The Wait
The new schedule had taken more adjusting to than first thought, but they had both taken it in their stride. A fortnight had passed, and everything was falling in place. Nessa had kinda just accepted her new bedtime - 8pm on weekdays, and 10pm on weekends, the only exception being when her friends are online asking to play. Nessa would then be allowed an extra hour, but she was required to sit on Claire’s lap for it.
If she lost track of time, her new Nanny loudly announced over mic that it was the girl’s bedtime - much to the entertainment of the little friends she played with. Of course, they weren’t all without their own bedtimes, and Nessa had made a point in the past to tease them about it, so she had pretty readily accepted that turnabout was fair play - the fact Claire never teased her about it made it pretty easy.
Nessa’s diet had drastically altered, and now Claire fed her a variety of meals most days. The girl loved her homemade dragon-shaped nuggies the most, but was generally happy to eat most things Claire had offered - and didn’t have to worry about ever again eating the things she didn’t like.
Nessa’s clothes had been altered further during this period, too. Some overalls and shortalls developed drop seats with comically large buttons pretending to hold them up, and some pairs gained snap crotches with slightly smaller buttons sewn in and feigning similar - all the while it was Claire’s magical threads with kept them sealed until the moment she decided access was needed - by her, and her alone.
As the amount of Claire’s ‘soul’ Nessa had in her grew, with feedings, so too did her ‘accidents’. This was normal. To be expected, even. Claire wanted it to happen, after all. She trained the girl’s body to be faster at processing magic from regular food, and temporarily store it to ‘expel’ the ‘excess’ gradually over time. She was less a leaky faucet, and more a full-time streamer. At first the girl had acted hesitant, but became incredibly enthusiastic about the whole ordeal in no time.
The naptimes and feedings continued, too. Claire decided she enjoyed those, so made them happen. However, she made sure not to do it again when she had too much excess. While testing how much was ‘too much’, she noticed that the girl would sometimes be a little bit less… ‘proficient’, in general, for a brief period.
Upon investigating, she realized her body had started storing some extra fluff inside the girl’s head - making her literally, and figuratively, more ‘dense’. Curious about this, Claire started giving slightly more frequent feedings some days, all the while keeping Nessa in on the loop.
Claire had adapted all of Nessa’s controllers, her keyboard, and her mouse, all to suit her girl’s new mitt-paws, so she was still able to play her games fine, but found the girl to stumble on more frequent occasions. Not always, but often enough she to catch the girl to prevent her from toppling over.
Nessa also fell out of chairs far too frequently for Claire to recount, so she had soon altered one of the barstools into what she thought was a rather cute highchair with a five-point harness. Nessa always grumbled about it when it was brought up, but the moment she was sat in it she light up the room with the glowing, earnest smile that grew on her face.
During play and rest, Nessa fell off of her bed a few times, too. This wouldn’t do either, and having already modified Nessa’s bed to be capable of comfortably housing Claire’s own hefty, weighted body, Claire sought to modify it more. As much as she liked the crib design, Nessa seemed to hate it - but once she tweaked it to appear like her old bed, just with soft guard rails along the side, she seemed perfectly happy with it once more.
Her cognitive skills mostly remained intact. The girl could hold a conversation better than ever, in fact! The only areas where she began to struggle seemed to be with regards to using longer words, and she started taking even bigger pauses to think of the one she was looking for. She still managed to occasionally display some pretty decent linguistic skills, even for the average adult, but started to opt for using simpler terms more and more, if they were ‘good enough’.
Claire also made sure not a day went by without her wearing her bib. She wasn’t familiar with the specific magic that made it up, but she was happy with the effects. It appeared that between her feedings and the effects it had, the girl was becoming a well of magical energy for her Nanny. What dribbles Claire didn’t clear from Nessa herself would be caught and soaked up in the bib, and the energy preserved for later.
Claire didn’t even really need to eat anymore, between the bib and Nessa’s changings. Not to sustain herself, anyway. Still, Nessa seemed to enjoy her meals more readily if Claire ate alongside her, and it gave her a good way to stockpile more magic for Nessa’s feedings.
Claire didn’t hide much of that from Nessa, and made sure the girl what she was in for. Mostly, anyway. After a long, careful talk a week in, when she was sure what was going on, she confronted Nessa about what the effects of Claire plush-ifying her more could likely have regarding her mental abilities, suggesting maybe she should stop the feeding.
Nessa simply had one question to ask about that: “Why?”
To which Claire’s answer was “Well, it could take a long time to change you back - long enough that your extra ‘fluff’ may settle, and stay that way, even afterwards. The more plush you are, the more you can hold, after all…”
Nessa, quick on the draw, shrugged at that. “You say I can hold more if I’m more plush. I can, umm, soak the magic up better, right? I’d hold onto more, longer? But you’re worried it might make me more ‘dense’, for good?”
Claire nodded slowly at this, being very careful not to overstep and influence the girl. As much as she wanted to do as she please, she knew this was somewhere important to give the girl some degree of autonomy, and hear her opinion.
Nessa continued. “I think you should do it. I want you to do it. I know I didn’t really mean it this way when I said it, but I said I wanted you to do what you want, right? As long as I’m still me, and you’re still you, what does it matter if I’m a little less of a smartypants? It’s been starting to feel like that couldn’t be so bad, even if a month ago I would have balked at the idea…”
With such a well-reasoned argument from the girl, Claire’s worries melted away. Not because of the argument itself. Sure, it helped, but the fact that the girl could still engage so well alleviated the last doubts she had about the matter.
In fact, the encouraged her. That day she started with a feeding larger than the usual size, gradually increasing it until the final one was triple the original amount. The girl grew a fair bit of baby fat as a result of the extra fluff processed, enough that Claire needed to adjust her clothes up a size.
By the time she was done, she had soaked so much overflow of magicked milk into the little girl’s head fluff that it was starting to border on sticking together, and she had become all-round a little bit dumber.
Claire loved dumb girls.
Especially fluffy-headed little ones who had the main, long term aspirations of remaining safe, secure, and protected by their loving Nanny.
Pandora's cat was out of the box, and she was more than happy to have one of her guilty pleasures so readily, enthusiastically, indulged - not a feeling she was remotely familiar with.