Little Lamb

Chapter 1
The Only

Chapter Description: Agent April Parker is one tough interrogator, but finding the truth this time may cost more than she bargained for. My homage to all those darker regression tales with the "unfair" endings, that I used to read so many of on the old Archive. Enjoy.

“He’s all yours.” 

Agent April Parker nodded to the burly old prison guard, turning from the heavy door just as it clanged shut and beginning to unload her binders full of notes onto the long table. She could see her subject across the room, and her physical impression of him - the first, silent step of her profiling process - was about to begin. 

Walton Holbrook, as far as she could see, looked more rugged than his mid-30s age, with a thick, sandy stubble on his chin and four deep-set lines across his forehead. But beyond his weathered looks, his muscular build, and the tattoos that ran across his arms and neck, there was nothing to suggest that this was a man who had spent nearly his entire life in prison. There was simply no outward aggression about him. Even now, with cuffs around his hands and ankles, he seemed utterly nonchalant, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he whistled quietly to himself. 

Once more, she looked the man up and down, trying to make sense of his strange demeanor. And then, she sat down at the end of the long table, took a deep breath, and adjusted her dirty blonde hair to ensure a clean, professional appearance. It was time to begin the formalities.

“ Agent Parker, FBI. I’m here to ask you a few questions.”

The man turned his head slowly towards his interrogator, a wide, unnatural smile on his face as he redirected his stare. 

“Yes?”

“Mr. Walton Holbrook?”

“Ah, that’d be me!” came an immediate, almost saccharine response. 

“Thank you. Mr. Holbrook, where were you on the night of…”

“Have you always wanted to ask that?” he cut her off, zooming through his words, “On the night of October 25th, 1994, I was at the Kendall house fire. That’s why I’m here, silly!” 

April was flustered by the interruption, shaking her head to reorient as she skipped ahead in her notes. 

“Thanks…” she mustered, unsure whether to show appreciation at the quick reply or scold the inmate for interrupting her, “and is it true you pled-”

“Not guilty to starting the fire? That’s correct!”

“And yet-”

“I was still sent to a juvenile detention center, at the tender age of eight years old? Why, yes, you’re on a roll!”

“And don’t you find it-”

“Strange that I’ve been here since, seeing as no one died in the fire, all the physical evidence pointed to John Kendall, and my behavior, by all accounts, has been good? Well, I can certainly see why someone would find that strange,” he gabbled, his plastic smile unwavering. 

“And who is-”

“John Kendall? Ah yes, my adoptive father. Rambled a lot, and no - we didn’t have much of a relationship. And yes, I’m aware he’s in an institution now.”

Agent Parker rubbed her forehead as she tried to make sense of what was going on. It wasn’t just that her rhythm was broken - the questions that Walton had anticipated were exactly the ones she was going to ask, detail for detail, word for word. Were they just that predictable?

“Oooh, oooh!” he mocked, “if you’re done, can I ask a few questions?”

“I-”

“No, I insist, Detective! Since I’ve been so generous and forthcoming with my responses, I think it’s only fair that I should get my turn.”

“I’m not a det-”

“Not important. Now, may I?” 

“I- uh… I don’t… fine, sure.” she finally acquiesced. It would buy her time, she told herself, and might give her some insight into this strange man’s mind.

“Ah, where to start?” Walton Holbrook licked his lips, “tell me, who was president when the fire happened? I’m just curious.”

The agent paused for a moment, furrowing her brow as she stared towards the floor. She was a political buff and had always been a strong history student, and yet no names were coming to her mind. 

“I… I don’t know, I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled. 

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” the man said, his smile widening, “just checking. Now, my next question, next… why are you here?”

After a moment of recalibration, the agent cleared her throat and leaned forward, hoping to finally establish a bit of credibility. 

“As I mentioned before, I-”

“No, no. I mean, why are you here?” the man interjected, “It’s quite clear from looking at you that you’re too young to have been on this case from the start, so why is it that you’re here now? Did you volunteer for this? Am I just that fascinating to you? Ooooh, is there some wild arsonist on the loose that you’re trying to nab?”

Agent Parker signaled for the man to stop chattering, and for a moment he let up. “The internal processes of the FBI are stric-,” she began. 

“Oh, but maybe it'll help us solve the mystery! Pretty please, detective?”

The girl sighed and weighed her options. It would be a violation of procedure to answer, but she clearly wasn’t making any progress as things were going. 

‘“For your information,” she relented, “I was assigned to this case by my superior off-”

 “Why? Was it random? Did they give you a reason?” 

The agent was annoyed now. “Actually, they did. I was selected for my thoroughness and professionalism. Now can we please get back to the questioning?” 

“Oh, wow! You know, I would applaud, but, you know…” the man gestured to the cuffs on his hands, “and yes, of course. Just one last question - are you scared?”

“Sorry?” The girl raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, seeing as how it’s a very mysterious case,” he mocked, “well, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to ask if it worries you. I mean… there could be some sort of cover-up involved. This could go deep. Who knows? Maybe I could be hiding something. Maybe I really am the bad guy. 

“So tell me honestly, detective, are you scared of me?”

Given a rare quiet moment, the agent sat up and inhaled, trying to gather up all the confidence that she could. “No, Mr. Hol-”

“No, no, that’s not good enough. I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you’re not scared. Can you do that?”

“Fine,” Agent Parker rolled her eyes before trying to fix them on the inmate, “I’m not-” 

And then, she was lost. 

There wasn’t anything that seemed particularly captivating about Walton Holbrook’s blue eyes and painted-on smile, but the girl found herself utterly entranced. Her train of thought vanished completely, and she could do nothing except stare. 

For a few moments, there was silence. And then, finally, Agent Parker snapped out of it, awoken not by any internal force of will, but by a warm, wet feeling running down the inside of her pants. 

The woman jumped back and gasped. “What the-?” she mumbled, staring down at her obvious accident. 

Walton Holbrook laughed wildly. “Well, it certainly seems like you’re scared!”

“I- I- I-” she stammered.

“Now now, it’s alright,” he said, quieting down slightly, “happens to the best of us. Tell you what, why don’t you go wash up in the visitor restroom? I’ve saved something special in there for you.” And with that, he winked. 

Agent April Parker was suspicious, confused, and deeply worried. But she could use any excuse to leave the room, and so she did, mustering only “stay here!” as a vain attempt to maintain authority as she left.    

The agent trudged slowly through the empty prison hallway and towards its single-stall bathroom, trying all the while to make sense of what had just happened. She had suspected coming into the day that Walton Holbrook would be an unusual fellow, but she could never have imagined anything like this.

Her head was throbbing, and the first thing she did as she walked into the stall was to rest it in her hands, her elbows fixed on the sink for support. And then, as she tried to reorient herself, she spotted something in the corner of her eye, and she knew immediately that it was the special something Walton Holbrook had been referring to. 

It was a diaper. A thick, crinkly, plain white diaper, planted on a box beside the sink, as if her accident had been part of some plan. 

The agent was horrified. She stood for several minutes, transfixed and quivering, trying to gulp down her emotions and process the situation. 

And then, finally, she tapped her ear.

“Parker here,” she said into the small microphone, “do you copy?”

The stood, tapping her feet in the nervous silence. And when another “do you copy” was met with the same empty static, she decided to leave a message.  

“Currently at prison conducting Holbrook interrogation,” she began, struggling to maintain a firm tone, “subject seems to have some sort of… hypnotic ability. Will- will attempt to build trust. If you do not receive further update, please- please send backup.

“Over.”

With that, the woman exhaled, turned to the garment laying in front of her, and began to unfold it. 

Some moments later, Agent April Parker reentered the interrogation room, waddling slightly as she walked, the pants on her uniform looking as if they were about to burst. 

“Happy now?” she asked, trying not to look directly at the inmate. 

“Oh, of course!” the man answered immediately, “Always lovely to see my gifts going to good use.”

“I see,” the agent grumbled, cheeks turning slightly red as she sat back down in her chair with a crinkle. “So… you’re some kind of hypnotist, I take it?” 

“I suppose you could say that,” Walton smiled. 

“How long have you had these little… talents?”

“Oh, I think I’ve been aware of my extraordinary abilities from a very early age. Pots and pans flying around, that sort of thing. And I could tell that the children I was forced to interact with, even the adults around me, were far, far beneath my level.”

“I see,” Agent Parker nodded, scribbling a note in her notepad. 

And then, she glanced down at what she had written. 

Has vary hi self-opinien 

No, that didn’t seem right. So the agent scribbled it out and tried again. 

mister holebruk iz ful of hiself 

Looking down with panicked eyes, April began to sweat, wondering if she was losing her mind. She scratched the note off again and tried to rewrite it, but this time she struggled to remember which way the letters pointed. All the while, her subject was rambling on about something she had completely lost track of. 

“Could you… could you please not talk so fast, Mr. Holbrook?” she mumbled, desperately. 

“Not talk so fast?” the man repeated, sounding incredulous, “Whatever do you mean, detective? I’ve been speaking at a perfectly normal pace this whole day. It’s you that’s slowed down.” 

The woman turned her gaze back up and sat in a stunned silence, her heart loudly pounding as she tried to determine if the man was bluffing. As she shuffled nervously in her seat, she could feel that her diaper had grown heavier - and soggier - since she first put it on. 

And then, she began to sense a rapidly growing need in her bowels. It was another thing to worry about, perhaps, but she was relieved to have an excuse to leave the room. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Holbrook I gotta run!” she fired off, scrambling off her chair as if she was in a track meet. 

“Oh, no no no no no,” the man said condescendingly, and April stopped - without a thought, without wanting to, only a few feet from the door.  

“You’re not going anywhere, young lady,” he continued, “After all, this could be your great opportunity to really earn my trust.”

“No, please, Mr. Holbrook, please, I really gotta go,” she begged.

“Have to go where, little girl?” he grinned.

“To the po- to the pot-, to the bafw - I HAFTA GO!” She pleaded, jumping up and down as a sense of fog filled her mind. 

“Oh, but if you stay here, I’ll tell you the whole truth. Isn’t that what you wanted, detective?”

The girl shook her head vigorously, trying to hold back tears. She didn’t want the answers anymore - she just wanted out. 

“Tsk tsk tsk. Making things difficult, are we? Tell you what, why don’t I make things simple? Come stand behind your chair, now.”

Agent Parker’s legs began to move on their own, and she felt like a puppet, pulled by strings she couldn’t see. Soon, she was in the middle of the room, right in the eye of the security camera. 

“Good girl,” Holbrook mocked, a hint of menace in his patronizing tone, “Alright, now drop those pants to the ground.” 

April’s hands undid the pants of her uniform, acting against her will. Instantly, she was standing with her thick, sagging diaper completely exposed. All the while, the pressure inside her was boiling, and she was struggling to hold it in. 

“Lovely,” the man smiled, still giving instructions from his seat, “now just bend over - make sure the camera has a nice, clear view of your bottom.”

The girl’s body did as she was told, and she closed her eyes, bracing for what was about to come. 

“And now you can let go.”

All at once, the mess that had been building inside April Parker’s body splattered into the back of her diaper, filling it to its brim and turning its outside a distinct shade of brown. 

“Very good,” Walton’s smile widened, “I’m sure your superiors will be so proud of you when they watch that. You can come back to your seat now.” 

April finally felt control of her body, but she was too defeated to do anything but follow. Without realizing it, she began sucking her thumb for comfort as she staggered forward, her eyes still closed and facing down. She was fighting back tears, but for the moment, at least in that fight, she was holding. 

That was until she sat down with a loud, unmistakable squish, and, with the feeling of warm mush pressing up on her rear, started to cry. 

“You see, detective,” Walton said casually, paying no mind to the girl’s state, “my mystery isn’t really all that hard to solve. Seems my powers just drove a few people a little mad, and they went ahead and burned down a house to try and kill me. Of course, they weren’t successful, but they decided to blame it on me anyway.

“No, no, where the real fun begins is when the authorities figured out what had happened, and when they started to understand what I was. When it became clear to them how helpless they would be if they ever got on my bad side, well, we just had to work out a little arrangement. And that- well, that’s why you’re here today.”

The girl shook her head as hard as she could, thumb still planted firmly in her mouth, but she knew deep inside that Walton Holbrook was telling the truth.

“Did you really think that you were put on this case because you were so talented and hard-working? No, no, little April, quite the opposite. You were chosen because you were expendable. You’re nothing more than a sacrificial lamb, a virgin tribute to appease a mighty god.

“You’re going to get used to diapers just like the one you’re in now. You’re going to be a good little girl, and you’re going to listen to Daddy. And if you don’t, then I’ll just have to turn your brain to such mush that you’ll forget how to crawl. Now, doesn’t that sound fun?”

By this point, Agent April Parker had lost both the ability and the will to hold back her tears. She cried as Walton stood and snapped off his cuffs, she cried as he nonchalantly walked across the room, and she cried as he slung her over his shoulder and began carrying her downstairs to meet the others.