Shark, pt. 1

Hi guys, long time reader, first time writer. I’m not too talkative - mostly because this whole hobby is my Deep Dark Secret - but I appreciate all the writing y’all have done and figured I should try to give back to the people. Anyway, this was all written in a day as one draft, so PLEASE critique away - my biggest problem is the editing process. Anyway, this is a plot that I don’t think I’ve seen and thought it was worth at least putting out there for someone better than me at getting to the point to steal.

I intend to finish this but I’m a student so it might take a while.

Look, it was all a mistake, okay? I had no idea this sort of thing could even happen. Don’t look at me like I’m weird.

I’m a Harvard man. I have the jacket. Grew up a few blocks from the campus, in fact. I have a Harvard-caliber intellect, just not the right sort of pocketbook. That’s why I had to borrow money from Elise Thaumi. I’d heard horror stories about banks repossessing houses and generally destroying the life bought by a bachelor’s degree. A friend of mine told me about a friend of his in the Boston area, who had graduated a few years before either of us and ran a student loan service.

I met with her just after my high school graduation and she said it would be no problem to borrow all I needed, and with a pretty good rate of interest. I thought it sounded like a great idea. All she needed, she said, was a lock of my hair to keep on file. She said it was just in case I decided not to pay, so she could find me. Elise was all smiles and promised me it wouldn’t involve any breaking legs or anything, but she didn’t want me to think I’d be able to simply “forget” to give her a forwarding address when I moved to wherever the job market took me.

Ultimately I got a job in Boston, albeit nowhere near enough I could keep living with my parents (why would I want to anyhow?). It wasn’t too good a job, mostly mindless data-entry stuff, but I could afford a decent apartment and, most importantly, I could pay my debts to Elise, who lived in the middle of the wacky flower-child neighborhood.

I should clarify: I was able to pay my debts to Elise until my car broke down on the day after the warranty’s expiration. Cursing my luck I went to Elise to ask for an extension on my next payment.

“That’s a hard question you ask, Dave,” she told me as she pressed elderberries for a drink. I had never even seen elderberries before. “I’d love to help you, and I understand you need your car, but these loans are my only source of income and if I let you put off paying then everybody else would start asking for extensions. You understand, don’t you, Dave?”

She had a habit of repeating my name a lot. She spoke slowly and quietly, with the sort of voice you expect to hear from a kindergarten teacher. She dressed like one – ignoring the glasses and the red hair she kept in a bun, I had not once seen her in anything both a long, flowing skirt with some sort of flowery design. I had trouble taking her seriously, to be honest. That didn’t last long.

“I understand, but it’s simply not possible for me to pay you. I have to go to work if I’m going to keep my job and I kind of need that to pay you ever again.”

“I can’t make your decision for you,” Elise said as if I were a naughty child. She reached under the table and pulled out a little straw doll which had what I could swear was my hair from four years ago tied around the head. She made no further motion to it after putting it on the counter but I was put on edge enough. “Just so you know you will have to face consequences anytime you fall behind on your payments, Dave.”

I pressed her, but it turned out she barely even raised rates for missed payments. She really seemed like a wet blanket, so I got my car repaired and thought nothing of it. I didn’t want a higher rate but I needed wheels. You understand.

Monday, the day my payment was due, was uneventful – less eventful than usual, given that I didn’t drive a check to her. Before I went to sleep, in fact as I was getting into bed, I received a call on my cell. It was Elise.

“Hey, Elise? It’s kind of late to be calling,” I told her, unable to sound angry enough to scold her. She was so sweet.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to pay me my money this month.” She got right to the point, which was fine by me, I was tired.

“No, I’m sorry. I just can’t pay this time.” I wasn’t too sorry, I didn’t see any reason to be.

She didn’t seem to mind. “That’s okay, just remember you’re going to have to pay the consquences. Sleep well, honey,” Elise told me, before hanging up. I shrugged it off and slept heavily.

The next morning I was freezing and it was only after a minute or so of wondering why that I realized I had wet the bed. I thought little of it – I assumed that though I had not heard of people randomly wetting their beds once in a while, or even once in a few decades, but that had to be the case – after all it was what happened, right?

I went about my day and everything was normal. I only thought of it once more, when it occurred to me that leaving the sheets to soak in my bathtub and the mattress to air out might have been unwise. Too late, and they were cheap sheets anyway.

On my way out the door at work I was waved at by Amy, one of my co-workers. She had dark brown hair cut into a bob and had a fondness for pleated skirts, which swayed when she walked and had singlehandedly caused a bit of an infatuation on my part (well, more than that I suppose it was the way she smiled and her cute little nose. But those skirts got a lot of my attention too.)

Amy was going to have dinner straight after work at a Chinese place nearby. She asked if I wanted to join her – once we’d gone there for lunch and had both enjoyed it.

I decided to accompany her because all I had waiting at my apartment was a set of wet sheets and a TV dinner. We had fun – Amy and I shared an abiding love for Queen and Tristram Shandy. It was a little intimidating, as she claimed to be able to read Shandy for fun and not feel even a little bored, which I’m pretty sure was just a smokescreen to impress me – that was inhuman. I said I was the same way – so I suppose if she weren’t lying I’d be a bad guy but hopefully it wouldn’t matter at all beyond keeping the conversation going.

We made plans to see a movie on Friday and I returned home. I made the bed (which had dried, I had not wet too much) with my second set of sheets and fell into bed after reading my daily blogs and comics.

It was a little off-putting when I wet the bed again Tuesday night. If this was going to be a regular occurrence I was regretting my date with Amy – if the date went well and we ended up together that night I did not relish the idea of wetting again. I had a clear vision in my head of Amy’s cute little nose wrinkling in disgust. Even when angry she was beautiful. In my imagination, anyway.

That day after work I went to the pharmacy. I had no idea where to look for medication for this – the closest I found was called Flomax, which did not seem like what I was looking for at all. After half an hour of avoiding making eye contact with the pharmacist I left, but not before looking at the incontinence aisle for half a second. I wondered why they had so many adult diapers, but then shrugged it off and left.

My first set of sheets was drying over the bathtub, the second set still in said tub. I made the bed again and Wednesday night – you can mark it on your star chart – I wet the bed again. My mattress was starting to keep the smell.

I decided to visit Elise that day to ask about herbal remedies and stores like that near her. I did not relish talking to her again but desperate times called for desperate measures.

It was reaching the point that every time I saw Amy’s pert butt all I could think of was my image of her disgusted face if I could not solve my problem.

“Dave!” Elise said, her face brightening as I opened her door. A little chime played as the door swung shut behind me. “Have you got my check?”

“No, I’m sorry,” I admitted. I had mostly forgotten about that – I just had a dis-ease at the idea of seeing her. “I was wondering if you could tell me about any herbal remedy-type stores around here – this seemed like the neighborhood to check.”

She bit her lip and cocked her head. “Are you having any problems you’d like to tell me about, Dave?”

I shook my head. “Not for anything in particular. I just wanted to learn more about it.”

Our eyes locked. “Are you sure you’re not having trouble staying dry at night or anything like that?”

How had she known? I went stiff.

She pulled the doll with my hair on it out and put it on the counter. It seemed different somehow. “I told you there would be consequences if you decided not to pay me. Usually people leave it at that.”

What.

“Are you saying you’re making me wet the bed?”

“I’m saying that because you missed a payment, you can’t keep from going to the potty when you’re asleep.” She said this with the same matter-of-fact talking-to-children tone as ever.

My creditor thought she was some sort of wizard.

“You can’t do this! You’ll kill my sex life! I’m calling the cops,” I told her, pulling out my cell phone. Mostly hoping this was some elaborate bluff and she would tell me the truth, and explain what she had done.

I did not get to make the call, however, because at that moment I squatted over as my guts contracted. I had to go to the bathroom, badly. I crossed my legs as she watched, smirking.

“Do you want me to take you to the bathroom?” she asked me.

In one moment I glared at her, and wet and my pants.

My eyes were wide. I felt disgusting. “What did you do? How did you do this?”

“Your hair, sweetie. It’s magic.” She was on my side of the counter – I had not seen her move. She kissed my forehead as I held my stomach. “That’s just to show you why you need to respect me. If you try telling a soul about this, just know that I’ve done this with far stronger people than you and trust me, it can get worse. My wishes for the time being are for you to pay me back. I’ll be patient but understand that you’ll be wetting the bed like a little boy until I have alllll my money.”

I had nothing to say. This was not a scenario I had ever learned a response to.

“Elise,” I whispered. I felt my pee running down my pants and shuddered.

“Miss Thaumi,” she corrected. “We’re not equals anymore. You missed a payment.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “Miss Thaumi, I have a date on Friday. Isn’t there anything else you can do that won’t ruin m chances with this girl?”

Elise shook her head with the same ostensibly-kind smile. " I suppose… I could lift the curse for Friday night – and just Friday night – but I’ll have to add a little something every other night. Just like with your rates going up. Will you agree to that, Dave?"

I nodded immediately. Anything would be better than wetting the bed with Amy.

I was very grateful but one other problem remained – my pants were wet.

Elise grinned and asked if I needed to change my pants. I swallowed my pride and asked if she could help. It was cold outside and my car just came back from the shop, I had no interest in adding the robust scent of pee.

She pointed to the bathroom and told me there was a change of clothes in there. She predicted all of this.

She had placed on the sink a pair of yellow sweatpants and pink cotton panties. I glanced back at her through the door. She gave me a look as if to ask me if I wanted to test her. For some reason she was holding a paddle.

I closed the door and changed into the humiliating garments. Though Elise was much smaller than me they fit perfectly, which put me even more off balance but was not worth risking complaining about.

I left without another word. She said I’d find her new penalty when I went to bed and that was all I needed.

Her new penalty solved the problem posed by the bed-wetting, to say the least.

I got home, swearing under my breath. The panties Elise gave me were feeling more constricting every step I took. I crawled into bed, wondering what the new penalty she told me to expect would be.

As I lay I felt something different and realized that there was a rubber sheet on my mattress. I had no idea how she did that with voodoo or whatever she was doing but it wasn’t worth the fuss. I was going to have to get one anyway.

Then I remembered that my real sheets were drying in the bathroom and looked at what I was lying on instead. My over-sheets were decorated with baby cartoon characters, and the whole set was a soft blue and yellow design, even my “new” comforter.

I grumbled and removed the childish sheets (wondering idly where she found a set big enough for my bed), heading to my bathroom. Neither of my grown-up sets of sheets were there. She must have broken into my house at some point.

The drawer where I kept my sheets when I was not regularly washing them was full – with the same sorts of things. Pokemon sheets, Disney sheets. There were seven sets, counting the one I took off my bed.

Curiouser and curiouser. Ultimately I admitted defeat and just put the first set back on my bed and tried to get to sleep, un-helped by the bizarre revelation of the day.

I sighed. So witches existed and I had run afoul of one. I wondered if the friend who referred me to her knew about this. She said not to tell anyone or I’d be doing worse than pissing my pants.

I slept pretty well. I wet the bed again overnight and decided to test her magic – I left my wet sheets on the bed. Mattress was protected, and I was getting tired of the cleaning routine anyway.

Work was fine, and Amy and I left directly to see our film. I had kind of been hoping to get home, renew my inch-thick protective layer of deodorant, and maybe shave again for good measure, but c’est la vie.

The movie was a standard romantic comedy. We spent most of the movie whispering jokes to each other about whatever moronic decision was being made on-screen (a favorite activity of mine and, it turned out, hers too). I made her giggle loud enough for a fellow theatergoer to shush us at least twice, which was great for my ego.

At one point I felt the moment was right to place my arm around her shoulder. Unfortunately, my jacket was sort of pinned under my leg and didn’t allow my arm too much give, so I ended up flailing my arm about for a second before giving up and returning my hand to the armrest, which her arm now occupied. I managed to pass it off as if it were a hand-holding attempt from the word go. So I was somewhat smooth, but not as much so as I’d hoped.

Later I got warm and shrugged off my jacket, and finally managed to give Amy the reach-around. She did not seem to mind but you can never be too sure. She seemed to tense up when she realized what was happening, which could have been good or bad for all I knew.

Ultimately I drove her back to the parking lot of where we worked. Before she got out of the car I mentioned that I’d be willing to pick her up and drive her to work tomorrow, but she reminded me it was Friday and she couldn’t have me taxiing her around the world all weekend.

I wished I’d thought of that before getting her to her car – if I took her straight home I could have offered to get her back Saturday morning anyway, but now it was just impractical. I opened her door for her (either gentlemanly or overbearing, depending who you do it for) and walked her to her car. We stood next to her sedan for a few minutes trying to ask each other when we could next meet.

We decided on next Friday, by which time I could hopefully bargain my way to ostensible normalcy with Elise – at least enough to host Amy for an evening.

I returned home and when I saw my baby sheets (changed to the Pokemon set in my absence) I realized that my entire plea with Elise was for naught now. Maybe she’d give me back my normal sheets, since I wouldn’t need my half of the bargain.

I called her on my cell. It was only nine, and she’d called me later than that Monday night.

“Davey?” she asked, her syrupy-sweetness making me regret even talking to her. “What is it? I thought you had a big date tonight, little boy.”

Little boy. Geeze. “I know, but we didn’t end up staying together tonight. Maybe next week. Anyway, I was wondering if you could–”

“You were wondering if I could lift your curse next Friday instead, right?” It was a little scary how much she knew without my permission. I’d have to ask about her methods one of these days.

My silence confirmed her question. Or maybe it didn’t – she already knew, more likely in my eyes.

“I’d love to never have to punish you at all, honey,” she said, “but I wouldn’t be taking very good care of you if I let you misbehave without consequences.”

Misbehave? What was she talking about now? This woman was crazy and powerful and I had never much approved of that combination.

“When you asked for me to lift your curse tonight it was because you expected this woman – Amy, her name was? – to put out for you, didn’t you? Now tell me, is that a polite assumption to make about anybody?”

I found myself shaking my head and feeling ashamed in spite of myself.

“Davey, I think I’m going to have to move you up in your discipline – obviously that expensive school I helped send you to failed you in that regard. Hang up and go to your door with your pants down.”

I pulled down my pants and underwear. I didn’t want to, but this woman was a witch. She had a power I feared and it was not something I wanted to test.

I slowly walked to the door, bare legged, and opened it. You’ll never guess who was standing in the hallway.

“Thank you, Davey.”

“Elise – how did you get here?!” I suddenly had the presence of mind to resist that I had lost while she was commanding me and moved my hands to cover my privates as she walked into my apartment and (thankfully) closed the door behind her.

“Miss Thaumi,” she reminded me, and I felt even more ashamed for some reason.

I stopped trying to speak and followed her as she walked into my bedroom, childish bedsheets and everything. She sat at the foot of my bed, a few feet away from my discarded pants and patted her lap.

She did not explain to me what she wanted but some part of me knew – presumably the same part of me that surrendered half my clothing without a second thought. I lay face-down over her lap and her hand began to pat my butt lightly.

“You’ve been very naughty, lately, haven’t you, Dave?”

I nodded, dreading what I had no doubt was coming.

“That’s right, you’re just a bad little boy who needs to be punished before you get into any more trouble. Now I want you to count to fifty along with me.”

Her hand came down – hard – on my ass in the first spank I had received in decades. “One,” we both said together.

“Two,” she continued, this one harder than the last. Eventually she stopped counting and left me to count alone while she kindly reminded me that this was for being such a rude, horrible little boy and that I’m going to need to grow up or keep receiving these spankings on my bad little bottom every night.

“Forty-five,” I grimaced. My ass was, no doubt, red as a traffic light by this point, but she was showing no signs of stopping just yet. My legs twitched for all of the last five spanks she gave me and then upon fifty she allowed me respite. She pulled off my shirt and lay me on my bed, as I was still nearly catatonic from the pain and humiliation.

“Now hold on, while I get you ready for bed, sweetheart.” She reached under my bed. “You know it wasn’t easy for me to remove your enchantments for just tonight and now you tell me it was for nothing anyway.”

I was motionless, lest I rub my sore butt on the sheets and hurt even more. I just listened to her as she went to work on something I could not bring myself to watch, her skirt flapping and flowing with every motion she made.

“You’re going to work that off for me this weekend, Davey! Won’t that be fun?” If she were just a little bit more cruel she would have been the most terrifyingly cheerful serial killer in history.

“What are you going to do, Miss Thaumi?” I whispered, remembering my place for a change.

“That would be telling,” she said, and lifted my poor bottom before lowering it onto what I realized after a second was a diaper. She lifted my naked legs again and poured a hefty amount of talcum powder onto me and the diaper. I already didn’t have it in me to resist, but the scent of the powder hammered home just how powerless I was in this situation.

“I’m going to keep you in this diaper tonight, Davey,” she said as she pushed my legs apart and lifted the diaper up to fasten it. It was disposable, with a smooth plastic covering that crinkled as she pulled the tapes to the front and pressed them down. “Now baby’s nice and safe in his big, soft diaper.”

She wasn’t kidding. I wouldn’t be the first to compare the feeling to a pillow – albeit a small one – but that’s it exactly. I tentatively moved my legs. I could press my legs together, but it was a little more of a strain than usual.

“Don’t worry, it’ll hold any messes you might make, sweetie. In fact, why don’t you find out for yourself? You should have to pee in a few minutes.”

I had to pee as she said that, in fact. My legs bunched the diaper together as I tried crossing my thighs. The pain from the spanking still hadn’t subsided, and was sapping a little of my concentration.

“Anyway, little boy, would you like to know how you’ll be helping out your nanny this weekend?” She bent towards me, still smiling as wide as ever.

Apparently I looked anxious to find out, because she told me. I guess I would have found out eventually anyway, but I still resented her assumption.

“I’m going to steal most of your intelligence and maturity for the weekend, Davey. You should regain it in time for work on Monday – most of it anyway; you might still have some trouble keeping dry, thanks to your bed-wetting problem, but I’ll provide you with diapers as long as you need them. In fact,” she giggled and pointed at my dresser, “Go look at how I’ve provided for you already.”

Against my will and still struggling to keep from peeing myself I walked to the dresser. I opened the top drawer, and found none of my regular underwear.

On the left were a good dozen pairs of children’s underpants, with cartoon characters and the like, sized for me, but on the right and taking up a good deal more space were at least forty diapers, some plain just like mine, some decorated with building blocks and teddy bears.

I closed the drawer, flabbergasted, and saw two more bags of them now on top of my dresser (“Big Baby” brand, apparently), along with a changing mat, wipes, talcum powder, and rash cream.

Elise was a witch, but more than that, she believed that if a job was worth doing it was worth doing all the way.

“Alright, now lie back in your bed, sweetie,” she said, leading me by hand back to my bed. I lay down and saw bars rise up around me. I was in a crib. One side was down and she leaned in to me holding a pacifier, which she held to my mouth.

I kept my lips closed tightly. She held my nose and I reluctantly opened my mouth. As I sucked on the pacifier I felt strange, almost drunk but worse. I realized – this was my intelligence and maturity leaving me – just seconds before I became too infantile to understand anything of the sort.

My eyes lost focus and I lost the battle with my bladder. My diaper inflated along with the added matter, pushing my legs further apart.

Elise patted the front of my diaper. “Alright, that’s that. Consider your magical debt to me repaid. You’re lucky you’ll regain your mental age soon, baby – it’s hard for a toddler to earn money, and if you can’t earn money you’ll never be out of my control, will you, Davey?”

I could only gabble and cry.

Re: Shark, pt. 1

This is something new, and I like it!

Re: Shark, pt. 1

Very enjoyable indeed. Excited for more.

Re: Shark, pt. 1

Yes. Very good!

Re: Shark, pt. 1

hurry up with the next chp. plz, im getting a bit anxious!!!