Anarchy’s Angel is Undone Part 1

There were a number of words that might be used to describe Delaney Sweet.

Chubby was sometimes thrown around, thought almost always with the qualifier 'sexily'. It was not really true however (the chubby part, not the sexily). She was actually slim, and just a shade below five and a half feet, but she had large breasts (which were emphasized by her frame) and generous hips and buttocks and that gave illusions of certain Rubenesque qualities.

Athletic was another word tossed around, in direct opposition to the first. While her breasts, hips and buttocks had cut her time as a competing gymnast short, she still kept up at a number of sports. She could still do a standing back flip and land on her feet and could drop into the splits without warming up.

Brilliant would come to mind. She had had her Master degree in computer science from MIT when she was nineteen. Her thesis on computer security had become something of a bible from those in the trade.

Anarchist was also there, thought what was noun rather than and adjective. She was a staunch opponent of the establishment. She had marched and fought in Seattle, as well as other places. She was a radical cheerleader, using her sexy and athletic body to attract the medias attention, and then mixing political rhetoric with sexual fantasy.

When not marching and protesting against the evils of internationalization she maintained a number grey and black websites where she provided news and software that every anarchist could use. She launched Denial of Service attacks against the servers of big business and government and had carefully crafted a number of viruses that went after very specific targets.

She was a constant thorn in the side of a number of people, and that was exactly how she wanted it.

A month prior she had launched an operation that had had far ranging effects and consequences. It had taken a year to set up, tracking millions of financial transactions from her loft in Vancouver. One hundred PCs, stacked on shelves, set up in a Beowulf cluster had given her the number crunching capabilities she needed. Three other computers, so over-clocked she had had to submerge their motherboards in chilled mineral oil, had been the true brains. It had been a dream set-up.

She had raided over six hundred bank accounts, going after the 'slush-funds' that did not officially exist, the fat accounts of weapons manufactures, the banks, the criminals and the governments. It had been billions and billions of dollars, and all of it had been instantly redirected, had purchased blankets, foods, and other staples and shipped them all to the poor.

A little robbing from the rich and giving to the poor, Delaney thought. She was a modern Robin Hood. The world was a better place.

And she should have gotten away with it. Would have in fact if she had not forgot the one cardinal rule - 'A secret is no longer a secret once more than one persons knows about it'. And that one person had been Steve Donaldson.

Steve had just been too delicious for her to keep him out of her life. Sexy as all get out, and he let her be in charge. She liked being in charge, had enjoyed him being the submissive one in their relationship. And he had been smart too. She had been in love enough to let him help her with the project.

It had been a stupid mistake.

Steve had ended up bragging a few weeks after everything had gone down.

He had disappeared the next day. Delaney did not like to think what might have happened to him. It probably had not been pleasant. She herself had been on the run ever since.

Freedom Loft, what she had called her base of operations, was gone. The American and Canadian governments had actually ended in a fight over who got to get all her stuff for the criminal investigation.

A lot of people wanted her, some wanted to put her in jail and others just wanted her dead. At the moment the only real question was which side would get her fist. And then the e-mail came.

It did not come through a series of redirecting and false servers she had set up to keep in hiding. It came directly to the server in the Philippines she had set up. That spoke of someone who was nearly as good as she was. So, sitting in a room in a boarded up apartment building in Prague, connected to the Internet through a Satellite phone, she opened the message.

It offered hope. It was the first thing to do so in the last few weeks.

Ritsuko Oda was the world's leading expert on computer security. Almost no one knew of her or her company. Only those who needed to know, and could afford the cost had reason to know about her.

Delaney knew about her because it was Ritsuko's software she often had to go up against in order to sneak into some place. The woman was the second best in the world. Delaney knew that because she was the best.

Ritsuko also represented the things in the world that Delaney despised. She was trying to keep data under wraps and Delaney knew that information wanted to and needed to be free.

Still, at that moment, Delaney would have made a deal with the Devil herself if it meant avoiding prison (death would be bad too, but being locked up was worse in her mind). Ritsuko was not the Devil, she was not even a close sixth in the ranking, but Delaney would have never even deigned to spit on the woman's shoes only a month ago.

Now she was coming to her like a penitent, hat in hand, hoping to be saved.

If the situation had been just a little worse she might have been angry.

She had come to Calais, traveling at night for the most part, stealing rides in the back of trucks, and keeping a low profile. Now she walked along the docks, looking for a slip number. She found it near the very end of an old concrete and wood quay. The boat tethered there was a beat-up, old trawler that looked as if it may have been salvaged at least once in its career.

She did not paused in her examination of the boat; she just walked right up gangway, across the deck, down into the hold, and then into a box on the starboard side. It was just as the e-mail had said. She pulled the box closed and curled up in the blanket that had been provided.

She looked around at the things waiting for her. She was going to have to spend three days in the box and they had given her everything she needed to survive it, if not be comfortable. It was going to be a long three days.

It turned out to be a longer three-day than she expected. Oh, she was out of the box after three days, moved onto the darkened deck of cargo ship, but that did not mean that things necessarily improved.

After vacating the box, leaving behind bottles full of urine and bags full of feces, she had just enough time for a quick shower before she was hustled off, a mask over her face, into a helicopter that had made the precarious landing on the ship's deck.

The helicopter flew her out over the ocean before dropping her off in the middle of that ocean. There she had floated in a life raft, wearing a survival suit, waiting for the transceiver she had to beep so she could activate the homing beacon.

It was a lonely half day, well, night actually, and floating on the choppy waters of the dark ocean was not much fun. She found herself recalling all the shark movies she had ever seen for one thing.

And then with sunrise came the beep and she gleefully activated the beacon.

She was taken aboard an ocean tug, crewed by three very quiet people. Delaney speculated they were smugglers, but did not ask. She was shown to a small cabin and told not to leave. Fortunately it had everything she needed for the few days she was onboard.

From the tug she transferred over to a seaplane, along with several bags of something. She pretended she had not seen it.

She did not spend much time in the seaplane, and hour later, she was guessing somewhere near the Azores, the plane put down near a small island and she was given over to a yacht.

The yacht was a small, floating mansion and she spent almost a week on board, heading southwest. She was sequestered in her luxurious cabin, having no contact with the crew. In fact she had to hide in her closet when anyone came in to make up her room or leave a meal.

They crossed the Tropic of Cancer and soon afterwards she was put off the yacht at another small island. Not long after she was picked up by another yacht, smaller than the last one, and faster, but by no means less luxurious.

It was then that she met Thomas Xian, her first teacher who was to mould her into a new person. She was just not aware of it at the time.

Thomas Xian looked Delaney over even as she looked him over. After a time he finally spoke. "My name is Thomas Xian. I know who you are, but that is not important. Who you are going to be is what concerns us."

"You mean you want to set up a false identity for me," she said confidently.

"No," he admonished her. "I want to give you a real identity, one that is true, and that will make all forget who you once were."

"What?" she asked, understandably confused.

"It does no one any good if we just put a veneer over you. Such a tactic will not work and your eventual discovery will cause a good deal of embarrassment to our employer. No, what we will do is recreate you; you will truly become a new person. We will practice until you get it right, and then we will continue to do so until you cannot get it wrong. Do you understand?"

Delaney nodded. "I think so."

"Good. From this point on you are Amiko Oda, niece of Ritsuko Oda."

"Niece?"

"Her brother is somewhat of a Bon Vivant, he actually has a few illegitimate children. Miss Oda takes an interest in all of them. That cover will hold."

Delaney, or Amiko, nodded. "I see."

"You speak several languages, don't you Amiko?" he asked, using her new name.

She nodded. "Six, fluently. Three more not so well."

"Japanese?"

"Of course," she replied in that language.

"I see," he said, shifting to Japanese as well. He took a piece of paper from his jacket and presented it to her. "Read that, and then tell me what you think of it."

It was an article on shipbuilding, dull and technical, but she read it all, and then gave him her opinions on it, which boiled down to dull and technical.

"You read and speak the language very well."

"Thank you," she replied.

"Try to be more modest," he told her. "You speak with a slight Osaka-accent."

"My teacher came from Osaka."

"I see. That won't do however. We need you to speak with a slight Kanto accent, underlined with a Tokyo accent."

Amiko nodded. "Because that is what people will expect?"

"Exactly. We will also be covering deportment issues. Slight mistakes will be overlooked because of the fact you were raised outside of the country, but it is important that you be as Japanese as possible if this is to work. Our employer seems to believe that you will be able to manage this."

"And what do you think?"

"I think we will see if it is true."

The new Amiko smiled slightly. That sounded like a challenge, and she usually rose to challenges.

They spent the first month just sailing around the West Indies and Amiko, as Delaney grew more and more used to thinking of herself as, spent almost twenty hours each day awake and studying.

About ten hours of that was spent with Thomas, learning a myriad of things that she needed to know about Amiko's, her, family and life as well as about the culture she had to fit into and of course the language.

At first she had thought it was odd that a Chinese man was teaching her about Japan and one day pointed this out to him. He told her that as an outsider he had better view of the culture in many ways and could ensure that she matched it. It made sense to her.

She studied on her own as well. A few hours of that was watching Japanese television and especially paying attention to the way the people from Tokyo talked. Sometimes she lost the accent, and at those times Thomas would correct her immediately. If she ever strayed into the Osaka accent he actually would rap a ruler across her hand.

Amiko did not care much for that, but it worked.

She was often tired, exhausted in fact, but that was important. She had to be able to get everything right no matter what her state.

The second month actually got harder, and she was pushed to the point of tears more that once. She often felt out of control and lost. Every time she broke a little, she was put back together more as Amiko and less as Delaney. When Thomas asked her who she was she immediately replied with 'Oda Amiko', and only after that, like a whisper, came the fact she was, or had been, Delaney Sweet.

She was thinking in Japanese, dreaming in it, was sometimes translating from Japanese to English in her head.

The third month they began to sail south, and the lessons intensified ever more. She had to practice calligraphy, and for her word processor trained writing, it was nearly a torture. Thomas made her read books on flower arranging and began to teach her how to play the samisen. Everything that Amiko needed she was learning. Also, she was required to keep up her skills with computers, because that was why Ritsuko was paying so much to build her a new identity.

As she sat down to code some new application, or read the latest article on JAVA, she would, drift a little closer to the woman who had been Delaney Sweet, but that was fading. It was more and more Amiko who was the computer genius and Delaney was more and more like a person lost.

It was in that third month she found out what had happened to Steve Donaldson. He had been snapped up by the RCMP and was not testifying in various hearings and trials about things he really had no clue about, and making Delaney Sweet in more and more of a criminal.

Amiko sat in front of the television, watching the satellite feed of one of those hearings, and wondered what Delaney had ever seen in him.

They crossed through the Panama canal three months and two weeks after Amiko had first come aboard, and when they got to the other side a seaplane was waiting to take Amiko away from Thomas.

She was actually sad to go. In her remaking she had come to depend on him, he was her anchor. Leaving him behind, surprising her, almost brought her to tears. Later she would realise how silly that had been, but at the time it had hurt.

The seaplane took her north, up the coast, to San Salvador where she was put on a cargo ship that took her to Hawaii. During that voyage she stayed secluded in her small cabin and studied and practiced, slipping more firmly into being Amiko.

Of course she did not actually make landfall in Hawaii. She had not really been on the soil of another country since she had left France, and has spent most of her time out in international waters.

She was put off the cargo ship, into a small life raft, and then awaited pickup by another yacht. The white and silver craft that picked her up was the largest and most luxurious that she had seen yet. She was quickly taken to her cabin where she met with Dr. Averdo Polias, the man who was about to finish the job of making Delaney into Amiko.

When first shown into Averdo's office Amiko was almost certain that she was looking at a corpse. He was a thin, emaciated man, and his dry skin was stretched taught over his bones. Then the corpse smiled, not an entirely pleasant thing, got to his feet, and extended his hand in greeting over his desktop.

She reached forward and took it, noting the papery feel to his hand, and the strength of his grip. "I am Dr. Averdo Polias," he said in accented Japanese.

"Oda Amiko," she said automatically.

He smiled again as he released her hand. "I am to be your doctor," he told her as he sat down and indicated that she should sit as well.

"My doctor?" Amiko asked as she sat.

"For the reconstructive surgery."

"Pardon?"

"Well, if you are going to be the half Japanese niece of Miss Oda then you will have to look the part. I will alter your eyes a little, and your nose as well."

"I see," Amiko said, realising that she had not even considered her looks and how they would affect the role she had to play. If she had not been pushed so hard, and had not always been so tired she might have come to the conclusion herself.

"It will all be fairly simple surgery really. We'll do it on the boat, moored so everything is steady of course."

"Of course," she replied. "Excuse me for asking Doctor Averdo, but, well, I suspect that you have a rough idea about what is happening here."

"Perhaps not as rough as you would think young lady, but if you are worried about me talking, there is no need to be. To put it simply, I am dying. For the last two years, ever since I found out that my time is limited, I have been working for your aunt. She keeps me in pleasant style," he waved his hand about to take in the well appointed office, "and I handle things like this for her. In a few more months I will be dead, and what I have done here will be known to almost no one. Does that ease your concerns?"

"Yes," Amiko said, and then, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "We all have to die Amiko. And at least I get to go out in comfort, doing what I enjoy. Now," he stood up, "Let's go to the examination room and get things started."

Getting things started meant two days of tests and of giving her medical history to the Doctor. He asked every question a doctor would, early childhood ailments, past surgery, eating habits, sleeping habits, her menstrual cycle, sexual history and more. He took X-rays, ultrasounds, he even had an MRI on the yacht and he put her in that as well.

By the end of the first day he had her on vitamin shots, to make up for some deficiencies he had found, and gave her a mild sedative to help her get to sleep early.

There were more tests the next day, and the day after that, but on the fourth day he told her not to eat anything and that the next day she would go into surgery.

Amiko spent that day just relaxing, and being hungry.

The surgical suite aboard the yacht was filled with cutting edge medical technology. It was scrubbed clean, and orderly, and most surgeons would have given quite a bit to be able to use it.

Amiko hardly noticed it. She had taken a dose of valium when she had awoken and was feeling quite relaxed when she was led into the room, scrubbed sterile, and dressed in only the briefest of hospital gowns.

Dr. Averdo stood above her, masked, and told her everything was going to be fine. There was a prick as an IV needle was slid into her arm and then someone was telling her to count backwards from one hundred. She remembered getting to 96 and then there was nothing else for the longest time.

Waking came slowly to Amiko. She swum out of drug induced haze and was not completely awake for a long time. She could not see, she noted, not particularly concerned about it. There was something keeping her eyelids closed, she suspected.

"Where am I?" she tried to say, but it came out as a sort of mumble, and sounded at if her nose was plugged up.

"It's alright," she heard Dr. Averdo say to her. "You are in a recovery room. The surgery was a success. No need to worry. There are some bandages on your eyes, but that is just to let the skin around them heal a little. The eyes themselves are fine."

"By dose," she said, or tried to.

"Your nose? Ah, yes, that is fine as well. It will probably feel stuffed up for a few days, but will heal nicely."

Amiko considered that, and then did an assessment of her body, taking note of various pains. "Dat abat by test?" she mumbled.

"Your chest? I reduced your breast size, so that will hurt a little. I also removed the fat from your backside and hips, as well as removing the extra skin to keep everything tight and smooth."

Amiko thought about that for a time. "Why?" she finally asked.

"It was what I was told to do."

Amiko wanted to ask more, but suddenly the darkness behind her washed over her and carried her into unconsciousness once more.

The next time she awoke it was a much more natural process. The drugs were out of her system and she had just been sleeping. Her mind latched onto some of the things that she last remembered. Had Dr. Averdo really done as he said. Her eyes were still covered and she began to shift about in bed, planning on using her hands to discover the truth.

"I see you are awake," a pleasant and female voice said.

"Who's that?" Amiko asked, surprise in her tone.

"I'm your nurse, you can call me Mai," her tone was friendly. "To answer some other questions you may have, you are currently in your cabin. The Doctor wants to keep the bandages on for today and tomorrow. Everything is fine; the surgeries were a complete success. You're going to be fine Amiko."

"Oh," she replied, trying to decide what to feel about it all.

"Do you have to go to the bathroom?" Mai asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"Uh, yes, yes I do," she said, aware of the usual morning pressure on her bladder.

"Then let me help you to the toilet."

She felt Mai's hands on her shoulders, and then one shifted down to take her hand. She was helped to her feet, and then led across the cabin to the small bathroom. In there Mai remained, taking care of the little things and helping her clean up afterwards. She was then led back to her bed. She felt like an invalid, but was grateful for the help. It would have taken her some time to get use to moving about without aid of her sight.

"Are you hungry?" Mai asked as she tucked Amiko back into the bed.

"Yes, very," she said, realising it had been some time since she had last eaten.

"I'll call for breakfast then."

After Mai had called down to the kitchens she continued her light, airy conversation, filling Amiko in on things that she might be interested in. Then when the meal arrived she helped her to eat it.

Afterwards, when the tray was cleaned away, Mai asked Amiko if she would like it if she read a story to her.

It was something to help chase off the boredom, so Amiko agreed. The story turned out to be a translation of the first Harry Potter book. It seemed an odd choice, but she said nothing. It was not a book she would have read herself, but it was entertaining enough, and there was the novel thrill of being read to, something she had not experienced since she was a child.

The day passed slowly, and she spent most of it lying in bed. Later Nurse Mai was replaced by a night nurse who was not as friendly. Not to say she was cruel or anything, just that she had little time for idle conversation and such and was more concerned with getting Amiko into bed and asleep.

While she thought she would never get to sleep, not with a day of being so inactive, she dropped off into slumber rather quickly, the months of hard work catching up with her.

The next day was similar to the first, and when Amiko went to sleep she was looking forward to getting the bandages off her eyes.

She woke to someone shaking her gently. She sat up, "What, who..."

"Relax Amiko," she heard Dr. Averdo say. "I'm going to take some of the bandages off now. "No need to be worried."

"I'm not worried, just a little surprised."

"I suppose I should not have woken you like that," he said apologetically, but I thought I get this taken care of early. Now hold still."

Amiko felt him pulling on the bandages about her head, and then heard the snip of scissors. A moment later he was unwrapping the gauze that held the dressings over her eyes.

They fell away and for the first time in a few days Amiko was able to see. The lights in the room had been dimmed, but the still hurt her eyes a little. She blinked back tears as she looked about.

"We'll keep you in the cabin for the rest of the day. I'll have your nurse turn up the lights a little every few hours. No need to rush things." As he said that he was carefully examining her face. "This looks quite good. In a few more days it will be all healed up."

Amiko revisited the urge to put her hands to her face and instead got out of bed. "What about the rest of the bandages," she said, using her hand to indicate her chest without touching or looking at it.

"Tomorrow," he said as he got to his feet. "I'll have Mai come in her in a little while. I'm sure you want some time alone." That said, he walked to the door, opened it, and then closed it behind him, leaving Amiko alone.

She walked to the bathroom, was careful not to turn the lights up too high, and the turned her attention to the mirror.

What she saw there did not look quite good to her at the moment. There were dark bruises around her eyes, and her nose was still partially bandaged and looked swollen. She tried to look beyond those things, which would fade away in time, and see what had been done. Her eyes looked distinctively Japanese now, the folds around them had been carefully sculpted. She supposed her nose was a little smaller as well. Small changes, but they had altered the way she looked.

Of course she could still see the person she had used to be, but she supposed only people who had known her well would, and even they might not believe it.

Taking a deep breath, somehow fearing the rest, she took a step back from the mirror so she could look at her whole body. Amiko was surprised by what she saw and stripped the gown she was wearing off to be certain of it.

When Averdo had told her he had reduced her breasts she had not thought that meant he removed them. Well, not quite removed, but under the bandages around her chest were only the slight swellings of nascent breasts. She would not even need a training bra.

And her hips and buttocks were basically gone. What remained was a skinny looking young woman, flat as a board and with no curves to speak of. No, she suddenly thought, not a young woman, but a tall, prepubescent girl.

The idea hit her almost like a physical blow, and she stumbled back, feeling lost. After almost a minute of standing there she realised that she had to go to the bathroom. Almost on autopilot she took care of that, and only when she was cleaning herself up did she notice that her pubic hair was gone. Like her breasts and hips, it had been taken away from her.

She put the gown back on and stumbled back to her bed, not sure what was happening. It was then that she noticed a letter sitting on the nightstand. It was addressed to Amiko Oda.

She opened it, took out the single piece of paper, and began to read.

Dear Amiko,

		I hope you are feeling well after your surgery. The Doctor is quite expert
                in his field and I suspect that you will finish healing in the next week or so.
		You are no doubt wondering why you look as you do. Well, you are only eleven
                years old after all, how else would you expect to look? And, being eleven years
                old, who would even be looking for you? I think you'll admit that being a child
                offers a certain amount of safety.
		All your paperwork will be given to you when it is time to leave, and you'll have
                everything you need to get home.
		There is also a new package of things you need to study before you make landfall.
                Apply yourself to these as diligently as you have to your other studies and everything
                will be fine.
		I'll see you soon.
		I am looking forward to it.

Your Loving Aunt, Ritsuko

P.S. There is a shredder in your room. Use it.

Amiko read the letter through twice, and then got out of bed and did as she had been told, shredding the letter. She sat down at the desk and considered things.

It was true what Ritsuko had said. She was much safer as a child. Anyone who might look at her face and realise that she had been Delaney Sweet, and it actually took her a moment to dredge up that name, would probably never take a close look at that face, not after discounting her as a child.

She had to admit it was quite a clever plan. She had suspected that she was going to be another of Ritsuko Oda's employees, an adult in fact. It was what anyone else would have assumed as well.

Still, she suddenly was struck by the uncomfortable thought that she had made Ritsuko Oda look bad by hacking her defences, and she had stolen several million from the woman's company herself. It was not impossible that there was revenge involved in things. She just had to hope that if so, Ritsuko was finished with it.

It was a few weeks later that the yacht made landfall in the port city of Nagoya.

Amiko Oda stood on the bow desk, watching the larger ships churn water around them as the pilot directed the smaller craft towards a set of docks where a number of similar craft were tied off.

She had continued her education during the journey, adding a certain immaturity to her speech, and learning how people her age acted. She had watched a lot of television and had things reasonably down. Any differences would be attributed to the fact she had not been raised in Japan.

Physically, she was just what her documents said. There were a few scars left from the operation, but they were very faint, and someone would have to know what they were looking for and be looking closely to find them.

Standing their, dressed in a T-shirt, jacket and a pair of cotton pants, she knew she looked exactly like tall eleven year old.

It bothered her of course. Over the last few weeks she was treated exactly like a child. The crew had changed during the time she was in surgery. Only Dr. Averdo knew the truth, and he was not giving it away. To everyone else she was the niece of their employer, being taken to her aunt after having an accident, which explained the surgery.

They had no reason to doubt it, and that bothered Amiko immensely. She was an adult after all. That they accepted her as a child without reservations was a blow to her ego. It made her feel small.

The yacht passed through the rougher wakes the larger ships had caused and its progress became smoother as it entered the shelter of shallower water. Amiko leaned up against the railing, shivering slightly in the cool, November wind. Ahead of her was the future, and it was a great unknown. As soon as she stepped off the yacht everything would change.

"Amiko," Mai called. "It's time to get ready to go."

She sighed and then turned to do as she had been told. Mai had become something of her caretaker when she had stopped needing a nurse. The way she treated Amiko madder her feel as if the nurse thought she was even younger. Of course anyone who became a nurse probably wanted to take care of people, so that was not too surprising.

With Mai's help she gathered up her few belongings, none of which had been with her longer than a month, and got ready to disembark. She looked at her Japanese passport and wondered if it would pass scrutiny. She found herself almost wishing it would not. Anything to help prove that she was not a child.

As it was she did not get her wish. When she passed through customs the agent took a cursory glance at the document, and then sent her through.

Mai put her on a bullet train that would take her to the outskirts of Tokyo and then said goodbye, kissing her on the cheek and telling her to be careful. Amiko took her seat in the Green Car (travelling first class of course) and closed her eyes. It was starting.

Not very long afterwards, given the train's speed, she was in a taxi, being driven to the address she had been given. The last part of the journey she had started in France was occurring so quickly, given the pace at which things had gone before.

The taxi pulled to a stop in front of an innocuous, though expensive looking, apartment building. Amiko got out and then paid the driver from an envelope of money she had been given-far more than she needed.

After the taxi had pulled away she turned and walked into the lobby of the building. There was a doorman there who smiled at her and asked her if he could help her. Amiko told him who she was and what she was doing there. The doorman called up to the apartment and then, after a short conversation, sent her to the elevators and wishing her a good day.

She rode up to the eighth floor, feeling the tension growing in her, and stepped out onto the tiled corridor. Her rubber soled shoes made soft 'squeaks' as she looked at the numbers on the doors. Stopping at 806, she looked at it for a moment, then reached out and knocked.

A few seconds later the door was opened by a middle-aged woman that was not Ritsuko Oda. She was middle aged, pretty, though not exceptionally so, and she looked Amiko up and down for a moment.

"I'm Amiko Oda," Amiko said, not certain if she was in the right place.

The woman smiled at that, not a very warm smile, but a polite one. "Yes, I know," she said. "I am Miss Wada. Come in."

Amiko nodded and stepped into the apartment. She took her shoes off in the well inside the front door and then stepped up into the apartment.

"Your aunt has become occupied with other matters. She has hired me to take care of you while she is busy," Miss Wada told her.

"Oh," Amiko said, a little surprised. "I had thought that my Aunt would be here."

"She is a very busy woman," Miss Wada told her, her tone of voice suggesting that she thought Amiko was selfish for wanting Ritsuko there. "She has made sure that you will be comfortable, however. You should be quite grateful."

"I am," Amiko said. "I just wanted to see her."

Miss Wada's gaze softened a little. "Well, she will be coming here tomorrow night to see you. Now, let me show you to your room. I'm certain that you are quite tired."

Amiko was not really all that tired, but she felt that Miss Wada expected her to be, and that it might not be a good idea to suggest otherwise. "Thank you," she said.

"Come this way," Miss Wada told her, and then set off deeper into the apartment.

It was a large apartment by Japanese standards. It was large even by some western standards. A corridor off the living room (which was well appointed with an entertainment centre and other things) was lined with three doors, and a fourth door at the end marked with a 'WC'. Miss Wada opened the third door and stood aside so Amiko could enter first.

The room was empty, but for a desk on the corner by the window. The tatami matting was still green with newness and smelt of fresh straw. The shoji screens were drawn over the windows, diffusing the afternoon sunlight.

"It's very nice," Amiko said, worried that Miss Wada might take silence as some sort of disapproval.

"I'm sure that you'll get a little more furniture soon," she replied as she moved past Amiko and walked to the closet. Opening the doors revealed shelves stuffed full of bedding and other things. Miss Wada pulled a futon out and laid it on the floor. "Give me a hand with this," she said, her tone making it a command command.

Amiko did as she was told, helping Miss Wada prepare the futon for her. It did not take long before the bed was prepared.

"Take your clothes off Amiko," she told her, her voice softening a little. "I'll put them in the wash."

Amiko nodded and began to undress, handing the pants and then T-shirt to her. At the moment there did not seem to be much point in arguing things, not until she had a better idea of the situation. The last thing she needed to do was destroy her cover. She did not want to end up in prison looking as she did.

Miss Wada seemed satisfied with her outer clothes as she turned and left Amiko dressed in the cotton panties and vest.

She nodded politely to Amiko and then left the room, closing the door behind her. After a moment Amiko knelt down onto the futon and then pulled the covers over herself. She stared up at the ceiling, considering things, and hoping that Ritsuko would have some of the answers she so desperately wanted.

Though she was not tired, she found the warm comforter and the soft futon very relaxing. She did not sleep so much as drifted in and out of a half-slumber, almost, but not quite, dreaming.

For the most part she was content in that state, little things nagged at the edge of her consciousness, but they were not terribly important at that moment.

A time later she was brought full to herself by a knocking on the door. She could see the light coming through the shoji had dimmed somewhat, telling her that it was near dark. She sat up and called out, "Yes?"

"Amiko," Miss Wada's voice came muffled through the door, "dinner is nearly ready. Please come and eat."

"Thank you," she called out in response.

Miss Wada must have walked away for she said nothing else.

At least it looked as if her privacy was to be respected. She was grateful for that.

After getting out of bed she turned her attention to the bag she had taken off the yacht with her. Along with some basic items of personal hygiene there was some clothing. Not a lot of it really. She had the choice of two different blouses and one skirt. She chose the plain, white blouse and then put the skirt on.

Taking out the case of hygiene products she took those from her room down to the room marked with the 'WC', which was the bathroom. She went to the toilet and then washed her hands and brushed her teeth. She left the case there and left the bathroom, continuing down the hall into the living room.

On a table just outside the kitchen Miss Wada was laying out two place settings and the meal. Without being asked Amiko went and gave her a hand with the last bit of setting up.

Amiko decided that Miss Wada was not really a bad sort; she just seemed to want to keep a certain amount of distance between them. That made Amiko suspect that she was just a temporary caretaker.

After dinner Amiko watched she TV and played with PS2, going through the games under the cabinet. Miss Wada cleaned up and put things in order, leaving Amiko to herself.

It was a little after ten when Miss Wada, looking a little tired, suggested, in a way that made it clear that it was not a suggestion, that Amiko might want to go to bed.

Amiko shut off the TV, wished Miss Wada a goodnight, and then returned to her room.

She undressed, placing the clothing neatly back in the bag for lack of anywhere else to put it, and then climbed into her bed. She read for a while, then turned out the room's light and went to sleep.

During breakfast the next day Miss Wada gave Amiko a letter. It contained a large sum of money as well as a letter from Ritsuko. It seemed that Ritsuko wanted Amiko to spend the day shopping, to pick up the things she would need. Included with the letter were several shopping lists and the stores she was to go to so as to make the purchases.

She left Miss Wada cleaning up as she went out to complete the task that had been set to her.

The first store was simply called 'Alice', and, from the displays in the window, dealt in children's clothing, rather high quality at that. Amiko looked at those displays and almost cringed as she pictured herself wearing some of them. Still, she had little choice. Well, she did have a choice, but she was not certain what Ritsuko would do if disobeyed.

It was not worth the trouble to start butting heads with the woman this early into things. She wanted to get a feel for what game Ritsuko was playing before she tried to adjust it for her own rules.

Squaring her shoulders, Amiko walked in, the door chime sounding as soon as she did.

"Welcome to the store," the clerk, a young woman probably in her mid twenties, said. "How can I help you?"

Amiko smiled slightly and produced the list that she had received. "My aunt told me to come and pick up there things," she told the woman.

The clerk smiled and crossed over to where Amiko stood. She took the list from her and read through it. She did not make any comments about how the clothing in the store might be unsuitable for Amiko, she likely did not even think it, and that fact crashed down on Amiko and made her feel uncertain.

She supposed she had desperately hoped that no one would accept her as a child, that they would somehow know, but it was just like it had been on the yacht with the nurses. They looked at her and they saw what she had been made into.

"This is quite the list," the clerk said with another smile for Amiko, this one warmer. "Let's get you into a fitting room so I can take your measurements." She held out a hand for Amiko.

Amiko let herself be led to a secluded booth near the back of the store. It was lined with mirrors so se could see herself from any direction, not that she wanted to.

"My name is Miss Usata," she said pleasantly as she grasped a tape measure and then draped it around her shoulders.

"I'm Amiko," she replied.

"I am pleased to meet you Amiko. Now, you'll have to undress so I can take the measurements."

Not surprised, Amiko did that. She was soon dressed in only her socks, panties and the cotton vest. Miss Usata knelt down, not that she really had to, Amiko was only a little shorter than she, and began to take Amiko's measurements.

"I'm certain that you'll need a training bra soon," Miss Usata said as finished taking the measurement of her slim torso.

It was meant of course to be an encouraging compliment, but it was nothing of the sort to Amiko. She felt her cheeks grow hot as she said, "Thank you," in a small voice.

Of course Miss Usata completely misunderstood the reaction and laughed kindly.

Once all the measurements had been taken Miss Usata began to bring in outfits from Amiko to try on.

The clothing at 'Alice' tended to me on the more conservative side; dresses, skirts and blouses, and they were all very nice. Had Amiko actually been eleven she probably would have been quite happy with the clothing, thought may have felt them a little childish. As it was, the blouses with the Peter Pan collars and the skirts with the cute embroidery around the hems made her feel more and more like a little girl.

There were some other items of clothing as well. A few very childish party dresses and bib front overalls.

"That really is very cute on you," Miss Usata said as Amiko stood in front of a mirror, dressed in a dark blue party dress with a large bow on the back, "though maybe you are a little too old for it."

It was all true enough Amiko conceded. She did look very cute in it, thought she almost loathed it and the few others like it she had tried on. Still, Miss Usata did not suggest that they exchange it for something a little more mature.

After a little more than an hour all of the outfits had been picked and packed away in boxes. Amiko paid the woman from the envelope, putting up with a compliment that she was such a big girl to be trusted with so much money, and asked that all he purchases be sent to her address.

Miss Usata wished her a good day and Amiko left 'Alice'. She had more shopping to do.

From another shop, not as high class as 'Alice', she picked up a number out plainer outfits, likely to be considered play clothes. As she had already been measured she knew exactly what sizes she needed and within in twenty minutes had everything purchased and sent off to meet her at home.

Then there was a shoe store where she picked up a couple of pair of sneakers, so slippers, a pair of boots, some sandals, and several pairs of shiny leather shoes with buckles and low heels that were barely a step above baby shoes.

She had lunch then, in a small noodle shop that Ritsuko had recommended. She had one more clothing stop to make, and then it was a place for furniture and a place for some basic home needs, like bed sheets and towels. There were also some electronics that Ritsuko wanted her to buy, but she noted that she was forbidden to buy a computer. That was odd, of course, but she was not worried about it, for the moment.

After dinner she made her way to the store that she was to buy her underwear, and was of course concerned about. Her concerns were justified as she found herself in front of a store that sold only 'Hello Kitty' products. Of course they had panties, vests and t-shirts.

The shop's only clerk was a woman who was something of an airhead and who referred to herself in the third person. She happily helped Amiko pick out about thirty pairs of panties, each featuring something cute and juvenile, as well as more vests and t-shirts.

Amiko was quite happy to leave that store behind.

The rest of the purchases were much easier, and not really that damaging to her sense of self.

It was a little after five in the evening when she finally let herself back into apartment, expecting to find Miss Wada waiting for her.

She was surprised to find Ritsuko sitting in the living room, a glass of scotch in her hand and obviously waiting for Amiko.

"Hello, dear little Amiko," she said with a broad and somewhat cruel smile. "Give your aunt a kiss."

Amiko stood there for a moment, conflicted in her feelings, then crossed the room, bent down slightly, and kissed Ritsuko on the cheek. "Hello aunty Ritsuko," she said.

"Wonderful," Ritsuko proclaimed. "The accent, the tone, your behaviour, they are near perfect. Now, take off your clothes."

"Excuse me?" Amiko was surprised by the request.

"I would like to see the good doctor's work, strip," the last was said with a commanding tone that was not to be ignored lightly.

Amiko did as she had been told, quickly and efficiently, until she stood, nude, in front of Ritsuko.

"Turn about, slowly," Ritsuko told her.

She did so.

"I must say I am simply amazed," Ritsuko told her she Amiko faced her again. "I was not certain that the Doctor could deliver, but he did. I don't even think any of your friends would recognise you." She gave her a considering look. "If only you were a little shorter you could pass for even younger."

"Well, there is nothing we can do about that," Amiko said, her tone a little tart.

"Not so," she told her with that cruel smile again. "Sections of bone might have been removed to make your shorter. Of course that would take a long time to recover from, and you would likely loose quite a bit of athletic ability."

Amiko shivered at that, she was certain that Ritsuko had considered that, and was only glad she had decided against it.

"Well, as long as you act properly we won't have to consider such extreme measures." The threat was obvious in the statement.

Amiko nodded, wanting Ritsuko to be certain that she understood.

"Very well," Ritsuko said, her smile warmer. She reached to the side of the couch where Amiko could not see and produced a bundle of clothing. "Put this on my dear Amiko."

It was some of the clothing she had purchased that day. She dressed in the sickeningly cute panties, vest and socks, put on the adorable blouse and then stepped into the childishly embroidered skirt.

"Sit by me," Ritsuko told her, patting the cushion beside her.

Amiko did so.

"This is for you," she said, taking a laptop computer from where it had been hidden and handing it to Amiko.

Amiko took it, opened it, and within a moment had the keyboard off so she could look at the interior layout. It was a top end computer, looked to be a custom build to her professional eye.

"You'll find a number of educational programs in there. Whenever someone comes in and looks at what you are doing I want one of those educational programs running."

"I understand," Amiko said, who knew the value of camouflage.

"Only partly."

"Excuse me?"

"To put it simply, you are a little slow."

"I'm what?"

"You are a little slow, in no way any kind of genius. Do you understand?"

Amiko nodded after a moment. Anyone looking for a computer criminal would never see her in a slow, eleven-year-old, half-Japanese girl.

"As a loving aunt, who has been given a slow niece to care for, they might think the gift of such a powerful computer a little extreme. After all, the simple literacy and math programs do not need that much power, but I will be forgiven for wanting the best for my dull niece."

"You don't have to take such pleasure in it," Amiko said softly.

"I don't, but I will."

"This is about revenge, isn't it?" Amiko looked directly at her.

"Of course little Amiko, though it also about your services as an excellent hacker. You'll find a disk in the CD drive of that computer with all the work I want you to do. You should have it done it a week."

Now that Ritsuko had admitted that revenge was part of it, maybe all of it, she felt both relived, and scared. She had little doubt that Ritsuko would be willing to go to extreme measures. That meant getting her angry would be a bad plan.

She had been something of a fool to step into Ritsuko's trap, but at the time she had little choice. Now she had even less choice. Running, as she looked now, was almost out of the question. Ritsuko had her trapped quite well. On one side she had the many people who wanted to get their hands on Delaney Sweet, and would not care what she looked like.

And if she was not Delaney Sweet, then she was Amiko Oda, a child, and her guardian was Ritsuko. Ritsuko had absolute power over her.

She was between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, as it was often said. And yet Ritsuko was, for the moment, the safer choice. At least she wanted to believe it.

"I'll have the work done, within a week," she told her.

"Good. Now there is one more thing I need you to do."

"What?"

"Start wetting your bed."

Amiko stared at her, hoping, in vain, that Ritsuko would laugh and tell her it was a joke. Finally she said, "Excuse me?"

Ritsuko leaned back in the couch, looking like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary. "It will be a nice way to top everything I have done, don't you think? I've made you, appearing at least, to be dependent, while in truth you were always quite independent. You appear immature while you were always quite mature. Slow where you were brilliant. I may not be able to change the nature, but at least I can change the perceptions, and those perceptions are where you will live." She sat up straight and stared directly into Amiko's eyes. "So, to make sure that there can be no doubt about how you will be perceived, you will wet your bed."

"I don't..." Amiko said, stuttering slightly.

"But you will," Ritsuko interrupted. "And if you are not doing so to my satisfaction within two months, then, I guess we'll have to look at more serious measures, such as surgery."

Not surprisingly, Amiko was about to tell her she could not do that. Then she thought of the shape her body had been sculpted in. It would be no trouble for Ritsuko to have a little work on her bladder done. She was horrified by the thought.

"Please, please don't..."

"You should have considered this before you were brought to this place," Ritsuko said with no sympathy in her voice. "You will do as I say, and if you don't I will take measures to ensure that my wishes are carried out, or you can leave, and take you chances, and the moment you leave is the moment I sell you out."

Amiko did not have to ask if Ritsuko was serious, it was obvious that she was. Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, she thought again. "I understand," she said in a soft voice. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"I want you to wake up in a wet bed from this point on. In two months I want to be fairly certain that such a state has become natural to you."

"I don't know how I can do that."

She stood and tossed her hair. "Then find out. You have a network connection. I'm sure you can find something online to help you."

"I'll do that."

"Good," she turned and was smiling warmly again. "Miss Wada will soon be back little Amiko. How about you show me all the nice clothes you bought today. Maybe you can even put on a little fashion show." Her tone was that of an adult to a young child. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Yes aunty Ritsuko," she answered. It was all she could really say.

Later, after Ritsuko had left, and Miss Wada had made her thank her aunt for making time to visit with her, Amiko was in her room, working on her new computer. It was a very nice little box, pushed about as far as you could get a laptop to go, and it had a dual boot, giving her both a Windows OS and Linux.

The work that Ritsuko wanted her to do was challenging enough. Find and then patch any holes in a firewall, track down some errors in a new accounting program, and find out who was trying to hack a bank that Ritsuko looked after.

It would take her a few days to get it all done, well ahead of the deadline that she had been given.

As she worked she knew why she had made the deal with Ritsuko, and why she was going to honour it, no matter how many beds she might have to wet.

Amiko, and Delaney before her, was good with computers and code for one simple reason: she loved it. When she sat down in front of a computer to work she suspected she got the same thrill that a concert pianist received when they placed they hands on the keys of a grand.

She knew, knew, that if she were to end up in prison they would deny computers to her for fear of what she might do. To be imprisoned, and to be denied what she loved, that would be far too much for her.

Ritsuko was going to be hard to deal with, but she would let Amiko do what she loved; and nothing that would twig even Amiko's loose sense of morals.

Of course she wished, pointlessly, that she had made a deal with someone else, someone who did not have an axe to grind, and a twisted sense of humour and revenge. Maybe she should have gone looking for a patron right away instead of just hiding and waiting for something to happen.

She sighed and leaned back in her desk chair.

There was a knock at her door and she heard Miss Wada call out, "Amiko, you should get ready for bed soon."

"Yes Miss Wada," she answered back, even as she brought up the window with the educational software on it, just in case the housekeeper came in.

She did not enter, however. Amiko saved her work and then brought up a web browser. If she was going to start wetting the bed she would need some information, and she was pretty certain that she could find it on the web. She could find everything else there after all.

It was about 4 in the morning when Amiko woke up, desperately needing to go to the bathroom. That was not surprising since she had drunk plenty of water before going to bed with that purpose in mind. She lie there, awake, feeling the pressure from her bladder.

Restraining the impulse to get up and go to the toilet, she lay there and tried to relax.

What she needed to do was become used to wetting her bed. She had to do it until she could do it without trying, and then do it without thinking, then do it while half awake, and finally do it in her sleep. At least that was what the training program she had found on a website told her.

The first thing she realised was that as much as she wanted to (well, not really wanted of course, but had to) she could not seem to let it go. Lying down was just such an unnatural way to urinate, at least for her. Perhaps if she sat up, but no, she needed to get used to it while lying down.

So she lay there, eyes closed, trying to wet the bed. The pressure grew, and yet nothing happened.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she managed to release a little before clamping down on the flow. She felt a tiny bit of moisture and warmth in her panties, but it was hardly enough she knew.

Again a spurt of piss escaped her after a time, and then another, and finally, all of it. She felt it soak her panties, and trickle down in warm, tickling rivulets, her bottom, where it soaked the sheets and the futon. It puddled around her, spreading out, before soaking into her bedding.

When she finally finished she was laying in a latch of wet warmth.

It was at this time she should have masturbated. A reward for her actions, to link the pleasurable feeling of orgasm with wetting her bed. She could not however. The thought of reaching down and rubbing herself through the piss-stained panties was in no way arousing.

As she relaxed she tried to remember when she had last wet the bed. She could not. Maybe when she had been four, but she was not even certain of that. The fact that she had not wet the bed in her memory suddenly made her feel very childish. Her face grew warm at the thought of it. She almost wanted to cry.

The feeling of helplessness settled on her and was still strong in her mind when she drifted off to sleep.

The chiming of the alarm woke Amiko. She sat up, aware of the stale urine scent, and the cold, clammy feeling about her buttocks and waist. Sighing, she sat up and pushed the covers back. Her pyjama bottoms were wet around her waist and almost wet down to the back of her knees. The top was also wet around its hem, and even her sleeve cuffs were a little damp. And then there wad the not inconsiderate, yellow stain on the futon. She had thoroughly wet that bed.

Getting up, she walked from her room. Heading towards the kitchen where she could hear Miss Wada preparing breakfast. It was as if she were a child again, going to tell her mother that she had done something wrong. She felt that flutter in her stomach, and a strong desire to hide somewhere.

It was ridiculous. She was an adult. Or she had been. No, she was. She might look like a child, but she was an adult. An adult who had wet her bed and was about to tell her caretaker about it.

That did not seem like an adult to her, a small voice said in the back of her mind.

But Ritusko told her to, so it was not her fault. That voice sounded whiny and petulant. It was like the time she had taken apart her father's computer to see how it worked and whined that it was not her fault, that one of her friends had dared her to do it.

That thought hit her like a wave crashing on her, and as she entered the kitchen she felt exactly like she was seven again, and afraid of being punished.

It lent a waver to her voice that she could not control as she said, "Miss Wada, I had an accident." She used the euphemism like a shield, suddenly afraid to admit to wetting the bed.

"What is it Amiko?" Miss Wada asked as she turned about. Her eyes widened slightly and Amiko knew she understood that accident completely. How could she not with Amiko standing there in piss stained pyjamas?

She crossed the kitchen and took Amiko's hand. "Come along," she said, a certain resignation to her voice.

Amiko would have liked to hear anger, something to suggest that Miss Wada found her present condition to be unacceptable. Instead her tone made it sound as if she had not expected much better.

While Amiko was still putting her thoughts into order she was taken into the bathroom. Miss Wada grabbed the waistband of her pyjama bottoms and the panties beneath, and pulled them down to her ankles. Before Amiko could do it herself the older woman was undoing the buttons of her top.

"You just clean yourself up," Miss Wada told her as she turned Amiko about so she could remove the top from her, "and I'll take care of everything else."

Then she was gone, taking Amiko's soiled clothing with her, leaving her standing naked, smelling slightly of stale urine, in the bathroom.

She really wanted to cry.

Instead she cleaned up, using the shower hose to soak herself down, then soaping up before washing the suds away with a strong spray of hot water. She did that twice, and then washed her hair.

When she returned to her room some time later, a towel wrapped about her, she found everything had been cleared away. The room's window was open and she could see one end of her futon, hung from the metal railing with big, plastic clips.

She ran across the room to see what she had feared. The yellow stain was presented to anyone who might walk by and look up. She almost pulled it back in before realising how pointless that was. Miss Wada would just put it out again. It would take sunlight and fresh air to chase away the smell.

She moved back from the window and then sat heavily in the chair in front of her desk. She could almost hear the taunting that she might be subjected to. It should not have bothered her, she was too mature to let words hurt her, but at that moment she felt very small and fragile.

There was a knock at her door and Amiko almost let out a cry. She scolded herself for letting herself get in such a state. "Yes?" she asked.

Miss Wada opened the door slightly to look in. Amiko took note of that, of the fact that Miss Wada no longer respected her privacy quite as much as she had. No surprise there really. "Get dressed and come for breakfast Amiko," Miss Wada said, and then she closed to door.

Amiko got up and let the towel drop. She walked to her newly delivered chest of drawers and pulled one open. From within she took forth a pair of the cute panties she had bought the day before.

Well, the first night was over, she thought as she began to dress. Of course that just meant she had the second night in front of her.

A week later Ritsuko again came to visit. Amiko was out in a small playground, nearly empty as most kids were still in school and the cool weather kept the younger ones indoors. She was swinging from a set of bars, remembering her days as a gymnast. The long journey had not given her much chance to exercise and she wanted to get back into shape.

She did not know that Ritsuko was watching her, did not know of her presence until she heard a soft clapping right after she had launched herself from a bar, two meters off the ground, and landed well.

Turning around she found her employer and guardian, sitting on a bench, watching her. "Very nice," she said.

"Thank you," Amiko replied.

"You are a very active girl. I had forgotten that." There was a slight frown on her face.

Amiko suddenly worried that Ritsuko was going to do something extreme. She had told Amiko that she had to be slow in order to hide. Was she going to tell her that she had to be an un-athletic klutz now?

"I suppose that we should make sure that you have a chance to be so. I'll get you a personal trainer I think."

"What?" Amiko asked, surprised, grateful, and a little worried.

"Just someone to help you out and watch over you. A little like a governess I would think."

Amiko sighed. She should not have been surprised. Ritsuko was not going to let her off that easily. Still, at least she was not suggesting some sort of surgery to take away her athletic ability.

"Come along Amiko. Let's go home now."

Ritsuko took Amiko's hand and started leading her away. Amiko had the choice of pulling her hand away or simply following along. She chose to follow, not willing to get in a confrontation over things with Ritsuko. At least not over that.

Before dinner Ritsuko gave her a ten thousand yen bill and told Amiko to run off to the store and buy a bottle of scotch.

She suspected that something was up, but really had no choice but to do as she had been told. That was perhaps one of the worst things about having to be, or at least act like, a child. Having to do what she was told had never sat to well with her.

When she got back she and Ritsuko sat down to eat, Ritsuko sipping from a glass of scotch by her elbow. They were relatively quiet over the meal, except for the occasional comment about the food or something interesting that had happened that day.

When Miss Wada was clearing away the dishes Ritsuko suddenly looked uncomfortable.

Amiko was certain that there was nothing that could really make the woman look uncomfortable, which meant it had to be a sham of some sort. That Ritsuko was putting on such a sham worried her.

"Amiko," she said, a slight hesitation in her voice. "I want you to know that I don't blame you for the," she paused, "well, accidents that you are having at night. Now does Miss Wada."

Amiko felt her face grow hot as she stared down at her lap.

"Now, I am a little worried about it, and of course I think you should see a doctor, just to make sure there is nothing wrong, but until this is taken care of, and I'm sure it will be," she said in a bright, light tone that was no doubt meant to pacify and reassure children, "Miss Wada and I do not think it is healthy for you to be waking up in a wet bed."

Amiko said nothing to that, suddenly certain where Ritsuko was taking things, and hating the woman for the games she played. That there was nothing she could think to do about it, not with the situation she had worked herself into, only made her angrier. She was careful not to show any of that anger however.

"Now, Miss Wada has suggested that you should be diapered at night, just until you are better."

She had of course expected it, but she could not help the squeak of "Diapers?" that escaped her lips.

"Now, don't be upset Amiko," Ritsuko said warmly. "I know you think that only babies would have to wear them, but I know you are not a baby. You're a big girl who just has a little problem."

With an actual child that might have actually worked: With Amiko, it was just another blow to her ego. Of course she was a big girl, she was more than that, she was a woman. Not that anyone would believe that, but Ritsuko knew and she was applying the pressure.

She nodded.

"And this is better for you. Sleeping in a wet bed is just not very healthy. The diapers," and she gave the word just a slight bit of emphasis, "will keep you dry all through the night. In the morning you'll just have to take off your diapers before you're shower and everything will be clean and dry. Won't that be nice?"

Her tone made it clear that Amiko was supposed to answer. She nodded again, and then in a small voice, she said, "Yes."

"I'm glad you understand Amiko." At that Ritsuko moved around the table to give her a hug. "I just want my little niece to be happy, that's all."

Feeling as if she were choking on the words Amiko said, "Thanks you aunty Ritsuko."

After dinner Ritsuko and Amiko retired to her room. There, in privacy, Amiko told Ritsuko about the work she had done, giving her a CD with everything written on it. Ritsuko in turn handed a new CD over to Amiko, full of more work that she wanted done.

Amiko took the disk and put it aside. She looked over at Ritsuko. "You're not serious about me having the wear diapers, are you?" It was a futile hope that made her ask the question, but it was all the hope she had.

"Of course my dear, little Amiko. Miss Wada made her opinions on the matter quite strong. Anyone who wets the bed is better off in diapers."

"I'm only wetting..."

"Yes, I know," Ritsuko interrupted her. "And you'll continue doing things because I want you to. Your only other choice is to leave. I don't think you really want to take that choice."

Amiko nodded, not feeling particularly happy to find herself back in the corner.

"You are so adorable when you pout."

About to refute that, she realised that she probably was pouting. It did not make her feel any better.

"I expect that you'll look quite cute in your diapers. Unfortunately I have to leave." She got to her feel. "I guess I'll have to wait to see you all diapered up, ready for your sleepy times." She laughed.

Amiko felt her anger grow, but a lot of it was directed at herself. She was more to blame than Ritsuko ever would be.

Ritsuko left the room, closing the door behind her.

Amiko took a deep breath to clear her head, and when the anger had ebbed, she turned to the computer and got to work.

It was hours later that there was a knock on her door and then Miss Wada opened the door and came in before Amiko could answer. So much for her privacy, Amiko thought as the hid the work she was doing on the computer.

"Why don't you go and brush your teeth while I get things ready in here," Miss Wada said in a tone that made it clear that she was not making a suggestion.

"Yes Miss Wada," Amiko said. She shut down the computer, saving her work, then got up from the desk and left the room to whatever Miss Wada had in mind. She had little doubt to what it would be.

As she prepared for bed she wondered if she could actually got through with it. She knew, deep down, if she let herself be diapered she was going to lose some of herself. Her self-identity, already badly frayed and confused, would suffer further damage.

That of course was what Ritsuko wanted: it was all part of the punishment. Unfortunately she could not think of a way to avoid that punishment.

She put her toothbrush aside and walked back to her room.

Miss Wada had her futon laid out of the floor, the covers pulled back, and on the floor, close to the bed, was an unmarked bag.

My diaper bag, Amiko thought, and then almost winced at it.

"Come here, let's get you ready," Miss Wada told her.

"Can't I do it myself?" Amiko asked, hoping to save some shreds of her dignity.

"It is better if I do it. I'm sure that you would not do a very good job if you diapered yourself."

Again, Amiko felt the need to wince. She was careful not to sigh as she walked over to Miss Wada.

The maid and now, apparently, nanny, wasted no time, and in a moment she had the shorts that Amiko had been wearing down around her ankles. With another quick movement Amiko's panties were gathered about her feet. "Step out," Miss Wada commanded, and Amiko did so.

"Take off your shirt and then lie on the bed." She turned her attention to the bag.

Amiko pulled off her T-shirt and then lay down on the bed. She watched as items were removed from the bag and placed on the tatami matting. Powders, wipes and lotions, a changing pad, and of course the diapers. Miss Wada placed them all precisely where she wanted them. Then she grabbed the pad and said, "Lift your hips up," and when Amiko did she slid the open pad beneath her.

The plastic covered foam felt odd beneath her, a little cold, and a little uncomfortable. Her mind considered that as Miss Wada took several wipes from the container.

She used them to clean Amiko up, not that Amiko thought she needed it. She would have protested, had she thought that it might do any good. Quick, gentle motions cleaned the area between her legs, wiping carefully at the folds of her sex. She then had Amiko turn over and gave the same careful attention to her bottom, even pushing a little bit of a wipe into Amiko's anus. That took her by surprise and she let out a small gasp.

"Turn back over," Miss Wada said, unconcerned.

Amiko did, and began to wonder if perhaps Miss Wada might be enjoying this. She had to admit, seeing how long it had been since she had been touched in that manner (except by herself) that the attention was not entirely unpleasant.

Miss Wada squirted some baby-oil into her palm, rubbed her hands together, and then went to work massaging it into Amiko's tender skin. Amiko would have been less than human if she had not found the tender ministrations of her caretaker pleasant. As she worked, however, she came to realise that Miss Wada was just doing a job, and as far as she were concerned Amiko was just a child that needed a diaper.

When she lifted her bottom so that Miss Wada could smooth the lotion there, she was no longer able to take any pleasure in it, not when it just confirmed her loss of self. As she had worried, the process was steadily eroding away what made her who she was.

And when Miss Wada picked up the thick, disposable diaper, she felt like getting up and running away. She did not, however. She let the diaper be slid under her, and then lowered herself onto the thick, soft padding, listening to the loud rustling made.

The smell of baby powder filled the room as Amiko's freshly oiled crotch and bottom were sprinkled with talc.

With a professional demeanour, Miss Wada pulled the front of the diaper up between her legs and began to tape it tightly shut. It was sealing off her vagina, she suddenly realised. Trapping her sex behind a wall of absorbent padding and a plastic cover. It was not longer a sexual organ, it was just something that shared the same general space with the part urine came out of.

As ridiculous as the thought was in many ways it hit her very hard.

She lay there like a doll as Miss Wada finished putting the diaper on her. And she simply did as she was told as a pair of thick, plastic pants were pulled up her legs and over the diaper. It was only when the waist and leg bands began to press into her sensitive skin that she came out of it.

"They are too tight," she said.

"That's to make sure they won't leak," Miss Wada told her, not unkindly. She put a finger into the waistband of the plastic pants. "I suppose they will feel a little tight, but that won't hurt you, and in a few days the elastic will have stretched a bit." She removed her finger. "Now, put on your pyjamas while I get everything cleaned up."

Amiko got to her feet, feeling how the thick padding of the diaper made her waddle awkwardly. She went to the chest of drawers and took out a set of pyjamas embroidered with 'Hello Kitty'. Just the night before she would have found the clothing to be embarrassingly juvenile. Now, as she worked the pants over the almost too large diaper, they seemed quite mature.

It suddenly hit her that she was going to have to wet those diapers that night.

And she had thought that wetting the bed was hard.

End of Part 1