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On my way to the main office I saw my friend Stacia crying. I asked her what was wrong. I was in a hospital room, alone.

A few minutes earlier, a nurse had come into my room to prep me for an emergency appendectomy. Minutes later, I felt a warm, stickiness between my legs.

I touched my inner thighs, and my fingers revealed blood! I knew then with utter certainty that the nurse had killed me. I was fourteen. It was It was just me, my grampa, and my two brothers.

So there I was on a farm with all boys in the middle of nowhere. I walked into the house to go to the bathroom. While I was in the bathroom, I happened to look down and I see that my underwear is soaked in blood.

I started to sorta panic! I stuffed some toilet paper in my underwear and walked into the living room. That was when I noticed that some guest had just arrived.

I just stood there unable to talk, frozen in my shock. The phone rang. My brothers were stuck out in the woods because their four-wheeler had died, and they needed to be picked up.

Everyone got up immediately, leaving me and the guest—a woman I barely knew—at home alone. She did exactly that. When my brothers got back, we all went to the barn.

To my surprise, she announced it in front of everyone! That was sooo embarrassing! I remembered all of this this morning when I got into the truck and I got a really bad cramp.

It was a Wednesday night, American Idol was going to be on. My mother was laying on the couch half asleep. I had just turned ten years old in November.

I wanted my period so bad. My best friend Paedrin had gotten hers the month before, and my friend Kassy had gotten hers in December. At the age of 10 I was already a C-cup starting to get an hourglass shape.

She needed this time to herself; she needed to pamper herself. Molly put the plug into the drain and turned on the hot water. While she waited for the tub to fill, she looked at herself in the mirror.

It was sad, she thought as she examined her reflection, how her body suffered from the long day at work. The huge rolls of skin had shrivelled due to dehydration until deep wrinkles and folds formed, running vertically along her body.

One such wrinkle had formed so deeply on her chest that her left breast had actually been swallowed up between the folds of skin.

Only a strict regimen of bathing, in warm salty water, for at least twelve hours a day, would allow her body to absorb enough moisture to bring back the robust, smooth surface of the skin.

The doctors did not approve, they stood there in their examining rooms with the silly, shocked expressions on their faces, blustering nonsense about healthy eating habits and the dangers of hyperobesity, but they did not understand.

It was clear that they could never understand; clear in the way they squeezed the precious water from her arms, clear from the way they insisted she see a specialist.

No, she had given up on doctors years ago. Opening the cabinet under the sink, Molly chose from among the cases of bath cubes, bath oil beads, bottles of bubble bath and bath salts.

For tonight, a dozen beads of mandarin orange would do, and a cube of lavender. Then a cup and a half There was enough hot water now; she turned on the cold.

She went to the door and, opening it a crack, yelled, "Lillian! Come here. Minutes later, when Molly had tested the water and found the temperature to her liking, there was a knock at the door.

When she opened it and peeped through the crack, she saw a plate lying on the floor, with a mound of macaroni, a pool of beans in tomato sauce, and a pile of miniature egg rolls.

Beside the plate were the two packages of cigarettes. Making sure nobody could see, she pushed the door wider open, grabbed the plate and cigarettes, and closed and locked the door.

She climbed into the bath with a sigh of relief, and devoured the food hungrily. Molly lay in the bathtub for hours, occasionally rolling over to immerse a different part of her body.

When the water cooled down she would use her feet to turn on the hot water tap, until the temperature was pleasant once more.

She listened to Mozart, Vivaldi, the Temptations; she turned on the television and watched the game show channel, her favourite.

And while she lay in the tub, something wonderful happened. Molly's body began to grow. The wrinkles and craters slowly disappeared as her skin soaked up the life-giving water.

The rolls and folds expanded and swelled, as when one puffs air into a wrinkled air mattress, until her skin inflated to its full capacity, and by this time Molly had grown so large that her buttocks, calves and feet completely filled the bathtub.

Refreshed and reassured, Molly slept. Outside the room childish wars were fought, insincere treaties agreed to, then broken, messes were made, expeditions were launched, and Molly snoozed on.

A little girl of about seven years stayed up all night, doing load after load of laundry on the orders of an older sister, occasionally lapsing into temporary unconsciousness, slumped like a rag-doll in a smelly laundry basket, only to be awoken by the buzz of the washer or the ding of the dryer and, gummy-eyed, replace clean with dirty or dry with wet.

The noise of juvenile activity diminished but never stopped and at seven in the morning, some grumpy teenaged girls began to make the family breakfast.

After a heated discussion as to what would be an appropriate meal, they began to make a large batch of french fries.

The lobster pot was placed on the stove and a pair of little boys were rousted from their beds and set to work peeling and slicing potatoes.

Soon the oil was subtly boiling, and plates of french fries were passed to the far corners of the house, where tousled children crawled from various nooks and crannies to devour them.

But the making of deep-fried vegetable products has its hazards. A handful of raw potato was hurled too boisterously into the lobster pot, a dollop of oil splashed out, and soon the stovetop was in flames.

With a lightning-quick assessment of the situation, a teenaged boy grabbed a tea towel and began to swat at the fire. The tea towel was joined by a soiled apron, wielded by another pair of eager hands and, amazingly, the flames were soon extinguished.

But the tea towel was now on fire. With a gasp of mixed surprise and pain, the boy tossed the tea towel toward the back door.

It landed on the patch of spilled garbage, and soon this mess, tricycle tracks and all, was alight and burning merrily. The mishap had been promoted to a disaster; it was now beyond the scope of the children to deal with it, and they began to run around in a panic.

Some of them ran outside to safety but, confused, ran back inside. Their sharpness of mind, normally well-honed due to too much independance, lost its gleam and they ran around in circles, willy-nilly, occasionally bumping into one another.

All, that is, except Donny. The youngest at five and a half, perhaps he was too small to realize the danger of the predicament. He did not panic. He marched determinedly along the hallway to the bathroom, pounded on the door and shouted, "Mommy!

The kitchen's on fire! Molly did not hear him at first. She mumbled in her sleep and tried to roll over, but was too tightly wedged in the tub to move.

Her right arm flopped against the edge of the tub and knocked the ashtray to the floor. The sound of the ashtray breaking woke her and, blinking wearily, she heard Donny thumping on the door, and slowly perceived what the small, muffled voice was saying.

Kitchen on fire. Molly snapped awake and sprang into immediate action. She tried to get up, realized she was stuck, and pushed downward on the edges of the tub.

Her buttocks emerged with the sound of two champagne corks popping, and she was free. Leaping to her feet, she rushed to the door and unhooked it.

As the door swung open, Molly saw Donny rush crying into a nearby bedroom. Her sudden emergence had frightened him. The next thing she saw was smoke, filling the top half of the hallway.

At this point Molly began to scream blood-curdling war cries. She sprinted along the hallway towards the kitchen, thinking nothing about danger to herself, driven only by the need to protect her children.

The run along the hallway happened as if in a dream. It seemed to take forever to get there, as if time had slowed.

Molly's feet crushed toys that lay in the hall. The telephone table got in her way and was reduced to splinters. As she rounded the corner, still whooping, her knee banged into the wall and took out a chunk of plaster the size of a watermelon.

When the children saw her coming they shrieked in terror and ran wildly to get out of her way. And wherever Molly touched, she left behind a splash of water.

Deep puddles showed where her feet struck the floor. In the cavity in the wall where her knee had gone through the plaster, a splash of water penetrated the worn insulation of some wiring and, with a flash, the ceiling light in the hallway went out.

Simultaneously six radios, two stereos, three televisions, and both washer and dryer fell silent. All that was left was the unfamiliar morning light from outside and the splashing sound of Molly's feet landing on the faded hall carpet, punctuated by her hysterical screeching.

She skidded to a halt at the end of the hallway, where she could see through the open doorway into the kitchen.

For a moment there was silence, except for the quiet crackling of the fire. The children, shocked motionless by the appearance of Molly, huge, naked, and bloated with moisture to the point of bursting, stood there with their mouths hanging open, staring at her, unable to believe their eyes.

Molly gazed with horror at the pile of burning garbage, and her eyes roamed about the room, searching for something with which to smother the flames, but towels and tablecloth had already been burnt in futile attempts to put out the fire.

There was no fire extinguisher. Desperate, Molly ran across the room, whooping and crying, and threw herself bodily upon the flames.

The children gasped in anguish as they watched their mother roll on the burning trash. As Molly's flesh pressed against the fire, water poured from her skin like from a soaked sponge, putting out the flames.

A great cloud of steam rose into the air, temporarily blocking the children's view of the terrible scene. As Molly fought the fire, still screaming like a banshee, she realized the power of her bloated body, and began to stamp and crush at stubborn patches with her forearms, her calves, her breasts.

For a few moments she worried, feeling a rapid depletion of the precious moisture, built up over so many hours of careful attention, but her efforts won out in the end.

Using her buttocks to squish out a last patch of burning rubbish, she then sat and slowly caught her breath, as the steam began to disperse.

The fire out, her panic gone, she finally stopped shrieking and took stock of her surroundings. The kitchen was damaged, but not as seriously as she might have feared.

Some scooping, some sweeping, and maybe a carefully placed carpet would be enough to hide the burnt patch of floor.

The walls and ceiling were stained a sooty silver by the smoke, and that highlighted and carefully outlined all of the cobwebs, which were embarrassingly plentiful.

The children now stood motionless in a semicircle around Molly, their mouths hanging open, their eyes dilated with shock.

They seemed to be somewhat overwhelmed by her physical appearance. She looked down at her steaming body, and was horrified at what she saw. The gradual dehydration that built up over a normal day at work was nothing compared to this!

Though unburned, her skin had seemingly lost every ounce of moisture it contained, and hung in drooping folds, which were prevented from drooping further by the presence of more drooping folds, and on and on from her neck to her ankles.

Why, she looked like a bald Shar Pei! Upset as she was to realize this, she was suddenly aware that she was sitting on the floor, totally naked, in front of all of her children who had not even seen her face in the previous five years, not to mention that there were at least a dozen children there who were complete strangers to her!

She squeaked, and tried to cover herself with her hands. This inadequate display of modesty seemed to trigger the children into action.

Most of them withdrew from the room. Others fainted.

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Hanging up the phone, she whispered into his ear and suddenly his expression matched hers. Planes crashed all the time, what was so different about these two?

The youngest sixth-grader, I walked to my locker completely unaware of what was going on. All I knew was that I was going home, which seemed nice at the time because I had belly cramps and a headache.

On my way to the main office I saw my friend Stacia crying. I asked her what was wrong. I was in a hospital room, alone.

A few minutes earlier, a nurse had come into my room to prep me for an emergency appendectomy. Minutes later, I felt a warm, stickiness between my legs.

I touched my inner thighs, and my fingers revealed blood! I knew then with utter certainty that the nurse had killed me. I was fourteen.

It was It was just me, my grampa, and my two brothers. So there I was on a farm with all boys in the middle of nowhere.

I walked into the house to go to the bathroom. While I was in the bathroom, I happened to look down and I see that my underwear is soaked in blood.

I started to sorta panic! I stuffed some toilet paper in my underwear and walked into the living room. That was when I noticed that some guest had just arrived.

I just stood there unable to talk, frozen in my shock. I laid there in the pee while it went cold. A couple of minutes later the front door opened again.

They opened the door, opened the drapes and the window. I moaned. Have you peed yet" they asked. They untied my legs and I struggled this time and actually kicked Alex in the nose.

He looked at me with tears in his eyes "ohhhhhh your gonna get it" he said. He pinned my legs down.

I was so shocked I had kicked my friend in the nose that I didn't even struggle anymore. I said "ok". Alex let my legs go and Mitchell slid down the sopping wet Goodnite.

He got a wipe and and wiped me down then powdered me. Alex just laughed. Mitchell picked my legs up and slid a diaper under them and lowered my butt down onto it.

Alex pulled the diaper sooooo tight up over my legs then did the tapes up. Again with the drinks except this time I got my hands untied and legs untied.

But I was denied my clothes. I got to walk around in just my diaper and have some pizza. Then it was time for my "afternoon sleep" and they tied me up again and left the room.

I actually fell asleep. I woke up to Mitchell and Alex saying "get up quick, quick mom's home". They untied me and got me up but Alex's mom was to quick.

She took one look at me and the ropes on the bed and said "well you guys have had fun haven't you? Mitchell I am ringing your mother.

Well I had a fun day that next day tormenting my friends. Sorry if it wasn't that good but it's my first story. That's all it started out to be.

I swear. Codes : MF, lactation, slow, rom, cons, reluc, mastrb, pett, preg. The Chaperone Blues Summary : Claire's life is on an even keel.

She's got a good job and two great children. There's no man in her life Everything is going along just fine She learns things about her children and herself, that will change everything.

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In an effort to get away from her man troubles, she accepted an invitation to stay on a remote ranch, where she could distract herself with unfamiliar work.

What she couldn't forsee was that the owner of that ranch would becme another man problem. Except this man ended up solving all her problems.

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The only cum-soaked thing in this story is - HER! Codes : mf, rom, 1st, teen, reluc, het, pett. She caught a lot of flack for that, growing up, but her virginity was intact when she arrived in the Bahamas for her honeymoon.

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