TRIGGER warning  – references to sexual abuse, mind control, manipulations.

This is out of context unless the blog has been read in a chronological order.

Ball is bouncing

Up, up, to the sides

So high

Ball is happy!

It bounces, it’s happy

I am the ball, flying

I am happy!

Baby’s feelings when she sees a bouncing ball

Never, never let your Baby out.

The one who controls Baby owns you – for life.

– Grandfather

Giselle, 4 1/2 years old:

I can’t stand any more of Timothy. He’s hurting me too much – I’m out! I see my body sliding down against the door, it slumps to the floor. Someone is in my body, crying. She sounds like a baby! Timothy is patting her head, speaking in a kind voice. What is he doing? Why isn’t he unkind? If a baby shows up in a big person, you should be mean to it. Everybody knows that.


I’m wearing the extra clothes that were lying in the box above my clothes hanger. Timothy says I peed myself. I don’t remember that, he must be lying. I do not pee myself, I’m a big girl. 

Some weeks later, Ricard comes running as I walk through The Butterflies entrance.

”It’s Friday!” He exclaims. ”Please don’t be a baby today – I want to play with you!”

”Why should I be a baby?” I ask.

”You’re always a baby on Fridays.”

”No way – I would never play baby. It’s too boring. I want to play jungle explorer!”

”Me too!” Richard jumps up and down with excitement. ”Where shall we start?” 


Word has reached my relatives that I’m a baby on Fridays. Grandfather shows me a long, silver colored metal chain. He produces a photo of me when I was a baby and circles one end of the chain around the photo. The other end he fastens around my wrist. 

”You and the Baby inside you are linked now. Close your eyes. See Baby and see yourself. See the chain connecting you with her. She is little – she needs a babysitter. You are her babysitter. You will take care of her, watch over her. When she is in the body, you will stand outside, holding the chain. You will not fall asleep, because the chain keeps you awake as long as she is awake.”

It’s a short chain. When Baby is in the body, I’ll be standing right behind her, quietly watching what goes on. I am to tell Grandfather if someone is nice to Baby.


In the end of our training sessions, Timothy insists I should wear a diaper underneath my clothes when I get dressed. It’s so humiliating, if other children see it they would tease me endlessly. I fuss over the diaper’s lining and try to push it down so it won’t show above the waistline of my pants. Ow! Timothy pinches the left side of my waist.


It feels like I have a diaper!

”Do I have a diaper?” I whisper to Timothy.

”Of course not”, he laughs. ”It’s just your pants, they’re paper-ish! No, don’t look. Princesses don’t look at their underwear!”

I shuffle out of the office, feeling very uncomfortable. I want to go to the tables with drawing utensils, but Timothy directs me to the play kitchen area. 

”You should sit there.” He points to a spot on the floor. I sit down. It’s easier to just obey him, he’ll leave me alone faster. Oh, no he returns.

”Look”, he smiles. It’s a ball, a rubber ball. He starts bouncing it on the floor in front of me. My eyelids flutter, I’m so sleepy. I’m falling asleep and I hear a baby laugh, coming from my lips, as I nod off.

Guinevere, 5 1/2 years old:

Magic isn’t easy! Last time I saw Grandfather he was stressed out I still hadn’t learned how to spy on Baby.

”This is difficult stuff for a little girl, I know.” He sighed. ”But I suspect someone is meddling with you. Try harder. Soon you’ll make it!” I’ve concentrated and concentrated, and today it works! Baby is sitting on the lawn in front of me. She’s giggling. Her hair is in disarray but Baby doesn’t care about such things. Timothy sits in front of her.

”Da-ddy!” He says, pointing at his chest. ”Da-ddy! Da-ddy!”

”Daaa….Daaa”, Baby mimics. Timothy makes a funny face. Baby laughs. Some child farther away screams something and Timothy stands up, turns his back and starts to walk away.

”Daaa! DAAA!” Baby shouts. What, is she calling him back?! No, don’t call him, Baby! Timothy returns and lifts her up, carrying her on his hip. I loose focus and I’m gone.


Timothy says he’s my real father. Mother disappeared with me sometime after I was born and he searched for me so many years and now I’m here with him.

”If you doubt it, listen to your heart. You’ll hear a voice inside, calling me ’Daddy’. You knew me when you were a baby, before we were torn from each other! I really am your father!”

When I am angry with Timothy, when I can’t stand the things he does to me, I hear a small voice piping ”daddy”. I want him to be kind to me again. Sometimes he is, sometimes he is like a father. I don’t have anyone but him. In the woods outside the preschool fence live cannibals. They are super dangerous because when they come to steal you away they pretend to be your family. The worst ones are the one who calls herself my mother and the one named Eric. If I see them I must faint, they don’t eat fainted children. I saw the one called Mother in the distance once, I felt like running up to her and hugging her but Timothy saved me. He said a magic word and made me sleep. I’m not so scared of the cannibals because they never come here. The demons are worse. They try to get inside your head. Timothy told me the Guinevere demon is the very worst and the Giselle demon is also very bad. There is a Bianca demon too but I have never heard her voice. Timothy instructs me on how to defend myself from invisible demons:

”Close your eyes. See a tall wall around you, like a circle, surrounding you. You are in a stone tower. It protects you from demons. This is why all princesses live in towers. You are a princess and you live in a tower. If you hear a voice inside your head – any voice – you must build the walls of the tower higher. So high no one can climb them.”

It is lonely at the bottom of the tower. I can’t see the sun, the walls are too high.

I remember.

I remember once there was a prince…

Timothy doesn’t pretend to be a prince any more.

But there was a real prince and he came to save me, he lifted me over that fence. 

I can’t remember his name.

I need the real prince, I miss him.

Timothy might be my father but he is hurting me, he is hurting me so much I wish I was an orphan!

I open my eyes. I’m standing in the middle of the asphalt space, children darting past on little bicycles.

”Move, you’re in the way!” They shout. The sun is shining but I can’t feel it, it’s like I’m walled off.

”A penny for your thoughts!” Timothy ruffles my hair.

”Da-ddy!” A little voice inside me pipes. 

”Nothing”, I answer. I feel like he owns me. I feel like a hundred years. Will I ever be free?


It sounds cruel, that you should be mean to someone’s baby Self. I was taught – by my relatives – that the reason for this is babies will form an attachment to anyone who is nice. 

”If you are kind to the Baby within a person, will you be there for them the rest of your life? Because they will want you to! This is the strongest magic, be wary!” Grandfather cautioned.

Elijah’s parents suspected I wasn’t merely playing baby on Fridays. They told him he had to be mean if I started acting like a baby. He didn’t want to hurt me physically, instead he snatched the bouncing ball and ran off with it. This made Baby cry.

The ideal wedding gift within the Society is an untouched baby Self. The newly weds will show each other their baby Selves and be super kind to the Baby within their spouse. This creates a bond to the core and could lead to matrimony that lasts for life. Or so they say. To make the Baby of someone you’re not married to attach to you is to steal that person’s dowry. It is also a pathway to ultimate control. Whenever Timothy felt he was loosing his grip on Princess, he spent more time with Baby – doting on her, acting like a loving father. He did it on Fridays when there were no Normal staff at The Butterflies (The Nice Lady, and later the replacements, had their day off on Friday).


I didn’t know why, but those years I had nightmares of Timothy. Driving me around in a pram, forcing me to wear a diaper, insisting that I was his Baby. In my dreams, I’d leap out of the pram and run off but he was always chasing me, always catching up with me. I’d wake up in a sweet and slam my head into the wall, wishing to slam away the invisible chains binding me to him. 

”I’ll never give in to him”, I reminded myself. ”Never, never! He can not decide over me!”


It feels good to learn now – so many years later – at least some parts of me were free.


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