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Welcome to Mommy Anna's Diapered Storybook! Some of you may know me from my website, diaperhypnosis.com My experience earlier this year of having my store on Etsy closed because of their discrimination against our community (they are closing down all ABDL hypnosis audio there) has been one more reminder to me of how important it is for us to stay together as a community. I've decided to publish full-length diaper and regression stories, for free, as a special way of giving back to our community. I'm also recording these stories and posting them (full-length) on my YouTube channel, so you can hear me read them there. Mommy Emma from diaperhypnosis.com will also be recording some of these stories for YouTube. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these stories and keep being the wonderful you that you are! This story won't be quite as long as my last 2 stories, and will have more sexual content (in addition to lots of diapers!) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The warm afternoon sunlight poured gently through the front window of Dana’s house, filtered through white lace curtains that danced with the subtle breeze from an open window. Dust motes twinkled in the beams of golden light like tiny fireflies, catching on the floral patterns of the throw pillows and the embroidered stitching on the plush loveseat cushions. The living room was cozy—elegant but motherly. The wallpaper was soft peach with faded white roses, and the carpet was thick and pastel cream. The furniture, a matching set of high-backed chairs and a low loveseat, was upholstered in a faded floral pattern and edged with piping. Several knitted throws were draped across the arms, and there were hand-framed cross-stitches on the walls with sayings like “Home is where Mommy is” and “Snuggle first, questions later.” But all of this faded into the background next to what dominated the center of the room: a truly massive playpen. It was custom-built, nearly taking up the center third of the space. The sides were a full five feet high—clearly built not to contain a toddler, but someone much larger. Made from white-painted wood slats and soft mesh, it had rounded corners capped with pastel bumpers and vinyl padding adorned with little cartoon animals. The gate had a double-latch system, and a safety sign above it read: “Mommy’s Little One at Play — Do Not Disturb.” Inside, there was a thick, pink quilted floor mat dotted with letters of the alphabet and big smiling animals. Cushioned bolsters lined the edges. The space was filled with oversized infant toys: giant plush building blocks, a set of plastic stacking rings the size of dinner plates, a rubbery xylophone with a soft mallet, teething beads, rattles, and more stuffed animals than a toy store display. And sitting in the middle of this wonderland, utterly absorbed, was Dana’s husband. Or rather, her baby girl. She was dressed head to toe in an exaggerated, frilly baby girl outfit. A bright pink satin baby dress with puffed sleeves and delicate lace edging flared out above a pair of bulging, obviously soaked diapers. The skirt had layers of ruffles, and when she moved—even slightly—it revealed flashes of her thick, triple-padded bottom, sealed tightly in white plastic panties printed with pastel bows and hearts. White tights stretched tightly over her legs, their fabric bulging around the thick padding, and ended in satin booties with soft soles and ribbons that tied in bows around her ankles. A matching bonnet framed her smooth, freshly shaved face. Her cheeks were red and flushed with excitement, her lips locked around a huge pacifier that bobbed rhythmically as she babbled and clutched a purple elephant plush to her chest. “She’s been at it all morning,” Dana said with quiet affection, glancing at the playpen as she smoothed her skirt. “Hasn’t gotten bored once. Just play, giggle, drool, and repeat.” Patricia, who sat across from her old friend with a cup of tea in her hand, could hardly take her eyes off the sight. “My God, Dana” she murmured. “That’s that’s really him?” Dana chuckled. “Her, darling. She’s not your boring old neighbor anymore. She’s Mommy’s little Angel now. All baby. All the time.” “I mean wow,” Patricia breathed, watching the baby girl crawl clumsily across the playmat, her thick diaper forcing her legs apart, making every motion a waddle or a crawl. “You weren’t exaggerating. This is” She searched for the word. Dana supplied it. “Liberation,” she said simply. The baby squealed with glee, having successfully smacked her hand down onto a rubbery, musical pad that responded with a tinny rendition of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” She bounced in place, drool leaking from the corner of her mouth around the pacifier bulb. “She wants this?” Patricia asked, brows knitting. “More than anything,” Dana said. “She asked for it first, remember? And the more we gave into it, the more she slipped into it. At first it was just evenings. Then weekends. I think we both realized she was meant for this. The more I took control, the more I cared for her like my baby, the more she flourished. Now? Full time. No words, no thinking, no stress. Just babble, diapers, toys, Mommy.” “And you’re okay with it?” Patricia asked, studying her friend. “I mean, this is it’s so far beyond what I imagined.” Dana smiled and adjusted the strap of her bra subtly beneath her blouse. “I’m more than okay. I’m fulfilled. I get to love and nurture someone who needs me completely. And she gets to feel safe. Totally helpless. Totally adored.” The baby flopped onto her tummy, arms splayed wide, rattle clutched in one mittened hand. She babbled contentedly, pacifier bobbing in rhythm. Patricia tilted her head. “She doesn’t talk? At all?” Dana shook her head. “Only baby sounds now. She lost her last words about three months ago. She might try to say ‘Mama’ sometimes, or ‘ba-ba’ when she’s hungry. But that’s it. We’ve got her completely regressed.” “Can she stand?” Patricia asked, unable to look away as the baby tried—and failed—to pull herself up on the side of the playpen, only to giggle and fall back onto a pile of plush animals. “She can stand if I help her,” Dana said proudly. “But she usually crawls or scoots. We’ve encouraged helplessness. Weak motor skills. It keeps her safe.” Patricia blinked. “And the diapers?” “Fully dependent,” Dana said with a gentle nod. “She doesn’t know when she goes anymore. She just does. Pee-pee, messy—whatever her little tummy needs. And she gets changed when Mommy checks.” There was a long pause as Patricia processed. “And she doesn’t mind?” “She loves it,” Dana said, placing a hand over her chest. “Sweetheart, she lives for it. The crinkling. The warm wetness. The thick waddle. Being totally, utterly unable to control anything. She doesn’t even try anymore.” “She’s really gone that far,” Patricia whispered, in awe. “I wouldn’t say ‘gone,’” Dana replied gently. “I’d say she’s home.” The baby girl was now chewing on a giant pink ring toy, her eyes wide and unfocused, giggling as she rotated it in her clumsy hands. She hummed softly, lost in her own world. Dana shifted again in her seat, subtly pressing her forearm into her chest. Patricia noticed. “You keep fidgeting. You okay?” Dana winced slightly and nodded. “I’m fine. Just a little full. I haven’t nursed her since breakfast, and my breasts are ready.” Patricia blinked. “You mean you feed her? Like—” Dana smiled gently. “Yes. I nurse her myself. Every day. Several times a day.” “Does she does she get milk?” “She does,” Dana said softly. “My supply came in months ago. It was a long journey, but we stuck to it. And now she’s getting all her nutrition from Mommy.” Patricia sat back, eyes wide. “And she just drinks from you? Every time?” “As often as she needs,” Dana replied. “It keeps her calm. She falls asleep nursing sometimes. It's one of the few moments she’s still.” Dana shifted again. “Actually, if you don’t mind would it be alright if I fed her now? I’m starting to feel it might leak if I wait much longer.” Patricia hesitated, then slowly nodded. “If you’re okay with doing it in here.” Dana stood up and smiled. “Of course. She’s used to feeding wherever Mommy is.” She walked to the playpen and knelt at the gate, undoing the double latches with soft clicks. “Come to Mommy, sweetheart. Time for your milkies.” The baby squealed with joy, her pacifier falling to the side as she crawled quickly—if clumsily—out of the playpen. Her diaper sagged visibly, clearly soaked, but she moved with happy enthusiasm, giggling as she followed her Mommy. Dana sat on the couch and patted her lap. “Come on up, baby. Let Mommy hold you.” The baby-girl crawled up, turned, and laid her head in Dana’s lap, her bonnet lopsided, her mittened hands grasping the front of Dana’s blouse. With gentle motions, Dana unbuttoned her top and revealed a cream-colored nursing bra. She pulled down the cup on one side, exposing a heavy, swollen breast, the nipple already beading slightly with milk. Patricia’s mouth went slightly dry as she stared. Dana looked up. “Still okay?” Patricia nodded. “Yes. I’m I’m curious, honestly.” Dana guided her baby’s mouth to her breast. “Here you go, my little one. Drink up.” The baby latched eagerly, letting out a soft moan of pleasure as she suckled hungrily. Dana cradled her with practiced arms, her expression softening as she let out a sigh of relief. “Ohhh there we go,” she whispered. “Mommy’s little feeder. You were so hungry, weren’t you?” Patricia stared, fascinated. “She really knows what to do.” “She’s been nursing for months,” Dana said, stroking the baby’s hair. “It’s instinctual now. And it soothes her. It soothes me, too. I feel her relax with every swallow.” The baby suckled noisily, tiny hands fidgeting with the lace on Dana’s blouse as her eyes fluttered half-closed in dreamy bliss. “I didn’t understand before,” Patricia said slowly. “But now I think I’m starting to.” Dana looked down at her baby and smiled, full of maternal pride. “She’s not playing baby,” she said. “She IS a baby. My baby. And Mommy is here to take care of her. Forever.”

Okay, I know I should be working on many other stories...but I love Helluva Boss, and after someone already did a Loona de-aging fanfic (that sadly had very few canon things there, but it was still a very good story despite that), I had to get on mine, since Loona's my favorite. For those paying attention to Helluva Boss, a fair warning: this story occurs a bit after Loona gets her Hellbies shot, so some of the other things that have happened aren't going to happen in this story. I've taken a few liberties with some of the Sins that haven't appeared and Loona's past as well (as we don't know exactly what happened), so take that into account as well. Anyway, as a warning, this is Hell, so there's going to be a lot of complicated content warnings for this story that I urge you to take heed of in the tags. I promise to warn you when they come, but I do want to warn you ahead of time. Anyway, on with the show! - Chapter One: Expectations. - Octavia was tired of hearing her parents fighting, especially when it involved her. Stolas and Stella - her father and mother - were screeching at each other like homicidal demonic barn owls (don’t ask her how she knew that; some things weren’t meant for living human minds), barely paying attention to her, and yet…custody. Fucking custody. Over her. Just…why? It wasn’t fair. Yes, Loona had said that families were complicated, but this right after she had run away the last time… The owl-like Goetia heiress froze. Loona. The hellhound was definitely a bit rough around the edges, definitely sarcastic and rude, but she could talk to her, maybe? The last time, when she was lost on Earth, looking for a meteor shower she had waited years to see, it had been Loona who found her…and unlocked a side of her she thought was missing. Octavia felt like - in Loona - she had a sister, an elder sister she could confide in, someone braver than she was, someone whom she could…look up to, maybe? Her fucking emotions were getting the best of her, maybe, but hell with it. Lucifer, what if I’m being…no, time to be brave, Via, show Father and Mother what a mistake they’re making. She was going to go to I.M.P., maybe read from the Grimoire, maybe find a way to placate her parents, somehow, maybe talk to Loona, see what she thought. She had no idea Loona was already having a bad day. - Loona was pissed at Moxxie. Fucking fatass (he wasn’t really fat, she admitted to herself, but she needed another reason to hate the smug little prick.) imp was beyond late to work along with Millie, his wife. Bad enough she had five fucking years worth of her yearly Hellbies shot (She hated shots. Shots in the pound usually meant…euthanization for the hellhounds who aged out…like she had nearly been before Blitzo - known to all as “Blitz”; the “o” was silent - had adopted her. Blitz had lied to her twice, by the way: it was not “one little prick”, and her ass was still sore from it, so he lied about not feeling it as well. Thank Lucifer the cone was off, at least.) a week ago, but now he was pacing the halls, trying to figure out where they were. “Goddammit, if you could be any later, Moxxie, I’d need a fucking stopwatch to fucking time you…” Blitz muttered. If his voice didn’t clearly show his annoyance, the tic of him scratching the white and black, curved horns on his bald head certainly did. Loona knew that if the imp paced any more, he was going to wear out the floorboards - and they had survived a fire from hellectric eels (don’t ask), so she personally knew how tough they were to destroy and/or wear out. She flicked her bluish-gray hair fur to one side, her red eyes firmly focused on her most prized possession: her H-Phone 666 LX, a gift to her from Blitz for her twenty-first birthday a year ago. Then Moxxie and Millie broke down the door - quite literally. “You know that’s coming out of your paycheck, fatass,” Loona said, not even looking up from her phone as it played VoxTube videos. No response. She raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Moxxie to not defend himself from her taunts. “Okay, why are you two fucking hours late?” Blitz demanded. “We were supposed to be using the Grimoire for our target, and-“ “Sorry, Sir, but…” Moxxie twirled a strand of his white hair nervously (not that Loona was paying any attention or cared what Moxxie thought; it was clearly phone time). “We’re expecting!” Millie finished excitedly in her Wrathian drawl, her yellow eyes gleaming as Moxxie brushed her glistening black hair. “What, like a prize for being late?” Loona snarked, not even looking up from her phone. “No, silly: a baby!” Millie giggled. Blitz’s eyes went as wide as full moons, as he looked at them, doing a double-take at them. “Wha-WHAT?!” he stammered. “So, you were-“ “Well, I took the test, showed red, then went to the doctor who confirmed it!” the female imp gushed with excitement, as Moxxie wrapped his small, gentle arms protectively around his wife’s stomach. “Oh, that’s, uh, congrats!” the head of Immediate Murder Professionals (hence the name “I.M.P.”) said, his eyes gaining a semblance of…warmth? An unfamiliar emotion was growing in the pit of Loona’s stomach. She didn’t know what to call it, but she didn’t like it one bit. “So, Sir, we all have a lot of back pay from our jobs, so…” Moxxie began. “First kid’s always worth a break,” Blitz said with a jovial laugh. “Loony-Toony might have to join us later on while Millie handles the Grimoire, but-“ Loona barely heard the excited imp talking because she recognized a different, yet all-too familiar emotion bubbling up to the surface: anger. The hellhound had a nice job as the secretary of I.M.P. Yeah, going out in the human world for occasional work was fun and all, but her job was simple: open a portal to the human world, listen for when the three imps needed to get back, reopen a portal back. She had a routine. She had time to go on her phone, go to the latest Sinstagram pics and VoxTube videos, get a cup of coffee, and wait by herself, with no one’s problems but her own bugging her. And now this…this was threatening the entirety of that safe routine. And she was realizing the unfamiliar emotion was very familiar, after all: envy. A fucking imp baby with Millie replacing her job, and judging by Blitz’s expression, replace his affection for her. That’s all she was, when it came down to it: replaceable. Even after she told Blitz that she’d be there with him, she was still replaceable. The next words tumbled out of her mouth before she could take them back. “How do you know that they’re telling the truth? I mean, are you sure Moxxie can even have kids?” Loona immediately realized she had said something wrong with the immensely hurt look in Millie’s eyes, a pulsing vein throbbing dangerously in Moxxie’s temple as he drew his pistol, pointed it at her and shouted furiously, “YOU TAKE THAT BACK, YOU BITCH!” But the worst was Blitz looking…disappointed, as he said, “Now, Loony, you need to apologize to Moxxie and Millie.” “How about he apologizes for calling me the b-slur?” Loona snarled at Blitz without even thinking, her rising anger taking over. “LOONA, you will apologize to Moxxie and Millie.” Blitz’s voice was surprisingly stern, even a bit angry - a tone that, to her knowledge, he had almost never taken with her. “Oh, so you can replace me with the little brat, huh, Blitz, be a real dad as you stalk them in their private lives like you usually do? Well, guess what, Blitz: you aren’t a fucking real dad! You aren’t their kid’s dad, and you aren’t my fucking dad either!” She felt a vile concoction of satisfaction and guilt course through her as Blitz looked as if she had hit him. It almost would’ve felt better to her if he had hit her back, if he said anything at all. Even Moxxie was stunned into lowering his gun. “I-is this a bad time?” a new voice asked. Octavia Goetia had made her appearance, all four of them looking at her in simultaneous shock, the same look the demoness had on her face. Loona took the Grimoire from the safe, and Blitz didn’t even protest, the hurt look in his eyes saying all that needed to be said. “C’mon, Via, we’re crashing at my place,” Loona said darkly, as she held the Goetia heiress’s clawed hand to the demoness’s shock, leaving the job, the silent absence of a protest echoing in her heart. - Hope y'all enjoyed~ I don't know if I'll have a regular schedule for uploading; I never do, but I'll do my best every week, I think.

Well, this is a story I have recently started writing and finished a chapter of (and I promise, my other story chapters are coming soon!). Welcome to Ride of the Valkyries! It's a take on Norse Mythology that I've wanted to do for a bit, and as the tags say, it's also a genderbending, age regression story. Just as a warning, it's going to be quite...dark. The pasts of the characters...well, all of them have died and this is their version of the afterlife (although not everyone gets in that afterlife, obviously). Given that, character death is not only likely, but a certainty. As another warning, the main character (and one character in the start with the "f" slur) has...biased preconceptions, given his past, so expect him to make a lot of changes for glorious character development! I cannot think of various other things, but I'm ready to get into it, and I hope y'all are as well! About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. Thank you in advance! And without further ado, here is the story: - Chapter One: Couldn't Cut It as a Poor Man Stealing (How You Remind Me, Nickelback) - I was dead, and I fucking knew it. No, not figuratively either; no, this was a really real death as I stared at my own corpse from outside my body. The shoulder length dirty-blond hair I had was matted and stained with my red, which had oozed into my glassy sea-green eyes. My heavily tattooed body was riddled with bullet holes, but my lifeless hand still grasped my pistol in a death grip as my killers laughed - fucking laughed - while shooting my corpse with their assault rifles. I figured I was going to hell after what I did in life. Not that I even believed in an afterlife, but I wasn’t bound for heaven, that was for damned sure. Maybe I was going to be destined to wander the earth forever? I supposed that wouldn’t be too bad. There weren’t too many people that I’d want to see again (the less said about my folks, the better, and my coworkers - or rather former coworkers - were busy shooting my corpse to pieces, still laughing.), but if I knew that they were safe…well, maybe that would be all right. Maybe I could be their guardian angel? Nah, I discarded that thought instantly; I was no angel. Hell, I didn’t even know if I was a devil. I didn’t know what I was anymore. They continued to use my body for target practice until Big Anton Antipov, the Russian Mafiya man, the enormous (all 6’9” of him) and heavily tattooed leader of my former coworkers, came in, looking as furious as I had ever seen him. Even though I was dead, he scared me, for he was a man who never got furious, even when he was killing people - something he did rather often to those who fucked up. People like me, in other words. “The product got away!” he roared at the group in his heavily accented English. “All of it! We have to pack, NOW!” “I thought you had it!” another Russian Mafiya member shouted. “I did! And then a bomb went off! In my office! Where everything that is important is!” “It’s fucking Dally’s fault!” one of the rare American men, Barron - whom I had once considered…well, not a friend because he was honestly a racist, sexist, homophobic, and otherwise wholly awful piece of shit, but a guy I could whose native language and culture I could at least understand - complained, using the nickname I loathed. “If that faggot hadn’t grown a conscience-” “It doesn’t matter! Dallas is fucking dead, apparently! Why weren’t you chasing the product instead of wasting your time shooting his corpse?!” “He just started shooting us dead! Said he-” “That’s enough of that. We don’t need to see any more, and there isn’t much time for you.” The voice echoed in the air, and time stopped; I could see Barron’s mouth paused mid speech as if done by a television remote. I felt my breath, not that I needed to breathe at this point, catch in my throat, as I turned around to see…a woman. A woman riding a dark gray horse…a horse with eight goddamned legs. She was Asian and looked fairly young (if I had to guess, around my age, twenty-eight), her black hair in a bun with a golden hair clip, fierce dark brown eyes and a frightening scowl on her face. She wore a plain brown duster and a black t-shirt with her enormous breasts and cleavage protruding through the fabric, blue jeans, and scuffed cowboy boots, overall looking like an Asian cowgirl (an extremely attractive Asian cowgirl), if not for two things. The first was the twin scabbards across her jeans, holding what were obviously twin swords...swords that were alight with flame that somehow didn’t scorch her clothes. The second were snow white angel-like wings coming from her back, with swan-like feathers fluttering and so in tune with the wind that it slowed the descent of both her and her strange horse. The wings were enormous, and they were beautiful. I looked at her in awe, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, “Your horse has eight legs,” before I clapped it shut with my hands, knowing how much of an idiot I sounded like. “Yes, sleipnirs tend to have eight legs,” the woman said in a patient tone, as if she was talking to a toddler. “Is there anything else you wish to point out before I task you with judgment, Dallas Gareth Brogdon, he of twenty-eight years, six months, and three days old, born in Cheyenne Regional Medical Center in Cheyenne, Wyoming?” I blinked, surprised that this woman knew all of that about me and my past. Of course, she was an angel, most likely, so if I had to guess, she had to know all of that. “Judgment? I don’t figure I’m going to Heaven…” “And by all rights, you haven’t earned Valhalla.” The woman’s voice was harsh, but fair, and I lowered my head, filled with inner guilt. “You’ve led a life of sin, even with your clear conscience and regrets. You never had the courage or moral fortitude to fight back or oppose the people you sinned with…until now. But you died bravely with a weapon in your hand in the defense of the lives of innocent others without any consideration of your own. The Vikingr Code is very clear on that. So, I’m giving you the opportunity for…a second chance.” “I don’t deserve one,” I said bluntly. “If you’re going to send me to hell, that’s that, and I know I deserve it. I’ve made my peace knowing that I’m not cut out for heaven.” “Valhalla,” the woman corrected, “and trust me, you don’t want Helheim. I could give it to you if you wish, but if I were you - and I’ve been mortal like you and in this very position at one point - I’d go for the second chance.” “Who are you?” I asked. “Are you an angel?” “Angels? You foolish mortal man with your foolish take on a deity. I am a valkyrie. Valkyrie Captain Sasithorn. My sleipnir’s name is Hreggský. The rank and my sleipnir’s name are all you need to know.” “Is your name, ‘Sa-si-tawn’, I mean, Asian or-” “Thai. Literally means ‘the Moon’, spelled ‘S-a-s-i-t-h-o-r-n’. I will not say it again, so make sure you do not make me. We don’t have much time anyway.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that if you don’t get on Hreggský immediately, you will either be sent to Helheim or come back as a draugr. You do not want either of those options as your fate.” “Draugr?” “Stupid infantile human, will you get on my sleipnir or not?!” The dark gray eight-legged horse whinnied and tossed its head as if even it was annoyed with me and agreeing with its rider. “Okay, fine!” I said, raising my hands. “I’m clearly outnumbered on this. Fine, if you two want me to face judgment sooo badly-” Sasithorn did not hesitate to pull me on the front of the horse as if she was much stronger than I was (and I was pretty big at 6’4”, 220 pounds; by all rights, the much smaller, slimmer woman wouldn’t be able to do that), and put me in the front of her, while strapping me to her body with a Velcro substance, as if putting a young child in a car seat. “I will hold on to you, since you obviously can’t do it yourself,” she chided, as her wings encircled me in a protective way, her arms holding the reins. Well, if she wanted to embarrass the absolute fuck out of me, she was doing a hell of a good job. “Now, á brott, Hreggský! We have a judgment awaiting!” - Okay, first of all, the Norse words: Sleipnir - the eight-legged horse born from Loki in the form of a mare, Odin's steed. (There's a plot reason why Sasithorn has a sleipnir. Yes, I said "a".). Hreggský - "Storm cloud" (hregg = storm; ský = cloud). Valhalla - the Hall of the Glorious Slain, basically, those who died fighting with a weapon in their hand. Helheim - the Hell of Norse mythology, basically, those who were either terrible people and/or cowards who died without a weapon on their being. Vikingr - to go "Viking" (yes, "Vikings" are not the right term for the warriors; Viking means "raiding", and those who were raiding were known as "Danes"). Valkyrie - a warrior spirit, namely a woman, who went on to the battlefield to collect the souls of the Glorious Slain for Valhalla. Draugr - a warrior revenant (intelligent zombie), oftentimes greedy and envious of the living, unable to ever have their souls rest. á brott - "Away" Hope y'all enjoyed~

Hey everyone! For today, I'm posting a story that I actually had in progress for a little while. I got inspiration from this story through some other stories on this forum. While it's not any of the Diaper Dimension stories, it does draw inspiration from one of the authors that I follow. This story is set in Potomac, Maryland and my attempt at writing a story where the main characters have to deal with a strict mother who's very big on discipline. There is some element of mystery involved. Like always, I am welcome to any feedback that you may have on the story! Here's the summary. Enjoy the story! Sixteen-year-old Gabrielle Rivers has a mother that is an award-winning scientist. Having never met her father in her entire life, Gabrielle looks for answers when her mother attends an awards banquet one evening. Searching for the whereabouts of her father is the least of Gabrielle’s worries, as her nighttime bedwetting has started up once again. Gabrielle’s quest to find the truth is not made any easier when she has to deal with her almost three-year-old sister Abigail, who is still in diapers. Gabrielle can’t help but notice that there is something very strange about her sister. Her mother just says that Abigail has a strong sense of imagination, but after Gabrielle finds out everything, she is not quite sure that her mother is being truthful. And even worse, Gabrielle’s mother finds Gabrielle reading forbidden documents in her bedroom. She takes Gabrielle into the kitchen and prepares a glass of milk for her. Gabrielle drinks the milk, but after a few hours, she doesn’t feel very well, and her world changes forever. Now trapped and full of the truth, Gabrielle can neither walk nor crawl and is unable to speak. Will she ever escape? Is she trapped with her mother forever? Chapter 1: Just an Accident My mother can only be what I describe to be the worst excuse for a human being. It doesn’t matter that she graduated high school at the age of 12 and has four PhD’s. She’s a cold, cruel, heartless bitch. And if you have ever met her and have even the slightest idea of what she has done to me, you would totally agree with me. And that is just what I am about to tell you. This is my survival story of how I was ruthlessly abused by my mother and how by some miracle I was able to escape. I want you to know about this as no human being should ever receive the level of cruelty that my mother gave to me. The whole world needs to know about this. All of her scientific awards can burn for all I care. She has caused enough harm to me and my family. What is that cruelty? You will hear every detail in due time. To give my story any justice, I will start from the very beginning. My name is Gabrielle Rogers, but you can call me Gabby. Everyone else does. But during the time of this story, I was known as Gabrielle Rivers, since that was my mother’s last name. I lived in a 25,000 square foot mansion in Maryland, with my mother and younger sister Abigail (everyone calls her Abby). From my mother’s stories, she always bragged about how she got her father’s mansion. The Rivers family was very wealthy, but none of my great uncles had any children. My grandfather did, but he didn’t have any sons. All he had was my mother. So, my mother boasted, all of the estate went to her. The money, the mansion…everything. The mansion is so big that it is divided into two separate wings: the west wing and the east wing. Each wing has its own staircase, with a grand staircase in the middle, separating the two wings. The mansion sits on 20 acres of land and because of my mother’s insane inheritance, all of the grounds are maintained on a regular basis. The enormous yard is mowed. During the summer, both the pool and hot tub are regularly treated with chlorine. All of the shrubs get trimmed. And the mini apple orchard gets tended to on a regular basis. And in the backyard, a beautiful garden gets tended to on a regular basis. A team of maids clean the entire house once a week and another cleaning service washes the windows once a month. And I forgot to mention that there is a guest house sitting on either side of the mansion. One for the east wing and one for the west wing. Each one is around 2,000 square feet and neither of these houses count towards the 25,000 square feet of the main estate. A large fountain sits in the front around the winding driveway that leads out to the front gate: the only way to enter Rivers Estate as the entire property is surrounded by fencing and there is a security guard on duty 24 hours a day. So yeah. That’s my mother’s Barbie dream home that she inherited. One important thing worth noting is that the entire east wing of the estate is off limits. I learned this lesson the hard way when I was just five years old. I was about to touch the doorknob, which led to the east wing. When my mother saw this, she directed me to pull my pants down and expose my behind to her. “Gabby, that place is totally off limits! Bad girl!!! Bad!!” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “Don’t you EVER let mommy catch you trying to enter the east wing again!” After a few hits from her paddle, I resolved to never try entering the east wing again. I really didn’t understand what the harm was in going there. What was my mother trying to hide? I sulked, and slowly paced away from the forbidden door that I could never touch. A knock on the door snapped me right out of my unintended nap. A copy of The Lord of the Rings sat fanned face down on my king-sized bed. “Gabby dear? Gabby!” “Wha…” I said, rubbing a little bit of sleep out of my eyes. The door opened, and my mother entered in her usual work attire: a white lab coat with a long black skirt. Her skin was smooth and her complexion was perfect. She walked over to my bed and gave me her usual smirk. This was the kind of thing that she did when she wanted me to do something that she didn’t want to do. “Gabrielle, my dear?” My mother said in her sweetest tone. “Could you be a dear and go change Abby’s diaper?” I turned my face and rolled my eyes. “Another one?” I could tell by the look of my mother’s face that the diaper that I was about to change was going to be a messy one. I let out a quiet sigh. “Okay. Where is the little stinker?” “She is watching TV in her bedroom. Now hurry, dear. You don’t want her to get a rash…” Don’t want her to get a rash…I mocked my mother in my head. I resumed my role as fulltime babysitter and left my bedroom to change my little sister’s diaper. It is now June and Abby (or Little Abby as I like to call her) is about to turn three in August. I would’ve thought that my mother would’ve wanted to potty train Abby a year ago, but she has made zero initiative to even begin. No pull-ups training pants. No plastic big girl potties in the house. No potty-training journals or reward stickers. No books or videos about learning how to use the potty like a big girl. Nothing. For goodness sake, mom. Abby will be turning four in another year. No preschool is going to take a four-year-old girl that is still wearing diapers. I have argued this with my mother before and I get the same response. “Oh. Abby’s a special little girl and she will grow at her own pace.” Well, Abby doesn’t look like she’s interested in the potty because you have never showed her one. Great job at being a wonderful example… I walked down the hallway and enter the doorway on my left. Abby was sucking on her pink pacifier and sitting in her bedroom on the white carpeted floor dressed in a white romper dress. The babyish kind with three snappable buttons at the crotch area which made it easy for diaper changes. The TV was a 42-inch Ultra High-Definition TV that hung on the wall in her spacious room. As I glanced at Abby’s loaded diaper, I let out a deep sigh. Sure enough, I could see the damage that had already been done. The poopy mess was spread out of her diaper and dripping out of the openings in her legs. It even got onto parts of her romper and her legs. Regardless of this, Abby stared at the screen blankly, as if she were mesmerized by the kids’ channel that she was watching. It was another episode of Bluey, and I just couldn’t stand it. But the program that was playing was the least of my worries. Abby’s diaper was my number one priority, regardless of how much I couldn’t stand the program. Seriously, mom. Why couldn’t you have changed her? I pinched my nose and dragged Abby away from the UHD TV. I lifted her by her waist being very careful not to get any of the poopy mess onto my fingertips. Even though Abby was almost three years old, she had the build of an 18-month-old, as my mother had to take Abby to the pediatrician last week to treat an ear infection. I had to come along, as I had diaper duty for my younger sister 24/7. The only exceptions are the diapers that my mother changes in the morning and right before she goes to bed. During the day, I change every one of Abby’s diapers. This yucky and stinky one is no better… I hoisted Little Abby up and rotated her, now supporting her by her neck and back in both hands. I then laid her down on the diaper changer in her room that sat next to her crib that was covered in pink pastels. As I laid her down and approached the mess, Abby turned her face and glanced in the distance. “Bah-tah empty!” she yelled. I nodded, as I tried to figure out what would be the best way that I could unsnap Abby’s romper without getting poop all over my hands. Knowing that this was pretty much impossible, I reached down toward the snappable crotch buttons. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! All three buttons were off, and I had a little bit of poop smeared on my fingers. I carefully lifted the flap of the poop-stained white romper which revealed the yellowed and brown stained diaper. I took a couple of baby wipes and wiped off my fingers before peeling back the tapes of her diaper… And…Oh. My. Gosh. The horrible stench was even worse with the diaper now opened up. It filled my nostrils and I almost gagged. There was so much poop in that diaper that I couldn’t believe it. But Abby looked like she was staring into space. She gave me a face that any child would give you after waking up from a bad dream. She glanced at the empty bottle. “Thaw-sty Gaw-bee! Thaw-sty!” I nodded, as I began wiping her with baby wipes, which only ended up smearing the poop on her after a couple wipes. “Yes Abby. I’ll get you something to drink after I change you.” After about ten wipes, I had Abby stand up while I carefully wiped her behind. After about half of the bag of baby wipes, I had all of Abby wiped clean. I took the soiled diaper that was filled with the used wipes, and I rolled up the diaper into a ball and secured it closed with the two tapes. I threw it in the diaper genie before I could even throw up on the floor in disgust. As I began to rub the Aquaphor cream on all the red areas that I saw on Abby, she turned her face toward the empty baby bottle again and once again gave me the worried look. “Mo Mak! No foamwah! No foamwah Gaw-bee!” I sighed, as this was a normal thing that Abby did whenever she wanted more milk to drink in her bottle. I gave her a puzzled look as I pulled out another diaper: A Size 3 Pampers Swaddlers Diaper. Abby never moved around too much so my mother always got these diapers for her. I opened up the diaper and I powdered the core. “Abby, the milk that we give you does not have any baby formula in it. What is this about formula?” I laid Abby in the center of the diaper, and I folded up the front waistband between her legs. I took the tapes from the back waistband, and I pulled them both snugly towards the landing zone in the center of the diaper. Abby’s bellybutton peaked out just above the waistband of the diaper. I heard the crinkled rustling as she sat up and pointed at the empty bottle again. “No foamwah!” she cried. “No foamwah! I smaw! No foamwah! I smaw!” I sighed, feeling very frustrated at Abby’s lack of speech development. Having just taken child development at my private school, I understand that the kind of speech that I am hearing from Abby should be from a baby half of Abby’s age. At her current age, Abby should know more than 300 words and should be able to form short sentences. I frowned again as I tried to calm the worried face on my sister. “Abby, there is no baby formula in the milk. How about I get you some and show you.” Before I could even snap the romper back up, I sighed when I saw the poop stain. “This needs to be washed.” I removed Abby’s soiled white romper dress and threw it into the dirty clothes hamper. I sat Abby on the floor and got out another matching purple romper dress from her closet. I put it on her. I then snapped the three crotch buttons to secure the romper over her diaper and was about to pick her up when I felt a very strong need to pee. I glanced at Abby and pointed back at the TV. “Can you watch some more TV, Abby? Big sis needs to use the bathroom.” Abby gave me a blank nod and walked back over to the TV. She slouched onto the floor and continued watching more Bluey. Meanwhile, I did the potty dance and I hurried into the bathroom adjacent to Abby’s bedroom. I closed the door, undid the button on my skinny jeans, and pulled them down with my panties. I sat down on the toilet and let out a sigh of relief as I peed for the next 30 seconds. My mother is making a big mistake in keeping my little sister in diapers. She hasn’t even made a single effort to potty train Abby, and it has almost been a year since her second birthday. She turns three in just two months. And considering just how messy that diaper was, I would really like to stop changing my little sister’s diapers already. I heard the buzz coming from my pants pocket. I knew that it either had to be Gina or Renee. They wanted to know what the summer plans were now that we were all done with our private school until it resumed in September for our junior year. I tapped away on my cellphone, providing a quick response for my two friends on the group text: “We will talk about it tonight when I go to bed.” I texted, providing a plain smiley face emoji. My timing couldn’t be any more perfect than when I heard a few firm taps on the door. “Gabby?” It was my mother. Knowing her, there was no keeping her waiting. I finished up, quickly wiping myself with toilet paper and pulling my panties and skinny jeans before flushing. I washed my hands for 20 seconds, quietly playing “If you’re happy and you know it” in my head before drying them. I scurried out of the bathroom, almost running directly into my mother. I staggered backwards, almost losing my balance. My mother looked at me sternly. She did not look pleased. “Gabby dear,” she addressed me in her smooth, velvety softspoken voice. “We do not run in this house. Tell me, dear. What is the hurry? You’re a big girl. You know the rules.” “No running…” I softly mumbled with my face to the floor. My mother gently pushed my chin up so that my eyes were locked with hers. “Speak up, Gabby. I cannot hear you. And stand up straight and look at me when you’re talking. Remember. Posture dear. Posture…” I nodded as my chin was still locked in my mother’s grip. I knew that she wouldn’t let me go until I reminded her of the proper manners that I already knew. “No…Run…Ning…” I clearly said, enunciating every syllable. My mother released my chin suddenly. I almost fell down, but I quickly regained my balance. “Now Gabby, I know that you are perfectly capable of behaving like a young lady. Please show me that you remember your manners. I have sent you to one of the best private boarding and day schools. Please lead by example and make me proud.” I nodded. I do have to admit that attending The Madeira School was pretty nice. With it being an all-girl school, there was nothing to distract me or my friends from our studies. Grades were certainly not an issue with me as I have been getting nothing but solid A’s. A-minuses were totally out of the question, as I have received a beating from my mother for getting one before on a test. My mother turned around and glanced at Abby. She sniffed the room, which pretty much mostly had the smell of baby powder at this point. There was still a hint of the poopy smell, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as earlier. “I see that you have changed Abby. Good girl.” Yes. My mother’s praise sounded like the kind of praise you would give to a dog, but at 15, I was used to it at this point. That reminded me of something very important. I turn 16 in another month…I looked at my mother and glanced at her face. For someone in her late forties, she looked almost 20 years younger than that. If nobody knew my mother, she would pass for someone almost turning 30. I have pressed my mother before on her youthful appearance and she always provided me with the same answer in just one word: “Genetics.” If genetics gives her that appearance, then I hope that I can look like her when I’m almost 50 someday. I glanced at my mother, who was still looking at me. I knew that she would not be around me unless she wanted something. My mother gave me an expectant look, as if I was expected to know what she was thinking. “Gabby, have you done all of your chores today?” I sighed. I knew that stretching the truth was not an option, so I came clean. “No mother. I only have a few m—” My mother cut me off midsentence. “Gabby, you need to finish every last chore. Your courses are done for the summer and all you have for the fall is just one summer project required for every Madeira student. I expect you to have every last chore done before dinner. Do I make myself clear, young lady?” I nodded, making sure that my posture was correct this time. Abby was now standing up, holding an empty baby bottle in her hands. She looked at my mother with pleading eyes. “Mo mak mah-mee!” she said, shaking the bottle. “Mo mak!” My mother shook her head in disapproval and snatched the baby bottle from my little sister. “No no…” she said in a sing-song voice. “What is the magic word, Abby?” “Pease…” Abby said, giving her a flat smile. I sighed and looked at my mother. “Mother, I just changed Abby. She’s going to need to be changed again when you give her more milk. Shouldn’t we be potty training her?” My mother shook her head to and fro and gave my sister a soft pat on the diaper. “Abby is not ready for toilet training yet. When she’s ready, she’ll let mommy know. Won’t you Abbycadabry?” I gave a groan of frustration in my mind. I hated it whenever my mom used a cute nickname to address my little sister. And that nickname had me cringing the most. My little sister gave a gentle nod and glanced up at the empty bottle that my mother was still holding. “You want some milkies, Abby?” My mother said in a soft coo. “Here. We’re going to get some milkies. In the meantime, how about I get you your pacie?” Abby again generated a weak smile. My mother grabbed her purple pacifier that was sitting on a felt beanbag chair. She slid it into Abby’s mouth and Abby began to mindlessly suck on it. She then hoisted Abby in one arm while holding her empty bottle in the other. “I’m going to refill Abby’s bottle and feed her.” My mother explained. “After that, I am putting her in the playpen and I’m going upstairs to run some more experiments, finish an article for a scientific journal, and finish publishing a textbook for one of Harvard Med School’s latest courses. I will want you to have all of your chores done when I return. Am I clear, Gabby?” I nodded, keeping careful eye contact with my mother. “Yes mother…” My mother exited the room with Abby, leaving me to my chores. I glanced at the chore list, making careful note of the chores that I have already done today. Fortunately, I have already done most of the chores before taking a break with my Lord of the Rings book. All that I needed to do to finish my chores included the following tasks: pick up my clothes and other odds and ends in my room, vacuum my bedroom, and clean the bathroom. That included every surface, all of the toilet, the bathtub, and the glass shower. (Yes. My bedroom has a pretty big bathroom with both a bathtub and separate shower, and I was responsible for cleaning every square inch.) I spent the next hour and a half completing my last three chores. I picked up all my clothes, making sure that they were all thrown into the dirty clothes hamper. I got the vacuum out of the utility closet down the hall and vacuumed every square inch. The floor of my room looked spotless as usual, as I was expected to vacuum my room every week. For the bathroom, I opened a closet inside it to get out all of the cleaning supplies. I scrubbed every square inch of the tile floor in the bathroom. I carefully wiped down the counter space. There was barely any toothpaste residue and soap residue as I also was expected to clean the bathroom weekly. The mirror by the sink also didn’t look too bad. Just a couple specks of food residue from flinging food particles off my teeth while I was flossing. As for the chores, this was something that I have never questioned my mother on as the maids get all the rest of the house clean, except for my room and bathroom. I took the glass cleaner and sprayed the mirror. I carefully wiped everything off with a paper towel. The mirror now looked spotless. I inserted a disinfectant tablet into the toilet wand and began scrubbing the weeks’ worth of dried waste off of the inside of the toilet. After getting the inside of the bowl spotless, I sprayed down the outside of the bowl and the rest of the toilet with a cleaning solution, rinsed it with some wet paper towels, and dried it off with a few more paper towels. Right after I flushed the clean toilet, my chores were all complete. No sooner did I finish than when my mother was entering my bathroom with Abby. She was still mindlessly sucking away on her pacifier. I still could not believe just how much my mother was babying Abby, but I dared not question it this time. For some strange reason, my mother believed that Abby could just tell her when she wanted to act like a big girl. My mother was supposed to be encouraging the big girl behavior, instead of discouraging it with a fresh bottle, her pacifier, and the diapers that she still wears both day and night. As a result, my sister was developmentally delayed. She spoke more like an 18-month-old than an almost 3-year-old. She didn’t even use a sippy cup. My poor little sister was just pampered and spoiled, and my mother never did anything about it. But why? Why keep my little sister from developing into a big girl? My mother grabbed the chore list from me and carefully glanced at every check mark. Now it wasn’t enough for her to just see the checks. She had to examine every area that corresponded to the completed task before I would be in the clear. After she checked all the chores and areas, she gave me a nod of approval. “You finished all of your chores, Gabby. Good girl…” I bit my lip. I’m pretty sure that if I were a dog, my mother would have given me a treat. My mother then looked at her smart watch and glanced at me again. “Now let’s have some dinner. I’ll meet you down there.” I took my cell phone out of my pocket and glanced at the time. 5:48 PM. I knew the next important rule of the Rivers Estate: Dinner was to be served at 6:00 PM. If I were late, even a minute late, I would not be having dinner that evening. Dinner was typically prepared by a private chef that my mother hired, and she would not hesitate to order the chef to take the covered plate of food away from me if I was late for dinner. This was both wasteful and unfair, but they were the official Rivers Estate rules that my mother made up. I promptly made my way downstairs and to the dining room, where three covered plates already sat. Two of the plates sat in the corner of a large dining room table fit for 20 people. The third smaller plate sat on a highchair next to the end seat, which belonged to my mother. I sat in the other seat perpendicular to her. I took my seat and waited for mom to arrive carrying Abby. She sat Abby in the highchair and lifted up the cover on the plate. The chef announced the dinner we would be having tonight, giving a detailed description of each entrée and the way that he prepared it. Abby’s dinner was three chicken nuggets, carefully cut into smaller pieces so that my mother could feed them to her. There was also a small portion of crinkle cut fries and a French apple tart. The tart was carefully cut into a very small piece just for Abby. But Abby wouldn’t be feeding herself. My mother would be feeding every last piece of the tart to Abby. For crying out loud, mom. I have not seen Abby feed herself once. Don’t you ever want to see Abby become a big girl? But again, I didn’t dare question my mother’s rather unusual parenting style. At this rate, Abby will still not be ready to attend school next year… Both mine and my mother’s dinner were the following entrées: A chicken Caesar salad. A deluxe Kobe Beef Cheeseburger served on freshly made onion buns. It had a delicious tangy ginger mayonnaise with greenhouse grown tomatoes, fresh romaine lettuce, and red onions. It also had freshly chopped portabella mushrooms and applewood smoked bacon drizzled with a sweet barbecue sauce and Dijon mustard. The same crinkle cut fries were there, only our portions were larger and were cooked in truffle oil and sprinkled with freshly grated parmesan cheese. The dipping sauce included tangy ginger mayonnaise. The dessert included a French apple tart, which was a full piece, instead of the tiny toddler-sized piece that Abby got. I ate my food and my mother ate hers after she finished feeding Abby. After we were both done, my mother finished feeding Abby her bottle, with still no sippy cup in sight. I drank my glass of milk, making sure that I finished every last drop. We didn’t need to clear the table, as that responsibility belonged to the chef. But I did have the responsibility to ask my mother to be excused. I knew how much trouble I would be in if I forgot to do this. So, I glanced up at my mother. “Mother,” I addressed, making careful eye contact with her. “May I please be excused from the table?” My mother glanced at my plate to ensure that every last morsel of food was consumed. She gave me a nod of approval. “You can be excused, Gabby. Please get ready for bed. After that, you are free to do evening activities. Bedtime is at 10:00.” I nodded and took this as my signal to get ready for bed so I could talk to my friends. I walked, not ran back up the stairs to my bedroom. I undressed myself and brushed my teeth, flossed, and used mouthwash. I then took a shower and dried off. I put on my bra with a pink nightgown and pulled the cell phone out of my pants pocket. I threw myself onto the king-sized bed, unfortunately landing right on top of my Lord of the Rings book. I sighed and picked up the still open book, carefully sitting it on the floor beneath my bed. I texted Gina and Renee in the group text. They both video called me and I merged the two calls, giving us a three-way conversation. “Hey.” I said as I laid on my bed, taking casual sips of water from my water bottle. “What’s up?” “The sky,” Gina said as a joke. “Are you finally free from your chores and sister duties?” I nodded. “For tonight I am. What do you all plan on doing?” “Can we go to the mall?” Renee offered as a suggestion. I sighed. “None of us can drive yet, so who would take us?” Renee smiled. “My mom could take both of us. And we could have a sleepover afterwards!” Gina sighed. “How about a pool party at my house? We got a very nice pool and I plan on inviting a lot of people…” “Will you invite any of the guys from Landon?” Renee teased Gina. “I know that you have a crush on one of them…” Gina’s face blushed. “Yes, that’s true. Us girls at Madeira don’t get a lot of opportunities to meet guys…” “That’s because Madeira wants us to study books, not boys,” I said with a smile. “That reminds me. Have any of you started on the summer project yet?” Both girls nodded. “Have you started, Gabby?” Gina asked me. “The project requires that you research your family tree and provide a 20-page essay describing your family members and what they mean to you. I’m almost finished with my project. My dad was very helpful in filling in all of the details.” Renee nodded. “My dad helped me too, but I don’t think I’ll be able to finish my project until July. Just before your birthday, Gabs…” Gina looked at me quizzically. “What about you, Gabby? Has your dad been helping you? Wait…Didn’t you tell us that you don’t have a dad?” I gave her a sad nod. “I have no idea where my dad is.” I told her. “I never met him in my life. When I was born, all I saw was my mother…” “Have you asked your mom about him?” Renee asked me. “I don’t mean to prod…” “It’s okay,” I told her. “I have asked my mother a number of times and she always tells me that she divorced him before I was even born. There’s no information that I can find on him anywhere…” I sighed. “My family tree will be missing my father…I’m going to fail the project…” “See if you can find something,” Gina said, trying to encourage me. I sighed. “I know that my mother does all of her research for Harvard. The problem is that I’m not allowed in her private laboratory or bedroom. Even if she kept any keepsake from my father, I wouldn’t be able to see it. Thanks for the encouragement though…” “Well, I’m getting tired.” Gina said, yawning. “I would like to do the pool party this Friday.” “And we can go to the mall on Saturday.” Renee added. “After that, we can have a sleepover at my house! We can discuss the details tomorrow. All I can say is get ready to stay up late…” I nodded. “It was nice catching up with you all. Good night!” “Good night!” both girls shouted. I glanced at my cell phone. The time was 7:38 PM. I didn’t want to go to bed right away, so I read a little more of my Lord of the Rings book. It was a little after 8:00, so I decided to play Super Mario Odyssey on the Nintendo Switch. I got a few more moons in the Metro Kingdom before I shut off my Switch and called it a night. The time was now 8:53 PM. It was just an hour before I had to go to bed. I charged my cell phone and turned off the lights. I got into my king-sized bed and pulled the covers over me, since the central air was on full blast, and I was freezing. I adjusted my pillow and laid on my side. Moments later, I fell asleep. That night, I had a horrible nightmare. It started with me discovering that my water bottle was empty. I left my room with it and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. I filled my water bottle with more ice and water. That’s when I was hit with a very strong urge to pee. I stood and squirmed as I began to do the potty dance. Fortunately, I was still able to maintain control of my bladder. I took my water bottle up the stairs and noticed the stairs becoming longer and longer with each step. My abdomen ached with the urge to pee again, and I ran up the infinite staircase. Eventually, I somehow reached the top. I then started to run down the hallway, trying to do everything to fight the urge to pee. The hallway started to become longer like the staircase. I made a sprint through the hallway, the endless hallway seeming to go on forever. I noticed the hallway doors to the left and right disappearing before my eyes, but I saw one door in front of me. I ran towards the door, but the hallway seemed to keep stretching forward with each step. Finally, the hallway stopped stretching and I reached for the knob of the door… But it was too late. I felt a wet patch of pee forming on my nightgown before it dripped down the legs to form a puddle. I didn’t make it to the bathroom. I pissed myself. And even worse, I pulled down my nightgown and glanced at my panties. Only it wasn’t my panties. Instead, it was one of my sister’s diapers. I glanced at the shade of yellow that filled the entire crotch area of the diaper. The diaper was entirely soaked and leaking. I then began to cry… I woke up feeling very wet. I got out of bed and lifted up the covers, feeling the pee-soaked night gown stick to my skin. I glanced at the fitted sheet and mattress to see a large wet patch of pee in the center of the bed. I could not believe my eyes. “No no no no no no!” I cried in disbelief. I was both embarrassed and mortified. This was the first time that I pissed myself since I was five years old. That’s when I heard a knock on the door. My heart sank. I am so dead…My heart raced as the knob turned and the door opened. My mother stood there and immediately began to take in her surroundings before a look of shock came over her face. She looked at me with her mouth wide open. “Gabby…” she said in a tone that indicated that I was clearly guilty and in a lot of trouble. “You wet the bed! You peed all over yourself and…” she did not finish her sentence. Instead, she angerly pointed in the direction of the bathroom. “Just go and get a shower. I’ll get someone to clean this up…” My mother got out her cellphone while I walked towards the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of my cell phone before I entered the bathroom to clean up. 9:14 AM. I hurriedly took off my pee-soaked nightgown, bra, and panties and took a shower. When I was finished, I wrapped myself in a towel and exited the bathroom. My mother was still standing in my room, waiting for one of our maids to go and take care of my soaked bedding. Trying to help the situation, I fully explained my dream to my mother. She gave me a stern look and gazed into my eyes. “So, you tried to use the bathroom in your dream?” She pointed to the soaked bedding. “That was just an accident, Gabby. Don’t let it happen again.” To make matters worse, my mother went and brought Abby into the room. She showed Abby the scene of my accident and pointed at me. “You see your sister there, Abby? Gabby had an accident. Now big girls aren’t supposed to have accidents. So, I will give her the benefit of the doubt for this one. But if it happens three more times, mommy is going to take away Gabby’s underwear, and she’s going to wear Pull Ups.” She then turned her face towards me and raised her voice. “Do I make myself clear, Gabby?” I nodded. But my mother wasn’t done. She looked at me and pointed in the direction of the bed. “Stand over there.” She then looked back at my baby sister. “You see Gabby there? Gabby is a naughty girl, and mommy’s going to teach her a lesson.” She walked over to me and firmly grabbed my neck, making me drop my bath towel. I was now standing completely naked in front of my mother and sister. She then pressed my face into the pee-soaked bedding. I closed my mouth so I wouldn’t get any piss in it. I started to lift my face up, but she pushed my face even harder into the soaked bedding. “Don’t move!” A few seconds later, I felt a sting of pain on my behind. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! My mother screamed at the top of her lungs, beating me hard with each syllable. “You! Will! Not! Wet! The! Bed! Any! More!” My eyes filled with tears, and they began to drip onto the soaked bedding that my face was pressed into. My mother then pulled me by the hair off of the bedding and then turned my face towards hers. “Gabby, you have three strikes,” she warned. “Three strikes and you lose your big girl privileges. Don’t you dare disappoint me.” She left the room with my sister, who looked just as numb as the other day. Seriously. I have never seen my sister truly happy before. What is wrong with her? I looked at the soaked bedding. What is wrong with me? I haven’t wet the bed since I was five and now a maid has to clean this up. I thought about the accident and how much of a fluke it was. My mother was right. It was just an accident. And the sharp pain that I felt from her beating reminded me of it. But I only had three strikes. Three strikes until I was in Pull Ups. I haven’t worn Pull Ups since I was three years old. That accident that I had at five was also a fluke, so there wasn’t any Pull Ups or diapers that she had me wear. Just three strikes. But with this bedwetting being only a fluke, I don’t expect to use any of them. I just hoped that I was right.

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

Well, I have a new idea (that had to be changed a bit from its unused original idea, but the characters in the story are pretty much similar in name, if not personality and pasts): Juventas' Wings. If you guessed that this was based on the Roman goddess of youth, Juventas, you'd be correct! There's going to be a lot of Greco-Roman lore in this story, even if it isn't revealed immediately. As a WARNING, though, there's a lot of mature content in this story, and this particular segmented chapter has the following: implied domestic violence and abuse, cheating, mental illness struggles, stated sexual assault (not delving into specifics), poverty, drug usage and withdrawals, law stuff for said drug usage, post-traumatic stress disorder, war scenes, anti-trans/gay slurs, misgendering, and deadnaming by bigoted minor chapter-only characters, mentioned maid/petplay fetishes, and a LOT of broken and dysfunctional families. Further chapters involve age regression, both physical and emotional, a remorseless serial killer, implied sexual assault, kidnapping, parental abuse, emotional and sexual manipulation, character death, and description of religion. Just be warned and as always, VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. And now for the beginning of the story: - Chapter One: Seven Lives - Fida Salah (nee Jazuri) didn’t even expect any mail to come to her, let alone an offer from others for her alone. All the thirty-five-year-old London-born-and-raised woman did was cook, clean, and do household chores, her mother, father, and older sibling having long since passed. Her husband, Botros Salah, was the only family she had left, and she knew that he cheated on her a lot with other women, her inability to have kids a…contentious point around him, amongst other contentious points. She wore a full red niqab that covered most of her body, her weary dark-brown eyes, a bit of her coffee skin around her eyes, and her delicate hands the only visible body parts, as she cooked dinner (batata harra, a vegetable dish that her husband always asked for, never seemed to get tired of, and forced her to eat. She was tired of eating it, couldn’t remember the last time she had been allowed a halal meat, but what her husband wanted, she did.) in preparation for her husband returning. The doorbell rang, and she all but jumped out of shock; Botros would’ve simply entered the house. Noting that the batata harra was completely finished, she walked over to the door, looking through the window, expecting to see her husband’s stern face…but instead seeing a very young (probably nineteen or so), yet tall Arabic woman wearing a hijab, accompanied by a young, almost effeminate-looking man with similar features, likely a male relative, as was custom. Fida was a bit confused. Were they friends of her husband? She opened the door, and the Arabic woman smiled. “Hello, you are Fida Salah, are you not?” the woman asked. “My husband should be here soon if you need to talk to him,” Fida said politely. “We’re not here for your husband,” the woman said, still smiling. “We’re here for you.” Fida froze, thinking of the day-old bruises over days-old bruises that reminded her what her husband was capable of. Nothing good could come from this. “I’m sorry, but-” “I understand you wish for us to leave, but I doubt that your husband wants to do spa treatments with you.” “Spa treatments?” Fida was completely confused now. “I’m sorry, but I have to cook and clean. My husband-” “Surely, he wouldn’t begrudge you a bit of time for yourself, right? Only a day of spa treatments, free halal meals like kabsa with lamb, chicken, and beef, relaxation around other women, all to make you feel like a brand-new you.” The housewife’s lips pursed. It was tempting, this offer, but she wasn’t allowed to leave the house without a male relative with her, and she didn’t have any other than her husband. “He can come with us to the spa, if you’re concerned about leaving without permission. We already talked to him.” “At his work? Is it all right if I call him…?” “Of course, dear.” Fida walked to the house phone (she was not allowed a cell phone) and dialed her husband’s cellphone number. One ring, two rings, three rings. “Yes, Fida?” Botros asked with boredom in his Arabic tongue. “It’s about that stupid fucking spa, isn’t it?” “Yes,” she whispered, also in Arabic. “Speak up, or you’ll regret it.” “Yes, it is about the spa,” she said, a little louder. “Of course. I’ve been asked as well. I asked Aisha to come over to cover your household chores, while you spend your day there. Then I expect you to come back.” “Yes, my love.” “I learned something from Aisha as well. She’s expecting my child.” Fida froze, her heart breaking. “That’s…wonderful, my love,” she said in what she hoped was a happy tone. “It is. I could still use you for household chores, but I’m planning on marrying her and having many more children together.” “Of…of course.” “Well…I expect you back at the time of my choosing.” “Yes, my love. Ila al-lika'a ya habibi.” Her husband - for now, she assumed - didn’t even say goodbye before he hung up, and she forced herself not to cry. She was going to be reduced to a mere servant, all because he found a younger woman who could bear his children. The woman and her male friend were still outside, but looked sympathetic. Fida then decided to take a chance. Fuck her cheating, abusive husband; he didn’t need to know. “I’ll go to your spa, and he won’t be invited.” - Maela Wheaton’s thoughts were in chaos as she drove her Uber cab in Birmingham, U.K., looking for people to pick up for a fare in her company’s Nissan Leaf. She took her meds this morning, she knew it! Olanzapine, clozapine, paliperidone palmitate, valproate, lithium, all sorts of anti-depressants, she took as many as she dared, but nothing worked for very long, and buying extra meds, plus groceries and gas put her deep in the red. She had a small flat that she shared with loud arsehole housemates, but she was barely making rent work. Her dark-brown eyes were trained on the road, as she gripped the steering wheel like a vise. She ignored her long black hair falling in her eyes as the extreme high of the mania made her do stupid things like cut off other cars with a honk of her horn, her paranoia justifying it by their slights, fuck them, fuck them all, they had no idea how hard life could be… Maela shuddered. Being a British Chinese girl, she had a miserable time in school, both primary and secondary, but she made it to college with good marks…until her schizoaffective disorder came into play. She ended up dropping out of college, her family disowning her, leaving her with nothing. But she worked her arse off to get this job, and she sure as shit wasn’t going to lose it. She drove to the city block where her clients, a Ms. Juve and a Mr. Mede (odd names, but they were legal) had asked for her car, and she saw them: a very young woman (probably four years younger than she was, and she was twenty-four) with Chinese features and a very effeminate young man who had similar features were waiting, seemingly unbothered by the hustle and bustle. Maela unlocked the door. “Where to?” she asked politely; they were her first customers of the day. “The ZLS London Zoo,” the woman said with cheer in her tone. “You’re Maela Wheaton, right?” Maela sighed. It would be a long drive, especially with her meds, but it would pay a decent amount as well. “Yeah, I’m your driver," she said as the couple closed the door. “Your fare will be €175-€215 for conversion, and you pay after the ride’s over.” “Is it all right if we talk to you on the way?” the woman, Juve, asked. “Erm…” “I’ll pay double if you allow us to talk to you, Maela,” Juve coaxed. “Fine." She drove away from the busy street, her eyes trained on the road. “What do you want to talk about?” “Well…we’re the owners of a nice little spa in London,” Mede said, his voice very stereotypically gay. “We’ve had all sorts of clientele, famous people, but we serve…others nowadays.” “That’s nice,” Maela said, her voice bored. “We were wondering if you could come to our spa when able,” Juve said. “Me?” Maela said with a laugh. “How much would it cost? I’m not exactly rich.” “The money you get from this drive should cover all of the costs and more,” the woman said with a kind smile. “It would be a full treatment, lots of pampering, massages, expert services, stuff like that.” Maela’s fragmented mind began to wander. Yeah, that did sound rather nice…but she was in the red, and she couldn’t exactly take a day off… “Just feel free to stop by whenever you’re free and willing. You seem like you could use it.” “Yeah, I…I have schizoaffective disorder, so I could use something to help, anything.” “I can’t imagine.” It was sympathy, which Maela hated…but unlike most who expressed such sentiments, it didn’t seem fake from Juve. Then a call echoed from her dashboard. “Hang on, it’s my supervisor. I have to take this.” She opened a line. “Hello?” “Hello,” an automated voice said. “Due to costs, we regret to inform you that after this ride, we will be forced to make cost-cutting layoffs. We wish you the best in your new endeavors.” Maela started to cry. She had been laid off? NOW?! This was a disaster. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Juve asked. “Just…I’m going to have to drop you two off; I’m no longer employed by the company. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but-” “Don’t worry about it, honey,” Juve said sympathetically. “Tell you what, here’s your payment.” She used a debit card and transferred…a very significant amount, to Maela’s utmost shock. €1,000? This is insane! I didn’t even do anything big! “Just consider the spa, honey,” Juve said, handing her a business card. “The money is yours to do as you wish with, but all I ask is that you consider using some of it for a day at the spa.” The two exited the car on a street, having not gone very far from Birmingham at all. Maela looked at the money, a decision to make. Tomorrow works. I’ll search for a job after I go there for a day. - Tawny Wheeler was working at a gentleman’s club in Manchester, U.K. Yeah, it was a stripper’s name to some, but the Black woman didn’t mind it as much; she loved the first name that her parents chose for her. Her flawless ebony skin gleamed in the lights, her lips filled, makeup expertly done. She had to look utterly stunning for her clients, both of whom were in a private room, as was custom. The woman’s hips swayed seductively, her heels clicking on the floor as she entered the room with the clients: a woman and an effeminate looking young man, both of them Black and beautiful to her, both of them with pretty long locks, looking a year or two younger than she was, in their early twenties. She danced on the pole in front of them. It was an opening act, the start to a lap dance, and maybe something more, if they so wanted and were willing to pay her on the side for it. Tawny was bi as hell, had no issues with men or women paying for sexual favors from her on the side, so long as they weren’t…her. The woman who raped me. Just because I was an exotic dancer, she brought me to her home, and… She had tried to report the woman to the police, but they weren’t very sympathetic to her plight, said it was her fault. Just because that woman was rich, powerful, and obsessed…she could - and did - stalk Tawny everywhere she went, hiring private investigators to see where she went, demanding to see her at her job, even stalking her to her house in Moss Side, one of, if not the, worst area in Manchester, where she would do anything to get out of… Then again, would her family be proud of her and what she did? They had either passed a while ago or moved out of the U.K. to other countries. Would her father look down on her for being an exotic dancer? Would her mom call her a whore for what she did to survive another day? And her sisters had left for American jobs a while ago, both of them far smarter and gifted than she was. Tawny tried to drive the thoughts out of her mind, tried to keep tears from pricking at her brown eyes; she was performing, not focusing on herself, but the woman seemed to notice her turmoil. “Are you okay, dear?” the Black woman asked. Tawny flipped her bleached-blonde braided hair in annoyance. “Yes, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice not inviting conversation. “Well…you seem like you could use a bit of a break. You know we own a nice spa, right?” Tawny seemed to perk up as she continued dancing. A spa? An actual honest-to-God spa? She could use some R&R, but her job…and the payment… “Don’t worry about it. The money we'll give you for this session will more than pay for a day at the spa. A treatment tailored to you, dear.” The woman’s eyes were quite warm and inviting, and Tawny was more than just a little tempted. “Sure,” she said. “What’s the earliest you can have me?” “Tomorrow, easily.” Tawny pondered it and made her decision. “I’m in. But first, that lap dance I promised you two…” - Former Petty Officer (honorably discharged from the Royal Navy) Sable Stokes was at the Royal British Legion in London, looking for help and not getting what she wanted. She wanted to take things to keep her up, to stop the nightmares of the Somalian pirates that invaded her small ship, seeing her mates all die to protect her, brutally killing the pirates, all of their faces - her friends and foes alike - in her nightmares every night. Why did everyone refuse that? Why did they want her to sleep? Why did they want her to feel all of that pain? “Look, Petty Officer Stokes, we’ll recommend you to our therapist, but we can’t prescribe you amphetamines; it’s illegal.” “I don’t want to sleep,” Sable said desperately, the nails on her olive-skinned hands digging into the handles of the wooden chair she sat in, her brown hair falling over her face. She hated that she had even joined the Royal Navy eight years ago on a promise and a prayer. If she hadn’t, she would’ve had a normal life… “Petty Officer Stokes, you have to sleep some time.” The secretary was seemingly sympathetic, but she didn’t want sympathy; she wanted the nightmares to go away. “The doctor will discuss things shortly. Do you have a next of ki-” “I don’t!” Sable screamed, the tenuous string holding her temper snapping. “My family’s from Ireland, and they hate me! My husband is dead from brain cancer! My mates died on the HMS Ladon! I - have - NOTHING!” “Security, please-” "There's no need for security; she's merely distraught," a new male voice said. A gentle hand on Sable's shoulder guided her away from the panicking secretary as she started sobbing. “There we go, get it all out, that’s a good girl,” the male doctor whispered in her ear as Sable relaxed in the soft, yet firm grip. “Who are…” “Doctor Alex Juves,” the male doctor said kindly. “Sable, if you could follow me to my office?” Sable reluctantly followed, feeling glad that the man hadn’t called her by her rank. She was not proud of being part of the Royal Navy, even with the friends she made. She had spent years on ships, not knowing her husband was secretly dying, wanting to be strong for her sake. Her mates on the Ladon, all dead. Every one of them in her head at night. No, she wanted nothing to do with Royal Navy services…but she didn’t have a choice, being unemployed and living disability check to check. The office was full of baby, toddler, and children’s pictures, an equal amount of boys and girls from the look of things. Sable tried not to sob; this is what she and her husband wanted: children of their own. Now he was lost to her for good; Steven Stokes was in Heaven without a doubt, while she was certainly headed down below. The male doctor looked oddly youthful, much younger than she was (she estimated him to be twenty-one years old, while she was seven years older), athletic, with trimmed brown hair and no facial hair, and calm green eyes. “Honey…” the doctor began, and Sable relaxed a bit at the paternal tone, “I think a spa trip would be for the best. It’s owned by a woman whom I trust with my life, and I think a day of relaxation would be for the best.” “A spa trip?” Sable snorted. “What do you take me for, a girly-girl?” “It’s not just for girly-girls. I’m just thinking of a day of relaxation, and that can be for anyone, even the biggest tomboy.” She sighed. “How much does it cost?” she asked. “For military discounts such as yours? Nothing at all.” “Nothing’s free-” “I know. All I’m saying is that the military discount is valid for this spa. A day of relaxation, freedom, and free of worry. Is that something you’d want?” “But the nightmares-” “And you have the choice of sleeping or not sleeping, Sable. Nothing will be done that you don’t want. I’m just recommending it for relaxation, and I’ve scheduled tomorrow as your day. Sound good?” Sable bit her lip. It seemed as though it had been decided for her…but hey, it was just a fucking spa! What was the worst that could happen? “Fine.” - Russet Royal had just been fired, arrested, and was awaiting her sentence for failing a drug test and getting caught with glass (crystal meth), lamenting her life choices as she sat in the London slammer cell. The skinny transwoman sulked, curled up in a corner, knowing that she had been placed with two men, one of whom was leering at her with ill intent. She merely glared at them with her icy-blue eyes, her red hair falling in wavy strands over her pale, freckled face, daring them to try something. “Hey, little bitch,” a man sneered. “You got a man? I can give you what your pussy wants…” “Dude, that thing’s a tranny,” another man said, rolling his eyes. “Unless you’re a poof?” “I’m not a fuckin’ poof! Fuck, how was I supposed to know? I’m not fuckin’ tranny ass!” Russet ignored the slurs, tried to ignore the depression, exhaustion, and aching all over her body and head: all signs of her amphetamine withdrawal. She was homeless and on the streets, the only job she was able to get was a barista job that she used to buy the next high. And now she was fired and looking at a serious prison sentence. Then a banging on the cell. “Paulson Pritchard?” Russet ignored her deadname, both first and last, her parents being so horribly bigoted that she long since discarded it when she had been kicked out. “Paulson Pritchard!” It had to be a withdrawal hallucination at this point; nothing would surprise her. “PAULSON PRITCHARD, GET YOUR FUCKING ARSE UP OR I’LL MAKE YOU!” “It’s Russet Royal, arsehole!” she snapped back in her Cockney accent. “Call me by me right name, an’ I won’t fuck ya up!” “Your barrister is here. Your choice if you want to go to him pepper sprayed or not.” Russet sighed in annoyance, getting up with her wrists long since handcuffed behind her back, as the guard roughly dragged her out of the cell, the pain from his grip causing her to grimace. He led her to a small room with a table and chairs, one of them holding a surprisingly young man in it (two years older than her age, she guessed, and she was eighteen), athletic, tall. The guard stood to the side until the young man, his brown hair long over his cleanshaven face, waved him off before saying, “I want her handcuffs off. Now.” Russet stared into space, a bit confused. Did the man say… “He’s a dangerous drug-addled prisoner. I won’t risk your safety.” “I want the handcuffs off of this young lady. She’s trans, if you somehow didn’t know. How dare you put her in a cell with two older men?” The tone wasn’t truly accusatory, but it caused the guard to fume before he unlocked Russet’s cuffs, as she tried to rub feeling into her wrists. “And now I want you out of the room whilst I discuss the magistrate’s judgement.” “You’re serious? This is a criminal-” “First time offender with no history of violent crimes and mitigating factors. Out.” The guard looked like he was going to explode with anger, but he left, thank God. Russet sighed in relief. “Fanks, Mr. Um…” “Call me Nick Juves.” The barrister’s bright blue eyes were kind. “I talked to the magistrate about a private sentence if you plead guilty: time served but with probation and house arrest at a place of our choosing.” Russet sighed again. “And if I don’t?” she asked in an irritable, yet dead tone. “Russet, you’re looking at seven years if you plead not guilty. Evidence is there and everything. You will be convicted, and I don’t want that for you. You have so much to give and deserve to receive help. I remember seeing you at your barista job in London. You were so kind to everyone, and asked everyone how they were doing, including me.” She stared at the barrister in shock. “I don’t-” “Remember it? No, I don’t suppose you would. But that’s why I took your case. The magistrate knows the place where you’d be at house arrest. Technically, it’s more of an upscale spa owned by a woman I dearly care about. Rest, relaxation, spending your free time there. All he asks is that you don’t leave.” Russet immediately brightened up. This actually sounded like it could be fun. “It’s…it’s a deal,” she said, her tone happy for once as she shook his hand. - Joan and Hazel MacTaggart were twins that had been separated for quite some time. Joan worked in Liverpool as a grocery store checkout operator by day and a waitress at night, Hazel worked as a morning waitress and a night shift petrol station attendant in Rotherham, both of them separated from birth in spite of Grandma Mac’s protests, not even being told of each other by their petty family members after the messy divorce. It was truly a messy situation, with each of their so-called “families” disowning them after they insisted on seeing each other, and for…reasons neither had admitted to each other…yet. Not that it mattered to them; they merely took the maiden name of their maternal grandmother - the only person who accepted both of them for the women they were - without hesitation, and even though she passed a year after they met at twenty, they always made sure to make their days together count, just like she always said. When they found each other after all that time, they were overjoyed, but were unable to visit each other due to their full job schedule. Until today. They were in London, both of them dressed to the nines, both of them with their long light blonde hair in shag-style haircuts, both of them were heavily tattooed (and with both of them wearing spiked chokers, they were definitely punk-culture oriented), their green eyes each showing love for their twin as they had coffee and chatted at a small cafe that catered to fetish cultures (something both of them hadn’t yet admitted to each other, but wanted to, waiting for the other to make a move first). The only difference between them was their clothing, even though they both wore all black: Joan was wearing a blouse, a knee-length pleated skirt, and heels, while Hazel wore a long-sleeved shirt, a knee-length skirt, leggings, and flats. “God, it’s bigger than I thought it would be, Joan,” Hazel murmured. “I don’t know what to do.” “Me neither, Hazel,” Joan said, sipping on her coffee. “There’s just so much to see…” “Why not our spa?” a feminine voice said. Joan and Hazel turned their heads to the side, as they saw a woman who looked about a year younger than they were, also wearing a spiked collar with her brown hair and beautiful in a full latex suit, as well as an effeminate blond boy in a frilly maid costume wearing a dog collar with spikes, the woman holding his leash as he was lying on the ground. “Where did you two come from?” Hazel asked. “I didn’t see you earlier…” “OH, we just sat down,” the woman said cheerfully, pulling the lead. “I’m Juve, and this is my little pet maid, Mede.” “I’m Joan, and my younger twin is Hazel,” Joan said with a smirk. Ever since she found out she was the older twin from her grandmother, she always lorded it over her sister. “Dammit, Joan, it was ten minutes. Ten minutes.” Juve merely smiled. “I’m pretty sure that you both could have fun at our spa. We cater to fetishes of all types as well as doing relaxing procedures. Oh, and the food is amazing.” “Is it in London?” Joan asked. “Yep! Here’s my card, one for each of you.” Both twins took the card. “Juventas’ Winged Oasis, huh?” Hazel said. “You said it caters to fetishes?” “That it does,” Juve said with a smirk. “You have a poison?” Neither twin seemed eager to share, looking embarrassed all of a sudden. “Aww, it’s okay, we’re friendly here. I have my own fetish, Mede here is a maid and petplay addict, can’t get enough of it.” “Mistress,” Mede whined. “Heel, girl.” The order was a bit stern, and Mede lay at Juve’s feet in a shockingly docile manner. “Feel free to say as much or as little as you want.” “Do you cater to adult baby fetishes?” Joan asked, before blushing and covering her mouth. “Sis, you too?” Joan turned in shock to see Hazel blushing. “Wait, Hazel, you also-” “Well, that solves a lot of problems.” Juve looked genuinely happy, and not in a mean way. “We can easily do that at our spa. No need to bring anything other than stuffies and favorite dummies.” Both twins looked sad, and Juve seemed to look sad as well. “You don’t have any stuffies or dummies?” “No,” Joan said. “I have to survive. It’s hard enough to buy nappies.” “Yeah, adult nappies are the only thing I’ve allowed myself,” Hazel admitted. “Tell you what, we can find you a stuffie each and provide the dummies, the bottles, actual adult baby nappies, everything a happy baby girl needs.” “How much will it cost?” Hazel asked in trepidation. “Tell you what: first time’s on me. It’ll cost more for extra ‘sessions’.” The woman almost seemed to transform into a dominatrix in front of their eyes. “Sound good?” Joan and Hazel looked at each other incredulously, unbelieving of their luck, before saying simultaneously, “You bet!” - Apologies in advance for the long, fragmented chapter: it would've been too short to post each person's response, and I want to move into this story as quickly as I could. Anyway, here are the translations of some of the foreign words: Halal = Islamic limits to what one is religiously allowed to eat. Kabsa = an Arabic rice dish that has a meat (usually lamb or chicken, but can include beef, fish, goat, even camel) with vegetables and a mixture of spices. Batata harri = a Lebanese dish with potatoes, vegetables, and spices. "Ila al-lika'a ya habibi." = "Until we meet again, my love." (Directed towards a man.) Hope y'all enjoyed this very long chapter - and for you Brits out there, let me know how I did~ I swear to holy fate, I researched as much as I could, but if I made mistakes, please let me know.

Well, came up with a new story on the fly. Welcome to Method Acting, a brand-new AR story. Yes, there's a lot of tags, but I figure it needed them. It's sort-of based on the Me-Too movement, given the subject matter, particularly young female actresses going up against a rich and powerful man. Obviously, all characters here are not based on anyone in real life; just the situation. As for the content, the tags do not include what the MC actress thinks happened to her fellow actresses: sexual assault; while what he did to the MC is a sexual crime and while there are implied threats, he did not assault the others in terms of forcing himself onto others. This story will not include sex crimes against children or grooming; he's not in it for that. He's a disgusting excuse for a person, don't get me wrong, though; just not...that. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. But if you're still with me, feel free to read on: - Chapter One: Cynthia's Interview - Cynthia Nachtnebel was seriously pissed off, as she sat in the media room in the El Cid Theater, waiting for the exact time for security to open the door so that the media could come in, her long fingers steepled over the conference table, close to the microphone. Yes, she was a twenty-six-year-old up-and-coming actress, and yes, she knew that such a profession entailed a certain lack of anonymity. Yes, she was used to creeps by now - directors, actors, media, fans, all types - and she knew how to deal with them without trashing her budding career. Yes, she knew of the salacious rumor mill about whom she was dating, where she was dating them, and why she hadn’t sealed the deal. She didn’t care about any of that as much; she almost expected it, being a fairly tall (last time she had gotten measured, she was 5’9”; never ask a lady her weight), athletic (to the point of doing her own stunts) and beautiful (long and curly platinum-blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, and a body that most women would kill for) woman. Wasn’t her fault she hit the genetic lottery, after all, and people could get jealous of that. She knew that from middle school on. But there was absolutely no excuse for what this…motherfucking sleazeball did! What that fucker, A-Bomb or whatever his name was, did was despicable, degrading, and didn’t just cross the line; he leapt well over it. Cynthia had no issues raising hell against him, no matter how filthy rich and obscenely powerful he was - and he was absolutely loaded with both, especially for a paparazzi. Her fellow actresses and actors, the directors of her films, her agent, all of them had advised her against meeting him head on. But someone had to make a stand, right? If it wasn’t her, some other poor girl would have to do it - and Cynthia Nachtnebel was not the type to let someone else get hurt while she stood on the sidelines. The media were outside, waiting for her to start with bated breath: she had made it quite public on social media that she had a big announcement before she would take any questions. Some assumed she was pregnant. Cynthia was far from ace/aro (pan would be a more fitting description), but she was always careful with birth control and the like; she would wait for the kids until later on in her career. Her actress mother, Nikole, with Cynthia being an only child, wanted grandkids. Her mother would have to wait for that. Others thought it was to promote one of her movies. Cynthia never had regrets for any of the movies she played a role in, getting her start at seventeen in a horror film (which she played so well as a method actress - even though her character ended up dying at the end - that directors immediately lined up to get their piece), rising through the ranks and movies for eight (would’ve been nine, if not for…the incident) years, going from romance, to comedy, to action, and everything in between, never being afraid to dive deep into a character study. Even if the movies bombed, people still raved about her acting and how respectful she was to the character and the film. Still more thought it would be a minor thing that she thought was major news, making a mountain out of a molehill. Cynthia had no idea why some would think that of her, even after everything she did in her career, but she supposed there were skeptics for everything. She was always respectful to her fans, making sure to stay long hours for autographs, and respond to all of the social media posts and letters she received personally. She got along famously with the stuntmen and stuntwomen; her German-born father, Hans-Jurgen was one, and it’s what got her interested in doing her own stunts. She got along well with everyone involved in the film industry, from the cameramen, the costume designers, the makeup artists, and everyone, even to the most menial janitors, but the stuntpeople were whom she was closest to from childhood on. She always treated her peers with respect, even with other actresses, always trying to take the peaceful route, and ended up making a lot of lifelong friends with actors, actresses, agents, and many others…including two that she wanted to talk about today. Even the media, for the most part, she was cordial with, even when her anxiety caused her to have panic attacks around the scrums at first. The media was still a little scary for her, but most of them were accepting, she thought. None of those theories were close to the truth of the matter. Cynthia breathed. In, out. In, out. She was never comfortable with the attention; she just wanted to play roles, disappear into them, forget who she was for a moment in time. But she accepted that things were never going to go the way they did again. Not after what he did, and not after what she was going to do. The last nine months, from January on, were hell on earth. The disappearances of fellow actress and close friend Bethany Grassman and her agent, Nancy Leighton in the December before were bad enough…but then…it happened. The photos. The porn sites. The Photoshopping. The words of “slut”, “whore”, “cunt”, and many more uncreative variations wherever she saw her picture. The death and rape threats - including THE BIG ONE from HIM. The loss of respect and the shattering of her safety. The immense anxiety and numerous panic attacks. Checking voluntarily into a private psych facility from early February to late March (even though she never talked to a counselor about what had happened), and the stalking of her there by HIM. Disappearing out of Hollywood to the small town in Germany she was born in, becoming a recluse for four more months, and being forced to cancel her movies for the entirety of the year- something she had never foreseen herself ever doing - in tears, just so she could get away from it all. And worst of all, forcing herself off the computer for those nine months, just so that she didn’t start hysterically sobbing all over again from the horrible speculation, nasty comments, and all of the threats. Cynthia was going to show A-Bomb just a bit of that hell: by exposing his fucking ass for the world to see. And oh boy, did she have a fuckload of evidence to expose him. She’d go to court and everything if she had to. She’d get him locked away for the rest of his sad, miserable life. And even if her friends were… Tears poured from her eyes, and she wiped them away before a steely look came over her face. This was not the time to cry; she had done all the crying she had to do. This was the time where she had to be strong. Cynthia nodded to the security guards to open the door for the media storm, aware of the flashing cameras, aware of the shouts, but she was perfectly, shockingly calm. She knew that she had to do this. Nobody else needed to get hurt by A-Bomb. She tapped the microphone to make sure it was working, holding up her hand for silence before she began after taking a deep, long breath. “I’m aware that all of you have questions, that everyone has questions, and I promise that I will answer all of them in turn,” she began, making sure her slight German accent wasn’t breaking into her voice, “and I know it has been a very long time since I’ve publicly spoken. I’ve been asked not to speak out by directors, by the stuntpeople I know, by my agent, by fellow actors and actresses, by…well, everyone I’ve talked to. They’re afraid of what might happen to me if I do. But if not me, who? And what would it cost them, in turn? “I speak, of course, on the conduct of one man in particular: Adrian Naposki. You may know him as the famous paparazzi ‘A-Bomb’.” Cynthia’s fingers clenched the papers in her hands. “You have known me for a very long time. For the longest time, you have known that I have promoted myself as family oriented, even with my anxiety and panic attacks. I do not pose for nude pictures of my breasts while asleep in my bed. I do not pose for pictures spreadeagled so that my vagina is showing. And I don’t send said pictures to porn sites so that impotent whack jobs can jerk off on them and call me a slut or a whore. “For the longest time, you have seen that I do not partake in drinking or illicit substances; fellow actors, actresses, stuntpeople, directors, everyone who knows me knows that I do not partake in anything of the sort. I have never once tasted alcohol after what I saw it did to my grandfather and learning how he beat my dad when he was drunk. I have never been interested in marijuana, much less heroin and crack-cocaine. “Then where, you ask, did all of those pictures come from? Where did all of those drugs come from? Mr. Naposki, of course. I have video records of Mr. Naposki’s visits to marijuana parlors, liquor stores, even street corners where he made numerous purchases. I had to pull a lot of strings and spend most of my earnings to get the evidence necessary, but I got it. But more importantly, I have my house cameras…where he trespassed at night, took numerous pictures of me naked, and placed the illicit substances in my home.” She placed a large file of the papers on the desk. “You are free to read them at your leisure: because I’ve already sent it to every newspaper, every news website, even the tabloids - and the police. Especially the police. “I also have the digitally recorded kidnapping, rape, and death threat - and the implication that he did the same to Bethany Grassman and Nancy Leighton, two of my closest friends - of Mr. Naposki here.” Cynthia bit her trembling lip, brought out a tape recorder, and pressed play on the microphone, the New Jersey accented words of the paparazzi coming clearly out of the speaker. “Lissen, sweetheart, I’m gonna give yew a one-time offer: yew go public with what I say or do, I will screw with yew and what little remains of your pride. I will screw with yew so hard that your screaming and crying will echo in my house, like with Bethy and Nani. An’ if I ever get bored of yew, well, I might just make yew have an accident an’ have fun with that. Got it, sweetheart? I’ll be seein’ yew. Bye for now, cutiepie! Love your tits and pussy!” The room was so silent that one of the reporter’s phones dropped on the carpet with a thunderous crash…and nobody said anything of it, the horror in their eyes clear at what was a rich and famous media personality essentially admitting that he had raped and murdered two women - and was apparently more than willing to do it again. Cynthia’s eyes were dripping with tears as she paused the tape recorder. “That day, realizing that Bethany and Nancy were raped and murdered, was the worst day of my life,” she continued, trying to keep her voice from shaking, trying to breathe as she brushed her tears away. “I went to the police. For whatever fucking reason, they said they couldn’t help. My friends, two of the kindest women I knew, were murdered, and they couldn’t help me because this…monster was too rich and powerful for them to deal with. I was terrified of him, especially after I learned that he stalked me and took pictures of me when I was in psych. I left for Germany. I couldn’t handle the constant torment. “It took me too long…but I realized that Mr. Naposki would just hurt someone else if not me. So, I went higher than the police, pulled as many strings as I could. You can talk to CIA Agent Francis Fortier if you need more information; he’ll be more than willing to answer any questions you have. “I will not be cowed. I will not stay silent any longer. Mr. Naposki raped and murdered two of my friends and possibly many others that we don’t know of yet. He threatened to rape and murder me. And if this ends with me disappearing or dying, I’ll be glad to sacrifice my life so that he goes down for good. I will not leave it to another woman to suffer from him in order to for him to be put down like the rabid animal he is. “I have absolutely no problems with the media; you have embraced me even with all of my shortcomings, all of my flaws, all of my moments of weakness, and I love you for it. I have no hatred for the paparazzi as a whole; it is something that comes with being an actress, being well-known, and they have to make a living as well in this business, too. It is just this one monster, Mr. Naposki, that has gone way too far. “And to my fans who have been waiting for my name to be on a movie for almost a year, to the directors I’ve had to turn down offers from, including sequels to movies I’ve made, to my agent who has been in the dark with this, only knowing that I have a problem with Mr. Naposki, to the many people I’ve grown to know and love in the film industry, I am truly sorry that I have nothing to say except for what I’ve just said. This is something I had to get out, so that Mr. Adrian ‘A-Bomb’ Naposki cannot hide, cannot run, and most importantly, never harms anyone ever again. “With that, you may ask any questions you wish.” - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Well, I have a new story idea that I couldn't help but write a couple of starting chapters while attempting to focus on my other stories. If you're confused about the title, you'll see that I'm focusing on a separate fae universe in my stories (because the fae - fairy-like creatures of both benevolence and maliciousness - are very intriguing mythological creatures that I've wanted to delve into for a long while and finally got a solid idea for it that I've been writing out). As far as content warnings for this story (and why it's rated mature): body horror, mutilation (stated in this chapter), and modification, full physical, mental, and emotional age regression, scenes of serious violence, abuse, and implied torture, character death, human slavery, sexual extortion (and by all technical things, it could absolutely be classified as rape since consent isn't there), mental disassociation, memory-erasing/mind-wiping, bullying, political stuff (in the fae world, for the most part, but also for humanity as well; it won't be as prominent as Weres Wear Everywhere, but it's there), bigotry (humans towards fae and fae towards humans alike), and language. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. If you aren't scared away by all of the content warnings, feel free to read on: - Chapter One: Emergency Phone Call - Tansy Coombs was out for dinner in a fancy seafood restaurant in Tampa Bay with her boyfriend, absentmindedly tapping her fork on her uneaten grouper without eating when she got a call that changed her life forever. As a pro women’s tennis player and attractive with curly red hair, warm sea-green eyes, and a curvy, athletic frame, she had no shortage of suitors, no shortage of assholes who wanted to have a relationship with her…but somehow, Romilly Airington was different. She had dated him for four months, and he had been nothing short of courteous and kind toward her, not showing any red flags whatsoever. During the rare times when they met, he was even nice and friendly towards her long-time guy friends, her oldest and closest friends. Tansy smiled while in her own thoughts, Stuart Hooper and Cyrus Weaver, who were fellow pro tennis players with girlfriends of their own, and judging by their star-struck looks (which she found absolutely adorable) whenever they talked about them (as well as said girlfriends confessing to Tansy how madly in love they were with her friends), it wouldn’t be long before she had to replace the word “girlfriends” with “fiancées” and maybe even “wives” eventually. Of course, there was that one thing that she couldn’t tell anyone about, even Stuart and Cyrus. Mother… Tansy was estranged from her mother for many reasons. Yeah, she occasionally contacted her mom (even though cell phones weren’t what her mother used for…reasons) for the holidays and her birthday, but they always had nothing to talk about, and every time they did, it was a danger to both of their lives - for Tansy was half-fae, and her mother, Vulperia Cinnamoncloud, was the Queen of the fae’s Court, known to all of the fae as “An Cúirt”. Vulperia hated humans. She never trusted Stuart or Cyrus, let alone approved of Romilly in the slightest. And ever since her spouse - Tansy’s father - died, her hatred towards humans was only more pronounced, more embittered. Tansy had no room for hatred in her heart. She knew that she’d long outlive any human, even being only half-fae; her time with her friends was far too precious to waste on anger, especially since both boys had stayed best friends with her at her lowest moment. Besides, a lot of fae did horrible things to humans as well, playing completely malicious tricks on them at best, and brutally murdering them at worst. Her mother wouldn’t hurt humans, even for all of her bigotry, all of her bitterness. She may have hated humans, but she didn’t want to declare war like a fair number of fae; she just wanted humanity to leave them alone. Tansy supposed she couldn’t blame her mother for that…but that didn’t mean that her friends or boyfriend deserved the vitriol and cold hatred she showed against them. And now Cyrus and Stuart were both really sick with vomiting, fevers, stomach cramps, and diarrhea. Food poisoning, they said. They’d get over it in a week, they said. Well, it had been a week, they hadn’t gotten better, and she was concerned, putting them in her home in Tampa so that they’d be together and have help (neither of them were wanting to go to the hospital, given that their next match - the U.S. Open where both of them were playing for the title and keeps - was in two weeks). She even told them to call her phone number during her date if they really needed her help, she was that concerned for their health. “Tansy? Are you…okay?” Tansy looked up to see Romilly. The man looked unassuming, wearing thick horn-rimmed glasses that made his concerned hazel eyes, shifting from gold to green and brown depending on the light, seem much bigger than they were, his hair a military buzzcut of sandy-brown with a Van Dyke-like curled moustache and goatee showing the otherwise hidden color prominently. His height was exactly six feet, five inches taller than she was, and his body, the rare times she saw him shirtless (and she couldn’t help but notice the awful scarring all over his back…almost like he had been whipped with a cat-o-nine by a total sadist. She had not gained the courage to ask him where it was from; given what she was hiding, she thought it would’ve been horribly rude of her to ask.) was sinewy and packed with lean, toned muscle. Romilly Airington may not have been the most handsome man out there, and if women were looking for an attractive hunk of a man, he wouldn’t have been on the list. But Tansy only cared about one thing: if Romilly treated her, Cyrus, Stuart, and their lovers right - and the one time she saw him interact with them all at the party in Miami two months ago cemented that he really was a very kind, gentle, and genuine soul. There was not a hateful bone in the man’s body, that she could tell from long experience of many dates gone bad. “Yes, Mills?” she asked, using his pet name. “You haven’t touched your grouper. Is everything okay?” Tansy figured she could say the thing that was truly on her mind. “Stu and Cy got sick a week ago. Really bad food poisoning.” Romilly’s eyes widened. “Are they okay?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. “I know that the U.S. Open is soon. It’s okay, we can continue the date after they’re better, and-” Her phone rang, and her heart plummeted into her stomach when she saw the number: the number was her home phone. The fae-safe phone; iron was the weakness of every single person with fae blood, and no fae could even handle touching it but goblins and half-fae that denied their heritage. Like her. “Hello?” she asked cautiously, holding her phone to her ear. “Mommy!” a voice cried out. A very young girl’s voice. “Mommy, me and Stuey need help!” She sighed. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but-” “Mommy, it’s Cy-Cy! ‘Member me?” “Mommy!” Another little girl’s voice was bawling out the words. “Me and Cy-Cy had accidents! We’re sorry!” “Tell me what you remember,” Tansy said gently. “I’m not sure who you are.” “You had accidents, too!” the first girl whimpered. “All the way till big school! The really big school!” “We dressed as babies for Halloween in the academy to help you!” the second girl sobbed. “‘Member the trick-or-treat at the big school?” She froze. Yeah, it was common knowledge that she had been a late bloomer when it came to potty training…for the people who knew her up to middle school and her freshman year of high school. And nobody at the tennis academy she was at knew. But it was the Halloween trick-or-treat that cemented it, that made her immediately know that despite sounding like little girls, they were her lifelong friends. Tansy didn’t know who would play such a horrible trick on her or them, but if her mother had hurt those two in any way… “Okay. I’ll be there as fast as I can,” she said in a soothing tone. “Hang tight.” She hung up, her eyes wide as moons. “Cyrus and Stuart?” Romilly deduced, his eyes gazing at her curiously behind his glasses. “Yes. I have to go.” “I’ll save the food and pay for our meal. Don’t worry about it. Go to them.” Tansy nodded her thanks to Romilly, getting her purse and smoothing out her black knee-length dress before leaving for her car, a gray 2016 Dodge Durango SUV, the afternoon sun beating down on it. She was breathing in a panic as she turned the key in the ignition, exiting the restaurant’s parking lot, barely remembering to turn on the AC so she wasn’t cooked by the August heat. Sweat poured down her face, and she wiped her head, obeying the traffic laws as laxly as she could afford to; if the fae were responsible in any way for what was going on, time was of the essence. After thirty arduous minutes - and more than one red light run; she’d pay for it later, but right now, she didn’t care - she had arrived at her two story Tampa house, killing the Durango in the driveway, fumbling with the keys to open the front door. “Cy? Stu?” she called out, as she entered the warm house. “Mommy!” the two simultaneous voices of young girls called out. Then Tansy saw the two, and she dropped her phone and keys from her nerveless fingers as her whole world went to hell. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to a break with social normities. These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Punishments (often unfair, degrading, and/or humiliating) Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of expletives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Political themes associated with revolutions or desires of change or freedoms Literal age regression Depictions of younger children and babies (formerly adults) Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific acts to anything overtly sexual; however, some fetishes maybe touched on in this story more than my previous ones. Still, as usual, this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list here is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be warranted later if needed (though may not be added). If I deem any chapters to be too ‘triggering,’ I will issue another separate warning beforehand. Hey everyone and welcome back! It's almost been a month since I lasted posted regularly with my previous story, and it's definitely been an interesting start to the year so far. Can't say I'm a fan of everything going on, but this story has been a nice place to find some refuge. Also... I swear that I really will get around to updating the DD Reference Guide. May is way too long. Now, as per your previous polling, this story won out over the other two. So far, it’s about 22 chapters total, but this might be subject to change. I need to see how a few things play out after I‘ve fully written and edited a few critical chapters that may need more room to breathe so to speak. As such, it very well could be more. Additionally, I don’t see my work backing down at all and I do have a few trips planned out coming up here, so I will try my best to commit again to at least three chapters a week. More could drop occasionally, especially with some of these chapters having already been written out, but I can’t commit to that fully at this point. Looking ahead, as usual, I will post another poll with three stories in the mix for my next story in chapter two. There are a few things going on this weekend that could delay this but I’m hoping to post chapter 2 by Monday night at the very latest. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys the first chapter of this next story of mine! Chapter 1: Breaking News! It was just like any other spring day in April. The flowers were beginning to pop out and a nice gentle breeze occasionally wafted through the already warming days. Pollen was on its way in large numbers, and I knew I would soon be able to put away even my lighter jacket from my list of things I carried with me outside of the house daily. Nearby, green stems of the plants ready to bloom soon were further signs that change and the truly warmer months were on their way. Being a Sunday, I was well on my way over to joining my parents, and my younger brother and sister for our weekly family dinner. None of us were truly the best communicators out there, so starting when I went away to college, we all at least attempted to attend a regular family meal to keep everyone in the loop on each other’s lives. Journeying from my apartment on the other side of the city, I usually took the freeway that curved around the south side of the main downtown area, but some kind of accident forced me onto the main city streets today instead. Listening to my classic rock station, as soon as I began to pass by some of the taller skyscrapers, my radio suddenly sputtered and crackled. “We pause your regular scheduled program today to bring you an emergency news report. Residents of major cities are advised to avoid downtown areas if all possible,” the almost electronic voice sounded out. I rolled my eyes, seeing the tall skyscrapers starting to grow in numbers and height all around me. Not the largest city in the country, but definitely a major one. “Great… now you tell me… where were you five minutes ago?” The classic rock station then resumed, but despite the heavy bass and solid drum beat echoing in my car once again, I simply couldn’t get my mind off what I had just heard. The last time an announcement like that had been made, the president was in town for some political rally, and the time before that was because of some high terror alert made from some terrorist group. Not hearing of the president or any other celebrity coming into the city today, my hands grew sweaty on the wheel as my mind reeled with the possibili… “Hey!” a voice shouted out in front of me. I immediately hit my breaks and popped out of my own thoughts long enough to see a police officer only about a foot away from the front of my car. Visibly angry, they marched right over to my window and gestured abruptly for me to roll it down, which I did promptly. “Didn’t you hear me before? Didn’t you see me waving at you for you to stop and go the other way?” “No…,” I admitted. “I’m sorry officer. I just heard on the radio about not coming downtown and I was thinking about what… it… could…” I stopped as my eyes drifted just beyond the officer and to the several other police swarming the main downtown area. The once pristine and normally peaceful park at this time on a Sunday just outside of city hall was now littered with dozens of military men and even more police… all setting up barricades or patrolling around… each seemingly ready to react to something. “Uh… the president wouldn’t happen to be coming here today, right?” While looking a little annoyed still, the officer saw where I was looking and then eased up a bit and sighed as she moved a stray hair of her back behind her ear. “No, sir. A fringe group posted a video on their website this morning threatening several major city centers with a demonstration of some kind. Government agencies have listed the threat as credible, so we’re rerouting all traffic coming through here over to West E Street. You know where that is from here?” I nodded. “Local and all, so yes. That’s just two turns away from this intersection up ahead or the one just behind me now.” “Very good, sir,” she said, her face now looking more apprehensive than angry or even annoyed now. “Please reroute over that way with the intersection behind you. There will be signs taking you all the way… just in case.” I nodded again. “Thank you, officer. I’ll get a move on right now…” Without rolling my window back up, I started turning my car wheel to the right to eventually make my U-turn and then get over to West E Street as instructed. Before I could make a full rotation though, the police officer came back to my window “Oh, and sir?” I stopped turning my wheel as the officer clearly forgot to mention something important. “I advise you go to your destination and stay there for a while this afternoon. Your own residence, a friend or a family member would be best… especially away from the city if possible… understand?” “Thank you, officer… just heading over to my family’s house now actually. Over in the Eastern Hills district,” I clarified. About 60% of the neighborhood had a good view of the city, even with all the trees now, but it was still considered outside the main boundary of the city. “Very good, sir,” she said, looking a little relieved. “On your way then.” Her smile put me at ease, but her underlying show of relief and all the other precautions I was now seeing to my rear back in the main part of downtown did not. Still, I drove off, and sure enough, a myriad of signs directed me right over to West E Street, which all then directed me to the beltway. Fortunately, the radio message seemed to do the trick and as I tracked over to my parents’ house, the roads started to become significantly emptier. Eventually pulling up to the house though, I could see my mom pacing back and forth on the front porch, clearly worried that I hadn’t arrived at my usual time. “And just where have you been?” she asked, flipping to me quickly, allowing her hair with her slightly graying roots to flap about in the air. It was always nice to see her and the rest of my family each Sunday, but unfortunately, her tone told me she was both nervous and frustrated with my tardiness. “Sorry… had to take a detour getting over here,” I noted. I guessed her real source of distress was hearing about the warning to stay away from the downtown area, but knowing her, I didn’t want her to worry needlessly about my safety in confirming that I had literally just come from there. She glared at me, but then just waved me inside. “Fine, fine. You should account for all that before you leave, but…” She then sighed and shook her head, seemingly letting my tardiness go. “Just… come inside, Pete. Dinner’s almost ready and the rest of your siblings are already here.” Locking my car door, I nodded and headed inside without further comment. Almost immediately, Amanda ran up to me and did her best to jump into my arms. My younger sister had been a bit of a whoops with my parents, now clocking in at 4 years old, compared to my younger brother Lucas’ 22 and my 28. “Petey!” she squealed. “Youwe here!” I smiled and nodded before nuzzling my nose into hers. “That’s right you little munchkin! All the traffic in the world couldn’t keep me away from my favorite sister!” She giggled in my arms, appreciating my affection and being known as ‘the favorite’ of anything. “She is your only though…” Amanda and I stopped and looked over at our sullen brother, Lucas. Freshly returned from his relatively nearby university for our dinner only and entering his master’s program this year for engineering, the burden of his work had made him surly and had rubbed off the more playful edge he had when he had first left for college. I missed the kid who used to beg me to play tag with him sometimes… “Well… looks like the party pooper is here and in usual form, right sis?” Amanda nodded, likely just to his label as a ‘party pooper,’ and pouted in his direction. Noticing, I couldn’t help but crack a small grin at her tiny fierceness against my brother. “Oops. Looks like you made her mad, bro. I think someone needs to say sorry, huh? What do you think, nugget?” Again, Amanda pouted, even crossing her arms this time, and nodded defiantly. Lucas rolled his eyes but ultimately relented and came over to give us both a hug. Being the older brother of the two, I felt it was my responsibility to keep them civil whenever I could… even if that meant putting my foot down occasionally. Mom and dad did a pretty good job themselves at keeping the order between us, but busy with dinner preparations tonight and at other times, I took over that role nearly seamlessly. “Kids! Dinner’s on!” a voice thundered from inside the house. Unmistakably our dads, his voice was pleasant but overall commanding. It meant get in the kitchen now and don’t dawdle or risk incurring your mom’s wrath over a potentially cold meal. So, scrambling apart, I set Amanda down, and the three of us darted into the kitchen without delay. Quickly serving their own plates, my mom helping Amanda out first before helping her into her booster chair and my brother piling the Bolognese high on his plate, my dad looked at me with a single raised graying eyebrow, his forehead wrinkling precipitously as he did so. “You avoided the car accident on 62 and went downtown, didn’t you? Your… detour, huh?” I sighed and nodded, knowing I could never keep a secret from the man in my life. He just had one of those uncanny knacks of being able to figure out the truth and know it before anyone else. Lucas and I still wondered if his old government job was really a cover for him being a secret agent or something and that’s where he had learned his skills at… but we had never dared to ask him. Still, regardless of how he got them, I didn’t want everyone to know about the little secret he had just pulled out about me and where I had really been today. “Don’t tell the others, please, Dad?” My dad smirked and then quickly shook his head. “I might be an adrenaline junky still, Pete, but I’m not crazy. If your mom knew… whew! She’d find some way to make sure you never drove over here again, or at the very least… find some way to make sure you checked in with her every five or ten minutes in coming over here for the future. So, no. I won’t tell her. I don’t think either of us want to see her like that, right?” I rolled my eyes, but I knew he wasn’t kidding about what she would do. “Right but… ugh! She’s just so…” My dad smirked and nodded his head. “Yeah, but give her some slack. She means well and all. Just wants you kids to be safe… her mother hen instinct is all. Can’t blame her for that…” I shook my head and that was that. Some might have considered that a lie of omission with my mom, but I still had made it here in one piece and dwelling on it anymore would have just been a waste. Serving my own meal, I quickly took a seat in between Amanda and Lucas, still sensing the tension and prickly demeanor between the two. Lucas was a man of science and numbers. Everything was a calculation to him, while Amanda was still at the age where magic was real, and everything could be solved with a good hug or a kiss. Unfortunately, Lucas was short on both lately. Still, the weekly family dinner proceeded as usual and seemed liked a pleasant exchange of the latest news from each of us. Lucas was having problems with one of his professors while Amanda had a sudden aversion to broccoli. Dad was settling into his new position as the head of a security company and mom was doing her best to close a deal on a particular lavish house in an up-and-coming neighborhood located just north of the city. Finally, though, the conversation turned to me, and I could almost predict the first question coming from my mom. “So, Pete… no Molly today?” she asked innocuously, but probingly. “Did you two…?” She didn’t finish her question, but the implication was clear about my current girlfriend. “No, mom. We didn’t break up. She’s just traveling right now for her job. Some photo shoot up in the mountains for the magazine.” My mom nodded and accepted the answer, but I could still see her hesitation about Molly… the same she had harbored when I first introduced her to my family a few months back now. I felt great about her and that our relationship was moving right along, but my mom thought she was too flaky or some nonsense like that. Annoying, but still, my mom had the decency to not interfere with our relationship or pick it apart… unlike two girlfriends ago that is. The conversation then moved on to discussing the future as usual, but about halfway through discussing our summer beach trip, my mom stopped and glared at my dad. “Honey… do you really need to keep the TV on in the other room? It’s very distracting right now. I don’t think we need to be listening to commercials about a deal for some half-priced pizza.” “Half priced?” Lucas perked up. My dad grumbled though, and Lucas resigned himself back in his seat, though I could still see his mind was racing on a deal like that. Turning his attention back to my mom next, our dad cleared his throat first. “Well… I think we need to keep it on. There’s problems out there, babe, and we need to be prepared.” He paused and momentarily gulped. “Uh, if it makes you feel better though, I can turn it down if you…” “No,” my mom quickly voiced. She was clearly annoyed with the TV, but she knew an unwinnable argument when she heard one. In this case it was her own comfort weighed against the safety of the family, and safety always seemed to win out in her book. “Keep it on. We need to hear if there’s an announcement…” The tension lingering in the air a little still though, my mom especially hating to back down from any argument, no one spoke for at least the next few minutes. Wanting to bring back the smiles however, I remembered a joke I had heard from one of my coworkers in the office just last week. “Hey… what kind of cheese do they eat on Sesame Street?” The mere mention of the show’s name made Amanda perk up and Lucas sigh while he rolled his eyes. He knew the set up of a ‘dad’ joke when he heard one. “I don’t know,” my dad responded, being at least a good sport about it. “What?” A cracked a tiny smile. “Cookie Muenster,” I said, even using the character’s voice for the punch line. Amanda laughed, but probably more from my silly voice than the actual joke itself. “Oh, god… really, Pete?” Lucas groaned. I only shrugged back. Corny, yes, but also effective. It was just enough to get a few other jokes going around the table, and gratefully, everyone out of their previous funk. “Okay… how about this one…” my mom finally piped up, joining in. “What bird leads the orchestra?” Lucas scratched his head, and I leaned forward to think about it. “I dunno… what, mommy?” Amanda questioned first though. “Well, I’ll tell you,” our mom said after a second, looking around the room yet likely seeing the rest of her family stumped. “The…” Before she could respond, a high-pitched beeping started to go off. Looking around the table at my stunned family for a moment, likely as a result of the stark realization over the noise, we all got up and quickly ran to the living room to confirm our fears. ‘Breaking News!’ The television screen flashed the message prominently, and the high-pitched beeping noise was replaced by a loud, long beep that then echoed throughout the family room. Amanda quickly put her hands over her ears and started screaming. My mom, seeing her distress and wincing a little over the alarm herself, quickly went over to pick her up and comfort her. “Does it have to be so loud?” Lucas then asked, his own hands going up to cover his ears. Instead of the pain that our mom and Amanda were showing, his was more of one of annoyance. Our dad nodded. “It’s important,” he said, his voice cresting just slightly over the incessant alarm sound. “It’s a one size fits all. When your mom and I were younger, they used a similar one to announce about a nuclear bomb. Tested them all the time and we all had to practice those drills in case one ever went off.” He smiled triumphantly, but none of the rest of us were smiling though. Realizing what he had just done, his face quickly turned to panic, and he tried to fix his glaring mistake… but it was too late. “Wait! Nuclear bomb? Is that what’s happening?” Lucas asked, now panicking more than ever, his usual calculating demeanor temporarily going right out the proverbial window. Not sure what was happening myself, I could feel my heartbeat begin to increase as well. “No, no!” our dad tried to retract, our mom slightly giving him the stink eye as well over his grievous error. “It’s just one thing of many that they use the alarm for… I’m sure that everything is alright and that we’ll be perfectly safe here in our…” Before I could step in to bail the poor guy out, the TV screen flashed a few times and switched to a large group of people huddled around a podium at the front of the room with the presidential seal clearly displayed on the front. A large balding man then stepped up to the microphone and began to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, twenty minutes ago, the president announced he was declaring a national emergency. A domestic terrorist group, known simply as ’87, named for the year the constitution was written, stole and threatened the release of a potentially dangerous virus this morning. I regret to inform you that they have now acted and have begun releasing this virus across the nation in a series of unprovoked and unwarranted attacks. Shortly, the president will address the nation. For now, we encourage the public, especially in or near city centers, to stay inside.” I watched my family react to the unfolding events in various ways. My dad was as stoic as ever, having worked for the government for years, yet I could still see the ounce of fear behind his focused eyes that now replaced his previous one of panic. Conversely, Lucas was panicking even more now in his own unique way that he had picked up back in middle school. Small, twitchy finger movements and darting eyes made him appear to be calculating the net worth of everyone on the planet and every possible outcome ever conceived, but I knew he was just trying to rationalize inside his own head about what was going on. Our mom seemed frightened and shocked, and limply held her right hand over her mouth, as if about to muffle a scream. Having sat her down during the announcement, her left hand tightened around Amanda’s, which to her credit and without the alarm anymore, seemed the calmest of everyone. I suppose it’s true that ignorance is bliss… Looking back at the screen, it first noted that the president would soon be on to address the nation and secondly that ‘We ask the nation to remain calm, as your government tries to prevent or, in some cases, respond to these attacks. More information will be broadcasted to your local news stations as to what you should do now and if there are any further effects or attacks you need to be aware of.’ The screen beeped along for about another minute but then flashed again and switched to a local news channel where a nervous looking anchorman and woman were perched behind a desk. “That was just the Secretary of Health, joined by members of the FBI, CDC, and NIH. To reiterate, the president has now declared a national emergency and will address the nation within the next few hours. God help us all…” As opposed to my nervous family, I simply sat in my recliner chair and numbly thought about all the implications of what I was now seeing. I thought about Molly, all tucked away in her mountain retreat taking photos of birds or models or whatever else the magazine she worked for wanted. Not being outdoorsy in the least, I teased her that she would never last up there in the mountains, but now, she was seeming like the safer one of the two of us now. Looking back up from my thoughts, my family each stood in stunned silence. There had been some outbreaks and terrorist attacks in recent years, so some of the news felt familiar, but looking back to the TV, I knew that something about all this was just different this time. The news anchors around here had always seemed steadfast or sometimes even saddened, but never truly panicked. Despite such a human response, it was unsettling to see them fumbling through the papers in their hands, as they continued to break the story as it unfolded. One by one, more cities were now listed amongst those attacked. “Oh god… Houston now as well,” the anchorwoman said, reading the prompter and occasional pressing her fingers to the earpiece feeding her live updates. Having transferred from there last year, I could just make out the tears forming in her eyes… likely thinking of all her old coworkers now being affected by whatever was happening to these affected cities. “It will be okay, Sally,” the anchorman said, clearly trying to calm his coworker down. “Just focus on the news and…” It was now his turn to press the earpiece further to listen to the next update. “This just in… government authorities are now considering placing the entire country under Martial Law until this crisis is resolved and the perpetrators are taken into custody. There seems to be some kind of interference and loss of signal wherever these terrorist devices are going off… but we’ll bring you every update that we can. For now, we ask that you please do not provoke the authorities and remain in your homes…” Suddenly, a flash of orange burst outside, contrasting heavily against the pale blue sky. The TV still ran, but now panicking and likely fearing the worst, my dad went into survival mode. “Quickly! Get down and cover your heads!” Everyone ducked and took cover… well, everyone except me. Stupid, maybe… but I loved war movies. My dad introduced to them me when I was far too young, at least according to my mom, but nuclear bombs were commonplace in several of them. As such, I knew that they released an EMP… which meant no electricity, and no TV. Now seeing a positively ghostly figure of both anchors, their lights flickered briefly on the screen, but the program remained on. “Pete!” my mom screeched, temporarily looking up from her own cover to make sure that the rest of her family was safe. “Get down!” I shook my head. “It’s okay, mom. It’s not a nuclear bomb or anything. The TV would have gone off.” I then gestured to the screen, still brightly lit. “See?” My dad, getting up after placing his own body over my mom and Amanda, looked up as well. His instincts were more of fight or flight but looking around and seeing none of the disruptions I was insisting about, relief washed over his face. “He’s right, Karen. There would’ve been more if it was a bomb like that.” Helping both her and my sister up before Lucas, I could still sense his caution though. “Then what did we just see, Gregg?” she asked, her panic still hanging around her densely. “What was that flash? If it wasn’t a nuclear bomb going off then wha…?” She didn’t get to finish her question. Before she could, the house shook terribly, like it was being hit by some kind of vibrational wave. Harkening back to those war movies, it usually only meant one thing when accompanied by a flash. Maybe not nuclear, but there had been an explosion of some kind. “What was that?” my mom asked, her panic increasing even more now as she clung to my sister. For her part, Amanda was now clinging tightly back. Lucas just looked stunned and confused. “I don’t know,” my dad admitted. “Just stay inside and don’t panic or an…” Right then, loud machines began to echo from the outside and I couldn’t even hear more of what the anchors were saying anymore. Picture frames and vases began to tremble from whatever was happening outside. It was hard to miss and everyone, even my sister now, was looking to the front bay window looking out toward the street where we had initially seen the orange flash. With the recent growths in the trees though, the downtown area beyond and most of the sky could just be made out. Dust of some kind seemed to be swirling around the whole area, but I couldn’t make it out further. So, curiosity getting the better of me, I bolted to the front door. “Peter!” my mom shouted out to me, now using my full first name. Serious, but if I lived here still, I knew it meant I was only flirting with danger and a possible punishment. “Get back here this instant. They said not to go outside still!” I heard her, but it was too late for me to turn back now. I was too curious by then and the fluttering and rumbling all about the living room wasn’t helping either. My hand already at the doorknob, I simply twisted, pushed, and then exited the red-painted front door of my childhood home. What I saw, I guess I should have expected from the news, but I was still unprepared for it. I was immediately greeted by dozens of scurrying soldiers being offloaded by a parade of trucks and even a single Humvee driving up our street as well. Our house and neighborhood being perched on a large hill that overlooked much of the city and corresponding valley suburbs around it, I was finally able to get a good view of the whole situation. Normally, it was the perfect place for sunsets and to watch the storms roll in, but now, it gave only an ungodly view of the thundering group of helicopters and jets flying by and then surrounding several of the visible homes and nearby skyscrapers downtown. It appeared like every end scene of the world or wartime invasion film I had ever watched. Worse though, it reminded me too much of some of the conflicts that Molly had taken pictures of overseas and showed me afterward. But those places were at war… ‘Were we at war now as well?’ I wasn’t sure, but a few of the military leaders barking out orders to their men quickly took my mind off it. Knowing Molly would never forgive me if I didn’t capture at least a little of the action, I pulled out my smartphone and took a few pictures of everything unfolding around me. After snapping a few choice shots, I noticed the soldiers seemed distracted, and the loud humming and rumblings of the tanks and nearby helicopters drowned out any other sounds around me. My curiosity only intensifying, I stepped off the front porch and began walking towards the soldiers to ask what was going on. Each soldier was staring at downtown and toward one of local mountain ranges nearby. I hiked there several weekends during my time off and never could get enough of the views from one of the observation towers they had added up there in the 1930s. Now, I had to imagine the view was quite different. Right as I got up to them though, they all began to move out. Now invested and even more curious, I continued walking with the soldiers until I got to the end of the block. They seemed far too distracted to notice me, but as soon as the column stopped, another group of soldiers finally spotted me and began shouting. “Get him! Get him back inside now!” Realizing I had made a huge mistake of even coming out here, I raised my hands and tried to quickly walk backwards and back to my parents’ house. I started to move even faster when they started pointing their guns at me. I guess that wasn’t even fast enough, as soon, a sergeant broke off and pointed at me in annoyance. “You! Get back inside now. Don’t you know there’s a national emergency in effect right now? Or that Martial Law is going to be called into play any second now? Don’t you know what’s happened today?” Weighing my options, I decided to play dumb. Martial Law had never been put into effect during my lifetime around here, so it was at least somewhat plausible, even though I knew that it had meant to stay indoors as just one of its stipulations. “I heard that, but I’m not sure what it is or what I should even do. Do you know?” The sergeant groaned and then pointed his weapon back up the hill from where I had just come from. “It means get back inside now and not asking any more questions. Got it?” “Yes, sir!” From my dad’s experience and stories with them in his old job, I knew to not mess with any soldiers when they were on a mission or given direct orders. Giving them signs of respect or following their commands may have cut my investigation short and I could miss out on some extra photos of history in the making, but I wasn’t stupid. Seeing even their panic, I knew this was not the time to argue. “I’m going back home right…” “There’s another! There’s another!” a solider shouted. “Look!” Another flash of orange lit up the sky, but now being outside and away from some of the trees, I was seeing everything in real time now. A large, thunderous concussive explosion then went off and both the sergeant and I looked to the source of it. Due to my neighborhood’s perfect positioning up on the hill in the suburbs yet still being close enough to the city, it took only a few seconds for us to spot a second, but this time, much larger plume of orange smoke quickly covering the whole downtown area now. It swirled and puffed around the glass and steel giants and seemed to emanate from one of the taller buildings we could still see from here. By the second it seemed though, the whole of the city seemed to be swallowed up in this strange new mist. Looking back over, the sergeant looked panicked for a moment of sheer terror, but as the orange mist began to swirl and then cascade with the wind right toward us, he seemed to come to his senses. “Gas! Gas!” he yelled while simultaneously uncasing a gas mask from on his person around his belt. The nearby soldiers I had been following previously began furiously tearing out their own gas masks from hanging bags on their gear. It was tremendous commotion, but within a minute, each soldier had been masked and gowned to the point where not a single centimeter of their skin was showing. I stood there dumbstruck but realizing what I was witnessing, I managed to capture a few shots of them in the chaos, not wanting to miss this opportunity. But the sergeant, now gowned and masked as well, saw me still standing in the street and marched right over to me. “You! Get out of here. Now! Run as fast as you can into your home! Go while you still can!” I quickly deduced from his panic and the soldiers’ suits and masks that they knew more than the general public. Further, what they knew seemed to imply that whatever the orange mist was, was also likely deadly or hazardous in some way that I didn’t want to find out. Remembering back, the news did state that the ’87 group had stolen some kind of ‘dangerous virus,’ but only the depths of my late-night horror movie watching binges could comprehend or imagine what that meant precisely. Snapped out of my curiosity and reverting to sheer panic now, I began to turn to head home. Seconds and only a couple of steps later though, the spring breezes picked up and I smelled something almost sweet. Citrus maybe… I wasn’t sure, but I had to see where it was coming from. Turning around, to my horror, a large dust cloud of a reddish and orange hue lingered in the air only blocks away now. Seeing the giant cloud forming, the sergeant turned back to me. “Run! Run!” he called out to me again, this time the panic thick in his slightly muffled voice from the gas mask he now wore. Finally understanding the seriousness of it all, I panicked and tried to run as fast as I could, but luck was not on my side today it seemed. After only a few paces, I tripped on a piece of uneven sidewalk and fell face first onto the pavement. Before I had a moment to think, I was being pulled up by an unknown force. I could only hope that I wasn’t totally screwed now, but I soon began to see small whisps of the gas starting to creep around me like long tentacles from a monstrous kraken of some kind. It seemed to spell my doom, though I was pleasantly surprised that once it touched my skin, I felt no pain. No blisters or even a sting of any kind. It only seemed to almost be magnetized to my skin and even a tingle, but a shake from whoever pulled me up, knocked my fascination away. “You! You idiot!” the sergeant yelled, keeping my limp body aloft still. “This is why we said to stay indoors! The ’87 group planted multiple devices beforehand and another one just went off!” I knew he was right, but I was grateful that he at least still seemed to care for my well-being, despite my massive idiotic curiosity. His kindness, or at least decency showed further when he even handed me a mask. I immediately put it on, though I noticed the orange mist still followed and curled around my arms and a tiny trickle of blood now remained on my hands. I only saw both events for a moment, but it was still enough for me to panic. “Which one?” he asked gruffly as we finally reached the top of the hill. I pointed ahead to my parents’ home, where I then noticed two figures with cloths over their mouths were frantically running around and yelling. What’s more… they were yelling my name. The mist hadn’t touched them yet, but it was getting close and seemed to follow close behind us now, seemingly having difficulty making the climb up the hill. “Pete!” the woman yelled, who after running closer, I recognized as my mom. “Is he yours?” the sergeant asked, almost seeming disgusted as he gestured toward me. “Yes” my mom answered. “Thank you so much, sergeant.” My dad working for the government over the years had introduced my mom to several military men and women and she quickly made it a task for herself to memorize all the insignia and ranks in all the branches of service. “Just doing my job ma’am. But now… get inside. All of you!” My dad jogged up and joined us before pulling my mom and I back up to the porch. Looking back briefly, I wondered if the sergeant knew something more about this gas than he wasn’t letting on. Looking at my arm, it had touched me and yet I wasn’t blistered or even burned, but at the same time, every facet of the sergeant and his tone seemed to imply the inherent danger of the gas still. “Go inside, now! Take a shower immediately. Stay indoors and wait for further instructions. Hurry!” My mom and dad gripped my arms and guided me quickly inside. I momentarily felt faint, but the sensation passed once I was safely inside, and the door slammed shut. “Geez, Pete,” my dad said with annoyance once we were firmly indoors and with the door shut. Nearby, Lucas was huddled on the couch with Amanda wrapped tightly in his arms. “You just had to go outside and… let me guess. You just had to satisfy your curiosity… again, right?” Knowing he was probably thinking back to that one trip to the aquarium where I nearly fell into the tank of sharks when I was too curious then, like he always did, I once again just nodded sheepishly while I took off the mask the sergeant had given me. Despite the reason why I even had to wear a mask, it was nice to breathe in the air inside again, especially now that the mist had reached outside of our house. Curiously though, I noticed that the blood that had previously been on my face from my fall, had now vanished. “Hard to miss the event of the decade,” I replied casually. “I mean, you’re probably going to remember this day forever. Right, Lucas?” Lucas rolled his eyes and turned away from the TV briefly. “Sure, whatever, Pete. You put yourself and our parents at risk while I stayed here. Look, I can even still be informed inside and even know more than you do.” He then gestured toward the T.V., which was still blaring a ‘Breaking News!’ alert across the ribbon at the bottom of the screen. Further, new photographs and shaky camera footage was now being shown of the orange mist in several cities across the country. One by one, it seemed that somehow, most major population centers had been hit by the orange bombs and gas. “We’re not fully sure what this orange mist is,” the anchorman admitted, “but we are being informed by direct communication with the government that all citizens should avoid contact as much as possible. While not deadly, government officials have noted that the substance can be both ‘toxic’ and ‘hazardous.’” “That’s right,” the anchorwoman continued. “We have been informed that though the gas being released is not harmful to the skin, there are yet unidentified long-term effects which may occur soon after contact. If coming into contact at all, we recommend an immediate shower.” “I just hope these masks worked at least a little bit,” my dad said, removing his medical grade mask covering. He had bought it when his work took him to China last year and they were experiencing some type of mass outbreak of the flu. My mom had insisted, and my dad put up no resistance to her demands; none of us ever really did. “I hope so, Gregg,” my mom wished as she pulled her mask off as well. Sighing deeply, I saw Amanda quickly take notice of our mom’s distress. “You okay, mommy?” she asked, now pulling away from Lucas and gazing up at our mom in both fear and curiosity. Clearly worried and maybe even a little exhausted, our mom smiled down sweetly at her. “I’m fine, sweetie. Just had to go get your brother. Speaking of which…” my mom then almost snapped to now face me head on. “I’m pretty sure that sergeant outside and even the new anchor said to go shower once we were inside. So, you better hurry it up and go shower immediately, Peter Crichton… or else.” ‘Oops. I’m in trouble now…’ Not my full name quite yet, but full first and last name wasn’t a good sign either couple with the tiny threat of ‘or else’ as well. I was in her crosshairs now, so not wanting to add to her stress further today, I merely saluted and ran off to go shower as ordered. The hot water and intense scrubbing felt nice, but my mind still swirled around what the orange mist even was. Regardless, utilizing the clothes I kept here in my ‘just in case’ bag, I was quickly redressed and joined my now huddled family on the couch. With my dad now in the master bathroom showering, leaving Lucas in his usual spot and my freshly showered mom as well sitting on the couch with Amanda napping beside her. Soldiers still occasionally walked the streets outside clad in their biohazard suits and masks, despite the orange mist having largely dissipated by now. If anything, though, helicopters only seemed to have increased their presence. Sighing at the whole scene and the unfolding news of panic all around the country, I sat back in the other single chair in the room and looked over at my family. With Lucas’ pensive stare and my mom’s worried one, looking down, I couldn’t help but slightly envy my little sister. Despite her reliance on my parents and her lack of freedoms, I did wish I could enjoy just a small part of the same obliviousness that she obviously had. Without a doubt, the country had been attacked and streets that should have been filled with Sunday afternoon traffic, were now only littered with military force. For her though, sleep mattered more. Amanda, my dad, and I could sleep through anything, but I doubt I could simply fall asleep so soundly through all of what was going on like she was now. News footage was as grim as ever with residents of cities across the country panicking and getting blasted by the orange mists. A lot of them seemed kind of young, but I simply passed it off as unruly teenagers or people with curiosity like me ignoring the orders to stay indoors. ‘I really hope I don’t live to regret that decision…’ Suddenly, anchorman stopped the anchorwoman as he put his finger to his earpiece once more. “Yes… yes…” He removed his hand and first faced his co-anchor right as my dad walked back into the room, his hair still damp from his own shower. “Sorry, Sally… but I’ve just been informed that the president will now address the nation. We go to his office live now.” The TV switched to shot of the president of the country, sitting behind his desk in his office. The just graying figure looked at the camera with a grim but determined face. “My fellow countrymen… it is unknown what the long-term effects of this mist could be but rest assured that your government will offer the needed support and guidance in the coming days to overcome this historic but tragic day.” Practiced as ever, President Walker showed just enough emotion to show his humanity while coupled with just enough strength though to show that he wouldn’t take this attack lightly. “These are unprecedented times, and I have decided to declare Martial Law. So, for those not already, it is the policy of this nation now for all residents to remain in their homes for the remainder of the night. For those still in offices, stores, or other places than their homes, we encourage you to stay where you are. Military efforts are being utilized to move you safely to your destinations until the air has been deemed safe by CDC officials. I’m not sure what today will come to mean, but I as your president will be staying with you all throughout this ordeal. Thank you and I wish you all a sincere good night and good luck.” Sighing, and not knowing what the future would hold, I stood up and then walked over to the bay window. Peering out and viewing my watch, I saw that I would usually be going home in the next hour or so. Seeing the shrouded city bustling with helicopters still, however, I knew ‘usually’ wasn’t going to be a very common word for a while in any of our lives. Further, hearing the president declare Martial Law, I also knew I would be staying at my parents at least for tonight whether I wanted to or not. I hoped it wouldn’t be too long, but another soldier marching down the sidewalk made me think twice about that hope. “Hey mom?” Sighing, she looked back over at me. Not sure what else to do but hoping to end the day on at least one good note, I knew what I had to ask. “What kind of bird does the orchestra?” Smiling, she nodded right as Amanda stirred awake… almost like she was just as curious to hear the answer herself. “Well… it’s a conDUCKtor.” Normally, we might have all groaned, but tonight, each of us let out a tiny chuckle. For such a bleak afternoon, it was a tiny ray of light. Not sure what was next in all this mess, I knew those moments would become even more precious. I’m not sure why, but something told me that the orange mist released today, wouldn’t soon be gone out of our lives.

I know that I should be working on A Little Loony, along with my other fiction, but bipolar disorder demands that I focus my efforts elsewhere, for now...so we come to the second of my Helluva Boss age regression fanfictions, one based with Moxxie (who gets a fair bit of age regressor stuff on AO3) and Millie (whom, sadly, does not)! Naturally, the backstories of a few of the characters are pretty sad, so there's content warning based on that; I will warn you when we get to these parts. Also, this does not feature diapers like my other stories do. The imps who are regressed are five-year-olds who are potty-trained, and while there may be funny moments like needing to go while they're in the car, that's about it. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. In any case, here's the first chapter of Ki(mp)Court: - Chapter One: Early Extermination - Millie and Moxxie were going on a private date in Pride when things went to Hell - figuratively and literally. Millie was the one driving as Moxxie stared out of the window. Millie drove at a speed a little faster than most denizens of Hell. Not to the speed of their boss, Blitz (he was known as “Blitzo”, but the “o” was silent), but definitely a long way over the speed limit, and the streets of Pride were beginning to blend together as they drove close to the limits of Pentagram City for a lovely dinner at a fancy restaurant (The Rusty Hammer and Nail, supposed to have excellent Hell Hog burgers) before a night of…well, Moxxie could imagine the night they’d have in the bedroom. He looked at his wife lovingly. Millie was his everything; beautiful, brave, kind, strong, passionate, just an amazing woman he loved more than anything. He couldn’t imagine his life without her, and he knew she loved him just as much and felt the same way he did. He took a random look in the rearview mirror and let out a sound like a choking cat. Blitz’s van was right behind them with their boss driving like a maniac. And Loona, his hellhound adopted daughter, was clinging to the front seat, looking terrified at the tall imp’s driving. “HE’S STALKING US TO OUR DATE!” he shouted in annoyance. “AND I TOLD HIM NOT TO DO IT AFTER WE GOT KICKED OUT OF OZZIE’S, AND THAT RABID BITCH IS WITH HIM, TOO!” Millie chanced a look back and sighed. “Well, we could make concessions for them,” she said. “Moxx, that’s who Blitz is.” “That doesn’t make it right, Millie!” “He’s our boss…” “And it’s entirely inappropriate!” “Moxx, just…let’s just enjoy the night, whatever may happen.” The smaller imp grumbled, sinking into the seat, as they drove down the street…only to hear a siren. A very familiar siren. The Extermination Day’s siren. But it was too early, it wasn’t even three months since the last Extermination, it had to be a drill. “Moxx, were we scheduled to have a drill?” Millie asked, her eyes worried. “Mills, I’m sure it’s fine, it’s-” Then a blaring note on their phones echoed, and his heart stopped in fear. “Extermination Day has been moved up,” a metallic female voice echoed. “Take cover as soon as possible. This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill. Take cover as soon as possible.” “We’re not being targeted,” he said with a nervous laugh, holding on to his wife as he saw the hole open up, saw the angels pour out of the hole, weapons drawn. “We’re Hellborn, the Exterminators don’t target Hellbo-” A rocket was fired at their car from one of the angels, and Millie grabbed Moxxie and leapt out with him…just in the nick of time, as they saw their vehicle go up in smoke. They scrambled to the side of the road, near a row of burnt-out buildings, Millie having drawn out her knives, and Moxxie, his pistol, as they took cover in a charred building without a roof. He chanced a look up at the sky, hearing the screams of Sinners dying. Moxxie was panicking, breathing heavily before Millie kissed him on the lips. He broke off for a second. “Mills, is this rea-” “We don’t stand a chance against Exterminators,” she whispered to him. “You know that. I know that. If we die, I want to have this memory of you and me. I want our last moment to be our best.” Moxxie nodded, tears in his eyes - tears in both of their eyes - as he kissed Millie, a kiss that would last a lifetime, a kiss that was their lifeline. Then he heard Millie scream in pain that he wished his lovely ray of hellfire would never feel, felt something hit his chest, shooting horrific pain into his nervous system, blood vessels, and brain, and he screamed in agony before everything went black. - Blitz was listening to his daughter, Loona, grumble as she texted Beelzebub, Vortex, and a couple of the hounds she met at the party, saying she couldn’t go, as he dressed in a nice long coat, shirt, and pants, along with his signature skull choker. “Can’t believe I’m missing a great opportunity to go to a party in Gluttony for this,” Loona muttered, flicking her white hair to one side as she tapped on her phone. “I know I’m keeping my word to Bee after you went to Gluttony to get me the first time, but still…” “Aw, c’mon, Loony, it’ll be great!” Blitz said excitedly. “We could go to an awesome restaurant in Pentagram City - Hell, even Sinners need to eat, right? - hit up Stylish Occult at the end, and you can get what you’d like within reason! What’s not to love?” “Whatever…” Blitz felt a little bad at not telling Loona the truth. He was going to that restaurant because the M&M couple were going. They were his friends, and he realized that they didn’t want him in their private life…but he wanted that intimacy, craved that affection, feeling like he didn’t deserve it, but knowing he wanted it, wanted it more than anything. Especially after…the evening at Ozzie’s. With Stolas. Hell, that hurt so much…but it’s why he wanted to go with that couple. They had something he admired, and he wanted it, even if it was rejected again and again, even if it was as a third wheel. And now he was bringing Loony along…even if he didn’t know why. No, he knew why: he wanted that familial bond that they had…to include her as well, as more than just coworkers. Because he knew some of Loona’s past, knew she had gone through shit that was horrifying, even by Hell’s standards, and he wanted her, Moxxie, Millie, and himself to be one giant family. One giant fucked up family in Hell. Ah, fuck if he knew. Fuck if he knew anything that was wrong with him. What he did know was that he was going to that restaurant with them, see how everything would go. Impulsive? Yeah, but that’s who he was. He grabbed the keys as Loona continued texting, grumbling as she got in the front seat of the IMP van that doubled as their normal car. He got in the driver’s seat, turned the key as the van rumbled to life, listened to the Pride station blare out music (Loona had headphones in; her phone doubled as an hPhone, so she could listen to her own music if she wanted to.) as they drove off. He drove surprisingly carefully for him, only honking his horn twice and cutting off only several cars than all of them, his eyes craning for Moxxie and Millie’s car…and when he spotted it, he immediately gunned for the car like a maniac, startling Loona out of her music with a shocked yelp. “You set this whole fucking thing up with Moxxie and Millie AGAIN?!” Loona screamed, as she held onto the car’s seat with her claws, her eyes wide with terror at the sheer insanity of his driving. “And you roped ME into it?!” “Loony, I know it sounds bad, but-” “I DON’T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH THEM OUTSIDE OF WORK! THEY ARE MY COWORKERS, AND THAT’S IT!” “Let’s just go to the restaurant. I’ll even order what you want, but let’s-” Then the Extermination Day sirens blared out, and Loona whimpered. “It’ll be okay, Loony-Toony, I’m sure it’s only a dri-” “Extermination Day has been moved up,” the metallic voice echoed. “Take cover as soon as possible. This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill. Take cover as soon as possible.” “Shit, shit, shit, shit-” Loona swore multiple times, her tail tucked between her legs, eyes wide with fear. “Loony, they don’t target Hellborn, remember?” A rocket hit the van of Moxxie and Millie, as they barely got out in time, as he saw them scramble towards a burned out building. “I FUCKING HATE YOU, BLITZ!” Loona screamed. Blitz veered off the road, parking the van close by the building, as they saw an angel, its wings purely black without any lines, go into the building and shoot Moxxie and Millie with an angelic pistol as they were kissing, hitting them both in the chest. He went into the building, his flintlock pistol at the ready, along with a snarling Loona, ready to avenge the couple. The first angel went in for the kill, raising her gun, and that’s when things got crazy: another angel, with mostly gray wings and a black stripe across them stood in front of them, facing the first angel…and started to verbally ream the other angel up the ass. “YOU - FUCKING - MORON!” the second angel roared in a feminine ethereal tone. “What is Extermination 101? What is the very first rule you learn when you become an Exterminator? What is the ONE - FUCKING - THING we are NOT - under ANY circumstances, no matter WHAT those circumstances might be - allowed to do?!” The first angel lowered its head and mumbled in a feminine tone. “Target Hellborn or anyone other than Sinners.” “WHAT DO THEY FUCKING LOOK LIKE TO YOU?!” “...Hellborn imps.” “SO FUCKING HEAL THEM BEFORE WE START AN EXTRADIMENSIONAL INCIDENT!” Blitz aimed his flintlock at the second angel, who tried to pacify the situation after taking a deep breath. “Apologies for shouting, and apologies for my dullard apprentice. Do not worry, imp and hellhound; my colleague will heal them, and they’ll be right as rai-” The angel went over to Moxxie and Millie and spread a white light over them…and they began to shrink. “WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO, YOU STUPID BITCH?!” the second angel screeched in disbelief, and Blitz and Loona watched in horror as their coworkers shrunk into their clothes, getting smaller and smaller, even though the bullet holes were healing. “PLEASE, GOD ALMIGHTY, PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE NOT SUCH AN UTTERLY FUCKING INCOMPETENT AND USELESS IMBECILE THAT YOU COULD BOTCH A SIMPLE HEALING PRAYER WITH A FUCKING COMPLEX PERMA-YOUTHENING SPELL?!” “Um…” the first angel said sheepishly. “Sorry?” “SORRY?! SORRY?! I’LL ‘SORRY’ YOU, YOU STUPID FUCKING SILLY CUNT! YOU JUST TOOK AT LEAST TWENTY CENTURIES OFF OF MY AFTERLIFE WITH YOUR SHIT! LET ME HANDLE THIS, AND AFTER I’M DONE, I’LL MAKE YOU SORRY YOU EVER WENT TO HEAVEN, BY JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, MOSES OF FUCKING EGYPT, MUHAMMAD THE FUCKING PROPHET, AND GOD-FUCKING-ALMIGHTY THEMSELVES!” The second angel went over to the couple, who had stopped shrinking and now had the appearance of small child imps, trying to spread a light over them. “Not working, come on…” the Exterminator muttered, trying various glowing light magic without success before the siren stopped blaring…with them still as children. “...Are you shitting me?” the angelic superior said bluntly. “Fucking Extermination Day suddenly stopping out of nowhere…fucking idiot apprentice making this hard…fuck…what to do…hmm…” She thought a while and came to a resolution, pointing at Blitz and Loona. “You two, listen to me well. You are to take care of these two as if they are both your children, until I can get a proper healer to come down and fix this before the Lord smites everyone involved. They are about five of your Hellyears old now, and while they may remember they were adults, unfortunately, the memories of adulthood will be locked away. They will act like five-year-old children, will think like five-year-old children, and will need to be treated like five-year-old children. And since we can’t take care of them and give them help, it’ll be up to you two.” “But-” Loona protested, before the angel who was obviously in charge gave such a vicious death glare at the hellhound that she could do nothing but whimper in response. “If you two do not take care of them like they were both yours, I will personally annihilate you and every single thing you hold dear, Hellborn or not - and I have had centuries of killing under my wings. I have no tolerance for those who harm children, and I will do everything in my power to destroy you both if any harm comes to these two. Do you understand me?” Both Blitz and Loona nodded gravely, looking at the sleeping little imps who had once been a married couple. “Then we have an agreement. The next time I can get a Healer down here will take at least a year and a half; they are notoriously fickle. They will not grow up during that time, thanks to this IDIOT-” The lead angel jerked her thumb at the shamefaced apprentice, “making the spell so complicated, so I expect you two, what are your names?” “I’m Blitzo, the ‘o’ is silent, and this is my daughter, Loona,” the imp said. “Adopted,” Loona retorted. “Very well, Blitzo and Loona. I expect you two to be able to find help at times with other willing demons, but you must care for them the most. If they are harmed in any way, if they are not in your care when we return, I swear, as God as my witness, I will break you both in half. With that, we bid you farewell; we've overstayed our welcome.” The angel Exterminators disappeared in a flash of light, leaving the four alone with a whole Hell of a lot to deal with. - Hope you enjoyed~

Hey everyone! While I haven't given up on my current stories, I had to return to work since my side gigs haven't been paying the bills. For this reason, I have been less productive on my stories. I will return to those stories in due time. But as for the good news, I have began writing a new passion project that I would like to add to the "shoes" genre of age regression stories. If any of you have read Olympiczero's The Ballet Slippers (I DEFINITELY recommend this one!), this story intends to use a different form of footwear with a different setting and different characters. I know that I wanted more after reading The Ballet Slippers so I decided to "run" with this concept and create a new tale in the "shoe" genre. I will be posting a new chapter every few days so I am welcome to all of your feedback! I know that I have a good setting but there are some other things that I want to fine tune with the story. I definitely know where I want to go with it later on, and you'll see when we get there. But without further ado, here's the story! NOTE TO THE READER: This story is inspired from Olympiczero's "The Ballet Slippers". This story is to be treated as a tribute, and my own unique spin on the original classic. Enjoy the story! Prologue Darcy glanced at her phone, carefully examining the map on the Maps app. The map displayed a wide grid of roads all intersecting each other. The blue dot indicated her current position on the map and that she successfully reached the destination. Sonya’s Shoe Shop. “Could this be the place?” Darcy wondered. Darcy got out of her red Toyota 4Runner and glanced around as she took in her surroundings. A large grouping of businesses were all around her on the narrow street where she parallel parked. This part of town seemed vacant and almost had an eerie feeling about it. Darcy could feel it in the warm California breeze. Sure, it was northern California, but she was away from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles and on the very northern edge of San Francisco. Despite all this, she still felt something unsettling in her gut as she frantically glanced at the various businesses, trying to find this famed shoe store. From what the Maps app told her, Sonya’s Shoe Shop had over 3,000 reviews with an average 4.7 out of 5-star rating. It was one of the highest rated shoe stores in the Bay Area, and she could only settle on the best when it came to getting an extra special gift for her now adult daughter. But no matter where Darcy glanced around, she couldn’t find the shoe store. Could it have gone out of business recently? How could such a successful business exist and not have any prominent signage? Darcy was about to give up and enter the address again when she felt something inside of her. Some kind of strange energy was coming from one of the buildings, and she just couldn’t figure out which one. She just walked onto the sidewalk and walked forward, feeling the energy getting stronger. It was like a giant magnet, pulling Darcy forward. Then she saw it right ahead of her. A small humble sign that read SONYA’S SHOE SHOP. This was the place. The strange and surreal energy was coming right from this place. Darcy knew what she was looking for. She pulled a slip of paper out of her purse and entered the store. The bells jingled as she entered the store, Darcy making her entrance. A kind Hispanic woman who was just a little shorter than Darcy approached the counter. “Welcome to Sonya’s Shoe Shop.” The woman warmly spoke as she made her introduction. “I am Sonya Martinez, sole proprietor of this wonderful store. In my store, I have shoes for every size specifically tailored to running. How may I help you, young lady?” Darcy couldn’t help but smile to herself. Although she was in her late forties, a lot of people were convinced that she looked 15 years younger. Darcy attributed this to good exercise and good dieting. She didn’t even feel like she was approaching fifty. In fact, she still felt like she was in her prime. She knew that the woman was trying to be polite, but this Sonya really had no business in knowing her true age. All she was here for was to get a very special pair of shoes for her daughter, and that was just what she was going to get. And she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Hi!” Darcy said, feeling a little unsure of herself. It wasn’t that she lacked confidence in talking to the woman but that she was afraid that this wonderful shoe store that Sonya was boasting about would not have the specific pair of shoes that her daughter wanted to have. She got out her list and began to read it out loud, from top to bottom. “I came to your shoe store because the reviews said that you were the very best running shoe store in the Bay Area.” Sonya nodded and gave Darcy a look of humility. “I try my best. Really, it’s about trying to satisfy the needs of every customer. Shoemaking has been in my family for generations and I aim to please. What are you looking for? How can I help you today?” Darcy felt warm inside, as that last question really pierced her soul. “How can I be helped?” Darcy asked herself, feeling a sense of gratitude as the question continued to ring in her ear. She looked back at her list. “My daughter is an avid runner, and she has been running since she was a little girl. She’s ran in the Junior Trail Blazers and cross country from middle school to high school. She’s completed countless 5K’s, 10K’s, and completed five marathons. So I need a very special pair of running shoes for Charlotte. They need to have a few carbon plates, a moderate length of lugs, and a gaiter attachment. Oh, and the stack height needs to be ideal. And the rocker needs to be good to give her plenty of endurance. And make sure there’s a good sockliner to wick a lot of the sweat away. The toe box needs to be the perfect width with a well-designed toe cap and toe spring. And…Can I just give you the whole list? There’s a lot more details listed here. Every single one needs to be in the pair of shoes.” Sonya nodded and took the list from Darcy. She spent the next couple of minutes studying the various details that Darcy requested for her daughter’s running shoes, giving occasional nods as she studied the list. “I see. I know how important a good running shoe is. Miss…” She paused as she cast an awkward gaze on her new customer, hoping that she would offer her last name to her. “Warren.” Darcy answered quickly. “Darcy Warren.” “Miss Warren,” Sonya nodded, satisfied that she got the name of her new customer. “Getting to your point, I know the importance of good running shoes. I not only design shoes, but I’m an avid runner myself. I’ve completed 15 marathons and three triathlons, dear. I know that participating in these events require a very special shoe. Now, I don’t really have anything out here that would satisfy your requirements, but…” she gave Darcy a hopeful smile as she raised her index finger. “I think that I might have something in the back. I will be right back, Miss Warren.” Darcy felt like she had one more thing to add that was on the tip of her tongue. So, she went right out with it. “Sonya, Char has also completed one triathlon.” Sonya turned back and nodded. “Excellent. Your daughter needs a good shoe then. I will be right back.” Sonya walked through the aisles that had various shoes all sorted in different sections. There were tennis shoes, and every kind of running shoe imaginable. Shoes made for running through wooded trails and shoes made for running down the rough pavement of roads. The latter shoes were ideal for training for races and even the Olympics. In all of her years of having the shoe store open, she has even sold a few pairs to a few Olympians who were in Track and Field for the US Olympic Team. She finally got to the back door, which led down to the basement. The musty smell filled her nostrils as she walked down the creeky stairs, leading down to a storeroom. The rays from the sun danced from the window above, splashing down onto a chair that was by a workstation. Near the desk of the workstation were a few rows of shelves each stacked high with different bins and shoe boxes. Sonya lifted up a bin where she thought that she would be able to find the pair of shoes that Darcy was looking for. All she found in the bin was raw material to make new shoes. Sheets of polyester and nylon mesh all rolled into neat tubes and stacked within the bin. There were even two shoes that were tailor made for a customer who decided to cancel their order at the last minute. Both shoes were buried in the polyester and nylon like a permanent grave. Sonya glanced at a few order slips on her desk, each one from a customer that requested a custom order that could not be found in the store. She glanced at the list that Darcy gave her and read it. Carbon plates. Lugs that were not too short or too long. A gaiter attachment. An ideal stack height. A good rocker for plenty of endurance and a good sockliner to handle the moisture. A wide enough toe box. A well-designed toe cap and toe spring. She thought that she knew of a pair of shoes that would match the description that Darcy gave her. But she was wrong. She had no such shoe to produce for the woman. If this were a race, she would be just short of the finish line. It pained Sonya to not be able to provide a solution to what her customer needed. But being a runner, Sonya was not about to quit. She walked over to her workstation and tore off a new order slip. “I’ll design a new pair of running shoes that would match Miss Warren’s description,” she told herself as she began to write all the details on the form, including Miss Warren’s name and what she wanted. In the middle of Sonya filling out the form, she felt a strong energy in the room. Sonya did not know why she was doing this, but the energy made her stand up. The energy flowed into her and sent a shiver down her spine. As much as she wanted to keep filling out the form and returning to Miss Warren, she found her legs moving towards a set of shelves. She felt more and more out of control with each step she made towards the shelves. It was like someone else was controlling her every movement. When Sonya was finally between the two shelves, she wanted to move her legs forward, but she found herself unable to move. Her feet felt glued to the floor beneath her. The only thing she could do was kneel, lower and lower. She kneeled down until she reached the bottom shelf, where there was a white bin that was somehow unlabeled. This confused and frightened Sonya as she usually labels every one of her bins. She grabbed the bin and found herself moving back to the workstation like she was on autopilot. She glanced at the bin, looking perplexed. She couldn’t ever remember even having this bin anywhere in her store, which made the contents all the more mysterious. She opened the bin to find a blue sports tank top with black athletic shorts. Along with this ensemble was a shoe box. The shoe box had two letters boldly labeled in a designer font. The fancy letters read “B.V.” She lifted up the lid of the shoe box to find a pair of women’s running shoes. The shoes were white as snow, with thick pink curves marking the design around the quarter in wide arcs. The pink stitching encircled the boundary of the vamp and also marked the boundary of the quarter. Each of the eyelets of the shoe shared the same pink color, and the shoes were all laced with white laces, each shoe already neatly tied in a bow. She examined the shoes in the box for a closer look, noticing all the details were perfectly on point with Miss Warren’s written description of what she wanted. She saw the carbon plates running around the contours of the midsole of the shoe. The distribution of the lugs, she saw, were just right. They ran evenly beneath the outsole of the shoe. The gaiter attachment sat beneath the pull tab that rested on the heel. The stack height looked right. Both the outsole and midsole were perfectly curved, so the rocker was there. The sockliner curved all the way up from the tongue to the heel counter. The toe box looked wide enough, and the toe cap and toe spring were smooth to the touch. A perfect blend of polyester and nylon. Sonya was simply beyond words. These shoes were perfect. Exactly what Darcy was looking for. What were the odds of her finding something that matched her specific description perfectly? She marveled at the craftsmanship of the pair of shoes, knowing the amount of work and detail needed to make them. This, she knew, was a custom order. And shoes like this could not be mass produced. She folded the tongue of one of the shoes up with both her hands to inspect the size of the shoe. A small “7” was neatly printed on the white tongue tag of the shoe. Size 7. “These should be the right size,” Sonya thought. As Sonya picked up the shoes, a weird energy began to flow into her. She was now no longer in her shoe store but was running down a city street, like she was in a marathon. Thousands of onlookers cheered her on as she passed numerous marathon runners effortlessly. After that, she was running in another city. Boston. New York. Los Angeles. Chicago. Paris. London. It was like the shoes were showing her every leg of the past wearer’s journey. Then she saw junior track meets. Cross country running at middle school. At high school. Running on various trails. Organized running where she had a vision of running past a group of children. Sonya tried to find the shoe store where she was at, but she was lost in a dark void. All her eyes could perceive now was darkness, before the darkness vanished, reverting back into a blurry version of the storeroom where she was, until the blurriness went away in a couple of minutes. She was still holding the shoes and now had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Maybe I shouldn’t give her the shoes,” Sonya thought. “Yes. I’ll suggest to her an alternative. I will not let her buy these shoes.” Sonya put the shoe back in the box with its twin and placed the lid back on it. She wanted to place the box back in the bin and place the bin where it belonged, but her hands couldn’t move. She felt it as she held the box. A warmth filled her that she couldn’t explain. She couldn’t even walk back to where she found the bin. Her feet were both glued to the floor. Then, she strained, trying to move both feet with all of her might. Finally, her two feet began to move. But each foot that hit the floor felt like a deadweight. And to her horror, she was not moving towards where she found the shoes, but towards the stairs, holding the shoe box in her hands. Each additional step felt heavier and heavier. “What am I doing?” Sonya thought. She was confused, unable to explain the strange magic that was moving her forward. She was now moving faster, her gait increasing ever closer towards the stairs. But her movements were not her own. She felt like a marionette, with someone else pulling the strings. Meanwhile, Darcy was still waiting at the counter for Sonya to return. It must have been at least 20 minutes since she left to look for the shoes. Darcy glanced at the time display on her cellphone, a pitch-black screen with white numbers displaying the time. She was wrong. It has now been almost 30 minutes since Sonya left to complete her kind errand for her. And this errand, she knew, was important. Considering the amount of running that her daughter did, she needed the best shoes that she could find. Darcy nervously twirled her fingers through her jet-black hair. Considering that there were no customers in the store, she felt safe, happily indulging in her nervous stim. Her hands then shifted to her orange sundress, where she began to play with the hem of her dress, pinching her two fingers over the hem, rubbing the pinched fabric against her fingers in repeated motions, pinching her two fingers with the fabric up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Darcy was self-aware of these stims and fidgets and only partook of them privately to relieve her anxiety and stress. And the anxiety continued to well up inside of her as she ruminated over the root cause of it. It was…her daughter. The one thing that held her together and gave her both meaning and purpose. And that one thing that she cherished so much was now mostly absent in her life. Her dear sweet daughter Charlotte. Darcy knew that she had to let her go. Charlotte was an adult now and would be turning 30 in November. But the sadness and loneliness both ate away at her heart like a cancer. She let out a soft sigh, her heavy heart filled with the fond memories that she spent with her. Sure, Charlotte was coming home to visit for 17 days. But that brief amount of time would hardly quench Darcy’s lingering loneliness that she had for her dear daughter. A girl that she was totally proud of. Charlotte was able to amaze Darcy in so many ways. From the day that she showed a young Charlotte her modeling photos of her wearing beautiful dresses, Charlotte wanted her to “take pictures of her in pitty dwesses”. Darcy wasted no time in contacting a child modeling agency and young Charlotte was a natural at it. She appeared in toddler children’s clothing catalogs and even secured a deal to appear in a few diaper commercials. Charlotte potty trained late so Darcy was able to utilize this to her advantage. Her petite size and ideal age made her the perfect choice for these commercials. And most of the commercial shoots were done in one or two takes. The other things that amazed Darcy was what Charlotte did later on. Enrolling her in Langford became the obvious choice, as she wanted to utilize her daughter’s modeling talent to its full potential. And because Charlotte always ran, she was enrolled in all manner of running programs from toddlerhood to adulthood. Charlotte ran in 1K’s when she was very little. And as she got older, the 1K’s became 2K’s. Then 5K’s and 10K’s. Then half marathons. And finally, when Charlotte was an adult, she was now running marathons. And with the most recent marathon that Charlotte ran on St. Patrick’s Day in Los Angeles, she finished it in her best place yet. She came in 50th with a time of 2:43:29 out of more than 25,000 participants. The pace for her miles were around 6 minutes and 14 seconds. Darcy felt bad that she didn’t get her daughter a gift to celebrate her greatest accomplishment in long-distance running. With it being now almost five months since the race, this would be a wonderful gift for Charlotte and a great help to her as she trains for the Labor Day Marathon that would be taking place at the end of August in San Francisco. And besides the marathon, Darcy was impressed with how well her daughter can juggle her running with her highly demanding work schedule. In the more recent years, Charlotte has become very popular in the modeling industry, now starting to earn more than even the top models. This made Darcy very proud of Charlotte, as she was now able to finally buy her “Barbie Dream House”: a cozy mansion in Beverly Hills. Darcy has been to her daughter’s new house last year and was greatly impressed. It looked more like a palace than a house, with numerous bedrooms and countless bathrooms. A private movie theater, an indoor and outdoor pool, a private gym with a state-of-the-art treadmill, a 20-car garage, and even private living quarters for the maids and other staff. The house that she lived in near Langford paled in comparison to her daughter’s Barbie Mansion. It was everything that she wanted, so Darcy reasoned that if Charlotte was happy, she too would be happy for her daughter’s success. After all, the tuition that Darcy paid to enroll Charlotte in Langford was well worth the sacrifice. Her numerous and sporadic gigs in modeling and acting paid the bills and got her a modest house that was not too far from Langford. Like any college debt, Darcy was sacked with the bills from Langford after Charlotte graduated. “And forget college!” Darcy sighed to herself with a morose face as she thought of the bills. “Langford was a high school!” And since Charlotte also attended grades 5 through 8 through Langford middle school, this poured salt on the wound and doubled Darcy’s debt. But three years ago, Charlotte surprised her mother in giving her a check to pay off the Langford tuition as a Christmas gift. But this was not all. She received an additional $50,000 from her daughter and was told to use it, as Charlotte said, “On a shopping spree”. But Darcy only spent half the money and saved the rest. Darcy then glanced at her phone again to find that another 10 minutes has gone by. It has now been 40 minutes since Sonya politely dismissed herself to try and find the perfect shoes that was per Darcy’s description on the slip of paper. At this point, it seemed like she was on some hopeless quest to find the hidden treasure. Her tardiness began to frustrate Darcy, as she began to tap the heels of her black pumps against the hardwood floor of the store. Each additional minute further fueled the frustration and growing defeat that was beginning to erupt inside of her. Finally, Darcy heard the sound of the door screeching open. A great feeling of ecstasy and relief came over Darcy as she saw Sonya holding a shoe box in both hands. “Could these be it?” she asked herself. “Are these the special shoes that will make my dear Charlotte happy?” Sonya plopped the shoe box on the counter and then produced a dutiful smile. “Sorry about the delay, Miss Warren. Special shoes can sometimes take a while to find.” Sonya figured that this lie would be enough to satisfy Darcy, as she was not about to tell her about her troubling experience with the mysterious magic that came from the shoe box. The strange and surreal magic that somehow altered her reality, forcing her to see strange visions and immobilizing her. It was like she was afforded a glimpse of the memories that the past owner of the shoes had. “Was selling the shoes to Miss Warren a good idea?” she wondered. Her subconscious was now beginning to scream at the top of its lungs. “Don’t sell her the shoes!” it screamed. But Sonya felt a warm energy from the shoe box that calmed her. It silenced her subconscious completely, extinguishing every last one of the fragments of the subconscious voice that was inside of her. Suddenly, a thought began to enter her mind. A thought that made her happy. Everything was going to be alright. “I need to sell her the shoes,” she told herself, as making each customer happy has always been the goal for her shoe business. And nothing else mattered. Darcy smiled as she presented her credit card to Sonya. She was very happy about the purchase that she was about to make, as she knew that these shoes were about to make Charlotte happy. Or so she hoped. A wadge of doubt began to invade her mind like an unwanted intruder. “What if Charlotte doesn’t like the shoes?” she wondered, casting a doubtful stare on Sonya. She now felt that she needed to ask Sonya a few questions to ensure that she was making the right purchase. “My Char is a size 7,” she anxiously gulped. “Is that the right size?” Sonya grabbed Darcy’s credit card and gave her a complete nod of confidence. “The shoe is a size 7,” she told her. “So it should fit your daughter’s feet well. Trust me. I’ve worked with shoes for a long time.” She glanced at Darcy, as if she wanted to say something else. “Ah yes! Those running shoes! The one who had them before…she was a very good runner. Her name was…………She was…….Well, I can’t think of her name.” At this moment, Sonya couldn’t help but feel awkward. Did she really know the one that used to own these shoes? Just recently, she didn’t even know that the shoes existed, and now they looked eerily familiar… She pursed her lips and maintained her positive demeanor, softly uttering another truth to further seal the deal. “And, Miss Warren, don’t forget. I’m an avid runner like your daughter. That is why I started this business, dear. Now are you going to trust a fellow runner like me?” This last question convinced Darcy, making her feel a lot better as she watched Sonya scan the credit card on the point-of-sale credit card terminal. A soft tap on the screen from Sonya reminded her to sign her signature before the transaction could be completed. Darcy, feeling more confident, signed her first and last name in cursive (DARCY M. WARREN) before receiving the printed receipt from Sonya and an accomplished smile from her. “I hope your daughter enjoys those shoes,” Sonya said, very happy to have another satisfied customer. “Feel free to come back and return the shoes if they don’t fit. And please leave a review. It helps my business to stand out from all the others in the Bay Area.” Darcy nodded as she began to pick up the shoe box. “Sure thing! Thank you very much, Sonya. My Char is going to LOVE these shoes!” But as Darcy was walking out of the store with the shoe box, her entire body was jolted with a feeling of warmth, which she guessed was coming from the shoe box. The warm feeling began at her toes and ran all the way up her legs and into her heart. This sent Darcy into a panic. “What is this that I’m feeling?” she said to herself, now casting a curious glance on the shoe box. “I don’t know if she’s going to like these shoes. What if she hates them? These shoes were not cheap.” Darcy sighed, knowing the very idea of her daughter rejecting the shoes that she bought for her would make her what she believed to be a failure as a parent. After all, a wide chasm has formed between herself and Charlotte. Since the beginning of Charlotte’s adulthood, both her and Charlotte have grown more and more apart. And Darcy has done everything to try and fix this inevitable separation between herself and Charlotte. And nothing has worked so far. She has scheduled time to support her at her fashion shows. She has checked in with her weekly to find out how she’s doing. She has even visited her at her new Barbie Mansion! And yes. She has attended her 5K’s and her marathon’s, rooting for her at the finish line. But every one of these attempts have proven hollow in her desperation to rekindle her relationship with her only daughter and only child. But as she was approaching the trunk with the box, she felt the warmth again. It filled her entire body from head to toe. Gone were the worries about whether or not her daughter would like the shoes. Gone were the concerns regarding the strange feeling that went through her when she first picked up the shoe box. None of that even mattered anymore. It was like every lingering concern that she had melted before her very eyes. What remained was finding a nice tube of wrapping paper to wrap the gift in. With Charlotte almost at her home, time was running out. But even this heightened level of urgency had no effect on Darcy. Even though the shoe box was not in her hands, she could still feel the warmth in her heart. It felt…good. And giving Charlotte the gift just felt right. And even if Darcy knew that Charlotte was only a half hour away from her arrival, that didn’t even matter to her anymore. Nothing else mattered. All that mattered to Darcy was that Charlotte was about to receive the gift that she always wanted. A completely perfect pair of running shoes.

Hey Everyone! While I'm in the process of gradually winding down The Running Shoes, I decided to make another one-off short story in the age regression category. As for the format, I decided to try a first-person narrative for most of the story. The entire story is complete, so I am welcome to all of your feedback! The summary is below. So without further ado, here's the story! Summary: Emmy, an 18-year-old babysitter experiences an unexpected surprise when she decides to try her baby sister Erica’s infant formula. When her curious experiment becomes a full-on obsession, how does Emmy conceal her newfound obsession with her now powdered pastime? 1. Babysitting Erica Dear Diary, No. That’s not right. Hi journal! It’s me! No! That still doesn’t work. Well anyway, it’s me. Emmy Smith. My parents are having another night out so I’m stuck babysitting my baby sister again. I mean, come on! I’m 18 years old and I just graduated a year ago, for crying out loud! This is not a good time! Well anyway, look out world, because Emmy Smith is going to be the next great influencer. You can find me on Insta, TikTok, YouTube and all socials (Blue Sky and X)! Just watch my videos, okay because they’re pretty funny. Well, getting back to tonight. I am sulking in my room. Little Erica is having her late afternoon nap and believe me. She must have it or she’ll be your worst nightmare. And what else? Erica is almost 10 months old and she just started to walk. Wait until she learns how to run! Then she’ll be a LOT of fun. I just want to get to the part where she potty trains since I am TIRED of changing her diapers. I stand up and hear the faint sound of crying coming from the other room. Really?! There goes my peace. Mom could’ve done this but she’s having her fun evening with dad! Okay fine. Usually I get a ping on the baby monitoring app, but let’s see what she needs… No sooner than I approach her room, my phone is vibrating. And there it is! The ping from the baby monitoring app! Couldn’t you have told me BEFORE she started crying? Anyway, let’s see what “wittle Eri” needs… I enter Erica’s room, and I’m immediately overcome with the scent of baby powder. The white noise machine is still on, and Erica upon seeing me begins to cry even louder. “It’s okay!” I said, in my condescending voice that I do just for my little sister. “Emmy’s here! Big sis is ready to wait on you hand and foot!” I effortlessly lift my little sister out of her crib and then…*sniff* *sniff* Oh. My. Gosh. What died in there? The smell gets worse and worse as I try to quiet down my sobbing little sister. While I stuck Erica’s pacifier in her mouth, she was still wailing. Hold on, little sis. It’s fine. Everything’s fine… I set little Erica down on the changing table while I swear was bought brand new just for her. I mean, I wish that you could see her nursery! Since before Kiki was born, my parents succeeded in not only giving my little sister her own nursery, but an opulent chamber fit for a princess. Seriously. My room could use a remodel, but they spared no expense for little Erica. Yuck. When I opened Erica’s diaper, it was nothing but cringe. Seriously. How can a 10-month-old produce that much shit? It’s all over the place, and…get it together Emmy. I’ll just take a pile of baby wipes and…there. Don’t reenact what happened the other day, little sis. The last time that I had to babysit you, I had to change your shitty ass four times! Seriously! That was not a good time. About a dozen baby wipes later, I finally get to cleaning the rest of my sister’s bum and princess parts before I powder a new Pampers Size 3 diaper. As I lay Erica on the diaper, I notice a red spot on her crotch. I guess I’ll have to use the Aquaphor on this. I apply a generous glob on my hands and rub it in to address my little sister’s diaper rash. Now, can we get to the part where I finish diapering you? I powder the diaper and then powder my sister’s princess parts. I fold the diaper between her legs and fasten the tabs snugly around her waist. There. Now you’ll be good for a couple hours if I’m lucky. My baby sister can’t talk yet, but she does do a lot of cute babbling. I think that she’s trying to talk but she can’t really make any words yet. I snap the crotch buttons on her white onesie with zoo animals on it. As I pick her up, she fusses, squirming as I carefully place her on the floor. But little Erica wasn’t satisfied with being on the floor. No. She presses her hands against the floor, propping herself up on both her legs. She uses a leg from the nearby changing table to keep her balance and gives me a big smile. Yay! My little sister can stand! As much of a pain as it is to watch Erica, I can’t help but love the little girl. I mean, look at her! She’s my little sister! My BABY sister. And as much of a chore as it is to babysit her, I often find myself getting lost in all the cute moments that she creates for me every day. I begin running the mental checklist through my mind, making sure that Princess Erica gets everything that she needs. And that’s when I heard it. DING DONG! Is it them? It can’t be. DING!!!! DONNNNNNG!!! It could. It definitely could be them. DINGDONG!!!! Okay! I’m coming! I walk over to the door and open it. And yeah. It was just as I suspected. My friends Jessica and Kayla are here, but wait until I tell them the unfortunate news. That it’s not going to be a fun trip to the movies tonight. Oh no. That’s ‘cause Emmy has babysitting duty tonight. Jessica. Kayla. Look. I have babysitting duty tonight. Okay? I wonder how they’ll take it? 2. Girl’s Night…In? I hated to break the news to them. But I didn’t want to keep them waiting! But there Erica was, crawling into the kitchen since her curiosity knows no bounds. Hey sis. My friends are at the door so I’m going to pick you up, okay? DING!!!!! DONG!!!!!! “I’m coming!” I shouted as I carefully cradled my baby sister in my arms. My sister is now comfortably resting in my arms by my chest. Wow. I’m surprised at how she’s letting me hold her! Usually, she’s squirming like crazy. Hold on, Jessica and Kayla. I’m coming! I carefully turn the knob with my left hand while firmly wrapping Erica in my other arm. And there both my friends stood. Kayla had an understanding look while Jessica had her mouth wide open like a goldfish. And what does Jessica say? “Oh. You’re babysitting?” Jessica said, in a surprised tone that she didn’t need to have since I knew that she was an only child. Plus, she knew that I have a baby sister so what’s the surprised tone about? She began to turn away and gesture to Kayla, as if she wanted Kayla to follow her. “Come on. Emmy’s babysitting her sister. We can go to the mall and watch the movie without her.” Kayla jabbed Jessica right in the groin, which made her wince in pain. “What kind of friend are you, Jess? We’re going to help Emmy babysit Erica tonight, okay? Shopping and the movie can wait for another night.” Kayla then smiled at me. “Besides, I get it, Emmy. I watch my little brother all the time, which is something that Jessica would never understand…” That’s right, Kayla. We babysitters understand what it means to watch our younger siblings. At least I have a friend that gets that! You Jessica on the other hand better do something to redeem yourself or I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Kayla and I are in the “Siblings Babysitter’s Club” (NOTE: Not a real club, LOL) and you have no part in it unless you help us watch Erica. Then I saw it. Jessica, as entitled as she was, let out a deep sigh. “Okay. We’ll help you watch Erica, I guess.” “Uh uh,” I told her sharply. “There’s no guessing in babysitting. You just do it! Besides, Erica is SO ADORABLE! Aren’t you, Eri?” Erica, who knew that she was being talked to, made her cute babbling sounds. Then, she began squirming uncomfortably in my arm. “Mama?” I had to sadly break the news to my baby sister. “Sorry kiddo,” I said in a syrupy sweet voice. “Mama won’t be home until later. But come on! Let’s get you your bottle, okay?” As per the routine for little Erica, she always got her bottle when she woke up from her naps. Fortunately, my mom already left one bottle in the fridge, giving me clear directions that I would have to make another one to feed to her before her bedtime. I glanced at my friends, and saw this as an opportunity for them to help me. I slyly glanced at Jessica and smirked. “Could you please be a good friend and get Erica’s bottle? It’s in the fridge.” Jessica looked like she was about to lose it. “Do I have to? Why does she still drink from a bottle?! She can walk now, right?” I watched Kayla scowl at Jess. “Walking doesn’t mean that she graduated from the bottle, Jess. My little brother Daniel is four and he didn’t stop drinking from the bottle until he was 18 months. A little late, I know. They should be ready to be weaned by at least a year. C’mon Jess. Do it or Emmy and I will have you change Erica’s diaper, and we’ll make sure that it’s extra messy.” Jessica, looking disgusted at the very idea of changing a diaper, immediately got up. I guess she decided that getting a baby bottle was less of a pain than changing my little sister’s diaper. Fair enough, Jess. I’ll give you a pass. She marched into the kitchen while I followed Kayla into the living room while carrying Erica in my arms. This was until Kayla offered to carry Erica the rest of the way, from the entryway all the way to the living room. Thanks Kayla. And look at that cute face on Kiki! I think she likes you! While Kayla and I were comfortably lounging on the couch, Jessica begrudgingly walked into the living room holding the baby bottle that contained little Eri’s after nap snack. A delicious blend of Similac baby formula mixed with freshly filtered water from our fridge’s tap. Yum. Wait. Yum? While it was a silly thought, I don’t really know what baby formula actually tastes like. Is it any good? My little sister seems to like it. Would I? But no. Don’t be silly, Emily Smith. You are 18 years old. Eighteen-year-olds don’t drink baby formula. I mean, there’s a reason why they call it baby formula. It’s for BABIES. But as I watched Jessica place Erica’s baby bottle on the couch, I couldn’t help but stare at the contents of the bottle. Sure, I knew that the formula was for my baby sister. But what does it taste like? I just couldn’t get that thought out of my head! Yeah. It’s silly and stupid but now I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Before I could even think about grabbing the bottle to feed my sister, Kayla grabs the bottle and proceeds to begin feeding Erica. What a saint! I didn’t even have to ask Kayla. She just did it! Watch and learn, Jessica. Watch. And learn. Jessica now had a jealous look on her face. “Let me do it! I got her the bottle. Can’t I feed her?” Kayla shook her head. “Not now, Jess. You need to be gentle when you’re feeding an infant. Now what did you say you were going to school for again?” She made a brief pause which I only knew meant that she already knew the answer. “Nursing, right?” Jessica nodded. “Yeah. So can I get some practice?” Both Kayla and I exchanged glances and grinned. I then gave Jessica a friendly nudge on the shoulder. “We’ll give you practice. You can change Erica’s next diaper. How about that?” “Eww!” Jessica cried in disgust. “Can’t I do something else?” “But Jessica!” Kayla argued in a mocking voice. “Nursing is taking care of someone. Don’t you want to take care of little Erica?” Jessica sighed. “Fine. I just don’t want it to be too yucky.” Jessica then pouted and looked at Kayla. “But you’re not studying to be a nurse! You’re going into child psychology!” I remained silent as I watched my friends bicker about their college studies. Unlike my friends, I was the black sheep that wasn’t quite in college yet. Sure, I got my diploma last year but I was not ready to go to college yet. I mean, I don’t really know what I want to do yet! So, I decided that I’m just going to be a famous influencer. And you don’t need a college degree to do that. I heard Erica begin to burp, so I grabbed a burp cloth that was sitting next to her other assorted things at the base of the coffee table. I flung it at Kayla, who managed to catch the mess that Erica was spitting up just in time. Yeah. My little sis always does that with every bottle she drinks. While it fills her up, she will always spit up a little bit. The bottle, which was once full of baby formula was now nearly empty and caked with milky residue. The afternoon, which went into the evening, was nothing too exciting. Yeah. It was just me, Kayla, and Jessica all taking turns at playing with little Erica in her playpen. We stacked blocks and colorful rings more times than what I cared to count. We pushed the colored shapes into their respective holes and watched my sister make her cute smile whether she was successful or not at fitting the shapes properly. Before dinner, we all took turns walking alongside Erica while she pushed herself in her walker, which looked like a shopping cart. And everyone, Jessica did it. She actually CHANGED Erica’s diaper! As much as I wanted it to be a poopy one, she lucked out and got to change a sopping wet one instead. And if you need to know the details, Jess did this right before Erica began playing with the walker. Kayla ordered a pizza for all of us from Doordash, while Jessica was kind enough to watch Erica while I prepared her nighttime bottle. I was now in the kitchen, with all my essentials to make Erica’s bottle on the kitchen island: New plastic bottle from the drying rack by the sink? Check. Similac Infant Baby Formula? Check. Knowing how messy the powdery baby formula was, I took the bottle and canister of formula over to the sink and sat the bottle inside the sink. Before I began preparing the formula, I decided to glance at the canister again. Upon reading it more closely, I was surprised to see that this formula touted theirs to be “Our closest formula to breast milk”. Really? To be honest, I can’t actually remember what breast milk actually tastes like. I think that my mom breastfed me when I was little, but that doesn’t mean that I remember anything about how the milk tasted. C’mon Emmy. Focus! You’re supposed to prepare your baby sister’s nighttime bottle! But…I just couldn’t focus. You guys, I just can’t. I just couldn’t adult today. I swear that my attention span was almost like a child’s. But there was the canister again. My focus sharpened as I lifted the lid off of the formula. The canister, I found, was half empty, with a plastic measuring scoop which was supposed to be two ounces of water for every level scoop of powdered formula. I glanced inside, my eyes intently gazing on the pale-yellow powdery mixture. I grabbed the scoop and dug it into the powder, leveling the scoop out with my finger before dumping the first scoopful into the empty plastic bottle. As I proceeded to get the second, third, and fourth scoopfuls into the bottle, it took every ounce of concentration to stop myself from just mindlessly gazing at the powdered formula. I mean, the burning question was in my mind. What does it taste like? Really. What does my baby sister’s baby formula taste like? The question was now like a raging forest fire in my mind. Finally, I sat the measuring scoop back into the canister and sealed it with the plastic lid. I walked over to the fridge and carefully filled the baby bottle to the 8-ounce line. I then screwed the teated lid on the bottle before placing a domed cap over it. I then vigorously shook the bottle until all the contents were thoroughly mixed together. To my surprise, the yellow powder that mixed with the water made the milk white. Yeah. This is something that I don’t really pay attention to, but you have been following this story so far, I can’t stop thinking about the formula! Does my sister even like it or is it just something that she has no choice but to consume? I walk out of the kitchen, holding the bottle while what I now felt was the weirdest urge. I wanted to drink my sister’s bottle so bad to see how it tastes! Get it together, Emmy! You are going to feed it to Erica, okay? I anxiously stared at the baby bottle while my sister was nestled in my lap, steadily sucking the contents down. Sure, I wanted to know how the formula tastes, but I now had a look of jealousy on my face. My sister looked like she was enjoying the formula while I watched her drink it. How is it suddenly feeling like torture now? Every second that I watched my sister drink her bedtime meal was…agony now? (She already had her strained peas and peach cobbler earlier for dinner.) Finally, relief. The bottle was empty so my anxiety subsided. Kayla gave me a weird look and nudged me. “What’s wrong, Emmy?” I ignored Kayla’s question and glanced at the empty bottle. “I need take care of Kiki’s empty bottle. And we need to get my sister ready for bed!” Kayla nodded. “Okay. We can do that. But let’s hurry. We’re all hungry.” Phew! She bought it. Good save! Oh yeah. While I was feeding Erica her bottle, the pizza came and we have been keeping it warm in the oven (Thanks Kayla for turning the oven on!). I’m kind of hangry myself so I think it’s time that I get my sister ready for bed. I rinse the milky residue out of the bottle and teat and set it in the sink. The three of us wasted no time in getting my cute little sister ready for bed. I drew the bath to a reasonably warm temperature, as it can’t be too hot because of my baby sister’s sensitive skin. Jessica was very helpful, but I could only guess that it was because of how seriously she was taking her duties since she wanted to be a nurse. I think it was more of that motivating her than actually caring about Erica like me and Kayla did. That, and she looked hangry like me and Kayla. And wow. Jessica is once again proving herself to me and Kayla by putting Erica in her nighttime diaper. Her process was a little more refined from the last time that she changed her. This has me thinking “Hmm…Maybe Jess has what it takes to be a nurse after all. Maybe it had more to do with her father being a doctor and her wanting to be a nurse like her mother. Kayla dressed Erica in her clothes for bedtime. She opted for a pink onesie, since this would be much easier to change her diaper than a footed sleeper. She placed her in a mint green sleep sack. I had the liberty of tucking in my sister. I carried my sister to her crib and placed her inside it. I took her clear pink see-through pacifier and placed it in her mouth before giving her a soft pat on the head. “Good night, baby sis.” After that, I glanced at my two friends as a pang of hunger hit all of us in the stomach. It was now time for pizza and some much-needed girl time. 3. Pizza and the Formula Dare Aw, relief. The three of us all smiled as we managed to devour an entire Supreme pizza between the three of us. We all licked our fingers as we finished every last stray topping that fell on our paper plates as we were all comfortably sprawled across the couch. Kayla and Jessica were the hungriest, so they each ate three slices. I had just two, which was enough to satisfy my hunger. I was especially pleased to find that one of my supreme slices had a little more sausage than mushrooms, green peppers, and onions. Kayla gave me a suspicious look again. “Spill it, Emmy. You were very nervous when you were feeding your sister earlier. What’s wrong?” Jessica smiled. “You can tell us, Em. The little one’s in bed and it’s just us now.” I sighed, as I really didn’t think that it was something that my friends needed to know about. But they’re my friends so I guess I better spill it. “Um…” I stammered. “I know that this is stupid and silly, but have you ever wondered what baby formula tastes like?” Jessica smirked. “Really Em?” Kayla shrugged her shoulders. “Let me guess. You wanted to try your little sister’s baby formula? Emmy, it’s for Erica! We have our own food! That’s hers.” “I know,” I told them, my face turning a shade of red. “But haven’t you ever wondered what it tastes like?” Kayla shook her head. “It probably just tastes like powdered milk, with vitamins and probiotics.” Jessica could not help but smirk. “No Kayla. I think that she’s on to something. Hey Em. Do you want some baby formula? I think that you should try it!” “No Jess!” Kayla argued. “That’s not Emmy’s! It’s for Erica!” “Not anymore!” Jessica argued with a big smirk on her face. “Erica is sleeping so it’s Emmy’s now. Besides, I have an AWESOME idea for the best TikTok ever! And guess what? I’ll be preparing Emmy’s baa baa. Wouldn’t you want that, Emmy?” My face turned red as Jessica gave me a mischievous glance. She can’t be serious! That is my sister’s baby formula! I mean, I wanted to try it but this is totally embarrassing! I mean, do I have to? Right in front of my friends? But then I thought of Jessica’s idea with the TikTok. If me and Jessica do this right, This TikTok could go totally viral and I will be famous! Sure, it’s a silly video of me drinking from a baby bottle, but I’ll be posting a bunch of other random shit that everyone will just want to watch after this one! This will launch my influencer career! I finally gave Jessica a nod of approval. Sure. I’ll do it, Jess. I’ll do it for the TikTok. I’ll do it for the views! I’ll do it for the fame. And most of all, I’ll do it just so I can know what that formula tastes like! As per my directions, I instructed Jessica to fill the bottle with four level scoops of Similac 360 Total Care, making sure that she filled the water to the 8-ounce line. After that, Jessica screwed on the teated lid and popped the domed cap on, before she began shaking away. “Shake it!” Jessica sang. “Shake it like a Polaroid picture! Whoo!!!” Jessica went all out, having fun with shaking the bottle that she was going to give me. And to be honest, I actually felt excited. Despite the embarrassment that I would have to endure with my friends watching me drink the formula, I would at least know once and for all what it tasted like. Kayla didn’t want anything to do with what me and Jessica were doing, so she frowned at us. “Jess,” she sighed. “You know that’s Erica’s. Her formula. And you’re going to make a stupid TikTok with that?” But Jessica was quick to shut her down. “So?” Jessica countered. “Emmy’s going to be a famous influencer, and then she can buy her own formula! Yeah! We’re just going to be making these videos. It’s going to be awesome!” We walked away from Kayla and Jessica reminded me that we needed a script before we started recording the TikTok. The plan would be as follows. Jessica would hand me the bottle and I would start drinking it. I would then begin acting silly and make baby sounds. Maybe a few goo’s and gaa’s and that would be it. Jessica held out my phone and we began recording the TikTok. I was very nervous, but I focused on my mission. Jessica gave me a big teasing smile. “Does baby Emmy want her baa baa?” In humoring the act, I nodded. “Yeah! I want baa baa now!” And just like that, I swiped the baby bottle from Jessica and began sucking the teat of the bottle. But something was wrong. No milk was coming out! How did Erica do this? She made it look so easy! Finally, after what felt like a couple of minutes, I managed to get the first few drops out. And…wow. That baby formula tasted so sweet. Yes. Very sweet. Like a powdered milk, but WOW was it good. As more drops came out of the bottle and into my mouth, I carefully sucked at the right point of the bottle and found a lot more of the milk coming out now. Bingo! I found the easy way to suck out the milk. To ham things up, I stopped drinking and glanced at the camera. “Goo goo!” I said, giving my best baby impression. “Gaa gaa! I dwink more!” And with that, I sucked down the rest of the milk in the bottle like a pro. And wow. That sweet aftertaste. Is this really what breast milk actually tastes like? It’s really anyone’s guess but I’m just going to call this a W for today. Jessica stopped recording and began to snicker. “You were wonderful, baby Emmy.” She teased, playfully shoving me in the side. Kayla and Jessica stayed for a little longer before they decided to leave. This left me with the cleanup. It wasn’t much that I had to take care of. All I had to do was rinse out the baby bottle and quickly wash it, so that mom wouldn’t suspect anything. There. Bottle is rinsed. Bottle is washed. And bottle is rinsed again. I sat the bottle in the drying rack, but then noticed the canister of baby formula that was just sitting there. Should I have some more? Because I’m really starting to crave this stuff now! Well, mom and dad told me that they would be staying out late, so why not? Being very tired, I decided to make my own “nighttime bottle”. I took one of my 24-ounce stainless steel water bottles and scooped 12 scoopfuls of baby formula (one for every two ounces) and filled my water bottle to the brim with water. I then tightly sealed the water bottle and began shaking it like crazy. There. Now I have 24 ounces of delicious goodness that I can enjoy before bed. I carefully sealed the baby formula and placed it back where I originally found it. I do my usual night routine and remove all my makeup before taking a cozy shower. I brush my teeth, floss, and gargle my mouthwash. I then put on another bra before changing into a white nightgown. And how could we forget our water bottle filled with baby formula? What a treat. I unscrew the small opening to my water bottle and begin drinking the sweet formula, which surprisingly tasted even better than the first time. Yes. Very sweet. It’s a whole lot. Almost done. Wow. I can’t believe I’m drinking the whole thing. *BURP* Okay. It’s gone. Man was…that…good…………………. I don’t know how quick it happened, but right after that, I fell fast asleep. 4. The Wrong Side of the Bed Ugh. I don’t know what happened, but something kept waking me up several times during the night. CRUNCH! CREAK! CRRRRRRUNNNNNCH! OW! What just happened? Whatever happened, I’m very tired so I’m going back to sleep. I fell asleep, the aftertaste of the baby formula still in my mouth. CRUNCH! CREAK! CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUNNNNCH! Again? I swear that this has happened at least five times or more. And…whoa. Did I just lose weight? No. Because my nightgown…What the…..! I sit up in my bed to find almost everything that I was wearing falling off of me. My bra didn’t fit me anymore. My panties were now enormous and now I’m swimming in my nightgown! Totally shocked, I undress and enter my ensuite bathroom in my birthday suit. The first thing that I did was step on the scale and…Oh. My. Gosh. 73.6 POUNDS?!!! I lost almost 50 pounds overnight! I run over to the mirror by the sink and I swear that I saw a middle school version of me staring back at me. WHAT?! HOW? All I did was drink some baby form….u….la. No. I was now in a complete state of denial. No no no no no no no no no! Really? All I did was drink my baby sister’s baby formula and now I’m a middle schooler again? No! I’m going to be a famous influencer! Well, on the off chance that the baby formula did push me closer to babyhood, I am NOT having any more of that stupid formula, no matter how good it tastes! I glanced at my alarm clock, which read 8:22 AM. Well, it’s Friday so it’s time to get up. But how is my mom going to see me like this? None of my clothes fit me anymore. Not even my panties! I pull my now oversized nightgown back on and began walking outside my room, dragging it as I went. And really? My timing could not have been any more perfect, because there mom stood, as if she was about to open my door. “Honey!” My mom told me. “I was just about to….Oh. Hmm….It looks like someone was naughty last night.” After that, mom gave me this smile that really started to creep me out. What? So, she’s not shocked that I’m this young now? My mom then glanced at me normally like nothing weird was going on. “It’s okay. You did a bad thing, but now you’re going to have to own up to your mistake. Now those clothes are way too big on you, sweetie. It’s a good thing that your mom still has your older clothes!” That’s when I remembered just how much of a packrat that my mom was. And yeah. Most of my older clothes she actually kept. How convenient! My mom left the hallway for a little bit and came back with a measuring tape. She measured me and nodded. “Yup. You’re a size 10.” My mom left to go down to the basement to find my older clothes. I couldn’t believe it. Overnight, I went down 8 whole sizes! Yup. If it’s that stupid formula, I’m never having any of it again. Maybe if I’m lucky, it will wear off and I will grow back to normal? A few minutes later, my mom came back carrying a large plastic tote. She opened it and the very first shirt was a Lavender Hello Kitty graphic tee. Really? Sure, I was into Hello Kitty in middle school but I’m WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY past that phase. I shook my head. “No mom! I don’t like Hello Kitty!” My mom gave me a stern look. “It doesn’t matter, sweetie. You made a mistake, dear and now you have to own up to that mistake. Okay? Now you liked Hello Kitty when you were 12 and see? It fits you perfectly! Now there should be a few skirts, underwear, and socks in there. I have another tote with pajamas, okay?” I started to cry. This was a nightmare of my own making and I just wanted to wake up from it. Six years lost in just one night? It was official. I have now lost my adulthood and this was more than what I could take. “Sweetie,” My mom said with a sigh. “Crying is not going to make it better. Now if you would’ve been a good girl, you would never have to worry about this. But it’s okay. Mommy will make it work. Okay? Get a shower. We made a nice breakfast for you. Erica is even already downstairs so you’re the last one up. Now be a good girl for mommy, okay?” My mom left to get the other tote and I sullenly walked to my room, carrying the heavy tote filled with my old clothes. After picking a off-white skirt with colored stripe patterns, a cupped bra, a pair of pink underwear, the lavender Hello Kitty graphic tee, and a pair of white socks, I sulked all the way to the shower. But as I washed my sorrows down the drain in the shower, a feeling of terror came over me. How was it that my mom wasn’t even bothered at me being younger? She told me that “someone was naughty last night” and I knew that someone was me. Does she know what the formula can do already? And how is it that this particular baby formula makes me younger? Did mom do something that altered the formula? Then that means, my baby sister….Erica! I was dumbfounded. Could it be possible that my little sister used to actually be older than me? All this time, I thought that I was just being a good sister, feeding my sister her formula. But afterall, she’s not even a year old yet. But who knows what could’ve happened before then? Something is not adding up… Despite me being a preteen again, I still felt like an adult inside. And that was the most frustrating part. I comb my hair and put on all my clothes. With it only being June, I knew that my future was ruined. How was I going to be a famous influencer now? I exited the shower and entered my room, to find my mom yanking out all my old adult clothes that don’t fit me anymore. This was heartbreaking to see the clothes that used to fit me yesterday were now being packed into a tote and hauled away. All because I drank some baby formula. Just how stupid could I be? But that’s the stupid part! Baby formula is not supposed to literally turn you into a baby! This was the stuff of science fiction, and the scariest part was that it was happening to me for real. I glanced at my mom, trying to look like an adult. “Mom?” I asked her. “Can I be a famous influencer? Because I know I haven’t gone to college yet…” Mom gave me a smug smile. “Sweetie, you haven’t even completed the seventh grade yet.” I scowled. “But mom!” I protested. “I have a high school diploma and you know it!” My mom nodded. “You do, sweetie. But you were a naughty girl, and now you have to repeat the seventh grade. And yes. You will have to earn your diploma again. That’s your punishment for being such a naughty girl. But don’t worry, dear. We will work through this. Okay?” I gave my mom a clever smile. “Was Erica a naughty girl?” At this, my mom gasped. “Erica is a good girl, honey! Erica doesn’t know what is good or bad yet, so mommy has to decide for her. And honey, Erica is a good girl. It is you who are naughty. Now, we’re going to enroll you in middle school next week. You will start in the fall. You are going to be a good girl for mommy, okay?” I had no choice but to comply at this point. “Yes mom,” I said reluctantly. Breakfast was filled with the usual fare that we had in the morning. Bacon, sausage, eggs, and toast. I was so late that my baby sister was not even at her highchair. I was the only one at the kitchen table, eating my breakfast. Both my parents started their work. And to fill you all in, both my parents work from home, so they have a lot of flexibility in being able to take care of Erica. During the day, I checked my TikTok and to my surprise, the TikTok I made last night with Jessica had more than 215,000 views. Yup. The video is on its way to becoming viral. But I’m not an adult anymore so how’s that going to even matter? I’m now a middle schooler that according to mom, I have to repeat middle school and high school again. Well, if I don’t have any more of that stupid formula, I won’t have to worry about getting any younger so maybe I can get older? I’m kind of hoping that it will wear off and I can get older right away. The rest of the day was boring. And now… KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! Oh. I think that my mom is knocking. What does she want? My mom smiled and glanced at my dad, who was next to her. “Sweetie?” My mom said with a grin. “I know that you don’t look the part anymore, but could you please babysit Erica again? Daddy and I are going out again and we won’t be back until very late. Besides dear. Twelve is the appropriate age to start babysitting. If you need help, just call the neighbor next door.” My mom then gave me a stern look. “Now you were a very naughty girl last night, so here’s your chance to be a good girl, okay? Mommy has more formula for Erica. It’s a brand new one since mommy made a new bottle from the last of the old canister. It’s already open since I poured the last of the old formula into the new one. Make sure that Erica gets her nighttime bottle before bed. And no drinking the formula this time, honey. Mommy doesn’t want you to be naughty. Be a good girl for mommy, okay?” I nodded, knowing very well that I wasn’t going to have any of that stupid formula this time. Sure, it tasted good but if it’s going to make me a baby, then I never want to have any of it again. About a half hour after my mom and dad left, Erica to my surprise was still sleeping. DING!!!!!! DONG!!!!! It’s them. My friends again. Kayla and Jessica. I am so dead. What are my friends going to do when they find out that their best friend is now a preteen again? I groaned and closed my eyes, praying that the doorbell was only my imagination. 5. Babysitting Blunder DING!!!!! DONG!!!!!!!! Nope. I am not dreaming. That damn doorbell is still ringing! And wow. I am so surprised that Erica is still sleeping! Usually, she would be up from her nap by now. But the biggest problem with me being a preteen now is being shorter. According to mom’s measurements, I am 8 inches shorter than I was yesterday! And now, I have to answer the door looking like a preteen instead of an adult woman. Well, here we go! I wonder what Kayla and Jessica will say? I let out a deep sigh and open the door. The first thing that Jessica does is frown. “Um…” she said, pointing at me. “Where’s Emmy? I didn’t know she had a third sister…” Kayla sighed and then glanced at me, her face as pale as a ghost. “Um, Jess? I think that is Emmy. Is it you, Emmy? You look a lot like you did when we used to go to middle school.” It had to have been the way that Kayla said it, but I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I weeped and turned my face to the floor. “Go away,” I told them. “I am babysitting my sister and I don’t want anyone to bother me.” But unlike Kayla, Jessica just smiled when she looked at me. “If it really is you, Em, then you really need us to help you watch your sister tonight. But first, let’s get something to drink, okay?” Jessica’s eyes shifted towards the kitchen, which made Kayla frown. “What are you doing, Jess?” Kayla asked her. Jessica paced quickly towards the kitchen. “Oh, I’m just getting Emmy a little drink, okay?” Kayla began to advance towards Jessica. “No, you’re not. You just want to give her more of Erica’s baby formula, right?” But Jessica ignored her question, outdistancing Kayla through the kitchen all the way to the fridge. She opened it to find a baby bottle filled with formula already in there. “Oh. What do you know? I don’t have to make one! Come here, baby Emmy…” I didn’t like where this was going at all, so I walked over behind Kayla. Jessica glared at me when she saw that I wasn’t following her directions. “Fine. If you’re not going to come to me, then I’ll do it myself!” Jessica hurried towards me, holding the baby bottle in her hands. No. You are not doing this! I successfully evaded Jessica and doubled back into the kitchen again. Jessica then grinned, holding the baby bottle filled with formula in front of my face. “Come on, Emmy. I know you like it. It’s so good. And don’t worry. I will help you this time.” Stop. Just stop. My will power was failing me as Jessica removed the cap of the baby bottle and began pushing the nipple towards my mouth. It is good. Yeah. I found myself doing the thing that I would never expect to do. I let Jessica feed me the bottle, as she calmly led me to the living room. “There.” Jessica cooed as she pointed to a spot on the couch where I sat. I kept drinking the baby bottle while she held it in her hands. Why did you have to do this, Jess? You’re going to get me into trouble! But before I knew it, I let out a soft burp as I realized that the bottle was completely empty. I then glared at my best friend, who for some reason thought that it was a good idea to play house. “Jess!” I shouted. “My mom specifically told me not to have any of Erica’s formula! You then go and feed all of it to me! What kind of friend are you? Get out of here! Get out!” Jessica nodded. “But I fed it to you, Em. You didn’t get it yourself. You don’t have to worry. It’ll be fine.” Suddenly, a loud wail could be heard in the distance. “Good going, Jess.” Kayla scowled. “Now can you please make a bottle for Erica while me and Emmy get her up?” Jessica nodded. “Gladly. I’ll have another one made in just a couple of minutes!” Jessica volunteering to make the bottle did nothing to undo what she had already done. She had broken one of my mom’s rules. And the worst part about it is that I’m going to be the one who will get in trouble while Jessica will get out of it scot-free. Some friend you are! Kayla and I were in Erica’s bedroom, where my baby sister was still wailing. I secretly felt glad that Kayla was helping me with her, as the stress of me being a preteen again didn’t do anything to help the situation. Sure, I was tall enough to reach over the crib, but I let Kayla take care of this instead. And my am I glad that I did! It didn’t take long for both Kayla and I to smell what we knew would be a very poopy diaper. I grimaced at Kayla, who responded with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Emmy.” Kayla told me. “I got this. I have changed Daniel’s poopy diapers many times. He’s mostly trained now and he only needs to wear Pull-Up’s to bed.” I nodded and calmly watched Kayla do her thing after she laid Erica on the changing table. Not only did she end up using fewer wipes than me, she took less time to change her! Wow. Kayla, can you come over and help me babysit Erica more often? Kayla carried Erica out of the room and I followed her. And by the time that we both entered the living room, Jessica was sitting there, holding a freshly made baby bottle filled with baby formula. Kayla pointed to the bottle. “Let me feed her.” But Jessica shook her head. “I can do it!” Kayla sighed. “Okay, but feed Erica this time!” Jessica nodded. “Of course! Into my lap, Kiki.” Erica squirmed forward towards Jessica when she saw her holding a baby bottle. Jessica calmly situated Erica into her lap. “There you go…” Kayla carefully watched Jessica while she fed Erica. As for me, I watched from a distance. I didn’t want Jessica to get any other ideas for the rest of the day. After Jessica was finished feeding Erica, she sat her in Kayla’s lap while she went to the kitchen to wash out the baby bottle. I thought I was out of the park when Kayla quickly sat my baby sister in my lap. “Ugh…” Kayla said, groaning. “I really have to crap! Can you please watch your sister? I’ll be right back!” And off Kayla went, running to the nearest bathroom to answer her call of duty. Jessica came back into the living room and carried Erica to her playpen. “We’re going to play with some toys now!” As I started to stack blocks with Erica, Jessica ran off for some reason. I was right in the middle of stacking colorful rings with my sister when Jessica decided to jump scare me. “Emmy!” I turned around in a gasp to find Jessica holding another baby bottle filled with baby formula. “It’s your turn,” Jessica told me. “Erica got hers so now you’re getting yours!” I backed away, knowing that Jessica was trying to bait me into drinking more of my sister’s formula. “Are you serious?!” I shouted. “You’re going to get me in trouble! No!” All Jessica could do was smirk. “Yes. You’re going to be a good girl like your sister, okay?” And before I could even react, Jessica had another baby bottle nipple shoved right in my mouth. “Drink.” Jessica ordered. And for some stupid reason, I did just as I was told. I drank the baby bottle while I watched my best friend smile at me. “There you go, baby Emmy.” Jessica cooed. “You like that, don’t you? It’s so good, isn’t it?” And just like that, I couldn’t believe it. Another baby bottle was empty. “Oh, good girl!” Jessica praised. “You finished the whole thing! I got one more for later. I made three of them while you and Kayla were tending to Erica. Now go play with your sister!” Jessica went and took care of the baby bottle while I played with Erica. Jessica joined in on the playtime. A few minutes later, Kayla returned and joined in as well. Kayla ordered Chinese for dinner and we spent most of our time engaging with my little sister. After dinner, Kayla fed Erica her nighttime bottle and we got Erica ready for bed. After giving her a bath, brushing her teeth, diapering her, and putting on a footed sleeper, Kayla did the honors, placing her in her sleepsack and putting her in her crib. After we all left Erica’s room, Kayla’s phone vibrated. Kayla had to take a very important phone call, so she stepped out of the room for a few minutes. After Kayla hung up, she gasped. “I need to get home.” Kayla told us. “My uncle is in the hospital and my mom wants me to watch Daniel.” This was fine, since both Kayla and Jessica each had their own cars. Jessica gasped. “Hope your uncle’s okay! Get home and take care of your brother!” “Thanks.” Kayla told Jessica. “Bye!” The situation was so urgent that Kayla did not even think to instruct or warn Jessica not to feed me anymore baby formula. So there I was. Alone with Jessica. Jessica glanced at me with a grin. “I think that baby Emmy needs her nighttime bottle!” I shook my head. “No! You are not going to do it!” Jessica shook her head. “Oh. That’s not being a good girl, is it? Get in your jammies.” Well, it was bedtime and I was tired of this Hello Kitty shirt so I scurried upstairs to change into my pajamas. Since my mom took the liberty of replacing all my clothes, I found a set that looked okay. It was a white and pink striped two-piece tank top and shorts pajama set. And the size was…a 12 slim. Okay. I’m not quite used to tween sizes but okay. Now in my pajamas, I decided to brush my teeth. Right after I finished, I found Jessica standing in the hallway, holding a baby bottle filled with baby formula. “Ready Emmy?” I sighed. No, I’m not ready. Yet I advanced towards her anyway. Jessica smiled. “Good girl. Into your bedroom.” I did as I was told and I sat on my bed. Jessica sat beside me, lifting the cap off of the baby bottle and bringing the nipple to my mouth. “Drink Emmy…” Jessica ordered. I began drinking, this time without hesitation. After a couple of burps, I got very tired. I could faintly see Jessica tucking me in and blowing me a forehead kiss. “Sweet dreams, baby Emmy.” Was the last thing that I heard before I was fast asleep. 6. Bad Girl! CRRRRRRRRUNNNNNCH!!!!!! CRRREAK! CRUNCH!!! Ow! It’s happening again! To fill you in on what the pain felt like, I can only describe it as something similar to growing pains, only I was feeling this pain in my bones. And it’s not that my bones were growing. No. They were trying to push themselves together, or something. Whatever it was, I could feel the pain in my entire body. And just the bones, but my skin and various organs trying to combine together. I wince in pain as the painful experience continued. Finally, I went back to sleep. The crunching and creaking happened a few more times. This next round was particularly painful. CRUNCH!!!! CRRRRRRRRRRRREAK! CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUNCH! OH! OW!!!! My face was now flush red with tears as I cried in pain. But with the pain beginning to subside, I immediately felt my body to see what was different. But then I felt something…wet? Huh? No! I didn’t just wet the bed! I once again found my pajamas draping over me. Both straps of my pajama tank top drooped past my shoulders and the waistline of the pajama shorts felt way too big. And…Yup. Basically all of my pajama shorts were sopping wet with pee and so was my underwear, which was once again way too big on me. I got out of bed to notice the large wet spot that was right in the center of the fitted sheet that covered the mattress. Like yesterday, I walked into my bathroom completely naked and decided to weigh myself again. How much smaller did I get today? And my weight was…drumroll please….46.5 pounds. That’s almost another 30 pounds overnight! That’s 70 pounds in two days! And when I glanced in the mirror, I saw this little girl! And yeah. There was no trace of puberty on my body anymore, but I knew that I had to be older than a preschooler… “This is stupid!” I said out loud, completely shocked that my voice now sounds like a little girl. I mean, it didn’t even sound like I was talking! It sounded like some second grader was repeating the very words that I dictated to her. I then tasted it. I still had the aftertaste of the baby formula from last night. Jessica! Why did you do this to me? You made me drink even more of that stupid formula and now I’m just a kid! You ruined my life! I was supposed to start my career, but now my mom will probably make me return to elementary school in the fall. I could hear the creak of the door open to my room, with my mom calling my name. “Emmy! It’s time to…Oh dear sweetie! Did you wet the bed?” As much as I didn’t want to show my face to my mom, I slowly exited the bathroom, not even thinking about my nudity. My mom studied me and gave me a matter-of-fact nod. “Emmy, it looks like you were naughty last night. How many times do I have to tell you?” I sighed, knowing that whatever I told mom, she would not believe me. “Um…” I stammered in my now younger voice. “My friend…Jessica…she fed me the formula…” My mom stared at me in anger. “Bad girl! That is a lie, sweetie! Don’t you DARE lie to mommy! Now tell mommy that you took the formula and drank it or you’re going to be in a lot more trouble.” I sighed, as I knew that I would be lying in admitting to my mom something that I didn’t do. My eyes filled with tears. “I….I took the formula and drank it mommy….” My mom just looked at me with a disappointed sigh. “Good. See how good it is to tell the truth? Now, what’s done is done, dear. But don’t worry. Mommy will make it work, okay? Now stand still. Mommy needs to measure you again.” I sighed, and let my mother measure me from head to toe. “45 inches,” My mom told me. “That’s another foot. That would put you in…a size 5 child. Stay there.” I didn’t want to test my mom’s patience, so I just sat there and twiddled my thumbs. To kill some time while my mom was in the basement, looking for my smaller clothes, I took my smart phone from my dresser and opened up TikTok. And there it was. The TikTok that I made with Jessica now had 4.2 million views. Well, it’s too bad that I can’t be an influencer! With me not even looking 10 years old yet, there would be no way that anyone would believe me if I told them that I am an adult. As I glanced at the TikTok, I scorned the older and original version of myself, who was happily sucking away at a baby bottle and making pretend baby sounds. You idiot! If only you knew that you were going to be a preteen the next day! I closed TikTok and sat the phone on the dresser before the sound of footsteps filled the hallway. I am guessing that my dad was watching Erica, as my mom wouldn’t leave her unattended. My mom came back with a large tote that held even more clothes since they were smaller. “Let’s see,” my mom told me. “You were twelve yesterday and now you’re eight, today. How many times are you going to punish yourself, Emmy? If you were a good girl, you wouldn’t have to be going through any of this. Now since you’ve been naughty, mommy is going to give you a shower. Be a good girl and mommy will let you take a shower on your own. Now, get in the shower, Emmy.” Over the next 10-15 minutes, I let my mother bathe me. It felt humiliating having her doing something that I knew I was perfectly capable of doing myself. All because Jessica kept feeding me bottle after bottle last night. Seriously. I think that something is wrong with Jessica. Despite my mom going through the trouble of getting all my new clothes from the basement, I had no say in what I was going to wear. For underwear, my mom chose…please no. Twilight Sparkle undies from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. C’mon! I liked that show when I was six years old! Why mom? I sighed. “Mom, I don’t want that underwear.” My mom shook her head. “Emmy, when you were eight, you LOVED My Little Pony. Now be a good girl and step in.” I sighed, stepping into my totally childish undies. Next, my mom put me in a cute lavender dress. Really. I looked more like a first grader than a third grader. I think that it had to do with my growth spurt that I didn’t have until I was ten. Before that, I was slightly behind in my development. Upon coming down the stairs, my father was at the bottom, looking me over from head to toe. He then glanced at my mom. “I take it that she was naughty last night?” My mom nodded. “She was. But we’re going to put it past us, okay? Now I picked out this cute lavender dress for Emmy. Doesn’t she look adorable?” My dad nodded. “Very much so. What a shame. It looks like she’s going to be in the third grade this fall, right?” My mom nodded. “She is. Since Emmy was a bad girl and didn’t want to be an adult, she can just repeat her schooling until she graduates again.” My dad nodded, as if he was perfectly fine with whatever my mom said. “Sounds like a plan. Emmy, be a good girl for us. Okay?” I quietly scowled under my breath. Jessica was the bad girl. Not me! What did I tell you? She got me into trouble and now things keep going from bad to worse for me. For breakfast, I was glad that my mom actually let me feed myself. I had the usual spread of bacon, sausage, eggs, and toast and drank my apple juice. While I ate, my mom took care of my bedding. And since it was Saturday, my parents were not working. So we all went for a walk outside to a park that was near our house. My mom was pushing Erica in the stroller while I walked beside her, with my dad walking on the other side of the stroller. Despite all the trouble that I experienced, I do have to admit that the walk outside felt good. It was a wonderful break from being trapped inside the house. The last time I was out was around a week ago, when I went to the mall with my friends. *sigh* Those were the days. After the walk, my mom told me to go and play with my toys. When I went up to my room, I found that my mom had replaced my toys with more age-appropriate ones for an eight-year-old. And worst of all, my smart phone was gone! Did my mom take it? Feeling very frustrated, I left my room and entered my bedroom to find my mom talking to someone on her cellphone. “Hold on,” My mom told the person she was talking to. She glanced at me and smiled. “Yes sweetie?” “Mom, where’s my cell phone?” I demanded. “Did you take it?” My mom nodded. “Sweetie, you are not old enough for a cell phone yet.” I pouted. “But I was old enough for one yesterday!” My mom sighed. “You were, dear. But honey, you did that to yourself. Eight years old is too young for a cell phone. We’ll talk about it when you’re in middle school, okay?” “It’s not fair!” I shouted. “I have to wait until I’m 11 to get my phone back?!” My mom nodded. “Sass at me again and we’re going to make it 12. Now sweetie, you were a bad girl, and bad girls get punished. Okay? Now I already see that what you’re dealing with is punishment enough, so let’s put it past us. Now let me finish this phone call. Daddy and I are going out and I’m lining up a babysitter for you and Erica tonight.” I gave my mom the pouty face again. “A babysitter? Mom! I can babysit Erica!” My mom laughed. “You are eight, sweetie. Yes, you used to be older but you lost those privileges. You were naughty so just be a good girl for me, okay? Accept your punishment like a good girl and let mommy finish lining up this babysitter for you, okay? From what she told me, you’re going to have a very good sitter tonight!” I sighed, but felt a little relief when I thought about the positives. Kayla has to watch Daniel because of her sick uncle in the hospital. And Jessica can’t come over if the babysitter is watching me. So yeah. At least I won’t have to worry about watching my baby sister tonight. Fine. I’ll be a good girl, mom. “Okay.” I told her with a sigh, knowing that I’m not going to get my cell phone back. I returned to my room and played with my new age-appropriate toys, which consisted of the Barbies and Disney Frozen dolls that I had when I used to be eight. The whole gang was there, with Anna, Elsa, Hans, Kristoff, and even Olaf. Yeah, that was a fun movie but it felt very weird playing with dolls again. What surprised me was how lost I got in playing with my dolls. Before I knew it, I heard my mom shouting. “Emmy! Daddy and I are leaving now! The babysitter is here now! Why don’t you come out and greet her?” I nodded, and smiled thinking about how fun the babysitter was going to be. Afterall, my mom said that she was going to be very good. Okay. I’m coming down. I walk down the stairs and…my heart stopped when I saw the babysitter that was standing by the door. It was…Jessica. No. Mom! Not her! Please, not her! But there Jessica was, smiling when she saw me standing there, now towering over me. The tip of my head now grazed Jessica’s bust. “Jessica is going to be your babysitter tonight,” My mom told me. “She will be watching you and Erica. Be a good girl and help her with Erica, okay?” “Also,” My mom continued. “Sweetie, I am going to tell you what I already told Jessica. No formula. It’s for Erica only, okay? Now don’t even try to find the formula as it’s not in the kitchen anymore. You were a naughty girl so mommy had to hide it. Be good for Jessica and have fun, okay?” Yeah. Fun. Fun with that psychopath? Please mom. Don’t leave me with her! “Okay,” I said in a soft and sullen voice. And before I could even protest, my mom and dad were out the door. I glanced at Jessica in her white classic top and red skirt. Her smile was growing and my anxiety grew with it. This was not a good time. And I just knew that tonight was going to be a total nightmare. 7. Babysitter Nightmare Seriously. Jess. What the hell is wrong with you? Jessica is now looking at me with a look of complete satisfaction. Jessica then glanced me over from head to toe. “Wow. Quite the reverse growth spurt, kiddo! Or is it a shrink spurt? So now I know it’s that baby formula that’s doing this to you.” I nodded at her with my arms crossed, looking annoyed. “Duh. And you heard it yourself. My mom doesn’t want me having any of that baby formula. It’s for Erica.” Jessica smirked and shook her head. “It’s for you, baby. Now that I know that it’s the formula, I want to see just how much I can give you before you’re a cute wittle baby!” No! I backed away from her, looking frightened “N-n-n-no…” I told her in a frightened stammer. But Jessica wrinkled her nose and slightly bit down on her lip. “You will listen to me, little girl. Your mommy is not here so I am in charge. And since I am in charge, you are going to have some more formula, okay? Erica is taking her nap so you’re going first.” Jessica now looked even taller than before, even though nothing had changed. “Be a good girl for me and wait for your baa baa, okay?” The moment that Jessica left the room, I used this opportunity to try and hide. Now granted, this is not going to accomplish anything. I just want to be away from my crazy friend turned babysitter. I quickly entered a nearby coat closet and closed the door behind me. A few seconds later, the door opened. Jessica was standing there, holding a baby bottle filled with milk. “Playing hide and seek?” Jessica teased. “That wasn’t a very good hiding place, because I found you! Now Emmy, get on the couch so I can feed you your milky. And if I don’t? I began to glance away but found the nipple being pushed in my face. Jessica had the bottle tilted down into my mouth and I began sucking, gulping the contents down quickly. As I was doing this, Jessica led me to the couch and sat me down. “Good girl.” The milk felt even more filling than yesterday, since I had a much smaller body, meaning a smaller stomach. It was good. It was delicious. This was pathetic. I was a helpless slave and I could do nothing to break free from Jessica’s control on me. If I even tried to argue with her. Jessica would begin feeding me anyway. There was no way to win against her. Especially since I was now a decade younger than my original age. And who knows how much younger I’m going to be tomorrow with all the bottles that she is going to force feed me. I just barely finished the bottle when I could hear the sound of loud wailing. Jessica smiled. “Don’t worry, Em. There’s already another one for your sister. I made sure that there was two this time. Now your mommy told you to be a good girl, so help me with your sister, okay?” I nodded, still unable to get over the cringe that was my friend now being my babysitter. Jessica was no longer treating me like the friend that I was. To her, I was now a little kid. It’s not fair! What did I do to deserve this? But my answer was between my teeth and still on my lips. The aftertaste of the baby formula that I should’ve never tried in the first place. Had Jessica never dared me to try to formula, I would’ve never gone down this crazy rabbit hole of going from adult to child in mere days. My mom was right. I was a naughty girl. I was a bad girl. I totally deserved all of this because the curiosity of trying my sister’s baby formula got the best of me. Jessica gave me a gentle jab, snapping me out of my reverie as we approached my baby sister’s room. The wail seemed to have grown louder as we entered. Jessica wasted no time in hoisting my sister out of the crib and laying her on the changing table. And from what I saw, her treatment of Erica was no different than her treatment of me. My theory is that Jessica sees every child the same. It makes me wonder just how much she made off of babysitting so far this summer. What’s weird is that she wasn’t much into this until Kayla and I encouraged her. But wow. Her transformation to super-babysitter is night and day. “Wipes Emmy.” Jessica ordered. “I need more wipes for your sis. There we go!” I continued to provide Jessica with everything that she needed to quickly change my sister’s diaper. And no surprise, it was another really poopy one. Regardless of this, I did not see Jessica flinch at all. She only teased at just how messy it was. After my sister was changed into a new diaper, Jessica carried Erica into her arms and I followed them both downstairs to the living room. I sat with my little sister while Jessica retrieved her baby bottle out of the fridge. It was my sister’s turn, so I watched Jessica feed my sister. Jessica even had a burp cloth next to her so when my sister spit up, she masterfully caught the spit up. After my sister was fed, Jessica led both of us to Erica’s playpen. “Start playing with your sis,” Jessica instructed me. I did as I was told, and helped Erica stack blocks and colored rings. What seemed like 10 minutes later, Jessica came back to the living room and led Erica to her grocery cart walker. So I walked beside my sister while she walked. Jessica then turned on the TV and selected a Cocomelon video for Erica to watch. I watched the video with my sister. I was distracted until I felt the nudge of a bottle next to me. “It’s your turn,” Jessica whispered, as she tilted the bottle so that the nipple rested in my mouth. I helplessly sucked away at the sweet milk, enjoying all the sweet notes that flowed over my tongue and down my throat. When my bottle was empty, she took it and went to the kitchen to wash it. I’m guessing that she knew my sister’s feeding schedule and didn’t want to disrupt it with another bottle. After Cocomelon, my sister and I played with Jessica joining in. For me, the biggest disappointment was dinner. My mother had for me a nice TV dinner with chicken nuggets, fries, corn, and a brownie. It was supposed to be for me, but Jessica ate my TV dinner instead. My dinner instead was another bottle of baby formula. Yes, it was delicious and sweet, but I was kind of craving those chicken nuggets and fries. Alright? But what a clever coverup. Jess, my babysitter knew that my mom wanted me to eat my TV dinner, so she eats it instead so she could break more of my mom’s rules and have me get blamed again for it. Urgh! I just wish that my mom could believe me! But who’s going to believe a child? It’s not fair! Jessica wastes no time in quickly getting my baby sister ready for bed. Since my sister had another poopy diaper, Jessica had to spray my sister clean before she started her bath. From there, she followed the usual routine, using that opportunity to start getting me ready for bed. She had me brush my teeth while she brushed my sister’s. After she diapers my sister, puts her in a cute star and moon onesie, puts her in her sleepsack, and places her in her crib, she glances at me with a smile. “In your room,” Jessica ordered. “Change into your jammies. I’ll get your babas. Okay baby Emmy?” Now somehow used to that nickname, I sighed. “Okay.” I said in a flat obedient tone. While Jessica left, I checked to see what pajamas I wore when I was eight. I found a short sleeved pink set, with a button down top with matching bottoms. After I finished getting into my PJ’s, I plopped myself onto the bed, waiting for my deranged friend to feed me my nighttime bottle. The door gently opened, with Jessica holding not one, but TWO baby bottles. Jessica noticed that I was already laying on my bed, so she nodded once again smirking with her smile. “I wonder if this will be enough?” Jessica said looking at me. “Emmy baby, I am going to turn you into a baby so I’m hoping that two bottles is enough to do that.” I pouted. “Why? Mom already said not to give me any—” “Your mommy’s not here,” Jessica told me, with a victorious smile. “And when your mommy’s not here, I’m in charge. When she finds out, and she will tomorrow, I will just tell her that you snuck into her room when you were playing hide and seek and found her baby formula. You mixed it with water and drank it. She’s not going to believe anything you tell her. You’re just a little girl.” “That’s not fair!” I shouted. “Why are you getting me in trouble?” Jessica smiled. “Because I can. Look at you, Emmy. You’re just a little girl now. And pretty soon, I’m going to be your regular babysitter. Isn’t that going to be fun, Baby Emmy? Now, are you ready for your baba?” “No I’m n….” My words were cut short with the nipple being tilted into my mouth. I began to drink the bottle like a good little girl and smiled, enjoying the sweet notes that were in the formula. “Good girl,” Jessica whispered. “Just think about it, Emmy. You are going to be my baby every time I babysit you. Are you enjoying that?” I nodded, with a few tears rolling down my eyes. “But mom said,” I protested. “Look at me, Emmy.” Jessica told me. “I AM your mommy! As long as your mommy and daddy are away for the evening, I am your mommy, and you have to do what mommy says. You don’t want to be a naughty girl, do you Emmy?” I shook my head, knowing that I was fighting a losing battle. “Good,” Jessica said, realizing that the bottle I was drinking was now empty. “Now are you ready for seconds? I know that the baby formula is making you younger, and I’m going to make sure that you’re a baby the next time that I babysit you. And guess what? You won’t be able to talk back! All you’ll be able to do is cry! But it’s going to be okay, because I’m going to take care of you.” Yup. I don’t know what snapped in Jessica’s brain but she has totally gone off the deep end. “You’re fucking crazy!” I shouted. Jessica gasped, and set aside the full bottle. “Where did you learn that naughty word? Say it again, Emmy, and I will stick a bar of soap in your mouth.” I knew not to test my friend’s patience at this point so I remained silent. Jessica then patted me on the head. “Are you ready for the second one, Emmy baby? Here. Let me help you.” I helplessly sucked down the second bottle, causing Jessica to smile. “Very soon, Emmy,” Jessica told me. “Very soon, you will be like Erica. Won’t it be cute? You’ll both be twinzies!” I started to get tired as I drank the second bottle, feeling very full, even though there was still a quarter left. I burped a few times and looked up at Jessica. “You’re almost there,” Jessica calmly coaxed. “Just a few more. Do it for Jessy!” I continued burping as I tried to get the last few gulps down. I think I did it, as I heard Jessica say right into my ear. “Good girl.” My eyes flickered as I let out a few deep yawns. Then I felt Jessica tucking me into my bed. Then the lights went out. And then, I fell…a…sleep….. 8. A Nightmare Come True Once again, I felt the unbearable pain of my bones in my body. Whatever they were doing, they were retracting down, like they were shrinking. I felt like everything inside me followed suit, as my skin tightly receded with my shrinking bones. CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUNCH!!! CREAK! CRUNCH! Ow! OWWWW! My face reddened with tears and I cried in pain again, as my body was violently forcing every cell in it to shrink. To divide. To disappear. To vanish. It was like the antibodies inside of me were treating my excess cells like a virus. And as a result, I knew that it was rewinding my physical age. This painful experience happened at least three more times before it finally stopped. When it did, I sat up to realize that I wet my bed once again! And it was no surprise to me that my clothing was once again too big on me. My Twilight Sparkle undies were soaked in pee, along with a good portion of my pajama bottoms around the crotch and butt. My pee-soaked pajamas seemed to stick to me as I tried to wiggle myself out of my bed. The bottoms finally fell off, along with my oversized undies. My oversized pajama tops, however, sagged around my shoulders. Frustrated with this, I unbuttoned them and threw them off. Having studied my fitted sheets, I discovered that I did not just wet the bed. I flooded it. The wet spot covered an isolated portion of the bed with everything else being dry. Sighing, I walked over to the door to my bathroom. And wow. My head was now level with the door knob. Well, at least I can still walk easily. I open the door to my ensuite bathroom to make a rather frustrating revelation: I’m so short now that I can’t even see myself in the mirror now! Do I have a step stool in here? I glance around and scowl. Of course I don’t! Instead, I decided to go over to the scale to weigh myself. Let’s see. My weight for today is…33.3 pounds. That’s another 13 pounds overnight! So yeah. More than 80 pounds in three days? Oh, please let this be a nightmare! I’ve heard of weird science fiction stuff, but I never thought that it could happen in real life. Frustrated, I press both hands on the counter and hoist myself up just enough to see my face. And WHAT? That is NOT my face. That looks like the face of a preschooler! “NO!” I shouted, my voice sounding even more high pitched than yesterday. “That stupid Jessica! Why does this have to happen to me? It’s not fair!” I pouted and sulked all the way back to my room. My alarm clock read 6:22 AM, so it was not time for me to get up yet. But what am I going to do? My bedding is soaked and my mom is not even up yet. I decided to get another set of pajamas, even though they were too big on me. Fortunately, all of my drawers were still reachable, so I grabbed a oversized pair of My Little Pony: Friendship is magic undies and stepped into them. I did the same with an orange pajama set that looked similar to my pink set. I found the dry part of my bed and rolled over to that area, piling the covers on top of me before I fell back asleep. And with this being a queen bed, it now felt enormous. Oh, please don’t let there be any more pain in my bones! While there wasn’t any pain in the bones, I did feel a tap on my shoulder. I yawned and glanced at the clock, which was now 8:03 AM. My mom was staring at me, not looking pleased. “Emmy Emmy Emmy…” My mom said with a sigh. “Didn’t I tell you to be a good girl last night? Look at you! You were a naughty girl last night.” Mom then pulled back the covers to see the enormous wet spot isolated over just a portion of the fitted sheet area. “And you wet the bed again! Stand still, Emmy. Let’s see how old you are today. Don’t move. Mommy’s going to run and get the tape measure.” I nodded, feeling very uncomfortable in my oversized pajamas. Moments later, my mom was back with the tape measure. She undressed me down to my birthday suit and measured me from head to toe. “37 inches,” My mom said, nodding. “That’s a 3T honey. And mommy knows that you wore 3T’s a lot when you were four.” I gasped. 3T? That’s toddler clothing! There is NO WAY that my mom is going to put me in baby clothes! “No!” I protested. “3T is for babies!” My mom just smirked. “You did it to yourself, honey. If you would’ve been a good girl last night, you wouldn’t have to wear your four year old clothing again. Now I know that the damage has been done, but we’re going to work around this, okay?” “But it’s for babies…” I said, with a few tears starting to form in my eyes. But to this, my mom matter-of-factly nodded. “And for you, sweetie, that suits you. You’re on your way to becoming a baby because you can’t be a good girl so you’re back in your toddler clothes. Take the punishment like a big girl. So Emmy. Did you go into my room and take my formula last night? Admit it, dear.” I knew that I was trapped, so I told my mom her version of the truth. “Yes,” I sadly admitted, knowing that it was a lie. “I went into your room and took your formula.” My mom sighed and nodded. “You’re a bad girl, Emmy. Can you stop being bad? Mommy wants you to be good! Get in the bathroom. I’m going to get your clothes and then give you a shower.” I nodded and sadly walked to the bathroom, still feeling the slight taste of baby formula in my mouth. As I stood there, I began to wonder. My mom only wants Erica to have the baby formula, but she doesn’t want me to have it. How is it okay for Erica and not okay for me? Erica doesn’t look any younger and she’s been fed the same amount of formula. Is there a limit to how young you can get? Or are the doses carefully measured for my little sister so that she doesn’t get any younger? All I’m doing is assuming right now, as I had no evidence to suggest any connection with my sister and the formula. But I knew that the formula was affecting me. It just had to be. My mom entered the bathroom holding a set of clothes that she had already picked out for me. “Hope you like Disney Princesses,” My mom told me. “All of your underwear has them. And look! I picked out Cinderella for you!” I glanced at the faded light blue underwear featuring a Cinderella print over the faded light blue cotton, with a light blue waistband and light blue around the leg openings. Yeah. That’s definitely baby underwear. I gave my mom a hopeful glance. “I’m four again,” I told her. “So can I dress myself?” My mom shook her head. “You were a naughty girl, so mommy is going to dress you. Look what else I got! A cute light blue tank dress with colorful patterns!” I sighed looking at the dress, glancing at the colorful patterns sprinkled all over it that reminded me of balloons. I stuck my tongue out at it in disapproval. “Mom! I am not a little girl! I am a teenager!” My mom hoisted me up in her arm so that I could see myself in the mirror. “Look at the mirror, honey. Does that look like a teenager? You have been a very bad girl, so you have to deal with your punishment, okay? Mommy’s got a fun day planned for you and Erica. We also need to go to the store to get you some things.” My heart sank. “What things?” My mom glanced towards the bathroom door. “For one thing, sweetie, you wet the bed last night. I don’t want to destroy that mattress so it’s getting a plastic cover. Also, when you were four, you wet the bed a lot, so mommy’s going to get you some nighttime Pull-Up’s.” “No!” I shouted. “No nighttime Pull-Up’s!” My mommy gave me a stern look. “Emmy, you are going to wet the bed again if you don’t wear them. Oh, don’t start crying again. You didn’t want to be a good girl. You didn’t want to be a grown up, Emmy. Because of that, this is what you get. You’re four again and you’re going to sleep in the Pull-Ups tonight.” My sobbing turned into quiet weeping, as I realized that this was a nightmare that I was not going to wake up from. Yeah. It was a nightmare come true with no escape from it. My mom gave me a shower, while the water and tears went down the drain. After the shower, my mom bunched my brown hair and tied them into two pigtails. Great. Now I look even more like a little girl. Like yesterday, my dad gave me his inspection, clearly knowing that I was naughty again. The usual breakfast followed, and afterward my mom asked me to play with Erica in her playpen after I ate and drank my apple juice. As I was playing with Erica, I could overhear my mom talking to Jessica on speakerphone. “Jessica?” My mom said, as she briefly glanced at me. “Emmy told me that she went into my room and took the formula. Is that what happened?” “Yes, Mrs. Smith! Emmy and I were playing a game of hide and seek and Emmy decided to hide in your bedroom. When I found her, she had the lid of the formula open and she was drinking the formula from your rinse cup that she took from the bathroom. I don’t know how much of it she drank, but I stopped her right away.” That wasn’t true! Jessica is flat out lying to my mom right now! My mom sighed. “Well, thanks for letting me know. I don’t know what has gotten into Emmy, but she has been a bad girl lately. While you’re still on the phone, how would you like to babysit her again tonight? Keep your eyes on her, as she might try to do the same thing again.” “I will, Mrs. Smith. I will make sure that Emmy is a good girl this time.” “Thank you, Jessica. You are a wonderful babysitter, and I look forward to you watching Emmy and Erica again tonight. See you at 4:00! Bye!” The moment that my mom hung up, I stood up in anger. “Mom! Jessica is lying! I did not do that!” But my mom shook her head. “You already admitted to me that you took your sister’s formula, hun. Now why are you trying to lie to me that you didn’t? Jessica is going to watch you carefully tonight so that you don’t take Erica’s formula again. Be a good girl for Jessica, okay?” Dad had some extra work to do at home, so I went to the store with mom and Erica. Because I was so much smaller now, my mom had to reinstall my car seat that I haven’t used since I was five and a half. This made me feel even more like a baby, since I couldn’t use a normal seat belt. Once at the store, I walked beside my mom, while she pushed Erica in the shopping cart. At the store, my mom bought some more food and the things that she needed for me. A waterproof mattress cover and the nighttime Pull-Ups. My heart sank when I watched my mom set the 3T-4T box of Pull-Ups Nightime in the cart. And yeah. Sadly enough, I did wet the bed a lot when I was four years old. And now that I’m four again, I’m reliving that nightmare, as things are not getting any better. Once back at home, my mom had my bedding all washed and dried again. While I played with Erica, she put on the waterproof mattress cover and put all my bedding back on. With my bed having a queen mattress, it felt enormous to me. After playing with Erica for a little longer, the time came for her afternoon nap. My mom took care of her, while she told me to play with my dolls in my room. What other choice did I have? I kept myself busy with the Barbies and Disney Frozen dolls that I played with yesterday. I got lost in playing once again when I heard it. DING!!!! DONG!!!! “Emmy! Jessica is here! Come downstairs, honey.” Great. My former friend turned crazy babysitter is here. And after what happened yesterday, I am so over it. I pinched both sides of my cheeks with my fingers, hoping that it would be enough for me to wake up. 9. The Nightmare Continues My mom had both me and Jessica sit next to each other on the living room floor while she went over all the rules. “Emmy,” My mom told me. “Absolutely NO DRINKING ERICA’S FORMULA! And Jessica? Keep a careful eye on Emmy tonight. Do not let her out of your sight, so try a different game besides hide and seek. I have another TV dinner for Emmy so just give her that. Feed Erica her baby food. Feed her a bottle after her nap and another one before bedtime. While you don’t have to give Erica a bath, I appreciate you keeping her clean. That’s it. Have fun and keep Emmy out of trouble!” My mom then looked at me. “Do you understand, Emmy? Be a good girl for mommy, okay? Listen to Jessica, as she’s a very good babysitter. Okay. Love you! And Jessica? When Erica wakes up from her nap, you know what to do!” Jessica nodded. “I do, Mrs. Smith!” My dad smiled. “Time for another fun evening. Let’s go, Eve!” My mom gave me one more hug before they both left the house. Moments later, both I and Jessica stood up. Since I shrank another 8 inches from yesterday, the tip of my head now went up to Jessica’s stomach. She was taller than ever, and I could feel in my gut that this wasn’t going to be good. Jessica scowled when she glanced at me. “It wasn’t enough! How much formula is it going to take? We’ll find out, Emmy, as I’m really starting to get into this babysitting thing. I am watching infants next week, so I’m already prepared. And that means I’m also prepared for you.” Jessica unzipped what I guessed looked like a diaper bag which was next to her purse. A few empty baby bottles spilled out of it. “Go and play,” Jessica ordered. “I’m going to make you lots of babas.” I glanced at the five empty bottles that were scattered on the living room floor as a feeling of dread came over me. “And I’m not going to drink them,” I told her in a sassy voice. “You’re not listening to mom. They’re Erica’s! They’re not for me!” “They are for you, baby,” Jessica argued. “Now be a good girl for me and play. I will have your milkys ready for you soon.” “You’re not going to make me!” I shouted. Jessica, who loomed over me, smiled. “Oh. I don’t have to make you, Emmy. You will drink them. You always do.” And before I could argue anymore, Jessica disappeared into the kitchen, holding the five empty bottles. I pretended to play with my sister’s toys in her playpen. I could still feel the pinch marks on my face and was sad that I didn’t wake up. Minutes later, Jessica caught me by surprise, as she lifted me up into her arms. She took me over to the couch and sat me in her lap. She had one of her baby bottles filled with my sister’s formula and removed the domed cap, pushing it towards my mouth, which I had closed. “Emmy,” Jessica said, looking disappointed. “Open your mouth. Be a good girl!” She pushed the nipple forward, which forced my mouth open. “Nghnn.” I said, my mouth full with the plastic nipple. “Ahnnn whnnn nhnn dhnnn…” But my mouth was already closed around the nipple as I began to drink the bottle. Why am I doing this? I was comfortably rested on Jessica’s lap while I mindlessly sucked the formula down, like I had no other choice. Yeah. It was good. It was…sweet. Why should I even try to fight it anymore? “I will not drink the formula…” I said, after letting out a loud burp. “You won’t?” Jesssica said in a teasing voice. “You just finished a bottle, Emmy. And don’t worry. There’s more. I have four more bottles with your name on them.” “No…” I said weakly. “I will not….” And yeah. I didn’t even bother to fight Jessica for the rest of the night. I was a good girl and I drank every one of the bottles she gave me. When I was halfway through the second bottle, I actually liked it. I smiled, enjoying every last drop of the delicious formula. And why did I ever think that Jessica was doing me a disservice? She was giving me the one thing that my mom said that I could never have. I think I snapped, as I showed no resistance sitting in Jessica’s lap and enjoying another bottle. It was good! And I looked forward to the last three bottles for the night. You guys, I was completely wrong about Jessica. How was it that she was messing up my life? She was only making it better as that sweet formula is so good. *burp* Excuse me… I was surprised at how late Erica slept, as she woke up from her nap a half hour later than usual. It was the usual poopy diaper. While I expected Jessica to ask me to help her, she didn’t this time. She handled everything like a pro. And with two bottles already down me, I was anxiously waiting for the third one. All this time I was in denial, trying to resist the formula that I craved. But Jessica will get it for me. I know she will. I rushed off to the bathroom with Jessica rushing behind me. “Where are you going, baby Emmy?” Jessica asked me. “To the bathroom,” I told her, pressing my hands on my crotch. “I really have to pee.” “Go ahead,” Jessica told me. “Use the potty like a big girl!” I nodded, hurriedly closing the door and rushing to the toilet. But the toilet was so big that I had to climb on top of it this time. I lifted up my dress and pulled my Cinderella underwear down, carefully stretching my legs on either side of the bowl, steading myself with both hands so that I wouldn’t fall through the seat. I heard the loud whistle of pee splashing against the inside of the porcelain bowl. Whew. That was close. I was awkwardly posed on the toilet, trying to keep my legs stretched wide enough so that I wouldn’t fall through the seat. If I were any smaller, this just wouldn’t work. After I finished peeing and performing my acrobatics on the toilet, I carefully shuffled both legs forward to get off the seat. I used some toilet paper and wiped before throwing both squares in and flushing. I now had another problem. How was I going to wash my hands? Frustrated with this predicament, I hoisted myself onto the counter and squirted a couple of globs of liquid soap in my hands before turning the sink on and washing them. OW! Too hot! I adjusted the temperature, making the water cold enough to not burn my hands. When I was done, I just shook my hands dry, as I didn’t want to even bother with the hand towel that was out of reach. When I returned to the living room, I saw it. Jessica was sitting there, with another bottle ready for me. See? Jessica delivers. I climb onto the couch and into Jessica’s lap as she fed me my third bottle. Jessica smiled as I drank down the bottle that she was holding. “I already gave Erica her bottle. She’s watching some Cocomelon so I can focus on feeding you. There we go. Good girl.” When dinner time came around, I didn’t even care that Jessica ate my TV dinner this time. That’s because Jessica gave me something better. Another bottle of baby formula, just for me. And it was so good. Thank you, Jessica! After Jessica gave Erica her bath, she got her ready for bed, following the same routine. This time, I knew to brush my teeth while Jessica brushed my little sister’s. But before I left the bathroom that time, Jessica pointed to the scale. “Emmy? Could you please step on the scale for me? There. It’s on.” I stepped on the scale, confused why Jessica needed to know my weight. Jessica studied the numbers as they appeared. “33.7 pounds. Thanks Emmy!” I got off the scale but froze when Jessica gave me further directions. “Go to your room. I am going to finish getting your sister ready for bed and I’ll be there in a little bit.” I did as I was told, knowing that Jessica was going to reward me with two more bottles. Why did I ever resist this? Afterall, I wanted to know what the baby formula tasted like. A bad girl? No mom. I am being a very good girl in doing every single thing that Jessica is telling me to do. I was about to take my Disney Cinderella underwear off, when Jessica entered the room. Wow. That was fast! I didn’t even get into my pajamas yet! Jessica was holding a plastic sack, with the two baby bottles in her other hand. Upon inspecting the sack, I noticed that it was a sack of Size 5 Huggies Overnites Diapers. What? I don’t wanna wear those! I didn’t even want to wear the nighttime Pull-Ups! “Why do you have diapers?” I asked her. “Mom got me the nighttime Pull-Ups.” Jessica nodded. “I know she did, Emmy. But you’re a baby. And babies wear diapers. Up you go. We’re going to borrow your sister’s changing table for this.” Jessica carried me in her arms as I began to pout. “No!” I cried. “I am not a baby! I don’t wanna wear those stupid diapers! C’mon Jess. You remember me? I’m a teenager! I’m 18 years old!” But Jessica gave me a smirk, clearly indicating that she had the upper hand. “No you’re not, Em.” Jessica said firmly. “You are a baby. What did that tag say on your dress? 3T? Yup. You’re a baby, Emmy. Plus, if you are a good girl, I will give you both of your bottles. How does that sound, Emmy baby?” My desire for those bottles far outweighed the humiliation and embarrassment of having to wear diapers again. “Okay,” I told her. “I’ll wear them.” “Good girl.” Jessica quietly entered my sister’s room and laid me on the changing table. She removed my underwear and tore the plastic off the sack, grabbing a fresh nighttime diaper. My face immediately blushed when I saw the diaper. I blushed even more when I saw myself laying on top of the open diaper. Then, my last bit of resistance kicked in. “But Jess” I argued. “Diapers are for babies! I am not a baby!” But Jessica ignored me as she folded the diaper between my legs and fastened both tapes, which sealed me into complete comfort. Fine. I guess this diaper isn’t so bad if I’m going to be able to have some more formula. Jessica quietly carried me out of the room in just my diaper and laid me on the floor in my room. She found a set of pink footed pajamas with a white unicorn on it and zipped me into them, securing the safety flap over the zipper. After that, she carried me to my bed and sat on it, while I rested in her lap. As I enjoyed the comfort of my best friend, Jessica got out her cell phone and opened the TikTok app. She loaded the TikTok that I made with her the first night this started. There I was, my 18-year-old self, drinking a baby bottle that Jessica handed to me. I made stupid baby sounds and smiled at the camera. Watching this really made me miss being an adult. “You see that, Emmy?” Jessica said, pointing to the TikTok. It just hit more than 20 million views! It’s gone viral!” Great. I made a viral video, but the ironic part is that I’m nowhere near the age of an adult anymore. So much for becoming a famous influencer… Seeing that video was more than I could bear, and I began to cry in Jessica’s lap. “I wanna be an adult again!” I wailed. “I wanna be a famous influencer… *sniff* *sniff* *sniff* *sob* My sobbing was quickly silenced when Jessica stuck the baby bottle in my mouth. I instinctually began to suck on it, enjoying the comfort and sweetness of that milk that went down my throat. The bottle was empty earlier than I wanted it to be, and I cried again. This time, it was because I wanted another bottle and I wanted it NOW. But my gratification was immediately satisfied as I felt the nipple of the other bottle being placed around my mouth. I sucked down the bottle, very thankful that Jessica was able to satisfy my need for my sister’s formula. Jessica smiled as I sucked away at the bottle. “Emmy baby, you’re making my lap warm. It’s a good thing that you’re in a thick diaper…” Jessica’s statement surprised me, as I was so relaxed that I didn’t even know that I was peeing. Well, I guess that I’m glad that I’m in something that is better than a nighttime Pull-Up. My stomach felt bloated by the time that I finished the second bottle. And my eyelids were very heavy. So heavy that I almost didn’t hear Jessica saying good night to me and kissing me on the forehead before turning out the light. I let out another burp, feeling the taste of baby formula fresh in my mouth. Yeah, the nightmare was continuing, but what can I do? Afterall, Jessica was actually the good girl. I was wrong. I closed my eyes, ready to be the bad girl again. 10. Toddler Terrors I howled in pain, my eyes flush with tears as I felt my body beginning to painfully rearrange itself again. CRRRRRRRRUNCH!!! CREAAAAAAAK! CRRUNCH! I bawled in my bed, enduring the inevitable transformation that I was experiencing. To my relief, this painful crunching of my bones only happened one other time before I woke up. I glanced at the alarm clock. 4:22 AM. It was still dark out, and the last of the bone pains were gone. But as I sat up, there was a wet spot in my footed sleeper. And…That’s weird. My footed sleeper felt just a little bit too big. I rolled out of bed, frightened by just how far I fell from just getting out of my bed. As I stood up, I could feel my bulging diaper begin to sag down my waist. And yeah. My diaper is now too big on me. Just a little bit too big. I paced forward towards my bathroom, feeling my diaper sag heavily around my crotch before I felt like my diaper almost sagged off of me. The only thing holding it in place was my footed sleeper. Due to the bulk of my soggy diaper, I waddled towards the bathroom door, which was fortunately open just a crack. I pushed it open to go and weigh myself. I waddle over to the scale and step on it. To my shock my weight for today was….28.9 pounds. I couldn’t believe it. Despite me putting my full weight on the scale, it’s telling me that I weigh less than 30 pounds. I didn’t even want to try to hoist myself onto the counter. First of all, it was dark in the bathroom and I could only see my weight on the scale because it lit up. The other problem was that the light switch was way too high for me to reach now. Instead, I walked back to my bed in frustration. “Cahtawiteon!” I said, gasping when I realized that I couldn’t say the sentence properly. Let’s see. I was four years old yesterday. Just how much younger could I be today?” “Agobaatobed.” I said out loud, my entire sentence all jumbled together in one word. When I returned to my bed, I realized the tip of my head just barely grazed over the top of it. I lunge at the bed and press my hands against the side, launching myself onto the enormous bed. I crawled across the expanse over to the pillow, where I crawled underneath the covers, feeling the squish of my heavily sagging diaper before I fell asleep. I was jolted awake by my mom, picking me up out of bed. “Oh, you were a naughty girl again!” My mom said, looking very disappointed again. But I shook my head in protest. “Nu! Ahgoogul!” My mom, understanding my slurred words, shook her head. “No Emmy. You are a very bad girl. You had more of that formula last night, didn’t you?” “Nuuuuuuu!” I said, realizing that I meant to say “I did”. My mom was also holding the measuring tape this time, and she shook her head. “Emmy honey, Jessica told me the whole story last night. While she was preparing your sister’s nighttime bottle, you grabbed an empty bottle and ran off with the formula. You then got onto the sink in the bathroom and began mixing the formula with water. When Jessica found you, you were sucking on a baby bottle and it was already empty. Bad Emmy! You are a bad girl!” “Ahnahbaagul!” I protested, with tears rolling down my eyes. My mom was now holding her hand next to my soggy diapered butt (that was covered by a slightly too big footed sleeper), ready to strike. “Emily Elizabeth Smith, tell mommy that you’re a bad girl or you’re going to get a spanking!” The feeling of terror of being spanked was far too much for me, so I relented and told my mom her version (or Jessica’s version) of the truth. “Ahbaagul!” I sobbed loudly. “Ahbaagul! Ahbaagul! Donspame mama. Pease mama. Pease!” Really, I meant to say mom, but saying “mama” felt almost automatic and easier to say in my mouth. My mom nodded. “You are a bad girl, Emmy. Now why are you a bad girl? Tell mommy.” “Ahtakfoamwah. Ahdwinkfoamwah. Ahbahgul mama….” Yes, I knew that it was all lies. I knew that Jessica actually fed me the formula. But my mom would never believe me, so I had to tell her a different version of the truth. The truth that Jessica told her instead. My mom then began patting me softly on the back. “You’re soaked, Emmy. It’s because you were naughty. But let’s not worry about that. We’re going to work through it, okay?” My mom swiftly unzipped my footed sleeper to find the soggy diaper which was just about to fall off me. She undid it and wadded it into a ball. “Jessica already told me about putting you in a diaper. It’s okay, honey.” My mom then carried me in my birthday suit to my ensuite bathroom, where she had me stand on the scale again. “Mama,” I said pointing at the scale. “Ahwadsafahweddie!” My mom nodded, looking surprised. “You did? Well, mommy’s going to weigh you again because you probably still had your pajamas and diaper on. Step on the scale, Emmy.” I stepped on the scale as my mother told me and I saw that the number was a little different. “27.4 pounds.” My mom said, nodding. My mom then got the measuring tape and had me stand against the wall, while she measured me from head to toe. “33 inches,” My mom said, giving me a decisive nod. “That’s 18–24-months clothing. You’re back in the terrible twos, Emmers. “Tawbultoos?” I said in my frustrating two-year-old voice. My mom sighed. “It will have to be 18–24-months clothing since you were still in diapers at two. Emmy, you were not even ready to potty train until you were almost three! But there’s one problem. I don’t have any diapers for you. Now it’s going to be a little tight, but I think that you can fit in one of your sister’s diapers.” I gasped. I couldn’t believe it but I was actually small enough to fit in my sister’s diapers. It wasn’t too long that I was changing her diapers and now they barely fit me? My mom gave me a bath like she did with my sister and got out some bath toys. “Be a good girl and play with your bath toys,” my mom told me. “I’m getting your two-year-old clothes from downstairs.” I nodded and began to play with my toys. Almost immediately, I felt a warm spot where I was playing. I spread the suds around my face and move the little tug boat around in the warm and sudsy water. I got lost in my playtime again. I don’t know what it is about the toys, but I feel a lot more happy with playing with them now. They used to bore me but now I can’t stop putting them down. It took a tap on the back of my neck from my mom to rouse me from the fun adventure that I was having with the tugboats. My mom was holding out some kind of pink dress. “It’s a pink floral flutter sunsuit,” My mom told me. “24 months, so it should fit you perfectly. And look Emmy! There are snap buttons around the crotch so mommy can change you easily!” My mom dried me off from my bath and wrapped me in a towel. She then carried me into Erica’s room and laid me on the changing table. And now, my mom is going to change my diapers again. Well, she already does it a lot with my sister so she’s probably very good at it. My mom laid me on a powdered size three Pampers Baby Dry and powdered me before folding the diaper between my legs. After she fastened both tapes…Yeah. I could definitely feel that the diaper barely fit me. “Ihtot mama!” I complained, pressing my hands around my waist. My mom sighed. “I know it’s tight, Emmy but we’re going right to the store to get you some Size 4’s. Those will fit you perfectly. Now, let mommy put on your sunsuit!” My mom put the sunsuit on me and snapped the crotch buttons over my diaper. The diaper felt tight, so I hope that my mom would get me the diapers soon. My mom prepared a Ziploc Bag full of Cherrio’s and yogurt bites and put them in what looked like a diaper bag. She filled two sippy cups with juice and added them to the diaper bag. She told my dad to watch Erica and that we were going to the store to buy me some diapers. When my dad saw how young I was, he nodded. He then gasped. “Wait! Eve! Is Emmy not wearing any diapers?” My mom nervously laughed. “She’s wearing one of Erica’s. It’s very tight on her so we need to be quick.” My mom sat me in my car seat and smiled. “I found your old diaper bag so we’re going to use it again. Now Emmy. Can you be a good girl for mommy today?” “Ahbegoogul.” I said, repeating the words the best that I knew how. “Ahbegoogul fomommy!” It didn’t take long for us to get to a store. My mom found a shopping cart in one of the corrals and wheeled it over outside the minivan. She unbuckled my car seat and carried me a short distance until she sat me in the child seat of the shopping cart. She buckled me in, handed me a sippy cup filled with apple juice, and pushed the cart into the store. This felt strange, as I couldn’t remember the last time I sat in the seat of a shopping cart. It didn’t take my mom too long to find the diaper aisle, where she plopped two massively large boxes of Size 4 Pampers diapers in the cart. Thankfully, I could still read. So it looked like one was baby dry and the other one was Swaddlers Overnights. My mom also piled a large box of baby wipes in the cart, along with a couple of tubes of Aquaphor, some butt paste, and three very large containers of baby powder. She also added a couple of containers of baby lotion for bedtime. As my mom was checking out, I saw droplets of pee dripping between my legs and onto the shopping cart. My mom immediately noticed this and gasped. “Oh no…” The moment that my mom checked everything out, she ran with the shopping cart and took it into a family restroom, which was thankfully vacant. My mom folds out the oval changing table in the wall, hoists me out of the shopping cart and sets me right on the changing table. She unsnaps the crotch buttons and opens my diaper quickly. She had to open one of the boxes of diapers and tear open one of the white plastic sleeves to get out a new Size 4 Baby Dry. She opens the box of wipes and takes out a smaller pack. She opens the pack and begins to quickly wipe me down. She opens up the powder and powders the new diaper. She quickly sits me on it and powders me before folding the diaper between my legs and quickly fastening it. She then snaps the crotch buttons back up. I immediately notice the difference in how much better the diaper fits me. I smile and glance at my mom. “Fanku mama!” My mom nodded and tossed the soaked Size 3 diaper in the trash. “You’re welcome Emmy. Now that was a little rough, but you made it rough, dear. Remember, you were not a good girl so mommy had to get you diapers at the last minute.” I nodded, and looked at my mom, longing for my adulthood again. “Cannabe bihgulghen?” My mom nodded. “If you are a good girl, then you will be a big girl again. But I can’t stress it enough, Emmy. No more formula. It’s for your little sister Erica, okay? Now can you be a good girl? If you can, then you’ll be a big girl again.” “Ahbeebihgul!” I shouted. The trip home felt a lot more pleasant, since I was in a diaper that actually fit me this time. To spare you the boredom, my Monday was like any other day. One key difference was that I didn’t have my Barbie dolls anymore since my mom wanted me to play with something more age appropriate. Since I was only two, I played with a lot of Lego Duplo blocks and made all kinds of creations. Oh yeah. And my mom, due to my most recent regression, enrolled me in a daycare that I would be attending in the fall. It would be the same daycare as Erica, so I would see her all the time. And after lunch that day, I felt very tired. And when I woke up, I found myself laying in my bed. I did not know how I got there. Did my mom carry me there? With that, I guess I need afternoon naps now. I also pooped after my nap so my mom changed me again. It wouldn’t be my only time, as I would be pooping three more times before bed. My mom, completely used to doing this with my sister, didn’t mind at all. So is this what it’s like? It felt very weird to be on the receiving end of the diaper changes, as I could very clearly remember changing my sister all the time. My bedtime was disappointing, as my mom gave me milk that tasted nothing like my sister’s baby formula. It didn’t have the same sweet taste that I was used to. It made being a two-year-old even more of a chore now. The rest of the week dragged on, with me growing more and more disappointed with each day. I missed the taste of the baby formula and I wanted it so bad now. I’m guessing that this is what a withdrawal feels like. It was the worst feeling in the world, as I so badly wanted to have some baby formula again. Now my mommy kept calling me a good girl for not having the formula, but that didn’t matter. I wanted to be a bad girl so I could have more. I wanted to be a naughty girl and drink all the baby formula that I wanted. Jessica let me do that, so I really miss her. What day was it again? Monday happened, and so did Tuesday, and Wednesday. While I was playing with my Lego Duplos before bedtime on Thursday, my mom did the usual routine in getting me ready for bed. This time, she gave me and Erica a bath at the same time. My mom brushed both our teeth and got us both into our nighttime diapers. She put us both in our footed sleepers and then my mom carried me…Wait mom. You’re going the wrong way! Why are you carrying me to my sister’s room? My question was answered when I saw not one, but two cribs sitting in my sister’s room. Why? Why is my mom having me sleep in a crib now? “Nahkib mama!” I said in a pouty voice. “Nahkib! Bihgulbed! Bihgulbed!” But my mom shook her head. “Emmy, that bed in your bedroom is way too big for you. Now daddy and I are trying to find you a smaller bed that’s just right for you. For now, we have your old crib set up in your sister’s room. Plus, you’re a roller Emmy, and we don’t want you to roll out of your queen bed and get hurt.” Before I had any other objections, my mom lifted me up into my crib and tucked me in. Well, it’s official. I’m now sleeping in a baby crib again. All because I wanted to try some baby formula? This is why all of this has happened to me. Whatever. I’m a bad girl. What was worst was that I had that same boring milk as the past two nights. While I was weirdly getting used to my diaper being changed, I was not used to going without my formula. It just wasn’t the same. Thursday came and went. Still no formula. I was getting more and more frustrated. And then Friday came around. Mom and dad looked like they were packing for some big trip. “Wehgoin mama?” I asked her in my innocent sounding toddler voice. My mom smiled. “Me and daddy are going to our lakeside cottage for the weekend. For you and Erica, I was able to get Jessica to watch you two again. She’s coming over in a couple of hours.” I nodded, and returned to playing with my Lego Duplo blocks, which was my new addiction. I mean, it surprised me just how easy it was for me to become fascinated with something. Could it be this smaller body and fresher brain that I have to work with? I do admit that my now shorter attention span does get frustrating at times. I lost track of time as I continued playing with my Lego Duplo blocks, deciding to make something special for my mom. DING!!!!!! DONG!!!!!! The way that door bell rang just jogged my memory so clearly. The babysitter was here. It was…Jessica. I smiled, and I can’t believe that I am saying this. Jessica was finally here and I just couldn’t wait to see her. 11. Babysitting…Me? The door opened and my mom kindly let Jessica in. Jessica stood there, holding a very bulky diaper bag, which I guessed had extra diapers for me and Erica. My mom spent the next 45 minutes discussing every single rule to Jessica. Fortunately, Jessica came right after my mom put Erica down for a nap, so she wasn’t interrupted once. My mom then turned to me. “Emmy? Listen to mommy. Mommy doesn’t want you having any of Erica’s formula. Now there’s milk for you to drink so have that instead. Now you’ve been a good girl this week so mommy wants you to continue to be on your best behavior. Now I know that you don’t like your crib but daddy and I will get you a smaller bed after this weekend. Be a good girl, and daddy and I will get you a very nice bed. Okay?” “Ahbeegudgul!” I said in another one of my one word sentences. Mom and dad both hug me and I’m guessing that they already hugged my sister before they gave her a nap. Both my mom and dad left, leaving me with Jessica, who I felt very happy to see for some reason. As I walked up to Jessica, I realized that the tip of my head was now up to her waist. Jessica was taller than ever, because I was just a little bit smaller than last time. Jessica scooped me up and gave me a giddy smile. “I missed you, Em. I really did. And do you know what? It’s very cute hearing you talk now. Now I babysat three different houses over the past four days. One family for Monday and Tuesday. The second family was Wednesday and the third family was yesterday. Guess what, Em? The first family that I watched had a nine-month-old boy, and the family had the same Similac 360 Total Care baby formula as this house did. And do you want to know the difference? The baby formula did nothing to the nine-month-old. And on Thursday, a three year old wanted to try her younger brother’s baby formula. Sound familiar? Well, I already took a dry measure of the baby formula from the first house and let little Andrea try it, just to see if she would like it. She had the whole thing and since I had to spend the night with the kids, I found Andrea to be the same age.” “So Emmy, I know that it just can’t be the formula. All I can guess is that your mom has done something to the mixture. Now can I make you a baby this time? I wonder how much formula I have to give you?” I began to happily skip up and down, as I desperately wanted the formula so bad. I missed it, and I just knew that Jessica was going to come through for me. “Foamwah!” I shouted. “Foamwah! Foamwah!” “How cute!” Jessica said with a smile. “Don’t worry, baby Emmy. Jess here has plenty of baby bottles, so you’re going to have a lot of formula to drink this weekend…” I joyfully smiled as I went right to work on building something special for Jessica. It was going to be for mom, but I had to change it since they were gone for the weekend. I was almost done with my Lego Duplo blocks when Jessica caught me by surprise again. She scooped me up, sat on the couch, and sat me in her lap. She immediately gave me the baby bottle and I desperately began to suck on it. Oh. How I missed it! That’s the flavor that I missed. The sweet notes running all over my tongue and down my throat. It was much better than that boring milk that my mom gave me. “Good girl,” Jessica praised as she watched me gulp down my first bottle. “Are you ready for the second one?” I nodded, and found another nipple around my mouth. I began the next bottle and smiled. Yes, I lost it. Yes, I lost everything. But for the formula, it was worth it. I will be a naughty girl if I can have another bottle. Yes mom, you told me not to have it, but it’s okay. Jessica is feeding it to me and you put her in charge, right? I burped loudly as I finished the second bottle. After that, Jessica watched me play with my Lego Duplos. “Whacha making, Emmy?” Jessica said with a smile. “Sahfin fohyu!” I said, in a shy and reserved voice. “For me?” Jessica said smiling. “Well, I’m going to let you work on that and I’m going to check on your sister, okay?” “Otay!” I lost track of time. I finished making my special Duplo figure for Jessica and moved on to my next project. In fact, my attention span wasn’t enough to finish another one. I was nudged by another bottle in my face. I was now in Jessica’s lap again, enjoying another bottle of baby formula. I never thought that my best friend would end up being my babysitter. But she was good. She always knew what I needed and unlike mom, she always gave me the formula. Jessica then changed both me and my sister before getting dinner ready. What made it funny was that both me and my sister both had poopy diapers for her to change. Jessica didn’t mind at all but found it funny herself. And what I meant by getting dinner ready, Jessica cooked my dinner, but ate it herself. I enjoyed another bottle filled with baby formula. And then, before she got both me and Erica ready for our baths, I enjoyed another bottle. But then I saw Jessica’s other hand and found that she was also feeding my sister a bottle at the same time as me. It felt weird, but I was very close to being like my little sister. After that, Jessica gave both me and Erica a bath. My sister splashed me a lot and I splashed her back. This made her giggle and I giggled with her. After that, Jessica brushed our teeth, put both of us in our nighttime diapers, snapped us both into our onesies, and put each of us in our cribs. I was just about to fall asleep when Jessica lifted me out of my crib. She was holding a baby bottle filled with my sister’s baby formula. She quietly took me into my old room, which still had my queen size bed set up. My eyes flickered as I sat in Jessica’s lap on the bed, sucking on a new baby bottle and smiling. “Good girl.” Jessica praised, as she watched me drink down the milk. “Very soon, baby Emmy. Very soon. You will be a baby. You will be…my baby. My baby to watch whenever I babysit.” I didn’t even realize that I was drinking my second bottle when I was starting to burp. Jessica also told me how warm her lap felt again, or something like that. I think I managed to drink the last of it, as I heard the words “Good girl” before I fell asleep in Jessica’s lap. CRACK!!!! CRRRREAK! CRACK!! Owwwwww! I woke up, wailing loudly this time. This also woke Erica up, who was also wailing with me. I hoped that the pain in my bones was the last pain that I felt. Jessica came running inside, in just a white nightgown. “Kiki! Emmy! What’s wrong?” As I glanced at the crib, I could already tell what was wrong. Well, first of all, my onesie is a little too big. And while my diaper still fits, I’m very wet. Jessica placed a pacifier in my sister’s mouth and started with me. She lifted me out of the crib and immediately checked my diaper. “You’re about to leak, and…that’s strange. Your Onesie looks a little big on you, kiddo!” Ya think? Jess, my mom is a packrat and has more of my baby clothes downstairs. “Stawrs.” I said, pointing down. “Staaawrs…” Jessica looked confused. “Stars? Yes Emmy. There are stars in the sky. But you’re pointing down….” “Staaaawrs.” I repeated, hoping that Jessica would understand what I’m saying. Jessica gasped. “Stairs? Do you want me to go downstairs? Are there clothes down there?” “Yaa!” I shouted, giving her a cute smile. “Okay,” Jessica told me. “But first, I’m going to take care of your sister quickly. On second thought, why don’t I get you into a new diaper first?” Jessica removed my saturated diaper, cleaned me with wipes, powdered me, and changed me into another nighttime diaper. She then sat me down in nothing but my diaper while she tended to Erica. It didn’t take Jessica very long to take care of Erica. She changed her into a new diaper, rocked Erica back and forth, and she was back to sleep once again. Jessica then pointed outside my room after she placed Erica back in her crib. “Baby Emmy, go to your old room. I will be back with your clothes.” I shook my head. “Mehdah! Mehdah!” Sighing in my mind, I placed one hand at my head and the other at my feet. Jessica looked at me, studying where my hands were. “Are you trying to say measure, Emmy? That would make more sense so I can get the right size. Does your mommy or daddy have a tape measure?” “Behdoom!” I said. “Bedroom!” Jessica gasped. “Okay. I’ll get the tape measure and measure you. And how about we go into their bathroom to weigh you as well? Because you do look a little younger, Emmy baby…” Jessica carried me all the way to my mom and dad’s room and got the tape measure. “Stand against the wall,” she ordered. I stood against the wall, while Jessica measured me from head to toe. “You are…” Jessica read. “30.5 inches. Now step on the scale in the bathroom.” We entered the bathroom and I stood on the scale, while Jessica glanced at the numbers. “23.7 pounds.” Jessica read. “Okay Emmy. Now let me look these numbers up on my phone. I’m gonna google it. Jessica got her phone and googled the numbers. “It’s saying 18 months, Em.” Jessica told me. “I’m going to find your 18-months clothing downstairs. Wait in your old room. Okay?” I still had the mind of an adult, so I nodded and followed directions. I entered my old bedroom, which still had the door open a crack. I walked over to my bed, which seemed to be even higher than before. I looked around to find that Jessica was using my old room to spend the weekend in since I was sleeping in my own crib in Erica’s room. I somehow managed to climb onto the enormous bed. My diaper crinkled as I landed on top of the comforter, which I was surprised that Jessica kept very well made, despite her sleeping in it. I was half asleep when I heard the sound of the door creaking open. Jessica laughed. “Did you know that your mom has a tote for each month? 24 months, 18 months, 12 months, 6 months, 0-6 months. Wow. Doesn’t she ever throw anything away? Well, it’s good that she doesn’t because I found your 18-month clothing. It should fit you perfect, Emmy baby.” Jessica found an almost identical onesie that was 18 months and snapped me into it. Yeah. This fits a lot better. Jessica then laid me back on the queen size bed and smiled. “Wow. So even after all that formula I gave you, you only went down six months? Well, you’re just about there. I’ll be right back, baby Emmy.” I nodded, and found myself nodding off a little bit. I woke up being plopped into Jessica’s lap, with another baby bottle being stuck in my mouth. Thanks Jess. I needed this. I couldn’t even remember drinking the whole bottle, but I fell asleep before I could even finish it. Then I heard a whisper. “Wow. I can’t believe that baby Emmy finished drinking that bottle in her sleep.” Really? Now that Jessica mentioned it, I think I was only half awake when I finished drinking that bottle. I was in my crib again and I squinted my eyes shut. I woke up being hoisted up by Jessica. To my relief, there was no other bone pain for the rest of the night. The first thing that Jessica did was measure me only to find that I had the same measurements as last night. During the very next day, Jessica did a good job taking care of me and Erica. She changed both our diapers in the morning and fed me my morning bottle of baby formula. She did the same with Erica, feeding us our own bottles at the same time (only Erica had my mom’s bottles and my bottles were Jessica’s very own supply, except for the formula). And yeah. I wish that I could tell you anything more exciting that happened that day. It was all routine. Jessica regularly fed me my bottles and, oh yeah. After lunch Jessica put both me and Erica in our cribs and we took our naps. I needed mine badly since I found myself getting very tired after lunch. And after our naps, Jessica changed our diapers and fed both me and Erica our bottles (I loved this part). During the afternoon, I played with my Lego Duplos only to find myself getting a little bored with them. I started to find the toys that Erica was playing with a lot more fun, so I joined her in stacking blocks and colorful rings. Jessica even put on a Cocomelon video for me and Erica, which I started to like a lot. A little later in the afternoon, Erica needed her nap, so Jessica took her upstairs and placed her in her crib. I knew exactly what Jessica was going to do when she came back downstairs so I sat in the couch, ready for Jessica. Jessica went to the kitchen and came back with another baby bottle filled with baby formula. She sat on the couch and sat me in her lap. She tilted the bottle into my mouth and I drank down the sweet formula. I then went back to playing with Erica’s toys, which were becoming my toys more and more by the hour. And I couldn’t believe it. It was already dinnertime again. Jessica changed both me and Erica before dinner and then it was dinnertime for me. I drank another bottle of formula, while Jessica ate my dinner that I was supposed to have. I didn’t mind, as I found the formula to be more appetizing. And before bathtime, Jessica was duel feeding. She fed me with one bottle in her one hand while she fed Erica with another bottle in the other hand. And wow. Bathtime was fun. Both me and Erica kept splashing each other, which Jessica had to stop us from doing. I’m sorry Jess, but it was just too much fun! Jessica brushed our teeth, put us into our nighttime diapers and snapped us into our onesies. While Jessica placed Erica into her crib, she carried me to my old bedroom. Jessica plopped me on my bed and smiled. “We’re almost there, baby Emmy. I don’t know how much younger you are going to get, but you’re very close to becoming a baby. Very close to becoming…my baby Emmy. Don’t you just want to be my baby forever?” I gasped. Forever? That is, never ever reach adulthood again? I don’t think I like the sound of that. “Nahhh…” I said, with a few tears rolling out of my eyes. “Let it all out, baby Emmy.” Jessica told me. “Because that’s what babies do. They cry. And that’s all you’ll be able to do soon. But don’t you worry, Emmy. I will take care of you! Now I will be back with your nighttime baba.” “Don….” I said, with a desperate look on my face. As much as I enjoyed the formula, I didn’t want to be a baby forever. No. That was never what I wanted. I don’t know what it was, but I felt tired again. But before I knew it, I was sitting in Jessica’s lap again. “Drink up, Emmy.” Jessica said, tilting the bottle towards my mouth. “Nahhh…” I said, now starting to sob. “Oh, my little baby!” Jessica smiled. “You are going to be okay. Here. It’s going to be okay.” If I was anymore alert, I would push the bottle away. But instead, I found the nipple around my mouth and I began to suck on it again. “Good girl,” Jessica whispered, her voice sounding syrupy sweet. “Drink every last drop. You don’t have much longer to go, Emmy. You will be my baby forever…” Jessica opened her TikTok app again and smiled. “50 million, Em. Too bad you can’t be an influencer anymore, huh? It’s okay. Because you get to be my baby. Sweet dreams, baby Emmy…” Like last night, I was half asleep when I finished the last bit of the bottle. I was now in my crib again, where Jessica gave me a soft kiss on the forehead. “Good night, Emmy baby.” I closed my eyes and entered a very peaceful sleep. CRRRRRRUNCH!!!!!!!! CREAK! CRRRUNCH!!! This time, I immediately wailed upon feeling that pain in my bones. This also woke Erica up. In seconds, Jessica ran in wearing a pink nightgown. She popped a pacifier in Erica’s mouth and then carefully studied me. Jessica gasped. “It finally happened! I can see it! Your face looks so CUTE!” I glanced at Jessica and began to make some babbling sounds. Did she get any of that? Oh no! I can’t talk anymore! Jessica lifted me up out of my crib and smiled. “Oh, you feel a lot lighter, Emmy baby. But let’s measure you after I get your sister back to sleep.” Jessica did her routine with Erica and quickly got her back to sleep. I was trying to stand up, but I found my legs wobbling and I couldn’t always keep my balance. “IIhbllbllb…” I babbled. “Uh oh!” Jessica said as she saw me lose my balance. “Here, baby Emmy. Let’s get you to your old room and I will measure you.” Even though it was almost morning, I was still drowsy as Jessica carried me to my old room. Jessica then glanced at the wall. “Emmy, I want you to stand.” I tried standing, but my legs wobbled too violently, which made me lose my balance again. “Urlllh.” I grunted. Jessica nodded. “Oh. That’s right. You haven’t even learned to walk yet. Here. Lay down and I’ll measure you.” I laid down and Jessica measured me from head to toe. “Wow Em. 4 more inches in one day. You are 26.5 inches. Now I’m going to help you stand so we can get your weight.” Jessica steadied my legs while I stood on the scale. “19.7 pounds.” Jessica gasped. “I just weighed Erica the other day, and she’s a little more than 20 pounds. I think you’re the same age, Em. So guess what. TWINZIES!!!!” Great. Now that I’m the same age as my sister, I have to share all her clothes now? Jessica glanced at my diaper, which looked a little too big and shook her head. “And you know what baby Emmy? That also means that your Size 4’s are too big on you. Your sister’s size 3’s should fit you perfect now!” Interesting. I can remember those same diapers being too tight on me. And now they’re going to fit perfect. My, how the tides have changed. The day was pretty much a blur, but Jessica still had us until the evening when my parents would be coming back. One thing that I noticed right away was how much she dialed back my bottle-feeding schedule. I am guessing that she let off on this since I guess I’m finally “her baby”. I don’t know if I like the sound of that, as I would like to be an adult again. Could mom help me with this? Throughout that whole day, my feeding schedule matched my sister Erica’s to a tee. Jessica made sure that everything was synchronized. She changed our diapers at the same time. We took our naps at the same time. And *yawn* Yeah. I even needed that afternoon nap that my sister always took. As Jessica took me upstairs for my afternoon nap, she smiled at me. “So isn’t it great, my baby?” Jessica said with a smirk. “We can have fun like this again and again and you will be my baby forever!” At this, I began to wail. NO! I don’t want to be a baby forever! I don’t want to be YOUR baby forever! But Jessica just smiled at me again. “Oh, wittle Emmy is cranky because she needs her nap! Get your nap, baby Emmy. You will feel better when you get up. Sweet dreams.” And with that, Jessica gave me a kiss on my forehead before I fell asleep, as my diaper started to get warm. I was now feeling well rested again, but I was now sitting in my mother’s lap, with Jessica sitting right next to me. My mom once again sighed when she stared at me. “Emmy, you were a bad girl again.” Jessica sighed. “Emmy was. The little rascal ran off with the formula while I was in the middle of making Erica’s bottle!” I glared at Jessica. That’s not true! You fed it to me! “Blllbblllbababehbehbeh…” I babbled, trying to tell my mom the truth. My mom sighed. “Emmy, you should not have run off with your sister’s formula. Just look at you! You can’t even speak a word!” “Mama!” I shouted, which was the only word that I could intelligibly say. “Mamamamamamamamama…” My mom gently patted me on the back. “You did this to yourself, Emmy. Mommy still loves you. Mommy is still going to take care of you, okay? Now you are a bad girl, and you have to pay for all your mistakes.” Jessica nodded. “Yeah. She will, Mrs. Smith. That Emily’s always getting into trouble and now she’s a helpless baby!” My mom nodded. “Yes she is. But I can take it from here if you want to go home. Your babysitting pay is in the envelope. Thank you for watching her. You are a good babysitter.” Jessica nodded. “Thanks Mrs. Smith. Bye Emmy! I’ll see you hopefully soon!” Jessica left, leaving me with mom, dad, and my sister Erica, who was playing in her playpen. My mom sighed. “Emmy, what am I going to do with you? You were a bad girl. But don’t worry. Mommy’s going to make it work.” I joined my sister and played with her. Just before bath time, my mom began to feed my sister her baby bottle filled with her formula. I began to whimper, as I really wanted to have that formula. I craved it, and now that Jessica is gone, my mom was going to give me my stupid milk. But then, when my sister was done, I crawled back towards the playpen. “Emmy, don’t you want yours?” I gasped. What? My mom is actually going to give me the formula now? My mom sat me in her lap and she stuck the baby bottle in my mouth. I began to drink the bottle down, enjoying that sweet baby formula. “You were a bad girl, Emmy.” My mom told me. “So, guess what? Since you like that formula so much, I’m going to start feeding it to you like I’m feeding it to Erica. And when Jessica comes over again, she will need to follow the same schedule with you.” I wish that mom could see the laughter in my mind. That’s what Jessica has been doing the whole time! I’m sure that Jessica won’t have a problem with that rule! I joyfully continued drinking the baby formula, enjoying it down to the very last drop. Epilogue It was a rather quiet Monday afternoon when Eve Smith decided to take her daughters out for a peaceful stroll in the park. Afterall, she just bought a brand new Graco double stroller and she found the occasion right to test the stroller out. To let her daughters sleep while she calmly pushed the stroller through the sun dappled path lined with trees and various flowers in bloom. Eve smiled when she thought of her husband Adam, who was hard at work on another invention. Afterall, they have found success in various different experiments throughout the years. Eve found a park bench and sat down to rest her feet. She was glad that she made the trek out to the park, as she needed the exercise, and her girls needed the rest. Afterall, this stroll was during their naptime so it was perfect. A young woman pushing a single stroller approached Eve, gasping when she saw the double stroller. “Taking your little ones outside?” The woman asked eve. “I’m Katie, and I’m taking Sharon outside to get some fresh air.” Eve nodded. “Yes. Fresh air is good for them. Your Sharon. How old is she?” Katie smiled. “Sharon is almost 18 months. How about your little ones?” Eve smiled. “Oh. Them. The one in the front is Erica. The one further back is Emmy. They’re both 10 months old and they’re twins.” What Eve didn’t realize was that a little face gave her a look of resentment. What Eve also didn’t realize was that Emmy was actually awake and she was hearing the entire conversation. And if Emmy was still capable of speech, she would’ve shouted with “Mom, how could you! That’s a lie!” But all Emmy could do was project her anger at her mother while she pretended to sleep. Emmy knew that her sister was sleeping for real and that her behavior was more typical of an actual 10-month-old. Emmy on the other hand, felt like an adult trapped in an infant’s body. An infant that just couldn’t walk yet. “Twins?” Katie gasped. “Amazing. Well, Eve, I need to keep going. I hope our paths cross again.” Eve nodded, while Katie passed her, wheeling Sharon in her stroller. When Katie was out of sight, Eve glanced at the stroller. She especially glanced at Emmy, who she hoped was sleeping. “I hope that both you girls are having a good sleep.” Emmy used this opportunity to squint her eyes open. Eve smiled as she saw her daughter open her eyes, which she hoped was from a restful nap. “Well Emmy, whether you are asleep or not, I wanted to say again that you were a naughty girl. And Emmy, you were not the only naughty one. Erica too was naughty. And guess what? You both used to have a brother! Erica was supposed to watch Ethan, but she did a very naughty thing. Do you know what, Emmy? Erica was like you. She loved the formula. She couldn’t get enough of it. But it was only supposed to be for Ethan. I wanted Ethan to always be my little boy. Emmy, Erica too was a teenager. She was supposed to watch Ethan. I leave her with Ethan all weekend and what happens? I find Erica as just a five-year-old and Ethan? What happened to him? Ethan was a newborn and was dead. Erica gave Ethan too much of the formula. He was supposed to remain an infant, but she made a mistake. And where do you enter the picture? When I was pregnant with you, I decided that as a punishment, Erica was going to be my replacement for Ethan. She would always be my little girl. And Emmy, I really wanted you to grow up and take care of Erica with me. But what do you do? You make the same mistake as Erica. You crave the formula and keep having more and more of it. And now, Emmy, you have also reaped your punishment. I have decided that you two will always be my little girls. Be good girls and keep drinking the formula. And I will keep taking care of you.” At this point, Emmy wished that she could speak, but all she could do was wail. Eve sighed, and began to rock Emmy back and forth. “Emmy, it’s going to be okay. Just like it was with Erica, it will be okay with you too. Both of you girls were very naughty. But it’s okay! Mommy will make it work, okay?” Eve then got out Emmy’s phone and loaded TikTok. “Emmy, you are a naughty girl. Why did you make this? There’s a TikTok of you grabbing a bottle from Jessica and drinking it. There’s over 70 million views! But guess what? Mommy’s going to delete that naughty thing!” And just like that, Eve deleted the viral TikTok that Emmy and Jessica made. Gone was the TikTok where Emmy tried the formula for the first time. Gone was the laughter and funny antics. But one thing was clear to Emmy. What wasn’t gone was the reality that Emmy was now an infant with her sister. Emmy wished that she could just erase everything that she did like her mother did with the TikTok. Then everything would be better. Then, if Emmy would’ve been a good girl, she would’ve been able to keep her adulthood. But all that was lost now. “It’s okay, Emmers.” Eve reassured her baby daughter. “It’s all deleted so mommy made it better. What’s done is done, Emmy. Just like it is with Erica. You will always be my little girls and mommy is going to keep you happy. Just keep drinking the formula, will you, my dearies?” Eve placed Emmy back in her stroller and left the park bench. She left the park, ready to continue to care for the two daughters that she loved.

Hey-lo, and welcome to yet another AR Hellaverse story by yours truly~ This time, the Hazbin Hotel cast are going to be prominently featured (along with an OC) since Charlie Morningstar and Vaggie are going to be the ones being regressed! Still, the Helluva Boss cast (because I just can't leave them behind) are going to be prominent as well...only in the lines of an alternate universe. Basically, the Immediate Murder Professionals (I.M.P.) are just starting out, some of the characters haven't met yet, and some of the backstories for a lot of the characters are going to be different, yet similar. It also features a fair bit of shipping (including one ship that isn't in the canon series), sooo, there's that. There's also one character (well, a few, if you count Lilith, Arackniss, Molly, and some other possibly future characters) who is supposed to be in the Hellaverse who hasn't been delved into at all, so expect this story to eventually be somewhat non-canon, once Season Two is out (and unfortunately, I can't access it. Stupid Amazon Prime and their forcing to pay for content...), and basically, expect things to be different. Also, as a WARNING: this is Hell. Sad backstories are going to be prevalent. Domestic abuse (if anyone has seen Valentino - who seriously needs Raid - you'll know what I mean), sexual assault and questionable sexual decisions, drug usage, poverty, homelessness, hedonism, death, and such are going to be there...and it will be done tactfully and with respect to the importance of the subjects in question. Also, there will be lots of language. Tread lightly. Now, without further ado, here's the first chapter: - Chapter One: And Today Will Be A Fucking (Un)Happy Day in Hell. - Charlie Morningstar was enjoying her time at the Happy Hotel, especially since her girlfriend, Vaggie, was there. Sure, there was a fair bit of conflict between the Hotel and the Vees (particularly Valentino, who always seemed to want Angel Dust back at his porn studio); sure, the residents weren’t exactly…friendly with each other (Cherri Bomb and Angel seemed close, but both constantly started arguments with everyone - mostly Sir Pentious and his eggs, but also with the recent newcomer. Angel was full of innuendos and inner anger, Husker was grumpy and prone to drinking, Pentious was neurotic and had dreams of grandeur, Cherri was spontaneous and a bit destructive, Niffty was a bit psychotic, the newcomer was antisocial and nameless, and Alastor…well, best not to think about Alastor.); sure, her father and mother were a bit…distant (she hadn’t called her father, Lucifer, on the phone in months, and she hadn’t heard from her mother, Lilith, for even longer.), but she had never felt happier, never felt like this was actually going to work more than she did today. Because Vaggie had been there the whole time, and she had actually kissed her. Yes, it was on the cheek, but Charlie didn’t care; she was over the moon. She didn’t know the Sinner’s full story, didn’t know why her left eye was gone…but she didn’t feel the need to ask. They trusted each other implicitly, ever since Charlie had helped Vaggie that one fateful Extermination, and that trust quickly grew to affection…and maybe even more, if that kiss was anything to go by. KeeKee, the pet cat/key to the Hotel and Fat Nuggets the young Hellhog, were racing around the room, obviously under the influence of the zoomies as they knocked over the sculptures, fruit bowls stands, and just about everything else while chasing each other, with Razzle and Dazzle desperately trying to keep the damage to a minimal amount. Then a female voice echoed from downstairs, reaching Charlie’s room as she quickly did her makeup. Vaggie’s voice. “I told you all to be here: we’re supposed to be doing our trust-building exercises! Now wait for Charlie-” “The only reason I’m down here is because some asshole got into my fucking weed brownie stash!” The newcomer, obviously in the lovely antisocial mood she was usually in. “Now, people can cough it up, or I will fuck them up!” “Nobody cares about your weed brownie stash, bitch!” Cherri’s Australian accent came through as Charlie quickly walked out of the room, trusting in Razzle and Dazzle to keep the chaos from both hers and Angel’s pets to the barest minimum. “You’re a bitch!” “You don’t get to call Cherri a bitch, you fucking pipsqueak!” Angel’s voice as Charlie walked downstairs, trying to prepare herself for the team-building exercises. “Then why can’t the bitch stick up for herself, manwhore?” “Oi, you don’t get to call Angel that, you cunt!” “Whatever, fuckface. I’m only here because I don’t have a place to stay at the moment, and I need room and board.” “Then why even come here in the firssst place?” Pentious hissed. “Yeah, I hate to agree with the literal spy, but he makes a good point.” Husker growled to Pentious’s sputtering defense. “Why are you even here if you’re not even-” “Oh, shut up and get me a fucking drink, bartender.” “I’m not on the clock right now.” “Do I have to suck your dick to get a fucking drink around here?” “We are not drinking, newbie!” Vaggie shouted, her tone filled with annoyance. “This is a team-building exercise, and-” “Fine! Goooo team!” the sarcastic response came from the newcomer as Charlie took a deep breath and entered the room. “Hellooo, everyone!” Charlie said cheerfully. “I hope you’ve had a good morning, because-” “Can I just go to the kitchen to make some more weed brownies after I hear what you have to say?” the newcomer asked in a bored tone. She was a tiny (probably a foot smaller than Niffty, since she was wearing no shoes on her feet, which looked more like paws) mammalian Sinner with a slim foxlike snout, a black-furred mask around her red eyes, thick, mottled light brown fur with darker brown fur on her arms, legs, throat, and the tip of her tail and a very long tail the same color that poked out of her black jeans and curled around her waist. She wore a simple black tank top that exposed her navel, and a black fedora to complete the ensemble. The only reason she didn’t look like a child Sinner were the large (for her size) breasts. The newcomer had explained that she was obviously a tanuki with an extra-long tail…whatever that was. She never even gave her name; she had just appeared one acid-rainy day, bedraggled, starving, and asked for help…and despite the trepidation of the others, Charlie knew that this angrily sarcastic persona was a mask that hid a hurting soul underneath. Besides, anyone could change for the better: Sir Pentious, who had gone in under orders from Vox before the latter cruelly discarded him, was living proof! So, why couldn’t this Sinner change as well? “Well, it would be safe in the kitchen, and it might help you for a short time, but interacting with others is part of these activities,” Charlie said with a smile on her face. “And I’m sure you want to make friends.” “I don’t care about anyone here.” “Then why even stay?” Angel clapped back. “Charlie, at least, wants to help everyone. You haven’t done shit to earn it! You haven’t even participated in the activities!” “And I’m not participating in this one either. Later, losers.” The mammal Sinner tried to leave…before Husk grabbed her by her long tail. She gave a horrible basilisk-like glare at the winged feline Sinner, and hissed in a similar tone, “Let. Me. Go. Do not. FUCKING. Touch me.” “Not until you’re a part of this,” the Hotel’s bartender said in that calm, smooth tone of his, sounding annoyed for once. “You want to act like a big bad bitch, but you ain’t shit. You’re on a leash, same as everyone here; you just hide it with sarcasm and hatred. Charlie could’ve kicked you out a long time ago, but she didn’t, Lucifer knows why. You are going to pay her back for her kindness, or you will answer to all of us.” Angel grabbed the newcomer by the scruff of her neck fur, as she tried to snap back with her fangs bared, Cherri and Pentious each grabbing her by one of her arms. Even Niffty and Pentious’s Egg Bois joined in: the Hotel maid had a grip on the newcomer’s tail along with Husk, and the sentient demonic eggs had her legs as they half-frogmarched/half-carried her back to the activity. “Fuckers! I’ll fucking fuck every motherfucking one of you fucking fuckers up!” the newcomer howled, as she kicked and bit and screamed to get loose. “You’re literally three feet tall,” Pentious said bluntly. “Omae o bukkorosu zo! Watashi wa inu no yō ni kusari de tsunaga rete wa inai!” “Dare ga chēn ni tsuite nani ka itta no?” Husk answered in perfect Japanese. “WHY DO YOU SPEAK MY - FUCK!” “You got somethin’ other than ‘fuck’ or any variation of the sort?” Cherri snickered. “AHHHH, FUCK YOOOUUU ALLLL!” “So classy. And yet, so…interesting as well,” a new distorted voice came. Alastor had entered the room without anyone noticing, the evil smile on his face and cruel amusement in his eyes showing his true emotions, as the diminutive Sinner tried desperately to get away again…only for Alastor to put a literal collar and leash on her with his shadows. Not an Overlord kind of collar and leash, but one that would fit a little Hellhound girl, complete with a garish pink and flowers on the collar, one that her neck fur was somewhat fighting against, but otherwise fit the Sinner perfectly. Alastor wasn’t done yet; he used his magic to change the Sinner’s clothes into a ruffled pink dress, pink flats, and a pink sunhat. She collapsed in a heap with a defeated, embarrassed expression, looking very close to crying, making Charlie increasingly uncomfortable. “Um, maybe we can-” “Charlie, I think it’s best that we try the activity some other time.” Vaggie had not spoken the entire time, but the tone of her voice was gentle towards Charlie...before she glared at the newcomer Sinner. “You. Go back to your room. Think about your actions and maybe participate in the next activity, or I’ll throw you out myself. Clear?” “Crystal…it’s…crystal…” The newcomer Sinner’s tail was tucked between her legs as she trudged upstairs, the leash dragging behind her. She disappeared from view before the sound of a door slamming shut with full force echoed through the Hotel, sending KeeKee and Fat Nuggets scrambling downstairs in terror with Razzle and Dazzle in full pursuit. Both of the hellish animals leapt into the arms of their owners - Charlie and Angel, respectively - as both tried to comfort the pets. Then the doorbell rang, and a masculine voice outside shouted, “Gift delivery!” Charlie looked confused as KeeKee leapt out of her arms and hissed. “Did anyone order a gift?” she asked. Everyone looked confused. “I guess the newcomer ordered it,” Vaggie said as she walked to the door. “I just hope it isn’t with our funding…” Charlie went to Vaggie’s side, opening the door. “It’s probably just-” The package, held by a tall male imp, was dropped in front of them, the package top opening, and a clear powder sprayed all over Charlie and Vaggie, as the startled imp shouted, “Holy fuck!”, jumping away from the powder. The two women coughed…and began to shrink. - Now for the Japanese language (at least, I think; I've tried Google and Google Translate, sooo...yeah. Apologies to any Japanese viewer in advance; I tried my genuine best.) : Omae o bukkorosu zo! Watashi wa imaimashī inu no yō ni kusari de tsunaga rete nanka inai! = I'll fucking kill you! I'm not chained up like some damned dog! Dare ga chēn ni tsuite nani ka itta no? = Who said anything about chains? Hope you enjoyed~

Katie Ann What do you do when you look 7 years old, but you're actually a college student in your late teens? For Kathleen's entire life, she had fought against people treating her much younger than her actual age. Feeling obligated to grow up fast to show people she wasn't the age of her size, Kathleen never let her inner child out. Tired of fighting against the world, she explores the adult submissive world. What she finds, however, is an enjoyment of regression. Had she made a mistake? Would life be better if she just let people treat her how she looks, 7 years old? By Becky Anne ©2018-2024 ~o~O~o~ Chapter One: The Website Nineteen-year-old Kathleen sat staring at her laptop, working on the courage to create an account and profile on the website she just found. She had found this website after taking out her frustrations on the Google search engine. Frustrations she acquired by rage quitting her multiplayer roleplayer game. Baron, her master in the game, turned out to be like most guys she has met online, only wanting sex, cybersex in Baron’s case. Submissive Match, the name of the website, kept staring at her from her purple laptop. It was distracting her from figuring out what she needed to acquire for her return to Mountain College. Not realizing she was doing it, she clicked the yellow create account button. Moving some of her auburn hair out of her view, she flipped back to her list of supplies needed for her return to college next month. “Hmm, most of these things I already have…” she thought. “Oh, I better buy some more notebooks. While I am at it, I will buy that new book by Percy Jackson, ‘Sea of Monsters.’” “It is too bad that Stephanie had financial aid issues. I wonder how this Allison is? Is she going to have a problem with a college roommate who is short enough to be her little sister?” She continued to herself as she looked at her roommate's information pamphlet. Flipping back to the website, “Let's see what they want… I am a submissive… oh, that pulls up a whole new form… some of the standard stuff … Kathleen … Why do they want my middle name … Annabelle Telgenhof … March 16, 1987… I guess the owner's choice for a submissive name … Email… Don’t send me spam from your sponsors… Don’t share my email with suggested owners... Password… I am not sure why they want this information… Weight… 55 pounds soaking wet… Height ... 4’5” rounded up... their selection doesn’t even go that small. I guess I have to choose less than 5’... Location… Pennsylvania… I guess I am looking for an online owner. Oh, what the hell, an offline owner, too... Let’s see, a short questionnaire, a short description, and a recent picture will finish it off.” Looking at the time, “Wowser, that took longer than I thought it would,” Kathleen thought as she put her laptop to sleep. She meets her mother, Marlene, in the kitchen after walking out of her bedroom. “Hello, sweetie. Do you want some ice cream?” Marlene asked as she was scooping into a bowl. “You know I can never turn down cookie dough, Mommie.” "We can watch AFHV as we eat it.” “Sounds like a plan.” “What are your plans for tomorrow while I am at school?” “I told them I would do some volunteering at the zoo since time is getting short until my return to college. I need to stop for college supplies before or after; I just hope I don’t get pulled over for underage driving this time,” Kathleen mentioned. “That still happening?” Her mother asked. “Usually once a week, Mommie.” “Not much we can do about that, unfortunately, sweetie, except for you to grow a few inches,” Marlene pointed out. “Or afoot? Neither an inch nor a foot is going to happen, Mother. That ship sailed ages ago,” Kathleen said crossly, turning her eyes towards the TV. Marlene nodded and watched the television in silence. ~o~O~o~ Rolling out of bed at about 7 o’clock the following day, Kathleen booted up her laptop as she got dressed and ready for a day of volunteering. Coming back to the computer, she started her everyday morning computer habits, email, MySpace, Yahoo Messenger, and a few websites… before logging on to Submissive Match. “Let's see if I got any hits from my profile.” She discovered after she was finally logged in that there were three messages waiting for her. Looking at the first, “Eww, I really didn’t need to see that guy’s dick, this might of been a big mistake. … Oh, there is an ignore feature, thank god.” “Here goes nothing for the second, … interesting name… I seriously doubt his name is really Beast…” “Hello, Little Girl, you’re just the kind of young girl I would really like to meet. You would be perfect kneeling in front of me …” Other than the nickname for herself and himself, this guy isn’t too bad so far, Kathleen thought. “... with my legs spread wide open, and pants zipper down …” “EEEWWW,” Kathleen said out loud, “Spoke too soon!” and she couldn’t click the ignore button fast enough. Leaving the third message for later, she went to get a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Looking at the time, “I will have to leave the third message and college supplies ‘til after the zoo.” ~o~O~o~ “Hello Kathleen, thank you for coming. Why don’t you take the hedgehog and sit down on a bench just inside the entrance to the zoo? You should get plenty of exposure there,” Mr. Cooper, the zoo’s volunteer coordinator, instructed while thinking to himself about that also places her in a place where we can watch her. I am always worried she may be kidnapped, being so small and easy to be confused with an actual grade school kid. Kathleen nodded and headed to where the educational animals were kept. Continuing the thoughts, Mark took a memory trip back five years. “I first told her she was too young to volunteer. She had to be 14. I could have sworn it was a five or six-year-old asking to volunteer. I am kind of glad she pleaded her case and produced proof of age since she has been one of my best teenage volunteers.” He continued to himself, “I will never tell her, but that outfit is custom-ordered for her. I also purposely took the tags off to hide the fact that it is a size 7/8 girls' polo shirt.” Looking out of his office window towards the entrance plaza that it overlooked, he noticed Kathleen was setting up right where he requested her to. “I have never discussed it with her, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she were self-conscious about her height. I would be if I were her,” he thought before returning back to his volunteer hours spreadsheet. ~o~O~o~ “Riiinnnggg” “Susquehanna Valley Zoo, Volunteer department, Mark speaking, how can I help you?” … “How old is your daughter?” … “Sorry, she is a few years too young. She has to be 14 to volunteer.” … “The one with a hedgehog today? She is actually 19 years old.” … “Unfortunately, a common misunderstanding with her. Have your daughter give me a call in a couple of years.” … “Talk to them then.” Hanging up the phone, he looked out the window at the object of the confusion. A group of grade school kids currently surrounded her. The only thing that set her apart from the other kids was the green polo shirt, which signified that she was a volunteer. ~o~O~o~ “OK, Mr. Cooper, I have returned the hedgehog to the education department.” “Thank you, Kathleen, five hours today?” Mark said, looking at the clock. “What was your driving time?” he continued. “Yes, that is correct, and it takes me twenty minutes each way to get here.” “When do I expect you back?” “Unless you have a better idea, I should return Wednesday at the opening,” Kathleen said, thinking of her plans. She had agreed to go out with some high school friends tomorrow. “Works for me. When do you return to college?” “My parents and I are going in a convoy next month, August 13th.” “You will be missed again this year.” “Aww, I will be back again next year,” Kathleen said as she felt her face color up. Showing her to the door, Mark turned his attention to entering Kathleen’s hours in his spreadsheet. “That girl is the closest thing to a little girl I would ever have. I can’t seem to produce the required X chromosome for a girl,” he thought, thinking of his three boys currently in daycare. Meanwhile, Kathleen started driving to a bookstore to buy her prize book and required school supplies. Seeing a cop tailgating her in her rearview mirror, she checked her speed. Noticing she was actually under the speed limit, she thought, “Not again. Can I ever drive without being pulled over for underage driving?” After five minutes and no lights, she wondered what was taking him so long to pull her over. Five more minutes later, the cop slowed and made a U-turn. Kathleen thought that was strange. He tailed me and didn’t pull me over. ~o~O~o~ Pulling into the driveway, she couldn’t get in the house fast enough to check that third message that had been calling her all day. After booting up her laptop, she went to the kitchen to get a glass of peach tea. “Let's see,” Kathleen said, entering her details on the website. “Oh, two new messages. I must have received another today.” Opening up the first message, the third from this morning, she began to read it out loud, “Dear Buttercup, I was inspecting the new profiles and happened to notice yours. I am intrigued by your profile, and I hope to hear from you. Master Adam” “Well, that was short to the point and not creepy,” Kathleen said, going to the second message... “Not another dick picture,” Kathleen screamed, going to the ignore button. After returning to Master Adam’s message, she checked out his profile. “Adam Dale, 25 years old, Pennsylvania, Looking for online/offline submissive, oh he isn’t bad looking.” Hitting the reply button, she typed, using the submissive name he gave her, “Dear Sir, Buttercup is intrigued by your profile too and interested in communicating with you. I am not sure how to go about the next step. - Buttercup.” Putting her computer to sleep, she went into the living room to watch some television. ~o~O~o~ Author's Note: Comments, and questions are always welcomed. I am currently writing chapter 69 of this story. -- Thanks Becky

Okay, I know I'm coming up with all sorts of ideas lately, so I'm gonna go for this writing spree as I have it. Welcome to Curses!, a babyfur story where six prospective college-aged animals applying for a daycare job are physically and emotionally (but not mentally, per my usual) age-regressed~ Not exactly original, but I hope to put some new spins on it~ Of course, there's going to be a few mature themes that are dealt with in the content warning tags, so if you know you'll be affected in any way, you can stop reading at any point, and I will make sure to warn you guys when those things come up. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. And now, without further ado, the story: - Chapter One: Six Girls, One Job - Vanessa Cruickshank was bored and ready for the tour to begin for the daycare job she and her bestie, Shannon, applying for along with four other competitors. The giant anteater was dressed casually for the Bay Brooklet Development and Learning Daycare Center in Charlotte, North Carolina, wearing a black tank top with a skull in the middle, ripped blue jeans, and scuffed sneakers, her long bushy tail swishing with annoyance, as she waited outside in the chilly early October Saturday morning with the five other young women in her group. Needless to say, most of them didn’t get along with each other. “Watch where you’re swishing your tail!” the shortest among them, an Arctic hare, snapped. She was dressed to the nines: a white blouse, knee-length black skirt, black leggings, and five-inch heels (that somehow fit her large feet). “Hey, I don’t control where my tail goes!” Vanessa clapped back. “L-Leave her alone!” a mountain zebra spat at the anteater in a deeper voice that denoted her as trans. She wore a shin-length sky-blue dress (that didn’t work with her figure) and flats. “Funny, I thought she didn’t need a sidekick,” Shannon O’Brettle quipped harshly, the margay brushing her black miniskirt, her green sports tank top baring her midriff and combat boots somehow even more casual than Vanessa’s clothes. “At least I don’t dress like a slut to the job interview,” the hare sneered. “At least I rock my looks, Miss A Cup,” Shannon retorted, as the zebra looked down at her hooves shyly, the hare’s tiny paws patting the woman’s legs (as far as she could reach) gently as she glared at the margay. “And the job specifically insisted to wear your favorite clothes to the interview.” “C’mon, can’t we just have fun here?” a maned wolf asked in annoyance. She wore black jean shorts and crocs as well as a black T-shirt depicting a keyboard with the words “Don’t play me!” emblazoned on it. “There are three openings for pairs. We don’t have to argue.” “Just ignore them,” the final girl, an African wild dog, growled, trying to keep her ankle-length golden skirt and loose silver silk top from fluttering in the heavy gale, as she shuffled on her sandals. “Just because there’s six openings doesn’t mean they’ll get the job.” The job, Vanessa thought. Every one of them was desperate to get this job; it seemed like a dream for her, taking care of babies for six figures a month (she was not used to kids, only having an older brother and no younger siblings or cousins, but Shannon was, and she did everything with the margay), almost too good to be true. But she and Shannon were college seniors (and from the look of the others, they were as well), and they needed the money. Then the door opened, and a female northern flying squirrel wearing casual clothing (a red t-shirt without a logo, gray sweats, and tennis shoes) exited the daycare. She looked to be only a little older than they were. “Hi, I’m so glad you all could come!” she said in a perky tone. “I’m Connie Zanovelli, and I’m the head sitter of Bay Brooklet Development and Learning Daycare.” Vanessa was the first to shake paws, noting that Connie was even smaller than the Arctic hare. “Nice to meet you,” the anteater said politely. “Vanessa Cruickshank.” Shannon was next. “Shannon O’Brettle,” the margay said confidently. The hare followed. “Victoria Box,” she said in a cool tone. “Wait, Box?” Shannon asked. “As in the rich female couple?” The hare’s face flushed. “Yeah, what of it?” she muttered. “Why are you interviewing for this job, then?” the margay asked curiously, her tone surprisingly concerned. “Your moms cut you off or something?”” “Because some of us want to take care of kids.” The maned wolf shook paws next. “Tempest Pitcairn. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Zanovelli.” The African wild dog continued with the paw-shaking. “Shiloh Nash. Good to meet you, ma’am.” The mountain zebra sighed shyly, shuffling her hooves, seeing as she was last. “I-I’m Hester Dampier. I-It’s good to m-meet you, Ms. Zanovelli, ma’am.” “It’s wonderful to meet you all as well, but please, call me ‘Connie’; ‘Ms. Zanovelli’ and ‘ma’am’ sound so stuffy.” Connie’s smile was friendly. “Technically, the Pilkvists wanted to hire extra help. I’m assuming there’s going to be a lot of kids, given the hires.” “How long have you been here?” Vanessa asked. “About a month. They just opened the daycare to the public, so…” Connie looked almost contemplative. “Well, I’m glad that you all are here for the job interview.” Vanessa looked at Shannon, the margay’s face matching her confusion. Only a month open? That was…a bit unusual. “My bosses wanted to hire extra help for whatever reason,” the flying squirrel said. “So…shall we go in? It’s a bit too cold to stand outside.” “Of course,” Victoria said, barging her way in with Hester, her apparent friend, following nervously. Shiloh and Tempest followed next, leaving Vanessa staring at Shannon. “You sure about this, Ness?” the tree cat asked. “It’s a little…” “Weird? Sketchy?” the giant anteater finished. “Yeah, but if it pays six figures a month for this alone, I’m willing.” “Thanks for coming with me, Ness. I know kids aren’t exactly your thing…” “Any time, Shanny. Let’s go in.” The two lifelong friends went into the daycare and looked around. The walls had a light pink hue and were decorated with infantile posters, the floor was covered entirely with soft fuzzy carpet, and the ceiling lights were warm yet not intrusive, but other than that, it was sadly empty of anything, like the items were going to be moved in at a later date. Even the other four applicants weren’t there, only Connie was outside of an office door that they hadn’t noticed before. “They want you going in separately,” the flying squirrel said to them. “Good luck with the interview!” “Where is the next one?” an older female voice asked in a raspy tone. “Who wants to go?” Connie asked. “You do it first; I know I’ll do well enough,” Vanessa said with a smirk. “Fine. I’ll see you as an employee,” Shannon said with a smirk of her own as the margay walked to the door, opened it, and entered the room. Vanessa waited and waited, tapping her foot, before she felt her phone buzzing to display a text message. The anteater was annoyed; she had purposely kept her phone on vibrate and told her folks not to call her during the interview. She looked at the message, no, a lot of messages, one after another. Threatening, wheedling, threatening again, demanding her to answer, threatening yet again, faux loving shit, and, to nobody’s surprise, threatening once more. In short? Another message from…him. Her stupid fucking ex, Ryan. She had blocked all of his phone numbers, but he always got a different phone to call her with. It was annoying and more than slightly scary. The anteater blocked this one as well; she had no time to deal with this shit. She noticed the time. Almost noon. What was taking so long? Connie was on the phone with someone as well, as she said, “Raffy, I know you wanted to pick me up for that fancy lunch, but I’ve got a slate of interviews at my job, and my bosses are very nitpicky about that.” A pause. “Sure, 1:30 PM works; they never stated anything otherwise…” Then the door opened, and Vanessa got nervous - because Shannon, nor any of the other four, for that matter, had not exited the room. “If we can see the final young lady?” a different raspy female voice asked. “Okay, looks like you’re up, Vanessa!” Connie said in a perky tone. “Good luck!” The anteater sighed, ready to go in and try to nail the interview in spite of her trepidation, not having a clue of what was to come. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Welcome to Mommy Anna's Diapered Storybook! Some of you may know me from my website, diaperhypnosis.com My recent experience of having my store on Etsy closed because of their discrimination against our community (they are closing down all ABDL hypnosis audio there) has been one more reminder to me of how important it is for us to stay together as a community. I've decided to publish full-length diaper and regression stories, for free, as a special way of giving back to our community. I'm also recording these stories and posting them (full-length) on my YouTube channel, so you can hear me read them there. Mommy Emma from diaperhypnosis.com will also be recording some of these stories for YouTube. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these stories and keep being the wonderful you that you are! This multi-part story will end up about 15,000 words. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Samantha Hartley had always taken pride in being a woman of discipline. She built her life on structure—long days at the firm, power lunches with high-profile clients, and perfectly orchestrated evenings with Mark, her husband of eighteen years. Yet lately, something had begun to unravel in the quiet corners of her world. Not chaos—no, that would be easy to notice. It was a slow fade. A dullness creeping in where intimacy once bloomed. She loved Mark, of course. But the passion between them had thinned to a polite current. Predictable. Safe. Sterile. The longing didn’t come as a scream, but a whisper. Something primal. Not just sexual, but maternal. She wanted to be touched, yes—but more than that, she wanted to be needed. Cherished. She wanted to give—not in the transactional way she was used to, but through something sacred. The blog article she found one evening wasn’t something she would’ve ever shared with a colleague. The Intimacy of Adult Nursing Relationships—the title itself made her sit up. She read it, then reread it, heat rising in her chest. This wasn’t about babies. It wasn’t about kink, either—not exactly. It was about trust. About nourishment. About connection. And for women like her, it was about softness reclaiming space in a life hardened by power. She learned everything she could. Inducing lactation without pregnancy was possible. Time-consuming, yes. But possible. She needed a plan. The first thing she ordered was a breast pump—hospital-grade, quiet, efficient. It arrived at her office, tucked discreetly in a nondescript box. She unpacked it in her private office, her hands trembling slightly. It was real now. She also began taking supplements: fenugreek, blessed thistle, goat’s rue, and brewer’s yeast. She kept them in an elegant tea tin in her purse. A secret ritual. The first few days of pumping felt clinical. She sat in the firm’s lactation room, blouse open, watching the plastic flanges work rhythmically against her nipples. The suction pulled and tugged, awkward and mechanical. But she committed. Five times a day, twenty minutes per breast. She created a schedule and followed it like scripture. By the end of the first week, she started to notice tenderness. Her breasts ached faintly—swollen just enough to remind her that something was happening. She began to massage them gently in the evenings, imagining warm skin, a loving mouth, a needful tongue. At first, she imagined Mark. Later, she imagined herself cradling his head against her chest, rocking him, soothing him. Week three brought more obvious changes. Her breasts were noticeably fuller, her nipples darkened and sensitive to even the softest brush of fabric. She had to buy new bras—stretchy ones, no underwire. Her C-cup curves swelled into Ds. Then double-Ds. She noticed the glances in meetings. A junior associate stared openly one morning. Samantha smiled, amused. She didn’t mind. Let them look. They had no idea what these breasts were becoming. At home, she wore robes more often, opting for soft fabrics that brushed over her skin just so. She began sleeping without a bra, loving the weight of her full breasts against her chest. Sometimes she would wake in the early morning hours, nipples tingling, her body whispering: Soon. Soon, you’ll feed him. She kept it all from Mark. Not because she didn’t trust him—but because this was hers. A private power growing inside her. By week six, she began expressing small beads of milk. Just droplets, but enough to soak the tips of her cotton pads. When she saw them, she wept. Silently. A quiet, shaking joy. That weekend, Samantha made her move. She bathed first, using lavender oil in the water. Then she dressed in a pale pink robe, the silk hugging her curves. Her breasts looked glorious—full, heavy, maternal. She lit candles in the bedroom and turned off the television. When Mark entered, towel around his waist, she called to him softly. “Lie down, baby. Let me take care of you tonight.” He raised an eyebrow, but complied, settling into the pillows. She straddled him slowly, pressing her soft, warm weight into his lap. She kissed him, long and slow, and reached for his hands, guiding them up her sides. “I’ve been doing something... for us,” she whispered. “Something new. Something ancient.” He looked up at her, breath slowing. “I’ve induced lactation. My milk is coming in. And I want to feed you.” His eyes widened. A mix of shock and wonder. “You... want to nurse me?” She nodded. “Not just want to. Need to. I want you to drink from me, to need me, to let go and just be mine.” There was a long pause. Then he reached up, reverently, cupping her breast. She gasped—it was so sensitive, so ready. She guided his mouth to her nipple. He hesitated. Then suckled. Tentatively at first, like he wasn’t sure. But her hand at the back of his head steadied him. Encouraged him. “That’s it, baby,” she cooed, stroking his hair. “Good boy. Drink.” His lips created suction, and the faintest taste of sweet colostrum touched his tongue. He moaned—just a whisper—and pulled deeper. Her nipple tingled, then released. A slow leak of warmth into his mouth. He groaned again, this time deeper. A noise of gratitude. Of surrender. Samantha felt a flood of emotions—maternal pride, sensual power, overwhelming intimacy. She wrapped her arms around him, rocking him gently as he suckled. Her thighs clamped tighter around his waist. “Good baby,” she whispered. “Mommy’s so proud of you.” The word Mommy slipped from her lips before she even thought it through. And the way he shivered told her everything she needed to know. Mark’s hands gripped her hips. His eyes closed. He suckled harder, deeper, with devotion. She could feel him surrendering—not just physically, but emotionally. Letting go of control. Trusting her. Needing her. From that night on, they nursed every evening. Mark came to crave it—more than food, more than sex. When he arrived home from work, he would undress and kneel beside her chair, resting his head in her lap. “Please,” he would whisper, “let me nurse.” Sometimes, she would make him wait—just a little. She liked watching him squirm, liked how desperate he became for her milk. His body softened, his voice took on a different timbre. He stopped challenging her in small ways. He followed her lead. She could see the shift in him—more attentive, more obedient, eager to please her. When she asked him to do something—cook, clean, massage her feet—he did it immediately, sometimes with a hopeful glance toward her breasts, silently begging for his reward. And she gave it. When he earned it. “You want Mommy’s milk?” she’d say, arching a brow. “Yes,” he’d breathe. “Please.” She would let him suckle on the bed, stroking his hair, murmuring affirmations into his ear. “Good boy. Drink it all. Mommy needs you to be full.” She felt powerful—not in the way she did at the office, where power was hard and cold. This was soft and irresistible. A biological power. He depended on her. And the more he drank, the more her body gave. Her breasts now leaked when he wasn’t near. Her nipples ached for his mouth. It became a cycle of devotion. The more she gave, the more he worshipped her. And the more he worshipped, the more she gave. Sometimes, she held him after, breast damp and lips swollen, and whispered, “You’re mine now, aren’t you?” And he would nod, eyes wet. “I’ve never belonged to anyone more.” Samantha no longer missed the spark. She was the spark now. The center of their intimacy, their rhythm, their ritual. She gave milk. She gave softness. She gave control. And Mark? He gave everything else. And neither of them had ever been more fulfilled. Over the next week, Samantha had never felt this alive. Every evening, Mark came to her as though drawn by an invisible cord, the same one that now tied them together in a bond deeper than sex, deeper than words. The nursing was no longer just a ritual—it was a necessity, a sacred exchange. He craved her milk. Needed her body. And she delighted in his neediness. In his surrender. He had become more attentive, deferential, soft in his manner. The once self-assured man who used to interrupt her with suggestions or forget to take out the trash now waited for her cues. He folded the laundry without being asked. He texted her during the day just to check in. He stopped making jokes at her expense. When she told him she expected the dishwasher loaded her way, he apologized—sincerely—and redid it without a word. At first, it amused her. Then it thrilled her. Samantha began to shape their home life around her authority—not with cruelty, but with deliberate control. She crafted a schedule. A bedtime. A list of expectations. When Mark complied, she rewarded him with nursing. When he didn’t, she withheld it. “You don’t get Mommy’s milk until you earn it,” she’d say, brushing his cheek with mock sympathy. “Do better, sweetheart.” And he did. It was intoxicating. One quiet afternoon at the office, in between briefs and billing reviews, Samantha found herself browsing again. Her body still buzzed with energy from the morning’s pump session. Her breasts were fuller than ever, leaking now if she went too long without release. Her nipples stayed hard throughout the day, sensitive and swollen, a constant reminder of what she’d become—a source of nourishment and power. She was scrolling a forum on female-led relationships when a sidebar article caught her eye: “Wives Who Diaper Their Husbands: A New Level of Loving Control.” She blinked. Then clicked. The article opened with a soft, almost poetic tone—about caregiving, regression, and trust. About how some wives, especially in nurturing dominant roles, found deep emotional satisfaction in caring for their husbands in the most complete way possible. Diapers, it said, were not about humiliation—not necessarily. They were about surrender. About devotion. About returning a man to a state of complete dependency, where the wife ruled not only his heart and mind, but his body. As she read, Samantha’s breath caught. The author described the intimacy of diapering a man. Of wiping him, powdering him, pulling the thick padding up between his legs. Of nursing him afterward, freshly diapered and helpless in her arms. She spoke of the peace it brought. The power. Samantha’s thighs clenched involuntarily. Could I? she wondered. Would he…? The thought of Mark in a diaper—so obedient, so trusting, resting his head against her milk-filled breast while she rocked him—made her ache. It wasn’t just arousing. It was right. This was what she’d been building toward all along, wasn’t it? The nursing, the rituals, the structure. She had led him, slowly and lovingly, to a place where his submission felt natural. And now, she could go further. She could complete him. That night, as Mark knelt before her for his nightly nursing, she caressed his cheek and smiled warmly. “Sweetheart,” she said softly, “how would you feel if I took even more care of you?” He paused, mouth still latched to her nipple, then looked up at her, dazed and milk-drunk. “More?” “Mmhmm,” she cooed. “You’ve been so good for Mommy. So devoted. I’ve been reading about ways I can make you feel even more safe. Even more... taken care of.” His eyes searched hers. There was a hint of hesitation, but also a flicker of excitement. “Like what?” “Well,” she said, brushing his hair aside, “what if you didn’t have to worry about grown-up things at all in the evenings? What if I decided when you go to bed, what you wear, even whether or not you use the bathroom?” He blinked, stunned. She kept going, her tone soft, loving, but firm. “What if Mommy put you in diapers at night? What if that became part of our special time, too? Just like nursing. Just you and me. My sweet baby boy.” Mark flushed—deep red. “Diapers?” he whispered. “You… really want that?” Samantha’s gaze was steady. “I do. It’s not about embarrassment. It’s about trust. Intimacy. Letting me take control in the most tender way possible. You already let me feed you. Why not let me decide when and how you’re cared for in every way?” He looked overwhelmed, but not resistant. Not really. “You don’t have to say yes right now,” she murmured. “But think about it. Imagine lying in my lap, freshly diapered, drinking my milk, with nothing to worry about. No decisions. No pressure. Just love.” She stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Doesn’t that sound nice?” His answer came not in words, but in the way he suckled again—more urgently, more needfully. He melted into her, as if already imagining it. And she knew. He would agree. Sooner than later. Samantha ordered the supplies the next morning: soft cloth-backed diapers in his size, unscented wipes, soothing cream, and thick baby powder. She chose a plain white pacifier, too—just to see how it would look between his lips. The packages arrived at her office, as always. She unpacked them slowly, savoring the scent of the powder, the softness of the padding. She held one diaper up, imagining the sound it would make as she taped it snugly around Mark’s waist. She felt an almost maternal ache. Soon, she thought, tracing the edge of the diaper with her finger. Soon, my baby. This wasn’t just about domination. It was about transformation. Mark was becoming hers—not just her husband, not just her partner, but her dependent. Her darling. Her creation. And he was loving every step of it. So was she. And they were only just beginning.

Early chapters are being removed as new chapters are added, check out the book on kindle of you want to keep reading. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FFHF7JTC The Gift Chapter 1. Spring Break Clark opened his eyes, and felt waves of pain through his head. He groaned and rolled over and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Then he was hit with the realization that he couldn’t remember where he was or how he got there. He tried to take stock of his situation. Small insects crawled up his arms and legs, he was surrounded by small green plants and overhead a canopy of light green leaves, beyond that a blue sky, sun, but which sun? "Oh dear!" A voice, warm and inviting, cut through his haze. Clark squinted. A silver-haired woman in a sunflower-print dress hovered over him, her face creased with concern. Behind her stood a lanky man in a faded baseball cap, and baggy cargo shorts. “I’m, ummm. I need help,” Clark said. "Easy there, son," the man said, kneeling beside him with a grunt. His knees popped like bubble wrap. Up close, Clark could see the frayed stitching on his cap, the sunspots on his leathery neck. A retired human—or possibly a decaying biological android? Clark’s addled brain unhelpfully supplied. The woman Linda, her gardening gloves tucked into her dress pocket pressed a cold water bottle to his forehead. "You’re in Sycamore Park. Can you tell us your name?" Name. Right. Humans needed those. "Clark," he croaked. The water bottle crackled in his grip as he gulped. His throat burned like he’d swallowed a plasma coil. "I think I… overdid it last night." Jim snorted. "Spring break’ll do that. You college kids never learn." He eyed Clark’s rumpled clothes and frowned. "Where you stayin’? We’ll call you a cab."

This is my very first real foray into ABDL/age regression (had another one, but it went nowhere). Like all of my stories, there are mature themes, and I will warn you when we get to them - even with the content warnings in the tags; I have not led readers astray or lied to them about trigger warnings, and I'm never going to start. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. If you're ready - and still with me - let the story begin: - Chapter One: A Girls' Night Out on the Town. - Svetlana Volkova was going to meet her sisters, Tatiana Voronina and Galina Tigrova for a normal Sunday brunch, and she had the feeling it was going to be quite exciting - especially on the day before Halloween. The three women weren’t really anything special, not really. All three were twenty-five-year-old Pittsburgh natives (from Russian parents), athletic, excellent figures (each of them were D cups), and all three were top-notch daycare workers. They had known each other since they were young, since before they could remember. Each of them had mousy-brown hair that they dyed to look prettier, and each of them had piercing icy-blue eyes. Some had confused the three for triplets at first glance. It was fine by them; that’s what they were. Even when they had their fights, it was solved rather quickly and with no hard feelings. Svetlana walked down the sidewalk with a purpose as her Pittsburgh Penguins jersey, knee-length black skirt and purse fluttering in the gusty wind. She brushed her shoulder-length dyed-golden-brown hair away from her eyes as she neared the stop. Tatiana was the first to notice, as she waved and smoothed her Penguins jersey and golden skirt, her shoulder-blade-length dyed-auburn curls noticeable. She nudged Galina, who was busy twirling her navel-length, shockingly-dyed-royal-purple hair before she turned to see her friend and jumped to her feet out of shock (and yes, she too was wearing a Penguins jersey and a golden skirt). The women walked over, hugging each other with gleeful looks on their faces. “Well, you finally came here, Svetka,” Tatiana said with a smirk. “We were beginning to think you had gotten bored.” “Bored? Of my sisters? Never!” Svetlana was beaming. “Girl, I can’t remember the last time we haven’t spoken!” Galina exclaimed. “We do this so much, they give us free food.” “And we wear it well,” Tatiana laughed, causing the other two to join in. Svetlana sat down with her two fraternal triplet sisters. “So, how are things with you?” she all but sang. “Good! Can’t wait for the Pens game; that new badass bar has the perfect place to watch,” Tatiana said. “You feel like coming, Svetka?” “Of course, Tanya!” the woman said. “I’m surprised we’re going out barhopping, though; we don’t have a car…” “Oh, come on, Svetka,” Galina said. “It’ll be so much fun.” She paused. “The only problem is, we have to bring someone else who can drive us, since our car is in the shop, and the only person we know who’s interested is…” “Celine,” the three said simultaneously, as they all let out annoyed sighs. Celine Fuchs was their old housemate they hated, and the feeling was very much mutual. A nosy busybody three years younger than them, Celine made no secret about having a fiancé to go back home to (it wasn’t that they couldn’t get boyfriends if they wanted; they were just not interested in dates at the moment.), and she critiqued them on every little thing, every miniscule detail, despite the fact that she was a law clerk. It was hell to deal with her. “You going to call her, Svetka?” Tatiana asked. “It’s not like we have a choice,” Svetlana muttered. She opened her smartphone and called Celine’s number. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. “Hello, who is this?” Celine asked in an annoyed tone. “It’s Svetlana.” “Oh, hi, Svetlana. What do you want?” “Tatiana, Galina, and I were going to catch the Pens game tonight at the new bar. Was wondering if you’d come.” “Oh, that would be marvelous!” Celine’s voice entirely changed, sounding genuinely excited. “Well, I’ll have to get ready. You planning on parking? Bringing money for food? What time would be best to leave-” “Don’t worry, Celine, we’re all going in the same car,” Svetlana said calmly. “Might as well bring my car; it’s a new one.” “You sure?” “It’s got multiple seats.” “Okay, fine. We’ll take your car.” “Can I bring my fiancé?” “Sorry. Girls' night out.” “Oh, well, I’ll tell him to go to our house. Where do I pick you three up?” “Right at Market Square. You’ll know us.” “Of course. Have a wonderful day! Go Pens!” Svetlana sighed when Celine hung up on her. Her two friends looked at her. “Guess it’s a go. She’s picking us up in her car.” “Ugh, she always likes to brag,” Tatiana muttered. “Always. It’s a new car, new clothes, new boyfriend, what-fucking-ever, I don’t care.” “She’s so fucking insufferable,” Galina said with a sigh. “I guess riding in her car won’t be the worst thing, right?” “True. It’s only one time, then never again,” Tatiana agreed with much reluctance. “Let’s just go to Market Square and wait; the game starts at 5:00, and it’s already 2:00 PM.” “Agreed.” They finished paying for their brunch and included a generous tip before walking to Market Square (hey, they always could use exercise, even with the various male catcallers), getting there at around 3:00 PM. It was a short wait until a brand-new Honda Odyssey that all but blared that it was Celine’s car pulled up, the aforementioned driver waving at them. “Hellooo!” she called. “You ready!” “Yeah, we are,” Svetlana said. No shit we’re ready, you dumb bitch. We’ve been ready! The three women packed into the backseats, none of them wanting to sit in the front with their annoying old housemate. “Look, I get you don’t like me, but…I do appreciate you bringing me with you to the bar with you,” Celine said politely. Svetlana looked at her younger ex-housemate who had a genuine smile on her face. Celine certainly was fairly attractive, actually, scratch that, definitely attractive with a blonde pixie cut, inquisitive sea-green eyes, and a larger bust than even they had. Tatiana was the only one to break the silence. “Sure, I mean, might as well bring you along; we know how big a fan you are,” she said. “Still, it is appreciated. Still, expect this to be a one-time thing, though.” “The feeling’s quite mutual,” Svetlana said bluntly. If only she knew just how dead wrong her words were. - So, let me know if there's anything I can improve on, anything you liked or disliked, stuff like that~

Welcome to Mommy Anna's Diapered Storybook! Some of you may know me from my website, diaperhypnosis.com My recent experience of having my store on Etsy closed because of their discrimination against our community (they are closing down all ABDL hypnosis audio there) has been one more reminder to me of how important it is for us to stay together as a community. I've decided to publish full-length diaper and regression stories, for free, as a special way of giving back to our community. I'm also recording these stories and posting them (full-length) on my YouTube channel, so you can hear me read them there. Mommy Emma from diaperhypnosis.com will also be recording some of these stories for YouTube. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these stories and keep being the wonderful you that you are! This is the first part of a 7-part story, with a total length of nearly 13,000 words. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- REJUVENATE - PART ONE For weeks now, Emily felt like she was being followed. No matter where she turned — the flashing billboards on the highway, the online ads that seemed eerily personalized, the perfectly polished commercials on TV — it was always there: Rejuvenate. A whisper. A promise. "Bring back your youth. Feel alive again. Rejuvenate." It wasn’t just another spa; it was something more. They promised not just pampering, but a full return to the feeling of being young, vibrant, unstoppable. Through the cutting-edge use of Virtual Reality and spa techniques, they claimed they could help you "reclaim your youth, inside and out." Emily had laughed it off at first. She wasn't old — only thirty-two — but the days of feeling like she owned the world were distant echoes. Life was full of early mornings, tight schedules, and the slow exhaustion that crept in before she even realized it. Still, she dismissed it. Too good to be true. There had to be a catch. But the ads were persistent, and late at night, when she scrolled through her phone in bed, a tiny, traitorous part of her whispered: What if it’s real? Finally, on a quiet, rainy Thursday afternoon, Emily caved. She dialed the number from the ad, fully expecting a hard sell or an outrageous price tag. Instead, a soft, warm voice answered, professional and inviting. "Thank you for calling Rejuvenate. How can we make your dreams come true today?" Emily awkwardly asked about the cost. The woman’s reply stunned her: "It’s free — a special trial for select participants. You were chosen." Emily was silent for a long moment, heart hammering in her chest. Free? That seemed impossible. But the woman’s tone was calm, unhurried, almost hypnotic in its certainty. Maybe... maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at least try. A few days later, curiosity gnawing at her, she scheduled her appointment. When Emily arrived, she was struck immediately by the atmosphere. The Rejuvenate spa was set away from the bustle of the city, nestled in a grove of whispering trees. The building itself was sleek and modern but somehow welcoming, bathed in warm, golden light. Inside, the air smelled of lavender, eucalyptus, and some softer, sweeter scent she couldn’t quite place — something that tugged at her memories. Piano music played gently in the background. A woman in a soft gray uniform welcomed her with a serene smile and led her to a beautifully appointed lounge. "Before we begin," the woman said, offering Emily a tablet, "please tell us: What is it you most wish to recapture about your youth?" Without thinking, Emily blurted: "I want to feel like a princess again." The woman nodded as if she heard those words every day, and Emily was handed a sleek stylus to sign a brief, glowing contract on the tablet. Something about "experiential immersion," "temporary rejuvenation," and "full consent to immersive experience." Emily barely read it. She signed and set the tablet aside. When she pressed for more details, the woman just smiled and said, "The less you know, the better the experience." The next day, she returned to begin her "weekend of rejuvenation." They led her to a spa room that was straight out of a dream — dim lighting, plush reclining chair, soft instrumental music. A robe and slippers waited for her, cloud-soft against her skin. She changed and was given a small, steaming cup of tea. The tea tasted of honey and flowers and something else, something almost effervescent. Within minutes, Emily’s body felt deliciously heavy, her muscles loose and warm. A technician entered silently, fitted a light VR headset over her eyes, and murmured, "Relax. Let yourself drift." Her VR headset began showing her calm, serene scenes. A beach at sunset. A green meadow at midday. Puffy clouds in a blue sky. A gentle forest with a stream. Soft sounds filled her ears: the hush of ocean waves, the whisper of a breeze through tall grass, a babbling brook. Emily’s body grew heavy, her mind light. The world shifted. Emily opened her eyes and found herself standing in a brightly lit hallway. Her breath caught in her throat. The blue lockers. The towering trophy case. The handmade posters for Friday night's football game. It was her high school. She looked down at herself and gasped again. Tight, low-rise jeans that hugged lean, toned legs. A snug, pale pink tank top that highlighted her slim arms and narrow waist. The body she’d had at seventeen — not a trace of the softness that had crept into her thirties. Her hair was glossy, full, falling in effortless waves past her shoulders. Her skin glowed without a hint of the faint lines she sometimes fretted over in the mirror. "Emily!" She turned. A girl with curly blonde hair — her old best friend, Anna — was running toward her, grinning from ear to ear. "You coming to the quad? Everyone’s waiting for you!" Emily smiled and followed, an easy bounce in her step. As she moved through the hallway, heads turned. Boys fumbled books and stared openly. Girls whispered and giggled in admiration. Teachers smiled indulgently. It wasn’t arrogance she felt — it was lightness. I belong here, her heart sang. I am loved here. The day unfolded like a perfect memory. She held court at the courtyard’s stone tables, lounging in the golden afternoon sun with her circle of admiring friends. Boys brought her sodas from the vending machine without her asking. Girls begged for her advice on what to wear to the dance. At lunch, she breezed through the cafeteria like royalty. When she sat down, the best seats were suddenly next to her. The football captain — tall, sun-kissed, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye — leaned in close, his voice a low murmur: "You coming to the party at Jake’s tonight? Won’t be a real party without you." She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, feeling a surge of pure, sparkling confidence. In Chemistry class, she passed notes with Anna, doodling little crowns and hearts in the margins of their papers. Even the teacher looked the other way when she whispered and giggled. Between classes, boys brushed against her "accidentally," offering sheepish, eager smiles. Girls asked about her lip gloss, her hair, her secret to looking so perfect. Everywhere she went, Emily was at the center of it all. Admired. Envied. Cherished. By late afternoon, she was sprawled in the grass by the track field, bare feet in the soft, sun-warmed blades. A boy strummed a guitar nearby, singing softly. The sky was impossibly blue. Time stretched out before her like a glittering river, endless and full of promise. She was invincible. And then— The light shifted. The colors dulled. Emily blinked — and realized she was back in the spa room. The headset was gently being lifted from her face. She gasped, almost in protest, but the technician smiled warmly. "You did wonderfully," she said softly. Emily sat up slowly, her head still swimming with golden memories. Her arms, her legs — they looked the same, but felt firmer, tighter. She touched her cheek. It almost felt Smooth. Warm. Vibrant. The attendant offered her a small glass of cool water. "You’ll want to have a little something to eat," she said kindly. "You’ll need your energy for the next phase." Emily stood — and for the first time in years, she felt weightless. Alive. The echoes of that perfect day still thrummed through her, bright and golden. And deep inside, she knew: This was only the beginning. Emily couldn’t stop smiling. Her cheeks actually ached from how wide her grin had been since the headset came off. She practically floated into the little lounge area beside the spa room, still wearing the oversized robe. The attendant, a woman named Clarissa, handed her a small tray with a light meal — fresh fruit, delicate tea sandwiches, and a sparkling water that fizzed and popped against the rim of the glass. Emily picked at the food, too excited to really eat, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I can’t believe how real it was! I mean — it was real. It wasn’t just some video game or silly memory trick. I felt everything — the warmth of the sun, the grass under my feet, the smell of the cafeteria pizza! Even the way my friends used to laugh..." She trailed off, breathless. Clarissa smiled warmly, as if she heard this reaction a dozen times a day. "It’s always wonderful the first time," she said, her voice gentle and sure. "But trust me, Emily — it only gets better. You're doing beautifully." Emily leaned forward, almost bouncing in her seat. "What happens next?" she asked eagerly. "Can we start the next session now?" Clarissa chuckled softly. "Of course. Once you've had a little something to eat. You’ll need your strength. Each session... goes a little deeper." Emily shivered, but it wasn’t from fear. It was anticipation — electric and sweet. Deeper. She had no idea what that meant, but she wanted it. She wanted to fall even farther into those perfect, golden days. She finished her meal quickly, barely tasting it, and Clarissa guided her gently back to the reclining chair. The room smelled even sweeter now, like warm vanilla and sugar cookies, and the soft instrumental music hummed at the edge of her awareness. Clarissa slipped the VR headset over Emily’s eyes again, tucking a soft blanket around her shoulders. "Just relax, sweetheart," she said, her voice a soft purr. "Let’s go back to somewhere even more special." The world shifted once more. At first, it was the same as before: slow, calming scenes — ocean waves, wind through golden fields. The sounds of soft chimes and distant laughter floated into her ears, and Emily’s body grew loose, her mind buttery-soft. Then, like a sudden skip in a record— She was standing in a backyard. Sunlight streamed down, warm and golden. The scent of freshly cut grass filled her nose. Colorful streamers fluttered from the fences. Brightly wrapped presents sat stacked on a picnic table. Emily blinked in astonishment. She knew this place. It was her childhood home — the little brick house with the white shutters and the swing set out back. And she knew this day. It was her eleventh birthday party. The backyard buzzed with excitement as the party kicked into full swing. Colorful balloons bobbed on strings tied to the fence posts. A long folding table was covered in a bright pink tablecloth, laden with bowls of chips, a tray of cupcakes frosted like little flowers, and pitchers of pink lemonade. Her parents were there too, smiling from the porch steps, snapping pictures with a bulky old camera. Her mom, wearing a pink blouse and pearl earrings, flitted around the tables, refilling cups of lemonade and adjusting the bright streamer decorations. Every so often, she’d sweep by to brush Emily’s hair back into place or straighten the ribbon on her dress with a gentle, loving touch. She looked down and gasped — she was wearing a fancy party dress: pale blue with tiny white lace flowers stitched across the bodice, and a satin ribbon tied in a bow at the back. White ruffled socks peeked out over shiny black Mary Jane shoes. Emily beamed as her friends crowded around her, each one giggling and fidgeting with the frills of their fancy party clothes. Her best friend, Katie, wore a sunshine-yellow dress with big white buttons down the front, her blonde hair tied up in two bouncing pigtails. "Your dress is so pretty, Em!" Katie squealed, twirling in place. Emily curtsied dramatically, feeling the satin bow at her back flutter. She loved being the center of attention, and today, she truly felt like the princess of her very own fairy tale. Her dad, wearing jeans and a "King of the Grill" apron, waved from the patio, flipping burgers on the smoky barbecue. "Smile, birthday girl!" he called out, lifting the chunky family camcorder to his eye. Emily struck a playful pose, hands on her hips and a huge, gap-toothed grin stretched across her face. The other kids piled in around her, laughing and making silly faces for the camera. "Time for games!" someone shouted. Emily was swept into a whirlwind of classic party games: Pin the Tail on the Donkey came first. The poster was taped to the fence, and her dad made a show of spinning each child around exactly three times while they laughed and staggered toward the picture, trying to stick a fuzzy pink tail in the right place. Emily went last. Katie tightened the blindfold over her eyes, whispering, "Good luck!" before giving her a little spin. The world tilted and spun, but Emily giggled and shuffled forward carefully, arms outstretched. She stuck the tail proudly — and when she pulled the blindfold off, she gasped. She had pinned it almost perfectly on the donkey’s backside! The crowd erupted into cheers. Her mom gave her an extra hug, whispering, "That’s my smart girl." Next was Musical Chairs. Her dad set up a circle of chairs — one fewer than there were kids — and cued up a cassette tape full of silly pop songs and goofy sound effects. The music started, and the kids marched around, some hopping, some dancing. Emily bopped along, feeling giddy. She kept a sharp eye on the nearest chair, muscles tense. The music stopped suddenly with a loud "HONK!" noise from the tape. Everyone dove for a seat. Emily landed perfectly, skirts poofing around her, just barely edging out a boy named Jeremy who pouted dramatically when he was left standing. Round after round, the game got more competitive. The group whittled down until it was just Emily and Katie circling a single chair. The music swelled... and stopped! Both girls dove at once, but Emily’s faster reflexes won out. She plopped into the chair, Katie collapsing into giggles on the grass. "Champion!" her dad announced with a dramatic bow. Emily stood, flushed with triumph, and gave an exaggerated princess wave to her “subjects.” Then came the Treasure Hunt. Before the party, her parents had hidden little clues all around the backyard, each written in rhyming riddles. The first clue was taped under the picnic table: "Look where you swing and fly through the air, a clue is hiding under there!" The kids dashed off toward the swing set, shrieking with excitement. Emily spotted the next clue first — a bright pink envelope taped under the wooden seat. Each clue led them deeper into the yard: under the hose reel, behind the barbecue, inside the hollow of the big oak tree. Finally, the last clue pointed to the sandbox. Emily dug eagerly with her small hands and uncovered a glittering prize — a stuffed white unicorn with a pink mane and a golden horn. She hugged it tightly to her chest, victorious. "It’s yours, birthday girl," her mom said with a wink. When the treasure hunt ended, everyone gathered around the long table again. The pink tablecloth was a little wrinkled now from all the activity, and the balloons tied to the fence bobbed merrily in the afternoon breeze. Every detail was perfect — even the little scraped patch of grass under the oak tree where the swing used to drag. At the height of the party, Her dad brought out the cake — a towering pink-and-white confection decorated with little candy flowers, and eleven thin candles flickering on top. Everyone burst into a loud, joyful rendition of Happy Birthday — the boys singing off-key on purpose, the girls giggling between verses. Emily closed her eyes tight, scrunching her nose, and made a secret wish: "I hope I can stay this happy forever." She blew out all eleven candles in one breath, to a round of applause. Slices of the sweet, buttery cake were handed out, and everyone’s fingers and mouths soon smeared with sticky pink frosting. Everyone gathered around her, singing loudly and off-key. Emily squeezed her eyes shut and made a wish, blowing out the candles in one big puff. Cheers erupted. Finally, it was present time. She perched on a special chair in front of everyone, a plastic tiara her mom had given her tilted slightly on her head. The first gift was a Polly Pocket set — a tiny little pink shell that opened to reveal a miniature dream world. Emily gasped and hugged it to her chest, already imagining the hours she would spend playing. Next came a velvet art kit, full of black felt posters and neon markers. "Now you can color like a real artist!" Katie said, clapping. Then came the grand finale — a brand-new pink bicycle, its shiny handlebars draped with sparkling tassels. She squealed, jumping up and down. Her dad wheeled it forward with a mock-serious expression, handing it to her as if presenting a royal decree. She threw her arms around him in a giant hug, overcome with joy. Her mom dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from the sidelines, smiling proudly. Every single gift was exactly as she remembered. Every giggle, every flash of the camera, every sticky finger from too much frosting — it all unfolded in perfect, sparkling detail. Her heart swelled, so full it almost hurt. The afternoon stretched golden and sweet around her, every moment drenched in happiness. Everything was exactly — exactly — as it had been. And even now, part of her whispered: Maybe even better. Emily never wanted it to end. This wasn’t just a memory. It was real — real enough to touch, to taste, to live inside of. And then— The light began to soften, like the setting sun at the end of a perfect summer day. Emily heard a gentle voice calling her name, threading into her consciousness like a dream: "Emily... Emily, sweetheart, time to wake up now." The headset was lifted from her face, and Clarissa's smiling face came into view — but something was different. Her voice was higher, sweeter, pitched in the musical tone one might use with a young child. "Did you have a fun time at your party, princess?" Clarissa cooed. Emily smiled sleepily, her limbs slow and relaxed, a warm bubble of happiness still cradling her. "It was... perfect," she mumbled, her voice feeling smaller somehow. She shifted in the chair, stretching. It felt like the chair seemed bigger than before. Or maybe... she was smaller. But that thought floated lazily at the edge of her mind, too soft and dreamy to grab onto. Clarissa gently tucked the blanket tighter around her and smoothed a hand down her hair. "You were such a good girl," she murmured. "Ready for your next adventure soon?" Emily nodded sleepily, nuzzling deeper into the blanket, a tiny smile playing on her lips. She was ready. More ready than she’d ever been.

Welcome to Mommy Anna's Diapered Storybook! Some of you may know me from my website, diaperhypnosis.com My recent experience of having my store on Etsy closed because of their discrimination against our community (they are closing down all ABDL hypnosis audio there) has been one more reminder to me of how important it is for us to stay together as a community. I've decided to publish full-length diaper and regression stories, for free, as a special way of giving back to our community. I'm also recording these stories and posting them (full-length) on my YouTube channel, so you can hear me read them there. Mommy Emma from diaperhypnosis.com will also be recording some of these stories for YouTube. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these stories and keep being the wonderful you that you are! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ethan hadn’t planned on going out that night, but the quiet buzz of the bar called to him like a lullaby. It wasn’t loud or crowded—just warm lighting, soft jazz, and the faint scent of vanilla in the air. That’s where he saw her. She was older, confident, with a soothing smile and eyes that seemed to see past his words and into the ache beneath. Her name was Jenn. They talked for hours. She listened more than she spoke, asking questions that made him feel small—but in a safe way, not judged. When she gently took his hand and whispered, “Would you like to come home with me, sweetheart?” he didn’t hesitate. Her apartment was cozy. Dim lighting, plush rugs, and a subtle scent of lavender. They kissed, slowly at first. Her hands caressed him not with hunger, but with ownership. She guided him to the couch, and when her blouse slipped down to reveal her soft, full breasts, he felt himself drawn—not by lust, but by a quiet craving he didn’t understand. He kissed her there, gently. Her nipple brushed his lips. Then, unexpectedly, there was a taste. Warm, sweet, comforting. He pulled back in surprise. “You’re lactating?” She smiled, cupping the back of his head. “Yes, baby. And I think you need it.” He wanted to argue, to deny it, but she pressed him close. The moment he began suckling, something shifted inside him. The world dimmed. Her heartbeat filled his ears. Her milk flooded his senses with a warmth that softened his thoughts. His limbs felt heavier. Time blurred. Confusion danced through his mind. This isn’t right. I’m a grown man. But the milk was too comforting, too full of something he couldn’t name—something that made it hard to think, and even harder to care. Jenn rocked him, humming softly as he nursed, one hand stroking his hair. “That’s it, little one. Drink deep. Let go.” His thoughts unraveled. Words became fuzzy. Memories slipped away like leaves down a stream. He tried to pull back, to protest, but all that came out was a whimper. Jenn pulled him into her lap once more, her voice low and soothing. “You’re doing so well, my sweet little baby.” He blinked up at her, struggling to speak. He wanted to ask what was happening to him, why his legs felt weak, why his arms seemed shorter, pudgier. She kissed his forehead. “Shhh. No more thinking. Babies don’t need to think.” Before he could protest, she lifted him effortlessly. It shouldn’t have been possible—but in her arms, he felt weightless, like a toddler being carried to bed after a long day. He tried to speak again, but only a soft babble escaped. She carried him down the hall, into a room he hadn’t noticed before. When she opened the door, his heart thudded in his chest—because he knew, without a doubt, that it was a nursery. Not just any nursery. A baby girl’s nursery. The walls were painted a soft blush pink, adorned with hand-painted clouds and pastel rainbows. A white wooden crib stood against the far wall, draped with a sheer canopy and stuffed with plush animals. A matching changing table stood nearby, fully stocked with diapers, powders, bottles, and wipes arranged neatly in little woven baskets. A pink diaper pail sat in the corner. The room smelled faintly of baby powder and lavender. There were framed pictures on the wall: whimsical drawings of baby animals in dresses, a pastel alphabet with illustrations, a scripted sign that read “Mommy’s Precious Princess.” “No…” he whispered, or tried to. He kicked feebly, but Jenn just cradled him closer. “Shhh,” she said firmly. “You’re fussy. That’s okay. You’ll learn.” She set him down on the changing table and, with practiced ease, secured a soft, padded strap across his belly. He squirmed, but it was no use. His limbs weren’t strong anymore. He looked down at his chubby hands, now barely larger than a toddler’s, and panic swelled in his chest. Then came the humiliation. She untaped a pink, frilly diaper from a drawer. “First things first, my little girl needs her bottom cleaned and padded. Can’t have you making messes on the floor.” He whimpered, trying to twist away, but she just chuckled. “Still squirmy. Tsk. We’ll work on that.” She gently removed what was left of his grown-up clothes, leaving him naked on the padded table. He flushed crimson, every inch of him burning with shame. Then came the cool wipe across his bottom, the thick layer of lotion, the puff of sweet-scented powder. She took her time, humming as she worked, speaking to him as if he truly were an infant. “And now, baby girl, Mommy just needs to check your temperature to make sure you’re feeling okay…” He let out a pathetic squeak as she reached for a thermometer, coated it in lubricant, and—gently but firmly—slid it into place. His face flushed deeper than he thought possible. He looked away, cheeks burning. “Such a shy baby,” she cooed. “But Mommy knows what’s best.” Once she was satisfied, she pulled the thick, ruffled pink diaper up between his legs and taped it snugly around his waist. It crinkled loudly. The thickness forced his legs apart. She added a pair of lace-trimmed plastic panties over top, then dressed him in a white onesie with pink hearts and the words “Mommy’s Baby Girl” in glittery letters across the chest. He wanted to scream, to demand that this wasn’t right—but the words wouldn’t come. Only a soft whine and a fluttering of his lip. He hated how natural it felt to suckle his thumb when she gently placed it there. Jenn lifted him into her arms and cradled him against her chest again. “There we go. All nice and padded. Mommy’s sweet baby girl.” He cried softly—humiliated, confused, and helpless—as she rocked him and kissed his forehead. The next few days became a blur of babyhood. Sweet, surreal, and all-encompassing. Soft lights, lullabies, and babyish routines. His world shrank. Jenn cared for him tenderly. Every morning, she changed his diaper, cooing softly about how wet her little girl had gotten overnight. She kept him in a rotating wardrobe of dresses, onesies, rompers, and frilly socks—all in pinks, pastels, and florals. She brushed his fine hair and even clipped little bows in it. Diaper changes were frequent and thorough, done on a padded table with soft wipes, powder, and cooing affection. Each time she fastened the tapes on his thick, crinkly diapers, she’d kiss his tummy and murmur, “There we go, my precious baby girl.” She breastfed him several times a day, holding him in her lap and humming lullabies while he nursed. He found himself melting into the comfort, his body relaxing with each rhythmic suckle. It was humiliating, yes—but also strangely comforting, deeply calming. It quieted the storm in his mind and lulled him into a dreamy haze. Meal time meant being strapped into a high chair, where she spoon-fed mushy, pastel-colored baby food, spooned carefully into his mouth as he sat strapped into a pink high chair decorated with cartoon animals. When he got fussy or refused a bite, Jenn would gently scold him. “Uh-uh, little one,” she’d say, tapping his nose with the spoon. “No tantrums at the table.” And once, when he kicked over his bowl in protest, she sighed, picked him up, and carried him over her lap. “You need to learn, baby girl,” she murmured, pulling down his diaper and delivering a firm but loving spanking—just enough to make his bottom sting, just enough to make him cry softly into her shoulder afterward as she cuddled him close. She dressed him in a rotating wardrobe of baby girl outfits—lacey dresses, onesies with puffed sleeves, frilly socks, and pastel bonnets. Every morning was a new ensemble, and every one was chosen with a smile and a kiss on his forehead. “You’re my perfect little princess,” she’d say as she brushed his fine hair and pinned on bows. The playpen became his realm during the day. Surrounded by plush toys and soft blankets, he found himself napping, giggling, and playing with rattles without even realizing how far he’d surrendered. Nights were spent in a crib with high wooden bars, a mobile spinning above him while Jenn tucked him in, her lullabies soothing him into sleep. Then came the public outings. She took him to the park in a large stroller, his dress bouncing with every push, pacifier bobbing in his mouth. People cooed at him, assuming he was just a very adorable baby girl. Jenn would smile proudly and say, “She’s my little angel.” Ethan blushed so deeply he thought he might melt. He blushed furiously, unable to do anything but kick his legs and hide his face. At a boutique baby store, Jenn proudly showed off her “daughter” to the staff, letting them fawn over him. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole when they picked out new bonnets and booties “just perfect for such a precious little princess.” At the grocery store, she placed him in the shopping cart’s seat, his legs dangling helplessly in thick diapers under a ruffled dress. She pushed him through the baby aisle, selecting more supplies while chatting to him like any loving mommy would. The most surreal moment came when Jenn’s friends first visited. Three women arrived, all of them older women with amused, indulgent smiles. They complimented Jenn on her “parenting” and took turns bouncing him on their knees, patting his thickly diapered bottom, and pinching his cheeks. Cooing and fussing over “the baby.” They took turns holding him, feeding him, changing him. Even commenting on how cute he looked in his pink footed pajamas. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a real sweetheart,” one said, bouncing him on her knee. “She needed this,” Jenn replied warmly. “She’s much happier this way.” And Ethan, no, baby Ellie, as Jenn now called him, could only gurgle and nuzzle into her shoulder, too deep in his new world to do anything else. He hated how small he felt—but even more, how safe. Somewhere deep down, part of him had stopped fighting. Each night ended in her arms, suckling at her breast until sleep claimed him, safe and warm and very, very small. The days melted together like cotton candy on the tongue—sweet, sticky, and impossible to separate. Morning light always came gently in Jenn’s home. Soft curtains let the sun filter through in a golden haze, warming the nursery that now belonged to baby Ellie. She’d wake up in her crib to the sound of gentle humming, a melody that seemed to float through the house and wrap around her like a blanket. By the time she opened her eyes, Mommy Jenn was already there, reaching in with open arms. “There’s my sleepy girl,” she cooed, lifting Ellie from the crib with practiced ease. “Did baby have sweet dreams?” Ellie’s diaper was always the first concern—damp and warm after the night, sagging slightly between her thighs. Jenn would carry her to the changing table, humming softly while she stripped off Ellie’s footed pajamas and unfastened the tapes of her diaper with that same knowing smile. “Mmm, someone made a soggy little mess, didn’t she? Such a helpless baby girl,” she whispered lovingly as she cleaned Ellie with warm wipes, powdered her carefully, and taped her into a fresh, puffy pink diaper. “All clean and crinkly again. Just how Mommy likes her.” After a fresh change, the real magic began—dressing up. The wardrobe Jenn had prepared seemed endless. Lacy rompers, pastel dresses with ruffled sleeves, oversized bows, heart-patterned tights, soft mary janes. Each outfit was chosen to make Ellie look and feel every inch the dainty baby girl she now was. And Jenn dressed her with the care of a seamstress and the affection of a mother. Breakfast followed in the high chair. Today’s menu: banana oatmeal with a splash of breastmilk, spoon-fed lovingly one bite at a time. “Open wide for Mommy,” Jenn would sing, guiding the spoon toward Ellie’s lips. When Ellie pouted or squirmed, Jenn gently patted her thigh and gave her a firm look. “Babies don’t fuss at breakfast, little one. Do you need Mommy to remind you how we behave?” It only took one sharp smack on her thigh to remind Ellie what happened when she acted out. Jenn didn’t need to raise her voice. A light spanking—five or six firm swats over her diaper—or a stern time-out in the playpen was always enough to bring her back to submission, her head resting on Jenn’s shoulder as she sobbed softly into the fabric of her dress. Despite the occasional discipline, Ellie had never felt more cherished. Breastfeeding sessions were becoming more frequent now. Jenn insisted they were essential for bonding—and Ellie had stopped resisting. She would curl up against her Mommy’s breast, mouth latching instinctively, suckling while Jenn stroked her hair and whispered lullabies or dreamy affirmations. “You’re my baby girl. You belong right here,” she whispered. “You don’t need to worry about anything. Mommy knows what’s best.” And the more Ellie nursed, the more she believed it. Outings became part of their routine. One day, Jenn dressed Ellie in a pink and white sailor dress with puffed sleeves and a matching bonnet. Her diaper bulged beneath white tights, and her shoes made the faintest tap-tap sound as she was carried to the stroller. They walked to the park, where Jenn laid out a pastel picnic blanket and fed Ellie mashed pears from a jar while other mothers watched from afar, smiling at the adorable “baby girl.” Some even came over to chat. “She’s just precious,” one woman said, peeking into the stroller. “What’s her name?” “Ellie,” Jenn beamed proudly. “She’s my special girl.” Another woman leaned closer. “She looks so peaceful. You must be a wonderful mommy.” Jenn chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from Ellie’s forehead. “She needs a firm hand now and then, but yes... being her mommy is the best thing I’ve ever done.” After the park, they stopped by a boutique baby store. Ellie was carried in, resting on Jenn’s hip with her diaper crinkling audibly with every bounce. The shop assistant cooed immediately. “Oh, what a darling little angel! Looking for something special today?” “Yes,” Jenn smiled. “Some new dresses and a pacifier clip for my little one here. She likes to toss hers when she’s fussy.” Ellie blushed, burying her face in Jenn’s shoulder. By the time they got home, Ellie was exhausted. Jenn bathed her in a warm bubble bath, gently washing her hair and skin, talking to her the entire time. “Babies need their rest,” she said, wrapping her in a hooded towel covered in bunnies. “Especially fussy girls who need Mommy to keep them in line.” That night, after one final change into a nighttime diaper and footie pajamas with clouds and hearts, Jenn rocked her baby girl in a plush glider, whispering softly: “Mommy’s so proud of you. You’re doing so well, my precious Ellie. You don’t have to be anything else anymore. Just be my baby. My sweet, obedient, diapered little girl.” And Ellie, nestled in her arms with a pacifier in her mouth and a full tummy, drifted off—no longer fighting, no longer questioning. By the end of the first week, something had changed in him. The humiliation hadn’t lessened. He still blushed every time she called him her “pretty princess” or praised him for making “big girl wettings” in his diaper. But the resistance inside him had softened. What once felt like punishment now felt like care. Structure. Safety. She always knew what he needed before he did. When he got fussy, she held him. When he whined, she hushed him with a warm bottle or the gentle tug of her nipple. And in those quiet moments in the nursery bathed in afternoon sunlight, while resting in her arms, dressed in soft flannel footie pajamas, he began to feel something strange and frightening: peace. One night, after she’d bathed him, powdered him, and dressed him in a frilly nightgown, she sat in the nursery rocker, cradling him against her chest. He stared up at her with wide, glassy eyes. “Wuv you, Mommy,” he mumbled before he could stop himself. Her smile was radiant. She kissed his forehead, stroked his hair. “Oh, my sweet baby girl… Mommy loves you, too.” He suckled her in silence, tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t know why he cried—only that he needed her, in a way deeper than he’d ever needed anyone. By the end of the second week, Ellie no longer remembered what it felt like to wear grown-up clothes, or even think grown-up thoughts. Each morning began the same: soft lullabies, a soggy diaper, and Mommy’s loving arms lifting her into a new day. And yet, every morning felt more special than the last, as though Jenn was carefully painting Ellie’s new life stroke by gentle stroke. They had fallen into a rhythm, a beautiful little world of their own. Mommy began introducing daily rituals to help Ellie stay “in the right little headspace.” After breakfast and a morning change, they had “mirror time.” Jenn would sit Ellie down on a plush pink rug in front of a tall mirror. She’d prop her up, brush her hair slowly, and talk to her in a sweet, soothing tone. “Look at that baby girl,” she’d whisper, gently guiding Ellie to look into her own reflection. “See those rosy cheeks? That pouty little mouth? That thick, puffy diaper between your legs? That’s who you are now, sweetie.” Ellie blushed every time—but she didn’t look away. Jenn would tie her hair into pigtails or soft curls with pastel bows and praise her for being such a pretty girl. Then came crib time journaling, a strange but soothing activity. Jenn would hand Ellie a soft, padded baby book and a chunky crayon. Though Ellie’s coordination had regressed—her handwriting more like scribbles than letters—Jenn insisted it was important. “Just draw what you feel, baby,” she said, tucking Ellie into the crib with her plush bear. “Show Mommy what’s in that sweet little mind.” Most pages ended up with hearts, clouds, or crude stick figures of Jenn holding Ellie’s hand. But Jenn cherished every one, taping them to the nursery walls like masterpieces. The next visit from Jenn’s friends felt less like an introduction and more like a family reunion. Ellie was no longer shy. They arrived in a flurry of perfume, giggles, and rustling shopping bags. “My goodness, look at her now!” cooed Vanessa, the tall brunette who’d changed Ellie’s diaper during the last visit. “She’s really blossomed.” “She’s fully baby now,” Jenn smiled proudly, bouncing Ellie on her lap. “Barely fusses when she wets, loves being spoon-fed, and she’s completely pacified by nursing.” “She’s lucky,” another friend, Ivy, said with a mischievous grin. “Not all littles surrender that easily.” “Oh, she had her moments,” Jenn chuckled, pinching Ellie’s cheek. “But Mommy knows how to handle them, don’t you, sweetheart?” Ellie blushed and nodded, mouth full of mashed peaches. That afternoon, the women took turns caring for her. Ivy changed her diaper while humming a lullaby. Vanessa fed her from a bottle while cradling her in a rocking chair. And when Ellie began to get overstimulated, whimpering and kicking, Jenn pulled her aside for a firm correction. She sat on the nursery glider, pulled Ellie over her lap, and unfastened her diaper. “I think someone’s forgetting who’s in charge,” she murmured, giving her baby girl a quick, warm spanking, just enough to bring the tears. Then, with the same tenderness, she cuddled Ellie to her chest, patting her diapered bottom softly while her friends watched approvingly. Jenn began taking Ellie on more frequent public outings—little excursions designed to build trust and reinforce babyish behavior. The grocery store became a favorite. Ellie was always strapped into the cart’s baby seat, pink frilly dress billowing out, thick diaper peeking under the hem. Jenn would narrate everything to her, treating her like any doting mother would. “Should we get the applesauce with cinnamon, sweetheart?” she’d ask, holding up two jars. “Or the one with pears?” Ellie’s only answer was a gurgle and a giggle behind her pacifier. At the park, Jenn laid a fluffy pink blanket in the grass and let Ellie sit and play with a rattle while she chatted with other moms. More than once, other women commented on how “natural” Jenn looked with her little one. One even asked if she’d consider babysitting. “Oh, I’m not a babysitter,” Jenn said with a secret smile. “She’s mine. Forever.” At night, things grew more intimate. Jenn introduced lullaby nursing, where she would hold Ellie skin-to-skin and feed her while rocking slowly in the nursery’s glider. A pacifier was clipped to Ellie’s romper for after-feeding comfort, and soft classical music played while stars rotated lazily on the ceiling. “You’re not just pretending anymore,” Jenn whispered one night, her hand stroking Ellie’s cheek. “You are my baby girl. You don’t even remember what it felt like to be anything else, do you?” Ellie’s eyes fluttered. She couldn’t speak—not in words. But her thumb found her mouth, and she suckled sleepily as Jenn laid her in the crib and kissed her goodnight. That night, she dreamed of only one thing: her Mommy, rocking her forever, in a nursery that never faded. But the peace didn’t last. Something old stirred inside him. One morning, while Jenn was folding laundry in the other room, he stood up in the playpen—wobbling on unsteady, diaper-thickened legs—and looked at the door. The old voice in his mind whispered: You’re not a baby. You’re not her doll. This isn’t who you are. Driven by a desperate need to reclaim some piece of his manhood, he shuffled to the door, managed to open it, and made it halfway down the hallway before she found him. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Her voice was sharp—not angry, but full of authority. He froze. “Wanna go,” he stammered, but it came out lispy and high-pitched, like a toddler’s whine. “Not Baby.” She walked calmly toward him, knelt down, and looked him straight in the eyes. “No,” she said gently, “you’re my baby. And Mommy’s baby doesn’t run away.” Before he could speak again, she took his hand and led him back to the nursery. He whimpered and tried to pull away—but she was calm, practiced. Once inside, she sat on the rocking chair and pulled him across her lap. “Mommy didn’t want to have to do this,” she said softly, lifting the back of his ruffled diaper, “but little girls who run away get consequences.” The spanking was firm but controlled—each swat echoing in the nursery, sending hot shame surging through him. He cried, not just from the sting, but from the crushing humiliation of it all. When she finished, she kissed his tear-streaked face, held him tight, and whispered, “Shh. It’s okay now. You’re still my baby. You just forgot for a moment.” And in her arms, sniffling into her nightgown, he realized: she wasn’t angry. She wasn’t cruel. She had corrected him. Something in him cracked. From that day forward, the resistance never came back. In fact, he began to lean into the role—slowly at first, then with growing hunger. He fussed until she picked him up. He tugged at her blouse when he was hungry. He giggled when she praised him for filling his diaper like a “good girl.” He even began babbling in baby talk, making her coo and kiss his cheeks with pride. Each new outfit she dressed him in—whether it was a pastel romper, a bonnet and mittens, or a dress with layers of lace and puffed sleeves—brought a twinge of embarrassment… but also a thrill. A warm, helpless flutter in his belly. And when she took him out again—this time to a Mommy & Me playgroup at the park, surrounded by other women and their infants—he didn’t resist being shown off. He clung to her, pacifier bobbing, resting his head against her chest while the other Mommies cooed and whispered. “He’s such a precious little girl,” one said. “She really is perfect,” another smiled. “How long have you had her?” “Oh, just about a week,” Jenn said. “But I think she’s going to be mine forever.” His heart swelled. In her arms, he was forever. Time lost its edges. He stopped thinking in days. Instead, his world became measured by diaper changes, naps, feedings, and the ebb and flow of Mommy’s presence. Sometimes there was sun through the nursery curtains, sometimes the soft hum of lullabies, sometimes the crinkle of his diaper as he crawled from one plush toy to another. But thinking? That became harder. Words slipped away. At first, he could still remember them—his name, maybe, or how to form a sentence. But they floated in and out like dreams upon waking. He’d try to speak, and only babble would come. “Ba-ba. muh. waah.” He flushed with shame at first, but Jenn only smiled warmly, kissed his forehead, and cooed, “That’s okay, baby girl. You don’t need big words anymore. Just let Mommy do the thinking.” And he did. He used to stand—wobble a bit, hold onto the edge of the crib—but even that faded. Now, his world was experienced on all fours. Crawling felt right. When he tried to stand, his knees buckled. He stopped trying. Every movement became slower, more instinctive. He’d crawl across the nursery floor, distracted mid-journey by the jingling of a rattle or the soft texture of a stuffed bunny. He’d flop onto his padded bottom with a happy babble, the thick crinkle of his diaper wrapping him in sound and safety. His pacifier was always close. He no longer just used it—he needed it. Without it, he fussed and drooled and rubbed his eyes until Jenn gently popped it back in. The rhythmic sucking calmed his mind like a blanket of fog. He forgot what he had been trying to do. He didn’t care. He was safe. He was hers. What little remained of his adult thoughts came in soft fragments. A fleeting memory of jeans. A name whispered in a dream. A vague embarrassment when Mommy’s friends changed his diaper together and giggled at how "full" he was. But even those moments passed like clouds. His emotions became simpler, rawer. Hunger made him cry. Fullness made him sleepy. Love came as the warmth of her arms. Shame as the cold tickle of a messy diaper. Excitement as the jingle of the toy keys she’d dangle over his crib. He lived moment to moment, need to need. And in that space, something beautiful bloomed. When she cradled him to her chest, he no longer felt like a grown man humiliated—he felt like her baby. When she bounced him gently on her knee and praised him for a “big baby burpy,” he gurgled and giggled, proud of himself. He’d cling to her blouse, cheek pressed to her breast, sighing with contentment as he nursed. There was no fear. No decisions. No loneliness. Just Mommy. The weeks passed like petals falling gently from a blossom. Each day, Ellie’s world grew smaller, softer, and sweeter—until all she knew was Mommy’s voice, warm bottles, powder-scented diapers, and the slow rhythm of being rocked to sleep. Her old life had faded into something distant and unreal, like a dream half-remembered. What remained was pure comfort, pure surrender. And then one morning, Jenn leaned over the crib with a twinkle in her eye and whispered, “Guess what, baby girl? Today is your first birthday.” Ellie blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, hugging her stuffed lamb. Jenn giggled. “Yes, sweetheart. One whole year of being Mommy’s baby. We’re going to have such a special day.” The morning of her baby girl’s birthday was soft and golden, sunlight slipping through the frilly curtains of the nursery. Jenn entered quietly, humming as she crossed to the crib. Inside, he was already stirring—diapered, pacified, arms splayed, with one thumb curled into his fist. “Good morning, birthday baby,” she whispered. He blinked up at her, then babbled around his pacifier. “Mmm-mmm” She pulled back the covers, scooped him up with practiced ease, and cradled him against her hip. “Today’s your big day, sweet girl. Mommy’s going to spoil you so much.” The day began with a special bath. Lavender-scented bubbles and a soft pink sponge. Jenn washed her baby girl gently, cooing and humming, then wrapped her in a warm hooded towel shaped like a bunny. Back in the nursery, Jenn laid Ellie on the changing table and powdered her thoroughly. Today’s diaper was extra thick—decorated with cupcakes and little hearts—and taped on snugly. After nursing and a diaper change with extra powder and lotion “just to feel pretty,” she dressed him in something special: a white satin dress puffed with layers of pink tulle, complete with heart-shaped buttons, puff sleeves, and a matching bonnet. Ribbons laced through the back. The final touch was a diaper cover. Lace-trimmed, frilly, and utterly girlish. Jenn held her up to the mirror. “There she is—my birthday baby,” she said proudly. “The prettiest little girl in the whole world.” He didn’t fight it. He cooed as she clipped a pacifier to his dress with a string of pink beads and kissed his forehead. The living room had been transformed: pink and lavender streamers, balloons with “1st Birthday Princess” printed in sparkly letters, and a cake shaped like a stuffed unicorn. Her friends arrived one by one, cooing as they entered, bearing presents wrapped in pastel paper—booties, onesies, plushies, rattles, bibs that read “Mommy’s Little Angel.” A high chair sat at the head of the table, decked in ruffles and ribbons, with a matching party hat waiting for the guest of honor. Jenn’s friends began arriving one by one, each bringing a gift wrapped in nursery print paper—rattles, dresses, plushies, bottles, and pacifiers. They all took turns greeting Ellie with high-pitched squeals and exaggerated coos. “Oh my goodness, look at her!” “She’s gotten so big—but still such a baby!” “Is she crawling yet in those thick diapies?” “Oh my goodness, she’s just perfect,” one woman said, kneeling to squish his diaper and tickle his feet. “You’ve done so well, Jenn.” “I know,” Jenn said proudly, lifting him up so everyone could see his flushed, drooling smile. “She’s exactly who she’s meant to be.” They played baby party games—“Pass the Pacifier,” “Guess the Diaper Cream,” and even a photo session where Jenn laid him across a pink blanket surrounded by rose petals and glitter letters spelling ONE. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t walk—just clapped, giggled, and kicked while all eyes adored him. Ellie sat in her high chair, hands resting on the tray, cheeks flushed beneath the party hat. Jenn served her a slice of cake—but instead of letting her use utensils, she encouraged her to use her hands, giggling as Ellie smeared frosting on her face. “Messy girl!” Jenn laughed, wiping her face with a soft bib. “That’s what first birthdays are for.” After cake, came the presents—each one unwrapped for her by Jenn as Ellie bounced on her lap. There were plushies shaped like kittens, musical toys, embroidered onesies that said Mommy’s Angel, and even a custom pacifier with her name etched in glittery letters. “You’re spoiled, baby girl,” Jenn whispered, kissing her forehead. That night, after the guests had gone, Jenn sat in the rocker with her baby in her arms, nursing her quietly in the golden twilight. The soft music box tinkling nearby. He was dressed in a footed sleeper, his thumb resting lazily in his mouth. His eyes were half-closed, hazy with milk and birthday sugar, body slack and sleepy in her arms. “Today wasn’t just your birthday,” she whispered. “It was your rebirth. From now on, there’s no in-between. No little traces of the big you left. Just my baby girl, through and through.” Ellie’s eyes blinked slowly as she suckled. She didn’t feel fear—only peace. Deep, complete peace. After feeding, Jenn placed her in a new crib—larger, sturdier, and with her name carved into the footboard. “You’ll be in this crib for a long time, my love,” she said, tucking her in with a new plushie shaped like a butterfly. “Mommy will always be right here.” The world outside changed with seasons. But inside Jenn’s home, time moved differently. For Ellie, every day began the same way: soft lullabies drifting through the nursery, the scent of warm milk, and Mommy’s hands lifting her from a crib she no longer ever left on her own. Two years had passed since that first magical transformation, and not once had Ellie dressed herself, used a toilet, or spoken a full sentence without permission. She was no longer “learning” to be a baby girl. She was one. By now, Ellie had her own rhythm—a perfectly structured day designed by Jenn, who had left behind her old career to become a full-time Mommy. She had proudly transformed her life just as she’d transformed her baby girl’s. Mornings began with songs, snuggles, and diaper changes. Ellie had become fully used to wetting without thinking, trusting that Mommy would take care of it. Her body no longer hesitated—it simply obeyed. “I think someone’s soaked,” Jenn would murmur lovingly, checking the squishy front of Ellie’s nighttime diaper. “Let’s get that princess bottom nice and clean.” After changing, it was time for playroom hours. A space filled with oversized stuffed animals, sensory toys, soft pastel mats, and even a big ball pit just for Ellie and her “nursery siblings”. Other littles who came over for daytime care. Sometimes Jenn would dress her in adorable rompers with embroidered animals or frilly dresses with matching bloomers. Other times, nothing but a t-shirt and a diaper that crinkled with every crawl. Ellie had long since lost her adult motor skills. Her handwriting was now illegible, her walk awkward and unbalanced without Mommy’s hand. She babbled more than spoke, relying on gestures, giggles, and simple baby words. And Jenn? She praised every sound. “That’s right, baby. Tell Mommy all about it. You’re so clever with your little babbles.” Over the months, a tight-knit community of caregivers and littles blossomed around them. Ellie wasn’t alone—far from it. There were regular nursery playdates, often hosted in Jenn’s backyard, complete with splash pads, plushies, and picnic blankets. Her closest friend was Daisy, a curly-haired baby girl with a mischievous grin and a tendency to throw her bottle when fussy. Their Mommies often coordinated outfits: matching bonnets, twin dresses, and monogrammed bibs. They would babble together in the playpen, pass pacifiers back and forth, or cuddle side by side during nap time. Once, Daisy swatted Ellie with a plush bunny. Both girls were promptly put over their Mommies’ laps and given firm, diapered spankings before being laid down with pacifiers and tears. Afterward, Jenn whispered, “Even the best girls need reminders, sweetheart. And Mommy will always give them.” Ellie never tested her again. What had once been taboo was now routine. Jenn took Ellie everywhere—dressed in full baby attire. Some days it was the farmer’s market, where Ellie sat in the stroller with a sippy cup and a floppy sunhat. Other days it was baby yoga classes, where Mommies gently moved their littles through soft stretches. Even skeptical strangers had come to accept the sight of the sweet, diapered girl clinging to her Mommy’s neck. Jenn never flinched from stares—she beamed with pride. “This is my baby,” she’d say to anyone who asked. “She’s exactly where she belongs.” And Ellie would beam right back behind her pacifier, not with shame, but with joy. Because she knew it was true. By the time the sun sank behind the trees, Ellie was back in her nursery. Bathed, powdered, changed, and dressed in one of her many bedtime onesies. Some had rainbows. Others had unicorns. A few were custom-made with messages like Mommy’s Baby Girl Forever or Too Little to Say No. Jenn would nurse her, then rock her slowly in the glider while reading picture books or telling stories of enchanted lands full of other babies and their loving caretakers. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Jenn whispered one night, brushing a curl from Ellie’s forehead. “And I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” Ellie couldn’t reply—not in words. But her hand reached up, grasping Jenn’s finger. And that was enough. Because even though the world outside kept spinning—inside their perfect little nursery, one truth would never change: Ellie was, is, and always would be Mommy’s baby girl. Jenn had given her something priceless: a new life, one where she was safe, cherished, and truly herself. She stroked his hair, watching him—not just with affection, but with awe. “You’re mine,” she whispered. “You were always meant to be mine.” He wasn’t a man in regression. He was a baby girl in truth. No trace of ego. No need for permission. Just soft babbles, clumsy crawling, wide trusting eyes, and the utter dependency Jenn had craved in her deepest fantasies. And she had created it. Patiently, gently, with love. She sometimes imagined what he’d say if he could form real words again. Would he thank her? Would he weep with gratitude? But even those thoughts felt unnecessary. She didn’t need to hear it. She could feel it in the way he nestled against her when afraid. In how his breathing slowed when she nursed him. In the limp surrender of his body after a bath, wrapped in a towel with “Mommy’s Baby Girl” stitched across the hood. He needed her. And that need made her heart swell with a possessive, maternal pride. He wasn’t a burden. He wasn’t a project. He was her baby girl. Her dream made real.

Welcome to Mommy Anna's Diapered Storybook! Some of you may know me from my website, diaperhypnosis.com My recent experience of having my store on Etsy closed because of their discrimination against our community (they are closing down all ABDL hypnosis audio there) has been one more reminder to me of how important it is for us to stay together as a community. I've decided to publish full-length diaper and regression stories, for free, as a special way of giving back to our community. I'm also recording these stories and posting them (full-length) on my YouTube channel, so you can hear me read them there. Mommy Emma from diaperhypnosis.com will also be recording some of these stories for YouTube. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these stories and keep being the wonderful you that you are! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dave’s First Day at Mrs. Allen's Magical Daycare At nineteen, Dave had perfected the art of doing nothing. His days were a blur of snacks, naps, and video games, sprawled across the living room couch. His mother, patient for far too long, finally snapped her fingers at dinner one evening and made an announcement between bites of green beans. “I found you a job, sweetheart.” Dave blinked, fork hovering mid-air. “Wait—what?” “You start tomorrow morning. Mrs. Allen’s Magical Daycare. You’ll be a helper.” “A daycare?!” Dave’s face twisted with horror. “I’m not spending my days with sticky little brats!” His mother’s eyes narrowed, the kind of look that could silence an army. “Then find something else. But until then, you’re going.” And so, at 8:00 a.m. sharp the next day, Dave found himself standing outside a cheerful little cottage painted in soft pastels. “Magical Daycare” was spelled in looping letters above the doorway, and a smiling sun painted on the door practically mocked him. His mom leaned across the car seat and kissed his forehead. “Be good, Davey.” “I’m not five,” he mumbled. Mrs. Allen met him at the door with a beaming smile. She was a round woman with silver hair in a bun, wearing a lavender smock that smelled like cookies and baby wipes. “Welcome, dear! We’ve been expecting you!” Dave barely had time to mutter a reply before she whisked him inside. “Come, come, let me show you around. We’re just so tickled to have a big helper today!” The Infant Room was their first stop. The smell hit Dave like a wall. Powder, formula, and unmistakably diapers. The room was warm, filled with soft lullaby music and the occasional gurgle or cry. Cribs lined the walls, and rocking chairs swayed gently. A pair of caregivers changed diapers at a padded table while tiny babies kicked and fussed. “Ugh,” Dave muttered, turning away as one baby let out a particularly dramatic wail. Next was the Toddler Room, a colorful chaos of blocks, finger paints, and high-pitched giggles. The air was thick with the smell of Play-Doh, apple slices, and the occasional whiff of a diaper not yet changed. Toddlers waddled around in puffy pants, shrieking with laughter or melting down in sudden tantrums. A teacher with the patience of a saint was wiping applesauce off one child’s face while gently redirecting another away from biting. Mrs. Allen chuckled. “They're energetic, but so full of heart!” Then came the Preschool Room, which had a rhythm all its own. Kids were seated at miniature tables, cutting construction paper and learning the alphabet with songs. The scent here was glue sticks, juice boxes, and graham crackers. Dave caught a paper airplane to the shoulder. In the Kindergarten Room, the atmosphere felt more structured. Bulletin boards with gold stars and weather charts lined the walls. A group sat in a circle learning about caterpillars. The teacher here gave Dave a once-over and smirked slightly, as if sizing him up. Finally, they reached the School-Aged Room. Bright posters of multiplication tables and storybooks decorated the walls. A reading nook sat in one corner, and a group of older kids worked on coloring sheets or practiced spelling with magnetic letters. “This,” Mrs. Allen said, “is where you’ll be most helpful.” The teacher greeted them—a tall woman with a warm smile and a honeyed voice that carried a note of firm authority. “This must be Dave. We’ll whip him into shape.” Dave was just getting his bearings when the door opened and in walked her. Samantha. The girl he’d crushed on through most of high school. She was as stunning as ever, hair in a high ponytail, casual but cute outfit, and a clipboard in hand. “Oh,” she smiled. “I didn’t know you were working here, Dave.” His throat went dry. His legs went weak. And then, warmth. It started as a trickle and turned into a flood, spreading rapidly across the front of his jeans. Samantha blinked. “Um, Dave?” The kids burst into laughter. “He peed his pants!” “Gross!” Dave stood frozen, mortified, as the teacher swiftly moved in. “Alright kids, inside voices please!” she said, guiding Dave gently by the elbow toward a side room. “It’s okay, sweetheart, accidents happen.” “No, wait! It’s not” Dave stammered, face red and eyes wide. “Hush, it’s alright,” she cooed. “Let’s just get you into some dry clothes.” Dave tried to protest as she unbuttoned his pants. “I can do it. I don’t need!” But she was already tugging them down, followed quickly by his soaked underwear. “I don’t want, what are these?!” She held out a pair of training pants. “Just a pull-up. One accident means pull-ups for the day. It’s daycare policy.” Before he could resist, she helped him into them, then slid a pair of shorts up over them. They felt oddly snug. Somehow the waistband didn’t quite reach his belly button anymore. “You’re ready for the rest of your day, champ!” Dave was about to argue, but the teacher took his hand and led him out. “Let’s move you to the kindergarten room. Pull-up wearers belong there.” Dave's protests went ignored. The Kindergarten Room welcomed Dave with a chorus of giggles and songs. The room was bright, with rows of tiny desks, a reading rug shaped like a sunflower, and cubbies with names written in colorful marker. Dave noticed a faint sweet scent in the air—fruit snacks and juice boxes, with just a hint of disinfectant. “This is Davey,” the school-aged teacher said warmly, giving a little wink to the kindergarten teacher. “He’s here to be a big helper today.” The kindergarten teacher, named Miss Jennie, was cheerful, with a singsong voice and big blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. “Oh, how wonderful! Another little helper. We can always use more helping hands, can’t we kids?” “Yes Miss Jennie!” the class chirped back. Dave blinked. “Um. I’m just here to help, not. y’know, be a student.” Miss Jennie patted his shoulder. “Of course, sweetie. But we all help in our own way. Why don’t you take a seat at that table and help the kids with their coloring?” The table was knee-high, and the chairs were even lower. Dave tried to kneel beside it but found himself being guided into one of the little seats. It squeaked slightly under him. Miss Jennie handed him a pack of crayons. “Help them stay inside the lines, okay?” The minutes passed, and Dave began to notice strange things. His pull-up felt puffier than before, and his feet barely touched the floor. The crayons in his hand felt somehow bigger? A little girl tapped his arm. “You’re not very good at coloring.” “I’m not supposed to be coloring!” he snapped, then softened as Miss Jennie gave him a look. “I’m just helping.” Later, while sitting through a sing-along about the days of the week, Dave shifted uncomfortably. Something felt warm. He looked down, horrified to see a damp patch forming on the front of his shorts. Not again. Miss Jennie saw it too. She stood immediately, her tone soft but serious. “Alright, Davey, I think you need a fresh pull-up, sweetheart.” “No! I can change. I can go home.” “Shhh, sweetie. Accidents happen. But that was your second one, and you know what that means.” Miss Jennie had swiftly removed his shorts, tore off his wet pull-up and held out another pull-up for him to step into. Dave’s stomach dropped. “What does it mean?” Misee Jennie pulled his shorts u and led him gently by the hand out of the room and into the hallway. “One more accident, honey, and it’s diaper time. That’s the rule.” “I don’t need diapers,” he hissed, but Miss Jennie was already opening the door to the Preschool Room. “This room’s a better fit for little ones who are still learning about their big-kid pants. Miss Lacey will help you from here.” Dave looked up to see the preschool teacher, a gentle woman with a firm smile and long braids, kneeling to his level. “Hello there, Davey. We’ve got just the spot for you.” This room was more padded floor than anything else, with shelves of toys, picture books, and soft animals. The smell was stronger now—apple juice, glue, and something unmistakable. Diapers. He saw a changing table in the far corner of the room and shuddered. Miss Jennie gave his shoulder a pat and passed him off. “He’s had two wet pull-ups already today. You'll need to keep a close eye on him.” Dave opened his mouth to argue, but Miss Lacey had already taken his hand and was showing him to a big pile of blocks. “Let’s play for a little, hmm?” Minutes passed. Maybe hours? Time seemed to stretch in this strange, padded world. Dave found himself stacking blocks with the other preschoolers, laughing, not even realizing he was crawling around on his hands and knees. Then Miss Lacey clapped. “Alright my little sprouts, it’s nap time!” A collective groan went up from the room. Dave raised his hand. “Actually, I think I should head back to the” “You’ve been such a big help this morning, Davey. I think a little rest is just what you need.” She handed him a mat with cartoon puppies on it and a soft blanket. Before he could protest again, she dimmed the lights, and the soft sound of lullabies filled the room. “I’m not sleepy,” Dave muttered, laying down reluctantly. But moments later, his eyes drooped. The room faded. And then he woke up wet. Soaked, in fact. His shorts were damp, his pull-up had leaked, and the puppy mat beneath him had a dark stain right in the middle. Before he could even sit up, Miss Lacey was kneeling beside him with a gentle smile and a pack of wipes. “Oh honey. That was a big accident.” “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even notice.” “I know, sweetheart. It happens to the littlest ones all the time. Let’s get you into something better.” She led him to the back of the room, where a soft, cushioned changing table waited. As soon as she helped him up onto it, Dave froze. “Wait! No! You can’t!” “Hush now. Three wet pull-ups means diapers for the day. That’s the rule, baby boy.” And before he could stop her, she had torn away his soggy pull-up, cleaned him with gentle but swift strokes, and unfolded a thick, crinkly diaper from beneath the table. It looked huge. It looked terrifying. “No, please.” She lifted his legs with one hand and slid the diaper beneath him. “It’s okay, Davey. It’s just for today. We want you to stay dry and comfy.” She powdered him, pulled the diaper up snug between his legs, and taped it securely. Dave tried to sit up, but she firmly laid him back and tugged his shirt off, replacing it with a baby blue onesie that snapped tight around his bulky new diaper. “No shorts today. Babies like you don’t need them.” She picked him up, more like lifted him off the table, and carried him out into the hallway like he weighed nothing at all. And where was she taking him? To the Toddler Room. Miss Lacey carried Dave on her hip as though he were just another toddler. Softly padded, snug in his onesie, and blinking in disbelief. The thick diaper forced his legs apart, and every small shift made it crinkle loudly. His cheeks burned with shame. “Miss Tanya,” Lacey called as they entered the toddler room. “I’ve got a new little one for you.” The Toddler Room was even more babyish than the last. The floor was mostly foam mats, scattered with push toys, plastic kitchen sets, and squishy animals. There were a few short tables with built-in seats, and off in the corner stood two high chairs. The smell was… something else. Stronger now. Apple juice, yes, but also something unmistakable. The sharp, earthy scent of a dirty diaper lingered faintly in the air. Miss Tanya, a cheerful woman with bright red lipstick and a flowy blouse, came over with a warm smile. “And who do we have here?” “This is Davey,” Lacey said sweetly. “He had a few accidents, and now he’s in his special clothes. Thought he might fit better with your little bunnies for the rest of the afternoon.” Miss Tanya gave him an amused look and reached out. “Hi Davey. You can come be my helper for lunch.” “I’m not a toddler,” he mumbled. “I’m not supposed to be.” “Hush now, sweetheart. Helpers sit still and follow directions, right?” She gave his diapered bottom a pat, and he flinched. “And helpers eat all their lunch with no fuss.” Lunch had just begun, and two of the high chairs were still empty. Before Dave could react, she set him down in one of them. The plastic seat was wide, but he barely fit—his legs dangled, and the diaper ballooned up beneath him. “I can sit at the table,” he tried, struggling against the buckle. Click. The straps slid into place across his chest and waist. He was stuck. “Now now, Davey. You're not going anywhere with that soggy little bottom.” He squirmed as a bib was tied around his neck. A bib! And a plate of cut-up grilled cheese and carrot sticks was placed on the tray in front of him. A toddler-sized sippy cup of milk followed, decorated with dinosaurs. Dave tried to grab a carrot stick, but Tanya was already spoon-feeding him applesauce. “There we go, open wide! Good boy!” Each bite made his humiliation grow. Toddlers sat around him, eating with their fingers, giggling at his bib and crinkly bottom. After lunch, he was finally released from the chair, his onesie riding up as he toddled awkwardly on thickly-padded legs to the back door. Outside was a fenced play area filled with slides, ride-on toys, and a big plastic jungle gym. He waddled slowly, the bulk between his thighs making walking difficult. A few kids ran past him, laughing, barely giving him a second glance. For a moment, he almost relaxed. At least out here he could be left alone. But then it hit him. A cramp. It started small—a gentle pressure in his belly. He hunched over slightly, putting a hand on his stomach. Please no. Not this. Not here. Another cramp hit, deeper this time, and his body gave an involuntary shudder. He clutched his tummy, squatting slightly, knees bending. “No,” he whispered. “Hold it. Hold it.” But it was too late. With a soft grunt, he felt the diaper swell behind him, a hot, mushy mess filling the seat. His face twisted in horror as he instinctively bent over, trying to resist. But his body had other plans. He stayed crouched for a moment, frozen in panic. And that’s when he heard her voice. “Well, well,” Miss Tanya said gently. “Looks like someone made a big stinky.” Dave jerked upright. “No! I didn’t! I mean.” “Oh honey,” she cooed, already kneeling down to check him. “That’s a very full diaper you’ve got there. Let’s get you changed.” She took him by the hand—he didn’t even try to pull away—and led him inside. Several toddlers stared as he passed by, and one of them wrinkled their nose. “Ewwww! Davey pooped!” Dave’s lip trembled. His cheeks were on fire. In the changing corner, Miss Tanya had him lay down on a soft mat. He whimpered, trying to hide his face. “I know, baby,” she said soothingly, wiping away tears with one hand while opening a tub of wipes with the other. “It’s hard at first. But this is where you belong now, sweetie.” He sniffled. “You’re doing so well for your first day.” After a thorough cleanup, she slid a fresh, thick diaper under him, powdered him, and taped him up snugly. Then she pulled a new onesie from the shelf—this one pale yellow with little clouds on it—and snapped it into place. “There we go. All fresh and clean. Now let’s help that little pout, hmm?” She reached over and popped a pacifier gently between his lips. Dave tried to spit it out—but it felt oddly comforting. Miss Tanya smiled, cradling his cheek. “You’re such a good baby.” Instead of returning to the toddler play yard, she scooped him into her arms and carried him down the hallway. “To the infant room we go. Because babies who mess their diapers belong with the other littlest babies.” Dave’s eyes went wide, his pacifier dropping slightly as he shook his head. “No! I don’t belong!” She popped the pacifier back in with a soft shush, then opened the infant room door. “Miss Becca,” she sang, “I’ve got a new sleepy little one for you!” The Infant Room was quiet, dimly lit, and filled with the gentle hum of lullabies playing softly in the background. The scent of baby lotion, powder, and warm milk hung in the air. Cribs lined the far wall, each with soft blankets and mobiles spinning lazily overhead. Plush toys were scattered across the padded play area in the center of the room, where a handful of actual infants were lying on their tummies, babbling or napping peacefully. Miss Becca looked up from a rocking chair, where she was cradling a tiny sleeping baby in her arms. She was young, soft-spoken, with a soothing presence and kind eyes. “Ohhh,” she whispered with a gentle smile as Tanya entered, carrying Dave. “And who’s this precious little snugglebug?” “This is Davey,” Miss Tanya said sweetly, adjusting his pacifier. “Had a messy diaper after lunch and needed some quiet time with the littles.” Becca’s eyes sparkled. “Well, he’s just in time for story time, isn’t he?” Dave tried to protest, but the pacifier muffled everything to a soft babble. His face was a mixture of shock, fatigue, and total humiliation. He reached for Tanya’s arm as she handed him over, but Becca cradled him easily, holding him against her chest like he weighed nothing. “There we go, sweetpea. You’re alright now.” Becca settled onto a soft blanket with him in her lap, surrounded by plush animals and picture books. The infants were gently corralled around them, some drooling, others chewing on teething toys. Dave sat among them, his bulky diaper pushing his legs apart, his head resting against Becca despite himself. She opened a board book and began to read in a soft, melodic voice. “Goodnight moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon.” Dave’s eyelids drooped. The pacifier bobbed gently in his mouth. The warmth of the room, the softness of Becca’s voice, the rhythmic back rub she was giving him. It was all too much. By the time the second story ended, Dave was half-asleep, blinking slowly as Becca kissed his forehead. “Alright my littles,” she whispered. “Nap time.” The infants were gently laid into their cribs, one by one. Dave barely noticed as he was lifted, his head drooping onto Becca’s shoulder, his diaper crinkling loudly as she carried him to the last crib. She laid him down carefully and pulled a soft pastel blanket over him. She popped the pacifier back in and turned on the crib mobile—tiny stars and moons circling slowly above him. The lullaby began to play. Dave blinked up at the spinning shapes… and drifted off once more. He woke to the sound of familiar voices. “Aw, he looks so peaceful,” a woman cooed. Dave blinked groggily and looked up to see—his mother. She was standing beside the crib, smiling down at him with glowing pride. Beside her stood Mrs. Allen, the daycare director, hands clasped calmly in front of her. “Oh, he was an absolute angel today,” Mrs. Allen said softly. “Once he got into his routine, it was like he belonged here.” Dave’s mother beamed. “I haven’t seen him this calm in years. Thank you so much, Mrs. Allen. I didn’t expect such a transformation in just one day.” Dave sat up slowly, his crinkly diaper rustling beneath his onesie. “Ma ma?” She reached into the crib and gently lifted him out, holding him close, rocking him like a baby. “Shhh, baby. Mommy’s here.” “Go home?” he whispered, but the pacifier muffled him again as she gently pushed it back into his mouth. Mrs. Allen chuckled softly. “Of course you're going home with your Mommy, but I do hope you’ll consider enrolling him full-time. I think Davey has found his place here.” His mother gave Dave a squeeze. “Oh, I think so too. I’ve got my sweet baby boy again.” Dave whimpered, burying his face in her shoulder as she patted his diapered bottom softly and rocked him back and forth. Mrs. Allen smiled. “We’ll look forward to seeing you again bright and early tomorrow, Davey.” And with that, the nursery door closed behind them.

Hi everyone! I’ve had this idea floating around in my head for a while now, so I’d love to hear what anyone thinks about it! Criticism is always allowed as long as it’s constructive, and any ideas are gratefully accepted! I like getting inspiration from people “Our world was created by a god who’s name was lost to time. Should we have known it, we wouldn’t have been able to speak it or write it anyways. The god who created our world was alive long before us, at the very start of existence itself. The will of the universe to expand and build was given to a vessel, the god who created us. Our world was not the first. In the beginning of its duty, the god created to please the universe. But after a while, he grew tired of creating for someone else. The universe saw this, and gave the god freedom. The freedom to build to please itself, as well as to please its creator. The god began creating worlds that were for its own entertainment. We don’t know what these worlds were, but we can assume they were in some way similar to ours. But after creating for so long, and with an infinity of time ahead of it, the god ran out of ideas. So, he went back to the universe, asking for help. The universe gave him the gift of not only creation, but of life. The god was grateful, and began breathing life into his previously ‘dead’ worlds. As well as this, the god created new worlds with life as well. And, of course, one of them was ours. However our world was special. Because it was one that the god allowed itself to have no control over after its creation. The god gave one world form. A massive world of extremes. Full of mountains and rivers and deep valleys and even deeper oceans. Then, the god had an idea. He created something. Well, two something’s. One was a boy, the other a girl, both were ethereal forces beyond what we’d be able to comprehend. Their names were also lost to time, but we know them now as Light and Dark. Dark was a boy, Light was a girl. The god gave his two children, really his first true children, a goal. He showed them the world he’d built for them. And he sat them down, one across from the other. The world was a game for them. They would both try and claim the world as their own. There weren’t any rules besides common sense, except that the two could not directly interfere and had to treat the world with kindness, even if one side was trying to take the world from the other. Now with a goal, a game, the god gave his children personalities. Dark was instinctive, animalistic, desperate to win but lacking a true mind of its own. In exchange, Dark was given immense strength and power in the physical. Light was different. She was the older sister to her younger brother, the kind caretaker of him once her creator left to watch the game. Light was given true sentience, a love for her brother, a will to win and the intelligence to do so as well. But in exchange, she had little to no power over the physical, all of her strength lying on the spiritual and mental. Then, the god introduced their means of winning. Each side would be able to take vessels to enact their physical will on the world. Neither side could themselves actually interfere with the world, and thus, they needed a way to be able to take action without doing so. Dark claimed Animalia, the animal kingdom itself. Just like his nature, Dark would enact his will through animals. But Light chose something that surprised both her brother and her maker. She chose humanity. They fit her, even if it was a strange choice. Humanity wasn’t strong, in fact most animals could beat them with relative ease. But still, they had intelligence. They could work together, they could build like their creator could. The god smiled, praising both his son and daughter. Finally, he gave them a way to win. Dark and Light, as a force, must fully take over the world to win. If Dark wanted to win, he must blot out the sun, moon and stars, plunging the world into an eternal night that no light could pierce through. And for Light to win, she would have to cast out every shadow, every piece of night, every tiny imperfection. The two agreed. And thus, the game started.” -The Source, a Text of the Worlds Beginning and End 10,000 Years Later The world had changed a lot since the beginning of the game. In the beginning, Dark had far overtaken Light. Animals were much easier to use in the earlier stages of the world's life than humans. Humans reproduced slowly, took time to build up and were easy to kill off. But Light bided her time, allowed her younger brother's ego to build itself. He was animalistic and not sentient, but her father had still given him emotions. And soon, when the time was right, humanity began to explode in numbers. Dark was stunned, and began struggling to pick up the pieces as humanity grew exponentially. The oppressive darkness that had completely covered the world, only punctured by the glowing radiance of a few scattered humans, began to fall back as that same glow spread quickly. As she found out, the innocence of an early human was the perfect tool to drive back Dark in a spiritual sense. Emotions of love, purity, light, happiness, innocence, they all drove back the night. And soon, both Light and Dark were stunned to find that humans had discovered fire. Not even her father had seen it coming. He’d never created fire, it had created itself as a natural part of the world. And as humans began to light bonfires and torches, the stars, one by one in the sky, started to turn on. With each small step towards brighter emotions and physical light, the night sky began to glow with stars. And as humanity spread, built houses, learned to craft tools and organize into societal casts, learned to nurture their young and began to understand the world around them and the history of their world, the moon slowly revealed itself. Dark couldn’t have been angrier at Light when the sun rose for the first time. It was an incredible display of power over her younger brother. But Light knew he held no malice towards her, only anger at the fact that he had started to lose. Dark now only could exist in specific places during the day, and was relegated almost totally to the nighttime. And humanity only grew more and more. Mid shacks became huts, became houses, became castles, became villages and towns and cities. But eventually, Dark began to form a plan. As well as someone without sentience could do so. It was incredibly flawed, full of holes that could have been exploited by his sister. But she was far too busy managing the kingdom she’d built to focus on his antics. So Dark used some of his influence. He found a priest in a far corner of the world, leaned down, and whispered something in his ear. And soon, the sun had a hard time rising. Dark acted within the rules, even though his sister claimed otherwise. But after his father had told him he’d done what he needed to, Dark gloated in his victory as his power grew. He’s corrupted a priest, turning his once glorious worship of Light into a worship of Dark. And his ideas began to spread. And in a matter of years, the sun stopped rising. The moon started to glow less and less. And one by one the stars in the night sky flicked off. Then, the last star died. And then, the fires blew out. And the radiance of humanity was no longer strong enough to save it from the darkness that began to engulf the world. It wasn’t an invasion. It wasn’t an attack, an assault or a war. It was simply a transference. Dark replaced Light. It was almost gentle. A wall of darkness engulfing all in its path. Those who witnessed it were filled with calmness. Acceptance. The darkness gently pulled them into its arms, holding them close and laying them gently on the ground as their light shattered, and the life slowly drained from their bodies as they fell asleep in the warm darkness. Light panicked. She looked for any way to salvage the game. But to no avail. She’s been hit where she was weakest, in the heart of a vessel who could spread his ideas to others. Light sat back. She’d lost…right? And then, her father pointed out something. There was one last person the dark hadn’t taken. One last vessel. In this situation, without her brother overhearing, he gave her permission to enact her physical will on one thing: that last vessel. Somehow, the darkness couldn’t touch him. The boy was fast asleep on a mattress of fabric filled with soft hay and grass, covered in a fur blanket in a wooden log house. It was a village at the very edge of the world, on the edge of the vast, icy northern ocean. He had slept through the silent transference of power from Light to Dark, somehow. And the Dark couldn’t touch him. It coiled and drifted around him, probing the radiance around him and looking for a way in. Light leaned down and stepped into the world next to his bed. She scanned him. 16, nearly 17 years old. A boy with short white hair and beautiful, ice blue eyes. She sat down on the bed next to him, placing a hand on his side. His mind, she needed to see if there was anything there. His body didn’t give any indication of why the Dark didn’t touch him, so maybe his mind would have some clues… What she found intrigued her. He…was very different from most. Most minds were as their age showed. A 20 year old behaved as the world dictated a 20 year old should. But this boy…his mind held that, yes, but also something else. A childlike quality. A deep, deep sadness, yes, but also… She was able to pluck the words she needed from his mind. She didn’t know what they were herself until she understood their context. He had the normal qualities of a 16 year old. He wanted to be a warrior, he knew the sword like the back of his hand, he wanted to find someone to marry one day. Those were normal desires for almost anyone. But he also held a deep, deep sadness. A longing. He was very, very lonely. And his mind had a desire that would have fixed that loneliness. We wanted so desperately to be a child again. Not even a child, a baby. This boy wanted that level of innocence. He wanted that level of love from another, that level of caring and comfort and mental peace. He wanted to feel like a baby, taken care of by a mother. That was it. Not much in this world was more innocent and loving than a baby. And those two qualities, she knew, could drive back the Dark. She had a way to maybe win this. Just maybe…

***This story is an alternative time-line to ours about the post covid pandemic era. *** -Prelude Setup- "The year is 2022, the last 2 and a half years Covid 19 has reaped havoc on society, but now with things opening back up and every day taking more and more steps forward from quarantine and masks more questions arise. The one on our table today is schooling. Now the switch to E-learning was not fast nor easy, many kids didn't learn what the needed too, or the way they needed too. We have many kids who regressed in not only their studies but in maturity, social face to face, and in unfortunately many cases out of the house habits. We currently have statistics of grades k thru 12 on the screen behind me. As you can see these are the most common issues students are having. In k thru 6, most students have regressed in mathematics, reading and writing. They also have a steep up tick in bathroom accidents and other social behaviors such as thumb sucking, whining, and "wanting mommy". We believe these are all related. Also with grades 5 thru 12 we are seeing issues with confidence, low test scores, unpreparedness, and social awkwardness." The sharped dressed woman at the front of the meeting room stood tall as she took off her glasses looking at the screen behind her. "I, Dr. Jasmine Hartwell propose this... (she lays out 13 tests on the table in front of her labeled pre-k all the way thru 12 grade) These are placement tests. Every student in this district will take these tests and their scores will tell us where they are at academically, in addition each student will be sent a packet at home to be filled out by their guardian to get the full scope of how both mature and socially stable each child is. This school district along with 4 others have been chosen across the US to participate in this to see if a wide roll out is what this country needs. Now there are limits to placements from these results current 16, 17 and 18 year old may not place below 8th grade if then need to we will have a special class set for them. 12 and up may not be placed below K under 12 is fair game. Now on the flip side of this NO student will be moving up due to test scores. This is to see if they need help or not. And in addition we will have multiple staff members here to help in transition down graders will need, either maybe a councilor or a trained specialist to help them calm down and fit in better with their new grade and age range. If there is any questions email them to me. And please keep you emotions at the door during these tests this is the best for us and them. Thank you tests will start tomorrow." Dr. Hartwell says closing her book putting her glasses away and walks out of the meeting leaving all the teachers, principles and faculty in a gasp. The next day as soon as it hit 10am every student across Willow's Green School District was sat down for the test about the same time all the parents were also filling out their packet about their sons and daughters being as honest as they can. By 4pm that same day most families were back home discussing the day, some over dinner, some in a quiet room, some scared, some over confident. But all had the weekend to think, enjoy, and prepare for what Monday brings with the test results. All weekend long teachers and government appointed educational professionals would be grading and judging test and packets a like. By Monday the kids were back in school in their usual classes. The district of a little over 8 hundred kids was ready and waiting for how crazy the day was about to become. Busses were outside the high school, middle school, and elementary waiting to bring the kids who were labeled as down graders where they needed to go. Parents all got text messages at the same time as the schools were giving out the results to the kids. In total two thirds of the kids were being down graded! The senior and junior classes didn't see much loss, sophomore and freshman classes had almost half drown graded at least one grade. The middle school was hit the worst over half of the current middle school was being down graded to elementary. While half the elementary was being down graded, 65 kids across k thru 5 were send back to pre k (most of the kindergarteners) and only a few preschoolers fell out of pre k. The busses gathered the kids some in hysterics, some angry, and a few in just shock. This story will follow 3 family's effected by this government test in Willow's Green school district. I'm sorry this intro was so long, but I've been wanting to write this story for a while and I have a lot of thoughts. I might also post this on writing.com as an interactive depending on feed back. Stop by seen for chapter 1! Thank you!

To explain first and foremost, this isn't my world; you can thank the creative and talented @Panther Cub for this idea that we (and by we, I mean mostly him) hashed out recently, and this story is me trying to combine two RP elements that he came up with. He could probably make a story that best fits both; it was his awesome idea after all, but the crux of it is this: a world where a deity (unknown as of yet) gifts children caregiver powers over certain adults in their lives for amusement, with real-world Avatars (this one being an immortal Greco-Roman woman who has all of the signs of recent birth) delegating powers to children for their patron deity's amusement and sometimes interfering directly when indirect means won't work. The immortal mother "reenergizes" her powers via the emotions gathered at places called "Bright New Beginnings": abandoned daycares all across the English-speaking world with the ghosts of caretakers that lure in young people to regress. This combines them both, and I will apologize to Panther in advance if it's not quite right. As this is babyfur, if you don't feel like reading, you don't have to. This is a lot softer than most of my other works as well, so feel free to read or not read based on that. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. Anyway, let's get to the story, shall we? - Chapter One - It was a typical weekday spring morning in the suburbs of Newaardvark, New Jersey, a heavy rain pouring from the sky, as the animals stayed inside for the most part. There was only one exception: a young woman who sat on a bench under a bus stop station, unmoving, her eyes closed as if in thought. To describe her depended on the creature in question, for she took the shape of whomever was staring at her, a beautiful eighteen-year-old female of the beholder's specie in a long, sleeveless white dress, almost Greco-Roman in design, her breasts enormous, lactating, and protruding through her nursing bra like twin towers. Her shoes were white stilettos that covered her feet entirely, covered in mysterious symbols. She shouldered a plain, yet large diaper bag as easily as one would carry a blanket. Overall, she looked like a recent teen mom dressed for a Greek reenactment party. She was on the hunt, not even needing to look as she sensed her targets: a young bird couple in their late twenties and their adopted daughters below the age of ten. She preferred to use children as conduits through her strength, mostly playing through their mischief, willingness to be troublemakers towards authority, or, in too many sad cases, victims of abuse or neglect. Not these children: they were well-behaved young girls, treated with the utmost kindness and love by both hard working parents. She would have to work directly. Iuvenis Mater did not know if that was one of her favorite things to do, but it would make the game with her patron deity more…interesting. That was what their deity cared about, in the end: the Hunt to turn normal adults into little babies, albeit temporarily, for amusement. And there was definitely cause for amusement when it came to both of the parents. Erik Hellstrom was a handsome golden pheasant, twenty-eight, a skilled engineer who worked from home to support his daughters. Oh, she’d have fun with him, especially with his hidden…issues when it came to family. And then there was Gaiana Hellstrom, his wife. Twenty-seven, quite a stunningly beautiful blue-and-yellow macaw, working long shifts as a firefighter, but embarrassed by her past when she was a child. Another extremely fun target that she could work with. Their adopted daughters were the key in the door: Gaiana was planning on having a celebration party at the fire station alongside her peers with Erik joining her, and the girls needed a babysitter. Well, more than just the girls would need a babysitter after today. It had been a simple matter, even with the oddities of the modern age. This “Internet”, in particular, had been a long time spent learning for Iuvenis, but now that she knew, she was capable when it came to the worldwide Web. Quite frankly, it might’ve been even easier searching for targets via the Internet than it was in the olden days. A simple matter of the other typical babysitters gaining new things to do or new places to go all of a sudden, a bit of reality warping to make her seem like she was the only other babysitter available in the area, things like that were simple, including two typical babysitters who seemed…interesting in their own right. The Hunt, on the other paw? Not as much. Her patron deity needed to be entertained, not just for these temporary three days, but for a lifetime, to make it amusing to watch. One never knew how a Hunt would end, merely how it began - and the Avatar of her deity would make sure that they had plenty of amusement with this one. And so this Hunt began as she got up from the bus station and walked over to their house. - Erik preened himself in the mirror, looking at his appearance. The people at the fire station didn’t really care for appearance, true, but he always tried to dress to impress, like his uncle taught him: a full-sleeved white polo shirt, black slacks, black dress shoes, his father’s silver watch on his left wing, his mother’s handkerchief in the dress pocket of his shirt, a polished pair of glasses perched on his beak. He fluttered over to his wife, dressed extremely casually with a simple white T-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers, and her own horn-rimmed glasses on her beak, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Hey, honey,” Erik crooned in a pleasant song, as he gently wrapped his wings around her. “Hey, baby,” Gaiana whispered back with a grin, returning the kiss. “The girls prepared for their babysitter?” “I’ve let them know that there’s a new babysitter,” the pheasant said, his feathers fluffed up in pride. “They’ve taken it surprisingly well. It’s a shame that the Boggs sisters are going through college applications; they were the best of babysitters…” “Well, that’s life, honey; we all grow up,” the female macaw answered. “We grow old, not necessarily up.” “And both are technically true.” “Two different words.” “Ah, semantics.” The two birds kissed again, their love for one another showing through the slight teasing, before they fluttered down the stairs, looking for their girls, who were likely playing Aliemon Orange and Purple on their GameMales, judging by the sounds of the arguing. The games were two of the most kid-friendly ones they could buy for them with the limited money they made on Christmas. “OH, come on, Tali; you know that the mind type beats everything! Play as something else!” “It’s not my fault that Avadakazam is cute as heck, as well as powerful!” “It’s not! It’s literally a green orc with a big head and huge beard, and you had to trade with me to get it!” “Excuse me, Avadakazam is my favorite Aliemon, and I will brook no argu-” “Goostoise is the cutest!” “Avadakazam!” “Goostoise!” “Avadakazam!” “Goostoise!” “Girls, girls, both Avadakazam and Goostoise are equally cute,” Erik said, defusing the argument by hugging the two young girl birds, a brown pelican and a scaled quail. “Whatever, Goostoise is still cuter,” the younger quail, Zita, grumbled. “Avadakazam,” the brown pelican, Talita - known to all as “Tali” - said with a smirk, to which Zita responded with her tongue sticking out. Gaiana gave them both a stern look, but it belied the smile on her face. “Are you two going to behave for the new babysitter?” “Yes, Mom!” the two girls chorused. “You’ll do your homework and everything?” Erik asked gently; he didn’t have it in him to be stern. “Of course, Dad!” they chorused again. The doorbell rang, and Erik got it while Gaiana talked to the girls further, seeing an eighteen-year-old golden pheasant in a long, sleeveless white dress smiling at him, a diaper bag hefted over her shoulders. Her breasts were enormous, and demanded attention, but the analytical pheasant merely noted them as being slightly larger for what seemed like a teenage mom; he took his marriage vows very seriously, more seriously than a lot of men. “Hello, Mr. Hellstrom,” she said politely, holding out a feathered wing for him to shake. “Good morning, Miss, um…what’s your name again, ma’am?” he asked, shaking her wing. She smiled mischievously. “I’m Miss Ivi Mater. You can call me ‘Mater’, though, little Eri.” “Huh…okay…Ivi…” The pheasant felt himself grow smaller in her presence, a wet spot quickly growing around his slacks, as he began to unconsciously drool. “Oh, dear, looks like we’ll need to go to this earlier than I expected,” Ivi said cheerfully, getting out a white fluffy…thing from her bag. The word was escaping Erik’s quickly diminishing vocabulary, but it seemed oddly…familiar in a way. He felt his shirt, his shoes, his drenched boxers and slacks being taken off him by the girl, and even though his mind was inwardly screaming for his wife to intervene, he continued to lay on the floor in a docile manner. And then he saw her go through her bag, sprinkling powder over his nether parts, raising his bottom, and slipping the thing under him, taping up both sides, threading his tail feathers through the back, with the odd teenager moving him as if he had been much smaller than her. The pheasant’s mind was still there, and a part of him was telling himself that something was very, very wrong, but he couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be. Then his wife’s voice echoed. “Oh, Eri? Where did my baby Eri go?” “Here, my dear!” he sang, only for dread to grow when his wife’s frame entered the scene. “Oh, Eri, you little stinkypants, you know you’re not allowed to sneak out of your playpen,” Gaiana said, nuzzling the pheasant, acting like he was much smaller than her. He froze. He was a lot bigger than his wife. For her to think he towered over him meant… No, this can’t be right. Think logically, Erik, these things don’t happen in real life. “You’ve already got a fresh diaper on him! You came prepared for my little baby boy!” Gaiana cooed, handing him back to the pheasant woman, the… “He is certainly going to grow up to be handsome, will he not?” Ivi said with a knowing smile, and he began to fuss. “Oh, he misses his Mommy already.” The female pheasant came close, allowing Gaiana to cuddle with him. “It’s going to be okay, Eri. Mommy’s just got to go for a short bit.” He froze. Those words. A short bit. That was what his parents had said. That’s when- He began to bawl, thinking of the worst night of his life. No, no, no, no, no! Please, God, please, don’t let her leave! Not now! I need her, I need Mommy! Then he saw his daughters, rubbing his feathered head, and singing nursery rhymes to him to calm him down, and he realized the horrible truth. Everyone thinks I’m a baby! My daughters think I’m their baby brother! Oh, God, why?! Erik desperately tried to convince his wife that she was still his wife. He tried to speak to his daughters, tried to get out any code he could. They just cooed at him, as if he was an infant. “Oh, he’s trying to talk!” Zita said excitedly. “Say ‘Sissy’!” “Oh, honey, it might be a bit early for that,” Gaiana said to the disappointed quail. “He’ll be old enough for talkies and flighties soon, but he’s still too young for that at the moment.” Erik then saw the watch - his father’s watch wrapped in his mother's handkerchief - in the older female pheasant’s wing, and he attempted to grab at it with his feathers. “No, you’re a little too young for that; we don’t want you putting this in your mouth and swallowing,” the female pheasant cooed, putting the watch and handkerchief out of his reach and into the diaper bag as he whimpered. “Here! I have something better for you!” She brought out a light gold pacifier, teasing him with the tip, until he instinctively grabbed at it with his feathers and began to suckle on it, his inner adult feeling horrified dread at how easily it soothed his terrified thoughts, but the baby that dominated the main part of his brain reacting as if it was as natural as breathing. “Good job, Eri!” Gaiana cooed at the confused bird. “Now I really do have to go, but I’ll be back before you know it!” All the pheasant could do was suck on his pacifier, feeling a trickle of liquid warmth flow through the front of his (surprisingly comfy) diaper, his mind feeling horror that his body didn’t feel, before his wife - the last bastion of hope of stopping this intruder from potentially hurting his daughters - left out the door, entered the car, and drove away. - Hope you enjoyed~

Hey-lo, and welcome to another new story of mine! Yes, I have a lot of them, seemingly, but this one stuck in my mind. Imagine a place where elves and dwarves exist alongside humanity, but in two separate cities for each kind, all across the countries of the world. Naturally, business and legal machinations and such play a huge role in this story, as do specific irl problems (gangs, poverty, etc.), so I will warn you on that front. Everything else comes secondary. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. So, with all of that said, do enjoy~ - Chapter One: Ocean Slalom - Remus Solarastarr was in the zone of the U.S. Olympic ocean slalom qualifier race. The twenty-one-year-old non-binary person had drowned out all noise, tensed at the sound of a firing gun to begin the race, the sport being a profession that they had been exceptional at for a long time. Ocean slalom was like a combination of swimming, track, and ski-slalom: hit all of the targets in the ocean area, all while competing against fellow athletes who were quite allowed to jostle for position and do everything except kill a fellow competitor. They loved it, especially since they were the only human who could potentially qualify to be on the Olympic team; the rest were mostly elves with a scattering of dwarves. Yeah, about that. Elves and dwarves lived in an area known as the “Two Cities”, just outside of Portland, Oregon. Two cities - Dawningshire for the elves and Duskenstoning for the dwarves - with their own laws and their own magical properties keeping the areas in perpetual morning and twilight, respectively. Remus had been born in Dawningshire to a human mother; their father was completely absent from their life. Due to…circumstances beyond their control, their mother was no longer allowed in either city, and they had been adopted by an elvish family. The same family - the powerful Equinox family, namely their adoptive mother, father, and siblings - was in the stands; they had seen them before the race. Quin was at the end of the finish line, hoping to see them. They owed their best friend everything; it was she who begged her family to take them in when they needed it instead of letting them go to an orphanage or - worse still - under the control of their mother. Cal, a dwarven friend, had managed to find the legal documents necessary for the adoption to happen. Quin. Cal. The best friends a human from the Two Cities could ask for. The gun fired, and the thirty competitors immediately leapt into the water, their forms changing into various animals, by using a powerful bit of magic native only to the Two Cities and others like them: a “familiar”, it was called. Of course, Remus, being born in Dawningshire, was the rare human with access to one themself: a hammerhead shark familiar. They felt the form absorb their clothes, muscularity increasing as their limbs twisted, their bones morphed into cartilage, and, most important of all, the fins and the tail. They thrashed their tail, feeling the water and oxygen surge through them, as they dodged a blow to the gills from a mako shark. Instantly, they knew who the mako was: Trix, from the famed Bellatrix family, and a hated rival to both Remus and the Equinox siblings. Trix had been a thorn in their side from elementary school on, a typical rich bitch who would gladly use the words, “Do you know who my parents are?!” to get her way - and she usually did get it; having both parents as the District Attorneys of West and East Dawningshire made her heiress to one of the most powerful positions in the elvish city. They ignored Trix, setting their keen underwater vision on the first gate - two poles that one had to pass through and hit to prove their time - as the rest of the competitors jockeyed for position, clearly in the back. They hit the pole with their tail at the same time as Trix, who immediately sped off for the second pole. They remained calm, even though Trix was ahead of them by a bit, even as a few other competitors came closer, including a dwarven sea dragon. They knew that the race was a testament to not just speed, but endurance, that Trix’s mako shark was blazing fast…but easily tired in her familiar; they had raced against her long enough, being from the same college, to know as much. Remus sped off towards the second gate that Trix had already hit, slapping it with their tail. Seventy-three left. The sea dragon had come a bit closer, trying to knock them out of the way of the third pole, but they hugged the dragon, nudging them ever so slightly, as they passed through the gate, barely managing to hit the right pole with their tail. Seventy-two. Now to put some distance ahead. Remus sped up, feeling the oxygen pass through their gills, as their muscles started to burn, seeing Trix ahead getting the next gate. The enby person felt a crash behind them vibrate through the water, as the sea dragon and a great white shark collided with each other, as they hit the next gate. Seventy-one. Gate after gate managed to go by in the blink of an eye until they reached the final ten, and they were tiring, their muscles screaming in pain, as they forced themselves forward. But Trix was clearly tiring as well, as they caught up to her. She snapped at Remus’s left fin with her fangs, and blood sprayed from the appendage as they stunned her with a simultaneous tail slap to her gills, not having any more time for her petty bullshit as they passed the first of the final ten - the longest gates. They ignored the blood pouring from their screaming fin, forcing their fins to maneuver towards the second of the ten, slapping the pole with their tail. Come on, just a bit more, just a bit more, and then it’ll be over. They forced their muscles, their gills, everything about them to get to the next pole, slapping it with their tail. Seven more, just seven more… Everything hurt, oh, God, it hurt like a bitch! But they would not be deterred, even as Trix came back, having recovered enough to regain second, although a tiger shark competitor (the races were magically fixed so that wildlife couldn’t come on the course by accident) was on them as well, driven by the scent of blood, as they passed the next gate at the same time as Trix. Six more. Fucking come at me! Trix tried to bite at their gills this time, and filled with a surge of anger - yes, let the fucking anger flow through you, and your journey towards the finish line will be complete! …Or something like that. - they slowed a touch as she missed, rammed into her with their head, knocking one of her fangs loose, and slapping her gills twice again as they passed her for good measure, as they hit the fifth-to-last gate. Half. Way. There… The action had caused the tiger shark to come close as they bit at Remus’s tail, but they flicked it aside for the tiger shark’s attack to miss, burning more and more energy than they felt they had ever burned before, feeling their blood pumping precious oxygen to their brain as they quickly sped away, hitting the fourth-to-last gate. Four. More. Gates… Trix, to her credit, had recovered, and Remus heard the tiger shark hiss in pain, as the Bellatrix heiress bit down on the tail before moving on to Remus again, as they both passed the gate with Remus ahead. Three. Just...three… Trix succeeded in biting down on Remus’s tail, and they let out a snarl, flicking the smaller shark aside, but otherwise ignoring her: if she wanted to attack the competitors more than complete the race, that was fine by them. Blood sprayed from their tail, but they ignored it, to pass through the next gate. Two…more… Trix finally seemed to get it through her stupid, bitchy head that she needed to finish the race, but Remus positioned themself to knock her away from the gate as they passed through it - which would cause the mako to lose precious seconds to the hammerhead. Finish line… The giant gate was there, and even though every muscle in Remus’s body was screaming for them to stop, they wouldn’t. No, they would not stop, not when they were so close. They put on a final burst of speed, the competitors flying behind them…as they passed the finish line first. They swam a bit in a lazy victory lap…before Trix bit them on the gills, obviously furious that they had caused her to come in second. They snarled angrily, shaking her off and turning to human form, bleeding from their chest, legs, and hand, their feminine swimsuit covering most of their body, as medical personnel quickly went over to Remus and used the various medicine supplies - invented by the elves - to clot the blood. “Racer One!” an elvish judge snapped, his pale skin gleaming in the sunlight, directing his anger towards the now-elf-formed Trix, who was giving Remus a horrible death-glare. “The race is over, so no more attacks are allowed on others! Five seconds will be docked from your time!” “But-” “Five seconds docked from Racer One’s time,” a dwarven judge - ironically not being short like the stereotyped dwarf, although his darkened, hardened skin showed himself as truly a dwarf - said calmly. Remus crawled onto the platform, feeling their wounds heal quickly, hearing the words, “Racer Twenty-seven, Mx. Remus Solarastarr of Dawningshire National Academy, is the winner of the competition! Coming in second place…” They barely heard the next few words, as Quin Equinox flung themselves into their 5’10” body in a giant hug, her pale green eyes literally glowing (as was custom with elves) with happiness and her long, white-blonde hair touching their damp tanned skin. “OHMYSPIRITS, I KNEW YOU’D DO IT, REMY!” she squealed like a giddy schoolgirl. “I’mma tell Cal everything, I watched the whole thing as much as I could-” “Easy, Quin,” Remus said with a blush, knowing that their best friend since childhood was the type who would be happy for them no matter what…only for them to blush further as they realized that only one thing that could happen to make the moment not-as-happy had happened. Their swim diaper had leaked, and Quin had noticed. “Hey, it’s all right. They’ll probably just want pictures, but we can get those later, you know?” she said, her eyes sympathetic to her friend’s plight. “Whatever, you fucking baby.” Trix’s voice came next. “I can’t believe anyone even wanted a baby like you, you fucking soulless piece of shit.” Quin let out a hiss, and Remus couldn’t blame her: not only did their families loathe each other on rivalry principle, but “soulless” was the biggest slur that could possibly be used in the elvish language, given their immense pride of spirits. “Hey, ignore her,” Remus said quickly, before they turned their hazel eyes on Trix, their damp, long curly-brown hair plastered to their body. “She’s just upset that a little human baby beat her, is all.” Trix couldn’t even sputter out an angry comeback, only settling for a grumble as she walked over to her family’s maid, an old, yet still tall and muscular African woman with graying hair, in angry silence. “Miss Equinox, Mx. Solarastarr, are you quite all right?” a posh Irish accent echoed. Remus sighed, knowing the Equinox family butler, Finbarr O’Mooney had come into the picture, as the old man looked at the African woman for just a moment before his calm light-gray eyes the same color as his hair appraised the situation. “I suppose a bit of privacy would be necessary?” “That would be lovely, thank you, Fin,” Quin said politely, as she and Remus got away from the situation. They walked over to the restroom door, the elf discreetly handing over a bag containing their normal clothes and a diaper for Remus to change into. “I’m sorry about Trix,” she said with a facade of calm before her anger spilled out. “She really is…ugh! I can’t stand that bitch…” “She’s just pissy because she hates the idea of a human beating her at anything,” Remus said, before gently closing the door for privacy. They sighed. Even since their…injuries, they had been unable to control anything about their bladder or bowels. It was a curse, but…well, that was life, right? They quickly got changed into the fresh clothes: a black T-shirt, a long, white pleated skirt, socks, sneakers, and - of course - the fresh diaper, while putting the dirty clothes in the bag, zipping it up. They exited the bathroom and prepared to meet the media. - Hope y'all enjoyed~