It's early afternoon. Lunch came and went. The nervous energy of the Bad Baby game is over. Charnessa has tried valiantly to get back into littlespace but access continues to be denied. No further updates are provided as to when baby C will be allowed back in to chat with Daddy Dominic.

Charnessa passes time by playing silly video games. She remembers some of these games from wattpad.com when she read stories on her phone. The app made her see a demonstration of these games after every page read. They might be amusing for a child, but they are hardly a challenge for adults. Playing these games is all baby C can do to make the hours go by.

Charnessa can't focus energy on how to get out of this place. Every few hours there seems to be a new crisis, a new fear of punishment, a new distraction such as her participation in Bad Baby. She's living in a constant state of fear and asking herself "what's next?" She has only been in captivity for 6 days but it seems longer. She is physically and emotionally exhausted.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The light on the video camera is starting to flash. The livestream viewing numbers are on the rise. Charnessa looks up at the opaque glass. There didn't seems to be anymore onlookers than usual. Still she fears the worse.

"What the fuck?" Charnessa thinks, "I was just changed, right after lunch. What the hell is going to happen now? I didn't fucking do anything!"

Her body tenses in fear and frustration as the door opens. It's Mommy.

She slowly walks into the room as Charnessa's heart quickens. Mommy only visits at the start of the day and at the end of it. Why is she here now?

Mommy stands motionless. The door closes behind her. She holds a mysterious black purse in one hand. Every second that passes feels like minutes. Chanressa is baffled as she runs a paranoid monologue in her head.

"What's going to happen? Did I do something wrong? Why doesn't Mommy say anything?"

Charnessa thinks it's best to assume proper position. She quickly raises from her desk, almost knocking the chair over, and hurries to her bed. She obediently crosses her legs in the middle of the bed and looks for signs of approval.

Mommy stands there and doesn't speak. There is no way to know what Mommy is focused on behind the blank slits of her plastic mask. Tension mounts.

Charnessa's eyes dart back and forth from Mommy to the black purse she holds. She's afraid to stare at Mommy directly too long. She has been warned repeatedly about her defiant stare downs. Inappropriate faces are not to be tolerated. They are always punished.

Charnessa tries to appear neutral with what best can be described as a frightened, plastered grin, or is it a grimace?

Charnessa keeps peeking over to the livestream numbers. 5,500. The sunlight from above is disappearing rapidly as onlookers gather in anticipation.

At 6,000 live viewers, Mommy speaks.

"A poll has been taken," She says without emotion, "The results are in, baby C. It has been decided that your body hair is unsightly and offensive. It is simply inappropriate for a child so young to have so much hair."

Mommy shuffles over to the bed and carefully puts her black purse down next to Charnessa. She unbuttons the purse and pulls out a large electric razor. She holds it high in direct view of the camera. Then she turns to Charnessa.

"Baby C, your appearance has been deemed objectionable by an overwhelming 86 percent of the viewing audience. Mommy is here to trim down your body hair to acceptable levels. It has been suggested that we accomplish this goal in parts so that you can mentally adjust to the changes. We shall do some of the shaving today. I will give you the choice of where to start."

Charnessa's heart sinks and her hands shake. She tries to keep her eyes from watering with tears of rage. The scab of an old wound is being peeled off fresh. When she was a high school freshman other girls made fun of her when she was changing. They called her hairy cunt because of the fine hairs near her waistline. She's been self conscious ever since.

Charnessa considers jumping up from the bed and knocking the crap out of Mommy. It's happened before.

She punched Mommy on her first day in captivity. She hit her so hard that her mask bent askew and almost came off. Two strange men immediately entered the room and held her down as Daddy beat her bare buttocks with a ferocious fury. It was the fiercest beating she had ever received in her life. She still had scars on the back of her thighs from the spanking.

Charnessa looks up now with a tremble in her voice,

"I'm sorry, Mommy, I don't understand. Do you mean we have to shave all the hair on my head?"

"Baby C, you have been deemed objectionable all over your body. We must trim the hair on your head, under your arms, your vagina area, even your buttocks. Babies are not hairy, baby C. We want you to appear pleasing and acceptable to your many viewers. You don't want to disappoint them, do you baby C?"

"N-no..., no Mommy."

"Very good, baby C. Where shall we begin today, dear?"

"Uh..., well Mommy..., my underarms..., can we start there?"

"Very well, baby C."

Mommy turns on the electric razor. It buzzes alive at a high intensity.

"Raise your arms, dear."

Charnessa holds her shaking arms up high as Mommy gruffly tugs at her dark purple shirt. Her bare breasts shake as it pulls off her body.

Charnessa tries to hold stoic but begins to sob uncontrollably. She struggles to breathe as cold sweat breaks out all over her forehead. She is in sheer panic. This is a living nightmare.

"Baby C, you must remain still. Mommy may accidentally cut you while she shaves you, dear."

"I-I-I..., I'm trying, M-mm-mommy!"

Charnessa suffered a slight stutter as a child. It was something she overcame decades ago. She was proud of the way she enunciated. In college she was lauded for her strong stage voice in theater productions. Her speech had the power of a young Maya Angelou, her instructor would tell her.

Now Charnessa is stuttering like a child again. Her throat is parched as she tries to steady her arms over her head.

Mommy presses a switch on the razor. The buzzing becomes much louder. It now has the intensity of a revving motorcycle.

Impossible! Charnessa thinks. This noise is a louder than the loudest concert she's ever been to. The bed is shaking wildly. It sounds like an industrial sized chainsaw rocking her skull. Terrified, she balls up and covers her ears.

___________________________

"Now, now, baby C. That wasn't so bad was it? Mommy is making it all better."

Charnessa opens her eyes to Mommy's voice. She's on her back and having her diaper changed. Her arms are stretched back over her head and she feels a burning sensation all along her underarms. The smell of rubbing alcohol is stinging her nose.

"What happened?" She asks.

"Baby C, you were scared by the loud noise when Mommy shaved your underarms. You fainted dear. You also wet yourself. Babies wet themselves when they are afraid. But it's all over now. Mommy has changed you and everything is all better."

"It is?" Chranessa asks weakly.

"Yes dear. Babies get scared but that's why Mommies are here. We make things better."

The skin of Charnessa's underarms is raw and sensitive. She is sure it's glowing bright red. She lifts her head to inspect the damage. Mommy quickly pushes her back down.

"Now, now, baby C. Mommy doesn't want you to move. Don't raise your head or move your arms. Mommy wants you to take a nap while you heal up a bit, dear."

"O-okay, Mommy."

Baby C feels the edges of her diaper fastening up. Without warning, she feels a hot prick near her belly button. She's been injected.

Charnessa wants a clear moment to reflect on the trauma that just occurred but her mind fogs over quickly. She forgets about her pain and raw skin.

A rational part of her recognizes she's been struck with another mind altering drug. Then she giggles and moans in dreamy pleasure. Babies don't rationalize.

"That's a good baby, baby C. You'll rest a few hours and then it will be time for dinner."

Mommy sticks a pacifier in her baby's mouth as she drifts off to sleep.