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"It's lovely to meet you at last Anna. Come this way.. here, take a seat." I sat down, crossed my legs primly, the skirt folding over my knee, sat upright to avoid pushing my jacket off my shoulders, a picture of professionalism. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me, I'm a great admirer of your work." She smiled and sat on the edge of her desk, looking down at me. "I'm glad you did. Your resume made me realise I'm missing support in a key area." She detailed the role she'd created, apparently for me, and she'd done it well. Not the perfect job but one I could enjoy, and it would mean working for her. I had a professional interest, wanted to learn from her, loved the work she did but also how she did it, but that had led to a crush of a very personal nature. Which made the next part of the interview very awkward. "Now," she said, "your letter also interested me. I'm thinking you can help me with another need too." I looked at her in confusion which turned to shock as she reached into a bag on her desk and pulled out some clothing, baby blue in colour, that when she held it up to show me made me immediately blush. I'd been distracted while writing to her, browsing a site that offered very expensive bespoke clothing. Somehow I must have included a link in my letter and she'd followed it and.. bought it? "I'm sorry," I said, standing up, "I'll go." She stopped me, her hand on my upper arm, pulling me towards the other door from her room. I started to cry, my dream job vanishing in humiliation, didn't look at where she was taking me. It was only when she told me to stand still, unzipped my skirt, pulled that and my underwear down that I stopped and looked around. It was a normal room in a normal house; if we'd been friends we'd have chatted in here rather than in her office. There was a large TV, a gorgeous painting on the wall, a long sofa that looked comfortable. She pushed me down to sit on it, told me to turn and lie down. Emotional turmoil and confusion meant I didn't protest. Maybe the hope my crush had caused enticed me to cooperate. So I lifted my hips when asked, didn't try and prevent her fastening a thick disposable diaper to me, didn't complain when that baby blue garment was slid up my legs. By then it was too late. She locked it in place, tight enough that I'd never pull it down my hips, a diaper cover that stopped me getting to the diaper she'd fitted, gave me no choice about using it. I sat up, looked at her in confusion, no longer crying but not far away. She bent down, picked up my skirt, handed it to me. "This won't be needed now. I'll buy you something shorter that fits more comfortably over your diaper. The job comes with a dress code, and you appear to like it." I blushed and looked at her in astonishment. It seems my dream job was perfect after all.

Bobby sniggered as he gripped the metal ring, his biceps bulging as he strained to force it open. “Give me a hand here Seb,” he said. Sebastian looked across. “Told you it’d be stiff,” he said, “this sprinkler system is so old I don’t think the groundstaff even know it’s here.” They grunted together, faces side by side, semi-crouched over the rusted metal, shoulders square on to each other. A grinding sound and the ring started to turn, slowly at first then quicker. Bobby and Sebastian lost their balance as their hands followed it around, falling forward onto each other, collapsing sideways and ending up on the grass. Sebastian looked down into his friend’s face, noses almost touching, eyes close together. He puckered his lips, closed his eyes and waited. “Get off me you oaf,” said Bobby, pushing Sebastian away and standing up, “We’ll miss the fun!” The two lads looked out from the rickety shed across the playing fields, watched as water started to spray from invisible jets below the turf, creating geometric patterns that arced into the air. New jets appeared as the water travelled further, taking just seconds to start spurting by the cheerleaders, midway through practising a routine. Screams filled the air, bright panties flashing from beneath the pleated skirts as the girls started to run in random directions. Bobby and Sebastian burst out laughing, dropping to their knees, look at each other as though needing affirmation that this was funny, then looked back at the fleeing cheerleaders. “Look at them go!” said Sebastian, “Oh god, I’m going to wet myself laughing.” Bobby stopped laughing for a moment and looked at him, then decided to let it go. He laughed again as he looked back at the girls, then realised one wasn’t running as quickly as she had been, was being left behind by the others. “Hey Seb, what’s with Cassie?” They watched as Cassandra stopped running and crouched a little, knees apart, hands reaching down between her thighs. The sprinklers still squirted water and she was getting wetter by the moment, but as they watched they realised with fascination that something was starting to hang below her short skirt, dropping lower by the second. “Wait?” asked Sebastian, “Is that a…” He stopped incredulously, incapable to voicing what he was watching. He stood in surprise and watched as the bulk between Cassandra’s thighs grew and her knees were forced further apart. Two of the other girls had turned and spotted her too, were running back over to her. As one wrapped her arms around Cassandra’s shoulders, quiet words whispered into her ears the other girl looked up, saw the two lads watching and laughing, guessed what had happened. “Bobby! Seb! Oh, you two are going to regret this!” she shouted, starting a firm angry walk towards them. The two young men looked at each other, turned and ran. This couldn’t end well!

“So George wants to try a diaper.” Linda looked at her friend in surprise. “Gorgeous George? The new grad that joined last month?” “Yep, that’s the one.” replied Suzie, nodding and smiling. “He was struggling with stress so I extolled the benefits of just letting go from time to time.” “Oh, nice. Are you going to help him with fitting?” Linda winked. “Oh, of course,” said Suzie, “a little bit of promise too, so that when he needs a change he’ll welcome the attention.” Linda nodded. “Nice thinking,” she said, “Nothing like a spot of sexual tension to assure compliance.” Suzie grinned and gave an evil chuckle, making Linda look over with a quizzical look. “Oh, I’m going further than that. He’ll be in a nice schoolgirl uniform, lacey petticoats barely hiding… What?” Suzie stopped, looking in confusion at Linda shaking her head. “No, too much too fast,” explained Linda. “Start with a pretty dress, the old ‘trousers won’t fit over that’ line, follow up with ‘you look so lovely’ then when you change him that gives you the opening. ‘Oh Georgie you look so adorable like this. But that’s a woman’s dress and, well, a diaper is for someone younger.’” She paused, smiled nastily and continued, “That’s when you suggest the schoolgirl uniform.” Suzie laughed and shook her head. “Ah, Linda, I like your style but you forget. I’ve been working him for a month already. I can get him straight into the diaper and schoolgirl outfit, then at that first change still go ahead with your ‘but you look so adorable and young’ direction and take him straight back even from there.” Linda asked, “Further? So…?” Suzie nodded. “Yes. Sweet little Georgie is going to finish his first date in a onesie. By the end of the weekend I’ll have him wet, messy and entirely under my control.” Linda sighed at her friend. “I’m so jealous,” she said, “Why can’t you like girls instead?”

Frank applied the safety, ejected the magazine, cleared the chamber and put his pistol on the table. The Glock 26 looked like a toy gun, its compressed form stumpy and ugly, but he was glad he'd had it on him. Hearing someone enter the house he stepped away from the table, turned to face the door and raised his hands. "Police! Stop there. Hands up, keep them where I can see them. Don't move!" The police officer was young, frightened, his service weapon pointing at Frank, the shouted commands all unnecessary. Frank stood patiently, his heart rate only slightly elevated, his breathing steady and a calm expression on his face. When the officer stopped for breath he spoke, a clear neutral tone. "My weapon is on the table, unloaded. I have a concealed carry permit which I can show to you. The body is in the kitchen." A second police officer entering the room heard the words, took control from her younger partner. "Thank you sir, but we're going to have to detain you while we validate this. Turn around slowly, place your hands against the wall." Frank sighed but did as he was asked. Tensions were high, cooperation merely inconvenient. He anticipated his wrists being brought down behind his back, didn't resist, allowed the cuffs to go on. He knew he could remove them if he wanted to, but why upset these two. They were just doing their job. Paperwork checked, an apology from the female police officer, an apology from her lieutenant, an apology even from the DA who had inexplicably arrived on the scene, Frank sat in the back on an ambulance he hadn't called, reassuring a paramedic that he was fine, the contusions were just grazes, no they weren't from the police. Moments later a police detective climbed into the ambulance, the DA following him, pointed stares encouraging the paramedic to find it important to be elsewhere. "You're claiming it's self defence?" asked the detective. Frank didn't want to repeat his story, knew it would be necessary. The attack from behind, a needle skittering across the kitchen floor, some sort of blunt club swinging for his head, realising the door was locked and he couldn't run. He'd drawn his weapon and shot immediately, no warning; if he'd had time for that he wouldn't have needed to shoot at all. The DA nodded. She'd worked enough concealed carry cases, knew how rarely those weapons were misused, how reluctant the bearers were to even draw them. She'd also been shown the syringe, retrieved from beneath a counter, in an evidence bag, its contents already heading to the lab. She'd been shown something else too, and waved to someone outside the ambulance to bring it over. "Is this your bag?" she asked, pointing at the black canvas hold-all. Frank shook his head. "Not one of mine," he said, "I don't have any that look like that." "Well," said the DA, "it contains leather restraints, some sort of harness, mittens that lock to the wrist. If I didn't know better I'd say it's bondage gear - or a kidnap kit. Any reason you can think someone might want to kidnap you?" Frank's eyes widened as he looked up at the DA, looked across at the bag, stared in confusion at the detective. "No," he replied, "who.. why.. what?" The detective smiled at his confusion, cruelly added to it. "So you can confirm that the clothing in the bag isn't yours?" "What clothing?" asked Frank, "What was in the bag?" "Hard to describe," said the detective, "but if I had to I'd call it a baby's romper suit. In your size." Frank went white, his expression changing, then closed his eyes as in deep thought. The detective and DA looked at each other, raised eyebrows, realising this wasn't a random attack. "So Frank," asked the DA, "tell us about the other thing in the bag. The adult sized disposable diaper."

Thanks to my friend QueenJunoKing for encouraging me to write this, she gave me the initial idea and it just kind of lit my brain on fire. I know petplay isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I hope you enjoy it. -=-=-=-=-=- She trembled, looking at the tangle of leather and rivets, buckles and straps that laid on the bed. Her heart thundered in anticipation, a bird desperately thrashing against the bars of her ribcage. It was something she had dreamed of for so long. She had been playing with him for years, had dropped many hints in that time - he had too. And this was the coup de grâce, the ultimate fantasy. The contract was signed, there was no going back. She was going to be his pet. Forever. Every inch of her skin felt electrified, she wanted so badly to pick up those straps, to handle the harness that would force her to crawl around the house. With an unerasable, stupid grin on her face she squeezed the padded knees and elbows. She had gotten to play with it a few times, but this was different. This was forever. No more working. No more stress. She was giving it all up, signing it all away. The life of a fuckpet, her ultimate fantasy, was less than an hour away. Her only responsibility would be pleasing him - no cleaning, no cooking, no commuting, just love and play and sex. And he was insatiable. They had been living together for eight months now and the sex was even better than it had been before she moved in. A shiver ran through her as her fingers touched one of the buckles. She wanted to wear it now. She wanted him to strap her into it, to force her nose to the ground in the beautiful mask, to draw the moans and whimpers from her, to lovingly humiliate her until she was so horny they didn't even need the lube when he finally took her. With an incredible effort, she tore her mind away from that fantasy, one that had been a reality more than once, and back to the problem at hand. She had about half an hour left to finish coming up with her ten words. Hungry. Thirsty. Horny. Bored. Yes. No. She had come up with six in the past thirty minutes, but that was all she had so far. He was giving her ten buttons to be programmed with her voice, ten words to express herself. In another thirty minutes, he would take her voice. He'd affix a collar to her neck, a new one, a shiny one. Oh how she wanted it. But she also knew it was designed to hurt her if she spoke words. The ten buttons on the board, placed on the floor for her to activate with her elbow - her foot in the bindings - that's all she'd be able to communicate with outside of body language and whimpers, yips, and whines. Biting her lip, she stopped her hand from reaching the button of her jeans. The entire idea of it was so exciting, so exhilarating, that she could barely contain herself. More. She'd definitely need that word. She said it frequently when he was with her. More. She couldn't get enough of him, either. She dropped to her knees beside the bed, her head awash in images of him leading her around, him sitting on the couch and patting his leg, beckoning her to him. Fantasies of just being his pet. She shifted on her knees slightly, rhythmically, the need in her demanding that she move her hips. She had to move her hips. Hurt. Sometimes he went too hard and she needed time to recover after. Tired. She knew that she could convey that one with body language, laying down and curling up, climbing up on the bed and flopping over. She shook her head, scratching that one. She needed the words to be things she couldn't easily make known... Walkies. She giggled to herself, at the thought that "walkies" needed a word when "tired" didn't. But it was cute and she wanted it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the more rational part of herself was screaming that this was important, that she couldn't waste one on being cute... But wasn't that the point? Trusting him to make all the decisions, trusting him to take care of her. That rational part had been screaming when she signed the contract too, but it had also been screaming when she moved in, when she had begun considering quitting her job. She tingled at the thought of looking her boss right in the eye and quitting, telling him simply, "I'm nothing but a fuckpet now, I don't need this job." One more. Just one more word. She heard him walking closer. She wished she had a real tail, one that could wag. "Sweetie, your time is almost up, have you thought of what words we're putting into the buttons?" His voice was the darkest of chocolate, rich and luscious, washing over her, drowning her thoughts. It was so hard to focus when he was around, when that rumbling voice spoke to her. His fingers were in her hair now, touching, stroking. And she knew. "Yes sir, I just thought of the last one." The entire room got warmer with the happiness in his voice. "You're such a good girl." He sat on the bed, grabbing her by the wrist and wrapping an arm around her, sitting next to the very harness she wanted to wear so badly. He pulled her into his lap, grabbing the button panel and fiddling with it. She couldn't help it, she started grinding against him, rocking her hips in his lap, drawing a soft chuckle from him. "Shhh, down girl." The words sent a new thrill through her. "Be calm, this is important. These are the only words you'll have from now on. Forever." There was that word again. Forever. She loved it so much. Never as much as from his lips. The word in her own mind was resonant, the word from his lips was earthshattering. A moan escaped her as she leaned forward, gripping his knee between her legs. The need was becoming an ache. "Sir... " His gentle laugh brought a blush to her face. "Now sweetheart, I know you're excited. We've been building you up to this for a long time, haven't we?" He barely paused for her hurried yes sir before continuing. "That's right. All that training you've done was all for this. Now, when the button lights up, I want you to say the word you want it to have." He pushed it. It lit up. Everything lit up to his fingers, she lit up to his fingers. "Horny." He held his laughter until the button's light was gone, pressing it again. "Horny", the button sounded so needy. She sounded so needy. Her cheeks were warm, her grip tightening on his leg. "Oh goodness, sweet pet. That's the word you think you'll need more than any?" "Y-" He put a finger to her lips. "Shh. No more words from you except what we give the buttons. These are the last words of your life as a person, soon you'll be my precious pet. Forever." Another moan tore itself from her lips, bursting into the world as she shuddered from its exit. "Ready?" The next button was alight moments later. She struggled to find the word. Any word. "More." The button went dark. "Horny. More. More. Horny." He teased her with the buttons, with her own words, her own voice full of longing, full of desire, full of readiness for him. She groaned in frustration, grinding against his thigh, humping him desperately. One strong arm wrapped around her waist, stopping her, holding her firm. "No." An order, a command, and as strong as steel. With a whine, she stopped, biting her lip. She was a good pet, she wanted to please him. She wanted nothing more in the entire world than to please him. She wasn't quite sure when he had become the center of her world, but he was beyond any doubt. "Next word." He spoke firmly. The button lit. "Yes." That word was easy. Her breathing was heavy, ragged as the button echoed her, before he lit the next one. "No." Again, he laughed at her choice. "Oh I see, you want to still be able to say no to me, hmm?" His beard tickled her as he kissed her cheek. "Well it wouldn't be fair for me to censor you now, would it? After all, these will be your only words." "Fo-" Again, a solid finger pressed to her lips stopped her. "No. You have to get used to not speaking except through the buttons, which means no words except what's going in the buttons." The gentlest iron turned her back to face the buttons, his fingers as unyielding as his will. The next one lit. Her mind went blank. She searched for the word... "Hungry." "Oh, someone doesn't think she's going to be fed enough, hmm? Hungry and more. Do you think I won't take good care of you?" She reached out and pushed the fourth button, hearing her own voice say, "No." He laughed and lit the next one. "Bored." She could feel his smirk as he kissed the back of her neck. "My poor pet, bored already. Well, I have so many new toys to give you. Just four more words to go." Lit. "Walkies!" The world shook with his laugh, she bounced in his lap, which drew a fit of giggles from her as well. "More. Walkies!" He tapped the buttons with a smile. "I think you've made some good choices so far. Are you ready?" She pressed the third button, "Yes." A small worry formed that she wouldn't remember which was which, but she knew she'd have plenty of time to memorize them. The next button awaited. "Thirsty." Another. "Hurt." "Oh, my poor sweetie. I'll always take care of you when you're hurt. Better than ever before, my beloved pet. You'll never have to worry about a thing, once I seal you into this... " He shifted, picking up the mask and holding it in front of her. "You want this, don't you?" Her hand moved practically of its own will, smashing the button. "Yes." It didn't convey how badly she wanted it... "More." "More?" His golden, rumbling laughter warmed her inside and out. "My greedy puppy. Only one button left. What shall it be? What's the last word you'll ever need?" The button lit. The whole world became this one moment, where she was giving everything up to him. Her identity, her life, her will. "I love you." Before the button was dark, she was on her back on the bed, his body crushing hers. He was so much bigger, so much stronger. The fingers of one hand wrapped around both of her wrists as he pulled her arms above her head, his teeth going straight for her neck. The primal growl that came from his throat was more than she could take, she let out a long, desperate moan. She bit down on her tongue hard, needing those three words to be her last, her gift to him for all his generosity. And from the grip of his hands, the scrape of his teeth, the weight of his body... it was a gift that he readily accepted. He was terrifying in his precision, her clothing torn from her one article at a time. Always one hand on her, holding her - her wrists, her waist, her chin - as he ripped her shirt away, her bra, her jeans, and the panties soaked with her longing. The urges were growing too strong, she desperately wanted to beg. He did the kindest thing possible, the gag went between her lips, buckled around the back of her head, which hit the pillow shortly after. The rough skin of his fingers split her lips as he took her clit between two fingers, gently, lovingly, tugging ever so slightly just the way she liked. Another moan burst into the world from her throat, muffled by the gag. A line of drool escaped the corner of her mouth, her hips rocking wildly. He laughed, and she heard an unexpected sound. The unmistakable crinkling of a diaper. Her eyes shot wide, her body sitting upright as she looked in surprise. He enjoyed them, but they had never been her thing, she'd worn one for him a time or two, even wet for him before, but she ignored his encouragement to explore them. They were so thick, they made her walk funnily, and it made it harder for her to get the sensations she craved. "Why so surprised?" The amusement in his voice was a new torment. Her mind spun, her hand going to the gag so she could protest. Her head spun from the speed with which he shoved her back down. "Someone didn't bother to use any of her words to ask for the bathroom... and you're going to be in this lovely bitchsuit nearly all the time... so this is just practical." His smirk was that cruelty she craved from him so much, that twisted brilliance that constantly took her by surprise, that tickled every corner of her imagination with its wicked ways. "Forever." The word shredded her resistance, she was barely coherent from the tiny electric orgasm that sped through her. "My pretty diapered pet, I did tell you that you should learn to love them." She was stunned as he lifted her hips, sliding it underneath her. And her head cleared just long enough to sit up, pushing him away momentarily. But she wasn't nearly strong enough to escape him. He dropped the diaper, the pink, fluffy, crinkling thing as he forced her face down onto the bed, running his finger along her glistening sex once more. "Oh now she's just being naughty. I suppose I can diaper you after... " The resistance left her again as she felt her right hand shoved into the leather mitt, the buckle tightened with tantalizing speed. Her arm was bent, her fingers placed on her own shoulder as he cinched another buckle. Her left hand shot out, grabbing the bed, grabbing for anything she could, somewhere in a tortured state between bliss and fear. The left hand was secured shortly after, and all too easily he threw her onto her back, pinning her to the bed with a knee as he began working her legs into the bindings that she had wanted so very, very badly. And she still wanted them. The sensation of the leather on her hands, the smell of it, the way her arms were restricted, this was the stuff of her every fantasy. Before she could finish that thought, her knees were bound, bent, her feet tangled in the straps that went around the ankle, over the sole of her foot. Moving a knee pulled her mitten taut. He had her. She was helpless. And there was nothing she could do to stop him from taping that first thick, fluffy diaper around her waist. She moaned into the gag over and over and over as he rubbed her padded crotch, writhing and barely noticing when he snapped the shiny metal collar closed around her neck. Locked. Active. Moments later she was on all fours - her elbows and her knees, now her "pet feet", the buttons of the board staring at her from the ground in front of her. "Anything you'd like to say, my precious diapered pet?" The board had all the words she'd ever need. Forever. "I love you."

Kirsty knew all about blowouts. Anybody with small children knew. It wasn't something anybody was ever taught, you learned about them the hard way. A blowout wouldn't happen while a child was safely tucked away in a cot, secure, within easy reach of a change of clothes, a washing machine, a clean diaper. No, blowouts happened in public, when it was least convenient, the child in ignorant bliss of the horror it had just caused. The weird thing was that friends didn't realise the problem. "Oh dear, someone needs Mommy," they'd declare, confident that Mommy could cope, would quickly and efficiently return the gorgeous tot to full cuteness. It was the parent that had to deal with the mess, the way the explosion had shot up out of the back of the diaper, somehow leaked at the legs, ruined the tights, the diaper shirt, the pretty dress. Experienced parents knew to take a change of clothing, as well clean diapers. The cafe, the village hall, the doctor's waiting room; they were someone else's problem, they had staff to clean them. Kirsty had raised three children and they had all been her problem, their comfort and cleanliness something she had to provide, and even if they didn't know what they'd done, she did, and she had to deal with it. So when someone else was the parent, Kirsty reflected that she should at the minimum not be dismayed. It wasn't her problem, she wouldn't have to replace the soiled clothing, gently wipe the skin, pretend this was a normal run of the mill diaper change. Unfortunately she felt only distress, the realisation that this was a full blowout, and that the Mommy hadn't even noticed. "Ewwww," she said, "That's smelly!" It was a white lie. The food was somehow treated; extra bulk, less smell, same awful stickiness. In a way it helped, made filling a diaper a more private function, fewer people sniffing loudly and declaring, "Oh dear, someone needs Mommy." Alice turned and looked at Kirsty. "Oh dear," she said sympathetically, "Does someone need Mommy?" Kirsty groaned. No shit someone needed 'Mommy'. She knew better than to say that, three different punishments would come from that single retort. Instead she forced a smile to join the frown on her face, looked up at Alice and provided a carefully neutral reply, "Mommy..." Alice did that adult thing of pausing to change expression, going for the sympathetic look in an obvious 'I'd better show sympathy' way. She turned back to her friend Julie, begged forgiveness for a moment and walked over to where Kirsty was strapped immobile in a push chair. Undoing the straps long enough to lean Kirsty forward, she flipped up the back of the short dress and immediately wrinkled her nose. "Holy mother of.." she exclaimed, before her voice trailed off. She looked across to Julie and called out, "You would not believe this! It's a full scale blowout. We're going to have to find a bathroom." Kirsty knew all about blowouts. She hadn't expected to suffer one, be the subject of that humiliating call across the park, see her friend Tracey look across in horror. Tracey knew all about blowouts too, and had never even had children. Sometimes people learn about them the very hard way. Carefully standing up Tracey started to waddle towards Kirsty. The look of sympathy on her face was genuine, and Kirsty knew she wanted to provide comfort and commiserations. She just didn't want them, was embarrassed enough already, just wanted to get clean. "Tracey! Come back here." demanded Julie. Tracey stopped, looked at Kirsty in consternation, clearly torn between friendship and the fear of disobedience. Friendship doesn't come with punishments though so when she turned and unsteadily made her way back to Julie, Kirsty silently shared thanks. The world turned around her, and Kirsty could no longer see her friend. Alice had wheeled her around and was pushing her determinedly up the path. "Come on Sweetie," she said, "Lets get you clean and beautiful again." Kirsty knew all about beautiful too. This wasn't something she had ever claimed, and although the occasional unguarded look on Alice's face showed genuine affection and the love of a mother, she couldn't believe a thick diaper and pigtails made her beautiful now. Sure, the portal had changed her body, the tired lines and stretch marks of a well used body in its forties gone, replaced by a beach ready body that looked - and felt - in its late teens. Her new body's lithe youthfulness was spoiled by poor muscle definition and wide, broad hips, which she'd decided were worth the chance to feel young again, but she was being treated as even younger, nearer 18 months than 18 years. But beautiful? No. Not with the freckles she'd somehow acquired, even if they did help her face match the outfits she was forced to wear. "Why the frown, gorgeous?" asked Alice. "You're much prettier when you smile, it really lights up your eyes. Julie says she loves your face when you smile, the dimples and freckles make you just adorable." Kirsty had heard this before, so many times she'd lost count. She'd lost count of many things, repeated humiliations, public embarrassments and private mortification. Her memory was good, mentally she was in surprisingly good health, adapting well to what had once been so strange a situation. She didn't seem to be aging here, her body retaining its youthful elegance, no matter how many years passed, the promise of the advertisement kept, and that promise extended to her brain, keeping her sharp and aware. Sadly aware. The advert hadn't mentioned that her young body would not be under her control, that forced adoption by someone claiming to be her new Mommy was inevitable, that her perpetual youth would be lived in perpetual babyhood. Yes, she was aware of that. A good memory still loses track of the prosaic, the things each day holds, the forced feedings, the mornings trapped in a playpen and the afternoon naps. Even the changing of a diaper becomes mundane, an uncomfortable embarrassment replaced by another, a temporary respite from dismal damp. "Here we are," gushed Alice, pointlessly telling her charge they'd reached the bathroom. Kirsty knew this building, knew the flap inside that folded down from the wall, knew she fit easily onto it and that she couldn't undo the strap that would hold her in place. She'd lost count of the diaper changes even just here, the trips to the park seldom short enough for her to stay clean throughout. Kirsty wasn't incontinent. At least, she hadn't been. Giving birth had weakened her control but she had still had it, just the occasional emergency dash to the nearest toilet. Coming through the portal fixed even that, and for a few hours she'd revelled in the choice she had to delay those bathroom breaks, no longer hostage to the nearest facilities. It was a naive joy, replaced by a permanent delay. She couldn't remember the last time she'd used a toilet, never needed the facilities. She didn't know if she had control any more, after days, weeks and months of only using a diaper the body stops worrying about such an irrelevance. Strapped to the padded shelf Kirsty looked up and reached out to Alice. She hated playing the cutesy toddler but it made Alice happy, and a happy Alice treated her much better. "No Darling," apologised Alice, "Mommy has to get you clean first. We can cuddle afterwards." Kirsty lowered her arms again, her simple point made, and really she was glad Alice had that priority. The park path wasn't smooth and every bump, every little jolt had transmitted through the pushchair into her diaper, reminding her its revolting contents, spreading it further. Her unwelcome, repetitious and intimate familiarity with being soiled had inured her somewhat to the situation but she still hated it, wanted it gone. She felt the diaper shirt being unfastened between her legs, her tights pulled down, then her shoes being removed and the tights taken off completely. "Oh my," sighed Alice, "you can't wear those again." She pulled out a small plastic bag, normally used for dirty diapers, and put the filthy clothing in it. She unstrapped Kirsty, lifted her up and stripped the dress and onesie off her. Kirsty stood there, wearing just a heavy diaper and pale blue ribbons, in her hair. She watched Alice examine the clothing, saw for herself the horrible state of her onesie, prayed it wouldn't be put back on her. Alice fortunately reached the same conclusion, thrust it into the same bag containing the tights. "Even your dress is dirty, but it's just a small patch by the hem. I'll wash that down Sweetie, or you'll have to go home in just your diaper." Kirsty knew better than to comment on her clothing, but allowed a quiet smile to show her satisfaction with the compromise. The day was warm and, while she was permanently in diapers, and she knew that in the pushchair her dress would ride up and reveal her shame to passers-by, she still wanted it on, even the smallest concession to covering her diaper was worthwhile. But first, she wanted a clean diaper. "What's wrong Kirsty?" begged Alice, obvious concern lining her face. Kirsty realised with horror that she'd let her true feelings show in her facial expression, right as she'd been mentally berating herself for falling into the mental trap of wanting a diaper, rather than just wanting to be taken out of this dirty one. Kirsty recovered fast. She'd learned well, knew how important it was to keep Alice on her side, knew the buttons to push. "Sticky!" she sniffed, concentrating on not saying any more than that, and especially not asking to be changed. Alice melted a little, reached forward and gave Kirsty a quick hug around the shoulders. "Awww, you poor thing," she acknowledged, "Lets get you out of that horrible diaper." For once the pair shared a moment, full uninamity, all guile and pretence unnecessary as they looked at each other in agreement. A swift change, Alice well practiced, soft wipes quickly leaving Kirsty's skin smooth and pristine, a light dusting of powder and clean padding, firmly fastened, securely sealing Kirsty into a gently scented leakproof prison that she knew would soon be a torment once more. "There," celebrated Alice, pulling Kirsty's dress back on and giving her the promised hug, "all clean and beautiful." Sure, thought Kirsty. Until the next time. She knew there'd be a next time, it was inevitable, unavoidable, one of the few certainties in her new life. Yes, Kirsty knew all about blowouts.

Taming Your Amazon or How to Survive and Thrive When Little : A Pamphlet from the Little Liberation Front Foreword This publication is targeted at Littles entering or already within an asymmetric relationship with one or more Amazons. Although ending the relationship is frequently the primary goal in such a situation this is seldom achievable without substantial effort and elapsed time. Through understanding and adopting approaches from this guidance, a Little can minimise their chances of forced regression, entering an orphanage or undergoing irreversible physical or mental deterioration. Chapter 1 : Understanding Your Amazon Congratulations! You are now the proud beneficiary of your very own Amazon who, with the right treatment, can provide you with years of entertainment, security and emotional support. Rule One : Your Amazon Loves You In almost all cases it is a female Amazon that adopts a Little [1], and we will assume you have acquired a typical female. She will be genetically incapable of caring for a Little without falling in love, and very likely lost all emotional control even before you became family. This love will guide almost all of her actions, even the ones that cause (or that you feel cause) you harm. Understanding this is key to manipulating those actions and minimising perceived or actual harm. Your safety and happiness do actually matter to her, and these are levers you can use to your own benefit; subsequent chapters explore specific scenarios in which this can occur. Even more powerful though is that your Amazon will love you even more, and be far more amenable to your needs and desires, if she feels that love is reciprocal. This should thus always be an immediate target, with vestiges of love - fake or otherwise - demonstrated within the first few days and a close loving relationship rapidly built. Case Study 1-Negative: Charlotte was captured in her mid-20s by a middle-aged Amazon couple and understandably hated her loss of autonomy and freedom. When the couple thought they were being kind by helping Lotty into diapers, pretty dresses and a comfy crib, she rebelled against them with constant screaming and physical resistance. Obviously this led to punishment diapers, hypnotic loss of continence, almost permanent pacifier use and a strained relationship with her couple. Sadly things broke down from there and after several weeks of increased detachment due to being put in daycare the Amazon couple conceded things weren't working and contacted their local orphanage. Charlotte was lost to the system. Case Study 1-Positive: Aiden got picked up before even applying to university but took a pragmatic view of his new family. He did his best to adapt to the life his Amazon wanted him to lead and quickly found ways that made her happy. This in turn assured her that he was perfect for her as he was, and although Aidy had to endure several years of being babied he eventually contacted the LLF and was able to regain his freedom. Aiden is already progressing well on his toilet training and now only wears diapers at night. As Aiden's case study demonstrates, knowing the individual drivers and goals of your Amazon can help tremendously in building rapport and surviving the early phases of a relationship. As with Littles, Amazons are very different individuals and will vary in how much time they want to spend having a cuddle, playing with their Little, pursuing their career and continuing the other elements of their life (career, social life, hobbies, etc). Rule Two : Be Her Baby Almost all relationships start with at least a week of full-time care, which is a great opportunity to learn about your Amazon and find out what she likes. The common element to all relationships though is that your Amazon will have entered it because she wants a baby. Be that baby for her. This will be challenging for you in many ways. There is the basic difficulty of acting like a baby, especially when adult impulses and responses drive you to different behaviour, but more fundamental is the apparent loss of identity. You are now her baby, with the name she gives you, and your Amazon will love you more if she feels you accept this. This doesn't change who you are. You haven't actually lost your identity, and do fiercely remember it inside. But do keep it inside, make her believe that you embrace her and the new family, and respond to your new name. Along with this, she will want you to call her Mommy. This is an area in which you can show some individuality, but only by picking your favourite from Mommy, Mama, Momma or another suitable term that indicates a mother-child relationship (or, for male Amazons, Daddy, Dada or Papa). While most Amazons (and their Littles) will prefer and be happy with Mommy many Amazons will find it endearing if you do pick a variant. Rule Two can be particularly challenging when the Little does not share a gender with the Amazon's preference for her baby. This is frequently an issue for male Littles, with baby girls considerably more popular than the adult Little gender ratio can support. Rule Two was nearly 'Act the Baby' to emphasise and reinforce that this is just an act, but instead became 'Be Her Baby' to emphasise that your act must portray you as she wants you to be. That means treating clothing styles and colours as props for your act, and if she wants you to be a baby girl, embrace the femininity of the role[2]. It is highly likely that your Amazon is more intelligent than you, but seldom sufficiently to be a barrier. She will still act and think with emotion in addition to intellect so engage her as a well-rounded person, assume she'll pick up non-verbal cues and help her learn quickly how to best satisfy her own instincts to make you safe and happy. [1] Insufficient research into male Amazon motivations means full guidance is not available at this moment in time. Most of the techniques in this pamphlet work equally well on males, although some caution may be required and the commentary on breastfeeding should be disregarded. [2] Fighting a gender mismatch is a terrible breach of Rule Two and commonly addressed through surgical alteration to bring physical characteristics into alignment with the Amazon's preferred baby gender. However if you do actually want physical reassignment, just ask! Chapter 2 : Apparel Glory in your new wardrobe! Amazons love buying new clothes for their Littles and will do their best to make you the envy of their friends. This can lead to discord, as Amazons have a distinct expectation on how a Little should be dressed. Rule Three : Never Remove Apparel You'll have to accept that frequently you're going to be put into clothing that you greatly dislike, is uncomfortable, and/or is humiliating to wear. Whether that's because you're a man being put into a lacy baby dress, or an adult woman forced into a onesie over a diaper, remember Rule Two and treat it as a prop for your act. Not to mention that sometimes it can be fun, and many Littles grow to love their pretty clothes. Avoid indicating displeasure with the clothing you've been made to wear. Instead show positivity towards the clothing you'd prefer to wear. If you like a dress or the romper suit you've been put in, pull gently at it and express your happiness with it. Rule One will lead to you getting to wear that more often, which means less time in the clothing you don't like. While shopping point at clothes and use a simple single word adjective to indicate your preference. Rule Two discourages lengthy descriptions of your aesthetic preferences but don't underestimate the power of 'yuck', 'pretty!' or 'nice' in helping your Amazon understand how to better make you happy. Your clothing will become soiled through play, mealtimes and sadly leaking diapers. It is fine to express muted distress regarding this, with a simple sad 'Dirty!' and a frown showing your displeasure without being interpreted as a tantrum. Unless explicitly told to play in a dirty situation (e.g. dropped into mudpit) do try and avoid intentionally causing soiling unless your Amazon delights in a grubby baby. One item of apparel that you will almost immediately become very intimate with will be your pacifier. There are many designs available, both aesthetically and functionally. It's important to demonstrate to your Amazon that you can be trusted to use a 'normal' pacifier as her instant escalation will be a locking one that you can't remove yourself. These can be very uncomfortable, often filling or even stretching the mouth. Rule Four : Your Pacifier is Your Friend While building your relationship your pacifier is a great way to moderate your own voice. Many Amazons think Littles should be silent, or restricted to a very limited vocabulary, so using the pacifier to limit your speech greatly aids acceptance. You can't say things that upset your Amazon if you can't talk, but the pacifier can help in other ways too. There's no actual difference between a quiet baby and the same baby with a pacifier in its mouth, but Amazons will instinctively assume the latter one is the better behaved. Chapter 4 will explore this further but making a good impression on other Amazons matters a lot, so setting their mental picture of you as well behaved is important. Beyond that, your own Amazon will think you delightful if you use a pacifier voluntarily, and will trust you much sooner as a result. Don't forget the other more obvious feature of pacifiers: They exist because they make real babies more relaxed, and quiet. That will work for you too; don't be ashamed of finding comfort in a quick suck. Case Study 2-Negative: Scarlett was a lithe athlete in her adult life and didn't adjust well to her new role. Because she was constrained so much to a crib, a high chair or a stroller she lost her muscle tone and developed a more babyish roundness. This delighted her Amazon but meant Letty was frequently dressed in unflattering romper suits or flat-chested dresses. Letty hated these and tried to remove them, causing multiple punishments that led to her spending more and more time restrained and unable to move freely. This vicious cycle means that Scarlett is miserable with her body shape and her clothing, and sadly now lacks the fitness to escape even with our help. Case Study 2-Positive: Jayden wanted to make a good impression from the start and didn't take notice of the clothes he wore. His Amazon often put a pacifier in his mouth so Jay kept it there until she removed it herself, and consciously allowed it to help him work through stressful situations. His Amazon often told him how happy she was that he was so well behaved and started to trust him even when out of the house. This has allowed Jayden to contact our network and permanently leave that relationship, although we notice he's retained and still enjoys using his pacifier. Some pacifiers will allow feeding or provision of medicine while worn. These are usually locking varieties and used situationally, so there is little choice but to accept them. The strategy here is to demonstrate that they're not needed through perceived good behaviour during those activities normally. You aren't the only person wearing apparel. Notice what your Amazon is wearing. Is she going to work, going on a date, dressed to play with you? Is that a new suit? Notice it, comment on it, compliment her. She'll appreciate it and you'll both feel a little happier. Chapter 3 : Emissions Great news! You are no longer responsible for any mess (or smell) you cause. Revel in the freedom this brings. Amazons genuinely don't think that Littles can control their own emissions. Any waste products or sickness is assumed to be beyond the conscious control of the baby (remember Rule Two) and appropriate mitigations provided. Sadly this does mean you should expect to spend most of your time in diapers. Rule Five : Use Your Diapers Here at the Little Liberation Front we have found this rule to be the most distressing for the people we're assisting, and yet it's also the one most likely to lead to at least a mild regression. Amazons worry if diapers are not constantly wet, and regularly filled, and will initially respond with food and then chemical based diuretics and laxatives. Within days though repeatedly dry diapers will inevitably lead to hypnotic or surgical adjustments that force diaper dependency, often for life. If you ever hope to have control over your body in the future, plan ahead by choosing to abandon it now. The first few days are critical, with multiple wet diapers every day causing delight in (and providing opportunities to physical bond with) your Amazon. Case Study 3-Negative: Benjamin wanted to build rapport with his Amazon and was careful to always have a wet diaper when she checked, and timed messing it for just ahead of his daily bath. He retained his bladder control by keeping his diaper dry until a check was likely then flooded it quickly in time for a change. Sadly for Bennie his Amazon caught onto the periodic nature of his wetting and messing and without him realising fitted a wetness detector. This demonstrated his retained control, something his carer found unhealthy and undesirable, and one day Bennie was taken to his local doctor. Our subsequent physical examination following Benjamin's escape shows that he'll never regain bladder or bowel control, although he can at least now choose his own diapers. Case Study 3-Positive: Evelyn kindly shared her experiences with our team even though she's declined the support and services we offer. From the outset Evie tried to relax and allow her body to wet or mess when it was ready, and has reported that this rapidly led to a loss of control. In her case her carer did not want messy diapers so she's been partially potty trained to (mostly) avoid those, but her early diaper use contributed to a strong loving bond with her new Mommy. As she is happy with her situation due to this relationship and her new family she's accepted being permanently in wet diapers. We consider this a positive outcome as although she's constantly in wet diapers it's through her own choice, and the bladder control could be regained should she ever change her mind. As Benjamin's case study shows, while it can be tempting to hold until you know you're going to be checked this may be noticed, and that ability to control yourself may itself distress your Amazon. We recommend that for the first week the use of a toilet or potty should not be even mentioned or discussed with your Amazon, to demonstrate that you're comfortable with using your diapers and do not need further 'encouragement'. If (as in Evie's case) your Amazon is amenable to potty training then this can be discussed once the relationship has reached greater trust, but also assume you'll always be in diapers at least some of the time. This will be discussed further under Rule Six, but never use words to complain about your diapers. Crying to indicate an uncomfortable diaper tends to be ok, and after the first week most Amazons will listen if you ask for a specific type of diaper (e.g. not the punishment ones) although they may not accede to the request. Complaining about the diapers, about having to wear or use them, or asking for a change almost always ends in punishment, with even the gentlest of Amazons using a pacifier to silence the complaints. Your Amazon will check or just realise that you need a change, although it can sometimes be helpful to highlight that you're about to leak. Even then, merely point out this basic fact as it's your Amazon's responsibility to either prevent or deal with a leaking diaper, and let them make that choice. If you are unfortunate enough to have an Amazon that defers changes (particularly messy diapers) then you will be at risk of diaper rash along with the discomfort. To help avoid this, train your Amazon to change you regularly by making the act of changing you enjoyable for her and demonstrating your gratitude for the clean diaper. While being grumpy is damaging a mild uplift in mood from before to after a change will be noticed by your Amazon and because of Rule One this will help train her. This should be obvious from Rule Three, but never try to remove your own diaper; not only will you likely fail but this will usually lead to restraints that can even prevent you using your hands. Other emissions[3] may be forced or inadvertent. Particularly after a liquid meal many Amazons like to burp a Little, usually holding them to their chest to do this. This is highly embarrassing, especially when the resultant burp is perhaps more liquid in nature, but again this is an issue for her to deal with, and not you. Recall Rule One and accept that she's doing this because she cares for you and feels this is good for your health and comfort, and not to humiliate you. Any other Amazon noticing will at worse think this is extremely cute, and other Littles are too used to it to try and embarrass you over it themselves. Avoid spitting on purpose - whether eating, or any other time. If you absolutely can't avoid it, hold cloth (e.g. a bib) to your mouth and mask it as a cough or sneeze. Spitting at someone breaks Rule Two and will lead to punishment - we've even heard of one poor Little losing his tongue to prevent this. Although by removing your control your Amazon has accepted the burden of coping with whatever comes out of you, from either end, we've found that a small apology when being sick (especially on an Amazon) can help defuse any undeserved anger that may be caused. Combine the apology with tears and you're on track for a cuddle and forgiveness. [3] Note that this pamphlet does not explore sexual activity or interactions; these vary too much on an individual basis Chapter 4 : Social Interactions It's playtime all the time! No working for a living means you can enjoy a very early retirement and really focus on friends and hobbies. Making friends and falling in (pretend or real) love with your Amazon is easy. Avoiding conflict with friends and family can however be a nightmare, with all the usual social challenges exacerbated by the Amazon Little divide. Going out in public is similarly fraught with dangers, some of which can not be avoided. No matter how close to your Amazon you are, the trust you share, and the freedom you have at home to talk and make your own decisions, in public and with others you must assume the worse. They will treat you as an uncooperative baby that doesn't realise its limitations, and obeying Rule Two is paramount: Any deviation from baby behaviour will result in punishment, correction or worse, sometimes even with your Amazon present and able to protect you. Case Study 4-Negative: Matthew had done some great groundwork in the first month of his new relationship and impressed his Amazon with his behaviour and maturity. She allowed Matty to choose his food and clothing, and they discussed challenges together in the home. Unfortunately when out shopping Matty removed his pacifier to complain about the onesie she wanted to buy him, and told her to buy a different one instead. Another Amazon overheard and contacted the protection agency, sharing a concern that Matty was being properly looked after. Following a clearly corrupt investigation Matty's Amazon was ruled incapable of caring for an infant, and herself regressed to baby status. Matthew was last seen en route to an Etiquette School. Case Study 4-Positive: Eleanor unusually chose her own Amazon and they did much planning beforehand. When Ellie moved in she was able to accelerate the relationship and they fell in love almost immediately. This created a level of trust that let them discuss going out in public, with Ellie fully adopting Rule Two and demanding her pacifier everywhere she went, supported by her watchful Mommy. By acting as a quiet well-behaved baby in public Ellie won over her Amazon's friends and made a few of her own: Eleanor is now a mother herself, although her child's father still lives with his own Mommy. Matthew's situation demonstrates how even a single encounter can spell disaster for a Little. Rule Six : Never Complain Voicing a complaint, particularly in public, is not just a very obvious sign of bad behaviour: Babies don't tell their parents they're unhappy, uncomfortable, dislike some food, hate the music or want to leave. They engage non-verbally, through expressions or crying. A Little that breaks Rule Two in public with a politely worded statement (e.g. "Thank you for that wonderful meal") may cause raised eyebrows due to the maturity of the language used, but will be complimented for politeness. Complaints receive no compliments and are instead treated as a threat to the sanctity of the Little's babyhood. Even if the Rule Two breach of a complaint doesn't cause an issue, complaints are negative in nature and will drive a negative response. This could be as simple as a change in perception but (as with Matthew) can lead to a range of stronger responses, including various punishments or corrective actions. Complaining can be easily avoided by exploiting Rule Four, but also by understanding the situations that may cause them. Learn non-verbal cues to share discomfort or distress, or use positive interactions (e.g. reaching out to be picked up) to escape them. Another key cause of complaints is in response to public humiliation and embarrassment. Rule Seven : Don't Be Embarrassed Using your diaper in public will happen. Right now you'll be thinking that's horrifically embarrassing but.. remember Rule Two? Babies don't get embarrassed about it, it's just part of life. Anyway, there's much worse (such as getting your used diaper changed in public). So don't let this get to you, accept that you have no personal privacy and embrace that nobody else is remotely bothered when you're half-naked being wiped down ahead of some fresh clean padding and a nice warm bottle. Relax and enjoy being pampered, and make a show of taking pleasure from it. That'll make Mommy happy too. As you spend more time with specific individuals (Amazon or Little) you'll learn their views and expectations. Be cynical and manipulate them just as you do your own Amazon, but act constructively as you do - they can help make your life fun and engaging and give you opportunities to add meaning to your own and to their lives. Building good relationships is healthy for everybody and key to retaining your mental health. Chapter 5 : Punishment Be kind and generous, and punish your Amazon only when needed. Punishments and correctional actions are a part of any life, but feature strongly in a relationship between an Amazon and a Little. While Amazons have the advantage in strength they are emotionally vulnerable, and this opens opportunities to punish them for transgressions. Be cautious about this. Actions to punish an Amazon should avoid inviting retribution (so no, don't throw your food at her!) but more subtle options exist. As an example, withdrawing even a small amount of compassion or attachment can have a noticeable effect, although we do caution against completely cold-shouldering her as that can cause anger and resentment. Punishments against you will regrettably be unavoidable, warranted or otherwise. The frequency and severity can however be greatly mitigated and much of this pamphlet works to that end, but there are some further direct ways to help. Rule Eight : Be In Control Whether you call it emotional intelligence, self-awareness or another term, having that understanding of your own emotional state can help you exert self-control that avoids negative behaviours. Amazons will label any outburst, non-personal violence and other behaviours as a tantrum, and they always punish tantrums. If you can spot the loss of control ahead of time, you can act to prevent it. While it's seldom possible to walk (or ask to be pushed/carried) away from a situation switching mental state from 'this is upsetting me' to 'I will not let this upset me' can be all that's needed and is a fantastic skill to have. Rule Four can obviously help or if someone friendly is available ask them to hold or support you. Sometimes all you can (or need to) do is stay silent. This may not help avoid conflict entirely, but is a key contributor to the next rule. Rule Nine : Do Not Defend Yourself Whether it's a punishment spanking (justified or otherwise), assault (by an Amazon or a Little), a provocation or anything else, never defend yourself[4]. Against another Little there will always be a carer available within seconds to save you, and an active response or retaliation will merely see you punished alongside your attacker. If the assault is from an Amazon then you're highly unlikely to succeed in defending yourself anyway, and the attempt itself will be severely punished. Case Study 5-Negative: Anna had settled into a sustainable relationship with her Amazon but had never truly settled. One ordinary day she had been taken to the local park to feed the ducks and had slipped and fallen on the grass by the pond. A passing Amazon man berated Annie's guardian for failing to take care of her, and suggested Anna would be better forcibly restrained in a stroller. Already embarrassed and in pain from the fall Annie spat out her pacifier and suggested (using somewhat less diplomatic terms) that the man should keep to himself and move on. Annie's carer stepped in to prevent the man reaching her but apologised to him then turned to Annie, pulled her up and carried her to a nearby park bench where a sustained and painful spanking took place. We understand that Anna's further three month punishment in thick waddle diapers is due to end shortly. Case Study 5-Positive: Cameron was almost an in-betweener, much taller and stronger than most Littles. On an overnight hospital stay another Little got jealous of the attention Cammie was getting from the nurse (who apparently adored such a tall little being in diapers) and when she left the room ran up, pushed him down and started to strike him with a small wooden train. Although Cammie could easily have overpowered his assailant the report his Amazon later received stated admiration for how he put his hands behind his back and waited calmly until a different nurse ran over and pulled away the attacker. Cameron suffered only bruises and has since been allowed to graduate to toddler status, with the promise of daytime potty use if he can stay dry. Don't forget the Amazonian technologies that mean even a nasty wound can be quickly healed. Momentary pain is better than a lifelong punishment! Less obvious is that Rule Nine includes verbal defences. If you speak angrily you'll get punished, no matter how justified you are. Amazons will often say things that are provocative without even realising it, or may just be arrogant or ignorant. Trust in your own Amazon to know what's best for you, and to speak up in your defence if needed. And remember Rule Seven; if someone's talking about how badly your diaper smells, that's their problem not yours. You (probably) didn't choose to fill it. [4] We are frequently asked, "What if it's a matter of life and death, or forced regression". At those times your instincts will take over anyway, so we won't waste your time offering pointless advice. Chapter 6 : Sustenance Eat, drink and be merry. It's not a cliche once you've tasted that Amazon food. Seriously, we know some Littles that have signed up with an Amazon just to get access to the Little food you can only buy from the Amazon stores. That stuff can be addictive but that's not because of any pharmacologicals, it just tastes so good. Unfortunately the Amazons know this and ration it carefully, with the bulk of the food ranging from great (if it's what the Amazons eat) to bland to grotesque (pureed kale baby food? yuck!) Rule Ten : Always eat what you're fed Many Amazons don't believe in feeding solids to small Littles, and like to provide a liquid or pureed diet even to larger ones. This can be very unpleasant, both going in and on the way out, but an unstated facet of Rule Ten is that you're going to be made to eat it anyway. So open up, let them put it in your mouth, close, chew (if needed) and swallow. Your facial expression will share your views on the food, so let that provide the feedback and earn yourself some karma by being easy to feed. That doesn't mean you can't refuse food; sometimes Amazons don't know when a Little is full so if you've just been fed too much and you're feeling full, that's the time to close your mouth instead of accepting the spoon/fork/spork. Even there, close it once or twice to make it clear you'd like to stop, but don't say anything and don't keep it closed after that. If you've grimaced through a pound of pureed cabbage, gravy and beetroot without complaint and only then stopped accepting it your Amazon will realise that this means you're probably full. If they do want to keep going, let them - remember, it's their responsibility if you're sick, not yours. In the first week that may happen a couple of times, then your Amazon will know you're not bluffing and only feed you until you're full. Other Amazons (nurses, daycare attendants, etc) will show more caution as they won't know your limit and will avoid risking sickness. Case Study 6-Negative: Charles was adopted by a caring pair of Amazons that started him on solid food. On his first day he resisted being fed, wanting to hold his own cutlery and show his ability to feed himself. Charlie's Amazons worried that this meant he wasn't ready for solid food and put his meal into the blender, then tried again. A second refusal led to a call to a helpful doctor, who recommended a liquid diet. Poor Charles has been fed from a bottle ever since. Case Study 6-Positive: Tamina started at the other end of the scale, being fed from a bottle for her first week. A few days into her relationship Tammy had finished her bottle and reached out towards her Amazon's plate with a gentle grasping motion. She was rewarded with a small corner of Lasagna which she chewed carefully and swallowed with a big smile. When pulled from her high chair at the end of the meal Tammy reached around and gave the tightest cuddle she could in thanks, and got a smile and cuddle back. Better yet, Tamina is now on solid food for her evening meal each day. Even when fed solids your Amazon will want you to drink a lot, and usually drink from a bottle. Rule Ten still applies; bottles suck (sorry) but they're better than getting 'treatment' because you won't drink from one. They're not all that a lady Amazon will want you to drink from. Even though she hasn't given birth her body will respond as though you're a baby and produce some food for you. Rule Eleven : Go For It Going from an adult life to being treated as a baby is tough. Being expected to breastfeed feels a step too far for many. Worse, Amazon breast milk can cause dual incontinence, and who wants that? Well, sorry to tell you this, but you do. It'll make Rule Five easier to keep, and it'll wear off once you wean. Being reversible makes breastfeeding one of least destructive ways an Amazon can make you incontinent, so give her this option. She'll also appreciate it greatly, as her milk will need to go somewhere, and she'd rather you nurse than she pumps it herself. She'll get that physical relief, and the increased emotional attachment that any nurse gets from an infant. There's another thing: It tastes great! You'll enjoy it too. Rule Eleven really has almost no downsides at all, once you're past that squeamish first step. That 'almost'? Never ever bite. The moment she feels teeth you're at risk of losing them. All of them. Forever. If you ever want to chew solid food, make sure you're a very gentle feeder when you're getting milk from source. Chapter 7 : Day Care Dodge the Day Care nightmare. The only winning strategy is not to play. Amazons love Day Care. They drop you off, then go and spend their day doing things without you. Sure, they need to go to work, or have to travel or have other things going on, but.. they're not the one trapped in daycare. Rule Twelve : Dodge Day Care Do whatever you can to avoid getting put into Day Care. The best approach is to find another Amazon you can both trust that can babysit or that you can visit. They'll know you, understand you and do their best to look after you. Day Care.. won't. It's not that the staff in Day Care facilities are evil, or malicious. They just make mistakes, get overworked, misunderstand and.. things go wrong. Permanently wrong. Hypnosis, sending you home with the wrong person, programming the robot badly. Ah, the robots. Many Day Cares use robot assistants, either to save staff costs or because they genuinely think this is a superior choice. Rule Thirteen : Avoid Robots If you thought Day Care was bad (and it is) then it's nothing compared to robot carers. They're implacable, they'll complete their programmed task whether it's right or wrong, and they make mistakes. Terrible mistakes. You can't plead with a robot. You can't point out that it's disobeying your Amazon's strict instructions. You certainly can't wriggle free. Whether it's in a Day Care or something the mother-in-law bought, it's a threat to your safety. Help your Amazon understand your fear and horror of robots and try to avoid ever being in their care. Case Study 7-Negative: Christine loved her first day at Day Care. The staff made her welcome, she met several Littles and made some new friends. Chrissie begged her Amazon to send her back, and went another eight times in the next two weeks. We never did find out what happened after that, we just know that Chrissie came home from that final visit unable to walk and with a terrified glaze on her eyes. After an in-depth review we cancelled our rescue attempt as Christine now genuinely needs the care she's receiving from her Amazon. Case Study 7-Positive: Edward was curious about Day Care and didn't fight being sent. He did realise straight away that this was a dangerous place and focussed on obeying all instructions but otherwise being quiet and fairly withdrawn. In Eddy's second week the centre was short of staff and instead of giving him a needed change a robot assistant was sent over to help him. As it started to strip him down Eddy heard the robot declare, "Processing 6 month old girl" and realised the robot was still set for its previous patient, a smaller female Little. Rather than struggle, fight and get both hurt and punished Eddy resolved himself to the inevitable, which included removal of all his hair and a well fitting pink diaper with accompanying dress. On her return to the Day Care Eddy's Amazon couldn't decide whether to comfort him or berate the Day Care, but did vow never to send him there again. Edward now has a regular baby sitter that properly addresses his needs. In this entire publication you are encouraged and provided with tools to avoid punishment. Rule Twelve is the exception: It's worth getting punished if it keeps you out of Day Care. Chapter 8 : Trust and Intimacy Build that bond and benefit from it. By now you should have a strong bond with your Amazon. You'll know her limits, what she'll tolerate, what you can get away with. Use this information, exploit it and strengthen that relationship. You may be together for years to come, so make them fun and full of love. Rule Fourteen : Have Fun Find shared interests, or ways to pursue your own hobbies. If you both like the countryside, get out there. If you both enjoy knitting, ask for some wool. You're an intelligent creative being, you need that stimulation and it'll make you happier, so help your Amazon understand this and provide it to you. Case Study 8-Negative: Terence had never forgiven his Amazon for adopting him, and refused to try and like her. The Amazon loved Terry despite this, but couldn't work out how to keep him happy and he gave her no help in this. After months of failing to find things he could enjoy she conceded and went with her mother's suggestion: Terence was regressed to a mental age of 8 months, although he does seem happier now Case Study 8-Positive: Victoria had also never forgiven her Amazon but recognised the need for an amicable relationship. Vicky worked hard on being well behaved and built enough trust to be allowed to pick up her hobbies. Not only was Vicky happier, this made her Amazon happier too, and also gave Vicky the chance to meet other Littles and contact us. Victoria escaped through our network two months ago and helped review this publication. It's not a betrayal to have fun with your Amazon. You need and deserve some fun in your life, so get it where you can. Chapter 9 : Ending Your Relationship Escape. Flee, into the night, never to return. All good things come to an end. But how will your story finish? Rule Fifteen : Choose This pamphlet collates the guidance we've been giving to Littles for many years now and just owning a copy of it will get you sent to Etiquette School. Hope you can trust the person from whom you received it, and ask them to put you in touch with us. We'll do our best to get you free! But we've found that those that obey the rules, build the relationships and get themselves to a position from which escape is possible generally don't want to. They find they like their new life and are happy for it to continue. If that's you, don't be ashamed. You're in a good place, go and be happy.

A Naptime on Elm Street. (A Novelization of the Oskosh award winning ABDL Horror Film of the Same Name) Deep in the bowels of the Daycare, down in the basement where Little Ones dared not come and play for fear of the dark and ghosts; two hands worked slowly and methodically. Mustn’t forget a thing. Not a thing. It would be time soon. The old carpet bag, green and red stripes faded and dingy looking from years of disuse was popped open. Empty inside; just like the person opening it. Soon though, both would be filled; first, the bag. Spare clothes came first; onesies mostly. Onesies were an outfit all by themselves, no matching or coordination required. Keep the Little Ones warm and cover what little modesty they had. They went in the bottom precisely because if she did her job well enough, she wouldn’t need a spare change of clothes. Little Ones did love to make a mess though… Better safe than sorry. Next came toys and trinkets. Nothing major. Nothing elaborate. Nothing that lit up or required batteries. None of the hulking plastic monstrosities that were called play sets that littered the Daycare’s basement. Rattles. Plastic Keys. Teething Rings. Pacifiers, too. Those all went in. Cute little shiny things...or things that had once been shiny...to keep a Little One occupied for a precious few minutes. A bottle was wedged in for good measure. Cap on. No spills allowed. Next came the wipes. Practically a wonder tool wipes were. There was very little that couldn’t be cleaned up with a few judicious uses of a wipe. Finally came the diapers. Sweet smelling, perfumed, folded, crisp and crinkling. They got the top spot right next to the wipes. Things that were guaranteed to be used needed to be easily on hand. And it wouldn’t be much of a diaper bag without diapers, would it? As for the paddle: That would be for the other hand, wouldn’t it? A small, thin smile, blossomed over shadowed lips. It was the smile of satisfaction. Soon. Soon the little ones would come and play; they would need so much caring for. Then it would be time to work. ************************************************************************************************* Tina was alone. Alone and nowhere. It didn’t occur to her in that moment how impossible that was. By definition, space and time were both facets of existence. If one existed, they had to be somewhere even if they didn’t know where that somewhere was. Only the dead and the fictional could exist in a void. None of that came to Tina, though. For all she knew or cared, she was in a blank void as she heard the baby crying. Her landscape a literal blank slate. No...not crying. The baby wasn’t crying. She was screaming. A baby girl’s scream; caught somewhere between terror and tantrum. Despite being just eighteen and an only child Tina found it oddly familiar. Nostalgic without the good feelings. Deja vu. Pulse picking up she wandered ahead, her long white nightgown fluttering in a non-existent breeze as her legs pumped. In front of her was a broken down hallway. Tight walls filled with chipped and scraped off paint. Originally- Tina somehow knew even though she’d never asked- the dim yellow paint on the walls had been bright and cheery. It had been the color of sunshine. Time and darkness; especially darkness; had worn away at the facade. Now the yellow paint- what remained-was the color of sickness. Of jaundice. Of death. Everything was scarier in the dark. Beneath her silken nightie, Tina’s bare feet plodded on. The carpet was threadbare and worn in more places than not. The very bottom fibers still persisted, like a sandpaper rash. A few spots didn’t even have that much, leaving the cold smooth cement of the foundation exposed. As she half ran, and half jogged, trying to understand how she’d ended up here; Tina’s toes curled every time they touched the rare bit of carpet that had struggled on intact. Behind her? Behind her was nothing but a bright blank canvas of nothingness. She couldn’t go there; though the exact “why” wouldn’t come to her. Sometimes things just worked that way…. A little girl lost in the woods, Tina ran down the hallway, hearing the random clacking of plastic on plastic; the sounds of playtime. She turned in a circle, pivoting on frightened feet; as if looking behind her might reveal a door, or stairwell, or some other escape from this strange place that she couldn’t remember coming to. “tina.” Perhaps if she ran fast enough, Tina thought, she might escape this realm of concrete and decay. A shuttle escaping the bonds of gravity. It didn’t make sense, but sometimes that’s just how things were. “tina.” The voice was muffled, but she’d heard it that time. Unfamiliar. Beckoning from the shadows. Laughing. Tina turned back around towards the light. Even a blank canvas of nothingness might be better than what lay ahead in the dark. Impossible. With her meandering gait, she’d only gone a dozen or so steps, yet the other end of the hallway seemed so much further away. Impossible, but true. The laughter grew louder; more confident. Knowing laughter. Condescending. An adult watching a child struggle, their hand caught in a cookie jar that they just couldn’t get out of. The laughter grew louder as Tina stayed put; erupting into a full blown cackle as Tina’s heart started to pound. This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be here... “WAAAAH!” The cry of a baby girl again! Such a familiar cry! The blink of an eye, and Tina saw that it wasn’t a child crying, but a sheep bleating. A sheep. Like what she pretended to count until she drifted off. Like the night light she used to have all the way until middle school when she’d decided it was time to put away childish things and just go to sleep in the dark. It’s white wool was cast in pitch black by the shadows as it skittered away, running for its life. “BAAAAH!” “HEEE-HEEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEEE!” Tina ran off to the side, neither towards the sheep nor the bright light at the end of the hallway. It didn’t matter that there hadn’t been a hallway or door for her to exit. It didn’t matter that she shouldn’t have been able to run; that there was no room in that wretched hallway. All that mattered was that she ran. She ran, and it was away from the knowing, witch like cackling. That’s just how things were… The world changed again. No longer a hallway, but a playground. Blackness above her, there was no sky. Blackness beneath her, there was no ground. But directly beneath her feet was the blue steel meshed floor of an elevated walkway so common at playgrounds and parks. Steel was not nearly so stainless, as the soles of her feet grazed by bits of rust. Hands trembling, she instinctively grabbed onto the safety bars at the edges, rather like the bars of a crib. The air, such as it was, stank of stale urine; an accident that had long dried and never been properly cleaned up. Someone had peed in the ballpit. Surrounding her were plastic tubes and slides jutting out at impossible angles; a veritable jungle of plastic trunks and styrofoam noddle vines growing thicker with every step she dared to take. And all with the hollow thunks and muted skids, and slapping patters of tiny hands and knees crawling and rolling and sliding through them. No laughter though. No mirth. Just the unsteady non-rhythm of a playground’s blood being pumped through hollow plastic arteries. She wasn’t supposed to be here… A movement in the dark! Tina ran! Past a built in rung ladder she sprinted. No going up! She wanted to get out, not up! Up would only lead back down. Ladders only went to chutes! She looked over her shoulder at the sailor’s wheel! She could spin that wheel as much as she loved and would get nothing but the howling and screeching of badly oiled joints. She would go nowhere. She would win no prizes. Out! Had to get out! She was lost! Lost on the playground! Just like long ago when… No! Don’t think about it, Tina. Just get out! Keep moving! Rounding the corner, Tina looked over the edge. Monkey bars, and a gymnasts rings dangled on the next section over, the ground still invisible in obsidian. She was high! So high off the ground that she couldn’t see it! Keep moving. Must keep moving. Come, the monkey bars seemed to beckon her. Come down to our level. Swing from us and dangle your feet out over the abyss. Get tangled up in the ropes and nets and chains and rings. Deep, knowing, feminine laughter accompanied the shadow that flitted below Tina. It knew what she thought. It knew what she imagined. It knew what she heard with only her heart; her heart that was beating faster and faster by the second. Another corner. Another turn in a maze that made no sense. Ladders and struts that went nowhere. Fireman’s poles that plummeted downwards into emptiness. Whirligigs and pinwheels that spun on their own. And just Tina in her nightgown… Tina shut out what little light there was in her life and stepped through the shadowy tunnel. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the plastic give a bit beneath her weight. Where was the light coming from anyways? To say that Tina was brave implied like she was afraid and faced the danger anyway. This was simply not true. Even in this maze of unending steel twisting and turning, Tina felt she had only one choice but to go forward. Even with all the topsy turvey and movement and sound and winding and crisscrossing of the paths; Tina had never, in effect, left that hallway. Not really. Rrrrrrrring! A chime! A bell! The start of something! School? A race? Tina spun around towards the metal dinging. The sound of nails on a chalkboard! Behind her! Another blink, and Tina stood in front of a curtain; worn and moth eaten like everything else in this place! A withered, wizened hand peeked from behind the curtain and began to peel it back. Tina didn’t wait to see who was behind it. Tina ran. Tina sprinted. She didn’t see the old straw sunhat with desiccated flowers poking out from the brim. And yet... And yet Tina didn’t get far. She’d walked only a dozen or so steps before and somehow traveled over a hundred yards. Now as she ran for her life, those same legs were carrying her less than a dozen strides. The air, still thick with the scent of old ammonia, seemed to constrict her; the ground conspired against her like a treadmill on reverse! Tina was running as fast as she could, but her world crawled by at a leisurely pace. Panting just to keep her breath and her legs pumping, Tina didn’t scream. She couldn’t. Too out of breath. The most she could do was tremble and mewl as the person...the thing with the red and green bag creeped along up to her. She didn’t question why. Sometimes things were just like that… Tina looked back over her shoulder. She shouldn’t have done so. A dirty brown sunhat filled with dead flowers and a matching ankle skirt. A dingy off-white victorian ruffle blouse, that contrasted with gray-black oxford block heels. And a green and red bowtie that coordinated perfectly with it’s partner bag. A bag in one hand, and a rough, splintered paddle in the other; dragging and scraping the floor as she walked... A weak, muted squeak managed to leak out from Tina’s throat, just as she rounded the corner. Must escape! Must escape! Too late, Tina realized she was trapped. A dead end. A criss crossing lattice blocked her way; a giant baby gate! More impossibilities! This was the way she had come, wasn’t it? Frustration and adrenaline bubbled over to unsilence her terror in one high pitched scream. “AAAAAAAAAH!” It was the bleating of sheep. The cry of a baby girl. And it was indistinguishable from Tina’s own wail. And then silence. Tina breathed. And listened. Nothing. No footsteps. No shadows cast of sun hats or paddles. Behind her! A hand on her shoulder! Another reaching between her legs! “LET’S CHECK YOUR DIA-!” *********************************************************************************************************** Tina shot bolt upright in her bed; her face and dirty blonde hair drenched in tears and sweat. A knock on the door, and her mother entered. “You okay, Tina?” It was late. No trace of sunshine, no buzz of late night television. Mom was wearing her robe which she only put on when craving (or fetching) a two A.M. snack. “Just a dream, Mom.” Muscles tight. Breath short. But at least her voice was calm. Just a dream. Just a dream. She was home. In bed. Like she should have been. Her mom stepped into the room and turned on the lights. “Some dream, judging from that.” Tina followed her mother’s gaze down to her legs. It wasn’t just her face that was soaked, and it wasn’t sweat that her legs were soaking in. Sweat didn’t smell like that, nor did it make the sheets quite so cold and clammy on an otherwise crisp fall night. She sat there, paralyzed by embarrassment and leftover shock from the bizarre dream she’d awoken from; stupidly peeling the sheets from her legs and off her, as if it might somehow undo the accident she’d just had. Mom’s boyfriend, clad in a wife beater and boxers (a wardrobe not that much different than what he wore during the day) leaned in. “Are you coming back to the sack or what?” he grumbled impatiently. Mom gently shoved him away. He looked at Tina, regarded her for a moment, and went back out into the hall. At least he had the decency not to comment further about her soaked mattress and wet sheets. Either that or he was too drunk to notice. Tina’s mom looked back to her. “Tina, hun, you either gotta stop drinking so much before bed or stop that kind of dreamin’.” She glanced to the hallway. “One or the other.” And with that, she closed the door, allowing Tina some much needed privacy. Tina got out of bed and stripped the sheets from her bed. Her nightgown was just as ruined. They all went together in a giant pile. She’d stuff these into the washing machine, grab the stain remover and febreeze from the laundry room, and try to get back to sleep with some fresh sheets after a quick shower. But first she went over to her sock drawer and dug out the old sheep night light she’d never quite had the heart to get rid of. Just in case…. *********************************************************************************************************** Ten, nine, better watch your behind. Eight, seven, gonna learn your lesson. Six, five, never gonna thrive. Four, three, in your pants you pee. Two, one, Nanny says you’re done…. -A traditional jump rope song passed down from kid generation to kid generation since time immemorial. ************************************************************************************************************* Tina couldn’t stop talking about it the next morning all the way to school. “And even after I woke up it was like she was still there, watching me.” She shook her head. “Sounds like a real boogeyman,” her best friend, Nancy said. “Like that old jump rope song: Ten, nine, better watch your behind.” They piled out of Glenn’s car. Glenn was Nancy’s boyfriend, and Tina being Nancy’s bestie got to ride in the back on the way to school. Seniors were allowed to drive to school and park their cars in the parking lot. That meant that they didn’t have to worry about catching a bothersome school bus like the kiddies. It also meant they could sleep in a little later. There were perks to being a senior. Not that it mattered. “I’ve been having bad dreams too,” Nancy added; a note of commiseration in her voice “Even after I got changed into fresh sheets, I couldn’t go back to sleep,” Tina confessed. Tina cocked an eyebrow as they walked. “Fresh sheets? Do you mean…?” “Awwww,” Rod creeped up from behind, “did you wet the bed, baby?” He laughed. No one else did. Rod was a jerk that didn’t realize how sleazy his slicked back hair looked or how Axe Body Spray was no substitute for a good shower. “Don’t feel bad, I have wet dreams, too.” As if to drive the point home, he pumped his fist up and down. Tina and Rod were...complicated. If he wasn’t such a good lay, they might not be dating off. She could have ignored him, just then, she supposed, let him walk with them, but she just did not have time for his shit today. Not after last night. “Jizzing in your pants would require you to have balls,” Tina quipped, barely looking back at him. Something sparked in Rod’s eyes. “Yeah...yeah...well...fuck you too!” Rod was that special kind of masculine that was neither quick witted nor thick skinned. He broke off from the trio and walked away, and would likely invent a comeback after. Nancy and Glenn laughed quietly, but otherwise didn’t engage. They’d seen this scene play out too many times. Tina looked back over her shoulder to make sure her kinda sorta beau was well and gone. “Rod says the sweetest things,” she said. “Yeah. Real keeper, there.” Nancy replied sarcastically. They came to a stop just outside of school. “So anyway,” she asked, “what did you dream about?” Misery loved company. At least she wasn’t the only one tossing and turning at night. Nancy just said, “It was just a bad dream, okay, that’s it. That’s all they are.” Glenn, his arm draped over Nancy like a coat, spoke up. “Yeah, and next time you’re having a bad dream just remind yourself that it’s just a dream and you’ll wake right up. That’s how it works for me, anyways.” The bell chimed it’s dull electronic tone, signalling the beginning of yet another day of educational drudgery. Glenn and Nancy kissed goodbye, and Glenn jogged ahead of glass. Nancy and Tina had English first period; near the front entrance. Glenn had math near the back of the building. Something just then occurred to Tina. “Hey!” she called after Glenn. “Did you have a nightmare too?” Tina filed that idea away and turned back to Nancy. “Maybe we’re gonna have a big earthquake or something. They say that weird things happen just before.” Nancy didn’t laugh, but she did smile a bit. Arm and arm the two went to face the perils of dead poets and playwrights. Little did they know it would be the last time they’d walk into school together... ************************************************************************************************************ “Thanks for staying with me here, tonight,” Tina told her friends. “When my Mom told me she was taking off to Vegas with her boyfriend, I kinda freaked.” She and Nancy sat on the couch, easing into each other, while Glenn sat on the floor, texting away on his phone. “Glenn and Nancy to the rescue,” Nancy assured her. “We got your back.” All day, the dream about the playground and the shadowy figure stalking her had been with her. In some ways she’d never really woken up. “It’s so cool that your mom let you stay the night, Glenn.” “Yeah,” Glenn said. “About that…” Nancy laughed a little bit. Tina threw him a questioning look. “So, I’ve got this cousin who lives by the airport,” he explained. “Mom’s cool if I hang out with him. As far as she knows, I’m with him.” “But what if she tries to track your phone?” Tina asked. “That’s what I'm working on. I think I just downloaded an app that disables that one. Hold up…” Tina leaned forward and watched as Glenn texted. Nancy just hid her face in her hand and quietly shook her head. “Here...at...Barry’s…” Glenn read his text as he typed it. “Noisy...as...hell...but...fun…” Glenn looked up from his phone to the girls, a cocky little smirk on his lips. “I think she believes it.” He looked down and grinned. “And the app is working!” He pumped his elbow in a bit of celebration. His glee didn’t last long. “She wants me to send a picture of me and Barry right now! FUCK!” He turned off his phone. “I’m...gonna have to do some explaining...hope Barry can cover for me.” “Busted!” Nancy laughed. Glenn just shrugged. “Worth it. I’ll probably get chewed out. I’ve been chewed out before.” More laughter, this time from all three. “See?” Nancy said. “I told you you’d feel better with some friends around.” “Yeah,” Tina said. But the moment passed. “It’s just that all day, I keep thinking about this lady and her weird face, and thinking of that big paddle.” Something akin to confusion and suspicion flashed in Nancy’s eyes. “Paddle?” Silently, Tina nodded. “That’s so weird that you say that,” Nancy said. “That makes me remember the dream I had last night!” Unlike Tina, Nancy sounded lighter for saying it. As if the two girls having the same nightmare was mildly amusing instead of foreboding. Tina sat up a little straighter. “What did you dream?” “I dreamt about a lady with a grody green and red bag. She looked like one of the nannies on T.V., but creepier.” Neither one saw the look on Glenn’s face. It was as if he was hearing about his own troubled sleep. “What about the paddle?” Tina pressed. Nancy bit her lip in thought. “Oh yeah, she had a paddle. It was like one of those things you see in hazing or like BDSM stuff, I guess, but it was really rough. Homemade, and splintered at parts. She’d drag it along the ground or thump it on things. It looked like something she made herself.” Nancy kept her tone upbeat. It was just a stupid dream after all. “She kept dragging along the floor and it made this sound like kghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” She made the back of her tongue go up against the roof of her mouth and exhaled. Done fast it would have sounded like a poor impression of walkie talkie static. Done slowly, it was eerily similar to the quiet groaning of heavy wood dragging across the floor. “Nancy,” Tina whispered. “You dreamed about the same freak I did.” Glenn came to join them. “That’s impossible.” KGHHH…. The trio looked out the window into the darkness. “What was that?” Tina asked. Glenn stood up. “Nothing…” KGHHH… “I heard it too,” Nancy said. The three young adults stood up and cautiously opened the side door into Tina’s backyard. Glenn was the first out into the darkness. “Anybody there?” The girls came out, still staying just a few steps from the door. “Hello?” Glenn repeated. Still there was no answer. “I’m gonna kick your ass…!” If anyone was listening, they didn’t believe Glenn’s threat. Even Glenn, wholesome All-American type that he looked didn’t sound like he believed it. “Here kitty kitty kitty!” Still nothing. Nancy’s boyfriend turned around and started walking back towards the house. “Probably a racoon or someth…” The shadow that enveloped Glenn and brought him to the ground was fast, and strong. Bigger than Glenn and meaner. And reeking of Axe. “Boom!” Rod said as he climbed off of Glenn. “What a tackle! What a sack!” Ignoring Glenn he sauntered up to Tina, holding the old broken table leg left nearly forgotten in Tina’s garage. “Kinda creepy huh? The way it scrapes across the patio.” He let it drop clunk into the grass. “You should have seen his face,” Rod laughed thumbing over to the other boy. “YoU sHoUlDa SeEn HiS fAcE,” Glenn parroted back, mockingly. Immediately the two were in each other’s face, chests puffed out and chins held high. Tina grabbed her boyfriend by the elbow. Time to diffuse the situation. “We’re having a sleepover. Girls only. Glenn was just leaving.” Rod backed away but clearly wasn’t buying it. “Your Mom home?” “Of course.” Tina lied. “What are you doing here.” Rod pivoted to her. “I came to make up. Came to say I’m sorry.” His grin was nothing short of wolfish. He saw right through her. He always did. And the look on his face told her that the blood was quickly going down south. “You guys having an orgy?” “Just keeping me company,” Tina said. Already she was letting herself be led back into her house. Already, she was starting to relax and tense up in all the right places. Rod had that effect on her. It might be nice to have a creep of her own to protect her from the lady in her nightmares… “Hey,” Glenn called out. He froze when Rod turned around. “Relax you two. We’ll get her mother’s bed. You two can have the rest,” then ducked out of sight. “Seriously,” Tina said, her petite blonde frame still in the doorway. “Stay. You make me feel safe. Don’t leave me here with this luuuunaaatic!” Tina’s last word was cut off by a fit of giggles as Rod returned and started to cart her off to her mother’s California King. Left alone, Glenn realized just how pretty Nancy looked in the moonlight, and how much better she smelled than Tina’s creeper of a fuck buddy. “Glenn, no.” Nancy pushed him away when he leaned in for a little fun. “Not tonight. We’re here for Tina.” She ran her hand through her curly brown hair. Glenn felt his attitude deflate with his dick. “Why? Who cares? It’s just a bad dream.” “Because we’re her friends,” Nancy said. “She needs us. We gotta be mature and not fuck around.” ********************************************************************************************************* Glenn laid there in the dark of Tina’s living room. The couch made a poor bed and the living room a poor bedroom. He could hear Tina and Rod going at it through the walls. Neither were quiet about it. Blue balled beyond belief, Glenn could only sulk at the soundtrack to the two horny highschoolers getting it on. Meanwhile, he knew Nancy, pure and mature as ever, slept in Tina’s room. “Maturity sucks.” ************************************************************************************************************ Nancy slept in Tina’s bed, blissfully unaware of the sounds coming from the other bedroom. But she was not blissful otherwise. Nor was she unaware. Not totally. Eyes closed, and breath steady, Nancy did not dream. But she did have the peculiar feeling that something, or someone was watching her. She didn’t hear the wall above the headboard creek and moan as it warped. She didn’t see it become thin like puddy and mold itself into a humanoid shape. She didn’t feel the warmth of another not-quite-body looking down at her, bending over, reaching out like a woman readying to scoop her baby out of a crib…. When she rolled over and opened her eyes, the wall was completely normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Over the side of the bed, Nancy noticed a little lamb nightlight, lying there on the floor. She hadn’t seen this in years. She would have thought Tina tossed this away with her training bras, but her old friend never had outgrown her fear of the dark. Maybe that’s why she still had a waterproof sheet on the mattress. Or maybe that’s why her bathroom smelled faintly of baby powder. Maybe this bedwetting thing was more persistent than Tina was hinting at; the bad dreams just a justification. Nancy took a moment and plugged the old night light in. Just in case. She took a moment to touch and push against the wall, too; confirming that it was solid. Just in case. She gave it a few quiet knocks. Just in case. *********************************************************************************************************** PLINK! Tina awoke in her mother’s bed, the sound of pebbles hitting glass making her jump. She looked over to Rod; still sound asleep and snoring. Rod was practically a machine in the sack, and orgasming was his off button. It’s one of the things she liked about him, actually. Sometimes a good lay really is what a body and a troubled mind needed. It has also been nice, hearing Rod confess he’d been having nightmares. “What? Guys can have bad dreams too. You don’t have the market cornered.” He gave her a final kiss, before “No more bad dreams for either of us now.” That was about as emotional and open as Rod could get. In a way, Tina had been proud of him; the emotionally stunted mal-adjusted idiot. PLINK! Another pebble, this one harder, stopped Tina from rolling over and rejoining her boyfriend in unconsciousness. Definitely a pebble, too. There were nor branches from nearby trees long enough to scrape at the glass. “Rod?” she tried shaking her boyfriend awake. All she got was snoring for her trouble. PLINK! PLINK! She rolled back towards the window and started to sit up. “tinaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” It was a whisper, a nagging bit of paranoia scratching at her brain. A sound carried by fear more than air. Picking Rod’s shirt up off the floor, she slipped in on over herself; it’s bagginess preserving her modesty as she padded over to the window. PLINK! A flash of purple. Not a pebble. But a...ball? A plastic ball, like in a children’s ball pit rocketed up to the window. PLINK! The next one,red, left a crack in the glass. Tina held her breath and leaned closer; feeling the break in the glass for herself. What could do THAT with a plastic ball? It was full dark outside. No stars. Whoever...or whatever...still lay in the shadows. And somehow, Tina knew it was waiting for her. “tinaaaaaaaaaaa!” Tina stepped back. It knew her name. It had come for her. Eyes staring straight into the abyss just outside her window, Tina dared to say “Who do you think you are?” She paused. No answer “Whoever you are…” The poor girl didn’t feel very brave, just then. Only fools weren’t scared, however. She took some comfort in that. Tina couldn’t say why she left her mother’s bedroom and turned on the back porchlight. It’s just what happened sometimes. She didn’t know why she didn’t call the police, either. The flashing lights of a cruiser and an officer at her door might scare away whatever was out there. Or they’d just think it was a prank and ignore her… Sometimes things were just like that…. Clad only in a pair of panties and Rod’s shirt, she switched on the lights, and ventured outside the safety of her home. No going back now. “Somebody there?” “tina!” The reply was short and crisp. An adult losing her patience with a particularly stubborn child. And like the stubborn child whose will was finally waning, Tina wandered outside in short uneven steps. Out into the dark backyard. Out into the darkness. “Tina…” louder this time. A growl or a groan. A muttering maybe. A beckoning, definitely. On toddling, uncertain steps, Tina kept going towards it. Past the junk in her backyard, and by the old rusted playground her dad...her real dad...had set up for her when she was little. Couldn’t have been older than three. There was something oddly familiar about those gymnast rings, come to think of it. Out into the alleyway, she went, some dark force compelling her to find the source of her torment. The hollow rattling sound of beads inside thin plastic almost gave her whiplash as a pink hula hoop rolled along the ground and pittered to a stop. The clicking of heels on pavement made Tina spin again, and the silhouette of a sunhat took Tina’s breath away. “Now….!” the figure came into the light. Her face terribly scarred, her clothes musty, as if dug up from a grave or a tomb. The dirty green and red bag slung over one shoulder; the splintered wooden paddle hanging from a strap from the other. Tina started to back away, to look“Shit…” The thing’s arms stretched out, impossibly long. Inhumanly long! Long enough that the woman stood in the middle of the road, but her fingers brushed fences on either side of the road. “Come...to...Nanny!” Her voice was gnarled and scratchy. Her smile crooked and eyes encased in shadow. Arms outstretched, she was a grotesque parody of a caregiver beckoning for a hug. “COME! COME!” Even as she walked, the paddle, impossibly large, dragged on the ground, scrapping the concrete road. “Please God…” Tina heard herself say. In a blur, the woman’s arms were the right size and the paddle in her hand. “This,” she padded the wooden club in the palm of her other wretched hand, “is God, now.” Tina ran. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her and it still wasn’t enough. The cackling witch behind her waved the paddle in the air, chasing after her; both moving at snail’s pace...the pace of a nightmare. She looked behind her. The hag was gaining on her! “Peek-a-boo!” The hag was in front of her! Burned hands covered a burned face, opening to reveal the giggling hag. “NO! NO! NO!” The poor girl naked save for her panties and shirt, ran back towards her house. If she could get inside she would be safe! If she could get inside she’d be safe! She ran, but now was even slower than before. Breathless, she managed to waddle out of the street and into her backyard, slamming the gate behind her. Waddle? Something was getting thicker, and it wasn’t the air. Her panties! Something was wrong with panties! Just outside her backyard, the girl stopped and lifted up her shirt. That’s why she was having trouble running: Her panties had thickened into a diaper! A diaper?! Not an adult one, but a larger version of something a toddler might wear. All the extra padding had thrown off her gait! She didn’t know why she was wearing a diaper, just then. Sometimes things just worked that way…. “Tina!” From out behind an impossibly skinny the wicked woman jumped. “Watch this!” Her voice was saccharine sweet; mockingly so. Tina stood there, paralyzed as the woman removed her thumb. An old trick. An easy trick. The most basic of slight of hand. Something that grandparents have been doing forever... until spurts of green ichor started streaming from the stump. It was good that Tina had been wearing a diaper just then. Otherwise, she might be standing in a puddle. The warm heat pooling and squishing between her legs was cold comfort, just then. The last few feet to her backdoor were an eternity. The gleeful cackling of the hag threw off her balance; not to mention the swelling Luvs between her legs. Scarred hands yanked at her shoulders; pulling her away from safety and salvation. The knob wriggled and stuck in Tina’s hands. Locked. “NANCY!” she screamed. “NANCY OPEN THE DOOR!” No one came to the door… The only one that heard her was the dead Nanny. “Naughy, naughty girl!” The last thing Tina would remember seeing was the grass and junk in her own backyard as she was pulled over the monster’s knee. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The cry sounded so much like a scared baby girl. A scared baby girl about to get a spanking. ************************************************************************************************* Rod woke when he was kicked in the ribs. “AAAAAH! AAAAAAAH! NO! STOP!” Tina screamed under the covers. “Tina?” he tried to ask, “Tina what’s wrong!” All he got in reply was Tina’s agonizing screaming...that and the sound of laughter, coming from under the covers. “I’M SORRY!” Tina yelled. “I’M SORRY! I’LL BE A GOOD GIRL I PROMISE! ROD! ROD! HELP ME ROD!” Panicked, Rod ripped the covers off his girlfriend. She thrashed there on her mother’s bed, her eyes closed and her ass up in the air. Rod stood there in his tighty whiteys, mouth agape as Tina struggled against nothing, wearing only his shirt and a… DIAPER?! The cartoon monkey on the back (and the yellow discoloration between her legs) made it kind of obvious. “PLEASE! DON’T! ROD! HELP! I’M SORRRRRRY!” “TINA” he called out. “TINA.” But Tina couldn’t hear him. In a flash, the borrowed shirt was hiked up, leaving nothing covering Tina’s backside but the wet Luvs inexplicably taped around her hips. WHAP! The sound thick wood hitting pulpy padding filled the air like a cannon shot. Tina screamed like she was being murdered...and in a way she was. “MOMMY!” WHAP! “DA-DA!” Tina kicked and screamed and thrashed as her body started to levitate off the mattress. Unable to believe his eyes, Rod went to turn on a lamp to make sure that the dark wasn’t playing tricks on him. Tina’s whirling thrashing form swinging into him more than confirmed what his eyes suspected. “HAAAAHAAAAHAAAAHAAAAHAA!” He’d heard that laugh too. He’d heard it before even. WHAP! “GAGAGAGA!” Up the walls, Tina’s screeching form was dragged. Eyes still slammed shut, she clawed at the wallpaper, trying to tear herself free as another heavy WHAP sounded. “WAAAAAAAAH!” Now she was crawling on the ceiling. WHAP! “WAAAAAAAAAH” “HAAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAA!” Finally, words couldn’t even describe the incomprehensible wailing pouring out of Tina’s mouth. All throat, no lips. She sounded more an infant than a young woman about to graduate into college. She looked it, too. All Rod could do was scream her name as she was dragged along by the unseeable force until she was set gently down, wafting back onto her mother’s bed. ********************************************************************************************************** Nancy woke to screaming. Tina’s screaming. On feet that would not carry her quickly enough she ran to the master bedroom and began banging on the door. “Tina?! Tina?! TINA?!” Her knocking went unanswered. “Who did this?!” she heard Rod say through the door. “I’ll kill you! Who did this?!” Only Tina’s wails of terror and pain let Nancy know that she was alive. But who was Rod yelling at?” Glenn ran in, fully clothed, from the living room. Together they broke down the door. The brief silence lasted just as long as the crash still echoed. The room was empty. Trashed, but empty. Tina lay in bed feebly kicking at the air and crying nonsensically. An open window, the only clue to Rod’s whereabouts. Tina lay on the bed, sobbing and inconsolable, crying around her own fingers jammed into her mouth. “Tina,” Nancy said “What’s wrong?” Nancy’s best friend since childhood didn’t answer. She just mumbled and cried through tear streaked cheeks. “What happened?” More crying. “Are you okay? Where’s Rod?” Nancy was feeling less and less certain with each question left unanswered. The smell of urine filled Nancy’s nostrils, and her eyes went below Tina’s waist. Nancy had babysat enough times to recognize a Luvs, though she’d never seen one that big. She’d also babysat enough to know when a diaper was on the verge of leaking. She felt the sheets just beneath her friend. Correction...leaked. “Glenn,” she called to her boyfriend. “I think Tina OD’d or something. Something’s going on in her eyes...she’s not all there. There’s something wrong with her.” “I’ll say.” Glenn wasn’t joking. Nancy wasn’t in the mood. “Go search her room or something. Look through her drawers! Maybe we can figure out what she took!” Glenn didn’t need further direction. Nancy waited in tense silence, positioning herself so that Tina’s head was in her lap. She gently shushed her friend, and just like a baby, Tina started to calm down with just a little gentle cooing and pets to her forehead. “You’re gonna be alright, Tina. Everything’s just fine.” Even then, Nancy could hear the lie on her lips. “Nancy,” Glenn said. “We’ve got a problem.” “No shit we’ve got a problem!’ Nancy screamed. “My best friend is bawling like a baby in a fucking diaper!” “There’s more…” “More what?” “More diapers,” Glenn said. “And a crib. Changing table too…” Nancy stood up. “Where?” “Tina’s room. It’s a giant nursery.” Nancy sat with her mother in the police station, clutching a box of tissues like they were a kind of life raft. She’d called the police and told them the whole story. About how her best friend was drooling and babbling, and Tina’s boyfriend was missing from their mother’s bedroom. It was just like Glenn had said: In the thirty seconds or so since they had busted open the door, Tina’s bedroom no longer looked like something belonging to a young lady; but instead was now the home of a baby. A big one, too. It took both her and Glenn working together to lift Tina and carry her into the nursery. There, she changed Tina’s diaper- there were more than enough- while Glenn looked away. The cops came, asked a few questions; mostly about Rod and where Tina’s parents were. Then they had her and Tina come down to the station. The strange thing was they didn’t so much as comment on the giant crib or infant playmat in the corner. Nancy just sat there in silence, her mother at first assuring her that everything was going to be okay. Soon enough they had run out of things to say before Nancy had run out of tears. The door opened and in walked Lt. Donald Thompson; a middle aged man with hairline that was just starting to recede. Nancy looked up from her tissues. “Hey, Dad.” There was no excitement in her voice. No terror either. Her confusion and shock had progressed beyond excitement or fear, and slid down into a numbing iceberg. “Hey sweetie,” her father gave her a chaste kiss on the top of her head. “How are you doing?” “Bad…” Nancy let her silence speak the rest. Lt. Thompson looked over to Nancy’s Mom. “What was she doing there, Marge?” “Hello to you too, Donald.” She was cordial, but her voice was ice. The divorce hadn’t been pleasant; and everytime her folks were around each other, the same old arguments popped up...usually about how they were raising Nancy. When Marge and Donald Thompson were around each other, Nancy might as well have been eight instead of eighteen. “What was she doing?” Dad repeated the question. “She was babysitting,” Mom said. “Just making a little extra money.” “In that part of town?” Dad was incredulous. “On a school night?” Part small town cop, part father, all overprotective and judgement asshole. “Looking after Marla Gray’s kid? That drunk? There’s gotta be better ways to earn some spending money.” Nancy didn’t didn’t look up, but she felt more awake? Babysitting? Really? Was this some kind of bad joke? Tina had been attacked by something. Attacked and transformed. Last Nancy knew, Tina was still bouncing on some lady copy’s knee. “You wanna tell me what you were doing over there? With a boy?” The question through...why was THAT what they were focusing on? “The three of us were just sleeping over,” Nancy insisted. “Nothing was supposed to happen. We were just keeping Tina company in case she got scared. She’s been having bad dreams.” Her Dad arched an eyebrow. “Three? You mean that Rod Lane character was invited?” “Well, no…” Nancy said. “But he just came over and…” “So we’ve got him for trespassing, breaking and entering AND attempt to kidnap,” her father said. “Kidnap?” Nancy tried to speak up. “Rod wasn’t trying to kidnap-?” “Then why did he lock himself in the room with the baby?” There was that word again. “Baby?! Dad I-” “Is he one of those sickos?” “Dad,” Nancy almost screamed. The tears were coming back now. “What’s wrong with you? Tina’s not a baby? She’s my best friend!” Both her parents exchanged looks; they were worried. It was Nancy’s mother that spoke up first. “Nancy,” she started in low and soft, “you’ve been through a lot tonight. I know you feel responsible for what almost happened to that baby girl, but it’s not your fault. You were her babysitter and you did the right thing. You saved her. You called the cops. You asked for help. But that doesn’t mean you have to say things like you’re her best friend. Okay?” More of that numbness overcame Nancy. Numbness, dotted with fresh little pinpricks of shock and confusion assaulted her. “O...okay…” She wasn’t really okay. She didn’t understand what was going on in the conversation, and in order to do that. “Okay,” Lt. Thompson nodded, more to himself than to anyone else. “Get her home safe,” he said to her mother. “I’ll get on finding that Lane punk.” Seeming to consider the matter settled, he went to walk out his office door. “Dad,” Nancy called out. “What about Tina?” Lt. Thompson stopped rubbed his temples. “Her mother’s out of town. We’re gonna put her with CPS for now. Foster home. There’s already an officer doubling back to the scene to get diapers and blankets. Some formula. Maybe a few of her favorite toys. Mom will have to go to a judge to get her back. She’ll be okay. She’s too little to remember any of this long term.” But Tina wasn’t okay, Nancy knew. Tina wasn’t supposed to be in diapers, or sleep in a crib or drinking formula. She was supposed to be sitting next to Nancy in English class first thing tomorrow morning. Why couldn’t Mom or Dad or any of the cops see that? ************************************************************************************************************ The little television on the kitchen fairly roared out the morning news: “POLICE SAY THAT A POTENTIAL KIDNAPPING, POSSIBLY IN CONNECTION WITH A CHILD ABDUCTION RING WAS BARELY THWARTED LAST NIGHT WHEN A MAN TRIED TO BREAK INTO A HOME AND STEAL AWAY WITH A CHILD NO OLDER THAN ONE YEAR OLD. POLICE SAY THE PRIME SUSPECT IS ROD LANE. LANE ALLEGEDLY BROKE INTO THE HOME WHILE THE MOTHER WAS AWAY, LEAVING ONLY A SITTER TO DEFEND HER. LANE IS NOW THE SUBJECT OF A CITYWIDE MANHUNT. IF YOU HAVE ANY INFOR-” The old boob tube was shut off just as Nancy entered the kitchen, but she’d heard enough. The whole city, if not the world, thought that Tina Gray was an infant, and that her boyfriend was some kind of child-napper. What had happened to the world last night? Nancy and her mother shared an awkward stare; just long enough for her to get her backpack and walk out the door. Glenn was grounded, and got his car taken away. Good enough. Nancy could use the walk to school. It’s not like she needed the car now that Tina wasn’t… Tina… “Where do you think you’re going?” It wasn’t accusatory. Mom was clearly concerned. She looked at Nancy as if she were sick, not defiant. “To school…?” Nancy replied. Why wouldn’t she go to school? “Honey, you were tossing and turning all night last night. You have no business going to school today.” That first part was true. Nancy hadn’t slept a wink. Yet with how bizarre everyone around her had been acting, Nancy thought that she might be the one sleeping. There was a bizarrely comforting thought: Maybe she’d wake up. Any minute now, she’d be back in Tina’s (adult) bed, and find Glenn moping on the couch and Tina and Rod still shacked up together in the master bedroom. The more she thought about it, the more Nancy hoped it was true. That the last twelve hours or so had all been a ridiculous dream was infinitely more reassuring and far less bizarre than what felt like the truth. “I’ve got to go to school, mother,” Nancy said. “Otherwise I’ll just sit up there and go crazy.” This is why Alice kept walking through Wonderland. To stay still meant to accept the madness. To venture forward, even if it was into more madness, kept it at bay. Even being bored in English class was better than being trapped in her room, alone with her own thoughts. “Did you sleep?” Mom asked. Clearly, she already knew the answer. Nancy took on a pleading tone. “I’ll sleep in study hall.” She needed sleep, she knew. Just not here. Not now. Not while Tina’s screams still rattled around in her head. Not while she kept replaying finding the room a nursery and changing her best friends’ diaper. Not while she still revisited the conversation with Dad at the police station: CPS. Foster Home. Blankets, toys, formula. “I’d rather...keep busy, you know?” She took a sip of coffee from her mother’s mug. She didn’t want to go back to sleep. Sleep meant revisiting last night; sleep meant more of Tina’s crying and mewling. Sleep meant staring into her best friends’ eyes and them not staring back. Mom grabbed the mug back. “Right home after?” “Right home after.” Nancy promised. They gave each other a kiss, and fueled mostly by adrenaline, Nancy made her way out the door. On her way to school, Nancy couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was being watched. That just out of sight, something was following her, trailing her, hunting her. She’d had last night, too, come to think of it. It was the feeling that someone she couldn’t see was watching over her, readying itself. A tiger waiting to pounce...or a teacher anxiously awaiting first bell to begin instruction.. Nancy stopped and looked back over her shoulder. The man in the suit and tie and sunglasses didn’t seem to be following her. He stood perfectly still against that elm tree on the other side of the street. Though what was he doing there? It wasn’t a bus stop and he wasn’t a neighbor. Not a face she saw everyday. A dozen or so steps later, she whirled her head around. Gone. Nancy was being followed. What to do? What did he want? Did she scream? Did she call for help? From the bushes behind her, a hand clapped over her mouth while its pulled her in and dragged her into the foliage. Nancy screamed in panic, not even recognizing the smell of fresh body odor and old Axe. “I’m not gonna hurt you!” Rod growled to her even as she thrashed. “I’m not gonna hurt you!” He loosened his grip, and Nancy pried his disgusting hand off of her mouth. Rod hunkered down in the cover of the bushes. Sweaty. Unwashed. Barefoot. Wearing nothing but his jeans and jacket. The shirt that Tina had been found in was collected as “evidence” of some sort. Rod looked at Nancy, eyes tired and desperate. “They’re gonna kill me, for sure.” “Nobody’s going to kill you,” Nancy said. Rod clearly didn’t believe her. Nancy didn’t believe herself. “Did you do it?” Rod looked like he was about to vomit, he was so disgusted. “Do it? Do what? Sleep with my girlfriend? Yeah, I did!” “No, not that,” Nancy said. “The other thing…” Rod looked confused. “Did you put her in a D-I-A-?” Rod cut her off. “Hell no! Tina’s not a baby! But I’m the only one who seems to know that!” “You’re not the only one who knows.” Rod didn’t reply, immediately. Instead his breathing slowed, and his eyes showed a level of gratitude that Nancy didn’t think the young man capable of. “Everybody thinks I’m a kidnapper, or some kind of…” his voice cracked rather than allow him to finish the sentence. “What happened last night?” Nancy asked. “You were screaming an awful lot.” The modern day greaser just shook his head. “I never touched her.” He let out a breath. “There was somebody else there.” Even he couldn’t completely believe what he was saying. “You were screaming like crazy.” “I didn’t do it!” “The door was locked from your side!” It didn’t make any more sense now that she was saying it, but it made her feel better to be on the offense. “Don’t look at me like I’m some fuckin’ nutter or something!” Rod proclaimed through gritted teeth.. “You think I put a big pair of baby pants on my girlfriend, spanked her padded ass, and then snuck out and made everybody think she was a baby?” Not when he said it like that. The whole thing was getting more difficult to believe by the minute. Wait a minute…”Spanked?” “Yeah,” Rod replied. “Kept hearing this slapping sound, right on her butt. She kicked and screamed every time...till she didn’t.” His eyes got hazy, reliving the moment. “But it wasn’t me. Somebody else did it. And when I find ‘em I’m gonna-!” More movement. A familiar figure in a police officer’s uniform. A gun drawn. “Just move away from her, son,” Lt. Thompson said in a low, even voice. Rod looked and saw the gun pointed at him. Arms up, slowly he stood. Nancy too. “Reeeeeal easy, like your ass depended on it,” Nancy’s dad intoned. Like his ass depended on it. A poor choice of words. Police sirens squealed out even as Tina’s (ex?) boyfriend darted for the street. “Hold it!” Lt. Thompson called out. Nancy stepped in front of her father, covering Rod’s barefoot escape. “NO!” He was innocent! She couldn’t prove it, but she knew Rod was innocent. Him being guilty would have meant that Nancy didn’t understand how the world really worked. “Jesus Christ!” her father cursed, lowering his gun. Running fast on tired legs and sore bare feet, Rod didn’t make it far down the street before the first police car cut off his escape. He didn’t make it ten feet before the second blocked his retreat and he was surrounded by men with guns. Rod was a lot of things: Most of them bad. An escape artist wasn’t one of them. Nancy had to watch as Rod was held at gunpoint, slammed on the ground, and cuffed. “I didn’t do anything, Nancy! I promise!” That last outburst wouldn’t look good for him n court. Rod wasn’t behind whatever happened to Tina. He wasn’t smart enough. He’d been following Tina and pulled her off the street because the whole world was out to get him and Tina was the closest thing he had to a friend, just then. A realization came over Nancy. Whether people thought of Tina as an adult or not, Nancy was on the shortlist of people that Rod might try to contact. “Daddy!” she followed her father out onto the street. “You used me!” “What the hell were going to school for, anyway?!” It wasn’t a question as much as an accusation. Again, she wasn’t Nancy the eighteen year old, but Lt. Thompson’s little girl. And little girls didn’t go to school after a scary punk broke into a house where they were babysitting. There was nothing to do. Nothing to do except walk away. “NANCY!” her father called after her. She ignored him, instead focusing on the sound of Rod’s struggling as he was dragged to the squad car. “NANCY! NANCY!” *************************************************************************************************** “What is scene,” the English teacher said, “is not always what is real.” That was a real mood. Mrs. Morgan had watched Dead Poets Society about three too many times, and was always trying to be profound and inspiring, but often her lectures came across as a dramatic monologue, more than an English Lit class. This was doubly true now that the class had shifted into its Shakespeare unit.. Still, the lady had a point. Slumping forward in her desk, Nancy lulled her head to her side. Somebody was in Tina’s seat. Somebody Nancy didn’t even know. But no one missed Tina or remarked about it. It was like that seat had always belonged to the boy sitting there; or that Tina had never been in school with them at all. “For example, in the final lines of a Mid Summer Night’s Dream,” Mrs. Morgan continued, “Shakespeare has Robin Goodfellow assure the audience, as well as the main characters that they ‘have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear, and this meek and idle theme no more yielding but a dream.” Ugh. More dream talk. More sleep talk. Mrs. Morgan was walking around the classroom as she spoke. Making Nancy’s desk in the back of the room less than idea for catching a few winks. “That and considering that he also has the famous play-within-a-play scene; where his actors play villagers badly playing mythic characters while OTHER actors play mythical characters as audience members making jokes about how poor the acting is, all in front of an ACTUAL live audience…” she paused for effect, “Well frankly, nothing is as it seems. It was very ‘meta’ at the time.” That actually got a polite chuckle from the rest of the class and a tired, quiet groan from Nancy. “Shakespeare was actually fascinated with the power of dreams, stories and illusions,” Mrs. and how they affected people, turning illusion into reality. From MacBeth’s soliloquy on life being a walking shadow, to some of his later poems, Shakespeare compared life itself to a story, and noticed how mankind broke itself down into the same repeated patterns and roles again and again. Theater and stories were both illusion AND real to him.” “John?” she said. “Will you go ahead and read, please?” The guy sitting in what used to be Tina’s desk stood up and walked to the front of the class. No page number was given, but everyone looked down in their books. Sometimes things just worked that way… “At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.” The new boy read flatly, and uninterested. Like he wasn’t used to the sound of his own voice. “the whining school-boy with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like a snail Unwillingly to school.” Somehow the guy was managing to make this worse. Did he know what words were coming out of his mouth. He didn’t have to go full theater geek or nothing, but read with a little feeling. Nancy closed her eyes. This was having the opposite effect. She closed her eyes... “the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.” John’s voice was literally about to put her to sleep. The palm of her hand was almost a pillow by this point. A new voice called out. “Nancy…?” The high school senior’s eyes popped open. It couldn’t be! It had to be! There in the doorway, clad in only an obscenely used Luvs, her tits hanging out and her hair tied up in little ribbons, was Tina. “Nancy…” she sat there, just outside the classroom, splay legged and diaper bulging light yellow and deep purple. Deep purple for the decorations printed on the outside. Light yellow for what had been put inside and soaked through and discolored any patch of whiteness that might have remained. “Nancy…” Tina smiled, like it wasn’t the name of her best friend but a new word she was trying out for the first time. She reached both arms out and up, like a child wishing to be carried. “the whining school-boy with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like a snail Unwillingly to school.” Nancy looked around the class. Didn’t anybody else see this? But nobody was looking at the doorway. No one else had heard the big baby calling out for attention. To make matters more bizarre, the new kid was apparently backtracking. Lost his place. Nancy looked back to the doorway. No Tina anymore, just a puddle of piss where she had been. A giant baby with a VERY leaky diaper. The reader’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper… “And finally the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.” The kid hadn’t just lost his place, he was starting over. Except he didn’t keep reading. He hadn’t lost his place. ‘First’ was now ‘finall’, too. He was going backwards. All the way to the lover section of the poem, and then backwards to school and then infant. Nancy stood up as he finished reading, a knowing not-so-gentle smirk on his face. He said nothing more. The rest of the class kept staring at him. The teacher too. No one stopped her from walking out into the hallway, over the puddle that Tina had left. Sometimes things just worked that way… Stepping out into the empty hallways, she saw the not-so-little girl just rounding the corner, drips and dribbles still coming out from her legs; the leak guards long having failed. “Tina?” Nancy called out. But if Tina heard her name, she didn’t respond. She just shuffled and crawled out of sight, leaving a wet trail behind her. Rather like a slug… The hall was empty too. And even though some of the classroom doors were open, there was no sound coming through them. Nancy didn’t know why. Didn’t care either. Sometimes things just worked that way… Tina! She had to find Tina! Following the trail of urine, the senior broke into a run. “TINA?!” She rounded the corner! WHAM! The girl’s sprint was cut short as she collided with what must have been the only other person in the hallway: A pudgy girl with dark black hair and a red and green sash. A hall monitor, of all the antiquated juvenile things! Some students were given the sash and patrolled the halls on off periods, running errands for the front office or playing security guard... Both girls went down to the floor. Fueled by adrenaline, Nancy was easily on her feet first. She looked down at the hall monitor. The girl had a bloody nose and her hair up in pigtails of all things! What self-respecting young woman would have her hair up in pigtails? If Tina had had long enough hair, she’d likely have her hair up in pig-tails right now… The little girl hairstyle combined with a pleasantly pudgy face wasn’t doing anything to make the monitor seem any more authoritative. She sat there on her ass, splay legged and clumsy looking; just like Tina had been a moment ago. Speaking of Tina, Nancy might have been wrong, but there seemed to be something of a swollen bulge coming from between the young lady’s legs. Almost like... But no… No it couldn’t be... “Where’s your hallpass?” the monitor demanded. She seemed unfazed and unconcerned with her bleeding nose. Nancy felt her throat start to close up with anger. “Screw your hall pass,” she growled, walking right past the stupid twat. She broke out into a jog; then a run. “HEY NANCY!” The voice from behind her wasn’t the nasally, whiney voice of the hall monitor. It was older. Deeper. Nancy looked over her shoulder. The hall-monitor was up on her feet again. A gleeful, sadistically playful look was on her face, which was now bleeding from more than just her left nostril. She patted a large, heavy looking paddle in the palm of her hand. “No running in the hallway!” It wasn’t her voice, but the older, raspier one. So was the laugh that followed. No time! No time to ask questions, no time to formulate a quip! No time to deck this wanna be cop in the face! She had to find Tina! Had to follow the trail! She went past an open locker that was so stuffed with teddy bears that they were overflowing out the hallway and piling up like the leaves in fall. She ignored the faint breeze and the scent of lavender baby powder. Had to find Tina! She made a right turn down the stairs. She couldn’t remember if there had been a downstairs before; but it didn’t matter right now. HAD TO FIND BABY TINA! And the stick trail of quickly drying pee was doing just that. There in the dark, gray, almost dingy light, at the bottom of the stairs, Nancy found a sign. It read: “PLAY PLACE! NO GROWN-UPS ALLOWED!” The balled up diaper just by the door was a pretty good clue. Good that someone had at least changed her. Wasn’t it? Ignoring the sign, Nancy stepped forward and opened the door and went in. Turning and taking her, she placed her back to another door, this one made of glass. An old yellowed room decorated with the tattered remains of children’s crayon scribblings laid behind her. But Nancy paid it little mind. What caught Nancy’s attention was the simple, moth eaten curtain in front of her. Nancy felt it call to her, invited her. With a singular swift motion, she tore back the barrier. Just as promised, an indoor playground lay behind it; perfect for a child to frolic and get lost in. Stepping forward past the curtain, she heard the door softly click behind her; so soft that part of Nancy wouldn’t have been surprised to look back and find that the door didn’t exist. There was a kind of heat here; one of energy and motion. It was the same kind of heat from a gym; where no matter how high the AC was turned up, people’s body were radiating energy. Same might be true for an indoor playground. “Tina?” Nancy called out, stepping from the solid concrete and onto the metal mesh of the playground. Such a dark playground, too. Impossible darkness above and below. No more ceiling, just monkey bars and gymnast rings. Her voice did not carry like she’d hoped it would, and she only got the sound of raspy breathing in reply. That, and the same off feeling of some unseen force watching her. Not like this morning after breakfast either; more like the feeling she’d gotten just before Tina’s bed stopped being a bed. No more walls in this place either, just play-tunnels and slides and tubes. Old ones, from the looks of them. Nails and old screws jutted out at odd angles from improper construction and overuse. Nothing like this would ever get past a safety inspector today. “Tina?” Nancy called out, her voice with a hint of hope in it. Please let her be here. Please let her be here. The place had a low thrumming noise, like a heartbeat. Unseen through the vast network of plastic arteries, children crawled and scurred through. No laughter though. No calls of ‘Tag! You’re It!’. Other than the occasional rattle of a body moving through thick plastic, the kids were quiet deathly quiet. Maybe not kids, Nancy thought. She looked around. This place was big enough to accommodate adults...or at least children her size. Tina’s size. Nancy stopped; her eyes being drawn to the sound of the raspy breathing. “T-Tina?” She no longer sounded (or felt) quite so hopeful. When the scarred witch with the red and green bag stepped out of the shadows, Nancy knew she had every right not to be. “Who are you?” A devilish smile blossomed across the disfigured face. Nancy washed as the woman opened up her white blouse and exposed her nipple. As if in answer, the ghoulish woman kneaded her breast slightly. That wasn’t milk coming out of her nipple. Milk wasn’t green. And the laughter that came out of her wasn’t human. The woman rebuttoned her blouse and opened the bag slung over her shoulder. Even at a distance, Nancy could see something white, rectangular and folded peaking out. She didn’t need two guesses to know what it was. A jagged, splintery padde held overhead, the monster woman slowly advanced on Nancy, her square heels clicking on the metal; her intent clear. A paddle, and a diaper bag. First one. Then the other. Nancy quickly pivoted and peeled back the curtain, finding only cement walls to block her path. She juked and ran sideways, deeper into one of the playground’s walkways. Even though she sprinted, she somehow knew she wasn’t getting away. Even though the undead Mary Poppins followed at a slow, leisurely pace, Nancy couldn’t help but feel as if a cold chill was breathing down her neck at every twist and turn she took. No time to think. No time to plan. Just move and turn. Move and turn. Left or right. It didn’t matter. Sometimes things just worked like that… Such a weird logic. Nancy didn’t normally think like this. Not when she was awake anyways. Nancy had been correct in one thing, though; it didn’t matter which way she turned. A dead end found her; and right on her heels, still walking at the same knowing, predatory pace, was the woman with the paddle rounded the corner. She cackled with glee and dragged the paddle along the ground, letting it’s low thudding scraping sound join the hum of the playing children. She gave it a practice swing and a low whoosh went through the air. “Gonna get you,” the shadowed hag taunted. Closer she came, as if savoring every moment. “Nanny’s gonna get you!” Her words were playful, her tone was not. Back against the wall and with nowhere else to go, Nancy realized why she’d been acting so strangely. Things DIDN”T just work like that. Not when she was awake! “IT’S ONLY A DREAM!” she screamed. It was as defiant as it was desperate, and did nothing to stop the woman with the paddle. She’d paused and looked down at the carpet bag filled with diapers, apparently savoring the moment and envisioning what was to come. “Come to Nanny...” she beckoned. No! Not like this! Not like this! Filled with frustration, the young woman’s anger overcame her fear. “GODDAMN YOU!” She got only puckered lips and blown kisses for her shrieking. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the play-tunnels. Old and rickety, with rusted screws and nails sticking out still from either wear and tear or improper manufacture. Necessity being the mother invention, it gave Nancy an idea. If this was a dream. If this really was a dream then… Without thinking or deliberation she slapped her arm on the nearest piece of jagged, crying out in pain as the rusted metal pierced her flesh. “AAAAAAAAAAH!” Now her voice echoed along the empty structure, deafening out all other sounds as the nail tore open her flesh. It was a little cut, but it hurt like something else. “NAUGHTY!” The woman cried out. Her paddle dropped to the grated floor. A burnt hand reached out to grab her “BE CAREFU-!” **************************************************************************************************** “NO! NO! NO! NO!” Nancy was in hysterics! She stood up from her desk and thrashed her arms, flailing and screaming at her attacker; even as the rest of her class turned around in their seats and stared in amazement at her. “I’M NOT A BABY! I’M NOTTA-!” She didn’t open her eyes, even then. It wasn’t until Mrs. Morgan rushed and grabbed her by the shoulders that she opened them. “OK! OK! THOMPSON!” Her last name! Children didn’t get called by their surnames. Nancy froze; fully awake and the center of attention. “I’ll-I’ll call your mother.” Nancy kept her eyes on her teacher, slowly starting to catch her breath. “Everything is alright now.” Wordlessly, Mrs. Morgan tried to guide Nancy back to her desk. Nancy planted her feet and backed away. ‘No,” she said. Even as she did it, she started to pick up her books and collect her back pack. “I’m okay.” “You sure?” “I’m fine.” Again, her teacher asked, “You’re sure?” Not quite believing her. It was fair. “Yeah,” Nancy repeated. “I’ll go straight home.” It took everything in her not to break down and cry right there in front of everyone. Somehow, Nancy found the strength. Somehow, her teacher seemed just as shook. “You’ll need a h-hall pass.” Nancy ignored her and walked out the door, this time turning towards the exit instead of going deeper into the school. She really didn’t want to know if there were stairs further down the hall and to the right; yet alone where they led to. Just outside the school, right past the steps of the front entrance, Nancy let out a sob. She couldn’t say whether it was from fear or relief; not that it mattered. A dream. It had all been a dream. Just a dream. But if it was ‘just’ a dream; why did she have a cut on her forearm right where she’d slammed it against the metal? That afternoon, the holding cell was cold and hard, but not sterile. There was a feeling of dingy, almost moldy wetness in the air, even though not a trace of the stuff could be seen or smelled. It had all the cold and clinical feelings with none of the safe sterility. The bars were a kind of graying green. How odd, Nancy thought, that something meant to confine and restrict would be the same color as the Statue of Liberty. Looking at each other through opposite ends of the bars, Nancy and Rod spoke in quiet hushed tones as the bored guard went to take a dump. “And then what happened?” Nancy asked. “I told you,” Rod said. “It was dark but I’m sure there was somebody else in there.” Rod sounded tired and exasperated. The police interrogators had probably asked him the same questions. The only difference was that the cops in no way believed that a hundred and twenty pound B-Cup wearing Tina Gray was more than a year old. “How could somebody be in there without you knowing about it? Exasperated as she was, Nancy knew the truth. She just didn’t believe it herself. In some wild way she was hoping poor stupid Rod could do it for her. “The door was locked.” “How the fuck should I know?” Rod was equally perplexed and considering he was being charged with kidnapping (among other things) he was infinitely more frustrated. “I don’t expect you to believe me anyway.” He retreated to the back of his cell and stared at the stainless steel toilet. “What did he look like?” She leaned up against the bars. “Did you get a good look at him?” Rod looked up and back around at Nancy. “No,” he said. He sounded more than a little sad. Anger and regret and exhaustion all blending together into a terrible cocktail. Nancy felt her frustration bubbling up. She whacked the bars, a fussy toddler in her crib, and started pacing. She was on the right side of the cell door but still felt trapped. “Then how do you know somebody else was there?!” “Because somebody spanked her while I watched.” Rod moved back to the door and leaned in as far as the iron would let him. Nancy crossed her arms, not looking directly at her best friend’s boyfriend. “And you didn’t even get a good look at him?” “I couldn’t even see the fucker.” He shuddered at the memory. “I could just see it happening. Hear the smack. See her diaper flatten out in the back with the paddle.” Paddle?” Nancy looked right at him. “What do you mean?” Rod’s voice went hollow, a tinge of fear in his voice. “My old man used to spank us,” he said, “before we learned how to throw a punch. My baby brother, too. I know the difference between a hand, a belt, and a paddle. The sound, the mark, the pain. This was a paddle. It was a big one, too. Rectangle, like they do at Frats or the movies or whatever. The kind that hits you down there but really knocks the wind outta ya.” His eyes came back to the present and he looked at Nancy. “You know, I probably could’ve saved her.” His voice cracked. “But I thought it was just another nightmare...like the one I had the night before.” Nancy didn’t speak. Nancy just listened. “There was this…” he hesitated. “There was this lady. She had this huge paddle; more like a club, really. It was too big, but she carried it around one handed, like it was easy. Like it was a toy.” Nancy’s skin began to crawl. This sounded familiar. Too familiar. Far too familiar. Just like what Tina had been talking about last night. Just like what Nancy had dreamed. And Rod had neither been around nor been told about either of those. On the verge of hyperventilating, Nancy started to walk away, towards the door back out to the police station proper. “Hey,” Rod called out, sounding weary. “Do you think I did it?” Just before she banged on the door to be let out, Nancy told him the truth. “No.” It didn’t make either one of them feel better. ***************************************************************************************************** The water was hot in the tub that evening. Hot enough to boil a lobster. Hot enough to cauterize the already scabbing over scratch on Nancy’s arm. Hot enough to destroy all the aches in her body from a perpetually bizarre day. Nancy lay there up to her neck in the clear hot water, her head propped up by a bath pillow. “Ten, nine, better watch your behind,” she sang in tired lackadaisical whisper. She turned the washcloth over her in hands, her eyes half closed. She wasn’t washing herself as much as wringing the thing like a wet teddy bear. “Eight, seven, gonna learn your lesson.” Such a weird little jump rope song. It seemed oddly appropriate, somehow. Strange how dreams and reality so often lined up. “Six, five, never gonna thrive.” Thrive. A fancy two dollar world meaning grow and mature. Funny considering she’d been dreaming about strange women carrying around paddles and diaper bags. Tina wasn’t thriving anymore... Nancy only half-knew it, but she was putting herself into a kind of trance. The rhythmic sing-song nature of it all becoming a kind of lullabye. “Four, three, in your pants you pee.” When she was younger that seemed like the funniest part; as if peeing your pants could be scary... “Two, one, Nanny says you’re done….” Her eyes were closed. The last line coming out as barely a mumble. She’d sang the old jump rope rhyme to calm her nerves. And it had worked. The tub held her like a hammock or a cradle;, and the water covered her and kept her warm like a blanket. Nancy laid there, still, in the tub. She breathed steady, shallow breaths as she dozed in the tub. Her stomach moved up and down below the water, and she began to lightly snore, not yet dreaming. If she had been dreaming, it wouldn’t have been of the hand racing up from the tub’s drain. Had she been awake she would have noticed the scarred digits reaching for the washcloth lightly clutched in her hand… A knock on the door. Nancy’s eyes snapped open. It hadn’t been long, not nearly long enough. The water was exactly the same temperature as when she’d closed her eyes. Funny thing about sleep; a moment could feel a millennium and vice versa. “Nancy?” A familiar and nagging voice called through the bathroom door. Nancy grumbled and then spoke up. “What, Mother?” “Don’t fall asleep in there,” Mom warned. “You could drown, you know.” The young woman rolled her eyes. “Oh for Pete’s sake.” In the quiet acoustics of the bathroom, even her mumblings could be heard. She picked up the washcloth again and wrung it in her hands if only to do something wit her hands and add the gentle dripping to the room’s soundtrack. She looked askance between her legs in the tub. Had that rubber duck always been there? “It happens all the time,” Mom insisted. “I’ve heated up some warm milk.” “Warm milk?” Nancy repeated, her upper lip curling in disgust. “Gross.” What did Mom think she was? A baby? She instantly regretted thinking of it in those terms. Mom’s footsteps faded slowly away as she gave Nancy a hint more of privacy. With a breath that started out as an annoyed huff and ended as a weary sigh, Nancy closed her eyes. One. Last. Ti- The shriek of fright she let out was muffled by the water. Down she went into the tub as two hands yanked her down by the hips. Down. Down! DOWN! Down further than it was possible in a simple bathtub, Nancy went. Instinctively, she kicked towards the sources, with those horrible hands pulling her farther and farther down. Not just those hands, either. More than one pair was grabbing her; caressing her; violating her. “Ah-ah-ah!” A voice from the depths chided. “Can’t go to bed dirty!” She couldn’t breathe! She couldn’t see, either. Still terribly warm, the water now clouded with soap. Soap in her eyes! Oh how they burned! How they stung! With near Herculean strength she breached the surface, stealing a gasp of air before being pulled back down. “HELP! Her eyes hurt. Soapy water rushed up her nose. She opened her mouth to scream and tasted suds. It was as if she were trapped under ice, with only a narrow porthole shining the light from her bathroom. The rest was incredibly dark, and from the dark came the hands; groping and probing. There were more than just hands in the water dragging her down. Wet, scrubbing fabric dragged across her skin. Washcloths! She was being drowned. She was being bathed. Either way, she was in a panic. Either way, she was being violated. Her laft arm was the only thing to breach the surface. Only by pounding on the sides of the tub and up against the near wall of the bathroom did Nancy have even the faintest recognition of still being in her own home. Only by that left arm did she have a hope of rescue. All the while down in the darkness, washcloths and hands that should not be scrubbed at her. In and behind her ears. Up and down her arms and breasts. Underneath her armpits “HE-!” When she managed to breach again she wasted her breath screamin. Nancy could have sworn she felt the teeth of a fine toothed comb brushing out her hair for her. Pounding so far away, coming from the bathroom door. Not nearly as loud as the pounding in Nancy’s head. The washcloths worked their way up and down her legs, and in her most vulnerable and intimate of places. “Almost…” The voice whispered from the darkness. Water still steaming hot, the washcloths withdrew as suddenly as they had advanced on her. “MOMMY!” Nancy screamed, her voice scratchy and hoarse; her mouth tasting of soap. “Hold on, baby!” Mom called through the door. An amphibian wriggling up on land, Nancy managed to claw her way out of the tub. She grabbed a towel and draped it over her shoulders just as Mom picked the lock on the door. “I’m okay!” she said when Mom burst in. “I’m okay.” The mirror was too steamed up to see her reflection, but even Nancy didn’t need to see her face to know that she was lying. “I’m okay.” “But I heard you screaming,” Mom said. “I heard you calling me.” “It’s okay,” Nancy lied. “I just...I just slipped getting out of the tub.” She didn’t resist as her mother took the bathrobe off the hook and started draping it over Nancy’s shoulders; removing the towel and guiding her arms through the sleeves, just like when she was a child who couldn’t dress herself. “I told you,” Mom said, tying up the belt around Nancy’s waste. “Hundreds of people a year, dear.” “I know,” Nancy panted. “I know. You were right.” That little acknowledgement seemed to satisfy her mother. “I’ll go turn down your bed for you.” “Okay,” Nancy nodded. Her voice was still shaky. “I’ll put on my pajamas.” “Okay.” And then she was alone. Nancy shivered. She was cold. Getting out of a hot bath, she was always a little chilly as her skin adjusted to the rapid shift in temperatures, but there was something different this time. Her skin felt funny. On a kind of dread intuition she opened the robe and examined herself. She had no body hair. Anywhere. None on or under her arms. None below the waist, on or between her legs. No stubble or even the vaguest hint of a root. Completely smooth. Baby smooth. To a degree, it was as if Nancy had never hit puberty. Or like it had all been scrubbed off like stubborn dirt in the bathtub. A sense of foreboding reminded Nancy of the tub. She turned to the tub. She hadn’t put that rubber ducky there. Nancy didn’t even own a rubber ducky since she was three. And she definitely didn’t take bubble baths. There it was though, in all of it’s lavender scented glory: a tub brimming with bubbles. Ten...nine...better watch your behind…. Nancy backed away and opened the bathroom medicine cabinet.. She reached in and took the pill bottle from the bottom shelf. “STA AWAKE (Fast Acting).” It read. She spared one last look at her body; another at the tub; and then downed double the recommended dosage. ********************************************************************************************************* “The all consuming act of bodily dismemberment-” The T.V. in Nancy’s bedroom droned on. “NOOOOOOOOOO!” The woman in the horror movie screamed while her arms were ripped from their sockets and corn syrup blood gushed out from her torso. Nancy lay in bed, struggling to stay awake; trying desperately to stare at the screen instead of the back of her head or the inside of her eyelids. The warm milk was doing nothing to put her to sleep, but the anti-sleeping pills could only do so much against her exhaustion. And her bed was comfortable. And unlike Tina, Nancies jammies didn’t have snaps along the inseam, nor did she crinkle when she moved. So much easier to just... She had texted Glenn, just so she could have someone to talk to and got no response back. He was probably grounded. Her freakout this morning in English had stopped her from getting to talk to her boyfriend. She worried about him and how he was coping with all the strange. More importantly, it was harder to go to sleep when you had someone to talk to. After almost drowning in the tub, and the not so pleasant nap this morning, sleep wasn’t exactly something Nancy craved. With no other options, horror movies became the last resort. The screaming and the blood, no matter how schlocky had always given her the creeps, given her trouble sleeping...given her reason to stay awake. In a weird way she was fighting bad dreams with nightmare fuel. Sadly, as her lids started to droop, threatening to weld themselves shut, even the nightmare fuel was running out of gas. Her head started to nod, just a bit. It would be okay. Just a quick nap...a cat nap. Not even a cat nap, a kitten na-.... NO! For what might have been the third or the dozenth time (she’d lost count), Nancy startled herself awake, forcing herself to stare at the old horror movie. Even the blood curdling screams and the sounds of chainsaws were becoming a kind of lullaby to the poor girl. . UP! UP! UP! Nancy sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Must not lay down! Must not sleep! She grabbed the remote and turned off her T.V. Maybe an eerie silence would help her stay conscious better than a grisly melody… Clad in pure white, she sat and huffed, chiding herself. This was stupid. She was acting like a child, afraid of monsters under the bed, (though that thought made her careful of her feet). Even the bathtub was more bad dream than reality. Her body hair? There was a logical explanation for that. She did like to keep a clean shop so to speak. Maybe she hadn’t lost it all as much as she’d just done a really good job of shaving...and forgot. But when she’d asked her mother about it, just before bed, all Mom had said was “You’re just a late bloomer, sweetie,” before giving her a kiss on the forehead and ensuring that she’d chunged down a glass of dairy. THAT was an unexpected reaction… Rubbing herself out of nerves and the strange smoothness of her own skin, Nancy got up out of bed and walked over to her bedroom window. Maybe some fresh air would help her stay awake. Gently sliding the window open, Nancy poked her head out and stared down at the neighborhood from her second story window. “Hi…” a voice from the night whispered. It was only Nancy’s deep familiarity with Glenn’s voice and his silhouette’s complete dissimilarity from the woman in Nancy’s dreams that saved him from a shove that would have sent him plummeting to the lawn below. The young woman drew back, swallowing her scream into a gasp as her boyfriend poked his head through. “I’m sorry, I saw your light was on. I wanted to check on you to see how you were.” “Do you know how much I sometimes wish you didn’t live right across the street.” Her tone was biting, her heart was pounding, but for the first time all day she felt something akin to relief. Glenn must’ve sensed it, too. “Will you shut up and let me in?” he asked. “Did you ever stand on a rose trellis in your bare feet.” Of course he’d sneak all the way over in his pajamas and bare feet… “Just get inside before somebody sees you.” Glenn clambered in through her window. Romeo on the balcony he wasn’t. More like an old boxer trying to climbe between the ropes. He cried out a little as his pricked his feet on a wayward thorn. “Ow!” “Shhh!” “What? They hurt?” “You gotta be quiet, Mom’s not even asleep yet.” Once he was inside, Nancy closed the window behind him. Laying there in his pajama bottoms and a gray sweatshirt, Glenn seemed to make himself very comfortable on Nancy’s bed while she closed her bedroom door; lest Mom see something she wasn’t supposed to. It was stupid, presumptious, and cocky...and it made Nancy feel at least five times better. Glenn being a bit of a horndog was infinitely more normal than the last twenty-four hours. “Do you mind?” she asked. Glenn seemed disappointed, but not terribly surprised. He slid off the bed and took a seat an old wicker chair next to it. “So I heard you had a freakout in English class today.” Nancy sat back down on her mattress. “Yeah, I guess I did.” “You haven’t slept yet, have you?” “Not really.” He reached over and noticed the cut on her left harm; the same arm that had managed to pull herself up from drowning in the bathtub. “How’d you get that?” “I cut myself in English class.” “Like with a razor?” Flashes of the sharp edged piece of shrapnel poking out from warped playground equipment appeared in Nancy’s mind’s eye. “No.” Glenn didn’t seem to have any further questions. Just more worried looks. The young lady grabbed a mirror and looked in her reflection. She looked tired. So tired. Her face sagged at the edges. Her cheeks looked puffy, chubby almost. She thought about her mother declaring her a ‘late bloomer’. “God, I look like I’m four.” She really did. Mom had mountains of photos saved on a drive from Nancy’s childhood. More than a few of them had a pre-kindergarten girl making pouty faces just before naptime. She put the mirror down and looked back to her boyfriend. “Did you have any weird dreams last night?” “Slept like a rock,” he replied. The answer was too fast. Too sure. Nancy kept digging. “Do you believe that people can dream about what’s going to happen?” “No.” Again, too fast. Too sure. This was a conversation that Glenn had had with himself ahead of time; like preparing for a job interview, or confession. “Do you believe in the boogeyman?” Flat heeled boots and ruffled blouses blinked in Nancy’s brain. “Or boogeywoman?” “No.” Glenn didn’t sound convinced of himself this time. “I talked with my folks. Maybe Tina always was...like that...and we just never noticed. Rod tried to kidnap her...or worse...you know that.” It wasn’t an admission; quite the opposite. But rather than the self-assured gaslighting coming from her mom and dad, that obvious bold-faced-lie of denial actually helped Nancy. It gave her confidence in her own experiences and senses. “I’ve got a crazy favor to ask you.” Glenn knew the look in Nancy’s eyes. “Uh-oh.” Nancy leaned forward. “I’m going to go look for someone. I just need you to stay here. Stand guard.” Not nearly as dumb as Rod, Glenn connected the dots. “Okay. Deal.” “Turn off the light.” Glenn did. Nancy saw a perverted little smirk as he switched off the lamp. “And it’s not what you’re thinking…” ********************************************************************************************************* It was late when Nancy finally managed to sneak out of her house. So late the crickets had gone to sleep. Every light in the house, save the front porch, was out. Still barefoot so that her footfalls were as light as possible, and still in her pajamas, the highschool senior snuck out onto an otherwise empty street. The street shouldn’t have been so empty. The ground, not so soft on the souls of her feet. The animals, not so quiet. The air, not so warm and cozy. Almost as if on some level, Nancy knew she was still asleep in her bed. Almost... Sometimes things just worked like that... A quick turn of the corner, and she was near Tina’s house. It didn’t matter that Tina lived much further away, certainly more than. Nancy was passing by her old friend’s backyard where they’d spent so many childhood days playing with dollies or tea sets. The old playhouse was still there in the yard, she noticed. Even the dark, that house looked far newer than it should have. Even the dark the house looked far older than Nancy knew it to be… Feeling ill at ease, Nancy looked behind her to the pristine streets of her own block. “Glenn?” she called out softly. “Are you still watching?” Out from behind a tree, Glenn glided onto the sidewalk. “Yeah?” he said. “So?” He sounded impatient. Irritated. “Just checking,” Nancy whispered. Though she didn’t know why she did. No one was around to hear either of them. A voice in her head, her own, prodded her on. She wasn’t here for Tina, she told herself. She couldn’t save Tina. She could still make sure Rod was okay. Slowly she walked forward as her boyfriend took his post behind the tree; looking around warily as a dog barked somewhere in the distance. A few more steps into the night fantastique, past burned out and decaying buildings, and Nancy was at the police station. Her mind instantly glossed over that this too should be impossible. But she’d gone there so many times throughout her life, she knew the way like the back of her hand. Even on foot, though the way might be long and tedious, she could make her way to Daddy’s Job in her sleep. Picking up her pace, Nancy jogged over to where the holding cells were, just to the right of the staired entranceway. Through meshed windows, not unlike a playpen, she peered to see the modern day Greaser, asleep in his bed. Safe. Likely uncomfortable on the holding cell’s cot. But safe. Nancy relaxed a little bit as he rolled over from his side and began to suck his thumb. Sleeping like a… A banging sound from within the station’s cell and the squeaking squeal of hinges that desperately needed oiling caught Nancy’s attention. The door to the holding cells opened. Nancy’s breath stopped, hiding inside her lungs than to come and face the open air. The intruder’s face was burned and boney, angular like a witches with texture comparable to raw meat. The dead flowers in her dirty brown sunhat seemed to drain the color from the room instead of add to it. The flats of her heels click-clocked on the cold pavement of the cells. Still, Rod did not stir. Looking down into the basement level, Nancy still had the advantage. She could see the witch-thing, the scarred beldam but the woman with the paddle slung over one shoulder and dirty green and red diaper bag over the other could not see her. Nancy turned her head. “GLENN!” She called. Her voice was loud but remained calm. Glenn did not appear. “GLENN?” a hint of doubt creeped in. A smidgen of fear. Nancy looked down into the cells and watched as the disfigured wenched walked straight through the bars and into Rod’s cell. The iron bars did not block her way. They might as well have been patches of shadow on her ruffled blouse and striped bow tie. The girl banged on the windows. “ROD!” The boy did not stir. “ROD! WATCH OUT!” He only laid there and sucked his thumb while the horrid woman peeled back his blanket and unbuttoned his pants. “ROD! Watch out!” The bizarre babysitter looked up at Nancy from the cell, a knowing smile on her face. A dark laughter as she set her bag down. “GLENN!” The young woman screamed and pounded. “ROD! WAKE UP! GLENN!” The monster beside the bed didn’t even break her stride, opening the bag and removing wipes, powder, and a diaper far too big for any actual baby to need. “GLENN!” Where was he? He was supposed to be standing guard! When she looked back down into the cell, unable to completely ignore the perversion going on, she saw Rod. Rod. And only Rod. The meathead’s eyes opened and he sat up, slowly looking around, confused by the presence of his thumb in his mouth. Nancy’s voice was back to full shriek.“GLENN!” . Glenn did not answer. “Nanceeeeeeee…” Not ten feet away, all by herself, was Tina, standing up but swaddled like a newborn. Nancy stood up, confused and shocked. Tina couldn’t be here. Tina wouldn’t walk. Tina couldn’t talk. “NANCEEEEE!” Tina’s voice sounded impossible distant. The echo of her former adult self. The big baby’s lips didn’t move in time. Instead, they parted, and slowly, very slowly, Tina began to vomit. It wasn’t even vomit, that mixture of breast milk and strained peas. When a baby did it, it was just called spit-up. Nancy turned her back to the wall and edged along the police station’s property, not daring to take her eyes off the disgusting sight in front of her. Bundled up Tina just watched Nancy with infantile curiosity as something thick and disgusting pooled at her feet. Someone needed a diaper change. This couldn’t be real! This wasn’t real! “GLENN!” the high school senior shouted out into the night. “WAKE UP!” she called. No response, save the gurgling noises from Tina as her stomach ejected all of its contents. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. She was in her bed at home! Glenn was watching, waiting for her to stir. If she screamed loud enough, the real her might at least mumble something in her bed. “ARE YOU THERE?!” “I’m here, little one.” It wasn’t Glenn’s voice. Not even close. “PEEKABOO!” From the shadows, the witch came and Nancy ran like the Devil Herself was at her heels. Faster! She ran! Faster! But her legs felt like they had weights in them. So much running. So little progress. “HEEEE-HEEEE-HEEEE-HEEEE!” It was just like when she was a child playing tag. It didn’t matter how fast she pumped her legs, the bigger, older kids, always caught up to her. Her five fastest strides were two medium steps to the tallest kids. Her sprints were barely a jog to the grown-ups; and so it felt here. Back! Back to her house! Her safe space! Her refuge! She’d started her dream there, and so it could end here. That’s how it worked, right? Sometimes, at least... Skin goose pimpled with cold sweat, Nancy opened the door to her home and slammed the door behind her; locking it and sparing only a glance. Maybe this was it. Maybe she was safe. Here in her own home. Wolves roamed outside the door. Not inside the house. Three steps up, the staircase turned to tapioca pudding beneath her feet. Nancy dropped down half a foot, her ankle caught in the vat. The next step had just as much give. The door thundered and shook on its hinges. From the outside, Nancy heard the telltale sound of a key being inserted, and tumblers making way. A key! The witch had a key! “NAUGHTY….NAUGHTY…” The door opened and the grinning maniac walked in. “You’re far too little to walk like that, sweetie! Be good for Nanny!” Nancy scrambled up the steps, crawling on her hands and knees the rest of the way up the stairs. The stairs held. Nancy’s appreciation for the irony didn’t. “GLEEEEEEEEEENN!” Hobbling like a monkey, Nancy screamed all the way into her bedroom. She closed the door behind her; anything to put one more layer between her and the Mary Poppins from Hell. “GLENN!” There on the door, in her bedroom mirror’s reflection, Glenn sat slumped over, asleep in the wicker chair he’d set up guard in. He was motionless, oblivious to her screaming. “This is just a dream, this isn’t real!” Nancy said, remembering Glenn’s supposed trick. “None of this is real! This is just a dream! She isn’t real, she ISN’T-!” The shattering glass of her mirror sounded real enough. The jagged, splintered paddle that sent the shards careening into the air looked real enough. The hag tackling her, cackling in glee as she yanked Nancy around by the hips seemed real enough. Nancy screamed until her throat her, while the cackling monster pulled her over knee and went to yank her pajama bottoms down. Nancy clawed at the carpet, squirming out of her bedtime pants in a futile effort to remain unspanked. This only seemed to amuse the female fiend. “GLENN!” Even as she clawed and kicked and did her everything to protect herself, Glenn snoozed away in his own little dreamworld. With nothing else to protect herself, she grabbed a pillow off her bed. One swing from the passive club later, and Nancy was holding onto nothing more than cotton stuffing. “GLENN! NOOOOO!” RRRRRRRRRIIIIIING! Glenn sat up with a start. Nancy did too, now fully awake in her bed as the alarm clock she’d set ‘just in case’ rang to life. Nancy turned it off and looked around the room. Her room. Her very mature. Very adult room. As her boyfriend rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Nancy peaked under her bed covers. Her pajama bottoms were gone. So were her panties. Where she’d gone to bed in dry underwear, she woke up in damp Goodnites. “Glenn...you bastard…”

Prologue: Amy Maynard was driving her car on the narrow mountain road surrounded by snow-covered trees. She was about to start her most strange vacation in her life. Amy worked as a nurse in the children’s department of the Caring Hearts Centre. It was an asylum for mental disabled people. Amy loved her job and she hoped the children could be cured eventually even if she knew it was impossible. Most of the children were disabled in a serious way and they weren’t able to speak or take care of themselves. She had to feed them and change their diapers. Nobody believed they would be cured and nobody tried even to examine their condition. All clients were considered hopeless. As soon as a new client was committed to the centre, it was their final destination. Six months ago Amy got divorced and she felt lonely. Even if her relationship hadn’t been ideal and she felt a big relief after the divorce, the solitude was much worse. Every day she came back to the empty apartment; she didn’t have any children. Several times she got an idea to adopt a child from the Centre, but it was a crazy idea; she needed her job and couldn’t give it up to take care of a mental disabled child. Amy’s parents knew about her worries and they decided to surprise her. She got an unusual Christmas gift; a voucher for two weeks' stay at Flores's pension. Flores’s pension was a small pension in the mountains and it was an ideal place to relax after work with disabled children. There were only three guest rooms there and the most visitors were older couples who wanted to rest in the peaceful nature surrounding the pension. Amy could find her peace there. She thanked her parents, but she wasn’t sure if that idea was the right one. It would be another opportunity to think of her lonely life and talk with uninteresting people. She wished she had any company. All of sudden a crazy idea hit her mind. Even if she couldn’t adopt one of the children, she could take them to the vacation. After all she was a skilled nurse and taking care of them would be easy; Amy wouldn’t be alone and she would have company. The voucher covered the whole double room. She asked the Centre head for permission and he agreed. His only condition was that the child had to be calm. Several children suffered from violent attacks and they had to be tied to their beds often. Amy nodded; it was quite understandable. Her favorite option was Molly Neal. She was ten years old and lived in the Centre since her babyhood. According to the documents she was retarded heavily; her disability should be congenital. She was still in diapers, didn’t speak and she spent the entire day in her room or in the common room along with two more girls in the same condition. They seemed to play together in some strange way and refused to contact anybody else. However Amy could see a glimpse of clear thinking in Molly’s eyes many times and she suspected something was wrong with the poor girl. When Amy told her decision to her parents, they were shocked first: “Amy, you need a rest and not another lot of work with a disabled child,” her mother objected. However Amy was sure it was a good idea: “Mom, if I’m alone there, it would be even worse. Taking care of a single child would be even a pleasure for me.” Amy’s mom laughed: “Amy, it’s your decision after all. If you prefer a disabled child to a friend, do it.” “Mom, a child can provide me with more than a dozen of the so-called friends. The children are sincere and innocent.” Two days later Amy drove off towards Flores's pension. She bought a car seat, some beautiful clothing of Molly’s size and three packages of diapers. Molly was surprised when Amy took her from the centre and led her to her car but she didn’t show any sign of protest and watched Amy curiously. She let Amy sit her into the car seat and leaned back comfortably. Amy started the engine and drove off; they left the town, got to the highway and finally turned towards the pension. Now Amy had to experience a big surprise.

I have been lurking for a long time and commenting for a little while. After reading so many great stories here and all around the internet, I wanted to try and write my own story. And whaddya know, why not a christmas story since it tis the season after all? This story is named after the christmas song of the same name, but really does not have anything to do with the song. (it's just my favorite christmas song). I was gonna call it something like Daria's Christmas in Diapers, but then I worried people might think it was fanfiction for the Daria cartoon... which it's not. The one thing it does have in common with the cartoon is that it takes place in 1997, which is when the cartoon first aired. And that is where the similarities end. So I guess that's it for intros. Please enjoy the story. Chapter 1 Daria was excited for the holidays, mainly Christmas, but also new years. It was almost Christmas. She was gonna go visit her Grammy and Papa for a week or so. School had let out early and the last day they barely even had to do anything! Some of it was even fun Christmas activities too, no homework either. There wouldn’t be any school until after the new year, but they were staying at Grammy and Papa’s for a little longer than that (her daddy said they might stay longer, but hadn’t said how long exactly). A week might not seem like very long to an adult, but to a nine year old like Daria it seemed like a long time. Her mind was racing with all sorts of things she could do while they were there. Her cousins would be there and would have their new toys and games. (Mary had a collection of Barbies that made Daria jealous) She hadn't seen her cousins in a few years, or so she remembered. “Are you all packed in there?” called her dad from downstairs. “Yes, daddy!” she yelled back a little annoyed. But she wasn’t packed just yet, she just didn’t want her daddy to come up and complain. He would probably say she wasn’t doing it right, but she had all her favorite clothes packed in her suitcase. She had to argue and beg a little to get him to let her pack her own things. A small victory won, and she was glad because he never packed the clothes she liked. All she needed now was to pack some toys and things to make the car ride less boring. It was several hours of driving to get out to her grandparent’s house, but for her it might as well be an eternity. She never liked long car rides, they always made her super bored. Her dad was yelling up the stairs again, something about getting ready. “And hurry up! When you’re done put your stuff in the car and come to the kitchen and feed David.” Daria didn't want to feed David, he always made a mess (and one time he threw all the food in her hair and it took forever to get it out). More importantly it was distracting her from her important task. She had a small pink Barbie backpack which she took with her everywhere. For the car ride it would hold all her toys to take along. She couldn't take her whole collection (that would be too big) but she packed two Barbies and several accessories. She wanted to show them to her cousins. She also packed a big coloring book, colored pencils, and a few sheets of glittery stickers. Most importantly she packed her Gameboy. She only had like games four games for it, but it was her favorite toy even though girls didn't usually play videogames. She currently had Micro Machines on loan from a friend. It was a really hard racing game but her friend said they beat it already so Daria had to beat it too or her friend would never stop teasing her about it. Once all her things were packed, she wasted a little time brushing her hair. She had long blonde hair which fell straight over her shoulders and all down her back. She had pretty brown eyes and a cheery face, but she always thought her hair was the most pretty part about her. She loved how long it was and how elegant. It made her look more grown up even though she was actually shorter than all her friends. When she was all packed and brushed, she took her backpack with her and went downstairs. The suitcase was too heavy so her father would have to get it for her. "Hay!" Yelled her dad when she was downstairs. "Go put your stuff in the car and then come right back here." Daria went outside and it was cold. There was some snow on the ground, but not much. The clouds were gray and looked like they might snow again, but she didn't have time to think about that. She rushed out to the car sitting in the driveway and put her backpack in the back seat. Then she ran back inside. Her dad was waiting for her when she came in and immediately handed off the task of getting David fed. David was two years old and a few months. He could eat by himself sometimes but he took too long and often made a mess. So for the next half a hour, Daria had to feed her little brother. He did end up making a mess, which was annoying because she had to clean it up. She put him down on the floor in the play room and let him play with toys while she wiped up all the spilled food from the high chair. Then she changed his diaper since he wasn't potty trained yet. Even if they would have been trying to get him to use the potty that day, he would be put in a diaper for the long drive to Grammy and Papa's. (he couldn't hold it for long and her dad didn't like making a whole bunch of stops.) Daria complained about having to change David's diaper since he pooped in it and it was totally gross. Her dad, who had conveniently avoided needing to deal with it, thought it was good. "I wish you had taken him to the potty, but it's a good thing he pooped now." He said. "Better then him pooping in the car and we have to find a place to stop and change him." Daria hated it when she had to change her brother’s poopy diapers. He never seemed to mind, and always ended up sitting on it and squishing it into an even bigger mess. She figured maybe it was just because boys always like making messes and girls don’t. Boys were so gross. She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to sit in a gross stinky diaper at all, not to mention for any length of time. But David would just keep playing after pooping sometimes for over an hour if no one happened to check him or smell him. Daria wished she had a sister because a little sister wouldn't do that. Daria had to sit and watch David for a little while while her dad packed and got ready. She played with a little barbie doll (not the one she packed). She liked to make believe about being grown up and having a job at an important business. David played with blocks and kept asking her questions. “What are you doing?” “Playing with my Barbie.” Daria answered. “My bobby?” “No, my Barbie.” Daria said the words slowly. “Why you play wiff dat?” “I like it.” “Why?” “Because.” “Why because?” “Because I don’t know. Stop asking me questions.” Daria tried to concentrate and remember the little story she was trying to play out with her doll. David was quiet for a minute, then “why?” “Arg!” Daria got annoyed, but it only made David giggle. For like the hundredth time that week Daria wished she had a little sister. She could play barbies with a little sister, but David was a boy so she could not. He just kept playing with blocks and toy trucks and picking his nose. It seemed to be taking forever for them to be ready. David was getting on her nerves and kept asking questions. She tried to keep him busy so he wouldn’t fuss, but that just meant she couldn’t play on her own. Her dad had said something about the oil in the car, and he kept coming in and out of the front door looking more and more angry. Finally after more than another hour which felt like an eternity, her father came in and said everything was ready. He had already packed his and David’s stuff in the car, and Daria had packed her own stuff, so they just needed to grab coats and hats and gloves before they could leave. Daria used the bathroom. Their dad gave David a quick diaper change and then they left the house.

🍍Part 1: Patsy Bennett closed the door of her small apartment, removed her shoes and dropped down on the bed. Her entire body ached after the long shift in the restaurant and she only wanted to have some sleep until the next shift would begin. The apartment was small and shabby but it was the only place she could afford at her small waiter salary. Patsy grew up at an orphanage and she couldn’t get any decent education to get a better job. Sometimes she cursed her biological mother and the unfair fate. Why the hell couldn’t her mother keep her and raise her like any other one? Who was her mom? The life in the orphanage wasn’t that bad; it wasn’t like the old-fashioned horror houses from B movies. The staff was friendly even if the caretakers were strict. Her roommates also were nice but they couldn’t make up for mom, dad and siblings. She often dreamed of living in her own family and she wasn’t alone. Almost all children had the same dream. When she left the orphanage and found her job, her dreams changed. She had her own life even if it was a miserable one. It probably was too late to return and start anew. However she wanted to find her mother and … and what? What would Patsy be able to tell the person who had abandoned her like an unnecessary toy? Finding her biological mother seemed to be impossible. Patsy had asked about her mother earlier at the orphanage but she only learned her date of birth - the 14th of May 1995. The orphanage staff didn’t have any information on Patsy’s mother and they told her that the documents were destroyed when Patsy was released from the hospital. There was a hospital near the orphanage and Patsy guessed she was born there. All of sudden a crazy thought hit Patsy’s mind. What if she could travel back in time and find her mother at the moment she was released from the hospital? Patsy tried to scare off that intrusive image but she couldn’t. Travelling back in time was a pure fantasy though. About a week later she was in a hurry after her shift and absorbed herself in her thoughts when she took a wrong turn and stopped in front of a shabby house. It differed from all other houses and looked like it didn’t belong to the present time. She didn’t know why but she knocked on the door. “Come in,” a male voice called her and she entered the small house hesitantly. The voice that invited her belonged to a young man in his mid 30’s. Another older man was sitting in a rocking chair. Patsy noticed an incredible similarity of the men; they had to be father and son. “Sorry to disturb you but I was too curious and there is something odd that attracted my attention to your house. My name is Patsy Bennett.” “Don’t worry, miss Bennett. I’m kinda used to this kind of visitor. Our house keeps attracting the attention of passersby but they usually leave as soon as I introduce myself.” “How so? What’s strange about your name?” “It’s not the name miss. My name is James Hawkins and this is James Hawkins as well,” he pointed at the old man. “Well, it is not practical but still nice if father and son have equal names.” “Sorry miss; you are wrong. We are the same person.” “W … w … what?” Patsy almost fainted and dropped down on the nearby chair. Was she dreaming? “Well miss, are you about to run away now?” “I don’t know,” Patsy almost jumped up and ran away but her curiosity was much stronger. “How is that possible? Are you able to make your own copies or?” “That’s a long story. Would you like to hear it?” “Mister … can I say James to you? I’m tired just now but I’d like to come again tomorrow. I have a day off.” “Of course, miss … Patsy? Come tomorrow and we can talk. I also have something interesting to show you.” “I will come. It would be a little exciting to spend my day off in a more interesting way than browsing the town aimlessly.” Patsy couldn’t sleep that night and she had to think about the strange house and about ‘something interesting’. How was it possible to make copies of a person? The next morning she hurried up towards the strange house and knocked on the door impatiently: “Come in,” the voice invited her but it wasn’t the young man from the day before. The older James welcomed her: “Good morning,” “Good morning Patsy. The junior James is at work but you are welcome anyway.” “I can’t wait to hear your story; you also promised something interesting James.” “Of course, Patsy, I'll show you it first,” he stood up and brought a small case and opened it. There was something like a big clockwork inside with several metal dials and two handles inside. “Oh, what is it? I’ve never seen this kind of clockwork.” “Be patient, miss. Listen to my story. However, take it and look at the bottom.” Patsy lifted the mysterious clockwork and turned it upside down. It was surprisingly heavy. There was an inscription on the bottom: “TIMETRON A.D.1827” “Timetron? What does it mean? Where did you find this? This clockwork is a rare historical artifact.” “It’s more than a plain historical artifact and much more than a plain clockwork. Now let me continue. I bought this house long ago. It was surprisingly cheap and there were rumors about it and its history. According to those rumors two dead bodies were found there and the bodies looked like the same person. People believed in demons or similar evil powers. The house itself was abandoned and I spent a lot of time and money to do all necessary repairs. Anyway I didn’t notice any signs of supernatural powers.” “James, have you been living all alone here?” Patsy interrupted him. “Yeah, I have; I’m single and I’ve been focusing on my work the entire time. Now let’s proceed to a more interesting period. One day I decided to check the loft. Of course I did it before during the repair works but I didn’t browse all the old chests. To be honest, I don’t know why I took that decision but it changed my life forever. The chests were full of junk mostly but I found Timetron among that junk. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any idea what I had found. That day in the evening I cleaned it and studied all the buttons and dials. Look at them.” Patsy looked at the dials and she realized they were a kind of calendar. Turning the dials, she could set up any date. There was a dial numbered from 1 to 31, another one labeled with month names and four dials with numbers from 0 to 9 inside a square frame. “If I’m right, you could set up any day on these dials - from the year 0000 until 9999. Okay but it doesn’t make sense. What happens if you set the date?” “Miss Patsy, I also was curious about the mysterious machine. The first attempt was simple; I set the dials to the same day and wound up the machine. Nothing happened. I grabbed the handles, felt a bit light headed but nothing changed. The next attempt was much more courageous. I turned the dials to the day before and repeated the procedure. All of sudden the machine disappeared. I was taken aback; did I travel in time? The evidence was sitting in the chests on the loft. I hurried up and opened the correct chest. I almost fainted when I spotted the machine there.” “Wow, that really is a time travelling machine!” “Yeah, it is.” “How is it linked to your copy?” “I had an old friend but he died more than twenty years before I found the machine and unfortunately, I didn’t have any opportunity to see him. I got a call about his car accident and hurried up to the hospital but he died minutes before I arrived. I got a crazy idea to use the machine and arrive in time. Everything worked and I could say goodbye to him but I encountered myself in the hospital corridor. I returned home and found the machine. My second copy followed me. When I grabbed the handles, my copy was present in the room and returned with me.” Patsy looked at James and timetron in utter amazement. She would like to hear more but it was too much for her and she desperately wanted to see her mother. “James, your story is interesting indeed but it’s too much for me now and I’ll come later again to hear more. Now I'll tell you my reason; I’d like to find my mother; she abandoned me and I grew up in an orphanage. Maybe I’ll be able to change my past and grow up in a normal family. I know that this is a bold request but could I use timetron?” “Patsy, feel free to use it but be careful. Avoid meeting yourself in the past. If you want to change something in the past, I don’t have any idea of the consequences.” “What time should I choose. I was born on the 14th and I’d guess my mom was released two days later,” her fingers trembled when she turned the dials. 1995, May, 16th. She wound up the machine and grabbed both handles. Ticking could be heard and the world around her got blurred. Seconds later her vision cleared and she looked around. The old James had gone and she was alone in the house.

Hello to everyone. I'm about to revise and re-post my earlier story. It was published on Deviantart and Abdlstoryforum. Part 1 Charity Dixon was looking at her tablet and browsing the news without any big interest. It was only her habit to waste time while she was sitting in the bus on her way to school. She wasn’t really interested in politics or economics and she sometimes read sensational or mysterious stories only. Mysteries somehow attracted her attention. Suddenly an ad popped up. Charity usually was annoyed by the ads and she deleted most of them immediately. However this time she stopped and continued reading. “Are you looking for an interesting and easy job? Would you like to work as a babysitter? Our company Happy Family is looking for new full-time or part-time workers. We can offer excellent working conditions, free working schedule and an above average wage of $40/hour.” Charity rubbed her eyes and read the ad over and over; it was a wonderful opportunity for two reasons. Charity needed some supply just like any other young girl and she would be able to save them for a nice vacation next year. However, the second reason was even more important. Several days ago Charity had read a story about the Happy Family and the story was quite mysterious. Happy Family was an adoption agency where the barren couples could look for a child. However, nobody was able to find out where the children came from. Of course, Happy Family provided birth certificates, but a journalist investigated some of the adoptions and wasn’t able to find the biological mothers. Unfortunately, the story was quite long and she didn’t finish reading it until the bus stopped in front of the school. Charity has been a very curious girl for a long time, and this mystery was attracting her attention very much. Maybe she would be able to find something interesting and the wage would be a nice bonus. She immediately decided to apply for the job on the same day as long as her school was over. She also decided to read the mysterious story once more. The school lessons seemed endless for Charity and she couldn’t wait until the end. In the afternoon she headed directly towards the Happy Family. While sitting in the bus she tried to find the story and finish reading it, but there were too many new posts on the site and Charity didn’t find it again. She got even more curious. The company was seated in a small villa far from the city center. Charity got off the bus and walked for about five minutes until she spotted the villa and stopped dead in her tracks. The villa was a quite large two-storey house in Victorian style standing aside from the other houses, didn’t match their modern architecture and it was surrounded by a well-maintained lawn. A short paved path leads to the entrance door. Charity was welcomed by an older lady: “Miss Charity, we are glad you want to help us in our philanthropic mission. Do you know how many people desire children and aren’t able to get their own ones. We keep helping these people as well as the desperate girls who got pregnant by a … mistake.” The lady stepped aside and let Charity enter the large hall. Charity had to admire the interior. It was a harmonic mix of the original and modern equipment. The entrance hall was large and there were several doors on the walls but all doors were closed and Charity couldn’t see any living soul there. However she could hear voices from upstairs. On the second floor they got to a smaller corridor. It was not as luxurious as the entrance hall but still clean and well equipped. They encountered a young girl there; the girl smiled and greeted Charity. The lady showed Charity the nurseries, the kitchen, the playroom and the bathroom. Charity didn’t have time to explore the rooms but she was surprised by the expensive equipment. “Miss Charity, you will work in one of these nurseries and you can choose the time according to your school duties,“ the lady turned to her when they finished the short round, “we also have a playground in the backyard.” “Thank you, madam. If you don’t mind, I’ll think of your offer and call you tomorrow.” “Of course, miss Charity. We will arrange everything as soon as you decide to take the job.” On her way home Charity kept thinking of the offer. It was quite attractive but she couldn’t get rid of a strange feeling. The villa and all the equipment looked expensive. Where did they get money from? Charitable agencies usually suffered from lack of money but Happy Family definitely did not. “Charity, I’m taken aback by the wage and by the equipment,” Charity’s mother shared her worries when her daughter told her about the job offer. “I know mom but I will babysit only. What could happen? Maybe they have a wealthy sponsor.” “I don’t know. To be honest I’m getting a bad feeling but I really don’t know why. In either case do your job and don’t stick your nose into anything else.” “Okay mom. I’ll call the lady tomorrow and accept it.” “Bring me the employment contract and I’ll show it to our lawyer.” “Of course, mom.” The next day Charity called the lady, accepted her offer and planned her first shift for Wednesday in the afternoon after school. On Wednesday Charity got quite nervous and unable to focus on her school lessons. She still didn’t get rid of the strange feeling when she entered the villa. The lady escorted her to the downstairs office. It was a small room with a table, two chairs and two small cabinets. “Sit down please and we arrange all the paper stuff,” the lady sat at the computer and started typing. About fifteen minutes later they finished and two copies of the contract were printed. “Okay, the paperwork is over and now let me introduce you to your first shift,” the lady led Charity out of the office and upstairs. They met another young girl there. “Charity, let me introduce Susan,” Susan also smiled at Charity, they greeted each other and Susan left. The lady turned to Charity again: “Susan works as a waitress and she can work in the mornings. Now let me show you our sweet little John. He is 10 months old,” she led Charity to the nursery on her right. The small boy was asleep in the crib with a pacifier in his mouth. Charity walked over to the crib and kept watching him for a minute; he was quite cute and looked satisfied. She suddenly felt good and looked forward to her upcoming job. “Before I go back to my duties, I’d like to explain to you something about diapers. We use cloth diapers to be environmentally-friendly. They are good, but you have to check them more often. The used diapers are to be thrown into a pail in the bathroom and poopy ones should be rinsed first,” the lady interrupted her thoughts; she smiled again and left. Charity was alone with the little Johnnie.

Chapter 1: Escape Crime is a dangerous way to make a living. In most cases, the payoff isn’t worth the risk, especially when it’s a small-time gig. Rob a gas station and you’ll probably only get a stay in prison. Break into a house for a TV and you’re likely to get shot for your trouble. It took either a very desperate or very stupid person to pursue petty crime as a career. Lyn wasn’t desperate, and she certainly wasn’t stupid. Yet she was still very much a criminal. By process of elimination, that only left one option. Lyn was a career criminal, and a damn good one at that. There are two ways one can be a career criminal. The first is through legal avenues, going into stock trading or politics. The second is the illegal way, gangs and the black market. Lyn was the second kind. Specifically, smuggling. Strangely enough, the illegal route was the less risky option for her. Technically the only option. See, Lyn was a Little. In Catalon. In that country, Littles could either turn to crime or cross their fingers and hope they find a mommy who changed them more than once a day. Any Little worth their salt stayed as far away from Catalon as they could. In fact, if any Little knew that Lyn had chosen to base her operations there they would call her insane. They would say she was all but asking for an Amazon to adopt her. Lyn didn’t see it that way. Where others saw danger, she saw opportunity. The Amazons’ perception of Littles was something she could use, that she could exploit. And exploit she did. Seven times she had almost been cornered, either by the government or a rival organization. Each time, she had a specially programmed robonanny walk her out the door dressed in a thick diaper and pink onesie. She had never gotten a second glance. That was why she always set up shop near a nursery, so there was always cover for her to melt into. It had taken seventeen long years, but Lyn had become one of the most powerful crime lords in Catalon. The Vipress. In the beginning it was thrilling. Scamming the Amazons from right under their noses. Her underlings communicating in the most respectful tones possible, not knowing they were speaking to someone half their height. Having so much money that she didn’t know what to do with it all. It was like a drug. At some point over the years though, the thrill went away. She completed a job and felt nothing. She slipped away from those who would see her fail, but instead of being happy, she just felt annoyed to be dressed in a baby costume. So, Lyn embarked on the trickiest job she had ever attempted in her life of crime. Getting out of it. She had been working on a plan for months, and her efforts were almost at an end. Once more, she looked over the desk in front of her. One side had everything she needed to start her new life. A Libertalian passport and birth certificate, the deed to her new house, and the accounts for all her assets. Enough for her to live extravagantly for a dozen lifetimes. On the other side was a little gift she had prepared. Over the years, she had made connections in nearly every part of the private, public, and criminal sectors of Catalon. The things she had discovered would have kept her up at night were she a regular Little, and even she caught herself wincing at times. Some of the things they had planned for how to get more Littles––not just from other dimensions, but also free Little countries––were terrifying. Those documents would be sealed in an envelope and delivered straight to the Libertalian government. They wouldn’t be able to address everything, but it was one last way for Lyn to screw over the Amazons. And then she would be done. She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Everything alright Boss?” She looked over at the man who had spoken. Clive was her muscle. Her confidant. He had been there for her since day one, and without his unwavering (and blind) loyalty she never would have gotten off the ground. When she had to go out in public, he was her Daddy, though both of them knew who wore the pants in their relationship. Figuratively, at least. “I’m fine. Been a long day. Long life, really. I’ll be glad to leave it behind. But still, there is a part of me that doesn’t know if I should.” Clive nodded as though he understood and went back to staring imposingly at the door. Lyn moved back to her paperwork, but hesitated. “Clive, what are you going to do after this?” Clive’s brow furrowed. “Whaddya’ mean Boss?” “After-” she gestured across her desk, “-all this ends. What are you going to do? You won’t be tied to crime anymore, and I’ve given you enough money so that you can do pretty much anything you want.” Clive’s face cleared up. “Oh, I’m going to adopt a Little for myself.” Lyn paused for a second, then continued with a note of warning in her voice. “Are you serious? Why?” Clive smiled, oblivious to the tension. “Well I’ve always wanted a Little one of my own, but it always seemed disrespectful to do it while I worked for you. You’re not really a Little, you’re the Boss. Even when you have to get up in your costume and look all cute, it’s still not right. If you’re leaving though, then that’s what I’m gonna do.” Clive looked over and, seeing the incredulous look on her face, quickly added, “Besides, I think I’d be a good daddy. Some Littles are happy, you know. I’d be nice to mine.” Lyn paused. It was true. Clive was far from the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was kind. It was hard to find people like that in this business. Compared to most Amazons in Catalon, he would be parent of the year. After a long time, she spoke. “I hope you find a Little who makes you happy, Clive. I hope it goes well.” Clive beamed but Lyn continued. “That said, if you put your Little through any surgeries or hypnosis…” “No no no,” Clive said. “That’s mean. I only hurt the bad guys who try to fight me. Littles can’t fight. They’re helpless. ‘Sides you of course, Boss.” Lyn shook her head, though it was mostly from bemusement. “Sometimes I don’t quite get you, Clive.” Before he could respond, a soft ding came from the doorway and both of them snapped towards it. The sound played when the entrance to this wing of the floor was opened. “We don’t have any visitors today, do we Boss?” Lyn got up from her chair. “Not planned at least. Go check it-” The door burst open and Clive moved in front of her, weapon raised. The figure raised his hands up in surrender. “It’s me, it’s me!” Lyn laid a calming hand on Clive’s side before looking up at the newcomer. “Oscar, what’s going on? Who’s at the door?” Oscar was sweating, but managed to speak. “On the camera it looks like Spalvodi’s men. At least eight. I raised the barriers, but I give you five minutes tops before they get through.” Shit! Now? She was five days away from leaving and someone was trying to take her out now? Things were supposed to be quiet. None of the gangs had made any movements for months. There was no time to think about that at the moment though. “Oscar, get those documents on my desk and burn them. I can get more. Clive, come on. I’m dropping down to the nursery below us.” She moved forward, but everyone else was still. “Clive?” He stood in place for a second, an expression of surprise on his face, before he fell backward to reveal Oscar standing with a silenced pistol in his hand. Before she could move, Oscar pointed it straight at her. “Hold it right there boss, don’t want this to accidentally go off.” Fuck, fuck, fuck! Clive was dead. She was alone and trapped. She should have seen this coming. Oscar was good at his job, but only when someone was giving him instructions every step of the way. She had thought the sizable salary she paid him would keep him in line, but apparently his ambition overrode his common sense. There was still a way out of this though, even Oscar wouldn’t be stupid enough to actually ally with Spalvodi. If it was just him, she could negotiate, find a way- The door opened. Heart sinking to her toes, she was proven wrong for the second time that day. Spalvodi was there, flanked by two men on either side. A broad grin split his face, and he puffed on a lit cigar. Cocky prick, Lyn thought. He removed the cigar from his mouth. “Vipress! Or should I say Lyn? One of your boys was kind enough to invite me over. It’s so good to see you!” Lyn’s mind raced while she tried to think of an angle, something she could use. “Spalvodi. Nice to finally meet in person. What can I do for you?” He took a long drag and blew out three smoke rings. “Well see, my new friend Oscar informed me that there was a gross lapse in management over here. As I am a charitable man, I came by to offer my services in rectifying this problem.” She couldn’t make a break for it. The door was guarded, and Oscar was still by her getaway passage under the desk. “A problem? That’s news to me.” Spalvodi walked across the room and peered at the papers on her desk. “News to me too! It came as quite the shock. Imagine, there I am sitting in my office, when I get a call. It’s one of the Vipress’ men, and oh boy. The tale he spun. First of all, he says there’s an undiapered Little in Catalon. A serious issue in its own right. But Oscar, Oscar tells me it’s worse than that. He says that very same Little is the one and only Vipress, the biggest pain in my ass for the past twelve years. Can you believe it?” “No.” He actually laughed at that. “You know, I didn’t either. Until I saw some pictures. News reels of failed gang busts by the government, and in the corner of each story is a Little girl held in the arms of a nanny bot, blending in with the crowd. And then Oscar shows me a photo of that very same Little, sitting at a desk and gloating after one of my shipments mysteriously disappears. I’m a tough man to convince, but what can I say? Oscar put in the work.” Oscar chose that moment to butt in. “You’re such an idiot, boss. Always thinking you’re better than everyone else. You’re just a Little. The closest you’ve come to actually doing something right is when you have to dress up in a diaper, and even then you mess it up by trying to pretend you’re an adult after. Well now I’ll get to be in charge, and with Spalvodi we’re going to run this organization better than you ever could.” God damn it. Oscar was the head of a small street group when Lyn found him. The only reason he had amounted to anything was because of her, and she had planned to give him enough resources to do whatever he wanted when she was gone. But no, the arrogance of Amazons had no bounds. Even after all she’d done, Oscar just saw her as someone who had cheated their way out of diapers. Spalvodi absentmindedly responded as he flipped through her files. “Yeah, we’ve got quite the reward coming for Oscar. Show ‘em.” In a single motion, one of his goons pulled out a gun and shot Oscar. Lyn watched without surprise. “I’ll give each of you $500,000 and a new job if you do the same thing to Spalvodi right now.” Three of the men just looked at her, while the fourth spat to the side. “Shut up, Little.” Well, so much for that idea. All that was left was the desk. She’d have to be quick, and she’d have to move out immediately after. Now that her secret was out, nowhere in Catalon was safe. All she needed was a clear path to the chute… As though the universe heard her prayers, Spalvodi moved to look at her bookshelf by the window. He began to talk, and Lyn slowly moved towards escape. “I must confess, it’s been a real tough decision on what I’m gonna do to you. On the one hand, it’s a risk to give you a chance to run free. Who knows if you still have other connections out there? Maybe if you had a bit of time, you’d be able to round up a crew and start again. One day you might even come back as a threat! It’d be easiest to send you the way of Clive and Oscar, a one bullet ticket straight to the next life.” She was a foot away when he stopped and turned around. Throwing caution to the wind, she leapt forward and slammed the hidden button on the side of her desk. Mechanical arms sprung from the ground, wrapping Lyn in a protective embrace. She looked up at Spalvodi’s face, hoping to catch his expression as he watched her escape to safety. To her confusion, Spalvodi wore a satisfied smirk as she met his gaze. With a sinking feeling, she noticed that the arms weren’t moving at all, and she couldn’t get free no matter how hard she struggled. One of the arms reached out and placed a pacifier in her mouth, fastening it behind her head. “And then on the other hand, I remembered what I was dealing with. A Little. Someone so helpless that they didn’t even realize when one of their most trusted lieutenants turned traitor. Someone who allowed their only form of escape to be hacked. Someone who is just. A. Fool.” With each sentence he had gotten closer and closer, and by the end he was standing right next to her. She froze in the middle of her struggle and looked up at him fearfully. He was so much bigger than her, and she had never felt more vulnerable. Unwillingly, she felt the beginning of tears prick her eyes. This was how it would end? “So, I’m not going to kill you. That’d be showing too much respect! No, I’ll send you right off to where you want to go. The nursery. Because ultimately, that’s all it takes to keep your kind in line.” He knelt down, still dwarfing her in height, and reached forward to take hold of her chin. “Honestly, you’re going to do a much better job at being a Little than you ever did playing at this crime gig. I mean look at you! Wavy red hair, freckles, baby blue eyes, and utterly pinchable cheeks. Do you have dimples? I’ll bet you do.” Lyn tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip and forced her to look at his eyes. “You’re an Amazon mommy’s wet dream. After a little bit of reprogramming, which I took care to lay out myself, you’ll be perfect.” Lyn’s blood ran cold. Regression was a Little’s worst nightmare, something that was impossible to come back from. After a long stare, he pulled his hand away. “You should really be thanking me. If word got out that the fearsome Vipress was actually a Little, your entire reputation would be ruined. I’ll at least spread the word that you went down valiantly, a fearsome opponent to the end. Of course, we’ll both know the truth.” Spalvodi stood and looked back over her desk. “Oscar was half right though. I am going to use this better than you ever could have. If you were still going to have a brain in that head of yours after tomorrow, I’d tell you to watch the news for me.” He shrugged. “But that isn’t your concern anymore. Have a nice life, Vipress. I know whoever adopts you will.” And with that, he pulled out a remote, pressed a button, and Lyn was whisked away. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Hello everyone! Figured I'd do the author's note at the end. I was browsing through some stories on this site when a question crossed my mind. What ever happened to the nice, simple stories where the main character merely exists to be put in diapers? Nowadays, it seems like authors are taking the time to actually develop their characters, giving them complex personalities and compelling relationships with others. Horrifying. Makes it dreadfully difficult to have a quick fun time before bed when I find myself actually invested in the story. I decided to be the change I want to see in the world, and created this. (Side note: This was only after I spent a few months and several dozen pages trying to write one of those high-class stories. I eventually decided it might be a bit much to start with, so I switched gears.) This is the first story I've written, and I would love to hear people's thoughts on it. I'll post the other chapters at a decent pace, and I should have the story finished sometime in August. I hope you enjoy! P.S. If someone could let me know how to update the title of a topic, I'd appreciate it.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07WGJ1H9X/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i3 BAD MOON RISING by CK Cute Kitten “This shit hole hasn’t changed much in a century.” The noise of the crowd swallowed Prudence’s mutter. Fair booths lined both sides of the street. The Fall Harvest Festival was like a Halloween themed farmers’ market. Some booths had games, but most sold homemade goods and sweets. Hand-knitted sweaters and blankets, apple and pumpkin butters, summer jams, hand pressed ciders, homemade fudge and candied apples. Warring scents assaulted her sensitive nostrils. Fried fair food -burgers, corn dogs- mixed with freshly popped kettle corn and pumpkin flavored cookies, cakes, pies and mingled with scents of homemade candles. This bouquet of smells was underscored by the sting of homemade alcohol. Shrieks of excited children pierced her ears and the pungent aroma of dirty diapers filled her nose, drowning out the other scents. Little sugar-crusted snot goblins ran everywhere, too fast for tired parents to keep up. Prudence nimbly side stepped the kids as she slid between the gaps of people milling about. Her slim hand slipped into pockets as she passed, occasionally coming out with money. Mostly chump change from the locals, but she got quite a few crisp twenty dollar bills from the visiting yuppies. And a few wedding rings she could pawn, though the gold was low quality and not worth much. Her haul was better than the last time she strolled down these streets, pick-pocketing at the turn of the century. Newton was a small town surrounded by farmland and woods. Cornfields and wilderness as far as the eye could see. That hadn’t changed much; now there was more farmed land, less woods. The town had expanded as the population grew. Dirt roads paved over. More automobiles. No more horses and buggies. Telephone polls. Street lights. Cell phones. Girls in pants. Main Street was still the largest street, running right through the center of town. A couple of fast food joints. A few diners. One grocery store. Some gas stations. Feed store. The three bars in town still stood in their same spots. The names changed and buildings were modernized. Her hometown was still just a backwoods scratch on a map. Just a newer version of the same old shit she’d left behind. Even the Halloween Carnival was mostly the same. The name had changed; somewhere along the line, it morphed into the Harvest Festival. Main Street still got closed off and shut down so booths, a spook house, bounce castles and a few carnival rides popped up. A maze of hay bales and tables for pumpkin painting. Prudence noted one big difference as she walked around; a big increase in the number of attendees. Farm families were too far apart, so they used to bring their children to town for trick or treating. Adults took advantage of the time to trade goods, thus spawning the Halloween Carnival. Now, city-dwelling yuppies, enamored with romantic idealizations of the quaint, wholesome, rustic country life flocked with their broods to the small town. They drove for an hour or more for the honest, simple country folk to fleece them with over priced, hand-made goods. Prudence couldn’t fault the locals for their business savvy. The yuppies were ripe for the plucking; big pockets, small brains. No common sense. City living bred it right out of them. Not that she was complaining. She smirked and patted the pilfered money in her own pockets. “This Halloween sucks.” Picking the pockets of idiots with their guard down was the only entertainment this town had. She’d never wanted nor planned to return. Only once had she come back, in the 1940’s to burn a few records of her past and erase some evidence. Local police had labeled those fires as Halloween pranks by deviant youth. One of those fires occurred a few streets away from where she stood now. She recalled a full harvest moon in a starless black sky and the orange flames turning day to night. That night had been a ill moon for the town. Tonight was a full moon on Halloween, too. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, feeling all her ill-gotten gains. “Looks like it’s another bad moon for you, baby.” She grinned to herself then laughed. Hicksville was boring as hell, but all that she hated about this place made it the perfect place to lay low. She had pissed off quite a few dangerous, powerful wolves when her latest, not-quite-legal, get-rich-quick scheme went bust. The law got involved. The law breakers were not happy. Now Prudence was laying low until the heat- both from the cops and the wolves- blew over. The crisp autumn breeze shifted. Red, orange, and yellow leaves fluttered about. Costumed kids shrieked, tiny hands grasping for the dancing leaves. The change in direction of the wind brought in scents of earth, of rotting vegetation, pine needles, and animal musk. The forest. Fresh cut hay and pumpkins from the fields. Pumpkins everywhere. Just like when she was a child. A human. Pru struggled to recall happy childhood memories. Fought for nostalgia as her feet once more trod the soil of her birth, both as a human then as a wolf. All she felt was nausea. She’d discarded her childhood as easily as she’d tossed her humanity. All she had left were vague memories. A screaming mother. Fighting siblings. So many siblings- faces and names all blurs. A father who always reeked of soured whiskey and who was heavy handed with his belt. Constant hunger in her belly. She shook her head, brushing the cobwebs from her mind. They weren’t worth remembering. She crossed the street to another row of booths, looking around aimlessly. Three little ball jointed dolls in a glass display case caught her attention. These were collectors’ items, not toys for children to play with and ruin. The dolls were little children dressed up for Halloween in exquisitely detailed costumes. The faces and hair were realistic looking; little replicas of real life. She almost expected them to blink, to giggle, to move on their own. She drifted closer to the booth, standing right in front of it. She never took her eyes off those hauntingly beautiful dolls. Childhood memories frozen in porcelain. “Like the dolls, dearie? Win them in a raffle. Only five bucks a ticket. Helps out the firemen.” A middle aged lady with gray streaks in her ponytail shook a roll of tickets in Pru’s face. Pru took an involuntary step back, blinking and shifting her focus onto the lady. A sense of deja-vu hit her and she was swept back to her childhood. The woman was a dead ringer for her old teacher in the local one-room school house. Mrs. Fisk had been a strict but fair schoolmarm. Most of the kids liked her. Prudence often was on the receiving end of Mrs. Fisk’s switch; neither teacher nor student had liked each other very much. This raffle lady had to be one of her descendents; a great great granddaughter or something like that. “I’ve never seen dolls that detailed. They’re almost life-like. They should be in some high-end store, not a prize at a fair. “ “I thought the same when I first saw them. Lucas is such a talented boy. He refurbished these from a thrift shop. He should’ve just sold them on ebay. His cousin Rosie said he insisted on donating them to the raffle when she dropped them off.” The lady shook her head. “The dolls have been a big help. These tickets sell like hot cakes. We just might be able to get that new equipment after all.” Prudence tuned her out as she prattled on. A boy created such a treasure from junk? She wondered what kind of person this artist who created such beauty was. Trash turned into art. She wanted to meet him. She was tempted to swipe the dolls, but they were at the back of the booth, under glass. And the lady watched them like a hawk. Too much trouble... But if an opportunity presented itself, she’d be ready to pounce. “You look really familiar. Are you related to a Mrs. Fisk?” The lady blinked, taken aback. “Fisk is my maiden name. I’m a King.” She looked up from her tickets, giving Prudence a long, hard look. “You look familiar, too.” She squinted. “I swear, I’ve seen you before. But I know you’re not from around here. I know all the locals.” Her voice took on a touch of pride. “Oh, I was born here, but I haven’t been back in ages. Left plenty of family, though. The Pipers still around?” “There’s a few. You’ve got the look of a Piper.” “They still causing trouble?” “Never stopped.” Prudence laughed. She liked the lady. Maybe she’d let the old bat keep her dolls, as a favor to the very late Mrs. Fisk. “What did you say your name was?” “I didn’t. It’s Prudence.” “Prudence Piper?!” The lady’s grey brows rose nearly up to her hairline in shock. Pru smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Something wrong with that name?” “You don’t know who Prudence Piper was?” Pru shook her head. The lady rambled on. “Whoever in your family named you has a sense of humor. Prudence Piper is something of a local legend.” She leaned forward to stage whisper. “She was a notorious girl. A bootlegger during Prohibition. Rumor has it she had ties to the mafia. Al Capone’s sweetheart.” Prudence laughed at that. “I’m not so sure about that last part. But I bet the rest is true. Well behaved women rarely make history, after all. She sounds like a fun gal.” She gave the dolls once last look then drifted away.

A Fox in the Snow I almost missed her. There was a rustle on the path, off to my right, a flash of orange. A whimper. The crisp white crumpled beneath my feet, a cacophony with each step as I wandered away from the path. It couldn't have been. They were too rare. But that orange, that color, that sound... you couldn't track them, they left no prints. No one understood exactly what they were, but they were beautiful and sweet and gentle - and had been creatures of myth until just a couple of years ago. The first one captured had made worldwide headlines - real, live fox girl. The kitsune, they called her. A few more had turned up after that, once the owner of the first girl shared some details about what they eat, where they live, what they like. But they were so rare - they left no trace, they left no track, they left no scent... I sighed, my breath a steaming cloud as I looked around - the path was no longer in sight, I had wandered well into the woods and the trees were so much thicker here. I shivered, bringing my fingers to my mouth as I breathed into my cupped hands. I didn't live too far from here, this was my "summer home"... I did it kind of backwards from most people though. I fled the warm weather of the summer to go someplace cold. I had built my own place not far from the Canadian border in northern Alaska and I liked it here. My nearest neighbor was three miles away and it was just me and nature. The perfect place to write. And that's all this chase was, most likely. Just a silly fantasy, wishing for a kitsune of my very own - as if I'd find one in the wilds of Alaska. Rubbing my hands together, I turned and began the trek back to the trail, to my cabin that I had designed and commissioned myself. I got the land for a song, no oil, no resources - just a chunk of tundra to hide from the blazing heat of south Texas where I wintered. My mind turned back toward my story, wondering where my characters would take me next... When I spotted her. Just the tip of her tail, a touch of orange and a tuft of white poking out from the brush. I'm not even sure HOW I spotted it, I had almost missed it... but there she was. I parted the branches of the shrub, my heart racing as I hoped against hope that it was real, that this was real life... And I saw her green eyes close as my own brown ones fell upon her. Her breathing was shallow. Her face was pained. My heart clenched as I leaned closer... and saw the blood, and the bone poking out from her shin. A compound fracture. Kitsune supposedly healed very quickly but without treatment, she would never run again - if she could even heal that break on her own. I pulled out my satphone and dialed the emergency line even as I crawled into the brush to crouch next to her. "Northway Dispatch, what's the emergency?" the voice asked on the other end. "Compound fracture of the tibia," I said matter-of-factly. "I need medical assistance." I rattled off what passed for the address of my cabin as the dispatcher promised that assistance would arrive soon. I bundled her up in my arms, wishing I could feel that soft down right now as I did - she was breathtakingly beautiful. Pale, creamy skin and long, red hair.. I averted my eyes from her mound, glimpsing the fiery patch there unintentionally. Other than being bare ass naked in the tundra, there was little that would reveal her as non-human... except for those ears and that tail. A perfect match in color for with her hair, her tail was bushy and looked incredibly soft, and fox ears poked up from the top of her head, white tipped and twitching. She cried out, the softest, smallest cry as I lifted her from the brush. "Shh," I soothed. "You're hurt. I just want to help you." They couldn't talk, of course - not at first. The oh-so-cleverly-named Vixen, the first kitsune, had learned some words eventually but initially they were little more than wild animals. She would likely bite me if she could, but the heat radiated from her body - she was feverish, not even for her kind. I could feel her warmth through my own layers as I carried her, my feet breaking through the rough packed snow as I trudged back to the cabin. We didn't have to wait long for the Doc. I put a kettle on and fetched as many towels as I could muster. I laid the kitsune on my bed, managing to lose only a bare few moments to staring at her breathtaking, haunting beauty. Those green eyes had caught me - they were impossibly deep. Emeralds in the snow of her flesh. Her lips were an equally deep red, parted with her ragged breaths. They were sentient, kitsune, but animalistic. Feral. Untamed. But there was no intelligence in her eyes now. Only pain. The fever, the aches, must have been agony, and I found myself stroking her hair, running my fingers along the impossibly soft tufts of her ears, even as I laid the cool, damp cloth across her forehead. I wanted nothing more in the entire world than to kiss this girl - not girl... kitsune. It hit me like a truck when I realized that there was a real, actual kitsune in my bed. My hand trembled, my own lips quivering as my heart hurt for the beautiful creature. I was saved by a knock at the door. Doc Murphy was young, dashing - living the life of the frontier medic, dreaming of a wilder time when the world itself wasn't so tame. Days long, long before cellphone towers sprouted across the landscape and supplies could be ordered from Amazon in Anchorage. The wilds out here might have been secluded, but they weren't the frontier days gone by. "Liv," he called as he opened my door. I was unreasonably shocked at the intrusion and it took a moment for me to realize he probably thought I was laid up with a broken leg. "Doc," I responded, stepping out of the bedroom and into the living area where he was knocking the snow off his boots, a heavy black medical bag in one hand. "She's in here." "She?" Doc echoed - I knew his name, Justin Murphy, but he was always Doc to me. "Who's visitin.. " His voice trailed off as he rounded the corner of my room, witnessing my kitsune in all her glory, crumpled on my bed and panting softly. I didn't miss the sudden point in the front of his trousers, either. Kitsune had that effect on many - I certainly wasn't immune, my thoughts still turned toward kissing the creature. "I found her near Moose Creek," I offered, pulling back the cooling towel I had soaked with hot water and laid over her wound. Doc, to his credit, didn't even draw a sharp breath through his teeth the way I had expected - but the protruding bone broke the kitsune's lure on him, and he set to work. It was a tough evening - the cries of the kitsune were horrible as he worked the bone back inside her, as he manipulated her flesh until the inside parts were back inside. She screamed and cried and I had to lash her to the bedposts with belts and blankets so he could work. I sat by her, stroking her cheek, petting her soft ears and promising that it would be over soon, that we didn't want to hurt her even as Doc did just that. I hoped she was intelligent enough to see that we had her best interests at heart. Even with the morphine he had given her, the pain must have been incredible to draw out those animal wails - her metabolism burned through the medicine too quickly, he had pondered aloud. He told me he was afraid of giving her too much - he was no expert on kitsune. But who was? She survived. By the end, my bed was covered in blood and piss and my poor kitsune was passed out - from the pain or the drugs, I'd never know, but she slept while he wrapped her leg in the cast. I'd have to take her to the city at some point, but that was a ways off. I needed to get her stable - fed, cleaned, healed some - before we made that seven hour drive. And I had to figure out what I needed to do to legally claim her before I did that. Taking a real, live kitsune into town without some proof that she was mine was asking for her to be snatched right from under me and there was no guarantee the local lawmen would have her best interests at heart at all. They'd probably sell her off to some rich oil asshole before I could blink. I had some research to do. * * * It had been two days since Doc Murphy had left. He had sworn himself to secrecy while I figured everything out - he was a good guy, a good friend. I was lucky to know him. I did my best to get water and medicine - antibiotics and painkillers - into her but Kit... and yes, I realized what an impossibly stupid name I had given her but it was how I thought of her already, so it stuck... didn't make it easy. She wasn't awake for long and when she was it was whimpers, whines, and cries. The supplies I needed had come in and while it wasn't easy to thread an unconscious fox-girl's tail through a small hole in the back of a diaper, I managed. There was something sexy about the puffy plastic-covered underwear on the girl... I couldn't quite put my finger on it, though. Maybe it was just because that was what they always wore on TV. The only other thing she wore was a solid steel collar - seamless - with a single, round, dangling tag. Kit Olivia Lewis Northway 726-555-8762 The tag wouldn't come off easily, and neither would the collar. It wasn't enough to make a legal claim, but it would certainly help. I was still working on that part. In fact, I was still working on that very conundrum when I heard her rustling around in the bedroom. I rose from my seat and tried my best not to rush to her, walking calmly through my cabin to my bedroom. I had made her a bedroll on the floor after I had cleaned up my bedding - but the pillows and blankets were everywhere when I entered the room. It was impossible that she had made such a mess without making a noise... but quiet came naturally to them. She was sitting on the floor, her red tail whipping back and forth wildly as she tugged fiercely on the leash that kept her tied to the leg of the bed. She whimpered with effort, a wince coming to her face as she shifted wrong and her leg hurt her. She was trying with everything she had to pull free, but I had chosen the reinforced leash I had for a reason. "Hey there, Kit," I called softly from the doorway. Her head whipped around, leveling those breathtaking eyes upon me as her brows arched together. She scooted away, her back pressed against the nightstand as she whimpered. She looked so human, but at the same time... not. There was a fire in her eyes, an inner light that shone around that slit pupil - no human had eyes like that, not naturally. She looked like she had eyeliner on, but I knew that was just part of her natural coloring. I stepped cautiously toward her, moving slowly and holding my hands up, palms up, in what I hoped would be a nonthreatening gesture. After three steps, she tried to dart away, dropping low until her breasts were almost touching the floor and attempting to crawl away with what I was sure would have been incredible speed... but the leash held fast. She turned and tugged again, grunting in frustration as she looked at me and whined. "I can't let you go," I explained, as though she could understand me. "Your leg is hurt... " And you're mine now. I couldn't seem to voice that last thought even though I knew in my heart that I would never release her. She would never be wild again, she would be mine forever... "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I want to help you." Reaching the foot of the bed, I pulled a small container of jerky from the bag of supplies, drawing out a piece and holding it up so she could see it. "Here you go, Kit," I said soothingly, holding out the fragrant meat. Her back was against the nightstand again, the leash pulled taut as she still tried to escape. I set the jerky down between us and backed away, kneeling and waiting. "Go on," I nodded at the food. "You must be hungry. You haven't eaten in two days." The plastic of her diaper rustled as she leaned forward gracefully, snatching the jerky from the floor with shocking swiftness and holding it to her mouth, sniffing it before biting into it with her sharp teeth. So human... and yet so very not. I took another piece from the bag, setting it a little closer to me before I sat down on the ground and waited. She stared it it, and me, for many long moments, motionless. I wouldn't believe she was real if I hadn't carried her here myself. She was surprisingly light - I wondered how tall she stood at her full height. I wasn't exactly big and I had carried her back to the cabin - quite a hike - easily. She stared but didn't move for the longest, but from everything I had read, patience was the key with kitsune. I watched passively, not pushing the jerky closer, not calling her, not enticing her... just waiting. I had time, she wasn't going anywhere. And eventually, she scooted forward slightly and snatched the small piece and stuffed it into her mouth, drawing a soft laugh from me which sent her scrambling backward and cowering. I cursed myself silently as I set out another small piece, just very slightly closer to me, and waited. It took no fewer than twenty-six small tidbits of jerky, but eventually... I got her to take one from my hand. "Liv," I said softly as I pointed to myself. She wasn't retreating all the way back to the nightstand now, she hadn't for the past several pieces. I offered a much larger piece, one that would take her a while to gnaw, as I pointed to her and said, "Kit." She reached for the larger piece tentatively, carefully, and I ran my fingers along hers as she took the jerky - she was soft. Very soft. Impossibly soft. My fingertips tingled ever so slightly where I had caressed her hands. The energy between us was electric... and she was crawling toward me. Her eyes looked different now, hungry in a new way, those deep green jewels staring deep into my own eyes... I jolted at her touch, finding myself rearing back as her face came so close to mine. And she sniffed me! Her nostrils flaring as she apparently took in my scent. Just before she snapped at me, those sharp teeth snapping closed uncomfortably close to my face, her neck and shoulders straining at the end of the leash. Without even thinking, before the shock of how bad that almost was kicked in, I reached up and smacked my hand in a downward motion, right across her nose. The kitsune yelped and collapsed to the floor, covering her nose with her very human hands - but those quite inhuman teeth had almost taken a chunk of my face. "Bad girl," I scolded, my hand shaking with adrenaline as I reached forward, threatening. I had worked with dogs enough to know not to cower in front of one - I had let myself forget that she was a wild animal. No matter how much like a beautiful girl she appeared to be, she was a feral creature, wounded and trapped in a place that was not her habitat. She whined and scooted away from me, her diapered rear in the air, her tail drooping between her legs as she tried to make herself seem smaller. It was only then that the gravity of the near miss caught up with me. I stood quickly and left the room without a backwards glance - that would be showing weakness. Once I got to the kitchen, I unsteadily moved through the motions of making myself a coffee. She almost bit me, my mind reeled. She could have taken off my nose with one bite! That wasn't a thing they ever showed on the shows - kitsune were always shown as docile, obedient, loving... but the creatures paraded on the talk shows were owned, broken in. Would Kit ever reach that point? Should I keep her? I wanted to. She was gorgeous - and kitsune supposedly made amazing companions. I was beyond lucky at having found her - and she was lucky I had been the one to do so. I wanted to keep her out of a desire to help her heal, to love her, for her to be my companion. Another person might have wanted her to sell her, to study her, to dissect her. I barely knew her but I knew that I wanted to love her, and earn her love. I was startled from my reverie by a ripping sound, the sound of tapes... "Oh hell," I grumbled, heading back into the bedroom. Sure enough, Kit had torn off the diaper and thrown it across the room. "Kit!" I cried, grabbing a fresh one from the pack. "Bad girl!" My heart broke as she withered, shrinking away from me and whimpering. She curled up on the floor, her ears flat back against her hair, that bushy tail wrapped around her knees as she shook. I leaned down cautiously - ready to jerk my hand back and away from those teeth - and stroked her nose gently, sliding my fingertips smoothly along her skin. She winced and tensed at first, but relaxed quickly. I set the diaper on the bed and reached for another piece of jerky, a big one, and guided her up onto the bed, grazing my fingers along her taut stomach. I held up the treat for her, which was quickly taken - and I praised her while I began the task of rediapering her. "Good girl Kit," I cooed as I slid the unfolded diaper underneath her, lifting her hips and guiding them. "Good girl," I soothed as she whimpered, gnawing on the large piece of dried meat. I carefully guided her tail through the hole and powdered her once again as I drew it closed and taped it shut. And not a moment too soon. Not more than a few seconds later, a soft hiss came from the diaper, which grew swollen and yellowed as she went. She had taken off the diaper to avoid this... I was really glad I had caught it in time. Grabbing another piece of jerky, I handed it to her, stroking her stomach for a moment before sliding my hand to the front of her diaper. Positive reinforcement was important at this stage, and associating a wet diaper with pleasant feelings, food, and soothing sounds would keep her from wanting to take it off next time. It was surprising that she had reacted to a verbal scolding so quickly, so thoroughly - but I wasn't going to complain either. Hitting her, even a gentle strike on the nose the way I had, was not something I enjoyed. The jerky gone, she sat up slowly, looking sadly down at her leg in the cast. She scratched at it, her nails scraping along the hardened shell, a soft whimper coming from her throat. It probably hurt. "I know," I agreed with her unspoken complaint, carefully and tenderly stroking her fiery hair. It was softer than I had expected. She flinched at first, but relaxed as I continued. "I know it hurts, and I'm sorry. It's healing. Hopefully Doc got it in time and the bone will set right. You're not exactly well understood, you know? But I don't think you were going to make it out there in the snow with that leg the way it was. I am sorry." I was - Doc had implied that if it wasn't perfect, she might walk with a limp forever, and that was generally a bad thing for a wild animal. I was keeping her, but a lame leg would soothe my conscience. It was a terrible thing to hope for, I felt bad thinking it. The purr she let out caught me by surprise. The meat was gone and her eyes were closed, her hands resting on her stomach, her chin tilted up in the air, her throat bared, her chest heaving... and her hips grinding into my hand. I blushed fiercely as I realized what she was doing - but I didn't pull away, I didn't scold her. She was bonding with me... not quite the way I had intended, but she was being vulnerable in a way I hadn't expected. Her tail thrashed back and forth as she rocked, a low moan coming from her throat. The tip of that fluffy tail brushed against my arm over and over as she bucked, panting against me. I pressed my hand in harder, dragging my nails gently across her side, across her stomach as she moaned a very human-like moan. She shuddered, her tongue lolling as she arched, her moans a crescendo that matched her body. "Good girl," I told her, rubbing the diaper between her legs, encouraging her to savor that afterglow... if a kitsune had such a thing. "Good girl. Kit is a good girl." I wouldn't want her humping my hand all the time, but this was vastly preferable to her trying to bite me, for sure. As she slipped off to sleep, I slipped from the room, blinking with disbelief at the events that had just occurred. There was a kitsune in my bed. And she was mine. In ways I hadn't expected.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a historical fiction set in 1940's Germany. That means Nazi Germany. This is the story of two girls who were best friends when they were little. Now that they're 18, they're reunited. One of them grew up with Nazi propoganda pounded into her head. She wrestles with her morality- that which she senses, knows deep down, is right- and an internal battle with all the brainwashing she's undergone. Let me be crystal clear- the Nazis were bad. They were scum. The main character in this story has to dig through propoganda and lies to learn that truth we know today. FROEHLICHE WEIHNACHTEN by CK- Cute Kitten The soft layers of the cloth diaper rubbed over the sensitive mound of her womanhood with each step. The press of the padding tingled along her nerves, radiating waves of comfort in the quiet dark of night. The hem of her red nightgown swished around her ankles while the lace collar, cuffs, and hem shone like fresh snow in the dim yellow glow of the kerosene lamp. Her thick woolen socks made no sound on the wooden floors of the old farmhouse. Gertrude carefully opened the doors between various rooms, trying to keep squeaky hinges silent. She tiptoed over the squeaky floorboards as she slunk through the house on Christmas Eve. Snitching a few Christmas cookies was an old childhood tradition between her and her twin sister. The only thing that slowed her annual Christmas Eve sojourn was the diaper. Even a single cloth diaper forced her thighs apart, making her waddle. The thickness slowed her gait down. Just one layer, just one diaper, yet it felt like she wore several pairs of thick woolen underwear. How had her sister Heidi tolerated such a bulky undergarment? In bed on a cold night, a diaper was comforting. But up and ambulating around, the warm bulk just got in her way. Heidi never had a choice about wearing and using diapers; she’d been incontinent all eighteen years of her short life. Heidi had been born with deformed, twisted limbs. She was never able to talk or know when she had to go to the bathroom. Incontinent cripple. The doctors at the hospital had called her condition cerebral palsy. The family had called it a curse, an embarrassment. Back when Gertrude was was a little girl, she only brought one friend inside to meet her sister. Her best friend, Magda the little Jewish girl. Heidi was kept hidden away, a shameful family secret. Heidi never went to school. The doctors and family both knew she was incapable of learning. Gertrude tried to teach her what she learned in school, anyway. Heidi was never able to talk, but she learned to read. Heidi and Gertrude even proved it to their parents. The doctors refused to believe it, chalking it up to wishful thinking. Gertrude slipped into the spacious living room. The diaper pressed against her privates. It was dry; she had no intention of actually using it. She only wore them to feel closer to her dead twin. Heidi had been gone for a year, but the would of her passing was still fresh in Gertrude’s heart. Heidi had been her best friend and confidant, even if she could only grunt and drool. Gertrude learned to interpret those grunts until they became a language all their own. The cold living room seemed larger since it was empty. Her grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles were all upstairs, asleep. Her father had cleaned out the fireplace earlier and filled it with fresh logs for Christmas morning. Hand knitted stockings hung from the mantle, lumpy with little gifts. The war had tightened purse strings all across the Reich, but out here in the country they didn’t feel the bite as hard as the city folk. The gifts weren’t much; just small luxuries to sweeten hard times. Some candy, apples, oranges. Scented bar soaps and body powder for the ladies. A new hairbrush to replace an old, broken one. Her grandparents were full of old stories mourning the lost glory of the German Empire and life under the kaiser. Her father and uncles had all fought during the Great World War. They had suffered under the economic hardships steered by the inept Weimar Republic government and raped by the even harder penalties of the Versailles Treaty. Gertrude didn’t pay much attention to politics or what was going on in the wider world. There was too much work to do on the farm, more important things in her immediate life to worry about. What little she knew, she gleaned from the grumblings of the menfolk, particularly when they were soused with drink. The cold emptiness of the room pressed in on her. The magic of Christmas, that most wonderful time of the year, was as chill and dark as the unlit fireplace. Gertrude was the only girl in her family. All ten of her cousins were boys. Nine of them were away from home on the front lines fighting the enemy. Josef was the only one home on special leave. He wasn’t a regular Waffen SS soldier like the others. He was a member of the SS Totenkopfverbande. She wasn’t sure exactly what they did. Josef refused to talk about it, but their domineering grandmother pestered him into dolling out a few crumbs. At dinner, he’d mumbled something about guarding a camp. After a few glasses of grandma’s homemade gluhwein, he’d let slip some slurred gibberish about a place called Buchenwald. The absence of her cousins, the absence of her twin, left Gertrude feeling alone. Up in her little cramped closet of a room she’d once shared with her twin, the lonely isolation had pressed in on her. She hadn’t been able to sleep, even with the comfort of Heidi’s diapers. Memories and shadows of her dead sister filled every nook and cranny of the room and pinched her heart. So she’d fled downstairs, hoping that keeping their old tradition alive would help her feel less alone. That it would bring back some small part of her sister. The diaper shifted and rubbed against her with every step across the living room. It was a constant reminder of her twin. Usually the warm softness of the thick padding reassured her. Now it only heightened the ache of Heidi’s absence. This wasn’t the first time Gertrude wore Heidi’s diapers. She’d been wearing them to bed every night since her sister’s funeral. The first time she donned a diaper was the night they scattered Heidi’s ashes in their grandmother’s rose garden. Heidi used to love staring out the window for hours at the summer roses, watching the bees and butterflies. The night of the funeral, Gertrude had wallowed in the dregs of grief, out of her mind with mourning. So she pulled out one of Heidi’s clean cloth diapers and put it on. Immediately, the press of the thick bulk between her legs had calmed her, reassured her. Heidi was gone from the earth, but she was still with Gertrude in her heart. From that night on, Gertrude wore her dead sister’s diapers to bed. Tonight was Gertrude’s first time getting out of bed and walking through the house in diapers. The padding that usually comforted her now unnerved her. What if she got caught in a diaper? They’d say she’d gone crazy with grief. They’d lock her up in the loony bin. She should’ve taken the diaper off before leaving the bedroom. She’d tried, but her fingers refused to open the diaper pins. She couldn’t bring herself to do it- it made her feel like she was leaving Heidi behind. Casting her sister aside by taking off the diaper. Gertrude shuddered at those thoughts, cold from the inside out. The lantern swayed on the thin wire loop handle in her hand. The soft, swaying light danced on the tin ornaments with their shiny, metallic paint. The candles on the Christmas tree were snuffed out for the night; they’d be relit Christmas morning, along with the yule logs in the fireplace. Most of the ornaments were wood, hand carved by her grandfather, father and uncles when they were boys. Some were knitted from yarn, made by her grandmother and aunts. The ones that drew the most attention were shiny, metallic tin disks proudly displaying thick black swastikas. Her uncle had bought them a few years ago on a trip into the city. He’d wanted to put a big swastika on top of the tree, but grandma refused. She wanted her beloved, tacky, stained glass and lead star instead. Lumpy presents in cheap brown paper lay under the tree. Everybody knew what they were- new hand knitted sweaters or cardigans. Smaller packages were mittens, scarves, gloves. Everyone was grateful, too- the ones from last year were falling apart after months of hard living and working. A hard life made harder with the extra burden of caring for her disabled sister. She’d left Heidi behind once before, when the family moved her into a sanatorium several years ago. Taking care of her disabled sister had become too much of a burden on top of all the farm work, especially as the boys grew up and left the village for adventure and glory in the Wehrmacht. She had missed her sister, but the work-exhausted part of her had been relieved to be free of the extra duties. That relief pricked her conscience now with a sharp slivers of guilt. She rarely had the free time and funds to visit her sister. The home for the physically disabled was in a town several days’ travel from their tiny village. The family received a letter from the sanatorium doctors saying Heidi’s condition had grown more severe, so they’d transferred her to Hadamar psychiatric hospital, which was even further away, for more intense treatment. A few months later, the family received a letter from Hadamar doctors informing them of Heidi’s demise. Gertrude’s insides had twisted in doubt and disbelief when she’d read the death certificate. The cause of death listed acute appendicitis. Heidi had had her appendix removed as a small child. How could she die from an organ that was long gone from her body? The rest of her family insisted it must be a mistake, a mix up. Gertrude had travelled with her father to claim Heidi’s remains and get the death certificate fixed. In the Hadamar waiting room, Gertrude had talked to other grieving families there to claim their loved ones’ remains. So many dead patients. They dropped like flies. Was that normal? Doctors assured her it was. The mentally and physically disabled were of weak, inferior blood. They didn’t live very long. It was tragic. Gertrude had the doctors’ sympathies. But, really, they had assured her, it was for the best. One irate man was there to demand an explanation for the burnt ladies’ hairpins in his dead brother’s ashes. The man’s brother had died of appendicitis, too. Quite a few patients had died from that. There were a lot of death certificate mix-ups, and ladies’ hairpins in male ashes. Way too many mixups. It roused Gertrude’s suspicions. Gertrude’s family swallowed the doctors’ lines. Gertrude didn’t, but every time she voiced her doubts, she was shushed or ignored. The doctors’ told the family it was just her grief talking and not to take her seriously. So she held her tongue, bend her head, and kept working. Put in more hours doing charity work with the Bund Deutscher Madel, or League of German Girls. She could never shake the notion that she’d abandoned her sister to cold blooded killers who couldn’t even keep the remains of their victims straight. Life unworthy of life. She remembered learning about that in school. She’d read magazine and newspaper articles by prominent doctors promoting the idea. Useless eaters. The disabled couldn’t contribute to society. They only took. Times were hard. Sometimes, to save a healthy body, diseased limbs had to be cut off. There was no room for diseased, useless leeches full of nothing but bad blood. They were nothing but a burden on society, weighing it down. Wasn’t Gertrude’s own sense of relief to be free of her caretaker duties proof of that? Staring at the cold fireplace, Gertrude blinked back tears. The guilt ridden ache for her sister burned stronger. She forced her mind back to happier times. Normally, she’d have been to the kitchen and back upstairs by now with iced ginger cookies or sweet, sugar dusted fruit bread for her and Heidi. Gertrude focused on the soft padding rubbing against her crotch and backside as she walked. The sensations distracted her from dark memories. Moving in the diaper was both weird and soothing at the same time, like a beloved Christmas carol sung in a foreign language. The diaper added an extra layer of warmth in the drafty old house. The heavy cotton of her nightgown and thick wool of her hand knitted socks kept her warm enough, but the diaper added the last layer that made her cozy. Sometimes, she wondered what the diaper would feel like wet. She blushed at the thought. Once in a blue moon, when the pain of her sister’s absence was particularly sharp, she felt the urge to add on more diapers and rubber panties then let her bladder loose. Fear and disgust always held her back. How could she even think such a thing? Maybe she really was going crazy. Trying to flee from her thoughts, shut down her overactive brain, Gertrude hurried into the kitchen.

Here is another try at posting this story. It was posted during the lost period in the forums this week. The story is complete, so enjoy. All feedback is appreciated. Roommates by Write and Left At long last I was starting college. No more of the oppressive rules I had to grow up with. No more being punished for something I could not help. I started to unpack before my new roommate got here. My mother had just left and I had to be good, as I did not want her to expose my secrets to the dorm. I pulled all my clothes out of my trunk and started hanging them in my closet. Then I took my supply of Depends out of the bags and put them in the trunk. You see, I wet the bed. This has been the source of many problems over the years and I want to keep it hidden. I then took a combination lock and locked the trunk. Now that my secret was hidden, at least until that night I arranged the rest of my room and got every thing organized. I did not want to argue with my new roommate, so I took the smaller desk and I set up my laptop. I checked that I could connect to the network and thus satisfied, I arranged my textbooks on the shelf above my bed. It was a small room, but I had only brought some clothes and my computer, so I was in good shape. I then made my bed. There was a plastic sheet on my bed and I bit my lip, embarrassed. "Did my mother tell them about my problem?" I thought. I glanced over to my roommate's bed. She had just stopped in, threw her stuff on the bed and went to the bookstore. "No, her bed has a plastic sheet too. They must have put them on all the dorm beds." I lay on top of my bed and stared at the stuff on hers. She had 4 boxes, 2 suitcases, and what looked like some computer equipment. She was still getting raped by the bookstore. I had some time. Maybe I should just peek in her suitcases. No, I would not do that. What if she looked through my stuff? I would not like that. During the brief period of time I saw her, (when we were assigned our room and she brought her stuff from her car) she asked me if I would go to Wal-Mart with her. I lay on my bed waiting for her. Her parents had taken her to breakfast before she went to get her textbooks. My mother took me straight to the bookstore after I unloaded my stuff. I did not argue with her as I had time to unpack. I was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. It was rather hot and I would rather be wearing less. However, I was embarrassed to not be covered more because of some things that happened back home. Since I started wetting the bed my mother made me wear diapers at night. I did not mind too much because it was more comfortable then sleeping in wet sheets. However as I got older, the punishments got worse. When I got to the age that the other girls were starting to shave their legs, my mother said I couldn't until I stopped wetting the bed. I got teased from that time until I graduated. I had some nicknames like Butch Beth and Harry-legged Liz. I also was never allowed to have makeup. When I started high school, on days that I wet the bed, I had to wear diapers starting when I got home from school. I did get a reprieve during times when we were out of the house, but when we got home again it was back in diapers for me. So today, I am not wearing diapers. I will tonight, but I need them tonight. I want to go to Wal-Mart today, so I can get some razors and stuff and finally be able to compete with other girls for boyfriends. The bedwetting thing will hurt my chances, but I do not think I can handle being called Betsy Wetsy and Butch Beth. I grabbed my computer and started playing Solitaire. I was on my 4th game when the door opened suddenly. My new roommate walked in with an armload of books and dumped them on her desk. She waved goodbye to her parents and closed the door. "Hi," I managed to stutter. "Sorry, I had no time to get introduced earlier," she said smiling. "I'm Vikki." "And I'm Elisabeth," I said. "You can call me Beth, if you do not prefix it with anything." "Oops, bad high school nickname, huh? Well I got to get unpacked, then we can catch the bus to Wal-Mart," she said. "How do you know where everything is?" I asked. "My older brother just graduated from here last year," she answered, "He told me where everything is." I lay down and started thumbing through one of my textbooks while she unpacked. She hung up all her clothes and pulled a TV out of one of the boxes and set it on here desk. She also set up her computer. The other boxes she just stacked on the floor of her closet. I did not get to see their contents. She booted up her computer, and with some minor swearing, got it onto the network and then checked the bus schedule. "Okay, its 15 minutes until the next bus." She glanced at my long sleeved shirt and jeans. "You have time to put on something a little more suited to the weather." "No, I am fine," I said. "Aren't you hot in that?" she asked me. "Yes, but I will change into something cooler, when we get back from Wal-Mart." "Okay, suit yourself," she said, "It gets hot here." We caught the bus and headed down to the Wal-Mart. I stocked up on chips and pretzels and then went to the beauty supplies. I headed over to the razors and grabbed some shaving cream and disposable razors and threw them in my cart. I then went to the make up area and selected some various items. "Girl, that is the wrong color for you!" Vikki said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Isn't lipstick supposed to be red?" "Well it depends on the person, but I guarantee that bright red lipstick does not go well with bright red hair. The eye shadow you picked clashes with your green eyes. Here get these instead." She selected similar items of more suitable colors. Here I was exposed as a make up buying rookie. The next thing I know she will find out about how hairy I am. I had to get prettied up. If I continued to be ugly and a bed wetter both, no one would ever like me. Vikki was nice so far. I hoped she would continue to be nice if she found out my secret. We got what we needed and headed back to the bus stop. We took the bus back to the dorm and went to our room. As I was unlocking the door, Vikki whispered desperately in my ear, "Hurry up! I really got to pee." I opened the door and she fled past me into the bathroom. I gathered my bathroom stuff together to take a shower and added in my new shaving cream and razors. Then I put the other stuff I bought away. I carefully stocked the refrigerator with the computer scientist's secret weapon: Mountain Dew. I knew I shouldn't drink it with the bedwetting, but not being allowed to drink sodas all these years did not make a difference one way or another in the number of night time accidents. She came out and said, "Hey, lets get a pizza!" "I am okay with a pizza, but can't we do it later, I need a shower now," I said. "Sure, go ahead," she said. "You look all sweaty. I told you to put on shorts." "I will be awhile," I said. "Are you sure you don't need anything in there?" "No, it is all yours," she said. "Go for it." I grabbed my stuff and headed for the bathroom. I peeled of the sweaty layers of clothes and got naked. "Goodbye, Butch Beth," I said and stepped in the shower. After washing, I smeared shaving cream all over my legs and pulled out one of my razors. I then started shaving. I never realized how hard it was. I never had a father to watch how he shaves his face, and women always shave their legs in the shower, so there is never an audience. I shaved off a big chunk of skin the first time. Then after a few nicks, I got the hang of it. I made it through with no fewer than five nicks and the big cut. Then I had to shave the other leg. This time it was easier. I got it done with only one knick. I was then done. I then looked down at my under arms. How was I supposed to shave those? After twisting myself like a pretzel I got into the right position and finally finished. I rinsed off and inspected myself for missed spots. Satisfied, I said, "Goodbye Butch Beth, Hello Pretty Beth." I smiled and then blushed. I hoped Vikki didn't hear me say that. I slid on the non-granny panties and matching bra I got at Wal-Mart and then put a little sleeveless number and khaki shorts on. I had them both and wore them a few times before, but I was always teased when I did so, so I stopped. Now with a few passes with a razor, I looked pretty, not ridicules. I cleaned up the bottom of the shower, which was now a hairy mess, and got every thing gathered up. My self-esteem was rising. I then tried to dab the bloody spot with some toilet paper. It was still bleeding a bit, but it was mostly stopped. It was worth it I thought. I came out and put my stuff away. "Did you just cut yourself in there?" Vikki asked. Does she notice everything? She problem guessed I am a leg-shaving rookie too. And she problem will find out about the bedwetting. This is too close of quarters to hide. What am I going to do? "I cut it a little bit," I answered, "Its stopped now." "Just be careful," she said, "Now I am ready for that pizza." We ate pizza and watched TV all afternoon. We also ran around the dorms meeting people and having fun until bedtime. I got separated from Vikki, and it was late anyway, so I went back to my room. I would have to figure out how to keep my secret a secret. How could I open my trunk and grab a diaper out and put it on without Vikki noticing. If I could get a five minute head start at getting to the room... I open the door and went in. I then notice Vikki had a diaper in her hands. Quickly I closed the door and went to confront her. She snooped through my stuff. My plans of keeping my bedwetting a secret were dashed to the ground. I was in shock. I went up to her and snatched the diaper away from her. "How did you get in my trunk?" I yelled. "You looked through my stuff. I hate you." I turned and ran into the bathroom where I fell to the floor and started balling. What is she going to think? I need diapers and still ball like a baby. My brand new make up was running down my face and now the whole campus would know in a matter of minutes that I wet the bed and wear diapers. Classes hadn't even started yet. Just now she was probably going down the hall waving my diapers around saying, "My roommate wears Depends! Look!" "Let me in!" I heard outside the bathroom door. I was still sobbing. If Vikki thinks I will forgive her... "Give it back!" I heard her yell. "Give what back?" I choked out through sobs. "My thing you took," she said in a lower tone of voice. I slowly opened the door. Her face was bright red. She seemed to be embarrassed. "Give it back," she said pointing at the diaper. "So you can show everyone in the dorm what you found in your roommate's trunk," I said, "I thought we were friends." "I don't know what you are talking about. I am certainly not going to show anyone," she said. "Fine. How did you get in my trunk?" I asked. "It was locked." "Are you saying you have diapers in your stuff too?" she asked. She seemed to feel a little better. "Yeah," I mumbled. I looked down at the floor. "See these are mine." she said. She showed me one of the boxes in her closet. It had two bags of Depends in it. One was open. I opened my trunk. My diapers seemed to be intact. "I guess I owe you an apology. I was trying so hard to hide my night time problem, that when I saw you with one, I only assumed it was mine and the whole campus would find out. I thought you would be mean to me too." "Well I guess there is no harm," she said. "At least we don't have to hide it from each other. I might have reacted the same way if I caught you with a diaper in your hand." I grabbed one of my own diapers. "Well we should get these on for bed then," I suggested. We our are diapers on the comfortable way. We put them on while lying in bed, instead of standing in the bathroom trying to get the tapes right. "Do you think the put the plastic sheet on our beds because we are both bedwetters?" I asked. "No," Vikki answered, "All the beds in the dorm have plastic on them. It's not just for wetters. People drink and puke on them and spill stuff. No one will think that." "Oh, I didn't think about that." "So tell me, was today the first time you shaved your legs or wore makeup?" "Um, yes." "I thought so," she said smiling as she reached to turn off the light. "No one could pick such horrendous colors or cut themselves that many times without being a newbie." "I would have, but my mother wouldn't let me until I stopped wetting the bed. I got called horrible names, like Butch Beth." "I don't think you look butch at all," she said, "I got called Icky Vikki all the time because I had an accident or two a year." "I've been there. I once wet on stage at state choir competition. Even even the choir director called me Betsy Wetsy. My name was Betsy Wetsy in the program for the next concert." "Ouch," said Vikki. "My mother would have put me in diapers for a week during the day as punishment for that." "Yours too?" I asked. "At least you could do things to be pretty. I had to wear shorts or dresses with hairy legs. I got teased left and right." "I am glad you are my room mate," Vikki said. "I am glad you are my room mate too," I repeated. "By the way, when we have exams, we should wear protection. There are no bathroom breaks during exams," Vikki said. "Well lets get some sleep," I said. "Okay, good night."