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Frostwyrm

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Frostwyrm last won the day on January 26 2018

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  1. Well, you yourself are your greatest critic, after all. It's a common thing for people who do creative stuff, be it arts, writing or what have you. I've come to take that feeling and put a positive spin on it. I take a look at what I'm dissatisfied with and improve on it. Knowing that there's always room to improve is one of the things that keep me doing my stuff. I've also slowly come to admit that just because I'm not entirely satisfied with my stuff, doesn't diminish what it can provide for others.
  2. In part, though I mostly wear them for the comfort and that childish sense of security that comes when you're more waddling than walking.
  3. Well, I can still remember a lot of things from my childhood, but the time frame actually eludes me. And it isn't particularly exciting, too. For example: When I was an elementary schooler, I once got so bored on a saturday I leaped onto my bed and started kicking the sheets around. Those were the days. Some of the earliest memories involve a time where we lived in a city called Flensburg, basically the most northern town in germany. The house of our best friend was on the opposite side of a promenade with a fence in between. So we walked the entire way to the street and back again just to get around the fence. At least there lived a nice old lady who gave us candy. And our other neighbours were supposedly always angry at how loud we were. My father confessed to me last year that they didn't particularly care, he and my mom just made it up to keep us four somewhat quiet.
  4. I don't remember ever being caught IN a diaper, but I'm plenty sure quite a few people saw the diapers on their own. Parents, siblings, maybe even my last landlady. Nobody ever really mentioned it, though.
  5. Alright, side project time, Something Vile, a story on the lighter side of the fluff, with the chapters being fairly short. I'm basically writing this one on the side and I need to get this concept out of my head, too. Imma attempt to get a lot of fetish content into it along the road, hopefully not to the detriment of the experience. his is a roadtrip story about two women who start their journey in arizona and drive northwards with the goal of simply not being caught. They thieve, they scam, they lie and attempt to get mixed up in all sorts of mischevious behavior while trying to keep the facade of two girls on a simple trip through the best country in the world. Also, since I'm not american I'm gonna say sorry for any misrepresentation, but I do try to keep up with my research on the locations as we hit them. As for now, have fun reading this amazing tale that will at some point involve ramen soup prepared with steak sauce. I Perfectly Average Name aside, Deidre had always considered herself perfectly average. Average height, average looks, average personality with absolutely nothing remarkable about her. Not once in her life had she considered something vile in her blood. Yet as the pieces of gum went into the hands of the cashier, were rung up and he grabbed for the American Girl Magazine she felt a tingle run down her back. A cold, excited sensation as she looked at his reaction. A pretty and slender face, a stubble of a beard, thick eyebrows resting above deep green eyes, he had to be close to his thirties. Or maybe the hair growing out of his face just made him look older. His eyebrows moved as he noticed the next item on the conveyor belt and she felt the warmth rush to her face, felt her fingers tense up because she knew exactly what the hesitation in his hands and the heavy sigh escaping his mouth meant. It meant that the show was on. "Are you serious, kid?" he asked, emphasizing the last word just enough so she would get that there was no way she'd pass for anything other and the bottle of beer would be out of her grasp for a few more years. She shrugged slightly, looked down and bit her lip. Her fingers wrapped themselves around her purse and she opened her mouth but let no word escape. A woman, late fifties, slender, hair dyed in an egregious red, setting up her things on the conveyor belt right behind her. She saw the beer and the one purchased it, couldn't help but giggle. She found the courage, more embarrassed that she had to say the well-studied lines than being 'caught'. "I'm just a bit on the small size." "And I guess Mister Teddy there can vouch for you." The bear stuck out of her pink backpack, his beady little eyes staring away like he had nothing to do with this mess. When she said nothing, the cashier sighed. "Well, missus, if you want a drink, you can either show me your ID or get yourself some juice," he said, somewhere between annoyed and amused. She would've been amused, too, if she wasn't the victim here. "I have an ID," she said and got out a prepared fake. It wasn't well made, looked like something done with windows paint, with added butterflies and a signature written out in block letters. As she gave it to him, he stifled a giggle and woman behind Deidre tried to do the same. "Alright," he said after a second, his expression softening as she stared at him with honest determination. "You know what, you do get an A for effort. If all identification cards looked as pretty as this, my job would be way more fun." The compliment made her smile through the embarrassment. She'd put honest work in making that damn thing look like it was done by someone who had wanted to make it look as exciting as possible. "Tell you what," he said as he took the beer and put it behind the counter, stood up and reached for the sweets that were placed by the cash register and gave her a Kinder Surprise with a pink top. She took it, eyeing him unsure. "I'm a nice guy, so I'm gonna tell you this. That egg is your promise to me that you're not going to do something so blatantly stupid like walking into a shop and purchase adult drinks with a fake ID ever again. If I catch you doing it again, though, I'm gonna go talk to the police and they'll put you in juvie for a bit. Of course, your parents are gonna know, too, and I honestly don't believe that they're gonna like that. And that's completely disregarding," he pointed outside to the car from which she stepped, "your sitter." Maggie was sitting in the car, whacking away on her phone intently. Again, she bit her lip, felt the tinge of excitement. Clutching the egg with one hand, she looked up at him. "You're not going to tell her." "Do you want me to?" She shook her head. Maggie knew her lines, had shouted them at Deidre earlier in the car. They were good lines and she was a good actor, but if she didn't need to, then all the better. He rang up the rest and told her the price. As she got out her Frozen wallet, she saw him shook his head in disbelief, wondering how she thought he'd take her for someone in her late teens. The woman behind her attempted to stifle another giggle. Deidre knew why, felt herself tense up. He thought it was because she knew she was caught, but in actuality it was because of the cherry on top of it all. She gave him the money, said thank you for everything, and quickly put the things in her. As she turned to the door, the woman's laughter rang through her ears, and he couldn't help but giggle, too. "Hey, pumpkin," he said loudly, and she turned around, a question mark over her head. "Your shirt's riding up." She turned her head around, looked at her backside and found it true. With one hectic motion, she pulled down the shirt, knowing full well that it was going to stay in place until she put the backpack back on, which she did with seeming obliviousness. Everybody in here had seen it, all five people, the cameras, even the dog that one person had brought in here despite the sign telling them not to do so. Yet the cashier was the first one who thought it appropriate to mention it and not be stunned by how inappopriate/adorable the girl looked. Even he let her walk away with the shirt riding up again. Well, maybe it didn't matter whether the shirt was as short as it was. Beneath the warm summer sun she waddled back to the car, regretting the choice she'd made before going into the gas station's shop. The shirt was riding up again, resting on the hem of the diaper she wore. The shorts were too tight to obscure what she wearing. When she looked at a mirror before, the thick underwear was bulging out beneath. Now that she filled it, there was no doubt how childish she must've looked. Maggie pushed open the door for her and she seated herself, backpack firm in her hands again. "Looks like somebody didn't make it to the potty," Maggie joked. "Want me to change you before we drive?" She glared at Maggie from her position, feeling so much smaller than ever before in front of her friend. "Can we not?" She asked, closed the door, put the seatbelt on before she opened the egg's wrapping to relieve some stress. Maggie shrugged and put the gas on. As she started to drive, she couldn't help but wave at the cashier who, with a disarmed smile, waved back. The road in front of them was close to empty, there was only one car approaching them, and, after a few minutes went past without much of a noise. To their side was the vast emptiness people called Arizona. Well, it wasn't as empty as Deidre had pictured it for most of her life. There was some green after all. "So," Maggie started after a while, taking her eyes off the street to look at Deidre munching away on the chocolate. "Remember how I told you that you could make a convincing fourteen or fifteen year old?" Deidre looked at her, the chocolate, melted by the warmth of the sun, smeared across her hands and around her mouth. She put on a mischievous smile. "You're fucking perfect as a tween. Holy shit!" Maggie yelled the last words before she broke out into laughter. "How the fuck are you doing that? You look so adorable, I can't believe we ever worried about you pulling that shit off." She slammed her hands against the wheel of the car, gripped it tightly. The excitement was written on her face. "This is perfect. You're an artist." Deidre looked at her hands, then back at Maggie. "What can I say. I'm a method actor," she slammed her knee against the glove compartment so it would open and grabbed a few tissues out of it, she wiped the chocolate off, felt the taste stick to her mouth. "Also, being four foot nine with a pre-schooler figure might help." "Don't get too cocky, Didi, you'd never make a pre-schooler." "Is that a challenge?" Deidre asked, leaning down and opening the backpack. A bag of potato chips, two bars of chocolate and a bag with mixed sweets, as well as package of gum, she went past it and went straight for the two bottles of cold beer she'd snagged when nobody was looking. She went for the bottle opener to the side of her seat and opened both of them. One was for herself, the other for Maggie. "As they say in the motherland, kampaii," Deidre said. "So, you're japanese then?" Maggie asked as she took a sip from her bear. "Is that japanese? I thought it was swahili. Eh, whatevs." As Maggie rolled her eyes, Deidre laughed. It wasn't the laugh of an average person, but that was because, ever since she'd met Maggie she understood perfectly well that she wasn't like the cashier or the woman behind them. She was one of the wolves. Downing the beer she looked in the mirror and what she saw put a smile on her face. She looked like someone from the eastern parts of asia and maybe that was why she was as small as she was. Deidre didn't really care, not anymore, not since she was made a part of Maggie's group. She looked young with makeup, but younger still without it. Maybe it was some strange god's notion of a joke that, added to her height, she had the most perfect baby face and a womanly figure that was close to nonexistent. Her mother had wept when she'd realized her sixteen year old girl would never be one of those sexy tall blondes that got to hook up with a millionaire. Her father hadn't cared, he had a son in John and tended to only talk to her when she forgot about John's birthday. He'd always called her beef with little Johnny childish and might've laughed if he could see her now. The bright pink t-shirt she wore had a large flower stitched on its front, ruffled sleeves and only barely reached down her waist. The lime colored shorts bulged out heavily, the diaper sagging beneath them. She'd held it in ever since the airport, in preparation for a moment like this. It was like the cherry on top of the cake. A part of her felt ridiculous about wearing this outfit, a diaper, using the diaper and then waddling around in it, all to grab two bottles of beer. Another part of her was glad she'd done it, because who else but her could pull off something as ridiculous as this. Nobody. "Well, girl. That's a good thing, cause the regrets of the past are the problems of today. Did I ever tell you how hard my childhood was? I am barely a functioning adult today because of it," Maggie told her, attempting (and failing) to fake a tear. "If you had a bad childhood, Mags, it was because you are and always were an asshole." Maggie looked at her with doe eyes, before she flashed a grin and lifted the beer. "You're right when you're right, potty princess." She lifted her beer, too and drank a bit. "So, I think you might've done without the diaper, though. I mean, shit, I don't think I would've dared." Deidre shrugged. "I almost regretted it, but in all honesty, I think they really stopped to take me seriously once they noticed. It's plenty helpful, plus, I didn't need to use their restroom. However that shit looks, it's probably less sanitary when going into my own underwear." "Fuck, you're weird." Deidre smiled at that. "Thank you," she said, completely honest. As both of them sipped on their beers a sign passed them by. A hundred kilometres ago she'd stepped out of her plane and onto american soil, where Maggie waved at her excitedly. She'd looked all grown up, a woman in her early twenties ready to take on life. Deidre must've looked similar, simply like a small woman who just came from a business trip, all dressed in a blazer and well applied make-up, or maybe not. People had stared at her for a bit, but only until she'd hit the bathroom and gotten into the clothes she was dressed in now. A hundred kilometres ago she'd willingly decided to leave the old Deidre behind and finally get to do what she and Mags and all the rest of them did the best. Thinking back to the amazing shit Mags, Lucy and Roger had promised her on Discord, she wanted nothing more than this trip to be worth it. And even if their promises couldn't be kept, now she knew she could at least have some fun on her own. II Broken Girl The time had been 6 AM, her sheets were soaked with sweat and her liner had gone missing during last night's drunken escapade, leaving her in a literal puddle of her own blood. When she escaped from her apartment she hadn't showered in two days and her home looked like a crime scene. The underwear she wore might've been washed, but she doubted it, same went for her shirt and pants. It hadn't mattered at all, though. Right now, she was pushing the gas, stared at the road in front of her and felt the blistering heat of the sun as it started to descend ever farther down. At 4 PM she'd seen Deidre step out of the plane, yawning and stretching. The other girl had looked as tired as she felt, but as she saw Maggie, she lit up, like a switch was pushed within her. "I talked with Lucy about it and I got the perfect disguise," she had told her moments later; after they'd both settled down on a bench. A wide, perfect smile had been on her face. Whenever Lucy involved herself with Deidre, things tended to go down a weird path. Once they'd been to some rich kid's birthday party, dressed up as clowns, and got away with every little trinket the parent's had so carefully hidden from stranger's eyes. Then, due to the slippery nature of the two of them, even though the caught Lucy, they could not pin a crime on them. It made it great to be friends with them, but sometimes their collaborations scared Maggie. Deidre had taken out a small backpack from her baggage. It was pink with floral motives and looked like it belonged to a grade schooler. People stared but Deidre smiled that mischievous of hers. With that backpack, even though Maggie didn't want to admit it, she looked positively childish. "I'll go and get dressed for the journey. You wait here and be surprised." Then she departed for this small airport's public bathrooms. Apparently she asked the way and people seemed confused at this woman's mannerisms, who folded her hands behind her back and bouncing on her toes. A man she asked chuckled later on as he passed, telling the woman by his side, "I'd taken her for a young woman, children do seem to grow up so fast." And all Maggie could think at that moment was; What the fuck? Half and hour later and what came out of the bathroom into sight stunned her into silence. Rainbow striped socks, lime green shorts and a pink shirt that barely covered the top of her pants. And Maggie found her eyes lingering on the crotch, wondering for a moment whether Lucy had come up with this. The didn't do much to hide the bulge underneath and neither the length of the shirt or the backpack helped her looks much. At 6 PM they'd reached a gas station along a smaller route that would get them to the Lost Love's Motel and Deidre wanted to try out her disguise. She and Maggie had practiced some lines as they approached it, but there still had been doubts on her mind. Deidre was a grown woman and some silly disguise couldn't hide that fact. Yet, looking the way she did seemed to come easier for her than wearing more adult clothing. "You want a beer? I'll get us some beer." Maggie had frowned when Deidre offered. "You know, they're gonna ask you for you ID?" Deidre's laughter was the most disturbing part about her. It was the most girlish giggle that always ended in a little snort, so utterly undignified she only managed to pull it off now, dressed like a child on a field trip. For a second, Maggie could suspend her disbelief, but there was too much doubt on her mind. Then came the moment when they stopped, Deidre had been fidgeting, wanting to go to the toilet. Maggie told her to ditch the infantile garment and her friend seemed to consider it. Yet, a few seconds after getting out, she visibly changed her decision. Stopping before the door of the station for a second, she breathed out and continued her walk as Maggie was sure she was actually going in her diaper. She wanted to ask why Deidre did that, but after all the shit they'd been through, she couldn't help but laugh and that only intensified once Deidre got back with a chocolate egg and two bottles of cool alcohol. As she approached though, her blush was real, and the shadow between her legs seemed a bit too dark, which was almost weird for Maggie. After finishing her own she'd taken Deidre's. The girl had fallen fast asleep, probably because the jet lag finally had caught up to her. Girl, Maggie thought. She referred to other people her age by that descriptor, but looking at Deidre now, it seemed so appropriate, almost insultingly so. Still smiling, she sipped on the beer, freeing the last drops from the confinement of the bottle. Then, she opened the window to Deidre's side and threw the bottle out. A few minutes passed in silence, she sighed, let her fingers run along the steering wheel. The road was going ever on and Maggie felt the alcohol rise, making her light-headed. With a groan, she strengthened the grip of her fingers and looked at the blinking signal in front of her, spelling out how little fuel was left in the tank. It could only be a matter of minutes now. Enough time to accelerate and crash the car into the side of the road, she figured. Deidre stirred, her arm wondered up her stomach, pushing the shirt up. Maggie was once again surprised how naturally she made herself look like a child. Yet as the girls hands rubbed her own belly, as she snorted and giggled at something in her sleep, Maggie couldn't help but sigh again. Maybe she could have some fun with this before the car broke down. Still looking in front, she made a grab for the backpack and lifted the bear from it. It was rather nice looking, with a red bow around his neck and a face that Maggie found pretty cute. Looking at Deidre for a second she put the bear on the girl's stomach and then guided one hand towards the bear. Deidre hugged it instinctively, giggling once more. "Fuck," Maggie stated eloquently, making a grab for her own phone to take some pictures. "I musta been blind for the past few years if regression's this easy for ya." When she'd met Deidre, she hadn't made any inquiries about her height, looks or build. She fell just short of 4 foot 9, was flat as a washing board and, thanks to Roger, would later also lose a tooth. Lucy always told her that she looked precocious, but Maggie had never cared about that. "You know," she said after a second. "This trip probably won't take long, but I'm glad you're with me. To hell and back, eh?" The other girl was sleeping and gave no answer, for which Maggie was extremely grateful. The motor rumbled and she turned the wheel, turned the car to the side of the road where she let it roll out. After a solid minute more of slowly moving forward, the car came to a halt. Maggie stared in front of her, towards the endless road which seemed to end in an horizon that was distorted by the desert's heat. Once more she sighed, let her head fall against the seat. Her white shirt had stains from chicken wings and beer on it, her mini-skirt did little to hide her underwear as she let herself slide down slightly more, revealing the underwear, which covered barely anything. Risque was her style, after all. "Shit," she said, before opening the door of the car and standing up. Looking to both sides. Not seeing anybody, she nodded to herself. They were far away enough from the station so that walking back was impossible, her phone, she decided, was dead the moment she saw a car approach on the horizon. Without the howling of the motor, the wind blowing through open windows and the thoughts running through her head like crazy, she finally realized that she hadn't had a proper sleep in a few days. Here hands seemed more shaky then before and as she looked in the rear mirror she noticed how little make-up actually did to hide how ravaged she looked. With a smile, she turned to Deidre, where she only now noticed something. A stain on the inner side of her left leg, not too big, but still visible. "Character actor, was it?" Maggie asked the still sleeping girl. She didn't want to know if this was practiced. With a series of taps she freed her friend from the happy realm of her sleep. Deidre groaned, hugged the bear, twisted her legs, and then suddenly her eyes went wide open as she turned to look at Maggie who used the chance to smile at her. Instantly, she dropped the bear and pulled the shirt down. "Hey, sleepyhead," she said with a smile too wide. "I, look... this is... " There was a heavy blush on the cheeks that told Maggie that none of this was rehearsed. "Did you go again in your sleep, Didi? Don't tell me you actually need those." "Well, I ... No," she blushed more, her lips trembled. Maggie took the sight in, thinking back to words another friend spoke, but dismissing them instantly. She's my equal, isn't she? Maggie told herself and at that moment thought back to when Deidre walked out of the gas station. Instantly, she knew when the stain had come to be. "Your diaper must've leaked when you went. You already had it when you walked out." Deidre looked at her. "Wait? You're saying I wasn't just parading my diaper around, but that I leaked?" The shock was clear on her face. "Well, you did say you could make a convincing pre-schooler. So, hat's off to you, I guess," Maggie answered after a moment of hesitation. "Fuck you," Deidre looked down. "How the fuck could that happen, aren't these things supposed to not leak instantly?" "Maybe you put it on wrong?" "How the fuck do you put a diaper on wrong?" "The elastic could be pushed down, you could've placed it a bit too much to the side so it didn't spread out properly, and..." Deidre looked at her curiously for a moment. "Elastic?" "Have you ever actually put a diaper on anything on before?" "What? No, why would I?" Maggie sighed. "How did it feel when you put it on?" Deidre tilted her head and the way she looked thinking about it made her look ever so young again. "I guess it felt a bit loose, is that wrong?" There was another pause. "Has anybody ever told you how much of a dipshit you can be sometimes, Didi?" There were tears in her eyes, Maggie noticed. Of course there were, anybody would cry in this situation, so the girl sighed and put an arm around her friend's shoulder. "It's okay, we can just get you out of the one you're wearing. New pants, new underwear and everything'll be nice and dandy, kay?" Deidre took a moment to pat her friends back. "Yeah, thanks," she said, trying hard to not let her voice crack. Maggie threw the car door open and stood up. Only then did Deidre turn to look at the situation. "Why're we in the middle of the desert, Mags?" "Because we don't have anymore gas." "Oh," Deidre said, before she screamed out loudly. "What?" Maggie looked at the street. No car was approaching. "You want to keep on wearing diapers for the rest for the day or do I get my grown-up Deidre back?" Behind her, Deidre thought for a moment. "Are you comfortable changing me?" Maggie shrugged. "Not gonna lie, it's probably the weirdest thing you ever wanted me to do with you, but yeah. I can dig it." Yet she couldn't bring herself to look at Deidre while saying this. Another moment passed. "I lie down on the backseat, there's more diapers like this in my baggage." She opened one door, then another, Maggie heard. She couldn't help but smile. Deidre's conviction to a cause, no matter how silly, was something she always admired. "So, this is our dynamic now?" she asked and walked around the car. She saw that Deidre was pulling down the pants, revealing that, at least, she'd put the front where it belonged. "Anything to make me look more helpless," Deidre answered her and laid down on the backseat of the car. "Also, if we're gonna make a thing out of this I don't want there to be anything I'm not prepared for along the road." Maggie pushed open the trunk and then went for her friend's baggage. To her surprise, the only things she found were four more diapers, a book on child development, the set of clothing she'd worn before and ... nothing more. That made her raise an eyebrow. She took one of those diapers and walked back to where Deidre lay. "Can you promise me one thing, Mags?" "I'm just gonna gush over how adorable you look like this for half the change, I can't guarantee more." "Again, go fuck yourself." Maggie shook her head. "Girl, you need to lay low with those cuss words. What will the people think of a sweet little angel like you cursing like a sailor?" She unfolded the diaper and began her work ever so professionally. She was used to changing kids diapers, but this was different and weird. Not wanting to think about what exactly was going on beneath Arizona's hot sun, she decided to instead reveal why they were stuck here. "You know how our deal with Roger is to meet him up in Montana, right?" "I was in the chatroom, so you don't have to do the whole 'As you know'-shtick." "Well, as you know, most bratty half-pints get a spanking down here. So how about you drop the 'tude?" Deidre looked at her, she looked at Deidre. The other girl shrugged and turned away just as Maggie motioned her to lift her behind. Dominance established, woohoo! "The thing is, I thought that buying a car and driving there was boring. So, I thought... Why not take the car from somebody in town I know, drive around with it until the tank's almost empty and then leave it behind in the desert where nobody will ever find it." "Do you hate that person?" Deidre asked, visibly shaking as Maggie put the new diaper beneath her. "He's a nice guy, bought me coffee, always treated me like lady. Had a horrible taste in hats though and constantly talked about how nice a guy he really was. So I took his car, all the money he deposits at home because banks can't be trusted." One tape, two tapes, three, then four. "Didi. There's a few people along the road I don't particulary like." "What? More nice guys?" "Some of 'em, some of them not," she told her friend as she leaned down on the backseat, looking straight into Deidre's big, brown, innocent eyes. "I just wanna fuck some people up while I'm still young. You can dig that, right?" Didi always looked at her like this. For the longest time, Maggie hadn't wanted to admit it, but she did look innocent. Like an angel that just needed protection from all the bad things in the world. Yet her smile revealed her true nature. "Well, I don't quite get why you're sounding that sad," she stated and Maggie giggled at that, "but sure, let's have some fun while we're still young." There was the roar of a machine in the distance. A car approaching from whence they came. Maggie looked up. "Wanna start with them?" "Sure, but, first, Maggie?" "Yeah?" "Can I have my pants back?" III Sweet Nectar "And that's the reason why I believe the chinese control the democratic party through radio waves," were the last words Jonathan needed to decide that he would never return to this goddamn city. The heat had gotten to his old friend's head and the crowd he hung with nowadays were all the same type of conspiracy loving assholes. He disliked democrats, especially nowadays where the left was obsessed with populistic ideas of feminism and socialism, throwing themselves down into a puddle of ideals he doubted anyone with common sense would agree with. How anyone could think of american when they saw them talk about social welfare and climate change, about how god didn't belong in the classroom and how immigrants weren't as vile as everyone thought they were, all that was beyond him. Everything was going down the drain and he was wondering what to do next. Jonathan Romero looked at the far front of him. He rushed past a gas station, northwards down this fucking route to nowhere. His eyes went to the mirrors and a stray glance lingered on himself. Every girl he'd ever known had wanted to sleep with him and those who told him they didn't simply said so because they knew that they were too ugly for him. White skin with a soft tan, the blonde hair, blue eyes, a well kept beard shadowing his chin while his hair was styled expertily.The shirt did little to hide his manly stature. He wasn't just a straight A or even an A+, he was the epitome of what an alpha male looked like. Not a single person who ever questioned that remained in doubt for long. A smile crept across his face and he let himself feel the leather of his carseat. Yes, no matter how shitty the world looked, he was still the same good-looking young man with a plan. The true blue boy with the business back home. He just needed to make due without his friends now. He half-heartedly took the wallet from his jacket, both from expensive brands and went with one hand through the papers in it. He kept some few thousand dollars cash on hand, his cards, as well as a paper where he'd scribbled all his passwords down. The money was mostly there so people would see just how rich he was, he even loved to pay small purchases with hundred dollar bills just because of how fucking amazing he looked. Everything important was there, all ready. He'd planned on giving a few of these things to Mike, but he now swore on tinfoil and chemtrail poisonings. It was almost sad that only crazy remained where once a man with ambitions for a leading job someplace in a pharmaceutical company had been. He couldn't help but sigh, but in a way, despite having wasted hours on this trip, he also felt relief. Mike might've proven too ambitious, too impulsive for the schemes Jonathan had laid out. Yeah, considering his plans, maybe it was better to remain alone. His smile widened, only to immediately fade as he spotted something by the road in the distance. A car, probably parking or broken down. He hoped for the first, another distraction wasn't what he needed now. Well, even if, he could just drive on and pretend he hadn't seen anything. "Right," he told himself, "serves 'em for driving a broken fuckin' car ... ?" He blinked, looked at the person by the side of the road, the one who lifted her thumb as a signal. Yet it wasn't the thumb that caught his attention, but instead the fine tits and ass of the girl. As he drove past her he already slowed down, looked at her as he went past. She had a smile on her face, a smile he'd seen way too often. Oh shit, how fucking lucky can I get? He wondered and put the breaks down. A thirsty bitch in the middle of the desert, now that's what I'm talking about. He drove a few meters backwards and halted right in front of the young woman, who leaned down on the car, carefully resting her arms on the door and smiled at him seductively. The way she placed her arms only pronounced her tits even more. Were they a C or a D? He smiled at her, went up from her well proportioned body to look at the most womanly seductive face he'd seen in a while. This was a bombshell of a girl, right here, and she needed a big, strong guy like him. Porno material right here. "Well, good to see we both enjoy what we see," she said, slightly chewing on her lip. He wanted to giggle, but caught himself, fixed his posture. "That scrap of metal of yours seems to have broken down. Wanna ride in a real car?" "Oh we'd love to, would you be so kind as to escort two young, helpless girls to the Motel a bit further down. I need to make some calls so we can get on." Jonathan looked at her curiously. There's two? With that question came the hope that it wasn't the ugly friend, this one didn't need an ugly friend. How could you prep up perfection? Maybe it was another hot one. Maybe they could have a threesome for the night, as thanks for his prestigious rescue. "Well, sure, who's the other one?" She stepped a bit to the side, smiling at the car, where, from within, a girl looked straight at him. Not the kind of girl the one with the bouncing breasts–was she even wearing a bra?–was, but a different sort, the sort that had no body and who's only ideas of romance came from her playing around with Barbie and Ken. In other words, a child, which was, of course, not bangable. His enthusiasm was curbed immediately, but one look at the other one made him wonder. "You don't look much alike?" "Oh, she's an exchange student. My family decided to take her in. I'm getting her to experience Phoenix, the right way," the girl said, leaning in. "Sadly, our car's a bit broke and little missy over there couldn't hold it in for more than five minutes." She noticed his frown, giggled to herself and waved at the girl who seemed confused as to what they could be talking about. The tall one leaned closer into the car, her lips pursed, almost as if to kiss him, but he knew it couldn't be that kind of development, not with a little kid watching. And he kind of didn't feel like kissing anyone after that declaration just now, whatever that declaration was. "She only had one pair of pants, too, so she's a bit shy." "Aside from a shirt she's naked?" He asked, actually getting offended. Her laughter diffused his mood instantenously. "No, no, silly. If I left her naked, she'd make another puddle." Not quite getting what she meant, he also leaned closer to her, smelled the air around her. Even her perfume was perfect. "A puddle of what? She on her period?" For a second she looked at him with a blank expression, then, after a second more, she raised an eyebrow. "No, dude, she's way too little for that. What I'm saying is, to make a rather boring story short, that the little tinkler over there isn't quite potty trained yet, so she's in the cutest little diapers. You know what, you should see her, it's super cute," with that she turned around. "Come on, Lilli, this nice man won't take us unless we're, like, super-nice to him. And you greeting him properly is kinda important for that." He saw the child stir, first slowly. She bit her lip and once more, he couldn't help but see the dissonance. The one he just talked to made the gesture alluring, she just looked like what she was, a little kid nervous about stepping forward. The treatment the other girl seemed a bit cruel, but, if the little one did indeed pee on her carseat, he could understand the salt. Also, if that was the case, he kind of wanted to make sure it couldn't happen to his ride. So, Jonathan put on the most welcoming smile he could muster. "Come on, sweetheart, where's your manners?" A few seconds passed as the girl deliberated with herself whether she should come out, then decided that, yes, she should. She hugged a teddy bear in one hand, while using the other one to steady herself while stepping out of the car. She couldn't be more than eleven, wearing a shirt, with ruffles and a flower motif, that couldn't even have covered the diaper if she attempted to pull it down. She wore pink and white shoes that fit with the shirt, rainbow striped socks and her hair was done in a single ponytail held by a bow. Of course, all that might've just appeared normal, but the diaper was the thing that stood out. It wasn't even just a white piece, instead adorned with a colorful stripe with motifs of animals and bubbles outlining the proclamation 'KIDS', just so the wearer wouldn't need to say that she wasn't a baby. This little chinese girl looked like the biggest baby he'd ever seen, though. "Well," he said after a moment of looking her over. "How old are you?" She opened her mouth, but it was the tall girl that answered. "Oh, she just got ten. The sweetie had a big party with cake and disney princess dresses and everything. I should show you the little dance she did," she laughed. "Come on, Lilli, step up, greet the man. If you're nice, I'll even let you have your candy." There was an exchange of looks between the two, then Lilli stepped up, more confident than before and stretched out her hand. Her face was red from blushing and up close, Jonathan could tell that a little something had already gone in the diaper. She had to go on her tippy toes to even reach him and as he took her hand, he noticed how weak her grip was. This was a nervous little thing. "So your name's Lilli, huh? I'm Jonathan, but you can call me Johnny if you want," he said with a softness that surprised even him. "Oh, Johnny, huh. Why, you seem like you've got a strong, big ... Darn, I wanted to go somewhere with that," the one not called Lilli shook her head and looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm Allison, but you can call me whatever you want." "Can I call you fatty?" Lilli asked immediately, looking at her compatriot with a strange sort of fury. She looked taken aback, and Jonathan wasn't quite sure what to do, but, well, since he was the man here, of course the path of action would be the right one. "Lilli, language. If you were my kid I'd put you over my knee for talking like that in front of strangers." Now they both looked at him, and on Allison's face there formed a thankful smile. "Sorry," Lilli said instantly, putting her head down. "I didn't want to be mean. Can we still ride in your car?" He sighed, looked at Allison. "You want to the Lost Love Motel, right? Yeah, I can take you, but," he looked at Lillie again, "No more potty language, or I might just follow up on that threat." "Well, you're not only handsome and nice, you're a real knight in shining armor, aren't you?" Allison spoke, as Lilli just nodded, not wanting to provoke him anymore. "You just gotta show 'em who's boss, that's it," he told her truthfully. She nodded in agreement. "I'll keep that in mind." With that, he let them grab their things. There was a bag, which Allison told him had contained her backpack, some comics, and, of course, as the people with a medical would scientifically call them 'diapers'. No clothing, because little Lilli had been allowed to pack her own things and nobody checked twice on the overgrown toddler. Her backpack didn't fair much better, as the moment she seated herself, she instantly grabbed some candy from it. While precocious, there were several doubts on his mind as he looked onto her from the rear mirror. Not only did she smear melting chocolate across her hands and face, but as she looked around for something to wipe it off, the diaper almost seemed to come into focus again. He gave her a stern warning as to not touch the leather, gave her a tissue. Luckily, she dozed off after a while. "So, hot stuff," Allison then said, reminding him that there was another adult in the car with him. "What takes you down here?" She'd seated herself beside him, and he would not dare to complain about having those sweet melons next to him. Jonathan doubted she'd understand the intricacies of what he did. The way she'd taken hours for her make-up, the almost stand-offish sort of clothes she wore, as if to proclaim her beauty, all meant that she was a shallow person. He knew shallow girls. She didn't even want to get to know him, she wanted to look interested, wanted him to just take her and have his way. That's the way women worked, after all. "Oh, just a little business. I want to do a start-up thing, nothing big, wanted a friend to join." "That didn't work?" "I think he'd use the business to undermine the reptoids." She blinked. "The what-now?" "Their lizardpeople who've taken over the world." She gasped, then went closer in, her hand touching his arm. "Really?" He rolled his eyes. "No, Allie, no. He's gone insane. Insane people don't make good businessmen." She shrugged, then nodded. "That sounds right." And he knew he was right. About her, that was. "And you, you don't seem to fond of babysitting?" "What's the oldest you've ever seen a kid in diapers?" He laughed. "Not that old." She nodded. "I still live with my mom and dad, and they always take in these exchange students. I like 'em, most of the time. This one's got a rough start, got out of the plane tired and cranky, her diaper was almost falling off, as I just found out. She almost hit me when I wanted to change her." "She seems to lack discipline. As Phil Robertson once said, you have to discipline your children, or they won't respect you, law enforcement or god or anyone else. If you're responsible for her, she looks in need of learning some of that responsibility." She looked at him again, this was obviously too high for her. Either that or that chinese kid was some kind of buddhist, worshipping tree spirits and sacrificing rabbits to their moon gods or some shit like that. If that was the case, she needed god's embrace more than anybody else. Not that he cared or anything. "So, you know your way around children, huh?" "Not really, just what my own parents taught me. Never settled down, myself." There was a glint in her eyes, or there must've been. He was sure of it, though his eyes were glued to the road. "So, you have a boyfriend?" "Parents don't like me with guys. Something about how all men are predators, how a girl like me needs to be always careful." "So you step into a stranger's car without a second thought?" The sun was going down and in the distance there were buildings coming up. A small town in the middle of nowhere, and a hotel to the front of the town. In the quiet he heard the little one snore a bit, her face and clothing a mess already. His eyes went over to hers. There was a playful smile on her face and, as he thought, a glint in her eyes. Had he been someone else, maybe he would've seen it all for what it was, but right at that moment the only thing he knew was that he got her. "Only when they're hot." The sign of the motel came closer, flickering. It declared: "Welcome to the Lost Love's Motel, where we wait for your loving patronage, always"
  6. Chapter 8 With Little Fierceness With little fierceness remaining and warm water dripping from her skin, Leslie Audet finally found herself at some peace. It was fine, she told herself, everything would be fine at last. She turned the shower off, let the last droplets fall down on her head and then from that shaggy red mane of hers. One more breath she inhaled, taking in the smokey warmth as well as the sweet scent of the shower gel. Leslie took her step out of the shower and onto the cold floor. Looking around, she found a small cabinet filled with towels. Taking the one that looked the biggest and fluffiest, she wrapped herself up in it, felt the softness against her skin. It was as wide as a cloak on her, and, if she had any clothing, she'd probably make a convincing super hero or knight or even a wanderer in the post-apocalyptic wasteland. Maybe even everything at once if she could get the proper accessoires. Right now, as she stepped closer to the mirror and wiped her hand across the glass, her eyes found her face. She looked at best like the last one. There were the bruises which, by tomorrow, would be swollen and ugly. At this moment they only hurt, but still, if she would've had a mother waiting for her, she'd rather avoid going back. Still lingering, she found herself posing in front of the mirror instead of drying off the rest of her body. Drops fell on the ground as a puddle formed where she stood, and yet she remained, threw the towel over her shoulders but kept her arms close to her sides. Her fingers twitched slightly as imagined herself wearing a pair of holsters, the warmth she felt came from the blistering sun of the desert and her opponent was a gritty, old mexican man wearing a joke of a hat. Like she'd seen in these cheesy, incredibly racist old westerns. As the water dripped from strands of her and into her eyes, she found herself smiling a bit. He was as beaten as she was, he, the murderer of her family. The clock would soon ring high noon and this story would finally– Someone knocked at the door and Leslie froze up instantly, unable to contain the high pitched yelp that escaped from her mouth. Thrown back into reality, her spirits were downed almost instantly. Su was back, she knew, and that made it so much harder to escape the why. Everything that could've gone wrong today did so and now she had decided to play pretend instead of drying herself. The puddle on the ground was more than noticeable. That, the still remaining pain, and the suddenness of the knocking all came together and Leslie quickly found tears in her eyes again. Fuck! Are you kidding me? She thought. Stop crying! The whole bloody world seemed to have it out for her, but still, would keeping quiet help? Would crying? Leslie didn't know an answer and she doubted there was anyone who would've. And, in the end, did it matter? With all the trouble she brought into a stranger's home, she shouldn't cry and feel sorry for herself. Whatever would happen next, she needed to accept it. Everything hurt, yes, but Leslie decided to answer anyway. “Yeah?” she asked, trying to keep her sobs at bay. The red girl's face came through the door. “Is it okay if I come in?” she asked. Leslie almost wanted to answer, to tell her no, but by then Su was already through the door and walking towards her, a smile plastered on her face and a pile of clothes in her hands. Quietly, Leslie grabbed onto the towel, holding it close. At least she was small enough that it hid everything important from sight. Su didn't seem to notice her fretting as her attention was immediately drawn to the girl's face. Leslie couldn't stand her eyes locked on to her like that, so she turned her gaze away. Suqi's smile turned into a bit of a frown, if only for a split second. “Still some tears left, eh?” Suqi said as she stopped. “Well, I don't know if it'll make you feel any better, I got something for you.” Her looked down as she lifted the pile a bit and Leslie allowed her own attention to shift. Atop the bunch, there lay something that caught it immediately. Small and fluffy it looked, with colorful images making it look that much more charming. It was a strange thought, but at that moment she remembered a story, or maybe a lot of them, where the protagonist would scream and cry and tell whoever offered them diapers that they didn't need them, despite clear evidence to the contrary, or the author's wish for them to end up in them anyway. Some ended in spankings, some with them trying to fight but failing. Few did more creative things, like simple acceptance or coming up with clever bargains, faustish deals that only furthered the protagonist's road downhill. Looking at this thing being held down to her level, it made her think that maybe she should've felt some dread, the weight of a failure pulling her down. Yet, now that she saw the diaper, it was that familiar sense of safety that moved through her instead of the creeping cold. Rick had never given her this, the comfort of somebody else knowing what was good for you, the bit of a smile on their face, as if to tell their charge I know that you need this, and I know that you know. And who would rebel at wearing such a cute thing? Colorful flowers were spread across its front, with smiling bugs and bees all around them. It wasn't quite a baby's diaper, but certainly none of those pull-ups one might've thought more mature. This was it, the thing she wanted, no, needed. A smile grew on her face and, maybe despite herself, the little one whispered; “Thank you.” Su was taken aback by a minute, not having expected this reaction. “Welp,” she said as she put the clothes to the side. “Looks like somebody's got enough of walking around with their mess dripping all over the floor. Though I do have to ask, if you're this happy about wearing them, why ever bother going about without them?” The comment, though deserved, made her blush with hellish fury and she doubted that she could lift her head ever again in Su's presence. And even following the question, all she could do was bite her lip in thought. “I,” she started, stumbled over her own words. Su put her hand on her shoulder. It was by no means a giant's hand. Su could've only been about five foot five, yet to Leslie, it felt so huge and protective. One glance at Su's face made her hopeful that the girl wouldn't just kick her out after all this was done. “I just wanted to impress mommy,” she said, trying for an awkward smile. There was a pause. Su sighed. “Shit, Lee, disabilities don't go away because you want to impress your parents. If you wore a prosthetic leg, you couldn't just take it off and pretend you still had two legs. I mean, you could, but it would go about as well as the,” she looked to the door, probably thinking about how much a new couch would cost, “… trip you just made. And to make sure you understand my point, I'm gonna get you clean, dressed up and then we'll go to your mom and you can see why the bible talks about sowing rain and reaping thunder.” As she heard that, her eyes went wide and she shook her head. Nobody was home, and that was something she really didn't need anybody to know. And what if Asad saw the clothes? What if anybody on the outside did? She wanted to protest, but Su immediately put a finger to her mouth. “I know what's coming, and I'm telling you, right now, punishment isn't supposed to be a feels-good kind of thing. I'm gonna get you all dry, then I'll help you with the diaper, the clothing, everything. You'll look as proper as you can, then we go to your place, and I'll explain the situation, from how she can reach the parents of the kids that beat you up to why you're wearing boy's clothes now. Keeping my couch and floor in mind, you'll just accept my being nice and be a good little girl. Alright, Leslie Junior?” There it was and as she heard her name spoken in such a patronising way, or at least that's how she interpreted it, she couldn't help but nod through her blush patches. Su smiled, reached for the towel and pulled it off the girl, who, even revealed before the teen, barely moved. As she was scrubbed from head to toe she couldn't help but look a bit more at Su. This girl was a strange one, previously she'd grabbed a knife pointed at her without flinching, one that had, with a sigh and pause, been able to work with somebody who'd turned out to only be continent in pretend, apparently and still managed to look unnaturally nice for a teenager. On the other side, Leslie found herself only ever moving when she needed to help. Lifting an arm, a leg, she found out that she was more ticklish than before, but even the laughter whenever Su hit one of her spots she tried her best to contain. All in all, she did try to be a good little girl, as Su had called it previously. It didn't take much, but Leslie still find herself smiling at the perceived irony. God fucking dammit. I always thought I'd be more of a brat, she thought. In spite of that thought, she was quite happy, despite the circumstances, to have somebody fawning over her. After a minute or so, Su was finally done and looked at her work. “Alright, no more puddles from you,” she stated before muttering under her breath, “I hope.” She took Leslie by the hand, the clothes in another. Wondering where this would go, Leslie allowed it to happen. She was, of course, buck naked, yet had to admit that she only cared so much about it after being seen in what had to be the worst state she'd been in since forever. It helped that Su's apartment was far better heated than her own, yet the way Su hurried made her less able to appreciate it. Then again, Su thought her incontinent. They entered the girl's own room, which, of course, wasn't half as plain as Leslie's. No, whereas she always woke to the same boring, downright annoying sight of nothingness, Su had plastered posters of animals on her walls, paintings of inuit mythology and maps of the most northern edges of America. There was a shelf filled with books about all kinds of subjects, from a beginner's guide to the french language to a book concerning the livelihood of, of all beings, kiwis. Atop one shelf there was a collection of tin figures that looked straight out of the Nineteen-hundreds and a few photos that were presumably pulled straight from Su's phone. As they stepped into the room, Leslie could make out quite a few selfies, what appeared to be friends and the like only ever stayed in the background. Su spread the diaper out on the bed. “Alright, haven't done this in a while, but don't worry, it's probably like riding a bike. How 'bout you lie down on that thing?” She almost wanted to argue that it would be easier done standing, but, truth was, she had no clue whether that was true. After all, a voice whispered in her ear, she was a kid, she needed the help, needed someone to tell her how to get it right. It was an annoying whisper, but even the parts of her that knew it to be a lie didn't argue, not this time. Right now, she felt the butterflies in her tummy rile up anyway, so she didn't want to ruin this moment. She stepped towards the bed, noticed a stuffed penguin looking at her from behind a carrotesque nose. As she sat down on the bed, one of her hands grabbed it and, lying down, she took a good long look at it. The feeling of the diaper was familiar, but as she stared into the penguin's friendly face she pretty much rationalized that she didn't want to focus on it, on the process that was about to happen. No, she looked at the penguin, bit down on her lip and hoped Su would start soon. Which she did, luckily. Su felt the diaper being pulled up instantly, no glamor, no cream, no anything. Still, her hands were shaking. “That penguin I got in Nuremberg,” Su said as her hands went down by Leslie's left side. “Love the city, love the Lebkuchen.” “The what now?” “It's what the city's famous for, it's, erm, gingerbread. Yeah, gingerbread, ever ate gingerbread?” Leslie nodded. “Well, you probably never had some from Nuremberg, it's the best. I might just get you some down the road, one day in the future. Personal opinion, but all sweets pale in comparison. And I've been to some fine cafés in france.” “Were you on a trip through europe?” Leslie asked, curiously. A slight tremble went through her as she felt the first tape come shut. “Not all of it, just the majority of the western ones. We went from Portugal to Spain, France, Netherlands, Germany and our final halt was in Poland. Every country with its own history and culture. As fun as it was though, I'm never gonna leave home again.” Su laughed. “Why?” “You could give me a life of a thousand years and I would still tell you that,” she leant over to look directly into Leslie's eyes, “bus rides across a continent take for-fucking-ever. Now,” the second tape came shut, “That's it. Luke's about your size, his parents swear on these, so, unless you forget to change 'em, you'll be fine and dandy.” As Leslie wanted to get up, Su winked at her, as if to give her a sign. What she wanted to tell her, Leslie couldn't imagine, at least until the fingers went down on both her sides. Before she even realized what was happening Su was already tickling away, leaving her to break out in laughter. It was for but a second, before the older girl stopped. “I wasn't even moving my fingers and you're already dying, huh?” She shook her head and took up an undershirt. A long-sleeved one, white and boring to look at. Leslie just shifted her gaze between Suqi and the garment, not sure how to handle this. “Come on, up, up,” Su told her and, after rising, Leslie lifted her arms. What followed was essentially Suqi dressing her up, no questions asked. Maybe she didn't want to strain the younger girl, maybe she just wanted to get it done. The smile seemed kind and honest, but Leslie remembered Clara smiling like that once upon a time, and that left her with goosebumps running up her back. Nevertheless, the rest of the clothing fit her to a tee, which made them even more amazing, even though the Transformers posing on the front of the red pullover made her think that Su got everything from that boy she mentioned. It seemed awfully kind of the parents to just hand their child's clothing out to Su, even if they knew her. Fairhills wasn't known for its warm community spirit, after all. The pants were thick cord dyed in a deep blue, but an old stain remained close to the crotch, telling of some food related incident the washing machine hadn't managed to clean, and the knees were worn, with the left one ready to soon tear open. There was a bit of a bulge, and the diaper could be seen when one lifted the shirt up a bit, but otherwise the only real way to notice her protective gear for now was the feel of it. All in all, as Leslie finally stood there, with all signs of the previous accident gone, she didn't really feel like crying over the bruises anymore. The pullover felt warm, the diaper snug. “Woah, girl, you actually rock those clothes,” Su commented with an approving nod. “You think?” the girl asked and twirled around. There was a moment where there was some movement on Su's face as she did that, but Leslie only caught a glimpse of it. The same old smile was on her savior's face as she finished her pirouette. “I don't really like transformers though,” she added then, looking at a picture of characters she only barely knew. One of them was called Optimus Prime, right? “Yeah? What do you like, then?” “Care bears,” she answered instantly, that being the first thing that came to her mind. Su raised an eyebrow at that, but then gave an understanding nod after a revelation visibly struck her. “Right, they made a new show recently. Gotta remember that cash cow exist to be molken.” That's awfully cynical of you, Leslie thought, tilting her head slightly. “What do you mean?” There was a bit of laughter. “Oh, it's an old franchise, that's all. Been around since before … I was born,” Su explained, though that wasn't really what Leslie had meant to question. “Either way, it's not quite up my alley.” “Why? It's super cute.” “Oh, I'm just more into adult movies. You know, the ones kids aren't allowed to watch.” Su told her. “Not that I'm endorsing it, if you're happy with care bears for now that's where you should stay, don't want to ruin your innocence even further, right?” There was an awkward pause in which Leslie decided to simply observe her savior. Su couldn't be more than sixteen years old, and nothing about this apartment told of somebody living with her. She scratched her chin as she giggled at herself and for a moment more, Leslie wondered who she was. In a strange way, this felt like her first day in Fairhills. She knew some of the faces around here, some names, some rumours, but looking at this girl and thinking back to those boys, Leslie was painfully aware of how little she knew about her own home. Cold and grey and uncaring, that's how she'd always thought of it, but now the other girl patted her on her head and told her that Transformers wasn't that bad, they even had some cool girl bots or whatever, and Starscream was fun in most incarnations. They held a conversation, a normal one at that, in which Leslie could actually unload some serious Care Bears trivia onto her friend. She'd once talked to Rick about it, who'd rolled his eyes and immediately drifted to a more “mature” topic, and once she attempted to regale Annie with her tales, but the kindergarten teacher had waved it off. Sharing which characters she liked, which episodes she thought were the best, what the funniest jokes were, it was an awesome feeling. And Su asked some questions, put some songs, old and new ones as well. The best part, Leslie singing loudly along must've looked less weird and more cute as Su quickly went to make a video of the red headed girl rocking out in the middle of her room. And the winter sun drifted towards the horizon, leaving her with a thought that it would end soon, and that it did. “It's getting late, Lee. I'll get you back home, the sooner we'll get it over with, the sooner we can move on. I might even show you around town a bit, then no boys'll try shit, right? Your mommy's probably worried about you, too.” Leslie felt herself stiffen at the suggestion, but knew that this was inevitable. After all, staying here, with the scene of the crime just a few steps away, wasn't something she could've done anyway. But going home sounded scary. “I can just call her and you can show me the city.” Su wordlessly produced a trashbag at that moment, which, quite frankly, smelled filthy. As she held in front of Leslie, the girl recoiled, but immediately knew what Su was trying to say. “I'd love to, kiddo. But if we're going to be friends, you're gonna fess up to your mom, and, I'm sorry to say that, but considering your condition, keeping you around without any spare, uhm, underwear, seems risky. For both us.” Leslie found herself blushing at the insinuation, but the honest truth was, even though her body was younger, she was still herself. The easiest way to phrase it was that both she and her muscles were more relaxed when she was diapered, which led to her having gone already. Knowing that and what had happened before, she found herself nodding in agreement. Both parties felt equally good about not having to argue with the other. Leslie was sure her mother wasn't at home, and maybe she could avoid Asad. Then, she could shake off Su at the door, wash the clothes, give them back to Asad, tell Su the next day that her mom had been really mad, but she would pay some money (an offer she hoped Su to decline, in all honesty). They could be friends, she would beat up those bully kids as revenge and ride off into the sunset on a pony. Perfection. She nodded to herself, snow falling on her face again. Su had helped her put the jacket and the boots on, which only made Leslie feel smaller than she already was. As Su put on her own jacket, Leslie decided to finally check on her phone, which had, luckily enough, survived every endeavor she'd been through. For a moment, she wondered whether she should access the site, but if it contained any more recaps of today's events in the same style as it did with her meeting with Clara, she doubted the phone would survive for much longer. So, instead, she decided to step out into the world. Now outside, she took one more look at the city. Fairhills looked cold and old in the evening light. One streetlight burned fiercer than the others, and on a corner another flickered while another one on the opposite side was broken. There were lights in some windows. A cat looked at the city with big eyes, intrigued by the outside world, a young man with a bald, tatooed head smoked a cigar as he sat on a windowsill. His grim eyes turned towards them and he broke into a toothy smile as he waved at the two of them. Leslie shifted around on her legs, inched slightly closer to Suqi. If the other girl wasn't here, she would've just run, but maybe the boys were still waiting around the corner. “Who's the littler lady with you, little lady?” The man asked aloud. “Someone new,” Su answered discreetly. He gave a hesitant nod, probably because he hadn't heard her. He was on the fourth floor of the building opposite to them and the snow muffled the sound pretty well. Su waved at him again, nonetheless and then patted her on the back. “Come on, let's get you home,” she said and Leslie, clutching both her shopping bag and the trashbag in one hand, grabbed Su's with the other. The way Su's hand wrapped around hers eased her unease a bit, yet she couldn't shake the feeling off that somebody was watching her, waiting for a moment of weakness. She stuck close to Suqi, when a car drove by she felt her heart skip a beat, when she heard a boy laughing, her grip tightened. After a while, Su let go of her hand and placed it on her shoulder instead, pulling her as close as she could. It slowed them down by quite a bit, but Su felt warm, and she had that unflinching smile of hers. So this was probably alright. The sun had already vanished behind the buildings and only a few rays still peaked out, dyeing the air in a fading orange. “Why are you so keen on helping me anyways?” Leslie asked her after a few moments. “You looked like you needed it. Wouldn't have thought it would be as much as you did, but I guess you're lucky, in a weird sort of way.” Leslie found herself biting her lip. “Am I?” Su exhaled, a cloud of air rising from her mouth as she did. “Do you know the story of the starstone that once fell on the center of the city?” “Mom told me.” “Well, there's a lot of stories about it, actually. One of the urban legends the kids still love to tell is that it was brought down to the earth by a wish.” Leslie's head immediately turned up towards Su. “What are you–“ She started, but immediately tripped over her own feet. Su, with the reflexes of a cat, immediately grasped her. “You gotta watch out, kitten, come on. Eyes up front.” Leslie nodded, and they continued on. “Anyway, what did you mean when you said it was brought down by a wish?” She asked after a few moments of quiet walking. Su looked at her queerly for a second, before shaking her head. “Aw, right. I forgot. Uhm, well, the thing is,” she thought for a moment. “There were multiple kids in this city back in the nineteen hundreds. Kids with a special friend who ensured that all their wishes would come true. And the starstone? It was brought down by one kid who was really, really angry at his parents. He wanted them smitten and that's what happened.” “That's horrifying.” “Well, the parents deserved it, which I should've probably told you before.” Su sighed. “Sorry, I'm horrible with stories.” Leslie nodded. “Looks like it.” “Right back to being cocky, eh?” Again, Leslie nodded, which Su answered by sighing yet again. A second later, both of them escaped a giggle. “Anyway, what I meant with the story is that sometimes, wishes might just come true in this town. Bad people can get punished, horrible experiences can turn out well and bad days can end up good, right?” “But if they had a special friend, wouldn't they be dead by now?” Su giggled. “If it can grant wishes, I doubt it would age like humans do. It's more of a benign spirit, I think. Not that it matters, it's a story about hope and about luck. Good things can happen and sometimes they happen especially when everything looks bleak.” “But were they the only one who got their wishes granted?” Leslie interrupted, not even listening to Suqi attempting to be inspiring. “You're really hung up on the details, you know that? I mean, well,” she thought for a bit, “there's a few urban legends about wishes when you keep your ears close to them. Maybe enough to fill a book. Some say the Moore family's riches come from such a wish. Uhm, the Moore's are big shots in this town, though they got little to do with us folks down here in Fairhills.” Leslie suddenly stopped, more aware of the mobile phone in her pocket than before. The sky was grey and cloudy and the snow would not let up. Her eyes turned to Su, and for a moment she wondered. “If the stories were true, Su, who do you think would get a wish?” The girl looked at her, a wry smile growing on her face. “Piqued your interest, huh? Well, if I were to decide people whose wishes needed to be answered, I'd go for those with character, those who'd use them for the greater good. But, since powers in these fantasies are more fickle, I think,” the smile faded from her face and Su looked up at the sky. “I think the closest possible answer would be that a person needs it, whether they know it or not. A child starving of hunger, maybe, an old man on death's edge who has done nothing but wrong and needs a second chance, maybe a woman who never got to live life to the fullest.” Leslie nodded. “Someone who has something specific they need, then? Like,” she thought of Annie, of Rick, of herself, “a shot at life?” Su nodded. “I guess that's a way to phrase it. You don't find many starving people here, after all.” “Su?” “Yeah, kiddo?” “If you had a wish–“ Su put her hand up. “Don't even continue that. I don't need any wishes. I've got everything I need, alright. Now let's get going, my hands are getting cold.” She moved on, pulling Leslie after her. Leslie, who now thought of Clara. Why would a monster like her deserve getting her wishes fulfilled? She'd probably never done a good thing in her life, only lied and deceived. She was a witch, a siren, nothing that deserved any kind of power. “Do you think bad people could get their hands on such a friend?” Leslie asked as they walked along a familiar road and her home came into sight. Two people stood in front of it, talked. Suqi didn't answer immediately, but turned her head slightly, just to catch a glimpse at Leslie. Her face was cold as stone. “Why would you ask that?” For a moment she didn't want to say anything, for fear that the girl would laugh at her, but another part of her urged her onwards. “Is it possible to get powers with the wish?” Then Suqi stopped, completely turning towards Leslie. Her smile was gone, a frown was on her face. For a moment there was a silence between them, only broken by the sound of a distant train, muffled by the snowfall that grew ever heavier. “What did you see?” Suqi asked. She wanted to ask the same question back, wanted to ask how Suqi knew about the wishes. She caught a knife by the blade and didn't bleed, you dummy, Leslie thought. Her eyes turned downwards, however, and she wanted to do nothing more but sink into the ground. Leslie wondered why she even brought this attention on to herself. She found a spider crawling down her spine, its legs digging into her skin, into her nerves. It was the cold again, like before, a cold that burned like a fire. She bit her lip and the taste of iron hit her tongue, and a tear ran down her face again. She felt Su's hand on her shoulder and looked up again. The girl was kneeling in front of her, her expression softened again. “You can tell me, Leslie,” she told her, her voice so soft and enticing. “You don't need to be afraid.” There was blood on her lip, she felt it grow cold in the open air. Leslie shook her head. “They're just legends, right? That's really all they are.” The snow was cold, Su smiled softly. “You know, you're new in town, so you don't know a lot about this place. It's distant and grey during the day, cold and horrifying at night. But in the dawn and twilight hours of the day, there are colors here you see nowhere else. We got stories stranger than mythology, of meteors, of children jumping through pictures and stories, of demented growing normal once more, of wolves that learned to walk among men and people living the lives they always wanted to live, just as we got stories of dark beasts in the shape of people, criminals that during firefights never got hit by a single bullet and people going missing with no evidence ever left behind. When you keep your eye close to the playgrounds, some children sing the songs and tell the tales, and their parents do so as well, and their parents too. Nobody believes them, of course, but in this place, well, I think wishes can come true for those who really want them to.” “How do you know that?” The wind picked up, howling through the alleys. “If I tell you, are you going to tell me what you saw?” Suqi asked and Leslie nodded, completely caught of guard by the red girl. She paused for a moment, thinking about how to say what she wanted to say, then sighed. “Well, the best way to describe it would be–“ “If it isn't the little kitten from this morning,” a voice interrupted her and the hairs on Leslie's back rose up as she turned towards her house, to the person approaching. Clara smiled her same, cruel smile. “Did you make a new friend?” Leslie didn't know how to react, so she just grabbed Suqi's hand and started running.
  7. Glad you're enjoying my tale. I'm basically trying to post 1 chapter per day right now, as I've already written 8 chapters, so it'll slow down a lot from tomorrow onwards. As for your points, TV Kilgrave opened my eyes to the horror of a limited version of mind control, so he definitely served as an inspiration for Clara. Anyway, I wanted to write a story wherein people get the chance to have their dearest wishes fulfilled, and centered it around the one person who used it to make her AB-lifestyle a reality, while other people wish for ways to get more power, or actual superpowers, or to have some advantages that makes them enable a better life for everyone. I'm really enjoying digging into the meat the premise presents, although considering how messed up a villain Clara is, I still don't really have a grasp on how dark this story'll go. Welp, that's for future me to worry about.
  8. Chapter 7 Downside Up Cracks ran through the window while the wind whistled through the hole at the center, one that was only covered by a piece of cardboard ever so lightly. The cold permeated the air, she felt down to her bones. Her teeth chittered and she hugged herself. As Su put the gel pack to her cheek she winced instinctively. The teenager looked up to Leslie, as she was kneeling before the younger girl. Su tried to smile as encouragingly as she could, yet Leslie found herself not strong enough to react. “At least it dulls the pain, right?” She ended most of her sentences in a question. Her first reaction after she'd gotten Leslie into the bathroom was to stand there and stare at the child in front of her, utterly at a loss at what she should do. Leslie mustn't have made it any easier, as through out the whole process of being bandaged up, she never managed to stop herself from crying. Where shoes had kicked her the bruises burned. Her stomach, her arms and legs, her face, even the pitiful remains of her pride, she felt like every single piece of her was broken apart now. Biting her lip slightly, feeling the burn of it too, she turned her eyes to the mirror in front of her, where a reflection stared back at her miserably. Paper towelettes were shoved up her nose, dyed in a dark red tone that implicated that the bleeding still had not stopped. She only felt a light pain to it, but that did not help matters at all. Aside from that, it was clear where the boot had come down on her cheek. The shirt Asad'd borrowed her was torn at the right sleeve, another wound bleeding on it. The sight just added to her want to cry once more. Aside from her name and some well-meaning comments, Su had given her very little information about herself. Looking at her without someone else threatening her, Su looked more distinctive than Leslie had originally thought. Her black hair she wore in a loose braid that hung from the shoulder and the dress she wore had long, slightly puffed sleeves. Well, aside from that, Leslie noticed easily how the girl's skin looked. There were no signs of acne, no scars, no anything. Even where she grabbed the knife there was no cut. It was the sort of skin most people would envy, so perfect it seemed. Leslie was more astounded by it than she would've loved to admit. She felt the gel pack press against her cheek again and once more she flinched as a stab of pain ran through. “On the plus side, they didn't break anything. So you'll be a-okay,” Su said with another awkward smile. Considering she was the first person today who wasn't cruel to her for cruelty's sake, that comment seemed more like a vile jape than friendly banter. Yet Leslie wasn't really feeling like shedding another tear. Lowering her eyes didn't help the matters. Not only were the wounds and bruises hurting, but red drops were splattered across the front of her shirt and the whole of her side was covered in dirt. Added to that, she felt a pressure buidling up inside of her. It made her at least proud that she didn't have any sorts of accidents throughout the whole ordeal, but dreaded the things to come. She breathed heavily, another sob escaped her. Her throat still hurt from all the crying she'd done until a few moments ago. “I fucked up,” she muttered quietly. “I really fucked up.” She felt like crying again, because by god, she shouldn't have left her home today. Yet, even though she kind of wanted to, her body seemed to have spent most its energy and all that remained was that sort of hollow feeling that didn't even blur out the pain. Her lips were quivering, still. “It's not your fault, kitten. Lars and his cohorts are just asshats who like to pick on kids who are littler than they,” Su answered, still holding the gel pack wrapped in a towel in her hand. It was clear to Leslie that she wanted to cheer her up a bit, but that didn't change the fact that Su was wrong. After all, wasn't all of this Leslie's fault? She had been the one who decided to go to the mall, to be at that toilet. She was the one who hadn't simply run away, the one who decided to follow and the one who insulted that boy. A shiver ran down her body, her sight got blurry, she felt herself shrink together. One second like that, the cold of snow and dirt still clinging to her, reminding her of just how horrible a day this had been. Arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders and hands started to stroke her back gently. “it's okay,” Su whispered into Leslie's ear. The warmth of her body broke through the cold she felt ike the usn's light through a cloudy sky. For the first second, the strange, unfamiliar sensation left Leslie almost in shock, with her first instinct to move backwards, to create some distance. Su held her close, however, and slowly but surely she was allowing herself to sink more and more into the hug. If she was being honest, it was weird having this sort of hug done by a younger person, one who tried to calm her, to make her feel safe. Yet the arms wrapped so easily around her and felt like they were a pretty good shield from whatever pain she did feel. “There, there,” Su said after a few moments and Leslie had to admit that having someone rub your back the way she did was extraordinarily calming. Even as Su opened her arms, Leslie, for some odd reason, remained close to her chest, eyes closed, sniffling pathetically. They remained like that for a moment, before Su decided to put one arm around her again and the other on her head, patting it. “Someone's quite affectionate, huh?” Su asked and Leslie found herself nodding. She wasn't quite sure why she got close to Su, but heavens, did she need the warmth right now. In all honesty, this must've been how changelings in My Little Pony felt when they fed on the love of others. It was so rejuvenating, so sublime. That the cloth of Su's dress felt quite comfortable too only added to her need to stay close to the teenager. This was a better feeling than originally anticipated. “Thank you,” Leslie whispered. “Wow, so you can make sounds other than 'uwaa', who'd have guessed?” Su answered lightly. Leslie found herself giggling at that and looked up at Su with a hint of a smile. The teenager's brown eyes looked at her and she seemed to find some joy in seeing this stranger she nursed in a better mood. “Alright, kitten, now that we know that you can speak human, can you tell me your name?” Kitten, that was Su's nickname for her, but she didn't deliver it with the same condescendence Clara had brought to hers, Su made it sound loving, caring. Leslie hadn't known there'd been this nice a kid in this block, but then again, she hadn't really cared much for the people of Fairhills for the past few years. Yet she wasn't sure whether Su knew about her, whether she was more sociable than her. As fingers ran through her hair, she knew that she needed to not say her real name. “Lee,” she answered after a moment of thought. Su nodded. “'Kay, Lee, do you have a family name too?” That made her stutter. “Aude–, I mean King.” Su squinted her eyes at that and Leslie attempt to dissuade any suspicions with a sheepish smile. “You don't look like any of the Kings I know, though,” Su told her after a moment. “That's because girls can't be kings,” was the answer, though Leslie immediately regretted it. She didn't need to antagonize the one nice person here. She'd read enough stories to know where a glib tongue could end you. “Wow, not only can she cry, hug like a champ and talk, no, she's also a smartass. You're full of surprises, aren't you, kitten?” Su asked bemused. It was a good reaction, Leslie thought behind her own smile, especially because Su used the chance to ruffle her mane. Su really wasn't a bad person it seemed. Thinking that, Leslie found herself moving. Throwing her own arms around Su’s back, she pressed her face against the teen’s chest. The warmth was unfamiliar, the smell sort of too, but it was all a good kind. It'd been too long since she allowed herself to get this close to somebody, maybe the first time she allowed herself to just do so with a kind stranger. Su didn't say anything about that, Leslie just noticed that she kept her arms around the younger girl. Neither did she see her face, yet a feeling of safety abound within her. “You really don’t want to let go, huh?” Su asked. Leslie nodded. “Well, I guess after all that you deserve all the cuddles you can get, kitten.” Leslie found a dumb smile plastered on her face and then, as the last bit of adrenaline faded from her body, exhaustion kicked in and her consciousness grew dim. Exactly what happened, she didn't know. It was like one second she was awake and then, the next, her consciousness alarmed her that she was somewhere else. The first thing that she noticed, the one that made her return from sleep, was a sort of unbearable pressure in her abdomen. It was the sort of pressure every person was familiar with and Leslie shifted where she lay. As she did, the padding hugging her so tightly served as a reminder she had trained herself to accept over quite a few years. Knowing the pressure, knowing that she was safe, she decided to just let go. It was not a conscious decision, but something she'd made her own over the years. It was a choice that left her feeling the area around her crotch growing wet and warm. She moved her body a bit, felt the pressure relenting, the diaper filling up with more than just urine. For a moment, she felt the release, for a moment she smiled. Then, as her consciousness returned to the world of the waking she realised that the warmth was overflowing, dripping through the safety of what should've kept it in and spreading across her backside, the clothing and what was underneath. It was at that moment the memory of where she dared to nod off returned. Immediately her eyes flung open. She stared at a pendant lamp that clearly didn't belong to her apartment. Reality hadn't changed to what it once was or changed at all. She felt her arms, the bruises and a bandage around her arm. She knew, just by moving her toes, that she was still stuck in the very same body she wished for the day before. Without ascertaining where she was, she already knew one thing however. Whatever the consequences were, they would swallow her whole. She lay on her back, covered by a black blanket donned with rebellious slang words of decades past, spread on a sofa that looked not only old, but kind of venerable. Leslie didn't know the style, yet would've guessed it somewhere from the first half of the twentieth century. And, considering the warm wetness around her thighs and back, and from the feeling of a warm mass spread across her behind she'd done more than simply ruin it. And, as she lifted the blanket, she also found that Asad wouldn't be too happy with how she treated his gifts. She stared at herself for a moment, still, wondering whether this was really happening. Then, she heard a door opening and turned to the left, where she spotted Su coming in with a light a smile. “Hey, kitten,” she said, yet Leslie only stared at her with an expression as blank as her mind. There she was, wet and soiled, beaten and bloody, which she might've probably all managed to work around, or so she could've told herself. But the fact was, because reality hadn't changed and everything was as before she'd been beaten down by those boys, Clara was also a person she'd met and the truth that shouldn't be still counted for her. She couldn't get out of this mess, not by herself and honestly, she doubted Su would do anything but throw her out of the door considering how she'd woken up. “Hey,” she said unsure, hugging the blanket closely, wondering what she should do. Then the girl in the pink dress came one step closer, then another and Leslie still tried to smile, tried to keep up the facade while her mind raced for answers how to get out of this one. Yet it seemed like certain death coming ever closer. One moment passed, then another. Her eyes focused on her surroundings, her mind struggled to find something for help. There was a bookshelf, with the actual books hiding behind dozens of pictures. The walls were plastered with memories, with photos and paintings of places and people Leslie didn't know and in the distance, the smell of curry chicken lingered fresh. Nothing of value, nothing she could use. Then Su stopped, her smile dropped, she sniffed something. Leslie thought of her wish, thought of a thousand stories she read, a thousand outcomes to this whole spiel and came to the realization that the universe really did hate her guts. “What the–“ Su started, but as soon as the girl in front of her started crying once again she probably realized that helping Leslie was the biggest mistake she made in her life. For a moment, she lingered and looked at Leslie, not quite understanding that what she thought had occurred actually did, and then, as the truth finally began to sink in she turned around for a second, then back, took a bit of a breath, whispered something to herself. Her steps were quicker, but she tried not to look too hectic as she went to the couch by the wall of her living room. There, before Leslie, she seemed to falter for a moment, as the stink gave her final proof of her suspicion. “Hey,” she said and her fingers brushed against Leslie's cheek. “I know it still hurts, but you'll get better, okay?” The girl in pink tried to smile, looked down and made a grab for the blanket, which Leslie still held close. The part Su grabbed however, was more to the side and she still could lift enough of it to see what had transpired. She raised an eyebrow at the mess and turned to Leslie again, who refused to do anything but cry. “It's fine, kitten,” Su started again, after a moment of contemplation. “I would've advised for a shower anyways.” As no reaction came, Su struggled to smile and rolled her eyes. “Come on, get up. We both know you need to take a shower now.” “I don't,” came a meek answer from the girl, who didn't even convince herself with that answer. “Yes, yes you do. Or do you want to sit in your excrements?” “I'm not sitting in my own–“ “Lee King,” Su said, attempting to sound authoritative, but the amused smile on her face almost ruined that, “you really should get a shower, because I can’t have you in my space, like, messy. So, if you don’t take a shower, I might just have to throw you out. And kitten, in a town like this, children like Lars are gonna swallow you whole if you walk about with poor body hygiene.” Leslie looked at her, how she tried to look serious. Whether she truly was, however, was up for debate. For a second, Leslie didn’t answer. For a second, neither said anything, at least until Su spoke up again. “Plus, if you go into the shower I'm not gonna say anything my sofa or do anything because of it, right?” That was a more tempting offer than anything Leslie's mind had conjured up and she nodded, relieved at how Su took a diplomatic approach. Nevertheless, as she got up and lifted the blanket off herself, she truly did notice how much of a mess she'd made. The sofa beneath her was soaked and she felt the mess press against her back in a most uncomfortable manner, and the moment the blanket was gone, the smell of it filled the air. Su, who'd been quite happy about Leslie calming down, blinked at it and smiled at Leslie. “Well, smells like somebody really needed to go potty, eh?” The truth was, Leslie was flushed already and this only made it worse. Her eyes turned to the ground and she was unsure on what to say, but Su quickly put her hand against her back and pushed her up and forward. “No dilly-dallying, you need to take a shower, kitten,” she said as she looked at Leslie's back, “more so than you think.” With a hand to her back, Leslie was led to the bathroom despite her zombie-esque gait. She felt herself shivering again as she took her steps across the floor. The mess pressed against her bottom and the way it reeked made her flush a deep red. Conscious thought returned to Leslie, wondering why she’d gone and done that. Now that Su had helped her, treated her wounds and attempted to comfort her, what was the thanks she got? She felt tears welling up again. If this was her true path, she figured jumping out of the window would hopefully make for a quick conclusion. “Hey now,” Su told her from behind, “there’s no need to worry, everything’s gonna be fine.” “I didn’t mean to,” she answered dumbly, her eyes drifting downwards. Su sighed heavily as she opened the door to the bathroom. “And here I thought you took playing pretend really seriously.” They halted in the middle of the room and Su walked up in front of her, a bit of a smile on her face. Leslie only looked at her with a raised brow, wondering what she meant. “It’s funny because cats like to fall asleep being close to their owners and also mark their territory with urine and you’re a little kitten in a new territory,” the girl told her sagely. “That’s not very funny, “ Leslie said, making more of a pout than she intended. Su shrugged. “Sometimes you gotta have humor, kitten. So now, let’s get you out of those messy clothes and into the shower, humorously. So, arms up, kitten.” She hesitated, wondering whether she should accept the help. Yet, the moment she even started to contemplate, thoughts of Clara came up in her mind and it appeared more and more that it wasn’t even a question. How else would a kid like her get out of these clothes if not with help? Her arms went up and Su slipped off both the shirt and undershirt. “Mom’s neighbour leant them to me,” she told Su the moment the air grew cold as ice and the older girl threw the shirt into the corner of the room without a care. “Really? I was wondering why your entire garderobe was made for giants,” Su answered. “I liked the colors,” Leslie told her, attempting a smile, but found her teeth chittering instead. Su sighed. “Well, they do look rather nice on you.” “Yeah, I look perfect with a little brown on me.” “Blergh,” Su told her eloquently. “I know your situation’s a bit shitty right now–no pun intended–but you shouldn’t take everything so badly, we’ll have this mess fixed up in a second. We just gotta take those silly pants off and then you’re good to go.” Leslie nodded, but the moment she felt arms tug at her waist her eyes became wide. The pants slid down and Su got a good look at the pull-ups Leslie wore. She gaped, struggled for words, but it was Su who spoke up immediately. “These make it look like this isn’t a usual problem for you, Lee,” she said with a bit of curiosity in her tone. Her mouth opened and then closed itself again, much like that of a goldfish who tried to figure out what glass was and why another goldfish was mouthing it off on the other side of it. “I–” she said, but her thoughts were more along the lines of; Shit! Shit! Shit! Su looked at her, she knew. In all honesty, if Su had thought her completely incontinent until this point, this probably raised a flag. And that needed to be rectified, so her mind struggled to find the words. “I,” she started again and then it clicked. “I … It’s a bit of a usual problem,” she answered, conjuring up what guilt she felt over this debacle to add some credence to the words. “A bit?” Su answered, the annoyance dripping from her tongue. A slow nod came as answer and she looked up at Su, who frowned at her. “I–,” Leslie started, but then her mind went blank again. It was getting a bit warmer now, she almost felt like sweating. Su however, didn’t look quite as receptive to her as one moment ago. “Alright, Lee,” she said, “if that’s true. Why would you get pull-ups. They’re not meant for number twos, if that wasn’t obvious.” Leslie blushed and looked down again. She knew that, obviously she did and if she hadn’t met that dumb bitch of a witch who enjoyed torturing little children and kicking puppies this wouldn’t even be a situation right at that moment. Eyes on her feet she noticed once more how tiny they were, she almost hoped she was younger than ten, ever smaller, ever more in need of help. So wouldn’t a child want to be bigger? She suddenly found herself asking. It was a strange sort of question that popped out of nowhere, yet it gave her the answer she needed, the material from which she could spin her tale. With an awkward motion of her arms, she found herself looking at the pull-ups. They were leaking everything and the bit of padding she felt seemed close to inappropriate for her. In a weird way, it felt almost right that she should be chided for this. Well, it was definitely right, yet she needed to tell her tale and pretend to be this kid she’d invented on the spur of the moment. “They’re for babies, though,” came out the answer, the words only as loud as a whisper. “You thought what now?” “Diapers are for babies and I’m not a baby anymore and I wanted to wear panties and make mom proud so she wouldn’t kick me out.” The words came out without a breath between them. A cold sensation ran up her spine, like a spider that dug its legs into her skin. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t pleasant at all. “I can do fine without them.” She paused, found her teeth chittering, her lips quivering. “I wet them at the mall.” There was a moment, Lee found herself close to tears again, only to be stopped when Su embraced her again. “Sheesh, kid,” she said as Lee smelled her body odor. It was a thousand scents combined to one and it should’ve been more unfamiliar than it was, yet Leslie felt safe in the embrace. “First up, if you needed them until this day, it’s not as easy as wearing panties. Secondly, if you do more than wetting your pants, well … Don’t. Buy. Pull. Ups. You’ll ruin couches and floors and all your neighbour’s clothing. Alright?” She smiled at Lee. It was an infectious sort of smile, honest and uncaring of the horridness she just saw. It made the child wonder whether this was the first time Su had to deal with a situation just like this, though she doubted it. If the kids in this district were all like Mike, she doubted any of them were incontinent or whatever. “Alright, now let’s get this dumb thing off, I doubt you’re comfy like this, right?” Su asked, looking down and then at Lee again. It took one moment before she went on her knees. Her hands were trembling a bit, more so than she wanted to show the girl, but her face was a mask of stone. She tore the sides of the pants open and made a face as the smell hit the room. “Looks like somebody had a healthy breakfast,” she said, a joke that was clearly more for herself than Lee, who nonetheless giggled despite her own blushing and the cold. Su looked up at her. “A giggling girl’s better than a crying one, at least. Come on, hop into the shower. You need help with that, too?” Lee attempted to cover herself a bit more, but shook her head. A shower she could work, that wasn’t as complicated as zippers and sleeves and shoes. Now those were hard for a child like her. She tiptoed into the shower as carefully as she could. “And don’t worry about the shower gel,” Su said as she threw the garment into the bin and then took out the garbage bag, “just because it’s for adults doesn’t mean it’ll melt little kids.” “I’m not a little kid, though,” Lee answered, awfully aware of the position she was in. “Which is why I can pick you up with one arm. But sure, you’re biggest kid I know,” Su answered after she was done rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna have a look around the building whether I can find some other clothing for you and some underwear that’s a bit safer, maybe the Connor’s have something.” Lee looked at her. “But I can’t wear dia–” “Well, if you wear them anyways, just consider it cautionary. And if you wanna be an adult, you gotta learn to be cautionary, so take a shower and I’ll find the most mature incontinence briefs this side of the ocean for you. And some clean pants to hide them.” The girl in red left with those words, a smile on her face that was probably meant to be encouraging. It wasn’t really, but considering her butt was as messy as a garbage pail, Lee didn’t feel like arguing right now. An early shower would help her clear her mind and so she made a grab for the knob to turn on the water. It rushed down her spine as cold as ice and made her grit her teeth. It would take a while to become much warmer and she wanted to get the dirt off as quickly as she could. Before she began cleaning herself, Lee found herself longing for at least some foaming shower gel. That would be a bit more fun at least. Thinking that, she opened her mouth and whispered into the quiet, “Lee King.” There was nothing to that name, an old flame that had spent more time with other girls and boys than with her. Thinking back on what a guy Robert was, he’d tried to get rid of a daughter the moment she couldn’t net him any dates. “Leslie Audet Junior,” she said, a bit louder. She was more happy with that and the suffix made her name taste of sugar and not ashes. She didn’t hear it over the water, didn’t see it because she was too focused on the cold, but Su finally closed the door, half-worried about what poor sod of a child she’d gotten herself involved with. Maybe, just maybe, she could brighten her day up a little.
  9. Chapter 6 Red Paint On A White Canvas Fuck this, fuck Clara and fuck this fucking fuck! Fuck! Leslie sprinted past every person in the mall, the words Clara had whispered still resounding in her ear. They carried a weight with them, in such a way that they seemed irrefutable for her mind. I tried to be that bitch's friend, Leslie thought, eyes low, fists trembling. Why did I ever? She wasted another fifty cents just to have the privilege of using the public bathroom. Why do I even need to pay for my fucking needs? she wondered as her teeth ground against each other. Maybe she should've been thankful for the chance of privacy, but to Leslie, it didn't feel worthwhile. As she entered the room she looked at the faceless mass of women and girls waiting in a neatly line for their chance to do whatever they'd come here for. Leslie mouthed a silent curse as she stepped towards the line, kept her eyes low and balled her fist. She noticed how her hands shook and as she finally stopped moving, she felt a pair of eyes watching her from afar. Shivering, she turned around, looked at the gateway she'd come through, only to find nobody behind her. Words resounded in her ear, a voice sharp as a knife, eyes that pierced through her like bullets. She's not here, Leslie told herself. She wouldn't do more. She wouldn't. As she turned to face forward once more, she catched a girl in the mirror. A small thing, her hair a mess, with puffy eyes and remnants of tears' tracks running down her cheeks. Leslie shook, the jacket wrapped up in her arms. She suddenly found herself shivering. Pulling herself into a hug, she kept her eyes low and waited. She heard a young girl ask her mother how long would take, that she needed to go; someone else wrote a message on their phone, giggling at whatever happened on the screen. Leslie found little comfort in her own arms, but she kept her breath steady, even though she didn't want to. There were no tears running down her cheek. I'm a grown-ass, fucking woman, I'm not going to cry in public. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Shoes stepped on the ground, clacking filled the room and the line begun to move, only to halt a second later. The girl in the mirror was shivering, her lips were trembling, but there would be no tears. She gulped down a lump in her throat, bit down on the trembling lip. I won't, Leslie told herself. Shoes stepped on the ground, clacking filled the room as they moved towards the line. Eyes were on her, grim and hateful and cursing her very existence. They were on her and the girl in the mirror stiffened. The steps halted right behind Leslie, but no words were spoke. Yet she knew that the woman was smiling. But Leslie wasn't trembling and she certainly wasn't going to cry. Her arms grasped at each other, her fingers dug into the fabric of the jacket, but she wasn't cold and this wasn't going to continue. Her lips moved as she tried to tell herself something, boost her confidence, but no words came out. Sweat ran down her brows, but the girl in the mirror, Leslie, she turned around, slowly, slightly. She would face her, no matter what would happen next. Blonde hair fell down the woman's shoulders, her nose was too small for her face and her eyes were fixed on the ceiling as she gave a silent curse at the woman's bathroom. A stranger to Leslie, whose bite loosened. She felt the pain on her lips, felt something swell up, warm and soft. As she licked it, it tasted like iron. The woman noticed the girl before her and tried to offer a smile, though hesitant and fake. Leslie immediately turned around, quick as she could. She licked the blood off her lip and cautiously eyed at the woman before her. Her back seemed huge and she made no motion to turn around. The one behind Leslie hadn't noticed the bit of blood or simply didn't inquire about it. Either worked for Leslie, who looked back at the ground, hugging herself and wondering. What would've Clara done to her if she hadn't wished herself younger? To that woman all she'd been was a child that happened to have the same red hair and the same freckles as Leslie Audet and that was all the reason she'd needed to. … She bit on the wound, only for the stab of pain to remind her of it. She heard somebody else enter, closed her eyes, hoped. Then the line began to move again, ever so slowly. As quiet as she could, Leslie moved stepped Second after second passed, the line moved again and so did the girl with it. The complaining kid finally got her stall, the woman with the cellphone nearly walked into an opening door. The white on the walls here was slightly stained, she noticed in the spur of a moment. A slight line of dirt above one of the mirrors, unnoticed by the cleaning personnel and the customers too. She decided to not notice it too and went on to finally do what she came here to do. As she took another step forward,as she was finally the one to get into the next free stall, the girl felt her stomach turn, felt how her legs turned weak. She wanted to turn around,to check whether Clara was there, but she couldn't draw attention to herself. She mumbled words of encouragement, told herself that she could do it, that it would go well. You're not scared of her, Leslie thought, while the cold struck at her again. You're not fucking scared of her! Finally, she got a stall of her own. The moment the door swung open she started moving, pushing herself past the girl that left she closed and locked the door in a heartbeat. Then she stood there for another second and the sounds around her sprung to a live she hadn't really noticed before. Someone was whispering a joke to the person in the stall next to her, who in return tried and failed to stifle a laugh; someone else used the roll of toilet paper in an excessively noisy way, and Leslie just remained by the door, leaning against and staring at a bowl of white, generic ceramic. There were some political stickers on the wall, proclaiming things that were denied by others, some even outright attacked people of varying schools of thought. Leslie looked at them, felt the blood trickling down her lip and chin. She looked, down, her arms hidden beneath the rolled up jacket, the bag grasped tightly in a hand that couldn't be seen. I look like an idiot, Leslie thought with a bitter smile. For a moment she remained like that, still, quiet, letting nothing get to her. Toilets were flushed, people moved and the cold clung to her like a parasite. For a moment, she stood there and looked at the stickers on the wall, not reading them, not seeing them. Her vision became blurry. Strange, Leslie thought, imagining the girl in the mirror, and closed her eyes. She choked up, but quickly pressed the jacket against her mouth. Soft fabric touched her lips and grey wool soaked up red blood, if only a drop or two. Tears ran down her cheeks only to end their tracks on the fabric. The girl without the mirror wanted nothing more than to scream, to fall on her knees, to be somewhere else. She bit her lip, even though the wound stung. She stood, even though her legs were jelly. She opened her eyes, and decided that she wouldn't lose. Leslie wiped the tears off her face and took a piece of paper from the roll to press against her lip, then she put both the jacket and the bag down. She took a step forward and lifted the lid to take a look at the water. The water was transparent and the inside the bowl was clean, not even a hint of urinary stone on its edges. Truthfully, it looked better than the one at Leslie's home. She clutched the jacket tightly, looked at this thing, this rotten piece of everyone's day-to-day life. I'm not afraid, right? she wondered, her hands shaking and her lip hurting. She can't do anything to me, right? She's not really capable of controlling my actions. She can't do anything, she can't just fucking screw with me. I'm still me. Her eyes wandered down again and stared at the pants she wore. They were boring, blue jeans whose most distinguishable feature was the absence of proper pockets, which were a luxury for women's clothing anyway. Asad leant it to me, dumb shit that I am, she thought, tried her hardest to remain quiet, tried to remain steady. Her hands, they did not seem to listen, shuddered as she wanted them to move. Her eyes were fixated on the zipper, her mind was focused on the pain, the blood and the sardonic smile Clara had given her. Just do it, she ordered herself and her fingers twitched and edged closer to the edge of her pants, slowly. All she needed to do was. … She bit her lip, harder than before. Blood trickled down her chin as she stared at her reflection in the water. Tears ran without end, she barely kept herself from making a noise. You can't be afraid. She can't control you. I can do this. I can! she told herself, repeating the lines in her head over and over again, all while staring at her pants. All she needed to do was. … Leslie couldn't remember. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… There she heard it, in the farthest depth of her mind, a voice sharp as a whip, reverberant with contempt, whispering to her a truth she didn't want to accept. Yet it was a fact, it was what she knew, nothing more. Her fingers trembled but she knew not what motions to make, what action to take. It was a truth in her head now, a truth that hadn't been there when Asad had given her the clothes, had trusted her with them. No, she thought, her eyes fixated on the pale and trembling hands of a child she saw in a mirror. One step back she took, her back hit the wall with a small thump. All the noise around her blurred out of existence as she stared at the toilet. "This has got to be a fucking joke," she mumbled to herself and grabbed the jacket. As it unrolled itself in her arms, she just stared at it for a moment and tried to figure out how to put it on, but her thoughts all ended in the same dead end. I can't do it. It was a statement she made with a conviction she didn't want to have. She was cold, she was alone, it was too quiet. What if Clara had finally come? What if she made her do all the things she threatened before. Leslie's heart hammered against her chest and sweat ran down her brows. Her lip quivered and more tears wanted to escape her eyes, but the girl tightened her fists and gulped down another lump in her throat. I need to leave, she told herself, but her legs were too weak to move. If she finds me she might figure me out. Her chest felt heavy and her eyes stared at the bag, the pair of panties she'd already ruined. I can't stay, Leslie Audet thought, or she's going to swallow me whole. She couldn't put the jacket on, not with the truth Clara had shared with her on her mind, but she threw the thing over her shoulders. If it couldn't serve as a proper jacket, it could at least offer some protection as a cape. Then she grabbed her bag and turned around, looking at the door. For a moment she considered opening it, but quickly turned around and flushed the toilet. As she left the stall she felt the eyes on her, cold and distant. Someone spoke, but she couldn't quite make the words out. Were they talking about her? She tried to get a glimpse at the people here as she moved towards the basins, but found only strangers caught up in their own business. Not a single one looked at the girl with the face ruined by tears and the lip bitten bloody. Her hands were washed and somewhat dried as she left the public bathroom, though some last droplets fell to the ground. She didn't notice, and as she left her mind was set on other things. Shifting her eyes, the girl took step after step, carefully looking around. A woman in the corner of her eye moved in a familiar way, but as she turned to look it was but a stranger. That was what they all were, Clara wasn't here anymore, she wouldn't do anything to her anymore. Not if I move quick enough. Her feet moved almost on their own. As she walked, Leslie didn't quite feel like it was her that stormed across the mall, one hand grabbing a bag filled with contents she wouldn't have wanted anyone to see and her shoulders draped beneath a grey jacket. Eyes flashed past her, their intents so different from one another. Some judged her for what she'd done in the washroom, in the restaurant, for what she couldn't do anymore. Some smiled like there was nothing to worry about and others just looked straight forward, fixated on a path the girl couldn't hope to grasp. Leslie was but a moment in their lives, walking past them without making any impact. First she appeared, then she left and nothing would change. A familiar voice resounded in the distance, but she didn't know to whom it belonged. Leslie didn't want to know, so her steps quickened. She went past ancient statues from whom water dipped aplenty, she walked past the pharmacy with the condescending clerk and out into the open world. Snow touched her face and the freezing wind embraced her softly, running through her jacket like it wasn't even there. Yet only the girl she'd seen in the mirror shivered, not she. One step followed after another until her feet halted and her eyes looked up at a red man who glew so brightly. Come on, she mumbled as she stared at the street light, come on. Red turned to green and she continued her walk. The mall was behind her, the distance grew and grew and grew and the loud noise of it was replaced by the sounds of the city. The roaring motors of cars driving by were as much a companion now as the conversations of the people who walked past her. She didn't care about either, was the truth of it. The cars rushed past her, the people laughed and talked and all ignored her. One step followed the other, snow fell down on the city and snow crunched beneath her feet. She mumbled words to herself, shook and bit her lip. She's not here, she's not here. Eyes of strangers followed her, but only when she didn't look. Every time her eyes peeled themselves off the ground she was alone amidst the many again. Clara wasn't following her, she told herself. Everything was going to be fine. One step followed the other and she felt the padding against her thighs. What if she needed to use the toilet? Leslie didn't even want to know the answer to that sudden question and decided to turn her attention elsewhere, away from the mall and Clara and her twisted truths. The train station was right before her, finally, and only the stairs stood between her and this rotten episode's end. Leslie didn't know why, but she turned around to look at the mall again. Starstone … She wished something like that would crash into this place right now. Once more her sight became blurry and as she closed her eyes tears fell down, brushing against her cheek and coming close to freezing. "Fuck," she mumbled and wiped them away with the sleeve of her shirt, Asad's shirt. Her eyes turned back to the mall then and she wondered once more. "Why would she do something like this?" You remind me of her, Clara had said, her smile cold and calculating. It wasn't an answer to Leslie's question, or at least she didn't want to think it was one. Clara was a bitch, but she couldn't be that low a person. Right? Hopefully Clara would get to work or do something else. I don't need to worry, Leslie told herself and turned back to the stairs. I'll just go home and then I figure out what to do next. Yet taking the stairs felt hard and every few steps she turned around. The city had come alive with faces she didn't know and people who didn't know hers. Yet, with all these people around she might just be a bit safer. It was a hopeful thought and one she used to give herself some strength, at least enough to walk forward again. It would be noon by the time she got home was the first thing she gathered just from looking at the station. An old clock was plastered on the farthest wall, large hands of rusty iron moved at a constant pace, though they contrasted the wall, which seemed to be freshly painted. Her eyes went away from the clock as she placed herself on the platform where her train would soon arrive. Once more she tried to get a look at who else was there, or rather who wasn't. A pair of male teenagers, wearing the uniform of that really fancy school all the rich people sent their kids to, stood silent, trying to look intimidating for whatever reason. An old lady talked with her dog as it tried to stand up and lick her affectionately. Then there was an older gentleman in a business suit, he had the most magnificent mustache Leslie had ever seen. Not a single person she knew, not a single person who knew her. I'm okay. I'm okay now. Minutes went past and the clock hands moved on in their eternal circle. It was much warmer here than up in the city, yet Leslie couldn't help but hug herself. She hoped it would stop herself from shivering, yet the cold's grasp seemed inescapable. Was it just because she was outside? Was it her body? To Leslie it seemed like her body seemed to just take every opportunity to feel more miserable. She didn't even need that. I'm so going to make myself some hot noodles or some shit like that. "Fuck," she mumbled. At least she could voice her concerns a bit. Nobody paid any heed to the girl and considering the whole mall thing had been ruined by one person giving her more attention than she ever wanted, this was fine. The train came and she entered along with some others, but she didn't pay anymore attention to them. Instead, she just placed herself by the door and hoped that nobody would talk to her. That's how she'd done it for so long and that's how she would do it again. She found it almost funny that it was, once more, Clara's fault. Why that woman would hurt a child for looking like her was far beyond Leslie, but it couldn't matter anymore. Don't dwell on it. All you gotta do is avoid her, kiddo. Like, it's a whole city between you and her. Her mind wasn't so easily put at peace, but she tried to distract herself by paying more attention to the window in the door. The tunnels were dark and with the light of the train shining from behind her, she could only make out very little. When she'd taken her first train ride, Leslie wondered whether the network expanded far beyond where the trains rushed along. Movies, books, whenever there was a canalisation or tunnels to be had in fiction, they seemed to be like labyrinths beneath the city. That was a thought, hundreds of tunnels intertwined beneath a city thriving on ignorance. Maybe there were even mole people there, or mutants, hiding from the sight of normal people. She figured they kept rats as pets and lived on a diet of mushrooms, canalisation alligators and mutant goats. And they were also the ones that made sure the rails and the tunnels remained in perfect shape, while the conductors figured that paid workers repaired all the broken things down here. She found herself giggling for a second. How stupid an idea that was, people living beneath the city. Yet it brought her the relief she looked for and made breathing a bit easier. Once more Leslie looked around, once more she found that Clara wasn't there. She was fine. Setting down the bag, Leslie got out her phone. Not a single person called her, not one message was sent to her, which left her open to check the site out again. Maybe it could help her figure out what had happened. The pink background lit up and she found herself staring at the blocks spelling out the word 'Welcome' once more. The cartoon of her child safe remained where she was before, only this time her hands were behind her back, blush patches were on her cheeks and she bit her lip. The text beneath the figure was also changed: "Leslie Audet, A Child Again, Obediently Follows The Auntie's Commands." Even her mind drew a blank at that statement and she just stared at the screen. It took Leslie a moment to properly judge the words for what they could mean. "Well, fuck you too," she mumbled as an answer. Also, 'auntie'? She found a smile forming on her face. Her lip hurt, the jacket wasn't helping much against the cold and the moment her digestion was done she would probably not be able to go to the toilet. If the site thought that making her be like this qualified Clara for the title of 'auntie' then whoever wrote this probably had a sick sense of humor. Her mood soured again, she put the phone away and spent the rest of the ride waiting for the name of her station to come up. Her thoughts drifted back and forth, were stuck between the girl in the mirror and Clara's smiling face. The words on the site irritated her, like she had any choice in the matter. Like she could've done anything differently. There'd been a force to Clara's word, it simply had to be supernatural. The moment the letters of her home district rolled up on a wall sprayed with graffiti of gangs that probably didn't even really exist she practically stormed out of the wagon. Leslie just wanted to get home, even though her radiator wasn't working properly and she'd just wait for the inevitable. Yet it was where she was sure nobody would reach her and nobody would make her do anything else she didn't want to. One step followed the other and soon she reached the outside world again. Soon enough the cold gnawed at the ends of her ears as she made her way through a light layer of snow. This district was far from alive; a man shoveled snow close to the train station, a police officer checked on the cars parked in the area and an elderly man walked his dog on the other side of the street from her. Fairhills, she thought, her beautiful home. Quiet and grey and cold it was. So damn cold, her teeth chittered and her legs shook. Even though her hands were buried beneath the jacket she could barely feel them anymore. Leslie was sure that it was only getting colder the longer she took. Not much longer, Leslie thought. She would've loved for the sun to touch her face, for some bit of warmth. Faces of strangers watched her walk along the road from the windows. Leslie felt the padding between her legs, but knew all too well that nobody else was aware of it. Yet she felt herself shaking not only because of the cold. A curse was on her lips and she turned around again, finding that nobody followed her. A group of boys was on the other side of the road, only catching her eyes for a second. They were six tweens, either skipping school or already done for the day. She figured the former, since the nearest public school's reputation had been in the gutter for quite a while. It made her wonder whether they'd "gentrify" this part of town someday, too. Children like that wouldn't walk through the finer parts of town. They looked rough, more so than before. Leslie was sure she had seen this particular group before, they usually hung around some of more desolate buildings. One of them, some twelve year old with a ridiculous hairdo, puffed a cigarette and made flailing gestures which the other boys laughed at. This was the youth of her hometown. Her eyes rolled almost on their own. The boy with the cigarette turned, probably had caught her looking. His eyes met hers and for some strange reason, she wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk away as fast as she could. Biting down on her lip, she turned around and continued on her path through the silent streets of Fairhills. The streets were ever so familiar, she knew she only needed to cross the street, turn around the next corner and then cross the last street. After that, she was home. She felt the cold moving up her arms, those scrawny things that shook so violently. Yes, not much longer, then she could make herself something warm to drink, lie down and figure out a way to get her pants off. It wouldn't be a problem, she could do it. After all, she was still an adult. "Hey," a voice said behind her, too deep for a child, but too high for a grownup. Before she could react she was grabbed by multiple people and dragged off to the side. As they pushed her into an alley, Leslie got a good look at these people who so suddenly attacked her. It was the boys from before. One of them wore a pair of glasses, stood afar from the rest and looked around nervously. Two tried to look disinterested, while the two closest to the one with the cigarette attempted to be intimidating by making frowny faces and puffing their chests out. The cigarette kid had strategically placed himself at the center, grabbed her with a glove covered hand and stared at her with a haughty smile. She found herself looking up at them, while only trashcans remained behind her. Nobody else but her and these kids who shouldn't have looked as big and strong as they did. "What're you doing here?" The cigarette kid asked. She didn't answer immediately and he shook her rather violently. "I asked you a question!" One of the boys by his side grinned and balled his fist, though his eyes twitched nervously. None of them said anything else however and the cigarette kid tried his angriest look, which looked more pouty than anything else. Was she really going to be scared of this kid? "I'm walking home. What's it to you?" She asked back with as much confidence as she could muster, but her teeth chittered from the cold. "The baby's shivering with fe–," started the one on the right only to be interrupted by the group's leader. "What's it to me? You're walking on my street, kid." Seriously? Leslie thought, then reconsidered and gave her honest opinion on that statement. "Seriously?" She asked and then she witnessed his facial muscles twitch. Leslie felt the fist hit against cheek, a blow that came both surprising and more powerful than she had expected from a kid like this. She tumbled to the ground, twisting from the blow and only at the last moment it seemed that her arms finally moved. Her hands reached for the ground as she tried to find some measure of support and so they dipped into the cold white that lay all around them. The girl landed flat on the ground still, her world becoming only the pain the jowls at the cold wetness pressing against her hands and legs. One of the boys gasped, another said something with a giddy voice. She didn't hear, stared at the white below, wondered what just happened. "This," the boy started, "this is what you get for laughing at me. This is our turf." There was a moment of silence. She didn't feel her hands anymore, her heart was bashing against the inside of her chest. What exactly just had happened, Leslie didn't know, but it was bad. "Listen here," she said, tried to channel her adult self as she stood up. "This street doesn't have your fucking name on it." She saw his eyes, how they burned with fury and how his face contorted at the perceived insult. Before she could even get on her knees, his shoe hit the side of her ribcage. The pain went through her body and she screamed as she fell. "Lars," one of the boys said. "She's just a little kid." He put the cigarette in his mouth and looked at his friends with a smile. "Yeah," he said, "yeah." She looked at him as he lifted his foot and then it came down on her face. "She's a kid, probably new. Isn't that right?" He said as he pressed her head against the concrete. "You don't know that you don't mess with me yet. I'm not going to be laughed at by girls, you got that?" She didn't answer and suddenly he kicked her again, to which she responded with another scream. Then his boot landed on her again and again. The ribcage, the stomach, her face. She tried to coil herself up, so he beat against her thighs and arms. For how long she didn't know, but he yelled insults at her and the other boys cheered him on. Then it stopped and she just heard Lars breathe heavily, while she felt blood running freely from her nose and every part of her body was hurt, snow was touching against the side of her torso, as her shirt was ridden up. Still she didn't move, aside from the shivering. Her hands covered her face, her legs were curled up. Then she heard it. "Look," one of the boys said, but she barely could process what he could mean. "She's wearing pull-ups." She heard laughter and Lars voice was the loudest among them. "Sweet jesus, is this kid for real?" Still, Leslie didn't want to move, didn't want to say anything. She found a lump in her throat again, found tears coming from her eyes. Everything hurt and if she made one wrong move they might hurt her again. One of the boys tugged at her shirt and pants, while the others giggled at her. "What the fuck are you doing?" spoke a female's voice from the streetside. The tugging stopped and for a moment there was silence. "None of your busi–" "Shut up, Lars. Mike, what is this?" "S-she," one of the boys stuttered, "s-she started it." Leslie peeked up from behind her fingers. This indigenous american girl that towered over the boys couldn't have been older than sixteen, but even though Leslie was barely aware of her surroundings, there was a sort of aura of authority surrounding her. It wasn't just that that made her stand out, however. She was dressed in a pink dress and wine red vest, together with a bright red coat, a colorful contrast to the grey and white surrounding her. "So you decided to beat a kid much smaller than you up?" the girl said, her voice as cold as a shard of ice. Lars stepped towards her. "This isn't your business, Su!" "Lars, you're literally beating a girl up where I throw my trash. It's clearly my business now." The boy tried to make himself taller, but still was at least a head below the girl. Suddenly, he made a grab for his pants and got something out. Leslie saw the metal of a blade flash and suddenly he was pointing the knife at the girl. "It's none of your–" Before he finished the sentence the girl had let go of the trash bag she'd carried and grabbed the blade tightly, all while staring Lars directly in the eye. He looked at her, then his knife and probably his grip loosened a bit as Su, without a problem, pulled the knife from his hand. "Go," she said without ever raising her voice and suddenly all the boys except Lars were running. "My knife," he said meekly, but she just raised her eyebrows and suddenly he thought it better to not try to get it back. As he stormed off, Su turned her attention to the stranger on the ground. Her expression changed quickly and she dropped the knife before she walked up to Leslie. Gently she put her arms around the girl and got her into a seated position at least. "Hey," she said with an awkward smile, checking the girl. "Hey," she repeated. "He hurt you pretty bad, huh?" Su then asked and looked directly at Leslie. There came no answer, all Leslie felt like doing was shaking. She wasn't even really sure what just happened. All she could do was to just sit there, open mouthed, blood dripping from her nose and chin, her arms and legs hurting, the snow up her back. "Can you tell me your name, kitten?" Su asked, only to be answered by silence again. "Your parent's telephone number?" Nothing, Su sighed. "Alright, alright," she said and looked around. "I can't just let you stay here. Can you get up?" After another moment of silence, Su renewed her smile and pulled Leslie's shirt down a bit. Apparently her jacket had fallen off at some point, as Su picked it up and wrapped it around her shoulder. "It's okay now," she told Leslie. "Nobody'll hurt you, okay? I'll get you inside. It's warm there, I'll fix you something to drink and even take care of the bleeding. Kay?" As she received no answer, the girl just nodded and picked Leslie up, princess style. As she stood up, Leslie felt her head bump against the chest of this girl. It was weird how small she was and it was weird that she couldn't stop the tears and the bawling.
  10. I've only recently gotten into 5e and am DMing a group of complete newbies. I've been playing tabletop rpgs for about ten years now, with the major thing being Pathfinder (which has the advantage over DnD in that it's completely free). I'm currently trying to expand my knowledge to more game systems like 7th Sea and Cthulu. So that's all fun.
  11. It'll happen somewhere down the line, but for now I'm fine making free content for the internet to enjoy. That has its advantages, too. Also: Chapter 5 The Lone Siren's Aria "The fuck are you about?" was about the most sensitive thing that could have left Leslie's mouth at that moment. Once again, her language struck ill with the person opposite to her, as that sugary smile of Clara's turned into a miserable frown. It almost made Leslie smile, but she simply held the stare, much like Clara did. She felt her fists trembling and her instincts begged her to act, but at least the condescension dissipated from Clara's face, if only for a moment. "Well," she started, her smile showing off those white teeth of hers, "I was praising you, since you made it to the potty like a big–" "Do I look like a toddler to you?" Leslie interrupted, barely able to keep her voice low. The woman shrugged, because of course she did. "Not from the size, but," her eyes drifted to the bag Leslie kept on the ground. "Give me that for a second." A part of Leslie wanted to ask Clara why she would just hand over her things to a stranger, a part of her wanted to roll her eyes, to bite her lips. Instead, however, she came upon another thought, another opinion swelling up within her. Why not? It asked and it made itself her foremost belief and the reason why she bowed down and handed over the bag so willingly. Clara made a grab for it, and Leslie noticed the sizeable difference between her hands and Clara's, as well as the scar that the left middle finger looked slightly twisted. Clara looked into the bag and Leslie looked as her fingers dug into it, the realization of what she just did hitting her mind like lightning. Her mouth went wide open, her cheeks flared up and as the smile on Clara's face grew, Leslie stared down at the ground. What the hell was going on? "Oh, look here," Clara said, at least having the decency to turn around, but nobody was there. Leslie wasn't surprised at that, the toilet was placed in the worst place possible. The woman turned around again, then pulled the panties from the bag. "What a poor girl, you probably were too busy doing your kid stuff to notice you needed to go until it was too late," she said and Leslie could feel her eyes on her. Her legs grew weaker, she looked slightly upwards, wondering whether she could grab the bag and just bolt for the door. It was more sensible than letting Clara's weird game continue. Why did you give her that bag, you idiot? "And there's more evidence in here," Clara said. "There's even an open package of–" "They're not mine!" Leslie said, her voice slightly raised, her eyes gazing at Clara. She felt the fury burn up in her as she stared at this rotten woman. Then the frown appeared again, though only the briefest of moments. "You really don't have any manners, do you?" "I'm not the one going through other people's stuff! Give it back," she stretched out her hand. Clara studied her, she seemed almost careful. "I thought it wasn't your stuff?" She asked. "It's my bag," Leslie answered flatly. "But not your damp panties and pull-ons?" Clara's teeth were a perfect white, though Leslie wondered if a punch into them would do much harm. "Yes, now give. It. Back." A sigh, the shaking of a head, Clara looked as annoyed as she was annoying. "Well, how about this. I'll give it back to you if you prove to me that you're telling the truth." "How the fuck–" Clara raised one hand and Leslie stared at it, then at Clara's face. Her face was stone, except for the eyes, they were laughing with vicious glee. "Show me your underwear," Clara finally said. So blatantly phrased was the demand that Leslie couldn't even answer. Instead she blinked, wound back the tape inside her head only to find that Clara had actually just said that. The first thing she figured was to mouth a protest, to tell Clara how creepy she was and then finally punch her where it would really hurt. Leslie did, as a matter of fact, not do that. A thought jumped up in her mind, similar to before, like a judge's ruling in court, and suddenly her trembling fingers were pulling her pants down ever so slightly, so that Clara could get an actual look on the pull-ons. "Alright, you can stop now," Clara said and Leslie adjusted her pants, one tear falling from her left eye. She felt it on her cheek, felt her lips trembling. Why had she done that? Why would she just do what Clara told her to do? Monkey's paw, Leslie figured out a second later. Did her wish compel her to do whatever other people bid her to do? If so, then this was dangerous. I need to run! Leslie acted before Clara even knew what was happening. She grabbed the bag out of Clara's hands and with quick steps, hurried towards the exit. Her mind was blank, her eyes focused on the gateway she'd come through. "Stop." The command was spoken so softly she barely heard it, but the moment she did, guilt started to swell up within her. Just running away wasn't nice, after all. It was an overpowering thought and the girl stopped immediately. Her feet were like glued to the ground and the exit seemed so distant now. She heard the high heels on the ground behind her, an echo that sent shivers down her spine. At the same time, she knew that her guess had been right, and of course Clara was the sort of person who just took this strange kid for granted. Once more she tightened her fist and bit her lip, willing to swing around and give Clara one on the jaw if she would do anything weird. A hand touched her head, much like a claw. It made Leslie freeze up even worse, she bit her lip and felt the pain of it. Clara just ruffled her hair, almost affectionately. "I'm sorry, kiddo," she said and had Leslie not known her, she would've called it genuine, "I didn't want to make you feel bad." Leslie didn't say anything, she just looked forward. "Tell me, how old are you?" She didn't answer. "Turn around," Clara then said, her voice not making it sound like the command it was. Like a well-trained dog, Leslie turned on her heels. "Your age?" She looked away, to the empty stalls of the mall. It felt like hours passed under Clara's gaze, but Leslie was sure it was only a minute or less. The shaking didn't stop, even though she really wanted it to. "I'm forty-two," Clara suddenly said, grabbing Leslie's attention. As she turned her head towards Clara, the woman giggled. "I know, I don't look like it. A healthy mind needs a healthy body, muffin. So, how old are you? Six? Seven?" I don't look that young, Leslie thought for a moment, eyeing Clara warily. "I'm ten." Clara lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? No wonder you didn't want me to know you still peed your–" "I didn't," she insisted, another tear falling, she sniffled. Fuck! She wanted to scream at Clara, but this situation didn't call for her flip out. Instead, she needed to get away from Clara, and to do that, she needed to calm herself. But that wasn't easy, tears were rolling down her cheeks. Clara rolled her eyes. "Yes you did and interrupting me isn't going to change that, pup. I'm trying to be civil here and I don't need some eight year old–" "I'm–" Leslie started, but Clara put a hand on her mouth. "With a potty mouth interrupting every second sentence I speak. I'm not the type of person where you should test out your borders. And, in case you're as dumb as you look, let me tell you something funny. The next time you interrupt me, you're going to strip those pants off, walk to the fountain and do a little dance so everybody can see your widdle diapees, understood?" Her voice was stern and her eyes burnt with a quiet fury. Worse yet, Leslie nodded, because she knew that she would do it. Why was this place so damn cold? Clara smiled and lifted her hands. "Now that we've established the dominance in our relationship, butterfly, how about we do proper greetings. I'm Miss Sanchez, and what's your name, honeybun?" "L-Lee," she blubbered out. Then, for a brief moment, there was a shift in Clara's face, a flash of anger, but she regained her composure immediately. Was it the name that incited her, or that she actually had managed to make a child cry? Leslie wiped her tears away with her sleeve, while Clara's arm still rested on her head, as if she wanted to keep her in place. It took a moment longer and then she finally decided to get it off of Leslie's fiery mane. "Your parents are probably waiting for you, huh?" Clara asked. A chance! She thought and nodded quietly. "I figured as much," Clara said and suddenly her expression changed again for a moment, but this time it lasted. Her eyes widened, as if she just thought of something she'd forgotten. "You'd probably tell them that I bullied you, now that I think about it," Clara said, sounding curious. "No, wait, except you're going to do the whole dance routine if you do tell them, okay?" I'm alone here, was the first thought that popped up and the second was; Why is she so sure I would do that? Was it possible that Clara had gone to the site, too? The idea came suddenly, but Leslie couldn't help but stare at how sure of herself Clara looked, like embarrassing this kid was the story she'd tell her grandchildren many years in the future. This fucking bitch, Leslie thought to that, remembering the days when she had called Clara a friend. But if she'd gone to the site, then she must've given a wish. Was mind control a thing you'd wish for when you had one wish sure to be granted? How many people wish themselves close to thirty years younger? The rhetoric was the answer she needed. Clara had turned herself into a supervillain, because of course she had. "Why aren't you nodding?" The woman suddenly asked and Leslie realized she just missed her chance. "You're here with your parents, aren't you?" She sounded incredulous now. This would be the final opening, Leslie realized, and so she nodded. "I already said I am," the child said, almost defiant, which only seemed to worsen Clara's mood. "Alright, then you got the message. Well, toddle off to them," the woman told her and waved with her hand, dismissing her. Yet Leslie stood there, transfixed. The thought that she couldn't walk to them crept up on her. She'd lost them far too long ago and even their faces had long since vanished from her memories. So all she could do was stare at Clara, who in turn seemed to wait for her to act, but realized after a moment longer what was going on. The woman rolled her eyes and giggled ever so slightly. "A potty mouth, a liar, and a little tinkler. It's like you were made to screw with me," she told Leslie, her voice monotonous and cold. Nevertheless, she got down on her knees to look Leslie directly in the eyes. "I wonder if you lied about your age, too, or your name. Let me try something out. If you lied about your panties before, how about you," she put her index finger to the mouth and thought for a moment, "suck your thumb." First came a thought to justify why it was right to do it and then the thumb was already in her mouth as she stared dumbly at Clara. The tears kept rolling from her eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to run. "If you didn't lie about your age, take it out again." She did, though drool dripped from it. Her stomach decided that was the appropriate moment, to announce that it was hungry. It made her feel even worse, like the knowledge that she was hungry would give Clara an even bigger advantage over her. "And lastly, if you lied about your–", Clara stopped, looked behind her, then sighed. "being hungry," she suddenly said, her voice much softer, "then we can just go to the restaurant. It's no problem, princess." Then she turned her head slightly and greeted a woman passing by who didn't even acknowledge her, like any person with the least bit of sense should do when meeting Clara. She took it with as much grace as she could and silently threw a curse at the woman. "Alright, then, pumpkin," she said, looking at how Leslie tried to look like she wasn't crying and failing somewhat miserable at that. "Stop with the tears," Clara ordered and the need to weep vanished from her head, leaving her with only embarrassment and contempt, of which the second was still strong enough to keep her head somewhat in the game. "And now," Clara said leaning close to Leslie, "considering that you lied to me about your parents, you'll stick around with me for a bit. You're alone here, I figure, so you might as well follow me around. I'll treat you to some food and I teach you all about honesty and how it's the path to happiness." Though her breath smelled of mint, her voice did nothing to ease Leslie's state of mind. She wanted to cry, but no tears would come, and it was cold too. Clara took the bag off her and made Leslie take her hand. They walked out there looking like they belonged together. Even though it should've been clear that Leslie had cried, nobody paid any attention. Everybody was living their lives and she was stuck with this psychopath. If she would yell out, somebody might notice, but she wasn't sure how Clara would react. Hell, if this mind control theory of Leslie's was true, she didn't even know how Clara could react and there was no need to test it out. One thing the woman had told her was true, Leslie did not want to try to stretch the boundaries. As they walked through the crowd, Leslie felt the padding between her legs. It wasn't much, it didn't impede her walking at all, and yet she felt as if the whole world could see them. That thought made her feel even worse, like she shouldn't take another step and check her pants again. Yet she wore a jacket that was much too large, so nobody would notice and she didn't need to worry. Her thumb was still a bit wet from when Clara made her suck her thumb, or at least she thought it was. Now that she thought about it, it would've been calming, at least a bit, if it hadn't involved Clara, that just made her want to hack off her thumb now. All in all, Clara appeared awfully determined to ridicule her. Leslie eyed her from the side, tried to figure out what was going on. She didn't know, but nevertheless, Clara's face was motionless as they waded through the crowds. It was the sort of face Leslie knew Clara made whenever she was thinking about something, but the question was what she thought about. If she had an answer, then maybe it would help her out of this situation without escalation. It's like you were made to screw with me, Clara had said. What was that about? She looked at the woman, then at the uncaring masses. Nobody would care, no matter what she asked. So long as she kept it down, there wouldn't be a scene. Nobody would get hurt just because she asked some things. She opened her mouth, but immediately closed it again. Just blurting out questions won't do, she assumed. First off, she was pretty sure Clara was what the website called a Wishmaker, but at the same time she also knew that with the way her thought patterns were working themselves, a normal person probably wouldn't think that something supernatural was happening here. She didn't want to cry, even though she was scared and Clara had done her best to make this day suck for her, so, if she were a kid, she might tell herself that the lady was maybe nice and maybe took her out to get some food not just for some queer punishment, but because she just figured out that Leslie was an orphan. "I didn't lie about my name," she finally stated, to get that out of Clara's mind. "So you don't need to do anything about that." Clara shot her a look, then turned onwards again. They walked straight into the café at the center of the mall. The inside of it was made to look like it was from some old time, probably 19th century, or early twentieth. Leslie wasn't sure, but then again, history had never been that interesting to her. Either way, they sat down by a window from which they could see the fountains, where faceless figures poured water down old stone. "Lee, then," Clara said quietly. "You look quite scared of me." She seated herself opposite to Clara, though with the difference in seating, she mostly just stared at the breasts of the woman. Nevertheless, she took of the jacket and threw it over the backrest. "A bit," she answered. Clara put her index finger to her mouth, as she always did when she tried to figure out what to say next. "Well, I wouldn't scare you so much if you were more honest. Adults appreciate honesty," said the woman whose house and life were built on lies and petty fibs. A waitress came and Clara did all the ordering. Leslie just watched her, how her every move seemed trained to be as elegant as possible, how she complimented the waitress on her hair and how they both laughed at a joke she made. Water fell from faceless stones outside, but nobody cared about how much damage it had already done. "Now then, Lee. I spotted some shoes in your bag, which do seem too big for a sweet little kid like you," she said, the sarcasm well hidden behind the last few words. "What's the story with that?" Leslie looked at her and realized the threat behind what she'd said before. If there was another lie, there would be a punishment. You did the same thing when I never lied to you, Leslie thought bitterly, But if you want to play this game, then sure, I'll play along. "I didn't have any others," she said and as Clara leaned on her arm, she continued on. "My old ones were too small and they broke, so," for a moment she didn't know what to say, so she averted her eyes, bit her lip. The idea came sudden, but she thought it brilliant. "I took ones from a neighbour." "You took one from a neighbour?" Clara asked doubtfully. "I live in Fairhills," Leslie answered in such way that it sounded like it answered everything. Which it did, judging how Clara looked at her with an expression that said "this explain everything," and looked at her jacket. Fairhills was regarded as the worst of the city's districts by a mile, and a person such as Clara, who shunned any places that didn't live up to her standards, probably believed all the prejudices she had about that place. An orphan stealing shoes from a neighbour, at least, seemed a plausible story. Well, whatever fucking works. "So, you took those shoes and the jacket, uhm, walked here and got new ones?" Leslie waited a moment, made an effort to look at her own legs, dangling from that chair, and only after three seconds, she nodded and meekly replied. "Yeah," to which she then added, "but you're not going to tell the cops, right? I'm gonna put everything back where they belong." Clara shrugged. "As long as you do, it should be fine. And if you're not, well, you could pat your head three times now." Leslie sat there, thinking how she was just going to put them back with her other shoes. She smiled at Clara like she just won the lottery, which seemed to annoy the woman ever so slightly, so Leslie stopped doing that quickly. "That's good. Now, then, I wonder what else I could ask you. …" "I didn't mean to screw with you," Leslie threw in quickly, trying to look apologetic while gauging Clara's reaction. The woman looked at her quietly for a moment, then chuckled. Leslie hated it when she chuckled. "You mean what I said back then? No, it's just, I have this thing. I know another girl, a bit similar to you." What? "She's a bit older, but," Clara stopped for a moment, her finger moving along her lower lip. She sighed and then looked Leslie straight in the eye. "You have the same red hair she does, though she probably wouldn't walk around with a bedhead like you. She's got quite the mouth, too, which is really a bad trait. You should rather speak like I. I am an inspiration to everyone I know, after all." There was no irony in her voice, Leslie noticed and wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she forced herself to nod along. "But the thing that struck out is that she's got a similar," Clara looked around, as if she wanted to at least appear careful. Then she came in closer and whispered, "problem," leant back and smiled, "as you." Oh my shit. You're talking about me like a kid? Leslie asked in the back of her mind, but did not know whether she should be insulted or not. That Clara didn't take her seriously had always been clear, but this felt like a new low. But instead of saying anything she just continued her stare downwards and let the flush on her face do its work. "Well, she has more spunk than you, I've got to admit, but then again. … Leslie's Leslie, you are you. Not that it matters. You remind me of her, but don't take it to heart, I won't either," Clara said with a smile on her lips, but there was the faintest hint of disgust on Clara's face, too. Leslie knew at that moment that she was lying. She's continuing her talk with some goal in mind, she considered, This might just be a test drive for her ability. As the food was delivered, they sat there quietly. Clara got herself a large pot of coffee and a croissant, while she'd been thoughtful enough to buy Leslie some pancakes. The cream formed a smiley face and she even got complimented on being a "cute, little tyke", which was something at least. Though her own pot of cocoa seemed absurdly large from her point of view. Nevertheless, it was free food and drink. "Thanks for the meal," Leslie said, taking the fork. "Wait one moment," Clara answered, holding up her hand. "I forgot one thing." She got up and walked over to the counter, to where the waitress had also retreated. Leslie eyed Clara suspiciously. Every movement was meant a seduction, but for whom, Leslie couldn't say, but at least the sway of hips that accompanied Clara's every step looked funnier than the woman realized. Leslie giggled, fully aware that Clara probably wanted to do something to humiliate her a bit. Maybe she was going somewhere with this punishment thingie she just came up with. Either way, Leslie was quite impressed that Clara would abuse a random child just because it was a vague reminder of her nemesis. At least in that regard Leslie felt happy, because if she hadn't gotten Clara's attention, it would've hit some other sob and who knew what she'd have done to them. Clara returned with a smile on her face and something large in her hands, a paper of sorts, except that Leslie pretty much immediately figured out what was going on. She wanted to roll her eyes, but forced a curious expression on her face. "Sit still," Clara ordered, enjoyment oozing from her voice. Leslie would've let it happen anyway, but at least she didn't need to use her non-existent acting skills to fool Clara. The bib was large enough to cover her chest and she noticed the staff giggling as they looked at her. What a gorgeous baby girl, she thought, sarcastically. "Now, aren't you gorgeous, and now you won't ruin your shirt, too," Clara said with a coo and pinched Leslie's cheek. "I don't need a bib," she answered, but didn't move an inch. "Well, we're going to see about that," Clara said as she sat down. "Here's what you're going to do. I want you to eat everything as messily as you can, kiddo." A smile was on her face, a vicious, self-congratulatory smile. Leslie clenched her teeth, but in her mind she knew that the knife and the fork were too much for a kid her age anyway, so it was fine. It was a bitter pill to swallow, sure, but she decided to do her best anyway and finally dug in. Clara took every bite with care, while Leslie put more in her mouth without bothering to swallow. Pieces fell from onto her chest and as she went to wash it down, half-the cocoa landed on her bib. Clara looked at her with a sigh and shook her head, before she went back to her coffee. In all honesty, even though she'd expected this sort of thing, Leslie soon wanted nothing more than to vanish into the ground, but not because of Clara. Other people were looking at her, too, giggling, joking. The waitress who served them appeared surprised behind her counter, but at the same time looked glad that Clara had thought about the bib. She burnt with a furious red after she finished, only for Clara to take a towel and wipe her clean. "I want you to learn from this," Clara said, "Some people you just don't lie to." It wasn't a good life lesson, but she didn't want to say that. She'd finished the food and the drink, was even sure most of it had landed in her stomach, at least that's how she felt. A full stomach was better than an empty one, but how Clara made a spectacle out of her was far from fine. Even free food couldn't pay for this. "Now then, kiddo," Clara said, taking her things after she paid the bill. "I think this was educational enough for you and me both. The next time you're in kindergarten or whatever, do remember to tell when you need the potty." Her smile was there again, so happy was she with herself. Leslie just stared at her, hesitated. "You're just going to go?" "Yup," Clara answered. "I've wasted enough time with you. But I guess I could leave you with one final gift, just to see." She walked over to the still seated Leslie, who wasn't quite sure what would happen next. Clara smiled, leaned down and whispered sweet little words into Leslie's ear. A test of ability, a lone siren's chant. As Leslie grabbed her things and stormed out again, Clara laughed loudly, as if she just told the girl the funniest joke in the world. Yet the one thing Leslie had learnt from this encounter was that she didn't want to go to the mall anymore.
  12. Chapter 4 The Place Where Their Paths Converge She could hear the song from the boy's mp3-player, some strange sort of electronica that was more noise than music. The youth himself attempted to sleep through the train ride, his school bag rested between his feet. Usually, she wouldn't have paid much attention to another passenger, but usually she would just stand by the door and wait for the train to reach her station. Leslie found today different, however, if only for reasons that weren't entirely in her comfort zone. People noticed the kid wearing both a jacket and shoes that were too large for her size and every time the train halted, new people would come in and look at her as if she was the strangest thing they'd ever seen. It only ever lasted a few seconds, then they decided to not be bothered any further. That was the glory of a large city, she figured, nobody really cared about all the things that didn't directly involve them. The walk to the train had made two things abundantly clear to her: Shorter legs were a bit of a pain and too large shoes were even worse. Even now her legs were dangling from the edge of the seat and the boots felt so close to slipping off. She half-wondered how tall she was, but somewhere around 4 feet something was a possibility. I forgot how tiny I was at ten, she thought with a bitter twist to her mouth. At least it provided a mild entertainment for all those people around her. There were two more teenagers who'd strategically placed themselves opposite to her, holding hands and exchanging giggles. They appeared shy in their love, but the ability to make fun of a stranger brought them closer, as was evident by them kissing each other after a few jokes that were probably at Leslie's expense. It left a bad taste in her mouth, but teens would be teens and she could hardly challenge them for having a bit of fun. Instead, she decided to do it as her seat neighbour and just threw her head back. The ceiling lights felt like a fire to her eyes, but closing them helped. All that remained was a white tinted nothingness and the sounds of morning train ride. Someone was calling another person on the phone, they talked about how horrible mondays were, but followed that up with a laugh. Another person read a newspaper, she knew, close to the two lovers opposite to her, and another sat close by, looking at the articles from the side. Leslie turned her head slightly, opened one eye and watched a woman who looked at her wristwatch. She wore makeup and a business suit, even her hair was done neatly. Leslie couldn't help but smile at that. It might've been a meeting she was headed to, or maybe an interview. She looked young, so maybe this was her first. Leslie didn't know how she felt about that. Don't think about tomorrow, try to stay in the now. She turned her head back and stared at the ceiling again. Time went by and nothing happened. Some people got off, some new got in. A man on a phone loudly talked about "them" being "all up in his ass", a young girl and her father halted by the door, talking about what they would do after the visit to the doctor was done. Had this city always been so lively? The doors swung open again, people left, people came. It wasn't something she usually took note of, but now the girl couldn't help but look at all these strangers, how their lives converged on this ride. Some people laughed, fewer smiled, most didn't show any emotion at all. Usually, a redheaded woman stood by the door, watching the stations go by one by one, without ever looking anywhere but where she needed to go. She looked at her hands and saw how clearly they belonged to a child. If she was completely honest with herself, the weirdest part was how it didn't feel strange. They were her hands, more so than before. The missing ache in her knee, how huge the world looked now compared to before, it all seemed natural to her. Once more she thought of how the messages had referred to this as her path. Was that why she felt so comfortable now? Leslie Audet, much like anyone in a similar position such as her, had thought thought often and hard about why it all appealed to her; the cute dresses, frilly socks, bath toys, pacifiers and diapers. Her childhood was a blur where the most poignant moment was clad in a red blaze and smelled of burning flesh. At one point or another she figured that her Little had nothing to do with that past, or rather, it wanted nothing to do with it. It was an idealized child. Was her "path" like that, too? She got her phone out again and checked the download. While it was done there were no hints about a file, no .exe or any new buttons to press. Leslie didn't quite know what to make of that, so she decided to instead just go back to the site, not that she expected to reach it, what with her being in the subway and all. Of course, the moment her fingers moved as if guided by some knowledge that only they had, she figured that the connection would probably not be a problem. A second later she found herself staring at that cartoon version of herself. She felt a smile creep up on her face again as she looked at it. An idealized childhood, or rather one where she wasn't supervised by peers who either tried their hardest to set her back or just plainly didn't care, that wasn't so bad. She just needed this to work. "Next stop: Starstone Street," came the automated voice and a moment later the train slowly came to a halt. It was her station, so she got up and awkwardly walked to the door, earning more curious looks from strangers she would never recognize on the street again. The station was below the earth and so she took the stairs up to where the world was covered in a thick layer of snow. The cold air brushed against her cheeks and buried her hands in pockets that had never seemed as deep before. The jacket was almost a coat for her new body, which, for once, was a blessing. Yet every step felt strange and she cursed herself for never buying shoes in kid's sizes. Not that it would've made much sense, but she needed to complain anyway. It made her feel better. Starstone Street was called that way ever since a meteorite had fallen down here in the nineteen twenties or thirties. The story had it that it tore open the old road, forcing the legislation to renew it after putting it off for many years. There were many stories about what happened to the "Starstone" after its fall. Some said that it disappeared into the air before anyone could find it, others talked about how it was taken by a local group of children. Urban legends surrounded the street and even more so, they surrounded the mall. The Starstone Mall was the modern center of the city. The best cafés and restaurants could be found there, as well as shops for almost anything the world had to offer. An old lady offered local fish as well as more expensive export food from warmer southern nations, another shop was filled to the brim with all sorts of music instruments. There were guitars, drums, pianos, she even saw a pungi in there. There was a bookstore that seemed too ancient for the building itself and an ice cream vendor who came up with the strangest flavors. There was more to it than the shops though, there were stories. Everyone in the story knew one or two about this place and hardly any matched up save for a few details. Some said that strange apparitions roamed the mall in the night, chained to the place by regret and bitter wrath at deeds that remained unaccomplished; or of how a child could sometimes be heard weeping as it looked for the remnants of the Starstone. Truth was, it was another thing she hadn't really considered before. She hardly ever came here, there was a supermarket in her district and what clothing she had was close to ten years old. The last time she'd been in the mall was already half a year gone, though she still remembered the singular day she spent here, once upon a time. A silent curse was on her lips as she made her way to the next traffic light, from where she crossed the streets, wary eyes following her every step. She wasn't quite sure why so many people took an interest, but figured that everybody expected children to walk to school around this time and not to the mall. Nobody halted her, nobody talked to her, she was perfectly aware of how little they actually cared and so she could take her steps with a confidence that came almost easy. Most shops inside opened at around 8 AM, most of them except for some few that were only open in the night and one café which offered breakfast from 6 to 10. As such, she entered the gateway and went into the mall without stopping even once. Yet she spotted only four other people. Two went past her on their way, one was looking at the map close to the entrance and another sat before the fountain. The Starstone Mall was built like a crossroads, shops to all sides, packed into multiple floors. At the center was the fountain. Truth be told, it was older than the mall, having been built way before the twentieth century. Back when this had been a marketplace, it had been the heart, but now it only served as a worn-out looking decor that didn't quite fit in the modern exterior. She walked towards it, intending to sit down there, at least for now. Her eyes were on the person who already sat on the fountain's edge, twiddling with his thumbs as he presumably waited for the same event as Leslie. Yet the shops wouldn't open for a while longer. Leslie sat down a bit away from him, her feet not even touching the ground. She kind of hoped that her new size would at least mean the shoes would be affordable. Water fell from the figures carved out of stone. The faces they once bore were lost already, some had lost their arms, others were but silhouettes that only roughly reminded her of people. The fountain was considered a piece of the city's culture. She wondered if that was the reason why the voices for renewal were so loud. This culture was so damn old. "The one with the beard's Poseidon," her neighbour suddenly said, looking at her with eyes as black as coal. She turned her eyes to him. At least she figured him male on first sight, though his face had a softer, almost feminine vibe to it. She didn't consider him much older than twenty, though he was one of those asians from the farthest east. Age wasn't something read on the skin with those types, she figured. He wasn't all that tall, but compared to how she looked he might've well been a giant. His clothes were as casual as they could get, a sweater and tracksuit pants, and a coat laid beside him too. The one strange thing about him was that his haircolor was the same as hers, a bright red, though he wore it in a much shorter fashion. Those moments of looking at him suspiciously she also used to figure out her answer. She knew that it was Poseidon, she even still remembered that he'd been a god, a roman one if she was to guess at the moment. Mythology had never been something that interested her. "I know. The romans worshipped him," she gave as an answer, together with a sly smile. She wasn't quite so sure why she was starting a conversation, either, but after all those stares, someone actually opening their mouth and acting like she existed was a welcome change. He shrugged. "Close enough. The romans called him Neptune, in their own fashion. Poseidon was actually his greek name." Leslie found herself looking at the statue he meant. An old man, standing in sea shells, baring an empty fist at the heavens. "But it's still the same guy," she then stated. The boy nodded. "In a way, yeah, though the romans viewed him differently than the greeks and the people who built the fountain viewed even more different." "How'd they view him?" She asked, turning her eyes back at him. "Apparently some dude who would look awesome as the centerpiece of their artwork." A slight giggle escaped her, it made him smile too. "I think he looks cool," she told the boy, noticing how childish the statement sounded just by being said by a child. "But also a bit boring. He's just an old guy." "The statue had muscles once, and a crown, and a trident. Time wasn't to kind to him though, or Poseidon did some smiting because he wasn't pleased with the figure. Not enough goat sacrifices I presume," he told her light-heartedly. Once more she giggled and then looked to the ground. One of the boots was slipping off again, damn the bloody thing. Still, she found talking easier on herself. My own voice isn't as annoying as it was, so that's a good thing. Not only that, this also was a good test, whether she could keep up the facade, not that she expected any complications. If she acted too mature, she would simply be labelled as a creepy sort of kid and then he'd be done with her, if she acted too immature, she figured he'd assume her to be weird. "Anyway," he said after a while. "Why're you alone at the mall and that so early in the morning?" "Cause I need new shoes," she answered, again opting for the easy truth. He looked at the ones she wore and could only nod. "They do seem a bit big for you." "They're my mom's," she answered again and his eyes went from her shoes to her eyes and then back again. She giggled and hearing her voice sounding like that filled her with a sort of glee. "I played too much. I broke one pair of shoes and lost another. Mom sent me here with hers, said it was a punishment." "That's a weird way to punish a child," he noted. She smiled at him and then pulled the boot that was about to fall off from her feet, placed it between them to show how large it was compared to her feet. His astounded look made her laugh. "I feel bigger when I walk in them. Sort of like a big, boot-wearing monster. A Boonster, or Bootser, I guess." "A Boonster?" "Yeah. It's Boot and Monster combined. It's the cleverest pun!" She made fists with her hands to emphasize how awesome this was, an action which lead to him stifling a laugh. "You're a weird kid." "I'm a boonster, though." The young man went by the name John and Leslie also gave him her first name. He was here to get some clothes too, as it turned out, because his girlfriend didn't like what he usually wore. After she found out that detail, they went back to talking about greek mythology, or rather him teaching her about it. Time passed quickly like that and soon the shops, one after the other started opening up. The lone pharmacist loudly proclaimed that he'd gotten the requested pills for the worker who opened the gates for the local supermarket, which was then followed by a comment how they would come and get them, but they just didn't feel like it. It was probably meant as a jest about depression, but nobody laughed, which was probably the real joke. The dynamic duo, thin Selma and fat Julia, opened their lingerie business together, both examining the state of the mall with faces painted in disgust. Honestly, they were quite nice inside the shop, but the moment they left, they made an effort to look like the most evil witches this side of hell. People didn't swarm in, but rather walked in drop by drop. Students who had time to kill, businessmen and -women who would soon head to new destinations, people who just didn't need to go to work today, quite a few old people, mothers and/or fathers walking with babies on their hips started to fill the halls. As they all came walking in, John rose from his seat. "Alright. You know where you can get shoes, I assume?" She nodded. "That's one important step towards adulthood. Do yourself a favor and don't waste your money on toys. It might seem like a good idea, but your mother'll do worse to you than just let you walk around town with her shoes," he said. "Don't worry. I'm the incarceration of responsibility," she said, immediately noticing that she'd gotten the word wrong. Damn brain. "I'm not going to correct that," he said before she could correct herself. "That statement is perfect in its own right. Either way, good luck with the shoes and have a nice day, Leslie." "Bye, Johnny," she answered and waved as he left. She put the shoe back on and got up herself, though her stomach immediately roiled up in an ugly display of hunger and her bladder made it known that it wanted to be emptied sometime soon. Leslie frowned, but decided to get to a cash point first, then the shoes and only then would she deal with the public toilets. As she started to walk again, she found that the people stared at her queerly again. This time, it wasn't uncomfortable for her. No, it hadn't been that bad from the beginning. She was a moment in their lives and it did amuse her how shocked they were at the sight of her. I really must look like a boonster, whatever the hell that is. Getting money was easy, even though the machine wasn't build for people her height, which she considered ableist, if only because it impeded her. Yet she managed to get some paper money off her account, even though it stung seeing how tight her budget was. The shoe shop was on the first floor and was just that, a shop that offered naught but shoes. She knew exactly where the children's shoes were, as luck would have it. The few times she'd walked into the mall she found herself wandering to that specific corner to gaze at whatever the kids today wore, only to leave with her mood soured. Today was different. Today she walked in with her big boots, walked right up to the measurement tool for her feet and then got down to business. The business wasn't so good, though, as the prizes for most shoes were still horrifying, so limiting the choices she could make. In the end, she settled for a pair of black winter boots with pink floral motives that made them somewhat good looking. To that order, she added thick socks for the journey home. White with pale blue snowflakes and evergreen trees for pictures. The cashier was professional enough and didn't question where the kid got the money from, or at least supported Leslie's cause for appropriately sized shoes. Either way, she got out as quickly as she got in, new shoes in a bag and her stomach rebelling against the lack of food, while her bladder acted like the stock-market before a financial crisis. Nevertheless, she first used the chance to put on her new shoes, revelling in the feeling of tiny shoes matching her tiny feet. This would enhance her running speed by a bit, so once Leslie had put the other boots in the bag she made to go on a search for the toilets, only to find her eyes staring at the pharmacy for a moment. A thought rose up within her, and even though she knew that she should probably hurry, she decided to not immediately go for the toilets. Instead she walked through the crowds, where the people found her far less interesting now, and downstairs to the pharmacy. Upon entering, the pharmacist tried to give her a smile, but didn't really manage to get his muscles to work. So instead, he just kind of awkwardly stared at her from behind a bushy moustache. Leslie walked through the aisles, staring at the different medications and wares they had here. Finally, she got to the aisle which offered what she was looking for. Wipes, baby food, bottles, it was like they packed everything they could in here. Those were not the things she was here for. No, what she looked for lay by the diapers. It never occurred to her before, but now that she looked the way she did it seemed like an odd choice. There were diapers for newborns, training pants for toddlers and, as they called them, pyjama pants for kids and teens. A parent probably didn't think anything when shopping for these, but she had to wonder whether a child ever found it weird that their incontinence product, which were totally different from what babies wore (duh!) were nestled finely between diapers for said babies. "It's probably marketing," she told herself, not really knowing if that even made sense. It didn't matter, either way, her bladder was starting to annoy her and she only wore borrowed clothing. There was no time to be embarrassed, she thought and grabbed a package of pull-ons in the smaller of two sizes. She quickly walked over to the cashier and now he smiled in a bit of a condescending way. "Hello, young lady," he said as she gave him the package so he could do his thing. "Hi," she said, grinding her teeth and shuffling awkwardly as the pressure caused a spasm of pain to go through her. He took how she looked for embarrassment, clearly, and just continued to smile in such a way that she really wanted to punch him. She didn't and instead just responded with an awkward smile at him. There was a demand for money, she practically threw it at him and after she got her change back she just grabbed the package and made a run for it. She ran to the very center of the mall, turned in a circle once, and then again, the bag in one hand, and hugging the package with the other. What a sight she must've been, she figured while crossing her legs and praying to whatever gods heard her that the toilet sign would just pop up, but it didn't. So she made the next best move. Nobody knew her, nobody cared for her. Telling herself that, she walked up to a woman and announced herself. "Uhm, sorry, lady?" The woman turned around, smiling like she just found the cutest little kitten she'd ever seen. "Yes, darling." "Could you tell me where the fucking toilet is?" She asked, loudly screaming Fuck! at herself in the far corners of her mind for using the f-word like that. At least the smile vanished off the woman's face. "You shouldn't use such language." "Yeah, yeah," she answered bitterly, dancing on her toes. "I'm having a bit of an emergency, so forgive me?" The woman sighed and pointed to the western end of the mall. "You'll find the toilets there," she said. Leslie nodded and hurried towards the direction, only to turn around again and take a bow. "Thank you, you're a lifesaver!" She didn't wait for an answer, however. No, Leslie just ran until she reached the very end of the Starstone Mall, where the toilets were placed in some far off corner no sane person would ever notice. Honestly, who were the architects and what drugs had they taken? That she needed to pay a fifty cents fee didn't help matters, but after some fumbling through her wallet she managed to conquer that trial as well and with a ring she got a ticket to the sweet relief she was looking for. Honestly, if anything deserved to be put into a mythos it was this run for the toilet, for the last meters were the most epic yet, with every step feeling like it could be her last before the stock market dropped and the panties of Asad's niece would be forever stained by her own inability to hold it in. She found an empty stall, dropped her pants like a pro and a second later felt a bless she hadn't known for many years. That moment was then followed by her looking down and checking whether her pants were still fine. They were, her underwear however, not so much. She found a dark patch on it and bit her lip. Leslie knew that she had to wash them anyway, but she hadn't expected to overestimate her bladder like that. Smaller body, less able to do anything, except bend, I guess. There was a lesson to be learned from this, but the important thing was that she didn't want to wear damp underwear. So her eyes turned towards the package of pull-ons, with that picture of a girl hugging a pillow, a smile on her face. I wonder how many are disappointed by how little these things hold? she wondered, but knew that she wasn't exactly in a position to judge. There was a fundamental difference between how she used diapers and someone suffering from enuresis did. Either way, she made a grab for it. The package crinkled against the silence of the stall. If she opened it slowly, if someone else was in here, it would only attract unnecessary attention. Should she look for a changing station? No, that would have the same effect. So, with a deep breath and one swift movement, the package ripped open loudly and she found herself staring at the cute little fairy and butterfly designs. She felt how the room got slightly warmer, her cheeks flushed. Then came the steps, the steps and the sound of music. Another person with an mp3-player, she figured, listening to the so familiar work of AC/DC. Highway to hell? Leslie wondered as the person sat down in the stall next to her. "The fuck?" she asked as Brian Johnson's voice reached her ears. "Can you hear me?" she asked, but nobody answered. This was perfect. With the noise, nobody would notice anything. "And nobody will know about the accident," she told herself in a hushed voice, because now she felt daring enough for it. She wiped and flushed quickly, before taking off her shoes, her pants and finally the panties. It felt weird to do it with someone in the stall right next to her, but she decided to continue on despite her gut feeling. She took one of the pull-ons out, unfolded it, stared at it for a second and then put it on as quickly as she could. It wasn't exactly thick, but again, there was a difference to how it felt compared to when she was an adult. Being tiny had its plusses, too. Either way, she looked at it for a moment, then nodded and put her pants back on. Once that was done and she was back in her shoes, she put the package in the bag, put on the jacket and moved away from the stall, only then noticing how the music had stopped playing. Since when she didn't know, but it didn't matter. Leslie walked up to the sinks and soaked her hands with water. It ran through her fingers and fell unto white ceramic, rushing into the depth from there. Leslie stared at the drain as she rubbed her hands with soap. The entire world looked different now, she had been able to communicate with at least one person without wanting to break their nose and she felt the padding between her thighs, like a soft shield protecting her from all the bad things in the universe. Leslie felt small and in that, she found herself smiling at her mirror image, before looking at her hands again. The person who listened to the AC/DC track flushed her toilet and then walked out, but Leslie didn't feel like making eye contact. She heard the heels of the person's shoes on the floor, they made a loud noise with every single step and she felt the presence of the pull-on evermore. In the corner of her eye she saw how the person turned on the water tab. "Say," she said, her voice like steel wrapped in silk, "aren't you a little too old to be having potty problems?" There was the hint of a scottish accent to it, a hint that Leslie knew all too well. It stirred an anger within her, the thought of all the insults, all the petty little stabs at her ego over the past five years, but also a fear, because now, this person was an adult and she an actual child. This was the worst person she could've met here. The water spilled from the woman's hands and she gave Leslie the same smile as the pharmacist and the woman she asked for directions, like she was talking to some toddler. Her eyes, steel blue things that didn't bother to hide her malice, were fixed on Leslie and made her feel even smaller. "Nervous? Don't be. At least you didn't ruin your little pants, so that's half a gold star, I imagine." Clara Sanchez olive skin looked as flawless as ever, one might hardly think that she was near her forties already. She had long, black hair that was, of course, perfectly done; an hourglass build with ample breasts and a fashion sense that allowed her to always accentuate her rear. Makeup, lipstick, even the perfume all worked to make her look even better and, as Leslie noticed now that she looked at her, made her seem quite intimidating, too. If there was one fault to her, then it was that she was tall and even that was more of an advantage. She was close to 6 foot, which made her seem gigantic from Leslie's newfound position. Worst of all, Leslie's arms were so scrawny that if she hit Clara in the groin, she probably wouldn't notice, and that was just unfortunate.
  13. Looks like somebody transcended humanity. Good for them, especially if they now possess a complete collection of huggies diapers to brag about in front of that one other guy who also collects major brand diapers for a hobby.
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