Juvenalas Penitatas
Tulu

Anxious to the point of trembling, the sixteen year old Karrian woman sat at one end of an oval desk, its polished surface casting distorted reflections of the amber-scaled male on the far side. He smiled at her warmly, but it did little to calm his guest. His claw tapped the pad in front of him. “Your cover letter was an intriguing read, Miss Shaan. I must say it's refreshing to find a kindern with such drive.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tulu Shaan answered, her blue-green snout creasing into a nervous, bordering on rictus grin.
“It says here you're currently studying political theory and social sciences. Useful subjects, don't get me wrong, but surely these would make you a better fit in the Office of Home Affairs, or a Local Council? Why precisely do you want to intern with the Department of Corrections?”
Tulu drew a deep breath. “Because I believe this is where I am most needed.”
“Can you elaborate on that?” the interviewer prompted.
Gaining confidence with every word, Tulu obliged. “I knew from an early age I wanted to make a difference here on Halkat. That's why I chose the speciality subjects I did. But as I was looking through the offices and departments it came to me that I had never encountered a penitatas. I knew they existed, obviously, but I'd always held them with a certain-” she floundered a little, “-distaste, I suppose. But I didn't truly know why. I disliked them because I was 'supposed' to dislike them. They were bad people, weren't they? Everyone knows they're bad people! I held those views until I learned, quite by accident, that an old family friend had once been a penitatas. He confided in me things I'd never known, nor imagined. He helped me realise that these were the people I wanted to help most of all. The people we hide away and pretend don't exist.”
A thin smile crossed the male's snout. “How would you help them, exactly?”
“I want to learn about how our justice system works, inside and out. That way, perhaps, I can change how people view penitatas. We shouldn't see them as things to be scorned, but as people who have made mistakes and need help to be better. Isn't that right?”
The smile grew wider. “I think you are going to enjoy your time with the department.” He reached his claw across the table. “Congratulations, Miss Shaan. Your internship begins on the first of next month.”

Life in the Department of Corrections was anything but glamorous. She wasn't a judge or a lawmaker; no, the fate of Tulu Shaan was that of a clerk, dutifully reading and forwarding reports, memos, meeting notes, and the countless other forms of documentation the department produced in seemingly endless supply. She was a driven young woman of twenty, fast approaching the end of childhood, but it was hard to remain passionate about a job that seemed designed to leech enthusiasm from the soul.
The money didn't help. It wasn't that she needed it – Tulu still lived with her parents – but financial independence was something all children ultimately desired, a way to satisfy the instinctive urge to leave the nest and embrace their newfound maturity. With a good wage, Tulu could not only get a nice place to live, but also indulge in her own adventures. Her parents were loving and supporting, yes, but also to her mind incredibly dull people; they'd sought all their thrills long before she was born and, upon bringing a daughter into the world, seemed content to laze away their days with gentle walks or lounging on sunny beaches. If they died tomorrow, Tulu suspected she'd be the only soul on Halkat to notice.
Her eyes drifted over yet another report filled with 'adventures'. A man, seemingly driven to madness by a falling out with his spouse, had assaulted her new suitor with an improvised weapon. Now that man was a boy, a penitatas, serving time in the Ashfeld Correctional Community. She was dimly aware the file should move her, disgust her even, but somewhere along the way her senses had dulled to the details of the crimes that crossed her desk every single day. In fact, she was sympathetic to them after a fashion – at least their crimes were exciting!
A shrill chirrup from her PADD snapped Tulu's attention to it. A meeting notification blinked on the screen. This would normally be met with eye-rolling resignation, followed by an hour or more of listening to old men talk about nothing of importance, but this meeting was different. This was a side project she'd come up with to further prove her worth to the Department, perhaps fast-tracking herself to a position where she could make a difference. Smiling, Tulu set herself to 'out of office' and keyed in a hovercar request. Her stepping stone to the future was waiting.
Rather than meeting in a stuffy office, Tulu's meeting would be held in a coffee bar in town. The weather was pleasant and the bar had outdoor seating that overlooked one of Newfounding's many green spaces. She arrived at their pre-booked table to find it occupied by a white-furred Aspatrian, who rose and bowed slightly on her approach. He held out a paw in greeting, “Carlos Elden. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Tulu Sheen,” Tulu answered, accepting the paw. “But you knew that, of course.”
“Of course. Please, have a seat.”
The pair talked at length about Healthy Choice, the benefits it offered and the merits of adopting the company's food products in widespread Department use. All of this was something Tulu approved of, though what ultimately swayed her was the matter of incentives; Carlos spoke of the importance of 'value sharing' within Healthy Choice, and somewhat shyly confessed his hopes to land a contract that would cover a holiday to Risa, or some other distant, exotic world. “I too hope to visit such places,” Tulu answered, and the pair bonded over this shared dream.
Tulu would meet Carlos only once more after this initial meeting before other representatives took his place at the meetings. She thought nothing of his absence. Not until their paths would eventually cross again, under far different circumstances.

Success begot success. As Tulu finally shed her letters and grew into true adulthood, so too did her place in the department improve. The Healthy Choice initiative began as a humble pilot scheme and blossomed year on year to the point where she was ready to have some real influence. Pilot schemes were instigated and the results, while not a roaring success, were enough to gain here merits. The personal rewards that came with them were equally pleasing; living off the Social Stipend, she pocketed most of her wages and the Healthy Choice bonuses to finally indulge in the adventures she'd dreamed of. Two weeks on Risa were simply not enough.
Rising through the Department gave her a chance to see the 'business end' of the Department. She toured the training centres and Correctional Towns to study the methods they used, gaining real-world insight into what it meant to be a penitatas.
It had come as something of a shock. Even in her early years at the Department, Tulu had no true understanding of penitatas. They lived in these segregated communities, far away from ordinary citizens so their pain and humiliation went unremarked. Having spent years reading their files, and often quietly envying their courage at daring to be more than a dull little drone, to see their ultimate fates was enough to rattle her.
It wasn't the public displays that did it. Those were as expected – the unfortunate Karrian was forced to drop their garments and go over a parent's lap, who would then have the little lizard child bawling away with some good, hard smacks of a claw, paddle, hairbrush or similar. No, it was what went on behind closed doors that was unnerving; through the one-way glass of a Penny girl's bedroom, Tulu watched the helpless, bawling little lass squirm in agony as her parents spread her well-spanked cheeks and inserted an enema plug. The raised bag above her began to glug, and as the cub's stomach swelled her shrieks grew in desperate intensity. The parents were enjoying her plight.
Punishment was the point of course, Tulu knew that. But so many penitatas were fundamentally 'good' people. They had done wrong, yes, but many were not guilty of sadistic, premeditated evil like the proponents of the system oft insisted. She had seen the reports herself – many, likely most, had simply made an error in judgement. Costly errors, with real consequences, but ultimately foolish mistakes.
She could just about be persuaded that such a mistake warranted a smacked backside in public, but her understanding did not stretch to being used as a fetish. These revelations only spurred her to pursue a place in a reform committee, a position she obtained with relative ease. It seemed, despite her suspicions to the contrary, at least some of the stuffy old men were willing to see sense and let the young take the helm.
When one of the Council members knocked upon her office door, Tulu's heart leaped into her throat. She'd argued her case before them for two hours, explaining in clear, incessant detail how the Halkat model was an anomalous outlier in corrective proceedings – from its isolationist ways to the employment of excessively 'inventive' measures. There had been a great deal of pushback, yes, but the same had been true of her Healthy Choice initiatives. That was their job, to push back, but to ultimately give way in the face of wiser voices.
The Councilman who entered was a Karrian male of such incredible age Tulu couldn't fathom why he had not yet rejuvenated. Deathly gaunt, his smile was more unnerving than warming. “Good afternoon, Miss Shaan. I wished to speak to you about Reform Proposal E-217-C.”
Tulu rose sharply from her seat, knocking the chair back as she did. “Yes! I am sure that you will-”
“I regret to inform you we have declined your suggestion.”
“What?” Tulu's response was barely a whisper.
“I commend your initiative and thoroughness,” the Councilman continued, “but I fear your ambitions are beyond the scope of what the department can realistically achieve.”
“We have the resources, sir,” Tulu pressed.
Her response was waved away. “It would be a logistical nightmare, but that's entirely beside the point. The reality is that the people - the common people - they simply do not want a criminal for a neighbour. We already allow the few who are, shall we say, inclined to such things to seek residence within some of our communities. Few stay overlong.”
A tremble of fury ran down her spine. Denied. Denied by a fossil who had lived too long, whose drive and ambition had shrivelled away until all he could comprehend was the groove he'd worn into the world. “Can I at least run a pilot scheme?”
With a shake of his withered head the Councilman answered, “No. I am sorry, Miss Shaan, but we have already given the go-ahead to another scheme and we prefer not to have too many plates spinning at once.”
“What scheme?”
“Reform Proposal E-209-A: the 'Juvenalas Penitatas' program. A candidate has been identified.”
The meeting left her numb. Juvenalas Penitatas, an old idea that had been in limbo since before she'd joined the Department! She went to her computer and pulled up the case notes: a boy named Talek Nodaro had been detained pending trial after a trespassing incident had left another kindern badly injured. This was just the latest and most serious in a long line of petty infractions. Clearly, someone wanted to make an example of him.
That someone, Tulu realised, was her.
How long would this project last? Twelve years at best, going by the proposed sentencing structure. Twelve years before the Corrections Council would even consider greenlighting her own pilot schemes, and that was assuming they didn't find some reason to extend the project. There were scant few juvenalas as it was, but they could always find some workaround: perhaps force through a borderline case, or cut a deal with someone who would otherwise be borderline worthy of a penitatas sentence to 'play the juve' so they could study them.
If they wanted to, the Corrections Council could stall Tulu for the remainder of her natural life. She might be wearing letters again before they'd even open up a slot!
“No,” she rasped through clenched teeth. She was not going to spend a lifetime waiting for stupid old men to make way for her. The JP program had to fail, and fail hard! If it proved a disaster, if this Talek turned out to be far worse a troublemaker than when he entered, then that would not only open the way for her, but further reinforce the rightness of her superior alternative approaches.
But how to make it fail?
Her eyes scrolled down to the assignment details: Talek was to be sent to Ashfeld. No, that would not do; Ashfeld was a model correctional community, but it was mostly for lower-grade penitatas. She needed him somewhere else, a den of murders and rapists, the worst of Halkat. She smiled as a name came to mind: if his 'peers' didn't corrupt him, the sadistic parents surely would.
Her grin only widened as she saw the name of the judge assigned to oversee Talek's case. “Perfect,” she purred. It would be all too easy to convince that man that 'sparing the rod' would lead to disaster. She would have this Talek boy sent to Northrock, of that she was certain.
All that remained was to get herself there...

It was cruel irony that Judge Valdin, the same man who had sentenced Talek, was the one to preside over Tulu's fate.
“Miss Shaan,” he began, albeit hesitantly, “I am baffled, almost beyond words, by the things I have learned of you these past few weeks. What on Halkat possessed you to act this way?”
Tulu stood defiant against her accuser. “I have done nothing wrong.”
A look of sheer disbelief washed over the judge's snout. “Then you deny modifying a Watchdog to ignore basic security protocols, thereby allowing a penitatas to leave the boundaries of Northrock?”
“I do.” It was a lie, but that was for them to prove. She had done it for the right reasons, after all – the damn courts had seen fit to leave no official sanction on record following Talek's first escape attempt, so she had been forced to engineer a second.
Valdin shook his aged head. “Computer records show that you have monitored Master Talek closely since your arrival in Northrock.”
“I am interested in the progress of the Juvenalas Penitatas program.” Her answer was quick and smart, no hesitation.
“The request for the Watchdog was submitted into the system on the Wednesday, three days prior to commencement of the beach cleaning activity. On the Thursday, you accessed Talek's record. On the Friday evening, a Watchdog was manually assigned to Talek for his activity. Who made that assignment?”
“I have no idea.”
“After the assignment, the Watchdog diverted to the edge of town where its internal logging system mysteriously cut out. Any comment?”
“As I said, I've no idea what happened to that Watchdog.”
The judge's lips parted just enough to show a thin glimmer of teeth. With a wave of his claw he brought one of the court's screens to life. Tulu's stomach lurched. “This footage clearly shows the Watchdog flying into the back of the crimson transit unit there. That vehicle was rented the night before and cleared to enter town by yourself. Is that you in the vehicle?”
“No.” She had been wearing a balaclava to hide her face.
“No,” the judge echoed. “Just happened to be a Karrian of matching height, did it?”
“I am innocent!” Tulu barked, but the judge was moving on. The screen changed again.
“Who is this?”
Again, Tulu's insides lurched. The police had thrown this same face at her upon her arrest and questioning. “I knew him as Carlos Elden. I only met him twice.” There was no point denying that much – the police had shown her images of the two of them sat at the table, drinking coffee and engaging in lively conversation.
“He was the one who set up your business arrangement with Healthy Choice?” Valdin asked.
“Yes he was, and-”
“He was the one who offered you bribes?” The judge barrelled over her explanation.
“They were rewards, not bribes!”
Valdin sneered. “In the eyes of the law, they were bribes. You should know that ignorance of the law is no excuse, Miss Shaan.”
“They were not bribes,” she repeated, but her voice was losing strength.
“Do you stand by your claims that you had no knowledge of his true identity?”
That claim was at least true. “I had no idea he was Francesco Holdenthorpe, and that entire conspiracy took place long before I was born!”
“But you still accepted bribes from him.”
“They were gifts!”
“Gifts paid into an off-world account that you have never acknowledged ownership of in any tax document, nor to the police, nor to this court; but one you drew funds from on multiple occasions to fund – let me see here – holidays to Risa, purchase of luxuries, purchase of a private vehicle... need I continue? We have your bank logs if you'd like to refute the claims.” Her personal details appeared on a second screen, showing the moving of funds for all present to see.
After several painful seconds, all she could do was offer a weakened refutation. “I am innocent.”
“You are guilty, Miss Shaan!” the judge snapped. “You are guilty of accepting bribes, guilty of sabotaging Correctional equipment, guilty of perverting the course of justice, and guilty of wasting all our time! At least your co-conspirator had the decency to admit his crimes, even if I suspect he didn't admit to all of them! But no, you wanted your day in court, because in your supreme arrogance you thought if you lied enough we'd somehow believe you!”
Tulu had no answer to that. At last, as the reality of her impending doom came crashing in, she hung her head and whispered, “yes, I am guilty.”
“Too little, too late.” Judge Valdin snarled. “Had you shown any sign of contrition I might have been more lenient, but since that was the first time you have given any admission of guilt, and given how your crimes severely undermine the public trust in our justice system, I have no choice but to enact the harshest possible penalties. Tulu Shaan, I sentence you to serve twenty cycles of age six-to-twelve as a grade H1 penitatas. Sentence is to be served in the community you betrayed.”
“Judge Valdin!” she cried, “Please, sir! I submit a request to serve my sentence in Penitence.”
“Request denied. Bailiff, take her to the rejuvenation chamber. Inform her new family, and her victim, of her impending arrival.”

It hadn't seemed real at the time, the walk from the courtroom to the punitive chamber. For the sake of her own dignity she chose not to resist and lay down upon the metal shelf, which looked for all the world like something from a morgue, and remained still as the hypospray was pressed against her neck. The sedative was to help her transition from young woman to small, fragile child.
It still hadn't seemed real as she was led from the chamber on much smaller legs that trembled with the effort of keeping her balanced. Now six, she was dressed in a daze and led to a waiting hovercar, which rose up and shot away towards a town she had called home for a year, and would continue to do so for over a century.
Only when her feet touched sand, and she saw the faces of Shon and Liki Dafron, and their charge, Talek, did reality sink in. She barely acknowledged the two males who collected her from custody and led her towards the waiting family. Her childish new form couldn't hold back a whimper as Shon greeted her, warm and welcoming as an iceberg. “Hello again, Tulu.”
One of her new parents turned her away to face the ocean. Kneeling down, the soft, yellow-green face before her shifted into a smile. “I'm Arno, your new dad. One of them at least,” he flashed a grin to the other, more brownish male. “And that's Reel. Perhaps you already knew that, Tulu? Well, we certainly know who you are! I won't lie, dear, this is going to be hard on you. The nature of your crimes means it's not easy for anyone here to be impartial. That, and your victims deserve justice.”
“Shall we take her inside for the welcome spanking, or just do it right here?” Reel asked.
Arno glanced over his new daughter's shoulder. She then heard Shon's cold voice. “It seems a shame to waste such a nice day.”
“No!” Tulu shrieked, realising what was happening just as Reel's claws closed tight around her waist. “No' outside!” Her new, unfamiliar mouth struggled to properly form her words. She squirmed and struggled in her new father's grip, unable to escape what was to come. She was carried to outside the front door of the Dafron house, Liki having gone to fetch a stool for her fathers to use, and put down on her footclaws only long enough for her new dress to be dropped onto the street. Her pink panties followed immediately after, leaving her blue-green body on display for all to see.
Through the terror and the tears, her gaze focused on the other three girls present. Rilka clearly had no idea who she was or why her welcome spanking was playing out this way. The older Aspatrian was likewise perplexed. The last girl, however, was one Tulu lingered on. She had scarcely acknowledged the arrival of Franceso Holdenthorpe to Northrock at the time. Now, knowing what she did, knowing she'd been an unwitting part of his schemes, the reunion was just another gut-punch. Now a little girl of four, 'Francesco' watched her fate unravel with a glint of eagerness in his – her eyes.
“I think an introduction is in order before we get started,” Shon gently nudged his children closer to the whimpering new arrival. “Talek, Rilka, this is Tulu. She used to be one of us.”
That was all Talek needed. “You're the one who sabotaged my Watchdog?” he barked.
“Yes she was. She did that and more besides, for which we intend to make her an extremely sorry little girl. That begins right here, right now.” Shon nodded to his neighbours, and Reel sat himself down on the stool. Tulu was hoisted, kicking and screaming onto his lap, her backside aimed squarely at the Dafron front door.
“Get comfortable, my little traitor,” Reel cooed. “You'll be on my lap for a good while!”
His claw came down, swift and hard, clapping against the thin, flexible scale of the Karrian girl's backside. The swat made her fall silent, interrupting her train of thought and jolting her out of the flight-or-fight panic she'd been in. Then came the second, and the stinging pain registered as a hot flash through her little frame. She started crying and squirming again, now with added desperation, but Reel's free claw had her pinned firmly in place.
“Sta'!” she tried to cry out, unable to even beg for mercy properly. “Ple's no!”
The only answer she got was a father's palm striking her tiny bottom, turning her scales to warmer, reddish hues one fierce swat at a time.
Through the stinging haze, Tulu found enough self control to count the smacks. She was an H1 of six – that meant proper protocols stipulated six smacks of her father's hand, followed by six from her personal paddle, and six from a strap, brush or similar approved implement. Per parent.
She'd counted seven.
“Noo!” she wailed as an eighth smack roasted her bottom. “T'many! Sto'it!” But the spanking didn't end. Not after nine, or twelve, or twenty. Reel seemed content to simply keep her there, merrily smacking her bottom under the warm, summer sun for her new neighbours to watch.
Twenty-four full-force slaps to her little rear left her brown and bawling, snot and tears running together over her lips as she lay limp in Reel's grasp, wailing out the first of many miserable experiences.
"I understand you disapprove of the 'old ways' of correcting Pennys, Tulu. Unfortunately for you, we have a different perspective." The voice was that of Arno. She couldn't see her second parent, nor did she have the wherewithal to make sense of his cryptic comment. “I used to be a camp councillor here, before it was a town. We were always fond of using the natural world to punish our little scamps, and I'm proud to say we've kept up the tradition.”
Reel began to softly caress the back of her head. “You've still got a lot to look forward to, my little trouble-maker. Rest while you can, alright?”
She was aware that her audience was moving away, heading towards her new home. Reel lifted her up and carried her, careful to ensure her thighs took her weight rather than her smacked backside. A small mercy, but one she welcomed. Her new home was a mirror of the Dafron house, marking the end of the row. The only real difference was that the road ended rather than turning the corner. Tulu was carried round the house and taken onto her garden. There was no fence to speak of – the 'fence' was simply a white bar held two feet off the ground, easily climbed over or under by anyone who wished to. Her craning head saw much, much worse beyond.
A large, oval track dominated the garden. It was raised just over six feet off the ground, with a black block held between two sets of metal rails. A similar set of rails lay down by the gravel, which was sharp and unpleasant to stand on. Both parents worked quickly, giving Tulu little time to take in or react to what they had in store – by the time she was fully cognisant of how this 'track' worked, she already had one ankle bound to the lower track and one wrist in a leather hoop that hung from the block above.
Her screams rebounded off the back of the house. She was being bound at the start of the first turn, and along the straight of the far side grew a tall, straight row of nettle plants. The smallest reached her stomach, the tallest almost came to chin height. She frantically pulled away from Reel, desperate not to let him force her into a wide-stance with the ankle bindings, but her childish form was no match for a full-grown male. With her feet forced wide apart and both claws bound together in front of her face, she was utterly doomed.
Through tearful eyes, Tulu made out the expressions of her audience. Shon and Liki looked on with pride, clearly about to enjoy what would follow. The children's reactions were mixed; from the calm seen-it-all-before of the girl Tulu increasingly suspected was Isabelle Holdenthorpe, to Francesco/Francine and her malevolent smirk. No doubt the latter was glad it was someone else suffering for a change.
From Talek and Rilka, she got nothing but hatred. Pure, undiluted hatred. Tulu couldn't recall ever doing anything to Rilka, but she seemed even more spiteful than Talek did.
Tulu's eyes slid closed, squeezing out another pair of tears. This was not how it was supposed to be! That boy's record should have been black as tar by now, and the Juvenalas Penitatas program abandoned! She was supposed to be heralding in a new kind of justice system! A better system! One where she would lead Halkat's Department of Corrections forward into the future!
The block above her began to shift, and Tulu was jolted off balance by it. She was moving forward, all right, but not to where she wanted to be. No matter how much she pulled at the straps on her wrist, she could neither free herself, nor slow the moving block. It was pulling her forward at a terribly, cruelly slow pace. If she didn't totter after it, the machine would have simply dragged her unwilling feet along the gravel.
In her terror, she turned to her father, Arno, who walked calmly beside her. “I wanna' spankin'!” she yelped. “Please daddy! Spank m'instead!”
“You will get plenty of spankings, little traitor. But, for now, you're going to learn how we dealt with naughty girls in my day.” He stopped his pacing and gave her a little wave, leaving Tulu to finish the turn alone. She fought, she begged, she wailed herself hoarse. Nothing helped.
The line of nettles came into view. Cafeteria legend had it that Northrock Nettles were genetically-engineered to be an especially, exceptionally painful plant to be stung by. She had no frame of reference for this, but she was willing to believe it. Her little body craned back as far as it could go, trying to put off the sting as long as she could as she was dragged, inch by cruel inch, towards the stomach high nettle plant.
Right up until the end, she held out hope that her parents might have a change of heart. But the nettles came regardless, brushing her stomach, crotch and thighs with a kiss of a thousand tiny blades. Tulu snapped her head back and howled in despair as the needles pierced into the thin seams around each scale and pumped their toxins in, setting off a reaction that set her flesh alight with a burning, fiery itch. As she was pulled further and further into the plant her crotch forced it to bend, and so her young little mound began to ride the stem. Pulled tight apart as her legs were, she couldn't even wiggle to stop the nettle plant pushing back against her feminine passage. She quickly discovered that nettles against her front were a kiss from an angel's wing compared to the unbridled torture she felt as the nettle leaves began to spring back into place up against, and partway inside her hatchling cunny. She began to hobble forwards in a panic, shifting off and over the nettle as fast as she could to end the agony. As a final act of cruelty, the nettle kissed her backside, its daggers stabbing at her buttocks and even the little pucker of her tail before snapping back upright and torturing her tail for good measure. In her desperation to escape the first nettle, Tulu stumbled headlong into the second. Its branches were wider, its stem taller. It stung untouched scales upon her front, and grated all the deeper against her tender nethers as she stumbled through it. There were two more right behind it, each taller than the one before.
When at last she was free of the nettles and being dragged, broken and wailing towards the turn, her bleary vision took in movement from her audience. Dimly, she heard Reel speak, “Let's head inside and let Tulu enjoy her new running track.” She couldn't manage a response at first, but as the patio door slid closed she began to scream for her new parents to come back and rescue her. She was still begging for mercy when she began the first turn again, back towards the nettles.
By the time she reached them for a third time she no longer had the strength to beg, or even walk. The scales of her feet were scraped raw by the stones beneath them. Her body convulsed as the throbbing itch of thousands of nettle stings was relit by her return journey. Despite having been dragged through them all twice, the plants had effortlessly returned to their full and upright state, ready to embrace her again.
Two passes through the torture device had left her privates stung and swollen, rendered hyper-sensitive by the torment. As the nettle rubbed against her again, grinding against her clitoris and swollen labia, Tulu felt her body tense for reasons that had nothing to do with pain for fear. She gasped and blubbed through the first orgasm in her new body, her wailing haven fallen utterly silent as she hobbled through the last two nettles, tortured cunny twitching through the last shudders of her forced climax.
As if he'd been waiting for this moment, Arno returned to her. He stopped the pulling block immediately and freed her ankles before speaking to her, keeping eye contact as he unbound her claws. “I've run a bath for you upstairs, and I've got lots of lovely, soothing cream to make you feel better. We don't normally offer such mercies, but I think we can bend the rules just this once. Agreed?”
Tulu nodded frantically. She would have said or done anything to get out of the torture device he'd left her in.

The cream lathered heavily over her body quickly nullifying the effects of the nettles. She itched for a good ten minutes afterwards, but it was nothing compared to the nightmare she'd just endured. Arno, as cruel as he had seemed chose to stay with her and hold her, cuddling his new Penny daughter as the medicine did its work. The ugly, bulging bubbles along the seams of her scales shrank away, with barely a dimple left to show their passing. Her only complaint, if it could be called that, was the thorough attention her crotch required – even lathered in mercy-bringing cream, having Arno's fingers probe inside her private passage made Tulu extremely uncomfortable.
Afterwards, her new father gave her a warm bath with an abundance of bubbles. A new, unfamiliar part of her mind was gleeful at the foambergs drifting around the tub. The part that was still an adult fixated on what other horrors the day would surely bring. A fearful shudder ran through Tulu's new body as her father took hold of her and hoisted her into the water. “Curb your imagination, little one. I'm here to scrub, not to diddle.” Her eyes flicked to his crotch, though seeing no arousal was hardly enough to give her a sense of relief. Still, the warm water had its intended, soothing effect.
“You can play with the bubbles, so long as there's no splashing,” the soft-spoken words set off another little cascade of childish emotions. Though she still pouted and whined, her paws seemed to move of their own accord to scoop up some of the bubbles and try to pack them into bubbly balls. As Arno scrubbed her back she turned, ball of suds in claw, and stuck it on the end of his snout. He recoiled, more in surprise than any possible discomfort, and gazed cross-eyed at the blunt horn of suds he'd been gifted. He carefully scooped them off with his paw, added a hefty dollop more from the nearest mound of foam, and dumped them all onto Tulu's head.
Without meaning to, the girl let out a giggle. For that she earned a smile. “Look at you, being silly on your first day. There might be hope for you yet.”
Slow, gentle motions of sponge and cloth helped massage away some of her anxieties. But not all. Not even close to all. She'd rationalise her behaviour later as being in shock from the nettle torture, letting her 'inner child' take the helm as a way to shield herself. In the moment, Tulu simply took what pleasure she could from the bathing, letting her hands mould the passing suds into vague shapes of animals until she was hoisted out and dried.
Adult Tulu snapped back into focus as her father's sternness returned. “Your new neighbours are going to want to speak to you. Talek especially deserves some answers, don't you think?”
“I don't want to see him!” the girl squeaked.
“What you want is irrelevant.” Tulu knew from Arno's tone that the playful dad from bath-time had officially left the room. “That boy deserves closure.”
Reel appeared on the landing and peered in just long enough to confirm the bath was over before retreating, replaced by Talek and Rilka, who in turn were escorted by their parents. All four stepped into the new Penny's bedroom. Arno shifted Tulu's position so she sat facing the four directly, his grip subtly tightening around her.
Once again, it was Rilka's greater fury that baffled Tulu. The unfamiliar girl took the lead, walking ahead of her brother and coming right up to where she and her father sat. The pale nine-year-old Karrian shivered with the effort of keeping her emotions barely in check.
“Why are you so mad at me?” Tulu snapped, her bluntness borne from the inexplicable malice radiating from the other girl.
“Mom and dad told us everything!” Rilka's words came out in a low snarl. “You tried to get them kicked out of Northrock! You tried to take my parents away from me!”
Her claw came round in a swift, sharp arc. The slap rang so loud in Tulu's ears she didn't register the barks of outrage from any parent present. She watched, numb and tearful as Liki stormed over and grabbed her daughter by the wrist. “You will come downstairs this instant!” Rilka held her malevolent glare until a sharp tug forced her off balance and she was dragged away by her seething parent.
“A-are you gon' slap me t-too?” Tulu stammered through the pulsing pain in her snout, glaring through the forming tears at the boy who had ruined her future.
Where Rilka's fury was hot, Talek's ran ice cold. He sounded almost contemplative as he asked, “when did you first set me up? Were you behind my meeting with Jalia?”
“Who?”
“My birth-mother. Did you arrange that?”
“I have no idea who this 'Jalia' is!” Tulu's frustration was born of truth. She'd seen the name on his file but had not cared enough to recall it, let alone make the connection with a long-serving penitatas of the same name.
“Then when did it start?” Anger crept into the boy's voice now, growing with each question. “Was the Watchdog the first time you went after me, or did you start before that?”
“I didn't go after you!” Arno raised his claw to ward off Talek's gut reaction, buying the girl a moment's peace.
“Tulu, there will be no lies here. Not unless you want to do more laps of the nettle track.”
“No!” Tulu's legs clenched tight together at the thought of it.
“Then you'd best answer Talek properly, and not another word of a lie either.”
Taking several deep breaths to steady herself, Tulu dared meet Talek's harsh gaze once more. “The Watchdog was because the courts wouldn't put the Judicial Paddling onto your record! If they had I wouldn't have needed to do anything else – it would have been the end of the whole stupid experiment!”
“What experiment?”
“You and your status – the 'Juvenalas Penitatas' program. I was going to change the system for the better, but the... the idiots in charge wouldn't allow it! I wasn't even going to be allowed a proof of concept until they'd finished experimenting with you to see if punishing kindern like adults did... whatever they wanted it to do!”
Talek made no comment. She wasn't even sure the boy had understood anything she'd just said given his dumbfounded expression. The look on his father's snout, on the other hand, was impossible to misconstrue. Almost out of desperation she added, “I was trying to help all penitatas! Even you!”
“I've heard something like that before,” Talek growled. “Jalia. Right before she tricked me into helping her try and escape.”
“I-”
Talek turned to his father without waiting for her reply. “I want to leave. Please.”
“Alright. Come on, we'll see how Rilka's doing.”
“Shon, Talek,” Arno called out before the pair left. “If there is anything Tulu can do, or be forced to do to make up for what she put your family through, don't hesitate to tell us.”
The father and son shared a glance. Shon's smile sent icy shivers down Tulu's spine. “We will be happy to offer a long list of ideas.” He nodded to Arno and took his son away.

For the rest of the afternoon, Tulu was kept in bare scale. Arno carried her downstairs and stood her in front of Reel, who was sat in a well-loved armchair with an antique book on his lap. With a drill sergeant's demeanour, Reel laid down the law: Tulu would do nothing without express permission. Leaving a room, especially her bedroom without permission would be punished. Taking something, or even moving something without permission would be punished. Even using the toilet without permission would be punished. And – she learned the hard way – talking back was also something punished fiercely.
The vile, chemical taste of punitive mouth-soap still clung to her tongue when her evening meal was served. Another rule was added to the ever-growing to the list: failure to eat every scrap off her plate would be punished.
Bedtime was announced when the sun was still over the horizon. Both parents watched, quite deliberately, as their new daughter relieved herself, then she was put over Reel's lap for a good-night spanking. His tool of choice was a 'helper paddle', a small, rectangular bit of wood that was easily carried in a bag or large pocket. It hurt like hell as it cracked against her rear, the thin layer of child's fat doing little to absorb the swift, forceful smacks, twenty in all, that Reel delivered.
After Reel had given her pain, Arno offered comfort. He cradled the girl, this time pressing his arm against her well-paddled rear to take her weight, which only added to her misery. He seemed not to mind that she howled right into his ear-slit. “This is your bedtime routine from now on,” he told her firmly. “When this cuddle is done you're going under the covers. That's where you stay until we come and get you. If you put a single toe out of bed, no matter the reason, you will be punished. Do you understand?”
“Y's!” she blubbed.
“I mean it, Tulu. No matter what. Whatever exception you're thinking of, it doesn't apply. I will drag you outside at midnight and send you six times through the nettles if the Songbird floor goes off!” her terrified wail satisfied him she understood.
Reel made space so she could be settled into bed. Though she didn't know it, her bed matched that of Talek and Rilka's – circular rather than the more usual rectangle. It was a design thought to give a Penny space to toss and turn at night. Tulu certainly had reason to do that. Arno eased her down onto her side and placed a knee cushion between her legs. A second pillow was put against her chest, which she began to cuddle almost instinctively. A third, firmer pillow against her back helped keep her in place. Finally, her blankets were tucked into place. She was snug and secure, though her rear still burned enough to keep her blubbing.
One day down. Forty-two thousand, eight hundred and twenty nine to go.