Hi folks! Thanks so much for clicking into this tale. A little bit about me: I’m Lyra, one of the Starlings associated with the Sophie & Pudding community. You might have seen me (or heard me be mentioned) on The Usual Bet. Maybe you’ve read my previous work, Luna, which is about a new AI on the market designed to fulfill her users’ every need.
I’m thrilled to finally be releasing my second novel. Comments are, of course, extremely welcome. It’s always a thrill for me to be able to give something back to a community that has given me so much already.
Synopsis: Mugwort is a Junior Tempter with his first Patient. Luckily for him, his kindly uncle Scumtack has all sorts of advice on the ways demons can use the seven sins to ensnare a human soul! Will Mugwort be able to start his career on the right foot?
Preface
I can’t tell you how I got these letters.
No, I didn’t mean “won’t”. I know what I said. Or wrote. Whatever. The point is, I can’t. As in: “I cannot”. As in: it is literally impossible.
Obviously, everything here sounds like total bullshit. I don’t blame you. I don’t think I’d believe me either, especially not with such a flimsy excuse as to why I can’t show you any proof. But what the hell (the irony!), you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, Wayne Gretzky, Michael Scott, so here you go.
I thought about saving the originals, but I don’t want to encourage anyone else to go down the same idiotic path that I have. The last thing Earth needs is a bunch of humans with demons as penpals, as if global warming and late-stage capitalism weren’t enough existential crises for us to deal with.
If you’re like me (though I hope you’re not), you might have questions when you’re done.
Do I expect you all to believe these are real letters? Like, actual goddamned ink on actual goddamned parchment, like it’s Lord of the Rings or something?
Why didn’t I go find the people in these letters and try to save them?
Am I really sure I’m not crazy? I mean, Occam’s razor, right?
All good questions. And yet all completely beside the point. Don’t quibble over crumbs when there’s cake at stake. Especially when it comes to Hell—don’t dig too deep, or else Hell will dig its claws right back into you.
I know some of you are going to ignore my advice and go looking anyway. I can’t stop you. But I hope, even if you ignore everything else, you at least take this last word of warning to heart: demons are liars. Remember that, no matter what they might tell you.
Lyra Starling
Letter I
My dear Mugwort,
How overjoyed I was to find that you’ve followed my footsteps and joined the Foreign Office! To make Tempter at your young age—I’ve always known that you’d go far; you’ve such a great set of horns on that head of yours. I must warn you: don’t expect any nepotism—you’ll have to work your way down the ranks just as I did. Though, of course, asking your uncle for advice is always a good idea, and hardly something anyone can take umbrage to.
You tell me you’re feeling anxiety over your first Patient. Good! Keep it in mind, and never fall into complacency. Although I’ve guided dozens of Patients into the imperturbable arms of Our Father Below, I still treat each new case as if it were my first.
The most important decision you’ll have to make is your angle of approach. Each mortal has their own idiosyncrasies, and to lump them all together as one would be sheer folly. Though humans are made of nothing more than dust and mud, even ones crafted by the same mother and father might differ wildly in temperament and outlook.
Although one can attempt to teach this in school, only fieldwork can show you how to delicately tip the weight of the scales away from The Enemy and towards Our Father Below. It is imperative that you close the trap delicately, so that they find themselves ensnared without even realizing that there was a struggle for their soul in the first place, at least until it is too late to do anything about it.
Based on the background you’ve given me about the Patient—her being marked as gifted in elementary school, failing to live up to those aspirations in college, and now in her young adulthood with a sense of malaise, of feeling like she was meant for greater things—I suspect the avenue of Greed will prove itself fruitful. You should be able to play upon that injured sense of pride, that low-grade simmering resentment against the world, and through that offer shortcuts that lead her closer and closer to Our Father Below.
Naturally, I have an illustrative example. Do not try and emulate my actions precisely with your Patient; rather, try to keep in mind that sense of careful prodding and digging to find the lever you need to move the world, as Archimedes so famously put it.
Your affectionate uncle,
Scumtack
Greed: Ava Stone
Ava didn’t know it at the time, but the day she met Charlotte Kingsley would turn out to be the most pivotal day in her entire life. Her judgment, like that of Paris of Troy, would be the nexus point that spawned a boundless stream of bad decisions.
The two women lived on the same floor in a college dorm, Ava crammed into a tiny triple, Charlotte in a luxurious single. On the first week of school, the hall decided to throw a “get to know each other” party, with everyone agreeing to prop open their dorm room doors and mingle.
Ava found herself desperately trying to get out of a boring conversation about cryptocurrency with a man who smelled exactly as bad as his choice of topic when she suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see a set of unfamiliar green eyes paired with a twinkling smile.
“Excuse me,” the stranger said, “I need my friend for something.” Ava felt soft hands grab her by the elbow. Each sky-blue fingernail was immaculately manicured, gently glowing under the hallway light. Without waiting for a response, the stranger led Ava away as she mutely followed.
When the two of them had stepped out of earshot, Ava turned back over her shoulder. The man had apparently quickly found another victim to talk at.
“You looked like you needed help,” said the stranger. Her words had the lightest drawl, which Ava had never heard anywhere other than on television and found that she quite enjoyed hearing in person.
“Thanks, I did,” said Ava, who inexplicably felt nervous. She preemptively wiped her palms against her shirt.
“The name’s Charlotte,” said the woman. Ava could see how the symmetry of Charlotte’s face was broken only by a small mole near the dimple where she smiled. She opened her mouth to respond to find that it had gone dry.
“A—Ava,” she croaked. Her tongue felt as if it loomed too largely in her mouth, moving about ungainly and causing her to fumble at her words.
“Well, A—Ava,” said Charlotte, holding up a brown shopping bag, which gently clinked as she moved it, “how’d you like to join me in my room?”
Her room? They’d just met! Charlotte caught the flash of surprise on Ava’s face and winked. “Don’t worry,” she added, “I have a no finance bros policy.”
“Well, if that’s the case…” laughed Ava nervously as she let Charlotte lead her down the hall. Charlotte still hadn’t let go of her arm. Part of Ava wished that she never would.
Ava heard the laughter of conversation spill out from Charlotte’s room as it mingled with the sound of speakers playing music in the hall. It was a lightly discordant mess, with no attempt to coordinate the music across all the rooms.
As Ava got her first look inside Charlotte’s dorm, she felt as if she’d stepped into a closet and ended up in Narnia. Despite the fact that the room only had a single occupant, it was somehow still larger than Ava’s triple. A gaggle of eerily well-groomed teenagers who looked like their parents had vacation homes in the Hamptons mingled amongst themselves. Ava self-consciously picked at a fray that had developed in her jeans. She was the only person in the room whose clothing didn’t intentionally have holes in them.
Luckily it turned out that, in real life, greasers and Socs didn’t have to hate each other on sight. Charlotte introduced Ava to her coterie and pulled out the illicit bottles of wine she’d smuggled in. Afterwards, Charlotte fluttered off to different groups and let Ava quietly mingle, just happy to be peripherally involved in Charlotte’s orbit as she heard people use “summer” as a verb for the first time in her life.
Pivotal days, of course, have pivotal moments, and Ava’s was coming up. Charlotte had somehow ended up standing on her wooden chair, an orator equal to Cicero with an audience that was just as enraptured.
“Fuck capitalism,” she said, the red disposable cup of Two-Buck Chuck in her hand threatening to spill over as she punctuated each beat with a wild gesticulation. “I’m like goddamn Robin Hood. Steal from the rich. Give to the poor.”
The crowd shouted a chorus of affirmations. Ava could see Rolexes—or what she thought maybe were Rolexes, she certainly had never seen one before—gleam in the lights as people lifted their arms and whooped and hollered. She joined in anyway, feeling like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.
“That’s why I only lift from chain stores,” Charlotte continued. More meat for the ravenous crowd. “No mom-and-pop shops. It’s about the message.” She wobbled as she stepped off the chair and rejoined the mortals on their plane.
“I didn’t know you shoplifted,” said Ava to Charlotte after she’d refilled her cup. “You don’t seem like the type.”
Charlotte’s emerald eyes gleamed with amusement. “You an expert or something?” she asked playfully.
Ava quickly shook her head no.
“No? Have you at least stolen anything?” Charlotte followed.
“Never,” said Ava. Charlotte’s expression fell a little—or maybe Ava just imagined it did. But either way, she quickly followed up with the line that would forever divide her life in twain: “Maybe you could show me sometime?”
“Of course!” Charlotte beamed brightly, her teeth flashing like the sun’s rays cresting over a hill. Ava felt a glow in her chest, like her heart was lit with a farm flame, one that spread through her body and imbued her with a strange energy. She knew she’d do anything to see that smile again.
Ironically, it was precisely her initial success which ultimately doomed her. One crisp September afternoon, Ava and Charlotte piled into Charlotte’s shiny leased Lexus and drove to a nearby mall for a crash course in shoplifting. Ava chatted up a bored clerk at a stationary supply store while Charlotte stole some pencils as a warm-up, then they reversed their roles so Ava could steal a pair of gloves from a clothing outlet.
Getting some alone time with Charlotte was already a pulse-pounding prospect, and the thrill of illicit activity made each moment sing with clarity. There was no way she was going to call it off after such a meager haul, not when there was more time she could spend impressing Charlotte.
Ava’s beginner’s luck, however, could only hold out so long. Ava was spotted slipping some lipstick into her purse by a customer with a vigilante streak. Amid the clamor, Ava, who was in her heart a foolish romantic, distracted the employees long enough so that Charlotte could escape. This choice felt brave and daring, the kind of thing that high school Ava never would have done, but that new improved college Ava might do all the time.
Eventually, when the adrenaline faded away, reality crashed the party. There was no way she’d be able to pay the fine, let alone the restitution on top. Ava was left with the grim hope that maybe at least she’d scored some points with Charlotte.
With her mind on autopilot, Ava made her out out of the mall’s security office out into the world. The sky was irritatingly bright and blue, completely unaware of the swirling tempest of emotion roiling in Ava’s head. She stumbled her way to a nearby park in a daze and sat down on a park bench.
Fuck me, Ava thought. She closed her eyes and puffed her cheeks out, sighing in frustration before turning her attention to how she’d dig herself out of this predicament. She could tell her parents, which was an option in the same way that someone could choose to walk on their hands for the rest of their life. You could technically do it, but why?
Ava’s mind swirled, her thoughts looping back in on themselves like ouroboroses.
Don’t tell Mom and Dad. But I can’t afford the fines. Or a lawyer. Who can I borrow money from? I don’t have credit.
Tell Mom and Dad. There goes their vacation fund. I’ll know I did this to them. Forever. Mom’ll love trotting this out whenever I see her.
The two sides waged war in her mind, arguments arrayed like soldiers in phalanxes, though whatever victory would be inevitably Pyrrhic in nature.
Maybe telling her parents wouldn’t be so bad. It really wasn’t realistic to try to run and hide. It would suck, and she wouldn’t get out unscathed, but together, they could figure something out. Maybe she wouldn’t even get suspended from school if she wrapped this up fast enough.
Her mind set, she opened her eyes and saw to her surprise a stranger standing way too close to her. Although Ava didn’t really know anything about suits, his looked expensive. She could see her own reflection on the sunglasses he was wearing, saw herself startle at the sudden invasion of personal space.
“Hello,” he said, and his voice sounded like the gentle caress of velvet had wrapped itself around those two syllables. “Mind if I sit here?”
Ava blinked. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.
“Uh…sure? I mean, I was leaving…” She made to stand up, but the stranger continued.
“Oh no, Miss Stone, I meant with you. I’d like to chat.”
She froze up, ice crystallizing in her veins.
“How do you know my name?” she asked. Her fingers tightened against the lip of the wooden bench.
“I have my ways,” said the man unhelpfully. “Rest assured, I do not mean you any harm. On the contrary, I’m hoping to help you out.” There was an awkward pause as that statement hung in the air. The man quietly loomed over Ava as her mind furiously raced through possibilities. This guy was clearly not normal. But it couldn’t hurt just to talk, right? They were out in public, with eyewitnesses. It was almost certainly going to be harmless. At least she could find out what he wanted with her.
“…okay,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I’m listening.”
“I know you’re in some trouble,” he said. “And I’d like to help.”
“Trouble?” Ava asked warily. “What do you mean by that?” The shoplifting thing had just happened, so the only way he’d know about it is if he had been there. She and Charlotte had been on the lookout for bystanders though, and she definitely would have remembered if this guy had been skulking around the Sephora.
“I know you have a fine that you have no hope of paying on your own,” started the stranger. Okay, so maybe he was a security officer or mall staff?
“And I know you’re thinking about crawling to your parents on your hands and knees,” he concluded. A jolt of fear leapt through Ava’s body.
“How the fuck do you know all that?” she asked as adrenaline coursed through her.
“I have my ways,” he said, and lowered his sunglasses to look at Ava directly. His irises were the orange of a crackling fire, and his pupils were black vertical slits, slashes of empty void amid a blazing heat. Ava had the odd feeling that if she looked into those eyes long enough, she’d fall through the cracks of the universe.
“What the fuck,” said Ava, which was an understatement.
“I do apologize for startling you,” said the demon as he put his sunglasses back. He sounded as if he meant it too.
“Who are you?” asked Ava.
The stranger smiled. “Just someone who can offer you a trade.” There was absolutely no way to tell behind the mirror sheen of his sunglasses, but Ava was confident he’d winked at the end of that sentence.
“…okay?” The situation was so odd that it almost became normal. Ava couldn’t properly process what was happening, so she decided she may as well proceed as if this was a perfectly mundane thing to happen.
“I’m offering a mutually beneficial exchange,” he said. “I’ll give you two thousand dollars, enough to cover your fine. In cash, too.” A hand slithered inside a coat pocket and pulled out a thin stack of crisp hundred dollar bills.
Ava scoffed. “For what? You want my soul or something?”
For some reason, the demon found this uproariously funny. He pulled out a blood red handkerchief from a pant pocket and dabbed at the corners of his eyes. “Your soul? That immaterial manifestation of your heart? For something as paltry as money? Come now, Miss Stone, that would hardly be a fair deal.”
Ava weakly chuckled at her own naïveté. “Then what do you want?” she asked, relieved.
“I’d like for you to sleep with a pacifier every night this week,” said the demon, stuffing his handkerchief back into his pocket.
“…what?” Ava said, after a pause. She must have misheard. The request was so incongruous.
“A pacifier,” he said. “I’d like you to sleep with one for a week.” The hand that wasn’t holding the money dug into a jacket pocket and pulled out a pink pacifier. It sat there in the palm of his hand, absuredly large. It would have dwarfed an actual baby’s mouth.
“Why would you want that?” asked Ava, dumbfounded.
“I’m afraid for you, the what is more important than the why,” said the stranger. “The only question you should be asking is whether you believe the boon is worth the price.”
Ava eyed the bills hungrily. The solution to her problems was so close she could reach out and snatch it. Her heart hammered at her chest, but she tore her eyes away from the money and looked at the stranger’s face, which was sitting in a composed state of neutrality. She absentmindedly bounced a rhythm on her thigh with the palm of her hand, deep in thought.
This demon, or whatever he was, was clearly insane. But was what he was asking for bad? Sleeping with a pacifier was strange to be sure, but what was there to lose? It didn’t hurt anyone else. Plus, if it meant her current predicament could be wrapped up without needing to involve anyone else…In a way, it would be foolish not to accept.
Ava thought about how Charlotte might be impressed at how casually Ava would shrug off her fine, and that was the last thing she needed to tip her over the edge.
“Deal,” said Ava. “Do I need to sign a contract or something?”
“I have no worries about you holding up your end of the bargain,” said the man with a smile. “A simple handshake shall suffice.” As Ava clasped his hand, the demon’s grip exuded a charismatic charm, drawing Ava in with a magnetic force of will. When all was said and done, the demon simply handed Ava the stack of bills and the pacifier.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Stone,” he said, smiling genially. “If you should require my services in the future, you have but to come back here.” Ava expected him to disappear in a flash of lightning or something, but he simply mundanely turned and walked away, leaving her to quickly stuff the contraband into her purse.
Ava quickly made her way to a nearby ATM so she could cash the money. She half-expected that the deposit would be rejected, that it had all been an elaborate practical joke, but the machine cooly accepted her bills and credited her account balance. Just like that, she was two thousand dollars richer.
As Ava walked back to her room with the crisp night air biting into her exposed skin, she thought about what she’d agreed to. He’d asked her to sleep with a pacifier for a week. There was no way she was going to sleep with one in her mouth—if one of her roommates saw that, it would be the end of her nascent social life. But maybe if she just had it next to her in bed, safely tucked away, then she could technically fulfill the promise with no risk of social suicide.
That could work. Ava let herself grin.
Her dorm room, luckily, was empty when she got back. Ava shrugged her purse off of her shoulders, dropping it onto the desk with a thud. She quickly palmed the pacifier inside and climbed up to her top bunk, the ladder quietly creaking. Ava flopped facedown onto her blue sheets without even crawling inside, exhausted from the day. She stashed the pacifier under her pillow and closed her eyes, fully expecting not to open them until morning.
Ava found though, that despite the tiredness in her bones, that she kept tossing and turning. She was normally a quick sleeper—she honestly didn’t mind sharing a room with two people, they almost never kept her up—but right now rest was eluding her. Her thoughts weren’t even racing. It was as if her brain was just a idling engine, quietly humming with activity, but one that she couldn’t figure out how to shut off.
She rubbed her eyes and rolled over, putting a pillow over her head to block out the dim light of the phone chargers in the room. There was no way she had to actually sleep with the pacifier in her mouth, was there? The thought was ludicrous. But as Ava yawned, feeling as if her energy had left her body along with her breath, it didn’t seem that out of the question. She felt like butter scraped over too much bread.
It was worth a shot. She had class in the morning.
Feeling silly, she rooted for the pacifier, grabbing it and sticking the bulb in her mouth. She nibbled a bit on the silicone, feeling how it gave as she bit and sprung back as her jaw relaxed.
There’s no way that this will work, she thought, right before she drifted off.
Ava made it almost a month before reaching out to her mysterious benefactor. She’d managed to mostly put the incident behind her and count herself lucky, letting her deal with a demon fade into the background as the the grind of regular life consumed her attention. There were tests to study for and a girl to spend time with.
It was too bad that Charlotte’s birthday was in November.
“Hey so like, for my birthday I was thinking of doing a lil’ weekend in Vail?” Charlotte twirled a tress of hair with her index finger absentmindedly. “My parents said that their cabin was free so we can ski all weekend.” The two of them were in the café that Ava worked at part time, pretending to study over steaming mugs of coffee.
Ava didn’t know what a Vail was, but she did know that skiing sounded expensive. It was like lacrosse or polo, sports that nobody in Ava’s life had ever done until she’d met Charlotte.
“I don’t know how to ski,” she laughed nervously.
“I’ll teach you!” The light in Charlotte’s green eyes danced with excitement.
Ava pursed her lips in thought. She could miss a weekend shift. And it might be fun to try something new.
“Well then, I’m in,” said Ava, grinning.
“Awesome!” Charlotte squealed with joy, which Ava normally found grating on other women but which on Charlotte only reminded Ava of her zest for life. “I’ll book everyone’s tickets so we can sit together on the plane. Venmo me back whenever.”
The record that was Ava’s life scratched. Charlotte hadn’t said anything about needing to fly there. But it was too late to back out now.
“Great,” Ava smiled weakly.
Ava absolutely did not have a spare couple hundred dollars at hand. She thought about picking up extra shifts, or maybe even a second job, but her schoolwork was already beginning to suffer. Suddenly, the deal she’d made at the park bench came to mind.
Could she really go seek him out? Until now, she could truthfully say that she hadn’t gone out looking for demons. They’d come to her. If she did this, she’d be culpable. But that first request had been so innocent. Maybe they’d all be like that. And worst case, she could always turn him down. Indeed, it would be foolish not to at least see if he could help.
As Charlotte approached the park bench, she could see that someone was already sitting on it. As she got closer, his details resolved into the familiar silhouette of her benefactor.
“Hello, Miss Stone,” he said, nodding his head. “Please, take a seat.” This time, she sat.
“I need some money,” she said, skipping right to the point.
“Straight to business,” chided the demon. He dug in his pocket, pulling out a cigar and a lighter. With a few flicks, he got the fire started and puffed.
“Can you help me or not?” pressed Ava. The demon blew out a cloud of wispy smoke. The smell reminded her of ancient tomes and spiced cider.
“I can,” sighed the stranger. “You are seeking funds for a weekend trip?” Ava nodded impatiently. “I can offer you enough to go, and some spending money to boot.”
“And the catch?” Ava stared daggers into the demon’s face, hoping to catch a glimpse of ulterior motive, but his unnerving sunglasses made him impossible to read.
“Another small favor,” he said. He took deep drag and exhaled. “Juice instead of soda with your meals for two weeks.”
It was twice the length, but much easier to hide. This time the calculus was easy.
“Deal,” said Ava, and shook his hand for the second time.
The third time that Ava met the demon, the whole endeavor had gained the comfortability of routine, like well-worn slippers waiting at the end of a workday. The same well-worn bench in the same well-manicured park. Much like the trees, steadfastly evergreen, the demon’s appearance was constant.
Ava exhaled as she sat down, her breath condensing into a mist of fog. The demon, who had already lit his cigar, blew out his own smoke from his lungs, and the two vapors swirled and mingled with each other before evaporating out of sight.
“A pleasure to see you again, Miss Stone,” said the stranger amiably. Ava watched as three excited dogs on leashes walked a hapless woman.
“I hope you’ve been well,” said Ava. Strangely enough, she almost meant it. Even with his weird stipulations, he had been helping her out. It was natural human instinct to want to reciprocate in kind.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “My my, such manners this time. What a good girl you must have been.”
Ava rankled at the remark but let it go for now. Get what she wanted first, then she could worry about incidentals. “Could you get me enough money to get a new laptop?” she asked.
“What’s wrong with your current one?” asked the demon. Ava blinked. He hadn’t asked for her reasoning the last two deals.
“Well…” Ava thought about how isolated she felt when group projects came up and she was the only one without a MacBook.
How her computer always whirred whenever it did anything remotely intensive like it was a helicopter trying to take off.
How nice it would be to just have something that worked in her life for once.
How nice it would be for Charlotte to ooh and aah at Ava’s new toy.
“I just want an upgrade,” Ava finished, eliding her entire thought process.
The demon unhurriedly scratched at his chin in thought. It was like watching a gargoyle come to life, his motions were so slow and considerate.
“One month of sleeping with a pacifier,” he finally said.
“One month?” Ava repeated, flabbergasted. “The first time it was only a week!”
“The first time,” the demon evenly said, “you were in a crisis.”
Ava frowned. “Wouldn’t that normally be when you charge the most? What’s your deal here?”
The demon gently shook his head and sighed. “I am not a loan shark, Miss Stone,” he said firmly. “Perhaps in your world, people prey on the weak so that the strong may get stronger. But I do not operate like that. You need this laptop less, and therefore my price is greater.”
Ava considered her options. A month was a long time, long enough that she would genuinely run into the risk of one of her roommates finding out. And he was right, she didn’t need this laptop in the same way she’d needed to pay her fine.
But in its own twisted kind of way, the demon’s logic made sense. Ava knew that being poor was more expensive than being rich. Charlotte’s fancy laptop cost a fortune, but she never had to scramble for money when a part failed, or deal with the unavoidable slowness tax that plagued Ava every time she used it.
Charlotte, for all her virtues, never quite understood this part of Ava. She couldn’t understand why Ava didn’t just buy the thing that worked the first time. She thought Ava was shooting herself in the foot by being cheap by choice, when really it was by necessity.
The fact that this demon understood what Ava’s classmates didn’t was sobering. He was being fair, more fair than humans themselves would have been.
“Deal,” she said, and she shook his hand for the third time.
By the time the end of the semester was in sight, dealing with the demon had become almost like another chore, like picking up her part of the room or working out, as had the baby things.
She’d cut swear words from her vocabulary for two weeks.
She’d worn a diaper for the first time in fifteen years, just to bed. She’d even wet it too, on another occasion.
And now, her latest deal: wearing a diaper for twenty-four hours in exchange for extra spending money for a winter vacation trip with Charlotte and her crew.
It was going to be a piece of cake. It was dead week. She didn’t have classes to go to. Her only job was going to be studying for finals. And so, one morning, Ava shuffled off to a private bathroom and taped herself into a diaper, each step taken with the steady hand of experience.
Lay a towel on the floor, with the unfolded diaper on top. Shimmy off her pants and panties. Sit down, feeling how the soft fluff contrasted with the ragged fuzziness of the towel. Pull the front up between her legs. Slide a finger around the leg bands to ensure a snug fit. Peel the tapes off carefully, the loudest and most dangerous part. Press each one in firmly.
Ava stood and looked in the mirror as she adjusted the tapes, feeling the thickness of the padding rubbing against her inner thighs. When she was done, she finished changing into her outfit for the day. She’d learned that her normal slim-fitting pants were a bad idea. Even when she tried wearing sweatpants, the diaper puffed up around her waist in a way that panties very much didn’t.
She’d eventually found something that worked. For today, it was a simple white blouse with a black bow tied around the collar and a high-waisted gray skirt. Comfortable and discreet, perfect for studying. She put her towel back on the rack, sat at her desk, and opened her notebooks.
Ava’s studies were interrupted mid-morning by a building urge in her bladder. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to wet herself though, though she couldn’t do it sitting down. After checking to make sure she was alone, she stood up and relaxed, feeling the warmth spread out from between her legs, quiet tinkling sounds covered by a sigh of relief.
When she was done, she reached under her skirt and patted around the leg bands. The wet diaper squished into her skin as she felt her thighs for any signs of wetness. She hadn’t taped herself properly the first time she’d wet herself, and she’d had to do an emergency load of laundry in the middle of the night. This time though, her thighs were blessedly dry.
Suddenly, Ava heard a knock on the door, followed by the creak of it opening. She quickly removed her hands and smoothed her skirt down, her heart skipping a beat with surprise. Charlotte poked her head in the room, her gently curled tawny tresses gently bouncing.
“Hey!” she said. “I know this is real sponty of me, but I thought maybe we could have a picnic? Just the two of us?” She raised her arm up, showing Ava a wicker picnic basket. “I’ve got a whole charcuterie set and everything.” Her eyes shimmered like a mossy glen kissed by the morning light.
Ava froze. Why did Charlotte have to stop by today of all days? Her first instinct was to demur. But why? Hadn’t she been doing everything for Charlotte? And a picnic—that was romantic. Turning her down would send the wrong message. It would jeopardize everything she’d worked for all semester.
“Sure, I’d love to,” said Ava, anticipation and anxiety swirling together into a confusing cocktail of emotion.
As the two of them walked, Ava couldn’t stop thinking about the diaper between her legs. Each crinkle seemed to crackle in the air like gunshots. There was no way Charlotte didn’t know, but somehow she was oblivious. Ava ran through a mental catalogue of increasingly flimsy excuses. Jolly Ranchers in her pockets. A plastic bag that had blown around them. Charlotte was just imagining things.
Against all odds, Charlotte had somehow chosen the same exact park that Ava met her benefactor at. A pit of dread nestled itself into Ava’s stomach. Thankfully, as Charlotte led Ava to a sunny spot on a grass knoll, Ava could see that the park bench down the pedestrian path was blissfully empty. Charlotte unfurled a checkered blanket with a flourish, laying it on the lush grass before setting her basket on top and kicking her sandals off. Ava followed suit, plopping down with a soft squish.
Charlotte pulled out the picnic spread. As they enjoyed their lunch, a light breeze swirled around the two of them like a mischievous pixie.
“I know I’ve said this before,” Charlotte said between bites of bread, “but thanks for having my back when we got caught.”
“Of course,” said Ava. “That was months ago though. Why’re you bringing this up now?”
“Just practicing gratitude,” said Charlotte, winking beguilingly.
Ava laughed and reached for the blueberry jam. The tips of her fingers brushed against Charlotte’s, sending crackles of electricity up Ava’s arm. She jerked her arm back, then looked at Charlotte, embarrassed.
“I don’t bite,” Charlotte said with a smirk. “Unless you want me to.” She took her hand and slowly cupped Ava’s chin.
“Uh…” Ava could feel her breathing quicken. The world fell away, leaving the two of them perched on a knife’s edge between worlds of possibility.
“I think,” Charlotte breathed, “that you do want me to.” She closed her eyes and leaned in, giving Ava a kiss. Ava could taste the traces of jam on Charlotte’s lips, a perfect complement to Ava’s own.
“I do,” said Ava, and received another kiss in response, Charlotte’s hair gently tickling Ava’s cheek. Ava could smell faint traces of Charlotte’s strawberry shampoo and feel the soft tickle of Charlotte’s breath on her skin.
With a surge of movement, Charlotte wrapped an arm around Ava’s back and leaned forward, until they ended up with Ava’s back on the blanket and Charlotte on top. Charlotte shifted a leg, straddling Ava with her knees on the blanket, and gently kissed Ava on the neck. Ava let out a small whimper of pleasure as Charlotte moved her kisses further and further down Ava’s neck.
Charlotte moved one hand under Ava’s skirt, brushing against her inner thighs. Ava suddenly froze, her heart skipping a beat as her she acutely remembered the infantile garment she was wearing under her skirt.
“We’re in public,” Ava said, reaching for Charlotte’s arm to pull it away. She tried sitting up, but Charlotte just added more pressure to the hand on Ava’s chest.
“No one’s looking,” Charlotte purred, gently tapping her hand up Ava’s leg before poking the plastic leg band and pausing.
“What…?” Charlotte said, almost to herself. That was decidedly not what panties felt like.
Ava’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She tried prying Charlotte’s hand away, but she swatted Ava’s arm away and patted Ava’s crotch. Ava felt the hand on the front of her diaper, the sensation muted by the bulky material wrapped around her hips. The soggy padding pressed into her skin as she was wracked with another wave of humiliation.
Charlotte experimentally pressed her fingers into Ava’s diaper a few more times, as if she were checking to see if jello had set. Ava tried to wiggle her way out, but she had no leverage. Charlotte made a puzzled frown before suddenly shifting her weight onto her knees and flipping Ava’s skirt up.
“What are you doing?” Ava cried out. She tried to flip her skirt back down, but Charlotte grabbed her wrists and pushed them into the picnic blanket. The cheerful outlines of teddy bears and baby bottles were visible to anyone who turned their head to look, the diaper a white badge of shame forever making Ava a Hester Prynne.
Ava turned her head from side to side, feeling like a thousand eyes had manifested and turned their undivided attention towards her, but for the most part people were quietly doing their own thing. Ava saw someone point at her and turn to their partner before giggling. Her paranoia refused to allow for any charitable explanation.
“What are you wearing?” Charlotte asked, bewildered. She hadn’t been completely sure before she’d made visual contact—the idea that Ava would be wearing a diaper hadn’t even been a remote possibility in her mind.
“Please,” Ava said, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She was on a knife’s edge, ready to break down sobbing, which would not have helped her case at all. “I can explain,” she said, hoping that maybe her mind would catch up and lay out a reasonable explanation.
“Do you need diapers or something? Oh my God, I had no idea,” said Charlotte, her own cheeks reddening with sympathetic embarrassment.
“No! I don’t!” blurted out Ava, scrambling to save face.
Charlotte furrowed her brow as her mind shifted tracks. “So this is just for kicks? Like some kind of sex thing?” She shifted her weight off of Ava and sat on the blanket.
It was clear that Ava had made a tactical error. “Char,” Ava said, pulling her skirt back over her diaper, “please. Don’t freak out.”
“It’s not that,” said Charlotte, sounding conflicted. “It’s just really unexpected.” She bit her lip. “Like, what, was it fun for it to be a secret or something?”
“I didn’t want to tell you,” pled Ava.
“You should have,” said Charlotte. “You should have gotten my consent. I’m not a prude. I don’t care what you’re into. But you should have told me.”
As Charlotte quietly packed the picnic back up and left, Ava could do nothing but sit, arms around her knees as she cried. After a few minutes, when her tears had slowed and her pity party started winding down, a shadow suddenly covered her. She looked up to see the demon, face perfectly neutral, as if the events that had transpired were like static on a television, meaning nothing to him.
“I messed up,” Ava mumbled into her arms.
“Perhaps,” said the demon sympathetically. “But you might be interested to know that my assistance can extend beyond the purely monetary. That girl doesn’t have to slip out of your reach.”
The demon had led Ava into this. He wanted her in diapers for some reason. It was inevitable that eventually someone would find out. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.
Ava had no one to blame but herself. If she hadn’t taken his deals, she wouldn’t be in this situation at all.
But that was true on multiple levels. Without the money to cover the fine, she might not have even been able to keep going to college. She might have been expelled.
He’d never forced her to do anything. Her hand always shook his willingly, with no attached puppet strings. She’d been the architect of her own doom, and now the only thing she could do was pray in the cathedral she’d made.
Ava had traded so much already to catch Charlotte’s eye. Why stop now? As long as she kept her wits about her, she could take more than she gave. Just because this deal had backfired didn’t mean that every deal would. She could be more careful. She could do it right.
Ava took a deep breath in, then breathed it out with a sigh.
“Tell me the terms,” she said, and the demon cracked the barest of smiles.