Academy B (Complete)

[Bonsai]

The whole Academy process has similarities with steel heat treatment, the process that transforms soft iron into hard and yet resilient steel.

First, you have to heat the material into austentitic region (over 900 C), so that the MEMORY of the previous lattice is totally lost.

Then, the alloy is dropped into oil to fast quench it. This way, the austenitic lattice is “frozen”, but atoms world like to rearrange into a more comfortable position. The structure (martensitic lattice) is extremely tense (= hard), but also brittle. It still wishes to evolve into something else.

Finally, and here comes the finest part of the art of metallurgy, there is the tempering: a slow and gradual heating that preserves most of the hardness acheived through the martensitic transformation, but also makes the material more resilient.

Each steel is different, depending on how much carbon and other metals are alloyed in it. Heat treatment needs to be fine-tuned according to the exact chemical composition of the alloy.

Some elements are considered “poisons” for steel: if they somehow enter into the alloy, they will irreversibly compromise the final result and the manufacturer will have to scrap the steel.

Bala has been brought up to the austenitic region and now is about to get quenched. How will her chemical composition react to the treatment?

[snowwhite]

9 hours ago, Bonsai said:

The whole Academy process has similarities with steel heat treatment, the process that transforms soft iron into hard and yet resilient steel.

First, you have to heat the material into austentitic region (over 900 C), so that the MEMORY of the previous lattice is totally lost.

Then, the alloy is dropped into oil to fast quench it. This way, the austenitic lattice is “frozen”, but atoms world like to rearrange into a more comfortable position. The structure (martensitic lattice) is extremely tense (= hard), but also brittle. It still wishes to evolve into something else.

Finally, and here comes the finest part of the art of metallurgy, there is the tempering: a slow and gradual heating that preserves most of the hardness acheived through the martensitic transformation, but also makes the material more resilient.

Each steel is different, depending on how much carbon and other metals are alloyed in it. Heat treatment needs to be fine-tuned according to the exact chemical composition of the alloy.

Some elements are considered “poisons” for steel: if they somehow enter into the alloy, they will irreversibly compromise the final result and the manufacturer will have to scrap the steel.

Bala has been brought up to the austenitic region and now is about to get quenched. How will her chemical composition react to the treatment?

 

Wow, Bonsai respect, I have no idea about metalworking, but I love your execution!
And I believe every word you say! ?

I was not aware, that you are a big BDSM fan!

I will put my knowledge about metalworking with your knowledge (don't worry my knowledge is truly very small concerning metals!). I like it only to wear this, silver, platin, gold, A4 steel ... but never I can work with that!

Back to result:
We dress Bala nice and thick, so that she is sweated through very soon and her atoms can look for a nice position.
Then we put Bala on a punish buck (not on an anvil!) and work (spank) her long and properly with the cane, paddle, belt, martinet, until her body feels comfortable (i.e. the atoms have aligned themselves so that she associates spanking with pleasurable feelings).
Then we put her in a cold bathtub, and then immediately put her back in thick diapers ... now she is held captive in her excretions for at least 24-48h until she is perfectly hardened!

Ready is our new Bala (no Krupp steel), but she is now hot, hard and full of SM eroticism ... Thank you Bonsai I love your way of living SM.

Honestly I love your whole metaphor. 

You made my day, thx

 

greetings fom bad mad snowwhite

[Mia Moore]

On 2/6/2022 at 2:56 AM, Bonsai said:

The whole Academy process has similarities with steel heat treatment, the process that transforms soft iron into hard and yet resilient steel.

First, you have to heat the material into austentitic region (over 900 C), so that the MEMORY of the previous lattice is totally lost.

Then, the alloy is dropped into oil to fast quench it. This way, the austenitic lattice is “frozen”, but atoms world like to rearrange into a more comfortable position. The structure (martensitic lattice) is extremely tense (= hard), but also brittle. It still wishes to evolve into something else.

Finally, and here comes the finest part of the art of metallurgy, there is the tempering: a slow and gradual heating that preserves most of the hardness acheived through the martensitic transformation, but also makes the material more resilient.

Each steel is different, depending on how much carbon and other metals are alloyed in it. Heat treatment needs to be fine-tuned according to the exact chemical composition of the alloy.

Some elements are considered “poisons” for steel: if they somehow enter into the alloy, they will irreversibly compromise the final result and the manufacturer will have to scrap the steel.

Bala has been brought up to the austenitic region and now is about to get quenched. How will her chemical composition react to the treatment?

That's so cool!  Honestly I don't know much about treating metal, but I love the parallels.  The line "the MEMORY of the previous lattice is totally lost" is just right on the money.  

Thanks for all the comments everyone, I promise I'll get back to posting soon.

[Mia Moore]

Chapter Ten

"Rise and shine, pretty princess," the blonde caregiver said with a smile. Her eyes were bright with excitement and she easily picked Bala up from under her arms. Bala rubbed the sleep from her eyes, holding the corner of her baby blanket in her other hand, and caught a glance at the other cribs before the woman set her on the changing table. Ai's was empty.

Maybe Ai had gotten in trouble, maybe Ai was going to be helped to be happy. She was a troubled girl, after all, and if anybody deserved to be shown happiness it was going to be her.

Truthfully, Bala was a little giddy at the doting treatment of the morning: the caregivers made her feel so small and protected. But no matter how content she felt, she couldn’t keep her mind off what Ai told her the night before. Why did she have to try and ruin Bala's happy ending?

Whatever Ai had been talking about with Melting seemed to be true. Bala was changed out of her wet diaper and taped into a fresh one. The caregiver pulled a frilly party dress down over her head and never hesitated to compliment her. She used every variation of the word pretty and bounced Bala in her arms. 

"Let's do your hair, okay? We're gonna make you the prettiest princess in the whole academy!"

"Uh huh!" Bala was anxious about using words, but her chipper and enthusiastic agreement didn't seem to net her a punishment… which only raised more questions. Like, if she could trust what Ai said about talking out loud, what else was she telling the truth about? 

"Um. Um. Um. Um. What's my favoritest color?" Bala asked her caregiver, because it seemed proper to ask rather than to assert. Obedience was her most valued trait, after all. Plus, if she could distract herself, she might stop thinking about Ai.

"Hmm..." The caregiver set Bala down on the floor by the rocking chair and tapped her chin. "Well, you seem to wear a lot of pink, don't you think? So your favorite color must be pink."

"Uhhuh! Tha' must be right. Pink for a princess." 

In her dreams, Bala wore blue scrubs. In her dreams, Bala wore an orange bracelet, the colors of candy corn. Never in her dreams did Bala wear pink. But she'd been told pink was her favorite color, and so now it was. 

"Um. Maybe um! Maybe Ai an' me could wear matching outfits?" She didn't want to ask where Ai was. But this was fine, wasn't it?

"I think that's a wonderful idea," the caregiver said without a hint of suspicion. "She could certainly use a friend like you to help her be happy, you know?" The caregiver took a brush off a nearby table and started brushing Bala's curly hair. She was slow and tender and hummed a soft lullaby as she worked.  Bala held her blanket tight in her arms.

In her dreams, Bala was always messing up despite her best efforts - simple mistakes, selfish oversights, little errors she was prone to because she was just a baby who didn't know any better. The only time she'd be praised would be for accepting her punishments, and even then it was minimal. 

That had been her life, so this moment of tenderness and love, of being held and having her hair brushed... it stood in stark contrast. 

In her head, Bala imagined being a child and brushing her best friend’s hair. Her best friend brushing her hair. Doing braids together. Going blonde together, what an awful idea that had been! Lila. Her best friend, Lila. Why was that name so unfamiliar; why was it so hard to remember?

When the caregiver was done, she helped Bala to her feet. She stood with a wide stance, her legs spread apart by the diaper that peaked out from the bottom of her pink party dress. Her hair was in two perfect pigtails, tied with ribbons. She looked every bit the picturesque baby girl. 

"Let's read a story together, okay? Come sit on my lap." She sat back in the rocking chair and patted her thigh.

For a woman who'd spent her life making beds, lifting patients, carrying supplies, and being the physical lifeblood behind the hospital’s operation, Bala was remarkably inelegant at climbing up into the woman’s lap. Maybe the chair was higher than normal, could that have been it? Bala sucked her binkie in determination and got settled into place. All was right with her world. 

...right?

The blonde caregiver tucked Bala’s blanket around her and pulled a book out of the chair's side-pocket. Inside the book were pictures of a princess as she walked through the woods. She had a short dress on, exposing the crest of her diaper. 

Bala tried to read the words on the other page, but it didn't make any sense. The letters were in English, but all the words they formed weren't real. Bala stared at her caregiver in confusion, but the caregiver went on reading as if the words were plain as day. 

"Once upon a time, there was a little princess. She liked to walk through the forest behind her castle." The caregiver pulled Bala in close so they were touching. Bala's skin on hers felt like her cheek against the warm tiles of the cold room. It felt like salvation.

"In the forest, the princess would encounter many beautiful things. Her favorite flowers, in pink, yellow, and white," the caregiver pointed to each of the colored flowers as she said the names, like she was teaching a child.

"Do you know what color this one is?" the caregiver asked Bala. 

Bala nodded her head and spoke around her pacifier. "Blue." 

"That's right! Goodness, you're so smart for someone your age." Bala felt a warm pride in her chest; she had gotten the color correct! But the joy of her accomplishment was paired with the shame of not understanding the words. Was the caregiver just making it up? Or was it a secret code? Or... 

Bala sucked harder on the pacifier to ignore the final option: maybe she just couldn't read anymore. It was terrifying to think that they could take that from her, and her mind substituted a more palatable explanation: maybe she never knew how to read. She'd been so dependent on the hospital director after all; if she wasn't potty trained, why would she know how to read? 

The caregiver slipped one hand under Bala’s blanket, between her legs.  She pressed softly on the diaper: maybe to check it, or maybe just to remind Bala of what he was wearing.  Bala’s cheeks turned red and the caregiver continued to read.

"Among the flowers, the princess often found some of her closest friends, Pixa, Pixbee, and Pixsee - her three little pixie friends."

The caregiver never moved her hand from between Bala’s thighs.  Instead, she pulled Bala closer so that she could warm Bala with her own body.  Bala melted like chocolate in a child's pocket; her eyes followed the pictures as her ears followed the story. 

"Pixa asked the princess if she wanted to play the Pretty Game. Of course, the princess agreed. If you want to be pretty, Pixa said, you have to do what you're told. Put your hands on your cheeks." At this, the caregiver turned her attention to the grown-up baby in her arms. 

"Hands on your cheeks Bala, if you want to be the prettiest."

Bala did want to be the prettiest! She didn't know if she could be, but if someone told her that she could be, then that overrode her own doubts immediately. She put her hands on her cheeks, flanking her colorful binkie, and smiled wide as wide as could be.

"Such a good girl, Pixa said," the caregiver continued to read. "You must truly be the prettiest." Bala's eyes lit up with joy. 

"Pixbee asked the princess if she wanted to play the Kindness Game. Of course, the princess agreed. If you want to be kind, Pixbee said, you have to do what you're told. Pinch yourself as hard as you can." This time, the caregiver didn't prompt Bala.

Bala didn't even hesitate, like her body was on autopilot - she pinched her own hand. Hard. Viscously. And bit down hard on her binkie, holding her breath, until she couldn't stand the pain anymore and let go. 

On the back of her hand, the skin looked angry, indented in two places, threatening blood and already heavily bruising. Why did she do that? Why did she... she began to whimper in concern and confusion.

"Such a good girl, Pixbee said. You must truly be the kindest." The caregiver leaned down to kiss the top of Bala's head as a reward. 

"Pixsee - the final pixie - asked the princess if she wanted to play the Happy Game. Of course, the princess agreed. If you want to be happy, Pixsee said, you have to do what you're told. Say you're a dumb baby."

"Imadumbabee" Bala mumbled clumsily around her binkie, and found herself giggling at how silly she sounded. She really really wanted Pixsee to be proud of her, and to praise her, and she didn't want to be put down by the caregiver.

"Such a good girl, Pixsee praised. You must truly be the happiest." The caregiver turned the page to show the princess sitting in the forest with all her animal friends, having a tea party with the pixies. "And so the prettiest, kindest, happiest princess lived happily ever after. The end!"

Bala clapped her hands happily, the back of her left bruised and angry, but the pain felt like a small price to pay. She was probably prettier and kinder and even happier than Ai! 

Ai... why had she thought of her?

Rather than spend the day playing with Livi or Phil, she stayed at the foot of the rocking chair, close to her caregiver. Often, she would ask Bala what she was doing with her blocks or if her dolls had names. She would pat the top of Bala's head randomly and brush her hand across Bala's cheek. 

She gave Bala bottles of milk and little animal crackers throughout the day. Sometime in the afternoon, Ai returned with another caregiver. She was given a pink baby bottle and placed again in her crib. Bala watched from her place at the foot of the rocking chair, but Ai barely looked at her.

Bala had done the math, she'd followed the logic, she'd come to the same conclusion over and over and over: this was where she belonged. She was happy. She was a good girl. She was obedient! And pretty! And she wanted to be melted, and she deserved this, and...

"Something wrong, babygirl?" Bala looked up at her caregiver with an ounce of annoyance and shook her head. Then she turned her attention back to the dolls in front of her. 

She was playing doctor, so one doll had to take care of the other. She would check her temperature, cook her soup, and change her diapers. Bala used to be that person - a nurse taking care of others. Now she got to be the patient. 

It was better, wasn't it? She was happier like this. Then why did she choose to be a nurse for so long, if it wasn't what she wanted? It didn't make sense...

Maybe the nurse wore diapers because she wanted to make the patient happy. But then someone had to change the nurses diapers, the hospital administrator. 

So why didn't the administrator just change the patient's diapers? 

Why did the nurse exist? 

How could it make sense, and then not make sense? 

Bala knew who she was, she knew who she used to be. But two and two kept adding up to five. She might not have known how to read, but she sure could count..

After a long, quiet afternoon, the caregiver lifted Bala up from under her arms and set her on her hip. She bounced her softly in place, squishing the wet diaper between Bala's legs. 

"You're so quiet, my pretty princess. What could possibly be on your mind?" Bala shrugged her shoulders and looked at Ai. If the caregiver noticed, she didn't seem to give any inclination. "You must be hungry. It's nearly dinnertime. Come on now, I know what you need."

Bala didn't feel hungry, but she also knew that she didn't have to think about things like that anymore. If it was time for her to eat, it was time for her to eat. Or drink. Or do anything they wanted.

"Wha's Ai drinkings?" Or, what had she been drinking, rather - the pink milk was long gone. "I wan’ it."

"Oh no sweetie. Ai's bottles are for girls that need a little help being good. But you don't need those. You're such a good girl already, aren't you? That's why you're going to get a special reward." 

The caregiver sat down on the rocking chair once more and sat Bala sideways on her lap. With a few simple snaps along her shoulders, the caregiver pulled down her shirt. Her breasts were large and swollen, warm with body heat. If Bala could have pulled her eyes away from them, she would have found Phil and Livi looking on with envy.

Some part of her knew what this was, in the context of it not being proper. Another part of her knew what this was, in the context of it being sexual. Yet another part of her knew what this was, in the context of it being perfectly normal and natural for babies. And all three of those parts of her had her head swimming as she stared, transfixed on the woman’s breasts.

The idea of... and... this woman’s... from her body... 

Before Bala could react, the caregiver pulled her down and held her firmly in her lap. She plucked the pacifier from Bala's lips, and Bala watched in bewilderment as the caregiver's nipple took its place. After days or weeks or months of her pacifier, Bala instinctively began to suck on her caregiver's breast. 

The first feeling was familiar: warmth. It felt so much like it had when she cuddled her caregiver during storytime or whenever Bala would wrap herself in her blanket. Then Bala noticed the soft sound of the caregiver's heartbeat, echoing in her head. And finally, a warm splash of sweet milk dribbled across Bala's tongue.

If the cold room had been torture, this moment was pure ecstasy. It was like her thoughts, her turmoil, her worries, and every single moment of hesitance was washed down her throat with the warmth of the milk. One logic prevailed: she was being breastfed. Therefore, she was a baby. A codified truth, something she'd hold onto, because despite everything... she still knew something was wrong.

The caregiver hummed a soft lullaby as the adult woman on her lap suckled her breast. Bala's gaze grew further and further away, until her eyes finally drooped in surrender. Bala and her caregiver rocked back and forth in the chair as the caregiver pushed gently against the floor with the toes of her foot. 

Bala's mind felt empty. She was awash with heat and happiness, calm and comfort. As long as she could feel the gentle thrumming of her caregiver's heartbeat and taste the sweet milk in her mouth, they were one in the same. Bala no longer existed. Without so much as a thought, she scrunched up her face and pushed. 

As warm milk slid down her throat, warm mush slid into the seat of her diaper. The caregiver patted it gently, squishing it into Bala's skin, and the lullaby went on. Bala was well and truly melting.

Bala dozed in her crib, dreams and happiness danced inside of her. Her diaper was full of mess, and her tummy was full of milk, and her heart was full of love. She hadn’t known love before, not like this. She'd always been alone. She'd always been a selfish girl. A misfit. A handful. Here and now, she felt peace. She felt belonging. She felt... home. 

If fighting this meant losing this, why would she fight? Bala never wanted to leave. Bala never wanted to want.

[Sarah Penguin]

[Mia Moore]

Chapter Eleven

Bala was having a pleasant dream. The head nurse fed her every day from her breast and praised her for filling her diapers. Then, out of nowhere, the nurse pinched her. Bala looked up in confusion, but the nurse had no face. The hospital grew dark and Bala opened her eyes. 

She stared through the darkness at Ai's crib; she knew it was Ai that was trying to wake her up. But truth be told, Bala couldn't remember why Ai would do such a thing. Or maybe she didn't care to remember anymore. 

"Hey, did you... are you okay? Did they..." Ai's voice trailed off quietly in the darkness, somber and grieving. "Please don't give up, please..."

"Give up..." Bala mumbled, dreamily. "Ai should give up. Ai. Not I. Ai... Ai should give up." She gigged, sleepily. "If Ai gives up, she'll be happy. Is just logical."

Bala watched an expression of unfamiliarity wash across Ai's face. Disappointment? She hadn't seen disappointment before, maybe not since the hospital. She had heard it, from the voice in the cold room. But this was different. 

"It's not logical," Ai tried. "It's not reasonable. It doesn't make sense. Why are you here? Why did they pick you? Why are you special?" 

Bala stared blankly at Ai and shrugged her shoulders. None of that really mattered, and Ai knew it. So Ai tried something else.

"You were a nurse, right? How many of your patients died? How many were sick and would never get better? Why do you get to be happy and they don't?"

If Ai had been looking for a loose thread to pull on and unravel, the errant frayed edge of a plastic film over a pristine screen to tug off in pleasing satisfaction... she'd found it. Or, at least, a vulnerable cuticle.

"I..." Bala looked... pained.

"There are seven billion people on the planet, but only a thousand of us. Why you? Why me? If they wanted us to be happy, they would help everyone. Right?"

"We're lucky... we're lucky, that's what it is... and... and you're ungrateful..."

"Then they should pick someone else," Ai said in a rushed whisper. She seemed to be getting through to Bala. "They are wasting their time with me, so why won't they switch me out? Because there's something special about me. About you too, and everyone else here. It's not about making people happy. It's about making us obedient."

"Obedience is happiness, and prettiness, and kindness," Bala retorted, but it came out as reflexive as a child chiding 'I know you are but what am I' in the schoolyard.

"I don't need you to believe me," Ai muttered under her breath. "I just need you to have some doubt. An ounce of doubt. I need your help..."

"I'm so happy… Ai why do you want me to be sad? I'm such a good girl... I am… why are you taking my happy ending?"

The room was quiet for a long time. Bala wasn't sure if Ai was thinking of an answer or maybe thinking if she should answer at all. Bala wiped away the tears that were forming in her eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Ai muttered. "But you aren't more important than everybody else. You don't get a choice unless they do. Unless I do."

"I don't want a choice or a decision or… or anything. Why me? Why not Phil? Or... Livi? I'm so tired..."

"I tried," Ai admitted. "I thought Phil would help, but he was too scared. And Livi was a lost cause the moment she arrived. It's so easy for everyone else to give up, but I can't no matter how much I want to. I keep wondering..."

"Maybe you could ask them to help...? Tell them something is wrong with you, and you wanna be a good girl. If you... if you had what I had today... you'd be just so happy. So happy..."

"I have," Ai said dryly. "They keep me filled up with pink milk so I can't think or cause trouble, because nothing else works. But it's not good enough. Think about it. If they just wanted to keep us here, we would be in cells. They need us to listen to them. We have to obey them, but I don't know why! And if they aren't having any success with me, what then? What are they going to do with me?"

"Kick you out?" Bala offered, tellingly. Not 'set you free', like this was a cage. But 'kick you out' like this was heaven. But her tone was... cynical, almost.

"That's what I want, Bala." Ai slipped back in her crib and looked around the dark room. They were always listening. "Help me get out. Help me escape. And they can give my place to someone else. Please?"

"I... can't... I mean, how can I even help? What if they kick me out...? I don't wanna get caught, I don't wanna go back, it was so cold, Ai..."

"They won't kick you out," Ai said with certainty. "They need you here, remember? If you don't want to leave, that's your choice. But help me make mine. Please?"

With nervousness and anxiety causing her to shiver, Bala chewed on her pacifier and nodded her head. “What... do you need me to do?"

"We'll have to talk about it later. They're always listening." But despite Ai's warning, there was excitement in her voice. Bala didn't want to rock the boat - the boat was in such calm, comfortable waters. But there was a certain truth to Ai's words. 

Why did Bala matter more than everyone else? If she could help Ai and still get everything she wanted, she wouldn't have these thoughts anymore. Her dissonance would vanish. Bala sunk into her crib, looked up at the ceiling, and cuddled tight to her blanket. 

What had she gotten herself into now?

[Sarah Penguin]

[Bonsai]

War is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strenght.

 

(…and, they are always listening…)

[Mia Moore]

A woman chooses.  A baby obeys.

[Mia Moore]

Chapter Twelve

Over the next three days - assuming a 'day' in the daycare was a 'day' in the real world - Bala grew more and more uncertain. Ai would write her little messages in coloring books or spell out simple words with blocks or train tracks, all trying to convey some kind of plan. 

All the while, the caregivers - always the same two - continued to pamper and care for Bala, changing her diapers and feeding her bottles and dressing her in fluffy baby dresses. They made her happy, but Ai made her anxious.

Every night, Ai would reinforce her position. She would whisper between the bars, encouraging Bala to resist the captivating lull of babyhood. She reminded Bala how important this was, that it was bigger than the both of them. Most importantly, Ai emphasized how she should have a choice. It was the last thing that won Bala's loyalty. 

Bala was lying flat on her back in the soft crib, looking up at the spinning mobile above her. Her eyes were heavy, but a film reel was running in her brain. Bala, at the hospital. Asking for diaper changes from the Head Nurse. Breastfeeding on her lunch break. And always respecting her patients. 

Early in her first year at the hospital, there was a man with late-stage leukemia. The doctors kept trying to get him to start chemotherapy, but the chance for remission was low. He was older, but not all that old. Bala remembered talking to him about it; not in an agenda-pushing kind of way, but just because she wanted to understand. He said something that stuck with her: 

"If I let this be the way I die, then I got to choose. If I fight and it takes me anyway, then it chooses for me. Even if it's the wrong choice, I want to be the one that decides." 

There were many other patients that Bala disagreed with, but she always tried to uphold that man's beliefs. She always tried to offer her patients the dignity of choice. And if Ai wanted to leave, then Bala would help her. Because she had a right to choose.

The next day, Ai stacked her blocks in an order that was both exciting and anxiety inducing. Empowering and scary. Bold and reckless. They read:

"We need to talk." 

Bala watched as Ai went to the other side of the room, crawling on her hands and knees, and flashing the seat of her diaper to the rest of the room. Ai plopped down in front of some toys and grabbed an Etch-A-Sketch. After a few moments of uncertainty, Bala took a deep breath and followed her. 

She laid on her tummy a few feet away and grabbed a doll to play with. Or, to pretend to play with. Bala glanced down at the Etch-A-Sketch just as Ai finished writing out her first message. 

"Tomorrow. You know what to do." 

Bala's understanding of 'the plan' was trivial at best. She was supposed to pick up some bobby pins from Ai's crib and then ask the caregiver - the blonde one, not the brunette - to do her hair. Bala had no idea what this had to do with escaping.

Despite her uncertainty, Bala nodded her head. Ai wanted to escape, and her drive and passion and need to be free from here was too much for Bala to ignore. What it meant for Bala, was another question - surely she'd get in trouble, she might lose her own happy ending, her a part of something bigger. But this was the right thing to do, wasn't it?

That night, Ai didn't wake her up. In fact, Bala hardly slept at all. She stared at the ceiling and thought about the hospital. She thought about her patients. She had to do this, for Ai. Then everything would be fine.

The next morning, Ai was changed out of her messy diaper and taken out of the room as she was every day. Whatever they did to her, it didn't seem to matter. She would come back in a few hours, drinking that pink bottle, and drugged out of her mind. 

Bala was impatient, but her attention span had dwindled to that of a child. Toys took her mind off her impending task. That is, until Ai returned with a full bottle of pink milk between her lips. The caregiver - the brunette - plopped Ai in her crib and grabbed Phil for a diaper change. Bala watched nervously. Ai was very clear: don't do anything until the brunette leaves the room.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

Counting was something that Bala knew she could still do, and she counted to five a whole ten times after the brunette caregiver left the room, before she made her way over to Ai's crib. 

Bobby pins. What did that have to do with anything? Bala didn't know, and Ai didn't explain.

Bala glanced through the bars at the mindless baby girl. She knew pink milk was a punishment, but she had never seen Ai so happy as when she was drinking it.

This time was different though. Ai's gaze was far away, but there was something else in there. A shimmer. An emotion. But then Bala noticed a set of bobby pins on the sheets, sitting between her and Ai. 

She reached through the bars and grabbed them in her hand just as she was lifted under the arms and plopped on the blonde caregiver's hip. 

"Now now, Baby Bala. You know better than to disturb your friends while they're in their cribs. Come on, let's find you something else to do."

"Um! I wan' please maybe you do my hair? Your hair is so pretty and mine isn'.." Bala's talking had reduced to not much more than toddlerish baby babble, but at the same time she couldn't really think of herself as talking in any other manner. 

"Of course, beautiful girl. Anything for you." 

The blonde woman set Bala down on the floor only a few feet from the rocking chair, then she went to get some hair ties from the cabinet high on the wall. If Bala could stand up, she might have been able to reach that cabinet, but the Cold Room had trained it out of her. When the caregiver's back was turned, Bala leaned up and set the bobby pins on the end-table beside the hairbrush. Then she sat back down on her butt and tried to look inconspicuous.

Once upon a time, Bala might have had questions. Like where Ai got the bobby pins. Or what her greater plan was. Why the blonde caregiver, and not the brunette. What came next, what about after that? 

The Cold Room had taken away all need for curiosity for her, and replaced it with an installation of pure and happy obedience. Only her gently smoldering need to support a person’s agency still glowed inside of her, and without that she was sure she wouldn’t have given Ai the time of day.

The caregiver sat down in the chair and pulled her charge into position. Bala closed her eyes and felt the hair brush against her scalp, then gently pulled through her short hair. It was relaxing. Easy. It was so simple to be obedient. 

"You're such a good girl, you know that? Definitely one of the Academy's best, I think. And one of my favorites. I would be so sad if I was assigned another room. Without you and Phil and Olivia, well..." 

The blonde caregiver trailed off and let her intentions fill in the blanks. Bala smiled blissfully to herself. Then, the rhythm of the brushing began to slow. Then it stopped. Bala blinked and turned her head to find the blonde woman staring blankly in front of her, a bobby pin hanging out of her lips.

"I'm a good girl..." Bala mumbled, quietly, and bit her lip in contemplation. If it was Ai's choice to leave, and her agency was at risk, what about the caregiver’s agency? They all took such good care of them here, of Bala in particular. Changing her, feeding her, dressing her. It was a full time job, and if all they ever asked in return was... well...

"Thankoo... for loving me." Appreciation she could do.

"Bala." Ai's voice pierced the quiet of the room. Bala turned to see her, leaning against the bars of her crib. She tossed the baby bottle over the railing, still full of pink milk. It rolled across the floor and landed a few feet away. Phil and Livi both looked up from what they were doing. 

"Give it to her. The bottle. Tell her to drink it. Make her drink it. You don't have much time." 

Bala stared at the bottle, then up at the caregiver. She was still sitting there, frozen in place, with a faraway look. Goodness. Goodness gracious. Bala took a few moments for the realization to flood over her, then she did as she was told. 

"Drink the baba. Drink all of it. Good girls drink all the baba." Bala held it up like the Statue of Liberty, and gestured for the caregiver’s lips. She felt so guilty. But this was for Ai.

The caregiver blinked and the little bobby pin fell from her mouth. She looked down at Bala with a sense of wonderment and a lack of recognition. "I... um. Sorry, I'm not... not sure..." 

Bala, for the first time since the Cold Room, climbed up to her feet. She held onto the caregiver's knees and pushed the nipple of the bottle between her lips. The caregiver started to suck the bottle, like it she didn't have a choice, and the color faded from her eyes. 

"Oh no..." Phil whispered under his breath. "Oh, no no no..."

There was a point of no return, and Bala knew she'd crossed it. She knew that she might lose her happy ending now. That if the caregiver didn't remember her part in this, and if the cameras didn't see it, and if the voice didn't notice, that Phil would document it in detail. Somehow, knowing that there was no way back, actually made this easier.

Bala let go of the baby bottle and it slipped from the caregiver's mouth, dropping softly to the carpet. Bala went to pick it up, but Ai called out from across the room. "Don't worry about that; we don't have time. She's gotta get me out of this crib. There's a scanner or something over here. She has to wave her hand in front of it."

"Um..." Um. 

Ai was telling her to do it. Right? And Bala was obedient, right? She could be a good girl, and help give Ai her agency. Her lip felt a little pinprick of blood as she bit it, not even having the presence of mind to put her binkie in first. And then pointed to the crib. 

"Come, help me wiff the crib pease." She motioned to the dosed out caregiver.

"I... um..." Bala took her by the hand and led her over to the crib. Bala did her best to walk where she could, but in the end she crawled alongside her on her knees. The caregiver stared blankly at the oversized crib, at the trapped adult inside, and then down at her own hands. "Something isn't... um..." 

"I think the sensor is over here," Ai said, pointing to one edge of the crib. "Put her hand in front of it."

"Sometin' isnnt right, uhhuh, its closed an' we can't play so's you gotsa open it." Bala felt the weight of guilt pressing down on her shoulders She pulled herself back to her feet and guided the caregiver’s hand to the place that Ai indicated.

"Right..." The caregiver nodded and waved her hand in front of the crib. The little latch clicked and the bars lowered on their own. Ai was quick to her feet, climbing out of the crib with a sigh of exhaustion. 

"This isn't happening~" Livi said in a sing-song voice, coloring in her book. 

Maybe Livi had the right idea, maybe willful ignorance was the key to making it safely out of this to the other side. But Bala was in for a penny and that meant she was in for a pound. But how far could she follow Ai on this?

Ai grabbed the caregiver by the hand, walking her to the door on the far wall. Ai didn't seem to have any trouble walking, despite her conditioning. It was probably the adrenaline.

It wasn't hard to coerce the drugged up caregiver to open the door. Ai glanced outside, down the hall, and found it lacking in security. She had been taken in and out of that room so many times, they were uncountable. She had an idea where to go. 

"Come on." 

Without asking, Ai took Bala's hand and pulled her into the hall, waddling as quickly as their thick diapers would allow. A left. A right. Two lefts. Nothing required security access outside the playroom.

The further that Bala got from the safety of the nursery, the more frightened she became. The more it frightened her, the more Bala wanted to run and find her blanket. She wanted to find an adult and beg for absolution. The caregivers may have been gods in her eyes, because as her heart raced and her thighs ached, all she could think about was forgiveness.

In silence, the two pushed through a set of double doors and took a sharp left into a small room. It was a closet, filled with medical equipment and stacks of nursery-printed bedsheets. Ai closed the door behind them and started climbing up onto the shelves, to a dark window at the top. 

Bala stood frozen at the bottom, looking up in awe and fear as the adult woman in the puffy pink baby dress violently shoved at the window. Then, with a sharp snap, the frame pushed outward and Bala could see a set of dark stars in a night sky. But here in the Academy, it was daytime. "Let's go," Ai said, holding out her hand.

For anybody else, maybe, it would have been an easy decision. To end one's own captivity and make a break for freedom, to enter a world unbeholden to the humiliating things like pooping in an adult diaper twice a day. And yet... 

For Bala, this captivity wasn't containment or confinement. It was protection. She liked when someone would read her stories, because her imagination could live and breathe. She liked being dressed in cute outfits, so she could feel positive about her body. She liked playing with toys, because it meant reconnecting with a part of her brain left long behind. She liked being fed, and breastfed, because it was a kind of tender love she never remembered having. She even liked messing her diapers, because it felt like a proof of her complete and utter faith and submission to this place and its process. 

In the world out there, even if it was different from her dreams, Bala was... trapped. Caged by herself. A jailer without a key. Here in the Academy... for the first time, she felt free. 

"Good luck, Ai." 

Bala’s smile looked genuine, and it was the last thing Ai would see as Bala turned and stepped out of the door, locking it from the inside of the handle so nobody could easily follow Ai. This was home. The home that Bala had never known.

[Sarah Penguin]

[Mia Moore]

Chapter Thirteen

"Where is Ai?" The brunette caregiver with the glasses stood with her arms crossed in front of Bala. Two other caregivers - the blonde and another that Bala had never met - flanked her and backed her into a corner.

"She's gone." Bala replied, rubbing her puffy red-rimmed eyes with all the trimmings of a distraught child who knew she was in trouble. With the absence of her blanket, she clung to her dress instead. It wasn’t the same.

"She can't be gone," the caregiver said sharply. It was a tone Bala hadn't heard in a long time, maybe since her time at the hospital. Anger. Disapproval. Tears dripped down Bala's cheeks.

"I didn't want her to go, I didn't want her to leave but she wanted to but I didn't want to, so I stayed an... an... I'm sorry..."

The brunette balled her hands at her sides and took a deep breath. Wherever Ai was, she couldn't have gotten far. But Bala was another story: she couldn't be trusted. 

"Send her to the Memoriam." 

The other two caregivers glanced nervously at each other. "Um... are you sure? She's been a model—" 

"You think this is the behavior we want our Candies to model? Drugging the staff? Breaking out of their rooms? Helping other Candies escape?”

"Please, I jus’ wan’ be a good girl..." Although despite Bala's pleas, it was as if the people in the room couldn't hear her. Or maybe they just didn't care. 

"Yes, she did break the rules," the blonde caregiver said, taking a step forward. Her cheeks were still a little pink from the milk. "She was lead astray by a problematic Candy, one we've had problems with in the past. And if anything, her sense of loyalty to her should be something we consider, shouldn't it?" 

"Her disloyalty to us, you mean?" the brunette snapped back.

"She's here, isn't she? She chose to stay." The blonde caregiver looked at Bala and smiled, then asked: "Bala, you want to stay, don't you? Even if we have to train you harder?"

Bala nodded automatically. She would do anything to stay here, no matter what they asked of her. The brunette caregiver seemed to soften at her agreeableness. 

"We have to find Ai," the brunette finally said, changing the topic from Bala. "This isn't like Kione; there’s no room for error.  She’s too important."

Ai hadn't told Bala any of her plans, not beyond escaping. Honestly, Bala preferred it that way. If she knew more than that, she'd have felt compelled to share it. She rubbed her eyes as the grown-ups talked, and she felt her diaper getting fuller in the seat. But this conflict, this guilt, these feelings? They'd all go away soon, she was sure of it.

"Miss Porter!" A woman hurried around the corner and stopped just short of the brunette with the glasses. She was out of breath. "We got her."

"What?" The brunette blinked in disbelief, but sure enough another woman in pink scrubs rounded the corner with Ai in tow. "How did..." 

"She was wandering the halls, looking for something. Maybe she didn't escape?"

"I escaped just fine," Ai said sharply, staring at the brunette who had changed her diapers countless times before. "I came back." 

Bala looked at Ai with confusion and wonder. She changed her mind? The brunette noticed the glances between Bala and Ai and let out a little laugh.

"You came back for her?" she asked with a head tilt. "That’s so noble." 

"No, I came back for my own reasons." Ai pulled away from the caregiver in the pink scrubs, but she was well and truly surrounded. Five caregivers, two little girls. They were outnumbered. 

"Your reasons aren’t important," the brunette smiled. Her voice was sickly sweet, rife with condescension. "Now let’s get you—"

"Yes they are," Ai interrupted. "I didn’t need to escape; I just had to prove that I could. I’ll find a new way out. I'll find a hundred. I'll keep running the Academy in circles. And you know I will, because I've done it before. Haven't I?" 

The caregiver's expression soured. 

"Tell me why you're doing this," Ai demanded.

"It's strange that you think you have any position to negotiate, Ai. Little girls like you should be taking the orders, not giving them." The brunette smiled warmly, despite her words. She took a step forward and reached out to take Ai’s hand. "You came back because you belong here.  You know that.  Why don’t you let Nana take all those silly thoughts away?"

Ai pulled away from the brunette and took on all the confidence she could while wearing a pink party dress and a soaking wet diaper.

"I'm never going to stop wondering what this is all about," Ai said. "I can't help it - we both know that - and the more I wonder the more trouble I cause."

"Perhaps you’re supposed to cause trouble," the woman offered. "Maybe that’s your destiny."

The caregivers in the room looked uncomfortable, all but the brunette with the glasses. She had an unshakable confidence not quite befitting that of her role, and the battle between an unflappable god and a little diaper girl always ended the same way.  All the odds were against Ai - a million to one - but Ai had tricks of her own.

"Am I supposed to know about #254? Or the Preamble?" 

The room was quiet for just a moment. Bala's tears dripped silently off her chin. The caregivers glanced sideways at one another. Even Ai was holding her breath. 

"I see," the brunette said, more to herself than anyone else.  After a moment to consider, she turned to Bala and back to Ai. "Then you don’t care what happens to your friend?"

Ai glanced at Bala, the woman that helped her escape, and back at her caregiver. This was a choice. What was really important here? Bala, or answers? With reluctance, Ai shook her head. This was bigger than the both of them, and Ai couldn’t let one girl matter more than the rest. The brunette shrugged, turned to the other caregivers, and pointed at Bala.

"Take her back to Processing." 

Processing? Like, the Cold Room? Bala's eyes went wide and she shook her head in fear. 

"Please, nuh uh! I a good girl! I don' wanna be cold again! I did so good! I did so so so good! I'ma good girl, a good girl!" Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She looked at the caregivers one at a time, then finally to Ai for help. She had to help. She just had to. "Pease! Pease, Ai! Pease don' take my happy ending!" 

"I'm sorry," Ai muttered, looking at her feet. "I didn't mean for this to happen..."

"Come now," the brunette said, placing a hand on Ai's shoulder. "There's a lot to explain." 

Ai turned and followed the brunette down the hall, toward all the answers she was seeking. The last thing Bala remembered was a caregiver reaching into her pocket, and then she awoke in a room of tiles.

On the far wall, a familiar mirror with an unfamiliar girl looking back at her. So much had changed since the first time. Her clothes, her hair, her face. Most of all, her disposition. She was no longer a confident, compassionate nurse. She was just a helpless little girl, punished for her misdeeds. 

Bala had always believed in choosing your own destiny, but her own choices always led to sadness and pain. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe free will was a bad thing. Why should anyone have the right to do the wrong thing?

Bala had everything. Love. Simplicity. Entertainment. Tenderness. But she allowed Ai to tempt her with freedom. Like a snake in the garden, Ai tricked Bala into breaking the rules. And now she had to suffer again. 

Bala closed her eyes and curled up in the corner as the temperature in the room started to drop. She missed her blanket. She missed her crib. She missed her caregivers and her diaper changes and her toys. She even missed her new friends, all but Ai. As Bala's thoughts swirled into a dark, stormy tornado in her head, one thought rang truer than the rest: 

This was all Ai's fault.

[End]

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Thanks for reading everyone.  I'm sorry it took so long to finish this one.  I think some people might be sad to see Bala's fate in this one?  But I do want to bring up again a little later in the series so that people know what happens with her.  She's a lot more than just a catalyst for Ai's story. (Actually, I think Ai is the catalyst for hers??)

I'm sure you all have more questions.  I hope I can address all of them in future stories, but if you want to know anything in particular feel free to ask.  Comments really do keep me motivated, no joke!!

So stay tuned!  

~Mia Moore~

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Edit: Here's the next story in the series: Academy T!

 

[Bonsai]

That wasn’t expected….?

Almost like John Snow getting assassinated. ?

Your story is riveting.

[thedman]

19 hours ago, Mia Moore said:

As Bala's thoughts swirled into a dark, stormy tornado in her head, one thought rang truer than the rest: 

This was all Ai's fault.

You just know that Bala will find a way to get back at Ai for ruining her world. Can't wait to see how this plays out in future portions of these stories.

[Sarah Penguin]

[Marcus23]

Just wanted to chime in Mia and let you know I really enjoyed Academy B. Following along with Bala and how she was being broken felt so real and that ending was such a punch in the gut for poor Bala. She was certainly a character I connected with a lot more then Ai and I think that really made this one shine on a personal level for me. 

Seeing her help Ai and then for Ai to use it as a "gotcha" moment on the academy just left me so angry at Ai. Bala losing her good ending only for it to be feel meaningless in her eyes was soul crushing and I really felt for her in that moment. The idea of being tricked into helping someone as they tug on your moral compass only for them to make it feel meaningless was very powerful stuff.

With Ai being introduced this has now opened up so much intrigue on the whole too. How will these characters interconnect, who will we see make cameos in other stories, who is important in the grand scheme, and who are one off characters. Very excited to see where this all goes from here and cant wait to dive into T.

[Mia Moore]

4 hours ago, Marcus23 said:

Just wanted to chime in Mia and let you know I really enjoyed Academy B. Following along with Bala and how she was being broken felt so real and that ending was such a punch in the gut for poor Bala. She was certainly a character I connected with a lot more then Ai and I think that really made this one shine on a personal level for me. 

Seeing her help Ai and then for Ai to use it as a "gotcha" moment on the academy just left me so angry at Ai. Bala losing her good ending only for it to be feel meaningless in her eyes was soul crushing and I really felt for her in that moment. The idea of being tricked into helping someone as they tug on your moral compass only for them to make it feel meaningless was very powerful stuff.

With Ai being introduced this has now opened up so much intrigue on the whole too. How will these characters interconnect, who will we see make cameos in other stories, who is important in the grand scheme, and who are one off characters. Very excited to see where this all goes from here and cant wait to dive into T.

I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!! I didn't reply to your comment on A:I because I was a little embarrassed that I hadn't done a good job??  So thank you for continuing despite your feelings on it.  I'm really happy you liked this one more!!

Yeah, the Ai/Bala thing is super divisive.  I actually know some readers who pick teams.  I really hope I can appease both sides in the future... I don't think either of their stories are over yet.

Speaking of!!! Interconnectedness is my middle name!  Mia Interconnectedness Moore.  It's a mouthful.  But I promise, if you pay close attention, you'll see a lot of connections between all the stories!! 

Have fun with T!  It's a fan favorite. 

~Mia Interconnectedness Moore~