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[It is already implied in the story, but for explicit clarity all characters herein are adults over 21 years of age.] [EDIT: This is just to give potential new readers an idea of what to expect. This story presents a variety of (primarily ABDL) themes, and more keep appearing as it gets longer, but infantilism is a reoccurring one, as is sexual tension between the characters and peeing/pooping diapers. If that combination turns you off, probably not a good fit. Otherwise, and especially if you enjoy a variety of themes and situations rather than a story that focuses on just one, I hope you'll give it a try. There IS a proper story here too, I promise, and actual character development, but it's taking me a few chapters to really get it going. I need to go back and edit the first chapters for stylistic and voice consistency, but I haven't gotten there yet. But problems aside, I hope you'll enjoy my humble first attempt at writing for others to see:] [EDITED FROM THE ORIGINAL POST: UPDATED TO SECOND DRAFT] The Wild North CHAPTER ONE (MACADAMIA) Only frozen foothills lay behind. Only towering rock and a fool's death lay ahead. This was a barren, sharply-sloping land of white. It was broken, only occasionally, by harsh black stone upthrusts. Plants did not grow here. It was not a place for life and living things. It was a land of sleeping giants and the black wings of carrion eaters soaring across the muted gray heavens. A giant hand of unforgiving granite blocked the entire horizon in the distance ahead, thrusting up towards the heavens with a sheer vertical face that might have been carved by the gods themselves, and for the specific purpose of thwarting the curious, and crushing the spirits of the brave. Yet in between what came before and what stood ahead were two curious figures, tiny by comparison and huddled against the blowing wind beneath an overhang of rock. Both were wearing light, draping furs over tunics, with thick wool covering their legs and vanishing beneath the lower folds of their tunics. A young woman, her posture bold and unbent, stared forward from beneath the meager shelter, her gaze sizing up the mountains before them as if judging an upstart adversary rather than a force of nature, her unrestrained shoulder-length dark hair dancing freely in the breeze. Behind her, huddling bent against the rock wall as if to become a part of it, a young man with short-cropped sandy hair followed. Macadamia, the young woman was called back home, for she was hard -it was said- like the nut. No one would ever see the woman beneath the shell, they would whisper. She had never been bothered by it. She even embraced the nickname, and no longer went by any other. She was not antisocial exactly, for she saw no value in unkindness, and she was free enough with smiles and a kind greetings, it was simply that people had never been one of her interests. She spent years, long after passing the age of adulthood, gobbling up every story she had come across, written or oral. She worked her family’s farm during the day, but spent zero time courting a suitor, or other such things that were expected of a woman her age. It had earned her the enmity of more than one man who, having spent years admiring her somewhat petite but athletic figure develop into the curves of womanhood, had no-doubt looked forward with longing for the day they might win her heart. Occasionally a man would still try. “I want to love you forever,” a handsome young man had once said to her. “We’ll… raise sheep and be happy!” She only smiled at the clumsy but well-meaning attempt. “No one should live forever,” she had replied quite matter-of-factly. A couple of women had tried as well, hoping her reasons for rejecting men was the one they wanted. Unfortunately for them all, any such feelings rode in the back of the wagon while she steered her life elsewhere, towards fantasies and books, far away places and mysteries unsolved. Each time she found a trader with a new book it was all she cared about until it was read, and read again, only to be forgotten by the next one that came along. She followed her whimsy like the northern star. There was another reason as well. She knew that few would truly want her once they knew everything about her, and she felt no need to invite stories to spread. Against all odds she did one day find a man around whom she wanted to spend time. He too had passed into adulthood but refused to play the game. With his body more graceful than muscular, and his golden skin smooth rather than worn, he was handsome to be sure - but not in the way that so many women wanted. He had no accomplishments about which to boast, would never emerge victorious in a contest of strength, had no interest in winning fame through tournaments or distant wars, and was a stalwart recluse. What interest women might show went unrequited. He was quiet and shy and had -to the best of everyone's knowledge- never actually started a conversation other than to ask a necessary question or make a purchase at the market. Yet one day he had done the unthinkable – and with Macadamia of all people. It seemed they shared an interest in history and lore, and after overhearing one of her inquiries to a book dealer he had approached her with open, unprovoked questions. The two talked, and were friends thereafter. It was only later that she discovered the poor man's father was a monster. Though seldom home, he had taken to beating his family when he was. When the father was home the son was never seen. Macadamia had met the family’s matriarch but felt only sadness for the woman with the empty eyes and forced smiles. The town frowned on the whole unhappy business, but their disapproval meant nothing to the brute of a father. Not the inflated prices from the merchants, not the cold looks or quiet stares, could draw a reaction from him. No one dared challenge him openly; the man was a mountain on two legs - so unlike his son in every way. In fact, many rumors had spread over the years about alternate leanages for the boy. Some were as fanciful and ludicrous as an affair with a visiting prince in disguise. To Macadamia he seemed nothing more, or less, than an ordinary young man who had secrets, and she understood perfectly well having secrets. She did not fancy him out of pity, but for his mind and -if she was being honest- perhaps his sculpted body just a bit as well. When she finally embarked on a worthy adventure, she knew she could not leave him behind. Not to go from day to day hiding his bruises, ever sinking into sadness in a world that did not appreciate him. Not while she was alive. His name was Elm. It was not a nickname, his mother had simply found elm trees beautiful. The irony of naming a boy 'Elm' amidst the bows of deep, green, fir-covered evergreen forests was apparently lost on the woman. Or perhaps her mind simply took comfort in imagining places far away. Macadamia and Elm had spent many nights gazing at maps and books, scribbling by candlelight and sharing ideas, to the point that rumors had spread about Macadamia taking a man after all, but refusing to claim him. The truth would have bored them all to tears. The two met for only a couple hours here and there, usually in a neutral but private setting, and frequently as the sun was waning and the affairs of the day were done. They studied obscure legends. One in particular stuck and became a lasting shared interest: a legend of a gateway, strangely persistent in its retelling across spans of history. It purported to be a path to a land without sorrow. One without poverty or hunger or hardship. A land of eternal summer. The two talked of books, shared research, did absolutely nothing romantic or sordid as the townsfolk imagined, and then went home. Until the day they did not. It was dawn when they looked back on home for the last time. They turned their gazes to the horizon as the orange rays of the morning sun kissed the dew with gentle hews. The market was closed that day. They were alone as they sat before their maps, spread out on one of the old wooden tables. The dew made its surface slick, shiny, and cold but neither took notice. They had finally uncovered what they believed to be the path to the fabled gateway, their breath coming out in puffs amidst the cool morning air, their voices hushed but excited. They considered provisions with glances and short yeses and nos. They had never properly agreed to go at all, it simply happened that they both fell silent, having said their peace, met each other’s eyes, packed up their things, and walked away. She wondered if their respective families would ever come looking for them, though she doubted it. Such sudden departures were not unheard-of. Sometimes lovers would run away, or those unhappy with the harsh northern life would spend their meager coin to leave on a trader’s cart. Sometimes entire families would have a bad harvest or lose their animals to disease and hardship, then pick up and leave one day without a word. Guilt nagged at her thoughts, for she held no resentment towards her family and knew they would worry about her, but she pushed it aside. If all went well they would return with stories of their own to tell, and discoveries that would open doors for them far away from their home of gossipers and dark secrets. There would be plenty of time for apologies then, after the worthiness of their quest could not be denied. They would be scholars, she would think whimsically, a soft smile warming her features. They could write books of their own. In her wildest moments of fancy, she wondered if they should return at all. What if there really could be such a land, and they could live there? They both knew the quest would not be an easy one. Not even leaving in the early spring as they were. Not even if their most optimistic theories were correct. It would be a long, hard journey. They had agreed. Somehow that knowledge failed to alleviate her aches and pains. It seemed that facts would forever fail to prepare her for experience. The ground had gotten steadily steeper as they neared the great cliffs. Although the snow had relented, a spiteful wind tapped the existing drifts and blew the weaponized ice crystals into her eyes like coarse sand. Their clothing had proven thoroughly inadequate for the pernicious winter weather. Apparently no one had informed the mountains that it was now spring. At least the exercise of lugging her heavy pack up the slopes kept the cold from causing more than discomfort. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Elm was still standing, then frowned; he looked likely to fall over at any moment. Concern gripped her heart and she pulled him further into the meager shelter of their shallow cave. "Elm," she chided gently after worming her way out of her pack’s clingy straps, "why didn't you say something? Here-" She dug out the thick fur she had brought along for sleeping and tossed it around his shoulders, then kneeled, and pulled him down to her until he was sitting on her lap. "We'll wait here until the wind calms," she assured him, rubbing his arms briskly. Would the wind calm? Who knew, but it seemed best not to voice that worry. Nor the other worries creeping up from the shadows of her mind, such as the one that said this whole plan might have been a tad misguided. Especially not that one. He nodded. "I'm fine," he insisted despite his tacit agreement to delay. "I won't hold you back." "I know you won't." She kept to her most reassuring tone, then said nothing as he pushed himself more closely to her, his bottom now resting firmly on her thighs as they both pulled the blanket as tightly around them as it would go. Her taller frame accommodated the posture, as if their bodies were meant to fit together, with his head coming to rest comfortably on her left shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his body, so close now, and realized she had never been this close to a man. This wasn't how she imagined it. The story books left out the part where the prince and princess were more interested in not freezing to death than dancing with endearing chipmunks and getting lost in each other's eyes. Even so, she felt as if the heat of her own body had grown just a bit too. Just two bodies close together in a warm blanket, she decided firmly, nothing more. His shivering began to subside and she felt a wash of relief, which then turned to surprise as he started... snoring? He had fallen asleep in her arms. Clearly the journey was taking a great toll on him. She mentally shrugged and let him sleep; there didn’t seem to be any harm in taking a couple of hours to nap. It had not been nearly that long when a new sensation kindled her surprise - a sudden, intense heat was spreading out across her thighs. Her heart fluttered in a brief panic. Had she..? Surreptitiously as she could manage, she tilted her head and looked down, but his round, innocent eyes were still closed in slumber. Her left arm was underneath the furs, and she nervously used it to explore. In the northern lands of her home, it was a common style of dress for both sexes to wear leggings that stopped at the mid thigh. They were usually made form-fitting and with rigid ornamentation throughout, the purpose of which -beyond vanity of course- was to force them to retain their shape rather than sliding down and bunching up at the knees. It was a strange custom for a land so cold, but proud northerners embraced it conspicuously, showing off glimpses of skin as if to prove how little the climate affected them. What they did not volunteer is that the fabric of the leggings was thick and warm, and that most people wore equally thick, warm underwear underneath their thigh-length tunics, never mind their thick fur cloaks with hoods. Northerners, it seemed, were just as vulnerable to the cold as anyone - but only the unwise would be caught leaking that secret to a southerner. Her hand explored the increasingly wet fabric of her leggings, and upwards towards her crotch. She reached inside the thick puffiness of her own undergarment, holding a tense breath, but found that it was dry. Relief warred with confusion. Her hand explored -ever so gently so as not to wake him- Elm's underwear. The frontal regions were already soaking, and the warm moisture was spreading steadily outward around the sides and bottom. Without her conscious direction her hand moved forward to the source of the flow. The bulge of his dormant manhood was like a hot spring in the cold winter air as his underwear absorbed all that it could and was forced to let the rest flow freely around her fingers and onto her lap. For a few moments she sat, unsure what to do in this situation, as the flow soaked more of her leggings, and it was during her hesitation that he blinked awake - her hand still resting on the front of his underwear. He blinked. She blinked. "What's going..?" His eyes shot wide open. "I'm afraid you're peeing yourself," she explained unnecessarily. Some dormant instinct took over and she felt a cool confidence. "But it's nothing to lose sleep over," she said soothingly, dismissing the situational irony with a frown. "Don't worry, alright?" "I can't believe this is happening," he said miserably, lowering his head to avoid meeting her gaze. "Father would..." His voice had drifted off, but her own anger suddenly flared to life, like an open fire doused with grease. "Is this why your father always acts so ashamed of you? Why he always treats you poorly and keeps you out of sight? Because you... have accidents?" "I... I kept wetting the bed," he said in the voice of one resigned to a cruel but well deserved fate. "Father used to humiliate me for it... you know, to try and get me to stop. But it only made things worse and I started having accidents during the day. But I thought... I thought..." His voice was growing even more miserable. He had omitted the beatings, though the whole village knew about them. "It's alright," she kept repeating softly. The smell of pee and wet fabric started to waft out from underneath the thick fur in which they were huddled, while she pretended not to notice. He did not seem able to stop. The odor was strong, but strangely not unpleasant. It smelled uniquely of him. The gusting wind subsided, and in the sudden quiet she could hear the hiss of his stream penetrating the fabric of his underwear before finally running out. The sudden lack of hot pee washing over her fingers made her realize where her hand still sat, and she hastily relocated it. "There now. I know you feel better. It really is alright." He grew quiet for a time, and when he spoke again his voice sounded closer to its normal even tones. "I've been getting better since I met you. I thought... I thought I could control it. Now I know I shouldn't have come..." "Don't you dare say that," she scolded him gently, "I..." She stumbled over how to reassure him, and went with the simple truth. "I wouldn't have made this journey without you anyway, and I'm so glad you came! I don't want you to worry about this at all." When she continued to hold him and he didn’t pull away, she was struck by a feeling of rightness to the situation – of caring for him and reassuring him. She had been doing it almost instinctively since they had met, she now realized, and the instinct was only becoming stronger. The cold weather and blowing moisture prowled only feet away as the wind resumed its hunt. Wet clothing would only make its bite stronger, but their warm northern wool would provide some protection even when wet, and she saw no more reason to depart right now than she had before. She said as much and gently persuaded him to get some rest. When her persuasions failed she tried something new: she started humming a soft, gentle tune just as her mother had always done for her. It felt strange to share experiences so innocent and yet so intimate with a man who was close to her own age, but his youthful manner and appearance might have allowed him to pass for a younger brother. Did she want to think of him that way, as a boy? Or did she prefer the man? Perhaps all men had a dual nature, a vulnerable child still hiding within. She leaned back against the rock, unable to completely deny her own exhaustion. Did she really mind so much if that were true? Maybe his strange innocence was something she liked about him. Nothing wrong with that. Was there? Sleep took her by surprise after several minutes of stroking his coarse, sandy hair, still humming that same, mellow tune. A voice whispered in her dreams. It said that they would soon need to find their legs, and their courage. It said that far more than wind and weather awaited them out here, in the wild north.

# Preface This is a completely shameless self-insert story. I used to write stories for other ABDLs in a setting called "The Adult Baby Research Institute". ABys would find my stories on Tumblr, and if they were smart/brave, they would message me and I would make them fill out an "intake survey". After that there would be an in depth interview and I would craft them a very pervy story. The setting was a fictional asylum / kinky medical facility staffed by caring sadists. Unfortunately all the content was lost during the great tumblr purge. It was a lot of fun. But now I've decided it's my turn for a stay at this fictional asylum. This is an intense story with dark themes of intense masochism. It's all about turning everything to 11 and getting too much of good and bad things. This deals with themes of heavy duty ABDL, infantilism, sissification, gender fuckery, sadism/masochism, torture, medical fetishism, dental fetishism, force feeding, messing and more. This story is not written for everyone, and I don't blame you if you want to nope out. Any time a chapter deals with an edgy theme in detail it will be called out at the start so you know what you're about to get into. This is a hard story. If you're looking for a feel-good story, you may want to skip this one. There will be some feel good moments, but they'll be interspersed with sessions of deep sadistic torture, painful humiliation, and extreme sissification and babification. This is a sissy story. I'm keenly aware of the link to that as a fetish and misogyny. While I'm hoping that the gender fuckery is deep, I'm also trying to ensure that it isn't deeply misogynistic. I'm not perfect, so if you feel I missed the mark somewhere I'd love to hear about it and understand if you're willing to share your thoughts. # Day 1 Saturday ## Chapter 1 I sat nervously in the back seat in the middle of the van. I was enveloped by the pink PVC padded seat while a 5 point harness pinned me down. Even sitting down in the seat, my pink frilly and lacy dress wasn't covering my thick disposable diaper. It didn't help that my legs were spread wide with a spreader bar attached to the pink patent leather ankle restraints that matched my Mary Jane flats. My matching wrist restraints were clipped to the side of the car seat, not that I could do much with my hands since they were trapped in pink fingerless mittens. I was sucking on a big pink pacifier gag, it's straps circling my head. "I'd like a cheeseburger happy meal with yoghurt, apple slices and an apple juice... and a McChicken meal with coke and fries." That was Cloudy, my wife, my caregiver and the love of my life. I was pretty sure she was getting the McChicken, coke and fries from the drive through. Yuck. Sounds like the rest of that was for me. I hated process cheese... and yoghurt... and apples! "That's $19.59, 2nd window please!" "Mmmmmm ... McDonalds! Your favourite!" Cloudy smiled, knowing that while it was a guilty pleasure, it most certainly wasn't my favourite. "I wonder if the McDonalds worker will see you? Will they recognize you?" I was so mortified as we drove up to the pickup window. Luckily the worker wasn't in my eye-line but how much did they see of me? Cloudy continued, "They told me to make sure to bring a snack, because they aren't sure how long we're going to need to wait in the waiting room." The rest of the drive was uneventful as we went across town, then just outside of city limits up to a nondescript building. There was a smattering of cars parked here and there but it was otherwise a quiet summer afternoon. Cloudy parked the van in the back of the lot and cortisol flooded my system. I was going to have to cross this parking lot dressed up like a baby girl. She turned off the ignition, turned around in her seat and saw the look of dread on my face. "It's okay sweety. No one will know you're really a boy under there!" She smiled, and then unbuckled her seatbelt and got out. "Ok, lets get you out of there." Cloudy sighed as she opened the van door, unclipped my restrains from the seat, and unfastened the unnaturally tight restraint belt. "Get your dolly and your sippy cup!" I struggled to grab the sippy cup and doll with my mittened hands. Cloudy made a show of impatience before tucking the dolly under my arms and grabbing the sippy cup herself. She attached a leash to my leather reins, before grabbing our meals and a large pink diaper bag. She stuffed the sippy cup in a side pocket of the diaper bag, shut the door and started walking to the front door, dragging me behind her. With my ankles still attached to the spreader bar I was struggling to keep up to her brisk pace. We finally got to the door and Cloudy held the door open for me while I walked through into a tiny vestibule. On the other side was a thick windowless door with a heavy handle. Cloudy went to an intercom unit off to the side and pressed a button. "Hello, we're here for our appointment?" Cloudy said tentatively into the unit. "Name?" "Becky, it's for 1:15" "Perfect, come right in." Said the woman on the other side of the intercom. The door buzzed, and Cloudy hefted the heavy door open. "In you go sweety!" Cloudy gestured, and I waddled through into the brightly lit room not knowing what to expect. "You must be Becky" giggled a woman behind the desk, her coworker let out a wry smile. Both of them were dressed in colourful nurses scrubs. "You and your mommy can wait over there." The woman behind the desk gestured at the small waiting area with some chairs. Cloudy took me over and sat me down on a low chair next to a table full of baby toys. Cloudy sat down beside me on a comfortable adult chair and pulled out the food. She filled my sippy cup full of apple juice and passed it over to me. With my hands in the gloves it was hard to get and I dropped my dolly on the floor. Just then the door buzzed, and a tall distinguished gentleman with silver hair and a short silver beard walked through. "Hello Sir" both of the ladies behind the desk called out. "Good afternoon!" He replied in a singsong voice. He turned over to me and smiled. "Whoops, it looks like you dropped your dolly little one." he smiled. I was petrified. He scooped the doll up, winked at me and put my dolly in a toy high chair on the table. "There. That's the perfect place for him isn't it?" He winked again, before looking up at Cloudy and offering his hand for an introduction. My dolly certainly didn't look like a 'him'. "It's a pleasure to see you again my dear. Thank you for agreeing to do this for us." The Director said to Cloudy. "You're welcome." She smiled. "I'll see you both once everything is ready." he said with a grin and away he went, behind the desk and down a long hallway humming to himself. Cloudy unwrapped the cheeseburger and set it down on the table, following up with the bag full of apple slices and the squeeze tube of yogurt. I wrinkled my nose. None of that looked appetizing, and I wasn't sure how I was going to eat it with these mittens on my hand—much less the pacifier gag in my mouth. I just idly busied my self with the bead maze and busy board. "Eat your lunch Becky, it's getting cold." I looked back at Cloudy with a look of "just how exactly?" "I see fussy eating is one of the treatments listed for Becky" one of the ladies behind the desk said. "We can start treatment on that right away. It will be good for her to get some food in her belly before we go over the full treatment plan." She came over, pulling some thick metal clips out of the pocket of her scrubs. She deftly attached them to my restraints and then restrained my hands and ankles to the chair. She gripped my chin in her hand. "Your mommy and I are going to fix you your food, we'll be right back. Don't be scared sweety, okay?" I looked up and nodded. What did Cloudy get me into? "Hi Cloudy, my name is Christine, and I'll be one of Beckys primary nurse caretakers." She offered her hand to Cloudy. "Shall we get this little ones food ready?" "Sure, okay" Christine scooped up the meal and put it back into the bag—even the sippy cup full of apple juice. The two of them walked down the same hallway. I could hear their conversation slowly drift as they walked away. "Her obedience is also on the treatment plan." "Well, it's not like he could eat with that pacifier in his mouth..." "That doesn't really matter, she barely even tried! A good baby slave would have found a way to at least gotten some yoghurt down. She just stared at her meal." Christine retorted with a smile in her voice. "I noticed that you use he/him pronouns, but she is very clearly dressed like a girl. " "Yeah, I have a hard time thinking of him ... i mean... her.. i mean... " "It's alright. What are they comfortable with?" "I'm really not sure, he says he wants to be referred to as he/him, but sometimes I wonder. And when he is dressed like this, I know he would rather be she." "Well, the good news is that as part of the gender treatment plan we will be exploring that and will help you get to the bottom of it." "Oh..." Cloudy trailed off "Don't worry, you're an integral part of the treatment plan as well." I strained to hear the conversation. It sounded like they had gone to another room, and there was the sounds of banging. Like some kind of equipment was being set up. "What's involved in that treatment?" Just then there was a high pitched whirring sound from the room where Cloudy and Christine were. I could hear them both speaking, but couldn't make out the words. Finally it stopped. "There, we'll pour that in there. And now the burger." Again there was the whirring sound. I knew what was going on. My food was getting blended together and I was going to be eating that cheeseburger whether I wanted to or not. It stopped and I could hear their voices again. "Eeeww gross!" "Hmmm, too far you think? You're the boss, for now. But if she was my charge—and she will be soon—this would all be mixed together. Yoghurt, burger, apples and all. And I would make sure that it was thinned out with formula too!" I shuddered in a combination of anticipation and fear. At the time I didn't realize how often that feeling would hold over the course of my stay. "The selection of formulas we have available...Wow! Everyone here at the institute have tried them, and some are easier to choke down than others." I could hear them coming back, the sound of wheels on the linoleum floor trailing with them. Christine was pulling along an IV stand with her, a pair of large bags hanging from them. An unappetizing brownish grey mixture in one, and a slightly pinkish one in the other. "If you wouldn't mind taking off the pacifier gag we'll get this proper feeding gag in place and someone can have all their lunch they so rudely refused to eat!" Cloudy walked behind me, unbuckling the strap to my pacifier gag. Meanwhile Christine was putting on a pink silicone bib that said "Messy sissy" in big bold letters. Cloudy pulled the pacifier out and strands of drool spilled out into the bib and before I could even take a full breath, the thick feeding gag was stuck in my mouth and buckled in place. "Now, burger first, and then your apple yoghurt desert." Christine said, as she lowered the IV stand, letting me have a good look at the greyish brown bag. I could see little flecks of orange process cheese. "Cloudy told me just how much you love cheese, so I made sure to add some extra." I did love cheese, but I hated the taste of process cheese. Couldn't stand it. Christine released the clamp on the bag, and I watched as the sludge slowly crawled down the tube, little orange cheese flecks and all. "This might be the best meal you will have all week, so enjoy it!" All week? I thought to myself. The smell of it hit before the taste. The burger was blended with apple juice. The sweet of the process cheese and apple juice contrasting with the bun and the meat. The blob of ketchup, mustard, pickle and onions were just a faint whisper in this sludge. It finally entered my mouth and it tasted worse than it smelled. The first blob that hit my tongue clearly had large chunks of pickle and cheese mixed in with the meat. The texture was thick and chunky. I couldn't help it and immediately retched. Christine again gripped my chin. "Try me. Anything that comes up is going to go right back down again." I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and tried to ignore all the flavours and textures and suck it down. It was tough, and I almost lost it 5 or 6 times. Finally the last of it was done. And this was going to be the best meal? "Good for you sweety! Now it's time for your dessert!" The tube was swapped and the slurry of yoghurt, apple juice and purée apple slices made its way to my mouth. I had a hard time deciding which was worse. On the one hand apple juice cheeseburger surprise was pretty nasty, but I hated yoghurt. "Your mommy told me all about how much you LOVE yoghurt, so we're going to make sure that it's part of every meal during your stay with us." I shuddered. Finally Christine took a syringe out of her pocket—without the needle—and pulled out a small bottle of medicine. She uncapped it, put the syringe in and filled it up 2/3rds full of a thick, yellow, cloudy, oily substance. The tube was pulled from my feeding gag and hung up on the IV stand and replaced with the syringe. The smell and taste of caster oil was unmistakeable. She pushed my head back so that I could savour all 60 CCs of every drop. I was going to be in bad shape in a couple of hours. "Alright. I think we're about ready to start working on your treatment plan." Christine said, while the other nurse was pushing over the largest and kinkiest stroller/wheelchair I have ever seen.

I have this amazing/weird dream and I thought I would like to share with all of you. Hmm.....I think to goes like this: I woke up in a crib! And I'm like, "um......Why am I a crib?!" I looked around and I realized im not in my own room. It's someone's baby play room which it looks quite nice and colorful. In my crib I have so much stuff animals that I like. Teddy Bears that are big and small and Disney plushness. And then I saw a little mirror on a crib I look at it and...... There's me as a one and a half year old baby! I was so sunrised that I screamed and then I heard a man from another room saying "Are you alright baby girl?" I quickly got under the covers and pretend to sleep and then I heard a door squeaked open and footsteps coming over to my crib. "Hmm....honey? Are you sleeping?" The strange man asked as he caress my head. "Hmm, could've sworn you were screaming....Anyways, Daddy's gonna have a visitor and I'm sure he will love to meet you so don't sleep for too long" And then he kissed my head and left. I quickly got up and was feeling confused....."Daddy? What visitor?? What kind of dream is THIS!?" So many questions in my mind; but I have to escape! So I tried to find the way to get out of this little cell. "If I was Tommy Pickles from Rugrats, how...." Then I saw a toy screw driver. I took it and able to get the crib open. I hopped down but then landed on a squeaky rubber duck. And then there's that voice again! "Baby girl? Are you up??" "Crap!" I thought so I wobbled all the way to the closet and then the man came in..... I couldn't see his face but I know he's tall and has a big grin. "Oh, Lani! Where are you? Daddy's got a big surprise for you" He looked around, trying to find me and he saw a little screw driver on the floor that I escaped with. He chuckled and said "Uh oh......Looks like my little girl's being NAUGHTY!" And while his back is turned, I got out of the closet and head towards the exit. "Well good thing the visitor's on his way because he knows what to do with naughty little girls." I wobbled as fast as i can with this thick white diaper on me out the door still looking back but then someone grabbed me and said, "GOTCHA!" I yelp and was picked up by the same man that was in the room. He has brown hair but it covered his eyes and I only see his huge wicked grin. I tried to cuss out at him and tell him to put me down but it came out in baby gibberish! "Aww, is my widdle girl cranky? Well don't worry I know someone that can turn that frown upside down" He carried me to a living and settled me down on the couch. I was too scared to move and then he said, "Oh my, I think the visitor is here...." And right when i was about to rolled over, six tentacles appeared from his back and grabbed my little arms and legs. He then smiled and said, "Lani, I would like you to meet ME; the tickle monster! And since you're being so naughty, I, the Tickle Monster will have to punish you" With that said, he pulled up my shirt and gave me the BIG raspberry and started tickling my sides. I was laughing and giggling like crazy! Then the other two tentacles are now tickling my feet and toes! "Kitchy kitchy koo, my ticklish widdle baby girl!" That baby talk!....Those tentacles! MY GOD!. I cried and laughed until I woke up. And then I'm like".....wow, best role-play dream ever" Hope you guys enjoy my first story post.