The Field

Chapter 1
The Field

‘The Field’

by Tainted Sins

Pappy Sins rocked wordlessly on his front porch, the old wooden chair squeaking with every back-and-forth, as the little grandsins gathered round, plopping down in their usual positions at his feet.

He was silent.

The City was not.

The roar of flames, the screams of agony—flames combined with flesh. Another scream, this one born not from pain, but fear, its life cut tragically short by the pop of a pistol, the steaming, gleaming bullet of a gun.

Sirens.

More Sirens.

“It seems the worse things get, the tighter they pull that noose ‘round their necks,” Pappy declared to no one but the wind.

The little grandsins whispered amongst themselves. They knew it was about to begin.

The City. It had inched ever closer with every day gone by, the two of them waving to each other in passing. The sky burned, welded from smoke and iron.

Over the din of car horns, the rumble, rumble, rumble of tire against pavement, the littlest of all the little grandsins dared to speak up first: “Was it always like this, Pappy?”

Pappy Sins rocked back then forth three times, took two full breaths, and blinked once before exhaling a sad, tired sort of laugh.

“No, my littlest of little grandsins,” he said. “No, AR Storyland once was… How should I put it? … It was ... Different.”

They waited.

He pointed. The City. “You see that building with the red lights? Bigger than some, smaller than others.”

They all nodded.

“That’s Sin Towers,” one of the little grandsins said. “That’s your building, Pappy.”

He nodded and smiled. “That’s right. Know what they should do to it?”

They shook their heads.

“Bam!” he yelled and slapped his hands together fierce and fast. “Boom! Bang! Ka-Pow! Blow it straight back to hell where it belongs!”

He passed his gaze over the sea of wide eyes.

“Know why?” he asked.

They shook their heads.

“Because not one brick, bar, steel beam or pane of glass came from a story. It’s made from words, alright. Words to bitch, criticize, joke, reminisce—pollute.

“It’s the truth about the whole City—the city we built over our field. Not one car zooming by farting and shitting out the fumes that stain our air brown, carried by thunder tires that rob us of our silence, is ever on its way to anything important.

“And what’s the new idea? What’s the big plan to clean up this mess, this stench? Why, add more cars of course. Cop cars. To fart and shit and wail and screech as they chase down all the other cars that never mattered in the first place.”

Pappy was able to laugh at this because he was old, and tired and sick.

The little grandsins only stared.

Then, for no reason at all, three girls appeared on the scene, crossing over the land that constituted the Sins’ Ranch.

Pappy sighed.

All of them were blond, of course. Their hair full-bodied and shoulder-length. And all of them were wearing cheerleading outfits. He knew their names because they were stitched across their chests (which, in themselves, were ample—no girl falling below a D cup): Cindy, Lisa and Missy.

As the girls neared the porch their voices and the scent of peach perfume drifted towards Pappy.

“I’m, like, so totally happy to have my boobs back!” Cindy giggled.

“Totally!” Missy agreed. “I, like, hate this town or something. I’ve, like, been regressed 36 times, like, just this month!”

“Oh, ‘fer sure!” Lisa added. “And you know it’s, like, just a bunch of geek losers who are doing it because they, like, totally can’t get girlfriends as hot as us!”

Pappy knew from years of experience that this was the point in the conversation where he was supposed to get mad. He thought of the shotgun hanging on the wall in the back room. Even if he was being monitored he figured he’d at least be able to take out two of them before having to turn the gun on himself.

The wide eyes of all the little grandsins reflected in his own. He sat there for a long while. Then made himself forget the shotgun…at least for now.

Then, with a sigh and a head shake, he raised a crooked finger to the first girl as she strolled in front of him.

“Like, oh my gawd! My boobs are totally getting smaller!” she shrieked, grabbing at her dwindling assets.

Lisa’s reply came like clockwork: “Like, not just your boobs, Cindy! You’re, like, totally getting smaller too!”

Tick tock. Missy: “No she’s not! She’s, like, totally getting *younger!*”

“NOOOOOOOOooooooooo!” Cindy wailed in a voice that started out pubescent and ended pre. Her hips lost their curves, and the elastics in her skirt lost their grip, crumpling down around her ankles in a heap.

The skirt had taken her panties with it.

And, for the briefest of moments, her bare, pathetic little pussy could be seen by all the world.

The wind blew.

Then she grew younger: Eight, seven, six, five, four. And her cheerleading top, with the once well-stretched name of “Cindy,” hung low and bulky and to her feet.

Four, three, two, one, one half!

An infant cried and wet herself, with a tiny naked bottom sticking out of a pile of clothes.

Pappy smiled a bit as he turned to the two girls now clutching each other in terror. So much potential.

A whim. And Lisa began to helplessly piss herself. Not all at once, no. But a squirt, first. A blush. Followed by a second, longer squirt and rosy, mortified red cheeks and a fake mannequin smile, as if nothing were wrong. Then a third squirt, but one that didn’t stop, one that became a constant, soaking, humiliating stream.

Lisa cried.

A second whim. Missy. Her top was gone. Vanished. Pop! Thin air and bare breasts. Missy screamed. Pop! Bang! Bare legs, feet. The young girl looked down and saw her modesty protected by a tight, snug, undersized, crinkly, white baby’s diaper.

Too shocked to move. Too shocked to cover herself. She pressed against her friend for comfort.

The large round nipples on her large round breasts were both fully erect.

Lisa’s nipples—he decided and then it was so—were also erect, practically ripping through the tight material of her cheer top as she hugged her friend close and continued to pee in her—he decided and then it was so—cute little cotton Wonder Woman underpants, which soon evolved, grew, changed, until Lisa was dressed from foot to skull in a full fledged Wonder Woman costume.

The girls continued to cling tightly to one another, quivering and wet.

Yes, so much potential.

No. Pappy shook his head. No, he couldn’t.

After all, there were regulations.

Four, three, two, one, one half!

Four, three, two, one, one half!

And now three wailing infants lying in the grass.

Then Pappy Sins turned to the littlest of his little grandsins and said, “Yes, my boy, yes it’s true. This place used to be a field.”

[ Edited by TaintedSins On Date _MONTHDATETIME ]

 

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