I wasn’t sure how to handle Haven’s new sense of humor, especially as they got more comfortable navigating the internet.

They’d handled apartment hunting while I slept–using my phone, something I’d have objections to if they hadn’t already invaded my privacy in far more significant ways. All I had to do was read the chat log on Crissie’s List after the fact.

CharChar72:I saw your post. You’ve got an apartment available?

Dylan: I didn’t post about an available apartment.

CharChar72: I’m talking about this: [Plumber Needed - Urgent]

Dylan: Yeah, the toilet’s wrecked, last tennant poured cement down the pipes. Needs a whole rework, and it’s gonna cost my left nut and take a billion years to get it done. You want it once it’s fixed?

CharChar72: I want it now. I don’t need a toilet.

Dylan: What?

CharChar72: I wear diapers. Is that an issue?

Dylan: I guess not.

CharChar72: Give me a ten percent discount, I can move in tonight.

Dylan: Hell, you can’t be worse than my last tennant. You’ve got a deal. Rent’s due every Monday.

I was moderately relieved that Haven hadn’t tried to make a deal trading sex for cheap rent. Still, the lack of a toilet symbolized something pretty clearly–Haven had no intent of letting me regain my potty control.

It’d taken only a few minutes to get my things. I slipped by the house when my parents weren’t home, grabbed the possessions I needed, and departed for the nearest intercity bus stop before I had to explain to mom and dad why my potty training had been set back twenty years. I left a voicemail explaining I was heading back to college early for some vocational training, then put my phone on mute so I wouldn’t have to answer any of their replies.

Nearly my entire life packed neatly into three suitcases–one of which mostly just held diapers and the sex toys Haven had required me to purchase. The only thing that didn’t fit in a bag was my bicycle. With a one-way ticket to Central City, I got onto the back of the bus, excited and terrified at what awaited me.

I was going to be a superhero. Like the kind on the news.

(I’ve done some thinking,) Haven told me, as we sat in the back of the bus.

(Yeah?) I asked. (What sort of thinking?)

(I can see into your mind and taste your endorphins. I know what you really like. I know where your limits lie.) Haven purred for a moment, something I felt as a rumble between my thighs–they’d retreated their form and were currently acting as a diaper cover. (I’m returning your control to you.)

(What control?) I asked.

(All of it. I will compel you to do nothing, except for what you agree to do, what you ask of me.) Though they had no form, I could still picture a Cheshirian grin forming on Haven’s imagined face.

(You’re not going to make me…like, use diapers?) I asked. (No catch?)

(Not unless you ask me to,) Haven replied.

(Well…I don’t have a toilet. Because of you.)

(You’re welcome to find another apartment, or a public restroom close by.)

I swallowed. There was a trick here, a trap somewhere, but I couldn’t see it. (You’re betting that I’ll give in and use diapers because it’s convenient, or because you think I enjoy it, aren’t you?)

(Possibly.)

(It’s unfair that you can read my thoughts but I can’t do the same.)

(Who ever said I would be fair to you? You are Mine.)

On that note, they fell silent, leaving me to do little but stew in my own boredom for several hours.

Haven was, unfortunately, immediately proven right in at least one aspect–given the choice between trying to use the dingy, gross toilet at the back of the bus or wetting my diaper, I peed in my diaper. It was purely a matter of convenience and sanitation, but I felt Haven’s amused satisfaction nonetheless.

I sighed in relief as the bus finally came to a station and I was able to get up, stretch my legs, and seek out a bathroom. I needed to do more than pee, and I wanted to test Haven’s promise. I was going to find a toilet, sit down, and use it like a continent adult, and if they kept their word, they wouldn’t stop me.

The bus station’s bathroom was dingy and ill maintained, but it was at least a bathroom. A real bathroom, not a shaky, awful craphole like the one on the bus. Walking to the nearest stall, I pushed it open–

(Did you notice?) Haven inquired.

(You know I don’t know what you’re talking about, so just tell me what I missed,) I shot back, rolling my eyes. Here came the catch.

(You’re in danger.)

The door behind me opened, and two figures walked inside. I turned–they didn’t have the posture of travelers looking for a john, and as soon as they were inside, both faced me directly. Both women were taller than me, more physically fit, and the one on the left wore a jacket that did little to hide the pistol concealed inside.

Time froze for a moment–not completely, but my thoughts had accelerated, making it seem that the other women’s motions were in slow motion.

(Did you set this up?) I asked.

(No, but it’s a happy coincidence. You’ve found your first muggers, so soon after arriving.)

(Okay, let’s take them out.)

(No.)

I blinked.

(What? But–)

(Not for free. Give me a reason to help you.)

(I–) It hit me, then. Haven had given me privileges back, just so that they’d have the ability to take them away. (How about if I don’t use the toilet for three days?)

(No, no. That’s not how this works. You don’t negotiate, you just give me control, and I’ll decide if I want to help you.)

I swallowed. The woman on the right was saying something–I’d missed it completely–and reaching for her gun. I didn’t have much time.

(Please–) I started, trying to be quick about it. (Make me use my diapers for the next three days. Don’t let me use the toilet.)

(Alright.)

(Will you help me now?)

(No.)

(Er–um–fuck. I don’t know what to–this is hard when I’m panicking, okay?)

(Then stop trying to be coy and give me something good.)

(Please, Haven–) trying to think, I came up with a desperate number. (Edge me thirty times before I go to bed?)

(Gladly.)

(But–okay, fifty times.)

(Since you asked so nicely.)

My peril was getting closer, and Haven hadn’t yet fully complied. Her hand was inches from the weapon, getting closer with each passing thought.

(Make me beg for diaper changes.)

(Of course.)

(And–fuck. Okay. You like it when I’m embarrassed in front of people, right? Make me change my diapers in public bathrooms.)

(Aaah, that’s wonderful–I think that’s enough.)

(Will you help me fight now?)

(‘Help’?)

Before I could ask what they meant, inky blackness shot out and both my attackers, striking their faces, covering their mouths and noses. The woman on the right stopped going for her weapon, and both clutched at the tendrils cutting off their oxygen supply.

The struggle took twenty seconds, and when it was done, they slumped to the ground, unconscious. I didn’t have to do a thing.

(So,) I asked, heart pounding. (This was your plan all along?)

(No plan, I just wanted to see what you’d do.)

(And?)

(And I think I’ve got promises to keep, Mine.)

(Fuck. How much edging did I agree to again?)

(Fifty times.)

(Right… is that even doable?)

(I will ensure you've got the physical stamina.)

(Fuck.)