The assistant—Mira—stepped in fully, shutting the door behind her.

Then—

Click.

She locked it.

Ash was too stunned to react.

She lay there, frozen, her breath caught in her throat, her soaked, filthy diaper still cradled between her trembling legs.

"Ash…?" Mira’s voice was gentle, her head tilting as she studied her. "Are you okay?"

Ash couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe past the humiliating reality of her situation.

Mira took a step closer, brows furrowed in concern. "I didn’t realize you wore diapers, too."

Ash’s stomach dropped.

Her face burned.

Her fingers twitched against the plastic backing of the diaper as if ready to rip it away—as if that could erase what had already happened.

But Mira didn’t laugh.

Didn’t mock her.

Instead, she just smiled, stepping up beside the changing table, her voice soft, reassuring.

"Hey, it’s okay. Really."

She reached out, placing a warm hand on Ash’s arm.

"I’m not going to judge."

Ash’s heart pounded, her shame flooding her entire body.

"You stocked them for us, right?" Mira continued, her voice light and casual, as if this wasn’t the most humiliating moment of Ash’s life. "You knew some of us needed them. That’s why you ensured we had privacy so no one would feel bad about it."

Then—to prove it—

Mira lifted her dress.

Ash’s breath caught.

A matching diaper peeked out from beneath the hem, wrapped securely around Mira’s hips, just like the one Ash was still lying in.

"See?" Mira smiled, giving her hips a small wiggle, the crinkle unmistakable. "It’s really okay, Ash. You don’t have to be embarrassed."

Ash felt like she was on fire, every inch of her flushed and burning with utter mortification.

She had to say something.

Had to fix this.

Had to explain why she was in this situation, why she was wearing this, why she had been lying here for so long.

"I—" Her voice cracked, her lips dry, her mind grasping at anything to save her.

"I just—It’s not what it looks like—"

Mira’s brows lifted, clearly unconvinced.

Ash swallowed, her body hot with shame, knowing—

No excuse in the world would ever be good enough.

Ash was too stunned—too numb with shame—to stop Mira as the girl gently pried her fingers away from the front of her soaked, messy diaper.

"Shhh, it’s okay," Mira murmured, her voice soft and soothing as she peeled open the ruined diaper.

Ash flinched, her stomach twisting violently as cool air rushed against her filthy skin.

"You don’t have to worry, Ash," Mira continued, grabbing a pack of wipes. "Just let me help, alright?"

Ash wanted to die.

Wanted to vanish.

She wanted to claw her way out of this moment and never return.

But she couldn’t move.

Couldn’t protest.

She couldn’t do anything as Mira began cleaning her up, her hands gentle, her movements practiced, as if she had done this a hundred times before.

Ash’s face burned hotter, the humiliation so all-consuming that she barely heard Mira pause, barely caught the way her hands stilled, the way a faint flush colored her cheeks.

Then—softly—

"You know…" Mira hesitated, her eyes briefly flickering up to meet Ash’s before quickly looking away. "I… I get it. Sometimes, I have urges, too. We all do. That’s why it’s better to… take care of those things in the privacy of our own home, yeah?"

Ash’s blood ran cold.

No.

No, no, no, no—

Oh my God.

Mira thought she had come in here just to play.

She thought Ash had willingly put herself in this position, had wanted this, had—

Had done this to herself.

Ash wanted to scream, tried to deny it, wanted to explain, to do anything to make Mira understand—

But her tongue wouldn’t move.

Her brain short-circuited, every part of her body locking up, suffocating under the sheer, unbearable mortification.

Mira kept talking, either oblivious or too polite to push.

"Really, though," she continued, finishing the last few wipes, "it’s okay. I’m not judging. I just… I think it’s better if you do these things when you’re alone, that’s all. It happens, y’know?"

Ash wanted to sink into the earth.

Instead, she lay there, limp, paralyzed, unable to do anything as Mira reached for a fresh diaper.

That snapped her back.

"No—" Ash blurted out, her hands darting forward, stopping Mira before she could unfold it.

Her face burned impossibly hotter as she rapidly shook her head, her voice reaching a higher pitch than intended.

"I—I don’t need it! Truly! This was just a—just a misunderstanding!"

Mira gave her a look.

A look of pity.

"Ash," Mira said, her voice softer now, gentler, as if speaking to a nervous child. "It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to pretend with me."

Ash’s stomach twisted, her humiliation choking her.

"I—I wasn’t—"

"Shhh," Mira hushed her, placing a gentle hand on Ash’s shoulder. "Have you been wearing for long? It’s okay; you can tell me."

Ash’s mouth opened, then closed.

Mira’s voice was so kind, so understanding, and so wrong.

"It’s okay to need help," Mira reassured, unfolding the diaper anyway as she gently pressed against Ash’s shoulder, guiding her back onto the table.

Ash’s breath hitched.

She couldn’t let this happen.

She had to stop this.

But Mira’s hands were so firm, her expression so patient, and Ash—

Ash was too shaken to fight back.

"No—no, no, no, no—"

Ash’s mind screamed, but her body—weak, trembling, still recovering from everything that had just happened—refused to move.

Mira was patient and gentle, her hands practiced and sure as she lifted Ash’s hips, sliding the fresh diaper beneath her.

"This… This can’t be happening—"

Her legs twitched, but Mira didn’t notice—or maybe she chose not to.

Instead, she hummed softly, reaching for the powder, shaking it lightly over Ash’s flushed, trembling skin.

The cool sensation made Ash shudder, her humiliation deepening as the powder dusted over her, its sweet scent suffocating her.

"Mira, please—"

"Ash," Mira interrupted her voice still soft and understanding but with the same tone she used when talking to Littles, who were too embarrassed to ask for help. "Did you disable the tracking for yourself in the Nanny Bot?"

Ash’s heart stopped.

"What?!"

Mira continued casually as if she weren’t actively destroying Ash’s life one word at a time.

"I mean, I get it," she said, adjusting the diaper beneath Ash’s bare backside, ensuring it was perfectly centered. "It can be embarrassing, right? Having a system that tracks your diapers all day? A lot of us had trouble getting used to it, too."

Ash’s blood ran cold.

The Nanny Bot… The tracking system…

"Mira, I don’t—"

"It’s just—" Mira continued, smoothing the diaper over Ash’s hips, "when the bot flagged someone needing a change but didn’t have a profile yet, I thought that was odd."

She reached up, tapping a few buttons on the panel above the changing table.

No. No. NO.

Ash’s eyes widened, realization slamming into her like a freight train.

"Wait—NO—"

"Don’t worry," Mira reassured her, still tapping the screen, her voice as calm as ever. "I just enabled tracking for you."

Ash whimpered, begged, and pleaded, but Mira just smiled, adjusting one final setting before stepping back, satisfied.

"Don’t worry, it’s only visible to the assistants."

Ash’s entire world collapsed.

Her diaper was now being tracked.

By the system.

By the Nanny Bot.

By her entire staff.

She couldn’t breathe.

"Mira—please—"

But Mira leaned in, wrapping Ash in a warm, gentle hug. The powdery scent of their diapers mixed.

"It’s okay, Ash," she whispered, stroking Ash’s back soothingly. "I know this must be hard for you, but you’re not alone. I’ll ensure the rest of the staff helps you through your growing pains, okay?"

Ash’s whimpering worsened, her face burning hotter than ever as she realized—

This wasn’t just a misunderstanding anymore.

This was her life now.

"Don’t worry, Ash," Mira said gently, holding onto Ash’s arms, grounding her as she tried to process what had just happened. "It will be okay."

No.

No, it wouldn’t.

Nothing about this was okay.

Nothing about this was fixable.

She had gone into the bathroom as Ash, as the strong, independent, competent woman who ran this daycare—who had fought tooth and nail to carve out a life that wasn’t dictated by Amazon control.

And now?

Now, she was someone else entirely.

Someone who had just been diapered like a helpless Tweener.

Someone who now had their diaper usage tracked.

Someone who—by all outward appearances—needed help.

Mira smiled, brushing Ash’s hair out of her face as if she were comforting a shy, embarrassed child.

"All Tweeners have trouble from time to time," she continued, adjusting the waistband of Ash’s fresh diaper with practiced ease before helping her step into her pants. "Especially working in a place like this. It’s easy to lose track of time, not take enough breaks to use the potty… and then, well—"

Mira laughed, her fingers buttoning Ash’s pants for her as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

"That’s what diapers are for."

Ash felt sick.

Her hands clenched weakly at her sides, her skin still flushed, her entire body hot with shame.

Mira didn’t seem bothered.

Didn’t seem to see the problem at all.

To her, this wasn’t humiliating—it was practical.

Normal.

Ash had been reduced to a normality she had avoided her entire life.

And then—

Then Mira’s cheeks flushed, her expression turning sheepish as she stepped away.

"Actually, since we’re here…"

Ash blinked, confused, still too numb to react properly as Mira took her place on the changing table.

She lay down comfortably, giving Ash a knowing smile, shifting slightly as the padding beneath her crinkled.

"See?" Mira said, gesturing to herself. "It’s okay. They’re only diapers. It’s not like we don’t spend our whole days changing them anyway."

Ash stared.

"Mira—"

"Besides," Mira added, grinning, "unlike Littles, our diapers are just for accidents. Nothing more."

She said it so easily.

So casually.

It seemed like this was just part of the job, like nothing was unnatural, and it was completely normal to let this happen.

Ash’s hands trembled as she reached for Mira’s soaked diaper tapes.

Her body moved mechanically, her face still red, her stomach twisting into knots.

She worked in silence, her brain shutting down, reducing her to nothing but autopilot as she cleaned Mira up.

This was wrong.

This was humiliating.

This was not who she was.

But no one else seemed to think that.

And that—

That was the worst part of all.

Ash finished securing the last tape, stepping back mechanically as Mira sat up on the changing table.

"All done," Ash muttered, her voice hollow, her movements stiff as she helped Mira to her feet.

Mira smiled, completely at ease, smoothing down her dress as if nothing had just happened, as if Ash hadn’t just been reduced to something she swore she’d never be again.

Ash swallowed hard, her body still flushed with residual humiliation. Her hands were clenched at her sides as Mira reached for the door.

Then—

She paused.

Her fingers hovered over the lock, her head tilting slightly as she glanced back at Ash.

"Hey."

Ash barely looked up.

"It’ll be okay," Mira said gently, her voice still carrying that unshakable warmth. "I know this is probably embarrassing for you. If you don’t want one of us to change you, you can always have the bot do it."

Ash’s stomach churned.

She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stay silent.

"Either way," Mira continued, unlocking the door but not opening it yet, "I just don’t want you stuck in here, all alone, without knowing how to change yourself."

The words hit harder than they should have.

Mira wasn’t mocking her.

Wasn’t taunting her.

She was genuinely trying to help.

And that made it so much worse.

Ash couldn’t breathe past the sheer weight of it all.

Before she could even think of a response, Mira smiled one last time, then—

She opened the door.

And left.

Ash stood there, stunned, rooted to the floor, her entire body hot with shame.

What had just happened?

Her fingers twitched, her breath shallow, her pulse thundering in her ears as reality slammed into her like a freight train.

She was back in diapers.

Again.

She had sworn—sworn—that she never would.

She couldn’t.

She had promised herself, after everything, after years of fighting, after breaking free, after carving out this life, this independence, this identity—

And now?

Now, she was standing in a diaper again, just like before, just like back then.

Ash exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the familiar bulk beneath her pants, the way it pressed against her, hugged her, and wrapped her in its humiliating security.

She took an awkward step forward, the thick padding forcing her thighs apart, making her hyperaware of every movement.

Her stomach twisted.

Her body was different now, no longer Little-sized, no longer small and helpless—

So why did the diaper still fit so perfectly?

Did it actually bulge beneath her pants, making her obvious, exposed?

Or—

Or was that just her paranoia clawing at her, making her feel smaller than she really was?

Ash’s hands shook as she took another step, her head buzzing, her mind fracturing under the weight of it all.

"I can’t… I can’t do this again…"

And yet—

She already had.

Ash took another hesitant step forward—more of a forced waddle than a true step—her thighs pushed apart by the thick, undeniable bulk between her legs.

Her face burned.

The soft crinkle was barely audible, but to her, it may as well have been screamed through a megaphone.

And then—

A sound.

The ending credits of Naomi and Oliver.

Her stomach plummeted, panic spiking through her veins as she braced for it—for the voice, for the pull, for Naomi to slither back into her thoughts and tell her how good she had been—

But—

Nothing.

No whispers.

No coaxing words.

No sickly-sweet lullabies curling through her thoughts like vines pulling her back into the dark.

Just… silence.

But before she could dwell on it, a more pressing fear took hold—

Kaylee.

"Oh God—Kaylee."

Shame was momentarily forgotten, replaced with a sharp, singular focus as Ash forced her body to move, jogging into the daycare.

The sight that greeted her was familiar—too familiar—dozens of Littles, groggy, glassy-eyed, their diapers freshly filled, some shifting as the sensation registered, others simply accepting it, their eyes dull and compliant.

And the screen—

The black void of television that had just finished rewriting them, pulling them further and further away from who they used to be.

Ash’s breath hitched, her pulse hammering as she scanned the room—

There.

Kaylee.

She was sitting in the middle of the floor, her onesie slightly askew, her diaper bulging noticeably—but Ash barely registered that.

Because she was already dropping to her knees, stooping beside her, grabbing her hands, searching her face—

"Kaylee?"

Kaylee blinked.

And saw her.

Ash’s heart stopped.

Kaylee’s small hands reached up, her lips parting—

"Mommy."

Ash’s stomach twisted.

No.

No, no, no—not again—

Kaylee cooed, voice soft, infantile, her expression calm, unfazed—

But then—

Then, Ash saw it.

Not the sightless stare of a broken Little.

Not the mindless haze of someone lost in the fog of conditioning.

No.

Kaylee’s eyes were sharp.

Cold. Calculating. Watching.

Not a victim of the hypnosis—

A player of it.

Ash’s breath hitched, realization slamming into her.

Kaylee wasn’t gone.

She was pretending.

And more importantly—

She was making sure the Nanny Bot heard exactly what it expected to hear.

A storm of emotions crashed through Ash as she lifted Kaylee onto her hip.

For a moment—just a brief, fleeting moment—she almost forgot everything else.

The weight of Kaylee in her arms was different now, heavier than before.

Not Amazon-sized, not Tweener-sized, but more than a Little.

She was growing.

The serum had worked.

Ash tried to adjust her grip, careful not to put too much pressure on the poor girl’s messy bum, even as Kaylee babied on, her pacifier bobbing between her lips, her coos soft and innocent.

But her eyes—

Those calculating, clever eyes—

Studying her. Watching. Testing.

Then—

A grin.

Faint. Subtle. But there.

A jolt shot through Ash’s spine, realization tightening around her like a noose.

She’s back.

The serum had worked.

Kaylee was aware.

She was in control.

But then—

Then came the worse question.

Had Kaylee… willingly messed herself?

Or had she still fallen victim to the hypnosis, trapped in that awful cycle, her body betraying her even as her mind resisted?

Ash swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she laid Kaylee down onto the changing table.

Unanswered questions whirled through her head, colliding, clashing, leaving her dizzy with uncertainty.

Had Kaylee chosen this?

Or was she still fighting for control?

Ash moved mechanically, her hands working on autopilot as she went through the motions of changing Kaylee. Wipes. Powder. Fresh diaper. Snap the onesie back into place.

By the time she deposited Kaylee back into the play area, her mind was still spinning, and she was caught between relief, horror, and utter confusion.

But she couldn’t stop.

The daycare didn’t stop.

Another Little was already waiting. Another mess to clean. Another diaper to change.

She barely noticed her assistants working alongside her, moving in synchronized efficiency, each handling their own groggy, squirming Littles with practiced ease.

It wasn’t until a hand landed on her back that Ash froze.

Her breath hitched, her body going rigid as a quiet, sympathetic voice murmured beside her—

"It’s okay, Ash."

Not Mira.

Someone else.

One of her other assistants.

Ash’s stomach churned.

"We know."

Ash’s fingers trembled mid-change, the fresh diaper in her hands crinkling slightly as her grip tightened.

"And we don’t judge you. Truly."

Her cheeks flared hot, a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over her, suffocating her.

They knew.

They all knew.

The assistant squealed her shoulder reassuringly, her voice still gentle and patient, as if comforting a nervous Tweener still adjusting to their new reality.

"If you’re worried about changes," the girl added, her tone casual, as if this wasn’t the worst moment of Ash’s life, "you should wear a dress instead. It makes them easier."

Then—

Just like that—

She walked away.

Leaving Ash kneeling there, mid-change, her entire body locked in place, her face burning crimson.

A humiliating puddle of shame.

The rest of the day passed in a haze—a blur of routine, shame, and suffocating paranoia.

Every step, every movement, every moment felt weighted by the constant, gnawing fear that someone would notice. That someone would hear the faintest crinkle beneath her clothes. That someone would see

.

It never left her.

The shame.

The guilt.

The horrible, twisting realization that she had let it happen. That she hadn’t stopped it. That she hadn’t even been able to stop it.

Why?

Why had she let it go so far?

Why hadn’t she fought harder?

The questions raged in her mind as the hours dragged on, each one louder than the last, each one sharper, crueler, more suffocating.

By the time the day mercifully ended, the lights dimming, the last of the Littles having been sent home, Ash was left alone in the daycare with Mira and Kaylee.

The Nanny Bot whirred softly, methodically cleaning up as Ash remained still, trapped in her thoughts.

"Hey, Ash?"

Mira’s voice was quiet, a hushed whisper as she stepped close—too close.

Ash’s stomach twisted.

"Do you need one more change before I leave?"

The words hit like a hammer, Ash’s entire body locking up, her face flaming red as she jerked upright.

"No!"

The response came too quickly, too sharp, too panicked.

Mira didn’t flinch.

Didn’t press.

Didn’t even seem surprised.

She just gave Ash a soft, reassuring smile, resting a hand gently on her shoulder.

"If you need help, you have my number."

Ash squirmed, her whole body burning, blushing madly as Mira simply gave her one last look, then turned—

And left.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Ash standing there, her chest tight, her legs weak, her mind spinning.

She couldn’t stay here another second.

She needed to leave.

Quickly, she gathered Kaylee, who remained watching her silently, still playing her careful, calculated part.

And together—

They returned to the apartment.

Away from the daycare.

Away from Mira’s knowing gaze.

Away from the horrible truth Ash couldn’t face.

That no matter how much she wanted to deny it—

No matter how much she wanted to fight it—

She was back in diapers.

And this time—

She wasn’t sure if she could ever escape again.

The door clicked shut behind them, sealing off the outside world.

Ash exhaled deeply, pressing her back against the door, trying to steady herself.

Her hands gripped her thighs, her chest rising and falling too fast, her thoughts still a tangled mess.

She needed to breathe.

Needed to think.

But all she could feel was the faint crinkle with every breath, every tiny movement, the horrible, humiliating reminder of what had happened that day.

Kaylee raised an eyebrow, studying her carefully.

"You okay?"

Ash nodded weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. Just… tired."

Kaylee didn’t buy it.

Of course, she didn’t buy it.

The girl had spent years as an Amazon—she could read people too well, especially Ash.

But instead of pressing immediately, Kaylee sighed, stepping closer and taking Ash’s hand in her own.

"Come on."

Ash blinked as Kaylee tugged her forward, leading her into the living room.

Kaylee settled onto the couch, gesturing for Ash to do the same, but Ash hesitated.

She didn’t want to sit down.

Didn’t want to feel the bulk pressing against her.

Didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Kaylee didn’t miss her hesitation.

Her sharp gaze flickered downward, taking in everything, but instead of commenting, she just sighed.

"Ash," Kaylee murmured, her voice softer now, her fingers still holding onto Ash’s hand, grounding her. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Ash swallowed hard, her chest tightening.

"I’m fine," she said too quickly.

Kaylee chuckled, shaking her head. "Yeah, sure. And I’m the Queen of the Amazons."

Ash flushed, looking away.

Kaylee tilted her head, her expression gentler now, her voice lower.

"Ash. If there’s anyone who can keep a secret, it’s me."

Ash froze.

Her fingers twitched in Kaylee’s grasp.

Kaylee’s smile softened, her grip firm, steady, unshakable.

"Talk to me."

Ash’s throat tightened.

She wanted to.

God, she wanted to.

But if she said it out loud—

If she admitted what had happened today—

That would make it real.

She couldn’t stop it anymore.

The emotions of the day crashed over her, a tidal wave of shame, fear, confusion, and exhaustion.

Her breath hitched, her chest tightening—then, finally, she broke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, silent at first, then harder, faster, until she was sobbing, her shoulders shaking, her hands gripping her own arms as if she could hold herself together.

Kaylee moved instantly, sliding closer, her arms wrapping around Ash, pulling her tight.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay," she murmured, her voice gentle, steady, warm.

Ash let herself sink into it, pressing her forehead against Kaylee’s shoulder, trying—failing—to stop the humiliating broken sobs that kept escaping her lips.

But it wasn’t enough.

She couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t admit it.

She could barely think the words, let alone speak them aloud.

But maybe—maybe she didn’t have to.

Her trembling fingers moved before she could think, reaching down, hooking into her waistband, pulling her pants down just enough—

Enough for Kaylee to see.

For her to understand.

Kaylee stilled.

For a long, horrible moment, she didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Then—

Her arms tightened around Ash.

Stronger. Fiercer. Protective in a way Ash hadn’t realized she needed.

"What happened?" Kaylee whispered.

Ash’s throat closed, her body shaking, her hands clenching uselessly at her sides.

But then—

Then the words tumbled out.

"It was Naomi and Oliver," she choked, feeling Kaylee tense beneath her.

Kaylee’s grip tightened, her body going rigid—but she didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t let go.

So Ash continued, her voice wavering, the words spilling out, one after another, everything she had been trying to hold back.

She told her about Naomi’s voice—how it had wrapped around her, how it had coaxed her into this, how it had felt too good, too familiar, too easy to resist.

She told her about Mira, about the misunderstanding that had spiraled out of control, about how now everyone thought she needed them.

About the tracking system, about how she had been registered, about how she couldn’t take it back.

The words rushed out in a frenzied, breathless confession, her body shaking, her heart pounding, but she kept some things back—

Kaylee didn’t need to know everything.

Didn’t need to know how far she had gone, how deeply she had lost herself, how she had almost blacked out from pleasure in that horrible, horrible moment.

Kaylee didn’t need to know how much of her had liked it.

When she finally fell silent, empty, exhausted, Kaylee just held her.

Her voice, when she finally spoke, was quiet but firm.

"We’re going to fix this."

Ash squeezed her eyes shut, another tear slipping free.

She wanted to believe her.

But how?

How could she fix something like this?

Just as the last of her shameful confession left her lips, Kaylee’s arms tightened around her in quiet reassurance—

She felt it.

A familiar pressure, soft but undeniable, pooled in her lower abdomen.

Her bladder.

Her breath hitched, her entire body tensing as the realization crashed over her.

No. No, no, no—

Not now.

Not after everything.

But then—

Then, as if to add insult to injury—

"Oh, sweetheart,"

Naomi’s voice returned, curling through Ash’s mind like a purring shadow, smooth, sultry, dangerous.

"Are you ready to be a good girl again?"

Ash shook her head, physically shaking against Kaylee, trying to dislodge the voice, trying to push it out—

"Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, darling. No need to fight so hard. You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?"

A giggle, light and musical, dripping with affection.

And then—

A tingle.

Soft. Feather-light.

Not the overwhelming, euphoria-drenched crash from earlier, not the earth-shattering pleasure that had stolen her control in the bathroom—

But a mere trickle of it.

A whisper of sensation.

Just enough to let her know it was there.

Just enough to let her know it was coming.

Her legs pressed together, her breath coming short and shallow, her fingers clenching Kaylee’s arms, desperate for something—anything—to hold onto.

"Oh, Ash," Naomi cooed, her voice a mocking caress against the edges of Ash’s thoughts. "You feel it, don’t you? That little tingle, that little tickle, just enough to remind you..."

The pressure inside her grew, slow, insidious, creeping along the edges of her nerves, coiling, tightening—

It wasn’t an immediate betrayal.

Not yet.

But deep down, Ash knew.

She knew what this was.

She knew how it worked.

It would build.

It would coalesce.

It would conspire against her, pushing her, coaxing her, breaking her inch by inch—

Until she soaked herself completely.

And the worst part?

The part that made her stomach twist with pure, helpless fear?

She didn’t know if she could stop it.

She didn’t know if she wanted to stop it.