What Amber wasn’t aware of was the quasi-infantile state of her charges. Unbeknownst to Amber, the transmogrified men she babysat for Krystyn still retained a part of their adult sexuality in most cases. The psychological impact of dry-nursing Amber’s ample breasts amidst the overpowering rutting smell of a horny woman made most of her charges devolve into complete infancy by the end of the suckling session. If the first babysitting job didn’t do the trick, then Krystyn would hire Amber for a second session. Not a single male had ever remained unchanged after a second evening with Amber. The psychological power of Amber’s pheromones were absolutely phenomenal! Each time Krystyn had her babysit a new charge, she would take the resulting tape of her activities to a Coven meeting for the general entertainment of the members. Everyone laughed uproariously as the men rediscovered their true selves and allowed the infant side of their personalities to pull them back into permanent babyhood. There was not a member of the Coven who didn’t understand the consequences to Amber’s Kismet for her desires and behavior. They had looked into Amber’s future and had seen the exact nature of the doom that awaited her. Since she wasn’t a member of the Coven, it made no difference to them. Everyone met their own fate at the allotted time. Amber was no different from the men that Krystyn changed into infants. Although she cared for her charges deeply, she was too great a dullard to be initiated into the ranks of the those who knew and acted according to their own “enlightened will”.
If Amber had had a bit less interested in men and had had more intelligence than the average garden vegetable, Krystyn would have seen that she would have been made a member of the Coven. As it was, she was only a tool for a member of the group. One day soon she would discover a man who knew how to manipulate her breasts properly while feigning helplessness and it would all be over. She would spread her legs to him and nine months later she would find a baby of her own to simulate her several times a day. Her dreams of wealth and power would be forgotten in the pile of filthy diapers and dirty male underwear that she would spend hours each day washing.
The prediction wasn’t an opinion on Krystyn’s part; she had asked the Coven for a ruling on Amber’s probable fate and the Tarot cards had been eloquent in their description of Amber’s fall from sexual power. Despite her dreams for riches, she would soon fall to the wiles of one of her boyfriends and become a harried housefrau with a wet-bottomed baby on her hip as she made steak and potatoes for dinner for her unappreciative macho husband every night. Within ten years she would become a bedraggled-haired housewife with an enormous butt, a prematurely-lined face that was framed in fat from eating chocolates all day long while watching the soaps on TV in an attempt to fill the emptiness and lovelessness of her life. Her teats would sag like empty sacks from the stress of nursing each of the first two of her three children she until they were the age of three. The oafish, male-chauvinist mechanic who was to be her husband would lose interest in her by the time their second child had been weaned and her looks succumbed to age. He would begin stepping out on her on a regular basis, leaving her alone in her despondency and sexual isolation.
In desperation for love and physical contact with another human, Amber would allow her last child to secretly breast feed at her teats on a daily basis until she was forced to relinquish total control and had to send him Kindergarten at age five. Once her last child became weaned from her teat, she lost her last sexual stimulation other than masturbation. The baby of the family would continue to wet his bed at night until he was eleven-years-old. At the age of six, his father would put his foot down and mandate that little Jeffrey sleep in cloth diapers and plastic pants every night until he was properly potty trained. Although both her son and Amber would object to the use of cloth diapers, her husband would remain firm in his decision. He would tell Amber that as the boy’s mother it had been her job to make sure his son was properly potty trained and that he had no intention of spending money for disposables until his sissy son was of the age of majority and could get a job to buy his own disposable diapers. If his son wanted to spend every night in wet diapers, it was fine with him! As his mother and the person responsible for his son’s social and personal failings, Amber would have to make sure he was appropriately attired in cloth diapers and plastic pants each day when he came home from school.
Amber would spend the next five years washing her baby boy’s flannelette diapers and plastic pants every day and diapering him each night when he came home from school and before he went to sleep. His older brothers would make fun of him and would buy him baby toys for his birthdays and Christmas with their father’s approbation and approval. When he became ten, his father descended to the incredible depth of cruelty by telling his son that he was nothing but a babyish girl. Then he forced his wife to dress his son in frilly pink-laced plastic panties and short, ruffled ”baby-doll” nighties over his diapers before his son went to bed each evening. His father’s gruff justification for his son’s feminization to Amber was that he expected the experience to make his son to rebel and become a real “man”.
The effect on Amber’s youngest boy’s personality would be devastating; he would become shy and withdrawn and would eschew the company of his classmates least they discover his terrible secret. The stress of seeing her baby boy so unhappy would gray Amber’s hair prematurely and chisel deep care lines in her face. As her looks declined, so would her opinion of herself and she would spiral into an acute depression from which she would never recover. Once Amber’s allotment of Karma in her current life had been expiated and her Kismet fulfilled, she would die from a deliberate overdose of Valium and Vodka before her “baby” graduated High School.
Amber’s worn-out physical husk would be buried in a cheap pine box in a small, poorly-tended, weed -choked cemetery. The ceremony would be attended only by the time-worn, grey-haired gravedigger and two members of her family. The scruffy old cemetery worker attended her funeral in the only clothes he had; tattered castoff clothes from the charity bin of a skid-row mission where he caged his evening meals. The only item of value on his person was a rather obvious half-empty pint of cheap whiskey crammed into his back pocket. The only two attending members of her family consisted of her alcoholic, philandering husband and youngest son who had recently discovered that he preferred the sexual company of the gay intellectuals in the school’s Thespian club rather than the manipulative girls he knew at school. From the sour expression on the gravedigger’s face, he wanted the bereaved to say their last goodbyes as quickly as possible so he could fill in the grave and have a quick snort before hurrying over to the mission in time for a free dinner.
Unfortunately for Amber’s son, his horrendous traumatic experiences with his father had frozen his emotional age at puberty and made him enjoy the emotional “rush” of being unmanned, sexually abused and dictated to by older men. He would go from lover to lover, seeking the solace of the loving and understanding father he had never known. If it pleased them, he was happy to put on makeup and dress in the most feminine lingerie and dresses for their pleasure before they flipped him over on his tummy and had their way with his body.
In a few years, her son would be dead at the hands of a serial killer who frequented gay bars and had a taste for effeminate young men who liked to be dominated. Over one hundred gay friends would attend her son’s funeral. Although he would be a poor salesclerk in a men’s clothing shop when he died, his friends would take up a collection for him at the gay bars he frequented and would see that he had a good sendoff to his heavenly reward. His ever-pleasant attitude and concern for others would be missed by his gay comrades. Her husband would follow him into the grave shortly after contracting an acute and fatal case of alcoholic cirrhosis. At the express wish of the man’s surviving sons there was no funeral ceremony for their father. No one would attend his death except the mortician that prepared his body for cremation and disposal. At the time of their father’s demise, the two oldest boys hadn’t spoken to their father for years and “want nothing to do with the drunken authoritarian bastard”, as his eldest son put it to the mortician, “even in death”. He was cremated and his ashes disposed of along with the office trash of the crematorium per his sons’ express directive.
