My name is Marcia Atwell
I am 3 years old
Please call my grandma Christine if found
It then listed a phone number Marcia didn’t recognize, but an address she did, as it was the address of the mansion. As she read, Marcia saw her skin darkening to become much closer to Christine’s. These two facts made Marcia wonder if the banshee was able to affect other people with these changes or
not. Speaking of changes, Marcia pulled up the front of the dress and saw that she was officially demoted to training pants.
"Now now. Ladies shouldn't be flashing their underwear," said a melodic voice. Marcia looked up at the banshee, who was now smiling warmly at her. Suddenly scared of what else the banshee might do to her, Marcia felt a small spurt of pee enter her training pants. “No need to be afraid. You’ll be safe now.”
“What you mean?” Marcia asked. She cringed at her childish way of speaking. Apparently her potty training wasn’t the only thing that had been reduced.
“Obviously you won’t be allowed to stay here. You’re just a small child. You’ll be sent somewhere safe before the full moon starts. Now, come along. We have to get to Christine quickly before she sends away your little friend.” The banshee took ahold of Marcia’s hand and began to tug her down the hallway. So perplexed by everything going on, and not strong enough to resist, Marcia went along.
Eventually, they turned a corner and entered the main foyer. The banshee let go of Marcia’s hand and pushed her forward. Marcia turned around. The banshee was gone.
“Oh, no! Another one?” Marcia spun around. Christine stood before her, holding the hand of a little black boy.
“Marcia?” the boy asked. Marcia walked up to him. He was dressed like her, but in a pair of overalls instead of a dress, and his outfit was themed to look like a turtle. The tag on his front proclaimed him as Rusty Atwell, age 3.
“The banshee got you, too?” Marcia asked. Rusty nodded.
“Luckily, even though the banshee changed your appearances to be similar to mine, to better match the claim you are my grandchildren,” Christine said, “reality has not been altered. I remember very well who the two of you really are.” There was a honk outside. “That’s your ride.”
“Ride?” Marcia asked.
“I can’t let two toddlers stay here!” Christine said firmly. “I’ve arranged for the two of you to stay somewhere else. I’ll be calling for some more help while you two are in your situation. Hopefully, what’s happened to you can either be easily reversed or will wear off.”
“We can work!” Rusty protested. Christine scowled at him. She smacked his butt. There was an unmistakable crinkle. She then lifted the front of Marcia’s dress, revealing her training pants.
“Neither of you are potty trained! No, you’re leaving. Now.”
“We’re-” Rusty argued. There was a loud fart. His eyes widened. “Uh oh.”
“Sounds like you should be back in diapers, not training pants,” Christine said. Marcia opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a loud hiss. Her eyes widened as well as she felt warmth spread through her training pants. “Do you need a change, too, Marcia?” Christine asked.
“…Yes,” Marcia said sheepishly.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get changed when you get to your destination,” Christine said. She took Rusty and Marcia’s hands and led them out of the mansion. A black town car was waiting for them. The driver got out to help buckle Marcia and Rusty into car seats. “Behave, children.”
As the car drove away, Marcia felt her eyes drift closed as she fell asleep. When she woke up, diapered and in a crib, she found that she was at…