When Phoebe first learned that she had contracted the AR virus she was secretly overjoyed. Then she was scared. For the entire three months leading up to her final regression, she had flip-flopped back and forth between the two emotions. She had, for a considerable part of her adult life accepted the reality of being an adult. All the unpleasant and necessary parts of making a living and surviving day after day. Only because she had to. She had thought she could never do anything about it. So she had lived a mostly happy and content life, pushing her feelings of reluctance, resentment and a desire to be young again deep within herself.

The discovery of the Virus had lit a spark in her when it had been first announced to the world. A spark of hope.

Now, six months after her diagnosis, Phoebe was happier than she had ever been. She was free from adult constraints and obligations. She had arranged to be adopted by her younger sister who already had two adopted girls, Macy who was five and Tonya who was Asian and one and a half. Phoebe was now the middle child at three and despite her sister's encouragement was nowhere near ready for potty training. She was going to take full advantage of her situation and be fully taken care of for as long as possible.


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