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  1. Here's the start of a story I've been posting on a few different sites. It's a slow burn, but any criticism is very much welcome. I think I've got thirty-something chapters written now, so might take a while to catch up with the other places I've been posting. Any comments and corrections very much welcome. Specifically, I'm never sure if I'm being too heavy-handed with foreshadowing and clues. If you can see what's coming, please let me know; so I have a better idea if it's too obvious or not. ACT I: Briefing 1. Prologues Light on the factory floor was mostly from the faint glow of furnaces, or some complex chemical process. Occasionally, the flicker of welding caused the shadows to shift for a couple of seconds before darkness returned. The machines didn’t need light to work by. The shadows seemed alive, writhing in the corners and clinging to every surface. Narrow metal catwalks lined the perimeter, suspended precariously over a sprawling industrial space. Below the walkways, massive stainless steel vats brewed and distilled mysterious chemical concoctions, bubbly liquids gurgling as gases percolated up through them. Steam rose in wispy tendrils, collecting under the catwalks and obscuring the view across the cavernous hall. A figure walked along down below, a flashlight casting to either side. Maybe a janitor or night guard inspecting the place. The days when a site like this would have required hundreds of workers to keep it going were long gone. Now, the only serious tasks were making sure that none of the machines had warning lights lit, and that there was nobody here who wasn’t supposed to be. The last intruder had been a rat, found nesting in the ductwork a month before. People were still talking about it. On the gantry above, if you looked from just the right angle, you might have noticed a couple of shadows looking a little more organic than the latticework of steel and concrete. A really careful observer, if they waited long enough, might have seen those shadows moving again after a long, cautious pause. Two figures, scurrying across a catwalk while keeping low to the ground so they couldn’t be seen from below. The larger one went first, moving with a quiet confidence, while the frustration of the second was clear in the way that it moved. Their footsteps didn’t make a sound even on the metal gantry, and the distant man on the ground was completely unaware of them as he continued surveying some of the industrious machines. As they came to the middle of the catwalk they moved more nervously; exposed in the open space, with sheer drops on either side down to the chemical basins simmering stories below. Reaching an intersection, the taller figure paused, broad shoulders backlit by the eerie green glow of a monitor as he peered down each possible path. His muscular frame was obvious even through his dark utilitarian clothes. Beside him, the smaller figure froze as someone else’s footsteps started to shake the steel beneath their feet. Their slim build was almost lost in the oversized utility uniform they wore, and they stood with a tension that said flight was an option at any moment. With a few quick hand signals, the partner indicated a patrol emerging from the left passage. Another gesture pointed towards a place where the computer terminal at the side of the walkway – maybe all the buttons to shut down the machines below in case someone were to fall – could conceal them from whoever was generating a more prominent set of footsteps. The smaller figure was moving back already, desperate to hide before they were discovered. But the larger man didn't retreat. His head turned back and forth as if considering multiple options when there was only one sane choice available. With a sudden burst of speed he charged forward into the intersecting catwalk, directly toward the oncoming guards. A dozen panicked shots ricocheted in the darkness, nowhere near their target as they reacted in pure surprise. The brute’s bellow inspired terror before he crashed into them with the force of a freight train. They had guns, but those were no use against a figure within arm’s length, ignoring his own sidearm and swinging a length of steel pipe around his head. A fierce brawl ensued, but the guards had never signed up for this kind of conflict and their reflexes simply weren’t fast enough. As three uniformed figures tumbled to the ground, one of them rolling over the side of the catwalk, the fourth member of the team just about managed to back away far enough to bring his rifle to bear. But he didn’t reckon with the second figure rising up behind him out of nowhere and tightening a cord around his neck. Seconds later he fell to the ground unconscious. The smaller intruder cringed at the reckless frontal attack, but was smart enough to know there was no sense in complaining about what had already happened. There had been so much noise in the fight, and the sound of gunfire was sure to attract even more security. They needed to complete their mission as quickly and quietly as possible. With a shudder, the slight figure pulled a security access card from the pocket of the nearest guard. They just needed to get to the records room, and they might just have time before more reinforcements arrived. Smoke was rising at the side of the vast chamber in any case, and there was an acrid smell in the air. There was more light now, an amber flickering glow, and it didn’t take a genius to guess that one of the vats on the far side of the hall could have been ignited by a stray bullet. “Thanks,” the larger figure grunted, and then kept on walking in the direction they had been moving. He didn’t bother to keep low, focusing on speed now that stealth was off the table. “Subtle as always, Dash,” his partner sighed, stepping over another fallen guard. “We don’t need subtle, Ghost. We get the job done.” He was already at the door of the records room, seemingly oblivious to the growing flames and smoke on the far side of the facility. A few seconds later his partner joined him and swiped the purloined keycard to get the door open. The records room was darker than the factory floor; there was no flicker of industrial processes here, and one computer screen in the corner was showing an endless montage of security footage from different parts of the facility. Right now, it showed a considerable number of running men with weapons, in between shots of more uniformed figures trying without success to stop a roaring blaze. Brock stared at the screen for a moment, and then flicked the lights on. Fluorescent tubes buzzed into life, one of them flickering intermittently. While he stood a little way back from the doorway, expecting more intruders, his partner dashed straight towards one of the server racks and plugged in a ruggedised laptop. A uniformed figure burst into the room, and was efficiently rendered unconscious. Brock barely broke a sweat. “How long's this gonna take?” he asked. “Organised resistance will be here any minute.” “That’s why we were supposed to avoid the guards until we’re here. I bypassed the encryption, just need to finish downloading the files. Guess there’s no point covering out tracks now.” He focused intently on the screen while a progress bar ticked across. "Shouldn't be long. But have you thought how we’re going to get out of here? They’re not going to–” A sound like distant thunder rocked the building, and the floor shuddered beneath their feet. The security monitor showed scenes of utter chaos from the cameras that were still working. The acrid smell of chemicals flooded the hallway. Brock laughed loudly. “That’ll keep 'em occupied! Explosions have a way of grabbing your attention. C’mon, let’s hustle.“ “Right!” The smaller figure sighed, hands flying across the keys. His voice didn’t betray any surprise that their mission had turned out this way; but it was clear that he was longing for a break. Moments later the computer signalled it was ready, and two figures were again running along catwalks as more explosions rocked the building. Dash was right about one thing: The guards had bigger things to worry about than two running figures. * * * Nina leaned against the bars enclosing her, trying to make out signs of anything interesting in the rest of the room. There were other girls out there, she was sure, but she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to any of them yet. She could hear the sound of crying, which made her a little apprehensive about what might happen to her if she couldn’t find a way out of this strange place. But she didn’t really understand this place; her jailors had only ever told her what they wanted her to do, never going into why. But she could see the shape of it, and she told herself that she wanted no part of it; shutting down any hormonal fantasies that weren’t rooted in the real world. She twisted the ring on her finger, hoping that Victor would come to rescue her soon. They hadn’t taken the ring away; that must mean there was still a chance, mustn’t it? She didn’t understand the chain of events that had brought her here. They were supposed to be spending a couples weekend at a luxury spa. It would have been one of the high points of her time with him; although their whole engagement so far had seemed to be nothing but a string of high points, and the house had been nothing to laugh at either. But… But now she wasn’t at a spa. She was trapped in this weird, creepy space god-knew how many stories below ground, where nobody would ever be able to find her. And she didn’t have the first clue what the people here were planning to do with her. She couldn’t escape; the bars were more than just ornamental. So all she could do was hope that Victor would come to look for her sooner or later. Footsteps approached before two figures in white-and-blue uniforms reached her enclosure. This was a familiar routine as well. She recognised the taller figure, a woman who had introduced herself as Claudine when they first met. She was probably in charge, because she was the only person Nina had seen wearing a name badge in here, and in fact the only person whose name she had known in the last week. The other person was just there to provide muscle; nameless, and interchangeable. They never said Nina’s name either; though she had no idea whether they actually didn’t knew it, or just knew how much dehumanising her added to the emotional impact of this experience. “Time to eat, sweetie,” Claudia said with a sadistic smirk. Nina cowered back, knowing what was coming and also acutely aware that it was her own fault. She had refused to eat on her first day here, wanting to show that there were some things she was still in control of. They had proved her wrong. On the second day she had been given another chance to prove that she was willing to go along with the programme; but she had been too stubborn. They wouldn’t give her the choice again. And the knowledge that she had wasted a tiny sliver of freedom on something so petty only reminded her – every time she thought about it – that she would have more freedom if she did what she was told in future. The man beside Claudine responded to her glare by turning and fiddling with the locks for a moment. Then there were no bars between her and freedom, just two people larger and stronger than her. They picked her up without any apparent effort, and carried her between them. She was going to get breakfast now, and it was clear that she had no choice in the matter. She didn’t bother to fight, she knew that there was no point. And her new compliance earned a smile and a pat on the head, along with a few reassuring words about what a good girl she was. Nina found herself blushing, surprised by how quickly she had gotten used to this treatment. She didn’t say anything as they deposited her on the chair, and set about strapping her in so that she couldn’t escape even if she thought there might be some chance of finding her way up to the surface through this labyrinth. A rubbery bulb was forced between her lips and Nina knew better than to fight it. A moment later there was warm sweet liquid filling her mouth, and she had no choice but to swallow. And despite her fear, she found herself somehow feeling not entirely afraid in this situation. Sure, she was trapped with no suggestion of when she would get out. But they weren’t actually hurting her, and so long as she did everything they wanted, she would be pretty comfortable. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. After Claudine and her assistants had left the room, Nina still never felt like she was alone. She didn’t know that there was a doctor watching her on a video monitor; but there was something about the decor that made it feel like she had no privacy at all. It was the kind of place where there would always be someone watching. She swallowed again, feeling the warm liquid running down her throat. It was actually pretty nice, if she just didn’t think about the situation, or her lack of choice in all of this. And it was easy not to think as she drank more. She found her thoughts getting fuzzier, and everything starting to blur. A minute later she would have been smiling, but for the bulb dispensing medicine into her mouth. And a little after that, she wasn’t thinking anything at all. Nina didn’t hear the conversation between Claudine and Dr Renault, commenting on how well she was progressing, or how soon she would be ready. And even if she had heard, she wouldn’t have been able to comprehend long words like “conditioning”. But that didn’t matter at all; it felt so good to just suck, drink, and smile. 2. Irreplaceable The air was filled with the insistent click-click-click of a dozen keyboards. Everybody in the office focused intently on their work, sure that what they were doing mattered. Even when they couldn’t make any deductions right away, they were chipping away at the rock face of ignorance, and sooner or later they would manage to unearth a nugget of truth. Or at least, that was how it seemed to Isadora as she pushed a stray lock of dark hair away from her face. She knew that her own work, even if it was related to something minor like a dead-drop in the back streets of Tarawa, actually mattered, and she was determined to do it to the best of her ability. Even if her hazel eyes were bloodshot from staring at a monitor all day by the time she got back to her apartment. It would have been worth it, and she was already looking forward to being able to relax and indulge herself later. But there was no time to be thinking about that. She straightened her glasses and smoothed down her sensible blouse as the interdepartmental mail trolley rolled by. Sheila's laughter at the mailroom guy's jokes grated on Isadora's nerves. Didn't they understand how crucial their work was? Isadora would never even consider flirting with a coworker, not one of the office staff. Even having a closer bond with an Operative could be dangerous; and Isadora wasn’t the only one who looked down on the various Monitors who had reputedly hooked up with the agency’s most notorious womaniser, Agent Brock. Isadora found herself sneering without thinking when that image crossed her mind; she knew she would never fall for that kind of flamboyant playboy. She tried to put it out of her mind, and turned back to the list of cryptographic signatures in front of her. She had an iron will, and remained focused on the screen for a whole two seconds until a letter landed on her desk with a quiet flutter. Then her hands froze over the keyboard, and she wondered if this could be it. The answer she had been waiting for. She hesitated, and froze with the letter in her hands. There was just her name and desk number typed on the front, with no indication of which office it had come from. But some instinct told her that her answer was inside. The final results after eighteen months of training. If the letter said yes, she wouldn’t need to keep sitting here decrypting messages to tell Brown and Johnson where they needed to be. She could travel with an Operative and give him support in the field. She could watch dots on her screen indicating where guards might be, and give her Operative advice in real time, telling him when he needed to duck, and when he needed to fight. On paper, there was little difference between the duties of a Monitor and a Field-certified Monitor, but in practice it meant that she could do all the things that required a real time response, and it meant that sometimes she might be less than a mile from the bad guys. It was a prospect that terrified Isadora, but if it meant that she could spend more time close to Brown, and even get him to speak to her for more than a casual ‘hi’ as they passed in the corridors of Millennium House, it would all be worthwhile. Shaking, and aware that she was distracting herself from her all-important codebreaking work, she tucked away an errant lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail and then drew her thumbnail carefully through the top of the envelope. A handful of minutes later, Isadora could hardly contain her excitement as she strode down the familiar wood-panelled corridors. A part of her still couldn’t believe it, but seeing her name on that certificate had put a new spring in her step. She hadn’t told any of her colleagues where she was going, and she doubted that any of them really cared. But she wanted Brown to be the first person she told. Brown was the Operative she wanted to work with more than any other, and it was his strength that had first inspired her to try getting into the field. He wasn’t an egotistical jerk like the legendary operative Brock, whose reputation included all the chauvinism of James Bond without any of the subtlety. Brown was a consummate professional, who made it his goal to learn everything he could possibly do to make the mission go down smoothly. And to Isadora, his caring nature and attention to detail made him much more attractive than toned muscles and dark-bronze skin. She’d respected the man ever since she first heard stories of his dedication and courage, and once she had actually seen him around headquarters she had been totally enthralled. The one time she’d spoken to him on the job, passing over a bunch of schedule data for an arms shipment, she’d seen that he had other impressive qualities as well. Brown would never see a mission as a checklist of goals. He cared about the people; both the ones he was working with and the innocents they were supposed to protect. And she had found herself dreaming of how well they could work together if they could properly synergise their skills. It was Brown who had said that teamwork was an Operative’s greatest strength, after all. She clutched her certificate, heart fluttering. She knew it was a little silly to be so emotional about this. She was just going to visit the man in hospital; to share the good news that they could work together once he was discharged. She’d brought a get well card as well, of course, and a little box of dates and walnuts because she remembered him saying that he didn’t have a sweet tooth. But she wanted him to be the first person she confided in about being approved as a Field Operative. He would give her some moral support, she was sure, and advice about managing her nerves that would seem like common sense as soon as she heard it. He’d be impressed by her qualifications as well, and tell her how well she had done. She could almost see it in her mind’s eye now. Reaching his door, she had to shake away her head to clear away those mental images. Those things were just dreams, they would never happen here and now. They would have to work together, and get to know each other more and more closely, for at least a few months before the calm and careful Brown would make the first move. He was a gentleman, after all. He wasn’t Brock, or one of the agents who idolised that guy and his refusal to work by the book. Brown would take his time, and always take care of her feelings. Because he was the kind of man who would respect her; and the only operative she knew of who had never tried flirting with the girls behind desks at headquarters. After steadying her nerves, Isadora knocked sharply. No matter what, she resolved to show Brown her very best. She would make clear she was ready for the field, and that they would make an unstoppable team. After all this time, her chance was finally here. “Come in!” a voice called from inside. It surprised her a little that he sounded confident and healthy, but that shouldn’t have been a surprise. Brown wasn’t seriously injured, and was only still in here because his doctors had insisted on a period of observation to demonstrate that he was fully recovered. “Hi,” she introduced herself with a nervous wave, before pausing to wonder if she should address him as ‘Brown’, or ‘Mr Brown’, or even ‘Agent Brown’. In a world where almost everyone was known by surnames alone, she wasn’t sure how to be either deferential or charming without sounding a little weird. She’d spoken to him before, of course, but only in a more formal setting within headquarters, when they happened to be assigned to related projects. This was different, because today she was actually making the initiative to see him. “Hey,” Brown answered. He was lying back in a hospital bed, with bandages around his arms. But he seemed happy and relaxed, with no signs of pain. It would take more than a little misfortune to keep Brown off the case. “Isadora, right? How’s the wonderful world of cryptanalysis treating you?” “Great thanks,” she answered, heart beating a hundred times a minute as she realised that he actually recognised her. A cynical part of her mind said that being able to identify a face in a crowd that he’d only glimpsed for a second before was a big part of his job. But it still made her feel special, like he actually cared. That was a magic that the flirts and chauvinists would never care about. “I’ve just been… Well, obviously I can’t say the details of what I’m working on. But I just got…” She did her best to breathe calmly, telling herself how important it was to appear professional. If he thought she was one of the airheaded clerical workers who had a crush on some agent, he would never want to be in the field with her. And she knew that she was better than that. Her interest and admiration was professional and entirely appropriate, even if it sometimes felt like something more. While she didn’t quite trust herself to speak clearly, she held up a hand with two envelopes in. One of them she had so recently opened, while the other had Brown’s name on the front. Of course, he smiled graciously as he took the one that was addressed to him, feigning a complete lack of curiosity about the other letter. But Isadora held it up anyhow. “I got my field certification,” she squawked, already sure that she was saying the wrong thing, but desperate to say what she had planned. She wasn’t going to come right out and ask, but it couldn’t hurt to informally assess his enthusiasm for being placed together. “I’ll be a real Field Monitor, in the field. Undercover, and all that. I’m so nervous still, but I thought… I mean, is there any advice you can give me? You’re probably the most professional Operative on the roster, so if I want to get advice from the best…” “Of course,” he said with a smile. “It’s a different system now, though. When I was paired up with Doc, he was an Operative first, studying the Monitor duties in the background. So I don’t know how different it will be for you. But there’s two pieces of advice I would give you, even if they might be a little… less dry and emotionless than what they teach in Spy School.” “Oh, that’s perfect!” Isadora gasped, and then hesitated and wished she could take the words back. “I mean… learning what matters from someone who’s actually lived it.” “Modesty suits you,” he said. “And as long as you’re willing to learn, I think you’ll make an excellent Field Monitor. Have you been assigned a partner yet?” “No, I…” Isadora hesitated. There was a part of her that just wanted to ask right out if he was willing to work with a new partner while his on-and-off companion Doc was recuperating after their last adventure. But somehow it felt somehow impolite to admit that she’d been paying so much attention to his life. That sounded like something he should volunteer; even if it seemed like he could be asking if she wanted to join him. “I only found out today, but I was wondering…” As much as she knew that she would need to start showing determination, that was as much as she could stay. “Whoever it is, they’re lucky,” he said. “You strike me as a very competent woman. And not at all overconfident.” It was the perfect compliment; and the exact opposite of what she would expect from the growing number of operatives who modelled themselves after a dinosaur like Brock. His kindness made her even more determined to say what she needed to say. “Thank you. How about you? I mean… I know you were injured. Will you be waiting for your Monitor to recover before you continue?” She knew that wouldn’t be the case. Brown couldn’t bear to stop working; the next mission was the only thing that mattered to him. But she could ask, and it would sound like something a concerned friend would say. She could hope that he would open up to her then. “We both got hurt a little,” he said. “And that’s… ugh, I haven’t talked to anybody about this yet.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–” “No, no. It’s fine. But I’ve got two tips for you, right? Things they never teach you in training. And I think this is a perfect example of the one I should have learned years ago. I wasn’t badly hurt this time, you see. But the circumstances made me think about what would have happened if I didn’t make it back. I always told myself before that one man is a small sacrifice; that the mission is more important than just me.” “That must be the hardest part of it,” Isadora mumbled, as soon as Brown paused. He seemed so intense now, and that only made her more eager to share this life with him. “Putting yourself in second place.” “Not really. A lot of people can sacrifice themselves. The hard part is realising that it isn’t all about me. Thinking about how my family would feel if nobody could tell them what happened to me. And when I think about all of it, I know I can’t do that. Sacrificing myself for the job is a small price to pay if the job gets done, but hurting all the people I care about… I can’t do that. I can’t take that risk with a clear conscience.” He hesitated then, opening the get well soon card she had brought and standing it up beside his bed. Isadora knew enough basic psychology to recognise displacement activity; a man doing some simple task as a way to put off thinking about his next words. She felt like she should say something, or reassure him. But she was just standing there with her mouth open, barely taking in what he was saying. After a long pause, he continued: “I thought about it a lot,” he said. “I’ve spent three days now, drafting and redrafting my resignation letter. I haven’t mentioned it to Forstadter yet, and I was kind of dreading it. So thank you, Isadora. Telling someone at work, someone I can trust… I think you’re already helping me over the largest mental hurdle.” “You’re quitting?” It seemed obvious, but she asked for confirmation before her brain had even processed what she had heard. It was almost unthinkable. Did that mean she would never get a chance to work with Brown? Did it mean she wouldn’t be able to see him outside work either? “Yeah. I’m sorry, I feel like I’m letting you all down. But when I imagine Dave sitting alone, never really knowing what happened to me… that’s not something I could ever do to him. I’m sure there are plenty of Operatives who can do what I do, especially with talented people like you to support them. But Dave, well… He’s only got one husband. That’s where I’m irreplaceable, and to me that’s more important than any genius with delusions of world domination.” He didn’t say any more, and for a few minutes Isadora just didn’t know how she could possibly respond. 3. Two Rules “You’re resigning?” Isadora managed to get the words out at last. A part of her was screaming inside, wanting to ask more questions, but just about everything she could have thought of to say would have been highly inappropriate. Brown had a husband? She’d had no idea. She thought that she knew him, but that revelation shattered the image in her mind. It was like there had been a part of himself that he always kept locked away; and once she started thinking about that, she was also realising that his professional demeanour had completely hidden any hint of a life outside work. She didn’t know what music he liked, or what sports he followed; let alone his family. She knew that he could talk confidently about just about any topic, but that was pretty much a job requirement for an Operative. He needed to be at home around the water cooler when infiltrating any stratum of society; and there was no hint there about which topics were of interest to him personally. “What happened?” “Davy called in for me,” he said, looking down at his hands as he spoke. “Said he had a bad feeling, was worried about me. The Monitors decided to put him through; he’d had enough background checks, and they can trust me not to say anything he’s not cleared for. But…” “Did he overhear something?” Isadora guessed. She knew so little about Brown’s latest mission that any guess she made would just be a stab in the dark. But she felt like she had to say something. She could feel that this decision was really hard, even for the man who was never scared of anything. And she needed to help him. A part of her still hoped that she could help him to make a different decision; but she wouldn’t even know whether that was possible until she knew the truth. “Kind of,” he said, and flashed the kind of smile that is only ever used to hide pain. “We were ambushed. We were preparing for the start of the mission, and Doc thought it would be okay to put him through to me, to wish me luck. But the shooting started before we were ready. I was hit, a flesh wound really. But it was chaos, and everything went to hell. Doc called back to SO3 that I was hit, and Davy heard that. I heard his response, in that moment. For weeks afterwards, I kept playing it over and over in my head. And I knew I never wanted to scare him like that again. He’s given up so much for me, and he deserves to know that I’ll be coming home from work. So…” “I’m sorry,” Isadora said, eventually. “I never even thought… I guess I’ve never really been that close to someone. And I can see where you’re coming from. But is there anyone who can do what you do? I mean… everybody knows you’re one of the best. I’m worried that important jobs might start going to the wannabe James Bond types. There seems to be more and more of them, and… I guess I was hoping you’d be a positive role model for the newer Operatives, showing them what they’re supposed to be.” She started blushing again after that flood of words, and resisted the urge to pull her bendant out from beneath the collar of her shirt. It was special to her, a single piece of jewellery with a secret meaning, and holding it always helped to relieve stress. But it was also pretty childish, so she usually did her best to keep it out of sight when she was around anyone whose opinion she valued. “I think I know the type you mean,” Brown answered with a wry smile. “And I can think of one or two who still need ideas from the movies removing from their minds. But not as many as you might think. Certainly, amongst some of the old timers, there’s a kind of hidden joke. If someone in the refectory asks how the latest job went and they don’t want to reveal compartmentalised data, they’ll describe it like an action movie. A lot of those stories enter into office gossip, but it really isn’t how the Operatives in the question act in the field. Even my old friend and Monitor, Doc, has a reputation around the break room for sleeping with a gangster’s moll on every assignment. But in reality, he sits in his room reading briefings. Everything at our classification level, every document we have access to, so that if our bandits cross over into someone else’s assignment, he’ll know who to get in touch with. Seriously, the guy won’t step outside his hotel room once until he needs to be somewhere. And then it gets to the point where the admin staff make up their own stories to paper over the gaps if they don’t know what we’ve been up to. Don’t trust the gossip, that’s one of the tips I wanted to give you.” “Oh, yeah,” she said. And even if this was a bittersweet discussion now, there was still a warm glow inside her from knowing that Brown seemed to respect her abilities. “Two tips, you said?” “Yeah. The first rule, don’t take anything for granted. When you’re assigned a partner, get to know them. Not just what people say about them, or even what they tell you, but watch the way they act. See when they react quickly and when they pause to think. See if you can understand who a person is beneath all the walls they put up, so you can know what they’re really capable of. That’s more important than most people would believe. And the corollary, make sure that you act rationally around your partner. When you’ve been working together for a long time, you can get blind to someone’s weaknesses. Like when I… When the whole business on my last mission went down, Doc put himself in the line of fire trying to help me. Didn’t stick to protocol. I appreciate that he cares, but all it meant was that we both got injured. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I feel bad about that. I should have reminded him to stay put. So that’s the rule. Know your partner, and know yourself. Know the mistakes you’re likely to make, so you can avoid them. We always talk about knowing your enemy, but knowing yourself is so much more important.” “I think Sun-Tzu said that,” Isadora responded, a little distracted by the mental image of someone getting shot in the field. It was easy to conjure up a pure-Hollywood image of diving in front of a bullet to protect Brown; that would be a true act of heroism. But when she thought about someone sacrificing themself for her, even someone completely unlikely like the irritating mailroom guy, she could see a shadow of Brown’s disapproval. It made the whole situation seem real in a new way. “One of them, anyway,” Brown said, and smiled. “You know they think The Art of War had at least seven authors, a bunch of different books put together under the name of a semi-mythical genius tactician?” “Yeah, I heard,” she said. “I guess it’s like you said, don’t trust the legends. So what’s the other rule?” “Think about why you’re doing this. I guess that’s part of knowing yourself, really. But it’s something a lot of the old-timers never considered. For so many years, I really didn’t know why I’m in this life. I signed up when I was young, because they said I was good about it. And I never thought about quitting, because people needed me. But I never questioned my own motivation. You should. Do you want to do this because you think it’s needed? Because you’re good at it? Because the movies make it seem so glamorous. Because let me tell you, it isn’t. Think about why you want this life. Think about how much those feelings mean to you. And think about who will miss you if you don’t come back, and how much you mean to them. And if you’re not absolutely certain that it’s a trade worth making, take a step back. For a life like this, you need to be sure. I didn’t think about it until it could have been too late. I was lucky. You can do better.” “I… uhh…” Isadora stammered, finding the whole conversation heavier than she had expected. “I think you’ll be a good Field Monitor,” Brown said, cutting through the tension. “I really do. And I hope you’ll be protecting the country from the bad guys. And being a good role model for the more impetuous. But I don’t want you to dive into it without really knowing that’s what you want, or without asking yourself why. You deserve better than that.” “Thank you,” she whispered. They kept on talking, and the discussion was lighter now that all the serious issues were out of the way. But twenty minutes later, Isadora’s shoes rapped slowly against the wooden floors of Millennium House as she returned to her department. She had such a lot to think about, and now she really didn’t know if she wanted to be an Operative or not. Without Brown in the picture, she felt like the whole career path was out of focus and not quite what she had expected. Had her desire to go into the field really just been a desire for one man, without her being able to admit that to herself His questions cut deeply now, in ways she had never even expected. Was she throwing away a promising cryptography career on a promotion that she didn’t really want? It didn’t help that as soon as she swiped in through the last security checkpoint, the screen told her to go straight to Kane’s office, on the seventeenth floor. That gave her a lot more time to think; as well as adding a whole lot of new worries to the mix. Emerson Kane was a veteran Monitor, one of the best of the best. Everyone in the building had heard of him, but it was a long time since he had been in the field. Now he moved in the upper circles of the Agency, managing funding and politics. He was a big picture guy, who would never need to look at an individual case; and being sent upstairs was rarely good for anyone in the administrative side of the building. Isadora spent half the walk up there wondering what she could have done wrong. When she reached the office, she found herself standing outside, too nervous to knock. Her hand closed around her pendant, grasping so tightly that the plastic edges probably left white lines across her palm. She needed comfort now; she needed to remember a time without so many responsibilities. Because everything was happening at once, and she didn’t know how to deal with all the things that were worrying her right now. Running away wasn’t the right answer, she was sure. But moving forward terrified her, and she didn’t know if there was even a point to it now. “Enter.” The word came from the intercom beside the office door, brusque and businesslike but without any obvious signs of impatience. She hadn’t even knocked, but of course her security badge would track exactly where she was within the building. Kane would have been able to watch her on the map, coming closer to her scheduled appointment. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, dreading whatever was next for her.
  2. This story is a sequel of A.H.C. and it refers to the former story Happy Family Part 1: “Elna, look at this article,” Amanda passed the news to Elna. Elna just returned from her afternoon lessons. She also read and stared at the article wide-eyed: An unusual daycare. A big criminal plot took place in Willingcester. Teenagers were captured and turned into toddlers by means of a strange regression machine. Babysitters were hired to take care of the regressed children in a luxurious villa. A brave babysitter found out about the plot; unfortunately, she also became a victim of the regression. Unfortunately, the villa owners managed to flee before the police arrived, but the regression machine was secured and transported into the local university. The villa was confiscated by the county and turned into a daycare for the regressed children. Several of the children live in that villa and run the daycare; their minds are adult, and they were declared of age despite their body size and condition. The whole article was longer, and there was even an internet link happy.children.us on its end. “I can’t believe my eyes. There was another criminal company like the A.H.C! It is terrible though,” Elna sighed and shook her head, “fortunately, the criminal activity was stopped at least.” “Elna, look at the daycare idea. It would be great to have such place here. I’m not the only A.H.C victim and we could meet there and have fun together. Let’s look at the daycare” Both Elna and Amanda were surprised by the site. It was created by pros, and there were many details about the villa. Besides of the rooms and equipment photos, a very important information was included. The operating costs were covered by the parents and several relatives worked as babysitters or staff. Nevertheless, two regressed girls did all administrative work and accounting. Amanda spent almost an hour browsing the site when she heard the entrance door opening. “Daddy is coming,” she smiled and stood up, “Elna, could you change me please? I’m all wet.” “Okay, let’s go to your bedroom,” Elna stepped forward. Amanda followed her, pulled down her tights, and jumped up onto the changing table. “I will meet more friends and we would have a great place to have fun together,” Amanda turned to Elna while relaxing on the changing table. “I don’t think about fun only. You could have school and possible job there just like those at the Happy Children daycare. Everything would be adapted to your condition,” Elna replied and cleaned Amanda’s wet crotch, “but where do we find a building and who will pay for it?” “Elna, the parents of the A.H.C children are wealthy persons and maybe they would welcome this idea. Let’s ask dad first,” Amanda jumped down and pulled up her tights when Elna diapered her. They hurried up to the kitchen and sat down to the table. “Well, an interesting idea, sweetheart,” Nils nodded when Amanda showed him the article and explained her idea, “however, I’m taken aback by the second criminal company.” “Do you know about a building, daddy?” “No, I don’t, but we could ask more parents of the A.H.C. children if we find them. However, how do you want to find them?” “What about Facebook? I will establish a group. Maybe somebody joins my group. What can I lose?” “Okay, let’s have our dinner first,” Nils smiled and put away the news. Helga brought the plates with food and Amanda did her best to eat her portion as quicky as possible. She didn’t need any help. After dinner, Amanda crawled down from the chair and ran to the living room to create the Facebook group. A.H.Club – the group for the A.H.C children, their parents and friends. Join our group and let’s build a center where we can meet, learn, work, and have fun. Have a look at the happy.children.us Amanda finished her session and yawned; she was getting tired. At the same moment she felt her stomach growling and a mass of poop filled the back of her diaper. “Elna, I need a bath and clean diaper, please,” she walked over to Elna’s room. “Okay, sweetheart,” Elna lifted the little girl in her arms and carried her to the bathroom. Amanda almost fell asleep while Elna was giving her the warm bath. Ten minutes later, Amanda was sound asleep. -- -- -- -- The next day, Amanda took her homeschooling lessons before logging on to Facebook. However, she was surprised when more than ten people had joined the group – A.H.C. children and their parents. That was definitely a good start. The discussion in the group included several topics. All group members welcomed the basic idea of a place to meet. Besides the virtual meeting on Facebook, they supported the actual center like the Happy Children daycare. Most of the parents promised financial support of the project, and a mother even knew about an appropriate building. It was a former kindergarten. The building was owned by the county, and it was in a good condition. After a small maintenance and furnishing it could be used as a daycare. “Elna, we can start. Look at the replies,” Amanda turned to Elna when she returned from her morning lessons, “let’s go to the playground and find Sigrun and Kirsti. I’d like to tell them the news.” “Okay, let’s check your diapee,” Elna poked Amanda’s nose and reached down to her crotch, “of course, wet. Up to your room.” Sirgrun was enthusiastic about the project, and she even promised to help with babysitting or cooking. “What if we asked Mia’s mom?” an idea hit her, ”Mia also could spend her time at the center, and her condition could improve.” “Well, what can we lose if we ask her?” Elna nodded and they headed to Olsens’ house. Mrs. Olsen was a bit friendlier even if she shook her head, hearing about the project. “How can it help my Mia?” she sighed heavily. “At least, she won’t be alone. What if the little children improve her mood, if not her condition?” Amanda objected, “You also could work there, Mrs. Olsen” “Okay, it’ an attempt worth,” she finally nodded, “Amanda, you surprise me by your maturity.” “Yeah, an almost adult teenager in a two years old body and with a wet diaper between my legs,” Amanda grinned and suddenly realized that the poor Mia was in an opposite condition – a teenager girl with a baby mind. “Thanks, Mrs. Olsen, we will,” Amanda added and said goodbye. She and Elna headed home. “Daddy, I’ve had success with the Facebook group,” Amanda reported her father at the dinner. “Okay, sweetheart, but we have a lot of work ahead. It is not easy to build a center like the Happy Children. Do you know what we have to arrange?” “I know, daddy, but I also rely on you and your help.” “Of course; it is really a good project and I’m proud of my smart daughter,” he smiled and kissed her forehead. That evening, Amanda fell asleep and had wonderful dreams about the center and her new friends.
  3. Hi everyone, it's me again, coming at you with a new Academy Works story. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you should maybe start by reading Academy I (Part 1) or Academy B (Part 2). These stories aren't really linear, so you can skip those, but it might help you understand what's going on a little bit better. Anyway, this is Academy T. It kind of steps outside the precedents set by the first two stories, so I hope people realize that Academy Works is a lot more than just a series about a regression facility. ? Same as last time, if you want to support me there's a Patreon link you can go to. Thanks for reading and leaving comments and stuff!! ~Mia~ --------------------- Academy TBy Mia Moore "The tower built for the sun and the tower built for the moon are in pursuit of different heavens." -The Source Chapter One Talita Campbell sat on her bed, staring blankly at the rails surrounding her. She was hungry. Her diaper was wet. She wanted to get out! But no matter how long she stared at the contraptions, she couldn't figure out how they worked. Every time Mommy lowered the bars, it seemed like magic. So Talita did the only thing she could to get her Mommy's attention: she cried. The LED on her bedside baby monitor glowed softly in the morning light; Mommy was listening. "And who’s a fussy baby this morning? The sun is barely awake and already you’re so eager to get up and go play, huh baby girl?" Play. With the others. That was how Talita spent a good deal of her mornings and afternoons. Playing in the playpen with neighborhood kids, or playing outside in the grass, or being taken to the park. Her Mommy had told her that it was good for her to play with the other kids, and that did make sense, although Talita knew she wasn’t a kid and neither were the others. Her thoughts were derailed - as they so easily were nowadays - by Mommy reaching down and slipping her finger between her onesie and her skin to check what she already knew was going to be a wet diaper. Talita always woke up wet. "Mommy…" Talita muttered as her Mommy took down the rails. She pressed a button, or kicked a lever, or something! But to Talita, it was magic all the same. She wiped her wet eyes and tried to close her legs, squishing the diaper between her thighs. She couldn't even remember the last time her knees touched. "Hm?" Talita's Mommy helped her off the bed. She waddled across the room to the changing table. "Can I please wear undies, just this once...? I promise I won't have any accidents, I promise..." Every day for almost a month, Talita had asked that question. It almost felt routine, as was her Mommy’s quick dismissal. But today was different. Instead of an outright no, Mommy paused to think about it. Talita's heart raced and she jumped in with renewed confidence. "One time! One time, and I swear! If I have any accidents, I pinky promise I'll never ask again!" "Oh, you pinky promise, do you? And you know what happens to little girls who break pinky promises, don’t you darling?" "...uh huh." Talita swallowed glumly. "And you want to make a pinky promise that if you have even a single accident today, you’ll never ask again?" "Maybe…um… maybe not a single accident..." "And maybe you can show Mommy how dry you can keep this diaper today, and then we’ll talk?" "Mo-mmeeee, I want to wear undies! Pretty pleeeeeaaaase?" The truth was, Talita wasn't sure she could keep up her end of the bargain. For well over a month, she had woken up in a wet diaper. Every day, it felt like a struggle to keep what little of her toilet training she had left. But if she truly was so helpless as to have an accident without even thinking, then maybe she didn't have the right to ask for underwear anyway. However, Talita had always been a risk taker. Sometimes things ended up bad and sometimes they didn’t, but Talita never regretted it. Life was more fun when she took her chances. Or, it was until she woke up in this place. "I can do it. Not any accidents." Though Talita's voice was full of confidence, her stomach was flipping with anxiety. Mommy helped her onto the changing table and looked her square in the eye. They were the same height when standing, down to the millimeter, but there was something diminutizing about sitting on the changing table that made Talita feel smaller. "Okay," Mommy said. "But if you fail, and you break your promise, then you'll be a Bad Girl for a month." Talita's eyes went wide and the color drained from her face. A month? But even if Talita had an accident, the least she could do was keep her promise. She could do that, for sure. "Otay..." The ‘undies’ in question were far from being the kind of panties an adult might wear. These were thick, cotton, stuffed with a lining of padding with prints of strawberries and unicorns on them - training pants by any assessment. To Talita, they were the most mature thing in the whole world, so much so that it distracted her from her dread as she watched her Mommy pull them out of the drawer. One day. Just one day. No accidents. She could do it. There was no way Talita was going to end up as a Bad Girl again! Mommy changed her diaper and wiped her clean. Talita wouldn't be wearing a diaper for the first time in months, but her Mommy powdered her all the same. Then, without ceremony, she slid the strawberry training pants up her legs and around her hips. Talita looked down at her knees and touched them together, a shiver of delight rushing up her spine. She was a big girl now! Everyone at school was going to be jealous! "Now it’s important you remember, Talita my darling girl, that you’re making a deal with Mommy." The woman held her finger up with all the earnest seriousness of... something serious. Talita couldn’t follow her own metaphor. So she linked pinkies with her Mommy, and just like that sealed the deal. "I’m so essited, I’m gonna be... gonna be so... so flippin’ cool, Mommy, you don’t even know!" "Well, let's get you dressed then. Daddy is making breakfast." Talita was all sunshine as her Mommy dressed her. She wore a short dress with frills underneath, flashing the seat of her training pants when she so much as bent over. Frilly ankle socks adorned her feet, along with a set of white ballet flats. Her long hair was tied in loose pigtails with plastic bauble elastics. Finally, a pacifier was clipped to her dress and pressed firmly between her lips. She was a picturesque toddler in the body of an adult, but Talita didn't even seem to notice, let alone mind. Talita walked with one foot in front of the other - something she couldn't do when waddling in a diaper - all the way to the kitchen, where Daddy was plating eggs and toast. Though she and her Mommy were the same height, Daddy was a bit taller with mussed hair and a clean beard. The couple couldn't have been more than ten years older than Talita, but they were her parents nonetheless. "Eggies!" Talita clapped her hands happily, then tried to reel in her enthusiasm. She wanted her Daddy to see just how cool and mature she was today. "That’s right, cupcake: eggs with toast." He flashed her a warm smile. "It’s not got seeds innit right, Daddy?" Talita screwed up her nose. "I dun’ like the toast with seeds innit." "Not a single seed as far as the eye can see, cupcake." Talita pursed her lips and looked skeptically, then nodded her head. "You took them all out, Daddy?" Explaining that white bread didn’t have seeds in it was going to be an exercise in futility, as it often was with Talita. She was beautiful, immature, darling, and very very dumb; so her Daddy just smiled and nodded. Breakfast in the Campbell household was all too ordinary. Talita ate bites of toast, spilling crumbs down her bib and into the little pocket at the bottom. Mommy told Daddy about Talita's promise and how she didn't need diapers anymore. Daddy got up early from the table to ready Talita's stroller for the trip to her school. Yes, breakfast in the Campbell house was all too ordinary, if Talita really had been a toddler and not a 29 year old woman. "Can I walk instead?" Talita asked as Daddy buckled her into the stroller. "I'm a big girl today, so it makes sense." "How about," Daddy said, snapping the last belt in place with a metallic click, "if you can get out of the stroller before we get there, you can walk the rest of the way." Talita's eyes lit up at the challenge and nodded her head, immediately getting to work on the buckles wrapped over her shoulders and around her waist. Ordinarily, perhaps a long time ago, Talita may have considered the best way to win this challenge. Like, for example, to wait until the last possible moment before getting out of the stroller so that she could have victory and get to show up to school walking on her own and not be so tired from the walk that she needed a nap as soon as she got there. Cool kids didn’t need a nap until at least lunchtime. Talita, though, was a very special variety of bimbaby. The kind of girl to whom such advanced machinations would never occur. In fact, they were only a few minutes from the house when she was so sure she’d managed to wriggle free already. "Daddy I did-" Her words were cut short by a frown and a gasp as the straps over her thighs and lap held fast. In all her excitement to work on the shoulder straps - which she could squirm out of and cheat her way to freedom - she’d completely forgotten to account for the others that held her firmly in place. "Did what, cupcake?" Her Daddy asked, slightly amused, as he pushed the stroller. "Nothing Daddy..." Efforts must be doubled!
  4. 🍍 Part 1: “Family Haagen is looking for a full-time babysitter …” Elna Hetland was reading the e-mail from the babysitting agency. Elna was a cheerful young girl at her 19 and she had finished high school two months ago; unfortunately, her applications to the university were rejected. Now she needed a job, and the offer was more than generous. The family had only one 2 years old toddler girl and the wage was double of the usual rate. The job looked better than that of a secretary or a clerk. Elna had babysat in the past and she liked it a lot. “Elna, be careful, please. A double rate sounds suspicious,” Elna’s mother warned her daughter. “Yeah, mommy. I’ll be careful,” Elna nodded. She also realized the generosity; however, she wasn’t aware of any risk. Babysitting a toddler shouldn’t be dangerous though. She decided to find out more about the family as soon as possible. After dinner, Elna sat down to her computer and started searching. According to her findings, the Haagen family was quite wealthy, and they lived in a big villa. There was no personal information there, but Elna could have expected it. She dialed the number stated in the e-mail and a soft female voice answered the call: “Haagen villa,” it was probably a maid. “Elna Hetland speaking. I’ve got an e-mail from the babysitting agency, and I’m interested in the job.” “Wait a moment, miss. I’ll call Mrs. Haagen,” there was a short break until another female voice asked her. “Good evening. Miss Hetland, are you seriously interested in the job?” “Yeah, I am, Mrs. Haagen.” “Well, come tomorrow and we can talk about your job. However, our Amanda is a special child. She has had four babysitters until now and all of them have left. I’ll tell you more in person when you come.” “No problem, Mrs. Haagen. I’m sure I’ll take care of Amanda even if she is … special.” Elna was a bit confused, but she also was curious. After the call she couldn’t get rid of a strange feeling. Nevertheless, the curiosity took over. --------------------------- The next day she arrived at the Damhau street and stopped in front of the big villa. As she pressed the bell knob, a soft female voice sounded in the intercom: “Wait, please,” a minute later the door opened and an older lady in the maid uniform was standing in the hall. “Are you Ms. Hetland?” “Yeah, I am.” “Come in, Mrs. Haagen is expecting you,” she gestured at Elna and ushered her towards a luxurious living room. A middle-aged woman was sitting at the table. “Good morning,” Elna greeted, and the woman stood up and walked towards her. “Welcome to our house, Ms. Hetland. Take place please and we can talk about our job.” “Thanks, madam,” Elna sat down, and Mrs. Haagen took the place opposite her. The maid left and seconds later a small toddler girl ran into the room. “Are you my new babysitter? My name is Amanda,” she stopped in front of Elna and looked at her closely. “Yeah, Amanda. I am your new babysitter, and my name is Elna,” Elna smiled at Amanda and stroked her blonde hair; she noticed Amanda’s eyes and immediately realized that something was wrong. It was a feeling only, but Elna wanted to find out more. Amanda stretched her little arms towards Elna and Elna helped the little girl crawl onto her lap. Amanda hugged Elna and leaned her head on Elna’s shoulder. Elna hugged her back and felt the thick diaper package between her legs. Mrs. Haagen watched the scene for awhile, smiled and walked over to Amanda. “Sweetheart, go to your room and play a little while mommy talks to your new babysitter,” Mrs. Haagen asked her daughter. The little girl nodded, crawled down from Elna’s lap and left the room. Elna was surprised by the toddler’s prompt reaction. “Ms. Hetland …” “Call me Elna, please.” “Elna, I owe you an explanation. Amanda has been diagnosed by Approgressia infantilis. Her growth has stopped, and she stays a toddler forever.” “Oh, I’ve never heard about that disease,” Elna was taken aback. “It is extremely rare, but our little girl suffers from it. Fortunately, it doesn’t hurt, but she can’t grow, and she will need diapers for life. Otherwise, she is a nice and smart girl. You will see.” “Okay, Mrs. Haagen. I don’t think it will be an issue for me. I’m sure I’ll be a good babysitter. However, I don’t understand why four babysitters have left already.” “Well, let’s talk about your job,” Mrs. Haagen apparently didn’t want to speak about the former babysitters, “It is a literally full-time job. You will live in this house and take care of Amanda. Of course, you get your room, food and your wage as stated in the offer. If you still want this job, come tomorrow, and bring your personal possessions with you. We will sign the contract then. Helga can show you your and Amanda’s room before you leave. Helga!” “Thank you, Mrs. Haagen,” Elna stood up and the older lady entered the room. “This way, Ms. Hetland,” Helga ushered Elna upstairs. Amanda’s room was a luxurious well-equipped nursery. Amanda was sitting on the floor and playing with dolls; however, Elna again got a strange feeling while watching the little girl. Helga showed Elna her future room and Elna stopped dead in her tracks. The room was really luxurious and much larger than her own room at home. It was also equipped with a computer and a large TV set. While travelling home, Elna kept thinking of the offer. Something was definitely wrong, but she didn’t have any idea what it was. Mrs. Haagen wouldn’t tell her anything and Amanda was too little. On the other hand, Amanda’s behavior didn’t match a two-year-old toddler. Elna suddenly got curious; was there any mystery there? “Elna, I’m not sure if you should take the job,” Elna’s mother shook her head, “why have four babysitters left if the life there looks comfortable and luxurious, and the child seems to be nice and well educated. Also, the disease is strange. Maybe we should find out about it.” Elna nodded and switched on her computer. She really found the mysterious “Approgressia infantilis” and the description matched the former explanation from Mrs. Haagen. However, the search provided her with one single result. As for the four babysitters, Elna and her mother couldn’t even start searching if they didn’t know their names. “Elna, the job looks good, but I warn you; be extremely careful and don’t trust anybody there,” Elna’s mother was also confused; however, Elna needed a job and the babysitting looked like a good one. Elna packed her personal possessions into a big bag. Besides her clothing, shoes and cosmetics, she also packed her notebook. Although she noticed a computer in her room, she decided to take her own notebook, just to be sure. As she was packed, she went to bed; however, she couldn’t sleep well. Her mind was still occupied by the little girl and her mystery.
  5. Prologue: Cold, dark and fear. What happened to me? I opened my eyes but couldn’t see anything. The cold was bone-chilling; I was lying on a hard and cold surface. Was it stone? “Emily, you can’t stay here; you will freeze,” I told to myself and tried to stand up. However, my body refused to respond. My legs and arms rested on the cold surface and my head was the only part of my body that obeyed my command and lifted from the surface. Seconds later three small flames appeared above my head, and I could see a small round room looking like a dungeon. The surface I was lying on was the stone floor and I noticed several doors on the perimeter wall. The burning torches were located between the doors. I didn’t have any idea where I was and how I got there. I didn’t recognize the room but there was a vague memory deep in my mind as if I had been here long ago. There was another mystery; why my body refused to react to my commands? Was I paralyzed? My thread of thoughts was interrupted by a familiar feeling; my bladder was getting full. To my utter terror I realized I couldn’t stand up and relieve myself. All I could do was clenching my muscles and call for help. “HEEEEEELP!” my voice echoed in the small stone dungeon but there was no reply at all. The attempt to clench my muscles failed and I felt the hot urine on my crotch and legs. At that moment one of the doors opened and an unknown force pulled my limp body to it. I was flying through the door and heard it slam loudly. Part 1 I opened my eyes and needed a minute or two to realize I had been dreaming. I was lying in my bed; a special anti-bedsore one. My body was paralyzed after overcoming polio earlier in the past; surprisingly I didn’t remember it. “Good morning, Emily. How did you sleep?” my caretaker Michelle opened the door and walked over to my bed. She was a very nice woman, about 10 years older than me but she was like my mother for me. “Morning, Michelle,” I smiled at her and paused when the breathing stimulator made me inhale, “I slept well but I had a very strange dream.” “Nice, tell me about it, but let’s take care of you first,” she leaned down and removed the blanket. The stench of urine spread across the room. My diaper was soaked as usual. I couldn’t control my bladder and bowels. “Let’s setup the breathing rate first,” she switched the stimulator to the DAY mode, and I felt my breathing getting quicker. Fortunately, I had a breathing stimulator with implanted electrodes in my chest muscles that controlled my breathing. It was much better than the older breathing machines. “Now you need a clean diapee,” she always used the childish word, but I wasn’t angry at her. It was somehow cute. Michelle untapped the soggy garment and revealed my shaved crotch. She shaved it regularly to keep my hygiene and avoid the diaper rash. She took the wet wipe and started cleaning me. I liked the cleaning; it was very pleasant, and I closed my eyes. Michelle knew it and she rubbed my sensitive parts a bit more than necessary. I was getting a little aroused and Michelle knew about it. However, I didn’t have the courage to ask her for more. When she finished changing my diaper, she took off my nightshirt and dressed me into a comfortable home wear and lifted me into my wheelchair. “Let’s have your breakfast, dear,” she smiled, and I moved my head to the wheelchair controller and drove off towards the kitchen. The smell of eggs and bacon was spreading across the room. Michelle sat down next to me and commenced feeding me. I opened my mouth just like a small baby and ate my portion slowly, bite by bite. “Tell me about the dream, dear,” she turned to me when we finished, and she cleaned up the dishes. “It was quite strange, Michelle. I was lying on the ground in a stone cave and there were doors around the cave. All of sudden one door opened, and I was pulled towards it. As the door closed behind me, I woke up.” “This is strange indeed. It’s been a dream only but still unusual. What if we looked at a dream book?” “What? A dream book? Do you believe in that stuff, Michelle?” “Emily, we don’t have to take it serious. At least we can have fun,” she laughed, and I joined her. After all, a little fun couldn’t hurt. “Okay but there is no dream book in my bookshelves. What if we went to a bookstore and found a dream book there?” “A good idea for a trip. However, we don’t need to buy the book; there is a local library nearby and we can borrow and read it. Let’s redress you and we can go. The library is close, so we don’t need to drive. I can wheel you there not to waste the battery energy.” Michelle wheeled me back to my bedroom and put me back onto my bed. She took of my pants and T-shirt and revealed the wet diaper. I had peed after the breakfast. “Well, you should make a poopie before we leave,” she massaged my tummy tenderly and I felt a mass of poop filling the back of my diaper. I couldn’t push and needed help for the number 2. Michelle put a protection sheet under my bottom and opened the messy package between my legs. She cleaned me thoroughly and I closed my eyes. Despite the terrible smell I liked the cleaning process very much. After the diaper change Michelle put tights and dress on me; I still wanted to look pretty. She lifted me into the wheelchair and pushed me slowly out of the house and towards the local library. That visit was my first one and I was getting curious about it. The library was a small building near our park. There were few people inside most of the time and the librarian was a nice young man. As I asked him for a dream book, he looked surprised. “Miss, are you serious? I don’t remember when somebody asked me for a dream book for the last time,” he smiled at me and seemed to be amused by my request. “Of course, I am, but I’m not ready to believe everything I’d find there,” I repaid his comment and he laughed shortly. “Okay then. Wait a moment,” he turned away and walked over to the big shelves. Five minutes later he returned. “Would you like to read it here or would you like to borrow it?” “I think I will read it here. I’ve had only one dream that requires an explanation,” I smiled back. He passed the book to Michelle and she wheeled me to a small table where I could see the pages; she opened the book and browsed the pages to find a match. “This is a hit; read,” she put the book onto the table, and I read: “Cave with doors – you can make a decision and the doors are your options.” “Oh, what does it mean?” I turned my head to Michelle and looked at her as if I expected an answer. However, she looked confused and shook her head. “Sorry, miss, but you remind me of my sister,” the young librarian’s voice sounded behind my back. “How so?” “She is also wheelchair bound and I have to take care of her. Our parents died at a car crash and she broke her backbone. Fortunately, I wasn’t hurt seriously and I’m her only family. She is a clever girl and I imagined her doing the same you are just now.” “Does she have strange dreams?” “I don’t know but she likes to do crazy things for fun; she always smiles and keeps good mood.” “Nice,” I smiled at him, “anyway we have found something that we don’t understand at all.” “Well, consider it fun then,” he laughed again and turned away when a girl sitting on a wheelchair emerged from behind the shelves. “Thomas, can you give me …” she stopped in the middle of the sentence when she noticed me, “oh sorry; you are busy.” “No sis, I was only talking to our client. What do you need?” “Oh, that can wait,” she wheeled towards my wheelchair, “Miss, you are new here, aren’t you?” “Yeah, I am,” I smiled at her, “Nice to meet you. My name is Emily, and this is my caretaker, Michelle.” “Nice to meet you, too. My name is Angie,” she stretched her arm but stopped and retracted it when she noticed my limp arms on the chair rests, “Sorry, Miss Emily.” “No problem and call me Emily only please. Your brother has told me about you already. Can I ask you what you are doing here?” “Sure. I’m learning. I’d like to become an IT expert, but I can’t attend a regular school. Thomas takes care of me here and I spend my days reading books. What about you?” “I had a strange dream last night and now we read a dream book.” “Really?” she laughed, “This is fun. What did you learn?” Michelle showed her the article about my dream and Angie stopped laughing and her face got serious. “This is very interesting even if it looks crazy. Emily, do you know about some options you can choose of?” “No idea, Angie. What could I choose? A food for dinner? My clothes? I don’t think the dream was about it.” “I don’t know. Speaking about dinner; what if you visited us tonight? Thomas said you were all alone. We are all alone, too. Michelle, could you arrange it?” “Of course, dear,” Michelle smiled. “How so? Don’t you have any family?” Angie got curious and I was confused suddenly. “No, I don’t … I don’t remember any family.” “Oh, this is odd. What happened to you? Why are you paralyzed? “It was polio, but I also don’t remember when and where.” “Polio? I don’t know about an amnesia as a polio consequence. In either case, your parents or siblings would have found you and remind you of your past.” “I don’t know, Angie; this is … a mystery.” “Okay, we can think of it tonight after dinner,” she smiled at me. “See you later,” she wheeled back to the shelves and Thomas followed her. “Well, let’s go shopping for the dinner,” I turned to Michelle and she put the dream book back onto the counter and wheeled me out of the library.
  6. Hi everyone. I don't know if this is really going to be any good, but I have been working on it for a while and I wanted to share it with other ABDLs. If you want to support the Academy stories (there's gonna be a few, I hope!) or get early access to chapters, please go to this Patreon link. It should explain things a little better. Oh and please tell me what you think in the comments! ~Mia~ -------------------- Academy I By Mia Moore "Fear not the star, but the magician that sets it in the sky." -The Source Chapter One Ai Sinclair pressed her back to the tree, gasping for air. Her lungs burned from the inside. The cold November air made her hairs stand on end, even as sweat matted her bangs to her forehead. She turned her head around the trunk of the tree to see the two men in black coats walking toward her. She had to keep running. In a quarter mile, there should be a gas station. She could call the police. With another deep breath, she ran onward through shrubbery and dodging tree branches. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she burst through the tree line and found herself in an expansive parking lot. The lights of the gas station in front of her glowed in the twilight. She took off toward the door as fast as she could. Freedom was behind an automated door, in the hands of an underpaid worker behind a pane of bulletproof glass and only fifty feet away. Forty five feet. And then Ai's feet gave way as the jolt of electricity tore through her spine and seized her muscles up, stopping her in her tracks. The momentum carried her forward, and she skinned her knees on the asphalt of the parking lot. Like wolves circling their fallen prey, the two men in black coats approached and orbited their quarry, one with his hand to an earpiece in his left ear while the other scanned a full perimeter for anybody who might have witnessed. The distant sound of a car engine grew closer. Ai climbed to her hands and knees, but her body twitched uncontrollably. Even if she could force herself to stand up, she wasn't sure she could stay that way. The parking lot around her swayed in her vision and she started to crawl toward the gas station doors. "H-help! Someone!" Ai's voice was harsh in quiet evening air. A man picked Ai up from the ground and stuffed her through the side door of a large approaching van. He slid the door closed behind her, and the van continued like it had never stopped. Though the two men stayed behind in the parking lot, there were several more waiting in the back of the van. The tingling subsided quickly in Ai's fingers and toes. She dove at the door to escape, but two more men held her back as the van sped down the street and toward the freeway. "Let me go! You'll go to prison if you do this! You'll get caught! You won't get away with it!" Nobody said a word to her; the four men all wore dark black slacks with long black coats. They had shaved bald heads and ear pieces in their left ears. It was definitely a uniform, and this was definitely an organized operation. Two of the men forced Ai to the floor of the van and clicked restraints around her wrists and ankles that had been bolted to the frame of the van. As Ai pulled on the restraints, she started to panic. No matter how she thrashed and kicked, she couldn't break free. Every bump the van hit send shivers up her back and it was starting to give her a headache. "Lemme go... please, let me go. I don't know what you want, but... but you can have anything, okay? I don't have much, but... but my purse has some cash, and..." Tears were forming in her eyes. "Please let me go, please..." The movements of the men were methodical, directed, rehearsed and practiced. Ai's begging changed from sobbing words to muffled sounds as a colorful pacifier was pushed between her lips and held in place. A slight burning stung her lips as the glue bonded, and the then a creamy liquid began to ooze across her tongue from the nipple of the pacifier. Ai’s struggles started to fade. The ceiling of the van had colored lights inside, and the frosted glass made them look fuzzy, and pretty, and so very interesting. Her arms felt heavy, her legs felt heavy, her head felt heavy. But she wasn't tired; she was fascinated. It was okay to be fascinated, wasn't it? To find something beautiful in a time like this? Her skin tingled on the outside like her insides had when she'd been electrocuted. Somewhere far far away from her, she could feel herself being undressed. Ai looked up at the brown-haired woman towering over her with a warm smile on her lips. She was wearing a white coat and a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Ai tried to talk, but the bulb between her lips kept her quiet. She reached up to take it out, but her shaking hand couldn't pry the pacifier from her mouth. Where was she? How had she gotten here? Who was this woman? She had only questions, and no means to ask them. The room wasn't strictly clinical, that much was obvious. She was lying on a soft bed, surrounded by soft lighting, an extra and unexplained softness between her thighs, and a soft smile on the woman's lips. "Easy there, munchkin. Try not to move too much now, not while you're still coming to." Ai tried to tug harder on the pacifier, but each tug only pulled at her lips, dripping more tiny droplets of creaminess onto her tongue. The more she defied, the more hopeless she felt. "I'll be happy to remove your binkie, but you need to promise you'll be good for me. Do you promise?" Binkie? Ai furrowed her brow in confusion and looked down at her outfit. She couldn't see the pacifier between her lips, but she could see the rest of it. A pink t-shirt with frills around the hem and puffy sleeves. And no pants. More importantly, a diaper between her legs. It was huge, big enough to fit an adult, but the prints along the plastic had baby blocks and teddy bears. A fresh panic filled Ai's chest, but the woman pushed on the front of the pacifier. A few extra drops of creamy liquid spread across Ai's tongue and her anxiety ebbed away. "Like any adjustment, this is going to take time. It's going to be scary at times, but the better you behave, the sooner it's going to become easy, and then normal. You can fight every step of the way, or you can lean into the help provided and be a good girl. Either way, the destination will be the same - only your journey will change." As she spoke, the woman's voice betrayed more of an accent than it first seemed - something South African, perhaps? Friendly, with compressed inflections. Ai had no idea what she was talking about. What journey? What destination? Why was she dressed like an overgrown baby, and why was she kidnapped in the first place?! Ai wasn't special; she was almost too ordinary. She dropped out of college in her second year and worked as an assistant manager at a grocery store. She had less than a thousand dollars in her bank account and she shared an apartment with her fiancé. Her fiancé! She tugged again at the pacifier, a fresh panic filling her up. She had to know he was okay! "My, you have quite the resistance," the woman said with a curiosity. She pushed the front of the pacifier again and Ai's eyes began to droop. Each time she swallowed droplets of the creamy liquid, Ai felt like waves were pulling her back under the water when she was so close to shore. What was this? Where was she? Who was this woman? Diaper. She was wearing a diaper. She was wearing pretty, soft clothes. Kidnapped. She'd been kidnapped. She tried to blink away the waves, but they were so strong. "I have a feeling you're going to be a troublesome little fighter, aren't you, dear?" The woman stepped out. Out? Ai looked around the room, but there weren't any doors or windows. She stumbled to her feet and almost instantly crashed into the floor. Her body felt so weak, like she hadn't eaten in days. She sucked the pacifier and found an ounce of comfort; a remnant association she had as a baby. She was so hungry. "Oh, did we have an oopsie daisy?" The woman returned, like she'd never left, like she'd always been here. She was dressed in a different top; how long had she been gone? She knelt down next to Ai and reached one hand down between the clumsy girls legs; a motion so smooth and simple that it almost wasn't humiliating except for all the ways that it was. Her fingers slipped into the legband of the diaper and she felt for a moment before pulling them away. Ai Sinclair had just had her diaper checked. "Well, you're not wet. You've become such a heavy wetter in your time here." Truth or lies, who could say? Ai couldn't remember a thing and this woman could have told her anything. Heavy wetter? Time here? Ai had only just arrived! Or at least, that's what she thought. She tried to ask a question, but the pacifier was still firmly glued between her lips. "I bet you're hungry, though." Ai's attention was pulled away from her thoughts and into reality. Food? Her heart raced and her eyes betrayed her excitement. The woman smiled knowingly. "Come over here, dear," the woman was motioning to a very comfortable looking chair on the left hand side of the room, wide enough to accommodate perhaps more than one person. Ai was wearing the same clothes. The same pink shirt. The same blocks and teddy bears on her diaper. She couldn't be exactly sure it was the same diaper, but she wouldn't even consider the alternative. Ai tried to get to her feet, which failed spectacularly. Her knees were trembling and she felt lightheaded. How long had it been since they fed her? Or was the meal at the restaurant the last time she ate? "If you don't come here," the woman told her, "you won't get dinner." Ai's hunger outweighed her pride. She shuffled on her hands and knees across the room, trying her best not to faint. It felt like a strong breeze could knock her out. Finally, she reached the woman's feet and tried again to stand. The woman watched Ai’s attempt to stand, and rather than be disparaging, she was encouraging and supportive. "There you go, dear, you almost have it. Let Nana help." Nana? Ai barely had a chance to register that title before she was lifted up off the floor. She sat dumbfounded on a grown woman's lap, wearing a diaper and a short baby tee. Never in a million years did she think this was where she would be. Never in a million years did she think she would do it so willingly. "I'm going to take the pacifier out of your mouth," Nana said softly. "But if you say even a single word, I will put it back in. I will stop feeding you and you'll go hungry." Ai's stomach sank. No words? But she had so many questions... "I need you to nod your head, dear. Nodding yes and shaking no are the only answers you're allowed. Do you understand?" With a pensive pause, and a groan in her stomach, Ai nodded her head once. Simple. One nod. Nana unbuttoned her jacket, with revealed a series of pockets, and from one pocket she reached in and took what looked much like a marker of some description. Using one finger to hold the pacifier, she used her other hand to run the marker around the edges and after a moment, she pulled the pacifier free. Ai looked up at Nana with annoyance. She had a thousand things on the tip of her tongue. Questions, expletives, statements of fact. The most pressing was, of course: I'm not a baby! But the threat of the pacifier loomed heavily over her, like a guillotine. If she didn't get some food in her, she would pass out. So Ai swallowed her pride and didn't say a word. A blush of embarrassment covered her cheeks. "There's a good girl. You’re learning so well this time." Before that bit of pageantry could sink in too deeply, Nana pulled a jar from inside of her coat and began to unscrew the lid. It looked, through the glass, like the consistency of apple sauce. Or baby food. Dark in color, not the most pleasant looking. Or smelling. Or tasting. And that was the point, wasn't it? It would be this or nothing. And gosh was it a large jar. Ai opened her mouth in protest, but she stopped herself before a word escaped her lips. Even as the sickly stale smell of mashed vegetables filled the air, her stomach growled. If she turned her nose up at this, would Nana give her something else? Probably not. And she was so hungry... "Open wide. Ahhh." Ai shot Nana a sour look as the woman tried feeding Ai with a baby spoon shaped like an airplane. Whatever fucked up place she was stuck in, their intentions were plain: to Nana, Ai was supposed to be a baby. "Unless you'd rather not eat?" Nana tested. With reluctance, Ai opened her mouth. There was nothing quite comparable in consistency to the food that Ai was forced to swallow; thick, inconsistent, like lumpy mashed potato with an earthy, pungent taste. Her mouth pursed in disgust as she mulled it over, needing to mash it up some before she could swallow it. She resolved absolutely never to eat another bite - it wasn't worth it. As she swallowed, though, her mouth tingled pleasantly in the same way that it does after a spicy dish; a humming, buzzing, happy tingling. A heavy sated feeling in her stomach, a warmth. A more-ish feeling. An association building method. Nana smiled, and waited, filling another spoonful. Ai was still so hungry. Even if she hated the food, she had to have another bite. She needed the energy! And before she knew it, Ai had finished off the whole jar of baby food. Her stomach rumbled happily, but she could eat more. Still, Ai hadn't said a single word to Nana. "Wasn't that lovely?” Nana asked. Ai said nothing. "Nod your head, dear. Would you like another? You were such a good little girl, after all, and if you keep being good you can have more." Ai was still hungry, but she had some of her strength back. More importantly, Nana's words were grating at her, like the screeching of nails on a chalkboard. She couldn't take it anymore. "I'm not a baby, you know! You can't keep me here. My family is going to miss me. My fiancé. They probably already know I'm gone! You have to let me go!" Nana allowed Ai to finish her rambling sentiments, and gave her the kind of disappointed look that all children knew from the youngest possible age meant that they'd screwed up. Ai felt her stomach sink and steeled herself. She had to keep going. She had to get through to Nana. "Why are you doing this to me? I don't have any money. I don't have anything! I need to call my fiancé, right now. He's going to worry! Please, let me call him. Please..." Nana reached into her pockets and pulled out a second jar - this one had a mush inside of it that was the most unnaturally looking shade of pink imaginable; like nothing in the world existed in that particular color. She said nothing to Ai, and shook her head slowly. "No, I don't want more food, please, I just want to call my—" Ai was caught by surprise at the spoonful of pink mush pressed into her mouth. She shook her head, now, trying to pull away, to clamp her mouth shut, to keep from eating more, from swallowing, but it was already just a little too late. Her eyelids drooped and she giggled. And swallowed. "Um..." She titled her head, trying to cling onto thoughts, onto protests. "My fi, my fee... fian... fiance, um..." "Is going to think you're the most darling little girl he's ever seen, dear." Ai looked conflicted, like she knew those words weren’t true but wasn't sure why she knew that. She opened her mouth, and swallowed more of the pink food, her cheeks rosy red. "The food, uh, um…" "Is delicious," Nana provided an answer, and added: "It's your favorite." "It's my favorite..." Ai mulled over those words, like she was the last to know. Ai fumbled for words, for thoughts, for something to ground her. But every time she tried to say something, Nana would finish her sentences. Nana's words became the ground, and Ai was glued to them. "I'm not..." "A big girl anymore." Another spoonful. "Please, let me..." "Have another bite." Another spoonful. Soon the jar was gone and Ai couldn't think clearly. Little laughs escaped her lips and she smiled dumbly at her caregiver. "You're going to be filling your diaper soon, dear. You’re so excited, I know you are. You want Nana to hold you in her lap while you do, and bounce you a little bit after, maybe? And then you always did love it when Nana changes you." These words should have set off alarm bells in Ai's head, but they didn't - like someone had cut the wire to the sirens, and a little red light flashing was all that remained; and even then, Nana kept Ai’s gaze away from it. "I... uh..." Ai nodded along, but she wasn't sure what she was agreeing to. The food she was given would definitely have some desired effects, but it could take anywhere from an hour to four hours to do so. The pink food would wear off long before then. It was important Ai was fully aware of herself as she surrendered her control.
  7. Gosh I feel like it's been months since I finished posting Academy I. I'm sorry for the delay on starting this one. I have a few chapters ready to go, but I hope to do a lot more over winter break. Anyway... If you haven't read Academy I, I recommend you read that one first. I don't think it's strictly necessary though? I'm trying to write these as individual narratives, but it will definitely benefit the reader to have some information from A:I. Oh and again. If you want to support me, there's a Patreon link you can go to. Thanks for reading and leaving comments and stuff. ~Mia~ ---------------------------- Academy B By Mia Moore "True judgement does not use balanced scales, for the fool’s pockets have been filled with many of the devil’s stones." -The Source Chapter One Bala Khatri woke up to stark, bright lights. They glared off the shiny walls, ceiling, and floor. The room was big and shadowless, stretching an impossible distance. As Bala's eyes adjusted, she caught sight of something else: a person. But as she approached, she found that she was looking in a mirror. Bala was still dressed in scrubs from her night shift at the hospital. She was on her way back to her car when the van pulled up. She had managed to mace one of the suited men, but the other hit her hard across the face. In the mirror, there was swelling along her jawline. Where was she now? A pit the size of a melon sat in her stomach, sprouting dread, demanding that she shout out at the empty room with the shiny walls. To threaten them. To deny them. To appeal to them. To beg to them. Bala was no stranger to the perils of being a young woman who worked long hours and late nights in the city. She rubbed her fingers up her arms and found herself shivering. Cold? Scared? Bala quickly realized the room wasn't as big as she thought: the mirror was causing a lot of the distortion. She worked her way around the brightly lit room until she found a handle to a door, though the door blended in so much it was hard to notice. Bala tried the handle, but it didn't turn. "Damnit..." She fished through her pockets for her cell phone, but it wasn't there. The ID tag on her waist wasn't there either. "My family has no money," Bala called out, the echo of her voice eerily flat against the walls of the room. "If it’s a ransom you're hoping for, you might as well kill me now. I’m sure my organs are worth more to you." Always the pragmatist. Nobody responded. Maybe they were organ harvesters, though - it would explain why it felt like a refrigerator in there. Bala kicked at the door, but she wasn't the strongest woman in the world. She wasn't the biggest, either. She knew her way around a can of pepper spray, but that wasn't going to help her in here. Why would someone kidnap her? Was it a sex thing? Bala stepped away from the door and paced around the room. She rubbed her bare arms, hugging herself tightly. It felt colder and colder the longer she was awake. "Sit down," a voice said, filling the room with a soft echo. It was neither masculine nor feminine, and didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular. Bala looked around for the source of the voice, but there was nobody else in the room with her. No cameras. No speakers. Not that she could find with her eyes, anyway. Had she imagined the command? "I won’t," she replied, in defiance. The voice didn't repeat itself. And for the next ten minutes, Bala was left to her thoughts and her own preponderances. Gosh it was cold. Colder with every passing moment. "Sit down." The voice repeated. "Tell me why you're doing this!" No response. Bala took a deep breath and saw the air in front of her nose. Was it really that cold in here? She was shivering in place. "Please... I have a family. I have a daughter. She's two years old. She needs her mother!" Bala didn't have a family. She didn't have a daughter. She had a mom who visited once a week and a roommate she had known for two years. She had a lot of friends at work, people who would quickly realize she was missing. Bala was never late to work. There was no response. No amount of impassioned pleas, truthful or not, seemed to impact the disembodied voice. She shivered, rubbed her arms, and paced the room. "Sit down." It had to be pre-recorded, didn't it? Bala had been trying to time the intervals between the commands, and they seemed roughly similar. But they were so far apart that she couldn’t compare the inflections or tones. Was it a person? Reluctantly, she shouted at the ceiling. "If I sit down, will you turn up the heat please? I'm going to get hypothermia, you know?" Not yet. It wasn't cold enough yet. But it was cold enough that she kept clenching her swollen jaw. No response. Bala did her best to hold out hope for a crack, an edge, something to grab onto verbally. But if the voice was truly a recording, her shouting would get her nowhere. So when it next repeated: "Sit down." She sat down. Immediately, the space on the floor where she sat began to glow a soft red. Bala nervously examined the room, pressing her palms to the floor. It was giving off heat, like a space heater. She wondered if the rest of the room was warming up, or if it was only the glowing spot. And why did they want her to sit down? Was it just a display of power? "I'm sitting now, what do you want?" There was no reply from the voice. It was American; she had figured that much out. And if she had to guess, it repeated about every ten minutes. Would it give her another command in ten minutes, then? Experimentally, she reached as far as she could, in each direction, and found the floor only to be warm on the tile where she was sitting. The room was still cold, but the warmth travelled well up her body and it left her feeling... comfortable. As comfortable as she could be, sitting on a hard floor in a freezing room, ordered around by a disembodied voice after being kidnapped. "Put your thumb in your mouth and keep it there." What? Bala thought. Why? "I'm not putting my thumb in my mouth," Bala said to no one in particular. "What is this all about? Are you trying to humiliate me or something? That isn't happening!" No response. No anything. So Bala sat quietly with her arms crossed, soaking in the heat of the tile beneath her. Then, ten minutes later, the tile turned off. The heat vanished, and the voice repeated itself. "Put your thumb in your mouth and keep it there." "No, I..." Bala was smart enough to have a preschool understanding of cause and effect. She needed to follow the directions, or the room was going to stay cold. On top of that, there was the faintest breeze of frigid, icy air. They were making the room colder? Because she hadn't obeyed? The voice repeated itself three more times. Bala found the corner of the room by the mirror and balled herself together as tight as she could, knees to her chest and arms tucked into her shirt. The air in the room was biting; no matter how she tried, she couldn't stop shaking. It was definitely below freezing, and her head was starting to hurt. “Put your thumb in your mouth and keep it there." What did it matter? It was one stupid thing. It wasn't even that embarrassing, if she thought about it. People suck their thumbs. It wasn't weird. So with a bit of hesitation, she put her thumb in her mouth and kept it there. The moment that she did, she could feel the spreading warmth beneath her on the floor. It was like slipping under a blanket in the middle of winter. It was like a hug at the end of a twenty-hour double shift at the hospital. Bala shivered, but this time it wasn't because of the cold. She had her thumb in her mouth, sure. But so what? The whole experience was exhausting for Bala. Every time she tried to fight, it got colder. Then she was sitting in the corner of a room and sucking her thumb. Worse yet, she knew the voice would continue to demand things from her. Whatever their goal was, it wouldn't end with thumbsucking. "Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep." Bala sighed and looked down at the floor as the voice gave her a new command. What was she supposed to do with that? What kind of command was 'go to sleep' when you're a literal kidnapping victim? But she also knew she had little choice in the matter. "I need to use the bathroom." To her surprise, the voice responded right away with a new command. "Do not speak unless spoken to." It responded to her? Then they could hear her. She took her thumb out of her mouth and tried to get to her feet. "Please let me out! I'll do anything you want, just let me out of here!" Maybe it was the standing up. Maybe it was taking her thumb out of her mouth. Maybe it was talking without a prompt. Whatever it was, the heat started to vanish from the spot where she was standing. In a fury, Bala went over to the door and tugged at the handle, kicking the tiled walls. "Let me out! I know you can hear me! Let me out! Whatever you want from me, I don't care, I'll play along, just let me out!" Bala kicked at the door and screamed at the room for nine minutes, until the original command repeated itself. "Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep." "Fuck you!" The room was getting cold again. Bala could see her breath and her arms were covered in goosebumps. What was she supposed to do? Give up? "I'm not going to do it! I'm not going to listen! I'll freeze my butt off before I listen to you again, unless you get in here and talk to me. Or… or let me out. I don't care!" Bala was short of breath and sucking on icy oxygen that hurt her lungs. She paced the room, trying to keep warm. She tucked her arms back into her shirt and shook her head side to side. Stay moving. Keep active. But by the time the voice repeated the command - "Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep." - Bala was struggling to breathe. It felt like the air around her was full of glass. Her heart was hurting and she could read the signs of hypothermia. The temperature in the room was clearly below freezing. If she didn't warm up soon, she could have liver or kidney problems. With an angry whimper, she sat back down on the floor - in the center of the room - and put her thumb in her mouth. No warmth. No warmth. What was she doing wrong? The words played back in her head so readily. Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep. Sleep. Lay down. Rest. Sleep. Thumb in mouth. She shivered, sucking on her thumb to keep from biting it off, and laid down on the floor. The tile started to glow and warm air radiated from it. Bala had stars in the edges of her vision. She continued to tremble on the warm tile for many minutes later, but soon the heat filled her up. The warm spot on the floor was so refreshing, so relaxing... a haven amidst the tundra around her. Her body began to relax, allowing her aching muscles a reprieve. She sucked softly on her thumb and let sleep take her away from that awful, awful place.
  8. 🍍Part 1: Patsy Bennett closed the door of her small apartment, removed her shoes and dropped down on the bed. Her entire body ached after the long shift in the restaurant and she only wanted to have some sleep until the next shift would begin. The apartment was small and shabby but it was the only place she could afford at her small waiter salary. Patsy grew up at an orphanage and she couldn’t get any decent education to get a better job. Sometimes she cursed her biological mother and the unfair fate. Why the hell couldn’t her mother keep her and raise her like any other one? Who was her mom? The life in the orphanage wasn’t that bad; it wasn’t like the old-fashioned horror houses from B movies. The staff was friendly even if the caretakers were strict. Her roommates also were nice but they couldn’t make up for mom, dad and siblings. She often dreamed of living in her own family and she wasn’t alone. Almost all children had the same dream. When she left the orphanage and found her job, her dreams changed. She had her own life even if it was a miserable one. It probably was too late to return and start anew. However she wanted to find her mother and … and what? What would Patsy be able to tell the person who had abandoned her like an unnecessary toy? Finding her biological mother seemed to be impossible. Patsy had asked about her mother earlier at the orphanage but she only learned her date of birth - the 14th of May 1995. The orphanage staff didn’t have any information on Patsy’s mother and they told her that the documents were destroyed when Patsy was released from the hospital. There was a hospital near the orphanage and Patsy guessed she was born there. All of sudden a crazy thought hit Patsy’s mind. What if she could travel back in time and find her mother at the moment she was released from the hospital? Patsy tried to scare off that intrusive image but she couldn’t. Travelling back in time was a pure fantasy though. About a week later she was in a hurry after her shift and absorbed herself in her thoughts when she took a wrong turn and stopped in front of a shabby house. It differed from all other houses and looked like it didn’t belong to the present time. She didn’t know why but she knocked on the door. “Come in,” a male voice called her and she entered the small house hesitantly. The voice that invited her belonged to a young man in his mid 30’s. Another older man was sitting in a rocking chair. Patsy noticed an incredible similarity of the men; they had to be father and son. “Sorry to disturb you but I was too curious and there is something odd that attracted my attention to your house. My name is Patsy Bennett.” “Don’t worry, miss Bennett. I’m kinda used to this kind of visitor. Our house keeps attracting the attention of passersby but they usually leave as soon as I introduce myself.” “How so? What’s strange about your name?” “It’s not the name miss. My name is James Hawkins and this is James Hawkins as well,” he pointed at the old man. “Well, it is not practical but still nice if father and son have equal names.” “Sorry miss; you are wrong. We are the same person.” “W … w … what?” Patsy almost fainted and dropped down on the nearby chair. Was she dreaming? “Well miss, are you about to run away now?” “I don’t know,” Patsy almost jumped up and ran away but her curiosity was much stronger. “How is that possible? Are you able to make your own copies or?” “That’s a long story. Would you like to hear it?” “Mister … can I say James to you? I’m tired just now but I’d like to come again tomorrow. I have a day off.” “Of course, miss … Patsy? Come tomorrow and we can talk. I also have something interesting to show you.” “I will come. It would be a little exciting to spend my day off in a more interesting way than browsing the town aimlessly.” Patsy couldn’t sleep that night and she had to think about the strange house and about ‘something interesting’. How was it possible to make copies of a person? The next morning she hurried up towards the strange house and knocked on the door impatiently: “Come in,” the voice invited her but it wasn’t the young man from the day before. The older James welcomed her: “Good morning,” “Good morning Patsy. The junior James is at work but you are welcome anyway.” “I can’t wait to hear your story; you also promised something interesting James.” “Of course, Patsy, I'll show you it first,” he stood up and brought a small case and opened it. There was something like a big clockwork inside with several metal dials and two handles inside. “Oh, what is it? I’ve never seen this kind of clockwork.” “Be patient, miss. Listen to my story. However, take it and look at the bottom.” Patsy lifted the mysterious clockwork and turned it upside down. It was surprisingly heavy. There was an inscription on the bottom: “TIMETRON A.D.1827” “Timetron? What does it mean? Where did you find this? This clockwork is a rare historical artifact.” “It’s more than a plain historical artifact and much more than a plain clockwork. Now let me continue. I bought this house long ago. It was surprisingly cheap and there were rumors about it and its history. According to those rumors two dead bodies were found there and the bodies looked like the same person. People believed in demons or similar evil powers. The house itself was abandoned and I spent a lot of time and money to do all necessary repairs. Anyway I didn’t notice any signs of supernatural powers.” “James, have you been living all alone here?” Patsy interrupted him. “Yeah, I have; I’m single and I’ve been focusing on my work the entire time. Now let’s proceed to a more interesting period. One day I decided to check the loft. Of course I did it before during the repair works but I didn’t browse all the old chests. To be honest, I don’t know why I took that decision but it changed my life forever. The chests were full of junk mostly but I found Timetron among that junk. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any idea what I had found. That day in the evening I cleaned it and studied all the buttons and dials. Look at them.” Patsy looked at the dials and she realized they were a kind of calendar. Turning the dials, she could set up any date. There was a dial numbered from 1 to 31, another one labeled with month names and four dials with numbers from 0 to 9 inside a square frame. “If I’m right, you could set up any day on these dials - from the year 0000 until 9999. Okay but it doesn’t make sense. What happens if you set the date?” “Miss Patsy, I also was curious about the mysterious machine. The first attempt was simple; I set the dials to the same day and wound up the machine. Nothing happened. I grabbed the handles, felt a bit light headed but nothing changed. The next attempt was much more courageous. I turned the dials to the day before and repeated the procedure. All of sudden the machine disappeared. I was taken aback; did I travel in time? The evidence was sitting in the chests on the loft. I hurried up and opened the correct chest. I almost fainted when I spotted the machine there.” “Wow, that really is a time travelling machine!” “Yeah, it is.” “How is it linked to your copy?” “I had an old friend but he died more than twenty years before I found the machine and unfortunately, I didn’t have any opportunity to see him. I got a call about his car accident and hurried up to the hospital but he died minutes before I arrived. I got a crazy idea to use the machine and arrive in time. Everything worked and I could say goodbye to him but I encountered myself in the hospital corridor. I returned home and found the machine. My second copy followed me. When I grabbed the handles, my copy was present in the room and returned with me.” Patsy looked at James and timetron in utter amazement. She would like to hear more but it was too much for her and she desperately wanted to see her mother. “James, your story is interesting indeed but it’s too much for me now and I’ll come later again to hear more. Now I'll tell you my reason; I’d like to find my mother; she abandoned me and I grew up in an orphanage. Maybe I’ll be able to change my past and grow up in a normal family. I know that this is a bold request but could I use timetron?” “Patsy, feel free to use it but be careful. Avoid meeting yourself in the past. If you want to change something in the past, I don’t have any idea of the consequences.” “What time should I choose. I was born on the 14th and I’d guess my mom was released two days later,” her fingers trembled when she turned the dials. 1995, May, 16th. She wound up the machine and grabbed both handles. Ticking could be heard and the world around her got blurred. Seconds later her vision cleared and she looked around. The old James had gone and she was alone in the house.
  9. Hello to everyone. I'm about to revise and re-post my earlier story. It was published on Deviantart and Abdlstoryforum. Part 1 Charity Dixon was looking at her tablet and browsing the news without any big interest. It was only her habit to waste time while she was sitting in the bus on her way to school. She wasn’t really interested in politics or economics and she sometimes read sensational or mysterious stories only. Mysteries somehow attracted her attention. Suddenly an ad popped up. Charity usually was annoyed by the ads and she deleted most of them immediately. However this time she stopped and continued reading. “Are you looking for an interesting and easy job? Would you like to work as a babysitter? Our company Happy Family is looking for new full-time or part-time workers. We can offer excellent working conditions, free working schedule and an above average wage of $40/hour.” Charity rubbed her eyes and read the ad over and over; it was a wonderful opportunity for two reasons. Charity needed some supply just like any other young girl and she would be able to save them for a nice vacation next year. However, the second reason was even more important. Several days ago Charity had read a story about the Happy Family and the story was quite mysterious. Happy Family was an adoption agency where the barren couples could look for a child. However, nobody was able to find out where the children came from. Of course, Happy Family provided birth certificates, but a journalist investigated some of the adoptions and wasn’t able to find the biological mothers. Unfortunately, the story was quite long and she didn’t finish reading it until the bus stopped in front of the school. Charity has been a very curious girl for a long time, and this mystery was attracting her attention very much. Maybe she would be able to find something interesting and the wage would be a nice bonus. She immediately decided to apply for the job on the same day as long as her school was over. She also decided to read the mysterious story once more. The school lessons seemed endless for Charity and she couldn’t wait until the end. In the afternoon she headed directly towards the Happy Family. While sitting in the bus she tried to find the story and finish reading it, but there were too many new posts on the site and Charity didn’t find it again. She got even more curious. The company was seated in a small villa far from the city center. Charity got off the bus and walked for about five minutes until she spotted the villa and stopped dead in her tracks. The villa was a quite large two-storey house in Victorian style standing aside from the other houses, didn’t match their modern architecture and it was surrounded by a well-maintained lawn. A short paved path leads to the entrance door. Charity was welcomed by an older lady: “Miss Charity, we are glad you want to help us in our philanthropic mission. Do you know how many people desire children and aren’t able to get their own ones. We keep helping these people as well as the desperate girls who got pregnant by a … mistake.” The lady stepped aside and let Charity enter the large hall. Charity had to admire the interior. It was a harmonic mix of the original and modern equipment. The entrance hall was large and there were several doors on the walls but all doors were closed and Charity couldn’t see any living soul there. However she could hear voices from upstairs. On the second floor they got to a smaller corridor. It was not as luxurious as the entrance hall but still clean and well equipped. They encountered a young girl there; the girl smiled and greeted Charity. The lady showed Charity the nurseries, the kitchen, the playroom and the bathroom. Charity didn’t have time to explore the rooms but she was surprised by the expensive equipment. “Miss Charity, you will work in one of these nurseries and you can choose the time according to your school duties,“ the lady turned to her when they finished the short round, “we also have a playground in the backyard.” “Thank you, madam. If you don’t mind, I’ll think of your offer and call you tomorrow.” “Of course, miss Charity. We will arrange everything as soon as you decide to take the job.” On her way home Charity kept thinking of the offer. It was quite attractive but she couldn’t get rid of a strange feeling. The villa and all the equipment looked expensive. Where did they get money from? Charitable agencies usually suffered from lack of money but Happy Family definitely did not. “Charity, I’m taken aback by the wage and by the equipment,” Charity’s mother shared her worries when her daughter told her about the job offer. “I know mom but I will babysit only. What could happen? Maybe they have a wealthy sponsor.” “I don’t know. To be honest I’m getting a bad feeling but I really don’t know why. In either case do your job and don’t stick your nose into anything else.” “Okay mom. I’ll call the lady tomorrow and accept it.” “Bring me the employment contract and I’ll show it to our lawyer.” “Of course, mom.” The next day Charity called the lady, accepted her offer and planned her first shift for Wednesday in the afternoon after school. On Wednesday Charity got quite nervous and unable to focus on her school lessons. She still didn’t get rid of the strange feeling when she entered the villa. The lady escorted her to the downstairs office. It was a small room with a table, two chairs and two small cabinets. “Sit down please and we arrange all the paper stuff,” the lady sat at the computer and started typing. About fifteen minutes later they finished and two copies of the contract were printed. “Okay, the paperwork is over and now let me introduce you to your first shift,” the lady led Charity out of the office and upstairs. They met another young girl there. “Charity, let me introduce Susan,” Susan also smiled at Charity, they greeted each other and Susan left. The lady turned to Charity again: “Susan works as a waitress and she can work in the mornings. Now let me show you our sweet little John. He is 10 months old,” she led Charity to the nursery on her right. The small boy was asleep in the crib with a pacifier in his mouth. Charity walked over to the crib and kept watching him for a minute; he was quite cute and looked satisfied. She suddenly felt good and looked forward to her upcoming job. “Before I go back to my duties, I’d like to explain to you something about diapers. We use cloth diapers to be environmentally-friendly. They are good, but you have to check them more often. The used diapers are to be thrown into a pail in the bathroom and poopy ones should be rinsed first,” the lady interrupted her thoughts; she smiled again and left. Charity was alone with the little Johnnie.
  10. The Winceyette nightshirt Definition of Winceyette: Cloth made of cotton that has a raised surface, used especially for nightclothes. I’m fourteen and have to go and stay at grandma’s house for a while. My parents are going through a tumultuous divorce and the constant shouting is having an effect on my nerves. My grades have deteriorated badly at school. I hardly sleep; continually worrying that the screaming might escalate into something much more violent. I lie in bed shaking and only drop off in a very fitful manner dreading the morning when I know it will start all over again. This in turn has led to one or two night time accidents and I wake up to a wet bed, not really knowing when it could have happened as I’d hardly slept. The atmosphere in the house is terrible and I’m perpetually on guard not wishing anything I do adding to the general dysfunction of my family – so I hide my problem. # Grandma (from my mum’s side, my dad’s parents are both dead), thinks it disgraceful they should behave the way they do when I’m around and appear ignorant their actions have on me. She berated both of them and insisted that they “…got their act together or separate and not involve their highly impressionable child (me) in their ‘theatrics’”. As soon as school finished for the Spring Break she insisted that I get away from the relentless bickering and spend some time with her. Now I love grandma, but spending any time at all with an old lady isn’t my idea of fun but her argument is sound; I need to get away and she is offering a sanctuary that isn’t available from anyone else. ## It was an hour and a half drive to Grandma’s house and they even argued over whose responsibility it was to take me there. Tempers were rising and I simply couldn’t take any more so, I quickly shoved a few clothes in a bag, emptied my piggy bank and took the four hour, three bus changes ride to arrive completely shattered. This was partly due to the fact she lived at the edge of a village in a rather sweet one-bedroom cottage but which is a mile or so walk from the bus stop. Of course I was expected but she also expected that someone would have brought me. She was furious, she also thinks I need protecting from strangers (not sure what she thinks will happen on a bus); she forgets that I’m fourteen and can look after myself. So, she was once again angry with my self-obsessed parents and called them to let them know her disapproval, and of course that I’d arrived safely. I could hear her lay into my mother about how terrible it was to be subjected to hearing a constant stream of invective and anger even if it wasn’t directed at me. Grandma thought I was far too sensitive to have to put up with such antagonism but also listened to mum bleating on with ‘her side of the story’. Grandma’s final words were. “…no thanks to you two self-absorbed, unthinking bastards.” Yep, that’s what she called them down the phone “BASTARDS”. I was both shocked and amused that she should think in such a way about her daughter and son-in-law. Once her duty to inform them was out of the way then all her energy turned to me and the huge cuddle that followed was very welcome. I didn’t expect it but I burst into tears, perhaps she was correct, I was too sensitive. Whether through relief or what I’m not sure, but granny’s sweetly perfumed embrace meant the world to me. I left a huge wet tear stain on her pale yellow woollen cardigan but she didn’t seem concerned, her only thoughts were that I was safe, away from all the aggravation and determined that I should have an untroubled stay. In recognition of my visit she’d been baking and the homemade pies and tarts that appeared to cover every surface of the small but highly functional kitchen bode well. One thing for certain, I wasn’t going to starve whilst at granny’s house. # When I was younger I’d stayed with grandma quite a few times and I’d always shared her bed, which was OK but now I was more grown up I thought I’d be kipping on the couch. However, granny has a routine, and one she’s had as long as I can remember and that was - guests take a bath before bed. It was only about 8pm but I was well tuckered out and she noticed my eyes start to close. The meal she’d cooked, the lovely coal fire and the lack of any screaming certainly had me relaxing for the first time in many months. She smiled and suggested that, as she’d snuck off to run a bath whilst I dozed, I should take full advantage of the bubbles she’d added. I loved the fact that granny, as old as she was, still wanted to take care of me, something both mum and dad had been neglecting for some time. I went to the bathroom and stripped down piling my sweaty clothes on the dresser and slipped gingerly into the hot steamy suds. The smell of lavender filled the space and the bath itself was slippery from the amount of foam she’d added to the water, the entire effect was one of tranquil bliss so I closed my eyes and just soaked in its warm embrace. I fell asleep. # I woke up to granny peering down at me and smiling. “Gosh, you really did need to get away didn’t you?” I smiled back my agreement. “Well I think you’d better get out otherwise you’ll turn into a wrinkled prune.” She held out a fluffy blue towel and encouraged me to get out of the bath. “It’s ok gran I can see to myself.” I said nervous about being fourteen and being dried by my granny. “I’m sure you can but…” and there was a twinkle in her eye, “why should you when I’m here to look after you.” The towel did look very inviting and I nervously raised myself up but although the water had lost a great deal of its heat it was still very slippery and my grip on the side of the bath slipped as my feet slid along the bath floor and I made a huge splash that soaked granny. I was embarrassed but she was laughing and although dripping herself, still held up the towel encouraging me to make more of an effort. My nervousness about the hairs that I’d developed quite recently left me; after all she wouldn’t be seeing anything she hadn’t seen before. I was still a little ashamed at splashing her but thought I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. As she encircled me in the towel it brought back happy memories of when, as a child, she’d do this to me after a bath and the thorough rubbing would be followed, if tradition was being upheld, by a nice mug of milky cocoa before bed. Once she was sure I was dry she led me to her bedroom and I noticed some items piled on top of the blankets. I still assumed that somehow, or somewhere, in that small house there would be another bed, or sofa, that I would be sleeping on but apparently I was wrong. # I looked, somewhat bewildered, at the stuff granny had prepared. In my haste to get to her place I’d not packed any pyjamas and the few items I had in my backpack were just a couple of shirts, t-shirts and undies, I wasn’t well equipped at all. “I’m sorry about this sweetheart,” Granny looked serious and apologetic, “but you mother mentioned you’ve been having night time accidents at home.” This information came as a bit of a shock, I didn’t know that mum knew… she’d never said anything. However, coming home from school I suppose the fact that there was washing still in the machine and perhaps my room had a tell-tale odour, she’d managed to put the pieces together. Maybe she wasn’t as self-absorbed as I’d thought. I was uncomfortable that granny now knew and also ashamed. I felt humiliated and tried to hide my suddenly tearful gaze. “Don’t worry sweetheart, with what you’ve been through I can’t say I’m surprised.” She put her arm around my shoulder and gave me a tender hug. “However, we will be sharing a bed so I need to know that you are both comfortable and safe.” I tried to be grown up and said that I’d brought a t-shirt and underwear for bed but she just gently shook her head. “No.” She pointed to a bundle of items that were there ready for me. Although I’d noticed them I hadn’t paid that much attention as to what exactly was in the pile but suddenly realised that the white cloth item on top was in fact a thick terry nappy. “But granny, I’m too old for that…” “Sweetheart, you’re never too old to take precautions.” “But, but, er, I, er, mmm…” # My argument was slipping away as easily as the comforting towel she gently eased from my shoulders leaving me naked on the bed. She unfolded the huge terry square and refolded it into the shape of a nappy and slid it under my bare bottom. She sprinkled powder and reminded me that as a kid I used to enjoy that part the best. I was mesmerised with what was happening. I couldn’t lash out at granny but I certainly didn’t want to wear a nappy. However, I remembered that I had left my own bed at home in a soaked state so perhaps this thick protection might not be such a bad idea. Anyhow, I just couldn’t see myself arguing with granny and by the time I’d got my thoughts in order I was powdered and pinned in and she was shuffling a large pair of white plastic pants up my legs. She patted them into place and I just knew I’d never get my boxers over them as I looked around for them and my t-shirt. Granny was way ahead of me as she unfolded what looked like a pair of fleecy-style brown plaid pyjamas. She pulled what I thought was the top over my head and gently slid it down over my body. It kept going so she got me to stand up as it came down well below my knees. “Granny, er, I can’t wear this, it’s, it’s, er…” “Don’t be silly, it’s a nightshirt, a lovely Winceyette nightshirt.” She smoothed it down and over my bulging nappy. “This should keep you nice and snug while you’re here.” She patted my padded bottom and suggested we go down stairs for cocoa. I was reluctant to go anywhere, especially with the thickness surrounding my crotch but I figured that granny was probably wise enough to know when ‘protection’ was needed and it would certainly save me some embarrassment should I wet myself in the night, especially as we’d be sharing her bed. I felt strange. In fact, the whole process had seemed totally, how can I put it, er, out of body? It felt like it was happening to somebody else, well, perhaps it was a younger version of me but it certainly wasn’t me now. However, the fabric did feel nice against my skin. The cotton was soft and yet felt unlike anything I’d ever worn before. If I was to compare it to anything I would say it had the texture and smoothness of a fluffy kitten. There was an immediate sense of comfort as I waddled down stairs and settled myself in front of the fire whilst granny went to the kitchen to get our hot drinks organised. # The cottage was detached, had a fairly large garden, which gran loved to potter around in, but was quite small; a kitchen and living room on the ground floor and a bedroom and bathroom upstairs. A few years ago she’d had a small conservatory built onto the back, which was fitted out with wicker furniture; the place really caught the sun when it shined. It was a lovely place to relax in summer. Her living room was just as you’d expect for a country cottage; old but comfortable, well-stuffed chintzy style furniture, wooden dresser and display cabinets. There were photos of the family displayed around the room; me as a seven year-old, mum, dad and me when I was a baby and several shots of mum’s sister Jane and her family. Aunty Jane and Uncle Tom I think were happily married and, whereas I’m an only child, I have four cousins; Thomas is the eldest and the same age as me, Julie is twelve, Toby is eleven and they have a new baby, Benjamin. There were photographs of them all amongst the ones of us, as well as a lovely image of Grandpa when he was younger and in uniform. Three walls had flowery green and brown wallpaper and one wall was painted a dark brown but the overall effect was one of cosiness. The brown wall held a fabulous painting of a sunrise over the village that a local artist had done many years earlier. I loved the cottage; it was homely and always made me feel welcome. The fire crackled in the grate and a small ancient TV sitting in the corner fit nicely with the surroundings but I wondered how gran could put up with such a small screen. When she returned baring a couple of steaming mugs of cocoa and some biscuits I asked her, but she replied that she didn’t, as it hadn’t worked for over two years and not missed it one bit. I sipped my drink and felt the sweet taste and warming glow in my tummy filter throughout my entire body. I had a fleeting thought that this stay was going to be a long one if there was no TV but I had brought my IPad so it should be OK. # Granny was telling me all about the last visit from Aunty Jane’s family and that their eldest son Thomas had stayed with her when aunty was in hospital having little Benjamin. He also had a slight wetting problem and that’s how come she was prepared for my ‘needs’. She smiled as she said how quickly you can get things organised as a result of a wet bed. I swallowed hard hoping that my shame was not that obvious. Again I was embarrassed that she’d brought the subject up but I understood she was just trying to let me know I wasn’t alone and that it wasn’t a huge problem so I shouldn’t worry. That was perhaps easier said than done. However, the cocoa was very soothing and sitting in front of her roaring fire, I soon forgot all my problems and dozed resting my head against grandma’s shoulder. # Time didn’t seem to matter as she guided me upstairs to her comfy bedroom and pulled back the covers for me to get in. The weight and bulkiness between my legs had given me a crinkly little gait but there was no doubt about it, the entire outfit left me feeling both comfortable and, strangely, loved. The nightshirt hung on me with no bunching and the material next to my skin was soothing, just like my old teddy bear. I ran my hand over it all and for some reason it made me smile, it was if it was giving me back a pleasant memory. I wriggled contentedly and was asleep before granny came to bed. For the first time in many months I slept soundly throughout the night. # I woke up and stretched and for a moment the unfamiliar surroundings left me confused. Thankfully, I recognised where I was and turned to see if granny was still sleeping. I’d dropped off before she came to bed and I slept so heavily I didn’t experience her near me at any time during the night. However, I could see the vacant dent and slightly askew sheet and blankets that proved where she’d been. I yawned and stretched further and could vaguely hear her down in the kitchen and if I wasn’t mistaken, she was cooking breakfast. The smell of frying bacon had wafted up the stairs and I was surprisingly hungry. I pulled back the blankets and lifted my legs to get up when I saw that the nightshirt had bundled up past my hips and left my glossy protection on view. I’d forgotten all about that but now its presence was evident I suddenly realised that I was WET. # I was filled with panic as I brushed my hand over the sheets I’d only moments before been fast asleep on. Thank God they were dry. I examined the nightshirt and that was also dry so it was only the nappy that was wet – I was both thankful and appalled. How could I have wet in my granny’s bed and with her in it? I heard her coming up the stairs and quickly climbed back under the bedclothes hoping that I wouldn’t have to admit to anything but granny being granny, she gently set a cup of tea on the bedside table and assumed I was awake. “Morning sweetheart, sleep well.” “Mmmm,” I commented under a mock yawn. “Well I’m making breakfast and it will be ready in about five minutes, meanwhile here’s a nice cuppa to rouse you…” She then added off the cuff as if it was the most normal thing to say. “… don’t worry about your wet nappy now; we can get you cleaned up after breakfast.” She wasn’t asking, she was telling me as if she knew or at least expected it. My face went beet-red as I hid behind a quick slurp of tea. “Would you like fried eggs or scrambled?” She said in the doorway as an afterthought. “Erm, er, scrambled please.” “OK sweetheart, don’t be too long I don’t want it to get cold.” I was sitting up in bed, hugging my tea and thinking what a baby I was wetting myself for no reason. I couldn’t blame my parents arguing as I’d had the best night’s sleep for ages and yet here I was sitting in a soaked nappy. After a few more sips I decided to get up. I pulled the ruffled up nightshirt back to where it should be, covering my damp shame, and even more gingerly waddled down to the kitchen. # I arrived just as granny piled the eggs on the plate with several rashers of bacon, beans and mushrooms. I took my seat and was very aware of the squishiness in my nappy; thankfully there was only a slight crinkle to announce my arrival. For a woman her age granny was incredibly nimble and I could tell that not only had she made breakfast, I could hear the washing machine going, probably the second load as I could see out the window there were already some items hanging out on the line. She asked if I had any plans for the day but in truth, I hadn’t thought about doing anything. I’d stayed in the village on many occasions so had seen all it had to offer. However, there were innumerable walks and pretty sites to visit if the weather stayed nice. # Once I’d finished breakfast granny suggested that I slip out of my damp nappy so she could get it washed and out on the line whilst the sun shone. So I toddled back upstairs to change. I wasn’t expecting her to follow me and became quite embarrassed that she planned to watch me strip but she actually had a confession. “Sorry sweetheart but the stuff in your backpack was all creased and to be honest, smelled a bit funny so I’ve put all your things in the wash. Everything should be dry by tonight and I can iron them and make you more presentable. “What about the clothes I arrived in?” She shrugged. “Sorrrrryy. They were pretty smelly after your long journey. They are all in a long wash at the moment.” “Oh. I’m not sure what I can wear then. Do you have any suggestions?” “Well, if you’re not going anywhere, you can just wear your nightshirt…” She suddenly had a thought. “Have a ‘pyjama day’ I think it’s called.” “Well I suppose I’ll have to.” I didn’t fancy wearing any of granny’s clothes. I laughed at the very idea, what was I thinking? “But let’s get you out of that wet nappy first and into something a bit drier.” # For some reason I thought she must have kept some of my underwear back from the wash for just this occasion but once I was out of the plastic pants and soaked nappy nothing else was forthcoming. Well, I thought, I could just potter around in my nightshirt, although I have to say, the soft and fluffy material was constantly brushing against sensitive parts of my body sending ripples of pleasure to places I’d rather granny not know about. She brought in some wet wipes and more powder and draped over her arm was another pre-folded nappy. “I think we need to clean you up first and I also insist that you wear something next to your… er…” She was pointing in my groin. “But granny,” I was already whining like a two year-old, “I can’t wear a nappy around the house.” “Why not, there’s only the two of us here and I’m not keen on you wondering around not decent.” I know I could have argued that it was her fault that I was in this position but I hadn’t been brought up to quarrel with the elderly and certainly not my grandmother. I think if I had, and it had got back to my parents that I was squabbling with her, then they may well have both got together to give me a sound spanking before they went back to their own quarrel. No I simply had to suck it up and do what she suggested. # I’m fourteen; the nappy-wearing came as a bit of a shock; the fact that she intended me to wear it about the house, as well as at night (when I could see her point), made me feel very uncomfortable. I know she was trying to make me feel loved and untroubled but the idea was nagging at me that this was a step too far. However, granny is such a human dynamo, that she simply set too and removed the saturated object, wiped and powdered my groin and fastened me in the dry one and slipped another pair of white rubber pants up my legs. This time something happened. The nightshirt never left my body during the entire operation. In fact, she’d just pushed it up over my belly and set to work whilst I still enjoyed the fleecy softness against my chest. It rubbed against my nipples and again I felt that shiver of ‘appreciation’ run through my body. Some of the fabric was tickling my neck and chin, which set me off giggling like a baby and I was surprised to feel an emotion I hadn’t felt for quite some time. Utter devotion. Granny certainly made me feel like I was the centre of her world and that everything she did, or was doing, was solely for my benefit… and it felt wonderful. This strange piece of clothing was helping me appreciate so much more. Not only was it offering warmth and comfort but, together with the oddly reassuring nappy, I experienced an inner calm that spread around my body leaving each nerve ending with a special uplifting glow. I stood up and granny kissed me and said that I should be OK for the rest of the day. # I was vibrating with pleasure as the nightshirt gently scuffed the back of my calves, tickling and caressing me at the same time; the nappy no longer making me worry but offered reassurance. I’d never felt more at ease as I settled myself in the tiny conservatory to enjoy the morning sun and catch up with email on my IPad. Ooops, I’d forgotten that granny didn’t have Wi-Fi or broadband so, apart from listening to my music files, the odd game and catching up writing up some of my homework, the wonderful machine was useless. Thankfully, granny knew that the pub and the Tea Room in the village both had Wi-Fi, so, I could catch up by treating myself to a cuppa at some point. However, that wasn’t going to be any time soon as I only had my nightshirt and I wasn’t about to parade around the village dressed like that. I was at a loss as to what I could do to occupy my fourteen year-old brain now the electronic part of my plan had collapsed. The TV was useless but granny spent most of the day with the radio on in the background and seemed more than happy with that as company. She’d already done all the baking so I couldn’t do anything like that. My clothes were gently wafting in the breeze but the sun was un-seasonally warm so perhaps I would just sun myself in the back garden. Granny thought that was a great idea because she had to go off to an old folk’s home later as she was a visitor and didn’t want to let down those less able than herself. Typical of the woman, she was there to help others and I half-heartedly felt I should offer to join her. She thanked me for volunteering but thought it better if I stayed home and relaxed. She was of the opinion that I needed a calming influence and the old folk’s home, she said with a smile, was anything but that. # She laid a blanket out on the grass and told me to help myself to anything in the fridge or food in the pantry and that she’d only be gone for about three hours. I heard a horn blast and granny saying her lift had arrived, after she kissed the top of my head, she was out the door and on her way. Even though it was relatively early, just after 10am, the sun was very warm and as I grabbed a book to read I spread myself out and tried to concentrate on one of the ‘Historical Romance’ novels gran liked so much. It didn’t keep my attention for long and I was getting pretty hot in my nightshirt. Hesitantly I slowly removed it, and giggled as the tickly material slipped over my skin. I was sitting on the blanket wearing just my protection and the bright white of my pants glared for a moment in the sun. I hazily thought that perhaps I’d get an all over tan before summer and that might be nice. I folded the nightshirt and placed it under my head and then spread myself luxuriantly in the sun enjoying its caressing rays. # I woke up to find granny quietly chatting with someone else seemingly also enjoying the early sun. Then I realised that it must be much later than I thought as she’d said she’d be away for around three hours. As I became a little more conscious I realised that she was talking with her neighbour Mrs Davies, they were sat at a small table sipping tea. “Ahh, would you like a cool drink dear?” She asked noticing my eyes flickering against the sun. “Mmmm, yes please granny…” “Good afternoon.” Mrs Davies smiled and nodded in my direction. “Oh, er, yes, good afternoon Mrs Davies, er, how are you?” Her smile broadened even more before a wistful look came into her eyes. “Well I wish I could lie out in the sun like you dear, but alas, those days have gone.” “Me and you both.” Granny nodded sagely. It was only then I become conscious of the fact that I was lying there dressed in so little. Suddenly overcome with embarrassment I made to rise and get the drink myself but gran was already on her way to the kitchen. Laying there and looking at Mrs Davies I took in the fact that I’d slept for quite a number of hours wearing just my nappy. I was very warm and I was sweating heavily and the damn thing appeared to have soaked up every bit of perspiration. It took me until granny arrived back with my drink to realise that I had in fact wet myself again. How the hell had that happened? I wasn’t sure what to do by way of hiding myself but I suppose it was way too late for that as granny brought my drink. “Here you are dear,” she handed the cooling glass to me, “but I don’t think you should lie around in such a wet nappy for too long, I don’t want you getting a rash.” How on Earth did she know? Mrs Davies took another sip of tea. “My Sally was forever wetting her nappy,” she shrugged, “I don’t know what it is about young ‘uns but sometimes they seem to forget how to use the bathroom properly.” “Yes I remember,” Granny was joining in, “Thomas was the same… kept forgetting to go potty” I coughed, trying to hide my embarrassment and divert this course of conversation, so asked how long I’d been asleep. “Well, it’s two thirty now, so…” She left it for me to work it out. Again I flushed red even though the sun had given me enough of a tan to hide my shame, but granny beckoned me to follow her into the house. First I went to check on my clothes hanging in the sun and they were almost dry but granny said she wanted to iron them all before I should wear them. Again, I’m not going to argue with her so I just shrugged, grabbed my nightshirt and followed her inside. My shiny waddling bottom no doubt letting Mrs Davies know exactly how wet I was. # Mr Davies continued sipping her tea as granny and I disappeared back into the house. “Sorry gran, I don’t know how it’s happened, I feel such an idiot.” I was looking down at the bloated mass between my legs and thankful that the plastic pants had kept everything in place. “Don’t worry dear, accidents happen and, after what you’ve had to contend with over the last few months, I’m not surprised.” She was being very supportive. “But why I should have piss… er, wet myself…” I was confused and embarrassed though it appeared not to be worrying gran. “Look sweetheart, you’ve had plenty of things to worry about so now you are here… all I can suggest is that you let them all go and let granny look after you.” She looked both serious and understanding and I desperately wanted to forget about my home life. She patted my shoulder sympathetically. “Look let’s get you changed and, might I suggest, you need some after-sun, you’ve already got a bit of a tan.” I was glowing so once I’d wriggled out of my plastic pants and dropped my nappy you could see a nice little tan line. Within seconds granny had a soothing cream which, despite my mild protest, she was intent on spreading into me. I’d never felt as relaxed as granny’s fingers gently smeared the oily lotion into my shimmering skin. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift as he fingers soothed. Once she was satisfied that I wouldn’t burn or peel from my sunbathing, she slipped another nappy under me and pinned me in. She did it all so fast I didn’t realise or have time to object, besides, I was getting used to granny looking after me. As she once again pulled the nightshirt over my head I felt the comforting soft, fleecy material tickle as it enveloped my newly tanned body. The thrill as it slipped across my skin was electric and welcoming; I never wanted this incredible sensation to stop. The fact that I was once again wearing a nappy under it made me walk slightly differently, but when we joined Mrs Davies back in the garden, any inhibitions I might have had had disappeared. # The warm afternoon with me floating around in my nappy and nightshirt made me think I was on a tropical island or maybe some hippy commune somewhere (I’d heard about them but never experienced either of these places). Whatever granny’s secret was, it was most definitely working because my cares had drifted away and I loved the easy attitude and lack of worry she had given me. Mrs Davies asked me about school and friends, ambitions and general topics, never once delving into family matters, well not my family anyway. We all sat chatting for some time and I was amazed at how often the conversation crept round to wet nappies and the problems both these adults had with getting their children and grand-children toilet-trained. Thankfully, such talk no longer embarrassed me and I zoned out for most of it although I did realise, or at least thought I realised, they were saying what they did to make me feel better about my little ‘accident’. It was strange, the way they talked it was as if they almost expected kids to have accidents and it was all normal and taken in their stride. Once Mrs Davies had gone back to her own place granny started on our evening meal, which included one of her fabulous meat and potato pies with thick gravy, a personal favourite. She knew of my liking for anything pastry based so there was a fruit pie and custard to finish, I was in seventh heaven. No doubt when I eventually did return home I’d weigh a good number of pounds more… and I wasn’t bothered, granny just kept the fantastic meals coming. # That night after my bath granny once again had a nappy ready for me to sleep in. I could hardly object seeing as how I’d wet myself both night and day but I hoped this would be the last time. She’d ironed all my clothes and they were waiting on the dresser all neatly folded and ready for the morning when I had plans to go down to the Tea Rooms and use their Wi-Fi. This time she unfurled a plain red winceyette nightshirt over my head, which if it was possible felt even more wonderful. There was just something about the way the fibres tickled and caressed my skin that gave it an unbelievable quality, one that made me immediately at peace with the world. I felt quite floppy, whether it was the hot bubble bath or the nightshirt or a combination of both I’m not sure but I felt like a little kid again. I was giddy and childish and if granny had blown on my tummy I’m sure I would have been giggling like a toddler, and yet it didn’t feel disconcerting. When we returned to the living room I was in two minds whether to listen to my IPad with my headphones but decided that would be incredibly rude. Granny turned on the radio and it played some really old songs from her era, which at first I didn’t like but gradually they grew on me. At one point there was one I actually remember from when I was quite small myself. It was a kiddie sing-a-long type of tune and before I knew it, both granny and I were singing along like we were competing at a karaoke competition… or more likely a baby’s birthday party. # That night granny and I both retired together. She smelled wonderful and it didn’t take long after a kiss on the cheek I fell into a wonderful deep sleep. I woke up and once again granny had disappeared and there was a cuppa on the bedside table. I could see it was steaming so had only recently been placed there. Granny was no doubt busying herself with whatever it was she found to do, whilst I just sat up in bed and enjoyed my morning brew. It took a couple of minutes to realise I’d wet myself and I sighed in frustration hoping against hope that this wasn’t going to be a regular occurrence. I toddled to the bathroom took off my nightshirt and slid the offending soaked items to the floor. Grabbing a flannel I cleaned myself up and, like granny had done before, slicked on some lotion before completing the operation with a sprinkling of talc. I returned to the bedroom and of course all my clothes lay on the dresser all washed and neatly ironed. This is the type of service mum hadn’t provided for quite some time and I was grateful that granny had gone to so much trouble, even my underwear had been pressed. I quickly got dressed and wondered down to the kitchen. # I sat down and for some reason it was very noticeable that I didn’t have the padding that I’d become used to. My underwear seemed very sparse and unsubstantial and I wriggled trying to get comfortable but the chair felt very hard under my bum. Over cereal gran asked me if I had any plans as I appeared dressed for a trip out. “I thought I’d wonder down to the Tea Room and catch up on my emails and stuff.” “That sounds like a plan dear.” She encouraged, “But don’t forget you’ll have to buy something whilst you are there, I don’t think they’ll let you use their facilities for nothing. Do you need any money?” Once again gran was all concern and helpfulness and I suddenly felt guilty about leaving her alone, which was silly because she was one of the most independent women I’d ever met. “It’s the Carter’s who own it, Deidre and Malcolm, if you need anything tell them I’m your grandmother and I’ll…” “It’s OK granny, I’m sure I can manage… anything.” I smiled although I noticed a strange note of irritation creeping into my voice. “I’m fourteen for Christsake; I can manage to buy a cup of tea… I don’t need mollycoddling.” The thought ran through my head. “Er, I’m sure I can cope… thanks granny. I have my own money so should be OK.” “OK sweetheart.” Whether she’d detected my brief testiness I wasn’t sure as she just carried on with the washing up. However, I was shocked as to why I’d suddenly become irritable with the very person who was doing all she could to free me from my worries. Guiltily I asked if there was anything I could do to help before I set off and she requested I peg out the washing, whilst she cleaned upstairs. It was the very least I could do so emptied the machine into a basket and sauntered out into the fresh morning air. Actually, it was already quite warm with a very gentle breeze, a perfect day for drying. I hadn’t given it much thought but as I pegged each item out I realised that they were mostly my terry nappies, they looked huge hanging in the sunshine. My plastic pants were there, my brown nightshirt, a couple of towels and tea towels, a yellow sheet and that was about it. I stood back and looked along the line and watched as the breeze slowly flapped my nappies. For some reason I began to feel a bit ashamed. Not about having worn them but at not wearing them now. My thin underwear beneath my jeans failing to offer the fullness and protection my nappies had. What a strange thought to have suddenly come into my head. I shivered in confusion and wondered why I should even think such a thing. I shook my head in disbelief but thought it best to start on my way to the Tea Room; after all it was over a mile to walk. # It didn’t seem as far as when I’d arrived in the village but there again I hadn’t travelled for over four hours or been incredibly tired. As I strode along the country road I passed several gardens and everyone seemed to think it was a wonderful day to hang out their washing. In almost every garden there were several billowing terry squares and colourful plastic pants fluttering in the breeze. I wondered if the village had suddenly increased its population by an explosion in the birth rate. However, it seemed only a few minutes before I was ensconced at a table in the Tea Room with my IPad open and a fizzy can of Coke at my side. Time just shot by as I replied to my emails, downloaded some more music and caught up on a couple of my favourite TV programmes. During that time I’d also downed a couple of fruit juices and a pot of tea complete with a piece of fudge cake. Yum. It appeared that Deidre Carter knew who I was, well at least that I was staying at my grans house, as she asked me to take a message back with me. She was very friendly and chatty (the place wasn’t that busy) but again I found myself getting irritated that I wasn’t being left alone. However, she didn’t charge me for the use of her Wi-Fi and I even got that first Coke for free so I couldn’t complain. # With all that liquid inside me it would have been sensible to go to the toilet there but seeing the time, I’d spent almost five hours engrossed with my gadget, I guiltily wanted to get back as soon as possible. Deidre gave me an envelope to give to gran and, smiling sweetly said the strangest thing. “Nice seeing you again, I remember you as a baby… happy days… it’s good to have you back.” As I left the shop I wondered when we’d met but couldn’t recollect having ever seen her before. Alas, as I walked back along the road my bladder was pleading with me for release and I knew I’d not make it all the way without an accident. I saw some trees down a slight embankment and thought they would shield me from the road while I did what I had to do. Unfortunately, as I stepped onto the grassy verge, I wasn’t really looking where I was going and my foot got caught up in a low lying bramble. I stumbled over that and found myself careering down the slope. My newly washed jumper was suddenly covered in soil and grass stains as I plummeted the short distance to the bottom ripping my jeans in the process. However, that wasn’t the end of it as a small, muddy brook pooled there and I slid head first right into it. As I lay there semi-stunned my bladder gave way and I soaked myself. The warm pee was quickly doused by the cold muddy water seeping into everything. Even my IPad was awash in the canvas satchel I carried it in. I was angry but had no one to blame but my own stupidity. I only hoped my electronic gadget wasn’t damaged. I sat in the murky brook trying to turn it on and get it to work but it was useless. The mucky water had not only killed my IPad but soaked my clean jeans, splattered my t-shirt and jumper and I could only guess at the soiled state my underwear was in. As I trudged the half mile or so back to granny’s place I was furious with the world and all my worries and anger at my parents returned with a vengeance as inexplicably I began to cry in exasperation. # “Oh dear, what’s happened?” Granny greeted me at the door as I stumbled in covered head to toe in muck and filth. “I fell in the brook.” I was a mess and through my tears the words came out as a pathetic childish whine rather than the voice of a fourteen year-old. “Oh my poor darling,” she was so sympathetic, “let’s get you changed and into something cleaner and drier.” I pulled the sodden and filthy envelope from my pocket. “Sorry gran, Mrs Carter asked me to give you this but, er, it might be illegible.” “Not to worry dear, it’s probably just a special order for some pastries… I make them for the Tea Rooms. Mrs Davies makes the cakes - we both have our secret recipes that are in demand. It’s quite a little industry.” She beamed. I think it was yet another demonstration of how self-sufficient granny was and not in any way some sad old lady shuffling around in her final days. She helped me out of all my clothes in the kitchen and left them by the washing machine; it seemed that the job of doing my washing was going to be a never ending process. She wrapped a towel around and led me up to the bathroom and, because she didn’t have a shower, again filled the bath. The confident, if agitated young person who’d walked into the village had returned nothing more than a mucky little tyke who couldn’t keep themselves clean. As the hot water flowed I stood worrying about this peculiar anger that had, thankfully only fitfully, suddenly come over me after I’d been so happy and relaxed. Now I was standing naked and wrapped in a towel I felt more like a stupid kid than my real age. My body shook like I was a naughty child who was about to be punished and I sensed my bottom lip quiver as if I was about to burst into tears. However, once gran had checked it wasn’t too hot I slipped under the warm water and let myself soak. This time there were no suds but granny cheekily grabbed something off the shelf and dropped it in next to me, it was a plastic yellow duck. “Have fun while I sort out your clothes.” My initial thought was ‘how childish’ but soon I was pushing it around making quacking noises completely absorbed in my own little world. The clear water began to get slightly discoloured as the mud was washed away but not before I noticed a slightly pale yellow stream of pee get caught up in the bath’s undercurrent and slowly dissipate. It took a few seconds to realise it was me who was responsible because I’d had no forecast it was about to happen. However, the duck was providing me with enough entertainment so I didn’t let the shame distract me from my watery fun. # Granny came back and, after shampooing the dirt out of my hair, dried me with a huge fluffy towel. I was led back into the bedroom where another pile of clothes lay waiting. “I’m sure you don’t want to sweetheart but…” She pointed to the nappy already arranged for my bottom. “I think it will be safer in the long run dear.” She must have noticed that I’d peed my pants on the way home and was taking further precautions. Perhaps she somehow knew I’d peed in the bath. I couldn’t blame her; she quite rightly didn’t want some pee-happy person ruining her nice furniture. Bizarrely, I wasn’t as bothered about it as much as I thought I should be. In fact, as she oiled, powdered and pinned me into its terry thickness that feeling of annoyance I’d had brooding all day completely disappeared. She fished a new pair of thick pink plastic pants from under the pile and wriggled them up my legs and into place. They were such a colourful contrast to the white ones she’d previously had me wearing something clicked and I had a smile on my face - I didn’t know why. Granny smoothed them over my nappy; the subtle rustle announcing I was now well protected, which made her beam with satisfaction. “Well sweetheart, these are definitely the right pants for you.” She stroked the front and back arranging for the white terry pillow between my legs to be completely encased by the thick bright slippery cover. # I looked down at the glowing shiny bulk and wriggled with pleasure, even though I’d never worn pink before, it did look nice. As granny patted my well cushioned bottom I produced carefree murmurs of childish delight, which were echoed by her. Finishing off she pulled a fleecy pink nightshirt over my head that had blue cartoon rabbits gambolling all over it. I was giggling with glee as the material delighted different parts of my skin. It was incredibly childish but the soft cotton fabric once again enveloped my body making me instantly feel as if I was being nuzzled by a hundred fluffy bunnies; their warm silken coats producing an exquisite, feel-good sensation. No matter how infantile it may have appeared, I never wanted to leave this garment’s furry embrace. “Oh sweetheart,” granny was smiling, “you look so… so… so cute.” I didn’t care. Dressed in my nappy, the new, sturdier plastic pants and the wonderfully infantile nightshirt I was no longer worried about anything. Granny was snuggling with me on the bed and saying I was her sweet little baby who looked very sleepy and perhaps should take a nap. I did feel tired but didn’t want to sleep it was still too sunshiny outside. However, as granny soothed me by stroking my hair and patting my well-padded bottom I slowly felt my body drifting into peaceful slumber. When my eyes fluttered shut I could hear granny whispering to herself. “There, there little darling, time to let go and enjoy a life with no worries.” She continued to stroke my hair as I slipped further and further into a calming bliss. “I think we’ve found the right nightshirt to suit your sweet, sensitive temperament - tomorrow, we’ll find you some new playmates.” An intense tingling glow radiated around my body. I yawned and stretched and surprisingly gurgled as the warm sensation settled in my reassuring nappy. As granny pulled the blankets over me the emotion of complete contentment engulfed my mind. “Night-night sweetheart… granny will take good care of her sweet little baby.” ************************************************** The Winceyette nightshirt - part 2 “Wake up sweetheart, time to get up; we’ve got a full day ahead.” Granny was gently stirring me from such a deep, deep sleep. Drowsily I twisted and stretched, I was so comfortable I didn’t really want to move. Eventually my eyes began to focus and I could see granny beaming down at me. “Well,” she said as her fingers traced the outline of one of the characters on my nightshirt, her smile broadened, “I know another sweet little bunny that needed their sleep.” A yawn escaped as if in agreement. Slowly she drew back the covers and I lay there slightly disorientated because I couldn’t work out what time it was. I mean, I’d fallen asleep in the afternoon and it didn’t feel that much later but, well, the light in the room made it, ermmm… Seeing my confusion granny leapt in with an explanation. “Sweetheart, you’ve slept right through. Its morning now and breakfast is ready when you are.” She drew back the curtains and let in more of the fresh morning light. I could see the cloudless blue sky outside with the obvious promise of another fine day. How on earth had I slept for so long? I must have needed it but hadn’t felt particularly tired when… I began to wonder if in fact I had been very tired and just hadn’t realised. Perhaps it was the long walk into the village? Maybe, everything from my home life was just catching up with me? Sleep was coming particularly easy after all those months of my parent’s constant bickering, when even dozing for a short time had been a problem. There was little doubt that since I’d been at granny’s I’d felt incredibly stress-free. Even the silly, though incredibly comforting, nightshirt had added to the cosy feeling and helped keep me calm. I may be fourteen but thoroughly loved my new PJs. At home, my jammies hadn’t meant a great deal, I wore them if I remembered but often just slept in my underwear but now. Well. It was like cuddling up to your favourite teddy bear, all warm and fuzzy and something you could totally rely on… except, more so. I ran my hand down over the nightshirt. I’d forgotten just how juvenile it was but it didn’t matter, the pinkness and blue rabbits made me smile. Kiddie style or not, it all seemed very appropriate for such a splendid morning - lively and adorable. And, that’s how granny made me feel anyway. As the material slipped under my fingers once again I got the delightful sensation I was actually stroking a little rabbit, but, stranger still, that petted little bunny was me. The soft fleecy coat, the warm glow, the totally tranquil feeling… it was all so wonderful. # I remembered, even as I’d slept, stroking myself and squirming in pleasure, despite my bulky protection, nothing stopped that marvellous thrill coursing through my body. I even recalled waking slightly to feel a warm flush in my nappy but again it felt pleasurable so fell back to sleep knowing I need not worry. As I’d slept and drifted on a cloud of utter contentment I experienced another hand slowly rubbing the fabric, which now I assume must have been gran though at the time it was all just a disjointed dream. “There, there Sweet-pea… you just relax, sleep… just take it easy,” said a voice so soothing, so encouraging. Now, as I thought about it, what were just phrases in my head before, was definitely granny, probably coming to bed and wishing me a goodnight. The gentle caress, the reassuring hug, the soft kiss and the tender arm that encircled my waist left me with a feeling of total love. Typical granny. # All these thoughts and nocturnal memories flooded my mind as granny cheerfully helped me up from the bed. Once standing I became aware of the heavily soaked nappy clinging between my legs. I’m sure if it hadn’t been for the particularly thick and tight pink plastic pants it would have slid down my thighs landing in a sodden pile at my feet. However, gran said that we’d sort it all out after breakfast so I cautiously (and squishily) made my way to the kitchen wondering just how much pee a nappy could actually hold… it felt like several gallons. The thing was, fourteen or not, I now totally accepted that I had to wear a nappy. It didn’t feel babyish, it didn’t feel odd, it simply felt like that’s the way it should be. Filling the thing, either day or night, was not a problem, granny seemed to expect it. What should perhaps have filled me with horror, a soaked and drooping nappy, was normal and I was encouraged to give it no thought at all. Granny’s total and unconditional love meant that any problem I had was no problem at all to her. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to make me feel like I did when I first used to come and visit her as a toddler. There was nothing too much trouble for her little ‘Sweet-pea’ (Sweet-pee?) and I appreciated that she’d gone to so much trouble to remind me of the fantastic times we had together before my parents had become emotional high-maintenance. # Breakfast was my favourite sugary cereal and a glass of milk, both of which I downed very quickly. I hadn’t realised just how hungry I was and a second bowl, followed by a large glass of apple juice, went down with equal speed. As I sat eating and drinking my protection oozed a bit between my legs and it wasn’t very nice. I was glad that the plastic pants gran put me in the day before were sturdy enough to prevent leaks so at least I wasn’t dripping all over the cottage. I’d noticed my ‘accidents’ were getting a little worse because each morning I’d woken up very damp, the day before I’d peed my pants and I’d even had a surreptitious dribble in the bath. Yep I was definitely ‘tinkling’ (a granny term from when I was tot) more. As a consequence, granny had been correct in making me wear some protection because my bladder seemed to have a mind of its own and I had to admit I felt safer when I did. I’m not sure if it was security, defence or just plain preference but I liked the bolstering quality of them now and more than happy to enjoy the security it offered. However, there was certainly something special about being back with granny. It was like stepping back in time. I suppose wearing a nappy was all part of the reinforcement of when things were good and, in her own sweet way, she was reminding me of those happier, more sentimental times. Granny saw me wriggling in my chair and humming to myself. At first I wasn’t aware I was but, although the fullness and dampness of it wasn’t necessarily pleasing, my wriggling wasn’t because of irritation but somehow it amused me. There was an unmistakeable rustling from the plastic and a sort of ‘squish’ from the saturated cloth. As I ate I was unintentionally entertaining myself through the little noises my protection was creating. “I think I’d better get my favourite bunny out of its wet nappy before there’s a chance of any rash, we wouldn’t want that now would we? I giggled but shook my head like a well-behaved toddler as she guided me back upstairs to change. # Standing in the bathroom she pulled the night shirt over my head, the soft winceyette sending a delicious tingle all over my body. The plastic pants were tight and, as she eased them down, I could see the imprint of the elastic waistband and leg cuffs leaving a red mark. No wonder they didn’t leak. Then the sodden disposable slipped effortlessly to the floor where granny had me step out of it and into the bath. She ran the warm water and then instead of having a bath, I stood whilst she soaped and sponged me down like you would a toddler. Once all that was done she led me back into the bedroom where a large disposable and enormous thick shiny blue rubber pants were waiting. I wasn’t expecting to be put back into protection, it was morning after all, but I didn’t feel able (or want) to complain. It felt like granny knew best so it was best to go along with her judgement. In fact, I really liked the way gran was looking after me and it all just seemed effortless and practical. She always takes pride in smearing in the preventative nappy rash cream, making sure that any vulnerable area is well coated. She has fun sprinkling on the baby powder (I’m giggling more and more each time she does this) and fixing my disposable (with an extra layer of padding) correctly, which means I’m always grateful for her attention to detail. Pulling up the rubber pants I could feel there was a bit more ‘body’ to them than the plastic ones I’d been wearing. They were denser, shinier and looked fairly impenetrable in comparison but I guess she’d looked at the nappy I’d just taken off, realised how saturated it was so decided I needed more help than usual. She appeared happy with the result, whilst I chuckled (I don’t know why but I’d been in that joyously juvenile frame of mind since I got up) as she checked and smoothed everything down, looking at the final glossy effect with a nod of approval. Another nightshirt was pulled over my head. The cotton was as soft as the previous one except the material was blue with little brown squirrels running all over it. It made no difference, as soon as it engulfed me and tickled the back of my legs I felt so happy and cosy I thought I’d never want to take it off again, which was a strange thing to enter my head. However, many similar thoughts and questions had done exactly the same but had disappeared with the ease with which they arrived. Uncontrollable chuckles just erupted as I stood waiting for whatever was to happen next. The nightshirt had an effect I couldn’t explain except I absolutely loved wearing it. It tickled, it comforted, it was so unlike anything else I’d ever worn. Granny was all reassuring smiles and I felt happy that she was happy. I was dressed for night but the day had only just started. # “We’re going to a party... a pyjama party.” Granny announced when she saw me examining the baby pattern on my daytime clothing. “Oh.” Was about all I could muster at that point though in truth, once her announcement had sunk in, I was suddenly quite thrilled by the idea of a party. Indeed, had I been a little kid I might have found myself jumping up and down with excitement. Unintentionally, I was actually jumping up and down. The clothing now made perfect sense and the ultra-thick protection hardly registered because of the anticipation of going to such an event. Any reluctance that I may have had regarding what I was wearing and being seen by others had completely disappeared. Granny noticed by immature enthusiasm. “From now on sweetheart, it’s going to be fun, fun, fun.” She stroked my hair, smoothed down the nightshirt, which sent even more ripples of pleasure through my body and ended up patting my padded bottom. “Well sweetie, I think you’re just about ready so… shall we go?” She slipped a huge colourful bag over her shoulder and headed for the door. There was no doubt about it, I was beaming from ear to ear at the prospect of the party and straining like a puppy on a lead desperate to be let off. Unfortunately, that excitement, together with the milk and apple juice from breakfast had an effect and I found myself, quite uncontrollably, filling my pristine and lovingly applied nappy. However, I just wanted to get off and join the festivities as soon as possible so I didn’t say anything to granny, hoping that she couldn’t tell. The warmth spread around my groin and bottom… I smiled what I hoped was an eager smile to hide my guilt. Granny didn’t tell me whose party it was she just held out her hand, which I took with barely a second thought, and we toddled down the back lanes to our destination. For the briefest of seconds I had a touch of Déjà vu. I’d walked down this lane, holding granny’s hand before, which over the years was not an impossible thing to happen except, I was dressed exactly the same but still only a toddler. It was weird but the ‘vision’ soon passed and everything felt right again. # Thankfully granny doesn’t walk too fast so the journey wasn’t an awkward waddle trying to keep up with a soaked and bloated nappy between my legs. The blue rubber pants were very tight so kept everything quite well contained but there was a feeling in that particular area that I might be pretty well waterlogged. Then I remembered granny had fitted a thick soaker pad so that was probably what was giving me that ‘bloated’ feeling under my nightshirt. As I shuffled along holding her hand I was smiling to myself for a couple of reasons. One was that I was off to a party; the other was that again she’d known I’d need extra protection and that’s just what she’d given me. Granny was very special indeed. For a second time I noticed that nearly every back garden we passed the washing hanging out was very similar; nappies, colourful plastic pants, lovely designed nightshirts and various towels. It seemed that granny wasn’t the only one who needed to keep up with a messy kid. No sooner had I noted this phenomenon than I disregarded it as anything in particular because I could hear the noise of a party in the distance. Needless to say my waddle speeded up a bit and I was almost dragging gran along behind me. However, she kept a grip on my hand so I couldn’t just rush off by myself. # Eventually we arrived at a building that looked like it was once a small village school. In fact it did have Thurswell Green Infants carved into the stone above the door but there was a newer painted sign that announced Thurswell Green Crèche. This colourful banner had happy cartoon children and baby animals all over it so I suppose it now doubled for a slightly different need in the village. Granny guided me through the doors, by-passing a couple of bright little empty classrooms and out into the back. This was a surprise. The large enclosed area must have once been the playground and sports-field for the school and it was still being used in a similar manner. There must have been about thirty or forty children charging about, playing on various swings and slides. Toys were everywhere; there were a couple of shallow little plastic paddling pools with boats and other objects floating about. Trampolines, a cardboard fort, huge building blocks and a host of other colourful items were peppered around the place. My eyes lit up when I saw the large bouncy castle, which was proving very popular. It was one of those things that I’d always loved to play on but, being, er, erm… I forget now, but too old for simply jumping up and down on some inflated piece of plastic. What I noticed most was that the children were all ages, from toddlers to teens. In fact, there were definitely other boys and girls who were older than me all running about, screaming and laughing but the one thing we all had in common was - our nightshirts. This was a very specific pyjama party. # A few toddlers were running about wearing just their nappies, whilst others like me wore their brightly coloured nightshirts. As people bounced or ran around, their nightshirts flapped in the warm morning air revealing a host of different coloured protection. Some were plain white, some didn’t wear plastic pants and others had bright and shiny pants keeping everything in. What I noticed, but it didn’t really click as anything strange, was that all the kids of every age were wearing nappies. So, this was gran’s idea of a pyjama party… GREAT… I couldn’t wait to join in. She let go of my hand, patted my padded bum and told me to go and enjoy myself. I didn’t need telling twice and immediately made my way to the bouncy castle. There was a short line of kids waiting and an even longer line of shoes; trainers, sandals and flip-flops belonging to the people already bouncing up and down. I looked around at the swarm of youthful exuberance and hardly anyone was wearing anything on their feet. It must be that once you’d taken them off, the grassy surface proved more enjoyable. I quickly slipped off my trainers and put them into the line with the others and I had to agree, the grass felt really fantastic tickling between my toes. Suddenly I experienced someone slap my arm. “Tag… you’re it” I spun around to see the smiling face of a boy, a little bit younger than me, running away but looking over his shoulder, I suppose to make sure I was going to join in. I did. I set off after him and before long I was playing amongst a group of other kids. It was fantastic, all ages played with each other and no one was left out. As new people arrived they were just as quickly absorbed into the noisy multitude and having a brilliant time. # It appeared that a large proportion of the village youngsters, and quite possibly any that were visiting like me in the school break, were here. It was a very communal activity, which seemed incredibly well supported. Around the edges of the playing field were gazebos and awnings offering shade and sitting chatting in those were where the adults kept themselves. Mostly the noisy kids were left to their own devices but occasionally individuals were called over to have their nappies checked. If the grown up thought they were too wet or messy, they were changed right there and then on the spot before being fitted into a fresh one and sent back out to play. It was the same from the youngest to the oldest and no one thought it odd, mostly those being changed just wanted to get back with their friends to continue whatever it was they were doing. The noise and the screaming, the laughter and childish excitement about being with such a big group of like-minded juveniles was just so infectious. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed myself so much or played so many different and silly games. # Granny called me over because I’d been running around for about an hour, lifted up my Winceyette nightshirt and slipped her hand down the front of my tight reflective blue pants. “OK baby, let’s get you changed… you’ve been like since we left home and I don’t like you in this state for too long.” I shrugged, so she had known but let it pass because of my excitement… I loved granny. As I looked around I could see that most of the shaded areas had loungers, deck-chairs and spread out covers and most had huge holdalls somewhere nearby. Parents, aunties, uncles and grandparents or whoever was caring for the various children had come well prepared to make sure their little ones were going to be well looked after. # It never occurred to me to be shy or anxious about granny changing me in public. Indeed, only ten feet away a boy, who was probably a couple of years older than me was nonchalantly being changed and next to him was a little girl, possibly his sister, who was also being slid into a pair of nursery print vinyl pants. As soon as both of them were done they kissed their parents and charged off to join their group of friends. As granny was fastening my shiny blue rubber pants back into place, her neighbour, Mrs Davies came over holding the hand of a little boy. He was wearing what appeared to be a very wet disposable but still had a huge smile on his face. “Peter here has just been for a swim in one of the paddling pools,” She half laughed and shrugged at the same time. “He didn’t realise that his nappy would soak up all the water.” She laughed again. “What does he look like?” With that he was plonked down beside me whilst being relieved of his flooded and drooping appendage. “Hewow” He smiled across at me as Mrs Davies got to work cleaning him up and powdering his hairless little body. She introduced him as her grandson. “Hi” I half smiled and nodded back “Wiwl you pway wiv me?” His big blue eyes were both smiling and searching hopefully. Granny gave me a nod and a smile that I took as “That would be a nice thing to do”. Not that I wouldn’t have anyway but… well… I’d do anything to please her. “Mmm, er, sure…” “All done.” Granny patted my padding then pulled the nightshirt back down to my knees. There was something I’d noticed since the first time granny had put me back into a nappy – the padding around my bum and the thickness between my legs made me feel, er, different… no special, er, no that’s not it either. Gave me a feeling of total wellbeing, as if, being wrapped in such soft, thick material was sending messages to my brain declaring all was wonderful and I had absolutely nothing to worry about. Granny also gave me that feeling, as did the nightshirts, there was something unusual going on but it was something I embraced. “This one will be a minute or two yet.” Mrs Davies said as she pretended to search for something under her grandson. His face was engulfed in a broad grin and his little giggle, as she tickled his sides and slightly tubby tummy, was quite contagious. I found myself laughing along with him for no other reason than it was fun to do. Both granny and Mrs D were also smiling as their two charges rolled around hardly able to contain their mirth. We both wriggled on the blanket in our fresh clean nappies chuckling our heads off. # So as to protect young Peter should he want to go back in the paddling pool, Mrs Davies fed a pair of tight see-thru plastic pants up his legs. His blue cartoon printed disposable was clearly squashed by the glossy material giving the effect he was somehow trapped in glass. He squirmed, beaming his childish but quite captivating smile as they were snapped into place. Once granny had made sure I was looking my best, we set off together to find something exciting to do. He slipped his hand into mine and we made our way to the makeshift cardboard fort. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d played with someone his age but I, and a couple of others, were soon involved in a fantastic game of aliens and dinosaurs. I was no stand-offish teen but an energy fuelled toddler and it appeared I wasn’t the only one. Before long we had about ten people join us making monster noises and alien sounds. I’m not sure there were any rules as such but that didn’t stop us charging around having a brilliant time. There simply was no age barriers. # The nightshirts never seemed to hinder our play although sometimes, the colossal size of the protection underneath made running at speed very difficult. Some kids would fall over and expose just how loaded their nappies were or reveal some unexpectedly silky, shimmering covers. Some boys had equally colourful or frilly vinyl pants like the girls but no one commented. In fact, I don’t remember seeing any tears or nastiness amongst any of the children. We were all getting along wonderfully because it didn’t matter, everyone was equal and what you wore wasn’t down to you, it was the decision of the grown up supervising. There were many styles of vinyl pants that I thought looked fantastic and mine, on more than one occasion, had little hands pawing at the very smooth glossy surface. Judging by the noisy mayhem going on around us no one seemed in the least bit inhibited by what they had to wear. # After a further couple of hours the kids started congregating at the canopied areas for some lunch. Once again, everything seemed to be well organised as the huge bags were delved into and a copious amount of food and drink produced. All the kids huddled in close to their parents, or whoever had brought them, and settled down in the shade of the very hot sun, to feast. Granny of course had brought some of her fabulous pies and I shared them with Peter and Mrs Davies. A couple of other grown-ups I didn’t know but whose kids, Ray-Ray and Bonnie, I’d been playing with also came over and shared granny’s and Mrs D’s fabulous baking. “Do you remember Mr and Mrs Wilkinson?” Granny asked me. I felt a bit guilty because obviously granny thought we’d met before but I couldn’t recall when it could have been. “Sorry but…” I shook my head slightly. “Well don’t worry about that.” Mr Wilkinson said smiling before shaking my hand. “You seem to have made great friends with our nephew and niece.” “Yes, we’ve had a great time…” I started to say but the food was being spread out so the adult conversation centred on that. “Thank you for inviting us to join you all.” It was Mrs Wilkinson’s turn to talk. “It really is a splendid day and…” she said looking at the fine spread granny and Mrs D had set out, “you two really have the gift for baking… this all looks simply scrumptious.” # Ray-Ray was wearing a nightshirt like mine except with a different colour combination, whilst the young girl Bonnie just crawled around in her rather bulky nappy. Again it all seemed so normal and our blanket was a wonderful place on which to spread out. As he sprawled, stretched and yawned Ray-Ray’s jammies rode up and I could see the neatly pinned terry nappy he wore under an opaque pair of plastic pants. For some reason, as I bit into a fantastic piece of pie, I began to think whether I preferred fabric or disposables and was quite captivated by the choice made for him. However, as we all enjoyed what was on offer, Mrs Wilkinson produced a couple of drinks for the kids. To my surprise at least, both Ray-Ray and Bonnie, who weren’t toddlers, drank their milk from baby’s bottles. Even Peter, who was the youngest of our little group, drank from a sippy cup and I wondered if granny had brought one for me. She hadn’t, I drank my chocolate milk from a refreshingly cold carton which was delicious. But I was thirsty and begged for a second, which of course granny let me have with a warning to take it easy seeing as I’d wolfed down the last so quickly. Despite my best intentions and with not a little embarrassment, I still somehow managed to get a large proportion of the cool brown milky substance down the front of my nightshirt. “It’s a baby’s bottle for you in future.” Granny said half seriously as she looked around at the others who were slurping and nursing without making a mess. She pulled the stained nightshirt over my head and again I giggled as the tickly fabric sent ripples of pleasure around my body. “I’ll let you rest now and I’ll sort out something else for you later.” Lunch certainly wasn’t as noisy as it had been earlier and, as meals and drinks were finished, things got quieter and quieter until the entire assembly had drifted off as they would at nap time in kindergarten. All around were snoozy and worn out youngsters snuggling up to their loved ones. All the adults seemed grateful for this lull in proceedings and appeared to join them in this calm interval. On our blanket granny, Mrs D and the two other adults were sitting in deckchairs, whilst we kids huddled close together on the warm fleecy blanket. Without my nightshirt I was just wearing my shiny blue protection. As sleep was about to engulf me I felt Peter snuggle up closer and wrap his arm around my slippery protection. I heard him sigh softly as he drifted off, slip his thumb between his lips and, with the weather being so pleasantly warm; it wasn’t long before I joined him. # I woke up to see Peter facing me and sucking on a dummy that had replaced his thumb whilst he still snoozed contentedly. Mrs Wilkinson was in the final act of changing Ray-Ray by pulling up his plastic pants and Mr Wilkinson was patting down his niece’s new pink plastic pants over her large nappy. I could see both fabric nappies held in place by two huge pins with pink safety covers. At the same moment I noticed this I also became aware that I’d wet myself. The chocolate milk had gone right through me and I’d filled my nappy. Granny was just about to see to my needs. Some of the other children were already up and about, charging around like before and bouncing up and down on the inflatable castle. I heard my name called and being waved at so, as granny slipped off my rubber pants, I shouted back that I’d be with them shortly. She peeled away my soaked nappy and set about with a host of wet wipes to clean me up. Ray-Ray and Bonnie had already run off to join their friends and Peter was still sleeping innocently on the blanket. Mrs D checked his padded bottom and grimaced, apparently her angelic little grandson had done more than wet himself. She shrugged, delved into her bag and retrieved another, much larger disposable and some extra padding. She let him doze as she pulled down his plastic pants and released his messy blue disposable. Granny had just about finished cleaning me up and was rustling a pair of see-thru plastic pants up my legs, they looked similar to the ones Peter was wearing and I assumed meant that any ‘accidents’ could be immediately identified. “There.” She announce proudly. “My little sweetie is all spick and span.” She kissed the top of my head and patted my thickly padded bottom and sent me on my way so I didn’t have to be a witness to the mess Peter had made. I was thankful. # The rest of the afternoon continued much the same as the morning and even running around in the hot sun didn’t seem to inhibit anyone’s spirits. We all seemed to have a terrific time though by around four-thirty we were all pretty well tuckered out. Slowly the fun died down. Eventually granny folded up the blanket and packed her bag and called for me as it was home time. I had one last bounce before I regained my trainers and waddled over to her. Peter and Mrs D had already gone; the Wilkinson’s had gone a lot earlier so although I didn’t want the games to end, I knew the party was ending. Someone else was packing up all the chairs and awnings so all we had to do was to say our farewells to those still left. Granny held out her hand and once again I was more than happy to hold it as we toddled home, I even offered to carry her shoulder bag, which she seemed most grateful for. We chatted about the day, about the new friends I’d made and how fantastic I thought the idea of the pyjama party was. I told her I was surprised to see most teens, in fact all the kids, dressed in nightshirts like mine and asked why this was. “Oh sweetie, we’ve been wearing nightshirts for many years, there’s a clever lady who makes them specifically for us here in the village. “But why nightshirts and not, er, you know, normal pyjamas?” “Well sweetheart, it’s down to access.” I looked at her a little confused. “It’s so much easier to change our sweet babies if they wear something that is easily accessible… and over the years we’ve found these nightshirts, which everyone seems to adore, the best system.” “Oh.” The fact that an entire village of youngsters was wearing protection didn’t register as anything unusual. I accepted granny’s reasoning without question. I supposed, if I had to wear a nappy there was no reason why others didn’t feel the need as well and, as I’d found out, I was glad of them now. None of the kids charging around at the party had questioned why they were wearing what they were and nor had I. I hadn’t assumed anything it just wasn’t something I thought needed an answer. It was what it was and we all seemed happy enough with what that was. # We arrived home and the first thing granny did was check if I was damp or not. I was, very. “OK sweetie let’s get your clammy nappy off and you in the bath for a nice long soak.” I smiled and run up the stairs to strip off whilst gran filled the bath with one of her famous lavender bubble bombs. I’d never experienced these before I visited her home but I actually loved the smell, the way it made the water not only bubbly but also feel all silky and nice. My skin felt like I’d been well and truly pampered and sleek with a thin layer of exotic oils. As granny suggested I soaked for a long time I took full advantage. I skipped the need to play with the little yellow duck but kept happily submerging myself below the tide of suds. I’d surface with foam piled on my head and looking in the mirror kept rearranging it to make beards, moustaches and the like. In contrast, the hairs ‘down below’ I’d developed and which had caused some unease on that first night were no longer a problem as they’d simply disappeared. Eventually granny came in like she had on that very first day and spread a towel inviting me to get out and dried. Where once there had been awkwardness and embarrassment about being naked in her presence, now I just climbed out and let her encircle me in the soft folds of her love. # As she rubbed me dry and whispered sweet words of love and encouragement in my ear, the feeling of being fourteen all but disappeared and it was wonderful returning to a part of my childhood where I was so valued, didn’t have to worry and my life was taken care of. Indeed, age seemed to have very little meaning because I’d been happily playing with kids of all ages and none of us cared. I suppose because we were all dressed roughly the same helped but it was just nice not having to worry what others might think or say. It just hadn’t mattered. It was still only about six o’clock, there was still plenty of the day left but granny had already spread out my nightwear. It wasn’t all that different from what I’d been wearing all day so she just guided me over to the pile of stuff I was so getting used to and lay out. She took her time with the lotion, checking to make sure I hadn’t got any more of my body sunburnt before liberally smoothing it over my entire body. She had me roll over onto my tummy and took an equal amount of time making sure my back, neck and legs were all sufficiently coated. She even rubbed some into my bottom that had me giggling like a two year-old. Once that was done came the cloud of baby powder that she freely sprinkled everywhere, which set us both howling like hyenas. A well stuffed fabric nappy was then tightly fastened in place, which reminded me of Ray-Ray’s and once again I couldn’t believe how granny knew so easily what I wanted. The pins were exactly the same and she smiled knowingly as I wriggled in total contentment when she finally slipped a new pair of thick white nursery print vinyl pants up my legs. I was both surprised and elated at this little extra because for some reason it had been another thing I’d desired from the moment I’d first laid eyes on them at the party. # Granny was brilliant she knew everything and made me feel like the luckiest person in the world to have her in my life. She finally eased a new white nightshirt over my head. If possible, and it was, the fabric was even softer and wrapped me in a fleecy hug I found overwhelming. The white fabric had the opening lines from nursery rhymes and cartoon representations of the subject and I found myself singing or saying them out loud to my audience of one. The shirt was a lot shorter than normal and only came down to just over my hips, which meant that my matching protection was obviously on show. At first I wasn’t too sure I thought it looked very babyish but granny was full of praise, saying how nice and special it looked and that she’d had it made specifically for me. She hugged and rocked me in her arms and I could do nothing but respond with equal enthusiasm. Granny was the best, and, as the overpowering sensation of the new ultra-soft touch material caressed the upper part of my body, I could feel the nappy and pants embrace the lower in the same way. # It must have been because I’d had such a hectic day but suddenly I felt quite tired. I’d yawned and granny had asked if I was hungry or thirsty. I wasn’t starving because we’d been snacking all day but I wanted a drink and, ever attentive gran, put me to bed, pulled up the covers and then said she’d go and get me something whilst I rested. The thing about granny’s bed is that it was incredibly comfortable. Once you sink into its soft mattress and slide under the sheets and blankets, it’s like you’re in your own personal cocoon. It may still have been early but I wallowed in the soft comforting bedding and its wonderful overwhelming welcome. When gran returned I was almost asleep but she came and lay by my side and propped my head in her lap. I was only half aware that something was being pressed to my lips but that was enough for me to get the taste of warm strawberry milk. With no other thought than I wanted to drink I opened my mouth and a rubber nipple slipped in and before I really knew much about it, I was sucking and enjoying the fruity warm flavour and thoroughly enjoying the sweet experience. All the time I suckled gran was hugging and humming the nursery rhymes that I’d been singing earlier. I reached under the covers and my hand gently slid across the bulging plastic pants, which also sent ripples of pleasure throughout my body. So that shudder of pleasure, together with the tasty treat I was slurping on, seemed to empty the bottle quickly. Once I’d finished I felt her kiss the top of my head and call me her ‘sweet little baby’ before I snuggled down deeper and drifted off. # The rest of my break at granny’s followed a similar pattern; either other kids came over to our house or I visited them at theirs and we played enthusiastically without a care in the world. Even though my outfit was now more baby-like, and my protection was always on show, it didn’t matter we all happily played together. I vaguely remember waking up from a naptime and hearing Mr and Mrs Wilkinson talking to granny. “… I know its more work but I do enjoy seeing them like this.” Obviously I hadn’t caught the beginning of the conversation. Ray-Ray and Bonnie were lying next to me on the blanket, both with dummies in their mouths and snoozing heavily. I had an empty baby’s bottle next to me but the teat was still resting between my lips. “It’s a shame they have to go back to normal when its school time… they are far more trouble then.” There was a murmur of agreement between the adults. “This village is fantastic, everything about it is designed to encourage kids to be kids and enjoy life as a kid.” It was Mr Wilkinson talking. “No responsibilities, no worries… no growing up… even if it’s all just for a short while.” “Better than never…” Mrs Wilkinson paused and then added, “and we get to have our babies back.” Then I heard granny’s voice. “I worry that my silly daughter and her equally silly husband will still be arguing instead of sorting out their problems.” Her voice went softer. “I hate to think of my poor little Sweet-pea having to put up with all that anxiety. Some time’s I wish I could just keep…” There was a slight pause as Bonnie woke up and looked at her aunt. “Auntie, I’m wet.” “I know precious,” she replied. “We’ll get you all cleaned up when Ray-Ray wakes.” Bonnie leant over to her brother and cheekily pulled the big blue dummy from his mouth. A string of drool accompanied it but it also woke him up. # One morning I woke up and granny suggested I have a bath, which of course I happily agreed to. This time there was no bubbles or fancy bath salts and the towel was draped over the peg on the bathroom door so I even had to dry myself. I ventured back into the bedroom and although granny wasn’t there my clothes were laid out on the bed ready for use. This time it was different. Gone was my nappy and nightshirt and in their place were my other clothes; my jeans, jumper and underwear. Granny called up the stairs. “Hurry up sweetie, your mother will be picking you up in a short while and I don’t want to send you off without any breakfast.” I’d forgotten that I’d have to return to school after my two week break and I really didn’t want to. My time with granny and the rest of the people in the village had been the best time of my life. I slipped into my underwear and it just didn’t seem right, I was missing that bulk but, as I was going home I suppose I couldn’t wear a nappy for that. # I sat at the kitchen table dressed pretty much as I’d arrived two weeks earlier. I slowly ate the bacon and eggs granny had cooked and her cheerful chat tried to keep my disappointment at bay. I didn’t want to leave but a new school term called and I couldn’t get out of it. I asked granny if it would be OK to come and visit her again during my next break, she said she’d like that a lot. I gratefully sighed and smiled back at her - she was and is totally amazing. There was a knock on the door and mum came in. She kissed gran and then kissed me and smiled at seeing me again. “I’ve, er, we’ve missed having you around.” She ruffled my hair in a loving manner. As I finished my breakfast granny and mum went into the conservatory to chat privately. “OK sweetheart, we need to get an early start we have some shopping for new school clothes and I thought I’d treat you to a spot of lunch at the mall. Would you like that?” I nodded semi-enthusiastically. I was going to miss granny but already I was forgetting why. At the door I kissed granny goodbye and thanked her for having me. “Anytime sweet-pea… there’s always a place for you here… whenever you need it.” I slung my backpack onto the back seat of the car and climbed in beside mum in the front. As we drove away a pang of… something… I wasn’t sure what rippled through my body. When passed the sign that said WELCOME TO THURSWELL GREEN – children please drive carefully another shiver made me go quite rigid. “Are you OK sweetheart?” Mum sounded concerned. “Mmmm, yes, er, I think so… just sad to be leaving… “ Mum smiled and I was left wondering why exactly it was that I felt so depressed about leaving. “Well, what have you been up to over the past fortnight?” Mum enquired. “Oh, nothing much. Oh I did fall in the brook,” I smiled at the memory but then remembered something else. “Unfortunately it destroyed my Ipad.” “Well that would explain why we hardly heard anything from you.” I wasn’t sure if mum was thankful I’d not kept in touch or relieved but either way she made my day by saying that since we were going to be at the mall, perhaps we should get a new one. This booked me up no end and I was really pleased. “Wow, thanks mum. I promise I’ll keep it safe.” She laughed “What else have you been up to?” “Oh nothing much.” I really couldn’t remember much at all. “Well as long as you got on well with granny.” “Do you know she doesn’t have a TV… and… get this… doesn’t even miss it.” Mum laughed in mock horror. “So what on earth did you do to pass the time?” “Mmmm, oh this and that, the weather was nice so I could get out and….” I trailed off. I couldn’t remember much about anything I’d done. ############ The End
  11. This rp will be mainly about two sisters, Addison and Taylor. The story line will be that Addison makes a "fake" wish on her birthday cake candles. The wish results in Addison going from a new 16 year old to a new 8 year old and Taylor being regressed from 12 down to 4. Both girls have to work together to figure out how to undo the wish by the end of the week or they are stuck in there new ages. DM me if your interested and we can work out details, I'm good playing the girls, parents, or whom ever. I'm looking for detailed responses during the rp. Thank you hope to hear from you all soon
  12. I remember the day well, July 17, 2006. That was the day that my old life ended and a most unusual, new life began. I was 13, just entering into teendom. I was both proud and sad. My parents were overjoyed that I was leaving my “kiddie” days behind me and entering into the pre-adult stage of my life. I was happy that they were happy but, I didn’t want to celebrate. All my life, I’ve felt younger than my physical years portrayed. I didn’t get along very well my peers and classmates. I was more at ease and happy when I was playing with kids half my age or younger. My parents were worried that as I reached my 13th year, I might be branded as a predator because of my desire to socialize with younger kids. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. Despite my advancing into puberty, I had no interest in the “fairer sex” or, any sex for that matter. I had heard about masturbation from sex-ed class but had never tried it. I just had no interest in it at all. This didn’t stop people from assuming that I had and was just in denial. It was about this time when I first became curious about diapers. Oh, I had seen babies getting changed before but, I always felt something strange when I saw it. Figuring out what that feeling was what lead me to exploring diapers and infantilism. I was a good kid so, I never stole any diapers from anywhere but, I did find that I could purchase a “sample” pack, containing 2 diapers. I bought a sample pack and kept them in my room, hidden under the bottom drawer in my dresser. I really thought that I was clever in choosing my hiding spot, typical “kid” logic. They sat in that hiding spot for nearly six months because I could never find a time to try them out. Though I was 13, my parents didn’t think I was old enough to be left home alone so, they hired a “babysitter”. The thought of someone coming over to take care of me, sent images of them diapering and feeding me a baby bottle, flying through my mind. Nothing happened, of course but, it didn’t stop me from imagining it. Let’s talk about my parents. Mom and Dad were basically good people. They never abused, neglected or, starved me. They really did care about me but, they didn’t really know me. I was always very private and didn’t like to talk about myself. Sharing my personal thoughts with anyone terrified me. In fact, there was only really one person who knew much but, not all, about me, my best friend, Max. Being my only close friend, I spent a lot of time at his house and, he at mine. We were so close that, when my mom and dad had to leave for a week on a business, I asked to stay at Max’s house for the week. My parents were dubious about it but, Max endorsed the idea enthusiastically. He pushed his parents to let me stay and they eventually said, ok. This was all planned months in advance. Since it was in July, Max and I worked out a schedule, to make the most of our week. On the day before my parents dropped me off, Max and I spent the day horsing around and talking about how much fun we were going to have. We dreamed of adventures like, finishing the fort we’d started the year before. We thought that maybe this would be the year we’d catch “Old Man Carp”, the largest fish we’d ever seen in the pond which lay near the fort. I barely slept that night so, when my mom came to get me up, I was a little slow. It took me five minutes to realize what was happening. After that, I was WIDE awake. I scarffed my cereal so fast that, milk and cereal bits flew everywhere. My mom made a joke about me needing a bib. Man, I’m glad she couldn’t see me blush. I was so hyped about my week at Max’s that I don’t think I ever moved that fast in my life. I was packed and waiting in the car before my parents even put their first suitcase in the car. We were on the road after a few, last minute checks like bathroom, and “head on straight”. Max’s family only lived a mile and a half out of town, an easy walk for either Max or me but, with my bags, clothes, toys and, games, my parents decided to just drop me off. I was sure I could’ve made the trek but, you know parents. Eager to get our itinerary under way, Max and I unpacked my stuff in the blink of an eye. I said my good-byes to my mom and dad then, raced Max to his bedroom. We stared off with a marathon of Royal Combat Arena, our favorite 1 vs. 1 fighting game. By the time we on our 20th match, we noticed the fading light outside. Deciding that we needed to stretch our legs before his parents called a halt to outside activities, for the day, we raced around the back yard for a while. We avoided the edge of the woods and pond. We didn’t dare go in there that close to dark. One summer, we snuck into the woods after sunset and got lost. You do not wanna know how much trouble we were in. I couldn’t sleep on my back for two days. On top of that, Max and I were each grounded for a week though, it felt more like a year to a couple of 10-year olds. Finally, Max’s mom called us in for dinner. We were less than two feet in the door when Max’s dad stopped us. He looked us up and down and told us to strip. He had a voice that was like a commandment from the heavens. He didn’t even have to raise the volume. You just knew he meant business. We stripped down to our skivvies and were escorted upstairs, to shower. Max took the regular bathroom. I, on the other hand, was taken into the master bath. The one in Max’s parent’s room. I came out of the bathroom, towels on both my head and around my waist. As I exited the bedroom, I heard Max and his parents talking. “Well Maximillion? What do you think? We know how you felt about Lyla but, I think he’ll work out better.” Max’s dad said. I never got to hear Max’s response because the floor creaked as I tried to back up and, everything went silent. Max’s mom poked her head out of the room, smiling. She signaled for me to come in. Max’s parents left saying, “Just think about it kiddo.” I asked Max what the conversation was about. He told me that his parents wanted to get a dog but, he still missed his old one, Lyla. As long as I had known Max, he’d never owned a dog. I asked him when he had owned a dog and he told me that it was before his family had moved to town. I took the answer at face value and changed the subject because he looked sad. We stayed up for a couple more hours before passing out. I woke up later, having to go to the bathroom. I felt my way through the dark (I knew Max’s house almost as well as my own), finally making it to the regular bathroom. After closing the door and flipping on the light, I sat down on the toilet, too tired to “aim”. I don’t know how long I sat there because I fell asleep. As I reached down for my underwear (it was way too hot for pajamas) and pulled them up, I thought I heard a baby crying. The sound was so soft and it ended quickly that, I wasn’t sure I’d heard it at all. Drowsy, I made my way back to Max’s room. I was still, really tired. As sleep overtook me, I swore I smelled baby powder but, the thought was razed from my mind as my head hit the pillow. The next morning, I woke up and Max wasn’t in his bed. I headed downstairs and find max, lying in front of the television, watching cartoons. He had a bowl of oatmeal in his hands. He looked up at me and swallows a mouthful of oatmeal before yelling, “MOM, Jason’s up!” Max’s mom called me into the kitchen. As I moved to respond, Max game me a thumbs-up and shoveled a heaping spoon of oatmeal into his mouth. In the kitchen, Max’s mom was standing by the microwave. As I walked over to her, the microwave dinged and she opened it. From inside, she pulled a steaming bowl of oatmeal. I smelled cinnamon. Normally, I really don’t like oatmeal but, I thought I’d be nice and eat it. After all, She was allowing me to spend a week at her house. What was a little gooey paste to that. Besides, it was cinnamon and spice. That alone made it more edible. I thanked her and took the bowl of lumpy goo into the living room. I sat down next to Max and took a huge spoonful of the stuff, hoping to get it over with quicker. Max smiled at me. The first mouthful tasted amazing! I dug into the bowl with vigor and max giggled before saying, “Mom’s oatmeal is the best! It’s not from a box, she makes it from scratch.” I finished the bowl in record time. Looking over to the television, I saw that max had Dora the Explorer on, a little kid’s show. I didn’t think much of it because it was just the way Max was. He liked a lot of “little kid” stuff but, a lot of things that I liked as well so, it was cool. Max seemed pretty into the show that he hadn’t wiped his face off and , had a ring of oatmeal around his mouth. As if on cue, Max’s mother walked into the living room with something in one hand. She went up to Max and swiped the thing (which turned out to be a washcloth), across Max’s face, utterly removing the oatmeal. She turned to me, washcloth in hand. Now, I have to admit, I did have some oatmeal on my face but, I didn’t need to be cleaned up like a toddler in a highchair. I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth which, ushered a response from Max’s mom “Now it’s all over your hands.” To which, she took my arm and wiped it down, along with my face. Again, I didn’t want to seem inhospitable, seeing as I was a guest. When we were clean to her satisfaction, she ordered us upstairs to dress. Realizing that we were wasting time, we hurtled each other, trying to be the first to dress. Max beat me to the bedroom, claiming victory. He then excused himself to go to the toilet. Outside the room I heard him yell, “Mom, we’re out of wipes!” I thought for a moment as my head tried to wrap itself around the wording. Had he really just called toilet paper, wipes? I didn’t have time to dwell on the thought as I hurried to get my clothes on before Max got back. Just as I walked out, into the hall and yelled for Max to hurry, he came, screeching out of the bathroom and blew right by me. All I saw was his Spiderman themed underwear as he ran into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. I tried the door, only find it was locked. I didn’t understand what the big deal was. When we dressed for gym, we’d both seen each other naked. I let it go as Max just being Max. I’d reached the bottom of the stairs when Max caught up with me. We went into the back yard and headed into the nearby woods, to work on our fort. We’d gathered junk for an entire summer to assemble that thing. We got sidetracked later that summer when we got punished for getting lost. We kinda forgot about it after that. With a week at our disposal, it seemed the best time to finish it. After we left the yard, I thought I had left my Swiss army knife on the back steps. I turned around to see if I could spot it. In the distance, I saw what looked like a rusty, metal door, leading into the basement where I had never noticed one before. Remember, Max and I had spent a lot of time at each other’s houses. I knew pretty much the exact layout of Max’s house, including the basement. I had never seen any outside access to the basement before. I stopped in my tracks and turned to Max, calling out to him. “Hey Max!” I shouted. Max turned and looked at me questiongly then, trotted back to me. “What’s up?” He asked “Where’s that metal door go to?. I’ve been in your basement tons of times but, I don’t remember seeing an outside access to it.” He looked to the house then, back to me. “What metal door?” He actually seemed confused. “That one…” I turned back around and found the door gone. There wasn’t a trace of it. I told myself that it had just been an illusion. Still, something at the back of my mind kept insisting that the door had been real. For the rest of the day, we worked on the fort. Max’s dad came out around dusk, to escort us back to the house. Now, I was bummed to have to go inside but Max, he seemed genuinely upset like, on the verge of crying. His dad took him aside when we got back and, they talked privately for a minute. After that, he seemed to be his old self again. That night, Max and I took separate showers again but, this time, Max took forever for his shower. I banged on the door and didn’t hear an answer. Max’s mom told me that sometimes, Max liked to take really long showers but, he’d be out in a bit. An hour passed and sure enough, Max came strolling into the living room. The minute he walked up to me, I could tell something was different. He was wearing a pair of footed pajamas. That wasn’t the only thing though. When he walked up, I could swear I heard crackling like, a plastic shopping bag or…like my toddler cousin’s DIAPER? I looked down at Max’s crotch and yep, diaper bulge. Max saw the look in my eyes as I stared at his padded crotch and, he started crying. He began bawling and ran from the room, crying for his “Mommy”. I didn’t know what to say. My best and only friend was wearing a diaper and baby pajamas. Suddenly, the pieces in the puzzle began to fit. Why we had taken showers in separate rooms. What I had seen that morning wasn’t underwear, they were pull-up diapers. It didn’t make sense though. Max, I and, the rest of the boys in our class, all dressed for gym in the same room. There was no way Max could’ve hidden if he was wearing pull-ups or especially diapers. Not with all the other boys in the same room. I didn’t care if Max had to wear diapers, he was still my best friend and the coolest kid I knew. I got up and ran after him, finally finding him in his parents bedroom but, what I found shocked me silent. Max was curled up in his mom’s arms, sucking on a baby bottle. I just stood there, mouth wide, eyes as big as dinner plates. Max’s mom glared daggers at me. She put a finger up to her lips then, drew it across her throat. Even at my age, I knew what she was saying, “Quiet or Die!”. Max’s eyes were closed and his mother gently rocked him until it looked like he had fallen asleep. She carefully laid him on her bed then, signaled for me to leave the room. Not wanting to upset her, I did as she silently commanded. Out in the hall, I watched as she slipped out the room and quietly closed the door. She trained her gaze on me, eyes nearly glowing red. I involuntarily swallowed and started to cough. Instantly, her hand was over my mouth. She lifted me into her arms and hurriedly carried me downstairs, into the kitchen. When we got there, I saw Max’s dad, sitting at the table, looking very upset and concerned. “John, we have a problem.” Max’s mom said. Max’s dad looked up. He had a look of grim resolution on his face. “Yea, I saw this coming. I talked to Max about it and I told him that it would not make a difference. Well Jason, will it?” He asked. I thought about it and realized, he was asking me the same question that I had asked myself, not five minutes before. I was still a bit nervous about the whole “baby-bottle” thing. After taking a deep breath, I gave him the same answer I had come too earlier. “No sir. Max is my friend. While I’m not sure what’s going on here. It doesn’t change that he’s my friend. I don’t care if he has to wear diapers, no matter the reason. The bottle is a little weird but, I don’t like him any less because of it.” I puffed my chest out, to show that I meant every word. As I watched, they looked at each other, took a deep breath and, let it out in a long, slow sigh. “You have no idea what that means to us Jason. Max is a very special boy and is very sensitive about his sacrifice.” Max’s mom sat down and gestured for me to do so as well. Please understand, boys my age are incurably curious. If you put a mystery in front of them, most will spend every waking moment, trying to solve it. Max’s dad was right. No matter how they tried to hide this, the clues would tantalize and irritate me until I figured out what was happening. “What do you mean, sacrifice? I asked. They looked at each other again, nodded then, turned back to me. “If we tell you what’s going on, you cannot tell ANYONE! Do I make myself clear young man?” Max’s dad looked more serious than I ever seen him before. I gave it serious thought before nodding “So long as my friend isn’t being hurt or , in any danger then, I agree.” I gave them my most serious face “Fine. I have a couple of questions before I tell you the entire story. Please answer them truthfully. Jason, did you learn about early civilizations like the Romans or the Native Americans?” He began. I nodded, remembering some of my world history class. “You also learned that they worshiped gods other than the one you learned about in Sunday school?” Again, I nodded “Well, the people who first lived here, long before we Europeans came, worshiped a goddess called Nahuri. She was the protector of children and the goddess of youth. When the Europeans came, they pushed out or simply killed all of Nahuri’s people and she was extremely angry. For years, after this area was colonized by the Europeans, children would go missing for no reason. People who harmed children would be found dead with expressions of terror on their faces. About one hundred and fifty years ago, while my ancestor was building this house, he found a shrine to Nahuri, buried here. The night after he found the shrine, Nahuri visited him in her dreams and made him an offer. Nahuri demanded a sacrifice for the deaths and displacement of her people. In return for the sacrifice, Nahuri would protect this place entire area and all those who dwelt here.” My mind went in a thousand directions. A sacrifice? In my mind, that meant killing someone as an offering and my face betrayed those thoughts. “No Jason, this was not a sacrifice of blood or life but, of youth. You see, every full moon, Max has to go to the shrine and offer himself, willingly, to be taken care off as Nahuri’s child. He spends a week being treated as a baby, to satisfy Nahuri’s conditions. Only an hour passes in the world but for Max, a week goes by. The after effects are that for several days after he comes back, he still basically a baby even though his body is that of a 11 year old boy. He was upset because he thought you wouldn’t be his friend anymore if you knew he had to wear diapers and the like. Do you understand, Jason?” I nodded though, my mind was blown. “But, what happens when Max grows up? He won’t be a kid forever. Will Nahuri still want him as her baby?” I asked, concerned for my friend. “That’s just it Jason, Max will NEVER grow up. Do you remember? I told you that Nahuri was the protector of children and the goddess of YOUTH! Jason, when I told you that my ancestor found the shrine, I lied, sort of. My name is Johnathan Ambros and, I founded this town over one hundred and fifty years ago. Max was 11 years old when the deal with Nahuri was struck and, he has remained 11 years old since then. Max is such a good student because he has been alive for over a century but, because of Nahuri, he still has the mind of an 11 year old boy.” My jaw was hanging on the ground in shock. Max’s dad’s eyes hardened as he told me the next part. “Jason, this next part is something I want you to consider very carefully. We know about your home life. We know that your parents, while good people, do not really understand you. We also know about your interest in being a baby. We’ve been watching you since you became friends with Max. Max, you see, never wanted to be the sacrifice but, agreed to it to keep his family and everyone in the area, safe from Nahuri’s wrath. He was always a good boy and I am proud of him. Now, all he really wants, is to live a normal life and grow up but, he can’t. Nahuri will not let him go unless she receives a replacement. I want you to understand that, you’re not the first person we’ve made this offer too. Many years ago, we found a girl named Lyla. She came from a bad home and we took her in for a while. She discovered our secret because, she could see the door that leads to the shrine. Only those who are acceptable to Nahuri, can see the door. Lyla though, did not want to be the sacrifice. We cannot compel anyone to take Max’s place so, she left us not long after. Since then, we’ve been searching for a replacement. When you became friends with Max, I kept my eye on you. I’ve seen you crying because you don’t feel you fit in with your age group. My wife noticed how you linger around the baby isle when you go shopping with your mother. Then, there was the day I came over to talk to your father about a barbecue. I saw you run from your bedroom into the bathroom down the hall. I noticed that there was a bit of white, plastic, sticking out of your pajama bottoms. It was then that I began to question your parents, subtly. After a while, I realized, they had no clue how unhappy you were. That’s when I decided that you might accept being Max’s replacement. Now again, we can’t force you into this. The decision has to be yours and, you’re free to say no.” I was too stunned to speak then, I heard a baby crying. It sounded just like the one I had heard, the night before. Suddenly, it struck me, the baby I heard was Max! My heart went out to my friend, condemned to a life that he never wanted but I, would give anything to have. I looked at Max’s dad, my decision firm in my mind. “Yes, you’re right. I love my mom and dad but, they’re clueless. I’ve tried to tell them about me wanting to be a baby but, they’ve either chosen to ignore it or, they just don’t understand. Max may have to go to this willingly but, I see that he is basically forced into it. I’ll do it, I’ll take Max’s place.” I said, getting it out in one breath. Thus began the changeover. We planned to do the change on the next full moon. I stayed over on the day before and the day of the full moon. On the day before, I saw the door and wanted to check out the shrine but, Max told me, it wouldn’t open until the night of the full moon. On the night of the full moon, I hugged my friend good-bye and opened the metal door. The stone steps lead down into a dark area. Swallowing my fear and excitement, I walked down the stairs, closing the door behind me. As I reached the bottom, my fear seemed to vanish as a gentle warmth surrounded me. I felt a soft hand on my shoulder and looked up. A woman, maybe in her 30’s to 40’s, stood there, smiling at me. She gave me her hand and we walked into the dark. Eventually, we came to a lit area where there was a nursery. My eyes lit up at seeing a crib, changing table, high chair and everything else you would need to take care of a baby. The woman lifted me onto the table and removed my clothes. My legs were lifted into the air and a soft, crinkling diaper was slipped under me. I was about to question where an ancient goddess got plastic diapers when, she placed a finger on my lips and shushed me. I felt as if someone were whispering in my head. “Do not question. I am timeless and for my baby, this is what he expects. This is what he is happiest with so, this is what is.” The voice consoled me and relaxed me. I gave myself up to the joy that filled me as she carried me over to a rocking chair and held me against her shoulder, rocking me to sleep. Max only went to Nahuri for a week so, that’s what I expected to happen. Much to my surprise, I had a choice. It seems that a week was the minimum that Nahuri would accept but me, I never wanted it to end. Years later, a single woman and her young son, moved into Max’s house. The boy seemed normal except that he was incontinent. He lived a life and made friends despite his handicap. In public, the boy seemed just an average boy but at home, he was always, his mother’s baby. After a few years, the woman and her child moved on. Years after that, another single mother and her son move in. The cycle repeated for a very…long…time. P.S. If you’re wondering what happened to my parents? Nahuri allowed them to forget the boy they never really knew and they had a daughter, years later. They were happy and, so was I.
  13. Note from the author: I don't have a huge amount of experience writing fiction. I've done a handful of unfinished things all of them in the last year so bear with me. There will be grammatical issues but hopefully I catch enough of them in proofreading to keep them from being too distracting. I'm a little worried about leaving this unfinished, and with that in mind, as of this first post I have written four chapters, fully plotted 6 chapters, and outlined all three parts. The story, as planned, will take place in three parts with nine chapters in each part. I am just posting this first chapter now as it's the only one I have proofread and will give me wiggle room to keep up. I'm hoping to post a chapter every two or three days, I make no guarantees about that though. Wish me luck, we'll see if I can finish this thing. Oh and one final thing. There will be profanity and possibly discussion and words some might find objectionable. I don't foresee anything overtly sexual happening though. Part 1: The Third Floor Chapter 1: F—k, I’m Awake Okay? Sara’s head was banging. The headache had woken her up but despite the pain, or maybe in spite of it, she had no intention of getting out from under the covers anytime soon. She pulled up the covers over her head blocking the warm light coming in from the bedroom window. Her efforts seemingly in vain and unable to fall back asleep, despite her best attempts, she sat up and rubbed at her aching head. The banging continued and as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes it began to dawn on her that the banging wasn’t in her head. Or at least it wasn’t just in her head. Someone was knocking at her door. Who would be knocking at her bedroom door? Something wasn’t right. She pushed the covers aside and slung her legs over the side of the bed. She was naked. Something really wasn’t right. She didn’t sleep naked. Why was she naked? As the last shreds of morning drowsiness drifted away it began to dawn on her that she wasn’t in her bedroom. What the hell had happened to her. Panic started to rise. Looking around at her surroundings didn’t illuminate much. She was in very nice hotel room. A large bathroom adjoined to the bedroom and she could see an antique clawed bathtub through the it’s open door. The other door led into a large airy room that appeared to be filled with expensive Victorian furniture. On one wall there was a very large antique wardrobe with an anachronistic flat panel display affixed to the front of one door marring it’s old world charm. The knock, which paused occasionally but did not stop entirely, was coming not from within the bedroom but from a door in the adjoining room. Sara could only guess it was the door to the hotel room. She roughly yanked the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around herself in a makeshift dress. It was then she noticed that the room wasn’t the only thing wrong. Her body wasn’t right either. It was similar but a lot of things where off. Her tan was gone for one thing. Whatever had happened to her her body could wait. Maybe whoever was so insistently banging on her door would have answers. She headed over to the door, tripping over the long sheet and swearing on her way there, and looked through the peephole. The peephole gave her a wide angle view of a very tall slim woman. From top to bottom she looked like a carefully designed knife. Sharp, cold, and beautiful in a dangerous sort of way. Her black hair was very short, cut in a man’s style, which highlighted her sharp high cheekbones and smooth pale skin. She wore makeup but it was minimal, just enough to highlight but not hide the natural beauty of her face. She was dressed in a perfectly tailored pale gray suit. The sleeves of the jacket where cropped just above the elbow and the trousers just below the knee. The latter highlighted the lack of shoes on her perfectly pedicured feet. Sara had no idea where she was, her tan was gone, and her body was all wrong, but she didn’t really want to open that door dressed in nothing but a sheet. “One second, I need to get dressed," she called out and the cessation of knocking seemed to confirm the woman on the other side had heard her. She stumbled her way back into the bedroom, tripping over the sheet, before realizing she didn’t exactly need it anymore and tossed it aside. There where no doors in either room other than the door to the hall and the open door to the bathroom. So no closets, but there was the wardrobe. “What the hell," she thought as she looked inside the wardrobe, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment at it’s contents, “well, that’s not going to help.
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