60. My Quick Thinking

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Tess was late home on Monday night. I was worried, and started pacing up and down in the kitchen again. There was no way she could miss the bus back from school, was there? I could only imagine that something terrible had happened to her; the predator finally making his move. But just as I was about to call the school and see if they knew where she was, my phone vibrated in my hand. A simple text message, to say that she had lost track of time and missed the bus. She explained that she was on the bus now, and would be back home in half an hour. I wanted to be angry, but the message contained the word 'sorry' five times, and I thought that she must be worried enough already. The only suitable punishment would be to take her mind off those worries; to make her feel so innocent that guilt wouldn't fit in her mind.

I thought I knew how I could do it, as well. I had a couple of pacifiers in the kitchen drawer. Adult sized, designed for people with motor function disorders or chronic teeth-grinding, but modified by the enterprising craftspeople of the Internet to have cutesy designs that screamed "BABY" so hard it was impossible to ignore. If Tess was sucking on one of those, I was sure that her subconscious would interpret that as a childish action. It might take her into her little headspace even deeper than when she woke up wet; if the suggestions from her first regressed day were still working properly. I was sure she would resist me giving her a pacifier, which was why an evening like this was the perfect opportunity.

"She sounds all shook up," I explained to Ffrances. "She missed the bus, and she feels bad about it. I'm tempted to give her a chance to get back to littlespace, to help her calm down until she realises there's nothing to worry about once the problem is resolved."

"That makes sense. But I don't think I can do anything to help this time. My magic works from a calm and comfortable starting point."

"I know. So I'm just going to offer her a pacifier. If she gives any sign of little behaviour. That affected lisp, or childish words. If she's showing us that she wants it, and she seems upset, I think it would be fair to give her the push she's hoping for. Even if she's too embarrassed to ask right out."

She nodded, but I could tell she thought it was unlikely. She'd seen how much pressure Tess could put on herself; how she would try to pretend she could cope. But she didn't know about my secret weapon. When Tess went to the bathroom, I could just tell her that she would have an accident before she got there. It wouldn't make too much mess, I would finally have my proof that the trigger had started working during the day, and Tess was sure too think that was a childish act. She would find it easier to accept being treated like a child, and I was sure that would help her to accept a pacifier, which would help her to feel even smaller.

I was still thinking over the plan, trying to spot any possible flaws, when I heard the door open downstairs. I'd retreated to my room so that I didn't drive Ffrances insane with my incessant pacing by that point. I couldn't tell her that my mood had shifted from worried to enthusiastic, because that would spoil the whole plan. Ffrances needed to know that I was just thinking about what would be most comfortable for my little.

By the time I got downstairs, Tess was explaining that she had finished school early. It certainly didn't seem early to me, but then she explained that she'd decided to spend the last hour of the school day in Greater Ashfields, buying a Christmas gift for the jerk who was following her around. I really didn't understand why she would put up with a guy like that, but I had to remind myself how young and naïve she still was. She would believe whatever he told her. Then I was getting naturally defensive, and wanted to make sure that she wasn't spending a fortune on him. She named a shop that I'd never heard of in all the time I'd lived in this area. And worse, it sounded like a traditional business. The kind you would only look in for gifts if you were shopping for something to show a real commitment. A jewellery shop named 'Swaggery' might sell some cheap tat that would amuse teenagers, but one called 'Marquis and Sons' would cater to the kind of people who asked about provenance, or wanted a name with gravitas on the box.

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