FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Disclaimer: This is a horrible work of fetishistic interest. Those with with a stomach for embarrassment, diapers and mind regression and a sense of adventure may be interested.

Rain came down heavily, battering Laura's windshield with heavy drops that smeared across the glass and made the washed out road that much harder to navigate. She was beginning to become faintly worried; afternoon had already begun to darken into evening and the prospect of finding the house in the dark was becoming more dismal by the moment.

The calico feline was an employee of LiveCo, an engineering and construction firm that specialized in state-of-the-art residences: houses that combined elegant architectural style with the most modern of conveniences. The company was particularly famous for its innovation in computer-controlled monitoring and assistance facilities -- a house designed and constructed by LiveCo carried with it the reputation for being entirely secure and equipped to keep its occupants living in an environment that promised no less than every possible amenity imaginable.

Her job consisted of in-the-field quality control and inspections of recently finished homes, although the instance that had brought her out onto this unpleasant road in the middle of nowhere on a late summer evening was different. A former client of LiveCo had passed on and ownership of his estate had been called into question -- with no direct next-of-kin, distant relatives had squabbled over exactly who would inherit the property and Laura had been called upon to to survey the building and find out precisely what it was worth.

While not pleased about being sent out to such a remote location (an interesting peculiarity, but not entirely odd; those people who could afford LiveCo's services tended to be somewhat eccentric in and of themselves and LiveCo was certainly used to working with exotic and out-of-the-way locations), the fact that she had been selected for the assignment filled her with a small thrill -- if this was handled smoothly and efficiently, it would certainly make her name stand out when the next position as Senior Inspector opened up.

Laura was on the verge of just turning around and returning to the motel that she had passed not too long ago, but, to her relief, the distinctive shape of the building finally came into view as she came around a wide turn. A few moments later, she was pulling off the worn road and onto the long concrete drive that marked the entrance to the estate. The exterior of the building, built with a subtle victorian influence that included a rounded turret and a wide porch, looked dismal and haunted in the shadows cast by dying evening light. Parking her car in the drive out front, she felt a pang of anxiety at the thought of spending the night in such an imposing building. Laura dismissed the feeling, the feline taking a deep breath -- "Senior Inspector. You're doing this for Senior Inspector," -- before gathering her things and making a frantic dash through the rain up onto the porch.

The key turned easily in the lock-- thank goodness thought Laura-- and soon the door was pushed open. It was dark. Shadowy shapes swam in the mansion's dimly-lit interior, long shadows thrown by what light was able to make it through the windows and her hand crawled over the wall until her fingers found the light switch.

There was a faint hum of electricity before the lights finally kicked in, slowly brightening as if reluctant to do so. Not entirely to her surprise, the room illuminated revealed itself to be both immaculately clean and tastefully decorated. One of the more macabre features that a LiveCo home offered -- one that wasn't advertised in the brochures, certainly -- was a contingency for every possible situation that could occur, including a client's death; among the processes that were set in motion should such an event occur, there was included one that was responsible for making sure that the house was left in a clean and presentable state before shutting down all systems into hibernation.

This certainly seemed to be the case here -- outside of the lights, everything in the house seemed to be dead and silent, only the faint sound of rain drumming against the building's windows and roof audible. Briefly, she considered booting up the system and getting to work right there, but decided against it -- already the evening was beginning to turn into night and she was tired. Work will be there in the morning, Laura thought.

Again, she felt a faint sense of uneasiness, a foreboding feeling that gave the fur on the back of her neck a slight rise and again, it was dismissed. Taking charge of the situation, she rummaged through the folder she had been given that contained, among other things, the floor plans for the building and began walking down the hallway, pack slung over her shoulder with her head swinging back and forth as she tried to find the visitor's bedroom.

It proved to be a little more difficult than she had imagined. The floor plans seemed to have very little bearing on the layout of the house she was now in and she poked into room after another -- a lavish dining room dominated by an imposingly large table, a sitting room with a frightening population of doilies, even a bathroom that was, in and of itself, larger than Laura's own apartment -- for what seemed like hours. All the while, she was aware of a faint prickle of wariness, a feeling of being not entirely alone.

I'm just being silly, she thought.

After what seemed like hours, she finally came across a modest bedroom -- modest meaning four-poster bed, in this instance. Laura left her bag on the foot of the bed and walked into the adjoining bathroom, creeping lightly on her toes to avoid making noise.

A refreshing wash later, Laura slipped back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and began brushing her blonde hair back, briefly considering giving a friends a call -- any friend really, the quiet of the house was beginning to get to her. It was starting to get late, though. Instead, she pulled a paperback out of her bag and settled onto the bed. It was like this that sleep eventually found her.

Roughly an hour after she had finally become unconscious, her head lolled gently to the side, the movement prompted by a growing stiffness in her neck. From the darkness of the room emanated a faint mechanical whirr, the sound of a lens following the movement.

---

Laura was greeted by the sun's rays streaming in through the large windows. She sleepily pushed her eyes open and instantly regretted it, throwing a hand over her face. Something unusual was lurking on the edge of her senses -- she recognized a familiar smell and she dozily wondered to herself, "...scrambled eggs?"

The calico feline sleepily pushed herself up onto her elbows, rolled over and promptly froze, eyes widening at the sight that presented itself to her at the foot of the bed.

Standing there was a creature of enormous size, fully two feet taller than Laura. From the waist up, the thing was just as normal as anything else you might expect to see in the house -- a prim brown-furred woman of nondescript origins, her black hair clipped and pulled back in a tight bun, with delicate elfin features. She was dressed in a black and white dress reminiscent of victorian servant's wear. The only feature that that might give pause were her eyes; eight of them, black and shiny, with dark ringlets that whirred as they shrunk and grew -- tiny lens apertures inside each one.

Normality ended below her waist however, the creature's body twisting into a bulbous and segmented torso that dwarfed the rest of her body. The full proportions were blocked by the footboard of the bed, but Laura glimpsed several long and delicate legs supporting the thing in the same fashion as an arachnid -- which is what she was, Laura realized.

The only thing that had kept her from screaming was the non-sequitur presence of a silver serving tray propped up by the thing's hands, Atop it was a slice of toast, a healthy portion of scrambled eggs and two pieces of crispy bacon still-steaming bacon.

For a moment, all the cat could do was stare at the creature who seemed content to look right back at her, its expression locked in a patient subdued smile. Then, as if a spell had been broken, the creature began to move, scuttling around the bed to reach the side that Laura was laying in. Her movements were graceful and almost entirely silently.

Something so massive should not move so quietly, thought Laura to herself.

"Your breakfast, young mistress. I could not predict whether you preferred sugar or cream with your tea, so I prepared both." The spider's tone was clipped, speaking in a well-to-do voice that had a faint electronic buzz to it. With Laura still staring, she settled the tray on the bedside table, smiled graciously at her, and then made to move off back towards the door. The segmented legs pistoned in graceful and coordinated strides over the hardwood floor.

Her senses and her voice returning to her, Laura said, "W-wait, just one moment."

The creature turned, looking over her shoulder with an expression of polite interest.

"Who are you?" Nothing in her documentation had mentioned any caretaker. Laura briefly studied the spider before becoming briefly sidetracked by the smells coming from the tray beside her. Her stomach gave an audible growl of hunger and she forced herself to turn her attention back to the creature.

"My designation is CH44-10T3, but for the purposes of communication, you may call me Ms. Charlotte." responded the arachnid with a polite bob of her head. "I am the hands and feet of the computer sub-system that is responsible for monitoring and maintaining the house."

The calico boggled. Of course, she was familiar with concept -- this was not the first artificial construct built by LiveCo by any stretch of the means, but never before had she seen one constructed in so unusual a shape. More to the point, nothing she had read in the house's documentation had mentioned having one.

...then again, thought Laura, the floor plan hadn't seemed accurate either. Already suspecting that there may have been an error in filing, Laura gathered herself together and nodded.

"That will be all, thank you, Charlotte," responded Laura. The creature once more executed a small bow and scuttled out of the room.

"Sorting this place out may be more work than I thought," groaned Laura when she was once more alone. She would make a call to the office to see about getting the right plans faxed over, but, for now, the smell of the food wafting up from the tray was becoming just too much to resist. Without another thought, she pulled the tray over into her lap and, after one hesitant bite to test the waters, she set into the food hungrily.

Not an hour had passed before Laura had had an extremely invigorating shower, performed all the morning rituals that were necessary to transform her from a mussy -furred yawning zombie into an attractively dressed young feline and checked in at the office. The correct floor plans were duly promised to be faxed over as soon as they could be found and, in the meantime, Laura had a mind to begin sketching out what she could herself.

Armed with a notebook and a pen, the feline stepped out into the hallway and, figuring one direction was good as the rest, took a right, deeper into the house, and began to sketch out a rough picture of the building's interior. The place was undeniably impressive -- each door lead open to a new picture of sensible decorum and taste. Laura was particularly taken by the study that she came across shortly into her excursion. The carpet was a dark red. There were two high-backed chairs sitting in front of a large fireplace, those flanked along the wall by bookcases filled from top to bottom with books of all sorts. It was all immaculate and, unbidden, the image of the arachnid caretaker crawling carefully from shelf to shelf and dusting rose in her mind. The thought made her shudder.

The house was much much larger than Laura had first anticipated. She had lost track of how many tasteful bedrooms that she had stumbled upon and was just closing the door on an expansive linen closet when she came upon a door like any other, save for its refusal to open. She tried at the lock with force, mildly surprised -- with the house's system in standby mode, every door should of been unlocked. She made a note of it, then turned...

...walking directly into the caretaker, who stood less than three feet behind her, looking at her with the same patient expression that she had been wearing when Laura had woke up. This time, the feline did scream, a startled yowl that was punctuated by the echoing sound of her notebook falling from her fingers onto the floor.

"Let me get that for you," said the artificial construction, not so much bending down as lowering herself to the floor with the same fluid grace that Laura had observed earlier. She retrieved the notebook and handed it back. Laura accepted it with a jerky motion -- the sudden arrival of the thing had startled her -- and tucked it underneath her arm.

"I would appreciate it if you did not do that again," said the feline, speaking briskly. "You gave me a fright.."

"My apologies," responded Ms. Charlotte, dipping down again in a short curtsey. "I will endeavor to not allow it to happen again."

A brief moment of awkward silence passed. Laura was again struck by the sheer size of the thing; she had to crane her neck back just to meet it eye to eye and the fact that she was simply there, looming over her with that patient smile, unnerved her. The idea of being frightened by the house's electronic avatar was a ridiculous one, however. She cleared her throat before half-turning, motioning to the door behind her.

"Charlotte, this door's locked and it's not supposed to be. Do you know what's behind it?"

For a long moment, Ms. Charlotte did not respond, the thing's expression blank as it considered Laura's question. Finally, it spoke up: "I don't seem to have access to that information. If you wish, I could investigate the matter at the main terminal."

"I would," responded Laura. She made to move out of the way, but Ms. Charlotte was blocking the way. She cleared her throat and said, "That will be all, thank you."

"Of course. I had only come to find you and inform you that your lunch was waiting in the dining room."

Lunch? Already? Laura's eyes dipped down to her watch and found, to her surprise, that several hours had already passed since she had first stepped out of her room. This house really was much more massive than she had originally thought it.

"Very well then. Please, lead on, Charlotte," said Laura. The spider clasped her hands together and bowed, then turned around and moved back down the long hallway. Laura followed not too far behind, moving quickly so as not to fall too far behind; the twists and turns she had taken in her exploration had left the way back a little hazy in her mind.

Lunch turned out to be a ham-and-cheese sandwich. Laura, hungrier than she thought, ate enthusiastically. After swallowing down several bites, she brought her drink to her mouth and took a large mouthful before coughing in surprise -- milk! The taste wasn't exactly unpleasant, but it did seem an odd choice of beverage; despite what a person may suspect about a cat and the old stereotype, milk was a rarity, had once in a while with a bowl of cereal.

She was holding the glass up to her nose, looking down at it with distaste, when it happened.

A piercing shriek blasted through the air, a high-pitched hammer of a sound that went between her ears like a needle. She shrieked herself, her own sound lost within the much larger one and immediately put her hands over her ears. The glass, forgotten entirely in the rush of the moment, toppled down, landing between her lap before rolling over the side and smashing on the hard floor, spilling, in the process, most of its contents across the front of her blouse and skirt. Laura cupped her hands over her ears, but the motion was meaningless -- by the time she had acted, the sound had already come and gone, leaving her behind wet and trembling.

Slowly, carefully, her body still rigid from the shock of sound, Laura straightened back up. Her chest heaved up and down. With slightly trembling arms, she reached out and pushed herself away from the table, then stood up, being careful to avoid the shards of glass that were littered around her feet.

Laura was alone. A glance around the room confirmed it. Whatever had made the ungodly noise was not here. This fact assured of, she glanced down at herself.

She was a mess. While her blouse had certainly received a fair bit of collateral damage, the worst of the spill had been centered right in her lap, where the milk had puddled before soaking into her skirt. Laura squeezed the hem of her skirt, sending droplets of milk onto her leg. It trailed down their insides, creating a sensation that made Laura want to squirm.

"Oh, my. It looks like you've had an accident."

Laura's head jerked up. There stood Ms. Charlotte in the doorway, her arms folded over one another with her head tilted to the side in an expression of interested concern.

"T-there was a noise. It startled me and I, I. How could you not hear it?" stammered Laura, still somewhat rattled.

"Noise? You must be mistaken. I heard nothing," said the artificial arachnid. She crossed the distance between herself and Laura. Before knew what was happening, the thing had its hand locked around her wrist and was ushering her towards the door and out into the hall. "We need to get you taken care of. Just come with me and everything will be alright."

This action was so unexpected that Laura could only scramble to keep up with the spider. It wasn't until they were in the hallway, that she found the presence of mind to try to pull herself back.

"Charlotte, I can take care of myself. Let me go," exclaimed Laura, trying to brace her feet and tug her arm back. The action was futile -- the larger spider simply pulled her along.

"Nonsense. Let Ms. Charlotte take care of that for you."

The mechanical caretaker was moving at a speedy pace, and it was all Laura could do to keep up with her. Starting to panic, she tried to jerk herself away with all the force she had and insisted, "I command you let me go!" All her efforts netted her was with a sore arm and a drag along the floor before she was able to regain her footing. Ms. Charlotte seemed entirely heedless of her shouted demands or attempts to pull away and instead just continued to drag her further into the building.

Laura never even planned to do it. Her body simply acted on reflex. While passing by a small table with a tastefully decorative lamp, Laura reached out and grabbed the fixture by its neck. In one vicious arcing motion, she brought the light fixture around and smashed it against the right side of Ms. Charlotte's head.

The lamp shattered into pieces that fell from Laura's hand and, for a moment, she thought that her attack had had effect -- Ms. Charlotte jerked forward once before halting in place. Her head slowly pivoted she turned to look at Laura. Several of Ms. Charlotte's eyes had been smashed to pieces and from one blue sparks of electricity crackled and fizzled, smelling of burnt ozone. Bits of her artificial plastic skin had been torn away, revealing flecks of metal underneath.

Ms. Charlotte smiled.

"You've been naughtily," admonished the arachnid. Before Laura could register what was happening, the spider had withdrew a syringe from the fold of her clothes and, in one swift movement, she had stuck it in Laura's arm and depressed the top.The effect was almost instantaneous. The feline felt her muscles go limp and relaxed underneath her. Her head lolled to one side, every sensation feeling as if it were coming from miles away.

Ms. Charlotte pulled Laura into her arms, one hand cradling under her knees while the other gently propped up her neck, supporting her head. "Lets get you taken care of, shall we?" Her tones were knowing, mocking and they resumed their skittering journey down the hallway.

Laura may have been hardly able to move, but her other senses seemed to be left intact. She watched the ceiling pass her by as Ms. Charlotte carried her deeper and deeper into the building's interior, her mind still reeling from the bizarre surreality of the situation. Was she really in the arms of the robotic caretaker? Did it really just prick her shoulder with a needle? The faint sting on her forearm and the evidence of her eyes forced to accept that, yes, that really was what seemed to have happened. She stared in mute numbness at the ceiling until she realized that Ms. Charlotte had finally stopped.

She heard the sound of a doorknob being turned and then her view started to move again, the world around her becoming dark as Ms. Charlotte stepped into the unlit room. A brief feeling of vertigo gripped her stomach as she was suddenly repositioned, turned rightside-up and shifted into a sitting position in one of Ms. Charlotte's monstrously strong arms while the other, now free, reached over and flipped on the light switch.

Faint pink walls. A pink wood panelling across the top, interspersed with pictures of fluffy white clouds. What revealed itself to be a crib, with white painted bars, and across from it, a stout wooden changing table with a white rubber top.

A nursery, thought Laura. It's just a nursery.

Except something seemed wrong. It took Laura a moment to realize why: everything was huge, oversized to a ridiculous extreme. The crib could hold three adults with room to spare, and it would certainly be a gigantic baby that would be placed on top of the changing table. In the corner was a toy chest with plushes and other stuffed animals circling around it, the smallest of which looked as if it would come up to Laura's waist, with the largest seeming her size and half again. A playpen stood nearby, the padded plastic walls looking taller than Laura was herself. What kind of baby would stay in a room like this, Laura thought to herself. It would have to be -- no, oh, no.

The thought occurred even as Ms. Charlotte was ferrying her towards the changing table. Realizing what was to come, Laura tried her best to writhe away, but all that she produced was a meager wiggle. Her protests came out as incomprehensible mewls as the arachnid laid her on her back and smiled down beneficently at her.

"We've got to get you all cleaned up before anything else, little one," and, without another word, she began to unbutton Laura's blouse and get it worked over the feline's head. Laura could only wriggle feebly as her blouse was worked over the top of her head and then discarded onto the floor.

Laura was wearing a thin white bra. The sight of it elicited a cluck of disapproval from Ms. Charlotte, who wordlessly bent, propping up the feline just enough that she was able to reach behind and undo the catch in the back. It too followed the same fate of the blouse, leaving the two swells of her chest naked, her small pink nipples barely visible through the feline's black and white fur.

"No," groaned Laura, knowing what was coming next. The spider ignored her, deftly working the feline's skirt down her legs, past her knees and off entirely. This left behind the feline's stylish red panties. Laura tried to kick, but the motion was far beyond her ability and it was all she could do but watch over the curve of her stomach as Ms. Charlotte relieved her of those too.

"Entirely inappropriate for a young girl who can't even manage to keep herself dry," observed Ms. Charlotte, discarding the panties along with the rest of Laura's clothes. The spider disappeared entirely out of Laura's sight -- she could hear the creature's movements off to the side, but she could not see her. The feline stared upward at the gentle pink ceiling, her heart thudding dully in her chest. The shock of what had happened was beginning to wear off, and she was getting a chance to think

The system that ran this house had been apparently warped in ways most bizarre and disturbing. She had to get out before the thing ended up doing anything worst, but she was stuck fast by paralysis, unable to do more than the most feeble of movements.

Ms. Charlotte finally came back into view. Laura's heart almost skipped a beat at the sight of her arms full, then relaxed slightly -- unvoiced thoughts at the back of her mind had been wondering about possibilities far more gruesome than what Ms. Charlotte carried, which seemed to be nothing more than a thick disposable diaper. There are many things that a disposable diaper can be, but frightening is not one of them.

The mechanical arachnid began to hum underneath her breath, even as she smiled down at Laura. The expression was particularly disturbing, given that half of the spider's face was caved in and split open where it had been struck with the lamp. Without another word, she took a wipe and, to Laura's sudden and extreme embarrassment, began to gently clean the most intimate part of the feline's body.

While Laura was, for the most part, paralyzed, she certainly hadn't lost any feeling in her body -- much the reverse, she could only feel too well the sensation of the warm wipe traveling across the crevice between her legs, rubbing faintly between each cheek. The feline was allowed a brief moment of respite as Ms. Charlotte readied another wipe, then steeled herself as the wipe brushed across the surface of her folds.

She bit down on her lip, the most movement of expression she was able to make, entirely wrapped in the feeling of Ms. Charlotte cleaning her. It wasn't an unenjoyable feeling in the physical sense (and Laura wouldn't dare admit that it was, in some way, pleasurable) -- it was simply the most personal intrusion invasion of her privacy she had ever felt, as if this sentient piece of machinery had, with very little how do you do, had reduced her to the most vulnerable state of existence that she had ever felt in her life. It was a humbling experience and Laura felt on the verge of tears from helplessness by the time that Ms. Charlotte finished.

"There. Doesn't it feel better when we're all nice and clean?" cheerfully inquired the machine that called herself Ms. Charlotte. Laura tried to kick out her foot in embarrassment and annoyance and was surprised when her leg actually jerked a bit -- the effects of the drug were apparently short-lived.

"Now, lets just get you into your diaper," conversationally continued the creature, as if Laura had not just tried to kick her. She unfolded the disposable diaper, bringing it into Laura's field of vision. It was, to Laura's unsurprised dismay, just like everything else in the room, an enormous facsimile that would look entirely appropriate on an oversized infant. Stuffed thickly and decorated with a colorful and infantile band of tape across the front, it was the antithesis to the stylish and modern business clothes that she usually wore. Still humming, Ms. Charlotte lifted Laura's unresponsive legs out from underneath her and slid the babyish garment underneath her bottom before settling her back down upon it.

Tending to her charge, Ms. Charlotte took the canister of baby powder and upended it over Laura's crotch. She was aware of the brief and ticklish feeling of the powder settling over her front and along the intimate curves of her behind, and then the more wholly invasive feeling of Ms. Charlotte rubbing the powder into her fur. She was embarrassingly aware of the infantile scent, reminiscent of toddlerhood, floating in her air, centered around her groin. Oblivious to her discomfort, the mechanical spider beamed a smile at Laura over the curve of her stomach, then brought the diaper up between the feline's legs and attended to the business of fastening the tapes. The diaper was thick, intrusively so -- the padding forced her legs apart, forcing her into a bowlegged position that entirely precluded the possibility of being able to walk in a normal fashion.

"Isn't that much better? And isn't my little one the most adorable thing that I've ever seen," cooed Ms. Charlotte. The humbled and humiliated feline was helped into a sitting position while, with her free hand, she readied the completion to Laura's outfit -- a pink ones, complete with snaps around the crotch and rear just in case fast attention was needed to the crinkling diaper that hugged Laura's hips. The feline's grumbled hissing reply, just like all the others, was ignored as Ms. Charlotte amicably guided the feline into the ones: legs first, then pulled up over her middle, with her arms guided into the short sleeves. Ms. Charlotte picked Laura back up into her arms, pulling the zipper behind her back up and effectively locking her into the infantile outfit.

"You've been acting very fussy," observed the mechanical caretaker, "so I think it'd be best if we put you down for a quick nap. Won't that be nice?" The spider's words came out with a sing-song lilt. Laura was able to articulate a grumbled mutter that sounded remarkably close to, "fuck off," but Ms. Charlotte, either feigning ignorance or simply ignoring her, rose to her full height, she deposited Laura into the crib.

With the gentle love of a mother to its child (and made all the more terrifying by the missing portions of her face), she leaned down and kissed Laura upon the forehead. With that done, she lowered herself back down into her normal position, took a step back, as if to take Laura in in her entirety and admire her handiwork, and then turned to scuttle back out of the nursery.

She had almost exited when, pausing by the door, she reached over to fiddle with the room's control panel. A moment later, a piping and gently melodic nursery tune began to pipe out of the room's speakers.

"Sleep well, my little one," said the spider, gave Laura one more disturbing smile, and then scuttled out of the room, locking the door behind it.

Laura stared at the doorway for a moment after it had left, held in place by the sheer surreality of all that had just transpired. When she was sure that the spider wasn't going to come into the room for the immediate moment, she glanced around, coming to her senses and taking stock of the situation.

She was in an oversized crib which was itself situated in a gigantic nursery, and had just been tended to by the clearly insane caretaker of the house -- she had been kidnapped practically, and then seriously humiliated to boot. She brought her arm over in a jerky movement, the feline rubbing at her shoulder and wincing at the tender area where the needle had pricked her.

Okay.

The first thing she needed to do was to get out of this crib. She weakly pushed herself forward onto her hands and knees, emitting a quiet mewl of disappointment at how difficult this simple action was. From there, she tried to push herself up onto her feet. Impossible -- she was barely able to bring her upper body off the ground before her weakness took over, sending her back onto her hands and knees. The movement made her once again aware of the thickness that was forcing her legs apart and, with an exertion of movement, she rolled over and sat down on her padded bottom, legs splayed wide. She sat staring at the undeniable bulk of the padding through the fabric of her pink onesie before reaching around, furiously trying to reach the zipper that had sealed her into the babyish garment. It was, however, entirely impossible, totally beyond her range of movement.

Laura whined with frustration. She was becoming aware of an odd feeling in her head, a sort of dreaminess that increased with each passing second. The music playing in the background, quiet and inoffensive, seemed to have a way of filling her head, making her unable to focus on anything but its gentle and soothing lilt. She blinked her eyes sleepily, losing track of her thoughts. Escape. She was supposed to be escaping. The thought slipped away from her, though she desperately tried to grab it and keep ahold of it in her mind. She might as well have been trying to hold onto smoke.

Laura was only briefly aware of the realization that it was getting hard to keep her eyes open. She swayed where she sat before dozily leaning over, her head coming into contact with the one of the soft pillows before giving into unconsciousness entirely. A moment later, she was snoring faintly, a dozy look of vacant bliss on her face while, out of the corner of her mouth, a tendril of drool leaked out.

---

Laura's eyes peeked out through the narrow slits of her eyelids, sleepily taking in the faint light. On the wall directly across from her sat a small night light and, save for it, the room was dark.

Laura purred sleepily as she propped herself up on her elbows. One side of her face felt wet and she rubbed the back of her forearm against it, then absently regarded the wet streaks left in the fabric of her onesie. Drool, she thought. Huh.

She reached out and gripped the first thing her hand came to: the wooden bar of the crib. With a little effort, she was able to pull herself up onto her knees. The feline had difficulty doing it -- not like earlier, because her body felt paralyzed, but simply because it felt difficult to move her arms and legs in the way she wanted. She felt uncoordinated, clumsy, though it didn't bother her. In fact, Laura felt pretty good and a faint smile played on her muzzle as she shifted her weight against the bars of the crib and blinked into the darkness. Everything except...

In the back of her mind, she became aware of an unpleasant pressure, an annoying tingling intruding upon her contentment. Her body responded for her, her legs spreading slightly even as Laura felt herself bend. The pressure disappeared, replaced by an entirely different sort of tingling that coaxed another purr from the feline's lips. The sensation was... warm was the word that occurred dreamily in her mind. Yes. She felt a warmth radiating from her lower half and the experience was so much a pleasant one that it was all she could do but lean there, face pressed against the wooden bars, and purr.

The feeling eventually passed, though Laura didn't immediately stir. Thinking was difficult and, so caught up in the pleasant afterglow, it was a few moments before she found herself able to focus on anything. In the end, it was the night light that brought her out of the trance -- a leering clown's face, disturbing in its illumination.

Such a creepy thing, thought Laura. Like that spider. The... spider.

The thought functioned like an anchor. Still blinking vacantly into the open dark, she focused her mind on the spider. The spider that had brought her here. The spider that had taken her. The spider...

Still moving groggily, as if in a dream, Laura ran her hands over the bars in front of her. She was in a crib, a ridiculously huge crib, situated in a nursery that was itself a part of the house that had, in essentially, kidnapped her. It had kidnapped her, undressed her, diapered her and put her in a crib. And she, despite her best efforts, had fallen asleep, and now she had just woken up and...

Hand moving tentatively, as if afraid to find what she suspected, Laura brought her hands between her legs. The diaper was still there, just as it had been before she went to sleep, but it felt different -- even through the fabric of the onesie, it felt hot to the touch and heavier too. The pressure of her hand on the front forced the padding inside a little tighter against her crotch and she had to bite down on her lip to stifle the escaping gasp, a faint echo of the pleasure that she had felt moments before. The diaper was undeniably saturated and she realized, with a creeping horror, that she herself had dreamily filled it only moments ago.

Her immediate impulse was to push herself to her feet and her body swayed as she did so -- her muscles felt disconnected and uncoordinated, and she had to grip the bars of the crib to keep from falling as she worked herself into a standing position. Even then, however, she was unable to escape from the diaper, the babyish garment hugging her hips tightly as she wriggled. Laura was intensely aware of how much bulkier it felt, hanging between her legs with a heavier weight than she had felt before the nap. More than that, she was concerned about how it had felt -- the blissful vacancy of her mind as she had emptied herself. Even now, the feline was aware that there was a syrup-y consistency to her thoughts, each concept requiring effort and concentration.

Something was definitely wrong. The shot, remembered Laura -- the one that left her paralyzed. Something else must have been in there. If only she could--

Her thoughts were interrupted by the brightening of the nursery's lights and instinctively, she threw a hand over her eyes to shield them. The movement proved to be too sudden -- her already tenuous balance deserted her and she fell backwards, landing on her diaper's seat with an indignant mewl and an audible squelch. It was like this that Ms. Charlotte found her, the corrupted construct beaming down at Laura with her partially-destroyed face.

"I'm glad to see that you enjoyed your nap," trilled the machine as she reached down into the crib, carefully gripping Laura underneath her elbows and pulling her into her arms. So dulled were Laura's reflexes that Ms. Charlotte had already had opportunity to lay the feline over her shoulder and manipulate the snaps on her onesie before the feline could even realize what was being done. Her ears flattened against the side of her head as she felt the spider deftly slide a finger against the elastic of the diaper's leg band and pull it back -- she was being checked.

Ignoring Laura's squirming and whine of indignation, Ms. Charlotte praised, "Already wet? You're a faster learner than I had hoped." It was a strange remark and Laura look faintly puzzled as the words plodded through the morass of her mind. The construct clipped the feline's onesie back into place, apparently satisfied, then carried Laura back towards the nursery door.

Escape seemed impossible. The grip that Ms. Charlotte had on her was gentle but undeniably and irresistibly firm and Laura found that she could move very little -- the mechanical caretaker had shifted her so that her head rest on the spider's shoulder, with the bulk of her weight centered on top of the soggy diaper, under which Ms. Charlotte kept her supported with her hand. The position only served to keep her reminded of her babyish accident upon awaking. It was like this, muddle-minded and humiliated that the spider carried her, navigating through the building's maze-like interior.

"Here we are," cheerfully sang Ms. Charlotte, bringing her out of her daze. Laura blinked, then lifted her head and glanced around.

The spider had brought her back into the dining room. It was spotlessly clean -- all traces of the mess that Laura had made when she had been so alarmed earlier in the day had been seen to. The chair she had sat in, however, was gone, and in its place was a colorful high chair, just as oversized as everything that she had seen in the nursery. The feline immediately begin to wriggle as well she could, kicking her legs. "No, no, no, no, no..."

"There, there," soothed Ms. Charlotte in an electronic coo, mockingly patting the seat of Laura's diaper through the onesie, as if to calm her. "You'll feel much better after getting something in your tummy."

She scuttled over towards the high chair and deftly undid the supports that locked the tray in place, then pulled it away. There was little the feline could do in protestation and, a few moments later, she was seated in the high chair with Ms. Charlotte fastening the tray back into position.

Laura felt weak, entirely helpless. Her struggles seemed to amount to nothing next to the spider's disturbingly-obsessive motherly behavior and the humiliation wasn't helping -- she was painfully aware of the thick padding that circled her waist, pressing against her most intimate parts in a way that was more intrusive than anything she ever felt. As a businesswoman, she had felt defined in some portion by the bold and competent appearance that she scrupulously attended to every morning and it was a humbling and humiliating experience to find herself here, diapered and dressed in a onesie, fastened into a high chair and being looked after by this machine that fancied itself her nanny.

Ms. Charlotte seemed oblivious to Laura's dejection or, more likely, ignored it. After making sure that Laura was securely fastened, she tied a colorful bib around the feline's neck. Still beaming happily, she produced a jar of baby food, filled with an orange slop, and deftly popped the lid open. It was but a moment's work for her to take a plastic spoon and scoop up some of the mush and bring it to Laura's mouth.

"Open up wide, here comes the train!"

Laura crossed her arms and wordlessly looked away, expression locked in a petulant frown. She might be helpless to escape for the moment, but she wouldn't give in by playing along with the spider's game. She was a grown woman, after all, and above such things.

Ms. Charlotte tentatively probed the side of Laura's muzzle with the spoon, leaving a small smear of food. Laura could smell the faint hint of carrots and her stomach gurgled.

"Looks like someone is being a little cranky. Won't you cooperate for Ms. Charlotte?"

Laura continuing staring off to one side of the mechanical caretaker, her silence answer enough.

Ms. Charlotte heaved a digitally-tinged sigh, then settled the jar of baby food on the plastic tray. "I had hoped that we could of done this the easy way, little one" she reflected. Laura caught a glint of glass out of the corner of her eye and turned to look, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the syringe that the spider was pulling out of her maid's uniform. "Still, you must be fed, one way or another."

The feline's ears flattened against the side of her head, her tail lashing wildly about in panic. Her mind still felt slow and muddled, surely an aftereffect of the shot she had had earlier, and the thought of getting another frightened her. Her mouth dropped open, revealing two rows of pointed carefully-maintained teeth and she insisted, "I'll eat! I'll eat!"

For a moment, the spider seemed on the edge of deliberation, the needle hovering in the air only a few inches away from her arm. Ms. Charlotte regarded Laura was a neutral and calculating expression. Another series of sparks and flickers flew out from one of her damaged eyes and Laura involuntarily leaned back in her high chair, trying to shrink back as well she could. Then Ms. Charlotte smiled. The syringe was returned to the pocket from whence it came and the spider picked the jar of baby food back up and readied another spoonful. "Such a good girl," she praised, making the feline feel that much more humiliated. "Now, lets see what we can do about that empty tummy."

Again, Ms. Charlotte brought the spoonful of banana to Laura's mouth and this time, with an indignant sniffle, the feline closed her muzzle around it. The taste wasn't bad -- the opposite, in fact, for Laura greatly enjoyed bananas, and might very well have enjoyed the taste has it not been wrapped up in the gooey consistency of the baby food. With Ms. Charlotte watching carefully, she rolled the food around with her tongue twice before swallowing with a loud gulp.

Ms. Charlotte smiled encouragingly. "It's not so bad, is it?"

What followed was one of the most embarrassing experiences Laura had ever had in her life. She and Ms. Charlotte eventually fell into a rhythm, the spider gathering a fresh spoonful of baby food with, wordlessly, Laura accepting it into her mouth and swallowing it down. In truth, Laura calmed significantly after the first few bites -- it was simply easier to clear her mind (something that had began to come easier and easier) and just let the events of the present happen to her. After a few moments, without even being aware of it, she began to relax, the tensing in her body easing Laura began to lick her muzzle hungrily after each bite and eventually she held her mouth eagerly wide open for each subsequent bite without any prompting from Ms. Charlotte. In this way, the spider was able to work first steadily through first the jar of carrots, which was then followed by a jar of bananas and, after that, peas.

Laura might have continued throughout the entire meal without being disturbed by any more unpleasant thoughts when she became faintly aware that she was feeling another sort of pressure from around her stomach, though, this time, it definitely was not hunger.

She was midway through a spoonful of peas when the pressure made itself known and she instinctively crossed her legs as well as the thick padding of the diaper would allow and sat up. The sudden movement brought her in collision with the next spoonful that Ms. Charlotte had readied and Laura ended up getting peas smeared across her cheek.

"It's a good thing we thought to put that bib on you," observed Ms. Charlotte. She produced a washcloth that she used to dab at the feline's cheek. Laura squirmed, ears flattened against the side of her head -- the need wasn't yet very insistent, but the thought of using her diaper for that purpose filled her with an embarrassment that was nearly unspeakable.

"You're being awfully squirmy, too," continued Ms. Charlotte. She put the jar down on the tray, then leaned over, fiddling with the snaps that held tray locked into place over Laura's chest. "I think what you need is a little playtime so you'll be good and sleepy when we tuck you in."

Again, Laura was gathered into the construct's arms, shifted so that her head lay over Ms. Charlotte's shoulder, with one hand under her diaper for support and the other wrapped around her back. She felt full in every sense of the word and didn't even bother to put up a token resistance as she was carried out of the kitchen, focusing instead on trying to quell the growing uneasiness from her middle.

Ms. Charlotte carried her kidnapped charge through the mansion's twisting hallways. Laura was beginning to gain a sense of the building's layout and wasn't surprised to find herself recognizing the long hallway that lead into the nursery. Her captor was humming cheerfully, stroking the feline's back as she skittered through the door and flipped the light switch back on. Instead of moving back over to the crib, however, Ms. Charlotte carried Laura to the playpen that dominated the nursery's middle.

Like everything else in the room, the playpen was monstrously oversized -- the plastic walls came up almost to Laura's chest and it was fully wide enough that she would be able to touch any opposite two at once. Littered about its soft plastic-covered surface were all manner of toddler's toys, from plush animals that came up as high as her knee to wooden blocks that were almost as big as her hands. Ms. Charlotte leaned over, lowering Laura onto the bottom and playfully tousling the feline's hair before straightening up.

"You may play until it's time for bed," graciously said the spider, as if conferring a special favor. She smiled down at her -- sparkfzzzt went the damaged chunk of her face --, then scuttled silently back out of the nursery.

Laura held her breath for a moment, watching the door as if waiting for the spider to return any moment. When she didn't the feline slightly relaxed.

She didn't stand a chance of fighting off Ms. Charlotte; the spider was simply too large and too strong for this possibility to even be considered. If she was going to get out of this bizarre situation, she would have to escape and it looked as if her prime opportunity had finally come. Moving warily -- her limbs still seem so tired and heavy! --, she pushed herself up onto her feet and, gripping the side of the playpen for support, attempted to lever herself over the side.

It was an abject failure. Laura was dismayed to find that she lacked the simple strength to pull herself up over the side, where before it would have been an easy task for her limber feline body. Even worse, in her attempt to pull her leg up, she upset her stomach and reflexively bent at the knees, both hands folding over her tummy as she groaned. The pressure was becoming a persistent issue and, unwilling to make her diaper even dirtier, she held on for all her dignity was worth. In her efforts, she stumbled, the cat coming down heavily against one side of the playpen.

The tumble hurt, though not as much as it might of -- much of the force was soaked up by the thickness of her padding, just as surely as it had soaked up her prior accident. In it, though, Laura found her salvation -- the crib rocked lightly as she fell against and in noticing this, she got her idea. Putting away her sniffles, she pushed herself back to her feet and moved back over to the side of the crib. Tentatively, she spread her hands against the walls and then threw her weight against it.

This time, the crib definitely did rock, one side rising up from its plastic foundations before settling back down. A simple shove was not going to do it, though -- after considering all of her possibilities, she made up her mind and waddled over to the other side of the playpen. Biting down on her lip, she steeled herself and then ran with everything that she had.

It was really more of a waddle than a run. The diaper between her legs, thick to begin with and made even moreso by her accident, pushed her legs apart, making her run with a toddler's unsteady gait. The collision with the opposite side hurt, bringing out an injured yowl as the playpen started to tip. For one terrible moment, she thought it wasn't going to work -- it teetered perilously, resting at an angle on its edge. Luck was on Laura's side, however; after a long moment, it finally tipped over entirely, landing with a clatter and sending the feline sprawling.

Escape was momentarily thrown from the feline's mind -- her first impulse upon pushing herself up onto her knees was to wail, clutching her hand to her, which she had fallen upon. She quickly remembered where she was and what she was trying to do and, doing her best to still her sniffles, she unsteadily pushed herself back onto her feet and with awkward and unsteady movements, moved over to the door and tentatively tried the doorknob.

It turned easily under her hand. The door creaked quietly as it opened outwards and Laura peeked her head out the doorway.

Entirely empty, a hallway stretching from a distant that seemed so far away in Laura's current condition. She was panicked, fearful of the spider's return, and all the while painfully aware of the pressure in her middle that whispered of a desperation that would not wait much longer. Overlaid over all of this was the drowsiness of her mind, a sluggishness that had persisted in her mind ever since she had woken up. Assaulted at each corner by a new corner, the feline was momentarily struck still, unsure of what to do next before a new thought bubbled up in her mind -- her phone. If she could just get to her phone and get in touch with the company, everything would be sorted out. Laura clung to the thought and made up her mind then, with a cautious and waddling step, she struck out down the hallway that she thought would take her back to her bedroom.

Her progress was slow -- the cat's head moved on a swivel, ears pricked in wary alertness so that Ms. Charlotte would not catch her unawares. More than that, she felt clumsier than she had ever had before, the feline grace which usually defined her movements having all but deserted her. The disposable diaper certainly did not help -- she waddled, all the while aware of the thick padding between her legs, which was starting to feel clammy and uncomfortable. Several times, navigating through the maze-like interior of the mansion, she had to hug her body against the wall to keep herself from stumbling and once, while rounding a corner, she lost her balance entirely and fell onto her amply padded bottom with an indignant squeal. The situation didn't seem to be getting any better, either -- as she toddled through the building, Laura found herself pushing her knees together with greater and greater urgency; her diaper being wet would soon be the least of her worries if she didn't get help soon.

She had almost begun to give in entirely to despair -- none of the rooms she found looked familiar at all, until she chanced to open a door that lead into an expansive study, lined with bookcases. A spark of familiarity kindled in her mind; she had been here before when she was mapping out the house, she was certain of it! A nervous anticipation began to grow in her and she quickly closed the door and waddled down the hallway and rounded the corner. Laura's excitement grew -- she knew where she was now, and the thought that she might soon be free from the humiliating situation that the corrupted construct had placed her in forced a new vigor into her toddling footsteps as she crossed the hall to the door that lead to her room.

She fumbled with the doorknob -- the pressure from her lower quarters was becoming almost unbearable, but through sheer force of will, the feline pushed it out of her mind and pushed the door open.

It was her room and, sitting among the heap of clothes that had been yesterday's outfit, was her cellphone. Laura waddled across the room and snatched it up. At this point, the need to relieve herself was ferocious and insistent and she found herself hardly able to concentrate as she flipped the cover back and began pecking her boss's number into the keypad. She glanced once over her shoulder towards the doorway-- empty!-- before turning her attention back to the phone. Her free hand came down, pressing firmly against the front of her padding in a vain attempt to forestall the inevitable. The feline shifted her weight from one foot and then the other, all while hurriedly trying to punch in the numbers. Finally, she had it. Her thumb jammed down on the call button and she brought the phone against the side of her head.

The phone's ringing was the longest and slowest that she had ever heard in her life and she knew then that she wasn't going to be able to hold in the pressure. She bit down on her lip and glanced around the room, then began to waddle towards the door leading to the bathroom, out of instinct, more than anything else -- the onesie she was cozily confined into held her entirely and she knew from her previous efforts that she would not be able to get it off. Phone still ringing in her ear and tears beginning to leak out of the corners of her eyes in desperation, she glanced around the bathroom, looking for something, anything, that would help her. There was nothing. With nothing else to do, the feline did the only thing that occurred to her -- she flipped the toilet's lid up and then sat down on the seat, still dressed in her infantile attire.

Laura let go.

In her mind, there was nothing but the sensation of urgent and frantic pushing, followed by the most pleasurable sense of relief that she had ever felt. Her head rolled back and her toes curled as she pushed the contents of her bowels into the seat of her diaper, her tail lashing behind her frantically as she gave into the demands of her body. The feeling seemed to last interminably long and there was nothing for Laura to do but let it happen, outside of punctuating the flow of time with involuntary grunts and squeals.

Her arms went slack and the tension in her fingers faded. She was dimly aware that the phone had slipped out of her hands and tumbled onto the porcelain floor, bouncing away from her before settling near the doorway. It was too far away from Laura to allow her to hear, finally, the click of an answered call.

"Hello? Who's this?" queried the man on the other end of the line.

In no presence of mind to form a coherent answer, even if she was aware of the presence of the tiny tinny voice, Laura did the only thing she could do: finish what she started. The man who had answered the phone, who was, in fact, Laura's boss, was treated to the very faint sounds of grunting and squealing. "Damn pranksters," he said before hanging up. Laura never spoke to him again.

Finally, eventually, it was over. The feline was left panting, draped limply over the toilet seat. Her diaper weighed heavily on her hips, sagging from the heavy mess that she had just deposited into the seat. More than anything else, Laura felt humiliated -- nothing else that had happened to her had made her feel so completely helpless than the loss of control over her own bodily functions. Tears began to well in the corner of her eyes and she felt like crying. There was no way that things could get any worse.

"You've been very naughty, little one. Do you know how worried I was?"

Ms. Charlotte loomed in the doorway, arms crossed over one another in a pose of matronly authority. Laura watched as the arachnid construct lowered herself to the floor and scooped up the cell phone she had dropped. Ms. Charlotte regarded it curiously, folding it over in her hands in inspection before casually bringing it between her palms. The device broke with a loud snapping sound and Ms. Charlotte casually discarded the plastic remains on the floor, dropping it out of her hands and her mind.

"Had I had a heart, it would of skipped a beat in finding your playpen empty," she continued. Her voice crackled in an electronic tssking and she scuttled forward, easily lifting Laura, who still lay prone on the toilet, into her arms. The feline winced as Ms. Charlotte adjusted her over one shoulder, the bulk of her weight pressing down on the seat of the diaper which she had just filled, before beginning the scuttling journey back towards the nursery.

Laura was a mess. Tears trickled down from the corner of her eyes as she sniffled. She felt alone and entirely as helpless as the baby that she had come to resemble. The warm lump she sat in had the effect of pacifying her, removing all traces of resistance that she had thrown up before. More than anything, she wanted to be out of it, to be clean again, and she merely lay her head against Ms. Charlotte's shoulder as they moved through the long hallways of the mansion.

The spider, as if sensing Laura's agitation, brought her free hand to the feline's back and gently stroked her through the fabric of the onesie. "There, there. Ms. Charlotte will take care of everything."

Laura sniffled and pressed her eyes tightly shut.

Soon enough, they were back in the nursery. Ms. Charlotte headed straight for the changing table, wasting no time in lowering Laura onto the padded surface. Moving gently, though entirely firm and brooking no resistance from her charge, the spider helped the feline into a sitting position. A still sniffling Laura stared straight ahead as Ms. Charlotte undid the onesie's zipper and then, gently pulling her limbs this way and that, pulled it off of her, leaving her in just the disposable. Gently pressing on Laura's tummy, the spider guided her onto her back.

The feline's keen nose wrinkled when Ms. Charlotte finally got to the business of undoing the tapes that held the diaper together and pulled down its front. The smell was humiliating and pervasive, a tangible reminder of just how far into the spider's bizarre corruption that she had sunk. It was almost a relief to feel the cool cleanness of the baby wipe, expertly wielded by Ms. Charlotte's hands and, a few moments later, all that remained was an embarrassing memory and the balled plastic diaper that landed in the bottom of the diaper pail with a loud thump.

Laura felt herself lifted by her ankles and, when she was set back down, it was onto a fresh diaper. She stared at the ceiling as the spider went through the process of making sure that the most intimate parts of her body were clean to her satisfaction and, a dusting of powder later, she was taped into the fresh disposable, this one just as thick as the last. Ms. Charlotte hummed quietly to herself as she bustled over to the dresser, dug through a drawer, and then scuttled back over to the changing table.

"Up with your arms, little one."

Laura briefly considered disobeying. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally and thought better of it. The construct worked a shirt down over the top of her head, then gently guided the feline's arms down. Laura looked down at herself. The shirt was purple and came down as far as just over her belly button, doing nothing at all to cover the humiliating disposable diaper wrapped around her waist. She felt her ears begin to redden at her babyish attire and, as Ms. Charlotte picked her up, she found solace in the fact that she would soon be able to curl up underneath the sheets of the crib and pretend, in sleep at least, that none of this had ever happened.

It wasn't quite bedtime yet, however.

Instead of bringing her over to the crib, Ms. Charlotte carried her over to a corner of the crib, where a rocking chair sat. Too enormous and bulbous herself to sit in it, the spider casually brushed it to the side and instead folded herself into a seated position, her front two legs bending back upon themselves to form a small seat. It was onto this that Laura was lowered, tummy first with her arms dangling over the front and her legs dangling over the back. The feline was confused and tried to wriggle herself into a standing position, and it wasn't until Ms. Charlotte firmly placed a hand on her back with one hand pulled down the back of her diaper with the other that she realized what was about to happen.

"Please, no, no, n-- !!"

Ms. Charlotte's hand came down, the flat side colliding with Laura's rear. While the pain wasn't exactly unbearable, the suddenness of it took her by surprise and she let out an indignant squeal, and then another, and then another as Ms. Charlotte began to spank her.

Laura tried to keep herself from crying out, but in the end, it proved to be too much for her. Her exhaustion, humiliation and helplessness conspired against her and eventually broke her, and before too long she was crying, tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes as she kicked her legs and tried to wriggle away. Through all of it, Ms. Charlotte held her firmly in place, bringing her hand firmly against Laura's pert rear until the redness of her skin shone faintly through her fur.

After what seemed far too long, Ms. Charlotte was finished. She pressed her hand against Laura's bottom, gently this time, and began to rub her hand around in slow circles, her voice a soothing and whispered murmur. "There, there," she crooned until Laura, by slow graduations, settled down. Her sobbing stopped and her tears dried up shortly. Her sniffling slowed and, soon enough, she was still, Ms. Charlotte's hands still circling around her rear, which had ceased feeling so painful and had now settled into a dull ache.

"Ms. Charlotte doesn't like spanking her little ones," crooned the spider as she pulled the seat of Laura's diaper back into place and shifted her back into an upright position. "But you've learned your lesson, haven't you?"

Laura felt a finger on her chin applying pressure and her head was brought up to look straight into Ms. Charlotte's own. She was smiling calmly down at her charge. "You'll be a good little one for Ms. Charlotte, won't you?"

Laura's ears pinned back. For a moment, she wavered before and then, with a deep blush infusing her cheeks, she nodded.

"That's what I thought. ," purred the spider in electronic delight, her free hand soothingly running over Laura's back. "Lets get you in bed now."

Ms. Charlotte pushed herself back onto her feet and gathered Laura into her arms. It was a short walk back over to the crib and the spider lifted herself first up, clearing the bars, and then back down to gently deposit Laura on its soft surface. She lowered her top half, gracing Laura's forehead with a kiss, seemingly failing to notice Laura shrinking away from her.

"Sleep tight, my little one," said the spider before settling back onto her haunches. She gave Laura one more look before scuttling back out of the room. This time, Laura very definitely heard the click of a lock turning in place.

Escape wasn't even a possibility to consider. Laura was tired, a deep weariness residing in her body as if the events of the day had drained her entirely and left her incapable of emotion. Vaguely thankful to be, if nothing else, clean again, she sleepily rolled onto her side and pulled the blankets tightly around her body. Tomorrow, she would get out of here, no matter what it took, she promised herself. Or better yet, she would wake up and it would all have turned out to have been some bizarre dream.

This is what she told herself as she dozily succumbed to sleep. Not a minute later, the speakers implanted into the nursery walls began to drone their piping and lilting music, bringing with it subconscious instruction that shaped and altered Laura's mind even as she slept. Her thumb wormed its way into her mouth and she began to nurse on it.

---

The nursery lights flickered on, filling the room with bright light. Laura groaned and rolled over, reflexively pulling the blanket higher and curling underneath it. Moments later, the blanket was pulled away and in its place fell Ms. Charlotte's shadow. Laura put her hands over her eyes until the spider's face swam into focus, the broken smile that she had become accustomed greeting her like an old friend.

"Up, up, up, little one," sang Ms. Charlotte in electronic chirps, sounding pleased. She bent down and guided the dazed feline onto her knees, then lifted her up by her armpits. The spider bought the would-be junior executive into her arms and propping her against a shoulder. Laura was conscious of the waistband of her diaper being pulled away and, a moment later, the caretaker confirming her find in cheerful tones. "Wet, wet, wet. Our little kitten needs a fresh diaper, doesn't she?"

In other circumstances, Laura might have found something unusual in the spider's tone -- unusual beyond the inherent oddness of being mothered by a corrupted computer program, at least. Ms. Charlotte's voice had acquired a faint whistle, like steam being pushed from a kettle. It was an unpleasant sound, reminiscent of the kind made by complicated machinery when some tiny but essential part has been thrown out of place and it might have worried Laura, had she given it any mind.

Laura didn't, however. Laura, in fact, felt calm and peaceful, untroubled by robotic kidnappers, faint whistles or even the thoroughly saturated diaper that she was sporting. It seemed hard to think much about anything at all, beyond the fact that it was warm underneath the blanket and she was cold now. She whined, wrapping her arms around her chest even as Ms. Charlotte guided her onto the changing table and laid her onto her back and attended to the business of the feline's diaper change.

Laura was still shivering by the time that Ms. Charlotte had finished changing her and the spider noticed: "Something a little warmer for my kitten, I think."

A yellow onesie was produced and the incoherent feline was gently but irresistibly guided into it. This isn't right, protested a faint voice in the back of her mind, but it was entirely driven out when the spider pulled Laura back into her arms and began rubbing her back. Laura was surprised -- the onesie felt so warm and comfortable and Ms. Charlotte's strokings felt so nice. Before she could help herself, she began purring, which delighted the spider. She tickled her fingers under Laura's chin.

"Who's mommy's itty-b-b-b-b-itty baby kitten? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"

Again, Laura was struck by a sudden and fierce feeling of wrongness, but she couldn't help herself. Her purring was ferocious, and she was still doing it even as Ms. Charlotte adjusted her in her arms and patted the seat of her diaper, settling her charge before scuttling out of the nursery.

What was wrong? The feline looked blankly at the retreating hallway over Ms. Charlotte's shoulder as she was ferried through the house. She wasn't supposed to be here, said a part of her mind, only to be answered in turn: why not? It's alright. Things were just fine, and didn't her onesie feel warm and comfy? The onesie was nice, thought Laura, glancing down at the yellow fabric covering her body as well as the childish bulge around her waist. That was a good thing too, and Laura felt a warm sense of pleasure from just considering it. She heard someone purring -- me -- , and wasn't it odd that she should be purring at the thought of her diaper?

"Who's ready for breakfast, then?"

Laura's train of thought skidded off of its rails with Ms. Charlotte's question. She realized that the trip through the house was over -- she was back in the dining room, being strapped back into the now-familiar high chair. The feline let her hands rest on the tray in front of her, blinking dimly as the spider bent forward to fasten a bib around her neck. Something wasn't right. Unable to articulate exactly, she raised her hands and feebly batted Ms. Charlotte's hands as she tied the bib in place. "No!"

"So fussy," clucked Ms. Charlotte, bent over Laura. "I'm sure you'll feel better with something in your tum-tum-tum-tum-tum-tum-tum--"

The spider's face was barely a foot away from Laura's. Ms. Charlotte had frozen in place, the electronic spark of life in her eyes almost completely dimmed. Her jaw pistoned up and down, shrilly repeating the same syllable that became less coherent with every repetition. Before long, Ms. Charlotte's voice was just an incoherent electric whine before, suddenly, cutting out entirely.

Laura shrank back in her high chair, staring wide-eyed at the frozen caretaker. Seconds began to pass again, with neither one nor the other moving. The feline began to squirm, each futile attempt to push away punctuated by the rustles and crinkles that her diaper made at every movement. She was suddenly frightened by Ms. Charlotte's lifeless gaze and she screamed again when the exposed swath of wires on Ms. Charlotte's damaged face burst into sparks.

"Belly!" cheerfully exclaimed the electronic caretaker, as if absolutely nothing were wrong. She straightened back up, her face still throwing off sparks, and then scooped a plastic spoon into the jar she still held and pushed it and its goopy yellow contents into Laura's mouth.

The sensation of taste hit Laura's tongue like a train. Every other thought was expelled from her mind as she tasted the glop that had been pushed into her muzzle. Laura had never particularly liked bananas, but the taste of the baby food was simultaneously more banana-y and delicious than any other that she had ever eaten. She held the food in her mouth and rolled it around on her tongue, doing nothing but savoring its taste before swallowing it all down.

"That's what Mommy thought," gloated Ms. Charlotte. Her voice sounded less coherent and more electronic, and her cheek was still sparking madly, but she otherwise seem unaffected by the growing corruption of her processes. She ladled another spoonful into Laura's mouth, and then another, and then another.

This is wrong this is wrong this is wrong, thought Laura as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the delicious yellow glop. Her mind seemed disconnected from her increasingly traitorous body -- she brought her arm to bat away a spoonful of baby food and then, in the next moment, found herself hungrily licking the food off of her hand.

It wasn't long before the contents of the jar found its way into Laura's stomach -- most of it, anyway, not counting the bits that she had dribbled onto her bib. Before Laura could speak after swallowing her last bite, Ms. Charlotte gently guided a bottle to the feline's nuzzle and urged in the nipple. Laura's mouth and arms worked reflexively, the former nursing hungrily from the bottle which the latter now moved to prop up.

This is how Laura found herself -- securely padded, both by the seat of her diaper and the cushions of the high chair, nursing in happy hungriness from a bottle of the most delicious milk she had ever had. Something was bothering her (wrong), something outside of the vague feeling. Her most intimate parts had become suddenly warm and she felt a tickling feeling around her waist. I'm just wetting my diaper, thought the feline to herself.

The sheer absurdity of the statement and its casual tone was what finally shocked Laura into coherence, bringing into her mind the reason that she had lacked. She slowed in her nursing and then stopped entirely as the fog in her mind began to slowly dissipate.

Something horribly wrong was going on with Ms. Charlotte. The spiderbot was cleaning up the mess that Laura had made while eating. The damaged side of her face was blackened with burn marks, and small curls of smoke escaped from the holes peppering her cheek. She was deteriorating -- physically and mentally -- before the feline's eyes and all she could focus on was the imperative need to get away now.

Barely conscious of the action, Laura pulled the bottle's nipple out of her mouth, then began to unscrew it. She never took her eyes off of Ms. Charlotte, who had briefly turned to dispose of the empty jar of baby food. When Ms. Charlotte turned back, Laura acted -- her right hand pulled the rubber nipple off of the bottle entirely and her left lashed out. For once, the feline was lucky. The open end of the bottle struck the torn side of Ms. Charlotte's face with full force, upending and spreading its milky contents over the exposed wires and tears.

The effect was immediate. The left side of Ms. Charlotte's face erupted in smoke and fire and Laura had only a brief impression of furious immediate heat before she was falling backwards, her high chair suspended for one brief moment before toppling backwards with a loud clatter. The tray popped from its holding during the course of the fall and the feline rolled, falling out and hitting the dining room floor with an affronted mewl. It was a struggle, but Laura eventually managed to get to her feet. She looked around.

In her writhing, Ms. Charlotte had knocked over not just the high chair, but the table as well. The floor was covered with the strewn wreckage of prepared meals and Ms. Charlotte herself had collapsed into a heap. Her legs were twitching furiously back and forth while her hands clawed at her face, which was obscured through fire and smoke. The sight held her in place for one horrible moment and then she ran, scrabbling and almost falling as she stumbled out the room.

Laura found it extremely difficult to walk, and she leaned against the door to the dining room after slamming it shut, panting and gripping the door knob to hold herself steady on two feet. She looked left, then right. The front door, in her view to the left, was undoubtedly locked and Laura knew it in her heart. Unwilling to waste time scrabbling against it and pushed by an urge to just get away, she ran down the corridor to the right in a stumbling waddle borne from both the thick diaper hugging her hips and her own body's seemingly willing resistance to her.

She was hardly aware of how many doors she had ran passed when she suddenly threw herself at the next one. The calico grabbed ahold of the doorknob and twisted -- unlocked. Laura tugged open the door and threw herself inside, then quickly whirled around to pull the door shut again with a loud slam. She sunk to her knees, her long blonde hair falling down in front of her eyes. Her chest rose, up and down, as she struggled for control of herself. Anything resembling coherence was long in coming, but, eventually, Laura was able to compose herself. With her legs beginning to ache, she shifted off of her knees and sat down on her bottom, trying to understand what she wanted to do next.

Almost immediately, she regretted the idea of sitting down. At some time, without even noticing it, the calico had messed herself again and the warm contents of her diaper seat mushed and spread under the weight of her bottom. Laura's nose wrinkled and she stuck her tongue out.

"Okay, the fiwst... first thing I'm doing is taking dis off."

She was just beginning an anticipatory stretch into a lunge for the onesie's zipper when she heard it; a faint and rumbling crash of enormous weight to the ground. Every muscle in the feline's body went stiff and fear held her momentarily in the ridiculous posture.

"I didn't hear it. That wasn't real, and I didn't hear--"

Another rumbling crash, this one a little louder. A little closer. Panic gripped the feline and she began scrambling on all fours further into the darkened room that she had hurried into.

The room really was more of a closet. Laura groped around in the dim darkness and almost immediately bumped into the opposite wall. She held herself against and curled up as well she could.

She can't know where I am, she does--

"MY LITTLE LAURA." The sound was enormous, every speaker in the house -- and in a LiveCo house, you better believe there were a lot -- hijacked and cranked up by the corrupt housekeeping A.I.. The feline put her hands over her ears, but it did little to block out the noise that the entire house now reverberated to.

Ms. Charlotte's voice continued to speak and, barely audible over it, Laura heard the continued and ominous thrash of something huge outside the door coming closer.

"IT'S TIME FOR YOUR NAP, LAURA."

Fear gripped Laura. She pushed herself to her feet and began running her hands wildly over the walls of the darkened closet, searching for something, anything. She felt the palm of her right hand rub over something smooth and metallic before finally feeling the light switch. Her fingers scrambled nervously to take a grip, and then she flipped it up. The smooth surface that she had felt turned out to be a metal panel, the kind used to cover circuit boards. The walls of the room had a rough and unfinished look to it. The wall on her right was covered with two of the panels which undoubtedly held the controls for the house's electrical system and, to the right, there was...

Laura's heart jumped in her chest. Built into the left wall was a computer terminal, a small monitor set into the wall with a keyboard propped just below it. The feline realized that she had stumbled, by some magnificent stroke of luck, into one of the mansion's scattered maintenance rooms. A few feet from her stood a terminal with access to every facet of the building's systems, including the shambling monstrosity that was even now stumbling down the hall. The feline was barely able to muffle a shrill cry of joy before waddling over to the monitor and keyboard.

While her coordination still was not very good, Laura was able to drag her thumb across the monitor, digging through the interface before finding and selecting what she needed. A small terminal window appeared onscreen and Laura positioned her hands over the keyboard, pecking in the necessary command that would shut the house's electronic systems down. At that moment, the door to Laura's right buckled, almost breaking from its fixtures as a colossal weight pushed from behind. The door's hinges shrieked and whined, twisting in their sockets. Laura fell back in mute surprise, landing on her bottom with a messy squish.

"THERE'S MY LITTLE ONE."

A portion of the door splintered, cracked and then fell away entirely. The thing that took its place was a horror, a twisted image that might have stepped out of a nightmare. The flames burning in Ms. Charlotte's face had subsided, and what was left behind was a deformity of melted plastic, circuitry and wiring. Her lower jaw had melted almost entirely away, leaving the upper half of her face with a crispy leer. The damaged side of her face had been burned beyond recognition. Her single remaining eye focused on Laura with frantic intent.

It took Laura every ounce in her reserve of courage to lean forward. Fingers shaking in their attempt to resume where they had left off, the trembling feline struggled to type out the rest of the command, even as Ms. Charlotte's open hand glided towards her.

"MY LITTLE ONE," came Ms. Charlotte's everywhere voice, even as Laura finally managed to slam the return button.

The change was abrupt and total. It was dark, completely and entirely, and for what felt like forever, Laura was simply frozen in place, the panic gripping her body working its way out in tight gasps. Gradually, her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, which was all-encompassing except for the faint white light of the monitor.

The feline, moving in slow and trembling steps, turned around. In the faint shadows cast by the monitor, Laura could already see the impression of Ms. Charlotte's hand, open in a clawlike gesture and less than a foot away from her head. The hand was totally inert and Laura knew, knew then for sure that it had worked. The enormity of what just happened hung over the feline and for one very long moment, she couldn't move.

"It's over," whispered Laura. "I'm safe."

The calico feline felt suddenly dizzy in the elation that suddenly overcame her. Weak at the knees, she fell against the closest support -- the terminal behind her. Scrambling to hold herself up, her hand stumbled first over the keyboard and then above, onto the monitor. The computer registered the instructions her hands had clumped in by pure accident and immediately began to execute them.

Laura blinked in the darkness as she sensed, rather than felt, electricity surging back into the house's systems. Fortunately, the command erroneously entered into the system had nothing to do with the A.I.. Instead, it repurposed the house's speaker system for a purpose that was decidedly more pleasant -- the system's music player was launching, conveniently queuing up the track that had been most recently accessed.

There was a very faint electronic hum as the file was accessed, and then a soft and lilting lullaby tune began to fill the air.

"No," said Laura. "No," she repeated more urgently, now able to recognize the music for what it was and what it had done to her..

She tried to turn to the terminal to stop the program, but it was too late. Already, Laura's mind was gently drifting into an obscure fog, a pleasant place that the song's notes gently carried her towards The feline lost what was left of her balance and stumbled back onto her bottom. This time, she didn't find herself too concerned about the squishy mess that she landed on. In fact, it felt kind of nice.

Laura considered this as her fist wondered into her mouth, all of her previous worries and cares having already dissipated. It felt good to suck on her hand too, and a small tendril of drool rolled down her chin as her free hand rubbed the front of her diaper through the fabric of the onesie which also felt good. It felt wonderful, in fact. Laura rolled onto her back and blinked up in the light of the dim room, a blank but ultimately content expression on her face as she let her tongue roam over her fingers.

Laura was at peace. She felt warm and comfortable within the confines of her diaper, and her hand tasted particularly good in her mouth. Laura's belly was pleasantly full too, filled with the banana and milk of her previous meal. While she would eventually grow fussy and upset over how hungry she got as the hours ticked on by, she would eventually settle back down after being given a bottle by the incident investigation team sent by LiveCo, prompted after Laura's long absence. The bottle was a necessity -- by then, she had lost whatever ability to feed herself that she had had left.

She never got the promotion, but it didn't bother her too much after that.