Search the Community

Here's the start of a story I've been posting on a few different sites. It's a slow burn, but any criticism is very much welcome. I think I've got thirty-something chapters written now, so might take a while to catch up with the other places I've been posting. Any comments and corrections very much welcome. Specifically, I'm never sure if I'm being too heavy-handed with foreshadowing and clues. If you can see what's coming, please let me know; so I have a better idea if it's too obvious or not. ACT I: Briefing 1. Prologues Light on the factory floor was mostly from the faint glow of furnaces, or some complex chemical process. Occasionally, the flicker of welding caused the shadows to shift for a couple of seconds before darkness returned. The machines didn’t need light to work by. The shadows seemed alive, writhing in the corners and clinging to every surface. Narrow metal catwalks lined the perimeter, suspended precariously over a sprawling industrial space. Below the walkways, massive stainless steel vats brewed and distilled mysterious chemical concoctions, bubbly liquids gurgling as gases percolated up through them. Steam rose in wispy tendrils, collecting under the catwalks and obscuring the view across the cavernous hall. A figure walked along down below, a flashlight casting to either side. Maybe a janitor or night guard inspecting the place. The days when a site like this would have required hundreds of workers to keep it going were long gone. Now, the only serious tasks were making sure that none of the machines had warning lights lit, and that there was nobody here who wasn’t supposed to be. The last intruder had been a rat, found nesting in the ductwork a month before. People were still talking about it. On the gantry above, if you looked from just the right angle, you might have noticed a couple of shadows looking a little more organic than the latticework of steel and concrete. A really careful observer, if they waited long enough, might have seen those shadows moving again after a long, cautious pause. Two figures, scurrying across a catwalk while keeping low to the ground so they couldn’t be seen from below. The larger one went first, moving with a quiet confidence, while the frustration of the second was clear in the way that it moved. Their footsteps didn’t make a sound even on the metal gantry, and the distant man on the ground was completely unaware of them as he continued surveying some of the industrious machines. As they came to the middle of the catwalk they moved more nervously; exposed in the open space, with sheer drops on either side down to the chemical basins simmering stories below. Reaching an intersection, the taller figure paused, broad shoulders backlit by the eerie green glow of a monitor as he peered down each possible path. His muscular frame was obvious even through his dark utilitarian clothes. Beside him, the smaller figure froze as someone else’s footsteps started to shake the steel beneath their feet. Their slim build was almost lost in the oversized utility uniform they wore, and they stood with a tension that said flight was an option at any moment. With a few quick hand signals, the partner indicated a patrol emerging from the left passage. Another gesture pointed towards a place where the computer terminal at the side of the walkway – maybe all the buttons to shut down the machines below in case someone were to fall – could conceal them from whoever was generating a more prominent set of footsteps. The smaller figure was moving back already, desperate to hide before they were discovered. But the larger man didn't retreat. His head turned back and forth as if considering multiple options when there was only one sane choice available. With a sudden burst of speed he charged forward into the intersecting catwalk, directly toward the oncoming guards. A dozen panicked shots ricocheted in the darkness, nowhere near their target as they reacted in pure surprise. The brute’s bellow inspired terror before he crashed into them with the force of a freight train. They had guns, but those were no use against a figure within arm’s length, ignoring his own sidearm and swinging a length of steel pipe around his head. A fierce brawl ensued, but the guards had never signed up for this kind of conflict and their reflexes simply weren’t fast enough. As three uniformed figures tumbled to the ground, one of them rolling over the side of the catwalk, the fourth member of the team just about managed to back away far enough to bring his rifle to bear. But he didn’t reckon with the second figure rising up behind him out of nowhere and tightening a cord around his neck. Seconds later he fell to the ground unconscious. The smaller intruder cringed at the reckless frontal attack, but was smart enough to know there was no sense in complaining about what had already happened. There had been so much noise in the fight, and the sound of gunfire was sure to attract even more security. They needed to complete their mission as quickly and quietly as possible. With a shudder, the slight figure pulled a security access card from the pocket of the nearest guard. They just needed to get to the records room, and they might just have time before more reinforcements arrived. Smoke was rising at the side of the vast chamber in any case, and there was an acrid smell in the air. There was more light now, an amber flickering glow, and it didn’t take a genius to guess that one of the vats on the far side of the hall could have been ignited by a stray bullet. “Thanks,” the larger figure grunted, and then kept on walking in the direction they had been moving. He didn’t bother to keep low, focusing on speed now that stealth was off the table. “Subtle as always, Dash,” his partner sighed, stepping over another fallen guard. “We don’t need subtle, Ghost. We get the job done.” He was already at the door of the records room, seemingly oblivious to the growing flames and smoke on the far side of the facility. A few seconds later his partner joined him and swiped the purloined keycard to get the door open. The records room was darker than the factory floor; there was no flicker of industrial processes here, and one computer screen in the corner was showing an endless montage of security footage from different parts of the facility. Right now, it showed a considerable number of running men with weapons, in between shots of more uniformed figures trying without success to stop a roaring blaze. Brock stared at the screen for a moment, and then flicked the lights on. Fluorescent tubes buzzed into life, one of them flickering intermittently. While he stood a little way back from the doorway, expecting more intruders, his partner dashed straight towards one of the server racks and plugged in a ruggedised laptop. A uniformed figure burst into the room, and was efficiently rendered unconscious. Brock barely broke a sweat. “How long's this gonna take?” he asked. “Organised resistance will be here any minute.” “That’s why we were supposed to avoid the guards until we’re here. I bypassed the encryption, just need to finish downloading the files. Guess there’s no point covering out tracks now.” He focused intently on the screen while a progress bar ticked across. "Shouldn't be long. But have you thought how we’re going to get out of here? They’re not going to–” A sound like distant thunder rocked the building, and the floor shuddered beneath their feet. The security monitor showed scenes of utter chaos from the cameras that were still working. The acrid smell of chemicals flooded the hallway. Brock laughed loudly. “That’ll keep 'em occupied! Explosions have a way of grabbing your attention. C’mon, let’s hustle.“ “Right!” The smaller figure sighed, hands flying across the keys. His voice didn’t betray any surprise that their mission had turned out this way; but it was clear that he was longing for a break. Moments later the computer signalled it was ready, and two figures were again running along catwalks as more explosions rocked the building. Dash was right about one thing: The guards had bigger things to worry about than two running figures. * * * Nina leaned against the bars enclosing her, trying to make out signs of anything interesting in the rest of the room. There were other girls out there, she was sure, but she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to any of them yet. She could hear the sound of crying, which made her a little apprehensive about what might happen to her if she couldn’t find a way out of this strange place. But she didn’t really understand this place; her jailors had only ever told her what they wanted her to do, never going into why. But she could see the shape of it, and she told herself that she wanted no part of it; shutting down any hormonal fantasies that weren’t rooted in the real world. She twisted the ring on her finger, hoping that Victor would come to rescue her soon. They hadn’t taken the ring away; that must mean there was still a chance, mustn’t it? She didn’t understand the chain of events that had brought her here. They were supposed to be spending a couples weekend at a luxury spa. It would have been one of the high points of her time with him; although their whole engagement so far had seemed to be nothing but a string of high points, and the house had been nothing to laugh at either. But… But now she wasn’t at a spa. She was trapped in this weird, creepy space god-knew how many stories below ground, where nobody would ever be able to find her. And she didn’t have the first clue what the people here were planning to do with her. She couldn’t escape; the bars were more than just ornamental. So all she could do was hope that Victor would come to look for her sooner or later. Footsteps approached before two figures in white-and-blue uniforms reached her enclosure. This was a familiar routine as well. She recognised the taller figure, a woman who had introduced herself as Claudine when they first met. She was probably in charge, because she was the only person Nina had seen wearing a name badge in here, and in fact the only person whose name she had known in the last week. The other person was just there to provide muscle; nameless, and interchangeable. They never said Nina’s name either; though she had no idea whether they actually didn’t knew it, or just knew how much dehumanising her added to the emotional impact of this experience. “Time to eat, sweetie,” Claudia said with a sadistic smirk. Nina cowered back, knowing what was coming and also acutely aware that it was her own fault. She had refused to eat on her first day here, wanting to show that there were some things she was still in control of. They had proved her wrong. On the second day she had been given another chance to prove that she was willing to go along with the programme; but she had been too stubborn. They wouldn’t give her the choice again. And the knowledge that she had wasted a tiny sliver of freedom on something so petty only reminded her – every time she thought about it – that she would have more freedom if she did what she was told in future. The man beside Claudine responded to her glare by turning and fiddling with the locks for a moment. Then there were no bars between her and freedom, just two people larger and stronger than her. They picked her up without any apparent effort, and carried her between them. She was going to get breakfast now, and it was clear that she had no choice in the matter. She didn’t bother to fight, she knew that there was no point. And her new compliance earned a smile and a pat on the head, along with a few reassuring words about what a good girl she was. Nina found herself blushing, surprised by how quickly she had gotten used to this treatment. She didn’t say anything as they deposited her on the chair, and set about strapping her in so that she couldn’t escape even if she thought there might be some chance of finding her way up to the surface through this labyrinth. A rubbery bulb was forced between her lips and Nina knew better than to fight it. A moment later there was warm sweet liquid filling her mouth, and she had no choice but to swallow. And despite her fear, she found herself somehow feeling not entirely afraid in this situation. Sure, she was trapped with no suggestion of when she would get out. But they weren’t actually hurting her, and so long as she did everything they wanted, she would be pretty comfortable. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. After Claudine and her assistants had left the room, Nina still never felt like she was alone. She didn’t know that there was a doctor watching her on a video monitor; but there was something about the decor that made it feel like she had no privacy at all. It was the kind of place where there would always be someone watching. She swallowed again, feeling the warm liquid running down her throat. It was actually pretty nice, if she just didn’t think about the situation, or her lack of choice in all of this. And it was easy not to think as she drank more. She found her thoughts getting fuzzier, and everything starting to blur. A minute later she would have been smiling, but for the bulb dispensing medicine into her mouth. And a little after that, she wasn’t thinking anything at all. Nina didn’t hear the conversation between Claudine and Dr Renault, commenting on how well she was progressing, or how soon she would be ready. And even if she had heard, she wouldn’t have been able to comprehend long words like “conditioning”. But that didn’t matter at all; it felt so good to just suck, drink, and smile. 2. Irreplaceable The air was filled with the insistent click-click-click of a dozen keyboards. Everybody in the office focused intently on their work, sure that what they were doing mattered. Even when they couldn’t make any deductions right away, they were chipping away at the rock face of ignorance, and sooner or later they would manage to unearth a nugget of truth. Or at least, that was how it seemed to Isadora as she pushed a stray lock of dark hair away from her face. She knew that her own work, even if it was related to something minor like a dead-drop in the back streets of Tarawa, actually mattered, and she was determined to do it to the best of her ability. Even if her hazel eyes were bloodshot from staring at a monitor all day by the time she got back to her apartment. It would have been worth it, and she was already looking forward to being able to relax and indulge herself later. But there was no time to be thinking about that. She straightened her glasses and smoothed down her sensible blouse as the interdepartmental mail trolley rolled by. Sheila's laughter at the mailroom guy's jokes grated on Isadora's nerves. Didn't they understand how crucial their work was? Isadora would never even consider flirting with a coworker, not one of the office staff. Even having a closer bond with an Operative could be dangerous; and Isadora wasn’t the only one who looked down on the various Monitors who had reputedly hooked up with the agency’s most notorious womaniser, Agent Brock. Isadora found herself sneering without thinking when that image crossed her mind; she knew she would never fall for that kind of flamboyant playboy. She tried to put it out of her mind, and turned back to the list of cryptographic signatures in front of her. She had an iron will, and remained focused on the screen for a whole two seconds until a letter landed on her desk with a quiet flutter. Then her hands froze over the keyboard, and she wondered if this could be it. The answer she had been waiting for. She hesitated, and froze with the letter in her hands. There was just her name and desk number typed on the front, with no indication of which office it had come from. But some instinct told her that her answer was inside. The final results after eighteen months of training. If the letter said yes, she wouldn’t need to keep sitting here decrypting messages to tell Brown and Johnson where they needed to be. She could travel with an Operative and give him support in the field. She could watch dots on her screen indicating where guards might be, and give her Operative advice in real time, telling him when he needed to duck, and when he needed to fight. On paper, there was little difference between the duties of a Monitor and a Field-certified Monitor, but in practice it meant that she could do all the things that required a real time response, and it meant that sometimes she might be less than a mile from the bad guys. It was a prospect that terrified Isadora, but if it meant that she could spend more time close to Brown, and even get him to speak to her for more than a casual ‘hi’ as they passed in the corridors of Millennium House, it would all be worthwhile. Shaking, and aware that she was distracting herself from her all-important codebreaking work, she tucked away an errant lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail and then drew her thumbnail carefully through the top of the envelope. A handful of minutes later, Isadora could hardly contain her excitement as she strode down the familiar wood-panelled corridors. A part of her still couldn’t believe it, but seeing her name on that certificate had put a new spring in her step. She hadn’t told any of her colleagues where she was going, and she doubted that any of them really cared. But she wanted Brown to be the first person she told. Brown was the Operative she wanted to work with more than any other, and it was his strength that had first inspired her to try getting into the field. He wasn’t an egotistical jerk like the legendary operative Brock, whose reputation included all the chauvinism of James Bond without any of the subtlety. Brown was a consummate professional, who made it his goal to learn everything he could possibly do to make the mission go down smoothly. And to Isadora, his caring nature and attention to detail made him much more attractive than toned muscles and dark-bronze skin. She’d respected the man ever since she first heard stories of his dedication and courage, and once she had actually seen him around headquarters she had been totally enthralled. The one time she’d spoken to him on the job, passing over a bunch of schedule data for an arms shipment, she’d seen that he had other impressive qualities as well. Brown would never see a mission as a checklist of goals. He cared about the people; both the ones he was working with and the innocents they were supposed to protect. And she had found herself dreaming of how well they could work together if they could properly synergise their skills. It was Brown who had said that teamwork was an Operative’s greatest strength, after all. She clutched her certificate, heart fluttering. She knew it was a little silly to be so emotional about this. She was just going to visit the man in hospital; to share the good news that they could work together once he was discharged. She’d brought a get well card as well, of course, and a little box of dates and walnuts because she remembered him saying that he didn’t have a sweet tooth. But she wanted him to be the first person she confided in about being approved as a Field Operative. He would give her some moral support, she was sure, and advice about managing her nerves that would seem like common sense as soon as she heard it. He’d be impressed by her qualifications as well, and tell her how well she had done. She could almost see it in her mind’s eye now. Reaching his door, she had to shake away her head to clear away those mental images. Those things were just dreams, they would never happen here and now. They would have to work together, and get to know each other more and more closely, for at least a few months before the calm and careful Brown would make the first move. He was a gentleman, after all. He wasn’t Brock, or one of the agents who idolised that guy and his refusal to work by the book. Brown would take his time, and always take care of her feelings. Because he was the kind of man who would respect her; and the only operative she knew of who had never tried flirting with the girls behind desks at headquarters. After steadying her nerves, Isadora knocked sharply. No matter what, she resolved to show Brown her very best. She would make clear she was ready for the field, and that they would make an unstoppable team. After all this time, her chance was finally here. “Come in!” a voice called from inside. It surprised her a little that he sounded confident and healthy, but that shouldn’t have been a surprise. Brown wasn’t seriously injured, and was only still in here because his doctors had insisted on a period of observation to demonstrate that he was fully recovered. “Hi,” she introduced herself with a nervous wave, before pausing to wonder if she should address him as ‘Brown’, or ‘Mr Brown’, or even ‘Agent Brown’. In a world where almost everyone was known by surnames alone, she wasn’t sure how to be either deferential or charming without sounding a little weird. She’d spoken to him before, of course, but only in a more formal setting within headquarters, when they happened to be assigned to related projects. This was different, because today she was actually making the initiative to see him. “Hey,” Brown answered. He was lying back in a hospital bed, with bandages around his arms. But he seemed happy and relaxed, with no signs of pain. It would take more than a little misfortune to keep Brown off the case. “Isadora, right? How’s the wonderful world of cryptanalysis treating you?” “Great thanks,” she answered, heart beating a hundred times a minute as she realised that he actually recognised her. A cynical part of her mind said that being able to identify a face in a crowd that he’d only glimpsed for a second before was a big part of his job. But it still made her feel special, like he actually cared. That was a magic that the flirts and chauvinists would never care about. “I’ve just been… Well, obviously I can’t say the details of what I’m working on. But I just got…” She did her best to breathe calmly, telling herself how important it was to appear professional. If he thought she was one of the airheaded clerical workers who had a crush on some agent, he would never want to be in the field with her. And she knew that she was better than that. Her interest and admiration was professional and entirely appropriate, even if it sometimes felt like something more. While she didn’t quite trust herself to speak clearly, she held up a hand with two envelopes in. One of them she had so recently opened, while the other had Brown’s name on the front. Of course, he smiled graciously as he took the one that was addressed to him, feigning a complete lack of curiosity about the other letter. But Isadora held it up anyhow. “I got my field certification,” she squawked, already sure that she was saying the wrong thing, but desperate to say what she had planned. She wasn’t going to come right out and ask, but it couldn’t hurt to informally assess his enthusiasm for being placed together. “I’ll be a real Field Monitor, in the field. Undercover, and all that. I’m so nervous still, but I thought… I mean, is there any advice you can give me? You’re probably the most professional Operative on the roster, so if I want to get advice from the best…” “Of course,” he said with a smile. “It’s a different system now, though. When I was paired up with Doc, he was an Operative first, studying the Monitor duties in the background. So I don’t know how different it will be for you. But there’s two pieces of advice I would give you, even if they might be a little… less dry and emotionless than what they teach in Spy School.” “Oh, that’s perfect!” Isadora gasped, and then hesitated and wished she could take the words back. “I mean… learning what matters from someone who’s actually lived it.” “Modesty suits you,” he said. “And as long as you’re willing to learn, I think you’ll make an excellent Field Monitor. Have you been assigned a partner yet?” “No, I…” Isadora hesitated. There was a part of her that just wanted to ask right out if he was willing to work with a new partner while his on-and-off companion Doc was recuperating after their last adventure. But somehow it felt somehow impolite to admit that she’d been paying so much attention to his life. That sounded like something he should volunteer; even if it seemed like he could be asking if she wanted to join him. “I only found out today, but I was wondering…” As much as she knew that she would need to start showing determination, that was as much as she could stay. “Whoever it is, they’re lucky,” he said. “You strike me as a very competent woman. And not at all overconfident.” It was the perfect compliment; and the exact opposite of what she would expect from the growing number of operatives who modelled themselves after a dinosaur like Brock. His kindness made her even more determined to say what she needed to say. “Thank you. How about you? I mean… I know you were injured. Will you be waiting for your Monitor to recover before you continue?” She knew that wouldn’t be the case. Brown couldn’t bear to stop working; the next mission was the only thing that mattered to him. But she could ask, and it would sound like something a concerned friend would say. She could hope that he would open up to her then. “We both got hurt a little,” he said. “And that’s… ugh, I haven’t talked to anybody about this yet.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–” “No, no. It’s fine. But I’ve got two tips for you, right? Things they never teach you in training. And I think this is a perfect example of the one I should have learned years ago. I wasn’t badly hurt this time, you see. But the circumstances made me think about what would have happened if I didn’t make it back. I always told myself before that one man is a small sacrifice; that the mission is more important than just me.” “That must be the hardest part of it,” Isadora mumbled, as soon as Brown paused. He seemed so intense now, and that only made her more eager to share this life with him. “Putting yourself in second place.” “Not really. A lot of people can sacrifice themselves. The hard part is realising that it isn’t all about me. Thinking about how my family would feel if nobody could tell them what happened to me. And when I think about all of it, I know I can’t do that. Sacrificing myself for the job is a small price to pay if the job gets done, but hurting all the people I care about… I can’t do that. I can’t take that risk with a clear conscience.” He hesitated then, opening the get well soon card she had brought and standing it up beside his bed. Isadora knew enough basic psychology to recognise displacement activity; a man doing some simple task as a way to put off thinking about his next words. She felt like she should say something, or reassure him. But she was just standing there with her mouth open, barely taking in what he was saying. After a long pause, he continued: “I thought about it a lot,” he said. “I’ve spent three days now, drafting and redrafting my resignation letter. I haven’t mentioned it to Forstadter yet, and I was kind of dreading it. So thank you, Isadora. Telling someone at work, someone I can trust… I think you’re already helping me over the largest mental hurdle.” “You’re quitting?” It seemed obvious, but she asked for confirmation before her brain had even processed what she had heard. It was almost unthinkable. Did that mean she would never get a chance to work with Brown? Did it mean she wouldn’t be able to see him outside work either? “Yeah. I’m sorry, I feel like I’m letting you all down. But when I imagine Dave sitting alone, never really knowing what happened to me… that’s not something I could ever do to him. I’m sure there are plenty of Operatives who can do what I do, especially with talented people like you to support them. But Dave, well… He’s only got one husband. That’s where I’m irreplaceable, and to me that’s more important than any genius with delusions of world domination.” He didn’t say any more, and for a few minutes Isadora just didn’t know how she could possibly respond. 3. Two Rules “You’re resigning?” Isadora managed to get the words out at last. A part of her was screaming inside, wanting to ask more questions, but just about everything she could have thought of to say would have been highly inappropriate. Brown had a husband? She’d had no idea. She thought that she knew him, but that revelation shattered the image in her mind. It was like there had been a part of himself that he always kept locked away; and once she started thinking about that, she was also realising that his professional demeanour had completely hidden any hint of a life outside work. She didn’t know what music he liked, or what sports he followed; let alone his family. She knew that he could talk confidently about just about any topic, but that was pretty much a job requirement for an Operative. He needed to be at home around the water cooler when infiltrating any stratum of society; and there was no hint there about which topics were of interest to him personally. “What happened?” “Davy called in for me,” he said, looking down at his hands as he spoke. “Said he had a bad feeling, was worried about me. The Monitors decided to put him through; he’d had enough background checks, and they can trust me not to say anything he’s not cleared for. But…” “Did he overhear something?” Isadora guessed. She knew so little about Brown’s latest mission that any guess she made would just be a stab in the dark. But she felt like she had to say something. She could feel that this decision was really hard, even for the man who was never scared of anything. And she needed to help him. A part of her still hoped that she could help him to make a different decision; but she wouldn’t even know whether that was possible until she knew the truth. “Kind of,” he said, and flashed the kind of smile that is only ever used to hide pain. “We were ambushed. We were preparing for the start of the mission, and Doc thought it would be okay to put him through to me, to wish me luck. But the shooting started before we were ready. I was hit, a flesh wound really. But it was chaos, and everything went to hell. Doc called back to SO3 that I was hit, and Davy heard that. I heard his response, in that moment. For weeks afterwards, I kept playing it over and over in my head. And I knew I never wanted to scare him like that again. He’s given up so much for me, and he deserves to know that I’ll be coming home from work. So…” “I’m sorry,” Isadora said, eventually. “I never even thought… I guess I’ve never really been that close to someone. And I can see where you’re coming from. But is there anyone who can do what you do? I mean… everybody knows you’re one of the best. I’m worried that important jobs might start going to the wannabe James Bond types. There seems to be more and more of them, and… I guess I was hoping you’d be a positive role model for the newer Operatives, showing them what they’re supposed to be.” She started blushing again after that flood of words, and resisted the urge to pull her bendant out from beneath the collar of her shirt. It was special to her, a single piece of jewellery with a secret meaning, and holding it always helped to relieve stress. But it was also pretty childish, so she usually did her best to keep it out of sight when she was around anyone whose opinion she valued. “I think I know the type you mean,” Brown answered with a wry smile. “And I can think of one or two who still need ideas from the movies removing from their minds. But not as many as you might think. Certainly, amongst some of the old timers, there’s a kind of hidden joke. If someone in the refectory asks how the latest job went and they don’t want to reveal compartmentalised data, they’ll describe it like an action movie. A lot of those stories enter into office gossip, but it really isn’t how the Operatives in the question act in the field. Even my old friend and Monitor, Doc, has a reputation around the break room for sleeping with a gangster’s moll on every assignment. But in reality, he sits in his room reading briefings. Everything at our classification level, every document we have access to, so that if our bandits cross over into someone else’s assignment, he’ll know who to get in touch with. Seriously, the guy won’t step outside his hotel room once until he needs to be somewhere. And then it gets to the point where the admin staff make up their own stories to paper over the gaps if they don’t know what we’ve been up to. Don’t trust the gossip, that’s one of the tips I wanted to give you.” “Oh, yeah,” she said. And even if this was a bittersweet discussion now, there was still a warm glow inside her from knowing that Brown seemed to respect her abilities. “Two tips, you said?” “Yeah. The first rule, don’t take anything for granted. When you’re assigned a partner, get to know them. Not just what people say about them, or even what they tell you, but watch the way they act. See when they react quickly and when they pause to think. See if you can understand who a person is beneath all the walls they put up, so you can know what they’re really capable of. That’s more important than most people would believe. And the corollary, make sure that you act rationally around your partner. When you’ve been working together for a long time, you can get blind to someone’s weaknesses. Like when I… When the whole business on my last mission went down, Doc put himself in the line of fire trying to help me. Didn’t stick to protocol. I appreciate that he cares, but all it meant was that we both got injured. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I feel bad about that. I should have reminded him to stay put. So that’s the rule. Know your partner, and know yourself. Know the mistakes you’re likely to make, so you can avoid them. We always talk about knowing your enemy, but knowing yourself is so much more important.” “I think Sun-Tzu said that,” Isadora responded, a little distracted by the mental image of someone getting shot in the field. It was easy to conjure up a pure-Hollywood image of diving in front of a bullet to protect Brown; that would be a true act of heroism. But when she thought about someone sacrificing themself for her, even someone completely unlikely like the irritating mailroom guy, she could see a shadow of Brown’s disapproval. It made the whole situation seem real in a new way. “One of them, anyway,” Brown said, and smiled. “You know they think The Art of War had at least seven authors, a bunch of different books put together under the name of a semi-mythical genius tactician?” “Yeah, I heard,” she said. “I guess it’s like you said, don’t trust the legends. So what’s the other rule?” “Think about why you’re doing this. I guess that’s part of knowing yourself, really. But it’s something a lot of the old-timers never considered. For so many years, I really didn’t know why I’m in this life. I signed up when I was young, because they said I was good about it. And I never thought about quitting, because people needed me. But I never questioned my own motivation. You should. Do you want to do this because you think it’s needed? Because you’re good at it? Because the movies make it seem so glamorous. Because let me tell you, it isn’t. Think about why you want this life. Think about how much those feelings mean to you. And think about who will miss you if you don’t come back, and how much you mean to them. And if you’re not absolutely certain that it’s a trade worth making, take a step back. For a life like this, you need to be sure. I didn’t think about it until it could have been too late. I was lucky. You can do better.” “I… uhh…” Isadora stammered, finding the whole conversation heavier than she had expected. “I think you’ll be a good Field Monitor,” Brown said, cutting through the tension. “I really do. And I hope you’ll be protecting the country from the bad guys. And being a good role model for the more impetuous. But I don’t want you to dive into it without really knowing that’s what you want, or without asking yourself why. You deserve better than that.” “Thank you,” she whispered. They kept on talking, and the discussion was lighter now that all the serious issues were out of the way. But twenty minutes later, Isadora’s shoes rapped slowly against the wooden floors of Millennium House as she returned to her department. She had such a lot to think about, and now she really didn’t know if she wanted to be an Operative or not. Without Brown in the picture, she felt like the whole career path was out of focus and not quite what she had expected. Had her desire to go into the field really just been a desire for one man, without her being able to admit that to herself His questions cut deeply now, in ways she had never even expected. Was she throwing away a promising cryptography career on a promotion that she didn’t really want? It didn’t help that as soon as she swiped in through the last security checkpoint, the screen told her to go straight to Kane’s office, on the seventeenth floor. That gave her a lot more time to think; as well as adding a whole lot of new worries to the mix. Emerson Kane was a veteran Monitor, one of the best of the best. Everyone in the building had heard of him, but it was a long time since he had been in the field. Now he moved in the upper circles of the Agency, managing funding and politics. He was a big picture guy, who would never need to look at an individual case; and being sent upstairs was rarely good for anyone in the administrative side of the building. Isadora spent half the walk up there wondering what she could have done wrong. When she reached the office, she found herself standing outside, too nervous to knock. Her hand closed around her pendant, grasping so tightly that the plastic edges probably left white lines across her palm. She needed comfort now; she needed to remember a time without so many responsibilities. Because everything was happening at once, and she didn’t know how to deal with all the things that were worrying her right now. Running away wasn’t the right answer, she was sure. But moving forward terrified her, and she didn’t know if there was even a point to it now. “Enter.” The word came from the intercom beside the office door, brusque and businesslike but without any obvious signs of impatience. She hadn’t even knocked, but of course her security badge would track exactly where she was within the building. Kane would have been able to watch her on the map, coming closer to her scheduled appointment. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, dreading whatever was next for her.

Across the street, into the Parkinson’s yard, through the fence and over the hill. That’s where freedom lay. In that exact order. Pippa - Louise knew that because last year she had made the mistake of trying to climb over the fence. Of course with it being fourteen feet tall, how would a Little of five foot stature reach that? It had been a noble plan destined to fail from the start and if someone had told her how hard it would be to escape a cul de sac, she’d burst into laughter. But it was difficult and that’s why she’d gotten smarter this year, concocting with the other Littles in the neighborhood about the yearly game of Hide and Seek. Of course, it was always the Amazons who would seek and the Littles that would hide (and run). It was a game everyone waited in anticipation for as it was their one true time to escape. It got hopes up among each Little that perhaps there was hope for a mature future, one without diapers and intruding checks and the permanent smell of baby powder and endless days of play… “Pippa - Louise? Are you there?” What? A voice. Someone talking. “Please, say something quickly!” High pitched and airy. She blinks. Once and then twice. Pippa - Louise knew that voice. Betsy! In an instant, her head popped up and out of the flower pot being her exact height. She meets Betsy’s searching blue eyes crouched behind the Holly bush at the edge of the road. The Little watches as Betsy mouths to wait, pointing towards the left where two twelve foot women cruised the street. Hunting. Seeking. Noted. Pippa - Louise nods, sinking back down inside the ceramic pot that had been collecting dust for the last several months in the front yard. “Where oh where could the Little ones be? Munchkin and Pumpkin must be hungry. I made their favorite food: buttered noodles and a vanilla bottle.” the first voice mused. “Well, I’ve got a warm bubble bath waiting at home and Mr. Ducky just misses Little Henry terribly! Who is he to play with?” Did they really think it would be that easy? Pippa - Louise lets out a silent scoff, shaking her head back and forth. They weren’t that stupid as to be swayed over something so… so scrumptious and inviting. Her mouth begins to water. Drool, Dribbling down her chin and - NO! She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes open and shut. One time. Two times. “Pippa - Louise?” Three times. “Pippa?” The voice calls in a whisper-yell once again and her head whips up, auburn curls swinging in her face. Her eyes widened, remembering what they were doing. Escaping. Hiding. Hide and Seek. That’s right. The Amazons were far enough away. No one else around except the hiding Littles. “Let’s go.” Betsy mouths, giving the signal to run. They just had to run. Across the street, into the Parkinson’s yard, through the fence and over the hill. Then they were free. Pippa - Louise gives a nod of acknowledgement, knowing it was time. She rocks back and forth, tilting side to side and suddenly the world has turned sideways, the pot on its side and the Little is spit out on the grass. It tickles beneath her skin. So green. So shiny. She picks a skinny sliver examining it closely. “Pippa!” In an instant, she looks up. Betsy is standing there, above her, holding out an anxious hand and an expression in her baby blue eyes that makes Pippa - Louise confused. “What?” She asks, ignoring her outreached hand. The Little grunts, leaning forward onto all fours and maneuvers herself up into a standing position. She wobbles, rocking back onto her heels and sticks her arms out in an attempt to catch her balance. “Um…” Betsy hesitates, eyes flickering over the diaper firmly secured around her lower half. The space between her separated thighs is taken up by the extra thick padding, leak guard and soaker pad, taped half way up her stomach and expanded out to just below her knees. “Don’t we need to go?” Pippa - Louise asked when she had steadied herself, uselessly pulling down on her sparkly unicorn shirt that ended just above her pooled out belly feet. “It’s not safe in the open!” The Little knew what Betsy was staring at and she really did look like a beached whale. However, Mommy always said that proper padding is important to prevent messy little girls and she knew it wouldn’t prevent her from escaping. Pippa - Louise could still waddle if she just focused on her feet. One foot in front of the other. One at a time. “Ugh,” Pippa- Louise groaned, green eyes rolling to the back of her head. “I’ll be fine. You worry too much. I made it all the way from my house to here, didn’t I?” That was a moot point. They stood beside her house, in their neighbors yard which was Betsy's. “Pippa - “ “Let’s go.” The Little ignores what she’s going to say knowing It’ll be nothing good. “We’ve been here too long. It’s almost time.” This year was the most comprehensive plan the Littles had made to date together and it had to work out. Their neighborhood was shaped like a horseshoe, ten houses going in one big half circle. If everything was to go how they’d timed, the Little brown haired boy, Henry who lived in the center would create a distraction drawing the Amazon’s attention away from the Twins in the blue house, diagonal from the Parkinson’s. That would give Pumpkin and Munchkin the chance to run, avoiding Old Man Blues and his binoculars, always sitting on his front porch searching for naughty Littles. If Old Man Blues was distracted than so would be Mrs. Pinehurst who lived right beside him because she had the fattest crush on him that anyone had ever seen. Her backyard was essential being that she was both practically deaf and blind which would allow the Littles to lie and wait. That being said, the Parkinson’s and Mrs. Pinehurst’s house was only separated by a single yard and that wouldn’t be a problem if not for the dog. The Amazon couple that owned it were on vacation but their mutt of a pet was meticulous in guarding its owners property and sight of the Littles would surely set it off. Pippa - Louise gulped, freckled face ashen as she thought about every way this could possibly go wrong. The Parkinson’s large yellow house with the perfectly manicured garden mocked them cruelly. It should have been easiest for them, being right across the street because while almost in reach, they were still seemingly so far away. “We are going to need to run.” “I can do that.” Pippa - Louise had always been a bad liar. “Let’s go then.” Betsy shrugged. It was easy for Betsy Kinsella because of the moderately thick pull - up she’d been gifted for her third birthday for a sixth year in a row. Not all of them were so lucky, especially Pippa - Louise and her overbearing mother but that didn’t put her off and only increased her determination. Steeling up the courage, she muttered to herself, “you can do it, Pippa - Louise. One step at a time.” And that she did. Crinkle. The noise echoed after her every step but that wasn’t a big concern.The problem was the fact that her legs trembled and ankles were already sore. She’d become intimately familiar with her backside, always looking up at either her colorful mobile, Mommy’s happy smile and or when her bottom was expertly cleaned, changed and diapered. Pippa - Louise realized that the world made much more sense, backside down and she frowned, wondering why she even was standing - Oh wait. The game. Hide and Seek. She was supposed to be hiding and Mommy was supposed to be seeking. Hiding meant freedom and freedom meant being a big girl in the big world like she used to live before that fateful day at the coffee shop and the sticky accident. But that was a lifetime ago, nearly six months. The memories were hazy but she could picture a girl by the name of Logan in a tiny bare apartment with her hair up in a messy bun and laying down after a long day at work. She’d narrowly dodged Amazon’s petty little tricks just to keep her pants dry for another day more. It seemed exhausting but Betsy, Henry, Munchkin and Pumpkin all said it was worth it and that she’d remember how she missed that tiresome, diaper - less life and the Little giggled to herself. She was just being silly. Mommy’s goofy adorable little baby. Pippa - Louise just had to make it across the street with Betsy who was right beside her… or had been. The Little looks up just in time to see a flash of blonde disappear behind the Parkinson’s house and she’s gone. Then all of a sudden, church bells ring out through the air in a whimsical, melodic tone and she remembered why Betsy had left. That was the signal for escape because the dog would be scared inside by the noise like always and then Henry would come charging down the street on his tricycle leading the herd of Amazons on a goose chase, and the remaining four of them: Betsy, the Twins and Pippa - Louise would escape through the Parkinson’s disrepaired fence and over the hill. Henry would join once he escaped the Amazons and they’d disappear into the sunset to the land of big girls. That’s why she had to cross the street right now or it would be too late. She had to catch up with them because her sanity depended on it. However, when she tries to walk, something stops her. The ground had disappeared and her toes wiggle in the air. The Little looks around in shock to realize that she is still in the yard, the pot tipped over beside her and she’s laying down in the grass, legs splayed out at a ninety degree angle on her back. As her gaze settled above, she let out a gasp of wonder. Looking up at the sky, it is a color that she has never seen before. So blue, electric, the color of her Mommy’s eyes and the clouds are just as fluffy if not even more than the ones that consumed her lower half. Content to stay here forever, she knows that is not possible because the game is still ongoing. However, a moment to relax won’t hurt. She’ll get up soon, find the others and continue on their journey. At least that is what the Little told herself and her eyes flutter shut, wanting to relish in the way the sun kissed her cheeks on this warm summer Saturday afternoon. But, in the distance there is a screech, a loud crash and the sounds of wails. “Noooo! Please just let me go! I’m a big boy!” Smack! Smack! Smack! Little Henry sobs as his bottom is properly tanned. “That’s for losing Hide and Seek.” His Mommy chided. “Only immature Littles could get caught so easily. I think that means that Henry is more immature than we ever could have realized. Another year as Mommy’s baby is the only logical solution.” Oh yeah, that’s right. Pippa - Louise remembered the rules of the game stated that if the Littles made it out of the cul de sac, automatically they’d be granted their freedoms. However, none of the Littles really accounted for that in the history of the game, no one had ever escaped. Oopsie. Her eyes fluttered open and the intense blue sky had turned to two pairs of glimmering eyes and bosoms, probably the size of her diaper hung low. She squirmed as two hands placed beneath her arm pits shifted her into a sitting position. “Look who I found!” The thirteen foot Amazon gasped excitedly, tickling fingers beneath her armpits eliciting a round of giggles. Mommy. Blonde, blue eyed with a heart shaped face, they could be real mother and daughter if the Amazon was not so big and she was not so Little. “Is my darling girl tired from this silly game?” Tired? The Little frowned. No. That’s not what she was. The Little was far from tired. She just needed to find the others. Maybe this year she could win. Mommy had to know. “I need to find Betsy, Munchkin and Pumpkin,” Pippa - Louise tried to explain, blinking through her foggy mind. Her Mommy’s eyes were so blue… “Where would they be?” The Amazon asked with a smile and Pippa - Louise could have sworn her pearly white teeth shimmered in the light. The Little knows that their plan is top - secret and no one else could find out. But Mommy wasn't just anybody. She was Mommy! That meant it had to be okay because Mommy was great at keeping secrets like when she told her about Mr. Fluffers and Mrs. Floppy being secretly in love with each other but they didn’t know. That’s why Pippa - Louise was going to sit the two stuffed bunnies together at the tea party to bring them together. Oh! There was also the time at Daycare when Missy told her that at nighttime when her Mommy and Daddy were asleep, she liked to play with her itty bitty clitty but it was supposed to be a secret and no one could know. Pippa - Louise told Mommy and she promised not to say anything but the next day at Daycare, Missy had mittens on her hand and refused to talk to her. The Little was confused because Mommy had promised to keep her lips sealed and Mommy never broke her promises. That must mean someone else must have overheard them and Missy blamed Pippa - Louise. It was unfortunate, really, but it was okay because why did she need friends when she had her Mommy? “Darling…” a tickle beneath her chin drew her forward, leaning, leaning, leaning into the Amazon’s touch. The Little blinks. The fog was heavy in her mind, more so than usual. What were they doing? Mommy asks again, “can you tell Mommy where Betsy, Munchkin and Pumpkin are?” Oh, yes! She and Mommy were sharing secrets. The Little leans forward, lips pressed against the Amazon’s ear and whispers, “across the street, into the Parkinson’s yard, through the fence and over the hill.” OoOoo One year later came all too soon. It’s Saturday again, warm and sunny and the game has begun. Pippa - Louise is laying on her back, suckling hard on her paci as Mommy tugs at the straps around her upper stomach, right beneath the tiny bee stings she’d once called breasts. Tugging, tugging, tugging… “Ahah!” Mommy exclaims with glee when the tapes have finally held together. Her legs don’t even touch the changing table, the material too thick and monstrously big to allow any part of her lower body to have closure, now having puffed out to her ankles. But Pippa - Louise didn’t mind because life was so much better on her back with her legs spread without a care in the world. “Oh my baby is such a pretty girl, such a good girl, such an absolute super pooper!” Her bell-like voice cooed, floated through one ear and out the other. The fog was thick, clogging every nook and cranny in her tiny body but Louise didn’t know where else it had to go because every thick roll on her thighs and arms and chubby cheeks were consumed. Pippa - Louise giggles a distant and far away reaction, lips smacking together, spittle flying from her lips. She lifts her arms, reaching towards the Amazon’s voluminous breasts with eagerness. “Silly girl,” she squeezed her tummy. “Mommy thought it would be fun to have a picnic! Wouldn’t that be nice? Mommy knows how much you like to look at the sky.” It wasn’t that Pippa - Louise liked looking at the sky, she absolutely loved it. She especially loved the feeling of being on her backside, knowing Mommy was right there to roll her over anytime needed and to play with her and to feed her and sleep. It was the only way to be but the others just did not understand. “We can even watch your friends play Hide and Seek! Doesn’t that sound fun?” Friends? Oh, Pippa - Louise didn’t have any friends. Not after last year's game of Hide and Seek and what a funny concept… hiding, seeking, running. Littles didn’t run. Pippa - Louise couldn’t even walk let alone crawl. Why’d anyone want to play such a silly game? But there was a reason and it seemed to be why no one in the neighborhood would talk to her anymore. Play dates were awkward, hostile glares thrown her direction and so she’d play by herself, on her back shaking the rattle back and forth enchanted nonetheless, lost in the fog of her mind. As soon as they were inside the house, they are outside in a familiar spot, sitting on a red and white checkered blanket. A wicker basket sits at the feet of the Amazon which contains a cheese platter, crackers and fruits. Cradled back in the woman’s arms, the Little’s mouth waters as her belly grumbles for lunch. “Mommy!” Pippa - Louise whined, reaching with her hands. “Patient, my love.” Mommy kissed her forehead, reaching into the basket and plucking out a grape. The girl whined again, in desperation this time and - Ahhhh, she sighed. Finally. The firm, milky white breast popped out of the nursing bra, already leaking from fullness and the Little latches on. Suckling, slurping and gulping down the thick cream with greed, she takes all she can, welcoming the cloud of fog over her mind. A squeal sounds in the background and then a scream as one Little is caught and the rest will be soon to follow. Maybe next year she will play, Pippa - Louise thinks but then immediately pushes the thought from her mind. No way. Hide and Seek was a game for big girls. Not babies like her and she fills her diaper, a warm mudslide leaking out into her overly thick, very inconvenient, padded bottom. OoOoo Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Here is a little diaper dimension one - shot I’ve had sitting in my drafts for an awhile! I have thousands more to post so stay tuned!

A/N: IMPORTANT TO NOTICE Hey all! I hope you're all doing well! Do not worry! I am still working on my other stories but had started this a while ago and felt like I should post it! Just a warning in the beginning that this story will contain a lot of non-con, sexual content and humiliation. If this makes you uncomfortable than I suggest you don't read it! I love seeing comments so I'd love to see everyone's comments! ooOoo Summary: When a young new independent journalist decides to write about something other than the typical run of the mill stories, she is introduced into a new life, just not in the way she expected. ooOoo Chapter 1: MommyslittleBiggurls.com 22 December 2021 Hello Friends! It sure has been a while! I hope you’re all doing well on this frosty morning. Here in Montana, we’re certainly going to have a white Christmas. Sugar and Cookie sure are excited to see Santa and have been extra careful to be good girls; always asking for the potty like good little girls, eating all of their veggies at dinner and making sure to drink all of their babas full of yummy milk! I’m sure you all are experiencing the same with your little ones at the moment, even the disobedient can’t ignore the happy cheer of Christmas. I really can’t believe it’s only been three months since we first adopted our newest little girl, Honey! Of course with new littles, it’s always an adventure and Sugar and Cookie are being the best big sisters they can be! It can be hard, especially around the holidays to deal with an un-regressed, naughty little so that brings me to the topic of today’s post: Punishments. If you're like me or are a new caregiver, it’s never easy training a new little and before they can be our sweet little babies, they will be literal demons! It is never fun but in order to nip that naughty behavior in the bum, punishment is required and it is not always as simple as quick spanking. Listed below, you will find three different punishments to try if you, like me, were at a loss. Punishments: Punishment 1: Corner time with a twist Depending on the severity of the naughty behavior, instruct your little one it's corner time for a certain amount of time. While many, if not all, will just find this incredibly boring and whine, there is a small twist. Listen carefully to these five steps: Take littles’ clothes away (that means no diapers/pullups/or undies as well!), Give a nice soapy cold enema to their bum-bum and insert a buttplug to ensure no dribbles Administer a firm spanking (I’ve found different objects such as a belt or hairbrush to be most effective!) Little will bend down or kneel in the corner with their bum-bum high in the air for everyone to see After a certain amount of time, if the little has not moved from their position, you will instruct the little to tell you what they did wrong and have them beg to release their bodily functions. If you are unsatisfied with their response, even more minutes will be added to corner time Punishment 2: Potty Time with Horsy Let’s get real, we’ve all struggled with littles refusing to go potty in their diapers or on the training toilet and it’s a pain to have to insert enemas and suppositories into screaming littles. That’s how I came up with horsy time. The rocking horse, while meant to be an object of amusement during playtime, can just as quickly be turned into an object of torture. What you need to do is listed below: The little will sit on the rocking horse in only their bottoms, whether that be a diaper or pull-up Place earphones on little and set to the wet diaper hypnosis Instruct the little to rock back and forth and do not stop no matter what and not to mess or wet themselves Plan a certain amount of time and come back when the time is up If the little is still rocking and is dry, they have earned the privilege to go potty. If not, horsy time is extended and the dirty diaper stays on another several hours The constant rhythmic motion combined with hypnosis at the same timing will put the littles right in the mood to have to relieve themselves. How they do it will no longer matter. The added pressure to keep a constant rocking in order to avoid further punishment will take a heavy toll on their mind as well and increase the need for positive behavior. Punishment 3: No Playtime with Teddy If you choose to allow your little to have any sexual release, this punishment can have a rewarding effect. As a human race, we are sexual beings but not everyone deserves or should have such an experience. Littles have gotten it into their minds that they should be allowed to have such experiences, but what do they know? They’re just littles. It is our job as caretakers to instruct and control their urges. If we leave them to their own devices, who knows what will happen? My little girls are allowed one play session a week with Mr. Teddy Bear to release all of their icky cummies by the hand of mommy and daddy. While Rosie and Cookie know being a good girl will lead to happy feelings, Honey is still learning. Orgasm and cum denial or “the tickles and ice cream dance” as we call it, are an excellent way to assert dominance and make them quickly realize who the real grownups are and who is in charge. Mittens or restraints are a must for untrained littles! You never know where their wandering hands will end up! Chastity belts are also a great device, especially if they get a little too excited during playtime and try humping (which is extremely discouraged!) IMPORTANT: It is important to enforce anything sexual is not allowed without the approval, observation, and act by grown-ups because you never know when littles might accidentally injure themselves! I hope you all enjoyed my little list and hopefully it helps you on your journey to having a regressed little! It may seem tough at times but we’ve all gone through it before (I currently am!) Stay tuned for next time and meanwhile, have a Merry Christmas! Love, Mommy Bree ooOoo The sound of the ding signaling the post had been successfully posted was a happy feeling to say the least. Unknown outside the world of ageplay, Bree Hawthorne was as famous as could be within the community. With over ten thousand followers and readers, people tuned in from all over the world to read about their simple little family. Being a blogger on top of a mommy had become her full time job and she didn’t regret a single second of it. She always knew she wanted to have a family and her love for blogging couldn’t have been a more perfect combination. There were so many who envied to fill the role of a Hawthorne little but only so few could actually meet the requirements. That’s why they had taken to unique means of obtaining their little girls. Kidnapping was a bit too harsh a term. They preferred adoption. Did the public need to know that? No. Would they ever find out? Probably not. Looking around outside the large glass windows, the only view for miles was farmland with snow capped mountains in the background. Bloomington, Montana was the perfect place to go to if one didn’t want to be found. They had the freedom to be who they were without any nosey neighbors disrupting their lives. Her husband, coming from old money, allowed them to own lavish homes around the country, buy the newest high-tech adult-baby equipment and pay off those they needed to stay quiet. Everything was as it should be. Everything would soon be perfect. They were our babydolls. Sugar, Cookie, Honey and- “Another post?” Jasper. At the sound of his deep voice, she spun around in the swivel chair. Face to face with her blonde, strong-jawed, blue eyed handsome husband. He was everything she dreamed of in a man. Strong, smart, caring, loyal. A great daddy to their three wonderful girls. What more could a person ask of a spouse? “Yes. I’ve finished just in time for… lunch!” she exclaimed, glancing at the time and shutting down the macbook. “Today’s post was about punishments and I gave the best examples of Honey. How is she doing this morning actually? The baby monitor on her end has been awfully quiet.” she asked, having been in the office the entire morning working. “Sleeping.” was his only response, scowling with his hand over his face. “Do I want to know what happened?” “No.” It was always a struggle to tame the girl and her rebellious behavior and silly dreams. Most often then not her bum was black and blue, littered with marks and bruises. How a five foot, one-hundred-twenty pound girl with not an ounce of body fat had managed to give them this much a fight, they did not know. While the little blonde fought they pushed back just as hard. She would break eventually. They all do. “Sugar and Cookie are in the playpen writing letters to Santa,” that made them crack a smile. “I can feed them while you handle, Honey? I may just take her over my knee again and that’s not what she needs at the moment.” Bree reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck as his face burrowed into her kinky black hair, placing a trail of kisses upon her chocolate colored skin. “So it’s my turn to play the bad mommy,” she mused. “Precisely.” her husband cracked a smile. “It feels so much longer than three months since we got her. Remember?” Oh, how could they forget…

Virtue follows the lives of several women raised in a restrictive cult which forces it’s female members to wear and use diapers. Some characters resist this form of control, some embrace it, and others seek to use it to their advantage. 18+. This story will contain elements of coercion, brainwashing, and misogyny. There will be no incest but there will be family dynamics that would be reprehensible in real life. The first two chapters of this story are public, further updates will be posted on my patreon. When/if the rest of the story becomes public, it will be posted in this thread as well. All characters are over 18. - Virtue: 1 Hannah Hannah stood in the kitchen, her hands in the warm dish water, watching the sparrows outside bathing in the puddles from yesterday’s rain. Hannah shifted her legs as she reached for the dish soap. Her heavy cloth night diaper sagged between them, straining her frosted plastic pants. The skirt of her faded blue gingham dress swished over the plastic as she moved. At the sound of a loud slap behind her, Hannah started and looked over her shoulder, a burst of urine dribbling into her diaper as she did so. Her mother, Michelle, had just plopped a large wad of bread dough on the table and was kneading it aggressively. Hannah watched her admiringly, envying her mother’s confidence and skill in the kitchen. She knew that in her mother, she was looking at her future. Michelle was middle aged, pudgy, and had a tired but attractive face. Her dark curly hair was pulled back in a bun and she worked the dough with the shapely arms and strong hands of a woman used to hard labour. Michelle’s diaper, the outline of which was clearly visible against the back of her dress, looked heavier than her own. Unlike Hannah, her mother had a distinct waddle as she moved around the kitchen. However, Hannah still thought that Michelle’s large diaper looked less out of place on her matronly figure than on her own girlish hips. Hannah greatly admired her mother’s humble strength in the many sacrifices she had made for her family. She was thankful that for her, everything would be easier than it had been for her mother. She had had the privilege to be raised correctly from the start, whereas her mother had had to relearn everything about a virtuous life when she met Hannah’s father. Looking up from working the dough to see Hannah watching her, Michelle directed a single pointed look back at the dishes. Hannah blushed and picked up a spatula, feeling herself softly pass gas into her diaper as she did so. One good thing about getting up early to help mom in the kitchen was that it gave her bowels a chance to move before her morning diaper change. The downside, of course, was having to spend more time awake in her much thicker night diaper. Hannah picked up a bowl with a pattern of soft pink flowers around the rim and dipped her dishrag into the soapy water. Truthfully, Hannah did have a tiny secret, and one that made her blush with guilt to think of. She knew very well that it wasn’t appropriate for women to hold their waste, but she had been secretly practising influencing when she used her diaper. Too often, her body chose to go only after she had been changed into the diaper she would spend the rest of the day in. Hannah had slowly learned that with a little effort, she could dirty her diaper before her morning change and therefore spend most of the afternoon in a cleaner diaper. She’d never been explicitly told it was wrong, but she couldn’t imagine it was something a truly good and virtuous girl would do. Nonetheless, it gave her the tiniest thrill to exert this little bit of control over her life, and to privately know that at least some of her innocent feminine accidents were intentional. As she felt the pressure building in her bowels, she knew that she needed to act now before the urge passed. Feeling herself flushing with excitement and embarrassment, Hannah spread her legs slightly and tried to push. She braced her small hands on the edge of the sink and leaned forward, unable to concentrate on pretending to wash a dish as she pushed. Hannah stifled a little gasp as she felt a unexpectedly large and mushy mess slide into her diaper. Hannah beamed even through the familiar shame she always felt after using her diapers. That was so easy! She tried to casually smooth down the back of her skirt, feeling the slight bulge of her mess under her plastic pants. Sheepishly, Hannah’s gaze darted back over to her mother to check if she’d noticed. Michelle’s only indication that she was aware her daughter had filled her diaper was an expressionless glance at Hannah’s bottom. She continued dividing the dough for buns without comment. Hannah turned back to the dishes, looking at her reflection in a large soup spoon. Only 19, she was sweetly and delicately beautiful, with a heart-shaped face, large expressive brown eyes, and a constellation of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her light brown hair was braided in a single thick plait and her bangs, which she had been growing out, were tucked behind her ears. Hannah placed the spoon in the dish rack and began picking at the dried dough along the edge of a mixing bowl. She knew that of course, under no circumstances would her mom say anything negative about her dirty diaper. Her mother had always made it very clear that it was one thing for the boys to tease their sisters about their full diapers, but for the girls to do it to each other was nothing but catty meanness. Still, she felt reassured that her mom hadn’t noticed anything unusual about her accident. She wondered if her mother ever experimented with maintaining control over her body in this way. She couldn’t imagine that her mother would ever think of such a thing. She did wonder about her older sisters, who certainly didn’t have all the respect for themselves that they ought too- “Are you quite done with those dishes, Hannah?” Hannah’s head shot back up at this subtle rebuke. She looked back over her shoulder at her mother. Michelle gestured with a flour covered hand to the dining room. “Can you set the table please?” Her voice was incredibly controlled and betrayed only the slightest sign that her limited supply of patience was wearing. Hannah nodded and wiped her hands on a dish towel. Grabbing a handful of cutlery, she made her way over to the table. As accustomed to it as she was, her full diaper still interrupted her natural grace. She felt awkward and infantile, especially after receiving a tiny reprimand from her mother for dilly-dallying. Hannah carefully set the table and straightened the floral table runner. As she looked up, she was dazzled by the morning sun shining through the dining room windows. Outside, the pear trees in the yard were just coming into bloom. Beyond them and only just visible from the window, her and her sister’s diapers were drying on the clothesline. Hannah sat down on the low window ledge, entranced by the birds that were flitting around the pear blossoms. Her diaper squished uncomfortably under her, her mess mushing upwards into the front of her diaper and pressing against her vulva. Hannah smiled, knowing that it was a sign that she was loved and protected. She knew that she was truly blessed.

Several years back, I read a fic on some digimon-related fansite that involved Ranamon forcibly babying Takuya, but it veered into smut rather quickly; I figured I would do my own non-sexual version. I can't remember the name of the fic, the site I read it on, nor the author, but if anyone finds out that information please let me know so I can credit who I got the idea from [EDIT: original creator contacted me with a positive review, giving me their blessing and telling me not to give out their name as the handle they used when they wrote the original story involved public information. Please respect their wishes as well, and if you figure it out on your own please do not post their name here]. Enjoy! “Crap! Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap!” Takuya ran through the brush, cursing mildly as he shoved aside plants and ferns in his mad dash to escape his pursuer. Ugh! Why can't I transform? Stupid digivice, fine time to glitch out—! No sooner had he said that than a plume of water shot out just over his shoulder, startling Takuya and causing him to trip, his signature goggles flying off as he fell face-first into the dirt; he pressed himself off the ground, ready to sprint again when his eyes landed on two blue-green feet right in front of him. “Heh, what's the matter? Suddenly forget how to walk?” “Ranamon...!” Takuya did his best to hide his fear as he attempted to get to his feet, only for another plume of water to appear and envelop him, carrying him helplessly over to Ranamon's grasp. “Urgh... you won't get away with this!” The evil hybrid laughed. “Oh, but that's where you're wrong! Isn't it funny how your little gadget just happened to stop working now? That's the result of one of my new toys... and guess what? Since you're the newest one of all, you get a special preview of what I have planned for all your friends once they come to rescue you!” A dark mist seeped out from her hands, moving slowly towards his face; unable to hold his breath in time, Takuya quickly felt himself fade away into unconsciousness; the last thing he saw before he blacked out was a strange smile on Ranamon's face. “Sleep tight... little one.” Takuya knew something was weird before he even opened his eyes, not including the detail that he was still alive somehow. Firstly, he felt something soft and surprisingly comfortable between his legs; secondly, most strangely of all, he heard what sounded like odd whispering and music just off the edge of hearing, both of which ceased as something was quickly removed from his head before his eyes could open fully. Once he did, he nearly cried out in shock at Ranamon's smiling face staring down at him. “Ah!” A soft chuckle came as response. “Aww, how cute! Did mommy startle her widdle baby?” “What? I'm not a baby!” “Well then,” she said with a smug grin, “if you're not a baby, explain where you are and what you're wearing!” He looked around to see that he was, in fact, sitting in an oversized crib; it was exactly as large relative to him as a regular crib would be to a real baby featuring soft bedding, several stuffed animals on one end, an overly-cutesy baby blanket covered with images of baby digimon, a small mirror, and a mobile of stars and moons dangling overhead. The room itself was nothing short of a gigantic nursery, with a large playpen, a changing table, a rocking chair, and a giant baby bouncer. In addition to this, there was a television-like screen near the bouncer, and—bizarrely enough—a large swimming pool, though the latter was fenced off for the moment. The biggest shock of all, however, came when he looked in the mirror and saw what he was wearing: a baby blue footed sleeper made of extra-soft fabric, baby blue mittens, a bib covered with baby digimon, and an attached pacifier (also baby blue); he didn't need to be informed directly to know that he was also wearing either several layers of diapers or one MASSIVE cloth diaper, big enough to keep him from ever closing his legs enough to stand up on his own, let alone walk. “Wh... what did you do to me?!” Ranamon giggled, though oddly the giggle seemed entirely without malice or menace as it usually was with her. “Oh, silly baby! I didn't do anything to you! You've always been mommy's widdle baby digimon! Did you have a bad dream, baby?” The repeated stressing of the word “baby”, combined with the syrupy-sweet tone of voice reserved purely for the tiniest of infants, sparked an indignant rage in the human boy as he blushed red. “Sh-shut up! I'm not your baby, you stupid bitch!” In a flash, Ranamon's smile was gone, replaced with an angry frown; before he could react, he felt a plume of water lift him up into the air—to his surprise, the soft fabric making up his sleeper was waterproof as well—and place him face-down on his captor's lap as she sat in the rocking chair nearby. “Good babies don't use that language! Naughty baby! Time for a spanking!” As she opened the rear flap of his sleeper, Takuya did his best to struggle, only to find that he was somehow weaker than he had ever remembered being, able to do no more than squirm helplessly. Before he could do anything else... WHAP! The sting of the hit was rather mild, but Takuya was certain that without all the padding on his bottom it would have been far worse; what hurt the most was the humiliation of being spanked like a disobedient child. “Ow! Stop it—” WHAP! “Ow! No, don't—” “Will you be a good baby digimon for mommy?” WHAP! “What? Ah! I don't kn—OW! “Will you be a good baby digimon for mommy?” As the spanking continued, the same question was repeated, the stressed section making it clear what his response would have to be to stop the treatment; for the moment, that was far too humiliating to say, but each successive strike from her hand on his increasingly-red bottom—not even the padding could protect him from the impact completely—eroded his will to resist more and more until, at last, the dam broke as he burst into genuine tears, begging for the punishment to stop. “OKAY! OKAY! I'll be good!” WHAP! Not enough, apparently, as evidenced by Ranamon's repeated question. “Will you be a good baby digimon for mommy?” “I'LL BE A GOOD BABY DIGIMON FOR MOMMY!” No sooner had he finished saying it than the flap on his sleeper was snapped shut, and he himself was turned around in her lap for a hug, his legs straddling her and his arms over her shoulders in much the same fashion as an actual baby would be held; one of her hands wrapped around his back, resting on his padded bottom, while the other gently stroked the back of his head as she softly whispered to him. “Shhh... it's okay, baby. Mommy loves you... Such a good baby digimon, relaxing in Mommy's arms and doing what you're told... you're such a good baby now, Takuyamon.” It felt almost genuinely comforting until he heard the addition to his name; he made a brief protest through the tears that just wouldn't stop. “I-it's just T-takuya—” “—Mon. That's a clever baby, you know your name...” “N-no, th-there's no 'mon' in it! I-I'm not a d-digimon...” The stroking stopped as Ranamon looked him in the eyes with a mild glare. “Is mommy going to have to spank baby Takuyamon again?” “N-no! Please!” He'd had quite enough spanking for one day. Apparently satisfied with his answer, she continued stroking the back of his head while whispering comforting words for a while before slowly standing up—wow, she's strong, she's lifting me up and carrying me like this with no problem at all—and gently setting him down in the crib again. “Now, we're going to play a little game! All you have to do is say the right answers, and you'll get a reward,” she said, placing a bonnet on his head and tying it under his chin. “Are you ready, baby?” As much as Takuya hated this treatment, he had little choice but to go along with it for the moment. “Here's the first question: are you a human, or a digimon?” “What? I'm a human—AAH!” Suddenly, images and sensations of the recent spanking flashed through his head. Clearly, that was the wrong answer. “Okay! Fine! I'm a digimon!” “Aww, good baby,” Ranamon replied with a warm smile. Just as suddenly as the spankings flashed through his head, Takuya was now bombarded with images of being held and comforted by her. “Now, say it five more times for mommy!” He paused for a moment before deciding to just bear with it for a while. “I'm a digimon...” Loving arms around me “I'm a digimon...” Soft hand gently stroking my hair “I'm a digimon...” Soothing words spoken in my ear “I'm a digimon....” So safe and comfortable “I'm a digimon.” Feels nice to be held by mommy With every repetition, the sensations grew stronger; upon the last one, he felt a wave of pure bliss rush through him—nothing sexual, just a sublime feeling of being loved, being wanted, being comforted. It felt like the blissful sensation would last forever, but when it finally ended it suddenly felt like it had barely begun, leaving him almost wanting more. Takuya yawned; the whole experience hadn't lasted long, yet he felt so sleepy all of a sudden. “Aww, is my baby digimon just sooo sleepy? Shhh... it's okay, babies need their naps,” Ranamon cooed, switching on the mobile; something about the soft music-box-style lullaby coming from the mobile only exacerbated his tiredness, and Takuya found himself inadvertently rocking back and forth as he sat there, struggling to keep his eyelids open and yawning again. Ranamon reached behind Takuya's head with one hand and placed the pacifier in his mouth with the other, gently lowering him down on his back, shushing him all the while; he didn't even have the strength to spit the pacifier out at this point, so tired was he. Ranamon walked to the edge of the room to dim the lights, leaving only a small nightlight near the crib to prevent total darkness before returning to the side of the crib itself and smiling warmly down at him. She said nothing, but as Takuya drifted off he could have sworn he heard soft music and whispering all the same...