Commissioned: Don't mess with the witch.
#4 of Commission
Angela knew Ms. Croswell was a weird old coop, thus, like most, avoided her. She did so with great caution, as even walking on the sidewalk agitated snarly comments and fist waving from the old hag. Her mother always said she was 'just senile' and 'not a bother', so nobody ever complained about her.
While it was kind of annoying that Ms. Croswell was Angela's neighbour, strict avoidance helped to alleviate any sort of discomfort. The occasional yelling or fist-shaking wasn't anything too bad, just as long as the vixen didn't make eye contact with the old black cat. She was an old and ornery person, but as far as Angela knew she was just a nuisance to be ignored for the time being. She was old anyway, so it wasn't as if she was going to be around forever. Sighing, Angela walked into her house, setting down her purse on the table as she walked toward the fridge to look for something to eat. Her day had been pretty boring; some shopping, some errands, and some other small stuff was all she had to do all day. "Jeez," thought the vixen, "At this rate I'm going to go nuts."
Suddenly, she heard a loud crash. At first, she tried to shrug it, but then, it pestered her. With some worries over the cat's reaction, she headed over to Croswell's house, peeking in through the door.
There was nothing strange, except a weird chanting coming from the basement. Naturally curious, the vixen headed down the creaky stairs, seeing the old lady perform some pretty active movements.
A strong, musty smell reached Angela's nostrils as Ms. Croswell continued to mumble in front of her. At first, the vixen thought that she should say something to announce her presence, but as the old black cat moved and swayed, Angela found that she couldn't take her eyes off of her. The feline had to be at least seventy years old, but she was moving with the grace of a much younger cat.
The muttering was just confusing; it didn't sound like any language that Angela knew, but it also didn't seem like incoherent babbling, either. It was some bizarre arrangement of sounds and words that somehow almost made sense, but their meaning eluded her.
The vixen sat on the stairs, watching the cat continue her little private performance for a while until she noticed something odd; there was a large, black something just out of view from her current position on the stairs. Curious, she peeked a little further. It was a cauldron! But why would Ms. Croswell be muttering and dancing around a huge black pot? It didn't make sense. The cat turned around, having heard the quick gasp the vixen made.
"It's YOU again!" She cackled, loud and quite annoying. Her eyes filled dark hate, Angela wanted nothing more than to run. Yet, the eyes froze her with a chilly, heart-freezing darkness, holding her in her place. She was, completely, at the mercy of the hag. Lest, it wouldn't be best.
The vixen remained rooted to her spot on the stairwell, trembling with fear as Ms. Croswell began to walk toward her.
"Well, well, well. Looks like I have a little fox that was too curious for her own good. I guess you heard that bang? It's my own fault for leaving the front door unlocked. I mean, it isn't as if I *wanted* you to come find me down here." Grinning, the cat began to laugh with an ear-splitting cackle, making the vixen whimper in fear. "So...I guess by now you can put two and two together. I'm a witch. Reciting a spell, bubbling cauldron. All the stereotypes are right here in front of you. But alas, what you've seen here cannot be said anywhere else. I hate it when people pester me, and if everyone knew I could do magic I'd never get a moment's peace. So here's what I'm going to do..."
The witch came a little closer, and she looked deep into the vixen's eyes. There, she saw her past.
"Such a lush life... would be a waste if you forgot it." She smirked, before cackling. "Although, why only a little, when I can make you a baby? Never bother me again, just drool and shit yourself!" She laughed loud, enjoying herself.
Though still paralyzed by some unknown force, Angela suddenly found her voice.
"What are you talking about? Why are you doing this to me? I won't tell anyone what I've seen here I swear!" The old crone laughed as she listened to the vixen's pleas. Sure, she could just wipe her memory of the single event and send her on her way, but this way eliminates any future accidental walk-ins.
"Is that so, deary? You wouldn't tell a soul?" The vixen nodded furiously, whimpering as she felt the witch's cold hand upon her shoulder. "But you know that you would still want to come back here. Your little vixen head is swimming with questions about me and magic I bet, but soon all that you'll be thinking about is how good your thumb tastes, and if you can fit your toes in your mouth." Angela started to scream as the cat began chanting.
Each word that touched the vixen's ear took a full month from her life. Each line took a year. It wasn't long until the oddly-long words had taken her golden years of adulthood, reducing her to twenty-one. Slowly, she forgot her nightly escapes and remembered raiding her father's liquor cabinets for a booze, as well as wildly fuck anyone who came along.
Soon the vixen could no longer remember the taste of alcohol, or the thrill of going on a joyride with her friends. Sex became distant and blurred in her mind. What was sex? What did you do? Boys are gross. They're yucky... Ms. Coswell smiled as she continued with her incantation, paying close attention to the vixen's eyes. She could see her face growing more and more confused as years of her memories evaporated into thin air.
High school, middle school, grade school, kindergarten, all gone in a moment as the witch poured more magic into Angela's brain. The vixen could no longer remember why she had even come over to this old lady's house, or even what a house was, for that matter.
Her mind faded as the witch reached the end of her spell, leaving the vixen's mind blank and her eyes vacant. The vixen fell on her butt, drooling as her mouth hung open a little. She stared ahead of her, confused and stupid. She didn't know any complex emotions, let alone the words for them.
"Mamamoosh?" She asked, looking at the black cat. She was disoriented, yet calm for now. As her thumb came close to her mouth, she became fascinated by the off, brownish appendage, and before long, stuck it in her drool-covered mouth, slowly suckling it with a goofy grin.
The witch smiled down at the infantile vixen, patting her gently on the head. "You see, this way is so much better. You don't remember anything, not even how to hold in your pee pee and poopies. Oh, that reminds me." The feline left Angela alone for a moment, rummaging around a bit before returning with a plastic package.
The mentally regressed vixen smiled around her thumb, sucking it intently even as drool ran down her face and dripped onto her shirt. She didn't know what the lady was saying, but she sounded nice enough. Babbling happily, Angela reached up toward the feline, wanting to be held. Laughing, the witch picked up the vixen, pulling her shirt off over her head and taking off her pants. Her breasts became slick with drool as Angela continued to drool.
The witch diapered the vixen with a big, poofy diaper, making sure she had plenty of room to soil herself. Naturally, the stupid mind didn't care where it dumped the load, as long as it could. Hence, it shat the diaper, pissing a lot with it. Shouting gleeful, she enjoyed the wet mushy feeling her diaper got from the excessive usage, and shouted in joy.
"Mamamoosh!" She repeated in bliss, entertained by her messy and terrible smelling diaper. A horrid stench entered the basement as the mentally regressed vixen soiled her diapers with glee, patting the crinkling plastic with her hands and savouring the warm, mushy feeling on her backside. Ms. Croswell covered her nose with a paw, gagging a bit at the stench.
"Smells like someone has a stinky diapee!" crooned the cat, gently patting Angela on the head. "Ah well, I guess I could change you at least once before sending you out of my sight. I'm not so cruel as to leave you with diaper rash." Smiling, Ms. Croswell reached again into the package of diapers, pulling out another thick white undergarment for the vixen. Angela clapped and burbled happily. She loved her messy diapers, and more diapers meant even more mess.
The vixen, as soon as wearing a cold, dry, clean diaper. She instantly unloaded more of herself into the diaper, filling it with stench and moisture, enjoying it with clapping and giggling. She babbled her love in odd words, wanting to kiss the old cat to thank her for the fresh diapie. The vixen's diaper turned yellow and brown as shit and piss filled the spongy cloth with excrement, filling the room with the horrid stench of dead cows and decaying corpses. The witch frowned as she watched the retarded vixen soil her diapers again, making the plastic crinkle as the seat of her diapers sagged lower with the weight of her shit.
"There isn't enough air freshener in the world to get rid of that smell," cursed the cat, holding her nose. "Oh well, I changed you once, and that's all the favours you're getting from me. C'mon. Out you go." Ms. Croswell again started to mutter, and soon Angela was levitating slightly off the ground. Her infantile mind was taken aback with the wonder of the situation, and she sat slack jawed, drooling even more upon herself. Soon, the front of her body was a mass of wet fur and slick rivulets of drool. Feeling another burble in her stomach, the vixen lifted her tail and expelled another heavy load of faeces into her diaper. Laughing she rocked back and forth on the warm mass of faeces, loving every minute of contact between her ass and the dirty diaper.
It felt oddly nice to fall down onto the warm mess, feeling it creep into her butt crack and slit, filling the air in front of her with the nasty stench. She liked it, however, and continued to shit under her bowels and bladder were void, leaving her with nothing but the knowledge she was still warm down there. Sitting in the moist grass, she looked around, hoping to find a 'mama' or a 'bottle' to eat from, and shit her again.
Angela couldn't even remember how she had gotten out in the yard, but she didn't care. All her memories of Ms. Croswell had been replaced with the urge to mess her diapers. Her past, her thoughts, and everything she had once been were gone forever; all that was left was an infant with a curious mind and a love of shitting herself. The grass underneath her felt wet and icky, so the vixen started crawling off toward the sidewalk, her bulging diaper in plain view as she made her way into broad daylight.
Naturally, the witch hadn't given her a scrap of clothing, so all passerbies could stare at the diapered vixen. A few cars drove past; some slowed down to gawk, others sped past without even noticing her. Eventually news was starting to get around about the naked retarded vixen.
The vixen was eventually taken to a nursery, where her constant urge to shit herself led to big problems. At first, they simply changed her less, until they decided to stop changing her at all and leave her in her room. In fact, she seemed far to more content to age in her own shit than to play with her 'fellow' babies. Eventually, they only changed her once a week, but only to prevent a diaper rash.
For the rest, she was fed at a special hole, so nobody had to endure her horrid smell, less see her goofy smile, which was almost hypnotic to those that came. One was removed after staying too long in the rancid smell, claiming 'her eyes were so pretty'. She herself, naturally, was constantly giggling and laughing, patting her diaper as she messed them up big-time.