. Jump to it!” The Catastrophe had found The Dying Night. The captain and crew would soon wish they had left it well enough alone. - Well, this is a real (and very old) sea shanty (my favorite from AC4: Black Flag, XD), called "Leave Her, Johnny". Yes, the song is normally talking about the ship, and yes, ships are always female, but I couldn't resist doing a bit of a gender turn. Not for the ship, but the song. But yes, I'm excited to get this chapter out to you guys. Until next time~

Thank you! I'm hoping to delve further into the characters of the crew with this next chapter. And foreshadowing? Maaaybe? Anyway, I've come up with another chapter (I'm really on a roll, haha~) Enjoy, everyone~ - Chapter Two: A Mutiny Quelled - The mist and frost were creeping up the mast and timbers of the Catastrophe like hungry slugs, as Winifred stretched out her limbs, claws extended, trying to regain some warmth in them. She and Millicent were doing first watch, and the caracal felt a sense of relief; it meant a sleep that wasn’t interrupted afterward. Of course, she and Millicent had to keep quiet with their voices, so as not to wake the rest of the crew - and it didn’t help that it was colder than a witch’s breast. “I’ve never seen Flory like this before, Winnie.” Winifred turned to her serval best friend, who had spoken and looked genuinely concerned. “It’s like nothing else matters, except that treasure. You think Sibby and Ceecee are right? That the treasure’s cursed, and it’s affecting Flory?” “Millie…I don’t know.” The caracal rubbed the frost out of her eyes with a weary paw. “I really don’t know. But Flory’s kept us safe thus far. She’s never put us in danger or in situations we can’t handle. She’s tried very hard on that. I just…I don’t know. I’ve never seen her like this either. Snapping at Emmy like that…it’s not like her.” Millicent looked down at her paws, her tail flicking around in tense anticipation. “She just…all of us want a family. All of us have wanted a family of our own because we never had that…but…she just seems to hate the thought of it. Why?” “Millie, you know none of us know that. Not even me.” Both medium-sized cats almost jumped out of their fur when they heard Grace’s steady contralto, and the pantheress raised a paw to calm them. “Sorry, couldn’t sleep; it’s just too damn cold. But…Flory keeps her private life private, under lock and key in a chest with weights that she’s sunk to Davy Jones’ Locker. We’re not stupid; something happened to her to make her this way. But we’re not going to find out. We’re her family, in her eyes, and I don’t want to lose all of the trust she has in us.” “Jeysus, what the hell are you all gabbing about?” Millicent and Winifred jumped again, seeing all of the crew awake, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes…except for Florence. Agnes had spoken, the cougaress’s eyes rolling with annoyance, as she let out a giant yawn, showing her fangs. “I dunno how anyone can sleep with that racket and the damnable cold. It’s too cold to sleep.” “Agy, you have anything to eat?” Avis whined a bit, the cheetah curling her tail around her chest to get warmth. “I’m hungry…” “You know the stores are long since gone, Avi,” the cougar said, her eyes still hardened, yet her voice belying an inner softness before sweet turned back to sour again. “Maybe that treasure is the key. Hell if I know, but what I don’t know is why our captain has lost her goddamn mind to try to go off of a myth instead of something more productive, like merchant ships. Merchant ships, you could at least steal the rum and stored food. You can’t cook diamonds, can’t boil gemstones - that is, if they haven’t already been pilfered.” “Judging by all of the dead ships here, I don’t think anyone else made it,” Isabel said, her claws tapping on the deck. “Everyone avoids this area like the plague. Maybe it is cursed. Maybe it’s a ghost ship. But we’re lucky to have made it this far. I’ll give credit to Flory on one thing: she’s gotten us this far. I’m willing to see it through.” “Her stubbornness is going to be the end of us, Izzy,” Agnes insisted, her voice low so as not to wake the black fox who was growling in her sleep. “We nearly died. Credit to Emmy for her steering-” The cougaress nodded to the snow leopardess with respect, “-and credit to us for managing to get the anchors down in time to prevent us from impending death. We’re probably more like lucky than anything.” “We haven’t been very lucky when it comes to scores as of late, though,” Denise pointed out diplomatically. “We need all of what Lady Luck has to give us; we’re owed a bit.” “We’re not owed anything, Deedee,” Isabel said. “Nobody has owed us anything; we have made our own luck. But who knows? Maybe things will change.” “And maybe fish will fly like eagles and birds swim like sharks,” Cecily said dourly, the tip of the lioness’ tail twitching. “You don’t know that, Ceecee,” Winifred retorted. “Maybe this gets us rich.” “We’re chasing a ghost, Winnie, and we’re going to be ghosts as well if we keep going like this,” Sybil said with a resigned sigh, the tigress covering her face with her paws. “We haven’t got a plan aside from maybe rowing down the rivers, the treasure’s probably cursed, and even if the treasure isn’t cursed, we don’t even have maps to get out once we get it.” “Let’s not be pessimistic, Sibby,” Millicent said. “I’m looking at this realistically. Our captain’s led us into a death trap.” Sybil was shaking and couldn’t get the rest of the words out. “We’re all going to die here,” her sister finished bluntly, causing Avis to whimper in fear. “I say we take the first opportunity and get out of here,” Agnes said. “Damn what our captain thinks; I’m not dying in this cold place. I’m not adding my corpse to all of the dead here.” Both lioness and tigress siblings were nodding with Avis tentatively raising a paw, but Grace let out a low warning growl. “I understand your concerns, but I do not tolerate mutiny,” the pantheress said, her deep voice carrying an edge. “Gracey, maybe we should consider-” Avis pointed out, before Grace snarled and cowed the cheetah, the pantheress’s tail lashing side to side. “We are not mutineers. Flory - our captain, our friend - has not led us wrong yet. Who got us out of poverty on the docks to freedom on the open seas? Flory did. Who came up with the plan to steal the Catastrophe from the British privateers and succeeded without even a single hitch in that plan? Flory did. Who came up with the code that has kept us alive? Flory did.” “But-” Sybil began, before Isabel cut her off, saying, “Who has kept us fed and sheltered to the best of her ability, even before herself? Flory has.” “Izzy, you can’t-” Cecily started before Denise interrupted, “Who has sworn to do everything we do, to never ask us to do anything she wouldn’t do herself, and has kept every promise she made? Flory has.” “That doesn’t mean she isn’t wrong on this, Deedee,” Agnes growled. “And if she’s right, this makes us rich women, richer even than anything beyond our wildest dreams.” All heads turned to face Emma, the quiet snow leopardess rarely speaking, but when she deliberated to talk, everyone listened. The vast majority of the crew, even Avis, were nodding along with Emma’s words, and even though Agnes looked angry, and Cecily and Sybil looked fearful, even they were backing off of their earlier thoughts, with Agnes licking her paw nonchalantly. Grace’s deep calming voice gave the final verdict. “We wait until dawn. If the mist still hasn’t cleared up, I’ll ask our captain to turn us around myself. If the mist clears, we listen, and follow her to hell and back.” With those words, the crew curled up with their blankets, while Florence was waking up from her usual nightmare with a jolt, the terror in her blinking eyes - only there for a heartbeat before turning back to stubborn determination - the only sign that she was affected. It was her usual nightmare, nothing to worry about. It was in the past, and she didn’t dwell on the past, not when there was so much to look forward to. Like dawn, for instance. “Guess I’ll take the full shift,” the black fox muttered to herself, her eyes open like twin moons as she relaxed against the mast, waiting for the mist to clear, for the frost to recede, not realizing just how close her dreams had come to being dashed. Had she realized that her quartermaster had quelled a potential mutiny, if she had known what would happen to her and her crew…maybe she would’ve ordered the ship to turn back anyway. Maybe she would’ve gone for an easier target, something much less ambitious. But as the dawn crept in from the shadows of the moon, as the mist vanished like smoke on the wind, and the frost on the wood turned to morning dew…it was far too late to turn back, and it would be something she and the others would dwell on for the rest of their lives. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Well, this is a different sort of story. I had the idea of combining a babyfur story...with the Golden Age of Piracy. Weird idea, but I've researched a bit, figured out how things worked, and it just...took hold. It's a lot less mature than most of my stories, actually (surprising for me), buuut I maaay include some things that are a lot more AB and regression themed than I normally do (which is normally a lot). Also, there will be a bit earthier stuff, like a brothel and tavern wenches (as was in the times. Don't worry, no sexual themes aside from...motherhood themes.), so consider that the warning. I'm also admittedly not sure where the story's middle and climax are, but I have an idea about the end;I just don't know where it'll go before then. Okay, here's the first chapter: Chapter One: Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls The ocean in 1595 was a treacherous place, especially when one didn’t know what they were doing, and even more so when it was an area rife with danger already; the broken ships, names long since lost to the pounding waves, howling winds, and sea spray proved that without a shadow of a doubt. Fortunately for Florence Goodluck, the feared - at least, she hoped she was - black-furred fox captain of the seven seas, she and her small crew knew exactly what they were doing...or so they hoped. She wore few fripperies; while she and her crew were regarded as pirates, welcomed at Tortuga by fellow pirates, they weren’t a very wealthy or successful crew, having gotten few prizes over the time they were active. She and her crew wore simple, short, homespun dresses, ragged and torn from years on the sea. “Tack to port!” she called out in a high soprano, as she took the lookout point, seeing her crew of big cats maneuver the Catastrophe (her idea to let the crew, having known her lifelong friends since they all lived on the docks of Dover, England as orphans, know how much she appreciated them, especially since they unanimously voted her captain.) with Emma Everard, the stoic snow leopardess helmscat at her customary spot at the wheel. Not that the fox minded the lookout and rigging jobs; she never ordered her crew to do anything that she wouldn’t do, and she knew that Emma was better at the wheel than she could ever be. “Move port, bring the riggings up!” Grace Wythinghall, the powerful pantheress roared out, as was her right as quartermistress, helping the crew move away from the bow of a half-sunken ship, the stench of rotting wood in the air as a cold, heavy mist began to roll in. Florence sniffed the air, with most everything, even the familiar sea spray scents, fading into the furling mists. She realized that it could be a quest that ended all of their lives. No pirate had ever gotten this treasure, mostly because of silly and stupid superstitions that the older folk believed in. But she truly believed that she and her crew would be the first, and it would propel them to fame, glory…and mostly peace. Maybe because we’re the most desperate, that we have absolutely nothing to lose, she thought to herself. They were all veterans of the seas for a decade, and yet none of them were over the age of twenty-three, having lived hard lives as pirates, spending almost all of that decade in the bosom of their small frigate, rocked to sleep by the waves, avoiding privateers (those damned hypocrites, no better than they were…only with a letter of marque by the kings and queens of countries allowing them to prey on those weaker than them), fellow pirates, and legitimate navy ships that could’ve sunk them and sent them straight to Davy Jones. All Florence wanted was to retire. She was tired of the sea, tired of the dangers, tired of starving, and she wanted to put down roots somewhere on an island where the most she’d see of the ocean was occasional fishing, with more money than she knew how to spend. “Florence, I can’t see anything in this mist!” Agnes Coulthurst cried out, the cougaress’s tail lashing in annoyance, bringing her back to the moment. “Hold steady!” the black fox called. “Are you absolutely sure, Flory?” Denise Parkham called out; the lynx boatswain's voice tinged with terror. This was not a natural mist; the conditions for mist weren’t there; hell, it was far too cold for the normal spring weather of the Caribbean, and frost began to creep on the sails. “Do NOT call me ‘Flory’!” Florence snapped. “Hold steady unless I say!” A cheetah was scratching her claws on the ship deck, whimpering, “We’re going to crash into one of those ships-” “AVIS, WE ARE NOT GOING TO CRASH! TRUST ME!” the black fox shouted. “That goes for everyone! We are going to make it through! Have I ever led you wrong before?! Hold - damn - steady!” “You heard the captain!” Grace roared; the fox had to admit that the vocal cords of the quartermistress was a much louder sound that almost seemed to cut through the mist. “Hold steady until she says!” All eleven animals held their breaths, as if the very act of breathing would cause the water to hear and consume them. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a sword. Then Millicent Huchenson and Winifred Daundelyon, a serval and caracal as close as twin sisters (even though they weren’t actual sisters like the Rowes) heard a faint roar coming in front of them, their especially keen ears pounding with blood, and both of them screamed in terror, holding each other. Florence heard the faint roar as well, heard the sailmaker and cooper scream, and immediately bellowed, “DROP ANCHORS AND FURL SAILS RIGHT NOW!” Her crew reacted quickly, knowing that their lives depended on it. Whether Lady Luck existed or not, they knew one thing: they were lucky, for the roar was coming from a waterfall that plummeted down into nothingness - the anchors had managed to cling to rocks just in time to save them from going over. “This has to be the goddamned end of the world…” Isabel Hornboldt moaned pitifully, the jaguaress who served as the navigator unsheathing and sheathing her claws. “There’s nothing on my maps that says anything about a goddamned waterfall!” “That means we’re close to The Dying Night!” Florence shouted, her eyes alight with recognition. “Don’t you girls remember what the legend said?” “Other than some voodoo witch that cursed the pirates who killed her husband?” Sybil Rowe asked curiously, the tigress carpenter looking straight at her lioness sister, Cecily's eyes. “And they were never heard from again? And that everyone who tried to find this treasure died?” the gunner finished in a dour tone. “Cecily, Sybil, curses aren’t real!” the fox captain snorted to herself. Curses? Ridiculous. And they were a much better crew than those that had died; hadn’t they proved it by surviving until now? “Anyway, it’s at the bottom of the waterfall.” “Well, unless you plan on jumping off, I’d love to hear ideas, Flory!” Agnes snapped. “Always grumbling, Agy, always grumbling about something!” Florence retorted, inwardly seething about the childish nickname uttered by the cook. “Don’t you know that there are tributaries that lead downward? Or did you forget about the legend entirely?” The cougaress’s face flushed in annoyance, but Avis Ballett was quick to say, “But we can’t see anything in the mist!” Florence sighed, quickly wrapping a rope around her paw and stepping off of her perch, down to her crew from the crow’s nest, using her weight to counterbalance and land safely on her paws. Her crew had seen her do it so many times that they were no longer afraid for her safety…but they didn’t dare try it themselves. They would follow her anywhere…except with that; some things were just a death wish. “That’s why the legend is called ‘The Dying Night,’” the fox explained, mostly to the cheetah musician, but to the rest of the crew as well. “We wait until dawn; that’s night’s death, that’s when the mist will clear up and reveal the tributaries. Then we go down to them, find the ship, get the loot, divide it, and get out as rich women.” “You’re placing an awfully big bet on a mere legend, Flory,” Denise mused, her paw drumming on the side rail. “Enough with that stupid nickname! We know it’s real, Denise, there’s enough evidence to prove it, especially since it's here in front of our eyes.” Florence’s green eyes were desperate. “You’re my crew; I’d go down with and for you any day, and you know that, but we can’t be pirates forever. This could be the one. This could be the treasure that we could retire with and live like queens.” “I’d settle for a family.” All heads turned to face Isabel, who looked sad. “We’re family, Izzy,” Grace gently coaxed. “No, I meant…we stole this ship from the privateers together, and we're as close as we can get without being blood…but I want something…tangible,” the jaguaress said with a sigh. “No insult meant to you girls, but we see each other every day, every time I wake up on this ship. I’ve heard every argument we could ever hear. I want a different voice.” “Get enough money, and you could buy a family,” Florence said with a smirk. “Florence, not everything’s about scoring that big loot.” To the black fox’s shock, it was Emma that said those words, the normally quiet snow leopardess having a faraway look in her eyes. “I’d love a family myself. We all grew up as orphans; I wanted to know my mom for years. She died, you know. Died in childbirth. Dear ‘Dad’ left me on the docks. We all have similar stories, Florence, even you. Haven't you ever wanted someone to hold you, to love you, no matter what?” Florence sighed angrily. “Look, you want a mommy to feed you, pay a damn wetnurse. Those times are done, and you can’t ever go back. What’s done is done. We’re here right now, so let’s focus on our goal right now." She took a deep breath and rubbed the fur on her temple - a tic that she had when she was trying to calm herself down. "Anyway, we’re all tired, so get some sleep until dawn. Millicent, Winifred, take the first watch.” The fox’s crew looked at her…and let out collective sighs, knowing they weren’t going to change her mind; she could be quite stubborn. It was the trait that brought them this far, and the trait they loved and hated. But she was right, in a way: she had never steered them wrong, had always kept them safe. “Yes, Cap’n,” they chorused. They gathered their ragged blankets, shivering as, one by one, they fell asleep in the cold mist, their dreams right in front of them…one way or another. - Okay, quick explanation about the specific jobs of this crew on their frigate (a smaller ship used in the Golden Age of Piracy): Captain - Democratically elected on pirate ships, believe it or not, although they could just as easily have command stripped of them. In most cases, the captain was the brains, the one who got the ship through fair or foul means. The most successful captains could install rules on the ship. Quartermaster (quartermistress, in this case) - Also democratically elected, the quartermasters were the seconds-in-command of the ship, unlike various the various legitimate vessels (even though the pirates had first and second mates). They were the crew's answer to the pirate captain, sharing their concerns, and being an intermediatory for the captain to give orders to the crew. If the captain had taken another vessel and wanted to start a fleet, the quartermaster would be the captain of that ship. Navigator - Even though the captain and quartermaster often had knowledge of navigation, a pirate ship might have a dedicated navigator. With a good navigator, the captain would know where merchant ships struck, could navigate islands and shallows, that sort of stuff. Boatswain (bosun) - The supervisor of the various seamanship stuff around the ship, monitored the stores, and ensured sails, anchors, and rigging were in good condition. On larger ships, they'd have people under them. Carpenter - The carpenter was the one who was responsible for fixing leaks around the ship, making various repairs, and refitting captured vessels for the purposes of the pirates. They were also responsible for a lot of the, ah...immediate surgeries (i.e., amputations) in the absence of a surgeon. Cooper - The cooper was responsible for assembling barrels, used to keep wet stores, dry stores, gunpowder, water, rum, etc. from spoiling, making them airtight, fixing buckets, etc. Normally on larger ships, but I figured I could make a slight exception. Sailmaker - Sailmakers were basically the chief engineer on a ship, used to stitch and make sails, which, without them, ships went nowhere. In the absence of a surgeon, sailmakers were also responsible for stitching wounds shut. Gunner - The gunner was responsible for the cannons, how much gunpowder was necessary for to hit the target, who shouted the order to fire. Gunner teams (four to six men) were required to be accurate and speedy, and they were outfitted with a lot of guns. Cook - Yes, even pirate ships had cooks. Normally, they were ones with amputations (not here), but while they stole food stores from the ships they captured, and ate from taverns, yes, cooks were needed to prepare food and rum. Musician - Yes, pirates had musicians like fiddlers and trumpeters. Like in others, they created rhythms for shanties, to aid in manual task, and to entertain, but they also contributed to a cacophony of noise during attacks.

Why? Because it's a far more professional site than Wattpad (and FFN, where I got my start, for that matter). Honestly, I've tried Wattpad - both as a writer and as a reader - and AO3 as a writer, and as a writer, there's simply no contest. AO3 is one of the best sites because - like Brown Owl said - it's independently owned as a non-profit, allows writers much more creative freedom than Wattpad (larger story hooks/summaries, many more options for customizing your story to your liking from crossover fanfics to original works, etc.), while still respecting any trigger warnings for readers (something I feel very, very strongly about to the point where I simply rate all of my stories as at least mature and explain my content). And then you have the chapters, which have a larger character limit than other sites like FFN, guaranteed spell/grammarcheck (useful for those very occasional errors I've missed, even if it doesn't catch all of them), the ability to customize chapters and pseudos to your liking (including summaries for chapters and pseudos when you don't want to share your ABDL stories on the same place you post your other stories). You can read all of the chapters in one go or pace yourself, and it's entirely your choice. If AO3 fell under the same thing Wattpad is, I'd be terrified. But right now, it doesn't matter since I barely use Wattpad myself.

No real loss; I've never used Wattpad for much, to be honest (honestly haven't used DA...like, ever, either). I'll be worried if the same thing happens at AO3.

Well, it's late to arrive...but here's the next chapter for Salutatorians: --- Chapter Two: Heaven's Kitchen. --- It was a fun atmosphere at Hell’s Kitchen Minneapolis. They had gotten a couple of seats at a table next to the bar area, the red floor bright and admittedly devilish-looking. Then Eiluned saw the server who came to them and her heart dropped. Farzana Chatterjee. One of the smartest people Eiluned knew…and her intellectual rival. She knew that Farzana hated her because of getting the salutatorian honors over her in high school, knew that she hated her for whatever physical reason (Eiluned knew she was only pretty. Farzana was drop-dead gorgeous, and more beautiful in damn near every way, with her coffee complexion, a much larger bust, and rich caramel-brown curls, falling down to her waist), knew that she hated her for many reasons. And now Farzana was their server. “Hello, there,” she said with a soft smile, her doe-brown eyes warm and friendly. “Can I get you two anything?” Eiluned looked at the menu quickly, knew what she wanted, looked around, saw that every other server was busy with customers. It was Farzana or nobody else. “I’ll have a Darwin martini,” she said. “I’ll have a Virgin Mary,” Ifor said, seemingly unaware of the history. “Darwin and a Virgin, you got it,” Farzana said, sashaying away to one of the bartenders. “So, this is where you were all this time.” She turned to look at Ifor, his own gap-toothed grin. She remembered that same goofy grin in middle school, the same gap-tooth that seemingly never got fixed, and that same ugly scar on his neck; red, from the front of his neck to the left side. Yeah, that’s Ifor, all right. Where the hell did he get that scar…? “Eiluned?” She turned to face him. “Sorry, if I seem like I’m prying,” he said apologetically. “So you came here for me, is that it?” Eiluned asked calmly. “Well, I never really fit in at Vandy,” Ifor said. “My sister wanted me to go there, but I never really fit in with the culture. I’m hoping Minnesota can help with that. But I admittedly did want to reconnect with you, Eiluned. You were a really nice person, and a fellow Wales native.” “I didn’t think you had a sister?” she asked; from what little she remembered of him, there was an older woman who picked him up from school, but that couldn’t be his sister, right? “Yeah, that was my sister, not my mum,” he said. “Moved in with her to America when I was six.” “Any reason why?” She noted a haunted look in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that she wasn’t sure it was even there. “Mum and Dad died when I was young. Fire. Had nobody left in Wales, so I moved with my sister to Tennessee. She was already eighteen years older than me, so that’s where the confusion must be.” “Any other siblings?” she asked without thinking. He sighed. “An older brother. He’s gone from my life.” His tone made it clear that it wasn’t okay to pry further, and the drinks had arrived. She took a deep sip of the Darwin, tasted the cold coffee in the cocktail. It was delicious. “Anything else you’d like to order?” Farzana asked with a wink at Eiluned. “Let’s try the beer-battered walleye bites as an appetizer,” Eiluned said with a smile of her own. “Walleye’s one of our famous fish from Minnesota, so I figure Ifor here could use a crash course on our cuisine.” “Well, sure, I won’t say ‘no’ to more food,” he admitted. “Yeah, that would be good for now.” “You’ve got it.” Another wink at Eiluned again (why was she winking at her?) before Farzana walked away. “Do you have any family?” he asked with a drink of his own. “Mum, a stepdad, and four older sisters,” she said dismissively, before taking another drink of the Darwin. “I never knew you had older siblings,” Ifor said. “They were in college when I was in middle school,” she said. “Mum never really expected me.” “And your dad?” “Not here.” A half-truth. “Okay, off that, what do you do for fun? What are your hobbies?” She sighed. “I study. I go on dates occasionally. That’s it.” A lie. Ifor’s eyebrows raised. “That’s it? I was a salutatorian myself, SEC Honor Roll, and even I have time for hobbies.” Eiluned gave him a double-take in shock. He was a salutatorian as well? How? He doesn’t seem like the type. “That’s it. I’m not a very interesting person.” A laugh. “Didn’t you like to read a lot in middle school? That’s a hobby, right?” “Stopped reading in high school.” Another lie, but a necessary one; her idea of hobby reading was far different than anyone else’s. “What did you like to read?” Dangerous territory, lie, lie, LIE! “Just nonfiction stuff. For study.” “Sounds interesting. What kind of nonfiction?” He does sound interested…but LIE. “Just stuff for school. Various mechanical stuff, how to make things work; I’m in mechanical engineering, aerospace, mostly.” “Aerospace, huh? Pretty cool! I hear they pay a lot, that there’s a lot of exciting jobs.” He really did sound interested. “I’m in nursing myself.” Her eyebrows raised. “Nursing? For a salutatorian? You could do anything, really. Why nursing?” His eyes had a faraway look. “I’d rather help people more than anything else. I know that football is short, that I’m not going to have an NFL career; I wasn’t even a starter at Vanderbilt, let alone here. But to prove my worth in the world is one thing I want to do. I want to help people. What better way to pay things back than to be a nurse?” Eiluned noted the true sincerity in his tone. Ifor really was a kind-hearted person, even back in middle school, so she shouldn’t have been surprised, but still… You don’t want kind. You don’t DESERVE kind. She took a deep sip of her cocktail, finishing it off. “I just want to get into aerospace and get money. That’s it.” The words came out of her mouth, not meaning anything. She wanted to do more than just make money, even though aerospace would do just that. She wanted to prove herself to… To WHOM, Eiluned? Your mother? Your sisters? Your stepdad? Or…someone else? The walleye bites had arrived without her knowing. “Do you need another cocktail?” Farzana asked them. “Sure, Mexican Mule,” Eiluned replied absentmindedly. “You know, I’ll have a Devilish Daiquiri this time,” Ifor said. “Mexican Mule and Devilish Daiquiri, you’ve got it. And what will be the main course?” Farzana asked, winking at Ifor this time. “I’ll have a prime rib French dip, add in sauteed onions, mushrooms, and cheese with tater tots as the side.” Farzana jotted down the order on a notebook. “Got it. And you, sir?” “I’ll have what she’s having and a Juicy Lucifer. French fries on the side.” “Okay, your meals should come shortly.” Another wink at Eiluned before Farzana walked away. “So, your hobbies?” she asked, looking into Ifor’s calm blue eyes, so kind, so warm, so…sad. He must still carry his parents’ deaths with him… “Um, well…thus far, football’s my hobby.” He took a bite of the walleye. “Wow, that’s good stuff right there.” “Glad you like our state fish.” “I do. Anyway, gotta work hard if I’m gonna make the team next year. But I’m also pretty good at cooking and baking, if I do say so myself. Love to cook, love to bake.” Her eyebrows raised, this time with more mirth than anything. “You like to cook and bake?” she asked. “I never expected that.” “I learned from my sister, mostly for long hours of babysitting.” Eiluned giggled. “I didn’t see you as a babysitter,” she said with a grin. Ifor was grinning as well with that funny gap-toothed grin of his. “But I did, and the kids seemed to love me. I just…well, being the youngest of my family, I always wanted to be…well, it’s hard to explain, but I always wanted to take care of people.” “That’s…actually pretty cool,” she admitted. “Thanks. Can’t say that in front of my football buddies, or I’ll get teased, but they know I’m a pretty good cook myself.” “I won’t say a word.” I might actually go on a second date for once… “Thanks. But yeah, the walleye is fantastic.” “You’ll love the Luci even more - you’ll want to cut into it first; the cheese can be hot - and they have a good peanut butter dessert we can share.” “Oh, you know I’m in for that.” The dinner and drinks had come quickly, and both of them tucked in (Eiluned immediately starting with her cocktail and Ifor waiting a minute for the Lucy to cool after he cut into it), and she knew from his wide eyes that he had found a new favorite thing. “Wow! That’s…incredible! And you say this is a Minneapolis thing?” “Yep.” She had finished her cocktail quickly before eating the French dip with patience; might as well wait a bit before driving home. It was still just as good slow as fast. “Wow. I’m gonna have to make this a regular place.” “Maybe we could both come here again?” she ventured. “Really?” His eyes were wide; she could tell that he was nervous. “You mean it? I just…I don’t want to move too fast for you, you know?” “Of course. I’ve been dating. You’ve been by far the best one. Don’t put yourself down, Ifor.” “I…thank you, Eiluned.” Soon enough, the dinner was finished (she was shocked at how much food Ifor could put away; she was pretty sure that she was almost at her limit by how tired she felt.) and Farzana was back. “Any chance for dessert?” she asked. “You know, I’ll have the Peanut Butter Mallow Cup,” the football player said. “I’m done for the night,” Eiluned said with a giggle. “Of course.” Farzana’s smile grew, and Eiluned was wondering why. “I’ll get your check.” “Is it all right if I pay?” Ifor asked. Eiluned shook her head, feeling a bit dizzy. “Nah, we’ll split it.” “Fine by me.” “All right, I’ll get you your dessert and your checks.” Farzana walked off, a bounce in her step. They made small talk about where the next date was going to be (they had decided on a less expensive place like Starbucks, but she had barely paid any attention to the conversation; probably the liquor kicking in), and soon enough, the dessert and the checks were there. Ifor dug into his dessert, both of them paying the bill (and a very expensive tip for Farzana), before they left, the dizziness in her head increasing with each second. Ifor caught her as she stumbled out of the door, her eyes tinged with darkness. “Eiluned, are you all right?” he asked, his eyes wide with genuine concern. She barely had time to shake her head before everything went black. --- (I realize it's late, but I wanted to do things right this chapter. Yes, Hell's Kitchen Minneapolis is a real restaurant in Minny (I don't live there, so I had to look up something where college kids could go to.), and yes, I looked up their menu (which really made me hungry). Anyway, what's going to happen with the two? You'll find ooouuut...next time!

To be honest, while I have a wolf fursona, I have not really been much into the babyfur genre. But this story truly, truly transcends it, and I love how you're getting into the lore of your world using show, not tell - and when it is tell, it's mitigated by using it as a history lesson and such. And you honestly get people invested in all the different characters, from MS sufferers (and animals who want MS like Alex; I feel so sorry for her because I've felt that way in the past.) Tracey and Lyra to Nora and Leslie to the parents and teachers, even the little jerks like Luca and the Terrible Twins. Honestly, that may be your best attribute as a writer: getting as many people invested into characters - even the minor ones - as possible, even the jerks whom you want to see get comeuppance. Honestly, Leslie may be my favorite for her sheer character development. I'm also anxious to see if the Twins come back and regress Tracey to a more infantile state (not that she isn't already there, but I'm scared to find out if they'll make it more...permanent. All in all, I'm excited to see when the next chapter comes out.

(Yes, I know I should continue my Dragon Quest AR story, but three ideas for this site have really struck me lately - one of which, thus far, is eighty-four Google Doc pages thus far, and likely will push into the 500-page range. No, this is not that story; I want to absolutely finish it before posting here - and this is the one I've found the most time working on lately, so this is the story I'm gonna post here. I don't know at what intervals I can post it; I thought I had it with the Dragon Quest story, but I have three chapters done so far, and I'm closing in on a fourth and more. Let's just say a monthly updating schedule?) (Anyway, this is Salutatorians! It's a much darker spin on a Daddy Dom-Little Girl story, not because of any punishments or sexual stuff in particular - the former because I'm not into punishments by a parental figure because I've had those punishments done as a kid for no reason in the past and I'm averse to it, and the latter because I'm a virgin and won't write sex scenes when I have no idea how to write them - but because of just how dark this story gets for the characters. As trigger warnings, suicide, mental illness, violence, abuse of children (including sexual (not shown), physical, and emotional), domestic violence, cursing (including sexist rhetoric), and explicit description of injury (including blood, broken bones, and torn ligaments).) (If you haven't been scared off yet, I promise to write this story to the best of my ability, and I promise that, while I will not shy away from any of those trigger warnings, I will write it as tactfully and as respectfully to those who still wish to read it as I possibly can. These things are not in the story for anything other than plot reasons; this, I swear with all of my heart and soul. But I've said my piece. It's up to you if you want to read or not. I hope you'll read, but I won't be upset if you don't; I'm writing this story as much for me as for you.) --- Chapter One: Yet Another Date. --- Eiluned Mostyn was silent as she prepared her large black tote bag, black gloves, an ankle-length black hooded down coat, and a hot-pink scarf for the cold February Minnesota weather, ready for another dinner date. The college sophomore - formerly from Torfaen, Wales (Cwmbran, if one wanted to get personal) - had tried for a fair few dates with men on Tinder. Those fair few had claimed they were Welsh, claimed they knew her from school or whatever, claimed a lot of things that, after she dug deeper, weren’t true. She always ended up swiping left for most of the cases, and the few dates she had gone for had gone nowhere. This new guy seemed interesting…because she remembered him from a long while back. Ifor Sealy. Just a month older than she was, both of them being twenty years of age. Moved to Tennessee from Wales like she had (except he had been from Bridgend). She remembered him from middle school in eighth grade before she moved away to Minnesota the following year, and lost contact with him. And now he showed up? Out of the blue? Like nothing ever happened? Sure, Eiluned had done her research; the profile proved that he was exactly who he said he was, and for some reason, according to his Facebook and Twitter pages, he had transferred to Minnesota - THE University of Minnesota, where she was studying mechanical engineering - for reasons all his own (i.e., football). But why? Why had he moved here, of all the places he could’ve moved? Surely it didn’t have to do with…her, right? No, couldn’t be. Absolutely couldn’t be! She shook her head and shivered as she stepped into the chilly evening air, got into her car - a beat up Honda - turned the key into the ignition, and drove off to the meeting site: Hell’s Kitchen Minneapolis, a popular hotspot for the college crowd. It wasn’t that far, but she didn’t feel comfortable walking to dates. Too many horror stories, and she was smarter than that. She was one of the best students, a salutatorian in her Minnesota high school. She worked hard for everything she had. And yet… Eiluned froze, trying to drive…it out of her mind. It was her own horror story that made her this way. She didn’t want to think about it. It was something she had worked hard to get rid of, and yet, it was always at the back of her mind, and it stayed there on the short drive to the place, all the way until she pulled into the parking lot, where Ifor was already there, apparently waiting for her. The first thing about Ifor that she noted was that he was a lot bigger than her (although she shouldn’t have been surprised; he was an offensive line transfer from Vanderbilt). She was small at 5’1”, 105 pounds, and he absolutely dwarfed her, like a full-grown redwood tree would dwarf a sapling; he had to be 6’7”, 295 pounds. His hair was down past his shoulder blades, a curly ginger mop that he had tucked away from his gleaming ocean-blue eyes; he wouldn’t have looked out of place in a movie about Celtic warriors, except for his gap-toothed grin showing a playful side of him. He wore a coat that was a surprising fit over a black dress shirt, khaki pants, and a pair of worn brown boots that looked like they had at least been cleaned for the date. Well, you certainly dressed to impress, Ifor. Now what do you want? Eiluned sighed, brushing her dark-brown bangs away from her sage-green eyes. "Helo, Ifor,” she began calmly. “Shwmae?” "Da iawn, diolch, Eiluned,” he replied with an accent that was decidedly not Welsh, yet somehow seeming natural to those words; he was a man who had obviously grown up in a Welsh family. She gestured to the sign. “Why here?” Ifor shrugged. “I hear they make a nice Lucy burger, and I’ve never had one before,” he said in a surprising Southern drawl; she had expected him to speak more…Welsh-ly. "Why do you have a Southern accent, Ifor?” she asked, a little more sharply than intended. To his credit, the harshness of the question seemed to roll off him. “I’ve lived in Tennessee since I was almost seven. Sorry, I bet you expected a Welsh accent?” "Then how do I know you’re actually Ifor Sealy and not some creepy imposter?” He sighed before reaching into his pants pocket for his wallet and giving his ID to her. “If there’s a creepy imposter my size using my name, I’d definitely be scared.” She looked at the ID, noted that it was undeniable proof Ifor was who he said he was. “Fine. I apologize for misunderstanding; you can never be too careful.” "If the situations were reversed, I’d do the same thing. So, are we going to stand in the cold for the night or do we go in?” Eiluned nodded. “Let’s go in.” --- (So, this is the first chapter. As a note, those supposedly unpronounceable words are Welsh (which is admittedly not a language I know, so please forgive me if I don't get them right, I tried my best and looked up as much as I could, and I promise to correct them if they're wrong.). I'll give you a quick translation and pronunciation (from what I could find on Google Translate and various sites): (Helo = Hello. Pronounced "hello", obviously.) (Shwmae = How are you? (informal). Pronounced "shoo - mai.) (Da iawn, diolch = Very good, thanks (Pronoucned "da - yaown - dee - och (ch is the same as in "loch".) (Cwmbran = Kuum = brawn) (As for how the story goes...well, we'll certainly see what happens, won't we?)

@smilekat414Hey, thank you for the reply! It's a fun little game (a Game Boy Color game, to be precise), and a huge part of my childhood. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story! And now, without further ado, the next chapter! - They had set up the farm in seemingly record time. DrakSlime - a female golden slime with dragon wings and a tail - had wandered outside, and many people had given her weird looks; they weren’t used to dealing with monsters. But other than that, the little farm was set up and ready without any distractions, and Tara and Cobi were playing tag. “HEY!” Father yelled. “Quit your horsing around and go help your mother!” Tara and Cobi sighed and said, “Yes, Father,” simultaneously; it was a common practice in their household. Father was…difficult. He obviously had a dream about something, but never got to realize it. He was moody, difficult to talk to, got easily annoyed…but he would always stand up for them when the chips were down. There was a blue Slime with a cocky grin next to him, and Tara walked over to them, Cobi following. “Hey, there!” the Slime said, the trademark grin on his face. “Name’s Slash, you could consider me the ‘boss’ around here.” “You’re the boss?” Cobi said skeptically. “What do you even do?” Slash’s grin grew as a DragonKid - who had somehow appeared on the farm without anyone knowing - started playing all sorts of instruments. “Well, the first thing I do is,” Slash began before launching into song (with DragonKid adding the second lyrics): “Talk to Father - Like a Boss, “Approve parties - Like a Boss, “Read the farm jobs - Like a Boss, “Remember hatchdays - Like a Boss, “Direct workflow- Like a Boss, “My own latrine - Like a Boss, “Micromanage - Like a Boss, “Promote synergy - Like a Boss, “Hit on DrakSlime - Like a Boss, “Get rejected - Like a Boss, “Swallow sadness - Like a Boss, “Do my taxes - Like a Boss, “Call a breedline - Like a Boss, “Cry deeply - Like a Boss, “Demand a refund - Like a Boss, “Eat a Sirloin - Like a B-” “STOP, SLASH!” Tara and Cobi both shouted, startling DragonKid out of the last “Like a Boss” supporting lyric and causing the Slime to give them a smirk. “Fine, fine, but if you need me, I’m the one!” Slash said, bouncing over to their father. “Let’s just see what Mom wants,” Cobi said calmly as he led Tara to the house. Their mother was busy with laundry. “Oh, Cobi, Tara,” she said with a chuckle. “Your father sent you to help me, didn’t he? He’s like that. We got a pecan pie sent by your grandparents in GreatTree. It should be at the Vault. I can trust you two to get there safely; after all, you aren’t children anymore.” “Of course,” the two chimed simultaneously. “I knew I could count on you both. The vault should be on the far northwest of town. Just make sure not to go into the well; it’s unsafe.” “Yes, Mother,” Tara said first. She walked with Cobi over to her father, ignoring Slash’s call for more of his song, curious about something. Her father was busy talking with ArmyAnt, who was moaning something about it being “lonely for an ant like him”. “You mentioned something about Monster Masters, but I haven’t really heard of the term,” she half-asked, half-lied, earning Cobi’s questioning gaze. “Well, Monster Masters are those who commune and fight with monsters to help them grow,” her father said, his eyes lost in long memories. “They use this farm to keep their monsters healthy and happy, you see, and they learn new skills.” “Hah! Tara wouldn’t last a day with monster taming,” Cobi said with a snicker, earning a nudge to his ribs by her elbow. “I aspired to be a Monster Master at one point,” her father said. “But that’s enough talk. Is your diaper dry, Tara?” “Yes, Father,” she said, a flush coming over her face. “Then go help your mother.” The two walked off of the farm, only to see a young man with expensive robes and a golden crown on his head with an obvious monster: a purple-furred fae. “You really wear diapers?” the young man snickered. “Aww…does the little baby need a bottle too?” “Shut up,” Tara growled, her hands balled into fists. Great, now all of GreatLog’s going to know. This could not get much worse. “Aww, maybe she’s a bit of a brat that needs a-” “Shut up! You don’t insult my sister,” Cobi snarled. “Do you have any idea who I am?” the young man sneered. “I am Prince Kameha, the only son and heir to the King of GreatLog! You are but grubby little peasants, and I can insult you and treat you however I please!” “You want a black eye, Kameha?” she asked, a dangerous look in her eyes. “I don’t care who you are; princes bleed just as much as us peasants do. Back. Off.” “Hmph. You newcoming farmers, thinking you mean anything. This is going to be fun.” He turned to the purple-furred fae, who was looking a bit annoyed at the prince’s antics. “C’mon, Warabou.” They walked away…towards the northwest. “Great, that means we’ll be seeing them later,” Tara mumbled. “Just ignore them, Sis,” Cobi said…although he looked a touch worried as well. They had only walked a short distance, before they saw Kameha and Warabou again, spinning an older woman like a top before running off and laughing. “You horrible elemental and pr-blaaargh!” the woman yelled before puking all over her dress. Tara’s nose wrinkled with disgust at the smell, as she picked up her skirt - only a little bit off the ground; she didn’t want people to see - to make sure the vomit didn’t get on her own dress. The marketplace was bustling with many people, all whispering with excitement over the day, or whatever it was the locals talked about. “I hear we’ll have to post lookouts for Kameha and Warabou,” an older man said. “It’s about damned time we did,” a young woman said. “Those two…what a pair.” “Warabou really should know better; he’s the elemental spirit of GreatLog.” “Sure, he found Milayou - probably by luck - but she lost and left us a long time ago. And now he’s claiming all sorts of outlandish things.” “Like a Demon Lord of wealth, who knows with that one?” Tara’s mind almost flashed back to the nightmare, before a pinch on her hand brought her back to reality. “Let’s just ignore the-” Cobi began before he saw a young merchant yell at the prince and elemental to drop his merchandise…which they did before scurrying off to the north. “Ugh, I’m still trying to set up shop,” the merchant grumbled, as the two siblings passed him. “Damned elemental is costing me a bundle, he is…” “Do you know where the-” Cobi began before the merchant snapped, “Shoo! I have nothing for little children!” “We’re just asking where the vault is,” Tara interceded gently. “I have nothing for little brats like you! Nothing!” “Sis, let’s just go,” Cobi said. “Shouldn’t be too far.” Her brother’s words proved true; the vault - with a Monster Master next to it talking to them about having to use the farm eventually - was close by, and when they entered it, the smell of pecans and nutmeg tickled their noses. “Ah, the farm kids,” the vault manager said. “We’ve been expecting you. This smells awfully good.” “Thank you,” Cobi said gratefully. “Let’s…go…home…” She looked at her brother curiously before seeing Kameha and Warabou. “Wahey, dudes, I’m Warabou!” the elemental said cheerfully. “You, dudette, have you considered becoming a Monster Master, ‘cause that smell I got off you-” “It’s the smell of dull peasantry. You may not pass, peasant bumpkins!” Kameha declared before smirking at Tara. “Well, maybe you could pass, if you could do me some favors.” “Not interested,” Tara growled, moving away from the two, as they followed them to an old dilapidated well. “C’mon, maybe you could prove you have a diaper, use it in front of everyone. I could use a laugh,” the prince sneered, as he walked with them to the east along with Warabou, who was obviously curious. “Mmm…something smells awfully good,” he said, before he noticed the box. “Oh, wahey, perfect! I was hungry, eh!” He snatched at it, Tara immediately held on - with Cobi and Kameha grabbing their respective companion - and a tug-of-war ensued before all four fell into the well to the scream of a young woman shouting after them, telling them that she’d get help. Cobi was stunned from the fall, coughing. “Tara, get the pie back,” he groaned. “But brother-” “I’m fine, just, get the pie; I don’t want to have Father and Mother upset at us!” She walked over to the center of the well. It was a lot larger than she expected it to be, with a giant white object covering…something odd, that almost spoke to her. Kameha and Warabou were having their own tug-of-war. “C’mon, just one bite?” Warabou begged. “I’m starving here, wahey!” “No, it’s mine!” the prince snarled. “You just ate, anyway, you grubby little elemental!” “You gave me a BadMeat!” the fae snapped. “C’mon, warou, dirty mouthed excuse for a prince!” “HEY!” Tara snapped, grabbing onto the pie. “It’s our mother’s pie, you jerks!” “ENOUGH, PEASANT!” Kameha backhanded Tara, and she stumbled over to the white object…which immediately exploded in lights and stars. She saw the lights and stars herself, before everything faded to black, a laugh in her ears before it screamed, “Sooner than you think!”

(If anyone knows what Dragon Quest is, this is basically what it was called in America. This particular one is Dragon Quest Monsters 2: Tara's Adventure, so I hope you enjoy it, even if it's difficult to pick up.) Tara was relaxing on the ship, her dark-brown hair in a long ponytail, covered by a cap and fluttering in the wind along with her ankle-length green dress. She watched the sailors going about their business, a few farm monsters (an affable DrakSlime, an old, grumpy ArmyAnt, a CactiBall who only wanted to talk about something called a "Dream Egg", and a cocky Slime) in the cargo hold in peaceful slumber, the vastness of the ocean lapping at the ship’s hull. Her parents and older brother were having a heated discussion that she wanted no part of; all she wanted was to relax and be calm…away from her nightmares. It came back in an instant. The wrinkly orange face like a giant rotten tangerine, framed by two hooded jet-black eyes with milky-white sclera; the fat pink lips the color of faded blood, hiding a blackened maw; the huge horns, curled and curved inward; the clinking of jewels upon jewels, wealth beyond measure. The face spoke to her, laughed at her, taunted her. “I’ll see you sooner than you think, Tara!” The voice was rough like sandpaper, fouler than poison. “Sooner than you think! And when I do, I’ll be the last thing you ever see!” “Tara?” Tara opened her eyes to see her big brother, Cobi, looking at her with concern in his blue eyes. His sandy-brown hair was covered by a floppy blue hat, but the wind still tickled it. She looked at Cobi and said in a listless tone, “Hey, big brother...” “Another nightmare?” he asked sympathetically. She nodded. “Are you going to be okay?” “I’ll be fine.” “You sure?” “Yes.” He let out a sigh. “Mother and Father wanted to talk to you,” he said before patting her head. “Are you sure you’re-” “I’m fine. Honestly.” He looked at her and sighed. “If you say so.” She walked away from her brother. He was very overprotective, sure, but… She heard a man in a floppy hat say, “Hey, girl. You a fan of seafaring?” She turned to face him. “Um, yes?” she responded. What am I going to say: that I hate it, and would never do it again? I'm seasick, you jerk! “That’s good. You have potential.” “Okay…” she walked away from the weird man, over to her mother and father. “Hello, Tara,” her mother said. “We’re finally going to GreatLog Kingdom. Isn’t it exciting, my child?” “Yes,” Tara said, not believing her own words. “Well, the king of GreatLog seems to recognize our worth!” her father said with a boastful laugh. “Anyway, we’re going to need you to start earning your keep, Tara, so you can’t be a baby anymore.” “When was I ever?” she muttered underneath her breath. “What was that?” “Nothing.” “Go talk to your brother.” She walked away, fuming. Her parents had never really taken to her wanting to follow a different dream than monster farming. No, she wanted to be a tamer herself. Her brother understood her dream and he at least…well, at the very least, seemed to care. Still, he was a year older than she was, but his overprotectiveness was…annoying. Speaking of him, Cobi stopped by. “Hey, little sister. Seems Mom and Dad grilled you.” “I’m eighteen years old, Cobi. I can handle a little anger from our folks.” “Sis, by the way, do you need to be-” “I’m fine, Cobi,” Tara said, her face flushing. “Okay. Anyway, the crew member said-” “Land ho!” a sailor cried, causing both siblings to jump. “It’s GreatLog, sure as she stands!” another echoed. The palm tree was the first thing she saw in the nearing distance. It was an impressive sight, to be sure; a giant palm tree on an island in the middle of the ocean tended to be impressive. Tara truly believed that such a place could support a giant farm for monsters. It was then that…it happened. First there was a only a trickle, barely registering. Then the dam broke loose, as she froze up. Cobi was the first to notice. “Okay, I think you do,” he said quietly, leading her away to Mom and Dad, as tears poured from her eyes. Tara hated being incontinent, hated being treated like a baby. It had all started with those stupid nightmares she had, starting at age seven. Thank the gods it was only pee this time. “Tara, you can’t keep being a little baby,” her father said with a sigh as Cobi explained to them what happened. “I’m not,” she muttered. “Your diaper says otherwise,” her father said loudly, causing some of the sailors to look their way. Why did you have to do that, Father? Does everyone have to know?! Her mother was more sympathetic, quickly moving to get the supplies. Her father and Cobi gave the two privacy, as her mother quickly changed her with the technique of an expert, a loving look in her eyes. Tara had tried herself before, but her mother seemed to insist, and it made the girl feel like a child. But at least she was clean now. I hate this. Why did I have to get these nightmares? Why?! Little did she know that the answer would appear…sooner than she wished. Sooner than she thought.