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Bad Seed

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    Bad Seed

    by CK

    Cameron McLeod lay on his back, staring up at the white painted ceiling tile decorated with decals of teddy bears and ABC blocks. He sucked on the large rubber nipple, the plastic shield of the pacifier pressing against his lips. His hooded sweatshirt and onesie were pushed up to his armpits, and the plastic strap securing him to the changing table was tight; Mrs. Vesper had the unfortunate habit of fastening it too tight, as if she thought that somehow made it extra secure. He felt a tugging sensation on his hips and lower abdomen as a fresh diaper was taped around him.

    "A clean diapee feels better, doesn't it?" Ms. Sweeney chirped in her sugary sweet singsong voice. Her diaper changes were much gentler than Mrs. Vesper's. She had gotten called away by a phone call, so Ms. Sweeney had stepped in and finished changing him.

    He tilted his head, looking up at his teacher and licensed regression therapist. Her plump, ruby red lips smiled down at him and her brown eyes twinkled, full of the joy of life. Her short, curly black hair frizzed around her head like a fuzzy dark halo and huge rhinestones sparkled in her earlobes. She chattered away, mostly to herself, not expecting her charges to answer.

    Most of them could or would not. Cameron caught her eyes and returned her smile behind his binky. He was one of the few who could. He had a hand full of classmates in the special education; regression therapy curriculum. His only reply to her was a smile. Dirty diaper, clean diaper, it made no difference to the eighteen year old. He had been in diapers since he was six. The last day he had worn big boy underwear- they had a print of Spiderman, he recalled that specifically- his life had changed forever.

    He shivered at the memory, his heart skipping a beat

    "It's cold, huh, baby?" Ms. Sweeney cooed as if he were a toddler. "Let's get you all fixed up and snugly warm again." She unfastened the changing table security strap, pulled down his blue onesie down, fastening it over his diaper. He heard the metal snaps click shut, pressing the padded bulk closer to him and felt some of the cool baby powder shift in his diaper, sliding down towards his butt. He felt her tugging on his pants and heard all those snaps click shut.

    The cold was not what made him shiver, but that was something he did not want to talk or think about. He was happy the cool days of early autumn were growing colder as winter approached. Wearing pants and long sleeves was a lot more acceptable in the cold weather than it was in the warm. It was normal. He would rather be stared at for being dressed like a weirdo in the warm weather than to expose what lay beneath his clothing, and he did not mean his diapers. The snaps on all his pants, and the telltale bulge of a thick diaper, coupled with the loud crinkly noise they made, all gave away his diapered state anywhere he went. No, what he hid from the world was the painful mementos of the fateful day that changed the course of his life forever. That day was the reason he still wore diapers, and why he was in the regression therapy program.

    Ms. Sweeney watched her student's pretty face crumple. Cameron had better control of his emotions than her other students, and he was the one who had been through the most. He had also been through the most intensive therapy. When reading his files for the first time, she had been horrified at the nightmare the boy had survived. He had also spent several years in a mental hospital that specialized in intensive regression therapy.

    "What a cute ducky!" She tapped the yellow duck embroidered on the chest of his blue onesie. "What does the ducky say?" She asked, fearing he was having a melt down and wanted to distract him from it, like she would distract a baby having a tantrum.

    Cameron stared up at his teacher. He knew what she was trying to do, distract him from his thoughts. The technique worked with patients who had been mentally and emotionally regressed. It had worked on him in the hospital, when he had been little more than an overgrown infant. It worked on his classmates, who were kept emotionally regressed. He played along.

    "Woof-woof!" He spat his binky out.

    "Silly baby. Puppies say woof. Duckies go quack-quack." Ms.Sweeney cooed then pulled his hooded sweatshirt down, hiding his ducky and his onesie from sight. "Uh-oh." She smiled and slipped his binky back between his pink lips.

    Cameron opened his lips so she could slip the rubber nipple into his mouth.

    "There we go, all done!" She held out her hands, and Cameron placed his hands in hers, allowing her to help him sit up then jump down from the changing table. His hooded sweatshirt hung loose on his slim frame. It was light blue with white and baby blue stripes on the sleeves. His jeans would have passed for normal jeans except for the snaps running along the inner legs all the way up to his crotch, to make for easier diaper checks and changes. His plastic backed diaper crinkled noisily with each little movement and the thick padding around his crotch was familiar and comforting.

    "Tank yew." He lisped behind his binky to Ms. Sweeney as she tugged at his pants and shirt once more, fixing them now that he was standing. A little bit of drool ran down his chin and plopped down his ever-present bib. A bright yellow ducky clip with a blue strap secured his paci to his shirt.

    "You're welcome, sweetie. Go back to your seat now." She patted his heavily padded bottom then set about cleaning up the changing table and throwing his used diaper and wipes into the diaper genie.

    He started across the regression room, which resembled an adult-sized daycare. The thick bulk of his diaper forced his legs apart, giving him an unsteady toddler waddle. He toddled past the locked classroom door when loud voices drew his attention to the glass window in the heavy door. It was locked to prevent any regressed students from wandering out, for their own protection of course. The regression room was more like a daycare in the high school, and students in the regression therapy program were little more than oversized toddlers and babies.
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    Re: Bad Seed

    "Chill. Seriously. No need to get your dick in a knot, gramps." The voice was loud, female, and excessively annoyed.

    Cameron froze, shocked at the foul language coming out of a female mouth. He toddled to the door, peering out of the glass window for a lookie-loo.

    Normal students rarely passed down this hall, which had several special education classrooms. The only time other students or school personnel passed down the special education hall was when they were taking the long way to the school office. Through the glass, he saw a girl in black short shorts, ripped black stockings, black leather boots with spikes, and a baggy black sweatshirt. Spikes had been added to the collar and cuffs. The shirt was just as short as the shorts, exposing the girl's flat stomach. She wore metallic purple lipstick, and her eyes were heavily rimmed with black makeup that made her naturally pale skin the hue of a corpse. Metal spikes poked through the skin under her lower purple lip in a snake bite piercing. A matching, curved metal spike pierced her navel. Her most arresting feature was the left side of her exposed middle. Her once-smooth flesh was a mutilated pink and red ridgeline of deep scars. Rows like jagged, crooked canyons furrowed through her mutilated flesh, as if skin and hunks of meat had been ripped away.

    Behind her marched the school principal, Mr. Witherspoon, with a stern frown on his aged visage. "Young lady, you are already in violation of the dress code. It is your first day so I will let you off with a warning. Such language will NOT be tolerated here at Mapleton High. Any further infractions of the rules or insubordination to your teachers will result in punishment. Do I make myself clear?"

    The girl grinned crookedly. "Well, it's a little murky-"

    He cleared his throat, cutting her off in the middle of her shenanigans.

    She huffed a put-upon sigh. "Yes, sir." She reached under her half-a-sweatshirt to pull down a white tank top with a glittery black skull on it. "This better? My side was hurting. All hot and itchy, you know? Just needed some air on it. It's still healing." She stuck a finger bedecked with a skull ring into one of the canyons, pushing the shirt's cloth into the groove of missing flesh.

    Mr. Witherspoon visibly cringed. The girl smirked but quickly wiped her face when he opened his eyes. "Your shorts are still in violation of the dress code. Do NOT let it happen again."

    "Sure, sure." The girl dug her finger in more, rubbing the groove so the cloth stuck in, giving a hint to the mutilation it hid. The principal puckered his lips in distaste and she grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Well, if that's all sir, I'd better be off to class. Don't wanna be late." She clicked her booted feet together and gave him a sassy salute then dashed off down the hall.

    Mr. Witherspoon stepped in front of her, blocking her way. He leaned down close and said in a threatening tone, "I run a tight ship here. I will not allow this school's reputation to be tarnished. Parents depend and trust me to keep this institution and its students safe. I have read your files. I am perfectly aware of your past antics. I know your grandfather kept you from going to juvie, where you certainly belong. Or maybe in one of those regression camps for troublemaker youth. I will see you sent there if you so much as put another toe out of line. Do we understand each other, Liliana?"

    She rolled her eyes insolently, not cowed at all by the invasion of her personal space. She looked sideways and locked eyes for an instant with the prettiest boy she had ever seen. She smiled at the binky in his mouth.

    Cameron blushed, his face burning, as the girl caught him staring. Purple punk lips quirked in a smile. She winked at him. He realized he still was sucking on his binky. Humiliation washed over him. The new, trouble-making girl was laughing at the big baby boy. Just like all the other normal kids had when the school had attempted to mainstream him. He quickly spat his pacifier out, but it dangled from his ducky clip. Too little, too late- the girl was already looking away.

    "Liliana!" Mr. Witherspoon crossed his arms, looming over her.

    Her eyes snapped back to the principal. Her purple lips quirked in a sneer and she looked him up and down aggressively. "Fuck you." She snarled in oddly accented Hindi.

    Both the principal and Cameron blinked at the foreign language. Cameron wondered what language it was, but the principal seemed to know.

    "What did you just say?" Mr. Witherspoon barked. "Don't think you can get fresh with me just because you've spent time in India."

    Liliana smoothed her face into a blank mask. "I said, you are right, sir. I will behave myself from now on. I'll be just as good as my cousin Pissy."

    "Excuse me?"

    "Priscilla? Prissy? Priscilla Renine? She's my cousin." This time the girl added an "r" into Prissy, making Cameron think her earlier slip up was intentional. He almost smiled at the nickname. He had no love for Priscilla, not after the pranks she had played on him, the bullying, the teasing and tormenting.

    Mr. Witherspoon's brow ticked. "Yes, I know." Everyone knew who Priscilla was; she was a cheerleader and one of the most popular girls, and a darling of the adults. She was also one of the main reasons Cameron had ended up back in the regression program after his therapist had attempted to mainstream him.

    "Yeah. I'll be the same exemplary student she was. "

    The principal's lips puckered even more. "I somehow doubt that." He looked down his nose at her.

    Liliana grinned. "I will, you'll see!"

    "Humph. You may go, Miss Renine. But remember, I am watching you."

    "Oh, no doubt about that, sir. I don't doubt that at all." She ended with a theatrical, mocking bow then glanced up at the door again. Cameron's blush deepened when she smiled at him and winked again. He giggled then covered his mouth with his hands. Before the principal could say anything else, she dashed off down the hall.

    The principal called after her, voice dripping with disgust. "No running in the hall!" He shook his gray head and marched back to his office, the number one place students dreaded. Cameron had a feeling the girl would be spending a lot of time there.
    Last edited by Cute-Kitten; 03-03-2018, 10:58:41 AM.
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      Re: Bad Seed

      Cameron, what are you doing?" Mrs. Vesper, who was younger than Ms. Sweeney and was her assistant, came over after helping another student pick up the jumbo Crayola crayons they had dropped or thrown.

      Cameron never took his eyes off the hallway. He just pointed to the window. Mrs. Vesper peered out and her eyes widened in recognition as Lili trotted past. She made a loud cluck of disapproval with her tongue, then took Cameron's soft, slender hand in her own. She tugged, leading him like a nursery school worker leading a toddler. Her lips puckered just like Mr. Witherspoon's had, like she had bitten into an extremely sour lemon.

      "I see. Liliana's back. Well, don't you worry, sweetie. That scary girl won't bother you. I won't let her. Now, come on, it's art time. Why don't you color a pretty picture for your grandma?"

      At the mention of his grandmother, Cameron wrinkled his nose as he toddled along besides his teacher. His grandmother Beatrice would not care if he colored her a picture or not. Oh, sure, she would pretend to care, to fuss and coo over him if others were around. It was all show though; she did not give a damn about him. If he was alone with her, she would just smile, pat his head and mumble "how nice" before going back to checking the agenda of her social calendar or gossiping with the other ladies in her Ladies' Society. She was always on the phone, worse than a teenage girl with her need to keep up with what was going on in her social circle.

      Mrs. Vesper took his hand and tugged gently, leading him away from the door and view of the hall. "Aww, your binky fell out. Here you go, baby." She popped his binky back into his mouth and he accepted it automatically, sucking and moving mechanically as she guided him back to the table he shared with Leroy, who was regressed to a five year old mentality to help him recover from some emotional trauma or other, Cameron had never learned the reason for the other boy's regression.

      Leroy looked up as Cameron sat down and he smiled at the teacher, holding up a scribbled, childish drawing of a dump truck. "Big twuck!" He showed her and Cameron proudly.

      "I see. What color is it?" Mrs. Vesper cooed, patting Cameron on top of his head.

      "Boo!" Leroy shouted loudly, meaning to say blue. He burst into giggles and clapped his hands at her praise.

      "What a smart baby!" Her smile faltered as she sniffed. "I smell stinkies. Who did it?"

      A cloud of stench wafted up from the table. A very similar stench would've emanated from Cameron's own behind if he didn't take a special pill twice a day that nullified fecal odor. Not all the students took the pills, though. Some mommies wanted to easily tell if their baby made a stinky. Cameron's grandmother did not want anyone knowing what went on in his diapers, so she had him on the pills.

      Mrs. Vesper looked down at them both. Cameron let his binky fall. He wanted to tell her he'd just gotten his diaper changed- in fact, she was the one who had started changing him, but he knew she wouldn't take his word for it. She had been distracted and forgot. Instead of pointing it out , he just sat there quietly debating to try speaking up or hold his tongue.

      He just smiled as silly as Leroy. "Quack quack!"

      "Well then I'll just have to check your diapees." She lifted Cameron's hoodie up and found her way blocked by his onesie as she pulled back his pants. She squeezed the back of his puffy diaper but found no lumps.

      "New diapee." Cameron lisped before putting his binky back in his mouth.

      "Camwin poopies!" Leroy pointed and giggled, accidentally knocking his blue crayon onto the floor.

      Mrs. Vesper stood Cameron up, popped open his crotch to poke at his diaper from the leg holes. "Dry as a bone. You must've just been changed."

      Cameron rolled his eyes; he'd just told her that. 'No shit, Sherlock.' The snarky phrase rolled through his mind, tempting his lips to say the deliciously naughty words. He blushed at the impulse. Those were bad words and good little boys did not use them. Even now, the teachings from his time in the hospital stayed with him, reinforced here in the classroom. Mrs. Vesper snapped him back up and gently pushed down on his shoulder. He immediately plopped down with a loud crinkle and felt a little trickle of warmth as he peed into his diaper.

      "So, you must be the guilty culprit." She pulled Leroy's pants and diaper back and wrinkled her nose. "Phew. Yup, it's you. Come on, let's get you changed, little stinker." She took him by the hand and led him over to the changing tables.

      Cameron wondered at the rebellious streak as he stared down at the blank white paper. He was used to being babied, had been conditioned to enjoy it. It was all he knew. After his time in the hospital, he had been home schooled and outpatient therapy. At home, he was taken care of by a regression specialist nanny since his grandmother was very busy with her competitive social life. She was the only family he had; his grandfather was always overseas on business, and his father…..the man was still alive, in prison. After some homeschooling, when he had progressed to a lighter therapy schedule, his therapist suggested he go back to school. Not in the regression program, but in regular school, with the normal students. That had been a disaster.

      He picked up a purple crayon, doodling a spike the like ones under the girl's lip. Liliana. She felt no compunction to obey authority figures like he did. He recalled her smart mouth and blatant defiance. Attitude like that would earn him a one way trip across his teacher's lap. Parents and guardians of regression students signed consent forms for some old fashioned, across the lap discipline. It helped keep over-sized toddlers in line.

      He drew a pair of fat purple lips and wondered if Liliana would behave if she was spanked. Judging how Mr. Witherspoon and Mrs. Vesper reacted, it would take a lot of spanking to make the girl behave. That's one of the reasons the regression program existed- to help bad kids learn to be good, to reform them. Would she be joining him in class? She'd be regressed so he wouldn't get to talk much with her. He didn't talk with his other regressed classmates much, but he still enjoyed playing with them. How far would they regress her? Most of the students in here regressed to preschool or kindergarten level. In the hospital, he had been regressed to a newborn and had worked his way up from there.

      Now, mentally, he was no longer regressed. He had been in with the normal students, when the adults tried to mainstream him; it had been like throwing an injured rabbit into a den of starving tigers and resulted in him being put back into the regression room. Here, he was safe from the normal students and their bullying.
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        Re: Bad Seed

        In this classroom, most of the students wore diapers. Except for two girl students; they wore pullups for their potty training. Maybe Liliana would wear pull ups? He hoped she'd be put back in diapers so that would be another thing they would have in common besides their scars.

        Cameron sucked on his pacifier as he colored in the purple lips. He felt a little drool trickle down his chin and plop onto his bib. The girl had troublemaker written all over her. Her impudence intimidated him. He'd been taught to be a good boy, a good baby. Part of that teaching was in staying away from bad students like Liliana.

        He wondered if she would make fun of him like the other kids had. He was leery of his mainstream peers; past experience taught him to be. He had been in regular classes, and soon as kids found out about what he'd been through, about the marks on his body, teasing him became their favorite new pastime. The burn scars covering most of his body, which he kept hidden by long sleeves and pants even in summer. He'd developed severe social anxiety. Started skipping class, skipping school. He'd had one chief tormentor, ringleader and ever so popular Priscilla Renine, the darling of the school. The ruling queen bitch. The one who'd saddled him with the nickname of Freddy Krueger, since his burn scars looked like the burned, scarred face of the fictional horror movie monster. That nickname and the way the kids had reacted to his scars made him feel more like a monster than the burn scars themselves did.

        Things had come to a roiling boil when Cameron got into the medicine cabinet and gobbled down a bottle of aspirin. He'd overdosed and luckily his grandmother's housekeeper had found him and called 911. A visit to the ER for a stomach pump and a stay in the psych ward had forced his grandmother into action.

        Unfortunately, his grandmother Beatrice was close friends with Priscilla's grandmother Jill. They were both prominent figures in Mapleton's who's who social circle and worked closely together planning socials and charity events. Beatrice had talked with the school board- most of the members were close acquaintances of hers and Jill's, along with the school principal. The best solution for everyone, they concluded, was to put Cameron back into regression therapy. Since he had spent several years in intensive regression therapy in the mental hospital, they decided to put him in the regression therapy branch of the special education program. The R.T. program kept their students completely isolated from the mainstream student body. They even had their own entrance and playground. Parents of R.T. students were more involved than the parents of mainstream children. Mapleton was a well-to-do town and most wives and mothers stayed at home to look after their families. The R.T. mothers all picked up their children, but many of the wealthier parents simply sent their driver or housekeeper to pick their child up.

        Cameron colored in the purple lips he drew. Would Liliana laugh at him like the others had? Despite all the therapy he'd been through, he still hated being around his mainstream peers. He saw them as nothing more than rabid animals like pit bulls trained to fight, ready to rip apart whatever was thrown into their cages. Anyone different from them. Liliana was different; she had scars. A huge, deforming scar just like his. Maybe the other kids made fun of her? Many times Cameron wished he'd had the guts to punch Priscilla in her face, to shut her up. He never wanted to hurt her, and it was wrong to hit girls but he just wanted her to stop. To leave him alone. Wanted her to feel every ounce of pain and humiliation had felt.

        He was sure the scarred girl had felt the same pain and humiliation he'd been through. But, unlike him, she would stand up for herself. She was so brave- she'd flashed her scar so defiantly, so boldly in the open for all to see. He cringed just thinking of others seeing his scars. The only kids his age who were nice to him were the ones from his burn victim support group when he was younger, and currently his R.T. peers. His clothes kept his scars hidden most of the time, except during diaper changes. When he first joined the school's R.T. program, Ms. Sweeney and Mrs. Vesper had explained to the other students that he had an accident and had boo-boos. The regressed teens had been curious as little children, and it had been awkward. They had gotten used to Cameron and now he was one of them. From his burn support group, there had been one girl who was jealous of him because his face wasn't disfigured like hers and he could hide his ugly scars. She had been hard to get along with, until she'd learned his accident had been no accident at all.

        Cameron shaded the lips and drew two circles below for her snakebite piercings. Liliana…what had happened to her? Those scars didn't look like any burn scars he'd seen or had. Had someone hurt her? Priscilla was her cousin. Fear spiked along his spine just thinking of Priscilla; the distinctive clicking of her high heels as she strutted down the halls, her candy apple red lips twisted in a sneer as she mouthed 'Freddy Krueger' at him.

        The purple crayon slipped past the line as his hand trembled. He let the fat crayon fall and sat with his eyes closed, just sucking vigorously on the large rubber nipple in his mouth to calm himself down. He opened his eyes and stared at the purple lips and piercings. Did the other kids make fun of her? Maybe she got into so much trouble defending herself? He suddenly felt sad, depressed thinking about the girl getting picked on like he'd been. No one deserved to go through that kind of torment. With the attitude she had shown Mr. Witherspoon, Cameron thought Liliana would be able to dish any taunting right back at them.
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          Re: Bad Seed

          Cameron blushed at his unruly thoughts. Fighting was bad. Bad, bad baby. Good babies didn't fight. He squirmed in his seat, diaper crinkling noisily.

          "Cameron? What's wrong, baby?" Ms. Sweeney came over, checking on him. She looked at his artwork, the lips with the circles underneath….She stared, not able to make sense of it. Maybe he was drawing the face of someone he knew? Maybe those were moles, or beauty marks. Was he drawing one of his nannies, or a character on a toddler's TV show? She bent down to his level when he didn't respond. "Sweetie?" She laid a hand on his shoulder. "What did you draw?" She pointed to the paper with her other hand, directing Cameron's gaze to the purple lips.

          At the touch on his arm Cameron looked at her for a moment, then smiled behind his binky and pointed to the ducky on his bib. "Quack quack."

          Ms. Sweeney frowned as she stared down at the paper, then stood up, taking one of his hands and tugging. He stood up and followed passively, not asking where she was taking him. As he toddled along, crinkling noisily, he decided he'd better fess up a little since Ms.Sweeney decided he was having a mental break. She sat at her desk, unlocking a drawer and fumbled through it, pulling out his file.

          She referenced some notes, then skimmed through a stack of colorful, childish notebooks on her desk, pulling a green Winnie The Pooh one out. It was his daily journal; the teachers kept them for all the students. Ms. Sweeney and Mrs. Vesper took notes for the parents to read and the parents left notes for the teachers. The notebooks were thought to help aide communication between teachers and parents. She jotted down a few notes and Cameron wanted to roll his eyes but didn't. Good babies didn't have attitude. He knew he shouldn't try to read it; his therapy wasn't his concern. He just had to be a good baby. His grandmother made decisions about his welfare. But she hardly ever read the journal- his after-school nanny read it. The only time Beatrice would bother was when the nanny had to pester her for a signature.

          Ms. Sweeney's expression was tight, worried. What was she writing? Cameron sighed. He had to get her attention, something he usually didn't do. He usually just waited and let his teachers take care of everything. He spat his pacifier out, letting it dangle from his ducky clip. "Ms. Sweeney?" he said, softly, hesitantly, and without his babyish lisp. The padding swaddling his crotch grew wet and warm as he peed.

          Her head shot up in surprise and she stared at him. "Yes?"

          Her surprised, frank stare, as if she were talking to a mentally competent teen and not the regressed infant he was used to being treated like made him nervous. He shifted, diaper crinkling noisily, and fought the urge to put his binky back in his mouth. She stared at him while he continued to stay silent. "Cameron? " Her tone lacked the usual syrupy sweetness.

          His lower lip trembled and tears welled in his eyes. He felt like a scared toddler ready to cry. "I-I-Lili-". He tried to explain his drawing. Unable to take anymore, he popped his pacifier back into his mouth before he had a meltdown like a small child.

          Ms. Sweeney instantly slipped back into teacher mode as Cameron collapsed back into his usual toddler behavior. She cooed in her usual cheerful voice. "Shh. Sweetie, it's okay. You're just having a rough day. It's almost nap time, I'll get your baba ready and you can go lay down on your mat."

          She finished writing the note in his journal. Cameron stood with his head lowered, staring down at his bib and sucking on his binky miserably. He couldn't even explain himself to his teacher. What had she written? He was worried, and he didn't want to go back into more intensive therapy- he shook his head. He needed to tell her. "Lili". He lisped softly behind the comfort of his binky, trying to explain everything simply by saying the girl's name. Simple explanations pleased his teachers the best.

          "Hm? Lily? Oh, I see." Ms. Sweeney saw the bouquet of tiger lilies on the corner of her desk. The flowers were a bright reddish-orange, their thick, bright petals speckled with dark freckles. "Yes, smart baby. Those are lilies." She cooed and Cameron let her continue with her misinterpretation, knowing no good would come of trying to correct her.

          Her tone perked up, and he played along. "Pwetty." he lisped and felt a little drool run down his chin and his bib, making him feel like an overgrown infant. Even Leroy didn't suck on a pacifier, and only wore bibs at lunch or snack time.

          Ms. Sweeney gazed at the blossoms and her face softened from a teacher's smile into the same expression of the women in his grandmother's romance movies. The teacher let out a happy little sigh. She wore the same smile she got when talking to the janitor Mr. Bruster. "Yes, they are, aren't they?". Her eyes had a dreamy look as she gazed at them. "Those are special flowers. Very special. They mean…" Her voice had a husky quality as she thought of the janitor. Her cheeks turned pink like a blushing schoolgirl with her first crush. Ms. Sweeney caught herself, coughed, clearing her throat, and set about straightening the pile of journals on her desk.

          Cameron sucked his binky and listened, not curious enough about the flowers to want to know what they meant. Probably something sappy and romantic. His thoughts drifted to the girl he's seen in the hall. Maybe it was her scar that had him so fascinated, but he knew they'd never meet again since he was kept apart from the normal students and he really wasn't sure he'd want to meet her. Her mouth, her attitude were overwhelming and fascinating. But it was fun to fantasize. He looked up at his teacher; she was back to her usual self. "Mistew Bustew?" he asked softly and Ms. Sweeney's cheeks bloomed scarlet again. He smiled.

          "Ah, yes. Those are from Mr. Buster. But, let's get you ready for nap time." Her tone changed, still gentle but the authoritative teacher was back. She picked up his drawing to slip into his file when Mrs. Vesper bustled over to return a pen to the desk.

          "I had to borrow a pen. Don't know where all of mine went." She paused, seeing Cameron's drawing and immediately clocking the purple lips with the piercings. "Oh dear. Looks like Liliana upset him more than I thought." She huffed.

          "What?" Ms. Sweeney focused on her assistant.

          "Liliana Renine. It's been quite a while, but she's back." Mrs. Vesper explained sourly, adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses. "Cameron was looking out the door and saw her giving the principal a hard time."

          Ms. Sweeney's face went poker blank. "You sure it was her?"

          "She's grown, but there's no mistaking that mouth or that face." Mrs. Vesper emphasized her certainty with a curt nod.

          Ms. Sweeney frowned. "She's back, and already in trouble again? I suppose she hasn't change. What a pity- she's such a pretty girl."

          "Not with what she's done to her face. " Mrs. Vesper pressed her lips together in disapproval and tapped Cameron's drawing. "She pierced her face like one of those rock band freaks."

          "Maybe being back home will straighten her up. Jill will teach her how a proper lady should behave. Priscilla's such a charming young lady." Ms. Sweeney said optimistically. "Either way, we won't have to deal with her."

          Mrs. Vesper snorted. "Some apples are rotten to the core. I almost wish she'd get placed with us. I'd teach her a thing or two. Talking back like that…and the poor baby here saw it all. No wonder he's so shook up."

          "Well that certainly explains it. " Ms. Sweeney opened Cameron's journal, crossed off her previous notes and scribbled down new ones while Cameron quietly stood by, feeling like a little baby while the grownups talked around him.

          Regression therapy had many uses, for everything from healing deep emotional wounds to correcting badly behaved kids. He wondered for the thousandth time if Liliana was so bad she'd end up in regression therapy and learn to wear and use diapers. She'd be conditioned to be a good baby, like Cameron had been taught. She'd be in class with him. He almost wished for it, just to see her again, and to meet her.

          "Either way, let's get these kids laid down for nap time". Ms. Sweeney finished her notes, took Cameron by the hand and led him to the area with sleeping mats laid out on the floor. Mrs. Vesper did a scheduled diaper check as she collected the students for their nap, writing the results for each student down while Ms. Sweeney mixed up bottles of warm milk fortified with vitamins and minerals.

          Cameron hated nap time. He was used to sleeping, and lay on his mat without a sound. Ms. Sweeney and Mrs. Vesper passed the bottles out. He took the plastic bottle in his hands, warm from the sweet milk. He let it drop from his hands and sucked on his binky instead. Mrs. Vesper saw and bent over, pulling his binky out and slipping his bottle in.

          Cameron let out a little whine of protest but took his bottle and started sucking like a good baby. The milk was thick and sweet as it flowed down his throat and warmed his tummy. Mrs. Vesper smiled. "Good baby!" she cooed and his conditioning kicked in. Warm pleasure washed over him. He'd made her happy like a good baby. Such a good baby. He smiled in automatic response. He'd been deeply regressed in the hospital, more so than any of the students in the regression program at school, and for a longer amount of time so his conditioned reflexes lingered.

          As he drank his bottle, his eyelids grew heavy. The milk of hit his stomach and his thoughts quieted down, drifting away. He barely registered the front of his diaper grow warm as he wet it again. Another wave of pleasure drifted over him and his eyes grew heavier. He closed them and just sucked on his bottle until he'd almost finished it. It fell from his mouth to the floor. His breathing was deep and even and a few lingering drops of milk clung to his plump, pink lips.
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            Re: Bad Seed

            Okay. You've got my attention. What else you got?


              Re: Bad Seed

              Originally posted by Kita Sparkles link=topic=6751.msg67203#msg67203 date=1457408410
              Okay. You've got my attention. What else you got?
              Oh there's a lot more to this one already written and posted. CK is just being coy with this audience, to see if an audience actually exists.


                Re: Bad Seed

                *audience existing* need more to read ASAP please and thank you!


                  Re: Bad Seed

                  Release the other chapters already ,I'm getting bored


                    Re: Bad Seed

                    Originally posted by Lettle Daddy Donny link=topic=6751.msg67206#msg67206 date=1457420086
                    Release the other chapters already ,I'm getting bored
                    This is definitely NOT the way to inspire a writer to do what you want.


                      Re: Bad Seed

                      Originally posted by WBDaddy link=topic=6751.msg67207#msg67207 date=1457442646
                      This is definitely NOT the way to inspire a writer to do what you want.
                      No, it is not. Actually stuff like that is one of the reasons I don't post what I write online anymore except the occasional ebook under a pen name. And I don't read the comments section.


                        Re: Bad Seed

                        Originally posted by Lettle Daddy Donny link=topic=6751.msg67206#msg67206 date=1457420086
                        Release the other chapters already ,I'm getting bored
                        @[Lettle Daddy Donny] Very simply, grow up.

                        That kind of behavior ought to be grounds for banning. It is very inappropriate and rude.

                        Now on to the real reason I wanted to post.
                        I am enjoying this great start to a story. I do hope the author continues it in their own time and pace. Thank you very much for what you've written so far.


                          Re: Bad Seed

                          If too much were posted at once, I'd probably think, "I don't have time - I'll get to this later," and then not get to it. I am looking forward to more though. :-)


                            Re: Bad Seed

                            Got me hooked on this one, good job…


                              Re: Bad Seed

                              "So, Max, three touchdowns in one game. Impressive."

                              Max flashed his white teeth in a winning smile at the university recruiter, his barrel chest puffed out and broad shoulders back as he leaned against his locker, book bag tossed carelessly on the school floor. He knew he was one of the top recruits and would have his pick of colleges. His grades weren't the best; studying was at the bottom of his priority list. Football was his life; he was captain of the varsity squad, and his football record paved his future in gold. He practically had a free ride to the university of his choosing. Most high school jocks would be nervous when being interviewed by a recruiter who could determine whether or not they got on a university team, or if high school was going to be the end of their sports career. This was not the first recruiter to come sniffing around and Max was rather enjoying the attention.

                              "Haha, yeah. " He laughed sheepishly and scratched the back of his head, looking down at his toes, doing his best to appear modest. He knew this game well. Some of the recruiters liked to pop up unexpectedly and grill their candidates. His father had told him of it- they did it to try and get an honest feel for their potential recruits. Catch them off guard. Put them in the hot seat. Max suppressed a smirk. That little game was not going to work with him. "I don't really pay much attention to it, though." He shrugged his big shoulders. "I mean, I just play the game cuz I love it so much."

                              The recruiter had his poker face on; even the photo I.D. on his visitor's badge was serious and focused, his game as well seasoned as his salt and pepper hair. He smiled, his finely oiled mustache twitching as he grinned in conspiracy with Max, letting the boy believe he was taken in by his words, but his eyes were hard and beady, revealing a shrewd intelligence. "Good, good. I'm sure it doesn't hurt with the ladies, though, eh?"

                              Max laughed and leaned further into his locker, smiling broadly. "I know some players are players with the ladies, but I'm a one-woman kinda guy." He echoed the words his father drilled into him.

                              "Ah, yes. I heard you'd been steady with a Priscilla Renine? I'm sorry to hear about her accident. How have you been holding up?"

                              Max forced his smile into a sad, puppy dog look. Priscilla- he'd only dated her because she'd been the hottest girl on the cheerleading squad. He'd also dated several of the other girls. Right now, he hadn't found a girl he liked enough to go steady with, but he hadn't been lacking in female company. He just had to settle on a girl. He hadn't been to see Priscilla since the accident months ago, when she'd fallen off the top of the human pyramid during practice. He'd popped by the hospital once, had been freaked out by all the tubes going in and out of her, and disgusted by the white, plastic garment strapped around her waist. His girlfriend, wearing diapers like a baby, like those sped freaks in that regression therapy shit.

                              "Been holding it together the best I can. Still training hard, studying. Sadly, I haven't had much free time to see her. But…I still love her." He said the last part in a tragic stage whisper, one hand over his heart.

                              "Your grades are barely passing; the "C" in English is your highest. I also heard you only visited your girlfriend, Priscilla, once. When she was in the hospital. She's been home for several months."

                              Max blinked at the sudden shift in tone, caught off guard. He'd never been warned to expect this tactic, especially when he'd had the recruiter digging out of the palm of his hand. "Uh- well- just, there's been, uh, a lot of practice. I'm a natural at football. Um, studying is, well, uh, it takes, um, more time." His words tumbled over one another nervously.

                              The recruiter smirked a little, having his own act to catch the players he was interviewing off guard, lull them into a false sense of security then strike. He leaned in a little; the high school senior was huge; he had the hulking build of a line backer. No wonder he was a natural at football. The eighteen year old boy was taller than the recruiter, making him crane his neck up to look into his face, but the older man was the one who made the boy flinch back and cower.

                              "All that is water under the bridge. Neither here nor there. What I'd really like to hear about is a rather big incident from several years ago. Cameron MacLeod ring any bells?" The recruiter's nasty smirk went all the way up to his eyes. He had Max pinned like a frog about to be dissected.

                              Max licked his lips, shifting his weight and kicking his bookbag. He felt a flash of anger; leave it up to that big baby, that burned, diaper wearing freak. Prissy was the one who started up with the teasing. The burned boy cried so easily that teasing him had become one of Max's favorite past times. Especially when Prissy was around; she'd laugh and clap her hands in delight as the diaper boy sobbed. Hell, teasing the diapered freak whose burned skin looked like Freddy Kruger was what brought them together. And now, that little bit of harmless teasing was pissing all over his future prospects. Max wanted to punch Freddy Kruger right in his delicate, girly face.

                              "Well?" The recruiter pressed.

                              "Um, uh, well, it's-"

                              "Hey, dude. Chill. It was a long time ago. Like, three year or something, yeah? Maxie here was young and stupid, but he's learned his lesson. "

                              Both males turned and looked at the source of the female voice that cut sharply through their conversation. She was hot, for a spiked freak. Max's eyes fell instantly to the bounce of her voluptuous breasts, the curves of her hips as she walked. Her body language just screamed 'come fuck me, big boy'.

                              The female joined them, casually slinging one arm around Max's broad shoulders as if they knew each other well, and held her other hand out to the recruiter. "Liliana Renine. Kinda new here, and cousin of Priscilla Renine."

                              The recruiter shook her hand, recovering from his surprise at the interruption faster than Max, who still floundered. "The cheerleader who fell and broke her skull?"

                              "Nearly broke it. So sad. But she's doing much better now. Kinda. I mean, she still shits herself and needs diapers, and she drools all over the place. But Maxie here's been a real trooper. He's called her on the phone loads of times. "

                              Max was flabbergasted. Liliana. The last time he'd seen her was when they were small children, right before that whole big fiasco involving her, Priscilla, and a puppy. One of the girls- rumors flew, and the whole community was never really certain WHO had kicked that puppy. It was widely known that one of those girls hand stomped and kicked that puppy, and the majority opinion was Liliana was the culprit. Prissy swore up and down that her rotten cousin Liliana was the puppy kicker, but others said Prissy had done it.

                              Now here Liliana stood before him, all grown up, and helping him out. He'd be completely surprised, except he had been talking with Liliana on Facebook. She'd been talking with all of Prissy's friends after looking them up on Facebook, trying to get back in the groove after spending several years with her grandfather in India.

                              "Sounds like the poor girl's cheerleading career is over." The recruiter said sympathetically. "But that doesn't seem to have affected Max's performance much."

                              "Oh, it's been hard on him. It's all in the focus, yeah? He's like a pitbull- game on and he doesn't let go of that bone."

                              "Uh-yeah. W-what she said." Max stuttered, distracted by the soft breast squishing against his chest as Liliana leaned forward.

                              "Yes. Now, Max, about the incident with Cameron. There were several newspaper articles on it. What do you have to say about it?"

                              'It was long ago, and um," Max began, stuttering. "It was all a misunderstanding-"

                              Liliana leaned forward, stepping between Max and the recruiter. "Look. It was a long time ago. What Max did to that poor boy was horrid. He was not the only one bullying the boy; the chief tormentor was my cousin. But that was years ago. Max was young and stupid. Since then, he's learned his lesson. He feels just awful about it. But he's a changed man now. I mean, hell, look, he's standing here buddy-buddy with me." She gestured to herself- purple lips, snake bites, leather boots, ripped stockings.

                              "That IS surprising." The recruiter agreed. Liliana just grinned while Max stared down at her breasts, glanced at the recruiter, obviously trying to focus on him, but his gaze kept straying back to those lovely boobs. "And I've gotta get going. Max, thank you for your time."

                              "Yeah. Uh, yes, thank you, I hope to hear from you." Max mumbled, then straightened up and shook hands like his father had made him practice doing to charm the recruiters. Once the man had walked off, Max rounded on Liliana, who had breezed away. She was halfway down the hallway, and he scrambled to catch up to her.

                              "Hey! You!" He hollered, causing several people to look, and a few nerdy looking boys to scurry out of his way, afraid he was after them. The girl never stopped. He stormed after her, eventually cutting her off. She didn't pause, merely walked around him.

                              "Yo! Prissy's cousin!" He bellowed, irritation growing that the bitch was ignoring him.

                              She paused for one moment, shrugged, then kept walking without looking back.

                              "Liliana!" He roared her name.

                              She paused and looked over her shoulder. "You should've said that the first time." She grinned, seeing the anger in his face. "You're welcome for helping you. I just felt like being nice. Call it a whim." She shrugged. "You are Pissy's boyfriend, after all. But if you really wanna thank me, you'll come by and see her sometime. Now, I gotta get to class before the principal gets his panties in a wad again." With that, she walked off.

                              Max just stared at her, shaking his head. Prissy was right about her cousin. Bitch was bat-shit crazy. Hella hot, but fucking crazy. He paused, recalling something his father had said, about the crazy bitches being the best in bed.
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