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  1. The hacker sat cross legged on her floor, leaning against her bed for a bit of support. She’d bought an expensive gaming chair–the kind that was ninety percent of the way to being a carseat, it just needed the harness–but it was several feet away, and she’d already been on the ground, moving a box beneath her bed when the shipping notification pinged. With her laptop in reach and her focus engaged, she’d gotten to work right where she sat. Her back would protest, but that was a problem for later. Nor did it matter that it was just past dawn, that she’d been up all night, that sleep would have to wait for hours once this began. She had her game, and that’s what mattered in the moment. Elizabeth Sullivan did not consider herself a hero, but that’s how she branded herself, and to the few who knew her screen name, ‘Little Cricket’, it’s how she was to be treated. She didn’t consider herself a grown-up either, but that’s how her documents read–and as far as the government was concerned, it’s how she was to be treated. Shifting a bit, she noted absently how her diaper squelched–she’d saturated it heavily enough to justify a change, and she needed to poop. Strictly speaking, she preferred to keep that contained to the toilet, but she was in the middle of a project, her thoughts were laser focused, and she didn’t want to kill all her momentum by getting up to change and use the toilet. It’d just have to last a little longer. Tabbing through her notifications, she read data, soaking it in like a diaper absorbed moisture. She knew the patterns, she recognized information before she’d read it, and only needed to glance at what was written to confirm her gut feelings. The internet had existed for forty years, and for twenty, it’d been a tool used by more than half the world’s population. Elizabeth didn’t understand how so-called adults could be so incompetent in its use, so lax and lazy when it came to security. It’s like they wanted her to beat them. Her current target had fallen for a trivially simple linkswap scam to get his passwords, and from there, the rest of his downfall had been easy. A few tricks to bypass two factor authentication, a couple more to get into his financials. By most estimations, he was some flavor of asshole–he’d made his money scamming people into buying useless assets, the lazy kind of fraud that didn’t even take creativity. Elizabeth didn’t particularly care what he’d done. She’d long since learned, however, that if she targeted vulnerable victims, she’d be condemned, she might even end up in trouble with the law. When she went after criminal con men, though, everything became permissible. Leaning forward, she grunted almost without thinking, the seat of her diaper swelling a bit while she took control of her victim’s computer. She’d already decided on the game she wanted to play, now she just needed her participant. “Hello, piggy,” she said. Her voice was modulated, a bit–not to hide her identity, though, it wasn’t as though anyone would be able to track her down. She rarely left her condo, and few people knew what she sounded like. Rather, she distorted her words to make her targets uncomfortable. The man in front of her flinched–of course he did. A voice from nowhere had just addressed him, when he was alone, in private, working from his home office. In a work-from-home world, high-def webcams had become standard, which made her games all the easier. “What the hell?” he asked, setting down his morning coffee. He hadn’t even gotten to work yet. “Who said that?” Elizabeth gloried in the moment for as long as she could–watching her target’s surprise, the shock, all displayed in crisp HD from his webcam. Soon would be the horror and the realization. The sweet moments of early victory, while he still had enough dignity to show humiliation. “I did, piggy,” Elizabeth said. For emphasis, she moved a mouse on her computer screen, and the motion was mirrored on his own display. “Don’t close your computer. I’m in your wallet, I own your assets, and if you disobey me, you’ll find out just how quickly I can take it all away.” She wouldn’t actually take it all away. Others had disobeyed her before, after all, and if she actually followed through on her threat, it ruined the game. She’d take their money, but who cared about money? She wanted more than that. So, if he disobeyed, she’d only take half. Let him see the notification on his phone, learn what he’d lost, and frantically come back to beg. That was, in its own way, almost more fun than when her days went off without a hitch. “I don’t know how you’re doing this,” he said, “But I don’t believe you.” “Then let’s give you some proof, piggy,” Elizabeth said. She was rubbing the name in thick, but she wanted it to be clear that this was his name, at least while she spoke to him. Moving her mouse again, she opened his digital wallet, displaying the various cryptocurrencies he’d acquired. Selecting one at random, she sent it to an anonymous holding wallet with just a few keystrokes. It didn’t matter where it’d gone, the point was that her Piggy no longer had it. The digital equivalent of several thousand dollars, gone in a flash. He still had millions, but he’d gained it recently, and the psychological impact of the dollars lost still hit him plenty hard. His eyes went huge, like she’d just shoved him down on the playground and taken his lunch money. Perfect. “What the fuck–okay. Stop. What do you want? Money?” “If I wanted money, I’d already have taken it,” Elizabeth pointed out. “No, piggy, I want something more. You’ve hurt people to get this money, you’re a pig. You need to learn a lesson.” He swallowed. It was clear she could follow up on her threats easily enough–one wrong word, and she’d drain his accounts. His delicious fear sang when he asked, “What lesson?” “What you really are,” Elizabeth explained. “You’ve got a package in front of your door. I know how long it takes you to go from the computer to your porch. Go get the package, and return immediately–every second you dally, I’ll delete another coin.” He nodded, shook his head, and stared at his computer screen a little longer. “Okay. Okay. I’ll do it, just–” “The timer’s started, piggy boy,” Elizabeth’s tone was sing-song, and just for emphasis, she called up a stopwatch on his screen. Her target jumped to attention, scrambling out of the room. Good–if she kept pressure on him, he wouldn’t have time to think or come up with any bright ideas. She doubted he had the intellectual capacity to come up with bright ideas regardless, and even if he did, they wouldn’t be bright enough to beat her. Even still, she kept the pressure on. She’d win, no matter what, but she preferred to have full control of the game. He returned a minute later, holding a medium sized duffel bag. “Okay,” he said, taking shallow breaths. “I have the package–please don’t take anything else.” “We’ll see,” Elizabeth promised. “All I will promise is that after we’re done, you’ll never hear from me again. If your accounts remain full, that’s all well and good. If not…well, good luck getting it back, because I won’t be available to hear your begging.” He swallowed, looking between his computer and the duffel. “What are you going to do?” “Inside the duffel, there’s some water bottles, a bit of food, and an outfit,” Elizabeth explained. “Take off all of your clothes and put on the outfit. Is that understood?” Instant shock. Of course, it’s what she expected–nobody liked getting naked on camera. “What? No!” Another coin vanished with a big, dramatic notification bubble. “Oh dear,” she said, trying to pump sarcasm into her tone so that it’d come through even with the artificial processing. “You can turn your back–I don’t care about seeing your dick. Just get dressed.” That deflated his protests, and he looked again at the duffel, reluctance and greed battling in his head. She was so focused on the game that she’d lost all sense of her surroundings. She was a part of her laptop, and the vague smell permeating her bedroom, wafting off her diaper, may as well not have existed. If she leaked, she leaked, she had victory to enjoy. Defeated, her piggy unzipped the duffel, peering inside for a long moment in uncomprehension. Only after staring did he say, “No, I–I mean–please, don’t take anything. I’ll do it.” Elizabeth could have jumped for joy, if that hadn’t meant actually moving her body, taking her attention off the display and keyboard in her lap. The outfit wasn’t elaborate–just three elements–but she’d selected it with precision. Sometimes, less was more, and this was absolutely one of those instances. She genuinely couldn’t care less about his nudity, but she still watched him strip with glee, staring not at his body but at his face. The humiliation, the fear, she drank it in until she felt intoxicated. Then came the real prize–the awkward, uncertain embarrassment that came whenever she made someone put a diaper on for the first time since before they could remember. Inevitably, they always got something wrong, and she got to giggle as they worked to correct their mistakes. Her piggy laid down on his back, fumbling with the diaper. He first put it on upside down, then had to flip it, lifting his hips to slide it in place. While he did, little sounds kept escaping him–squeaks of embarrassment that he didn’t even seem to be aware of. Elizabeth’s grin just grew, seeing how his cheeks turned pink when he stuck down the tapes, sealing himself into a puffy white diaper that clung to him like a pillowy target. “And the rest,” Elizabeth said. “A diaper alone does not a piggy make.” Meekly, already halfway to being broken, her target reached for the bright pink onesie. It was mostly uniform in color, but had one bit of special decoration–a short, curled tail on the backside. He’d feel it, just a bit, when he sat down, just as she wanted. He wriggled to get into it, not understanding how the crotch buttons worked, instead stepping into it like a swimsuit and shimmying his legs into the outfit from the top, doing the shoulder snaps instead. Only one thing was left–a halloween costume pig nose, one that’d hold over his face with elastic straps. It’d be uncomfortable, and that’s what she wanted. Discomfort. A constant reminder that he was just a little piggy, with a little piggy nose. He pulled it over his face, transformation complete. Or, well–almost complete. He looked the part. Now he had to go through his training. “Alright, piggy,” Elizabeth said. “Sit down on the floor, criss-cross applesauce.” He obeyed. It meant he had to look up at his desk to see the computer screen. It also meant his posture and pose matched hers, except that he looked up at her, and she looked down at him. “I’m going to play a video for you, and it’s going to ask some questions. Every question you answer correctly, nothing will happen. Every question you answer incorrectly, I take your money away. Do you understand?” Of course he understood–and if he didn’t, she’d still start the video, just to see him struggle and try to learn by trial and error. Still, he nodded. “I won’t lie.” He’d jumped to conclusions about the question, but that just meant he’d be surprised when she showed him his video. “Please. Just don’t take anything else.” “I know you only care about your money, and I’m not lying either,” she assured him. “But this isn’t an interrogation. Consider it more…a knowledge test. If you get hungry or thirsty, or need to take a break, you can have the food in the bag. There are points in the test where you’ll have a few moments to do so. But, and this is important: Until the test is over, you won’t sit up, leave, or turn off your computer. Any of those actions count as a forfeit.” He understood the implied point, anxiety weighing down on his shoulders. “How long will this take?” “I hope you didn’t have evening plans,” she replied. He was a couple time zones ahead of her, but it still wasn’t past nine in the morning yet. “What if I need to use the bathroom?” he asked. Elizabeth didn’t feel the need to properly answer. “If you’re that dumb, piggy, I worry you’re going to fail this test. I’m starting the video now. Pay attention.” He’d already known, somewhere down in his subconscious, but the dawning moment of realization as he was no longer able to pretend still sang to her heart. Knowing, without a doubt, that he’d have to use the diaper he put on was triumphant to Elizabeth. In truth, the test was not really one of knowledge. It didn’t matter how much he knew, any toddler could answer correctly–but the questions would come fast, and they’d demand focus. He’d have to follow along for hours. Queuing it up, the cartoon began to play. A woman in colorful coveralls stood in front of a barn, and a cheerful tune began to play, simple guitar strums. “So many animals on the farm, so many sounds heard on the farm, all the animals make sounds on the farm, can you name the sounds on the animal farm?” Her piggy’s brow furrowed for a moment, confused. “I don’t–what is this?” Elizabeth didn’t reply, and the video continued. “What noise does the cow make on the farm?” He didn’t say anything. Grinning, Elizabeth removed a coin from his wallet, taking thousands of dollars away right for him to see. The song continued. “What noise does the cow make on the farm?” His eyes just widened. “What the hell?” This time, Elizabeth said, “Tsk, that’s wrong,” as she removed another coin, another couple thousand dollars in speculative value. “What noise does the cow make on the farm?” This time he got it, and finally, tentatively said, “Moo?” Elizabeth laughed, and the rest of his wallet stayed firmly place. “So many cows moo on the farm. What noise does the chicken make on the farm?” He got it, and this time, answered immediately. “Cluck.” “What noise does the chicken make on the farm?” “Cluck.” “What noise does the chicken make on the farm?” “Cluck.” “So many chickens cluck on the farm.” Elizabeth was satisfied–he’d understood, and now, all that was left was to wait and enjoy the torture. The song moved forward–next to the dog. “Woof.” Then to the cat. “Meow.” Then to her second favorite moment–the pig. “Oink.” And, finally, the crescendo of the song, where the singer asked, “What noise do you make on the farm?” Her target didn’t get it. “Um…hello? Human sound? I don’t know.” A coin vanished, and his anguish at financial loss was hilarious and cathartic. She’d picked an expensive one, too: He’d lost more than ten thousand dollars for that one little mistake. “What noise do you make on the farm?” “This is–there’s no sound for a person!” he objected, furious and near tears as she removed another coin–though, this time, she was generous and only cost him the price of a shitty car. “Think about it a little longer,” she replied, pointedly avoiding his new moniker. “What noise do you make on the farm?” Finally, with a dawning moment of humiliation, he got it. “Oink.” Success. No loss for him, as the song jingle finished its loop. “Good piggy,” Elizabeth praised. “Now, let’s see how well you learned.” The song began again, playing through the chorus–the twenty second period he’d get every repetition to drink, or to try and eat some of the food in the bag. She looked forward to that–watching him gawk as he realized she’s left him no utensils, that all the food was chosen to be as messy as possible. Would he try to lick the pudding cups out with his tongue and get it all over his face, or scoop it out with his fingers and dirty his hands? She’d even done tests with the canned spaghetti–when cold, it was slightly thick, and would come out in globs. If he tried to drink it from the can, it’d inevitably end up all over his face, and I’d get to enjoy his mollified reaction as he spilled red sauce and soggy noodles all over his piggy onesie. The song itself was only a couple minutes long, but that was fine–the repetition added to the torture. He’d have to listen to it a few hundred times before she let him off the hook–in fact, she had set it up to play on a loop until she told it to stop, and she wouldn’t be doing that until he’d leaked through his diapers and filled up the seat at least as much as she had that morning. She wanted him to really get the pig pen experience before it came to an end, after all. She could have gotten up then, letting the audio play in the background to ensure that the piggy didn’t get his answers wrong. She kept watching, though, enjoying her private performance as he enthusiastically called out the barnyard animal sounds loud and clear for fear that if he mumbled she’d take more money away. This wasn’t about justice, or punishment, or even revenge. Her target was an asshole, but that’d been the excuse to pick him as her victim, not her motivation. This was just about fun. ... Author's note: Patreon nuked my account and I'm left scrambling to try and make up the lost income and rebuild my audience from scratch. I've set up a new page on a service called Ream, which is ABDL-friendly and fiction-focused. I'd be incredibly grateful if you'd go over there to subscribe, especially if you were previously subscribed on Patreon. https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl
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