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This story was written as an entry to a Halloween writing contest on Personalias' Discord server. This story won first place, and I hope to eventually write it out into a longer story. Tim Stephenson always wanted to be a Daddy. Not that wanting to be a parent was completely out of the norm for Amazons, but he knew that his life’s goal was to become a Daddy. Whether that be through finding a spouse and starting a family naturally or through Adoption. Every goal he achieved in life; his degrees in mechanical engineering, paying off his student loans, purchasing a reasonable house with a reasonable mortgage and an escrow account, was in pursuit of that super objective of becoming a Daddy. And a Daddy he had become as of last week. He had been walking through the park near his neighborhood, New Almes Metro Park, taking in the autumn colors on the trees when he had spied a Little, with bright flaxen locks that shined in the Autumn sun and matched his wavy hair, walking through the rose bushes that had lost their petals with the change of the season. She would go up to a rose bush, reach in, then place whatever she had picked into a basket she held with her other hand, and repeat. Tim had felt a surge of protectiveness as he watched her reach into the branches of a bush, then quickly pull her hand away as if she had been hurt. The Little examined her hand, and from his vantage point Tim could see the bright streak of red trail down her thumb. The moment that she put her delicate thumb in her mouth to relieve the pain, Tim knew that she was meant to be his Little Girl. “Yes, hello, I’m calling because I saw your ad on the TV.” Tim had taken a week off from work to get situated in his new life with his Little girl. He had found out her name was Sarah, though he couldn’t find much out about her. She didn’t have identification on her when he had picked her up and placed her on his hip in the park, and she had not been very forthcoming with any other information about where she lived or any job she worked. That had been enough to convince the judge that she did indeed need to be Adopted. “Are you still accepting new Littles in your daycare class?” Tim glanced back in the living room towards Sarah. All of the literature he had read on Adopting Littles had prepared him for a Little who would be denying that they were a baby, throwing tantrums over not being allowed their old big kid underwear, and bargaining to see their old friends and family again if they behaved well. But Sarah displayed none of these behaviors in the week since her Adoption. Instead, she was quiet, only speaking when directly spoken to, and eyes that stared thousands of yards ahead at nothing. “Yes, I can come tour your facilities tomorrow. I– oh yes, I can bring my Little girl along. Apologies, I’m still getting used to being a Daddy.” Tim nervously laughed as the receptionist on the other end of the call asked for his information. “My name is Tim Stephenson, and my baby girl is Sarah Stephenson. My number is…” He recited his phone number and continued to watch Sarah from his spot in the kitchen. Some would have said that she was acting like the perfect Little girl; many old school Amazons preferred Littles who acted more like predictable robots. But Stephen wanted his Little to be rambunctious, curious, and playful. The day he had spotted her picking flowers that weren’t there had shown she could be curious and playful; she had to have been pretending the bushes were in bloom. But the only thing that now kept Sarah from being diagnosed in a coma was her timid nods of agreement when he asked if he could check her diaper. He had wanted to take another week off from his job, he knew his team could handle the latest nursery project without him. But the morose behavior from Sarah had him worried that she needed more stimulation from other Littles in her life. Almost as soon as he had the thought he had seen the commercial for The Practical Little’s Daycare. “Tomorrow at two? I have it in my calendar. Thank you, Miss… Rebecca, thank you Miss Rebecca. I look forward to meeting you tomorrow.” With his phone slid back into his pocket, Tim walked back into the living room and knelt down beside Sarah. She had been dressed in a green ruffly princess playdress with butterfly clips in her hair that Tim had thought made her look darling. “Hey Princess,” he gently said to her, afraid that his normal voice would be too loud for his fragile Little girl. “You and Daddy are going to go take a look at a daycare tomorrow. Doesn’t that sound fun?” Sarah stared blankly back at Tim, waiting to speak as if calculating her words. “Yes Daddy. That – that does sound fun.” Spread in front of her were the toys Tim had purchased right after the Adoption had been finalized, pretty princesses in dresses and horses for them to ride on. Despite being out of their packaging, they were in mint condition. Tim reached out to examine one of the dolls with blond hair and Sarah flinched when his hand got close to her. She was always flinching. She would flinch when he would pick her up to place her in her high chair, she would flinch when he gently woke her up in the morning, she would even flinch when he checked her diaper after telling her he was going to see if she needed a change. She had just flinched and then meekly accepted being held tightly in his arms that day in the park. She doesn’t trust me. Tim knew he shouldn’t take it personally, he had known from his research that it was normal for Littles to take weeks to start to trust their new Mommies and Daddies. But it would have been easier to not take it personally if she had been displaying any of the other normal behaviors. Crying, screaming, even kicking would have made her distrust easier to take. It would have meant his Little girl felt alive. He had an idea of how to handle a Little who would try to bite hands when you played airplane at the dinner table but he had no idea how to handle a Little who behaved like a ghost. I need this daycare to work. He had spent all of his life succeeding so that he could succeed at being a Daddy, he wasn’t going to fail now that he was at the finish line. ~~ “This is one of our classrooms, Miss Rachel is the teacher.” Tim was carrying Sarah on his hip as they were being led on a tour of The Practical Little’s Daycare. Miss Rebecca, the Amazon who had taken his call, was leading them on a tour of the facilities. So far Tim liked what he saw; a large playground with a big toy and swings, a clean kitchen where meals were prepared from scratch, and now a bright and colorful classroom with very engaged Littles. It would be good for Sarah here. She had spent the entirety of the tour with her head buried in his shoulder, only giving the smallest of acknowledgments to him and Miss Rebecca. “Are the other classrooms as lively as this one?” he asked Miss Rebecca as the Little students played happily. Some were at a reading station laying on bean bags with books in their hands, others sat in circles playing hand games, and a very curious group of Little girls played at a dollhouse. Four Little girls sat in a group around a dollhouse, each holding a doll in their hands. The one in the middle wore a black romper, and her raven hair was cut into a bob with a gray headband holding it back. The girl to her right had her red hair in space buns, and wore a red dress. Another girl wore a purple and white striped shirt with a purple skirt and her sandy brown hair was pinned back with butterfly clips . The last Little of the group wore a blue onesie, and her dark brown hair was pulled back into pigtails. Something felt off about the group to Tim. “Not quite as lively.” Miss Rebecca replied with a smile. “There is only one other classroom here, and that is for our Little students who find themselves at an earlier stage than a toddler.” Tim nodded his understanding, but he couldn’t help but notice that the dollhouse Littles were staring at Sarah. And Sarah was staring back at them. “You can put her down.” Miss Rebecca’s voice pulled him back to the conversation. “I’m sorry?” Tim pulled his eyes away from the group. He felt a little sheepish that he had not been giving his full attention to the other Amazon. “She can go play with the others while we talk. Miss Rachel won’t mind.” The tour guide waved towards the teacher who was in the middle of setting down a Little boy who had just been brought back from the side room of the classroom which had to be where the changing table was kept. Tim shifted Sarah in his arms so he could look at her. “Would you like that? To play with the other Littles while we talk about all the boring grown up stuff that you wouldn’t understand?” Sarah didn’t look at him, but she nodded her consent. Miss Rebecca had the decency to look insulted for Sarah. After she was removed from Tim’s hip and sat down, she made her way over to the dollhouse Littles where the one in the black romper seemed to make a comment on Sarah’s green overalls. “You know, Littles understand a lot of grown up talk. That’s what makes them different from real toddlers; their ability to understand the world as adults, even if they can’t be adults.” Miss Rebecca coldly informed Tim. Tim felt his cheeks warm up at her chiding wisdom. “Of course. I’m still getting used to being a Daddy and having a Little. All of the books and pamphlets on parenting Littles never quite prepare you, you know?” Miss Rebecca seemed to warm back up. “I do. I don’t have any children or Littles of my own, but I feel like all of the students here are mine in some way.” She stepped out of the way as a Little boy with a bowl cut ran between them, a red-haired boy was in the corner with his hands over his eyes, counting aloud before uncovering his eyes to begin his search. “Do you want to know the secret about those books and pamphlets?” Tim desperately wanted to know anything that would help him succeed. “Yes, of course, Miss Rebecca.” He paused, then added, “May I call you Rebecca?” Calling her ‘Miss” everytime was starting to feel too formal. “Miss Rebecca is fine.” Her smile softened that blow a little bit. “And the secret is that all of those pamphlets treat Littles as if they’re all the same. Like all Littles are made from the same mold in a factory. But they all have their own quirks, personalities, and magic.” There was laughter from the dollhouse Littles where Sarah had picked up the garden pieces from the set. “That’s why we don’t use any of those hypnosis tapes or robotic nurseries other daycares use. We want to encourage them to be their natural selves.” They must be into that New Age stuff. Tim made sure not to tell Miss Rebecca he helped design those robotic nurseries at his job. He didn’t agree with their use, and would never put Sarah in a daycare that used one, even from his company. But his company did pay well, and that was how he had been able to live the way he did. He looked over again at Sarah. The Little girl in black was showing Sarah her doll, and it was the first time Tim had seen her interested in a toy. Please let this place be good for her. “I want to sign the enrollment papers, Miss Rebecca. Can she start on Monday?” — It had been a few days past a week with Sarah enrolled in The Practical Littles Daycare and Tim had decided he had made the right choice. Tim was finding himself slightly more tired than when he had her at home, and he was making mistakes here and there like placing items in the wrong spot. But he had chalked it up to New Daddy Brain. Her expensive toys still lay mostly forgotten amongst her possessions, but she was starting to talk more. That added points to the daycare. “Nancy is the best in arts and crafts,” Sarah was talking about her new friends as Tim drove her to the daycare, “she’s shown me somethings to do with twine.” He was really glad she had found a group of Littles to be friends with, even if he didn’t get the best of feelings from them when they had been on the tour. It wasn’t like falling in with the wrong crowd at daycare was going to lead her to staying out late at night and sleeping with strange men. “And Mary and her Daddy are bringing in the juice today for snack time again! She makes the best juice.” Tim didn’t have the heart to explain to Sarah that it was probably Mary’s Daddy who had bought the juices for snack time. His Little girl was happy and excited, and that was enough. The Daddies of Sarah’s new friends were interesting individuals in of themselves. Single, like him, and they seemed utterly devoted to their Little girls. Nancy, the Little girl who always seemed to be wearing black, had Chris as her Daddy. William was Mary’s, Paige’s Daddy was Matthew, and Morgan called Lance Daddy. Tim had met them a couple days ago and thought they were a little odd, like their Littles. But then again he thought all Amazons were probably a little odd; Amazons did choose frequently to have lifetime dependents. He turned into the parking lot and parked; the daycare preferred for the Amazons to walk their Littles into the building. It was nice to give them goodbye hugs and to tell them you would see them soon, rather than Miss Rebecca or Miss Rachel coming out to remove them from the car seats. Tim unstrapped Sarah from her car seat and placed her on his hip. That had become his favorite way to carry her because one of her arms would wrap around his shoulder and the other would rest on his chest. Waiting at the front were the four Little girls and their four Daddies. Mary, Nancy, Morgan, and Paige each held their daddies hands, their dolls were held in their free hands. “Hello! Tim and Sarah! Good morning!” called Chris from the group. Tim politely waved, the Little girls waved at Sarah. Sarah waved back excitedly. Such an odd group, but Sarah likes them. “We’re holding hands and walking in today, Sarah.” Nancy stated. She must be the queen busy bee. Sarah gave a small “oh” and turned to face Tim. “Um, Daddy,” Tim could tell she was still uncomfortable with that word, “could I walk in today holding your hand?” He smiled at her, even though she had asked him out of peer pressure it was still so cute to see her ask to do something her friends were doing. But he liked holding her in his arms when he walked through doorways together. “No, princess, I think I’ll hold you today. I need to get in all my cuddle time with you before I have to go to work.” Sarah’s cheeks blushed and she turned back to Nancy to shrug apologetically. Nancy just rolled her eyes and tugged her Daddy towards the front of the daycare. The others followed suit. Such an odd clique. Tim queued in next to William and tried his hand at some small talk. “Sarah was talking excitedly today about you and Mary having juice duty today, said your Mary makes the best juice!” Tim chuckled, believing William would get the wink nudge insinuated in his voice. “HaHa! Yes! Mary sure does enjoy making her brews!” William’s laugh sounded a little forced, and the wide grin he flashed seemed a tad off. But Tim was impressed that William played into the bit of Mary “making” the juice. The odd clique of Little girls and their Daddies made their way through the front door, Sarah in her Daddy’s arms as he wanted. Miss Rachel waved at the group as they entered. “Good morning, girls! You can join the rest of the line, we’re almost ready to go have breakfast!” Tim shifted Sarah in his arms to set her down when she stopped him. “Wait, Daddy, can I ask you something?” “Of course, Princess. What do you want to ask?” Tim glanced over where the other Dads and girls had been. Nancy was still by Chris with her eyes on Sarah. “Daddy, I wanted to know…” Sarah bit her lip, “if we could put a garden in the yard so I could plant flowers and vegetables in the spring?” “Oh, no, Princess.” Tim felt Sarah deflate in his arms. “You would get all dirty, and gardening tools aren’t safe for Little girls.” “But–” “No buts.” He finished setting her down on the floor. She looks so cute when she pouts. “Now go join your class line.” Tim watched her as she made her way over to where her classmates were lined up, Nancy locking in step next to her. Tim made his way back to the car, waving at the odd Dads as he pulled out of the parking lot. He had a big work day ahead of him. He was going to present his team's project on a new way for robotic nurseries to monitor a Little’s emotional state; if they were too unhappy they would be hit with a gas to cause euphoria. It was state of the art new technology that involved facial scans and complex algorithms. And if he did well enough with the presentation, he was sure to be on the fast track for a promotion. The drive over to his office was only forty minutes from Sarah’s daycare, and he timed his commute so he could always get the spot he liked in the parking lot. Not too far from the entrance, and close enough to his boss’s spot for any last minute schmoozing at the end of the day. Finding his way to his spot in the almost full parking lot, he turned the car off and gathered his laptop and coffee. He grabbed the inside door handle and – He was then on the other side of the car door holding the outside handle, laptop in hand but no more coffee. Tim let go of it in shock. What? I- I was just inside the car. He looked around what had once been the parking lot in the morning light and now saw that it was an almost empty parking lot in the afternoon light. “Tim! Glad I caught you before you left!” Tim’s heart dropped as he heard the booming voice of his boss coming towards him. Did I miss the presentation? What happened? Why can’t I remember the day? He turned around to face his potential chewing out and saw Mr. Griffiths beaming brightly at him. His burly boss slapped him on the shoulder jovially. “Fantastic presentation, Tim! The senior leadership and I are really impressed with the strides you and your team are making on Little mood maintenance monitoring systems.” Tim’s heart beat slowed down just a bit in relief. “So, I did well? I mean,” he rubbed his eyes. He was somehow missing eight hours worth of work that included the most important presentation so far in his life. “I was able to show the importance of the mechanical improvements and how that will make our nurseries more desirable?” “Of course! Keep an eye on your email calendar, I’m going to schedule a meeting with you to discuss the future of your career here.” Mr. Griffiths shook his hand then left him by his car. He waited until his boss was far enough away from his car before hurriedly getting into the driver's seat and burying his head in his hands. A whole day had been lost. The last thing he remembered was getting out of his car. He needed to clear his head to see if he could remember. Then he remembered it was the end of the day and he needed to pick up Sarah from daycare. “Shit.” figuring out why he had lost time would need to wait, he had to go be a Daddy. ~~ Tim was exhausted. His lost memories of his work day only affected his mind, his body could still feel that he had worked a full day. Thankfully, he didn’t have to carry the conversation at home. Sarah had been excitedly telling him about her day ever since he picked her up from daycare. “Miss Rebecca told us about amphibians like newts and toads, then Miss Rachel read us a story about ghosts and Morgan helped identify what each ghost was…” It warmed Tim’s heart to know that his Little girl was finally thriving. “Sarah,” he interrupted her monologuing as they settled down in the living room. “Daddy is tired. Would you be ok with dinner, a quick bath, then an early bedtime? I promise I’ll make it up to you this weekend.” He was cutting out playtime and couch cuddle time, but he needed to rest, he hoped some sleep might bring back the memories of how his day had gone. “That’s fine.” Sarah didn’t meet his eyes but picked up her toys. For a moment Tim thought that she was going to sit down and play while he cooked. But she instead picked them up and put them away in the basket he had gotten to keep them in for the living room. “What are you making for dinner?” He made them a quick meal, grilled cheese and canned tomato soup. Simple, easy, a meal he enjoyed when he had been a child that had made him feel comforted. Something easy to feed both himself and Sarah. A quick enough clean-up; the meal only left a few dishes to be washed and Sarah could be kept in the high chair long enough for her stomach to push its contents out into her diaper while he cleaned the kitchen. “Alright, my stinky Princess.” Tim took a moment to adore her as she blushed and squirmed in her high chair. These were the moments he had dreamed of when he would picture himself as a Daddy. “It’s time for your bath.” Once in the bath, he took further care to make sure she was clean. Her hair was shampooed and conditioned, he carefully scrubbed her skin with a washcloth and soap to make her skin smell sweet. He was tired, but he took care to make sure she was clean. Her fair skin was blemish free, except for a mole that sat between her small breasts. The doctor who had seen her in the first week after Adoption had offered to remove it, but Tim had not seen a reason to remove something so innocuous. Soon she was wrapped in a towel, then once more wrapped in a plush overnight diaper. She was starting to have soggier and soggier nights, and every morning when he would find her wet he felt a swell of pride that his Little girl was starting to trust her padding. While going through her drawer of pajamas, he curiously plucked out his old New Almes Dastardly Devils jersey. The one he had replaced two years back but held onto in case his future wife or Little could make use of it, whoever came first. “That’s odd…” He had thought he had put this in her drawer for play clothes, the old jersey was only meant for when he got tickets for home games. He went to put it in the correct drawer when he heard Sarah speak up. “Can I wear that one to bed, please?” she stood next to him with her arms outstretched for his weathered hand-me-down. “Are you sure, princess? It isn’t as comfy as your footed pajamas or onesies.” “Yes, Daddy, it makes me think of you.” She said with wide eyes and a voice shyly above a whisper. She’s never said Daddy like that before! He obliged, and once tucked into her crib, he made his way back to his room. He grabbed a quick shower, She’s never said Daddy like that before!, and spread out on his bed on his back with the bedside lamp still on. He hadn’t even bothered putting on a pair of boxers to sleep in. He was completely naked, limp penis laying in its nest of his thick pubic hair. She’s never said Daddy like that before! He was exhausted and elated at the same time. Half of his brain was calling him to sleep, the other half was loudly cheering. She had said Daddy with so much emotion, not with mechanical practice to just appease him. He knew he should have been worrying about what had happened at work, but any worry paled when he thought of her face when she was asking for his old jersey. He kept replaying how Sarah had called him Daddy in his head as he drifted off to sleep. “Daddy.” “Daddy.” “Daddy.” Tim felt a hand caress his inner thigh and knuckles brush against his balls, eliciting a moan from his lips. He opened his eyes and saw the most beautiful Amazon woman he had ever laid eyes on sitting on the edge of his bed, resting her hand on his thigh, wearing only a New Almes Dastardly Devils jersey. Her long, golden hair shown in the dim light of his lamp, her lips were full and plump, and her breasts were full, heavy, like he could put a hand on each one and not have enough hand to contain them, and her nipples were tenting the fabric of the old shirt. Her hips and ass curved out, fulfilling her perfect hourglass figure. The longer he stared at the naked woman sitting on the edge of his bed the more his cock stiffened and ached. “Whoooo–” his mouth felt slow and clumsy, “arrre yooouuu?” He tried to raise his arms but they felt equally as slow and clumsy as his mouth. A dream? The beautiful woman before him laughed. “You really did have an exhausting day.” Her hand wrapped around his cock and stroked slowly. Tim moaned again, and, deciding it was a dream, rocked his cock into the dream woman’s hand. “Just relax, let me take care of you, Daddy.” “Whhhy do yoouu keeep calling me Da—oooh–” the dream woman squeezed his cock harder and stroked faster. “Why do you keep – keep calling me that?” “Isn’t ‘Daddy’ what you’ve always wanted to be called?” the woman said as she climbed into his bed and knelt between his legs. She cupped his balls with her free hand while her other hand continued pumping his rock hard cock. “And you worked so hard for us today. You did such a good job, Daddy. You deserve this.” The dream is right. I do deserve this. Pre-cum beaded on the tip of his cock at her words. She dragged her thumb across his slit, gathering the pre-cum onto the digit. He almost came when she sucked her thumb clean. “Ooh, you taste better than I thought.” How does a dream imagine taste? The woman moved her grip on his cock to the base of it, holding it so she could tease his tip with her tongue. Each lap of her tongue against the swollen head of his penis drove him closer and closer to the edge. “Please” he moaned, his hips rocked up towards the woman's mouth, trying to get her to take more of him past her lips. I can’t believe I’m begging for a dream to blow me. I need to get back on the apps tomorrow. “Patience, Daddy.” The dream woman delicately wrapped her lips around his cock and languidly sucked on the tip. Tim whimpered at her teasing; his arms twitched at his sides as he imagined pushing his fingers through her thick mane to grip the back of her head and make her take him deeper in her mouth, but they still felt too heavy at his sides. She smirked at his struggles and returned her attention back to his cock. “I might be able to take half of you, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to take all of you.” Then, after wrapping both of her hands around his throbbing erection, she bit her lip and seemed to say to herself “You’re the biggest I’ve ever been with.” That’s more like a dream. Tim almost giggled at that thought. His dream woman would find him to be the biggest she’s ever taken. He watched as she reached down between her thighs and fingered her cunt. “Oohhhh, Daddy” Tim wasn’t the only one moaning anymore, “Daddy, I’m so wet.” The dream woman slid her middle and ring finger in and out of her cunt repeatedly causing a wet sucking noise to join in behind their moans. “I think I might be able to–” she got in position to straddle him, her glistening, hairless, wet cunt teasing his cock with how close it was. “I think I want to feel you fill me, Daddy.” His dream then slowly lowered herself onto his erection and Tim shuddered when he felt her warm, wet, tight pussy slide down on him. “Oh god.” He groaned, trying to gain some composure in his dream and not cum prematurely. If I am going to have a wet dream, at least let me have some composure in my wet dream. His dream woman rested her hands on his shoulders, leaving her breast to bounce in Tim’s face as she slid down a little more than half way on his cock, back up, then back down again and again. “Pluh-play with my tits.” Tim felt his arms become free of their sluggishness. He reached up under the jersey she wore and grabbed each of her breasts in his hands. He quickly confirmed that they did indeed overfill his grip. He squeezed her breasts, pinched and rolled her nipples between his fingers, and imagined what it would be like to taste the nipples he held. His dream woman moaned louder, clenching her pussy around his cock each time he pinched a nipple. She was close. He had been holding himself back from exploding the moment she impaled herself on his cock. But he was getting to the point of no return. His hips had started thrusting up into her, and each thrust he could tell that she was taking all that she could of him. He wanted to see all of her before he came. While his cock was buried in her as much as it could be, he ripped off the jersey and tossed it to the end of the bed, exposing her fair skin and plump breasts. As her climax rolled through her. That’s when he moved her breast just apart enough to see a mole sitting between him. Like Sarah – I can’t –no He couldn’t stop from cumming in her, his hips thrusting deeper and deeper with each contraction of his balls draining themselves. The dream woman smiled wickedly, and Tim could only moan as she leaned forward to press her lips against his ear. “Was having your cock in me everything you imagined it would be the day you saw me in the park?” “NOOO!” He jolted to a sitting position in a sweaty, post-climax clarity. The dream, or rather, nightmare woman had disappeared, along with the soccer jersey he had taken off of her. He frantically looked around the room but saw no evidence that anyone had been in the room with him. “fuck” he whispered to himself, placing his head in his hands. There was cum beginning to dry in the hair that blanketed his chest, further proving he had just had an intense, shameful wet dream. It wasn’t as much as he had felt himself empty into the dream woman, but it was enough to make him and wet cloth with soap work hard on getting it off. He walked into his bathroom, turned on the light, and faced himself in the mirror. She was an Amazon, I was dreaming of an Amazon. I'm fine, I’m not a monster. He scrubbed furiously at his chest hair until the cloth rubbed it raw. I just need to check… He tossed the cloth over the neck of the sink faucet and walked out of his bedroom, stopping long enough to put on boxers. He needed to be sure that she was safely in her crib, that the bars were still up, that she was sound asleep and hadn’t crawled out of her room and into his lap. He walked across the hall and into her room, the night light providing a soft glow near the crib. Tim crept up to it slowly, quietly, he didn’t want to wake her. The rails were still locked into place, and Sarah was laying on her side with the jersey pushed up just enough to show the bottom of her nighttime diaper. She was safe, she was sleeping, she still only came up to just above his knee. He let himself relax, he was still a good Daddy. He reached into the crib and gently stroked her hair. Exhaustion was settling back into his muscles, he needed to sleep and forget about his nightmare. But this moment was peaceful enough. She rolled over onto her back, still deep in sleep. Her diaper was wet, but not enough to warrant Tim putting her in a new one. He just let her rest in peace. Tim stood straight back up. The nursery was in order, there had been no way for Sarah to make his way into his room. His brain had been exhausted and had just conjured up a meaningless nightmare. He needed to get back to whatever sleep was left for him until his alarm clock went off. One last look at his sleeping Little Girl. Her thumb had found its way to her mouth. Was having your cock in me everything you imagined it would be the day you saw me in the park? He rushed out of the nursery and back to his room to escape the echo of his dream. – There was a list of three things that Tim needed to do that had been turning around in his head when his alarm went off in the morning. One, he needed to get Sarah dropped off at the daycare so he could get to work and figure out how to navigate his new found success that he had no memory of achieving. His notes he had written for the presentation had been meticulously written out, he hoped that he had stuck to them during the actual presentation. Having them in front of him at all times during his workday was going to be his only safety route to secure his potential promotion. Two, he needed to figure out what was going on with him. Misplacing items, losing time, strange dreams. He would have continued chalking it up to New Daddy Brain if any of these things had been in the pamphlets. His guides on being a successful Daddy and babying a Little were failing him. And he couldn’t fail, because– Three, he needed to succeed at being the best Daddy for Sarah. Tim had pondered if an appointment with a psychiatrist would be good for him when he had been getting dressed, but immediately decided against it when he imagined the psychiatrist turning him in for his sex nightmare. No, he had to figure out what was going on with himself by himself. Sarah had woken up bright eyed and cheery. He had not. Thankfully, she had been compliant and easy to move for her morning change, and had easily let Tim slip on tights over her legs and diaper and a green dress over her head. The car ride to the daycare had been filled with her voice as background noise to Tim’s anxieties. He nodded when he needed to but his thoughts kept him otherwise occupied. The usual spot was open when the car pulled into the parking lot at The Practical Little’s Daycare. His hands worked to free Sarah of her car seat as Tim went through the three things he needed to do again in his head. She leaned into him as he carried her to the front of the daycare where Sarah’s Little friends waited with their Daddies hands in theirs. “Good Morning! Sarah and Tim!” called Matthew. The Daddies waved at them in unison. “Oh, um, good morning, guys.” He had been pulled out of his thoughts, and seeing Sarah wave towards her friends added, “And girls.” “Sarah,” Nancy called Sarah’s attention down to her, “I finished your doll.” Resting in her outstretched hand was one of the odd little dolls the group of Little girls carried around with them. It was a rather featureless, rudimentary doll that looked almost haphazardly made with cloth, twine, and buttons for eyes. Something that a Little would make during Arts and Craft. Tim’s hand plucked the doll out of the Little girl's hand and turned it over. It paled in comparison to the toys he had bought for Sarah. “We made it yesterday, Daddy.” Sarah told him as she reached for the doll. “Nancy had to take it home to add the buttons.” She gently took the doll and hugged it to herself. The sight made Tim’s heart swell. “We were so glad that you offered to host the monthly sleepover on Saturday, Tim!” Lance interrupted the touching scene. “I-what?” He looked at the other Amazon men for an answer on why he was suddenly finding his house volunteered for a sleepover but their oddly pleasant smiles offered none. The answer came from Sarah, instead. “The sleepover, Daddy. I told you about it in the car on the way here. You agreed, remember?” He didn’t. At least, not immediately. Somewhere, amongst the background noise that had played while his mind had turned the three things he needed to do, he remembered hearing the words “sleepover”, “Saturday”, and him nodding and mumbling agreement. A sleepover was the last thing he needed. No where did a sleepover with five Little girls fit into the list of the three things he needed to do. Sarah will understand if I change my mind. Daddies sometimes change their minds. The words were forming in the back of his throat when the look on Sarah’s face stopped their completion. He could handle one night with five Little girls. I can handle one night with five Little girls. It would probably be good for Sarah to have company while he spent time on his list. I could use the time she’s playing to spend time on myself. They would probably spend most of the night sleeping, anyway. They’re Littles, they’ll go to bed early and wake up when their Daddies pick them up. “Yeah, the sleepover.” He nodded at the smiling Daddies. “Saturday night. Should be fine.” “Great!” Matthew said. “I can bring over the travel crib!” “Great!” Echoed William. “You’re going to find the girls are very easy to watch.” The other Dads nodded along. Do these guys hang out with anyone but each other? I need to find some other parents at the park the next time we go. “We’re going to be late! Let’s go!” ordered Nancy. The group of Amazon men nodded and started towards the front. Tim paused at first, amazed that his fellow Amazon’s would have taken such a bratty command from a Little, and a Little wearing a diaper no less. He fell in next to William again. “Nancy seems rather bossy. Is that never an issue for Chris?” “We Daddies would just do anything for our Little girls, Tim. You’ll understand soon.” responded William. “Yes, Tim.” added Chris. “We Daddies would just do anything for our Little girls. Things will be easier when you get the hang of being a Daddy.” ~~ That need to get the “hang” of being a Daddy is what drove Tim to make sure his house and himself were ready for Saturday evening. He cleaned, added any baby proofing that he had been lax on, and made a list on how the night would go. There would be playtime, diaper checks and changes, dinner, diaper checks and changes, a G rated movie, then one last diaper check and change into their nighttime diapers. Following this new list would help him complete his other list, which was now down to two items. I just need to figure out what’s going on with me, there’s probably something in the pamphlets. Get that done, and being the best Daddy will be next. Easy enough. This was the silent chant he kept in his head as the other girls started being dropped off by their Daddies. Matthew even set up the travel crib himself in Sarah’s nursery. All five sat in front of the couch in the living room and happily talked, played with their dolls, and sipped on their sippy cups. A good start to the sleepover. Tim took his spot on the couch where he could read his book, So You’ve Adopted a Little, and keep an eye on the sleepover group. This is going to be fine. He opened up to the table of contents and skipped to the chapter on adjusting to having a Little under your care as the girls' voices provided a background chorus for his reading. He glanced at his watch. It was a quarter past 4:00 PM, and thirty minutes until the first round of diaper checks before he called the pizza shop. His eyes fell on the first sentence in the section. As the Amazon who is now providing a Little with the correct care and structure that they need, probably for the first time ever in your Little’s life, it is important to remember…” Tim felt his eyes glaze over. These self-help books were usually dry, the information provided presented in the most clinical ways. Easy enough to understand if you could get your brain to focus on it. If he could get his brain to focus, and not replay the whorish sounds that Amazon woman had made during his nightmare. He readjusted himself in his seat as he remembered how she had moaned when his cock had entered her. How she had sounded like Sarah at a deeper intonation. “The most important tool at your disposal is the diaper. Littles need them, both physically and mentally.” The paragraph continued. The murmuring of the Littles in the room with him kept at a low volume, sometimes sounding like odd, quiet chanting. It was like having a white noise machine in the room, and it kept him focused on the book. White noise that let his brain try to resist the images of that Amazon woman. He couldn’t let himself get hard while in charge of Sarah and her friends. He tried to imagine that voluptuous dream in something that would make her look completely ridiculous and unappealing to any sane Amazon man; he imagined her with a diaper on and nothing else. He had to disguise a moan as a cough. What blood was left to rush to his cheeks did so as he realized the idea of that fully grown Amazon woman looking every bit like a Little in nothing but a diaper made his cock swell. His plan to get himself under control had failed, and now he had to hold the book to politely cover his lap. He hoped that forcing himself to finish the first paragraph would work better to get his shameful thoughts under control. “There are several methods for adjusting to gently asserting your authority and establishing a healthy relationship with your Adopted Little.” Tim was prepared to take mental notes as he read this chapter dutifully watched the Little girls in his care. Girls whose soft chattering made his brain drift away to thoughts of there being a group of fully grown Amazon women diapered and playing like Littles in front of him. They would sip their sippy cups empty, then slowly the diaper bulges in their pants, or the visible diaper from under their dresses would swell and tint yellow. And he would wait until they needed him to be a Daddy, then he would dutifully change their diapers and see them dry again. The only thing that brought him out of his vivid daydreaming of diapered women was the tapping of a Little hand against his knee. “Mr. Stephenson.” Tim looked up to see the red headed, Paige standing in front of him. He prayed his cheeks weren’t flushed as the image of a red headed, diapered Amazon woman fleeted from his mind. “Could I be changed? I think I am close to leaking.” That can’t be possible, they all arrived with dry diapers, more or less. “Let me check, sweetheart.” He pulled himself together as he pulled down her red pants to expose her diaper, Paige usually favored the Little Hoppers diapers that featured lily pads that faded when wet. Not that a disappearing lily pad was needed to see that her swollen diaper was in danger of leaking. How? Tim looked over to the rest of the girls, their once full sippy cups now laid empty on the floor next to them, and swollen diapers could be seen either poking out underneath their dress and skirts or bulging through their pants like Paige. His hand held his watch up in front of his face. Four fifty?! He was ten minutes past his schedule. He had spent forty minutes perversely daydreaming. “I’m so sorry, girls, the time got away from me. I’ll get the changing supplies.” He quickly got up and went for their overnight diaper bags. He wasn’t sure what was worse; daydreaming about diapering grown Amazons or the fact that he hadn’t even gotten past the first paragraph of the book he hoped had some answers for him. It had been a dry read, but he had never zoned out and had fantasies like that before when reading. Now his schedule was off, the pizza place would have to be called right after he was done changing the girls if he wanted to get an order in before the dinner rush and subsequent Saturday evening traffic further delayed his meticulously thought out schedule. Maybe I should end this slumber party. He slowly walked back to the living room with the bags. Whatever was causing his brain to drift away, to either stop recording like it had at work, or having perverted fantasies where Little Women and Amazon Women were treated alike. Where he wanted to be the best Daddy in any way for them. It really might just be better to call their Daddies and feign a migraine. “Daddy.” Sarah called out to him. “Get us changed.” Her swollen diaper was peaking out from beneath her green skirt. I need to be a good Daddy. Any thought of calling the other Daddies left his mind. The changing mat spread out on the floor and he set all their bags down next to it. Floor changes weren’t fun with his knees, but he didn’t have time to take them back to the changing table in the nursery. “Alright Paige, let's get you all clean.” He held out his for Paige to take, and saw Nancy whispering something into Sarah’s ear. Paige took his hand and let herself be guided down onto the changing pad. The other Daddies had been right that the Little girls would be very easy to watch. Just five diaper changes. Easy. He gripped the top right tape of her diaper and ripped it off, then the top left. Then he was placing the bottom right tape in place on Mary’s Sunny Waddler diapers. Tim didn’t have time to be shocked that a different girl was in front of him. His head was swimming. “Thank you, Mr. Stephenson!” Mary happily chirruped as she got up from the mat and joined the rest of the girls who were sporting their new diapers. “Eugh,” he shook his head, placed a hand on the floor to brace himself and tried to make sense of what just happened. Another instance of losing time, but shorter. Anxiety started building in his chest, he needed to figure out what was happening to him. The sleepover had been a bad idea. He should call their Daddies to pick the girls up. “I’m not feeling-” “Sarah’s Daddy.” Nancy was staring at him from beside Sarah. Her dark brown eyes bore into him. They were mesmerizing, in their own way. Sarah was next to Nancy with her doll. “We need dinner.” “Yes, of course. The schedule.” His duties as a Daddy in charge of five Little girls came first. He took out his phone to call the pizzeria. “I want anchovies!” exclaimed Mary, giggling. Morgan shot daggers at her. Tim dialed the number and held his phone to his ear. “We’re not getting anchovies on our pizza. We only do that when you host the sleepovers.” Mary lost her smile and hugged her doll close to her. A possibly Tweener worker answered on the other side of the call. “But I was going to host the sleepover until Sarah joined the cov-” “MARY!” barked Nancy who glared, ending the minor spat between the two. She then turned and shot a sickeningly sweet smile at Tim, and nudged Sarah with her arm. Sarah hugged her strange doll tight to her chest. “Daddy, we want a cheese pizza and a pepperoni and sausage pizza.” quietly stated Sarah. Yes, I should get what my Little girl wants. “I would like to place a delivery order for two larges, one just plain cheese, the other pepperoni and sausage.” recited Tim as he watched the odd display of power dynamics between the five Little girls. Nancy nodded approvingly at Sarah, the other girls relaxed, content with the order Sarah had him make. Maybe this slumber party is getting back on track. The pizza came, and Tim managed to get through the meal without another episode of lost time, or imagining five Amazon women sloppily feeding themselves and getting pizza sauce on their bibs. A full stomach had helped clear his head, and a glass of water made him feel refreshed. Sarah, Nancy, Mary, Paige, and Morgan also managed to eat their slices and drink their bottles without any further spats. After the after dinner checks and any needed changes were completed, they all resettled in the living room for a movie in their pajamas. Six fifteen, back on schedule. It would be time for the Little girls to go to bed when the movie finished, close to 8:00 PM by Tim’s calculations, and he could spend the time they were sleeping actually reading his book. Alone, in his room, with the baby monitor on to listen for any talking girls or the sounds of one of them trying to escape from a crib. He had chosen one of his favorite films from his childhood, an animated movie about an Amazon man washing upon a shore of an island inhabited solely by Littles. Slowly, he teaches them all about how diapers work and why they need them. Eventually even Adopts the Little princess of the island when she finally accepts she needs diapers and messes herself in front of the entire island. Tim appreciated Tobias’ Journeys as an example of the right Amazon Daddy could inspire a Little to be their happy baby selves. “Ugh.” He heard one of the girls laying on the floor on the pile of baby blankets the girls had all brought with them. “It’s always one of these movies when we first spend the night at a new girls house.” He wasn’t sure who said it, he felt really drawn into the movie. Tobias had just washed ashore the island and was being poked awake by the Little princess who was the first one to find him. The voice of another Little girl floated up from the floor. “Deal with it. We have to wait for the moon to be in the right position before we can finish the binding ritual. Sit on your doll if you need to distract yourself from boredom until then.” A giggle floated through the air and Tim let himself smile. He didn’t understand the joke, but he didn’t need to. A Little in his care felt comfortable enough to be her silly self. Tobias was explaining to the astonished Little Islanders that real Amazon adults like himself go in a white porcelain chair with water in it. He smiled as he watched a Little ask what they were supposed to do if they didn’t like the scary noise this “toy-leht” made. “Are you sure about this, Nancy? I won’t be hurting him, in some way, right?” That voice was more familiar to Tim. The next part in the movie was Tobias attempting to make cloth diapers from materials on the island. Tim could vividly recall how the Little princess watched from afar, failing to resist sucking her thumb even after she had been told by Tobias that only babies and Littles sucked their thumb. It felt like there was a shift in the air, suddenly cooler. There was a smell of earth and dampness. But it didn’t smell like a diaper needed to be changed so Tim kept himself focused on how the movie played out. Soon, the Little islanders would wake up in wet beds and Tobias would have to instruct them that grown ups don’t wet their beds. “Of course it’s not going to hurt him, Sarah.” a more sure, demanding voice chimed in. Tim stretched himself out, it was easy enough to do since he had been the only one on the couch. His back felt cooler, almost like he was against stone instead of a soft, fabric couch. But he had to be on the couch, because he could see how the next scene in the movie was the Little princess blushingly allowing Tobias to lay her down on a makeshift changing mat for her first diaper before they went before all the islanders who were meeting to try and come up with ways to get Gerald off their island. “I just–” the familiar voice was cut off by the demanding one. “Do you think he thought about whether or not he was hurting you when he yanked you away from your harvesting to put you in a diaper? Do you think he had second thoughts about whether or not he was doing the right thing the first time you squatted in front of him to poop your diaper after the medicated formula the doctor gave him? Do you think he cared about what you wanted when he sat you down in front of those stupid princess dolls he thinks Little girls should play with?” There was a pause. And a gasp as Tim remembered how the Little islanders looked as their princess happily declared she was a baby who belonged in diapers, turned around, and filled her diaper. There was a murmuring of agreement from other voices before the demanding one started back again, but with a softer tone. “Look, this is my specialty, and he opened himself up to your magic the moment he stole you away from your life. I can promise you that all of our Daddies were so happy once the binding ritual was done. There’s no more dissonance for them when it’s complete. He’ll see you as you really are; a grown up Little woman who he will love, cherish and obey.” “The spirits stir in our favor. The moon is in position. Lift the trance, Sarah, but keep his limbs still.” The finale of the movie, where Amazons came to rescue Tobias and take him home and to also Adopt the Little islanders who have finally accepted they needed Amazons, blurred then faded before Tim’s eyes. Instead of sitting on the couch in the living room with five Little girls on the floor, he was on the cold, hard stone floor of his cellar, arms and legs stretched out like he was about to make a snow angel, and five Little girls standing around him holding black wax candles. Panicking, he tried to get up but he couldn’t move his arms or legs. He was stuck, helpless, as Nancy knelt down next to his head with a wicked, evil grin. “I do hope you enjoyed the movie, Tim. I’m sorry the girls and I couldn’t stay to finish it with you but we had to get the pentagram painted. You understand, I’m sure.” He didn’t understand, but he was the Amazon in charge, and he had to try talking his way back into control. “Girls, I do not know what’s going on but you all need to blow those candles out immediately! I– I don’t know why I can’t move but as soon as I can I am calling your Da–” He was cut off when Nancy nodded towards Sarah who wrapped a string of twine around her odd doll. His tongue all the sudden became too thick and lethargic to form a sentence. No, I need to take control, I need to be an Amazon. “Sorry, Tim. But we can’t blow out these candles.” She stood up, grabbed her own black candle off the floor, and took her position in the circle of Little Girls. “You see, your Little Sarah is a witch. Actually,” she paused as Paige, Mary, and Morgan cackled, “we’re all witches, Tim. It’s been so fun playing with you. Though, I think Sarah had the most fun.” He felt himself blanche and wildly looked at all the girls. He saw four smug faces, the faces of Littles who knew about his shameful sex dream that he was horridly beginning to suspect wasn’t a dream. He looked above his head and saw Sarah, who was blushing furiously. “I would – like to try that again soon.” she whispered. No, I can’t. It’s wrong it’s – it – it was so tight. He moaned as Sarah squeezed the doll in her hands and the memories of the Amazon woman, who he now clearly looked like Sarah in his mind's eye, slid her pussy down his cock. “It’s ok, Tim. Our Daddies sleep with us, too. It’s perfectly natural for two… consenting adults to enjoy each other's bodies.” Nancy taunted him. “Just because you don’t see that now, doesn’t make it not true. You’ll get it soon. Think about it like how your mechanical nurseries make happy Littles, we’re just making you a happy Amazon.” He didn’t want to see it, he wanted to be free, he wanted to run out of the basement and forget about all of this. He was struggling to free himself of whatever held him down on the stone of the cellar as the Little girls, all with diapers bulging underneath their pajamas, started to chant. It was wrong, he was the Amazon, he had to be in control. He had to be a Daddy. He had to be in control. The chanting got louder as Tim felt more and more clouded. He had to be a Daddy. The flames on their candles burned brighter as his vision blurred and he could only see Sarah. He had to be in control. She took her candle and held it upside down, letting the wax drip onto his forehead. He had to be a Daddy. Everything was swirling, the sound of wind filled his ears, his vision blurred until he could see nothing. Then, in the blackness, he saw Sarah. And he finally understood how to be the best Daddy. Epilogue Sarah sat on her Daddy’s lap as he rested amongst the plots for her garden. To any Amazon who happened to wander by their yard, they would see a precious Little girl, looking utterly adorable in green denim overalls with an obvious soggy diaper bulging at the crotch, snuggling up to her Daddy in the cool Spring weather. But she knew that he was obediently letting her sit in his lap so she didn’t have to make a list of plants sitting on the cold ground. Winter hadn’t entirely given up its grip on the town of New Almes, and it was the perfect time to plan her garden. “Over there, we can plant the mugwort that Mary wanted for her brewing ingredients. The red sage for Morgan’s spirit work can go next to it. And the tomatoes that Miss Rachel wants for canning can be planted over there.” Sarah rattled her list off to her Daddy. She didn’t need to, the connection she had with him through her favorite doll, which was peaking out from the front pocket of her overalls, meant that he would buy the seeds she needed by just squeezing the doll and sending a command through it to him, but she liked making him feel included in these decisions. “That spot by the deck would be good for rosebushes, I can harvest the rosehips in the Fa–” A grumbling in her stomach cut the Little witch off. She was going to need to make use of her diaper very soon. She grabbed her pacifier and popped it in her mouth, and, shifting in Tim’s lap, started to push into her padding. As she grunted behind her pacifier, she felt Daddy’s hand rub her back. “There, there, Pumpkin, get it all out. You can trust your diaper.” She blushed at his gentle encouragement. Her control through the doll meant that his Daddy style varied in a slightly different way than the other Daddies of the witches in her coven. Being her Daddy meant that he would gently praise her whenever she had moments like this. She buried her face into his chest as she finished messing herself. “Daddy.” She mumbled, nuzzling her face into him. His hand cupped her diaper and gave it a checking squeeze. “That was a big stinky, Pumpkin!” Daddy cheerfully intoned to her. He said that often when she messed herself in front of him. She would like to figure out a way to change his script soon, but for now she let herself feel pleasantly blushy with what he could say to her. “Do you want me to change you?” She thought about it, he could change her on the lawn, it would look perfectly normal to any Amazon walking by their house. But, if she stayed in it and finished making her list, she could make Tim give her a nice, luxurious bubble bath later. Where he could join her in the tub, and, if he got her all good and clean, take her to his bed wrapped in only a towel. “No, not right now, Daddy.” She resettled herself in her Daddy’s lap, adjusting to accommodate for the lump that now rested in the back of her diaper. “I’m going to finish making the list of seeds we need and where to plant them. But you will be giving me a bubble bath later.” She was content at this moment to just be a Little girl sitting proudly in her Daddy’s lap. And he was happy, too. No longer did he have to worry about if he was following the right parenting book, if he was making correct decisions, or even think about much. Sarah would tell him what to do. He just had to listen to his Little girl and let her be herself. He just had to be her Daddy.

Hello! Coming in just at the wire on this, but I hope everyone enjoys it. This story has elements of erotic horror, and my entry for the The 4th Kasarberang NON-CONtest! The name here is inspired by an old story by Tainted Sins, but is in no way related to that one. This story is pure age regression. Without Teeth By Operational Systems Chapter 1 The office was located on the edge of a gated residential subdivision and was built in the fashion of modern design principles, it looked like a mix of a one-part coffee house and one part McMansion. Two stories tall, it was layered in red brick and an abundance of tall windows. In a deceptive twist the building did not give a hint of being a dental office from the outside. If one could ignore the kitsch of oversized plastic molars and colorful posters with inspiring motivations in the kiddy waiting area, the lobby of Szekely Family Dentistry and Periodontics went out of its way to hide any evidence of its true purpose. Gerald stretched his arms and repositioned on the gray, blue sofa, casually dropping his barely read copy of Harper’s Bazaar on the coffee table on a pile of W and Tatler’s. His mouth still hurt. For two hours his teeth and gums had been probed by all manner of medieval instrument, pricked, bled, and finally suctioned as the poor dental assistant tried to bring his mouth to something resembling clean. Gerald carefully pawed his right cheek, feeling dull pain in gums and tooth. No matter how hard he brushed the day before, the dentist always found a way to make him feel inadequate. The moment floss touched his delicate tissue, his mouth would turn red like a cherry drink. Dr. Szekely barely looked at his mouth. Normally she would berate him as he felt her clawing fingers maneuver along what was undeniably his most degrading and disgusting part of his body, but today she was silent, thanking her assistant for the excellent work, and sending Gerald to the lobby to wait while his wife had a similar cleaning. At least she did not mention cavities, or gingivitis, or anything. Not even a recommendation to avoid food or drink for thirty minutes. That had worried him. His wife’s insurance was paying too much money to the doctor to just shrug and do nothing. He glanced at the phone again, it was fifteen past five. His wife always had perfect pearls, she should have been in and out in thirty minutes. The office had already closed, and the sun lingered both blinding and angrily in the western facing windows. The receptionist had already turned off the lobby televisions and sorted the array of toys and magazines in the kiddy area. His wife had been gone for close to an hour. Just as he was about to get up and explore the lobby the dental assistant returned, peeking just her head into the room. “Gerald?” He turned to the long-haired woman, confused why she would ask for him in that questioning manner when he was the only one in the lobby. “Come with me please.” He practically hopped up, almost giddy. Not that he wanted his wife to suffer, but he was starting to put it together. Little Ms. Perfect had a cavity. It was the only explanation. That is what was taking so long, and she now needed him to come get her. Maybe she had even taken some Novocain or Nitrous Oxide and needed him to help get to the car. He was going to hold this over her head forever, but first he would have to be the bigger man. He casually rubbed his fingers, getting the excitement out, before calming down and standing straight, walking tall to save his wife. The assistant led him past rooms with empty dental chairs. Deep into the interior of the office, farther than he had ever gone before, the two came to a closed door. She knocked, and then opened it, letting Gerald through before slinking off without a word. The interior had no signs of dental equipment. No reclining chairs, overhanging lights, sinks, or instruments of torture. On the far side of the room was a shaded window, which had framed degrees on both sides. Closer was a set of two heavy chairs with thin padded back and bottom, one was empty and the other had his wife. Across from her was Doctor Szekely behind a stripped down clean wooden desk. Outside of a small form factor microcomputer and monitor on the edge, the desk was empty of distraction. Melody’s golden hair and bright smile invited her husband to her adjacent seat, patting it as he entered. Gerald hypnotically walked to the chair, and slowly sat down, strong tension building in his arms as he waited. The two women eyed him like a snake on a rabbit. This was not about a cavity; he was not here to rescue his wife. This was an intervention. Melody began the assault, “Gerald, honey, sorry for making you wait, Valorie and I were just talking about the old days.” He tilted his head at his wife, he remembered her mentioning that back in college they had been in a sorority together. He turned from his wife to the dark-haired short woman, her thick glasses hiding her thin face, her short hair was kept up in waves of curls. Gerald felt the need to fill in, “Right, so um, are you ready to go, or?” The women stared through him, and he shrunk two inches in the chair. Valorie started first, “Gerald, I’m going to be honest with you. Since I started practice in this neighborhood, you have the worst teeth of anyone I have ever met.” This neighborhood referred to ‘Arborville Manors by the Lake,’ a gated subdivision where plots started at a quarter million dollars, and most houses were in the seven to eight figure range. Thirty years ago, it would have been plagued by McMansions, but the taste and aesthetics of the new rich had been refined in the new century. Now the houses were designer homes, with bleached sandstone-colored exteriors kept to sensible stubby standards, and with gorgeous mono-white insides. At a minimum one could find two oven kitchens with temperature-controlled glass encased wine pantries, and every bedroom attached to a full bathroom. It was the kind of rich that only focused on what mattered, just having the best of the normal stuff, rather than the gaudy or flashy. Gerald’s wife had some money both from family and by working remotely as a production manager in software development at a firm that was now half owned by Microsoft, but Gerald was the one who bought the house. They had met fifteen years ago, when he was working as an IT employee at a local firm that sold its business to various banks and small businesses in the Tulsa area. Back then he spent ten hours a day driving around town and fixing printers. One day after reading a convincing enough blogpost, he bought a hundred bitcoin at ninety-one cents apiece. Four years later he was day-trading novel crypto coins, and by eight years he never needed to work again. He spent a few hours each day staying on top of things, reading twitter, and playing the markets, but it wasn’t a real job anymore. Gerald understood the implication of what Doctor Szekely was getting at. She serviced a community of some of the richest people in Oklahoma, and out of all of them, he alone had failed. Rich people don’t have bad teeth. Yet here he was, nuovo-rich, unearned in his status, and still having the habits of the below middle-class childhood he had grown up with. Out of all the other rich people, he was the one who had gotten here basically by lottery – being an idiot and investing in invisible sham coins at their low point. His neighbors were surgeons, real estate investors, and presidents of banks. They owned oil fields, restaurants, even golf courses, and their wine cabinets were filled with thousand-dollar bottles. Gerald had converted his wine room into a server rack. Gerald carefully ran his tongue across sore gums, “I um… I heard there was a new bacteria treatment. Maybe I could try that.” Valorie gave a high-pitched chortle, “Ha, homeopathic whim-wham,” Her face turned serious, “Besides you’re well past that point.” “Past?” Gerald was concerned, he eyed his wife, and clenched his teeth hard, in his mind they became brittle, and he consciously let up the crushing. Melody reached over and touched his arm gently. “Unfortunately, you’re at a point I think the best move is to take them out,” his dentist coldly offered. Gerald rejected her solution, “Dentures? No. That’s not going to happen.” Everyone looked at him, giving him the floor, he struggled, “I think that’s a bit far. Can’t I just do better? Brush more? Anything. I don’t need dentures. I’m only thirty-seven.” The doctor gave a soft response, “I understand this is coming as a shock, but your mouth is at stage four, and those teeth are going to be a problem over the next year. We can take them out safely and you’ll be good as new.” Gerald turned and pleaded, “Please, Melody, I get this is your friend, but this is too fast. I think we should get a second opinion.” Melody’s smile took away his doubts, “Look I understand you’re upset, but it’ll be OK. Besides, you don’t have to get dentures. We were just discussing this new treatment.” No dentures? Gerald fell back in his chair, that would be a relief, but what was the alternative to dentures? Doctor Szekely rolled on her chair slightly and grabbed with her short arms the monitor on the edge of her desk, rotating it around for the couple to see, she then fiddled with a hidden mouse. The monitor switched from empty shiny blackness to a bright blue. She began her presentation, “Gerald, I’m going to be as blunt as I can. When’s the last time you saw a fat person in our neighborhood?” The man rotated his head up and thought of it. Everyone had a tall fence, but every morning there were still joggers, bikers, and so forth that ran around the streets or walked pets. Many were old, but none were unfit. It was a strange question and one he hadn’t thought of, he shrugged. “And do you know why?” The doctor lingered on the last word, then without letting him respond, moved to the answer, “Because there’s a shot that costs ten thousand dollars that half the people here are taking” With a click of her mouse, the screen on the desk changed to a power point picture, with an open mouth. “What if I were to tell you, there’s an Ozempic but for teeth.” Gerald looked past her thick glasses into her eyes, “I would say I don’t know what that means.” She clicked again, the screen shifted to a shot going into mouth, and pressing into a gumline, “With my new Dentvive Regrowth Therapy, it is possible to convince your mouth to grow new teeth and replace the old ones.” The scene on the monitor shifted, showing teeth beginning to grow and pop out of the gums. Gerald leaned forward, “This is impossible.” The doctor waived him off, “You did it a couple times before, you just don’t remember the first time. The equipment is still in there, the procedure just convinces your mouth it’s time to grow new teeth. This is also why we need to take your old teeth out, both to get access to the gumline, and to give the new teeth room to come in.” Melody leaned over to him, “Honey, if this works, it’s a billion-dollar idea. She just needs a bit of help in these early stages, just get some of the kinks out, and this is your chance to really fix yourself up.” Gerald’s shoulders fell, Doctor Szekely wasn’t showing this because she believed in the treatment to cure him, she was showing this to him because she wanted him as an investor. He was the first person who was both rich enough to afford the treatment and would understand how life-changing and important it would be. He looked back to his wife, and she was eager to get his approval to help her friend. Four eyes stuck on him, desperately needing him to agree. Gerald resigned himself. This is what it meant to live in the future, not flying cars, but 100 gig internet and biohacking the body. This was just science. He put his trust in it. “OK, let’s do it. What’s the next step, what do you need me to do?” “Well, we can start the surgery as soon as Friday morning if you’re up for it, but I need to program the booster-cells with your genetic tissue. I can collect that sample now if you’re ready.” Gerald started to roll up a sleave on his arm, “What like blood?” The doctor gave another chuckle, “Ha, no I need gametes,” she leaned over and started fiddling with a desk drawer below her. Melody leaned forward and whispered, “That’s your sperm, honey.” Gerald nodded, clenching his swollen teeth again, “Do you want me to get a magazine and go in the bathroom, or…” Melody talked down, “Oh honey, don’t be gross.” The doctor flopped a large cylinder on her desk. It was open on one end and closed with black machinery and cords on the bottom. The doctor smiled while waving over the strange device “We have more practical methods of extraction.” Goosebumps went up Gerald’s arms and his member tightened. He took a long breath before smiling. His teeth rattled. Melody gripped his arm with one hand, “I know going to the dentist is scary, but what if, I just hold onto you for this.” Her other arm reached over towards his belt and jeans. He softly released a groan, “I don’t,” this was going too fast, but before he could complain his jeans were being pulled down. His instrument started to probe his dark cloth boxers in excitement. There were two ladies here, and they wanted him to perform. “I, uh” “You can do it baby, just relax, let us handle everything,” Melody spoke as Doctor Szekley’s short figure came around her desk. Her small breasts were barely contained by her green scrubs, in contrast to Melody’s copious melons. The doctor twirled her strange cylinder like a hypnotist’s watch as she slowly walked towards him, and finally she kneeled before him. Her glasses picked up a strong blur of light from the ceiling, leaving him only to imagine what delight or disgust the woman was showing at presenting herself in such a debasing way. His wife carefully pulled down his boxers around his engorging member. He tried to keep his eyes directly onto her face, rather than on the procedure that was happening below. Melody was calm yet happy, as if this were an everyday occurrence, like checking the mail or cooking dinner. The warm plastic of around the rim of the cylinder pushed into his skin, contrasting with the cold glass surface that bumped into his penis from shaking small hands. A flick of a switch was soon followed by a familiar whir of suction. The same sound he had heard for nearly two hours straight while they cleaned his teeth. Jets of air pulled at his hair, scrotum, and phallus. “Just relax baby, let it out,” Melody scootched closer, letting her hand come down around the base of the cylinder, touching sensitive skin at the base of his member and bottom of his testicles. He was uncomfortable close. He forced himself over the edge. Every muscle contracted and relaxed in order from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. His hips pushed deep against the cylinder, causing markings where the cup pressed into his skin. “A little more,” the doctor said, white ooze coating what was once a clear container. It was starting to hurt, but it kept going, like he could not turn it off. His eyesight faded to blurs and blackness, while painful pulling continued. Whatever pleasure he had had was transitioning to terrible pain as it felt all the sperm in his balls were being sucked out. After an eternity or ten seconds, Doctor Szekley turned off the pump and lifted away the cylinder. Fishing out a cap from her pocket she closed the precious cargo off. The doctor held up the ugly coated tube before her patient, and with professional detachment spoke to them. “This should be good enough for now. If I need more, I’ll let you know.” Gerald kept quiet on the car ride home, dual pains of his mouth and groin came at every movement of his body. He eyed his wife suspiciously when she stopped the car, lingering at the exit to the dental office. “Now, since you’re getting brand new teeth, you know what that means right?” He mumbled something that sounded close to a response, he just wanted to get home and throw a blanket over his head. Her face tightened, serious and commanding, and the voice shifted lower, “Every day you’re going to be brushing and flossing. Every day and after every meal. We are not doing this procedure again, you hear me?” Chapter 2 There are some nightmares that are universal. Falling from a great height, giving a speech, and standing in front of class naked. Many of these are subject to ethnicity and cultural bias. But there is one that is universal, which all humans can have across time and space. It’s the dream where the teeth fall out. On the evening following his operation Gerald awoke to this nightmare. His tongue flicked across an empty void; his lips were propped up against nothing. His cheeks had plumped up after the operation and he could feel nothing in his face. It was a giant cotton ball. Drool accumulated on his chin. He tried to stand up, but he was locked in, his eyes wandered around an empty dark room. He was not in the master bedroom, he was in the guest room by the garage. “Melody.” He tried, only his mouth could not form sounds right, spewing out something closer to Memmoy. It was slurred too and came out more like a loud gurgle. There was no clock in the darkened room, but he suspected it was not too late. He tried again “Memmoy.” No sounds came from the house. Gerald rotated slightly against the pillows and immediately felt dizzy. He closed his eyes and shouted for Memmoy again, but all that came out was a groan. He could not get up or move without assistance. His heart rate started to rapidly increase and between his legs there was a small but growing concern. He took a large breath through his nose and tried one last time, “Melody!” He stopped and listened, feeling the pressure build. He crossed his legs, and slowly started shuffling them back and forth under the blanket. Today was already one of the worst of his life, but this would elevate it to the worst. “Memmoy! Memmoy!” Sweat built in his underpants. There was nothing to be done. He waited an eternity, but no one came. He tried again to slowly stand up, but his body shut down, dragging him back into the bed. Sweat formed on his forehead, and his eyes crushed shut. He was not going to do that. He felt it first as pleasure; hot release of his building tension, but his ears noticed the light sounds of liquid bouncing against cloth. Soon his member was soaked, he could feel the warm liquid falling along the insides of his thighs, creating an acidic warmth that would fade to stickiness. His nostrils picked up the rich odor of fresh urine as the last drops fell through his boxers into the mattress cover. His butt was covered in quickly cooling wetness. “Honey did you need something?” He tried, “I peed myself.” But what came out was more of an Uh Eeh Muh. Wetness was building over his overstuffed face. Within moments she was over him, her nose told her enough. “Oh baby, it’s OK, the doctor said this might happen. Here let me help you to the bath.” She pulled him up and the world was a blur of colors and shapes. His head was somewhere around his feet, but also hanging against her shoulder. “Up we go.” Gerald was unaware of anything other than quickly cooling clothing. His eyes were stuck shut and his head was full of cotton balls. He leaned hard against Melody, and she slowly held him up, bringing his legs to the floor and carefully carrying him on wobbling legs to the door. Gerald was barely aware of the shift in lights, but soon found himself in the guest bathroom. In a minute he was propped up against cool acrylic, as small hands were disrobing his limited clothing, including his soiled underpants. He focused his energies on staying propped against the wall. This was probably the first time this bath had ever been used since they moved into the house four years ago. Between the relaxing bubbles and vapors of warm almond and butter, Gerald found consciousness hard to maintain. He would linger on throbbing sensations along his cheeks and gums between smooth washing from his wife’s cloth. Either between the drugs or her delicate approach, he hardly felt as she moved soap along his sweaty and soiled skin. The motions of the water and her hands, or perhaps the gentle humming she was doing, was enough to cause him to lose consciousness. Not for long, he told himself, just a few seconds, or minutes. It was long enough for Melody to shave his adult hair below the face, and long enough for his hands to shrivel while the bath water turned cold. He awoke hearing the water start to glug into the drain but was unsure of what was happening. His wife’s hands gently guided him up, and upon command he stepped out of the shower. “OK time to get your new jammies on, and you can come join me to bed.” “Careful with my mouth.” He tried, mumbling more like aeul weh ma mouw. A gentle fluffing of a towel patted his shoulders, then stomach, and finally waist and legs, leaving him a shivering mess. He stared briefly at his thin exposed member but his eyes could not focus on the hairless monster. He kept them closed as his wife guided him to the toilet for a seat. Up came the soft front, and around his sides came tight plastic. Gerald heard the soft crinkle of tape on plastic and his balls tucked into new underwear that was fluffier than the toilet paper adjacent to his seat. The delightful garment was pulled tight along his waist and cupped over his equipment protectively. His hand came down just after Melody’s and felt the smooth plastic front. He glanced down to see the bright light green, the color of a shamrock shake. “What is this?” Melody did not know what he said, but answered him all the same, “Your medication is pretty strong baby, just a little bit of a safety net. No more accidents.” “I don’t need this.” Even he knew it was just a blur of unheard words. His eyes were getting heavy, he would have cried if it didn’t hurt his mouth too much. “Just for tonight OK, I promise.” She handed him a thin robe which draped over his shoulders. He did not bother to close or tie it, “I know it’s hard. I know this is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but just a few weeks and you’ll be better than new. You’ll be perfect. Now, tell me, what’s the first thing you’re going to eat when you get your new teeth?” “Eayg” “Eggs?” She answered confused. “Eaayg” She still did not know what he said, but she came prepared with her own suggestion, “OH, that sounds exciting, but how about an ice cream sandwich?” “Eye eeam” “Hmm, maybe if you’re good we can try some Eye Eam tomorrow.” She smiled, her baby would be eating lots of ice cream, and sauce, and soups, and purées. He had told her to pick up something like what those pilots ate in the spy planes, with the straws and tubes. She had instead stocked the cabinets with jars of something more down to Earth. As far as Gerald was concerned, his stomach did not exist. He knew he should have been hungry; he had not eaten since the middle of last night, but all he wanted was to close his eyes and end the day. He hinted at this to Melody by closing his eyes and nodding his head. She helped him up, letting him lean against her shoulder as she guided him across the house. It was slow getting to the master bedroom, but once there he was easily guided to the bed and laid down on his side. The last thing he remembered was that bright green undergarment, poking out and rustling against the blanket as he fell into a deeper sleep. Chapter 3 The bed was warm and comfortable, and Gerald had been propped up against four pillows, elevating his head and chest. When his bladder woke him throughout the night, he hardly needed to move. He would not remember the specifics in the morning, but the first time, was a tired release, a surrender. He was rewarded with a soft trinkle of warm urine reflecting against absorbent padding, swelling the midsection around his crotch and falling down towards the plastic rear. He would repeat this a second and third time through the night, waking late in the morning to find the spot where his wife slept empty, and a thick plastic spreading his legs apart. Gerald reached down confused looking at the yellow stained green diaper that he had been dressed in, hands reaching down to smooth plastic landing zone, deformed and heavy, but surprisingly light in dampness. He wiggled briefly on the soft padding, before stretching himself to the edge of the bed. Blood seemed to fall quickly from his head and Gerald paused on the edge. To him it felt like two hours he sat there with his eyes closed, but it was not long before Melody came into the room and touched his shoulder. “Hey, I got you setup down in the family room by the television, and I made you some breakfast. Are you ready to try to eat something?” His stomach growled an answer. Gerald reached out his hand and was guided to the kitchen, each step an awkward waddle as the thick expanded padding below distorted his already dazed movement. He crumbled into a kitchen seat, barely registering an odd strap coming around the edges and holding him up. Melody gave him a short smile, brushed his hair aside and another kiss on the forehead before going to the fridge. Gerald wobbled back in forth on his protected bottom, eager for the first meal in over two days. It was white, sloshing in a clear glass container. Melody had even topped it with a yellow-tan rubber nipple. “What’s this?” Gerald hated milk, and this may have been the first time he had seen it this close in years. Soft air bubbles collected sporadically along the edge, and he watched the liquid cautiously like it was a poisoned cauldron. His question was muffled, but Melody understood it. “You promised we would start things off right with your new teeth, and this is starting things off right. You need this, it has everything to grow strong beautiful teeth.” “And the nipple?” An e Nilalah? He needed to point at it to get her understanding. She came in close, “I thought it would help with your gums. Honey, you’re still drooling,” bringing a napkin up to his swollen face. “Tonight, if your stomach is good we can try some food, but just liquids for now.” He nodded and slowly reached out and grasped the bottle. It shook in his hand, and he reached a second to stabilize it, dragging it across the table to before him. His fingers lifted the chilled surface to his face. It was cold, he assumed with his pain meds he would feel nothing, but the chill was delightful. He locked gums on the end and began to suck and pull, letting the silky liquid land on his tongue. It was heavenly, sugary, with the hint of melon, but thinner than he expected. As it poured into his stomach famished singles reached his brain and he felt compelled to keep pouring it into his mouth. Greedily he sucked, drinking, and it assuaged her. She placed two large pills the size of his thumb and encouraged him to swallow the chalky white circles between gulps. He watched Melody wander out of the room and return, bringing first her laptop, and then a large carrying bag. He expected her to explain herself, but she never did. After placing her bag down, she again left him alone in the kitchen. So preoccupied with the drink and her strange actions, he did not notice it until it started. Without pants on the pouring of liquid into his diaper roared in his ears. Gerald froze, trying to stop the stream, which briefly worked before he lost concentration, and his grip let go. He set the bottle down and briefly touched the warm outside of the now ugly green-yellow diaper, the liquid slowly absorbing into the cloth. It felt naughty, and the pleasure of embracing that naughtiness matched the joy from the bottle. He quickly returned to the glass and sucked on it until it was empty. Melody returned, giving an odd sniff, and then scruffed his hair. It was still messy from sleeping on it while wet, and she played with the stray clumps that refused to stay down. “Gerald, honey, I think we should get you changed and then you can see what I setup for you.” She pulled at his hand, leading him out of the kitchen to a wide spot in the living room previously reserved for yoga. A large blanket had been placed on the floor, its light soft blue a contrast to the dark wooden floors. To the side was a set of clothing for him, and a bag of supplies. She pointed, gently pushing him down on the shoulders, “Sit.” He followed, and his now overly large garments rustled loudly as he came down to the floor, the blanket barely softening the hard cold surface below it. She fell to her knees to join him, bringing her hands to his tapes, each pull a sharp contrast to an otherwise quiet room. Soon cold air was washing over his crotch, and she pulled the diaper out and wadded it into a ball to her side. She reached into her bag, before bringing a single wet tissue up for him to see, giving it a slight tug, and then going down to his exposed member. Her hands moved over hairless testicles and penis, cleaning up to his stomach and below his tush. He felt like a king, washed, fed, pampered, and loved. He started reaching over to the shirt she had left, but her hand came up. “Honey, we need to put a second diaper on.” “I don’t need a diaper.” He tried – I on nee a iah er. Close enough she could see it. “You promised just last night.” “I know, I know, but this is just in case, OK? You don’t have to use them. I noticed you leaked a bit at breakfast, that can be a side effect of the pain medicine you’re on.” He nodded defeated. Gerald was soon pampered, a fresh green wrapper as the basis of his outfit for the day. Gym shorts came up next, and a simple white t-shirt on top. She helped him put it over his swollen face and lifted him up, slowly guiding him to the family room, which was located down a set of stairs in the cool basement. There a couch had been setup with a pillow and blanket. She gave him strict instructions, “So, here’s the plan for the day. Sleep and television. That’s it. No work.” His work was not hard, but he could take time off. She had insisted on having him move everything into stable coins just before the surgery – just in case something happened, and he could not get back to it for a long time. He fell onto the couch as he got closer. “Now, I know we had planned for me to be here, but I need to head into work for a few hours.” He blinked confused, “What?” “I know, I know, my boss is coming in and I need to meet him, and we’re interviewing candidates for a new position. It won’t be more than a few hours.” She handed him the remote from the table, “Will you be OK here? I promise to come back soon.” “Phone?” (Oohne) “I’ll drop your phone off before I leave. Now you get some sleep in, those pills are going to do a number on you.” He nodded and closed his eyes, falling into a light sleep. He would awaken an hour later. Gerald turned slightly, drool having built up on his pillow and shirt. On the coffee table was a large one-and-a-half-foot tall ape – a joke gift she had picked up for him at the height of the NFT craze – with chubby strong arms, and dark gray to black fur. It was sitting on his phone. He pushed aside the toy and pulled at the phone, checking the time, and tried to connect to the internet. The phone struggled, before he looked up at the top right. A small symbol <! next to 5G indicated he had no internet in the family room basement. He flicked over to network settings and tried to connect to the wifi. The phone whirled for a bit, before letting him know it was unable to connect, he had an invalid password. “Melody!” He shouted, to no avail. Memmy (Mommy) wasn’t home. He put it back on the table and reached for the TV remote instead. The large sixty-inch television flicked silently to life. He maneuvered around the menu. He clicked on Netflix. Like a guard at the gate the television questioned him, “Who is watching?” Gerald, Melody, and Damien. Melody had watched her sister’s seven-year-old son, Damien, a few times last summer. He would spend hours in the family room, just watching television he could not get at home. Gerald clicked his own name, only to find a password lock. He did not watch Netflix often, and nothing came to mind. He tried a few simple combinations but after three tries he gave up. He found a similar password lock on Melody. Finally, he clicked on Damien. Melody had setup parental controls on the television in an attempt to keep Damien from accessing inappropriate content. The only shows available where cartoons and educational programs. Disappointed, he flicked out of Netflix and tried Amazon, only to find a similar set of locks. Disney and Hulu were also set on kiddie mode. For the first time in ten years, he flicked to basic cable. The cartoon was flat, but clearly made with the help of a computer. A brown striped tiger sporting a red jacket hopped into a car along with his mother. “Open your mouth and do a quiet roar,” the television told him, taunting him at a simple task even he could no longer do. Gerald flipped the channel but was blocked by a channel lock out. He flipped the other way and got the weather. Disappointed, he reached over to his phone and sent a message to his wife. After a minute she responded to his text message. “Oh, sorry honey, the password is in my book at home. I must have locked the TV when Daniel was here and forgot to unlock it. Can you still find something to watch? 😊 😊” With nothing better, he returned to his tiger show, falling asleep within minutes. Hours later he awoke to a rumbling pressure in his stomach, the show had switched to a young girl with sharp white skin, bunny ears, and red overalls. Painfully Gerald brought himself to a straight posture against his pillow, his shorts had bulged slightly in the front, and pulled padded cloth tightly into his butt. The action pulled at his bowels, which had just awoken for the first time in close to three days. “I need to poop” Gerald talked to himself, “You can do this. Get up. Get up.” He leaned over the couch and placed his hands to his side to push himself up, his goal was to walk to the basement bathroom on the other side of the room. Instead, there was a plorp sound from his abdomen. “No!” He wanted to cry. It felt like when he had gone to fart, but a poop had escaped as well. It lingered in the crack of his butt, stuck between the pad and his skin, unable to fall. He shifted angrily, plucking a hand at his back, before falling over back to his pillow. The accident felt like a mountain, and it slowly fell down before getting squished by his posterior. His mind amplified the smell, and wetness came to his face. “Melody!” He tried. Nothing. No response. “Mommy!” He tried again. Again, nothing. He stayed there for an eternity, being judged by the rabbit on the television and his ape, the soul witnesses to how he had messed himself like a pathetic baby. He slapped the monkey off the table and hid himself behind his pillow, eventually falling back to sleep. Melody tried to comfort him later as she changed him. “It’s just the size of a pea. It’s hardly something to get upset about.” Melody understood what to say, to bring him back down. She cleaned and replaced his diaper without a fuss and brought him back to the kitchen for dinner. Her meal was a chopped salad, filled with field greens, zucchini, squash, and mushroom. The avocado and vinaigrette tantalized his senses. For him she presented a purée. “Is this the pilot food? The one I asked you to get?” “Oh sorry, this is something local, I think you’ll like it though,” she said, taking a thin small spoon and mixing the orange color. Carefully she brought the spoon up his mouth, “Mmm.. Mmm.. Smells good, what’s my baby boy going to have?” Gerald’s mouth hurt to stretch but he tried his best. It was unexpectedly grainy, but he picked up the flavor immediately –room temperature sweet potato. There was a hint of squash as well. He wanted to spit it out, but Melody tilted the spoon back and it slimed down his throat. “Good job,” she said, returning to her own salad, and leaving the spoon in the thin bowl in front of him. Hunger forced his hand, and he reached out with shaking hands towards the spoon. With careful movement he slowly brought it up to his mouth. Slime and plastic bounced off his cheeks as he missed. Shaking hands tried again, this time reaching his lips. He sucked slightly on his dinner, before his lips and jaw lost control and dropped the spoon in a drooling mess. Orange and brown liquid smacked the table and splattered across his white shirt. Melody was fast grabbing the spoon before it rolled off the table, “Whoopsie. That’s OK, but it looks like we’ll need a bib in the future. How about I take over spoon duties for you.” Her hands wiped the spoon with a napkin and then restocked it. She brought it up to his mouth. Gerald shook his head. The aftertaste of squash and potato lingered in his mouth. This was too much for even him and he would rather starve than eat anymore of the goop. Melody would not take no for an answer. “Choo choo. Come on honey you can do it. Please, this is important. You need to get something in you, you’ve been on medicine for two days and your stomach can’t handle it. No more pea sized loads.” She shook the spoon before his face “Choo.” Gerald reluctantly opened again and quickly had his mouth stuffed. “Milk?” Gerald asked, hoping for anything to wash out the disgusting taste. “After dinner. If you finish it all, I have a surprise for you.” Melody hinted. When dinner was finished, she took her husband back to the master bedroom, sitting him down on his side, before moving over to hers. She undressed her shirt and bra and propped up a set of pillows, letting her sit vertically against the bed board. She signaled for him to come over and he rolled closer, confused. “I’ve been taking some pills Valorie gave me, can you tell?” She waved over her thin body, but Gerald saw nothing out of the ordinary and said nothing. “They’re getting me all bothered and excited, and I want to try this. This might be the only time I get to try this. Lay yourself on my lap.” She commanded. Her hands gently brought him down, and he stared up at her, his back laying against her thighs. With both arms, she reached around him, and slowly dragged him up. “What are we doing?” He tried. A ah ee oin? She heard. “Just, be careful, and do what feels natural, open wide.” He stared at fleshy fatty orbs as she slowly guided his heavy head to the right one, her left. He was without practice, but eager, and after a couple tries his toothless mouth latched down around the nipple. She winced as the pressure pulled at her fatty orbs, but soon began to draw out the nectar in a fashion more comfortable than when she had used a pump this morning for his breakfast. Gerald could smell the fatty silk. It was different from the morning brew, being room temperature but also fresh, but similar in thin suaveness that had a hint of fruity familiarity. Shivers of joy began to flow through him, as he pressed into the fatty breasts of a woman. He brought one arm up to stabilize himself around her back, and she in turn released her own right arm to massage his diaper. Dull throbbing came through his plastic protection, bringing him to an edge, his penis forced into the partially damp interior. Soon a long shiver ran through his body, and into her nursing breasts. Exhausted by the experience, Gerald’s body fell into a soft slumber, and she cradled her baby for several minutes before setting him gently down on his own side of the bed. Chapter 4 Doctor Szekely held the tablet close to her and smiled as she filtered through his x-rays. The three had retreated to Valorie’s office to review the progress in secret. It had been a week since the surgery, and in that time Gerald’s control below seemed to only worsen. He was grateful the thick diapers his wife has bought were not visible even under his dark shorts; though they were definitely audible when he wiggled in his discomfort on the padded bottoms. “Your new teeth are coming in just fine, here take a look,” She rotated the tablet over for Melody and Gerald to see. Melody pointed to the small bones, “oh they look like little baby teeth. How adorable.” Gerald winced at word baby. He had not been feeling very adult the past few days. “Have you noticed any pain yet? There are some devices I can recommend to help normalize your natural bight.” Valorie threw out casually. Melody answered, “I bought some already. He likes to leave the therapeutic mouth rings in the freezer, gets them all cold and he’ll suck on them for hours.” Gerald shrunk his posture at her mentioning his teething rings. He could use one now. He did not even want to go to the dentist today, he was missing his cartoons. Still he had a question that needed answer. He interrupted their conversation, “What about my incontinence. Why can’t I hold it in anymore.” Valorie tilted her head, not having understood a single word he had said. Melody stepped in to help, “He’s been having potty issues. We thought it was just the medication but he’s been off the pills a couple days now and it’s getting worse.” Behind heavy glasses Valorie seemed to drill into Gerald like he was a cavity to be filled. Gerald shuttered under the pressure and looked down at his slightly bulging shorts. Melody had just changed him before they had left, and his member scratched at the dry padding. Valorie began with a jocular scolding, “You should have told me this was happening!” “Really? Is it bad?” Melody began. “No this is amazing, wonderful. Exactly a sign the treatment is working as intended.” The dentist shook her tablet and brought up a painting tool and started to draw a rudimentary picture. “You see, we put the new stem cells in Gerald’s mouth here. And over time some of them will go into the stomach and digestive tract. Your cells are doing their job, making new baby cells as they go.” Gerald’s mind suddenly flashed with a nightmare image of teeth growing in parts of the body they shouldn’t, a shock image from the early days of the internet. “Am I going to grow teeth in my stomach?” She waved her hand, “Oh no, don’t be ridiculous. The cells got to your bladder and colon and just basically cleaned everything up. You’re getting a brand-new bladder! Isn’t that exciting?” Melody brought up her hands, “Oh that’s wonderful! This is great news.” Gerald shook his head, confused. He did not want a new colon, just new teeth. “What if the cells get into my heart, or my brain?” Melody reached over and pat his thigh comforting. “Don’t worry honey, It’ll be OK, Doctor Szekely is the best.” Gerald nodded, but his concerns were not alleviated. Melody turned to the dentist, “Maybe there’s something you can give him. Like a S – H – O – T.” Gerald turned to his wife, unsure why she thought spelling the word made it unknown to him. Valorie nodded, “Sure, that’s a good idea.” Her voice picked up and directed towards the room’s lone man, “Gerald, I’m going to go get something that will help you feel better, it should keep the cells from doing anything we don’t want them to do. Sound good? You’ll be all better in a few days.” She exited the room and returned with a needle like the kind used for numbing the mouth before a procedure. Melody helped roll up Gerald’s sleeve and hold him, as Valorie poked and dumped the substance into him. There was a brief bit of pain, followed by euphoric numbness. Their meeting concluded; Melody helped Gerald up from his bliss inducing stupor. Below his diaper and shorts had built up some sag but were dwarfed under the length of his oversized shirt. Melody made a note He barely noticed as the two gals led him out that his wife had surpassed him in height by close to two inches. Gerald had to wait near the oversized toothbrush flipping through a Highlights magazine, as Melody scheduled a follow up appointment. A strange signal came to his head as he stared at the colorful images. His eyes lingered on two identical ones, and he struggled to find the differences between the two. His mouth started to throb from a dull pain and he pressed a thumb on the gums to relieve it. Gerald did not even notice as he bent his legs slightly, kneeling closer to the magazine. The man on the left picture had a hat, and the dog on the right picture was pointing the other way, that was only two differences, but the picture insisted there were ten. He carefully moved a finger along the first image, trying to spot more, barely registering as his buttocks expanded pressing outward into a large gaseous mess. The relief caused his eyes to linger upwards before he dragged his attention back to the magazine. She had to pull it out of his hands as they left, he had only found three differences, but he was so close! He started to cry, just like he had the day before when she helped him cash out his digital assets to their shared bank account. A slight whap at his tush was enough to get him back on track. In the car he clung to his monkey angrily, bringing its soft black fur to his lips. The tickling fur offered little comfort to the slight throbbing pain. He would return to the dentist several more times over the coming weeks, but today would be the last time he would sit in the front seat of the car. He had already shrunk half a foot in the first week, and with each follow up shot, more of his body shrunk. By the fourth booster, little Gerald was barely two feet in height. The house quickly changed over the next month, toys littered every room, and Gerald was relegated these days to sleeping in the guest room, now a nursery. She leaned over the heavy white railing of the crib, the wooden bars a straight cage for her baby. Melody easily picked up the sleeping ball laying on his flat mattress, one thumb loosely at his lips. Where a month ago, a grown man had worn green elite briefs, Gerald was now in white parasols, his underpants adorned now with stoic black outlines of bunnies, cats and dogs. He stirred awake and smiled, mouthing the outline of her name without a sound. Melody brought the man over to a rocking chair, carefully undoing her shirt, and pulling down her bra below her engorged breasts. By now Gerald was well practiced and sucked greedily at her tit. There was a knock on the nursery room door, which did not stop the boy, but brought the attention of his new mother. Valorie did not linger at the door, “How’s our little Jerry doing,” she threw out to her partner as she walked across the room. She paused just above the rocking chair, before coming closer to Melody’s face. Gerald paused slightly in the sucking, his wandering eyes pausing on the sight of the two ladies kissing, but this new show of affection was not enough to quell his stomach and he returned to sucking from Melody’s breast. “He’s just the perfect little baby. I think …” her eyes jumped, and she pulled Gerald off her breast in a hurry. “Owe!” She practically yelled. “Are you alright?” Melody turned Gerald’s head, and his gaping milk-soaked mouth yawned widely up at his other mommy. There right on the top of the gum was a brand new piece of pearly stone. “No, the baby bit me!”

This is my own submission to the 4th Kasarberang Non-Contest. It’s been well over a decade since I’ve written anything, and coincidentally, the story I wanted to write fit well into the contest. Also, it seemed like fun to add someone else’s rules to my own idea. Unfortunately, writing doesn’t seem to be quite like riding a bike and I didn’t complete nearly as much as I would have liked. Still, I’ll post the few chapters I did write over the next few days as I rewrite them. I hope you all enjoy it, and I plan on continuing after the contest is over. Chapter 1 Margaret sighed, her trembling hand guiding the key into its lock with a mix of dread and resolve. Her heart was pounding in her chest, each beat echoing the gravity of the moment. The weight of Bridget’s presence beside her only heightened her anxiety. “This is what I’ve been trying to explain,” Margaret said, pressing against the door as beer cans rattled on the other side. A heavy, putrid stench enveloped both women as they entered the apartment. They waded through channels carved through stacks of molding pizza boxes and crumpled beer caps. The sticky squelch of the floor muffled the thud of Bridget’s ankle boots as she carefully stepped over yellowing, brittle Kleenex strewn across the floor surrounding a deeply stained couch. They followed the path to the other side of the room. “He’s-” her voice cut off by the foul air assaulting her senses. She turned to face Bridget, clenched her fists, and persevered through the distressing feeling. “He’s not a bad person, he’s just…” Her tone dwindled as she fought the urge to swallow the horrid air. “Lost.” Bridget, her face masked with stoicism, nodded. “I understand Margaret,“ she stated, her voice maintaining an impressive composure against the chaos surrounding them. “Some people just need a guiding hand to set them on the correct track.” Turning to the next door, a soft smile briefly graced Margaret’s face, grateful for the glimmer of hope Bridget’s reassurance provided. However, as she prepared to open it, a twinge of guilt returned, mixing with her embarrassment. The thought of showing Bridget the state of Ethan’s bedroom weighed heavily on her conscience. Opening the door was like witnessing the aftermath of a homeless camp exploding. Dirty, wrinkled clothing piled over a dresser, desk, and chair, spilling onto the floor. The air carried a familiar heavy acidic smell mixed with sweat and desperation. Sheets of cardboard stapled to the window trim blocked out the light, keeping the room dark enough for its inhabitant to sleep through the day. Other than the light bleeding through the open door, the only light source in the room was a glowing phone next to a passed-out, face-down man snoring in a drunken stupor. Careful to avoid the half-drank cans of beer, Bridget approached the bed and knelt, her eyes scanning over the naked form before her, she confirmed what the state of his apartment already told her. Without his mother’s constant care, he lost all semblance of healthy habits. The pads of his feet had turned grayish and blackened from trampling the layers of filth. His belly protruded from nearly four years of surviving off nothing but beer and takeout. His overgrown chestnut hair clung to his face, slick with sweat and grease. His skin, likely last washed when his mother had last ordered him to while he still lived with her, had developed an oily crust around the armpits and crotch. Turning her attention to the phone at Margaret’s son’s side, Bridget’s face contorted at the sight on screen. A man raising a cat o’ nine tails style whip above his head. Ready to strike a sobbing woman strapped to a bench. Her fair skin was shredded by a level of abuse far beyond any limit Bridget would even dare consider. Swiping the video off the screen, Bridget scrolled through the list of videos saved onto the phone. As she read the list a knot in her stomach twisted with disgust. Each title contained one or multiple combinations of slut, anal, whipping, BDSM, crying, whore, extreme, and cruel. A sudden gasp snapped Bridget’s attention back to Margaret, who now hovered over her shoulder. Margaret’s fists were clenched in rage, tears streaking her makeup after witnessing the list of videos her son had saved for his pleasure. Her mouth was open as if she were silently screaming at him, desperately pleading for answers less horrifying than the grim truth before her. Margaret reached out with a trembling hand, slowly uncurling her fist and gently resting it on his back. It was as if this distraught mother were trying to heal the blight that had taken hold of the man she had raised. Comforting someone in such distress did not come naturally to Bridget. Her usual methods would be wholly inappropriate in this situation. Yet, she felt the weight of the moment pressing deeply into her heart as she watched Margaret, who was quietly sobbing as if mourning a son already beyond saving. Rising from her kneeling position, Bridget extended a steady hand to Margaret’s trembling shoulder. Her tone was soft and reassuring as she said, “Come with me, Margaret. We’ll find somewhere nice to talk, okay?” Margaret looked up, her eyes red and swollen, as Bridget guided her away from the chaotic nest her son lived in. As they stepped out onto the open street, both women inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh air as if emerging from drowning underwater. The city’s sounds, car horns blaring, people chatting, and a distant dog barking, felt almost melodic compared to the clattering of beer cans and crunch of pizza boxes that came with navigating the filth her son had amassed. Needing to air out the cloud of dirt that haunted them from the apartment, both women walked until they found a small park a few blocks away—they made their way to a secluded bench shaded by the yellowing leaves of a large oak tree—a perfect place to hold a conversation unfit for the public ear. Margaret’s focus drifted from Bridget, latching onto a young couple walking hand in hand in the distance. The mother, waddling along in the late stages of pregnancy, her face glowing with anticipation. Her husband, smiling down at her, overjoyed with the endless possibilities the future holds for their budding family. Both poised to welcome a blank slate to the world for them to impress upon. Both completely unaware of how horrible the result could become. “It must be nice.” Bridget followed Margaret’s gaze to the couple before asking, “What must be nice?” The silence was all that Margaret answered with, instead her grim expression conveying an internal dialogue that Bridget could only guess at. When Margaret’s eyebrows lifted, Bridget wondered if someone had made a surprising statement or a valid point. As the surprise turned into a frown, it seemed an argument had been defeated. The gentle lines on her face turned to a scowl as the conversation grew heated. Then, finally rested on a more neutral but determined expression as her eyes flickered with a burning passion. “I don’t want Ethan to treat some poor girl like that… Pig.” Margaret’s tone was blunt, emphasizing that word, Pig. He didn’t deserve a name; a pig is all he is, “But maybe Ethan is worse.” “I see why you called me,” Bridget stated with a sign. When Margaret first called Bridget had expected screaming or threats, looking for someone to blame other than her husband. Instead, Margaret had seemed almost apologetic, as if she were somehow the one in the wrong. Still, Bridget wouldn’t have ever considered meeting Margaret again after their first encounter, but when Margaret offered more money than Bridget had earned in the last decade, she reconsidered. “At first I assumed you were exaggerating,” Bridget turned to Margaret. “But it does seem like he needs an extreme shift in direction.” “You know, it’s almost funny,” Margaret whispered, fighting back another wave of tears. “Over the last year that Pig started to act like a decent husband. He started trying to be better and treat me better. Listen to me, noticing and complimenting my efforts. Even being more mindful of my needs. Little did I know it was you… helping.” Bridget sat quietly, she was used to hearing David, Margaret’s husband, speak about her. How proud of himself he was, almost laughing as he explained the mind games he’d play. Deliberately ignoring Margaret’s attempts to be more appealing to him. Even going as far as verbally slapping her with back-handed compliments. When she would indulge in salon treatments he would question why she never put effort into her looks. If she cooked him a meal, he would immediately ask if she had ever considered taking classes. Men proudly mistreating their wives wasn’t new to Bridget, but this was the first time she witnessed the other side of it all. To see firsthand how their victim suffered and how slowly working that out of these men only satisfied her own desire and still contributed to the destruction of these women’s lives. “That Pig infected him. Corrupted my baby.” Margaret said through clenched teeth, her rage obvious. Finally, turning to Bridget directly she asked, “Can you do it? Can you help him?” Bridget recognized the glare Margaret’s face carried immediately. It was the same as the night they first met. David had confessed to calling Margaret a bitch that week, a word that Bridget had planned to remove from David’s lexicon completely when the hotel room door burst open. But it wasn’t the blind rage Margaret initially wore when she first witnessed the two together. It was the swirl of confusion that mixed into that fury when she came to understand the position her husband was in–on his hands and knees, dressed in a plaid miniskirt, with his pink satin panties pulled down to his knees. Then came the horror as Margaret watched Bridget slowly pull all eight inches of her strap-on from the depths of Margaret’s husband. With a long sigh, Bridget’s eyes softened as she met Margaret’s gaze. “Usually when…” Bridget paused, choosing her words carefully. Giving her best effort to be delicate in addressing what her clients paid for and not to remind Margaret too much of that night. While she certainly didn’t respect those men, she didn’t want to add to the suffering she already caused. “Usually when clients meet with me. It’s for a specific type of experience. It is always consensual. Just, over time, they learn to be more respectful and to appreciate the kind of fun that I feel they deserve.” Training someone who hadn’t sought her out originally was not Bridget’s normal approach. She wouldn’t have ever considered attempting it if it wasn’t for some strange debt she felt to Margaret. On top of that, if Ethan had adopted and exacerbated some of his father’s most appalling traits, it seemed prudent to address these issues before he harms another woman. “I’ll help you, but first,” Bridget had always assumed she could keep her own emotions out of her chosen profession. With clients like the aptly named Pig, it was easy, but here she felt she owed Margaret. “We’ll proceed on my terms, with no room for negotiation.” “Whatever I need to do,” Margaret quickly replied. “Good, then we’ll get both of their behaviors corrected.” Chapter 2 Margaret had exhausted every conventional approach. Despite hiring therapists, offering larger financial incentives, and even engaging a motivational speaker, her efforts to encourage her son remained fruitless. The only forward momentum came from a desperate measure when she threatened to terminate the lease on Ethan’s apartment if he didn’t agree to at least start college. Yet, she remained wholly unconvinced in his devotion to bettering himself. Adding to her mounting stress, Margaret had been receiving increasingly urgent complaints from the apartment management. The stench emanating from Ethan’s apartment had become a serious issue. Each complaint came with a warning that eviction was imminent if the situation wasn’t addressed. Desperate to avoid her son’s eviction, Margaret found herself paying more and more to the management in the hopes of buying additional time and preserving Ethan’s living situation. Still, his lack of enthusiasm was evident in every interaction. When she texted about what Ethan needed for his classes, she often received no reply. On the rare occasions, she managed to get him on the phone, he would brush off questions about his courses or his intended degree. This persistent disengagement deepened Margaret’s frustration and despair, leaving her feeling as though her efforts were being callously ignored. Now, with only a few days until college started, she turned to the only woman who had made meaningful changes to her husband’s behavior. Hoping that the same type of intervention could be applied to her own son. Bridget, with her ever-stoic demeanor, suggested that he required a more stringent path. Transitioning from his current static, careless lifestyle to one filled with schedules and assessments would prove extremely difficult for someone severely lacking discipline. It wouldn’t be as simple as guiding Ethan through the acclimation process to his new life. He first needed his current attitude towards his future dismantled so that it could be rebuilt from the ground up. Her methods were unorthodox at the best of times and when necessary, brutal. But they were effective. However, Bridget explained that the key was to make these men believe they wanted to improve their behavior, motivated by the promise of rewards for good conduct and punishments for missteps. The real art was subtly persuading them that it was their own idea to seek more intense pleasures and accept increasingly severe consequences. But this process took months, even years, and time wasn’t a luxury she’d have with Ethan. For him it would need to be instantaneous, it would be an all-or-nothing situation and she was confident that her experience, combined with improvisational skills, were fit for the job. Margaret, feeling both a flicker of hope and a pang of apprehension, nodded slowly. She knew Bridget’s approach was radical, but her own efforts thus far had led nowhere. If anyone could break through to Ethan, it was Bridget. “Thank you, Bridget,” Margaret said softly. “I trust you.” Bridget gave a curt nod, “We’ll start immediately.” Coming to a final agreement, both women rose as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. Margaret’s heart was heavy with apprehension, but she could now look to Bridget, whose calm, resolute expression provided a sliver of reassurance. Despite the uncertainty, for the first time, Margaret felt she may have found the solution to her son’s stagnation. As the sun set, casting long shadows across the park, Bridget and Margaret walked back towards the apartment. The faint chirps of crickets filled the cooling air, amplifying the silence that returned to the two women as they walked. Margaret’s mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming days. She felt an uneasy mix of relief and fear. A part of Bridget's plan required Margaret to stay completely separated from Ethan until Bridget deemed it safe for him to see her again. The idea of such a drastic separation was daunting, but Bridget’s confidence sparked a fragile hope that maybe this time would be different. The reality of their situation pressed heavily on her shoulders; it was clear that Ethan’s transformation needed to be as swift as it was profound. When they arrived at his door, Margaret hesitated, looking back to Bridget. Then, after receiving an affirming nod, gathered her courage and knocked at the door. From inside came the sounds of beer cans rattling beyond the door, and then after a few muffled obscenities, the door creaked open. Ethan, disheveled and bleary-eyed, clearly just woken up despite the late hour, peeked through the crack. “Mom?” Ethan mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What the fuck do you want?” “Ethan… This is a friend of mine,” Margaret stated, motioning towards the woman at her side. “Could we please come in?” The eye beyond the door narrowed when its blurry gaze met Bridget’s. “I don’t need another one of your doctors. I told you I’d go back to school.” With a forceful bang, the door slammed shut in Margaret’s face. Margaret stood in stunned silence, reaching her trembling hand out as if to knock again. Before she managed to bang on the door Bridget placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry Margaret,” Bridget’s voice was steady and comforting. “I was hoping he’d at least talk to you for a bit, but I think it’s time for me to take over. Hand me the keys and wait out here.” Quickly retrieving the keys from her purse, Margaret handed them to Bridget. “Just… please be gentle with him,” Bridget gave her a reassuring nod, though it did little to ease Margaret’s worry as she watched the woman disappear into the apartment. But Margaret had no idea that for Bridget, domming was like jazz-it’s just as much about the beatings you don’t give as much as the ones you do. Furious at the sound of his apartment door opening behind him, Ethan spun around and barked, “Mom! Get the fu–” his words cut short by the sight of the unexpected mystery woman approaching him. Standing tall and confident, Bridget commands attention the moment she enters a room. Her long, raven black hair cascaded in glossy waves down her back, contrasting starkly against her glowing porcelain skin. With high cheekbones and a sharp jawline framing her striking features, she drew focus to her piercing, ice-blue eyes that bore through anyone they rested upon. Bridget took in Ethan’s appearance with both amusement and relief. This time, he stood shirtless in his living room, wearing stretched-out pajama pants that hung loosely around his hips. It was hardly an improvement to her first encounter with the naked him, but at least it was some effort at decency. Regardless of how minimal the effort was. “Ethan, your mother cared about you. That’s why she hired me to help you.” her voice carried a subtle, dominating undertone, perfected in her years of experience dealing with men who didn’t yet know they needed to be stripped of their own volition. “Look, I don’t know what she told you, but I don’t need help.” The snapping tone Ethan freely took with his mother had disappeared. Reduced by the humiliation of this woman, for what he believed to be the first time, witnessing the squalor he dwelled in. “Everyone needs a little help, Sweetheart,” Bridget stated, her tone softening just enough to convey understanding without losing its edge. “And accepting that is just the first step to progress. Ethan shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. Normally, he met these therapists in their offices, where they had never fully seen the extent of filth he wallowed in. Instead, he watched as the woman’s toned legs glided her toward him. He admired the dark-washed jeans that hugged her curves perfectly. Her deep green blouse was made of soft, luxurious fabric, draped elegantly, hinting at the shape beneath without revealing all her secrets. Her full lips, painted in a bold, seductive red, curved into a knowing smile. Unbeknownst to Ethan, everything about her appearance, down to the simple yet elegant leather belt cinched around her waist, was a deliberate show for his benefit. Bridget, much like a spider hanging in its web, only needed to wait for her prey to be fully entangled before taking a bite. “I want you to relax.” Bridget’s warm breath poured over his ear. Her perfumed hand brushed an unwashed, greasy lock from Ethan’s face. Caught in the intensity of the moment, Ethan fought to swallow the lump building in his throat. His heart raced; he was out of his depth face to face with a real, non-pixelated woman. One who he still mistakenly believed to be a therapist, and he struggled to reconcile her commanding presence with the more professional yet less personal approaches of those who had tried before to worm their way into his life. “It’s okay to be vulnerable.” Her silken voice brushed past his ear as she dragged her fingers down his cheek. “I’m here to help you.” Ethan’s breaths were shallow, his chest rising and falling unevenly. The intoxicating blend of deep, exotic spices and velvety florals of her perfume filled his nostrils. His gaze shifted from the pristine, composed figure before him to the familiar chaos of his surroundings. The stark contrast made him momentarily uneasy. The disarray echoed the unsettled thoughts stirring within him, hinting at a reality he had long ignored. “Starting college is a good time to… restart,” she said, taking a moment to appreciate her foreshadowing of the journey they would both soon embark upon. Bridget’s light but deliberate touch continued to trace down to Ethan’s bare chest. “But finding that motivation can be so difficult.” “For some, it’s all about the reward,” she continued, her hand moving to the edge of his pajama pants. “The carrot, so to speak,” she explained, her hand trailing down his thigh. “But for others, well, they need a different kind of incentive.” The back of her hand purposefully grazed against his clothed cock to punctuate her statement. “For others, it’s the stick.” As her hand brushed against him, Ethan’s face flushed with excitement. Igniting every nerve ending with a jolt of electricity, his heart raced, struggling to maintain composure against the strange methods this unknown woman employed. “And that motivation is key,” Bridget whispered, her voice maintaining the command that came naturally to her. “Change can be difficult, but I can be a wonderful motivator.” His mind churned with resistance. The familiarity of his lifestyle, unambitious as it was, provided a unique comfort. The idea of leeching off his family’s wealth as he drifted through life was infinitely more enticing than confronting his issues and cleaning up his act. Still, he found this woman irresistible, the rush of her touch and what he believed to be promises of rewards drew him closer. Sensing his wavering conviction, Bridget capitalized with another step towards him, pressing her body against his. “I could make your time in college so much more… exciting.” The words hissed as her mouth closed the gap until her lips tickled his ear and cupped his genitals in her hand through the pajamas. Once his cock began to swell, Bridget’s hand quickly withdrew. “But I’m a lady. I can’t live in this.” Gesturing to the grotesque state of Ethan’s home with the same hand. “However, if I returned tomorrow and it was cleaner…” Her hand returned to his crotch. Wrapping her fingers around the bulging fabric. “Cleaner? I can do that.” Ethan blurted out. His mind was so clouded with lust that he felt he was prepared to agree to almost anything. However, almost anything paled in comparison to everything she planned to take from him. With that, Ethan watched as the enigmatic woman left his apartment with the same swift grace with which she had arrived. Her long, flowing hair cascaded like a dark wave with each confident stride, creating a striking contrast to the turmoil she left in her wake. In the hall, Bridget found Margaret, leaning to the side as she stole a glance of her son through the closing door, expecting to find him bruised and collapsed on the floor. Margaret breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him simply unharmed at the center of his chaotic apartment. “Thank goodness he’s okay,” she murmured with the first real relief she had felt all day. “How did it go?” “As well as could be expected. I gave him a day while I retrieve some things from storage and prepared my own home for his stay.” Bridget replied, “Also, as a bonus. I may have convinced him to clean up a bit. Maybe it’ll save you some money on whoever you have clear out that nest.”