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When Kaleigh Turner’s university lacrosse team breaks down in the picture-perfect town of Sweet Hollow, the girls are split into host homes for a warm helping of good old-fashioned hospitality. There’s no cell service, no mechanic until morning, and the locals’ smiles are just a little too wide. Kaleigh isn’t thrilled about being separated from the others, but it’s late, and the woman at the porch door seems kind enough. Just a weird little town. Just one night. By morning, the pie is gone. The nursery is locked. And Kaleigh is no longer dressed like a college athlete. She’s padded. Pacified. And slowly starting to realize the stranger holding her hand doesn’t plan to let her leave anytime soon. This is Book One of the Sweet Hollow Series... ------------------------------------------ PLAYER PROFILE Kaleigh Turner - Junior 5’1” | 109lbs | Position: Attack | Style: Pure Scorer Analysis: An absolute masterclass as a Pure Scoring Attacker, Kaleigh Turner has the innate ability to be in the right place at the right time and make the shot when the pressure is on. She has the heart of a lion inside of her pint-sized body, but more than makes up for her small stature with her determination to get what she wants, no matter the cost. CHAPTER ONE If Kaleigh had known this bus ride was going to turn into a girl’s locker room on wheels—complete with stale Gatorade and Libby’s stand-up comedy hour—she’d have begged to drive herself home. She was bored, but too wired to sleep as highlights and mistakes from the last game still buzzed under her skin. The bus rumbled down the lonely two-lane, headlights flicking over pine trees that blurred into darkness. Inside, it was a rolling fortress of noise and heat—girls sprawled in half-sleep, laughter bouncing off the metal ceiling, a stale undercurrent of sweat and sugar from the victory snacks they’d been demolishing all trip. Kaleigh sat near the front, her window seat giving her a perfect view of her reflection in the glass. She ran her fingers through her hair, fixing stray waves that had stuck to her temples. She didn’t do messy. Not even in the middle of nowhere. Behind her, Libby was holding court with Hannah and Taylor, her voice bouncing over the hum of the wheels, while she kept them in stitches with some story that didn’t even make sense from this angle. Kaleigh caught a few words—enough to smirk, but not enough to join in. Libby was currently mid-rant about how she’d totally saved the game with that last block—her voice echoing down the aisle, drowning out the low hum of the tires. Her voice boomed down the aisle. “I’m telling you, that last block? MVP shit. Goalie of the century.” “Oh please,” Hannah giggled, her blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun. “Libby, you’re like six feet tall and the size of a barn door,” Hannah shot back from two rows behind. “You didn’t even move! The ball hit you because it had nowhere else to go.” Libby threw a half-empty bag of pretzels at her and the pint-sized freshman squealed with laughter, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Hannah’s laughter had that innocent, breathless quality, like she was still discovering how loud she could be. Taylor watched with that faint, amused smile, notebook balanced on her knee, always taking in the whole scene without a single word wasted. Kaleigh rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the grin. These girls never shut up, but it was the best kind of noise—family noise. A pack of wolves in jerseys and ponytails. Madison was up a row, angled inward, deep in some hushed conversation with Coach Kristen—two heads bent together in that serious, steady way of theirs. She wasn’t the oldest, but she had this vibe that kept everyone grounded. Like nothing could rattle her and Madison couldn’t turn it off if she tried. Always thinking three steps ahead, even when the rest of them were halfway to dreamland. Even Kaleigh had to admit it—she felt safer when Madison was in charge. Peyton was slouched in the aisle seat across from Kaleigh, her shoulders relaxed and eyes half-lidded. She had one earbud in, the other dangling as she idly twirled an empty Gatorade bottle between her fingers. Meanwhile, Kaleigh was more interested in the peanut M&Ms Libby was hoarding in her backpack. “You gonna share or are you hoarding like a squirrel?” she teased, flicking Libby’s arm. Libby snorted. “Buy your own, princess.” “Ugh,” Kaleigh groaned dramatically, tossing her head back against the seat. “I’m already broke. I guess I’ll just waste away up here, dying from an utter lack of protein.” Taylor, seated a few rows back with her notebook open, didn’t look up. “We can expense snacks if they’re for team morale,” she said flatly, flipping a page. “Is that true?” Kaleigh asked, genuinely interested. “No,” Taylor deadpanned. The bus roared with laughter. Erin, perched in the front row beside Miss Caroline, turned and grinned back at them. She had one foot up on the seat, arms slung across the backrest like she was made for bus rides. She was effortlessly cool in that way that only came from knowing how to play both sides of the field. Half big sister, half therapist—the kind you went to when shit got real. Best athletic trainer in the land and she always looked comfortable in the chaos, like nothing could shake her. “You’re dancing back there, princess,” Erin called, her voice lazy but warm. “Gotta go?” Kaleigh flipped her hair over her shoulder, trying for nonchalance. “I’m fine. Chill.” Kaleigh smiled despite herself. Erin never pushed too hard, never asked for more than she gave. It made Kaleigh feel safe—like no matter how much shit they gave each other, Erin would have her back when it counted. Kaleigh shifted, a soft pressure building in her lower belly. She wasn’t desperate—she never let it get that far. She just didn’t do discomfort. She liked things clean and easy, princess-level care even if she’d never admit it out loud. She sighed and pulled her phone out again even though she knew it wouldn’t work. No service. She rolled her eyes and slipped it back into her bag. She leaned forward, one hand on the seat in front of her, as she caught Miss Caroline’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Miss Caroline?” The older woman turned, her round face bright with a patient smile. “Yes, sweetheart?” “Could we… maybe stop soon? I need to…” Kaleigh trailed off, cheeks warming. Miss Caroline smiled back, warm as fresh cookies. “Of course, honey. I’ll find us a good spot.” “Thanks, Miss Caroline,” Kaleigh muttered. That was the thing about Miss Caroline—she understood. Kaleigh was half grateful, half mortified. She knew the second they stopped, it’d be another round of baby jokes. That was fine. She could take it. Libby didn’t miss a beat. “Aww, princess can’t hold it?” Her grin was wicked, and Kaleigh shot her a look that would’ve frozen boiling water. Hannah piped up from the back, “It’s okay, Kaleigh. We’ll hold your hand while you go potty.” “Can’t have our little princess ruin her shorts. That would be tragic,” Peyton mumbled lazily, not bothering to open her eyes. “I hate all of you,” Kaleigh said with fake sweetness, flipping them off. Miss Caroline’s voice cut through the chatter, patient and calm. “Be nice, girls. I’ll find a gas station. Everyone can stretch their legs.” Kaleigh nodded, trying to play it off with a roll of her eyes, and slumped back in her seat with a sigh of relief. Kaleigh didn’t mind. She liked being seen, but not necessarily part of the show. As much as she hated feeling like the baby of the team, she was not about to become the girl who peed her shorts in front of everyone. Erin leaned in and gave Kaleigh a small grin from the front row. “Good call, K. Don’t let these hyenas shame you for wanting to be comfortable. I’m sure everyone has to go and just didn’t want to say anything. Way to take the lead.” Kaleigh’s shoulders relaxed a bit. Erin always understood—she never judged. Kaleigh shot her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Erin.” The bus kept rumbling down the road, the windows rattling like teeth. Kaleigh let my eyes wander, picking up snippets of laughter and half-baked stories. The air was warm and sticky, but somehow… cozy. Like if you squinted hard enough, this was exactly how a team was supposed to feel: messy and loud and a little too close. Kaleigh could hear Caroline’s gentle voice rising above the low rumble of the bus, something about the town they were heading through and how it was always a nice place to stop. Erin nodded along, her easy calm a counterpoint to the buzz of the rest of them. Kaleigh felt a flicker of relief and let her head rest against the window again, watching the darkness roll by. A little smile played at the corner of her lips—sweet relief was coming. And after that? Maybe she’d let herself join in the jokes. Maybe. But first… just let this bus stop. Kaleigh shifted again, her legs pressing together tight. The chatter helped distract her from the increasingly urgent need to pee. The bus’s AC had kicked on again, and the cold air only made it worse. Outside, a flicker of neon finally broke the darkness—a glowing promise of relief. Miss Caroline slowed the bus, her gentle voice carrying over the engine hum. “There,” she said softly. “There’s a little gas station up ahead. We’ll pull in, let everyone stretch.” Kaleigh’s shoulders dropped in relief, a small smile ghosting her lips. She didn’t know why the idea of stopping in this quiet, off-the-map town felt like a tiny luxury—like a stolen breath in the middle of a game. She didn’t see the way Miss Caroline’s eyes lingered on the flickering neon sign just up the road, or the way Erin’s lips pressed into a thin line when the bus rolled into the parking lot. She just felt the bus slow to a stop and the weight in her bladder ease at the promise of relief. As they rolled into the gas station, Coach Kristen looked back at them all, her face soft but serious. “Alright, five minutes, girls. No wandering off.” “Who’s gonna kidnap us, the old lady at the slushy machine?” Hannah teased. Libby snorted and then pulled out her best creepy scary story face. “Or maybe that sketchy trucker parked out back. Bet he’s got a basement full of Barbie heads.” Erin’s tone shifted, calm but with an edge. “Yeah, we’re not taking chances. Stick together, understand?” Kaleigh loved that about her—the way she could flip from big-sister jokes to stone-cold seriousness in a heartbeat. It was how she knew Erin had her back. Kaleigh let herself sink back against the seat, her mind already skipping ahead to the snacks she’d grab and the chance to freshen up in a real bathroom—because a princess didn’t rough it if she didn’t have to. She caught Libby’s smirk in the window reflection, but didn’t say anything. The bus was full of girls who had her back—even if they pretended otherwise. And right now, she’d take that over any five-star bathroom in the world. CHAPTER TWO The gas station was exactly what Kaleigh expected: old neon, yellowed tiles, and a flickering sign that read “Welcome Ya’ll.” in faded red. One of those nowhere places that smelled like diesel and burnt coffee. A weird old guy in oil-stained overalls was already there, wiping his hands on a rag as they pulled in. His grin was a little too wide, like he’d been waiting for them to roll in. Kaleigh watched him warily as he ambled closer. “Evenin’, ladies,” he said, his voice a slow, syrupy drawl. “Bus trouble?” Miss Caroline smiled back, all patient Southern charm. “Just a quick pit stop, thank you. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.” “Aw, don’t rush,” he said, his eyes sweeping the girls in a way that made Kaleigh’s skin crawl. “Not much else to see out here tonight.” The girls didn’t answer. They just exchanged looks—an unspoken agreement to file him under creepy but probably harmless. Libby cracked a grin, nudging Hannah. “Go on, Hannah. Before he builds a shrine to you in the back room.” “Gross,” Hannah muttered, flipping her honey-blonde hair over one shoulder. Miss Caroline’s voice cut through the chatter. “Girls, go stretch your legs. Five minutes, and stay together.” As soon as the bus door whooshed open, Kaleigh lead the pack into the tiny store—anything to shake off that guy’s stare. The air inside the gas station was stale and warm, smelling of old gum and even older coffee. Kaleigh had just made her way through the snack aisle when she spotted the flickering neon BATHROOM sign hanging over a warped wooden door. She hesitated for half a second, weighing the rising pressure in her bladder against the absolute horror show she’d glimpsed through that doorway. But before she could even make a decision, Hannah darted past her—eyes wide, lips pressed together like she was holding back a prayer. “God,” Hannah muttered, already fumbling with the knob. “I can’t hold it anymore—don’t judge me.” Poor girl had been holding it in for half the bus ride. She gave Kaleigh a quick, grateful look—like she was the hero of the hour for speaking up. Hannah didn’t even hesitate. She ducked inside and slammed the door. Kaleigh heard her let out a relieved sigh—like she’d been about to burst. Kaleigh took another look at the stained linoleum tiles, the single bare bulb buzzing like a wasp nest overhead. Nope. Absolutely not. She’d hold it. No way she was lowering herself to that. A girl has to have standards. Erin gave her a knowing smirk as she fell back in line with the group. “Like a portal to the ninth circle of hell in there,” Kaleigh offered, nose scrunching. Libby poked her head in next and came back out in less than a second, gagging dramatically. “Nope. I’m good,” she declared, grabbing a bag of chips instead. Taylor didn’t even bother. She was at the fridge, scanning the rows of cheap energy drinks while Peyton hung back, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Kaleigh found herself drifting around the snack aisle, trying not to touch anything sticky. She picked up a candy bar, flipped it over, and put it back. Nothing looked fresh. Nothing felt right. Erin leaned against the counter, cool as ever, but her eyes were alert. She clocked the guy at the register with a calm stare that said, Don’t even think about it. That was enough for Kaleigh—if Erin was on edge, she knew she’d be okay. Miss Caroline reappeared from outside, smiling like she was trying to sell them all on this dump. “He’s going to top us off with gas. Says it’s the last place for miles.” “Of course it is,” Libby said under her breath. Alright, girls,” she called, already leading the way. “Let’s get back on the bus. We’re almost there.” They filed back onto the bus in twos and threes, the door folding shut behind them with a hiss like a sigh of relief. The air felt damp and sweet after the stale funk of the gas station, and Kaleigh wasted no time sliding back into her seat, crossing her legs tight. She’d hold it. She’d hold it until their next stop or until she died, whichever came first. Hannah dropped in beside her, still pink in the cheeks but grinning with relief. “Don’t even look at me,” she said. “I had no choice.” “Hey, no judgment here,” Kaleigh said, flipping her hair nonchalantly while her legs twitched. She resumed her judging look as soon as Hannah turned around to steal more snacks. “Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” Libby dropped into the seat behind her, still crowing about the horror show they’d just escaped. “That bathroom was straight-up haunted,” she said, voice half disgusted, half delighted. “I swear to God, there was something moving in there.” Peyton, wiping her hands on a napkin she’d grabbed from the snack rack, gave her a sideways look. “Or maybe it was just your reflection in the mirror, Libs.” “Fuck you, Peyton,” Libby shot back, but she was laughing, too. “Ugh,” Hannah groaned, hugging her backpack to her chest like a teddy bear. “I don’t even want to think about it. Let’s just get out of this creepy town.” Hannah buried her face into her bag, shoulders shaking. “I’m never going to be the same again. Like, I’m forever marked by that bathroom. It’s in my soul now.” The old guy gave them a slow, toothy grin as he finished pumping gas and Miss Caroline kept chatting politely, her voice calm. But Kaleigh noticed the way the woman’s hand stayed tight on the bus door. The way her shoulders never really relaxed. Something about that smile made her shiver, but she didn’t say anything. “Y’all have a safe trip,” the man said as they climbed back on. “Ain’t much else ‘round here. Town’s up the road if y’all need a place to eat or take a breather.” Miss Caroline nodded, but she didn’t look him in the eye. Kaleigh caught that and tucked it away. She knew enough to read the difference between nice and too nice. They all settled back into their seats as Miss Caroline turned the key, the bus’s old engine grumbling like it was too tired for this nonsense. It wheezed, sputtered, then gave a reluctant roar that rattled the windows. Kaleigh watched her in the mirror, catching the flicker of worry in Miss Caroline’s eyes. The bus lurched forward with a rumble, the tires crunching over gravel as Miss Caroline pulled them back onto the main road. She caught Erin’s eye in the mirror, her own mouth a thin line that said she was just as grossed out as they were but didn’t have the luxury of saying it. Hannah made a face. “That guy kept staring at my legs like he’d never seen a girl wear shorts before.” Kaleigh smirked. “Well, maybe he just doesn’t get a lot of visitors out here in the middle of nowhere. Maybe you’re his once-in-a-lifetime chance to see civilization.” Libby leaned her head back, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Civilization my ass. That place was like stepping into a horror movie. LIke one of those really old ones with no WIFI from the 90s or something.” Taylor’s voice was soft but sure. “We’re just lucky it was a quick stop.” The chatter picked up again. The girls tore open bags of chips and passed around lukewarm sodas. The vibe felt forced, like they were all pretending this wasn’t the weirdest pit stop of their lives. She let her eyes close for a second, letting the soft rumble of the bus and the laughter of her team settle around her. They were back on the road. That was all that mattered. Kaleigh kept her gaze fixed out the window as the bus turned off the main road and rolled on. She noticed the detour signs as they passed and when she turned back towards the front, the town came into view—tiny, almost too perfect. Old-timey storefronts, white picket fences, and streetlamps with hanging flower baskets. It looked like a movie set someone forgot to tear down. “Sweet Hollow”, Kaleigh muttered under her breath, reading the large welcome sign as they drove past slowly. The chatter on the bus had just started to mellow when the bus gave a low, shuddering cough. There was a rattle. Then a hiss. Then it died completely. The chatter cut out like someone yanked the plug. The only sound was the soft tick of cooling metal. “Shit,” Miss Caroline said, her voice calm but edged with frustration as she guided the bus to the side of the road. Kaleigh didn’t know much about cars but she was fairly certain this wasn’t good. Miss Caroline cut the ignition and turned to look back at them all with that tired, motherly smile. Coach Kristen surveyed the scene and the sets of wide eyes staring back at her. “Alright, girls. Out. I see a diner ahead. Let’s get some food and I’ll make some calls to get us back on the road soon.” The girls stepped off the bus and stretched in the chilly night air, the hiss of cooling metal fading behind them. Kaleigh followed at her own pace, catching the scent of the diner’s grill drifting on the breeze—a warm promise against the cold. She didn’t miss the way Miss Caroline’s eyes lingered on the old neon sign or the flicker of something in Coach Kristen’s expression, but she let it slide. They were all starving, the place ahead had food, and that was enough for now. Libby was already dragging Hannah along by the hand, chattering about milkshakes and fries. Peyton fell in behind them, looking casual but alert. Even Taylor’s nose was lifted, sniffing out the scent of a fresh pot of coffee. Kaleigh paused a beat longer at the bottom of the steps, her gaze flicking back at the bus, quiet and still under the streetlamp’s glow. Then she turned and let herself be pulled along with the others, laughter and chatter already rolling ahead of her. The diner’s door swung shut behind them with a soft jingle of bells. Inside, every head turned. Conversations stopped. Forks paused midair. The girls stood in the doorway, frozen for a beat as every face in the diner turned their way. CHAPTER THREE The diner looked like it’d been frozen in time: checkerboard floors, neon lights, red vinyl booths so bright they practically glowed. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee wrapped around them like a warm hug as they stepped inside. “Come on in, girls,” a kind voice shouted said from behind the counter “Make yourselves at home!” The team spread out in small clusters, chattering about the bus breakdown and the weird gas station vibes. Coach Kristen was at the counter, phone in hand, trying to get a signal—frowning when the bars kept flickering in and out. The cook, a round, grandmotherly woman with a pink apron and kind eyes, beamed at them from behind the window pass. “Order up whatever you want, girls,” she said. “It’s on the house tonight.” Libby’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding.” “Nope. No sense in letting you go hungry,” the cook said, her voice warm as a quilt. “We’re known for our pies, too. Save room for dessert.” Hannah squealed, bouncing on her toes. “I want one of everything!” Libby scooted around her, already craning her neck to see what was on the pie rack. “Free pie? God, I love small towns,” she said. Miss Caroline herded them to a set of booths, the girls sliding in, legs tangling and laughter bubbling up as menus were passed around. Taylor didn’t sit right away—she hung back, eyes flicking around the diner like she was cataloging every face, every smile. The cook—they’d been here only a few minutes but she’d already told everyone to call her her “Miss Sandy,” like she’d known them for years—poured sweet tea that tasted like summer and walked around with a pitcher of fresh lemonade that kept finding its way back to their table, no matter how many times they emptied it. Coach Kristen was still holding her phone in the air, trying to create a bar on her phone out of sheer willpower. “No service way out here,” a man seated next to her at the counter said—tall, broad-shouldered, with a smile too easy to trust. He had a metallic name tag that read Mayor in big bold letters. “But don’t worry. Our mechanic’ll take a look in the morning.” He watched her for a beat as she opened her mouth to speak and then beat her to the punch. “But don’t you worry, we’ll get you girls sorted out,” The Mayor added, his tone friendly but final. For now… let’s get you fed, huh?” “Thank you,” Coach Kristin said, her voice polite but tight, as she looked at her team laughing and salivating as they eyed the food on the grill. Sandy bustled behind the counter, pouring sweet tea into chipped glass tumblers, her bright laugh floating up as she winked at them. “Order anything you want, hon. The kitchen’s yours tonight.” Hannah practically vibrated with excitement, fingers drumming on the table as she chattered about milkshakes and fries. Erin watched her with that easy big-sister grin, calm and protective even in this strange place. Kaleigh sank into the booth across from them, her eyes on Sandy’s careful movements. The food came out fast—plates piled high with burgers and golden fries, bowls of thick stew that smelled like heaven after hours on the road. Sandy was everywhere at once, refilling drinks and sliding extra pie slices onto plates, her smile never slipping. Kaleigh caught snippets of chatter from the counter—a curvy cheerful woman talking about some kind of preschool program she was excited about to a sweet quiet girl, not much older than them, whose eyes kept darting shyly from the bubbly educator towards the gaggle of giggling girls. The diner’s warm glow and the endless flow of sweet tea and lemonade made Kaleigh’s head feel soft and fizzy. She sipped another glass, the icy sweetness cutting through the heavy meal of burgers, fries, and pie that had turned her into a little kid again—stuffed and satisfied in that way that only comes from homemade food. She shifted in her seat, pressing her legs together. Her need to pee was growing, a steady pressure she kept ignoring because, God, that tea was too good to stop. She didn’t even want to know what they put in it—sunshine and magic, probably. She kept refilling her glass like she was chasing a sugar high, even though she knew she’d regret it later. Around her, the girls were mellowing out, voices dropping to soft giggles as the food settled heavy in their bellies. Libby leaned back in her seat, her hair falling in her eyes as she let out a groan. “I’m gonna explode,” she muttered. “If I die tonight, bury me in pie.” Peyton snorted, one arm draped over the back of the booth like she was too full to even care. Hannah was bright-eyed and bouncy, somehow still finding room to sip lemonade and nibble on crusts of pie like a sugar junkie. Kaleigh listened with half an ear and let her eyes wander the diner—a woman wiping down a table with a cheery hum, Miss Sandy’s warm laughter as she checked in on everyone, the clink of dishes and the low murmur of town folk in quiet conversations. It was too perfect, too cozy, like a scene from an old movie. When Coach Kristen finally stood and walked over, the table quieted immediately. She rested her hands on the back of Libby’s seat, her face soft but serious. “Alright, girls,” she said, voice gentle. “I talked to the mayor. The mechanic can’t look at the bus until morning, and there’s no service out here. No hotel, either, but the townspeople have offered to put us up in their homes for the night.” A wave of murmurs and frowns rolled through the table. “Wait, so we’re just staying in random houses?” Peyton asked, one brow arched. “Can’t we just crash in here or even back on the bus?” Coach gave a small smile, patient. “I asked. They said the diner’s not set up for sleeping, and it’s too cold out there for the bus. They’re being generous, girls. Let’s be respectful.” Kaleigh swallowed, her discomfort—both bladder and otherwise—simmering just under her skin. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like it at all. “Can we go in pairs?” Hannah’s voice was small. “They said their homes are small,” Coach said. “Too small for more than one. But they’ve promised to take good care of us. It’s just for the night.” A beat of silence. Then Miss Sandy’s voice slid in, sweet and syrupy, as she leaned in close with a smile that was all honey and butter. “It’s just for the night,” she said softly, echoing their coach as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Morning comes fast, and I’ll have fresh muffins waiting. You’ll feel right at home, I promise.” The girls murmured half-hearted agreement, slumping back in their seats, too tired and too full to keep arguing. Kaleigh watched Miss Sandy’s warm, motherly smile and let her words settle in her bones. There was something familiar about her. Something she felt like she could trust. “Alright, girls,” Coach said finally, her voice steady but soft. “Be polite. Be grateful. We’ll meet back here first thing for breakfast.” Miss Sandy’s laughter was bright as she gathered up empty plates, stacking them with practiced ease. “Oh, girls,” she cooed, her voice as bright as the neon sign outside. “We’re going to take real good care of you. Don’t you worry about a thing.” The girls stood slowly, gathering their things with resigned shrugs. Sandy gestured them to the door, and one by one, they filed out into the cold night. Sandy bustled through the diner one last time, her movements quick and practiced, sweeping up crumbs and empty cups. “Alright, ladies,” she said brightly. “Let’s get you tucked in. It’s late, and there’s no better sleep than one that comes after my homemade pie.” Kaleigh lagged behind, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie as she watched her teammates shuffle out into the cold. She felt the tightness in her belly again, but shrugged it off and figured it was from the gallons of sweet tea she’d just guzzled. “Come on, sweetheart,” Miss Sandy said, giving her shoulder a gentle pat. “Your host is waiting.” Kaleigh hesitated at the threshold, the warm glow of the diner fading behind her as she stepped into the chill night air. She felt the weight of Miss Sandy’s hand at her back, guiding her forward with that same soft, insistent push. “Here she is,” Miss Sandy said softly, her voice honey-sweet as they reached the bottom of the steps. She stopped beside a tall, willowy woman in a powder-blue dress, her hair pinned in soft curls, her smile warm and almost dreamy. “Kaleigh, this is Vicky Parker. She’s going to take you home tonight.” Vicky’s smile widened at the sight of her. “Oh, she’s darling,” she said, soft and almost dreamy. She reached out and took Kaleigh’s hand, her grip surprisingly firm. “Welcome, sweetheart. My husband, Sheriff Parker, had to step out for a bit. He’s seeing to some things tonight, but he’ll be home soon.” Kaleigh swallowed, forcing a small, polite smile. “Oh. Okay,” she said softly, her voice just above a whisper. The chill air slipped under her skin, and she shifted her weight, her bladder aching with a sudden urgency she tried to ignore. Miss Sandy gave her shoulder one last reassuring squeeze, her smile unwavering. “It’s just for the night, dear,” she said softly, like she was coaxing a child. “Vicky will take good care of you. And remember, in the morning, there’ll be hot coffee and fresh muffins waiting here.” Kaleigh forced another smile, even as her bladder gave a sharp pang and the cold night air seemed to slip under her skin. “Thank you,” she murmured, though she wasn’t sure who she was thanking—Miss Sandy, Vicky, or just the universe for getting her out of that cramped bus and greasy diner and into something that she hoped might be a little more cozy. She let herself be led away, her steps echoing in the quiet night as Miss Sandy waved and watched them go, her sweet smile never faltering. The diner door swung shut behind them with a soft jingle of bells, and just like that, Kaleigh was swept out of the warm, familiar chaos of her team and into the eerie stillness of the night. --------------------------------- The Sweet Hollow series is my newest creation and obsession. Join me on Ream or SubStar for exclusive access, bonus chapters, and everything I can’t share here. My subscribers have been reading this story for over a week now. You can read the ENTIRE 55k word story on Ream or SubscribeStar or grab it now on Amazon. Find Abby McGee here: SubStar | Ream | Amazon

AVERY She had never felt so naked, even fully clothed. The soft lights above her pod were warm and gentle, and the hum of filtered air sounded like a lullaby. The scent—faint vanilla and talc—was meant to calm, but nothing could soothe the dread curling in her stomach as Avery stared through the glass, imagining the life that waited for her on the other side Avery lay back in the molded seat of her transparent pod, the cotton of the pink onesie stretched across her chest was snug and too soft, too childlike. Her wrists rested in soft cuffs that glowed faintly at the seams, trapping her mitten-encased hands on either side of her blonde pigtails. Similar cuffs restrained her legs and left her legs parted obscenely, exposing the thick white bulk of her diaper to the camera’s gaze. Avery knew, intellectually, that she was no longer allowed to be modest. But the instinct to cover herself hadn’t faded. The fabric clung lightly to her, but the thin cotton was no shield against the watching eyes. She could see her reflection in the curved interior—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her chest rose and fell. Avery was on display. Not for her intelligence. Not for her moral fiber. Not even for her smile. Just her body. Her reactions. Her ability to be controlled and aroused. Always the “good girl”, she was raised to be polite, kind, and obedient. Her mother used to remind her, “You don’t have to be loud to be strong.” Avery had carried herself with softness and grace, proud of her quiet strength, and the way she held her head high without needing to step on others to be seen. But now… now she was exposed. Not completely—technically, the onesie covered her body—but Avery felt naked. Her bare legs spread out in front of her, every movement on display. The restraints kept her spread, locking the slight blonde in a posture that made Avery blush every time she caught a glimpse of herself in the pod’s reflective walls. Her reflection was the cruelest part: a girl who looked younger than she was, embarrassed and pink-cheeked, eyes too wide, trying to pretend she wasn’t trembling. Time moved like syrup. Between the feedings, the changes, and the rotations, she tried to mark her moments by what came next. Tummy time. The vibration test. The post-change display with legs lifted; an open diaper placed beneath her bare bottom in case she had an accident. Her eyes squeezed shut as warm air brushed her most intimate places and she felt her body betray her. Again. The subtle vibrations between her legs had started again—gentle, teasing pulses that forced her to squirm. Her nipples stood out against the onesie, traitorous and helpless. Each session blurred the line between medical procedure and indecency. Between being a person and being a product. And every time Avery came, she cried harder. Not because it hurt—but because she couldn't stop it. Avery had only ever been intimate with Jonah. And even then, it was slow, tender, cautious. They hadn't even figured everything out before this happened. She had barely known how to touch herself and now her body, stripped and exposed, responded graphically as her reactions were catalogue and recorded for someone’s notes. Avery pressed her head back into the padded cushion and bit down on the rubber bulb filling her mouth, trying not to sob. Her stomach turned. She used to think modesty was a choice. A virtue. Now it felt like a memory. Like something she’d worn once, hung up neatly in a closet, and could never find again. Because she couldn’t even cover herself. Couldn’t cross her legs. Couldn’t shift her onesie. Couldn’t stop them. Even the color—pink. It was soft and infantile and said what she no longer could about herself: She's a good girl now. Innocent. Obedient. Pretty. It didn’t help that she could see him. His pod was beside hers. The same glow. The same restraints. She glanced at Jonah. His face was flushed, and he looked away. She missed his eyes. That quiet, grounding warmth that had always pulled her back from the edge when things got too hard. She wanted to see him, not as he was now—red-cheeked and diapered—but as he had been before, when they still belonged to themselves. But that life was gone. At least for now. Now, she would be owned. Not just supervised or cared for. Owned. Everything about her, from her blonde hair to the soft curves of her hips, would be cataloged, ranked, and claimed. The people behind the glass weren’t strangers anymore. They were future owners. One of them was going to decide whether she would be treated like a precious thing or a plaything. A girl to be nurtured or one to be humiliated. There was no in-between. Avery tugged lightly against her restraints—soft, clinical bands at her wrists and ankles, padded so they wouldn’t bruise but still firm enough to demand her compliance. Her onesie was snug, the pale pink fabric stretching across her breasts in a way that made her chest look fuller than it really was. She hated that. The snaps on her shoulders made her feel like she was meant to be changed like an infant, dressed and undressed without even needing to remove her restraints. She hated those, too. What would life be like once she was claimed? Would she sleep in a crib? Be spoon-fed? Diapered? The last one sent a wave of nausea through her, though the damp warmth between her legs reminded her it was already too late. She couldn’t count how many times the nurses had reduced her to helpless, humiliating messes, whispering nothing, never explaining, only pressing buttons or stimulating her in clinical silence until she came or wet or broke completely under their watchful eyes. Would her buyer do it more tenderly? Or worse—gleefully? Would they talk to her like a child? Coax her into calling them Mommy or Daddy? Would they dress her in frilly things and parade her around for guests? Would she be made to thank them? Perform? Avery sighed and sucked on her pacifiers to keep herself from crying again. That was happening more often now. Tears coming not from pain, but from shame and powerlessness. And still—still—there was Jonah. He was only a few feet away, and yet so far. He hadn’t looked at her in hours. Was he ashamed of her? Or of himself? Maybe both. She longed to be in his arms again. That warm, safe place she used to disappear into when things got hard. But now he wouldn’t even meet her gaze. She couldn’t tell if it was guilt or shame or just pain—but it hurt. She missed his hands, his soft voice, the way he would hold her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Now strangers would. Strangers would feed her. Bathe her. Dress her. Change her. Her thighs pressed together instinctively at the thought—because they’d touched her there already. In clinical ways, but her body hadn’t known the difference. The soft pressure, the humming pulses, the calculated rhythms designed to make her squirm and whimper and lose herself. The orgasms came too quickly, too easily. It wasn’t supposed to feel good, not like that. Not without love. Not without Jonah. They were going to sell her to someone she didn’t know. Someone watching her right now. People who didn’t care who she was, only how she responded. Were her moans soft? Did she cry prettily? Was she still “modest” enough to be broken further? Avery knew what she looked like on camera. She knew the value of innocence. Of flushed cheeks and shamed sobs. She could see herself as they saw her—just another sweet little thing waiting to be claimed. And what would life be like then? Would she be taken to some pastel nursery in a wealthy estate, spoon-fed mashed fruit and bottle-fed warm milk on someone's lap? Would she have to call someone Daddy? Would she be punished for crying, or worse—rewarded for obedience? Avery didn’t know, but she knew they were watching. And planning. Are they watching the video? The ones where I cried or moaned or begged? What if they liked that? She didn’t want to be good. Not like this. But she didn’t want to be punished either. She just wanted to disappear. But someone was going to take her. And in that moment, her real life would begin. --------------------------------- A new series. I've already posted the next two chapters on REAM and SubscribeStar for this story and I'll be dropping daily chapters there through the weekend.

Marie pushed the long tresses of brunette hair from her face, adjusting her blouse before stepping to the door. The house on the outside looked beautiful, well kept. It was set in the country, set away from the hustle and bustle of the town. Peaceful. It was a wonder why the woman - Clara - would want to sell it. Especially so cheap. But Marie couldn’ miss this chance. She rapped her knuckles on the door, sparing a glance around the front garden before she heard the click of the lock. The door swung open and Marie was faced with a rather attractive woman in her late 30s. She looked strong and sturdy. Marie smiled brightly. “Hello Clara, im Marie, we spoke on the phone?” “Ah yes youre here to view the house!” Clara stepped aside, allowing Marie to step inside. The hallway was as fine as the outside of the house. “Oh its lovely!” “Not as lovely as you! Come, Ill show you around.” The comment caught Marie a little off guard, but she brushed it off and followed. The house was large, spacious. The tour was as one would imagine, Marie brushed of the strange caress of her rear that Clara insisted was an accident. They finally came to a door at the back of the house, one painted pink and decorated with animal decals. There was a name plate on it, simply reading ‘Marie’. “Marie?” “Yes that's my daughter's name! This is my favourite room. The nursery.” Clara grinned, pulling a big key from her pocket and unlocking the door. Strange, to lock a nursery, but Marie thought nothing. They both stepped into the pastel pink room. The carpet was a thick plush cream, the walls adorned with beautiful childish artwork. It would have been a beautiful, if not for the confusion Marie felt upon seeing a crib, changing table and highchair that were oversized, the size for an adult. “What is this?” “Its beautiful isnt it, baby?” Clara appeared behind her, and before Marie could question further, a needle plunged into her arm. Almost immediately Marie’s limbs grew heavy and a dizziness hit her. She collapsed forward, Clara catching her with ease. “Wha da fuuu” Marie tried to exclaim as the woman swiftly scooped her up, but the words came out slurred. “Hush now.” Clara cooed, laying Marie’s semi limp body on the soft pink padding of the oversized changing table. Marie fit easily on it, and it was with skill that Clara secured the white straps across her waist. “Now, little one. Let's get you ready.” Her expression had softened into something almost motherly. Marie watched through half opened eyes as the woman pulled a well organised trolley closer. From the top she picked up a pair of sharp scissors. “Can't have you in these big girl clothes, now can we?” Clara cut indiscriminately, pulling off the drugged girls blouse and trousers. The matching bra and panties were next sliced away and deposited with the rest of her clothes in a nearby diaper pail. Now that the girl was fully exposed, Clara stepped back and admired her. “Oh. My sweet little girl.” Her voice was filled with admiration as she reached out and fondled one of Marie's breasts. “You are just perfect!” Her eyes moved to the mound of curly dark down that covered Marie's pubic area. A hearty laugh rung through the room as she reached out the twirl the hair in the fingers. “Oh you silly little thing! Little babies don't need hair down there!” Her fingers slid just a little to the top of the girls slit, causing Marie to moan before pulling away. “No, no. This won't do.” From the trolley, the woman produced a bowl of shaving cream and a sharp, straight razor. Deftly she shaved away Marie's hair, until she was as smooth as a baby. The job was thorough, with no hair left behind. Clara grinned at the bare folds now exposed to her. Marie groaned again, trying limply to cover herself but finding herself unable to. Clara simply chuckled. “Well now, let us check your temperature.” She said it so casually as she pulled out an uncomfortably large looking thermometer and smeared it with some lube. Marie, even in her weakened state, quickly realised what was about to happen. She began to moan and cry, trying to struggle weakly away. Clara laughed again, pushing Marie's knees up to her chest and using one hand to pry apart her cheeks. She gave her charge no warning as she forced the large bulb of the thermometer into the girls tight anus. It took a little force, but eventually her firm sphincter gave way and allowed entry. “My my! Baby is very tight back here!” Marie cried out at the intrusion, but Clara held her firmly still as she pushed the thermometer as far in as it would go. “Shhh shh shh.” She soothed, moving the thermometer gently in and out of the girls rosebud. Marie began to sob gently, squirming against the intrusion. Clara's thumb strayed over her neat folds, sending an unwanted shiver through Marie. After what felt like forever, Clara pulled out the thermometer with a small pop sound. “Well, you do have a little bit of a temperature, but we shall just keep an eye on that.” She released Marie's legs which collapsed back down onto the table. She continued to sob, hardly noticing when her ankles were held firmly together, lifting her rear from the table. Clara slid something thick and soft below her, carefully lowering the girl down onto it. She began to smooth a thick cream over the girls cheeks, thighs and folds before sprinkling a heavy dose of powder. Marie, despite her sobs, realised very quickly that she had been laid upon a thick cloth diaper. Clara pushed apart the girls thighs and pulled up not one, but three diapers, up between them. She skillfully pinned the diapers closed with a pair of sturdy oversized steel pins. The bulk of the diapers forced Marie's thighs far apart. Next, she pulled a pair of frosted pink rubber panties up the girls legs and over the incredible bulk of her diaper. “We don't want baby to leak, now do we?” she purred with a satisfied grin. “Oh hush my little one,” Clara soothed, staring down at the sobbing girl. From the trolley she pulled a massive pacifier attached to some straps. Marie turned her head away, pursing her lips. Clara tutted, grabbing her jaw and pulling it open. It was a forceful movement, and it was with no gentility that Clara shoved the bulb of the large pacifier into her new baby's mouth and secured it around the back of her head with the straps. The massive form forced Marie's jaw wide, and a line of drool trickled down her chin. The pacifier forced her into a muffled quiet. Silky mittens were pulled over her hands and secured with small padlocks at her wrists. “Just so baby can't accidently interfere with her diaper or her paci.” Clara said it as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “Now, it's been a big day, so I think Baby Marie needs a nap.” She scooped the freshly diapered and gagged girl into her arms with ease. Marie simply sobbed onto her pacifier as she was carried to the large, almost cage-like crib. She was laid onto the soft mattress, a blanket pulled up over her. Clara bent down and placed a kiss onto her forehead, her hand cupping one of her breasts almost longingly for just a moment before she pulled away and pulled the barred lid closed. A key was turned, locking the sobbing, babified girl into the cot. “Sweet dreams, baby!” Clara sang before turning, switching the light out and leaving the room. Marie heard the key turn, signalling the locking of the door to the nursery. The nursery that sheshe now realised would be hers.

This is my submission to the 4th kasarberand non-contest. All characters depicted are above 18 years old Part 1 He was completely mystified and estranged by the sight. She looked like an adult woman, kind of attractive actually, sort of chubby, with a cute face and big breasts. Noticing her chest made him feel awkward considering her attire and demeanor. She was dressed with a purple shortall and a white t-shirt with flowers, she also had white high thigh socks. She was sitting on the floor, sucking a pacifier. There was a bulk on her crotch that expanded her shortall, and each time she made a small move a crinkle sound came out from her. It didn’t took a genius to tell what was that, especially considering the smell of baby powder that inundated the living room. He stood looking at her not really knowing what to do now. His wife had already said hi to her the same way she would with a child, and her friend, the caretaker of this person apparently, stood at her side making sure she felt comfortable with these new people that just invaded her comfort zone. After she was properly introduced, and with the “little” girl satisfied with this new woman, both the wife and her friend looked at him, waiting for his reaction. He looked at his wife, expecting some sort of guidance considering how well she had fared so far. “Look Lily, this is my husband Matt. Do you want to say hi to him?” She said while squatting, holding her back and looking at her. Matt didn’t react, so her wife gave him a look, prompting him to react. “Oh, right” he said, approaching the group of women. He stood in front of the girl who was flanked by the two women, awkwardly looking at her and then at his wife, with her giving him encouraging looks each time he looked at her. After a little while of this he stretched his hand and retracted it, tried to squat and stopped, squirmed a bit and finally settled for a fistbump. Lily looks back, unfazed, and begins to retreat to her caretaker. Feeling like the situation it’s kind of spiraling out of control he waves and says “hey. What’s your name?”. “Her name is Lily” says her caretaker, making Matt make a feigned surprise expression. By now Lily is completely latched on her caretaker’s leg, keeping her eyes fixed on the strange man. Matt gets desperate, the silence of the room and the reaction of the girl making him feel even worse. He tries his luck and goes for a pat on the head, but as he sees the girl recoiling and making a desperate squeal he desists, opting for taking a step back with his hands now resting on the pockets of his jeans. The girl is trembling now, her eyes closed, clearly distressed by the whole ordeal. Matt looks at her wife, but she’s focused on the little girl, thinking about a way she could help. The caretaker squats and starts comforting the girl, then she tells her something to her ear and the caretaker excuses herself, taking the girl to one of the bedrooms of the spacious apartment. “Trish, if you need anything just ask” says the wife. “Thanks Pam”, says Trish with a worried look and a smile. When they’re out of sight, Pam approaches Matt and in a lower voice begins to talk to him. “What the fuck was that? Hey, what’s your name? Are you stupid?” “Fuck. I know, ok? Sorry. It’s just that… I just didn’t expected this” “You didn’t expect this? I filled you in before we came here. I explained everything. I sent you a video. Did you watch it?” “I… didn’t had the time, ok?” “It was a 15 minutes video. This is important Matt. She’s an old friend, and a really good one” “I know! It’s just… I mean even if I watched the video this would still be so weird. That’s an adult, Pam. She’s even kind of hot too” “Matt!… I mean yeah, but still. Don’t say it” “But that’s what made me feel so awkward. I look at this cute girl and I’m supposed to treat her like some sort of baby?” Pam scoffs “yes Matt, that’s what you were supposed to do. But instead you flopped it and now we’re going to have to leave. You know how much convincing it took to bring you here? You made me look like an idiot” “Hey, I know I fucked it up, but like come on. This is so weird. Just look at them. What are they? Are they friends? Are they a couple? Is this some sort of fetish thing?” “Wow, now you’re making questions. Incredible. You know where you can find all of those answers? In the fucking video I sent you, that’s where” “Agghhh. Ok, give me a crash course then” “Are you for real? Jesus. Ok, look, Lily it’s a little and she’s functionally a baby, and Trish is her mommy and she takes care of her. They love and trust each other a lot. It’s actually really touching when you get past your prejudices” “Ok, really touching. Noted it. Anything else I should know?” “Well, in case we stay and you have to be here when it happens, she’s fully dependent on her diapers” “Fully dependent?” “Fully dependent” “FULLY. DEPENDENT?” “Yes Matt, she shits and pees them. Also in the video by the way” “What the fuck. I hope she asks us to l-” before he can end the sentence he notices Pam has glassy eyes. She’s clearly distressed and frustrated. “Pam… I’m sorry” “Yeah, you should.” she sniffs and clears her eyes. “We were really close in college, you know? She was always there for me, and so was I. When she left for a work overseas I was devastated, I missed her every day. I would cry because something would happen that I knew she would find funny or sad or touching. We talked over the internet all the time, but after a year of that I could feel we were growing apart. And now that she came back and she’s living here I can finally reconnect and be a part of her life again. So please, please, make an effort.” Matt was already feeling bad for the blunder he made, but now he felt even worse. He was ashamed and sad because of his failure to notice how important this was and how much pain he was causing to her. He thought that this would be a freaky day visiting some old friend of hers with a weird couple, but now it was clear that this was much more than that. Still, he felt there was something odd about this. She had talked before about Trish, but never on this terms. She always made her look like a good friend, but now it felt like there was something more between them. Still, he knew what he had to do. He hugged his wife and said “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll try”. After a short silence she just said “thanks” and half assed it in reciprocating the hug. Matt noticed this, and that meant he had fucked it up big time. He will have to go above and beyond if he wants to make it up, so he would have to speedrun it through his prejudice and think about a way to fix this.

A few years ago, an author posted quite a few installments of a story based in a setting of their own creation and invited others to write stories in that setting as well. It apparently never caught on, but I found it extremely intriguing. So, I figured I'd pen such a tale and post chapters of it here. I tried to recap the gist of the setting itself so readers wouldn't have to hunt down the original story. I hope you enjoy it. CHAPTER 1 Today marks the third anniversary of my parents relocating to Preston, Kansas. It was on that day that my life changed forever. How could an almost-eighteen-year-old girl’s life be transformed so completely merely by moving to a new city? Well, that’s kind of a long story. But since you obviously came here to read a story, I’m guessing you won’t mind too much. Settle in and get comfy, because you may be here a while. So, back to my question of how something so minor could create such an upheaval in one’s life. The answer is both simple and complex. You see, Preston’s not exactly what could be defined as a normal Midwestern city. Far from it! I don’t claim to know all the particulars, but here’s what I DO know. Up until about a decade and a half ago, Preston was a town that was circling the drain. It had once been quite a hub of activity, thanks to a major railroad company making it their primary headquarters back in the day. The city picked up even more steam during World War II when its small ammunition plant received a massive government contract and exploded (no pun intended), creating more jobs than ever. But by 2005, the railroad had long since moved their main offices to Texas and the ammunition plant had gone belly-up, leaving behind a city that was a shell of its former self. Jobs were scarce, crime had risen and more citizens abandoned ship with each passing month. Like I said, Preston was circling the drain. That’s when a mysterious man from the deep south came into the picture. His name was Lucas Budd and he was freaking loaded! More cash than anyone could spend in five lifetimes. The rumor goes that he also had government connections in high places. And by that, I mean that practically all the bigwigs owed him for something or he had incriminating dirt on them. Or both. Who knows? The point is that he was able to use money and influence to gain total control of Preston. Total control. Here’s where things start getting crazy, but hang with me, okay? The total control I mentioned went way beyond anything that had been done before. Lucas Budd enacted laws of his own creation that even contradicted the Constitution itself. He must have caught a lot of government folks in the most lurid, illicit affairs imaginable to have pulled this off! He created a Patriarchy-based society that existed solely within the confines of a small city. It was extreme stuff too; not just the way it was in the 1950s. In a nutshell, women had no rights and had to be owned by men. The unowned women were essentially placed in the custody of the city government and, well, it wasn’t pretty. Oh, sure, there were laws that placed limits on what men could do to the women they owned, but that didn’t detract from the sickening fact that women were property. So, Lucas Budd and his family ruled over Preston. By all accounts, Budd comes off as a real charmer. You know the type. Classic Southern gentleman. But it’s all a facade. He’s one fucked up dude. I mean, that’s pretty plain to see, right? Some even claim that he possesses superhuman abilities of some vague nature. Whatever. His wife, Shyla, is some pillar of the community or some such and everyone just adores her. She organizes events, sets up fundraisers, blah, blah, blah. He has kids and a brother too, but I don’t know much about them. Can you see where this is all going? If not, you will momentarily. Now that the stage is set, let’s meet the cast of the fucked up theatrical play that is my life, starting with yours truly, Joella Myers. I used to go exclusively by “Jo”, but I’m no longer allowed that luxury. I really miss it too. It may not sound like much of a big deal to you, but it was an important part of my identity. I was “Jo”. Jo, the fearless tomboy. Jo, the headbanger chick. Jo, the badass who could handle just about anyone in a fight. Jo, the… well, you get the idea. I was a jeans-and-tee-shirt kind of girl and I was happy with that. I found my niche. My parents didn’t care much for all that, though, and attempted to dissuade me whenever they could. Eventually, they gave up, which made my life a lot easier. What can I say? I’m a rebel. Since we’re already on the subject, let’s talk a bit about my parents. My father, Kenneth Myers, was raised in Preston, but his parents headed to the east coast when he was twelve years old. That was in 1992 or so, long before Lucas Budd infected the town with his patriarchal rubbish. Dad did okay for himself, though. He went to community college, which is where he met my mother, and then went on to business school. He managed a clothing store for quite a few years, but left that job when he decided to uproot and move back to Preston. My mother, Lillian Myers, is pretty much the exact opposite of me, in that she’s docile and feminine to the point of it being annoying sometimes. She defers to Dad on almost every matter. Sometimes I think she’d have been better suited to having grown up in the 1950s when women were expected to dote on their husbands and all that nonsense. Still, it’s hard to blame her, as her parents were into gender roles big time. So it was really all she ever knew. She has never worked as far as I’ve ever heard, but she sure keeps one hell of a spotless house. Then, there’s my younger sister, Megan, who’s just one month shy of being three years younger than myself. Megan is a bit more complicated than my parents. On one hand, she’s quite girly like my mother, but on the other hand, she has some of my father’s dominant personality traits. She’s not too big on Patriarchy though, which is her one saving grace in my eyes. Like most siblings, our relationship had its ups and downs when we were young, but when she turned thirteen, my parents decided that she would be left in charge when they were away. That changed our relationship for the worse… and that’s an understatement! Look, I know Megan was the quintessential good girl, always doing “the right thing” (whatever the hell that is) and obeyed every rule my parents instated. And, yeah, I also know that I had gotten into trouble at school prior to their decision, and once even had a cop bring me back home at three o’clock in the morning when a couple of friends and I snuck out of the house after curfew, but come on. She was three years younger than me, for shit’s sake! You can imagine how that rule settled with me. I already had a chip on my shoulder because she was so much taller and more developed than I was. So this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. From then on out, my behavior took a nosedive. In fact, I avoided home as much as possible, especially on weekends. I started hanging out a lot with Byron Kimball, a trans male whose parents were super lax. I went to school with him, though he was in the grade ahead of me. He was super “book smart” and kind of weird. He was into metal and horror flicks too, so we became friends about as soon as he moved to town. My parents didn’t like Byron much. They said his parents should “take a hand” with him and make him live as a girl. I hate that old fashioned mentality so much! So that was my life up until two months before we packed up and moved to Hell. I mean Preston. Same thing. I know what you’re thinking. “There has to be SOME catalyst that caused them to pull up stakes so suddenly.” You’d be right in thinking that and I can’t tell you how many times I wished I could rewind time and do things differently. Without going into all the particulars, I’ll just say that Byron and I ended up at a party that was raided by the police and, well, we were caught. The fact that we were both heavily intoxicated may have had something to do with why they managed to snag us so easily. All hell broke loose when the officers delivered me to my parents’ doorstep only for me to puke in the foyer. I was sent to bed and told that this would be dealt with in the morning. Pretty much standard issue parent crap. Or so I thought. My hungover ass was brought downstairs at the buttcrack of dawn by Megan. Mom and Dad were waiting for me in the living room with their “pissed off and disappointed” faces on. I knew I was in for it, but I had no idea just HOW much I was in for it. They explained that they weren’t going to stand by and watch me send my life into the gutter or some overly dramatic drivel like that. I was on a bad path and yadda, yadda, yadda. That’s when they hit me with the whole Preston thing. I was floored. How could a town like that even exist? We live in the 21st century and women have long since obtained our freedom. They went on to say that there would be big changes in store for us as a family, but that everything would be much better in the long run. They didn’t go into any detail whatsoever and wouldn’t divulge more no matter how much I pried. They kept everything under wraps for a couple of months. All I knew was that we were going to be moving to a town that strips women of our hard-earned rights. There was never any mention of the rest of their plans. Even my sister was pissed about the prospect of moving. After all, she wasn’t into patriarchy and had made a lot of friends. Of course, she blamed me more than my parents, but in retrospect, I can kind of understand that. To this day, I have no idea how much information they gave Megan. All I know is that the closer moving day we got, the more terrified I was. Mom and Dad spoke in hushed, conspiratorial voices, often while huddled around their laptop. Something major was happening and not knowing about it just about killed me. What kind of awful fate awaited me in the city of Preston, Kansas? The answer to that question was far more intense than I ever could have imagined.

Bulma And The Baby Maker The sounds of bolts being tightened and ratcheted into place echoed throughout the hallways leading to Bulma's Laboratory as the blue haired inventor toiled away at her latest creation. She had spent all day lying on her back underneath her newest machine, inserting microchips that would rely information to the conveyor belt from her computer. The majority of her day had been spent checking fuses and ultimately making sure everything was in place so that she could test it out tomorrow. With one last twist of her wrench, the panel was sealed which ended her final inspection of the inner workings of the autonomous assembly line completed. Now that the panel was locked into place, she was ready to move onto the more mentally demanding task of going over the programs which ran it. "Finally! Now I can get a Hetap!" Bulma shouted in a blissful tone of victory as slid out from under the panel and stood up to dust herself off. "With all the tough bits done, I just need to knuckle down for another few hours at the terminal to get everything in order." She spoke aloud to herself while mentally going down a checklist of what was left to do before she could call it a day. Bulma waltzed over to the mini fridge next to her work station, opened the small door and pulled out an ice cold beer. With a simple flick of her index finger and thumb, she popped open the Hetap and took a well deserved chug from the aluminum can. "Ahhh, that's just what I needed." The blue haired scientist exhaled happily. Turning to her computer, she sat the chilled beverage down next to her keyboard and took a seat. "Time to double check the system." Bulma cracked her knuckles and got to work typing away at the keyboard. There were quite a few internal programs that needed their remaining coding ironed out. After about twenty minutes of diligent typing, Bulma accidentally bumps her drink over with her elbow, spilling the beer all over the keyboard. She jumps up from her office chair in shock, trying to quickly assess the damage and absorb the spill with a rag as the computer lets off an ominous sizzling sound before sparking. *BOOM* The terminal releases a small pulse of electrostatic energy which knocked Bulma back into her seat, sending her blackened soot covered self rolling backwards at top speed towards her work in progress. The chair smacks into the at knee level conveyor belt, forcibly throwing Bulma onto the motionless machinery. She laid there, startled as a low whirring noise caught her attention. "Ugh, what happened?" Bulma brought a hand up to her head, holding her forehead. Bulma ran her hand that had been holding her head through her brilliant blue locks of soot covered hair, trying to remove more of the soot which covered her head and much of her body. A series of popping came from her workstation, causing her to look over at the remains of her terminal with a devastated expression. "Noool" She whined. "All that hard work gone..." As she vocalized her frustration, another voice chimed in a clearly automated tone. *User Detected. Activating Autonomous Bathing, Diapering and- LINGONBERRIES* Bulma shook her head, trying to shake away the confusion that plagued her thoughts. There was no way that her machine had just came to life on it's on and started talking about Lingonberries of all things. 'That explosion must've made me bump my head on the belt or something…' Unbeknownst to our blue haired scientist, the Hetap that she had spilled onto her keyboard did more than just ruin her computer. In mere seconds, the fried circuitry was glitching out, sending out instructions for the invention to start up and act on its own. Suddenly, the belt lurched under her, pulling her back towards the chair she had previously been sitting in at the beginning of the line. Once Bulma reached the end of the belt, the machine stopped, realizing that it was going in the wrong direction and quickly corrected itself with an unprecedented amount of force. It caught the mother of two off guard, throwing her forward. Due to her inertia, Bulma is sent into a tumbling roll until she hit the side of a large box like structure. This abrupt stop in her roll, caused by the impact into the side of the machine' first station, caused her to land on her back. Now that she laid flat, the belt pulled her in through the small opening of the box which was only big enough to grant access to those who were laying down. Once inside the box, a series of red lights turned on and proceeded to scan the dazed Scientist. *Scanning. Scanning* The computerized voice announced as a fat red line was slowly brought across Bulma's body, much like how a candy bar is scanned at the grocery store. Her body's profile and dimensions were saved into the database of the computer for future use. *Charge is dirty. Running Cleaning protocol.* From the initial scanning area, Bulma was carried into a small tunnel where a multitude of sprayers lined the walls. Before Bulma could even think, the water nozzles started blasting her randomly with no synchronization. The short circuited system was dictating that her cleaning was done in a haphazard fashion as the sprayers hit her in random intervals that were completely out of order with various strengths. This was not her program! She had coded the system to gently wash the babies and children who were sent into this machine. Not roughly hose them down like they were a wild dog! "No!" Bulma cried out in anger. "Stop damn it! Shut! Down! Right! No- A sudden jet of water sprayed her in the face, shutting her up while simultaneously soaking her favorite white undershirt. At this rate, her entire outfit was going to need to go in the dryer once she got off the belt. "Ugghh!" Bulma growled as three of the miniscule cannons shot her with water across her butt and midsection, soaking her pants. She called out frantically as the belt ran her through a gauntlet of soapy rollers which acted on their own accord. In the process of being covered in foam, her Capsule Corp jacket came loose, falling off the belt and landing on the floor with a splat. Her white undershirt and red scarf quickly followed suit shortly thereafter. In a freak happening, brought on by the azure haired scientists struggles, her denim jeans were caught in the side of one of the rollers, becoming lodged into the mechanism which held the roller. Bulma fought back, trying to kick her legs at the roller as she lay on her back like a turtle. She pulled her legs back while yanking at the roller with her hands. With much twisting the jeans were horribly pulled from her legs, exposing her silky skin to the cold mechanical air inside the dimly lit tunnel. "Hey!" Bulma barked out. "Give me those back!" Bulma was ignored by her creation as she was whisked forward into a series of buffers! The swirling soft brushes ran over her body, removing her bra and ripping her panties into shreds. Had she been observing her series of unfortunate events, she would definitely go back to the drawing board. The rollers were much too rough, but that was not their original purpose. What she had in mind, what was supposed to happen, was that each roller was to be covered by a loofah, but she never reached that point in her project. At the other end of the tunnel, near the larger section of the machine, she rolled out from the exit; Sopping wet, naked as the day she was born, but squeaky clean and relatively unharmed. Bulma tried to shake off her dizziness as she was moved down the assembly line. She had already been stripped and washed, to a certain extent, a few bubbles lingered on her arms and legs. Finally, she regained her focus when another computerized voice caught her attention. *Phase Two: initializing Dressing* Bulma didn't even need to hear that to know what was next, after all her genius mind designed this machine, but hearing what was about to be initiated merely reminded her of what she subconsciously knew all along was going to happen. "No!" Bulma lashed out. "There's no way I'm going to just sit here and let my own machine diaper me!" Bulma sat up, realizing that she had little time to get off the belt. The scientist got to her feet and hopped off the belt. She was pretty much homefree but a long, mechanical arm reached out and grabbed her by the neck with its comically sized gloved hand. Bulma squeaked out of shock, her body squirming as she was brought back to the conveyor belt. She was doing everything to keep herself from going back onto the belt. Her arms flailed around, trying to break free from the glove's grip. While Bulma gave it everything she had, a new gloved hand snuck up behind and slowly lifted up a small hammer until it hovered over the nude woman's head. "You let me go right this instant, you hunk of junk or I'm going to sell you for scrap!" Bulma threatened before adding, "I am giving you one last warning! Stop now or-" *WHAAMM* "Duuuuuuuur" Bulma muttered unintelligibly. The once intelligent and successful scientist was rendered mentally incompetent thanks to the blow from the small hammer. She drooled on herself, her tongue hanging out of her mouth like a dog as a bump on her head suddenly sprang up from the site of the cranial impact. "Daaadaada." Completely incapable of rational thought, the stunned and now babbling woman was completely complacent and docile. She was pulled along to the diapering station where a pair of gloved hands effortlessly gripped her ankles and pulled them high up into the air. As the hands held Bulma's plump butt up off of the conveyor belt, a new hand was busy sliding a thick white diaper under her. Another arm extends downwards, in its hand a comically sized bottle of baby powder which practically dumps itself over her waist, crotch, and bottom. Her legs are slowly lowered again and she's deftly taped up. The bulky disposable forces the mother to spread her legs wide, causing her to gently kick them while she idly flips her lip up and down with her index finger. "Bleebeebeeeebeebee" The drooling, mentally diminished woman didn't even notice when her arm was being lowered from her face while another pair of gloves grabbed her legs, holding them in place to stop her from kicking them. Once reasonable secured, the machine lowered am oversized baby bonnet down onto Bulma's head. The hands try to tie it around her neck, but the bulbous protrusion simply prevents the hands from completely their job. Each time the bonnet pops off. On the third attempt one of the gloved hands coyly pushes the lump down into her skull before tying the bonnet into place. Roughly twenty seconds later, the bump popped back up, forcing its way through the top of the bonnet, ripping the material to gain its freedom. The bonnet remained in place, but the huge bump was prominently on display. This caused the machine to stop briefly, considering what it should do while Bulma sat there with her tongue dangling out of her mouth like a fool. After about a minute of calculations, the machine puts two small, white bandaids on the bump in a cross formation. With that done, the belt continues to its end where she's dropped off into what looks like an adult sized infant car seat which had been custom made, by the machine, for her body. The gloves immediately pulled the chest strap across her bountiful breasts, snapping it shut by her diaper and locking her in place. "Wha..?" Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she gets a good look at her diaper and current seat. "YOU DAMN BUCKET OF BOLTS! I'm going to have Vegeta blast you into a million pieces!" Bulma shouted at the ceiling, fists and legs flailing wildly from her locked seat. Another hammer holding gloved hand hovers overhead. "And after he blows you up I'll piss on the ashes and-" *WAAP* "Duuuuurrrr" Once more subdued, both mentally and physically, the machine starts up again, taking the giant carseat with it. Unbeknownst to the brain damaged Bulma, the carseat is latched and locked into a railing. The bottom of the railing chugs forward and pulls Bulma's oversized car seat deeper into her invention. Every few inches that go by is punctuated by loud mechanical noises, much like a roller coaster chain linkage, as Bulma lays back in her carseat, flipping her drool covered lips with her finger. *Feeding protocol commencing* The loud computerized voice stated as a large plastic nipple was slowly pushed into Bulma's drooling mouth. Her muffled gurgling was quickly replaced by a rhythmic suckling as the mother of two began to drink from her oversized baby bottle. Bulma absentmindedly sucked down a steady stream of thick, chalky baby formula. Ounce after ounce soon turned into a gallon as the petite scientist started to bloat up slightly. Mppfhhh! The steady stream ceased as the rubber teat of the bottle was pulled from her mouth. Suddenly, the dimwitted woman was bombarded by her higher brain functions returning. She now realized that her mouth had been freed from the rubbery obstruction and Bulma was ready to unleash a string of obscenities at her diabolical creation. Just as she was about to scream every vulgarity she knew, and some inappropriate Saiyan words that her husband had taught her, she was stunned into silence when she saw the giant looming figure which stood before her. She had never built that- THING! 'The machine must be using my body's dimensions to upside everything to fit me!' While Bulma was busy trying to figure what was going on with her invention, the same gloved hands that had pulled out her baby bottle were now unbuckling her from her oversized carseat. In the blink of an eye, she was lifted up and brought over to the enormous mannequin which resembled a massive mother, complete with full breasts. Not wanting to upset the machine, Bulma remained passive as she was draped over the large mannequin's shoulder. Her sour stomach groaned and gurgled, aching from the disgusting baby formula she was forced to drink. Before she realized what was about to happen, the hands started patting her back. "Hey!-" Bulma cried out angrily. "I'm a grown woman! I don't need to be bur-" *BUUUURRRPPPPPP* Bulma's face was a wash in a furious blush. She couldn't even believe that she had just burped, let alone spit up milk onto that mannequin's shoulder like a six month old baby! How pathetic she felt as she was placed back into her adult sized car seat with a loud crinkle, which reminded her about what was tightly taped around her womanly bottom. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before she needed to use the restroom. If only she had drank a few more Hetaps. It would've dulled her senses and maybe this whole horribly humiliating situation wouldn't have been so damaging to her ego. "That's a good widdle baby!" The mannequin cooed down at Bulma. "Now, let's get you back into your way and delivered to your new mother and father." "My new what?!? "Your new parents, sweetie. The carseat will be attached to the delivery hovercraft that is built to resemble a stork. Isn't that cute?" Bulma found herself quickly overcome with anger as she heard what this machine had intended to do to her. Instead of screaming her head off, which has only gotten her hit on the head, Bulma started to pull at the five point harness which held her into her oversized baby seat. "Naughty girl!" The mannequin cooed. "They say that the third times the charm!" Bulma had no clue what the mannequin was babbling about and she didn't care! She had precious few moments left before she was publicly delivered to someone's house wearing only a diaper and bonnet! The West City Journal would have a field day if that happened! Unbeknownst to squirming scientist, the mannequin brought out a large, adult sized baby rattle and quickly hit Bulma in the head with it. "Duuuuuuuur!" "Let's hope that fixes you." The massive mannequin said. "Babies like you shouldn't have to worry about anything except for when they're gonna get their num nums." The rhythmic rattling of the chain lift carried the drooling Bulma outside of the main dome of Capsule Corp where a rather remarkable recreation of a Stork waited for her, just as the mannequin had said. The stork themed delivery drone easily latched onto the top of Bulma's carseat and lifted her high up into the sky. Bulma simply sat in her carseat and gurgled, occasionally slapping at her drool covered breasts as the drone left the Capsule Corp compound. It soared through the towers of West City and then flew towards the nearby remote mountain range. Thirty Minutes Later "What in the name of-" an older woman found herself cut off by the most bizarre sight she had ever witnessed in all her days. A Stork shaped machine was slowly lifting off the ground, its job of dropping off a huge baby seat completed. Sure, the old woman had heard stories of aliens visiting the planet, the tales about the bald one in black armor were especially terrifying, but she had never heard about aliens delivering strange white plastic baby seats. She quickly ran through her freshly plowed turnip field and immediately came to a stop. There, sitting right in front of where she stood was an adult woman wearing a diaper. The old lady studied this bizarre discovery. She could see that the drooling woman had a head injury that was sticking out from a ludicrously large bonnet. The strange diapered woman's blue bangs peeked out from the bonnet she wore. "What's your name, honey?" The old lady asked, in an effort to establish communications with this strange diapered woman. "Bulba!" Bulma exclaimed "Balba?" The old woman repeated, arching her eyebrows. A cow mooing in the distance caught the mentally challenged mother's attention. "Moo moo! Balba!" "Oh, you want a bottle milk." The elderly farmer's wife stated, feeling rather silly that she didn’t understand what this girl wanted. 'All she wants is a baba.' "I guess you're some kind of baby alien or something?" The old woman asked. "Noh ama dult" Bulma cried out, filling her diaper. The old lady watched the blue haired woman's diaper turn yellow. "Well, I raised seven kids, what's one more?" The End! --- If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more similarly themed stories, please check out my Patreon. https://www.patreon.com/user?u=6660213 If you would like a commission, I'm always available to make your dreams a reality in the literary sense. please let me know what you think. Your feedback helps me out tremendously!

Jared spent most of his time at the gym training for a fitness competition and after a while had grown extremely popular in gym circles. Every time Jared would walk in the gym, everyone would turn and look. Women would give him serious looks as he’d strut to the weights and perform his morning rituals. But of course he was taken. Never far behind him was his training partner. She’d walk in a few minutes after he did and do her own thing. But if you looked closely, she’d always go and check on him, giving his bicep a light squeeze or slightly grazing her hand on his butt. She’d remind him (and the ladies or men) who were ogling that they were a pair. They were the ultimate couple, equally strong, both gods in their own right. But when he’d return home around 6PM she’d pull out a blender bottle and ask if Jared wanted to keep his muscles. The conversation was always the same. He’d have to say yes. Because the last time he said no, she reminded him what the consequences were. His muscles vanished. His waistline grew, his chiseled features vanished and his hair grew thin and wispy. He became weak and unattractive. His voice became weak. He looked like a shell of the man who was at the gym just that morning. She’d push him out the door and say, “Good luck.” She wasn’t cruel, she’d let him back in if he said the magic words. Jared could decide if he wanted to really live life as an average person. Live life as someone unremarkable. Someone who didn’t turn heads. Within an hour Jared would come back and beg. “Please let me back in.” She’d tell him to say the words. “Please.” He’d beg. “Put me back in diapers.” And so she’d bring him back inside, undo her top and place the nipple of her breast in his mouth. He’d suck gently and with each sip, his muscles would return. The chiseled confident man all the ladies at the gym knew would return. Next she’d have him crawl to the shelf and pull a plain white diaper out. Lying on the floor, she’d sprinkle powder on his balls, lotion him up and wrap the soft caressing plastic around him. But this time before she pulled up the diaper, she pulled out three suppositories and inserted them inside of him. “Someone needs to be punished for rebelling.” she’d say matter of factly. “You came to me all those years ago a weakling. A pathetic man, and I gave you self confidence. I gave you power. So I’m going to remind you, no matter how strong you get, you’re still pathetic.” Jared held still as she placed a few stuffers inside the diaper and tape it shut. “And this time, it’s diapers all the time. Not just at home. Seems like you need a reminder of your place.” Jared started to whimper. “Please no… can we go back to the way it was before?” “You’re the one who decided to act out. Each time it’ll get worse.” She patted the front of his diaper one more time. “Now it’s time for bed.” So there he’d lie, in the nursery, special made for him. The shelves were adorned with colorful diapers, soft music playing. Containers of protein powder were on the shelves, weights in the corner next to plush toys and bottles. And there was Jared, in the oversized light pink crib, on his back, preparing to mess his diaper for the second time that night. Each time he’d rebel, she’d make sure he spent the night in a messy diaper, to remind him that he was hers. She’d up the stakes. He’d now be wearing his thick crinkly diapers to the gym because he rebelled. She looked down at him smiling. “You’re so cute in diapers.” She gave him another squish and said darkly. “Next time I’m taking your bladder control. So unless you want to start wearing diapers to the gym, I’d try to be good from now on.” Jared let a few tears escape. His vanity trapped him in this plastic prison of his own creation. He couldn’t leave when he wanted. He was trapped. He had made this deal. She’d give him muscles. She’d make him a god and in return he’d be her baby at home, where no one could see them. That deal could last as long as he accepted his place. He wanted to be a god in real life, he’d be a baby when he was with her.

Nora Davies, waited patiently in line for the Cinema. She was slightly annoyed that her best friend had let her down, but she was determined to see the film, so was here on her own. It was to be her 55th birthday at the weekend, so with the preparations, today was her only chance. She started going over those preparations in her head, but got distracted by the pair in front of her, a young woman and her daughter. They had their backs to her, of course, so she couldn't see what they looked like, but the seemed to get on really well, and the child was really well behaved. Her mind went back to some of the childish behaviour she had witnessed in this very Queue. Didn't that kid run about wild last week? Barging past her, banging into her. with no apology from her or her mother, and her mother not trying to make her behave. Nora was old fashioned, and she would never have let her daughters behave like that. She was a bit sad that they had long flown the nest, but she would see them at her birthday. She didn't like to interfere normally, but she just had to say something. "Excuse me" she said. When the two heads turned around, she smiled at both, especially the daughter ""Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to say that your daughter is well behaved, last time I was in here there was a kid who was just running wild, almost stood on my foot, in fact, and I've been behind you two and haven't heard one peep from her. So well mannered!" She smiled at them, a little nervously, as she didn't want them to think she was some kind of busybody. Stacy, the taller (by far) of the two was a bit thrown aback by the comment. Who was her daughter? She was here with her friend and didn't even have a daughter. She'd been friends of Annie for many years and didn't even really notice her small stature. She didn't even know that her friend was at all sensitive about it. She started to think hard, and was arriving at the answer, when her friend butted in.

A story about Raven trapped in a world of Mother Mae Eye's creation. Will the Gothic super hero escape? Find out in future installments or check out the rest of the chapters on my Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/user?u=6660213 Raven rolled over in her bed, torn from her deep sleep by the alarm going off, calling the Titans' attention. The Gothic teen quickly joined her team of teens. They all congregated in their living room/command post as Robin, their leader, noted several emergencies happening simultaneously across the city. Each demanding their attention, but there was no way that they could be in three places at once. Robin decided to break the group up into small erase teams: Beast Boy would tend to the lowest priority issue while Robin and Cyborg raced out to the first national Bank to stop a group of Hive villains from robbing it. This left Starfire and Raven to look into a strange call coming from the orphanage on the edge of town. Starfire thought about her friends and worried slightly about them as the orange skinned alien flew alongside her pale teammate. Below her, the city's streetlights pulsed ominously, turning off and on every few seconds. "I worry about the others. Friend Raven, do you think they'll be okay?" "Cyborg and Robin can handle the Hive hooligans and I'm confident that Beast Boy will find whoever is disrupting the power grid." Starfire nodded. "I believe that you are right." It was a fairly short flight to the edge of town where a dormicile building stood shrouded in darkness. For whatever reason, this structure was powered by Jump City's electrical grid. Still, eerily green flashes of energy illuminated a bank of windows on the side of the dorm. This light show caught the female Titans' attention as they landed in the front of the dark building. "Let's get in there." Raven used her teleconetic powers to fling the large oak doors open. The two Titans hovered just above the ground, slowly but surely proceeding down the long hallway while lights flicked all around them. Shadows were casting strange shapes on the walls while the hallway lamps blinked on and off. Raven deduced that the lights were coming to life randomly thanks to the pulses of energy coming from deep within the dormitory. Soon the duo of magic welding super heroins came up to a three way junction, one hallway ending while another led off towards the east and west sides of the building. The third direction was a large pair of door standing right in front of the girls. "What way is best to go?" Starfire asked her Gothic comrade. Before Raven could answer, a powerful blast of green aura burst through the doors in front of them. The ladies shielded their eyes in surprise until the light dissipated. A loud cackling caught them slightly off guard. Starfire and Raven lowered their arms and noticed who their foe was. "You again!?" Raven called out, in an annoyed tone. "Yes, it is the evil mother once again." Starfire added as if Raven couldn't see that for herself. "My children have returned to me!" The voice belonged to a short, fat, old woman who wore a red dress, a white shawl, and a pink apron which was lined by white frills. A red hat covered in pink polka dots with a white bow tied around it sat a top her head. "Seems as though you forgot to bring my boys, though." The strange elderly lady added, seemingly dismayed. "Our friends are busy enough without having to deal with you, but they left you for us to handle. Isn't that right, friend Raven?" Starfire looked to her pale comrade for confirmation. "I couldn't of said that any better myself. Let's blast this old hag back to oblivion!" Raven and Starfire flew into battle, side by side, charging the wicked old woman. "Now that's not very polite. A little girl like you shouldn't use such vulgar words to describe me!" Mother Mae Eye lifted her old staff and shot a green ray at Raven. A barrel roll saved the Gothic girl from being hit by the beam of energy."Nice try, but you got to do better than that." "You've seen nothing yet, child!" Mother Mae Eye boasted, transforming into her true form: A sickly green hue appeared across her flesh as her clothes turned purple. The decrepit old sorceress was my finished yet. She jammed the butt of her staff on the ground, summoning a light so bright that it practically blinded Raven and Starfire. "Damn it!" Raven cursed, her hands once more trying to futile shield her eyes from the light. However, the damage was already done, little dancing stars covered her closed eyes. After a few moments, she opened her eyes slowly, only to see a wall of hypnotized eyes which had surrounded the female Titans. "Oh, shit!" Raven shouted before locking eyes with a pair of the swirling eyes. She found herself in a deep trance within a matter of minutes. Unbeknownst to Raven, Starfire hadn't avoided the hypnotic gaze of the eyes either. Both girls fell to the floor of the cafeteria inside the dorm.