Change The Channel

[i]This story reuses an idea in a story that I read a long time ago that, while having an interesting idea, wasn’t written very expertly and was formatted pretty badly. I’m not sure it’s even accessible anymore – the original, ‘Haloween Story’ by ‘Lisa’ used to be available on Baby Tali’s Website but the website has since gone down. I haven’t seen it posted anywhere else. I thought the idea, if not the story itself, was so interesting that it merited a rewriting, which prompted the writing of this, entirely from scratch. I’ve tried to keep it, if not similar, then at least vaguely recognizable.

Thanks to you ‘Lisa’ for the interesting idea, wherever you are.[/i]

Seven o’clock in the evening arrived in the form of the clock over the mantlepiece chiming in the Lorland household. The house was in a state of mild disarray, with both Mr. and Mrs. Lorland rushing about, each completing the final stages of preparation for the highly anticipated Halloween party that was to take place at a friend’s house in only an hour. Ironically enough, the only person not scooting around at a frantic pace was their daughter, a young girl named Chelsea who was only nine years old. She sat primly on the living room couch, carefully applying herself to the colored pencils and coloring book in her lap.

“Now, you’re going to be good for Ms. Lauren, aren’t you, honey?” asked her mother, whizzing by to briefly pause in front of the mirror mounted on the wall and adjust her hair.

“I’ll be good, momma,” dutifully recited Chelsea, not taking her eyes off of her coloring book.

“Such a good girl,” vaguely said Mrs. Lorland before disappearing out of the room again. Chelsea’s father came in right as her mother was leaving, pausing to adjust his tie in the same mirror.

“Honey?” he yelled at his retreating wife. “What time did you tell the babysitter to show up?”

“Seven o’clock, dear. She should be here any moment,” responded Mrs. Lorland, also yelling.

Right on cue the doorbell rang in announcement, signaling the arrival of the babysitter, Lauren. The college freshman was undoubtedly attractive, with a shapely body, smooth skin the color of chocolate and curled black hair cut short. The only real fault to be noticed, and then it was a matter of taste, was the certain amount of plumpness to be found on her body.

She greeted Mr. Lorland with a bright smile as he opened the door. “Good evening, sir!”

“Good evening, Lauren,” returned Mr. Lorland distractedly, ushering the young woman inside. He made a vague gesture towards Chelsea seated on the couch, saying, “This’ll be Chelsea, of course. We really appreciate you filling in for Kayla and especially on such short notice.”

“No problem at all, Mr. Lorland. It’s my pleasure,” said Lauren perkily. She approached Chelsea who was still lying atop the couch and bent down slightly, placing her hands on her knees and asked in a very much “talking to children” voice, “How are you doing, Chelsea?”

Chelsea, who was already in a bit of a sulk about being told she was too young to come to the kind of party that Mr. and Mrs. Lorland were going to, did not appear very impressed. Nevertheless, she responded in a monotone: “I’m fine, thank you Ms. Lauren.”

“Oh, just call me Lauren, please,” bubbled Lauren.

At this point, Mrs. Lorland had joined Mr. Lorland and both were standing by the door, looking slightly hurried.

“Well, it looks like you two are getting on very well,” beamed Mr. Lorland, his hand on the doorknob. “We’ve left emergency numbers on the refridgerator and you’re free to help yourself to whatever you would like out of it. We’ll be back around twelve. Call us if there are any problems.”

“Oh, I’m sure that everything will be alright,” assured Lauren. “You two go out and enjoy yourselves!”

The Lorlands smiled and nodded their heads before excusing themselves, leaving Chelsea and Lauren alone.

The change in Lauren was almost immediate. The young woman moved back over to the couch and none-too-gently pushed Chelsea’s legs aside. “Make room, squirt,” she said before settling herself down.

At this point, Chelsea had put away her coloring book and turned on the television, casually flipping through the channels. She was surprised when Lauren plucked the remote right out of her hands and began to surf through the channels herself.

“I was going to watch something!,” squealed Chelsea, indignant.

“Tough,” unsympathetically countered Lauren before finally coming across what she had been looking for. She had settled upon a horribly violent slasher film, the kind that were usually shown on and around Halloween. It really was atrociously violent. Chelsea couldn’t help but wince after only a few seconds.

“I’m not supposed to watch this kinda thing,” said Chelsea unhappily, holding her hands over her eyes.

“Close your eyes then, you big baby. I was watching stuff like this when I was your age all the time,” responded Lauren, which probably went a lot in explaining why she was the way she was.

“That’s not fair!” insisted Chelsea with a quiet whining noise, prompting an indifferent, “Life’s not fair,” from Lauren. The girl sat frowning, glancing frantically between the television and Lauren before she suddenly struck out, attempting to wrestle control of the remote from Lauren’s hands. She managed to change the channel before Lauren caught wise, the babysitter grabbing the remote right back before attempting to change the television channel back to the atrociously violent movie.

A brief struggle ensued, the television oscillating wildly between channels as each girl attempted to wrestle the remote away from the other. Things finally culminated in a loud popping sound from the television, the shock of the noise sending both girls landing roughly on their behinds with the remote control landing roughly against the wall.

“You broke it!,” accused Lauren as she stood up and brushed herself off, quickly walking back over towards the television, which was now displaying a static screen and making a low and ominous droning noise. She squatted down in front of it and began to play with the controls mounted on the side, frowning. Meanwhile, Chelsea was left to nervously retrieve the remote control from where it lay against the far wall. She picked it back up and walked back to the couch where, experimentally, she pointed the remote at the television and pressed a button.

The result was immediate! Almost instantly, the quiet droning noise became almost painfully loud and the screen went completely blank. The shock of the noise was enough to frighten Lauren into tumbling backwards again and she landed in a heap in front of the television.

“You little brat!,” she squealed, struggling to right herself. “You did that on purpose!” She began to head directly towards Chelsea with vengeance burning in her eyes and, on reflex, the frightened young girl covered her head in her arms, hands balling into fists and, in the process, pressed a good number of buttons on the remote without even realizing it.

Chelsea stood trembling, waiting for a blow that never came. After a few moments, she tentatively removed her arms from over her head and glanced about the room.

The living room was now completely empty, the dark interior faintly illuminated by the now dim glow of the television screen. Chelsea was totally perplexed – there was nowhere that her babysitter could have gone in so short a time and it was all that she could do to stare blankly around her when she heard, faintly at the edge of her hearing, her name being called. After a few moments she realized it was coming from the television. She turned, stared and her eyes widened.

On the screen of the television, in what appeared to be a kitchen set, was unmistakably Chelsea’s babysitter Lauren. Lauren glanced around in mute confusion before saying something that was too quiet to be made out. Obligingly, without thinking about it, Lauren pointed the remote at the television and turned the volume up.

“W-what’s going on? Chelsea, where are you?” Lauren’s voice came through the television receiver with perfect clarity. Not quite sure of what to make of this, Chelsea responded with the immediately obvious answer, saying, “Can you hear me, Lauren? You’re in the television!”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous! You can’t b–” Lauren was cut off, surprised by the sudden arrival of another person in the kitchen. Inside the television, she blinked blankly as a woman, a bit older than her, entered into the kitchen and moved towards the pantry, withdrawing a familiar looking box of cereal before moving over towards the cabinets to retrieve a bowl. Lauren was dumbstruck as she watched her grab a carton of milk from the refridgerator before moving towards the counter where Lauren was standing.

“When my little girls sit down to breakfast, I like to know that they’re getting the nutrition they deserve,” she began, pouring cereal into the bowl and turning to smile out at apparent nothingness. “That’s why I choose Sugar Cubes, the choice made by responsible mothers.” She poured the milk into the bowl before picking up the cereal box and hoisting it slightly, again smiling out into nothingness and striking a small pose.

Chelsea was the first to catch on. Mouth agape in marvel, she exclaimed, “You’re in a commercial!”

Lauren was momentarily stunned. Her mind told her that this was completely ridiculous but the impossible evidence of what was happening was all around her. Meanwhile, the woman with the cereal had turned her attention back onto Lauren. She pushed the bowl of cereal across the table, the huge grin still on her face. Lauren found it unnerving.

“Have a bowl, honey!” cheerfully enthused the woman.

“Get me out of here,” yelped a suddenly frightened Lauren, taking a step back.

“I don’t know how,” whined Chelsea’s voice from the ether.

The woman took another step forward and Lauren took another step backwards. “Press a button, change the channel, do something!” screamed Lauren as the woman took another step forward, brandishing the cereal bowl.

The woman was just a single step away when Lauren felt a horrible sense of vertigo. The world around her went dark as reality shifted and a few moments later she was leaning up against the wall, fighting away the mild mental discomfort of what had just happened. “What’d you do, Chelsea?” she groaned.

“You told me to change the channel,” came Chelsea petulantly, her voice seeming to come from everywhere around Lauren. The babysitter finally got a chance to glance about and examine where she was.

She was in a bedroom, though it certainly wasn’t her bedroom. Things seemed to be normal enough, though there was something disconcertingly familiar about it all. Even though she wasn’t able to identify exactly where she was, Lauren was certain that she had seen it before. She glanced down at herself and noticed that her clothing had changed along with the reality around her. She was now in a cheerleader’s uniform for a high school she didn’t recognize. Again, there was the strongest sense of deja-vu.

“Well, this is a little better,” acknolwedged Lauren grudgingly, seeing that she wasn’t, for the moment, being viciously bombarded with offers for breakfast foods. “I can’tt help but feel like I’ve seen this all before… it just feels weird,” she finished lamely before being struck by the oddness of all that happened. She confronted Chelsea again, glancing around before saying, “You need to figure out a way to get me out of here, Chelsea!”

“What is it that you want me to do?” whined Chelsea, now seated on the couch back in the living room and watching her television curiously.

“Press buttons! There has to be something on there that’ll get me out!”

“Fine,” huffed Chelsea. She began to pick through the buttons on the remote control, leaving Lauren to impatiently begin to pace around the room. After a moment she opened her mouth to saying something, most likely another beratement, but to her puzzlement only the faintest squeak came out of her mouth. A confused expression crossed her face and then she tried again, eliciting the same squeak.

“Guess volume control isn’t going to help,” said Chelsea thumbing the volume back up in a tone of voice far too cheery for Lauren’s liking. She angrily began chewing out her young charge when something suddenly happened to make her stop. “Listen you little brat, I don’t wa–”

Music had suddenly started playing. Deep, foreboding and intimidating music. Lauren found the low tones just as familiar as everything else had struck her and her eyes suddenly widened as realization struck her. It was the horribly violent slasher movie.

Before she could yell a command for Chelsea to change the channel, her door suddenly burst open. Filling the door was the most unpleasant individual she had ever seen but what stole her attention was the large and intimidating chainsaw clutched in his hands, its industrial whine completely filling Lauren’s world. The horrifying figure made to advance and Lauren acted on pure adrenaline, running to the window to push it open and throw herself outside.

It wasn’t long before she found herself outside, running into a suitably frightening and densely-packed forest right outside the window that, to Lauren, looked horribly familiar. Thankfully, the sound of the chainsaw was beginning to die into the background to be replaced with the furious sound of her beating chest and her own panting. Lauren finally stopped her running, bent over in a clearing and began to pant loudly in an effort to catch her breath.

“C-change,” gasped Lauren, fighting for breath. “C-change the channel, Chelsea!” She straightened up and glanced around, still panting. Everything was so familiar! She was getting the strongest sense of deja-vu, her memory fighting to recall the shape of the horribly violent slasher movie that she had become trapped in. “I’ve got to get out of here now!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” breathed a voice nearby, deep and horrible. Lauren’s eyes widened as she turned around to see the horrible slasher, moonlight giving his twisted face wicked shadows along with glinting off of the large and terrible knife clutched in his hand.

Lauren immediately turned and began to run again but, in the very best traditions of these kinds of movies everywhere, her foot caught on an exposed tree root and she tumbled, giving a loud squeal as her body landed heavily on the ground. There was simply no time to recover. Before she could pull herself off the ground she became aware of the shadow falling over her, the violent slasher blocking out any chance of escape. Memories flooded into her mind and Lauren knew: this was the point at which the leading female, the one whose role she had stepped into, was horribly butchered.

She held her hands up placatingly for all the little good it would do, whimpering. She became vaguely aware of a hot trickling between her legs and pooling underneath and became aware that, adding insult to injury, she had begun to wet herself in fright. Lauren’s eyes watched as the violent slasher began to bring his knife down with a vicious whistling sound and closed her eyes, bracing for the impact.

Lauren was aware of a sudden sense of vertigo and dizziness. The young woman was suddenly aware of another change in the world around her taking place.

When she finally dared to tentatively open her eyes, a sense of relief passed over her. The forest was gone, replaced by a gently decorated room. The walls were painted a soft pink with a cloud motif on the ceiling. Across the room was an unusual looking table with drawers against its side, along with a rocking chair not too far from it. The floor was made from a soft white carpet and Lauren noticed out of the corner of her eye a small playpen in the corner. What was slightly disconcerting was how big everything seemed to be – it was like a room made for giants. Lauren doubted she’d even be able to pull herself up onto the rocking chair as huge as it was.

Lauren gradually became more aware of where she herself was – she was sitting up on a soft cushion with large wooden bars that went straight up looming all around her, higher than she could possibly reach. As she pushed herself to her feet, finding her legs unusually wobbly, her mind filled in the blanks and found the world ‘crib’. She realized that she was in what could only possibly be a giant nursery, currently standing in what could only be the crib. At the same time, she also became aware of an unusual feeling between her legs. Lauren glanced down.

Gone was the cheerleading uniform – in its place was was a brightly colored yellow t-shirt that didn’t even make it all the way down to her waist and, underneath that, hugging her hips, a thick disposable diaper, the thick padding pushing her legs apart and forcing a waddle into every movement. Across the front was a brightly colored tape with Sesame Street characters smiling brightly. Lauren was also aware of a suspiciously warm feeling and she shyly reached down, rubbing her hand across the front of the crinkly plastic and confirmed it: the diaper front was warm to the touch. She was soaked.

She felt a trickle going down the inside of her leg and realized suddenly that her wetting had gone beyond a simple soaking.

Lauren was immediately mortified. She tugged the soft blanket lying around her feet and pulled it up over her front, as if she could hide the incriminating garment. “Chelsea, change the channel again! T-this is just as bad!”

Chelsea had no such intentions. Lauren could hear appearing from the ether a smattering of badly-repressed giggles, the young girl back in her own living room quite pleased to see her bratty babysitter reduced to such a position. “What’s that?” she teasingly lilted at the television screen. “Why, yes, I do think you need a change!”

Lauren’s furious blushing increased in intensity. She stomped her foot insistently into the crib mattress, a childish tantrum of a response. The diapered woman yelled, “Chelsea, I’m not kidding! When I get out of here, I’m gonna --”

Chelsea never found out exactly what Lauren was going to do. She watched in delight as the view on the television suddenly panned over to the door, which opened to reveal an older woman somewhere in her late twenties, her serene expression and gently curving body radiating an expression of ‘new mother’. “Is my little girl feeling fussy?” she cooed cheerfully, gliding towards the crib.

Lauren watched with wide eyes as the woman bent down and wrapped her hands around her middle, easily hefting her and bringing her onto her hip. She realized the woman’s intentions when she felt the leg band of her diaper being gently pulled away and a finger inserted to check on her soggy padding. “My, my, leaking already,” the woman tsked before resettling Lauren in her arms. She placed the young woman in the crook of her arm and began to drift towards the changing table, speaking aloud to the invisible television audience.

“I find that most diapers just aren’t enough to keep up with my active little baby,” said the woman, settling Lauren on her back atop the changing table. Realization of what was about to happen struck her and she began to squirm and wriggle, trying to pull herself up, but all she got was a strap over her tummy and arms for her efforts. Struck with the humiliating realization that Chelsea, watching with a gleeful look back in the living room, could see everything, she began to kick her legs to try to delay the inevitable and called out for help.

“Chelsea, you’ve got to change the channel now! Please!” Lauren watched, completely helpless as the gigantic motherly woman began to manipulate the tapes on her babyish disposable, pulling back one and then the other.

A barely restrained giggle from the ether greeted Lauren’s pleas, followed by Chelsea’s teasing voice. “Are you sure? This channel seems a lot safer than all the other ones. The only thing that you need to worry about is diaper rash!”

A furious blushing spread across Lauren’s face, both from the embarrassment of Chelsea’s words and the fact that this commercial mother had finally pulled back the soggy disposable front of her diaper, revealing Lauren’s moistened crotch to the world. There was nothing that the poor young college girl could do, squirming back and forth in the gentle confines that the changing table and the strap provided. Lauren was made to suffer the embarrassment of the gigantic woman tugging the soggied disposable diaper out from underneath her rear and tsking as she balled it up and threw it in the diaper pail placed right beside the changing table for just such a reason.

Lauren knew what was coming next, but that didn’t make it any less humiliating. The woman towering over her produced a wipe and began gently but thoroughly cleaning her. Poor Lauren was mortified, unable to do anything but twist and squirm as the warm wipe was carefully and effeciently rubbed over the most intimate spots of her body.

Soon, after what felt like forever to Lauren, the woman finally finished cleaning her up. She began speaking again, rummaging through one of the supply cabinets underneath the changing table as she did so. “That’s why I only trust Dryclouds Extra-Duty brand diapers, because only they can give the thick protection that my little ones deserve.”

Lauren’s eyes widened as the woman straightened back up, holding in her hands a babyish diaper that, if anything, looked even thicker than the one that she was just changed out of. She renewed her pleadings to Chelsea, squirming more frantically than ever. “Chelsea, please, you can’t let her change me into that! I promise I’ll be nice, just l–mph!”

“Such a fussy one,” crooned the commerical mother, having just pushed a pacifier into Lauren’s open mouth. Lauren, helpless to the whims of the commercial’s reality, felt her mouth involuntarily beginning to suckle, her body beset by a sudden wave of drowsiness. She could only watch helplessly as the gigantic woman gently lifted her legs, putting her shapely rump on a momentary display before sliding the thick and babyish diaper underneath her rear. She was vaguely aware of Chelsea’s giggles echoing all around her as the woman reached for a can of baby powder and applied a liberal sprinkling to Lauren’s crotch before bringing the front of the diaper up between Lauren’s legs and taping it into place.

The diaper felt so thick! Lauren could immediately feel her legs forced apart as the woman taped it up between her legs, frosting on the cake that was her embarrassment. She watched the ceiling intently in her humiliation as the woman undid the strap circled around her waist, still sucking her pacifier without a thought about it and hoping that her embarrassment was, at least, at an end.

She was mildly surprised when, instead of going back in the crib, the woman settled down in the rocking chair, still holding Lauren in her lap. She stroked Lauren’s head and quietly remarked, “My baby seems very fussy today, doesn’t she? Well, mommy knows how to fix that.”

Lauren was a little confused. She certainly didn’t remember this part in any commercial and she got a vague sense of foreboding. This only intensified as the woman, using the hand that wasn’t supporting Lauren, began to unbutton her blouse to reveal the heavy and ripe breast positively bursting underneath it. Lauren began to squirm as if to try to get away as the nipple came into view but, without a second thought, the woman pulled the pacifier out of her mouth and brought Lauren closer to her chest, brushing her lips against the nipple.

Compelled by the same reality-imparted urges that forced her to suckle on the pacifier without a choice, Lauren began to nurse at the gigantic mother’s breast. A few seconds later warm milk began to trickle into her mouth before rolling gently down her throat, sweet to the taste and filling her tummy with warmth that immediately made her feel drowsy.

At first Lauren tried to kick and squirm, completely humiliated by what her body was betraying her in doing. The lulling effect of the milk, however, combined with the mother’s gentle stroking of her back and quiet humming soothed her against her will. A dozy look fell across her face and the seconds drifted into minutes, her little arms pressed hungrily against the gigantic breast as she drank her fill.

Some time later, Lauren became vaguely aware of the fact that she was being lifted from her cozy spot. She felt herself being laid across something a little less comfortable, followed by a gentle but insistent patting on her back.

What brought Lauren back to her senses was the babyish belch that issued from her own mouth, but Chelsea’s subsequent giggling that seemed to come all around her. The girl that she had been babysitting had seen everything, and that more than anything positively crippled Lauren with embarassment. She began to open her mouth to begin her beratement, but before she knew it the pacifier was being pushed back in and her involuntary suckles began again.

“My little girl feels all better, doesn’t she?” crooned the woman, straightening up and patting Lauren gently on her crinkly padded rump. Lauren, for her part, was too swept up by all that had happened to even move – she still felt drowsy and, humiliating as it was to admit, the most pleasant warm feeling was spreading from her milk-filled tummy. She felt herself being carried over towards the playpen. She was settled down on her gently padded rump and her chin gently tickled.

“You can have some fun here and Mommy will be in to check on you in a little bit, alright sweety? Be good for Mommy,” soothed the gigantic woman before straightening back up and quietly exiting the nursery.

Lauren blinked drowsily. It took her a moment to recover her senses but she soon came to. She glanced around in a mild stupor before turning her eyes down at herself.

She was dressed like the littlest of infants. Her mouth worked in a rote suckle, nursing on the pacifier. She was still dressed in the gentle yellow t-shirt while now, hugging her hips, was what was the thickest and most infantile baby’s diaper she had ever seen, pushing her legs fiercely apart. She was vaguely aware of a pleasant tingling warmth from her tummy that was, she realized with no small amount of embarrassment, from the tummyful of milk that she had just nursed from the mother.

A wave of crimson humiliation spread over Lauren’s cheeks. Acutely aware of the fact that she was even now being watched by her charge, she unsteadily pulled herself to her feet, gripping the wall of the playpen for support in an attempt to muster as much dignity as she could in the babyish position that she had been put into.

“C-chelsea, I know you’re there! Listen to me or else! I-If you don’t get me out of here right now, you’re going to rue the day you were born!”

Sure enough, Chelsea’s tinkling giggle answered her. At this point, the young girl was stretched happily across the couch, pleased with the show that unfolded in front of her. She mischeviously replied, “Are you sure, Mrs. Lauren? I think your mommy said she wanted you to stay right there.”

Lauren’s blush intensified. The bratty young woman’s temper flared in reaction to the humiliation and embarrassment that she had endured and she suddenly snapped, yelling, “Listen, you little brat! You take orders from me! I knew that you were a horrible little girl from the moment that I saw you and when I get out of here I am personally going to make sure that you’re spanked so hard that you won’t be able to sit down for a month! Furthermore, I… f-furthermore…”

Lauren was aware of an unfamiliar rumbling feeling from her tummy. She shifted slightly, gripping the side of the playpen for more support, blinking. Before she could realize what was happening, the inevitable started to occur. Lauren’s legs bent at the knees as she began forcing the contents of her bowels into her diaper. There was not a thing that she could do to resist the reality imposed on her by the commercial and it was all she could do to stifle the tiny grunts as the seat of her diaper expanded considerably to accomodate the warm mushy mess.

It was over relatively quickly. Lauren was positively agape with shock and humiliation, fully aware of the way that her legs were pushed even further apart by the mess that was now hanging between her legs. She made an attempt to shift her weight from one foot to the other as if to find the position that would afford her the least contact with the humiliating lump in her diaper and, to add insult and injury, she accidently overbalanced. With a squeal, she toppled, landing full on her messy diaper seat and becoming intimately familiar with it.

Lauren became aware of Chelsea’s mocking laugher all around her. Her temper flared and briefly threatened to drown out her embarrassment, but before she could, the young girl had already began to speak.

“Little brat? At least I’m not the one who just messed her diaper and is sitting in a nursery about to cry for her mommy! You’re the jerk here and if you’re just going to yell at me, you can just stay in diapers forever!”

Lauren was stunned. It was all that she could do to blink, confronted by the sudden temper of her babysitting charge. She blinked several times in rapid succession and had just begin to open her mouth to yell back a reply when she became aware of an odd feeling.

Things seemed to pause in a split second before resuming again and one of the oddest feelings that she had ever felt washed over her. When she had finally regained control of her senses, she felt oddly alone. Lauren blinked, trying to fathom what had just happened, when she realized what it was. The link with Chelsea had been severed and it was just her in this nursery now. Curiously, this struck Lauren as a much more horrible thing than having her here to see everything and a suddenly urgent and upset feeling overtook her. Without knowing exactly why, the messy-diapered young woman burst into tears.

It wasn’t long at all before the gigantic mother was soon back inside the nursery. She moved immediately over to Lauren and hefted her gently in her arms. She began rubbing the young woman’s back, bouncing her gently in her arms and saying, “Sweety! Sweety! What’s wrong?” The smell from Lauren’s mushy diaper hit her nose then and she knew. Still trying to soothe her crying baby, she gently carried Lauren over towards the changing table and laid her back down atop it, though Lauren hadn’t stopped crying in the least.

She would have a chance to get used to it, of course. She would continue to have her diapers changed by her mommy for a very very long time.

Elsewhere, in another dimension, Chelsea glanced with curiosity at the video tape that was in her hands, fresh from the VCR. She hadn’t been entirely sure what would happen when she pressed the RECORD button on the remote control, but her intuition has turned out to be right. She was very pleased. She hadn’t liked her babysitter from the start.

Later, when her parents came home, they would be surprised and confused to find their daughter sleeping quietly in her bed, apparently having gone to sleep of her own violition. Of Lauren, there was no clue as to where she was. When woken up and pressed for answers, Chelsea was only able to shrug her shoulders and say that Lauren had decided to leave and had never come back. No trace of her was ever found.

And that was that.

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Re: Change The Channel

I too remember the original story…I did like your take on it better than the original.


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Re: Change The Channel

You know, you’re not the first person who has said that the repetition bit sort’ve stuck out at them. For the record, it is on purpose. I’ve seen it – using a particularly odd or interesting phrase and using it over and over – done before really well by several authors, my favourite being Martin Millar, but I’m not doing it right apparently if other people are being bogged down by it. I’ll trim my usage back a bit.

Also, for those of you who don’t know, I post my stories at several places, a couple of such being furry story sites. In those instances, I always edit my stories in little ways so it fits into the furry theme, which pretty much amounts to changing the main characters into an animal species and that’s about it.

Anyway, in the furry version, Lauren is an otter and a friend of mine who read the story loved it so much that he drew some wonderful fan-art. If furry business is something you’re alright looking at, check it out.

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Re: Change The Channel

I really enjoyed this story… the problems that other people had, I didn’t find at all distracting. I don’t think they took away from the story at all.
as for the fact that the commercial ‘continued’, it’s something I thought to be somewhat clever.
commercials end… but what if they didn’t? what if each thing we see is a portal to another world where things go on as always, the segment being only a brief part of what we see. the things that happened here are things that would happen after the fact.
and it isn’t a plot hole because none of the ‘segments’ ever end. the girl just changes the channel.

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Re: Change The Channel

I think the repetition bit only works for particularly evocative phrases that become essential to particular things, rather than use throughout. So describing someone in the same way again and again drums it home, whilst describing everyone the same is dull.

Re: Change The Channel

Does anyone know where I can find the original story ?