Cody and the Baby Start Over Program 2: Ashes of the Sith

Summary: This is not like most stories on this site in that it doesn't 
focus on diapers or being diapered. Instead, it is a comment on the 
Sith philosophy.

In the story, a Sith Lord enters the program with a two part mission, 
1) find out the locations of any other start over programs, and 2) 
destroy the facility. He is all too eager to proceed with the second 
step; every adult in the facility enjoys their jobs and take pleasure 
from reducing teenage delinquents into teenage infants. That is, until 
he finds a nanny who genuinly loves and pities the children, and whom 
he finds it very hard to hate in return...

Note; if you are looking for explicit 'diaper action,' this is not the 
story for you.

Cody and the Baby Start Over Program 2: Ashes of the Sith

Ch1

	My name is Morgoth. I am of the Sith.
	Ah, your prejudices are already apparent. You assume that I am an 
insane killer, driven by a lust for violence and blood, killing without 
a second thought. This type, however, represents only a small fraction 
in a much greater society, and are generally looked down upon by the 
rest of us. Like the humans we once were (for how could one with such 
advanced perceptions still bear that title?), no two of us are exactly 
alike: some derive their power from hate, some from fear, some pain; 
some specialize in manipulation, others in combat, still others in 
assassination; some may wish to conquer the world, some to kill it, and 
some, like me, wish to see the world become entirely Sith. Still, 
despite our differences, there is one thing that all Sith have in 
common: we all derive power from the Dark Side of the Force.
	I sat on the bus and began to meditate. There was nothing else to 
do, after all. My belongings had already been taken away from me (among 
them, a lightsaber disguised as a flashlight), and the bus driver was 
too resistant to the more subtle forms of mental suggestion to provide 
me with much sport. It was also night, so the scenery was all but 
invisible. In any case, I would need to keep a clear head if I were to 
stay sane where I was going.
	I closed my eyes and muttered, "beneath the surface there is the 
Force�" There is no special power to these words, no magic attached to 
him. I simply find that they help clear my thoughts. I focused for a 
moment, then opened my third eye to the world around me.
	The once dark and vague shapes outside the bus were illuminated 
with the energy of a thousand lives. The trees, the grass, even the 
ground itself hummed and throbbed with it's silent pulse. It flowed 
ceaselessly, forever moving, forever changing, never still. Even the 
smallest life caused a ripple, a ripple that would never entirely 
cease. It was the Force in its purest form; neither Light nor Dark; 
simply Force.
	I turned my attention to the bus driver. It was easier to probe 
his mind in this state, and even though my physical body was that of a 
14 year old boy, my mind had almost a hundred years of experience to 
pull from.
	I searched for more information on this 'program' I was being 
sent to. After a few minutes of vainly searching, I decided to simply 
ask him.
	"What do you know about this program?"
	He tried to sound 'tough' and 'in control' as he responded, 
"Yeah, like I'd tell you." In reality, he was terrified of me. I can 
hardly blame him. Though I had done much to hide the marks of the Dark 
Side, I still didn't look like a normal human child. My eyes still had 
streaks of yellow in their mostly blue irises, my skin still too pale, 
and my veins still carried a faint blackish tint. It also didn't help 
that I wore a black robe, with the hood pulled down over my eyes.
	 I had expected his answer, but the question achieved the desired 
result. Information about the Center came to the forefront of his mind, 
making prying that much easier. Unfortunately, he knew even less than I 
did; he knew that tough, bad-ass punks went in, and after a while they 
came out as whimpering, sniveling little babies. He then began to take 
pleasure from the though of 'that little freak back there' going 
through the process, imagining the results in great detail.
	"Yeah, well fuck you, too." I myself am not prone to profanity; I 
find it much more effective to be polite when I crush someone's neck. I 
simply had to maintain my disguise as a troubled teen on a boring ride. 
I could not allow them to know what I truly was; a ninety-seven year 
old Sith Lord inhabiting the body of a fourteen year old boy.
	How the heck are you an old dude in a kid's body? you must be 
wondering. Among the Sith, I am known as one of the Elders. One of the 
'new' ones, I suppose, even though our minds are relatively old 
compared to that of an ordinary Sith's. We have mastered a technique of 
the Dark Side, in which a living mind can move from one body to 
another. This, in essence, allows anyone with sufficient skill to take 
over the body of another when theirs begins to fail. In times past, we 
would usually abduct a young child off the streets and use their body 
as a new vessel, but recent advances in technology have made that 
unnecessary. I myself had cloned my old body, made a few alterations, 
and when it was mature, I made the switch.
	Indeed, the new one is even better than the old; Force Crystals 
run along my central nervous system, channeling my force energy and 
reinforcing mental commands; there are some in my frontal lobes that 
can store information perfectly and indefinitely; I even have special 
'organ' crystals located at various points along my blood stream, 
breaking down waste products into useable nutrients, essentially 
eliminating the need to eat altogether.
	The Jedi, of course, consider all of this an 'unnatural 
abomination'. The Sith, on the other hand, merely think of it as a 
useful way to make themselves more powerful.
	The bus soon passed though a prison-grade chain link fence, and 
came to a stop in front of an immense building. Once parked, two armed 
security guards wearing dark trench-coats escorted me off the bus and 
into the building. I silently laughed at that; if they knew how 
dangerous I really was, they would have brought in the national guard 
and held me at gunpoint.
	They took me through a set of double doors, into a sort of lobby 
area. A short, greasy haired man greeted me with at the front desk with 
a clipboard.
	"Ah, Mr. Jacob Robert Harrison, I assume? Convicted of Arson, 
Vandalism, Hate Crimes, and� oh dear, we seem to have a Murderer on our 
hands!"
	His annoyingly high voice dripped with malicious sarcasm. 
Supposedly, I had been a member of a Neo-Nazi gang (the most convenient 
excuse, considering my now blue eyes and permanently hairless head), 
and had broke into a Jewish girl's home, set it ablaze, and killed her 
on the front lawn. I even had a small swastika on the shoulder of my 
robe. The police report was a complete fake, created by some of our 
people in the police department, just so that I could be 'sent' here.
	"What, that's it? You should have been able to dig up more than 
that." Which was true enough. I had done enough in the past to put a 
hundred people in here, but it would be awkward to explain how a 
fourteen year old boy committed crimes twenty years ago.
	He leaned over the desk and glared at me with hatred in his eyes. 
"You're so proud aren't you? Think you're a 'big man,' right? Well, we 
have ways of cutting kiddies like you down to size."
	With that he snapped his fingers, and the guards put some sort of 
metal collar on me. I ignored this; instead, I focused on probing his 
mind.
	The Sith Intelligence was right about him; he was just as sick 
and twisted as they described. Every single thought that ran through 
his tiny mind was somehow connected to sexual pleasure, domination in 
particular. Just sifting through his thoughts made me feel soiled, as 
if I was wading though a fetid bog filled with all manners of decay-
	"GHAAA!" The shock had caught me by surprise. I was used to pain 
though; a former master, nicknamed "Sion" after the ancient Sith Lord, 
had trained me for a short time. He specialized in pain, and could even 
use his own to fuel his power in the Dark Side. The more he was hurt, 
the stronger he became. I was not as skilled as him, but I was 
certainly good enough to handle something as amateur as physical pain.
	 "�and that is how we keep you in line." he finished. I glared up 
at him, anger burning within me. He caught me by surprise, making me 
cry out as if I had no control over my reactions. I would have dearly 
loved to show him how the Force could be used to shock someone.
	"Painful, isn't it?" he said softly. "Be a good little boy, and 
you won't have to use this."
	An idea came to me; if I they thought they could hurt me, I could 
catch them off guard. Not only that, but I had to put up the facade to 
maintain my disguise as a teenager. My anger cooled somewhat, and I 
decided to humor them.
	"Fuck You!" I spat.
	It shocked me for five seconds, as I knew it would when I uttered 
the curse word. I pretended to shriek in agony, while only feeling a 
mild discomfort. When it was done, I hung limply between the two 
guards, as if the 'pain' had left me exhausted.
	He tittered in an intensely irritating fashion. "Oh, you've found 
out about our potty-language policy, have you? Let me break it down for 
you: Every time you curse, you will be shocked for five seconds. After 
two hundred, you will be shocked for ten, at four-hundred, fifteen, 
etcetera, etcetera. It's our special way of cleaning up dirty little 
mouths like yours."
	While I could not overtly use my powers, subliminal influence was 
not out of the question. I lifted my head and stared directly into his 
eyes, allowing mine to flash their true color. Once again I connected 
with his wretched mind, but this time to plant a message in his 
subconscious. Fear Me, I thought. You do not understand what I am, and 
you will fear Me more than you have feared anyone before. Fear the 
Morgoth.
	For a moment, I thought I had gone too far. He seemed paralyzed 
with terror, his eyes wide, his body trembling. After several seconds, 
however, he pushed a button on the desk and spoke into the intercom.
	"Mrs. Ratchet, come to the front desk and take care of Morg- of 
Mr. Harrison. Quickly, please!"
	I continued to stare at him until the attendant came in, just to 
make sure the message was deeply embedded in his mind. Sometimes, the 
ones who were strong willed enough, or just plain stupid, could manage 
to purge the message. I didn't want him to forget it any time soon.
	The woman that came in was not unattractive. She seemed to be in 
her late twenties, and had her brown hair done up in a tight bun. She 
also sported wide hips and a rather large�chest region. If I had such 
desires, I may have found her 'hot,' but I felt nothing. I had 
specifically altered the sexual organs and glands in my second body so 
they would be non-functional. Such urges were distractions only, and 
nothing compared to the pull of the Dark Side.
	The woman took me from the guards and picked me up effortlessly, 
confirming our suspicions that the collars were used to make the 
inmates weigh less, as well as being used for discipline. I wouldn't be 
surprised if they weaken us as well.
	"Now who's this little guy?" She said to me in a baby-like, and 
rather foolish, voice.
	Before the twisted man could speak (he was still terrified), I 
calmly answered her, "The name on the report says Jacob, but I prefer 
to be called Morgoth."
	She remained un-phased. "Oh, but that just won't do! You're just 
such a cutesy pie-"
	"Then perhaps you can shorten it to 'Morgue'." I cut her off, my 
temper blazing. "I've certainly done my share to fill one, and if 
you're not careful-"
	As much as I hated being interrupted, I had to shriek as if the 
shock was actually painful. I had not anticipated how incredibly 
annoying this charade could be, but took solace from the fact that I 
would personally kill (painfully) every adult there before my mission 
was over.
	'But what is your mission?' you must be asking. 'What could 
possibly drive one to endure this system willingly?' It's quite simple; 
I was attempting to recruit new Sith. Before the events in this story 
took place, the two main sources for new recruits were prisons and 
orphanages. Prisons, because the people sent there are inherently more 
Sith-like than others, and orphanages, because the children could be 
more easily taught than adults. Unfortunately, neither group is 
perfect: it is harder to teach adults, much less prisoners, to follow 
our ways, and the orphans could be a mixed batch, with some Dark and 
some Light. This new program would solve both problems; the kids sent 
here were Dark by nature, and could be properly raised under the Sith 
Code.
	But for this to take place, we needed additional reconnaissance. 
We needed to know how they decoded the kids, who was in charge of the 
program, and, above all, if and where there were other facilities like 
this one. We had been trying for months to get one of our people a job 
here, but without success. For some reason, Sith didn't seem to be 
ideal caregivers for the children. We changed tactics. Instead, we 
would have one of us go through the process itself, and learn what we 
could. I volunteered, partially because I felt the experience would 
test me to my limits, but mostly because I wished to see the Sith Code 
grow and prosper. So far, the first had certainly proven to be true.
	I knew what would happen next; I would be taken into a room, 
changed into a diaper and baby clothes, and then put into a 'nursery' 
where my only companions would be teenage boys with the mentality of 
infants. The thought sickened me, and I once again considered an old 
piece of wisdom; Physical things are temporary at best, and are always 
superficial. The diaper, the bottle, even the baby treatment, could be 
overcome with a strong enough will.
	The experience was not as bad as I had thought it would be. The 
jump suit thing she put me in (I think it is called a 'footed sleeper') 
was little different from the focusing suit I ordinarily wear under my 
clothes; it was soft, baggy, and light blue, but otherwise the same. To 
make things even easier, she quickly grew tired of speaking to me in 
baby speech, and soon fell silent. Curious why she gave up so easily, I 
probed her mind.
	Like the twisted man, this one also derived pleasure from her 
job. She expected the boys that came through here to fight, to yell, to 
struggle, and she enjoyed treating them as children. I had been silent, 
however, and only glared at her coldly as she went about her work. She 
took no pleasure from it; indeed, she found my appearance to be 
frightfully disturbing (hence the sleeper, I suppose; the less she saw 
of me, she thought, the better). 	She soon grew angry; angry at the 
twisted man for summoning her, angry at the other 'nannies' for not 
being in her place, but most of all, angry at me, because I wouldn't 
fight, I wouldn't protest, and I wouldn't act like every other boy who 
came through here, damn it!
	I silently laughed at her. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to 
hate, and hate leads to the Dark Side, after all. She would have made 
an excellent Sith. Too bad I would have to kill her for crossing me.
	When she was done, she roughly pushed a pacifier in my mouth. I 
didn't resist; to do so would give her pleasure, and I was only too 
happy to make her even more frustrated than she already was.
	She picked me up, and before long we had reached the 'nursery'. 
She stopped outside the door and told me curtly that my new name was 
going to be Bobby. I can only assume that that was because of the 
'Robert' part of my falsified name. When we entered, another one of the 
nannies cheerfully greeted us.
	"How nice to see you, Mrs. Ratchet. Oooh, and what's this little 
one's name?"
	Mrs. Ratchet, however, didn't seem to be in the mood for 
pleasantries. "His name is Bobby," she said shortly, "and I'm late for 
an appointment as it is." A lie, of course, but she had very quickly 
grown an intense dislike for me.
	 I was passed on to this new woman, who, after a moment of 
pondering Mrs. Ratchets odd behavior, proceeded to carry me into the 
middle of the room. Perhaps they wanted me to feel surrounded by 
infantile behavior, as if that would make the process happen faster. 
Perhaps they thought it would unnerve me, making me easier to break. 
Unfortunately for them, they could not feel the Force as I did; beneath 
the surface, there was the Dark Side.

Ch 2

	It was so strong I didn't even need to concentrate to feel it. It 
was not the building, as some locations are inherently Dark or Light. 
It wasn't the nannies, though they were twisted enough to at least 
contribute to it. It was the children. At the base of every single 
mind, no matter how cuddly, or playful, or peaceful, slept the dark 
nature of a Sith Master. Though their memories were fragmented, and 
their identity, erased, the Dark Side burned strong within each and 
every one of them.
	At that point, I thought I had figured out how the decoding 
process worked. Their Sith natures, their prideful, hateful natures, 
couldn't stand being treated with so much love and kindness. They 
couldn't stand being treated as invalids, as if they were weak. They 
couldn't stand unconsciously feeling all of the darkness around them, 
the sleeping minds of their Sith fellows, but seeing nothing. And so, 
they slept, until it was safe for them to wake up again. I was amazed 
that such an unstable situation could last for so long. The identity 
built on top of it was little more than a thin varnish, and all of it 
could be stripped away if the old nature took control again.
	I began to examine their minds individually, to see if my theory 
was correct. After going through about twenty of them, I found that it 
was, for the most part. There was an occasional non-Sith child who had 
simply broke under the constant pressure, but almost all of them were 
of the Dark Side.
	I decided to test one of them, to see how easily they could be 
changed back. The one in front of me would do. I reached out and 
touched his shoulder, to better establish the connection. I paused for 
a moment; then, slowly, carefully, I transferred some of my Dark Side 
energies to him.
	He reacted almost instantly. Outwardly, he looked like he was 
simply crying for one of the nannies (not an uncommon event; every few 
seconds, one of the children in the room would start howling, and a 
nanny would come to comfort them). Inside, however, I sensed a battle 
being waged. That little bit of the Dark Side was enough to wake the 
Sith in him, which was now battling for dominance. And winning.
	I quickly withdrew the power. Now was not the time, and it could 
arouse suspicion among the faculty. Indeed, one of the nannies was 
already heading in our direction to comfort the Sith child.
	"What's wrong, wittle baby-kins? Do you need your diapy-wipy 
changed, or a ba-ba?" The nanny asked as she picked him up.
	She treated him so disgustingly that I had to speak up. "Would 
you so readily coddle a serpent," I queried, "or are you just too blind 
to see him for what he is?"
	As I had expected, she was un-phased. "Oh, there's not a mean 
wittle bone in his wittle body! He's just a harmless little baby-kins."
	"Fine. Maintain your delusions, it matters not. Do not expect 
others to be so ignorant, though."
	I enjoyed watching her reaction. She would have loved to shock me 
(again, this one derived pleasure from her work), but could find no 
reason to. After all, I had made no threats, and had maintained a civil 
tone. Eventually, she just ignored my comment and continued to take 
care of the sleeping Sith.
	After she left, I simply sat there, meditating. There was little 
else to do, in any case. Probing the other children's minds would bring 
me the same results, and all the nannies seemed to be cut from the same 
twisted cloth, as well. And don't even mention the baby toys strewn 
about the floor. I would kill everyone there in a blind fury before I 
reached that level of boredom, mission or no mission.
	Ah, perhaps there is something to keep me occupied, I thought. 
With my expanded senses, I was able to 'feel' one of the children 
heading straight toward me. I probed his mind, and, to my surprise, he 
had the mentality and identity of a teenager. Somehow, he had resisted 
the system without any training. Perhaps his Sith nature, which was 
completely aware in this case, had something to do with it. Whatever 
the cause, I was impressed.
	I allowed him to make the first move. He earned it, after all, 
for all the time he had spent here without breaking. "We have a new kid 
in the program, eh? Your name's Bobby, right? I'm James, or Jamie, if 
you go by what the nannies say."
	I had been prepared for anger, or hate, or simply a cold 
callousness, but his cheerful demeanor caught me off guard. The Dark 
Side may manifest itself in many ways, I reminded myself. His actions 
may be kind, but his motives are entirely Sith.
	"You know full well that 'Bobby' is the name they have inflicted 
upon me. I prefer to be called Morgoth, if you don't mind."
	He smirked, unphased by my hostile mood. "Ah, touchy aren't we? 
Fine, I guess I can call you 'Morgoth' if you want, but sooner or later 
you'll start to accept 'Bobby,' just like you'll accept everything else 
they do to you."
	"That is actually one of the things I wanted to ask; How is it 
that you have resisted the decoding process for so long, but all the 
others have succumbed to it?"
	His jaw dropped, as if he suddenly saw me for what I was. I 
checked my skin to see if it had gone pale�no, my disguise was still in 
place. What had startled him?
	He finally managed to speak. "How�How the hell do you know about 
decoding?"
	Before I could answer, his collar began to shock him. I cursed 
myself for my carelessness, and received a shock myself. Of course, I 
thought, the new ones wouldn't know how the process worked, let alone 
what it's called! I waited for his shocks to stop, which took a 
surprisingly long time.
	He recovered quickly from his shock, and was completely calm. 
Indeed, it didn't even seem to phase him. "Ok, how the heck do you know 
about decoding?"
	I considered lying to him, but decided against it. After all, who 
would he tell? Even if they did believe him, the leaders of the 
establishment could do little to stop me. They could only force me to 
play my hand early.
	"I am a Sith spy, in search of new recruits. I have been informed 
on the basics of the program, and have been sent her to gather more 
intelligence."
	He stared at me for a moment, then grinned as if it were all a 
joke. "No, seriously, how did you know?"
	"I am being serious," I said, becoming annoyed. "Tonight I will 
be contacting my superior to tell him what I have found. When my time 
here is finished, I will escape, kill the adults, and take the kids 
with me to a hidden Sith Academy, where they will be trained in the 
Dark Side."
	"Come on, it's getting old. You don't really expect me to believe 
that you are a character from a movie? What, did Darth Vader teach you 
or something?"
	I had to laugh at that. We had actually worked with the Jedi to 
make that movie, as a way to recruit more Force Sensitives. Though 
neither side was fond of the other, both agreed that the knowledge of 
the Force could die out completely if we had no one to follow after us. 
The movie was written in such a way that those who were inherently Jedi 
would be fascinated by Yoda or Obi-Wan, while those who were Sith would 
associate with the Emperor or Vader.
	Still, I was getting nowhere. I decided to show him a more 
physical proof of who I was. "I have had many masters. One of them 
taught me the nature of pain, and how to master it. A demonstration, 
perhaps, is necessary: Fuck. Shit. Bastard. Cunt. Bitch." I felt the 
shocks, of course, but didn't react as he expected. Indeed, I didn't 
even twitch.
	He looked amazed for a moment, but quickly regained his 
composure. "It�It must be malfunctioning. Don't let anyone know, it 
could be useful-"
	He stopped abruptly, staring at my face. And with good reason. I 
had fed the Dark Side in me, fueling it with my emotions, until it was 
once more a roaring blaze of hate and anger. With its waxing, my 
appearance reverted to it's natural state. My irises turned back to 
amber, and the whites around them, pale yellow. My skin had lost all 
color, and was now the ashy gray of a drowned corpse. My veins, a 
moment ago almost healthy, once more began to flow with black 
corruption. It was pure bliss.
	As good as it felt to 'stretch my legs,' I couldn't stay that way 
if I wanted to maintain my disguise. With regret, I forced the Dark 
Side to die down, to once more become a tiny ember. Before long, my 
facade was back in place, and I looked almost normal again.
	While I had been enjoying the pleasant effects of the Dark Side, 
he had backed away as far as he discreetly could. Finally, he spoke. 
"What�what are you?"
	 I laughed, in a way that sent chills up my own spine. "I already 
told you. I am Sith."

Ch 3

	"You're not joking, are you?"
	"Why would I lie? Manipulating you would avail me little, as you 
have no influence here." I said, as if stating the obvious.
	"I don't get it. You said you came here to recruit more Sith, but 
there are only the nannies and� well, them." he finished, gesturing 
towards the other children in the room with obvious contempt.
	"Do not underestimate them," I cautioned. "Beneath every placid 
face and peaceful visage lies the makings of a Sith. You may not feel 
it, but I have been trained for such things."
	He changed the subject. Speaking about the other children seemed 
to agitate him. "What else can you do? Can you shoot lightning, or 
choke people with your mind? Do you have a lightsaber?"
	Most boys at his age have a fascination with violence, which is 
generally expressed with toy guns or minor fights. For him, it went 
much deeper than that. Though young still, the Sith in him was strong, 
a roaring bonfire of the Dark Side. I probed deeper, to see the source 
of his strength.
	Ah, there it was. He hated them all; the police who had caught 
him, the judge who had sentenced him, the nannies who treated him as an 
infant. But most of all, he hated his parents, particularly his father, 
for allowing it.
	For over a year, he had been expecting them to rescue him from 
this degrading torment, but that hope evaporated when they paid him a 
visit. Despite his protests, his threats, and eventually, his pleas, 
both his mother and father thought it would be best if he went through 
the process. His father in particular found his situation humorous, and 
said it would 'do him good,' for to be treated as he was supposedly 
acting; like a baby.
	So this is how he managed to last so long, I thought. While the 
other Sith had grown cold and dormant, he had managed to feed the Dark 
Side with his hate. Every time he felt like it was just too much, as if 
giving in would be so much easier and less painful than resisting, he 
would just remember the smug look on his father's face, the 
condescending tone as he told his son that he deserved to be here. And 
so, the boy found the determination to go on. His will was stronger 
than I had suspected, almost rivaling my own. He would make a powerful 
Sith.
	"�all right?"
	I was so focused on his thoughts that I had paid no attention to 
his words. Berating myself for my carelessness, I pulled out of his 
mind.
	"I'm afraid that my mind was wandering," I said, not wanting to 
lie but also not wanting to tell him what I was really doing. "What 
were you saying?"
	"I was asking if you were all right," he said, eyeing me 
cautiously. "It looked like you just sort of fell asleep, but with your 
eyes open."
	"It was nothing," I said, trying to dismiss the subject. "I just 
felt the Dark Side stirring in someone." Again, not lying, but not the 
complete truth either.
	Fortunately, he was too curious about my powers to pursue the 
subject. "But seriously, what else can you do, besides make yourself 
look like a zombie?"
	I decided to indulge him. He would be learning about these things 
in a few days anyway.
	"As you have already guessed, the Force can be manifested as 
electricity and motion. Apart from that, there are also ways to drain 
the life from others, manipulate thermal energy (pyro- and cryo-kinesis 
), and even postpone death, for a time. But these are the more physical 
abilities, and I prefer the area of mental manipulation."
	"What, you mean like 'These aren't the droids you're looking 
for'?"
	I grimaced in annoyance; that part of the movie was so 
unrealistic. That particular trick would have only worked for a few 
moments, and then the trooper would have realized what had happened. 
"Yes, though that is one of the more superficial methods. To see a more 
permanent effect, watch that greasy haired man when he is in the same 
room as me; with the tiniest nudge, he'll be absolutely petrified with 
fear."
	"Who, Mr. McPherson? Oh man, I would love to see that!" The look 
of malicious glee on his face was entirely of the Dark Side. "But I'm 
not going to, am I?" His smile had evaporated, replaced by fear. 
"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"
	This genuinely puzzled me. "Now why would I kill you? You've done 
nothing to annoy me, and you have so far proven to be very 
enlightening."
	"You said it yourself," he said, close to tears, "you're here to 
recruit new Sith, and I� I'm not like you!"
	It took me a few moments to register what he said, and a few more 
to find my tongue. "I'm wasn't going to kill you, but if you start 
crying, I might. Besides," I continued in a somewhat kinder tone, "how 
can you possibly think that you are not Sith? I have felt the Dark Side 
within you; it burns fiercely, feeding on your hate, your sense of 
betrayal. Yes, I know about your parents," I explained, seeing the look 
of shock on his face, "how they left you here to be stripped away of 
your memories, of your very identity. How they left you here to die. 
Don't worry, you have every right to hate them, and one day, when you 
are strong enough, to kill them."
	I had gone too far. Up until the very last part, he was 
enthralled by my words. "I� I would never want to kill my own parents!" 
he lied, somewhat hysterically. "I'm not that bad, I'm not as evil as, 
well, as evil as you!"
	I decided that now was not the time to press the matter. "Good 
and evil, like all things in life, are relative to the person and 
situation. In the end it all comes down to survival, and you would be 
surprised how many 'good' people end the lives of others just to 
preserve their own. But if you are not ready to accept this basic 
truth, I will not force it on you. Besides," I said, lowering my voice, 
"we have company."
	I was surprised, and somewhat disturbed, by how fluidly he 
reverted to his baby-like manner. Were I not telepathic, I would have 
had a hard time believing he was any different from the other children.
	This nanny was, like all the others, annoyingly cheerful, 
disgustingly maternal, and completely corrupt. "Is wittle Bobby making 
fwends? Oh, that's so adorable!"
	"Hardly." I said, not deigning to look at her. Instead, I gazed 
around the room at the other children. I paused, then continued. 
"They're all like this, aren't they? Every last one of them. Each of 
them mindless, each ignorant of who they were. I suppose you're going 
to try to do the same to me."
	"Oh, such a clever little baby! Yes, we take in nasty little boys 
like you, and after a while, they turn into adorable little babies 
again."
	I finally turned to look at her, with a twisted smile on my face 
and cold hatred in my eyes. "So I'm evil because I've killed others, am 
I? You think I deserve to be here, do you?" I let out a harsh cackle 
before continuing. "At least when I kill, I do it quickly, and leave 
their bodies for the birds. You, on the other hand, are a modern day 
Necromancer; you kill your victims slowly, over the course of several 
weeks. And, when their minds are finally gone, when their very identity 
is extinguished, you resurrect them for your own despicable purposes. 
If anyone deserves to go through this program, it's-"
	I do hate being interrupted. Once again, she shocked me, and once 
again, I feigned torment. I was silent after that; the woman was 
already suspicious, and further conversation would make her wonder why 
a child would have such in depth knowledge on the program (I probed 
deeper). Indeed, she already had her doubts that the decoding process 
could really work on me. She felt that I may resist it like Johnny had�
	That name was unfamiliar to me. I probed even deeper into her 
mind to see exactly who this 'Johnny' was.
	Ah. It seems that the program could fail on ordinary children, 
after all. This boy, it seems, had tricked them into thinking he was 
decoded while he still maintained his teenage identity. When he 
progressed to the next stage of the program, he no longer had to wear a 
shock collar, and made his escape then.
	But why didn't they bring him back? I thought to myself. They 
knew where he was, and the director of the program even knew about his 
escape plan, but did nothing to stop it. Unfortunately for me, the 
nanny had no answers, only more questions.
	I stored the information on Johnny's whereabouts in my crystal 
implants. It was knowledge I could not afford to lose; he obviously had 
an incredibly strong will, and if he was like the majority of the 
children here, he would make a powerful Sith indeed.
	The director was also a fascinating one. We knew very little 
about him, only that he was dangerously intelligent and well connected. 
We didn't even know his true name; if so, we would have tracked him 
down long ago and forced him to tell us all he knew. I wouldn't even 
have needed to be there; we could have simply broke down the doors, 
killed everyone with a coherent mind, then brought the decoded kids to-
	Ah, finally, a gold nugget of information! It seemed the director 
regularly visited this place, though not in a predictable fashion. 
Indeed, he was so cautious that the only person he trusted with such 
knowledge was the twisted man. I had to meet with the director; doing 
so would undoubtedly give me all the information I needed. We could 
then proceed with the second step and take over the facility. I could 
finish my entire mission in one single night!
	While I had been probing her mind, the nanny had reached the 
feeding area and had proceeded to nurse me from a bottle. Though 
annoying, it was a distraction only. After programming a crystal to 
perform the repetitive task, I continued prying and planning.
	As much as I detested the twisted man, I had to get the 
information he had. But how to do it? He was not in regular contact 
with the children, and simply asking to meet with him would not only 
fail utterly, but would also arouse suspicion. Indeed, the only time 
that the children ever saw him was (I sifted deeper into her thoughts) 
when they did something so horrible that extra discipline was 
necessary.
	What could I do that would merit such a visit? Without using my 
powers, it was unlikely I could do anything more than annoy the 
nannies. I considered attacking one of them, but dismissed the notion; 
they would start shocking me too quickly for me to do any harm, and 
that was probably too trivial to get me a meeting with Mr. Greasy Hair 
and Mustache. Then it came to me; I could attack one of the children 
instead. Not only would it be atrocious, it would also reinforce my 
facade as a Neo-Nazi, particularly if I did it to a Jewish child.
	I was too focused on my plan to pay much attention to what the 
nanny was saying. It didn't matter, in any case; probably just more 
lies about how cute I supposedly looked. She soon finished, and placed 
me among the Sith children. I was ready to implement my plan.



Ch 4
	Before I could begin, however, a familiar face came into view. It 
was James. Checking to make sure that no nannies were watching, he 
crawled to me and grinned, "So, you had your first bottle. Well, your 
first bottle in years, at least. If you thought that was fun, wait till 
it comes out the other end."
	"It hardly matters," I said coldly, "especially compared to what 
they will be doing to me shortly."
	The grin faded from his face, and was replaced with a look of 
trepidation. "Oh man, what did you do?"
	"It's not what I did, it's what I'm going to do. I need some 
information that only the twisted man has access to. And the only way 
to meet with him," I said, a malicious grin spreading across my face, 
"is to do something very, very naughty."
	He looked half amused, half apprehensive. "What are you going to 
do? It's not like attacking one of the nannies will do you any good, 
they're too quick."
	"The thought had crossed my mind," I said, "but no, that's not 
it. Besides, telling would ruin the surprise. It would probably be best 
if you left, for the time being."
	For a few minutes, he make me divulge my plan to him. He 
eventually guessed that I would be attacking one of the other children, 
but I refused to tell him the details. He finally left, but only when I 
told him that the sooner he was gone, the sooner I could begin.
	I was amused by his tenacity; he was like a child before 
Christmas, always trying to know what his toys are before he unwraps 
them. But instead of presents, he was excited about what kind of mayhem 
I would bring about. Truly, he was Sith
	I could feel him watching me as I crawled over to one of the 
kids. I had chosen one of the non-Sith children, just in case I did any 
real damage; if he died, it would be no great loss. Before I was within 
range, the child had become aware of me. He stared blankly at me, not 
sure if I wanted to play with him or take his toys. I smiled 
reassuringly, and his face broke into a wide, childish grin. With his 
guard down, I was able to get closer without raising alarm. Still 
smiling, I pushed him onto his back and started chocking him with my 
bare hands.
	He was trying to cry out, but only a feeble gurgle escaped his 
slightly blue lips. That was unfortunate; I didn't want to kill him, 
but it didn't seem that the nannies were taking any notice. I decided 
to loosen my grip, just enough for him to let out a strangled cry. A 
moment later, I heard a woman scream. I looked up, and saw no less than 
five nannies come rushing towards me.
	Within seconds they had reached me, and were prying me fingers 
from the child's throat. One of them tried to speak over the now 
wailing teenager. "What on earth could have possibly made you choke 
this poor child!?"
	I shrugged indifferently, or at least tried to; the nanny 
restraining me was holding me too tightly for me to do more than 
twitch. "Well, I see no cremators around, and there was no way for me 
to gas him, so my options were rather limited, don't you think?"
	She grew even more horrified. "What on Earth are you talking 
about? Why did you attack him at all?
	I sneered at her. "Don't toy with me. Do you really think I don't 
know a Jew when I see one?"
	The statement rendered her speechless. Finally, after several 
seconds of silence (except for the wailing child, of course), she 
activated my shock collar.
	She shocked me for longer than I thought could be legal. Even 
after I feigned unconsciousness, she continued out of pure spite. 
Finally, one of the other nannies spoke up. "As much as this little 
monster deserves it, I don't think the director would like you to 
permanently harm one of the children."
	With obvious reluctance, the woman took her finger off the 
button. She then proceeded to carry my seemingly unconscious body out 
of the room and into the long hallway. Inside, I smiled; so far, my 
plan was working beautifully.
	It took a surprisingly long time to reach the twisted man's 
office; if we went any farther, it seemed, we would have reached the 
back of the building. The hallway grew dimmer and less friendly as we 
went, until it was nothing more than a concrete tunnel with bare light 
bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The doors we passed no longer had 
ornate and childish labels, but instead bore simple number 
designations. I approved of the changes; though the hall was short and 
simple rather than high and imposing, and the light was a dim white 
rather than harsh red, and I was in rather different company, it felt 
as if I was once again inside the Sith Academy. Even the Dark Side felt 
stronger, somehow.
	We eventually stopped in front of a door, which would have been 
indistinguishable if it didn't have an intercom built into the wall 
next to it.
	The nanny pressed a button on the device. "Mr. McPherson? A child 
was misbehaving in the nursery, and we have brought him to you for 
discipline." Her tone was professional, but I could feel her intense 
satisfaction; she would finally get revenge on that 'freaky little 
boy'.
	"Is that so? Well, which one is it?" His voice was as casual as 
hers was formal; indeed, he seemed bored by the news.
	"Jacob, sir. Jacob Harrison."
	There was a long pause. Finally, he stammered, "V-very well. Send 
him in."
	He grew much calmer when he saw that I was 'unconscious'. That 
wouldn't do; a calm mind could think much more clearly than an agitated 
one, and I would need the upper hand in this. I checked to make sure 
that the command I gave him was still in place. It was; though buried 
and inactive, it would take little provocation to waken it.
	One of the woman began to relate my 'misdeeds' to him while the 
other began strapping me into a chair. The twisted man listened to the 
first one in silence, growing more and more grave as she spoke. By the 
time she was finished, he was engulfed in a cold fury. Perhaps I 
wouldn't need to use my hidden command; he seemed very capable of 
blinding himself with emotion, and would need little help from me.
	I decided it was time to 'wake up'. Slowly and with much 
groaning, I lifted my head and stared groggily about the room. 
"Huh�what� oh," I said, my eyes resting on the twisted man, "you 
again."
	My apparent lack of fear seemed to incense him even more. "Yes, 
me again. You are by far the worst child I have ever-"
	I didn't particularly care what he thought. I had a mission to 
complete. "Where's your boss, anyway?" I said, looking around the room 
as if he would be hiding in a corner. "I would really like to know who 
would hire a prick like you."
	That did the trick. The mere mention of his boss brought all the 
information I needed to the forefront of his mind. It didn't take long 
to find out that the director's next visit would be on Saturday, at 
7:00 in the evening. Only four more days in this wretched place.
	Of course, I still had to deal with my present situation. He 
spoke, carefully controlling his voice. "For your information, I was 
the only person in a group of highly skilled professionals to get be 
hired for this job. I have been working here longer than you have been 
alive. Now," he continued in a more businesslike manner, "do you know 
why you are here?"
	I saw where this was going; first he would explain the severity 
of what I did, then he would try to make me feel guilty about it, and 
finally, after all that pointless lecturing, he would inform me on how 
I would be punished. I decided to skip the first two parts and proceed 
quickly through the third.
	I smiled in mock innocence. "I assume it's because I was trying 
to cleanse this place of filth. But then again, I shouldn't be 
surprised that they let Jews in here. I mean, just look at you," my 
voice grew cold and menacing, "you do know what the Nazis do to gays, 
don't you?"
	I had questioned his masculinity, and he reacted as I expected. 
His careful control vanished in an instant, replaced by blind rage. He 
balled his fists and advanced on me, and if one of the nurses hadn't 
interfered, he would have likely attempted to beat me to death. That 
would have compromised the mission; I had no intention of dying, but I 
could do little to prevent it without resorting to the Force. 
Fortunately, one of the nurses had put herself between us.
	"Sir, the rules state that we cannot use violence for discipline, 
and even then, it must be administered by one of the nannies."
	"I know what the rules are woman! But don't you think this� 
child� deserves more than that?!"
	"I certainly do; but rules are rules, and other forms of 
discipline can be much more� effective."
	She seemed to be hinting at something. He glared at her curiously 
for a moment, then smiled sadistically when he figured it out. He and 
leered evilly at me, and began to lecture me in his familiar 
condescending tone.
	"My colleague is right, of course, and physical violence is not 
the answer. Indeed, your attack was just as futile and misguided; the 
boy you nearly killed wasn't even Jewish, and even if he was when he 
came here, he wouldn't be any longer. As for your assumptions about my 
preferences, I am not homosexual,-"
	"Could've fooled me." I interrupted snidely.
	He ignored my comment and continued. "-and dozens of satisfied 
women can attest to that. But I digress. For you, extreme measures are 
necessary. We will skip step one, I think, and instead proceed with 
steps two through�" he paused for a moment, thinking, "ten."
	Outwardly, both nannies were appalled at his statement, and 
gasped in shock. One of them spoke up, "But that will drive him insane! 
No one has gone through all of them since the program started, and-
	"I really couldn't care less," he said, halting her protests. 
"Besides, if it works, he will end up like the rest of them. If not," 
he said, once more regarding me with contempt, "well, it will cost us 
nothing. Now, tonight I want you to proceed with step two. Tomorrow you 
will administer step three, and the next day step four, etcetera, 
etcetera. Understood?"
	One of them was silent. "Yes?" he said, seeing her hesitation
	"Um, sir, we can't do step two-"
	"And why not?" he interrupted, clearly annoyed.
	"Well, we can't shave him, he's already hairless." Inwardly, I 
laughed at that. I had no hair to speak of, not even an eyelash. I 
found it to be an inconvenience; the random cuts and burns caused by 
the Dark Side would heal much faster and cleaner if they weren't matted 
with hair.
	He did not take that very well. "Very well," he said petulantly, 
"proceed with steps three through ten as directed."
	I was curious as to what these steps were. Reluctant to sift 
through the dung heap that was the twisted man's mind, I instead 
focused on one of the nannies.
	Ah. How lovely. All of the steps seemed to have been made to 
speed up the decoding process; each was more infantile and demeaning 
than the last. I ignored the third and fourth steps; during the course 
of each, I would be taken for a stroller ride through the nearby town 
(obviously, the residents were familiar with this program) and into a 
girl's Catholic School, but in the fourth I would also be a part of 
their class lesson, which usually involved childcare. The fifth was 
likewise inconsequential; they would be making a video of me supposedly 
enjoying my baby treatment, which would be showed if front of that 
school. They would be hard pressed to find the material for it; I had 
not smiled once since I was sent there, and usually glared darkly at 
anyone who tried to speak to me. The sixth one, however, could prove 
problematic. I would be injected with various enzymes that were 
supposed to, well, arouse me, which they hoped would lead to me 
pleasuring myself. I doubted it woul!
 d work; even if those particular organs were still functional, I could 
simply metabolize the injected proteins into their basic amino acids. 
The problem was, the nannies could get curious as to why their 
punishment didn't work. I decided not to wouldn't worry about it; it 
would be Saturday by then, and too late for them to stop me. My plans 
would continue, but they would not.


notes: Please note; I am not the author of the original "Cody and the 
Baby Start over program". I am writing a sequel to in in which the 
program is destroyed, as the last one had an unsatisfactory ending. 
Also, I have taken several 'artistic liberties' in relation to the 
Force and the Jedi/Sith, and am probably inconsistent with the books 
and movies on several accounts.