After three weeks of living with her captor, Elizabeth finally had her plans in place.

She couldn’t deal with Nanny directly. She was too strong in a physical sense and too wary in a mental sense. So long as she kept her leverage, Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to get any advantage.

If, however, Elizabeth escaped, she could rebuild. She’d lose her old accounts, but that no longer worried her–it would be easier to make new ones, with better encryption, than to try and wrestle her old ones free. Though she’d miss a few of her long term piggies, little boys she’d kept filling their diapers for months-long streaks, she could give them up.

And, once free, she could launch her counter offensive. All she would need was enough money to start digging, then she could track down ‘Nanny’ and find a way to make her pay. Revenge wouldn’t be enough–though Elizabeth normally only targeted men, she’d make an exception here.

Nanny would be the filthiest pig in her pen–drip-fed bits of freedom while Elizabeth made her dance like a puppet.

First things came first: Escape.

She just needed enough money to pick up a functioning computer and time enough to commit a few crimes. A few hundred bucks would do, the computer didn’t need to be good. A couple hours spent breaking into accounts would get her seed money, and from there she could get a new apartment, buy a proper rig, and start building her new web of control.

To that end, she’d worked out a scheme. Nanny kept all of Elizabeth’s clothing under tight control–if she snuck out the window, she’d have to do so in baby jammies, diaper bulging beneath them. That wasn’t ideal, but she could hurry to the store across the street and buy some clothes. She’d have to deal with that cashier’s leering condescension, but she’d get her revenge on him soon enough. He’d already landed on her soon-to-be-piggy list.

The point was, she could make out a check to cash and make the figure large enough to convince the clerk to give her some spendable, untraceable money.

Elizabeth had learned from Nanny about making checks out to cash. She hated that she knew how to make a check out to cash.

A thousand dollars in a check should be enough for three hundred dollars cash, that level of greed would overwhelm his good sense without seeming to be ‘too good to be true’. She’d get dressed, flee to the nearest electronics store, and before Nanny knew what hit her, Elizabeth would be gone.

So, despite wearing pink footy pajamas with loose front buttons and baggy flannel fabric that ensured her diaper could always be spotted from the front, she put her plan into action. Staying quiet as to not wake Nanny, Elizabeth began to strip her bed–first the regular sheet, then the waterproof fitted cover.

With painstaking slowness, she tore the fabric a few threads at a time, so that the sound of fabric being split apart wouldn’t be heard by her baby monitor. She had to balance making enough strips that they’d tie together well, while still being thick and strong enough to hold her weight.

The process took an eternity in the wee hours of the night, crouched by her bedside, but she was no stranger to long nights or tedious work. Before long, she had six strips, each about six feet long, twisted into quick-and-dirty rope. Tying them end to end, she lost a little length from the knots, but she still had enough material to get out.

Eyeing her baby monitor, she stood and listened. Nanny hadn’t made a sound in a couple hours–she was sound asleep.

So, creeping to her window, Elizabeth pulled on the handle. It glided silently open, but she fumbled with the screen and it rocked, threatening to topple in a noisy clatter. Darting out her hand, she caught it before it could fall, setting the screen on her bed.

Makeshift rope tied to the foot of her bed, she checked its security one more time, tucked her checkbook into the pocket of her fuzzy footy PJs, and swung her legs over the edge of the window.

Breathing unsteadily, Elizabeth sat in the window frame for a moment, looking down at the two-story drop below her. (Do I want this?) she wondered, glancing over her shoulder. (Is it worth it?)

Looking down at the fall that’d await her if she had made a mistake with her rope, she swallowed. Leaving Nanny behind…

(Just do it, coward.) Gripping the rope, she pushed off and began her escape.

Immediately, the rope shifted and she dropped a couple inches. Her stomach lurched and she scrambled with her feet for something to slow her fall, but nothing tore and her knots held. Once her heart stopped pounding, she began to rappel down, hand over hand, sliding all the way from her high apartment down to the street.

She’d gotten out. She’d escaped! Dropping to the sidewalk, she–

“Beth, sweetie, you’re out past your bedtime,” Nanny remarked casually. “Surely you know your rules by now.”

Elizabeth yelped, turning to see her captor, her opponent, leaning beneath an awning, watching her phone with a casual air. She turned the screen around, showing a camera feed of Elizabeth’s room.

Her eyes darted side to side, looking for an escape. She could run now–Nanny wouldn’t chase her down in the street, would she? And–

“Elizabeth Sullivan,” Nanny snapped. “Don’t you even think about it.”

Elizabeth froze.

Nanny had learned her name. Her real name.

And if she had her name, then she knew…everything.

“You–” Elizabeth began.

“Let’s go back inside, you’ll get a chill,” Nanny said, making a tsk sound with her tongue.

Shaking her head, dumbfounded, Elizabeth repeated, “You found me? How?”

“Leg work,” Nanny replied. “Upstairs, Cricket. March.”

Beth trembled, cowed into temporary obedience. She knew better than to fight when there was no chance of winning.

Shuffling back into her apartment building, she asked, “If you knew I was getting out, why didn’t you stop me?”

“I thought I’d let you try,” Nanny replied, gesturing a hand at Elizabeth’s outfit. “I wanted to see if you’d actually go out like this.”

Elizabeth fumed a little harder, stomping up the stairs.

…

Mikaela kept her cool as they went into the apartment. Little Beth didn’t notice anything amiss or out of the ordinary, which was expected–the girl had computer smarts, not people-reading smarts.

“I’m going to escape,” Beth grumbled. “Sooner or later.”

Sighing, Mikaela decided to end the charade–there was no point in keeping it going any longer. “You don’t need to, Cricket. I’m leaving.”

Beth gaped, confused. Facing Mikaela, she fumbled for words. “But–then why stop me?”

“Because I needed to explain some things first.” Mikaela pulled up her phone, reading off a few details. “I know all about you, Elizabeth Sullivan. I found your family, your history, your age–and I’ve created a little portfolio, tying all your online activities and false identities to your real name. If I ever decide to do so, I can tie them together, permanently. You won’t be the online vigilante anymore, you’ll be the world’s most infamous diaper girl.”

Blushing, Beth stepped back, her heels bumping against the living room couch.

“You hold leverage over your piggies with money,” Mikaela continued. “But money’s a fickle thing–I don’t like it. I’m holding you with dignity.”

She swallowed, and the girl’s knees buckled. She sat down, dizzy, reeling. “You–what do you want?”

“What I want, is something you’ll be quite familiar with.” Mikaela smiled. “I’ll be giving you a special phone to communicate to me with, and you’ll use it to send me verification of certain tasks. You will not lock me out of your accounts–in fact, if you make new ones, you’ll send me the login immediately.”

“What do you want?” Beth asked, her voice distant.

“You’ve done all sorts of things to your piggies.” Mikaela refused to answer simply–she wanted to draw this moment out. “Denying them changes, forcing them to wear diapers for days on end, demeaning them for your entertainment. Making them dance on cam sites just so you can giggle at the viewer reactions. How long did you make that man wear his piggy costume and sing to nursery rhymes? Fourteen hours?”

“Fifteen,” Beth mumbled numbly. “And twenty three minutes.”

“You never seem to care if your piggies get diaper rash. You seem to prefer it, in fact–making them squirm, making them uncomfortable. It’s your goal to ruin their life just enough that they’ll never forget you, while letting them keep enough dignity to hope that it’ll get better. But will it? Or do you go after them again, just as soon as they’re comfortable?”

Shaking her head, Beth swallowed. “Just tell me what you’re going to do.”

She could relent, a little. Mikaela leaned back against the wall, smiling, letting Beth feel the fear for just a moment before she explained. “You’ll keep the baby monitor in your room. You’ll send photos when I ask. If I give you tasks, you’ll do them, but above all else, you’ll follow these rules.”

Pausing for a second, a drawn out breath, Mikaela let her dominance sink in.

“Eight hours of sleep a night,” she started.

Beth blinked, confused. “What?”

“That means lights out, no electronics, eyes shut, head on your pillow,” Mikaela confirmed. “And you can’t give me any excuses about needing to get up to use the bathroom. Which reminds me–I expect regular diaper changes. No more wallowing until you’re about to get a rash.”

Baffled, Beth shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

“You’ll take your trash out three times a week, at least one meal a day will include a vegetable, and you’ll have to ask permission before ordering pizza–it’s a treat, not a staple food.” Mikaela beamed at her, the smile halfway between a joyful grin and a dominant leer. “Eight glasses of water a day, and you’ll send me a positive affirmation before bedtime.”

Beth’s fear had turned to confusion, but both rendered her equally speechless

“If you break any rules, even by accident, I’ll free one of your piggies,” Mikaela continued. “I know which ones are your favorite, so I’ll save those unless your disobedience gets particularly bad. If you try and ignore the rules, if you try and get out from under my control, that’s when your identity comes into play.”

That got a reaction from her. Beth squeaked, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me and find out,” Mikaela shot back. “I own you, now, Cricket, and once things are mine, I expect them to be cared for. You will take good care of my things.”

Jaw slack, Beth just sat in silence for a long moment. “So…other than those rules, I’m free to do whatever I want?”

“Unless I change my mind and add a rule, yes,” Mikaela explained. “But I’m not software, and these aren’t logic puzzles. If I see you’re trying to wiggle through a loophole, I’ll close it. That’s it. Follow my rules, stay on my good side, and you’re free.”

Beth glowered, which made Mikaela grin. Already, the girl had been trying to come up with flaws in Mikaela’s verbal security, exploits she could attack. “When are you going?” she asked, changing topics so she didn’t have to admit what she’d been thinking.

“Now, more or less,” Mikaela admitted, pulling her jacket a little tighter. “Everything I need is already in place, I have no bags to pack, and you’ve had me as your guest long enough. I’ve got a train to catch in a couple hours.”

“This is it, then?” Beth stared, her eyes unfocused, and her voice sounded distant.

Mikaela paused. She’d delivered her Cricket a crushing defeat, and now she’d have no opportunity to outplay and regain the advantage. The game was over for Beth, and if Mikaela knew her at all, that would be worse than a mere loss.

So, Mikaela threw her a bone. “I might come back and visit. We’ll have to wait and see, Cricket.”

Beth’s eyes shone for a moment, the craftiness returning, glimmering with the light Mikaela had wanted. Satisfied, Mikaela moved to leave, but Beth gave one last parting comment before she could get out the door. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this,”

Mikaela hesitated, her back to the girl. “You like to take out your fantasies on the people you target, Cricket.” Looking over her shoulder, she winked. “So do I.”