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A Mother Knows Best

By Bianchi

There are few things in this world, my dear reader, that bring an ursine of my years a sense of joy quite like the sight of a college boy chained to floor of my manor basement; fewer still when there are three of them.

My nude, matronly hips found a sway not known since the Carter administration as I flicked the overhead lamps on and moved to greet my reluctant gentlemen callers. The boys, stripped of clothes and dignity, groaned to life as the basement's lamps flickered on, the light driving out the effects of their mild sedatives.

Collingsworth, ever my stalwart bovine butler, had discovered the boys skulking the grounds, knapsacks in hand with every manner of trickery for defacing my estate. The rowdy little hellions were well known to me and the university students by reputation, and it would seem they were no longer satiated with perpetuating childish misogyny via their podcast-- "The Anti-Cuck Cast"-- and instead had graced my property with the hope of striking a blow against the very public benefactor of the universities' women's studies department.

The plumpest of the three, a bewildered white rabbit with a face too precious for this world, was the first to stir awake as I grazed his soft cheek. Angelic as the boy appeared, he was long suspected, though never convicted, of taking surreptitious up-skirt pictures of young college girls and uploading them to various internet message boards. A fact that I highly encourage you keep sharp in your mind.

"Oh, oh God..." He stammered. "You're....you're--"

"Madam Hargrave, my sweet little Daniel," I said with a coo, the misguided lapin's nose twitching in surprise of my knowledge. "And these must be your friends, Adam and Jess," I said, nodding to the neighboring Wolf and Squirrel who were quickly stirring awake themselves.

The rabbit's knees were like reflections of knees in rippling water as I towered over him, gazing at his doughy, unkempt body. Too physically and socially awkward to attract females, the boy was ripe for the picking of the seasoned, well-aged misogynist he called friend; Adam's sanguine lies and candied rhetoric lacing his sheepish mind with tales of love and lust being loss due to prudish, stuck up females. His dowdy, Cheeto-flecked visage, Adam assured him, was nothing more than a byproduct of a world built to oppose his prized Y chromosome. This boy was not scornful of women like his wayward friend. No, the poor virgin was positively afraid of them and the power they held over his fragile, budding sexuality.

Daniel flinched as I ran my paw across his matted fur, the quivering babe stifling a precious, frightened whimper as my bulk blotted out the light. Between clenched eyes, the boy dared a peak at my ample bosom before huffing like a child caught with his father's dirty magazine. Terrified as he was, he wasn't go to pass up his first chance to see such an overflowing bust first hand.

A shame he was so blissfully unware of how close he would become with it by the end of the night.

I smiled as I gave his chapped, quivering lips a deep kiss.

"You, my dear Daniel," I said, breaking the first and last kiss he would ever receive. "Are going to help me give your friend Adam some new insights on women. I'm only sorry that you won't be around long enough to see him learn them."

The boy's squeaking howls were legion as I unlatched his restraints and effortlessly dragged him to the middle of the room, his appetizing mewling joined by the groggy protests of his friends. With a firm, delicate paw, I held Daniel from behind, tasting deep the sweat under his fur as my claws playfully danced across his plump belly.

"Let him go, you bitch!" Adam barked, the wolf's voice wavering with fear.

"Oh, my dear Adam," I cooed, looking him in the eyes as I gripped the rabbit's doughy waist. "Momma bear needs Daniel's help in preparing tomorrow's breakfast. Don't worry, the two of you will be together again in no time."

Preempting the inevitable question that will arise upon publication of this manuscript, that being on how I could possibly derive joy from inflicting harm and destruction on a young man such as Daniel, I promptly offer this curt rejoinder.

Do we deride nature for basking in the beauty of her own mechanisms? Do we weep when the budding sapling is snuffed out from the sun by the towering oak? Do not the saplings deliquesced remains feed the earth, causing the oak to grow stronger and taller, and in turn be allowed to spread its progeny to the winds? No I say, we do not balk at such beauty, we revel in it...we adore it...and in times of old, we worshiped it.

In my defense, I felt a small pang of empathy for the creature, knowing full well the fear that coursed through the juvenile rabbit's veins as I unhinged my jaw and plunged his screaming muzzle into my slick gullet. Disgusting as the boy's crimes were against unsuspecting women, he was but a pawn in in the game his friends decided to play long ago; but what is the fate of a pawn if not to be sacrificed for his queen?

And what a marvelous sacrifice it was, for even now my thighs squeeze tight, holding back pleasure derived from merely recounting the wretchedly divine act of consuming and leaching every ounce of nutrients from the boy's delicious, worthless flesh.

At the time, I couldn't suppress a childish jolt of joy at the rabbit's futile bucking as I engulfed his chest with heaving, sloppy gulps; the boy's corpulent form bulging my neck to obscene dimensions as I crammed him down my slick, slimy gullet like a starving pelican.

I fell to my aching knees as the boy's hips crested my maw, thick paws swiftly cradling my gut as it sagged and spread across the basement floor, packed to bursting with such a massive, wriggling meal. The boy's thick digits--the only thing left outside my sweltering belly--twitched and spasmed in the cool basement air as my gut treated his muzzle to a face full of scorching acid; my belly eager to break down his youthful musculature.

Adam, the leader who brought the rabbit to this fate, watched with horror as the boy's toes clenched and curled, desperately grabbing at empty air for a lifeline that would never come. With a hard buck and splayed toes, the rabbit gave a silent death rattle in my guts, his long lapin paws going limp before I loudly slurped them down to join the rest of his remains.

Jess, the bushy-tailed co-host to Adam, was in tears, his wailing sobs filling the basement alongside the grotesque squelching and burbling of my guts.

I cradled my pendulous belly as I stood, my thick paws soothing and caressing the mound of meat in my belly that moments ago was a dim, futureless young man with not to offer the world but perversion and doltish buffoonery.

"Shhhh, it's OK little rabbit," I cooed, petting my distended midsection. "No more pain, no more fear. You're gonna help momma make sure Adam learns his lesson."

Adam's muzzle twisted like a gnarled vine as he watched me comfort the lump of flesh that was slowly breaking down into his salvation.

"You're a fucking monster!" He shouted, his voice cracking like the child pretending to be a man that he was.

"Yet you're the one who practically gift wrapped him to me," I said, dragging myself and his former friend over to see him face-to-face. "Your friend would still have a future beyond padding my hips if it weren't for you."

I smiled, pushing my rotund gut into the boy's muzzle, making sure to grind his now whimpering face deep into my taut belly.

A boy couldn't be taught until he was broken, my mother would say. And break by morning he would.

"Listen to him in there, Adam. Listen to him gurgling and bubbling away, my gut smelting him down into a thick, nutrient rich paste.... just for you."

While I never intended prolonged harm for the misguided rabbit, dear reader, I had every intention of elucidating the wolf on the responsibilities of what it means to not only be a man, but a leader, and all the consequences that come with failing at those tasks. It was important, my mother once told me long ago, that a boy know his failings before being stripped of his manhood forever.

Adam gasped for breath as I pulled my suffocating gut away from his muzzle. As he wretched for air, I drew his muzzle to my own, gently stroking his fur.

"Don't worry, my child, the two of you will be together again soon," I said before letting loose a long, sloppy belch into his face.

*BBBRRUUUUAARRRRPPPPP*

The hot, soggy belch singed Adam's nostrils, causing him to wretch and gag as he sucked down the fetid stench of digesting meat that was once his friend.

I moved ponderously to the door, my aged, arthritic knees reminding me how long it had been since they carried such a load.

Good practice, I reminded myself, for the extra weight they'd be bearing tomorrow.

"Collingsworth, my dear boy," I said into the callbox near the door. "The lady of the house is finished for the evening. Please prepare my quarters for the night."

"At once, madam," came the steady, well-trained response of a proper gentleman. "Shall I be preparing the young lady's quarters for a 'guest' as well?"

I smiled. The old boy still hadn't lost his charm after all these years.

"No, my dear, the time of these old bones bringing boys into manhood the old-fashioned way is long past, but you're a darling for asking. Just my regular quarters will be fine. Be a darling and fetch me a heating pad from storage, one of our guests has proven to a bit more porcine than I expected."

"Consider it already done, mum."

Opening the door, I made my way through the threshold, pausing for a moment to soak in the sounds of the broken, simpering boys behind me.

"I had forgotten how much I loved being this full," I said without turning. "I can hardly wait to feel how full I'll be tomorrow, Adam."

As I closed the door behind me, the basement air rushed between the gap, greeting me with the smell of urine.

I smiled. I didn't think the squirrel would piss himself until tomorrow.

A day spent chained to a floor will reward a man with an abundance of hunger and thirst, just as spending a night with 200 pounds of liquefied rabbit meat in your gut will leave you with an abundance of suety flesh and bosom close to bursting. The boys were evidently the former, even as they gaped at my latter.

"Good morning, boys. Doesn't your rabbit friend look absolutely lovely on me?"

I rubbed my watermelon sized breasts; the gallons of rabbit-turned-breast-milk had caused my swollen chest to ache nearly as much as my back.

Adam stared in defiant disbelief, even as his squirrel friend once again broke down into tears.

"Shhh, come now. There's no need to cry, little Jess" I said, running a claw across his trembling muzzle.

Unlike the perverted, invasive rabbit now jiggling on my ass, Jess was far from a complete foil to Adam's plans. The surprisingly bright squirrel often attempted to rebuff his friend's cruder commentaries on air, only to be wholly castigated into silence as a 'cuck' for daring to disagree. Though far from unblemished in his actions, the squirrel possessed a heart more golden than either of his friends. The fear he gleamed as a mere witness to the previous evening's activities would be more than enough to turn this boy around.

"Don't worry, Jess. Momma isn't going to hurt you. I know that this mean, nasty little wolf is the reason you're here, and its him that I have plans for."

"Y...yah, it was him," the squirrel blubbered through his sobs. "He's the one who told me to say all those awful things on the podcast! He's the one who wanted us to break into your house!"

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly naughty boys will turn on each other.

"You fucking coward!" Adam barked, pulling hard against his bonds, causing the squirrel to recoil in fear. "I'll kill you for this!"

I scratched the squirrel boy's chin as I kissed his forehead. "Such a good boy. All momma will need from you is some help disciplining your naughty little friend over there. Can you do that? Can you help momma reform such a rotten little boy?"

If the squirrel had nodded any harder he would have given himself whiplash.

"Very good," I said, unshackling him from the floor and directing him towards the camera equipment arranged in the corner. These 'teaching moments' had grown few and far between at my age, and like any mother, I had grown a fondness for digital scrapbooking. The squirrel, I surmised, was more than perfect to help me acquire some additional footage for posterity.

"Let momma know when you're all set up, sweety," I said, giving him a playful pat on the butt before turning to the chained wolf.

"Such a sad, lonely excuse for a man you are," I said. "Momma bear is going to show you that deep down inside, you're nothing more than a needy, mewling little baby, crying out for the affection of your mommy."

The wolf tugged weakly in protest, his stomach's empty growl echoing off the basement walls.

I stifled a pained grunt as I knelt in front of the defiant wolf, his eyes affixed to my massive, bloated chest as it quivered in front of his muzzle.

"G...get the fuck away from me" he barked, reeling away from me with what little slack his bonds would give him.

"Oh, come now, Adam. Surely you must be hungry? Here, let momma show you what's in store for you."

I couldn't help but moan as I squeezed one of my tender, swollen breasts, the immense pressure of the milk in my bosom causing it to leak out with barely a pinch; the rich, white substance soaking my digits as I rolled them across my thick nipples.

"I...I said get the fuck away!" Adam shouted as I gripped his jaw, my stout, ursine paw effortlessly spreading his muzzle open like a fussy baby refusing the spoon.

"Now, now. My little baby needs his nutrients, and momma won't take no for an answer."

Adam bucked as I drove my milk-soaked digits into his muzzle, spreading the delicious ambrosia all over his tongue. Within seconds, the fussy man-child calmed himself, quivering as the irresistible taste of his former friend coated his tongue, telling tales of a heavenly meal to come.

While pride compels me to claim that my milk flows from my form as the nectar of the gods naturally, I would be remiss if I didn't inform you, my dear reader, that science, and a large amount of genetic splicing of my genome, has played no small hand in concocting both the taste and trickery that resided in my motherly milk.

Adam's eyes went wide as he stared deep into my overflowing bosom, his lips quivering as he mewled at my leaking nipples.

"Mmmm, looks like my little boy likes his momma's milk. Do you want more, my precious little child?"

Adam sobbed as my spiked breast milk addled his brain. The boy was no idiot, and knew I was upon some chicanery, but was in no position to refuse. The cocktail-infused milk would worm its way into his brain in mere moments, bending and breaking his mind while it worked to prep his body for the incubation that was yet to come.

I...I'm ready to go, uhhh, ma'aam," Jess said, the terrified squirrel looking on, camera in hand, as I squeezed more milk onto my fingers.

"You're such a good boy, Jess. Go ahead and start filming, honey." I could see a jolt of pride in the boy's spine as I addressed him.

Good boys always respond well to praise.

"P...please...d...d...don't," Adam begged as I shoved another milky digit into his muzzle, his face going slack and eyes dimming as I swished the mixture across his taste buds. Adam began suckling on my claw like a binky, content to slurp what little milk he could from my fur.

That moment, between defiance and submission, when a young man's mind breaks is always the most precious of all, and I have cherished it with every one of my children.

I pulled my digits from Adam's mewling lips, the wolf boy on the verge of tears as he suckled at the air.

"Now, are you going to be momma's good boy and listen, Adam?"

While the squirrel's camera saw only the stupefied face of a dazed and confused wolf, I could see the infinitesimal tremors in his eyes, that solemn moment where the higher intellect is engulfed by the drugs, and the man that once was cries his last as his brain dulls and finds a peace known only to toddlers.

"Y...yes momma. I'm gonna be a good boy," Adam said in a soft voice, his cadence childish and innocent.

The squirrel's camera shook, his face in astonishment at the sea change in his friend.

"Steady now, Jess." I said, reassuring the poor thing. "Make momma happy and don't get cold feet now." I scratched the squirrel's tummy with my claws as I rubbed underneath Adam's chin with the other.

"Isn't Jess a good boy, Adam?"

Adam looked up at Jess with a child-like gaze. "He sure seems awfully nice, momma. Are we both good boys?"

"Yes you are, sweety." I said, unlatching Adam's tethers and guiding him to my bosom with a soft bear hug. "And who's my bestest little boy of all?"

Adam's face lit up like a lighthouse.

"I am! I'm momma's bestest little boy!"

Know well, dear reader, that even as the newspapers slander me as a monster for my actions, I loved that boy as I have loved nothing else. What is purer than the love of an innocent child clutched to his mother for warmth and happiness? What great crime is it to break a wretched man if what's put in his place is something pure and innocent? A society that locks up its criminals in concrete shoeboxes 23 hours a day as a form of penance and rehabilitation is unfit to call me a monster for what I ultimately gave that boy.

Adam's ecstatic bouncing on my lap was cut short as his stomach grumbled, causing the poor child to clutch at his belly.

"Ohhh, mommy. My tummy hurts!"

"That's because you're hungry, my dear. Come, let momma help you."

Directing the boy to my bosom, I stopped and tilted his head up towards the camera. "Now, Adam. Tell Jess that you're a good little boy who loves his momma."

"I'm a good boy, and I love my mommy!" He shouted with excitement before I pressed him to my thick, round nipples.

"Yes, you are, my child. Now drink, and let's begin ridding you of that toxic masculinity."

I bit my lip and stifled a moan as the wolf-boy sucked hard on my nipple, pulling free the milk that pushed so hard against my swollen breasts. I was in bliss as the creamy milk gushed forth, filling the greedy, suckling maw of the full-grown wolf with the mind of a child.

"T...that's it, honey. Drink it all down," I said through chuffing breaths. "Fill your belly with what's left of your friend."

In my euphoria, I had lost track of time, the passage of the 4th dimension marked not by a clock, but the bulging, sloshing gut of my adorable wolf-child as he alternated between my ample breasts, sucking down a gallon from each with voracious enthusiasm.

Looking like a dim-eyed angel, Adam broke free from my nipple, huffing as his stomach creaked and groaned, refusing to accept any more of my delicious gift.

"Momma," he whined, pleading at me with watery eyes. "My tummy hurts."

"That's because you were a greedy little boy," I teased, rubbing his swollen belly. "Looks like you turned into momma's little piggy!"

I ran a claw under his taut belly and gave him a playful scritch, eliciting a child-like squeal from the boy as we both laughed in unison.

I ask again, who could condemn me for instilling such innocence?

"I...I'm still a good boy though, right momma?" Adam said, coming down off his laughing fit.

"You most certainly are," I said, caressing his quickly rounding face. "But you won't be a boy for much longer."

As the words left my mouth, Jess, my ever-stalwart cameraman, let out a gasp, finally noticing the affect my milk was having on the wolf's body.

"Wh...what's happening to him?" Jess asked, his hands still shaking. "Wh...why is he getting smaller?"

So very observant, as good boys are.

"Because, my dear, all children are small, especially little girls."

Lest the record be unclear, the secret to the Hargrave family fortune, which lies in our pharmaceutical and cosmetic empires, is built on our concentrated hormone and gene splicing packages. A few grams in a pill or topical cream can bring about more youthful, feminine skin and features. Tens of thousands of grams, particularly in the body of an adult male wolf, can have profound life and gender altering effects.

Adam pouted as his adult musculature condensed, his body shrinking as once supple, masculine muscle was replaced with the plump, adipose fat of a toddler.

"M...momma, I feel weird," he bleated, his shrinking legs kicking as his tummy softened out, the milk spreading into chub across his increasingly small, feminine form.

I gave him a playful tickle across his shrinking footpads "That's because you're becoming momma's beautiful little girl."

Through fussy giggles, Adam looked up at me with glassy, confused eyes. "B..but I don't wanna be a girl!"

"Oh, come now," I said, petting his softening fur as he shrank smaller into my arms. "You'll get to wear pretty dresses, and momma can give you the most elegant bows and flower crowns. Don't you want to be pretty for momma?"

Think me a misandrist, dear reader, but watching boys fuss as the last of their gender is peeled away has always been a guilty pleasure of mine; and as Adam's now fully toddler form kicked and fidgeted in my arms, I couldn't help but smile as the world was rid of another terrible man.

"You'll look so pretty, and you'll be the most beautiful of all my daughters. My precious, precious Adriana."

Adam, now my beautiful Adriana, broke into tears, her body and mind racked by more feelings and emotions in the last 30 minutes than it had experienced in a lifetime, as is so often the case with little girls.

"Shhh, quiet now, my child. Momma is here," I said, petting her soft, delicate fur. The child calming her tears into sniffles.

"I...I just wanna be a good girl, momma, but I'm afraid."

"I know you are, honey," I said, placing her on the floor before me, the poor thing falling onto her adorable rump as her freshly deformed muscles failed to support her weight. "Momma can make all those doubts go away. Would you like that, Adriana?"

Adriana sniffled and her eyes quivered as I cupped her head and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Yes, momma. I wanna be a good girl."

"Then a good girl you shall be," I said, reeling back as I drove her head between my legs, cramming her face into my sex.

It is said, dear reader, that the miracle of birth is a sight to behold, and I contend, with no reservation, that such beauty is no less diminished in reverse, though I suspect Jess did not share in this belief.

My obedient cameraman screamed and dropped the camera to the ground, its flimsy body smashing against the cement floor, Jess recoiling in fear at the sight of his friend-turned-toddler being wedged to the shoulders between my thick labia.

"Such a naughty boy, Jess" I said, biting my lip through the incoming contractions. "Momma wanted a video of her favorite part."

Adriana barely let out a peep as I pulled her past the shoulders into my slick, inviting depths, but who should be surprised? What calmer place exists for a soon to be newborn child than her mother's body?

It has been suggested, through empty-headed editorials by the dozens, that the pleasure I derived from returning my child to her rightful place inside my womb was nothing short of lurid grotesquery. Yet are there not women who have achieved orgasm from birth? Do not many women report a positive sensation from the immense stretching and filling that comes with the blessing of a natural birth? That fruitful mixture of pain, pressure, and pleasure that cannot be replicated by anything else in the sexual domain? Should you judge me, dear reader, you judge all of womankind.

Now, as I did then on that basement floor, I make no apologies for reveling in the pleasures of the flesh.

And revel I did as Adriana's plump body stretched me to my limits, her fat, doughy belly cramming tight into my slick canal as her head pressed hard against my cervix, impatiently demanding entrance into her fleshy cradle.

I pawed furiously at my clitoris as my cervix dilated, the pain like an old friend as my womb hungered to accept another child. With a paw gently wrapped around her delicate legs, I pressed Adriana against the dilating aperture of my cervix, her body jamming into my deepest reaches like a bizarre, living dildo.

With gritted teeth and a concerted push, Adriana's head crested my cervix, plunging deeper into my now dripping sex. Overwhelmed by pleasure, I splayed my paws against floor, desperate claws digging into raw concrete as I braced myself against the building tide. With deep, guttural moans, my walls clenched hard against Adrianna's legs, her little paws kicking as my vagina pulled her deeper and deeper into my womb, my nerves flayed raw with orgiastic pleasure.

With a roar, loud enough to send Jess scrambling into the corner, I dragged the last of Adriana into my sex, her tiny digits squirming as they were sucked into my depths with a rebarbative slurp.

With a howling scream, I orgasmed hard and deep, my vaginal walls contracting like a vise as they gushed what felt like a gallon of pent up cum onto the concrete, utterly soaking the basement floor with my musky, feminine discharge.

I cradled my gut as a wave of mini orgasms tingled through my body, my lungs drawing deep the sour basement air as my pulse and mind settled. I relished in the orgasmic afterglow as my child curled up inside me, my body wasting no time establishing an umbilical cord connection as it cocooned Adrianna in a thin amniotic sack, eager to recode her DNA and strip away that nasty Y chromosome once and for all.

I rose to my feet, welcoming the familiar weight of being heavy with child. The humid scent of my sex utterly saturated the air, but so too did the distinct smell of squirrel urine--Jess' now telltale sign--as he cowered and whimpered in the corner.

The poor thing was in shock, and despite being perturbed at him for failing to capture my finest moment, no true mother could ever stay mad at her child, especially in their time of need.

"Shhh," I said, kneeling to pet the poor creature. Jess pulled away reflexively, still balled up and sobbing.

"You...you fucking killed him," he said, tears streaming down his muzzle and falling between his knees.

"Goodness no," I said, pulling him gently to my body, his tremors intensifying from my touch. "Your friend is perfectly safe! I would never harm such an innocent child. Here, feel for yourself."

I placed Jess' reluctant paw on my taught, gravid belly, the squirrel fighting another breakdown as I ran it across the bulging surface.

"See. Warm and cozy."

Jess winced as he felt little Adriana kick inside my womb.

"He...he's in there?"

"She's in there," I corrected. "All snug and tight. An overdose of my milk can't make all the changes needed to switch one's sex, but deep inside my tummy, she can be reborn into something greater."

Jess ran his hand across my belly willingly, carefully probing in silent shock.

"This...this is so fucked up," he whispered.

"No, my dear. This is redemption."

I held the poor child in my arms for what seemed a fortnight as he cried his heart out, the weight of the situation and his own actions proving too much for him to handle. Through sobs and fits, I held him tight to my massive frame and ran my claws through his fur, comforting him through his hard-learned lesson.

Beset by exhaustion and cradled in my arms, the boy was but another angel in my tender care, and I felt waves of guilt for what I soon had to do.

Held in shock as he was, it was no effort to fasten Jess' restraints back onto his skinny little wrists, the poor boy breaking from his daze with frightening speed as the familiar weight of his shackles returned.

"Wh...what are you doing!" He said with a squeak, looking at me with those betrayed, innocent eyes. "You said you wouldn't hurt me if I did what you said!"

"And I intend to keep that promise," I said softly as I stood and proceeded to the door.

"Collingsworth, my dear boy," I said into the callbox. "The mistress of the house is finished for the evening."

"Very good, madam. Your evening arrangements have already been prepared."

"As have yours, Collingsworth. Please, come join me in the cellar."

"At once, madam."

A moment passed before the basement door opened, my 7-foot-tall, rakish bull butler appearing in the threshold, donning as much mass and muscle underneath his tuxedo as he did proper English finesse and servitude in his soul.

"You are relieved from your duties this evening, Collingsworth. Should you require tomorrow for respite, you are free to take it as you please."

"My thanks, madam." Collingsworth said, undoing his bowtie and working down the buttons of his tuxedo. "Your guest is a rather small one, so I suspect I should be back on my feet, albeit a bit sluggish, by the A.M."

My ears perked as Jess cried out, my heart sinking at his sincere pleading.

"Please! Please! Let me go! Oh my god, please let me go!" he screamed, puling at his bonds. "Miss Hargrave! M...Momma, please! I Won't tell anyone! I promise!"

From as early age, a man is taught that he cannot have everything; All actions have a cost and a tradeoff. Loyalty and silence like Collingsworth's doesn't come free, and the old boy's devotion required the occasional sampling of certain delicacies in the form of live, wriggling meals.

To let Jess run free, no matter the promises he would make with great sincerity, could endanger my yet unborn daughter if he were to reveal my actions, even by accident. The boy had made his decision to follow Adam long ago, and I had to make mine; though I confess, my dear reader, that I did so with a heavy heart.

"I love you, Jess." I said warmly, staring back at the terrified boy shackled to the floor. "Momma promises that Collingsworth will be gentle."

The sounds of his shrieks and pleas as I closed the door behind me will sit heavy on my soul till I draw my last breath, but even the most fortunate of families must make sacrifices, and I would allow nothing to harm my perfect, unborn child.

The rest of the tale, born of my own doltish negligence, should be all too familiar to any reader with a pulse who has glimpsed a periodical or television in the past 6 months. For the fortunate soul saved from the raucous piffle of mass media however, I shall elucidate.

Suspecting illegal business collusion inside my various companies, the FBI had staked surveillance outside my property, hoping to find politicians or regulators coming and going from my manor, but were unfortunate enough to observe 3 boys enter my property, but never leave. A hastily obtained wiretap warrant later, they uncovered the remnants of the home movie Jess had shot for me when I uploaded it to my personal network days later, unware of my traffic being monitored.

A loudly publicized investigation and conviction later, I find myself still locked inside this abysmal jailhouse without bail, 6 months pregnant with my child, and weeks away from a trial that my lawyers delicately inform me may carry a death sentence if convicted of kidnaping and murdering 3 young men.

As of this writing, the state holds no hard evidence to convict me of what happened to the rabbit child, nor any true knowledge concerning the fate of poor Jess, let alone my collusion in the matter. They do however hold video evidence of me 'rehabilitating' Adriana, and they dither, even now, on how to reconcile it morally, let alone legally.

I hold fast that with my 8 daughters -All full grown, healthy, and happy-- sitting behind me in the courtroom, I will be found innocent of the absurd charges leveled against me.

I saved Adriana's life that night, freeing her from a lifetime of inflicting pain and suffering upon others. She will grow up to be strong and proud, delighting in her new femininity, and one day, she will know the unending joy that motherhood brings, just as I have.

What my second mother once gave to me, I have given to Adrianna, and she will be all the better for it.

This ledger upon which I write will be placed in the confidence of my stalwart manservant, Collingsworth. It is, as you are now aware, to be published upon my release from bondage pending a not-guilty verdict, or upon my execution, should the hypocritical state government see fit to judge me for what they even more cruelly do to others.

Adrianna, my precious daughter, should it be you who is reading this so many years after the injustice of my execution, then know now how terribly sorry momma is for not being there for you, and how angry she is for being robbed of watching her most precious child grow up into the amazing woman that I know you are. Believe me when I say that everything I've done, I've done for you, and that when my eyes close for the last time, I will go peacefully into that night, comforted until the last by the love you and I have shared.

And should the worst have not come to pass, my wonderful daughter, then stop reading now, and give your momma a call or come visit. I would love nothing more than to hear your voice or cover you in all the kisses and love you deserve.

That, and my little baby can never have enough big, warm bear hugs, now can she?

-From the Desk of Mischa Hargrave; loving mother and philanthropist.

-June 3rd, 2017