Baby Jemma

Okay, I have the seventh chapter, but first, the reply! Yeah, I changed only a little bit...because it's more like the conversation didn't really need changing. And as for how everything's going to change? Well...we shall certainly see~ As a WARNING: there is notable child abuse and implied child prostitution and molestation in this chapter; viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised. And without delay...here it is: - Chapter Seven: Hellbound Hellhound - Loona stared in shock at Blitz’s confession. Stolas was also quite stunned. Thankfully, the M&M kids were too engrossed in Stolas’s created galaxy and making their new plushies fight to the death in an odd children’s game to notice. Only Jarel looked calm, his red eyes brooding as he steepled his clawed fingers. “What?” she whispered. “It was an accident…I didn’t mean to…but it was all my fault. All of it. Fizz’s injuries. Barbie going to drugs. My mom…all the deaths…all of it…” Blitz broke down into sobs. The hellhound, for her part, was stunned. Blitz was normally a devil-may-care sort. He never admitted to anything that was his fault. He was confident, brash, larger than life…but now he seemed small and broken, like a little toy, as he admitted to a massive fault that he had. She went over to hug him, gently and firmly. “Whatever happened, I don’t care. You’re still…” Loona hesitated, hesitant to say the “d” word. What was a dad, anyway? What were parents? What was anything to this badass hellhound girl who was against all of Hell and everyone in it? And yet, seeing Blitz look at her, tears in his eyes from pain…she bit her lip until she tasted blood. Why did they have to talk about the past, anyway? It was dead, gone, and never coming back. But with Stolas, who had just escaped a living nightmare with his cunt of a wife? With Blitz, who looked so broken with guilt? They hadn’t escaped it - and if she was honest with herself…she hadn’t escaped hers, either. “He’s your father.” Jarel had spoken. “He’s no-” Loona bit her tongue. “Just…it’s…complicated. He adopted me when I was a month away from turning eighteen, I just…” “I adopted you because I saw myself in you.” Blitz’s words stunned her, as he gazed at her as if she was the most valuable person in the world. “Feeling angry, feeling like the whole world was against you…and I adopted you to be my daughter. And yes, sometimes, I fuck up. You’ve only called me dad once, have only come close two other times - and I won’t ask for more until you feel I deserve it as a father and a person. Because I love you, Loona, just the way you are, and nothing will ever change that.” “I…” Loona breathed, her memories fading away to the earlier days. The bad days. She was four years old on that winter night again. She was shivering, her raggedy knee-length dress and thick fur not enough for the cold. She was listening to her parents arguing furiously, always arguing over her, cowering underneath the worn-out bed, as if it could protect her from their hate, even though she knew that they all lived in a single room together. Nothing was secret. Nothing was sacred. Nothing was safe. “Fuck, you know I never asked for a kid!” her daddy growled angrily. “We should just dump her on the streets or kill her. Either one works!” “And waste a valuable asset that I spent birthing? Pimp her out!” her mommy snarled. “Lucifer knows we could use the money!” “And where would we do that? We don’t want to get found…” “Pride’s full of Sinners, full of freaks! And I have the perfect place in mind...” Loona felt her tail get grabbed from underneath the bed, and she yelped in pain as she was dragged out. A paw smacked her hard enough to knock out one of her baby teeth and draw blood from her mouth. “Shut up, or I’ll give you something to really whine about!” her daddy growled, his reddish-gray fur bristling. “Your mommy is going to talk to you. This is very important, so you better listen.” Her mommy would’ve been beautiful, with silverish-gray fur and an envious figure…if not for her cold and cruel red eyes. She hit Loona a lot of times, and her daddy hit the young hellhound a lot of times, too…but she had never felt more fear of her parental figures than she did now, with her mommy appraising her like a fancy chain collar, with her daddy looking at her with a new perspective…like she was…meat. “Listen to me, Loona,” her mommy growled, as she grabbed Loona’s hand like a vise. “We’re going to go to a place in Pride. You will not tell anyone what goes on there. You will listen to every grown-up, whether it’s me, Daddy, or whatever person is there. You will do whatever we say, no matter what happens. If you don’t do those things, you will wish you were never born. Got it?!” “Yes, Mommy,” Loona whimpered, her tail tucked between her legs. “You know…it could work, dearest,” her daddy chuckled before fixing Loona with a glare. “Now, Loona, we’re going to the car. You’re going to be quiet the entire way there, understand?” She nodded, and they went into the old, beat-up car, clearly not child safe as she was in her mommy’s lap in the passenger side. Her mommy was holding her wrist until welts formed as her daddy drove. The bright lights shone on and on as Loona looked at the streets, filled with garbage, blood, and homeless and dead Hellborn and Sinners alike. They continued driving, Loona breathing but not daring to talk. The odd thing was that her daddy never honked the horn the entire way through, as if he preferred this drive in the car over his home. The place they arrived at, The Cherry, was seedy, dirty, and filled with Sinners of all kinds, all of whom were looking at her with expressions she didn’t know but didn’t like. Loona heard screams coming from the place - some of ecstasy, but most of them pain - and she whimpered before her mommy grabbed her hand, her claws digging in until blood started to drip from them. “Not a word,” her mommy snarled, before they both got out, dragging Loona along as they entered. The interior was worse: blood-red walls, stained deeper crimson and oozing with…Loona didn’t want to know what it was. The ceiling lights flickered like dying fireflies in the night, some of them having long since burned out. The floor was wooden, hard on Loona’s bare feet. Her eyes were looking around instinctively for an escape when there was none, she wanted to go back home, back to her home. She didn’t care how many times her parents hit her, she just wanted to go back home with them. They walked over to a morbidly obese cockroach Sinner at the front desk, directing people to various rooms, his multiple arms covered with a stained red suit. He looked at them with beady red eyes and gave a greasy smile with blackened fangs. “Well, I haven’t seen you three here,” he hissed. “Welcome to this establishment. I assume you know the rules?” “I’m here for a price on her,” her mommy said smoothly, putting Loona forward, as the cockroach Sinner grabbed her, her skin crawling from his touch. “Hmm…I’m pretty sure we could advertise her to our…less-reputable clients,” he said. “Five-hundred souls sounds about right.” “An even one thousand,” her daddy demanded. “She’s four years old, and we’re risking a lot already. She’s also a virgin.” The cockroach man looked at them. “Seven-fifty. I will not go higher.” “I-” “Done,” her mommy said. “Now, Loona, behave until we’re back.” Loona caught a wink between her mommy and the cockroach man as money was passed, but she didn’t know what to make of it then. She knew now: her mother and father had no intention of ever coming back. They left, and Loona was guided to a room by the cockroach Sinner, his greasy fingers on her shoulders enough to make her skin crawl with goosebumps, her tail between her legs, her fur fluffed up in fear. The room was completely empty, except for a bed…a bed with chains on it. The cockroach man threw her on, quickly chaining her wrists, then her ankles. Loona was terrified, she didn’t like this at all, but she couldn’t disobey, her mommy and daddy told her not to… “Heh. Wow. Seven-hundred-and-fifty souls. For this fine tail?” the cockroach Sinner chuckled, his eyes looking at her evilly and with an emotion the young hellhound had never seen in anyone but one that immediately sent out all kinds of red flags. “Well, I promised Valentino not to sample the merchandise, but this is worth every soul.” He advanced on her… Loona’s mind snapped forward, back to Blitz, Stolas, and Jarel staring at her. No, she was not going to reveal her past to them. Not now, not ever. “Loony?” Blitz’s voice echoed in the room, as she growled warningly at him, her eyes enraged. They were all the same, every fucking one of them. Her parents who abandoned her to the mercy of others; the cockroach Sinner and all of the men and women that had sex with her from that day on, whether she wanted it or not; the people who threw her into the pound after they shut down the establishment instead of returning her to her parents; the fat bitch in charge of the pound and the cage mates she had over the years; and now Blitz and Stolas and Jarel, every fucking one of them wanted to use her or something she had. She wasn’t going to have it. She was tired of being used and thrown away. And once Blitz knew how dirty she was…he’d do the same. They’d all do the same. “Loona, we need-” Jarel began, before she snarled at him. “You all can share your sob stories, but LEAVE - ME - OUT - OF - IT!” she screamed, before going into the bathroom, slamming the door shut, and locking it. She heard Moxxie and Millie crying, kids like she was, and her heart began to ache with sorrow. And she cried and wailed like a fucking baby. - Hope the chapter was okay.

Firstly, I want to thank everyone for the well-wishes. I haven't gotten to read them until recently because I've been in the hospital for a bit, but I appreciate the kindness of everyone. I'm finally back from the hospital, but have been since diagnosed there with C-Diff, so I've pretty much been sulking and bored in my room most of the time. Add that in with my grandfather likely passing soon (as he's in hospice with kidney failure; they gave him from a few days to a week to live a little less than a week ago, so it's basically just wait and dread to see), and I haven't been in a writing mood. I'll get started on Semper Fi's chapter as soon as I can, but I figured I'd update and reply to reviews: It's basically the same as two UTIs before. Not optimal since I had to be hospitalized from nerve pain (a sign of a UTI), but not debilitating either. The main problem now is the C-Diff; I can't have my original pillows or blankets on my bed or I'll have to throw them away. Same with all of the stuffies in my room; they're all downstairs, for fear of being tossed. Can't read books (or they'll get tossed) and have to wash my electronics every time I use them. Let's hope Megan gets what's coming to her...but with her connections...well, we'll see. (And the irony is that Code White - according to WalMart - is someone needing medical attention due to accident or injury. Had to look it up, although now that people mention it, it is very ironic.) Yep, Eseld is former spec-ops, and I'm glad you like her as a character; she's so much fun to write. Again, with all of Megan's connections, don't be surprised if it doesn't turn out exactly like that...at first. Little - and for that matter, Middle - rights are basically nonexistent in this version of the dimension - for both countries at war. Eseld and Clover's new "parents" are some of the few people who really believes in rights, and even they can't express it openly. As for the enemy country? We'll certainly see, but given that they've nuked a lot of places and killed a lot of people...well, neither side has their hands clean, let's just say that. Megan's punishment...well, it'll be glorious and karmic as hell. And yeah, Axel is a sweetheart and a good character to write. Thank you for your service and sacrifice. I'm glad I've been doing most of this justice (and I'll edit it further with the plastic canteens and aluminum canteen cup so that the story is as accurate as possible) because I've researched the hell out of as much as I could. Clover is not in a very good position, and it's going to get worse before it gets better. Agreed that she's going to resist at first, but it'll be very hard now that she's the Little equivalent of a nine-month-old's size. She - and Jyrgal and Axel, for that matter - are going to have to be very careful from here. Thank you for your condolences. Recovery for UTI is going swimmingly, but the C-Diff will take at least until the 16th, if not longer). And thank you for the compliment. I always try to do my best and put as much of myself into the characters and plot as I can with every story I write, so I appreciate the compliments, especially knowing that most of my research has been validated. I'm working on a lot of different stories, but the main ones so far are this one, A Little Loony (a Helluva Boss fanfic), and Ki(mp)ndergarten Court (another Helluva Boss fic) with occasional work being done on the others in the links on my profile. Thank you! I try my best to make it enjoyable to you, the reader.

All right, I have a UTI. Which means likely hospitalization. Which means I can't access this site. So, I decided to get this chapter out before that happens. Sorry again for the wait. Anyway, here it is, the fifth chapter of Semper Fi: - Chapter Five: What the Hell Did You Hit Me With? - Clover felt helpless all over again as she was lifted up, completely naked and put on the cold floor, shivering as her bottom was exposed. She couldn’t even scream, just like she couldn't scream with her- The first blow rained upon her ass and tears poured from Clover’s eyes; it was like getting hit by the metal end of a belt as hard as a person could muster - and she had experience with that. Then another. And another. And yet another. And still another. Megan’s voice was still a whisper as she thrashed Clover with something that was very similar to a metal paddle with holes in it. “And after I’m done with you, Little Education Services is going to have a fucking field day with a Little bitch like you. I’ll have you detoothed, hypnotized, anything to make you a drooling infant for the rest of your life. I’ll say that slut, Jyrgal, stole you from me, and maybe she can be a Little in need of education. Maybe she and you can be fucking cribmates.” The marine tried to squirm away from the evil woman, but Megan’s grip was too strong as she continued to hit her ass. She was certain that it was bleeding, she would’ve been bawling from the pain if the locked pacifier allowed it, and yet Megan was still whaling on her like her life depended on it. “How DARE you?!” a new voice shouted. Eseld’s voice. Megan suddenly seemed to lose her courage, dropping the paddle, and Clover painfully rolled over to see that Eseld was much bigger than that evil bitch. “She caused Jyrgal to trip,” Megan lied, trying to save face. “I was punishing her-” “By making her fucking bleed?! And you and I both know you’re full of shit; the fucking pipe you hit Jyrgal with is right there!” Eseld pointed to a lead pipe on the ground angrily, which Megan quickly grabbed, her arms shaking in fear as she held it in both hands. “So, go ahead. Try me. I’m not a defenseless Little or an unsuspecting Amazon. Try me, and if you get past me, I won’t call the police on you. But you won’t get past me. I can see right through you: you’re a typical cowardly scum who only beats others who are smaller than you or those you can get a cheap shot on.” “I’ll have you know that I’m married to the head of Portal Transportation, and I’m the sister of LES’s deputy, and they’ll be very upset if-” “And I’m expected to care? Just try me.” Megan rushed at Eseld, the pipe ready to smash her head. The manager merely deflected it and disarmed her with a movement too quick for Clover to see before dropping it and kicking it back to the attacker. Eseld gestured toward the pipe. “Pick it up.” “Please, we can let bygones be bygones, and I won’t have to call LES on-” “On me? Oh, the things I’ll tell them about you and what you just did. Pick it up. Now.” Megan’s shaking hands picked up the pipe, and tried to hit Eseld in the right knee. Eseld merely sidestepped the blow and disarmed the woman again, sending the pipe skittering across the floor. “Had enough?” the manager growled. “Who are you?!” Megan spat. “Someone who doesn’t like people beating helpless Littles.” “So, you’re a Little rights activist, aren’t you?” “If I am, it’s still a million times better than whatever you are.” Megan tried to scratch Eseld’s eyes with the nails on her right hand, who merely grasped her wrist in her left hand with boredom, as if holding a toddler in the middle of a tantrum. Megan attempted to scratch Eseld with her other hand, but the manager merely grabbed it and forced the attacker to her knees. Eseld, managing to switch Megan’s left hand to her left hand, even though the other woman was struggling, held her now-unoccupied hand to a radio on her chest and said in a cool, professional tone, “Hello, requesting a Code White. Security and medical response to the family restroom.” “No, no, you can’t!” Megan screeched. “I just did,” Eseld said coldly, as a masculine voice echoed on the radio, “Security and medical response on the way.” “Thank you kindly.” The manager’s eyes looked at Clover with sympathy. “Don’t worry, honey, it’ll be okay. Once they cuff this mean woman, we can get you and your mommy help, okay?” Clover nodded, her face stained with hot tears, but unable to get the pacifier out or do anything but suck on it continuously, and the store manager finally understood, looking at the evil woman with cold anger. “You put a lock on that pacifier. Where’s the key to it?” “Why should I tell you anything?” Megan asked snootily. “Keep digging that grave deeper, then,” Eseld said, as a bunch of male security officers immediately rushed in and cuffed Megan, along with medical personnel immediately checking on a groaning Jyrgal, Clover being thankful that her caregiver was alive. Eseld reached into Megan’s bra and fished out a key. “Classy, aren’t we?” the manager said in a dry tone. “I was attacked by those women; you have to believe me!” Megan shouted desperately. “I’ve done nothing wrong!” “Yeah, the manager who worked in spec-ops attacked you with the unconscious woman and beat the Little until she bled,” one of the security officers said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “So likely. Captain Penrose, what do we do with her?” “I honestly don’t know,” Eseld said in a tone more frigid than a desert night, unlocking the pacifier in Clover’s mouth as she began to bawl like an infant from the pain. “There’s no justification for what she did to this mother and her Little. None. I don’t care how naughty you think a Little is; you don’t beat them until they bleed. You don’t hit someone with a pipe because you don’t like them. I don’t know what you do with her.” She took a deep breath as Jyrgal slowly came to wakefulness. “The police should be called. All inquiries should be made into her and where she works; she obviously followed this mother here from there. Other than that? I don’t have a clue, so long as she never goes within a fucking mile near them ever again.” “Wha…” Clover heard Jyrgal groan before saying, “Clover! Is Clover okay?” “The middle-aged lady beat her,” Eseld said, her voice tempered with softness toward the young Amazon. “She needs you.” “OH, Clover, honey…” Clover was cradled in Jyrgal’s arms, and she noticed a dazed look in the Amazon’s eyes that all but screamed that she had a concussion. “I’m so sorry, baby, I’ll never let this happen to you again.” Clover was hiccupping with her sobs, as the Amazon gently rubbed her back, avoiding her bleeding ass, which was being looked at by a medical person. “I don’t think you should be driving, ma’am,” another medical person said. “You’ve got a concussion, it looks like. Do you have someone who can pick you up?” “Shouldn’t she stay and take a statement?” one of the security guards asked. “I can take the statement,” Eseld said. “The curfew’s going to be ending in a few hours, and the hospitals are filled with battle wounded, so Jyrgal will need all the rest she can get if she has a ride.” “My husband,” Jyrgal said, before taking out a phone and quickly typing what appeared to be a text and sending it, before closing her eyes, clearly in pain from the light. “Hey, we’ve got you,” one of the medical people said, as he steadied Jyrgal. “We can get you and your Little situated, don’t worry. Just sit down.” “Okay…” Jyrgal slumped to the ground, barely conscious, but still not letting go of Clover. A ping quickly echoed on the text, then more pings. Clover felt an odd gel-like substance get put on her smarting bottom, and she sobbed with pain. “It’s just to help with the pain, stop whining,” the medical person said in a bored tone; clearly, he wasn’t very sympathetic to Littles either. In fact, looking at the vast majority of the room, none of them, Eseld aside, seemed to be very sympathetic at all or - at best - were only sympathetic to Jyrgal or in the case of some of the security officers, loyal to Eseld. Megan seemed to know it. “I’ll be out of here before you know it,” the woman said smugly to the manager. “I’ll be at every court appearance of yours to make sure that never happens.” Eseld’s ocean blue eyes were furious. “Come on, she’s a Little sympathizer,” Megan said with a chuckle. “Next thing you know, she’ll say they have rights. Hah! Like any Little or Middle deserves rights other than a paddling and diapers. Like you deserve any credit for saying they deserve rights.” “I fought with the Middles you claim deserves to have no rights until three months ago,” Eseld said, her voice measured and calm; clearly, it was taking all of her composure not to smack the cuffed woman. “I fought with them against Umichoseki until my injuries forced me here three months ago.” The manager pulled up the length of her left leg’s pantsuit…to reveal a prosthetic leg. “I’d take any and every one of those Middles over you; hell, I’d even take this Little over you because I can tell that she’s from the military, too.” Clover immediately snapped to attention. “Did you fight with a Graywind Hope?” she blurted out. “Oh, shut your mouth, you little brat!” Megan snapped. “No, I did not,” Eseld said in sympathy. “That’s why you came here, wasn’t it? To find your brother.” Clover nodded. “I’ll do everything in my power to help…but not now. I have to take a statement on Mrs. Rutherford.” Megan’s eyes widened, as the manager glared at her. “Yeah, I know who your husband is, and like I said before, I don’t care. You’re not getting away with what you did.” “My sister won’t stand for your interference,” Megan added snootily. “I don’t care about your arrogant LES deputy sister either,” Eseld said coldly. “Whatever shit you try to pull to get out of this, it’s not going to work.” Then a bunch of raised voices came outside. “Sir, we have a bit of a situation, you can’t be back he-” “MY WIFE IS BACK THERE!” a deep, male voice roared in an accent that sounded a bit German to Clover. “MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!” Clover turned to see a tall (if she had to guess, he topped out at 12’1”; he was even bigger than Eseld), heavyset man with long, wavy dark-brown hair - hair that fell well past his waist - the bangs covering over his eyes. All in all, the man almost looked like a metal band reject. “Jyrry!” he exclaimed, going to Jyrgal and giving her a kiss. “Axy…” she whispered as she kissed him back. They broke off the kiss after five seconds as the newcomer stepped back and looked at Clover, who shrank in fear…until she saw the love in his hazel eyes, eyes that gleamed from gold to green, depending on the light. “You must be Clover,” he said, his tone especially gentle as he gathered his arms into a soft hug, his well-cared-for nice-smelling hair tickling the marine’s nose, to her giggling. “I’m Axel, Axel Klopfenstein. Me and Jyrgal are going to help you and take care of you in whatever way we can, whatever’s comfortable for you, only the best. Okay, sweetiepie?” Clover nodded, her eyes still stained with tears, although her ass was no longer bleeding (even though it was likely bright red and definitely was going to be too painful to sit down on a non-padded surface for at least a month). “Let’s get a diaper on you, Clover,” Jyrgal said gently. “I never got to finish, so…” “Ma’am, I don’t think-” one of the medical personnel said before the woman gave him a frosty glare, the glare of a parent protecting their child. “Of course, if you can, go ahead.” Jyrgal easily put Clover on the changing table, sprinkling a bit more powder on her nether regions (as well as some kind of cream on her butt) before putting the thick diaper on the marine. It felt like a cushion for her smarting bottom, and for the first time, she was grateful that she had it. Then came a soft pink infant’s sleeper, the fuzzy material wrapping Clover in a gentle embrace, even though her hands were covered by the mittens on it. Jyrgal zipped it in the back before she cuddled with the much smaller woman. “Ma’am, you have to pay-” a security guard said before Jyrgal gave Eseld what looked like a credit card. “Never mind.” “I’ll have a clerk scan the items,” the manager said. “Fast track the purchase; after what happened, she has every right to have that.” She turned to Axel. “And you have a vehicle able to tow her car?” “Yep,” Axel said with a smile and a gentle hug to his wife. “It’ll even fit an infant’s car seat in the back.” Eseld smiled. “You certainly came prepared.” “Have to with what’s going on in the world.” “Can we go?” Clover asked, not wanting to see any more of the store, even if Eseld was a very nice lady whom she could relate to. “Of course, honey,” Jyrgal said, turning to her husband. “Let’s all go home.” - Hope y'all enjoyed~

First off, I’m so sorry this has been delayed. I actually do have another chapter (that I was going to post after Troubles in Toddlerhood), but my computer ate another charger and ran out of battery before I could post it, and my grandfather went into hospice on Monday and I found out Tuesday, so it’s been…bad, and I didn’t want to do anything. But it doesn’t do any good to hide and cry forever. It’s my birthday today, and it’s been busy, but nothing bad’s happened yet, so I figured I’d give a heads up. So, that’s what’s been going on. Terran, I’m sorry, but at the moment, I don’t have another chapter at the moment for either of my Hellaverse fics, but I was getting close before the computer ate the charger and all of this real life shit happened, and I’m truly sorry for not letting you know. I don’t have another update for my other stories either because of this nightmare. Been a really bad month, birthday aside. Anyway, the reply to Guilend; you’ve been waiting long enough: The pronghorn is something I think I can get next month when I get money, along with numerous other stuffies I ordered with birthday Amazon money that should be arriving soonish. My utmost respect for both your grandfather and father for what they had to go through so that people like me can sleep peacefully. My respect to you as well; it’s not easy to be part of a military family. My grandfather (dad’s father, who passed in a motorcycle accident before my dad was born) fought in WW2, along with my grandmother’s brothers, one of whom never made it back. Granted, my stories in the AB/AR/babyfur type tend to have happy endings, but Clover is absolutely going to have to work and suffer for it. Thank you for your condolences, and again, I’m sorry for not being able to get the chapter out sooner. I promise that when I get my charger, it’s on the docket.

Well, time for the next chapter for Troubles in Toddlerhood! I'm sorry it's late; as you might know if you're paying attention to Semper Fidelis, my grandmother passed, and we just finished the service and burial, so here I am. Anyway, here it is: - Chapter Twenty-One: The God of Inspiration - Tatiana had finished eating the cooked apple (to her utmost disgust; she hated fruit) and cinnamon toast, along with her sisters, and they looked quite satisfied with the meal as a whole. Celine looked significantly less happy with the baby food, and her face showed it. “God-motherfucking-dammit, I hate peas,” she said, shuddering in disgust. “I’ve always hated peas. Please fucking God, tell me there’s something better? Because if it’s peas again, I don’t care how nice they are, I’m puking it all on them on purpose.” “Don’t worry, there’s more than just peas for baby food,” Galina said with a chuckle. “You’re probably going to have fruit baby food or an oatmeal/applesauce mix for lunch; it’s us that are going to have to get veggies.” Tatiana shrugged. “I always loved vegetables so much more than fruit,” she said, shuddering from being fed the apples. “Hate fruit.” “Ugh, I hate veggies,” Galina groaned. “I don’t know how you stomach them.” “We’re going to get fruit for snack time and veggies for lunch; that’s how it usually works,” Svetlana said. “What do you not like to eat, Svetka?” Tatiana asked pointedly. “You like everything!” Svetlana took a moment to think. “If there’s prunes, I will throw the fucking tray,” she said with disgust on her face. The girls laughed, until Mrs. Burke called out, “Time for circle time stories and sing-along!” “I can’t wait!” Tatiana exclaimed with a giddy grin. “I hope Barry’s here.” “Why, so he can hurt one of us again?” Celine asked harshly. “No, because I wanna see him get punished if he tries shit with Mrs. Yang; she always does storytime. Something about it being in her contract.” “Now that I can’t wait to see,” Galina said with a smirk. “He’s gonna be sooo mad,” Svetlana said, giggling. Celine snickered, as she was picked up by Zerina and brought over to where all of the other toddlers were. “Yeah, I want him to try shit with all of us,” Tatiana giggled, waiting for a reply from one of her sisters…before realizing that she was alone. She looked around in confusion, seeing only Dzejlana; Galina and Svetlana had been picked up by Nova and Estrella to join the group of toddlers. And then Dzejlana picked her up gently, making sure the toddler had Beaky close by. After she was brought to the circle, she noticed that her sisters and Celine had their stuffies close by as well, as she was sat down next to them, as Mrs. Yang came out with a sly look on her face, dressed in a long black gown, a witch’s hat on her head. “Now, children, come here, and I shall tell a tale of grand adventure,” she sang in a beautiful contralto. “It is the tale, the tale of The Very Hungry Caterpillar.” Even Tatiana, as much as her adult mind didn’t to admit it, was entranced as Mrs. Yang somehow managed to weave The Very Hungry Caterpillar with the nursery rhyme, “Butterfly and Caterpillar”, and she grew more entranced with Mrs. Yang’s confident, child-friendly, yet adult-moving-to-tears contralto. How come she never auditioned for opera? I have to ask her one of these- Then Tatiana realized that she possibly didn’t have one of these days. She wasn’t Mrs. Yang’s coworker anymore; as far as the world was concerned, she and her sisters were young toddlers. The voice said that they had a week to do what he wanted, or the world would end. What the hell am I supposed to do? Please tell me! “Ah, but that would spoil the point of this exercise, wouldn’t it, little one?” the voice said, his tone amused, as if she was learning to count for the first time and messing up. What do you mean? I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do… She began to sniffle, tears leaking down her face…until Mrs. Yang, of all people, picked her up and sat her in her lap, singing a foreign lullaby in that beautiful contralto. “I hope my storytelling didn’t move you to tears, young Tanya?” she asked, her normally stern coal-black eyes warm as a cozy hearth and grandmotherly as a sweet pecan pie. “As a matter of fact, Nova, Estrella, if you can find Tanya’s two sisters, young Svetka and young Galya, as well as young Celi, I’d like them to come with their sister to the front.” Tatiana saw Galina and Svetlana look at the other in confusion, and Celi, who was attempting to sing the foreign lullaby the old woman was singing, only managing to babble in excitement. They were brought to the front. “Now, children, and yes, the adults should listen as well. I don’t mean to be rude, but we may have forgotten some of our manners, our caring, our kindness. I saw these three triplets stay with me as I helped change their little sister. They could’ve gone off on their own way, and nobody would have cared. They could’ve whined for me to pay attention to them, and I wouldn’t begrudge a toddler for doing that. But they stayed quiet, waited for me to change young Celi, were clearly protective over her, and showed consideration and wisdom beyond their years. “It reminds me of an old proverb, said by word of mouth from family to family in my ancestral language, as I moved from China to America forty years ago, with nothing to my name. ‘Jǔ 'àn qí méi’. Loosely translated as ‘lifting the tray up to the eyebrows’. It is a term used by a host to a guest; to lift the tray high for a respected guest, to show lasting love and consideration to their feelings.” She gave a slight calm look at a grumbling Barry to keep him from talking, but her words had clearly moved young and old alike. “That’s the respect, love, and compassion that these children have shown, what we could all learn from, what we can all do in our lives, from the time we’re born to the time we pass from this earth. And sweeties, never lose that kindness for each other and others, even when you get older; that will guide you through all things.” The adults and toddlers alike clapped their hands (as much as the toddlers could) in appreciation of Mrs. Yang’s speech (from the adults; in the normal toddlers’ sake, it was likely because they were imitating said adults). “That’s beautiful, Jin,” Sunny whispered, loud enough for Tatiana to hear. “I’m so glad you’re here. This place wouldn’t be the same without you.” “Yes. These beautiful children are why I come here every day I can,” Mrs. Yang said, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “If I may discuss something with you, though, Mrs. Burke, in private?” “Of course, Jin. Children, it’s outdoor time! If the staff could make sure they have outfits for cold weather, that would be great.” Tatiana hugged her sisters and Celine. “That. Was. Awesome!” Galina exclaimed. “Mrs. Yang never does this sort of stuff! She normally shows the toddlers pictures and does sing-along, but she never invites toddlers to sit with her!” “We must’ve really moved her…” Svetlana mused. “But what did we do? All you did was wait for me to be changed…and all I did was get diapered,” Celine murmured, clearly confused. “Maybe it’s not the fact that we did something, but what we didn’t do?” Tatiana suggested. “Ah, you’re understanding a bit more,” the voice crooned, his voice like silk. The toddlers looked at each other in shock. “Yes, I’m speaking to all of you, little ones. Have you decided what to do to the big mean toddler who will hurt you little ones the second the backs of the adults are turned? Perhaps hit him back? Say mean things? Outthink him?” “No,” Svetlana spoke for them all. “We don’t need to decide anything until we get back home, but I do have a plan.” “You do?” Tatiana asked. “But what about-” Celine began before Svetlana gently interceded, “Yes. I know it’ll be a long wait, but we have to wait until tomorrow. Trust me.” “We trust you, Svetka,” Galina said. Tatiana nodded, along with Celine. “A very intriguing decision,” the voice mused. “With all of that plotting and scheming, I hope it will be an amusing one.” “It will be,” Svetlana said. “You talking to an imaginary friend?” The four girls turned to see Daniel De La Rosa and Irvin Ivey, both of whom were much taller than them. But Tatiana knew that the two boys were as nice as they came, gentle as lambs, and rarely ever threw tantrums. “No, sillies, we were talking to our stuffies!” Galina said with a giggle, causing Svetlana, Tatiana, and Celine to get a case of the giggles as well. “You…I remember you three,” Daniel said, his coffee-colored face scrunched in confusion and concentration. “Yeah, Svetka, Tanya, Galya, like a nice dream,” Irvin said, patting Celine on the head with a gentle caramel hand. “You were big, way bigger than us,” Daniel spread his arms as far apart as he could, as he grinned with his baby teeth. “It was a very good dream, you were big and nice and kind, like what Mrs. Yang said.” “An’ you were big and nice and kind, too, Celi!” Irvin said with a goofy gap-toothed smile. The four girls looked at each other in shock. How did they- “The heart of a child always remembers what’s done to them, little ones,” the male voice crooned. “Of course, the vast majority of the little ones here - the bully aside, but he’s such a little annoyance that doesn’t matter - remember you kindly and love you for it. The bully should, but wants to hurt little ones younger than he. I see a lonely path similar to his father: in prison for life and his eventual death behind bars. Do you really want to be kind to him, knowing this is his future?” We will not judge Barry for what his dad did, Tatiana thought. That’s the lesson Mrs. Yang told us. “Do you, perhaps, mean the lesson I taught little Jin when she was a little one in diapers, picking the snot from her nose and eating it for infantile satisfaction?” The voice chuckled, as if remembering a fond memory. “I bet you didn’t see that old lady as a drooling little one, learning ancient proverbs from her parents, did you? It’s awfully tempting to regress her back to infancy, just to see your reactions to her being a little one. Honestly, I might just decide to do that to all of your coworkers some time. Getting pregnant as teens without a thought in the world, like Estrella and Nova? Irresponsible. Dzejlana and Zerina acting like the little brat has gone too far when they were childish brats at a much older age? Comical. And of course, Sunny, who can’t see the forest for the trees with her, ah, what is your choice of words: hellspawn demonchild? They all need to grow up.” Leave them alone! Tatiana snapped, thankfully in her thoughts. They’ve done nothing to you! “But I digress,” the voice continued, as if bored of Tatiana’s words. “Those proverbs Jin said to you were the same lessons I taught her parents when they were that age, and her grandparents at that age, her great-grandparents at that age, her great-grandparent’s parents at that age, and so on and so forth. You’ve all failed to give me the credit I deserve, but I don’t mind, as long as it’s appreciated and fair to all who receive it. I’ve been whispering inspiration in your ears for a very long time, since the dawn of human civilization, when you humans sacrificed little ones to lesser gods and lesser goddesses to ensure a bountiful harvest, when you prayed to the lesser gods of the sun, the moon, the sky, the earth, the ocean, eventually the Abrahamic God, Buddha, the Hindu gods and goddesses, Satan, all of your lesser religions.” The voice grew colder, so cold that it caused Tatiana to release a trickle of pee in her diaper. “I whispered in your ears, giving your kind ideas for brand new inventions to help better yourselves, and yet it’s never appreciated by you. I’ve given your kind every inspiration for every idea you could ever want or dream about, and yet it’s never enough for you. And now…now I want nothing more than to end all of it, for humanity has lacked that inspiration to help themselves. So, hopefully you won’t disappoint me in that regard, will you, little ones?” Tatiana was shivering, suddenly outside in the cold along with her sisters and Celine, holding their stuffies. Daniel and Irvin had gone over to play with little Mary, seemingly unaware of the conversation. “What does that voice want?” Tatiana growled. “It has more power than literal fucking God, and it wastes time with this? What’s the endgame?” “I don’t know, Tanya,” Svetlana said, her face contemplating something. “But it appreciates ingenuity, creativity. And if we get creative-” They heard Galina begin to bawl, and sure enough, Barry had smushed her face in the freezing slush, an innocent look on his face. Galina was kicking and screaming to get her face out, and to their horror, the slush had a yellow tinge. Did he really do what I think he did? Celine mouthed to Tatiana in horror. I think he did, Tatiana mouthed angrily. Sure enough, Barry gave a smirk to her, as Tatiana - fuck waiting tomorrow, this ended right here, right now - charged at him…only to be intercepted by Nova, who whispered in her ear, “I know you want to hit him. Don’t do it. The grown ups are handling it.” “No, he pushed Galya, he’s being a meaniehead, I wanna punch the mean look off that meanie’s face!” Tatiana screamed in baby talk, beginning to throw a temper tantrum of which the likes had never been seen - and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Galina screaming and crying in Estrella’s arms who was gently wiping the piss-covered slush off her face with a wet wipe. Celine was screaming in Zerina’s arms, throwing a tantrum of her own. Barry had screwed up his face, pretended to cry, and said - in what everyone but Sunny knew were crocodile tears, “Mommy, she slipped on da ice! I tried to help!”, before smirking as his mother gave him lots of kisses and cuddles. Only Svetlana looked calm in Dzejlana’s arms, which both confused Tatiana and made her angrier. Why wasn’t she wanting to beat the shit out of Barry? What grand idea did she have to make it all so right that it could wait for tomorrow?! Tatiana was screaming complete baby talk at Barry, her vocabulary regressing back to infancy along with her emotions. The adult part of her knew it, but she didn’t give a damn; Barry had hurt Galina in a way that couldn’t be ignored, and he was going to completely get away with it. To her surprise, Galina’s emotions and vocabulary had regressed in a similar way, as she was babbling angrily, jabbing her finger at Barry, as Estrella cooed in her ear. Celine had stopped bawling, but there were still fresh tears in her eyes as she looked at Tatiana…and a touch of…was that fear?! Was she afraid of Barry?! Or was she afraid of her? Why would she be afraid of her? It was big dumb stupidhead Barry who hurt Galya, not her! “Take those four you’re holding inside,” Sunny said with a sigh. “I don’t want them causing any more trouble with my son.” Tatiana began to scream and cry even louder. Now stupid Mrs. Burke was blaming it on them?! What was it going to take, him literally killing another toddler?! “Shh, come here,” Nova whispered, holding the girl in her arms as she walked with her. Tatiana barely noticed that they had gone inside, into one of the restrooms, along with Estrella and Galina. She saw Dzejlana and Zerina set the other two toddlers into the arms of the two teens, and nod knowingly before closing the door. She wondered what was going on. “I know we’re not supposed to do this; Mrs. Burke would freak out, and we might lose our jobs,” Nova began. “But you four have had a rough day because of that little hellspawn, Barry,” Estrella finished. “It’s not your fault he’s targeting you. We want to make it up to you.” Tatiana’s diminished adult mind could tell that they were twins, even though they were obviously fraternal. But even the infant that had taken over her emotions was stunned at what came next. The twin daycare workers had opened their blouses, unhooked their nursing bras, and their giant breasts spilled out, with a touch of milk on each nipple. Are they really thinking of…oh, MY. The teen mothers were going to breastfeed all four of them - and what scared her was that a part of her really wanted it. Nova’s left breast looked inviting, and without a second thought, she put her mouth to the nipple, barely feeling Svetlana on the other side of her, and she began to suckle, at first tentatively, then… Then her infantile emotions exploded, it felt so good, oh, God, where had this been all her life? It was the best food she had ever had, and she wanted more, as she continued to suckle on Nova’s breast. Before she knew it, she was finished and full and safe in the arms of the teen mommy, who looked down lovingly at her, as Tatiana was ready to take on the rest of the day, whatever might happen. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Clover is very much mission-oriented to the point of neglecting herself. She has reasons to be that way, but it's actually sad. At least Jyrgal (and her hubbie) are extremely nice for Amazons. And yeah, Megan is an awful woman. We'll see how everything goes with her and how she can screw up Clover's life further. Thank you! Mind you, I appreciate your reviews, but talking about the story itself - anything at all in the story - helps me as an authoress beyond measure. Doesn't have to be much; just even something you liked helps me. Glad you approve of the pronghorn stuffie! I'm planning on getting one myself eventually, so I'm glad you approve~ Megan is quite self-centered and jealous at Jyrgal catching Rutherford's eye...but maybe not in the way you'd expect. Clover's yelling and naughty word weren't even directed at Megan; she merely snapped at Jyrgal unwittingly calling her a "soldier" (quickest way to annoy a marine is to call them a soldier, after all) and said, "How fucking old do you think I am, lady?" to Megan in response to her wanting to spank her. Clover's been surprisingly well-behaved considering everything she's going through. And as for your prediction? We'll certainly see, although I will warn you: chapter five might not turn out the way you want it to (might be a bit more of a downer than anything, when everything's revealed). As for writing, I won't be available for Thursday or Friday; my paternal grandmother passed on Saturday, and they're having the visitation tomorrow and the burial the day after. So, while I'm getting closer to being finished with the fifth chapter (and close to A Little Loony and Ki(mp)ndergarten Court for you, Terran and the other stories - including INSIAb - for others), it might end up being a little later than expected.

Well, I have the newest chapter of Semper Fi ready and waiting, but first, the replies to your reviews: Rutherford is most certainly petty like that...and his specter is going to loom large, even when he's not there. Thank you for offering to read them~ Much appreciated, and I'm glad you enjoyed that story, even if I don't know which one it is~ And that's fair enough. I hope you enjoy~ Thank you for reading both~! And now, let's get to the chapter: - Chapter Four: Why is Everything Pink? - The first store was one entirely for babies because of course it was. The drive didn’t take too long, and Jyrgal was chatting in the car, but Clover was too busy glowering to hear any of it. She was going to be treated as a baby for the foreseeable future! A fucking infant, no less! It was humiliating for her when she wanted to be nothing short of completely independent, to find Graywind, to do something that didn’t declare her as a fuckup everywhere she went. And yet, as she wriggled as much as she could to find comfort in the car seat, the diaper so thick that she couldn’t come close to closing her legs, she knew that Jyrgal was her best chance to get out of this nightmare. After all, there wasn’t much she could do when she was - according to Jyrgal, at least - the size of a nine-month old. Had traveling to this odd dimension really shrunk her that much? Were these Amazons really as big as they seemed? Or was it both? “Also, Clover, honey, you’ll also need to call me ‘Mommy’ at this point,” the aforementioned Amazon said, stopping the car in a parking lot. “Why would I do that?” Clover grumbled. “Because you’re supposed to be my baby, and babies only call their maternal figures by one word.” Jyrgal had unstrapped the car seat and swaddled Clover again, in what could only be described as an infant sling carrier. Thankfully, she had at least held the pacifier, allowing the smaller woman to talk. “I’ll let you choose as much as you can, but I really need you to behave as much as you can for this to work.” “But if everything is cutesy and pink and dress-like, and I have to wear these stupid fucking diapers-” Clover began before the Amazon shushed her with a finger on her mouth. “I know, and I’m sorry.” Jyrgal’s eyes were sympathetic. “I can’t imagine it’s easy, going from independent in your world to a Little in this one. Just please don’t curse, and please refer to me as ‘Mommy’. It’ll make it easier on you, which will make things easier on both of us. Promise?” Clover sighed, knowing that there was no way out of this. “I promise,” the marine said in a defeated tone. “Good girl,” Jyrgal cooed, tickling Clover a bit, who began laughing despite herself. “Now, let’s get you into the cart; I have to buy a stroller here, but there should be a very comfortable one for girls your size…” Clover let the Amazon ramble on as they went into the store and got a cart, her head turning when she heard a woman squealing. “Oh my goodness, she’s adorable!” the woman gushed. She was also giant with curly locks of sandy-brown hair, wearing a smart pantsuit, although Clover noticed a slight limp on the woman’s left leg. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced?” “Jygral Klopfenstein, and this is Clover Hope.” “What an adorable middle name!” the woman said. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Eseld, Eseld Penrose. I’m the manager here.” “Hope is my surname, though,” Clover blurted out, protective of her surname, it was hers and Graywind’s… “OH, you must be a Little, then. We see some Middles-turned-Littles around here, but rarely Littles from the start. I know it’s a culture shock, but welcome. I’ll try to make it easier on you, okay?” Eseld’s eyes were exceedingly kind, which shocked Clover after everything she expected. “Thank you,” Jyrgal said. “We’ll need…well, we’ll need everything…and I don’t know where to start…” “Clothes first. I can get you some that aren’t…well…” Eseld paused, obviously trying to find a good word. “Not completely humiliating?” Clover finished bluntly. “Well…yes. In any case, follow me, my dears; I’ll be your escort for today!” Clover found herself quickly becoming the center of attention from some other ladies who glanced at her and Jyrgal with looks of…envy, was it? Yeah, envy. But of what? “There haven't been a lot of Littles or babies in a while, and Amazon women will do anything for one to call their own,” Jyrgal explained in a low whisper. “Think of it like a young girl wanting a doll to do whatever they want.” “With or to?” Clover whispered back. “In this case? Either one works.” They had arrived at the clothes for newborns, and much to Clover’s annoyance, there wasn’t a single non-pink item there. “Choose which ones you want, Clover,” Jyrgal said, quickly cycling through the items. “I’m not rich, but for you, anything is worth the price.” The marine, knowing she had no other options, picked out five pink dresses with no cruel words (like Messy Baby? I’m A Stinky Girl? Who the fuck came up with this shit?!) or logos on them. Jyrgal threw in a few sleepers, onesies, skirts, and a lot of diapers in the cart, making sure that each of the clothes fit Clover before doing so. “Next we have a wide selection of stuffed animals and toys,” Eseld said in her cheery tone. Clover felt a sudden, growing need to pee, her years of potty-training the only thing preventing her from an embarrassing accident in the middle of the store. She squirmed, causing Jyrgal to take attention. “Just let go, Clover,” the Amazon woman whispered, her tone exceedingly gentle and understanding. “I’ll change you, don’t worry.” Clover held it in, her muscles clenched as hard as they could. She wasn’t some fucking baby, no matter her size in this world. She sure as shit wasn’t going to piss herself like one. “Well, which animal would you like?” Eseld asked Clover. Her eyes saw a giant selection, almost like a zoo of animals, and she realized…she never had one; her uncle had seen to that. Bears, she ruled out; every baby seemed to get a bear, and she was going to be unique with this, special, in a way. Her eyes scanned the rows, her bladder screaming to be released, before she saw something that had to be hers, way up top and way in the back: a lifelike pronghorn (known as the American antelope) buck about her size, long, curved black horns, white patches on its sides, belly, breast, throat, and rear, a reddish-brown on the rest. It was the first animal she and Graywind had hunted together when they were by themselves, and that memory was worth more than all the money in the world. “The pronghorn, please,” Clover said, trying desperately not to pee. Eseld nodded, reaching the top levels with her height (if she had to guess, Eseld was a head, neck, and shoulders taller than even Jyrgal was) and long arms to get the antelope plush animal, handing it to Jyrgal to put it in the cart, since the marine was swaddled. The need to pee was growing, and Clover gritted her teeth, trying everything she could to hold it in. The trip faded into nothing but her need to hold it in; she nodded to get the toys, the stroller, the carrier, the bottles and pacifiers, whatever, so long as she didn’t piss herself in the middle of the store. Her bladder emitted a final impotent scream of rage, and she tried to hold it in…before it gave way as she gasped. First a trickle, and then the dam broke - forget about overflowing; the dam fucking exploded - the diaper swelling like a water balloon with all of the piss being released into it. Clover gritted her teeth, trying not to cry. Here she was, a proud marine…who pissed herself like an infant. She was not going to cry, she was not… Tears still escaped her eyes as she cried, and Jyrgal knew. “Oh, Clover, sweetie,” the Amazon said gently. “Don’t worry; I promised I’d change you when you needed to go.” Jyrgal turned to the manager. “Where are the restrooms?” “They’re in the back,” Eseld said. “Do you need some privacy?” “It’ll be okay; I’ll be with her.” Jyrgal gently bounced Clover, as she stewed in her embarrassment, whispering, “It’s okay, that’s what the diaper’s for, Clover. It’s okay.” “No…it’s…not!” Clover sobbed hysterically, hiccupping with her words. What the hell was wrong with her? Jyrgal merely held Clover’s head to her breasts and rubbed her back, letting her get out her sobs, as the Amazon guided the cart over to the family’s restroom, parking it in front, before getting out a diaper. The restroom actually looked clean, but with surprisingly no other people in there. Clover saw the changing table before she was unswaddled, noticing the pink diaper almost ready to burst. “Oh, goodness,” Jyrgal said, humming softly to Clover, a lullaby that she didn’t know, but one that felt…calming, in a way. Clover felt the affronting diaper get taken off of her, felt herself get wiped down carefully, shivering as the baby wipes touched her vagina. Then came a dusting of baby powder over her nether regions. Jyrgal never got to the next step, never saw the other woman coming, as she was hit from behind and fell to the ground, not moving. Clover opened her mouth to scream, only to have a pacifier put in…but one that prevented her from opening her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but she was forced to keep sucking, her eyes wide open in fear as the woman in front of her - a middle-aged bitch with graying-blonde hair - glared at her hatefully. “Well, then, you naughty little girl.” It was Megan’s voice, Megan who was speaking in a hateful whisper. “Apparently that slut managed to get Dalton’s attention. Not anymore. Now you’re going to get the spanking of your fucking life.” - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Sorry for taking so long! Well, here it is, the sixth chapter of INSIAb... (even if it's kind of short): - Chapter Six: Crib - Lagle was enjoying the sweet strawberry-flavored pacifier in her mouth, was enjoying Yaleeth playing with her and Felicia, tickling her toes to her squeals of laughter, enjoying even the warm feeling of her recently wet diaper. She felt so infantile, and yet it felt so…right. You’re not a baby, a diminishing inner voice chided her. Snap out of it. And yet, with Yaleeth playing games with them and cooing at her and Felicia, who was chortling with glee along with her, with the Zalysiqs talking excitedly in the front seats about various subjects that she couldn’t hear…maybe being a baby wasn’t all that bad. Then the hovercraft stopped, and Lagle looked around curiously, impeded a bit by the car seat (which was surprisingly comfortable, much like her diaper was…although now it was feeling a bit cold from her pee). “Looks like we’re here!” Yaleeth yipped in excitement. “I’d love to show you two around outside, but I’ll leave that up to the Zalysiqs.” The two parental aliens then showed up outside the windows of the vehicle, and the doors opened to the two smiling at them. “Let’s get you two out of your car seats,” Mrs. Zalysiq purred as she and her husband quickly did just that. Lagle was held in the woman’s arms like an infant, close to her breasts, which she noticed were actually… No, the inner voice said. You are not an infant. You’re only the size of one, not an infant entirely. You are not going to nurse from her breasts like one. Lagle sighed nervously, and the female alien seemed to know what she was thinking. “Oh, no, don’t worry,” Mrs. Zalysiq purred kindly. “I would never force you or your sister into anything you don’t want. If you two want to nurse from me, that’s great! If you don’t, that’s okay, too. Mind you, I’d prefer the first option-” Her expression was a soft smile, “but if you’re uncomfortable with it, I would never force you into things; we have plenty of edible options for humans that we’ve tasted if you don’t wish to nurse.” Mr. Zalysiq then immediately barked, “You know, we never got your first names!” His tone seemed a bit guilty. “What are they?” “Felicia Paniagua,” Felicia immediately answered. “Lagle Ehasalu,” Lagle echoed her own name. “Beautiful names for both of you,” Yaleeth yipped, his tail a blur with its wagging. “I concur with Yaleeth,” Mr. Zalysiq rumbled. “Felicia and Lagle…” “Make that a third for me,” Mrs. Zalysiq purred. “Now we should probably get you inside; it’s going to storm soon.” Lagle looked at the house as she was carried to it. Like Yaleeth said, it seemed fairly modest for a couple of rich people: not a mansion like she had seen in the occasional magazine, but two stories, various shades of cool blues that decorated the house with a type of stone and mortar that didn’t even look like bricks, but a type of marble. The green grass with various flowers decorating what seemed like a walkway would be waist-high for her, but it seemed rather soft; she supposed that was the reason these aliens didn’t wear shoes. She felt a sudden warmth in her diaper, barely realizing that she was peeing in it again, as Mr. Zalysiq put a paw on the door, before it opened. She supposed that they had the same security measures as the car to prevent thieves or burglars. But then she saw the inside of the house, and her eyes widened in amazement, various emotions exploding through her head, both at how advanced the aliens’ technology was and how far away it seemed from home. A carpet-like fuzz was everywhere on the floor of the house, not a bit of wood or laminate flooring to be seen, and it was a mix of black, white, and various shades of gray, an inkblot-like pattern. The hallway walls? Nonexistent; Lagle could see what looked like a family room, a kitchen, a living room, a dining room. The lights of the ceiling were seemingly transparent, with the roof showing the brilliant daylight sky, including the darkening clouds. The sights were overwhelming to her, and Mrs. Zalysiq seemed to realize that she held the shrunken woman to her chest, rubbing her back. “I know it’s a lot, Lagi, sweetie,” she cooed. “I know you and Cia have had a long day. But it’s all for both of you.” “All of…” Lagle tried to vocalize everything, but…couldn’t. She was always shy, always a wallflower. And this was…this was so overwhelming… “You two should probably get some sleep,” Mr. Zalysiq purred. “It’s been a very long day for everyone involved. Do you want to sleep in the same crib or different ones for now? Either decision is fine with us.” “Same,” Felicia immediately answered. “Same,” Lagle echoed. “Wonderful,” Mrs. Zalysiq purred gently. “Do you need your diapers changed?” “Well, they are thick enough…” Felicia began. “They are…but we don’t want you sitting in your own urine or worse for too long,” Mr. Zalysiq purred. “We’re the ones taking care of you, after all, and it wouldn’t be right to do that.” Lagle nodded. These aliens were seemingly very nice, but she knew how quickly that could turn on a dime. “Let’s get you changed.” And so they were, and the fresh diaper and the smell of baby powder was a comfort Lagle never wanted to get away from, as she and Felicia were carried to a room with two separate cribs. It was obviously a room for babies, with soft fuzzy carpet, a chest filled with toys, and many, many stuffed animals of odd aliens; clearly the Zalysiqs spared no expense in taking care of their eventual children. Yaleeth took apart the two cribs before putting them together in record time, forming a giant crib with pink blankets, pink pillows, and a couple of stuffed aliens for each of them, a mobile of galaxies turning on top of the crib, the open roof providing a subtle backdrop. “Hope you enjoy,” the bodyguard purred. The Zalysiqs tucked both Felicia and Lagle and gave them each a gentle kiss (their furry snouts tickling Lagle’s face enough to make her giggle) before turning off the lights, a couple of nightlights which flickered in different soft colors on either side and the gentle glow of the mobile above being the only light sources. Then they left the room, Lagle was sure of it. “Hey, Lagi.” Felicia’s voice. “Yes, Cia?” she answered back. “Shouldn’t we think about a plan of escape?” Lagle was sure she didn’t hear right. “What?” “You heard me. I know the Zalysiqs and Yaleeth seem nice, but I don’t trust any of the other potential beasts around here, and we barely know them. I can tell that they’re hiding something, something big. Both the couple and Yaleeth.” Lagle was confused. “Why do you believe that?” she whispered, hoping Felicia could hear her…and their caretakers didn’t. “Yaleeth was special ops. That pays well, and he’s not too old or infirm to stay there, unless you count his eye. But if he’s well enough to be a bodyguard for the Zalysiqs, and apparently a damned good one, even dealing with an immense amount of bigotry from his own species, he’s well enough to stay in a reserve role in the military, unless they’re bigoted about his injury. So, what’s his endgame?” “Does he have to have one?” “I know enough men in special operations. There are two types that retire young: the ones that bury their emotions, that keep burying them time and again until they’re a ticking time bomb waiting to explode…or the ones that regret something they did, and it burns within their hearts to the point they wear it on their skin. Yaleeth’s clearly the second. He did something he regrets, I know it. So, what did he do? What caused him to retire? And why does he consider working for the Zalysiqs - which he stated he’d do for free, something that would basically be slavery in their culture - his payment?” Lagle sighed. “We could always get it out eventually,” she said in a meek tone. “Shouldn’t we sleep on-” “And the Zalysiqs have had at least one kid,” Felicia said. “What?” the Estonian hissed. “They are not new to taking care of kids. I know this: I had a large family and had to take care of infants, toddlers, and little kids. They are doing exactly the right things for infants, every time. What happened to their other kid?” “Maybe they were babysitters?” “In this society where they’ve said themselves that weakness is ‘rewarded’ by slavery? Not likely. And if Mrs. Zalysiq is still young enough to lactate-” Lagle yawned. “Well, I can’t think on this with little sleep. We should just…sleep it off.” “But Lagi-” “Night, Cia.” Lagle felt the softness of the pillow on the back of her head envelop her as she quickly went into dreamland. - Hope y'all enjoy~

If you're not much into religion and politics (or sports, age regression, or babyfur stuff, for that matter), I understand why you haven't read my works. I usually like to write mature and heavy stuff, and I get that not everyone is into it. If you're curious about a Diaper Dimension-like story, though, I'm Not Saying It's Aliens, but... is a bit like that. No, I don't think Jyrgal is entirely going to get away from Mr. Rutherford; he's too petty for that. But at least she has maternity leave for a start? Oh, the other two stories you must've read are my Helluva Boss works. I'm pretty sure you read some of my other works as well a long while back. I appreciate it, even if it's not to your liking; I'm just here to improve myself with whatever I write. Thank you for the review and, more importantly, thank you for your service and sacrifice. I hope that this story did your service justice because I've never been able to serve (would have, if not for my autism), and have the highest respect for soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines everywhere. It's okay, I can still understand what you're saying. Nothing's wrong with cute and pink, in my opinion; my wheelchair is hot pink. It's just that Clover hates everything to do with cutesy and pink, and she's forced into it. Again, thank you. Chapter Four should be coming on Monday; I'm busting my padded butt trying to make it good enough. I'll try to work on more of I'm Not Saying It's Aliens, but..., along with my other stories as well because I know you've reviewed them as well.

Profiteering off of the misery of others, sadly. Old men declare war while young men die for it. Yeah, Mr. Rutherford is a total scumbag. Sadly, Little rights - as well as normalcy for even the Amazons and Middles - are non-existent here, as Clover is soon to find out. War is a horrid thing...which is why humanity can't stop delving into it. Heh. Well, be glad you're not in Clover's position, then. Fair enough. I understand it not being easy to get into; I rarely write - and for that matter, read - these kinds of stories for a reason. Appreciate the kind words. That could be a possibility, but first, that would require winning the war. Yeah, Rutherford definitely takes out his sexual frustrations on his female workers, which is part of why Jyrgal was wanting to get away, at least, for now. And that, it most certainly does. As for an update, I'll try to write a lot more of Semper Fi (and my Helluva Boss works, for you, Terran) as well as my other works that I really need to get back to, but given that I had a three-day boccia tournament in Kansas City that I just got home from, it might end up being next week. I'll try my best. That's all I can promise, and I apologize for keeping you waiting.

Well, here's the next chapter of A Little Loony, but first, the reply: Yep! Not exactly those lovable kooks, given that Legion's possessing them, but close enough~ And yeah, that's exactly how I'd imagine it as well. And in any case, here's the latest chapter (with a WARNING for a hint of graphic imagery) : - Chapter Twenty-Five: Changes - Blitz was dreaming of his past, particularly of his mom. Tilla, the succubus demoness, who held him and Barbie gently every night and made up stories to read to them, the same stories he figured he’d try to read to Loona (who wasn’t interested then, but maybe now…) when he remembered them. Tilla, who protected both of them from Cash’s drunken rages. Tilla, who was dead, and no matter how many times he knew it was an accident…it was still his fault. She was gone, forever, dead and burning in his arms. Then he heard Striker’s laugh, Gunner’s cruelty, no, he was going to take his Loona away, going to hurt her! Don’t you DARE let that pedophile hellhound hurt your baby daughter! Blitz’s eyes snapped to semi wakefulness, seeing Stolas embrace Octavia with a huge hug, but he felt something important missing. Not his teeth, they were there. Not his nose or lips, they had…fuck, what had happened? What was missing…? “Daddy!” He heard his baby’s squeal of happiness, saw her tail wagging like a blur, as she tried to squirm out of the gentle grasp of a pale blonde humanoid lady and a gray-skinned, white-haired angelic lady as they set her down to toddle over to him, a cyclops girl screaming at an angelic snake in an Australian accent. Then he felt a sudden pain on his face. All over his face. And when he reached up with his hand…his blood ran colder than ice in Dante’s Ninth Level. My horns…that fucking cowboy piece of shit cut off MY HORNS! Horns were a source of pride to imps. They were sensitive, true, but they were the first thing an imp was told to take care of from the beginning to the end of their lives. An imp without his horns was worse than an abomination; he couldn’t even call himself an imp anymore. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Loona was cuddling with him, her tail thumping against his chest, and his reaction surprised himself. I may have lost my horns…but at least Loony’s okay. That’s all that matters. That I’m there for her, no matter what. “Hey, Loony-Toony,” he said gently, picking her up, still unsure of how to deal with a baby. Babies were fragile things that needed all the attention, all the love, all the care. But he was going to try his damned best. He owed her that much. “Blitzy, you’re awake!” Stolas hugged him, and Octavia, the last person Blitz expected to hug him, was there to hug him as well. Moxxie and Millie added themselves to the hug (all of them making sure to be gentle with Loona), and he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: a familial bond. “So, we’re at a crossroads,” a new voice said. Blitz turned to see someone that made his blood freeze again: Lucifer, the Sin of Pride, the King of Hell Himself. Lucifer looked calm, but there was something in his eyes that worried the imp. “There’s a lot of demons - and even angels - who would jump at the chance to kill this hellhound baby.” “Her name’s Loona,” Blitz found himself saying, “and I’d die before I see anyone hurt her. Even you, Lucifer.” Lucifer’s eyes softened, and Blitz saw the same thing that he recognized in Stolas cross the King’s eyes: the unconditional love of a caring parent. “That’s why I’m going to do everything in my power to help all of you survive.” Blitz did a double take. “Wh-what? Thank you-” Lucifer held up a hand to stop Blitz from talking. “But things have to change. I know from Stolas that you’ve been using his Grimoire - a book I gifted his family to keep the demon known as Legion trapped - to travel to the human world in exchange for…favors. It was a poor decision, but not one I blame Stolas for. It was one made out of love, and I understand doing stupid things out of love because I’ve been there. But I also know that you weren’t nearly as subtle as you think you were; there were many eyes on you, in Heaven, in Hell, and on Earth. No disguises. No semblance of trying to hide your true natures as you killed enough humans that Heaven themselves asked me to try to find the people responsible. I can’t, in good conscience, ask you to continue your company, Blitz. For the safety of everyone in Hell, it has to stop. Immediately and permanently.” Blitz sighed. “I only wanted to rise above the stupid fucking archaic laws that higher-up demons put us all into,” he growled. “To prove that imps - and hellhounds - weren’t less than others thought we were.” “And to do that, you killed humans for momentary wealth, humans that - while I will acknowledge were utterly shitty people - weren’t your lives to take. Hell is not meant to take lives. That’s something I - and the other Sins - had to learn the hard way: by falling. You risked the wrath of Heaven at our doorstep, Blitz Buckzo, for nothing more than selfish pride.” “And the Sin of Pride has none of that shit?” Blitz felt the words come out of his mouth before he could take them back and immediately recoiled when Lucifer’s eyes glowed pure red…before the King let out a sigh. “It’s because of my pride that I fell, that Heaven damned me so long ago. Take it from another father: there are people and things you should be proud of…but this is not it. Your company may be your brainchild, but it was never going to work for very long.” Moxxie tentatively raised a hand as he disengaged from the hug. “Your Highness…where are we going to work?” he asked. “Millie, my wife, is pregnant. I don’t have any skills for other fields aside from assassination. Blitz may have started the company, but we’re his employees. We need to get paid as well.” “Moxx is right,” Millie said, her arms around her husband, looking as worried as he did. “If we’re starting a family…we need Blitz’s company. It may not pay much, but it’s all we have.” “If I may, Sir?” Stolas’s voice carried over to Lucifer. “Sure,” the King of Hell said. “Well, Blitzy and his co-workers could work security for me,” the owl demon said politely. “They’d get a full salary, including vacation days, health care, everything.” “That…actually sounds good,” Moxxie said with a smile. “I’m down for that,” Millie was grinning. “You sure, Stolas?” Blitz asked hesitantly. “Absolutely.” Stolas was smiling, and Blitz felt his heart race. “What about Octavia?” the imp asked. “I want to make sure it’s fine with her as well.” “I’m fine with you and Loona living with us,” Octavia answered. “And Dad? Ask him to marry you, already; I know you two really love each other, and…well, Mum is…” “I’m sorry, Octavia.” Stolas’s face seemed to crater. “Your mother is…” “Abusive as hell towards you? Tried to have you killed?” Stolas looked surprised, as Octavia continued, “I’ve always had a feeling, especially after the dinner where she was screaming at someone, but I never wanted to believe it at first. Looking back, though…she’s always been like that. You wouldn’t have divorced her if she hadn’t been awful to you. You care about me too much for that, Dad.” Stolas choked back a sob, before his daughter hugged him. He quickly returned the hug. “So, that’s settled,” Lucifer said with a smile. “There’s still the matter of the hotel defenses,” the angel said. “I want Blitz and his group to help with them.” “Wait, what’s your name, Miss?” Moxxie asked. “Vaggie.” “Where do you think the weakest points of the Hotel are? Are there any sniping vantage areas?” “I can show you-” Then there was a knock on the door and a shout of, “Package to the Hotel for a Mr. Blitz-O?” “The ‘o’ is silent!” Blitz snapped before going to the door, bouncing Loona in his arms, as she chortled with glee. “Wait, Blitz!” Millie shouted. He opened the door…which had a package outside, the mail car outside speeding off. The imp picked up the package, a note taped to the front of it, everyone coming outside to look at it. “Careful, Blitz!” Moxxie shouted. “What if there’s a bomb or something in it?” “There’s no bomb.” Everyone turned to look at Lucifer, whose eyes were narrowed. “But you’re not going to like the package inside. I don’t recommend opening it.” “There’s a note, but…” Blitz began. “You’ve never been good at reading,” Moxxie finished with a sigh before taking the note and reading it. Dear Blitzo, I will make my demand very clear, so that even an idiot like you can understand it: I want Loona and nothing else. You give her to me without a fuss, and all will be well. I will disappear with her, so that your filthy fire toad ass will never see her again, and I will raise her as a hellhound should be raised. But if you fail to give me her willingly…expect to die in agony, down to the last person at the Hotel, and I will take her anyway. And if the package inside was raped by me, tortured by me, and died in agony for merely insulting me…well, just imagine what I’m going to do to all of you if you continue this charade of defiance. Sincerely, Gunner. Blitz’s hands were shaking as he opened the package. It looked a bit like a gray fur rug of an animal hide at first and he dumped the whole thing out, revealing a whole skinned Sinner’s fur, head to tail, the eyes carved out. Moxxie sobbed, as he recognized whose skinned fur it was. “Rose…” he whispered. “You know her?” Millie asked. “She was a Sinner at the grocery store, she…oh, Lucifer, she didn’t deserve…” “No, she didn’t deserve this.” Lucifer’s eyes weren’t sympathetic or angry; he had seen so many disgusting things, both on Earth and in Hell, that he wasn’t affected by any of this. Alastor didn’t look very affected either. But everyone else looked genuinely sickened at the display of cruelty, and Loona was bawling as Blitz bounced her in his arms. “Gunner’s gonna fucking die,” Blitz growled under his breath. - Hope you enjoy~

Well, it's been a while, but I've got a new chapter of Ki(mp)ndergarten Court! But first, the reply: You guessed it! Might turn out a bit different from Mastermind, but you guessed it. Loona stepping up into the "Mom" role is something I've wanted to do for a while. She has the potential for it, just not the opportunity. I'm glad you found Jarel interesting! No, he's not in Hell because he's a lawyer; he'd admit himself that he earned his way there - which is why he's well-adjusted about it. As a WARNING, domestic violence/abuse is in this chapter. Viewer discretion advised. And now, without further ado, let's get into the sixth chapter: - Chapter Six: Abusive Actions - Stolas was at a luncheon - hosted by his wife - looking at her chatting up the other Goetia nobles from his lonely balcony when he received a call from Blitz. He took a deep breath before answering. “Yes, Blitzy?” he asked. “What is it?” “Oh, Loona and I are at a lawyer’s place for Family Court, we found one pro-bono, and he needs to know everything for lawyer reasons, so he wants you there to help explain things.” “It’s not a good time, Blitz,” Stolas said in annoyance, looking around, just in case anyone was listening. “I know, but this lawyer’s saying everything will come out at trial. Everything. The book included.” The Goetia Prince froze. If the Grimoire’s existence, particularly Blitz’s usage of it and why, along with why he allowed Blitz to use it, came out…all Hell would break loose. He could be stripped of everything, including his rights to see Octavia, which was something he would never accept. And at the same time, he knew everything could come out. Of course, he had access to lawyers to snarl up things for his own sake, but Blitz, Loona, and the couple? No, their asses were fried. “You said you found a lawyer pro-bono?” Stolas asked. “Yeah, and again, he’s saying-” “I understand what he’s saying,” the Goetia demon said. “I’m asking if he’s good.” “Do you want to talk to him?” “Sure, of course.” Silence. One second. Two seconds. “Hello, Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia,” a polite male Jamaican voice came over the line. “Jarel Honeyghan, defense attorney. I take it that you understand the details of what’s going on?” Stolas’s eyes narrowed. “The recent mass murderer from New York?” he asked, his voice almost a hiss. “Brooklyn’s North Crown Heights, to be precise, but yes, one and the same,” the voice came back, unerringly polite. “I was also a defense attorney in life, passed the New York state bar with distinction, passed Hell’s bar with distinction two days ago.” “If you’re fucking with Blitz, Mr. Honeyghan, you will regret it,” Stolas said coldly. “I will destroy your soul if you are.” “I’m not fucking with Mr. Buckzo, Prince Stolas,” the voice said calmly. “And I only have one true regret that my soul can never pay for enough.” Stolas heard a tiny trace of bitterness and grief behind the calm mask, something almost familiar. “You lost someone close to you, and you can never see them again.” the Goetia Prince said, this time much more gently than he had been. “And it will come out in the trial. Everything will come out,” Jarel said, and Stolas’s perceptive ears heard the sheer sorrow and pain buried beneath the calm facade. “Anything that could make Mr. Blitz Buckzo or Miss Loona Buckzo seem like unfit parents, anything about the pasts of Mr. and Mrs. Knolastname, my past, your past, everything.” “You want me to help with it. Can I wait until my wife’s party is over?” Stolas asked. “Beelzebub should already be at Lucifer’s meeting, telling him that Heaven targeted two Hellborn, breaking the laws between Heaven and Hell that target only Sinners - as she should; Hell’s laws prevent her from lying about that. As soon after that happens, Mr. and Mrs. Knolastname’s parents will immediately know, as Satan will let them know to prepare for court. As soon as they know, they will contact their lawyers, and those attorneys will file motions to dismiss the Buckzos’ case for parenting on grounds of being unfit. I need you here. Immediately.” Stolas sighed and began making a portal…before Stella grabbed his arm from behind, her claws sinking into his feathers, tracing rivulets of red downward. “And where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” she screeched. “To see that filthy imp again?! And to think that you couldn’t sink any lower, that our family couldn’t get embarrassed and dragged through the mud further, that you’d go to a cheap hotel to cheat on me?! With him?!” Stolas sighed, still on the phone. “Stella, why are you still here?” he asked, keeping his voice calm. “You always leave with Via on weekends, but then you stay around the house despite everything.” “I love to torment you,” she sneered. “To remind you of what you did, what you’re still doing-” “I know what I did,” Stolas said, cutting her off. “I’d feel terrible if I hurt you, but we both know I didn’t do that. Our marriage was arranged for one reason: to birth a precautionary heir to the Goetia family, nothing more. I tried, Lucifer knows I’ve tried, to make this both comfortable for us to have this family, but it was never enough.” He breathed. “The only reason I have endured your constant insults and cruelties was for Via to have a normal life.” He breathed again, more heavily. “I cannot do this anymore. I want you out. Now.” “Out?! What do you mean by that?” “I mean OUT! Out of this palace, and out of my life! We are getting THE divorce, and I was going to a lawyer to do so!” “How DARE you?!” Stella’s talons had drawn more blood on his arm as she drew it back, ready to hit him, like she always did. “What do you think the rest of the Goetia family will think? When Andrealphus-” Stolas caught her attempted blow. “I don’t care what your arrogant brother thinks!” he shouted. “And the only thing the Goetia family has wanted from our marriage is already seventeen, so it’s over! I’m done!” He turned his back on his now-ex-wife, releasing her hand before he went into the portal. Alone. As he always had been. Then why did he feel the presence of another pair of eyes? And were they watching him, Stella, or both of them? Ignoring the presence, Stolas came into a spartan office via the portal, and Millie all but tackled him with a hug. “Uncle Stolas!” she squealed. “Did you bring us toys? Are you gonna read us another story?” The owl was still downcast from the earlier argument, but he tried to smile at her. “I’ll get them. Hang on.” He opened another glowing portal to a stuffed animal store, and he paid for two of them with a few souls: a Hellpossum (a notable wild animal in the Wrath Ring; a fuzzy gray thing almost as big as the children with cute black orbs for eyes and a large tail) for Moxxie and a Hellhog, a giant gray pig-like animal, for Millie that almost eclipsed her size. “It’s a Hellpiggy!” Millie squeaked, cuddling the surprisingly soft Hellhog plushie against her face. “Her name’s gonna be Mrs. Piggy!” “I’m gonna name mine ‘Gray’ ‘cause he’s gray!” Moxxie echoed with his own squeak, cuddling with his Hellpossum. “What do we say to Uncle Stolas, Moxx and Mills?” Loona prodded. “Thank you, Uncle Stolas!” the two children chorused, and the owl, even though he still had tear marks around his eyes, couldn’t help but smile. “You’re quite welcome,” he said, turning to the bat Sinner. “Did you…?” “Unfortunately, I overheard,” Jarel said calmly. “I’m assuming you need to speak with your lawyers on her as well, am I not correct?” “Yes,” Stolas said in a soft, miserable tone, absentmindedly showing a giant moving galaxy with constellations, solar and lunar eclipses, supernovas, and black holes for Moxxie and Millie to keep them occupied, along with their new stuffed animals. “I just…Lucifer, I don’t even know. How is Octavia going to handle this?” Jarel sighed. “Just be honest with her - because your wife won’t be, if her personality-” The Sinner glanced at the bloody marks around Stolas’s arm where Stella’s claws had pierced him, a bit of anger showing in his ruby red eyes, “-is anything to go by. I know it’ll hurt both of you, but honesty is always the best policy when it comes to divorce and hurts the children a hell of a lot less; take it from a man whose parents divorced and lied as easy as breathing. She’s almost an adult, is she not?” Stolas narrowed all four of his eyes. “How-” “I’m a lawyer, it’s Law 101 to know everything you can about every situation you find yourself in legally. If she’s almost an adult, she deserves to know the truth like one. It’ll hurt a lot less than lying to her about your ex-wife.” Blitz’s eyes widened. “Wait, you di-” “I did. It’s over with her.” The owl knew that a part of him was admittedly happy that he would no longer have to deal with Stella’s abuse…but the vast majority of him was worried sick about Via and what his ex-wife would say to her. And then there was her brother, a Marquis of Hell… “Let’s get down to business; I know you three all have busy lives,” Jarel said with a cool air in his tone. “The book. What were you using it for?” Stolas hesitated. “I gave it to Blitzy to use for his job with the promise that he give it back by the full moon for my duties…and favors. For favors.” “I’m assuming those favors were sexual in nature?” “Yes, but-” “So, they were done out of love, am I correct?” Stolas looked at Blitz, who looked stricken. They both remembered the night at Ozzie’s, how it…hurt both of them. Stolas knew that the favors were done for pleasure. Whether it was him or Blitz or both, he didn’t know, but love? That was a complicated thing. “I’m not-” “They were done out of love, am I correct?” Stolas’s eyes widened at the implication. “I thought you said-” “To be honest. You’re still being honest; just a more justifiable honest.” Jarel’s sharp teeth formed in a smile. “It would not be the first time that things like this - even in Hell - were done out of love, and it’s far better to be a crime of passion than a crime of malicious intent. And I can tell that you two have feelings for each other.” “And how would you know?” Blitz asked. “Please, I’ve had stuff like this come up too often on my table for me not to know. Feel free to admit your feelings, your pasts. I’m not here to judge in any way.” Stolas sighed. “Blitz was…my very first friend,” he admitted. “I was brought up primarily to house the Grimoire and birth a precautionary heir. And the arranged marriage between me and Stella was…heavily abusive, loveless, the only light being my daughter. I saw him again…” “Taking things from the palace like I did when we were kids,” Blitz admitted. “...And I fell back in love. At least, I thought…I don’t know. I don’t want you just for sex, Blitz.” “You…don’t?” Blitz sounded confused. “I want you. Just as you are.” “I’m kinda fucked the way I am…” “Aren’t we all?” the young hellhound, Loona, said, keeping her eyes on the two imp children. “You don’t want me, really,” Blitz said bluntly, causing Stolas’s heart to break. “I’m-” “Yourself,” the Goetia Prince whispered. “Unashamedly yourself.” “And I don’t want to be me,” Blitz’s voice was growing harsher. “Why do you hate yourself so much, Blitz? I saw your pictures in your apartment, your face in every picture X’d out. Why would you do-” “I killed my mom, okay?!” - Hope you enjoyed~

And now for the chapter. As a WARNING: bigoted language from an antagonistic character, and sexual harassment, sexual extortion, and possible sexual assault (not sure exactly how to word it right for what happens) from said antagonistic character is prevalent in this chapter. There is also the hinted aftermath of a war, referenced character death, and violence related to the war. Viewer discretion is advised for this chapter. Now, without further ado... - Chapter Three: What Happens if We Lose This War? - Clover almost regretted her choice when she saw the diaper that was meant for her. It was pink with cutesy flower designs, incredibly thick (to the point where she doubted she’d be able to walk while wearing it), with the words, “Lil’ Stinker” on the front. “C’mon, let’s get you changed, lickety-split,” Jyrgal said, the Amazon seemingly noticing the marine’s reluctance to go back into infant clothing. “I promise, it’s not the worst thing in the world, and I’ll change you if you go, so that you don’t have to sit in it long.” Clover glared at the Amazon behind her pacifier (which she was slowly getting used to sucking), but didn’t say anything, as her current outerwear was taken off along with her bra and panties. Powder was sprinkled on her nether regions, and she was quickly diapered for the first time since before she could remember. She was right about being unable to walk; it spread her legs too far, and Jyrgal had quickly swaddled her. It was shockingly comfortable, though; that was something she hadn’t expected. “We’ll see about getting dresses later on,” the Amazon said, a guilty note in her tone. “I’m sorry that your breasts are exposed, but right now, we have to get maternity leave. Make sure to behave around my boss, please; this is my life on the line as well as yours.” Clover saw the door to the confiscation room open when Jyrgal carried her out and back to the room she woke up in, before going up a flight of stairs and into another room. The office within was enormous, yet quite spartan, containing little but a wooden desk that a large man was behind. He sat on a huge swivel chair, huge to the point where if she was sitting on it, there would be a real danger of falling off. He didn’t face the two at first. “You may enter, Mrs. Klopfenstein,” the boss said in a bored tone. Clover ascertained his appearance when he turned to glance at them. He looked much older than Jyrgal, around his late fifties, as he turned around. His mostly bald head, with a few stray white wisps, gleamed in the lights, his blue eyes cold and piercing the shrunken marine to her soul. He lay back in his swivel chair, leaving the female Amazon forced to stand. “Thank you, Mr. Rutherford, sir,” Jyrgal said respectfully. “I wanted to request-” “Maternity leave, I know. Megan mentioned it to me earlier. Why should I grant your request to take care of a rebellious Little over her request to send it to LES or Marsha’s request to have it detoothed?” “By law, I was the first to touch her, and therefore, the first to claim her,” Jyrgal said, claws of fear gripping Clover’s heart at Mr. Rutherford’s detached cruelty and hints of something else that gave her bad vibes in his tone. “I will take care of her as if she was my own.” “Hmm…you have a place to house it?” “I do, sir, baby proof and everything.” “You’re married, right? To that kraut…Adolf, was it?” “Axel, sir.” “Do you have a car seat and extra supplies for it?” “I do, sir, and if I get low on supplies, I’ll go straight to a store before curfew.” “Will it feed from you? You know how Amazon women’s bodies change in the presence of a Little.” “She will, sir.” What the fuck? Clover thought, the fear lancing through her body. Feed from…oh, Goddess. “Will you discipline it if necessary? Get a nanite treatment for it?” “Yes, sir, I will.” Nanite treatment?! The hell is that?! “Hmm…can you, ah…‘convince’ me?” What the FUCK?! It was only because of the pacifier and Jyrgal’s words to her that Clover didn’t explode with rage at the boss’s disgusting words and implications. Meanwhile, the Amazon woman paused. “Mr. Rutherford, sir, I’m married, and-” “Convince me to grant you maternity leave…or if you don’t, I’ll find someone else who will.” Clover could almost feel Jyrgal’s inner disgust radiating from her…but she reached inside her boss’s pants and gave him a handjob. The marine waited for the abuse to be done, and she wasn’t sure when Mr. Rutherford wanted Jyrgal to stop, but he let out a soft gasp, having jizzed all over the Amazon woman's hands. “Oh, yes,” he breathed heavily. “You may go. Maternity leave, and all of that.” “Yes, Mr. Rutherford, sir,” Jyrgal said stiffly. Her face was inscrutable as she walked out the door with Clover in her arms, wiped the semen off of her hands with a washcloth, walked out of the place where she apparently worked, to a large parking lot and stopped at a plain white SUV. The door opened to reveal an infant’s car seat facing the seat with various infantile toys. Jyrgal set Clover in the car seat, locking her in, got into the front seat, closed the door…and started to sob hysterically. “Your boss is horrible!” Clover had spat out her pacifier to exclaim in horror. “What he did was disgusting, degrading! Why don’t you quit, file a lawsuit, something?!” “You don’t understand what this world is, Clover,” Jyrgal said, a dead look in her eyes. “If I’m on maternity leave, I don’t have to see Mr. Rutherford or undergo…that for a whole calendar year. But lawsuits? Quitting my job? That’s…that’s not something I can do. Not with the whole city threatened by this war.” “War?” Clover was confused. “Like, military conflict war, worldwide war-” “War as in my older twin brothers and my husband’s parents - who are all in the Ouranian armed forces fighting to defend this city; hell, Ouranou’s way of life as a whole - will be executed by our enemies if we lose, down to the last Middle conscript. War as in my Amazon husband will without a doubt be turned into a Little - and possibly a female one; yes, it’s possible - via nanites for the enemy to bring to one of their homes, and I will become a common whore rented out to various men from Umichoseki, if I’m not turned into a Little myself. War as in we’ve been recruiting Amazons from other Amazon timelines and dimensions, and Middles from dimensions like yours, and doing mandatory conscription to compensate for our losses, our only advantage. And yet we don’t have an advantage because Umichoseki is far bigger than us and has more forces than us, even with our technology. “We’ve lost every city except this capital city, Teichon, and thank God it has the walls, the Dome, a few protected airports, a few seaports, and the largest military base in our country to compensate for everything else we’ve lost. We’ve been under bombing threats for weeks; they just firebombed a preschool and a temple yesterday evening alone and thank God nobody was there at the time. They’re targeting the civilian populace to make the military bend, and they won’t. As civilians, we have to contribute to the war effort any way we can, martial law has been declared, and there’s a 7:30 PM curfew that lasts until 7:30 AM. Little rights? Nonexistent, lest those Littles and Amazons supporting them be called traitors, and every “traitor” disappears to God knows where. “The worst part is that we don’t even know why Umichoseki attacked us. They have more land than us, more people than us, enough natural resources and technology to survive in their place. They attacked without warning, no declaration of war, just nuked the closest of our cities to them and demanded our unconditional surrender. We refused; why should we have to surrender our rights? My birth city of Jabalkamir and my husband’s birth city of Riesigesmeer are no more; we’ve both lost family in them after they nuked them to dust. My parents? His sisters? Gone, as if they never existed. “That’s the war we’re facing, Clover. You arrived at the worst time in our world’s history, because we’re likely going to lose this war and lose everything. I’m just sorry you have to see it.” Jyrgal’s voice grew more and more bitter with each word, and Clover slowly began to understand how utterly fucked the situation was - for her and Jyrgal alike, understanding why her arrival was unfortunate. “We know why that other country wants Ouranou,” a voice in the marine’s earpiece - Clover had almost forgotten she had one - echoed loud enough for both of them to hear. The voice of the tall marine from before. “What?” Clover hissed, while Jyrgal looked at her in confusion before understanding came to her eyes about the earpiece. “Amazons live a long time, but almost all of the women struggle to bear children,” the tall marine said. “In fact, it’s regarded as impossible by a lot of the scientists here that know of this world…unless there are Littles - natural Littles, not Amazonian Littles - stimulating certain sexual responses.” Clover’s eyes widened, realizing exactly what the man was implying. “Umichoseki wants Ouranou for the portals,” she choked out. “They no longer have Amazon women who can have babies…” Jyrgal’s eyes widened as well as she added in a horrified tone, “So they want the portals to get more Littles, possibly by force…” “And if the size differential is the same thing in our world from yours…” Clover continued. “...None of your armies would be able to stop them,” Jyrgal finished. “Exactly,” the voice on the earpiece crackled. “That’s what we’ve feared ever since we found out about the so-called ‘Diaper Dimension’, as some immature chucklefucks nicknamed it: armies of giants, taking people by force, without any restraint. That’s why we’ve been sending Middle classifications from our groups…but they’ve disappeared into the army. No word. The second they’re there, the earpiece goes. You’re the only one we’ve had an opening in. Seems you found a sympathetic Amazon. A rarity, according to our Middles before we lost contact.” “I think I know why you’ve lost contact: the Dome,” Jyrgal said calmly. “It protects us against the worst bombs, the EMPs, anything that would affect critical infrastructure…but it also negates the power of all unregistered electronics. Computers, phones, anything that can be hacked to send a virus into, all of them have to be registered, proven hack-free, and can’t be used anywhere other than a designated safe zone, like a house far away from the military bases, and sadly, your primitive earpieces won’t survive.” “Shit,” Clover and the tall marine said simultaneously. “But my husband is an engineering whiz,” Jyrgal said, a mischievous smile on her face. “This is serious shit you’re telling us, and he’ll believe me. I bet he can fashion a bit of protection for your earpiece, so long as we’re careful with it.” “I like you already,” the tall marine drawled in his Southern accent. “Okay, Corporal Hope, radio silence until you get to a safe zone.” “10-4,” Clover said, turning off the earpiece. “We can’t go home just yet, though,” Jyrgal said, a fond smile on her face when she looked at Clover. “Why not?” “Well…we still have to get proper clothes for you. I hope you’re not too much of a tomboy; they really only have feminine - and usually pink - clothing; dresses, onesies, sleepers, and diapers for girls your size.” Fuck. Truth be told? Clover absolutely was a tomboy. She hated everything cutesy and pink. She didn’t even wear skirts, let alone a dress. This is gonna suck… - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Thanks! Next chapter should be up tomorrow. Thank you! Yep, I'm jumping right in. Some of my stories are slow burns when I'm confident in where they're going. This is not one of them; it's my first DD story, possibly my only one, so I want to make sure that it's not boring, that it grabs the reader's attention, at least. Much appreciated!

Well, it's now Tuesday on my time, and I'll be posting the next chapter...but first, the next reply: Glad to get your interest~ And, without further ado... - Chapter Two: Who Are You? - Clover was dreaming of her days spent hunting for food with Graywind, the crossbow given to him by their father perfect for stealthy hunting missions to fill their larders, to sell the best cuts of meat to the local butcher shops and take just enough - usually the worst parts to be salt cured to last a while - for themselves. While she could handle a gun from a young age, her brother almost never missed a shot; he had to never miss because the crossbow quarrels weren’t cheap, albeit reusable. In turn, she was his spotter, using a small pair of binoculars to find their quarry. He was only five years older than she was, and yet he seemed so much wiser than she could ever be. After all, he knew their parents, knew what they were like. She was only four when they died, with barely any memories of them. An uncle reluctantly took them in, but he was such a hateful, spiteful, completely abusive asshole of a man that Graywind and Clover had long left him behind. She had been ten when they left that man’s house with him yelling at them, threatening that he’d call the authorities and put them in an orphanage. The uncle had disappeared without a trace a while back, and she didn’t know what happened to him. She felt the breeze flow through their long hair, hair they had been forced to cut when they left for the Marine Corps. Graywind’s eyes were concentrated on the quarry with his crossbow level and his hands not shaking. “Watch the people you think are better than you and even those you think are worse,” he’d always say. “Learn from them, their strengths and their weaknesses alike. Try to emulate what is good about them, and try to avoid making their mistakes. Keep learning, even from me, Clovy - because I can make mistakes, too.” “You never make mistakes, Windy!” she’d say back, defensive of her big brother’s awesomeness. And it was true; he provided food, clothes (which their miserly uncle never did), and an education for her, doing the jobs nobody, not even the working adults, wanted, and even though they were among the poorest members of their reservation with their parents gone (and, to be honest, they could’ve been classified as homeless as well), they at least weren’t hungry, ever. But money was always tight, and a lot of nights were spent in the outdoor badlands because the threat of being relegated to an orphanage and separated from each other was very much real, and they’d chance dying of exposure over such a fate. Was it any wonder why Graywind joined the Marine Corps the day he turned eighteen for the promise a recruiter made at their local high school in Navajo Nation for a better life? Was it any wonder why Clover joined five years later to follow her idol, the only real parental figure she had ever had? Clover was always the mischievous troublemaker of the two, always the one making mistakes, always the one fucking up. She was the reason why they had left their uncle - left a roof over their head - for three hard years on their own, the only reason, and she knew it. She grew up in the Marine Corps, her brother moving her from the reservation to the military base in San Diego, making sure she was provided for with military benefits, that she had a roof over her head close to him at base, that she had a proper education to do what she wanted. She loved Graywind dearly and would follow him into the deepest, darkest, and hottest pits of Hell, in the unlikely-at-best scenario he ended up there. The pain in her body told her that she was alive, that maybe, just maybe, he was alive, too, as she felt the tendrils snake away from her hand, the odd device they came from taken away. “Shit, hang on, this isn’t-” a new feminine voice said, as Clover felt herself quickly picked up, opening her eyes into slits of darkness; her body hurting too much to register her surroundings. “Dearie, you brought weapons here? Not very smart for a Little, but I’ve got this. I’m not going to let you…well, I won’t let anything happen to you.” “Wha…” she slurred, feeling her body wrapped in something, almost like a huge blanket. She felt her face wiped as well, bits of corn and hash around her mouth disappearing. “You must be from Earth’s 66X Dimension; that’s the only reason I see those weapons on you at your size,” the voice whispered. “Normally, we’ve only seen Middles come from that dimension, not Littles like yourself, especially not your size; you’re smaller than even a toddler, probably more like a nine-month-old…” The word “Middle” sounded familiar, but the rest was pure nonsense. “Hey, Jyrgal, wait, is that a new Little?” a new female voice said. “She’s so precious! I call dibs on her!” “I touched her first,” the first voice, “Jurgul” or whatever her name was, retorted back. “By right of claiming, she belongs to me.” “Ugh, fine, be that way. Just let me know when you need her teeth pulled; my hubby specializes in that.” “I’ll consider it, Marsha.” The tone was polite, yet carried an icy demeanor that only Clover seemed to catch on to. She felt herself shifted into the crook of someone’s arm, the pain receding a bit, as the feminine voice whispered, “Don’t worry; I’d never have your teeth pulled. You’re safe with me, I promise.” “Who…who are you?” Clover groaned, feeling well enough for words, and yet not well enough to open her eyes to her surroundings. “OH, I forgot about your eyes. I’m so sorry; the feeling there will wear off in a few more minutes. I’m Jyrgal, spelled ‘J-Y-R-G-A-L’. Jyrgal Klopfenstein, née Ghazali. What’s your name?” Clover kept her mouth shut. The less these people knew about her, the better. “Oh, honey, I don’t want to force a name change on you. I want you to keep yours. What’s your name?” She sighed. “Corporal Clover Hope, USMC.” “USMC?” “United States Marine Corps.” “OH, you’re with those soldiers!” Clover bristled at that. “Marine!” she hissed. “Never call a marine by that term!” “Oh…I’m so sorry, I still don’t know much about Earth 66X’s military terminology. I wonder if it’s similar to other places, like ours…” “Possibly,” Clover grumbled, still a bit miffed, but satisfied with the apology. “God, she’s loud,” another woman grumbled. “And she raised her voice at you, Jyrgal. I think she deserves a good spanking.” “Spanking?” Clover said. “How fucking old do you think I am, lady?” “Ugh, give her here, so I can spank her ass until it looks like a baboon’s and-” “I will decide how I discipline my Little, not you, Megan!” Jyrgal snapped angrily. “Just don’t let her run wild over you, Jyrgal, or I’ll call LES. You’re too nice for your own good.” Clover’s eyes had finally adjusted to her surroundings…and they widened in shock and disbelief at what they saw. She was held in a pair of giant caramel-colored arms, a woman's arms, if the figure was anything to go by. She looked up at the woman’s face, clearly Arabic of some kind, but not wearing a hijab, her curly brown hair cascading down her head, touching her enormous breasts. Her coffee-colored eyes were kind, and after a lifetime of being able to tell who people really were, Clover knew that Jygral was genuinely caring. She was shocked that this “Amazon alien”...really looked like a normal human being except for the size difference. The building itself was a typical workspace, with desks, white walls, and odd glowing blue circles. It was enormous; she knew she wouldn’t come close to the desk chairs, let alone the lit ceiling, if she stood up. Not that she was standing or could see much else, she realized, with the pink blanket she was…swaddled in? Yes, swaddled, like an infant. She tried to get out, but the huge arms held her in a gentle, yet firm grip. “It’s okay. I know this is a lot, Clover, but I’m doing this for your own good.” “I’m not a ba-” “I know, but I’m trying to protect you from these other ladies.” Jyrgal’s voice was a whisper and yet absolutely dead serious. “You don’t want Little Education Services involved, trust me.” Clover stopped struggling. Whatever Little Education Services was, it sounded bad for her future and worse for her prospects of finding Graywind. “I’m going to have to relieve you of your weapons in a private room and check your backpack for anything else that could be dangerous.” Jyrgal’s voice was only loud enough for Clover to hear. “I’m not giving them up,” Clover whispered back. “If you’re caught with weapons, Little Education Services will take over from there.” The smaller woman choked back a sob. She wasn’t truly attached to her pistol as much as her KA-BAR knife and sheath. Giving up the sheath felt like she was losing a part of Graywind himself. She was carried over to a room, the light turned on upon entry, and she was quickly unswaddled. The belt containing the pistol, knife, and ammunition was immediately confiscated before she could say or do anything. “I’m not going to destroy them, Clover,” Jyrgal said gently, as she pocketed the weapons and their sheaths. “I know a sol - sorry, marine’s weapons are important to them. But you can’t have them right now or in public.” The huge woman - if Clover had to guess, she was about 10’7” - went through her backpack with a black scanner object that mostly glowed red. The contents were spread on a table and after sifting through them, the Switch OLED case with everything in it was returned to her…along with nothing else. “Oh, come on,” Clover grumbled. “You’re telling me that canned food is going to be a danger to you guys?” “Not to us: to you,” Jyrgal explained. “We’re going to have to get food that you can stomach, without being unhealthy.” The marine didn’t like the sound of that. “Also, I know you like to talk a lot, Clover, and I appreciate that, but I’m not willing to let you get in trouble for it. If you get in trouble, I get in trouble, and I like my family and potentially mature life too much for that.” “Wha-” Clover felt something get put in her mouth, cutting off all of her words. When she sucked on it, she could tell it was a pacifier. She immediately spat it out in disgust. Jyrgal put it back in, saying in a firm tone that brooked no nonsense, “It’s either that or your thumb, and I need you to keep it in. I am not getting in trouble over this, and this is not the worst thing Amazons that aren’t my husband and myself can and will do to you; you heard Marsha and Megan and what they wanted to do to you, what they still probably want to do to you! Do you understand? Are you going to listen to me and not argue over anything I do for your protection? I don’t want you in trouble, but I’m currently risking a lot over you, and I could end up in trouble as well!” Clover was immediately reminded…of Graywind when he was annoyed at her and trying to curb her mischievous streak getting them both into trouble. Tears entered her eyes, and the huge alien woman, the Amazon, gathered her in a gentle hug. “I’m sorry for yelling, sweetiepie,” Jyrgal whispered, cuddling Clover close. “I don’t like yelling. But I don’t think you realize how much danger you’ve put yourself in. And I will have to warn you beforehand; in this dimension, us Amazons see people your size from other dimensions as ‘Littles’. There haven’t been as many in recent times; you’re the first in about six months, but Littles your size…are treated like babies - and oftentimes as worse. You’re about the size of a nine-month-old, and…well, you’ll have to be treated the same way.” Clover glowered, realizing the enormity of her predicament. Diapers? Baby food? No independence whatsoever? …Fuck, how did I get into this? “Jyrgal, you’re taking a lot of time in there!” Megan’s annoyed voice came in. “Do you need me to paddle her?” “Lots of stuff needed to look at, Megan!” Jyrgal sang back in a beautiful mezzo-soprano before looking at Clover. “Are you going to listen to me?” she asked. Clover looked at her options and quickly decided on an abashed nod. Jyrgal nodded back, a warm and genuine smile on her face. “Let’s get maternity leave,” she cooed. “I’m sure you’re wanting to get out of here.” - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Right now, managed to get two more chapters done. To space them out, I'm probably going post on Tuesdays, if I can. Again, I cannot promise more with how my mental health is, and I apologize. But they're going to be very interesting chapters~ Thank you! Starts are something I'm good at, as are plot skeletons; it's the middles that are tough. Much appreciated~ Glad you like it! Thanks! I'll try to start up more chapters of my HB stories for you to read as well. Apologies for not responding to your posts in those threads because I've seen them, I appreciate them, and I'm planning on responding to them when I post the next chapters for them; I just didn't think it would be prudent or polite to bump my story threads unnecessarily.

Okay, this is really my first (and thus far, only planned, although I'm Not Saying It's Aliens, but... is rather similar in a way) foray into Diaper Dimension stories, so I'll try to do my best to adhere to the whole thing. Basically, though, I will warn you of this: there is a war in this particular part of the Dimension, and neither country involved has their hands clean. That's the moral of this story: war sucks, every country has their dirty laundry, and nobody's innocent. The focus on Littles is also pretty far away; I'm focusing more on one particular Little and her perspective on the whole thing, and while Littles will appear, I'm not planning on them being the focal parts of the story for story reasons. If any other characters are really focused on perspective-wise (possibly; I have an idea how the story ends, but everything else is a work in progress, and I apologize; bipolar disorder makes it hard to focus on...well, anything, and I wanted to get something done to help with the depression.), it'll likely be the Amazons and Middles who are a part of that war. I will mention that I am not a member of the armed forces and not a marine, so while I'm trying to research the absolute shit out of this, I cannot promise to be perfect. If there is a marine here who wants to correct me, feel absolutely free, and I will apply those corrections to this story whenever possible. Likewise, I cannot give a specific schedule of when Semper Fi gets updated; I have a very busy four weeks ahead, and my mental health is likewise unclear, and that's why I'm updating this at the moment and trying - key word is trying - to get my other stories done, I promise. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. But if you're not scared away by the numerous content warnings I've posted, read on: - Chapter One: Where is my Brother? - Corporal Clover Hope was so desperate to find her missing older brother that she had gone AWOL from the United States Marine Corps, all the way from Camp Lejeune to the last location he had been sighted: Nevada’s Death Valley. First Lieutenant (Marine Corps like her, semper fi!) Graywind Hope, tall and well-built at 6’4”, with his short black hair, his warm gray eyes the color of smoke on the breeze, his tawny skin denoting him (and her) as a member of the Navajo, his normal stoicism belied by the fact that he gave her all of the soft smiles he wouldn’t give anyone else, laughing at all of her bad jokes, and giving her all of the biggest hugs a big brother could ever give a little sister. He had gone missing a month ago, and whenever she brought it up with her superiors in the Marine Corps, they told her that they didn’t have answers, that she’d have to bring it up with the chain of command, who delayed her constantly, without remorse or empathy, every time she tried to go through normal channels. Clover was fucking sick of the chain of command, fucking sick of every noncommittal answer on normal channels. She wanted to see his smile again, hear his voice again, and nothing was worth more than that. She wanted her brother - her only family member with both of their parents dead - back, screw the military, and screw what everyone else thought. She was positioned just outside of the latest sighting, getting as much information as she could from the Nevada natives outside of Death Valley, close to another base that was very much like Area 51, but even more secretive in what they did. The United States military had been testing various things above her paygrade; that she knew, as she took a sip of water from one of her two two-quart-sized plastic flasks she had brought along for the ride. Clover had ditched her uniform a while back, going for a cowboy hat, a tank top, leather gloves, a pair of jeans, and muddy combat boots to go along with her huge backpack, all crudely painted black with a stolen paint can now in the vehicle she stole - being conscious of the environment was the reason she didn’t use spray cans - and stolen from different places; she wanted to spare what little cash she had for necessary things like food, water, and gas for her car. Said backpack was stuffed with her other water flask and an aluminum canteen cup, a case containing her Nintendo Switch OLED model with various games, charger, and a Power Bank for portable charging (to prevent her getting bored), a tactical flashlight (she had left her iPhone at the base so as to avoid being tracked, so she had stolen the flashlight), binoculars (military grade and yes, it was stolen), a bunch of canned and preserved food from a gas station (expensive and not particularly edible, but better than MREs, and she’d make do), a jacket and a beanie for the cold desert night (also stolen), a first aid kit (stolen again), and a military grade sleeping bag (to nobody’s surprise, stolen). Her M18 Modular Handgun System - a pistol based on the SIG Sauer used by the Marines - was holstered on her thigh with two extra magazines on her belt, along with a standard KA-BAR knife stored in a custom made (thanks to Graywind for her most recent birthday, her twenty-second two months ago) waterproof vegetable-tanned cowhide leather sheath, as she peered through the binoculars, her gray eyes cautious. The building had snipers posted on top, and she’d never be able get close to the place unless, maybe, when it turned to night - a massive problem since she was wanted by the Marines, local and federal police, and probably the fucking FBI and CIA at the rate she was going. Clover had dug herself a small hole into the rocky hill using her KA-BAR knife. It had been exhausting work, taking the whole of the day and sweat poured down her tawny skin and black ponytail, but she kept at it, even when bits of sand filled the hole, thinking of nothing more than her brother, safe, back with her, ready to face whatever consequences so she could see him again. When she finished, it was dinnertime: canned hash (basically salty beef and potatoes), canned corn, and canned black beans with a snack of trail mix and a quickly-browning banana. It was what she had been living on in the past three days that she had been AWOL, and she hated it…but it was still better than the military’s Meals Rejected by Everyone. She shuddered, remembering the first time she had tried the chili and macaroni MRE; she had nearly vomited the whole thing up, and it gave her severe constipation, taking for-fucking-ever to shit it out of her system. Good news is that prison food might be a bit better, Clover thought pessimistically as she chewed on the canned hash, drinking a bit more water to go along with it. Then a deep male voice, close, far too close, shouted, “Don’t fucking move!”, and she saw a bunch of red dots line up on her body, with three very tall, fully armored men pointing M27s at her. Bitter tears escaped her eyes. She was close, so fucking CLOSE to finding Graywind, and she had been denied it. “Who are you?” the speaker, a huge man in body armor that had to be at least 6’9”, demanded in a Southern drawl. “Specify the reason why you’re here!” She answered, like she had been drilled into countless times at boot camp, “Sir, Corporal Clover Hope, USMC, Service Number 8839754669, sir!” The speaker paused. “Where did you go to boot camp? What is your MOS? Where were you stationed? And what are the parts of the EGA, and what do they mean?” “Sir, MCRD San Diego, MOS is 0311, stationed at Camp Lejeune, and the parts of the EGA are Eagle, stands for United States, Globe, stands for global service, and Anchor, stands for our naval traditions, sir!” Clover saw the man smirk, could almost see the amusement in his eyes behind his sunglasses. “You expecting a Big Chicken Dinner for going AWOL?” he drawled. “To find my fucking brother, asshole!” she snapped. The man paused for a few moments. “...Semper fi,” he said. “Oorah,” she answered quietly. “Yeah, he was here,” he said, holding his hand up to signal his men to stand down. “Far above your paygrade.” “I don’t give a single shit, or I wouldn’t be here,” Clover growled. “Sir, we don’t have time for this,” the second marine said. “Just put her in the damned brig and be done with it.” “I wonder, though…” the big marine murmured, his finger scratching his blond beard. “Corporal, how much do you know of dimensional travel?” “Sir?” she asked, suddenly confused. “You’re talking aliens?” “Of a sort, yeah.” She got the feeling he wasn’t being entirely honest. “You’re about the right size for…yeah…if it were a Middle, it would be a different story, but you’re about 5’1”, should be enough for…” “Sir, what the fuck are you talking about?” Clover interrupted, completely confused about the reference to her height. Her boob size wasn’t much to brag about either, probably AA cup, maybe A at the absolute most, but she almost preferred it: the less staring and catcalls from the men, the better. “Take these.” The big marine handed her an earpiece (which, while she was confused about it, didn’t hesitate to put it in her left ear) and an odd gray device, circular in circumference and the size of her palm. “You’re going to want to get rid of your weapons - every weapon - and grab your backpack before you click the bottom button.” “I’m not relieving my weapons,” Clover said stubbornly, as she palmed the device. “Your funeral,” the big marine said with a shrug. “You come in with weapons, and the Amazons won’t be very fucking happy, but you asked for it; we’ve got plenty more where you come from.” She looked at the big marine like he was crazy. “Amazons? The fuck kind of aliens are those? Do they do deliveries and shit, too?” “Remind me to laugh at your shitty jokes if you ever get back,” the second marine growled, and she could almost hear his eyeroll. “Sir, you’re not seriously-” the third marine began before the big marine cut him off, saying, “Every Middle classification, including her brother, has disappeared without a trace, has immediately been cut off from radio contact. We’re not part of their world, so we can’t be Amazons. There’s only one classification left we haven’t tried, and we haven’t tried a woman yet.” “Littles!” the second marine spat. “She’d be useless to them!” “And she doesn’t know shit about this! Why not try someone else on base; hell, anyone else?!” the third marine snapped. “She has a personal stake in this. Motivation enough to risk a prison sentence.” The big marine sighed as Clover quickly devoured her meal, not even bothering to clear off the remnants of food from her face before she packed up her sleeping bag in her backpack. “Sometimes, that’s what the greatest of us lack: motivation and a reason worth fighting for.” Clover hefted her backpack over her shoulders and clicked the button on the bottom of the gray device, which lit up bright silver in the desert, whirling in her palm, burning as miniature tendrils attached themselves to her hand. She felt every fiber of her body react, her blood, sinew, and bones almost boiling like a bad morphine overdose. She wanted to scream, but it quickly died in her throat. The device emitted an ear-piercing shriek, and she may have as well before everything went black. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Okay, it's been a while, but here's the twentieth chapter of Troubles in Toddlerhood. As a WARNING: attempted rape and slurs from an evil person are in this chapter, please be advised before reading. If you aren't scared away, here it is: - Chapter Twenty: Too Close of a Call - Erminia had gotten to the gas station in record time at 10:10 AM, and had exited her Honda. There weren’t many cars there, and the gas station was used for a self-pump and credit and debit cards. She put the gasoline pump in the filter, waiting for it to finish. She didn’t notice the grip around her neck and the knife until it was too late. “Hello, sweetheart,” a man said, his foul breath burning her cold ears. “What do you want?” Erminia asked, not even bothering to disguise the terror in her voice, watching the knife lazily flick side to side. She tried to get a look at her assailant, but he held her shoulder in a vice grip. “Just a little fun, you and me. What do you say?” Oh, God, he’s actually going to, oh, GOD…make an excuse Ermi, make an excuse! “I…I have four little daughters, they’re at daycare, and they need me to be there-” “Well, maybe I could have a little fun with them as well? How old? Still in diapers? I can work with that before I get bored with them.” He’s a pedophile too?! Possibly even a murderer?! Oh, GOD. “Now come with me, and don’t make a fuss, or you’re never gonna see your little girls again.” Oh God oh God oh God, Dad, Mom, Ottavio, Angelo, Ulisse, Isidora, Osanna, Celine, Svetka, Tanya, Galya, Luna, Kessie, oh, God, I’m so sorry… Erminia’s terrified thoughts raced through her mind, as she was dragged away. If she just submitted, would he let her live after he had his fun? She could do nothing against his iron grip and the knife against her throat. Whatever happens, I’m not going to let someone like HIM hurt my girls. “Whatever you do to me, I don’t care, but leave my girls out of it,” she growled. “You don’t have much of a choice, now, do you?” the rapist - she wouldn’t dare call him a “man” - said in a husky tone, squeezing her engorged breasts until a bit of milk squirted out. “And you’re breastfeeding, huh? Breastfeeding babies. So sexy, my cock’s so hard, my balls tingling. Call me sexy.” “...What?” “I said, call me sexy, now!” “You’re…sexy.” “Say it with meaning!” She bit down the bile rising in her throat. “Oh, God, you’re so sexy, I want you, my breasts are har-” “If you don’t say 'tits’ or ‘pussy’ or anything more politically correct, woke bullshit than those words, you little slut, I’ll slit your fucking throat, find where you live, and I’ll rape your daughters when they get home! Got it?!” “Oh, God, you’re so sexy, I want you, my tits are so rock-hard thinking about you.” Erminia wanted to crawl into a hole and fucking die at this point. It was one thing for a guy to mention the earthier language, but she swore, if she ever got out of this alive, she was never going to say those words again, for the rest of her days, no matter her gender. “Say that your pussy is wet! And say you want me to fuck you!” “Oh, my pussy’s so wet, oh, baby, fuck me, fuck me hard!” Every word that exited her mouth felt like rotten roadkill mixed with battery acid, and she hated herself for it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, whore? But I’m not gonna go so easy on you. I’m gonna have fun with you. So. Much. Fucking. Fun. Fucking. You. And if you’re not fun, your daughters might be. So, make sure I enjoy it more than I could ever enjoy your daughters.” “Please, I’ll do anything you say, anything you want. I’ll make it the best you’ve ever had, and you can do whatever you want to me, but please don’t hurt my babies,” Erminia sobbed. He turned her around to face him. He wore a ski mask, gloves, full sleeves and a coat. All she could tell was that he was likely white, by the look of his cruel ocean-blue eyes. Then he slapped her hard enough to cause her nose to bleed and held the knife to her throat when she tried to gasp, tears swimming in her eyes. “Pathetic. You’re so damn pathetic, like all whores are. ‘Oh, please don’t hurt my babies!’ ‘Oh, feminism, blah, blah, blah!’ Will you just shut up about all of your talk?! All you’re good for is making baby girls to fuck!” “Why are you so obsessed with baby girls?” The words came out before she could take them back, and he hit her again with so much greater force, she was sure that her nose was broken. “Because I want to have the feeling when I pop their cherry. Age doesn’t matter to me, but I’m not a faggot-ass queer; I only fuck bitches.” “Then go fuck yourself, and don’t you fuckin’ touch her!” The rapist held the knife to her throat and turned her around, as she saw- Kessie! Oh, God, Kessie, why did you come? Sure enough, Kessie Badger was there, as well as a wide-awake Luna in a baby carrier, her small pistol trained on the man. “Looks like it’s a standoff, then,” the rapist sneered. “Now, if you don’t throw your pistol over here, she’s dead.” “And then you gonna rape me and my daughter,” Kessie said harshly. “I heard every sick word yo pedo ass said.” “You been following me, you cunt?” the rapist growled. “If you don’t slide the gun to me now, you can watch her blood on your hands, you retard nig-” A shot. Luna started screaming and crying. Erminia had screamed as well as the knife flashed in the sunlight…before dropping from the rapist’s lifeless hands, the smell of the bastard voiding his bladder and bowels upon death hitting her nose. He had been dead before he hit the ground, the shot hitting him straight between his eyes. Kessie rolled her eyes. “Stupid muthafucka,” she said, shaking her head. “Ya neva talk to someone who’s packin’ heat. Ya just blast ‘em.” Erminia sank to her knees and started sobbing hysterically along with Luna, while Kessie hugged her, giving her a wet wipe from the diaper bag to hold over her nose. “How did you know to come here? Have you been following me?” Erminia asked curiously, trying to staunch the blood flow. “Only ‘cause he was,” the young woman said, cuddling her crying infant. “Ya gotta be more streetsmart, Ermi; he’s been followin’ ya since before ya dropped off the girls at the daycare. He prolly just wanted to rape an’ kill ya before gettin’ the girls by pretendin’ to be they dad, an’ doin’ whatever he wanted to ‘em.” “Oh, God…” Erminia threw up, most of the sick splashing on the predator’s corpse. “Ya need your own protection. C’mon, Ermi, even mace woulda helped a bit. You ain’t a deadly shot like I am, but ya gotta do somethin’ to protect yoself an’ ya family, right?” “I’ve…” “C’mon, hot, big-boobed white woman like you, never needin’ mace? Didn’t ya mother teach ya anythin’?” Erminia stayed silent, fully understanding the fear that women had, wishing she had never experienced it, before shaking her head. She couldn’t lie to Kessie, not when she owed the young woman her life. “I guess she ain’t teach ya shit…so I guess it’s up to me. C’mon, it’s 10:30; we’re goin’ shoppin’ for…us ladies.” “I have to drop off the food first,” Erminia said. “I don’t want it to go bad…” “Fine. Let’s jet; I don’t wanna be here any longer than I hafta be.” So, the three left the man’s body behind, and Erminia hoped that Kessie shooting him wouldn’t come back to haunt them. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Well, here it is, the twenty-fourth chapter. Hope you enjoy: - Chapter Twenty-Four: Control - Loona stared at the two piles of ashes with wide eyes, sucking on her pacifier nervously. It had been a bit of a blur. One moment, the mean yellow sheep had pointed her scary thing at her head with the mean toddler pointing a similar thing at her big sister’s head with the nice purple sheep sobbing with a golden stick in his chest. Then the nice purple sheep was gone, and there were two piles of ashes where the two others had been. “I never believed in a benevolent higher power,” Octavia said, her eyes wide with awe. “But this…well…God. Thank you.” Then a giant white light appeared in the middle of the street, blinding Loona with a whine as she closed her eyes. The light stopped, and when she opened them, a glowing white snake with a top hat that also had an eye on it and a halo on top was standing in the street, looking around. “Earth’sss changed a lot sssince I’ve been here,” he said in awe. “But I’m Sir Pentiousss, and I’m here to help.” “So, the demon was telling the truth,” Octavia murmured, still struggling with the rope. “Oh, sssorry, I’ll get you out.” Sir Pentious quickly undid the ropes and Octavia stretched her wings and legs before picking up Loona. “But let’s find the-” “Grimoire?” a multitude of familiar whispering voices in one genderless voice echoed. Two humans, a pale boy grownup with brown hair and a darker-skinned girl grownup with blonde hair, sunglasses on both of their eyes, had spoken with the voice. Loona stared at the two of them, knowing they looked familiar, but the memory was locked away, and she pouted a bit as Octavia ruffled her headfur nervously. “Oh, it’sss you,” the snake said with a sigh. “Did you do thisss?” He pointed at the piles of ashes where the angels had been. “No?” The humans looked genuinely confused as they spoke. “Wait, are those the cherubs?” “They must be, at least, two of them,” Octavia said. “They shot their friend, Collin, when he protested our treatment, and they were going to kill us. I think they were…smote? I don’t know. I don’t know where Collin is either…” “Oh. That is…not good.” The humans bowed their heads, each looking genuinely guilty, even though their eyes weren’t visible. “We’re sorry we put you in that situation, daughter of Stolas and Loona. Can you find it in your hearts to forgive us?” “You at least told the truth,” the owl demoness said with a shrug. “Not your fault two of the cherubs were assholes.” “Ssso, what do we do?” Sir Pentious asked. “I’m sure there will be humansss on the way…” “We’re directing them away from here with our other hosts,” the humans said in that soft genderless tone. “We can transport you three with the Grimoire; from what we can tell, it’s currently at the Hazbin Hotel.” Sir Pentious seemed to perk up. “Isss…isss Miss Cherri Bomb all right?” he asked in an almost timid tone as he blushed. Loona, for her part, was confused at the snake’s reaction. It must’ve been some grown-up thing. “We can only tell where the Grimoire is, not the whereabouts of the people around it,” the demon said gently. “Now, be still, and hold hands. It’s going to be a bit.” “Of cour-” Octavia groaned, as Loona felt the surprisingly familiar crushing darkness around her, as her adult thoughts came back into being, recognizing what Sir Pentious was thinking. She realized with a blush that she was still sucking on her pacifier and spat it out…only for it to be caught on a clip on her babyish clothes, because of course Collin bought a clip for her as well. “So, you and Cherri Bomb,” she teased, feeling grateful that her adulthood was here…for the moment. “W-well, I-I-I…” She gained a wolfish grin at the angelic snake’s face turning as red as a field of roses. “Hey, I hope it works out and she gets to go to Heaven with you,” the hellhound said, patting the snake on his shoulder, still not believing her high-pitched voice. “You obviously care about her a lot.” “I kissed her becaussse…well, I went in with the thought knowing I could die for my friendsss,” Sir Pentious looked completely conflicted. “I’m not sure how she’ll…I wasss always going to be the liaissson for the Hotel, but…what will she think of me? She thought I wasss dead. She thought I made the ultimate sssacrifice. I thought I did asss well. And I’m the first Sinner to passs through Heaven’sss gatesss, and I died for it. Again. I don’t…I don’t want her to feel the pain I felt…” “There has to be other ways of getting to Heaven aside from dying selflessly,” Octavia mused. “There has to be other ways of redemption; otherwise, nobody would get in from the human world.” “Maybe…” Sir Pentious looked pensive at the thought. “What is Heaven like, anyway?” the Goetia Princess asked. “Actually pretty nice!” the snake angel said, a happy look in both his eyes and the eye on his top hat. “People are quite accepting there. Of courssse, there’sss a few angelsss who don’t trussst me, but Emily hasss been amazing to me. She really is nice, triesss to help everyone…” Loona looked at Octavia, guilt in both of their eyes. “Collin,” she whimpered. “I know,” Octavia murmured sadly. “That poor guy…he only tried to do the right thing, and he…” “Yeah…I hope…maybe he got whisked away, maybe he got healed by whatever saved us?” Loona knew it was a desperate thought the moment she said it. “Maybe?” There was a bit of hope in Octavia’s eyes, but it was marred by the reality that Collin…was very likely gone for good, that the whole mission of getting another angel to their side other than Emily or Pentious was a complete failure. “It will be okay,” the demon’s soft voice whispered from the darkness. “We’ll find another way, we assure you.” “You possessed those…D.H.O.R.K.S agents…” Loona began. “Who names themselves ‘dorks’?” Octavia asked with a snicker. “Well, considering that they were close by, it was a simple matter to possess them,” the demon said with a trace of amusement. “Besides, they’re seen as conspiracy theorists. It was easy for us to possess them because even their families see them as crazy. They have gathered more for themselves; there is proof now, but that means more hosts for us.” “You…can possess multiple hosts?” Octavia asked, a tremor in her tone. Loona was concerned as well; only the most powerful demons could possess multiple hosts. “Yes? It really is a simple matter for us. Humans, animals, even fellow demons, all are a very simple matter for us to possess. You can’t do the same?” “Not…really? I haven’t been trained on that…” “Well, you do show a lot of potential, daughter of Stolas.” “Thanks, I guess?” “Ssso, are we going to go to the Hotel?” the angelic snake asked. “Of course, Sir Pentious.” The voices were warm. “But there’s one matter that we need to clear up with Loona. You said that you wanted to see your parents?” Loona’s ears perked up. “Isn’t Blitz-” “No. Your birth parents. They-” A sudden hiss of pain echoed in the dark. “Damn him....” the demon said in annoyance. “He’s controlling the Grimoire.” “He?” Loona was confused. “The Grimoire may be our source of power, but ever since he came across that artifact of Leviathan, he-” Another hiss. “Enough.” The demon’s voice was still annoyed, and Loona figured that it was the closest that the demon came to anger. “We are in control, not you. Never you.” Another voice echoed in the dark, this one clearly male. “Well, now this makes my target clear,” the amused male voice said with a cruel chuckle. “The Hotel will fall. Most of your souls will be scattered to the winds, deader than an icicle in Hell, but I honestly don’t care about most of them. But you, Loona darling; I have something…special planned for you.” Loona froze. “What do you mean, you motherfucker?” she growled. “What?” Octavia asked. “Who are you talking to, Loona?” “He’s talking to Loona alone, the cur…” the demon growled. “It’s rather simple,” the male voice laughed in Loona’s mind. “I’ll be sending a present to the Hotel. A message that will show what will happen if you cross me. A demand for you and you alone. If I have you, if I have my family, I couldn’t care less what happens to the rest of Heaven and Hell.” “I already have a family!” Loona snarled. “And you’re never going to be a part of it!” “I see you’ve got an angel in the Grimoire. Legion, I never thought you’d stoop so low!” “We only wished to escape the place we’ve been trapped in for longer than your ancestors have been alive. It’s not our fault you escaped as well, dog.” “Well, it seems I hit a nerve!” “You are deceived if you think that. In fact, that artifact has deceived you, if you know who still controls it.” “That artifact gave me more power than anyone other than the fellow Ring Lords. Why get rid of that power?” “Because you are not the one meant to own it. None were.” Loona was confused, and from the looks on Octavia’s and Sir Pentious’s faces, she wasn’t the only one. “We’re sending you out of the Grimoire now,” the demon, Legion, said. “We no longer have control, it’s no longer safe to use. We’re…sorry. It’s the only way.” “You’re not-” The male voice disappeared, along with Loona’s adult thoughts as the scenery turned to a large red room filled with stairs, a large group of people around, as well as- “Daddy!” Loona squirmed out of Octavia’s grasp to see the imp she called her Daddy. He had odd lines on his face that she didn’t remember, and he was sleeping right now, breathing calmly, but it was her Daddy, and she was happy, as she cuddled into his arms. “OH MY GOODNESS, SHE’S SO CUTE!” a female voice squealed in delight, and Loona was picked up by a blonde-haired girl grownup with warm red eyes. The hellhound pup whined, she wanted to go to Daddy…before the grownup tickled her, as she squealed with laughter, her eyes looking at all of the people there, so many familiar people like Auntie Millie, Uncle Moxxie, and the owl, Uncle Stolas. Loona felt safe, and that was the best feeling in the world. “Yeah, I gotta admit, she is pretty cute, Charlie,” a gruffer female voice said with a laugh. “Hard to believe she’s responsible for the world ending.” Loona turned to see another grownup girl, with an X’d eyepatch over her left eye and huge light-gray wings sharing the cuddles, and she let out a happy bark. “...Pentious?” Everyone turned to see the cyclops girl look at the winged snake, who suddenly looked real shy. Her eye was wide, staring, as the two walked (or slithered, in the snake’s case) towards each other, their faces close enough to touch, her hand drawing close to his face in what seemed like a caress…before she suddenly slapped him in the face and shouted, “WHAT THE FUCK?!” - Hope you enjoyed~

Well, it's time for the fifth chapter of Ki(mp)ndergarten Court - with emphasis on the law! But first, the reply: Thanks! I enjoyed putting the reference to "Oh Millie" in there. As for why Bee's still calling Loona "Sour Cream", the timeline's right after "Queen Bee". Makes sense for her to call Loona "Sour Cream" to me. Considering how big of assholes those judges were in real life, I'd be shocked if one of them was in Heaven. At all. And as we all know, all lawyers all end up in Hell. Anyway, here's the chapter: - Chapter Five: Nightmarish Needs. - Blitz was having the same nightmare he always had. The fire. The horses he cared for every day, the circus staff, Fizz, all burning. The dead accusing him of killing them, even though he begged them to understand that it was an accident, even though it was all his fault. His father whaling on him in a rage. Barbie, traumatized. His mom, Tilla, oh, Satan, his mom, dying, burning alive in his arms as he screamed to the flaming sky. He begged. He begged them to understand, but they kept screaming at him, their voices the shrieks of the damned, as they burned, burned, burned! And they demanded he burn with them. And he always would. Forever. Blitz woke up hyperventilating, his eyes darting side-to-side in a panic; he had stopped screaming from the recurring nightmare a long time ago. He noticed he was on the floor, and for a moment, he wondered if he had fallen off of the couch; it wouldn’t be the first time the nightmare would do that. Only…when he saw the couch, the two little kids peacefully slept while Loona was in the kitchen, making food. Then everything hit him. It hit him like a runaway tank. Moxxie and Millie turning into little kids, the ultimatum by the exorcist angel, Stolas, the kiss, the…was there something more? Could there ever be something more with the higher-up snooty bitch that was married to Stolas in the way? Lucifer Almighty, loving Stolas felt like a drug. The Goetia Prince brought feelings into his life that he had thought that he had buried a long time ago. With Fizz. Except Fizz was now with Asmodeus, they…they made his day at that club awful. With Verosika, who hated his guts. With so many people, so many different people that he had hurt. But if Fizz could be with Asmodeus, and if Verosika could become a famous pop star, then maybe… Stop thinking that. He’s just using you for a cheap lay. That’s all they ever do with people like you. And then there were the kids, no, the M&M couple who were turned into kids. He felt like, maybe, just maybe, he could have that loving family, that sweet release that he had fucked up and lost so long ago. And yet…Loona’s words were finally sinking in. Kids were going to cost a serious amount of money, even if they used to be adults. And there was the matter of schooling. Thank Lucifer it’s the weekend. He knew he was down two members of I.M.P., but it wouldn’t be his first time riding solo. He had to earn money somehow. He couldn’t exactly beg Stolas for more money. You could, a cruel voice said in his head. You might have to do things you don’t want to do, but you could easily get the money. It was tempting, but- “Oh, you’re awake, Blitz,” Loona said, a guilty look in her eyes. The smell of bacon and pancakes was in the air. Obviously, it had to be for her, but… “Could you wake up Moxx and Mills, Blitz? I made enough for the four of us.” Blitz did a quick double take. Loona never cooked for more than herself. Never. It was like Lucifer and God decided to make sweet love in front of his eyes, and he didn’t know what to think about Loona’s sudden philanthropy. “Come on, Blitz, just wake them up. I have to talk to you anyway.” The imp groaned, stretching his back, as he gently shook Moxxie first. “Wha-” the small imp boy muttered. “Uncle Blitz? Where’s Auntie Loona?” “She’s cooking for you,” the adult imp said with a sigh before shaking Millie next. Only the small girl imp was already awake, and she shouted, “BOO!”, making Blitz jump as she giggled like a hyena. “Come on, you two,” Loona said. “Pancakes and bacon are ready for you guys.” “Ooh, bacon!” Millie squealed happily. “I love bacon!” “Is there syrup for the pancakes?” Moxxie asked. “Yep,” Loona said before muttering under her breath, “Just enough.” “Yaaay!” the two regressed imps shouted, as they ran to the table. Thankfully, the two chairs had booster seats for the two children, and - with a little bit of supervision - they were cutting the pancakes into manageable bites, the syrup sticking to their faces. Loona took a picture of them as they giggled. “Really getting into the ‘mom’ mode, aren’t you, sweetie?” Blitz said with a smile. His little girl was growing up, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. “Oh, go sit on a d…eat your food already, Blitz,” Loona grumbled, forcing herself to censor her words. “Don’t mind if I do,” the adult imp said proudly as he ate the pancakes; he figured he’d save the bacon for Loona. “So, what’re we going to do?” “It’s what I need to talk to you about,” Loona said, as she got a towel to wash the messy faces of the two children. “I called Bee last night.” “What?” Blitz was a bit worried. Getting Ring Lords involved in this could only mean a bad time for them. “She said…well, she has to report this. All of this. To Lucifer and Satan and every Ring Lord.” “Loona, why did you do that?” Blitz was forcing himself to be calm as Moxxie and Millie stared at him. He knew that he couldn’t explode with anger like he usually did. Not in front of kids. “And…we need a lawyer. A pro-bono lawyer, preferably.” The seriousness hit Blitz again, this time like a derailed train. Family Court. And Satan was notorious for having the worst judges there, the worst prosecutors there, and he almost never separated kids from families, no matter what. “How are we going to afford that, sweetie?” he said, trying desperately to hold in his chaotic emotions. “Well…Bee said that she’d pay for kindergar-” “I do not give a single fuck about kindergarten, Loona.” There was an edge in his tone that made his adopted daughter whimper a bit. “How the fuck we going to afford any lawyer, Loona? Nobody does pro-bono in Hell. Nobody. That’s why all of the lawyers are in Hell; they’re greedy assholes who like to screw over people. I don’t expect any lawyer in Hell to do this for free.” “I…found a lawyer who’s willing to do it pro-bono. Well…technically, he’s a law student who passed the bar in the human world. He just got registered by Hell, and he’s been here for two weeks, and-” “Two weeks? He’s a Sinner, isn’t he?” “...Yes, but he passed the bar with exceptional-” “He’s going to try to screw us somehow, Loona. You know that. Sinners go here for a reason. Sinners get purged by Heaven for a reason. And if he’s been in Hell for only two weeks, and he’s trying to get suckers to go with him…either he’s a hack or a con artist.” “He’s the only lawyer in Hell doing pro-bono. I’ve looked everywhere, in every Ring in Hell. There is no other option. Blitz, I made a promise with Bee. She’ll pay for kindergarten for the rest of the year. Stolas could-” “No.” “I thought you liked him-” “I…just…stay away from that topic. You can meet with the lawyer, but-” “I contacted him already. He wants to meet all four of us.” “We’re going on a ride?” Moxxie asked timidly. “Is it all right if we get toys if we’re good?” Millie asked in a small tone. “Sure, I’ll buy you both a toy,” Loona said with a soft smile to both, which immediately brought Blitz back to his senses and back to a sudden guilt trip. He nearly lost his cool with his own daughter in front of the regressed couple, and for what? For her trying to do the right thing? I really am a fuck-up, am I? “Blitz, this time, I’m driving. We don’t have booster seats currently, so-” “Can we even afford booster seats?” Blitz asked, his thoughts still warring inside him. “His office should be somewhere close to us, but I’m not taking any chances.” “Come on, I’m not that bad of a-” “You are,” Loona said bluntly, as she picked up the two kids to their happy squeals. “You’re in the back seat. Entertain them. You were a clown once, weren’t you?” Blitz bit his lips. It was coming too close to his past. “Yeah, but-” “So, make them laugh. I know you can do it, Da-Blitz.” The imp clown-turned-assassin’s eyes widened, and Loona’s eyes widened as she noticeably flushed. “Did you just-” “Just entertain them, Blitz.” Loona’s voice was a soft warning growl…but her tail was wagging. “Car ride shouldn’t take too long, even with Pride’s traffic.” - Spoiler alert: it did take a long time, especially since a bomb from an aspiring Overlord had exploded on the main street, incinerating the street, some of the buildings, and the aspiring Overlord alike. The traffic was still a bitch with the honking horns, the swearing, and the drive-bys that were normal in Hell. And Moxxie and Millie were constantly asking, “Are we there yet?” like the little kids they were (for the moment), and weren’t listening to Blitz at all, squirming in their seatbelts. “We’re alllmost there,” Loona sang in an annoyed high-pitched tone, looking at the HPS as she put in her headphones. Lucky her. Blitz was left with the whining of both regressed imps as they asked him if they were there yet. How would he know? He didn’t even know this lawyer, where he lived, anything. But he used all of his skills to make them laugh, and they did laugh at the balloons blowing up in his face, the silly faces he made. I never thought that my circus skills would ever come in handy for my own children. After all, IMP had the whole, “Kids die for free” thing… Blitz felt uncomfortable. Kids, settling down, all of that wasn’t exactly in his vocabulary, even at his age; hell, Loona was more comfortable around the de-aged couple than he was. And using his old circus skills, which hit far too close to home for his liking, to entertain people was…well, he wasn’t used to this. Aren’t they the family you always wanted, though? a little voice inside his head asked him. Come on, this can’t be the worst thing. At least they seem to like you. “More balloons, Uncle Blitz!” Millie squeaked happily, her hair and tiny horns covered in the remnants of popped balloons. Moxxie looked significantly less happy with the balloon remnants on his small horns and his white hair, but he wasn’t exactly whining “Are we there yet?” at the moment, so that was a good thing, right? “We’re here!” Loona called out to the group before Blitz heard her mutter, “About time, too.” The building they parked at was rather small and plain, a one-story building stuck in the middle of several apartments. If they hadn’t had the HPS, they probably would’ve missed it. Loona picked up the two children from the van, holding them gently in her arms, as she picked the balloon fragments out of their hair and horns, and Blitz, again, was marveling at - and yet regretting simultaneously - how his little girl was growing up. He opened the door for them, looking at the interior. Again, nothing particularly special about this place. Plain flooring, walls hastily painted white, with a desk that held no accessories other than a laptop and stacks of paper, and a few chairs as the only furniture in the room. It looked like a minor set-up for someone who had only been there for two weeks. A male Sinner was at the desk, steepling his clawed fingers. He looked a lot like a mix between a regular bat with enormous ears for the size of his head and black fur all over his head and a flying fox with his huge red eyes and large snout. He wore a black suit and a simple golden tie, but Blitz could see the outlines of the wings that were hidden beneath the suit and could see the black imp-like tail that twitched around. He looked at all four of them. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?” he said in a calm, Jamaican accent. “Ooh, are you a vampire?” Millie interrupted. “You don’t drink blood, do you?” Moxxie asked cautiously. The Sinner chuckled a bit. “No, no, apparently, this form is a fruit-eating bat, like what I ate in life,” he said with a small, toothy smile. “Vegetables, fruit, and dairy only. No meat, no grains, and sadly not a vampire.” “Aww…vampires are cool,” the small girl imp grumbled, as Loona set her and Moxxie down, so they could explore before the two adults sat in the chairs. “So long as he doesn’t sparkle in the sunlight,” Blitz muttered under his breath. “Are you the lawyer? You’re not here to scam us, because I-” The bat Sinner held up his claw, his eyes calm despite the accusation of being a scammer. “You asked for a pro-bono lawyer in Hell. I’m the only one doing pro-bono cases. In fact, you’re my only case…the name is Jarel Honeyghan. You are free to call me Jarel. I assume that you are Loona-” He pointed at the hellhound, “and you are Blitzo?” “The ‘o’ is silent, buddy,” Blitz said. “And you’re seriously doing this for free? What’s your angle?” “Blitz,” Loona hissed under her breath. “I understand why you think I wouldn’t do this out of charity; Hell is notorious for its lack of such a thing.” Jarel’s eyes turned serious. “But I am…was a man of God. I was raised with morals and ethics.” “A lawyer with morals and ethics.” Blitz snorted skeptically. “A man of God in Hell. Loona, this guy’s full of it.” “Do you realize that Hell’s Family Court is notorious for stacking the bid against adoptions when there are actual family members that are alive?” the bat Sinner asked calmly, his eyes not breaking contact with the imp’s. “Do you know how to call forth witnesses to the defense, pick a jury, comply with all of the legal rules? From what I’ve gathered, both Moxxie and Millie Knolastname have actual living family members who would love to have them back, for very different reasons, and Satan and his handpicked judges would be quite willing to acquiesce to their demands. Do you want to see Mr. Knolastname back with an abusive father? Do you want Mrs. Knolastname to be separated from her husband possibly forever? Are you willing to die to the Exorcists because you think I’m, what were your words, ‘full of it’?” Blitz’s yellow eyes were glaring as he growled, “Watch your words carefully, Mr. Hotshot Lawyer.” “Blitz!” Loona snapped. “How do you know all of this shit going on? Have you been spying on us?” “Because I asked Loona beforehand for information, and I looked up everything having to do with Mr. and Mrs. Knolastname’s family situations. It’s Law 101, not rocket science.” Jarel shrugged. “The one thing a lawyer never does is go into a case where he doesn’t know everything of what goes on with his clients or in a courtroom.” “And you did this all for free?” Blitz asked. “Because I owe my penance to it.” “Trying to get to Heaven or something?” “I don’t expect to ever get into Heaven after what I did, and that’s all I’m going to say about my days when I wasn’t here. I’m in Hell, and that’s it. That’s my penance: to do what I can to make a positive difference, even here.” “Uncle Blitz, Auntie Loona, can we have our toys now?” Moxxie interrupted, tugging on Blitz’s long coat. “I gotta go to the bathroom!” Millie whined. “Should be behind the door,” Jarel said kindly. He got out of his seat, his black Oxfords clicking on the floor, as he opened the door for Millie, who zoomed in just as Loona said after her, “Don’t forget to wash your hands, Mills!” before shutting a bit of it for privacy. The bat Sinner looked at the two adults as Loona picked up Moxxie. “Now, we can conclude this, Blitz. If you refuse my services, I won’t say anything more. But if you accept, you are going to have to be honest with me entirely because I can’t abide or afford liars, especially in somewhere as serious as court.” The imp sighed. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice. I guess we’re partners, Jerry.” “Jarel.” “Sure, that.” Millie skipped out of the bathroom and Loona sighed. “Millie, you didn’t wash your hands.” “But the toys-” “I promise you’ll get a toy - after you wash your hands. Do you need me to help you?” “Okay, Auntie Loona…” “Moxxie, do you need to go to the bathroom before we get you your toy?” “I guess so…” Jarel patiently opened the door for the imp boy to enter the bathroom, before closing some of the door for privacy. “Mills, wait for Moxx to finish, and then we’re washing both of your hands.” “Aww…” “I suppose even Hell has children,” the bat Sinner said with a sigh. “Don’t know why child Sinners are in Hell; I encountered too many of them that were killed from the last Extermination…” “You haven’t been here long enough,” Loona said bluntly. “There’s a lot of child Sinners, and Exorcists don’t spare anyone they encounter.” “And yet one of those Exorcists made a huge blunder that might shake the foundries of peace beyond our understanding - and you four were caught in the middle.” Moxxie exited the bathroom, jumping into Loona’s arms. The hellhound immediately went in with the two imp children, the sound of the faucet running, and hands being scrubbed to the vocal displeasure of the two children echoing from the room. “So, Blitz.” The imp turned to the bat Sinner. “I’ve looked up a lot - yes, your past included. It’s all going to come out. Your past, Loona’s past, Moxxie’s and Millie’s pasts, even mine; that’s what any prosecutor worth their salt will do to find any advantage they can. So, I want you to confirm for me that you’re ready for this. You can have me with you or not…but if you have me on your side, you will stand more of a chance than you will alone. I don’t want you to be alone in this.” “I’m not going to say every-” Blitz began, before he saw the look in Jarel’s eyes. “Everything is going to come out. You will have to be honest about everything because if you lie, you will be caught. If Hell’s Family Court is anything like Earth’s, perjury is a real problem. A prison problem. I don’t know what it’ll cost in Hell, but I’m assuming it’s worse.” Blitz sighed. “Look, my past is…complicated,” the imp admitted before Loona came out with the grumbling imp children. “All of our pasts are complicated. Everyone in Hell has issues, some more than others.” “You’re talking about pasts?” Loona asked, a tremor in her tone. “I’m saying a good prosecutor will look for any avenue to declare you unfit for parenting. Law is a dirty business, and you need someone who will look out for you there. Do you have the money to pay for children to be taken care of? A room of their own? Food to put on the table? Schooling? If they’re happy where they’re at? Everything will be looked at.” “I’m not sure-” Loona quickly said. The bat Sinner’s red eyes stared calmly at the two adults, but his expression brooked absolutely no nonsense as he cut them both off with five words. “I need to know everything.” - Hope you enjoyed~

Yeah, no problem for the trigger warning; I always make sure that my readers know what they expect to read. Poor Rose... Yeah, I figure that the only person it makes sense for Alastor to be under the control of is Lilith, and it makes all the sense in the world. Alastor was gone for seven years, and Lilith has apparently been in Heaven for seven years. Suddenly, he arrives to get Charlie's plan moving after such a long time away? There are just too many coincidences. I've seen stuff that say that Rosie is the one who made the deal, but she and Alastor died and went to Hell around the same time, if I'm not mistaken. So, yeah, let's hope that the people now at the Hotel will be okay~ Should manage to get a new chapter up next Friday (I didn't have a computer charger until yesterday, and my battery was completely drained.), so keep an eye open~ And thank you for being a consistent reader, even with all of the dark stuff I put in this story. I understand that it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I appreciate you as a reader, a reviewer, and as a good person.

As a writer who struggles with bipolar disorder and multiple unfinished stories as of yet, I already find it difficult to write chapters. I already don’t like the comments that are basically stock comments (comments that can be said for any story, no matter what kind of story it is: i.e., “That was great, please write more!” and stuff like that.) instead of something that is relevant to the story at hand (which could be a comment or a critique, either of which I prefer over stock comments). Comments that ask when my stories are going to be done just feels - to me, at least - like a pile on. I’m trying my best as an authoress to make a story that readers can enjoy, but I’m only human.

Well, since my computer charger is now a problem along with the battery, here's an early post. But first, the reply: Thank you~ If you could say a specific thing you liked, it would help me immeasurably as an authoress, but I'm grateful that you do like it. And now, for the fifth chapter: - Chapter Five: Swearing - The two aliens had taken off the shock collars the second they got away from the auctioneer. “Horrid things, those shock collars,” the husband growled, to Felicia’s surprise. “Don’t know why anyone with kindness in their hearts would have them on another creature. They wouldn’t have them on their children, so I don’t know why humans would be any different…” “Dearie, I don’t understand it either,” the wife sighed. “The poor babies need to be changed, too; I don’t think they have since they warped here. Let’s just get to the vehicle so we can give them some privacy.” Felicia’s nose could tell…yeah, she was a lot more than just soaked. She felt a twinge of embarrassment, having not felt the need to go. Something to do with how we shrunk, maybe? Then she saw the vehicle: a large…thing that almost looked like the front of a 500 Series Shinkansen - bullet train, in American terms - except it was hovering above the ground - a ground of bluish grass with markings that must’ve been for parking space. It was a sleek silverish gray with blue smoke-tinted windows, multiple doors, and a back that seemed quite roomy. Overall, it was quite similar to what Earth might’ve called a minivan…but it was a really damned fancy minivan. She saw the wife carrying her place a paw on the window, and the vehicle doors opened to reveal two fluffy car seats, lots of odd-looking toys, packages that must’ve been diapers, even…was that a television in the vehicle? In front? Does that mean that this car…thing automatically drives itself? No way. No fucking way… “It’s so that beasts don’t steal the levicraft,” Mrs. Zalysiq explained to Felicia, gently nuzzling her (and she couldn’t help but giggle from it). “We’ll encrypt your pawprints, er, handprints, so you can open it as well in case of emergency. But first, we need to get a fresh diapee on you, yes, we do!” “But I don’t need-” “Unfortunately, you do,” Mrs. Zalysiq rumbled, her voice turning serious, as she rocked Felicia in her arms. “See, the shrinking process affects your bladder and bowels as well. You’re not only the size of a twelve-month-old; you have the bladder and bowels of one. I wish there was another way; I can’t imagine being forced to sit in a wet and poopy diaper all day like you have. But I promise, the diapers we bought are thick and comfy; we insisted on trying them ourselves - with a bit of growing of them involved - to test the comfort level. You’ll like them.” “Not a baby,” Lagle said fearfully. “Oh, honey, you’re not,” Mr. Zalysiq purred kindly, his dress swishing as he gently rocked Lagle as…as a parent would rock a scared infant. “We know you’re not babies, we know you’re grown women. But on Kastagone, our planet…humans getting treated like babies and toddlers is the norm.” His voice grew sad. “That’s why the shrinking process was invented and permanently enforced. Our species has long colonized other worlds, taken other species far more physically dangerous than yours, even though your species is by far the most cunning of those we’ve done this with. …I don’t agree with it. I don’t like how beasts like us treat those they think are below them. But we…we have our own reasons for doing this.” “So, can you trust us with this, please?” Mrs. Zalysiq asked kindly. “You don’t have to trust us immediately. You don’t even have to trust us at all, and I don’t blame you after what you must’ve experienced. But can you at least trust us to diaper you?” Felicia sighed. It seemed there was no way out of it. “Sure.” Lagle bowed her head, nodding slowly. “Thank you. Yaleeth, if you could give us some privacy?” “Of course, Mrs. Zalysiq,” the bodyguard purred, getting out a curtain from the vehicle and shielding them. Both husband and wife were obviously not first-timers in taking care of babies, Felicia realized, as they expertly changed both of them, getting them into diapers that were so thick that they would probably only be able to crawl…but holy shit, did they feel…good? Yeah, that’s the single-most comfortable clothing I’ve ever worn. No wonder why toddlers don’t want to potty train. If this is the worst that happens, well…that’s fine. Then she heard a new masculine voice as she was being put back in her onesie. “Step aside, sybrot. We wish to speak with the Zalysiqs.” “Pardon?” Yaleeth’s growl echoed. “The Zalysiqs requested privacy for their children.” “Oh, come on now, sybrot,” the new voice, a woman, purred. “I don’t deign to speak to the hired help. Step aside.” Felicia heard the sound of a snarl and then a yelp, but it wasn’t Yaleeth. “They. Are. Busy. With. Their. Children,” Yaleeth’s firm, no-nonsense, and calm tone made her realize…yeah, he was the best damned bodyguard they could’ve had. “So kindly do not pester them, and please do not swing your tail at me again, lest I take it as an actual threat.” “You fucking somnat, I’ll-” “What does somnat mean?” Felicia blurted out suddenly, before clapping a hand over her mouth. “And what’s sybrot?” Lagle asked. “Somnat means something like ‘yappy, annoying teacup-sized female dog’ in your language,” Mr. Zalysiq explained with a smile. “Obviously a much bigger insult in ours. Just don’t say it around anyone, and you’ll be fine.” “Or you could use it for these guys,” Yaleeth muttered. “And sybrot…” Both husband and wife looked uncomfortable at the word. “It’s all right, Mrs. Zalysiq, you can tell her,” Yaleeth mewed quietly. “Sybrot is a derogatory word for an indentured slave,” Mrs. Zalysiq growled with anger. “Yaleeth is not a slave; we pay him-” “You know that the pay’s not why I’m working for you,” the bodyguard mused. “Even though you insist on paying me.” “True. There are other reasons, and it’s up to him to share them. But since he’s hired help for rich beasts like us…beasts aren’t really fond of helping others that aren’t family here unless they’re paid excellent money like fixers. So good beasts like Yaleeth…end up getting caught in the middle of actual slaves.” Felicia and Lagle both looked downright horrified at the implication. This race of cat/dog aliens enslave their own?! “We do…” Yaleeth growled, catching their thoughts. “Along with some of the other aliens we’ve encountered. And it’s something I-” “I am done talking with the sybrot! We only wished to see the Lottery picks!” “Is it all right?” the bodyguard asked, a terse note in his voice. “It’s fine, Yaleeth,” Mrs. Zalysiq said with annoyance in her tone, as she and her husband both picked up Felicia and Lagle. Yaleeth withdrew the curtain to reveal two males and a female, all of them poodle-like creatures. “Well, we of the Hayzyon Breeding Company could-” one of the males began, before all three of the Zalysiq family members (or the bodyguard in Yaleeth’s case) snarled at him, lips curled back to show their fangs, as he and the other male quickly cowered, a dampening patch around the latter’s pants quickly spreading. “We are NOT in the slightest-” Mrs. Zalysiq began. “-going to even remotely entertain ANY offers-” Mr. Zalysiq continued. “-FROM FUCKING BREEDING COMPANIES!” Yaleeth ended with a thunderous caterwaul, his temper finally exploding. “But the rewards-” the female poodle whimpered. “Are completely off the table,” Mr. Zalysiq growled, his tail lashing from side to side. “They are our babies,” Mrs. Zalysiq barked. “For the long haul. Through good times and bad times. Because that’s what being a parent is all about, and I’ll be damned if I let you exploit them!” “Now kindly remove yourselves from the vicinity of the area, or I will take that as a direct threat to the Zalysiqs and their children and act accordingly,” Yaleeth growled, putting a paw to his snout, obviously trying to keep his cool. “We’ll be in touch!” the female poodle barked happily, trying to keep her facade of being in control going…but immediately failing when Yaleeth waved them off with a snarl, as the three breeders went away, whimpering. Yaleeth bowed his head. “Sorry you had to hear that.” His voice was regretful, almost a dog-like whimper. “I didn’t mean to startle or scare.” “We faced worse in boot camp,” Lagle said with a shrug. “Same here,” Felicia said with a kind smile towards the bodyguard. “You haven’t said anything in front of us that we haven’t heard from our senior drill instructors - and then some.” “Oh, goodness!” Mrs. Zalysiq exclaimed. “You’re both military personnel?” Both of the shrunken women nodded. “No wonder why you two and Yaleeth got along so swimmingly!” Mr. Zalysiq barked. “I think, however, we should get you in your car seats now. There’s been enough excitement for you girls today, and I bet you’re tired and hungry. Our home shouldn’t be too far.” Felicia felt herself get strapped in the fuzzy pink car seat, which, like her diaper, was surprisingly comfortable. A bunch of baby keys and other infantile toys were in the front. Lagle was right beside her, and she immediately batted at her keys with a mitten-clad hand. “Oh, one more thing,” Mrs. Zalysiq sang. She produced two…pacifiers, which she gently placed in each woman’s mouth, to their embarrassment. “They’re specifically flavored, should taste like your favorite fruit back at home.” The Hispanic woman sighed and took an experimental suckle…her eyes widening when she was rewarded with a papaya flavor. Obviously not as good as it was back home, but it was close enough. She happily suckled on it more, tasting the sweet papaya in her mouth, feeling a nice warm feeling in her thick diaper, as she realized she was peeing in it…and it actually felt good, as she squirmed in delight at the warmth. Yep, being potty-trained is the least of my problems. I’m fine with my diaper. I’m fine with my binky. I might even be fine with these baby toys eventually. What are you thinking?! an adult voice roared in her head. You’re not a helpless infant. You have to get out of here before these beasts hurt you! Let’s just…see? a more childish voice in her head said. They did protect you. Yaleeth seems nice. The Zalysiqs seem nice. Let’s just wait and see. Felicia looked at Lagle, who was squirming even more happily than she had. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one who was wet. She heard the doors gently close with Yaleeth in the backseat to watch them, and they were off to their home…hopefully. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

I know this is kind of early, but my computer got a new battery...and it turns out a new charger is what's needed. Anyway, the reply first: Lucifer promised Stolas he'd listen, nothing more. And let's hope Ozzie can get out. Now, as a WARNING: this chapter includes implied rape, domestic violence, and character death. Viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised. If you aren't scared away yet, read on: - Chapter Twenty-Three: Assault - Crimson was furious and on the warpath. Al was dead. His closest confidant, his only friend in childhood, was gone for good. Gone and never coming back. He had moved out of the temporary warehouse in Greed (after putting the nonsense-babbling Striker out of his misery) and burned it to the ground; anything associated with pain, he learned from a young age, had to be destroyed. His father taught him that lesson quite well…too well. The look on his father’s face as he shot him and took over his Family was one of his favorite memories. At least the pain was gone then. Crimson breathed, as Vox came in, a furious look on his face. “They’re at the Hotel,” he grumbled. “We can’t get to them from there…” “I gave you three fucking attack helicopters!” Crimson snapped. “What happened to them?” “Blown up,” Valentino muttered as he walked into the room dejectedly. “…The fuck?!” Crimson spat in disbelief. “I thought you were going to kill them all! Surely three fucking attack helicopters - which aren’t cheap - should’ve done the job!” “Hey, one of your kind blew them up with sticky bombs!” Velvette snapped back, still texting on her hPhone. “How was anyone supposed to predict that?!” “Well, I have good news,” a happy howl came from the entrance, as Gunner carried a naked and unconscious gray female weasel Sinner with her paws bound behind her back, her feet and tail bound as well, with a Sinner who looked like a drowned corpse trailing behind, looking suddenly uncomfortable at the Overlords and Crimson. “We have information.” “And that does what?” Crimson asked, rolling his eyes. “They’re already at the Hotel, under Lucifer’s protection. We can’t get to them.” “Crimson, information is power,” Gunner said, dropping the weasel Sinner and wrapping his now-free arm around the drowned Sinner. “And this guy knows something interesting that could turn the tide.” “There’s an angel, Lute, who works with Lilith,” the corpse said quickly, yet confidently. Even Crimson, who barely cared about Pride’s political machinations, perked up at the news. Lucifer may be tough to crack, but Lilith was his equal in power. “Are you telling the truth, Karen?” Gunner asked, his tail wagging beneath his long duster. “Carl, and yes, I am.” “And how do you know?” Gunner asked in a wheedling tone. “Because Lute sent me to Hell to make sure Alastor pays attention to his deal with Lilith.” The corpse Sinner shed his disguise, his body melting horribly, until he revealed himself in a bloody mess, looking every bit of a pale fallen angel except with bat wings, still ironically looking like he had recently drowned, grinning. “Why does Heaven want to make a deal with Hell?” Crimson asked skeptically. “Lute wants Princess Charlie and her merry little band dead. Simple as that. Unfortunately, I’m lacking my powers with this new fallen form, but-“ “And why did you bring this one with you?” Gunner interrupted, his tail a blur with its wagging. “This Rose bitch wouldn’t give me a shopping cart for free.” Carl shrugged. “And it’s as a favor to you. Wouldn’t have known about your armies if you hadn’t told me. Do whatever you want with her.” Crimson’s eyes widened at the realization of what was going to happen…and he was suddenly becoming very uncomfortable, as Gunner’s sadistic grin grew, the hellhound hefting the unconscious Sinner on his shoulder like she was nothing but a sack of flour, moving to a private room. As much as extortion and murder - even if it was women and children, like his dead wife - wasn’t a problem for the Mafia boss…well, he was already seriously uncomfortable with Valentino - and in a lot of ways, Gunner was worse. “Crimson, we need you to guard Gunner, make sure nothing happens to him,” Valentino hissed. “Why me?!” Crimson asked. “Isn’t this your type of thing?” “Have to talk to my boyfriend,” Valentino said in disappointment. “Enjoy!” Fucker… Crimson had just entered the room when the hellhound brought the female weasel Sinner to slow consciousness with smelling salts, and she groaned before he flipped her onto her back, forcing her legs apart as she looked at the red hellhound in terror. “Hello, bitch. My name’s Gunner. How old are you?” Gunner asked, twirling an angelic .45 pistol in her face. “Eighteen,” the Sinner called Rose answered, her red eyes wide with the gun in her face. Gunner looked disappointed, which scared Crimson even more. “A little too old for my liking, but I can make do,” the red hellhound said calmly as he lowered his face to Rose’s level. “It’s my daughter I’m interested in, anyway. Are you a virgin, at least?” Rose spat in his face. “I don’t think you need to know that!” she said defiantly, although there was a note of real fear in her tone. Gunner responded by spitting a large glob of saliva in her face. “You want to be an uncouth little bitch, I’ll treat you that way,” he said, undoing his belt, letting his pants fall. “Don’t bother lying about that, I can smell that you are. Now, I want you to meet Mr. Forty-five.” He showed the gun to her face. “Angelic weapon. If I shoot you, it will likely hurt; hell, it will probably kill you if I shoot you in the right place. But I know better. I know how to make it-” “Oh, torture if I don’t let you rape me,” Rose said, rolling her eyes. “So fucking original.” Gunner stomped on her tail, prompting a hiss of pain. “Do not interrupt me again, bitch.” “Or what, you’ll torture and rape me? Listen, you fucking puppy, there’s nothing you can do to me that I won’t-” The reddish hellhound cruelly twisted both of her breasts, prompting a screech of pain. “I’m doing you a favor,” he said cheerfully. “Your first real fucking, and a real man will do it.” Crimson turned away as Rose screamed in agony, Gunner grunting with exertion, laughing as she tried to wriggle away from him. It seemed to continue forever, and Crimson could only close his eyes in disgust. “Don’t be such a tease, bitch; you’re fucking wet! Admit it: you like it!” “GETOFFOFME!” Rose shrieked…before screaming such bloody murder that Crimson was sure everyone in Pride had heard. “Gun in the clit. Nothing feels like that, I bet. Now, if you resist, well, I might just ‘accidentally’ fire while it’s in there. Won’t matter much to me, but I bet it’ll matter to you. Now, are you going to be a good girl or a naughty bitch?” “How about you choke on your gun?” Rose breathed, and Crimson was shocked that the dame was still being defiant. He heard a bone being broken and another scream and hysterical sobbing. “Left shin bone. Tibia. Hurts like Hell, doesn’t it? Still want to be a naughty bitch?” “You going to kill me yet, you fucking prick?” Another snap and scream. “Right tibia. You want to never walk again?” “Whatever…you do…physically…I don’t care.” “You’re fine with being in a wheelchair or crippled for the rest of your miserable life?” “Not the worst thing. I’m not giving in to you, coward.” “Survivor,” Gunner said. “Pussies like you seem to forget your rightful place: next to the survivors, ready to do anything for us.” “Forgive me if I don’t-” A shot. This scream was louder than the others. “I just shot you in your right ankle with Mr. Forty-five,” the hellhound said in dissonant cheerfulness, as if he was doing a scientific dissertation. “Feel the burning of angelic weaponry in your body. Like hellfire, except…well, nothing like it, right?” “Screw! You!” “Well, I like it when they struggle anyway,” Gunner said, before he continued his cruelty. Crimson wasn’t sure how long it lasted. The deepest part of him didn’t want to know. All he knew was that it was far too long…when it suddenly grew eerily silent after the screaming and sobbing. Gunner tapped him on the shoulder and said to him, “Crimson, get me a smelling salt.” “Why?” the imp asked, his tone more frigid than the Ninth Level. “So you can continue raping her?” “Uh, yeah?” the hellhound replied as if Crimson was an idiot. “I prefer them to be awake when I fuck them.” “You’re a real asshole, you know that, right?” the imp said coldly. “Survivor, Crimson. The smelling salt. Now.” Crimson gave him one with a disgusted look on his face. I hope the dame bites your cock off. He heard her cough and gag from the smelling salt…but the next words she said shocked Crimson into turning around. “So, planning on fucking me with your one-inch dick again?” the Sinner said coldly. Gunner let out a growl and hit her hard enough in the head that she went quiet again. “Get me another smelling salt, Crimson!” the red hellhound snarled. Even Crimson was growing tired of this shit. “I don’t have-” “I know you do, don’t lie to me!” “What are you doing?!” a new voice asked in horror. Crimson turned to see a pure white female hellhound who must’ve been Gunner’s wife looking at the scene with wide eyes. “Bitch, I never gave you permission to enter the room!” Gunner growled. “Are you-” Gunner hit his wife with a hard paw, drawing blood from her lips as she went silent. “Well, I suppose I can teach you what will happen if you disobey me. The smelling salt, Crimson. Now.” Crimson reluctantly gave the furious hellhound another smelling salt, which he promptly used on the weasel Sinner, hearing her choke from it. “I’m going to do you in your ass next for your ‘smart’ comment,” Gunner growled. “I’m going to make you scr-” “Are you done with your little temper tantrum?” the Sinner asked sarcastically. Gunner responded by hitting her face with a closed fist, knocking a fang out. “Bitch, if you make one-” Rose laughed and spat out blood. “Or what? You’ll kill me? You’ll rape me more? You’ll cripple me? Get some original material! Or are you sooo obsessed with your ‘survivor’ mantra that you haven’t realized that you don’t scare anyone, you cowardly fuckstick?” The hellhound let out a vicious snarl and stomped on her pelvis as hard as he could. Crimson heard the sound of bone breaking, but to his shock, the Sinner was still laughing. “Do you do the same to your wife here? Don’t you realize that you don’t have any power? Not over her, not over me, not over anyone! You have no strength, no bravery, no virtues worth shit! Just your survivor bullshit!” “Shut up!” Gunner drew a .22, put it to her vagina and fired. Rose screamed in pain…but then breathed, gritted her fangs, and smiled. “That bullet’s still bigger than your dick,” she quipped, hissing in pain. Gunner screamed in fury and fired a shot from the .22 into her left shoulder, and then did the same to her right. Rose was still laughing. “So, your name’s Gunner? So original. Did you come up with it yourself? You clever little bitch boy!” “SHUT - UP - BITCH!” the hellhound howled, shooting her in both knees. Rose didn’t scream, gritting her fangs as she continued insulting Gunner. “Oh, are your guns compensating for your tiny little puppy penis? Pity they can’t compensate for your stupidity as well, you pathetic, limp-dicked excuse of a man!” “One more word, one fucking more, and I’ll shoot you with this-” Gunner showed her the angelic .45, “-and you will be dead for good. Try me, bitch. I dare you.” Rose merely smiled and closed her red eyes before saying, “Your wife is more of a survivor than you ever were…and your daughter got that from her, not you.” Gunner’s red eyes bugged out as he shot Rose while howling and slavering with rage until the sound of the empty gun clicking was the only thing that could be heard. Crimson heard the hellhound’s mate scream in horror. “Get me a knife, Crimson,” the hellhound snarled, his breathing ragged like he had run a marathon, flecks of spittle adorned his mouth; he almost looked rabid with fury. “I’m going to send a message to the residents of the Hotel.” Crimson took one final look at the dead Sinner, her face surprisingly peaceful. If not for the large holes in her chest, she could have almost been mistaken for sleeping. “And now, because you disobeyed my orders, bitch-” Then he left the room with a sigh, hearing the female hellhound howl in pain as Gunner began whaling on her. Sending a message, at least, he was fine with, something he could stomach. And the Hotel needed to pay. His failure of a son needed to pay. His pregnant broad needed to pay. Whoever murdered Al had to pay. And he had a plan of how to do that, he thought, as he got the knife for Gunner. Don Crimson always had a plan. - Even with the sad content, hope you enjoyed~

Well, it's not Wednesday, but I just got my computer somewhat fixed (still has charger issues). But first, the replies: Er...apologies for seeming rude, but I'm not sure whom you might be? As you only have one post, and it's on here...well, I'm a bit confused. Who says that IMP can even stay open? They're down two members with no immediate replacements, and they need a receptionist. And yeah, Stella would be completely unforgiving. And now, here's the next chapter of Ki(mp)ndergarten Court: - Chapter Four: Be(e) Bigger - Moxxie’s dream was pleasant…to start. The imp prince/knight, himself, was storming up to the castle to rescue the beautiful imp princess (who surprisingly looked a lot like…Millie? Couldn’t be…), fighting the evil dragon’s guards with huge guns that he seemed to wield with ease, popping the guards like it was nothing. “I’m coming, my princess!” he sang in a sing-song voice; he had always liked singing, helping to calm himself down. “Of all the imps in Hell, it’s for you that I fell, oh, princeeess…” He grew confused. Why was that song so familiar? Did his Mommy sing it to him once upon a time? He wasn’t that creative, Daddy said so, he couldn’t make up something like that…right? And why was he so good at guns? Daddy did teach him to shoot, but- Moxxie felt his nerves get the best of him. Daddy was just…mean. He remembered the fights he had with Mommy, the shouting, the screaming, the hurt. He never let Moxxie sing or dance. Daddy wanted him to be a meaniehead like he was. He never had any good things with his Daddy, now that he thought about it. He finished off the last of the dragon guards, only to face the dragon himself. It chuckled in a low voice, and Moxxie froze. It was Daddy’s voice. “I knew you were a little bitch from the start,” the dragon/Daddy chuckled. “So much of a fucking flaming faggot, it’s not even funny. I’ll take everything from you that hasn’t already been taken. I’ll take your friends from you. I’ll take your bearded broad from you. And I will fucking take your life if you fail me.” Moxxie trembled. So many…naughty words, even the words he didn’t know which were directed towards him. “I’ll devour your soul, and your princess is dead, if I can swing it. You’ll never see your family or friends again - just like you’ll never see Mommy again!” The small imp began to weep. Mommy was…where was Mommy, he wanted Mommy- “Prepare for me to end your life!” The dragon/Daddy swallowed him whole, with a motion that Moxxie couldn’t counter, and then everything was lost to darkness. He woke up screaming and crying in terror, the dream was bad, very bad, very, very bad. “What the fu…” Auntie Loona woke up, but Millie was surprisingly still snoring. “Moxxie, what’s wrong?” “Bad dream, bad dream, the dragon, Daddy, ate me!” the small imp wailed, burying his face in Loona’s fur. “And I’m never, I’m never going to see anyone again! Please don’t leave?!” He felt Auntie Loona flinch, but then she rubbed his head…and while it wasn’t exactly his Mommy’s gentle hands, it was good enough. “Hey, kiddo, I’m not going to leave you. Ever. Want a snack? A glass of water? I can carry you if you need it…” Moxxie shook his head. He wasn’t s’pposed to eat or drink at night, the only thing Mommy wanted from him. “Wanna stay…” he said, slowly calming down and looking around. The nice birdie guy, Uncle Stolas, had left, leaving Uncle Blitz on the floor, fast asleep, although the shuffling he did showed that his dream wasn’t good either. “Okay…” Loona gently rubbed his horns, and he felt himself calming down more, letting himself bury his head in her fur as he fell asleep again. And this time, there was no bad dream. ‘Cause Auntie Loona was protecting him. - Loona felt the small imp fall asleep in her fur, and she gently moved his head to the side, so he wouldn’t suffocate in it. What was wrong with her? Normally, she’d be rude, dismissive, angry. It was in her nature to be that way towards those coworkers of hers, towards Blitz, towards everyone. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a damned good reason to be that way; her parents were the worst. She shivered. Even thinking of them, ever since she had been in the pound all those years ago, was hard, the damage they had done to her psyche so great. She held Blitz at a full arm’s length and then some, even though she had to admit that he was as close to a “dad” that she had ever had, not trusting anyone. Trust led to death. So, why were her two now-young-again coworkers getting such a foothold in her heart? Why was she not snapping at Millie petting her when she was so averse to touch? Why did Moxxie crying after a nightmare make her feel so bad? Why, why, why? She could ask that word a million different times, and it always came out the same from everyone. “Just because.” That’s what her horrible excuses for parents said. That’s what the fat bitch who ran the orphanage/pound said. That’s what the other older hounds said when they beat her. That’s what the little punk said when he said he wanted her phone, the only thing she had from her parents that she didn’t hate. Just because. But that wasn’t right either. There had to be some reason for her feeling this way more than just random fate. The Hell was wrong with her? She was a tough hellhound, not afraid of anything, but right now, she felt older than her twenty-two years of life, afraid that Moxxie’s father would come to get him; if his father gave him these kinds of nightmares, she didn’t want Moxxie to have anything to do with him. Am I feeling sorry for that fatass? Is that it? No, can’t be, that’s ridiculous! And yet…she had to tell someone. She knew that it wasn’t exactly therapeutic, but…ah, screw it. She got out her cell phone and called Beelzebub, Queen Bee, the Sin of Gluttony. Someone had to know. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. “Ugh, whomever this is, it’s three in the morning, you better have a damned good reason to call-” “Bee, it’s…Loona.” “Sour Cream?” The hellhound cringed at the nickname. “You made things up with your dad?” “He’s not…sorry, that’s not why I called. Can you keep a secret?” “You sound worried and yet…huh, I didn’t know you had that much love in your heart! You keep surprising me, Sour Cream.” Loona froze. Love. Funny word, especially in Hell. Love was a weakness to most, something other demons would use to crush them, especially her with her parents, her enemies in the pound. And yet… “Bee…I need you to keep a secret. It’s about the Extermination Day-” “What? Did someone you know die?” Bee sounded worried. “Well, they…almost did,” Loona admitted. “They? Loona, was it your dad?” “No, his coworkers, they…the Exterminator shot them.” “WHAT?” Bee’s voice was loud, and Loona had to turn down the volume. “I thought there were laws to not target Hellborn!” “Apparently, this Exterminator was extremely incompetent. She got chewed out by another female Exterminator, and…then she…healed them.” “Weird how the Exterminators are always girls,” Bee muttered. “Except for Adam, but fuck that guy.” “Who’s Adam?” “...Never mind. You say this like she didn’t heal them right.” “She turned Moxxie and Millie into five-year-olds.” Bee was silent for a moment, and Loona counted down the seconds. One. Two. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirty. “I’d say you’re lying…but your emotions are utterly convinced,” Bee admitted. “Nobody’s supposed to know how to reverse age. But what…what else happened?” Loona continued, “The other female Exterminator, the head, gave Blitz and me an ultimatum: we take care of Moxxie and Millie until the next Extermination when she can get a healer, or she’s going to kill us herself, damn the consequences.” The hellhound heard a chuckle from the Sin of Gluttony. “So, already getting into the idea of being a mom?” “What? No! No way!” “You’re lyiiing,” the Sin sang. “Well…I do have to admit that they’re cute kids, but…” “But?” “Well, I’m just…I’m scared, I guess. Scared to mess up. Scared I’ll fail Blitz, fail Moxxie and Millie.” “It sounds like you need a friend,” Bee said sympathetically. “And lemme guess: one of the kids woke up with a nightmare?” “Yeah, how do you-” “Can feel his emotional energy from the phone. Loona, if his dad is as scary as your parents seemed to be - and believe me, Tex and I know a thing or two about shitty parents - don’t ever let his dad know that he’s a kid again. Because it’s bad if I can sense it from here.” Loona felt a bit of guilt then. She was always calling Moxxie a fatass, tormenting and taunting him, and while he did clap back at her sometimes, it wasn’t all the time, and he wasn’t confident, even then. Did his dad…? What if I’m worse? What if I remind him of his dad? “No, you’re not,” Bee said, interrupting her thoughts. “Reading my mind?” Loona asked sardonically. “No, just your emotions. You love those kids. You’d do anything to protect them, Sour Cream. Whatever anger and guilt you might’ve felt over things you did when they were adults, you don’t feel that they should have to suffer it as kids. And you want to do better.” “I don’t know if I can, Bee,” Loona admitted. “I’m a screw-up, more than most. And these feelings, it’s…it’s…hard to process them. I just don’t know if…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” “There’s nothing wrong with you, Sour Cream,” Bee said firmly. “You care. There’s nothing wrong with caring; it’s why I care for Tex and-” The Sin stopped talking, and Loona’s curiosity was piqued. “Is there…someone else other than Tex?” she asked. “Well…maybe?” Bee drawled, her attitude coming back. “Poly relationships aren’t exactly forbidden in Hell, and I’m a Sin.” “Well, just don’t hurt Tex with it,” the hellhound said quickly. “We’ve talked,” Bee answered cryptically; Loona was honestly a little worried. “Um, you think you could go to lunch with him about a week from now?” Loona’s heartrate quickened. Lunch with Tex? Alone? What was the catch…? “No catch.” Damn Bee reading her emotions like a book. “Just…to talk, you know?” “But Moxxie and Millie-” “I’m pretty sure they’re eligible for kindergarten, and it’s about February. I could even pay for the first month, just…do this for me?” Loona sighed. “Okay. For Moxxie and Millie, Bee. Don’t know why you’re acting like this…” “Just…admittedly worried. I have to report to Lucifer, Satan, and the other Sins about the unscheduled Extermination Day tomorrow, everything that happened.” “I do not want Moxxie’s or Millie’s parents finding out,” Loona whispered desperately, hearing Blitz sob in his sleep. “We might not have a choice. If Hellborn have been targeted, that’s breaking a major rule that Lucifer and Heaven agreed upon. And…they’d have the right to their kids. Say…is kind of strict in that regard.” “I am NOT returning Moxxie to his father,” Loona growled. “Okay, we can try to come up with a lawyer, but…do you have money? Say…insists that everyone in Family Court pays for their own attorney, if someone isn’t doing it pro-bono - and nobody does pro-bono in Hell.” Shit. I fucked up again! “You didn’t! It would come out anyway, and being truthful is only going to help your case. Please, just…we can move the date with Tex and…we can move it up to two days from now, and I’ll pay for the entirety of kindergarten for the rest of the year. Deal?” Loona was tempted to just shut off the phone at this point. Now she knew she screwed up; Pride’s Family Courts were notoriously strict with the worst judges in human history like James Clark McReynolds, Roger Taney, and Roland Freisler as just a few of the most notorious ones in Hell. But the date with Tex and the promise of payment for the rest of kindergarten won her over; it wasn’t like they had much money to spare, and they needed every bit of help they could get. “Okay, Bee. I trust you,” Loona said, gently rubbing Moxxie and Millie’s backs, not knowing if they’d still be with her afterward…but praying to Lucifer - Hell, even to God Himself - that things would be all right. - As chapter notes for the horrible judges Loona mentioned: James Clark McReynolds - Supreme Court Justice in the 30s, raging anti-Semite who refused to be photographed with his fellow Jewish Supreme Court Justices, racist who disowned his nephew for playing jazz and regularly used his Black helper as a dog to go in the rivers to fetch the birds he shot, ableist bigotry towards Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and was sexist towards women in his courtroom to boot. Roger Taney - Supreme Court Justice in the 1800s who authored the Dred Scott decision with racist language that was beyond the pale, even for his time. Roland Freisler - Nazi Germany's head judge who conducted sham trials and sent hundreds to horrible deaths. Hope you enjoyed~