IOTDE: Thanksgiving (Alternate) (Patreon)

Madison Greene inspected her home, searching for anything out of place. The interior decorators had done a fine job. Her long banquet-style kitchen table was covered in a crisp white tablecloth, contrasting nicely with the fall-foliage theme of the placemats and centerpiece. Pine cones featured heavily into their design, which Madison guessed was a major savings on their part, but still, it looked nice. The carpet had been shampooed the previous morning. Meredith had been tempted to simply have it replaced, but after looking over every inch of it carefully, she could find no stain or smudge that might have excused the expense. Silver trays of traditional Thanksgiving treats such as dried figs and dates had been arranged so artfully that no one would dream of eating any. Every dish in the house was clean and neatly stacked in the cupboards. The plates and silver on the table now were rented for the occasion. The paintings on the walls were tastefully arranged, especially the one that was covering the hole that the movers had made when they brought the table in (she had had a long conversation about that, and a suitable discount had been arranged).

Madison knew she was being paranoid. But as City Treasurer for the town of Sturgis, South Dakota, she had an image to uphold. She had just successfully completed her re-election campaign earlier in the month, and now it was looking like the Mayor's office would be her next destination.

Along a wall near the door were a collection of Thanksgiving-themed children's handicrafts: Images of turkeys for the most part, done in crayon, glitter, felt, and in one case actual feathers. They weren't made by her children, for she had none. A local elementary-school teacher had loaned them to her for the look of the thing. Madison  had to maintain a maternal, family-values image to maintain her chances of reaching high office. That was what this Thanksgiving was all about. One of Madison's numerous political allies was an influential local blogger named Daisy O'Hare. Daisy had agreed to feature Madison's Thanksgiving Day celebration in a puff-piece, ostensibly about the supposed decline in the values of hospitality and gratitude in American culture. The counterpoint of the article would be Madison herself, presiding over a traditional Thanksgiving feast with her family and friends. The 'friends' in question would be wealthy members of the community and high-ranking officials in the city government, all of whom were also eager to be seen in conjunction with family, traditional values, and domestic bliss. The feast was being arranged, essentially, as a photo-op in which Madison's family, good taste, and personal wealth would be on display. In a tasteful way, of course.

That was why Madison was leaving nothing to chance. Everything from the decorations to the actual cooking was being done professionally. She had discreetly hired chef and restaurateur Alphonse de Chastain to cater the event. He and his extensive staff would be setting up in her kitchen tomorrow morning, ready to prepare a feast that Madison could present to her family and friends with pride. She wouldn't actually state that she had cooked it herself, of course. That would be lying. And if a photo of her bringing a picture-perfect roast turkey to the table while wearing a clean autumn-themed apron happened to circulate in the press, that would not be a lie either. It would just be a good look.

So, Madison found herself up late, nervously pacing around her home and wondering what tiny detail might ruin her chance to impress her constituents. Most of her actual relatives would have to sit out the occasion, of course. Only her sister Ashley, her niece Joanne, her cousin Wanda, and Wanda's husband Mike had made the cut. She had considered inviting some of her less-well off relatives, particularly those who might bring their children, but that simply added too many variables to her well-balanced equation. With so much riding on the success of the event, and so many of her influential colleagues in attendance, it was critical that high standards be maintained. Only clean, sensible, reliable people could be part of this important occasion.

She had just about managed to calm down enough to consider turning in for the night when she heard a sound coming from the kitchen. She frowned. It sounded like two people whispering and giggling to each other. She heard the sound of a window being closed with a slight click. She couldn't imagine who it might be. Her lights were on and her car was in the driveway, so a burglar seemed unlikely. Perhaps it was some local teenagers pulling a prank of some kind. Feeling somewhat vindicated for her nervousness, she stood up straight, took a deep breath, and walked into the kitchen.

Even as she was about to flip on the lights, she saw them. They were beautiful. Two women, one in her late forties and another in her twenties, were hovering above her island sink. The older one had dark brown hair tied into a bun, and wore a dark green Hawaiian shirt with elaborate gold palm tree designs. The younger one had long, voluminous hair of bright red and wore gold-rimmed glasses and an old-fashioned pilot's jacket with a white fur trim around the wrists and collar. Both of them hovered above the tiled floor as though suspended on invisible strings. Both had ears that came to delicate points. Both wore crisp, white, disposable diapers that shone with an unearthly bluish glow.

Madison could only stare at them a moment. They stared back at her with faint smiles and dreamy eyes.

Madison sighed deeply with relief. “Oh, thank goodness!” she said aloud. “I was worried that it was something serious. Just a stress hallucination. Never had one of those before, but there's a first time for everything.”

The one with the red hair waved. “Hi there! Happy Thanksgiving!”

The one in the Hawaiian shirt curtsied, lifting a non-existent skirt above her knees.

“...Happy Thanksgiving.” chuckled Madison. She turned and headed toward her bedroom.

“Hold on, dear. We're not finished yet.” said the one in the Hawaiian shirt, as though reminding a child of some minor but unpleasant chore.

Madison hummed to herself, trying to block out the voices. She started up the stairs. There was faint breeze behind her, and suddenly the one with the red hair was hovering on the stairs in front of her, blocking the way.

Madison shut her eyes and flapped her hands in front of her to block the weird image out as she walked upstairs. Her hands encountered smooth skin and soft plastic backing. She opened her eyes.

“Hiiii!” said the one with the red hair. Madison realized that she was touching the younger woman's bare navel and disposable diaper.

Madison's face blanched and she jumped backward, forgetting that she was standing on the stairs. She tumbled backward. Gentle hands caught her and lifted her to her feet.

“Whoopsy-daisy!” said the one in the Hawaiian shirt cheerfully.

Madison found her feet and pushed the strange being off of her forcefully. The one in the Hawaiian shirt floated away and sat suspended in the air, smiling warmly at her as she tried to compose herself.

“This is...what is this?” Madison demanded. Now that she had felt the skin of her two visitors, it was impossible to pretend that they were mere figments of her imagination. That left her with no category to file them into, however.

“We're just here for some black licorice.” explained the one with red hair. She crossed her bare legs and adjusted her glasses.

Madison gradually brought her breathing under control. She still half-expected to find herself safe in her bed, or for the unearthly beings around her to simply vanish as easily as they had come. As seconds ticked by, neither of those things happened. Reluctantly, she decided that she would simply have to deal with the situation as it presented itself.

“Black licorice? You broke into my house for candy?” she asked.

“We didn't break anything.” said the one with the red hair, sounding offended.

“We just need it.” said the one in the Hawaiian shirt. “Now please: Do you have any?”

Madison had no earthly clue whether she had any or not. So many people had been through her kitchen today cleaning up and decorating that just about anything might be in there.

“What if I don't have any? What happens then?” she asked.

Her levitating intruders both shifted in the air uncomfortably.

“That would be...unpleasant.” said the one in the Hawaiian shirt. Her smile wavered a little, as though she were contemplating something nasty.

“Weeee'd have to give you a punishment.” said the one with the red hair, rubbing her index fingers together. She sounded apologetic.

“What? What punishment?” demanded Madison.

“Oh, its different every time.” said the one with the red hair.

“Except for that one thing.” pointed out the one in the Hawaiian shirt, as though to remind her younger colleague.

“Oh yeah! Right.” she said with a nod.

Madison was becoming frightened. At first, these two had seemed too ridiculous-looking to take seriously, but the way they spoke left no room for doubt. They were absolutely confident that they could and would do something awful if she couldn't produce some licorice for them. She had no idea what this punishment would entail, but it had to be something fairly nasty, to judge from how they seemed to dislike the subject.

“...fine. You want black licorice? I'll get you some. And then you'll leave me alone?” she asked.

“Oh, we'll do more than that!” said the one in the Hawaiian shirt.

“We'll give you a nice reward!” said the one with the red hair.

Madison was curious what kind of reward they were offering. If these creatures were as powerful as they seemed to think they were, their reward might actually be something she would want. Still, first she had to find some licorice. Returning to the kitchen, she began searching.

As she rifled through the cabinets and opened the refrigerator time and time again, she began to wonder if she were having a nervous breakdown. After working so hard to make sure every detail of tomorrow's celebration had been carefully accounted for, she was being blindsided by something completely and genuinely unheard of. How are you supposed to plan for magical beings who show up late at night demanding treats?

As she searched, she grew more desperate. Her two visitors watched her with sympathetic looks in their eyes. They knew she was in trouble. They knew she was stalling. But they just watched as she tore her immaculate kitchen apart in search of black licorice.

But there simply was none. Most of the food was set to be delivered early the next morning by the catering company, but the cupboards contained plenty of candies, nuts, dried fruits, pickles, crackers, and treats of every description, everything her distinguished guests could possibly...well, leave almost entirely untouched if she was being honest, but they were supposed to be there. Thanksgiving was her chance to show everyone that she could be a provider, someone who could be relied upon to bring the good stuff, someone who could serve as the centerpiece of a happy, prosperous community.

And somehow, the fates were conspiring to ruin it for her, as some part of her had always been certain they would. She was a little surprised to find her doom arriving with pointed ears and adult-sized diapers, rather than in some more conventional guise, but why not? She had prepared herself for practically every possible turn of events, even excluding some of her less reliable relatives just to ensure that things went smoothly tomorrow. So of course, the trouble would have to come from a direction that no one could possibly have prepared for.

As she found herself opening the same cupboard full of cans of candied yams and jellied cranberry, she began to consider what she could possibly do next. Ideas like fleeing the house, calling the police, or trying to deal with the two clearly supernatural intruders physically were discarded almost as soon as they were arose. The way they were boredly floating in the air waiting for her to give up did not suggest that they were at all worried that she would try something. This clearly wasn't their first time appearing in a stranger's house at night demanding oddly-specific candy and threatening vague punishment, so if they were unconcerned about possible escape attempts or violent outbursts, it was most likely due to unchallengeable power rather than carelessness.

She closed the cupboard. She sighed deeply. She walked across the kitchen floor to her two magical visitors and stood resolutely in front of them. They smiled at her, awkwardly waiting for her to break the silence.

“I don't have any.” she stated firmly.

“Aw. That's a bummer.” said the one in the Hawaiian shirt.

“Yeah, that would've been pretty sweet.” said the one with the red hair, shaking her head sadly.

“Sooo, what is it? What's the big, horrible thing? Could we...maybe negotiate?”

The one with the red hair looked surprised. She looked at her colleague, who seemed only slightly less surprised. “Well...I suppose we can hear you out, but I'm really not sure how we can. You see, all we really need is black licorice. What else can you offer?”

Madison crossed her arms over herself. “I could go buy some licorice for you...how much would you like? Would a few hundred pounds do it?” There was no real hope in her voice, but she had to try.

The one with the red hair giggled. “Oh, man! I wish! We'd never have to punish anybody if we could get away with that!”

“Not allowed I'm afraid, dear.” confirmed the one with the Hawaiian shirt.

Madison took a long, steadying breath. “Okay, okay, listen. I can see you guys have some rules you have to work within. I”m a public official, I understand that. You...” here she focused all her attention on the one in the Hawaiian shirt. “...seem to have a handle on how all this works, you've been at this...whatever this is for a little while, so what can we work out here? There must be some kind of arrangement we could reach, some leeway you could exercise, and I'd be very, very grateful. I am a woman of means, if you don't mind me saying so. I have money, property, influence...there has to be some way...”

The one with the red hair cocked a curious eyebrow. “You don't even know what the punishment is yet.” she seemed annoyed at being sent to the kid's table of the conversation. “Have you even thought that it might not be too bad?”

Madison squinted. “You both seemed to think it was pretty bad. Am I wrong? Where does it sit on a “slap on the wrist” to “horrible, lingering death”.

“Hmmmm...” said the one with the Hawaiian shirt, rubbing her index fingers together. “I would say...not as bad as the first one, but way worse than the second one?”

Madison's eyes shot wide. Then she looked befuddled. “Are you sure you don't mean...”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The one with the red hair drew in air through her teeth and wobbled her palm about in the the traditional gesture of ambivalence. “I would say...if you had to watch it happen to yourself on a screen you would call it horrible, but while it is actually happening it isn't so bad. Like, not at all.”

“Look.” broke in the one with the Hawaiian shirt. “We try to stay vague about it, because it would probably upset you needlessly. But I can see you're willing to be frank and reasonable with me, so if you'll allow me, I'll be frank too, and if not reasonable, at least at close as I can get.. What's going to happen here, is we are going to have to put you back in diapers.”

If there had been a camera in the room, this is the moment it would have zoomed dramatically in on Madison, while simultaneously narrowing the aperture of the lens, making the room appear to be shooting backwards of its own accord in response to the complete and utter shattering of the world our dear protagonist has just experienced. But there wasn't, so she just stood there for a moment as though she had just forgotten how to breathe.

When she had spent a few sputtering breaths recovering, the one with the Hawaiian shirt continued. “That isn't all. We must also make other changes to your circumstances in order to balance the scales. So let me ask you this. Considering where we stand and where you stand, are you sure you want to negotiate with us?”

Madison's forehead knitted together. She drew in a breath through her nose, smelling the baby powder of her two visitors. “And how long does this last?”

“...wow.”said the one with red hair. She was clearly impressed by Madison's rapid recovery.

The one with the Hawaiian shirt smiled with half of her mouth. “That can vary.”

“Vary with what?” asked Madison almost before she was done speaking.

The one with the Hawaiian shirt leaned forward. “With our good graces.” she answered ominously.

“Seriously?” said the one with the red hair.

Madeline's heart was pounding. She was terrified. But she had been a go-getter all her life, and she had the instincts of a boxer when it came to negotiation.

“What would it take get it over with by tomorrow afternoon?”

“By Thanksgiving dinner, you mean?

“Obviously. Look, I'm sure you two don't have any trouble prancing around in your diapers, but it's just not for me, okay?

“Sure, sure. I can think we can swing that, right?” here she deferred, for the first time, to her colleague. The one with the red hair blinked. “You're asking me?”

“Well, it would be a bit of a sacrifice for both of us, but it is Thanksgiving, after all, and I think we could afford it.”

The one with the red hair pursed her lips, but then nodded agreement.

“Alright, here's the deal. We'll be willing to really go out of our way here and shorten your time being in diapers to just one night, but we want something in return.”

“Name it.”

“Give...oh, let's say...two million dollars to charity. Shelters, food banks, that kind of thing.”

Madison's mouth hung open. The one with the red hair blushed and crossed her arms. She was clearly feeling surprised by her teammate's boldness.

“That's...why would you want that?” asked Madeline in voice that was dangerously close to a shriek.

“We like helping people. Is that really so strange?” asked the one in the Hawaiian shirt, looking offended.

“See, we can have pretty much whatever we want where we live anyway.” said the one with the red hair. “So money isn't really worth anything to us. Still, because of all the rules we live under, we don't always get to help people as much as we'd like.”

“Well put.” agreed her colleague.“So, meet us halfway on that, and we'll let you go to Thanksgiving dinner in your big-girl pants. Sound fair?”

Madison' calm demeanor was in tatters. Her cheeks were flushed, and tiny beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. Finally, she spoke. “Okay. I see your position. I do. But clearly you think you think I'm much richer than I really am. I'm well-off, I fully admit that, but I can't just blow two million all at once! That's crazy! It would literally be half of my net worth!”

The two hovering women blinked. “Holy cow.” breathed the one in the Hawaiian shirt.

Her companion was more vocal. “So...let me get this straight: You could give two million to help people who are literally sleeping out in the cold this winter, some of whom will almost certainly die, and you would still have another two million to spend on whatever the hell you want, and you think the first part is the one that's ridiculous?”

By the end, the one with the red hair was practically shouting. Madison crossed her arms and looked away. “You clearly have no idea the kind of effort it takes to put that kind of a fortune together, young lady. I've studied and struggled and kissed ass my whole life to get where I am today. And it isn't like I can just write a check and be done with it. I would have to sell the house, sell a ton of stock, liquidate assets that you know nothing about, just to throw it all into the leaky bucket. I wouldn't be able to maintain anything I've built in the last ten years. I wouldn't be able to keep the kind of friends I've made if I took that kind of loss for no reason. You're telling me I have to give up everything, my career, all my dreams and ambitions, whether it's because I'm poor or because I'm incontinent? There has to be another way.”

“Poor?” asked the one with the red hair incredulously.

Madison let out a sigh of exasperation.“Lower Middle, call it what you will. I'm not going back to that. Please, I've tried so hard to be reasonable with you people! How about half a million? Half a million a year for a few years? Any amount of money is a drop in the bucket, so what difference does it make?'

The one with the Hawaiian shirt pinched the bridge of her nose. “I...I think we've heard enough.”

“Yeah, no shit.”  breathed the one with the red hair.

“Well, you say that...” said her colleague.

They both chuckled. Madison looked back and forth between them, horrified.

“So listen.” said the with the Hawaiian shirt. She spun around in the air and pointed her thickly-padded rump straight at Madison, pulling up the hem of her loose-fitting shirt to give her an unobstructed view. “You're obviously confused about a lot of things right now, so I'm going to do you a big favor and educate you a little. See, there's another reason we don't usually negotiate with our...well, I usually say 'clients' to be nice, but really, 'victims' is more accurate.”

Madison wanted to flee. It didn't matter if it was a good strategic move or not., In that moment, she would have given anything just to run away from her beautiful house and never look back. She wasn't an athletic woman by any means, but right now she felt like she could outrun the devil himself. Her feet didn't lift so much as a millimeter off the ground. She could barely muster the effort to wiggle her toes. Her eyes were glued to her visitor's plastic-backed backside. She found that she couldn't breath a word of protest as her visitor lectured her.

“You have nothing to offer. Everything you have, we can take away, with no effort to speak of. What takes effort is holding off. For us, letting you keep anything at all is like going to bed with a slice of cheesecake still  in the fridge. We don't care what you're willing to give up, we care about whether you deserve to keep the things you have. And it's pretty clear to me that you don't deserve any of this nice stuff. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm sure you've worked hard for it and all. But the truth is, there are millions of people who have worked just as hard, and don't have shit to show for it, because life is unfair. You're not rich because you're smart, or tough, or hard-working. What you are, mostly...is lucky. Now, there's nothing wrong with being lucky. It just happens. What's wrong is being ungrateful. This is Thanksgiving, after all. This is the time to be thankful for all the good turns you've been given in life. And it's pretty obvious now, that you aren't grateful at all. If you were, you would be happy to share what you have with others, not as some display of your generosity, but because you recognize that it isn't really yours to keep, and that the act of giving is itself a privilege. So, I'm afraid there isn't going to be any negotiating, ma'am. What's going to happen instead, is that we're going to rub our diapered kiesters all over your face, and we're going to explain to you what your life is going to be like from here on out.”

The next morning, Madison awoke, feeling much better. It was a beautiful winter's morning, and only the faintest half-memory in her mind suggested that anything more than a funny dream had occurred the night before. She showered, delicately applied her make-up, and dressed in her finest. Just as expected, the catering staff were already setting up in the kitchen, preparing a feast fit for kings. Madison busied herself rehearsing her speech in front of the mirror, and making calls to all her invited guests, wary of any last-minute cancellations. There were none. Everything was in place for a marvelous feast.

The smell of turkey, baked brie, and hearty butternut squash soup wafted from the kitchen. She watched nervously as the white-smocked workers ran to and fro. Not once did she consider that any of them might have families of their own they might wish to see today.

Soon, the table was set. Chef Alphonse and his staff piled back into their vans and departed. Finally, the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the first of her guests.

Madison tied her autumnal apron around her waist, put on a pair of matching oven mits, and picked up a tray of candied yams, as though she had just been pulling them from the oven. She put on her most maternal, nurturing smile, and went to answer the door.

One by one, the guests trickled in and made themselves at home. First was Pastor Walter Mansfield and his wife, Ruth, who was on the city council. Next came Madison's cousin, Wanda, with her husband Mike. Wanda was director of a charitable foundation that built public restrooms in poor communities in Pakistan. Mike was a high-ranking chemical engineer for Dow. Madison had been a little worried about Mike, but was pleased to see that Wanda had him properly suited and booted for the occasion, per her explicit instructions.

Next came Julia Weltschmerz, who owned most of the farmland within thirty miles, and Jared Southmoor, one of the city's Commissioners. Jared was a respected colleague who could be counted on to support Madison's aspirations provided that she brought him along for the ride. Julia had been a risky invitation. Someone like her added gallons of class to the occasion, but her high status was a potential threat to Madison's own position as hostess. Madison took her fur coat and directed her to the couch to make conversation before dinner.

The next to arrive was the most important of all, the one and only Daisy O' Hare. Oh, Julia Weltschmerz may have been the most prestigious guest, but prestige cannot exist unless someone is there to observe it. Daisy was the one whose thoughts and observations would be read by thousands of Sturgis residents, including most of Madison's future constituents.

Finally, Madison's sister Ashley arrived, accompanied by her daughter Joanne. Ashley was a successful trial lawyer who was expected to become a judge in the coming year. Joanne was following in her footsteps, having just recently completed her degree from Stanford Law School. Madison noticed that something was off about her sister as soon she arrived. She seemed stiff and uncomfortable, which was sort of understandable, but would not do with so many influential people watching.

“You made it! So good to see you!” greeted Madison excitedly. She pulled her sister into a hug, which she half-heartedly returned.

“Hi...sis. Um...how are you feeling?” she asked

Madison looked quizzically at Ashley. Usually her sister was much better about keeping up the appearance of a warm, uncomplicated sisterly relationship when people were watching. “I'm...fi...er, great! Why do you ask?”

“You don't...remem...you know what? It's fine. Happy Thanksgiving, sis.”

In truth, the two sisters hadn't parted under the best of circumstances. They had had a disagreement over the election a few years back, which had developed into a screaming match. They hadn't spoken to one another in nearly two years.

Madison turned to her niece and proffered a hand. “And I do believe this is the next great legal mind in the family!”

Joanne didn't respond. She looked uncomfortably over at her mother, who nodded solemnly at her. She offered her hand to Madison, and the two exchanged a polite smile and nod. Madison was disappointed that they weren't acting more warmly for the onlookers, but she didn't want to further compound the problem by drawing attention to it.

The guests mingled in the foyer for a little over an hour. The topics of conversation ranged from next year's civic budget, the fluctuations in various commodities markets, to the prospects of several the local sports teams. Finally, it was time for the main event. Madison directed her guests to sit around the long table, each at a location marked with a small decorative card. Madison pulled the massive turkey from the oven (where it had been sitting on low heat since Chef Alphonse left) and brought it to the table with a beatific smile on her face. Daisy, Ashley, and Wanda were all snapping pictures of her on their phones, as had been arranged beforehand. Settling the turkey at the head of the table, Madison raised her wine glass and gently tapped her fork against it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family, Welcome. It makes me so happy to see so many wonderful people, all gathered together to express our thanks for the wonderful world we live in, and the many ways that each of our lives have been blessed! Now, as has long been the custom in the Greene family, let's each go around the table and announce something that we are thankful for this year. Let me be the first: I'm grateful that each of you traveled so far just to be with me on this special day!”

“Well, it certainly is a special day.” said Ashley. It wasn't quite her turn, but Madison wasn't about to pull rank on her if she had something to say. The guests clapped and murmured approval as she stood.

“Thank you, Madison. Thank you for opening your home to me, to my daughter, and to all these good people.  I have a lot that I'm very grateful for this year, too. Y'know, when I got your e-mail last night, I had a hard time to coming to grips with what I was reading. Some of it was more than a little disturbing. I spent a long time wondering if it was all some kind of joke.”

Madison felt an odd shift in the air, as though she had missed something that should have been obvious. “E-mail?”

“Yes. You really don't recall sending it to me, do you?” asked Ashley. Madison shook her head slowly, looking concerned.

“It said that you wouldn't, which is only one reason why it was so strange. It was a letter that purported to be from you, along with a set of attachments of various legal documents.”

Madison's spine fused into a single piece. That feeling of having forgotten something important was growing stronger. “What kind of legal documents?”

Ashley's face was grave. “Well...your Power of Attorney, for a start. Now, even considering how official all the documentation seemed, I was very tempted to dismiss the whole thing as some kind of elaborate prank or an attempt by one of your political rivals to discredit you. Only, there were other things. Little details from conversations that we've had that I know neither of us would have shared with anyone. Not big things, but the sort of details that let me know that I wasn't looking at a fraud or a scam.” She swallowed. The guests glanced at each other in confusion, unsure of what to make of all this.

“And things that even I hadn't known before. About some of your arrangements with other public officials in the Sturgis government and with several notable local business leaders, about some of the little expenses that you helped to bury in the city's accounts, about some key loan documents that were conveniently misplaced at the borrower's request, about that science fair back in junior high when my plants all mysteriously died the night before the project was due...I could go on, but I won't. Suffice to say, what I received was enough to persuade me that I need to intervene. I've been helping you to sell this image of yourself as a kind, honest, trustworthy public servant, and all this time, you've been brazenly abusing your position. Is that not true?”

Madison was beside herself, both angry and terrified. “Of course it isn't true! Ashley, this is all nonsense! Whoever sent that e-mail is obviously some sort of troublemaker! Show me these documents. I can show you the real ones and clear this all up! I'm your sister for gawdsake! You know I wouldn't do anything like that!”

Ashley looked down at the table, still groaning under the weight of a feast that could easily feed four times the actual guestlist. “I'd like to think that that's true, Madison. But I don't. I've known you longer than anyone. You're a gigantic fraud, and you always have been. You'd say anything to get your way, even back when we were kids. But this time, I don't have to sit through your nonsense.”

Madison trembled at her sister's words. “If that's how you feel, perhaps you should leave. I apologize for my sister's behavior everyone. She isn't usually like this, I promise.”

“Honestly Madison, are the things I've said about you true?”

“Yes.” Madison covered her mouth with her hands. The word had slipped out without any thought or volition on her part. “What was that? What did you do?”

Ashley sighed. “I used one of the special phrases that were outlined in the e-mail. You can't lie to me anymore. Honestly Madison, tell me why you've done all this. What was it all for?”

“I want to succeed. I want to be looked up to. I want to be rich and respected and influential. I want power.” Madison tried with all her might to restrain her traitorous mouth, but it was useless.

Ashley nodded again. It was clear that she was not at all surprised by Madison's answer. “Thank you for saying that, Madison, even though I know you didn't do it voluntarily. I've known that for a while, but it's still refreshing to hear you admit it out loud. You've become addicted to your ambitions. It's that simple. No matter how much you have, you don't seem able to stop, and you're causing a lot of harm in the process. I'm not sure what it was that forced you to write that e-mail and then forget about it, but you told me that they had helped you to come to grips with what needs to happen now.”

Madison was in tears. Everything felt like it was crashing down around her. She collapsed into her seat and “What are you talking about? Who could do something like this? What is going to happen?”

“I'm taking over. I'm going to be managing your affairs for you from now on. I know that sounds harsh, but no more so than taking away someone's keys the fourth time they wrap a car around a telephone pole. You've demonstrated that the power you have is not good for you or for those around you. So, you will lose it all now. It will be for the better, I promise.”

“You're crazy! This is psychotic! You can't do anything to me! If you try to bring any of this to court, I'll destroy you! You're all witnesses, here! She's threatening me, and you all heard it!”

“Yes, they are witnesses, and I want them to see what happens here. I'm going to take away all the things that you have abused, Madison. First of all, you're going to resign your position as Treasurer and withdraw your candidacy for Mayor. That won't be an issue once Diane here posts her article about you. You're also going to donate most of your wealth to help support food banks and homeless shelters around the state, anonymously so that there is no prestige boost. You're going to be unemployed, and I and my daughter will be looking after your needs.”

“And why...would I agree...to any of that?” snarled Madison. She looked ready to lunge across the table and strangle her sister in broad daylight.

“Be a good girl and tell me that you will do as you're told from now on.”

Madison felt he mouth open. “I'm going to do as I'm told from now on. What? No! Stop this!”

“Madison, it's no use. Even if I did stop now, the effects are just going to get worse. You told me that they were set to start going off after you made your speech today.”

Madison stared. She was afraid to ask, but she had to know.  “What effects?”

“Well, you're going to turn into a big baby, basically. You're going to be totally unable to take care of yourself in any way. You're going to lose most of your adult abilities, and pick up a lot of infantile habits. For example, are you at all aware that you're wearing an adult diaper right now?”

Madison's hands shot to her crotch. Sure enough, her panties had been replaced with something extremely soft and bulky, as though a pillow had been shoved down her slacks.

“Wh...where did this come from?” she breathed.

“You put it on yourself, earlier. You just weren't consciously aware of it. Pretty soon, that won't even be an option for you anymore. You'll need to be checked and changed regularly, since you'll be unable to do it yourself, and you won't even be aware that you need it. Your mental faculties are going to decline pretty quickly over the next few hours. You'll need round the clock care.”

“Noooo!” she whined, but Ashley wasn't finished yet.

“It won't be that bad. Frankly, you described it as being more like going to rehab. You're going to give up all your power and status and learn how to to enjoy the simple things in life again.”

“That's crazy! You're insane! How can you stand there and say these things to me? What's wrong with you? I'm getting the hell out of here!”

Madison turned to run up the stairs to her room.

“Be a good girl and come back here.” stated Ashley firmly.

Madison 's foot hovered over the first stair. She felt herself spin around on her heel and stomp her way back toward the table. She sat at her chair and folded her arms across er chest.

“I also have other phrases that I can use. If you try to fight me, I can make things very unpleasant for you, so I suggest you learn to behave yourself sooner rather than later. Are you ready to stop being difficult, Madison?”

Madison stared daggers at her sister. She couldn't let her win. Everything inside her told her to never, ever accept the domination of anyone, least of all her sister.

“Madison...I haven't even started on the punishment triggers yet. You are going to be a big baby. That much is set in stone. Now, do you want to be a sweet, happy baby, or a sad, crying baby? Serious question, Madison. Choose carefully.”

Madison hid her face in her hands. “I'll...I'll be good.” she muttered sulkily.

“Happy Pants.” stated Ashley firmly.

A rush of joy shot through Madison's entire being. Her limbs seemed suddenly jam-packed with energy. She jumped out of her seat and stared in wonder at the baffled faces of her guests. She felt herself rubbing her hands over the swollen mound of her diapered rear. All at once, it was the best feeling that she could imagine. She began tearing off her clothing, tossing her apron, shoes, bra, shirt, and slacks to the floor. She felt every inch of her diaper, reveling in its every aspect: the tight, secure feel of the leak guards around her waist and legs, the way the thick, fluffy padding pressed against her skin, the smooth, shiny, plastic backing, the friendly, colorful circus animals marching across the front panel. She sighed and moaned with pleasure as she rubbed and patted and waved her diapered rear for all to see.

“What happened? What is she doing?” asked a horrified Ruth. The faces around the table were turning red with second-hand embarrassment

“That's the trigger that activates her new diaper fetish. It's irreversible, too. From now on, she'll want to be in diapers all day, every day. She'll love everything about them, how they look, how they feel, how embarrassing it is to be seen in them, knowing that they show how helpless and immature she is. She'll love every minute of wearing them, and being checked and changed and fussed over. Honestly Madison, how do you feel about being in diapers now?”

Madison's mouth spoke, but she was too fixated on how her diaper felt to worry about what it said. “They're the best! I can't get to wear them all the time now! Everyone is going to know that I'm a big baby who has to be kept in diapers! This is the best day ever!”

“It looks like she's drugged.” commented Pastor Manfield.

“I don't think there's a drug that does that.” said Daisy, with a bit more authority than the pastor approved of.

“She isn't. In fact, she's still very much in her right mind. Honestly Madison, what the cube root of twenty-seven?”

“It's three!” reported Madison happily, holding up three fingers to illustrate.

“How is that possible?” asked Julia.

“I think it's some kind of hypnosis thing. An altered state of consciousness.” explained Ashley. “I'm not clear on the details, but the take-away is, Madison is perfectly happy and content right now. She has no desires or fears of any kind. She'll be just fine with whatever happens. “Honestly Madison, how would you feel if I decided to spank your butt like the naughty girl we both know you are?

“That sounds great!” said Madison, still grinning like a maniac. Experimentally, she slapped her hand against her own diapered rear, giggling at the sensation.

“H...how long does this last?” asked Jared.

“According to the e-mail, it'll start to wear off in a few months, and probably be gone in a year or so. Of course, by that time, I hope to have adjusted my sister's habits enough that this sort of thing won't be a problem in the future.”

A long, gurgling, wet fart sounded from the seat where Madison sat. “Oh my gawd!” Julia stood, holding her nose. The other guests followed suit, except Diane, who was watching with rapt attention.

“Yep, looks like somebody will be relieving herself shortly. If she hasn't already.” reported Ashley. “Joanne, could you run up to the guest bedroom and see if you can find a diaper bag? The e-mail said there would be plenty of supplies for her up there.”

“You got it, Mom!” said Joanne, eagerly heading up the stairs.

“Surely she won't just...” said Wanda, forehead knitted.

“Surely she will. She'll love it, too. Honestly Madison, you wouldn't care a bit if you pooped your pants right here in front of everyone, would you?”

“That sounds amazing!” said Madison with a manic grin. She bent forward and strained. A long, whistling fart sounded from the seat of her diaper.

“This is...appalling! You should be ashamed of yourself! I'm leaving.” said Julia. The other guests muttered agreement and began standing up to leave.

“That's fine.” said Ashley, standing behind her incongruously cheerful sister and placing her hands on her shoulders. “Just be aware that any interference in my handling of my sister will not be permitted.”

Julia turned, her expensive fur coat over one shoulder. “What do you mean by that?” She asked coldly.

“Was that a threat?” asked Mike.

“Just a word of caution. The people who arranged all this are still out there, and they've made it quite clear that they won't tolerate any interference in their plans. Mind your business, and I'll mind mine. Happy Thanksgiving, and you're welcome to bring home any food you would like.”

Diane was incredulous. “But...what about my story? I can't possibly print...this!” she gestured to Madison, who was jumping for joy at having successfully pooped her pants in front of witnesses. “Yaaay! I'm a big stinky pants girl!” she squealed in ecstacy.

“Just let everyone know that my sister is giving up her career to live as a full-time adult baby. That should make for a good human interest story, and I'm sure your readers will be sufficiently intrigued. I'll be sure to get you enough pictures to satisfy them, and ensure that Madison isn't tempted back into the life of a career politician when this is all over.”

Joanne came down the stairs. A very large purple satchel was slung over her shoulder. “You won't believe the set-up up there! We have enough baby supplies to last for a year, easy!”

As the horrified guests filed out, Ashley and Joanne laid out a changing mat for Madison. When they were certain they were alone, Joanne ventured the question she had been holding back. “So do we really get all her money?”

“We get some of it, minus what the e-mail said to donate. I'm not dumb enough to cheat the sort of people who can do stuff like this.” she said, pulling an extremely bulky diaper from the bag and fluffing it up with care. “Plus, I can do this: Madison, be a good girl and say thank you all we're doing for you here.”

Madison immediately ran up and gave her sister a big hug. She kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so much! Thanks for putting me back in baby diapers where I belong!”

She gave Joanne a hug and a kiss as well, all while gushing about how lucky she was to have someone to take care of her and change her.

“I'd say that's a worth a couple mil.” giggled Ashley. “Now come on Stinky-pants. Be a good girl and lay on the changing mat for me. Legs up, there we go! Good girl!”