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A few years ago I stumbled upon a DeviantArt story about 2 women competing for thee same job, with one regressing the other in order to get the promotion (hence the name). For about a year I have not been able to find it... The idea and general plot comes from the original story, but direction differs. To whomever had written the original story - Thank you! Prologue The two women sat on opposite sides of the conference room, flanked by senior partners. Both had just completed a competitive summer associate program at the firm. Only one associate position was open. Simon, the youngest partner ever appointed, had worked closely with both candidates during the summer. Instead of relying solely on formal evaluations, she proposed one final exercise: the two would collaborate on a complex internal project, presenting their analysis to the firm's litigation team. The partner overseeing the project would then decide who had shown the sharper legal acumen—and who would receive the coveted offer. Introduction It was Friday evening, and Samantha was still used to going out clubbing. But come Monday, she was supposed to compete with Jessica to become the firm’s newest associate. Tonight, though—tonight was supposed to be one last study session before their showdown. Jessica lived in one of those old-money buildings tucked into the heart of the city. From the outside, it looked worn and stately, almost forgotten. But inside, it had every amenity money could buy. Samantha hadn’t known that—until she approached the entrance and a uniformed doorman opened the door for her with a practiced nod. “The elevator’s out,” the doorman said. “Sorry, miss.” Five flights of stairs later, Samantha understood exactly why Jessica had insisted she come over. “It’s just easier,” Jessica had said, brushing off every other suggestion. “More private. No distractions.” Jessica’s apartment was small and quaint, almost unexpectedly so. It had high ceilings, antique light fixtures, and a strange kind of quiet that came with thick old walls. As Samantha caught her breath, Jessica offered a casual explanation. “It was my grandmother’s,” she said, pouring two glasses of sparkling water. “She moved to the suburbs last year—health stuff, and the weather, you know. I just pay some honorary rent to keep the place warm.” Samantha raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Of course Jessica would have access to a place like this—a perfect blend of charm and privilege. Still, this wasn’t the time to get distracted. Monday was coming. And tonight, they were supposed to be friends. Locked In Samantha remembered the wine spritzers from the night before. She didn’t remember falling asleep. Her head throbbed as she sat up, and the room—her room, she thought—looked the same, but not quite. The antique light fixtures hummed faintly above, their buzzing no longer mechanical but alive somehow. Watching. The air felt colder, like the apartment had exhaled overnight. Something had shifted. Something had begun. She also remembered… an office party? Had there been one? The laughter hadn’t sounded right. The guests weren’t colleagues. Not exactly. They had stood too still. Their smiles didn’t reach their eyes. Witnesses, not friends. Clients, maybe. Watching. Waiting. Assessing. That memory—or dream—flickered behind her eyes like old film. Unsteady. Sticky. Still dizzy, she pushed herself up and moved toward the kitchen. It was empty. Last night’s countertop—tidy but lived-in—was now sterile. No dishes. No glasses. No coaster. No trace of a human evening. As if someone had wiped everything clean, including the memory of what had been real. She turned toward the hallway, looking for Jessica. Or a bathroom. Or maybe just proof that she was awake. But the farther she moved, the more the apartment unraveled. The floor plan bent subtly, unnaturally—like it was folding in on itself. Curtains replaced doors. Rooms opened into blank white space. No mirrors. No sinks. No plumbing. Just shapes of spaces pretending to be rooms. And then—her name. Whispered, faint. A voice she couldn’t place, but knew anyway. It echoed like a breeze through drywall. She followed the sound, calling back, but it slipped ahead of her, always a room away. Leading her deeper. Her steps slowed. And somewhere—maybe in memory, maybe not—a hand touched her wrist. Not roughly. Not kindly. Just firmly. “Sign here,” it whispered behind her, pressing something cold into Samantha’s palm. A silver ring. No gem. No flourish. Just polished control. Not a promise. Not affection. A stamp of ownership. The hand helped her sign, like she was nothing more than a toddler. Then it was gone. The hallway was empty again. The front door wouldn’t open. Of course it wouldn’t. The knob didn’t even turn. She tried the windows—sealed, fifth floor, inert as screens in a dream. Her chest tightened. Then, it began. First: the argument from last night. Gone. She couldn’t recall the case law they had debated. The structure faded next—the doctrine, the analysis, the definitions. Her JD dimmed behind her eyes like a dying lightbulb. She reached for a statute and found only dust. Then came college. Concepts she once wielded like tools slipped from her mental shelf. High school years began to blur. Middle school collapsed in on itself like a paper model soaked in water. She stood in the skeletal hallway, knees weakening, breath stuttering. Elementary school. Shapes. Colors. Her address. She tried to name the months. The days of the week. Gone. And then, finally, letters. A tune hummed through her skull, sweet and slow—a lullaby, maybe. A song. Something she hadn’t heard in decades. Her lips moved with it without meaning to. And warmth spread suddenly down her thighs. Her eyes widened. She had forgotten— She froze. Jessica Outside, the evening had cooled. The city was quiet in that hushed, watching way it sometimes gets—when the work is done but judgment hasn’t yet arrived. A car waited at the curb, engine low, headlights slicing through the dusk. The doorman sat behind the wheel, hands steady at ten and two. He didn’t look up when Jessica stepped outside. Her heels clicked softly against the marble as she descended the stairs—five flights, unbothered. She moved like someone leaving a meeting, not a scene. She slid into the passenger seat and set the leather tote in her lap. As the building disappeared in the rearview mirror, Jessica unzipped the bag and sorted through its contents: ID, credit cards, keys, laptop—all the ordinary bones of a modern life. She removed Samantha’s driver’s license and studied it under the dashboard light. Then she slipped out an identical card—same name, same number—but the photo had changed. Her own face stared back, perfectly lit, DMV-official. She slid the new card into Samantha’s worn wallet, then dropped the original into a slim envelope. “Bank drop,” she said, handing it to the driver. “No prints.” The man gave a slight nod, never taking his eyes off the road. Minutes later, they pulled up in front of Samantha’s apartment building. Jessica looked up at the windows—dark, uncurious. She stepped out with the tote, leaving behind her own purse, phone, and everything else with her real name on it. She walked past the car without a word, heels whispering against the pavement, and slipped into the building’s side entrance. She moved through the lobby and descended the back stairwell to the underground garage. It was nearly empty, dimly lit, half-forgotten. Samantha’s car was there—exact spot, firm decal on the windshield, a faint trail of brake dust on the floor. Jessica stood beside it for a moment, checking the details: tag number, scuff on the rear bumper, the corporate parking permit on the dash. Everything matched. She pulled out her phone and typed one word: To: Driver Confirmed. Go. Up on the street, the car pulled away, slow and silent. Jessica took the elevator to Samantha’s floor. She didn’t need a key. She had the tote—the one Samantha never left behind. Everything was in it: ID, laptop, keys, phone, even the apartment fob clipped to a leather loop. Inside the unit, she moved with familiarity. The place was modest, warm, filled with the quiet chaos of a young professional’s life—books on the coffee table, a half-empty French press on the counter, court filings open on the couch. She made a quick pass through the apartment. No cameras. Everything was moving according to schedule. At the door, she paused. The tote was still in her hand, Samantha’s name faintly embossed on the leather tag. Jessica placed it gently by the coat rack. She opened the laptop—no password. The joint report sat untouched since last night. She copied it to a flash drive, then checked the email. Nothing sent. Nothing suspicious. She opened a private browser window and accessed the surveillance system in the other apartment—the one where Samantha was. Four camera feeds flickered on: bedroom, hallway, kitchen. And the living room. Samantha was there. Curled up on the couch under a throw blanket, one leg dangling, face turned toward the cushions. Her breathing was shallow but steady. Still asleep. Still forgetting. Jessica watched for a moment, unmoved. Then she closed the laptop. She didn’t need it anymore. She turned, walked down the hall, and stepped into the bedroom. Not hers—but it would be. She lay on the bed, arms folded over the blanket, fully clothed. Her eyes stayed open a while longer, staring at the dark ceiling. Then they closed. Jessica moved through Samantha’s apartment with quiet purpose. It wasn’t large, but it was respectable—neutral-toned furniture, overpriced minimalist art. The kind of place someone with a future lived. Someone on track. Someone who mattered. She opened the blinds. Morning light spilled across the hardwood floors. Dust motes drifted in the still air—unnoticed by Samantha anymore. Jessica had already forwarded the mail. Changed the voicemail greeting. Updated the firm’s HR system with a note: mental breakdown, suspended pending medical review. No one had called to question it. Not yet. She spread out the documents from last night on the kitchen table, carefully reviewing each signature and initial. Everything was in order. Jessica wasn’t just in possession of Samantha’s apartment now—she was officially her legal guardian. At exactly 9 a.m., a firm knock echoed through the apartment. Jessica glanced at the clock—right on schedule. The doorman—now her trusted assistant in this carefully orchestrated takeover—stood at the door, flanked by a small, efficient team carrying flat boxes and bins. Without hesitation, Jessica stepped forward and led them through the living room to the guest room. “This is the space,” she said, pushing the door open. The team entered, taking in the futon, desk, and a few dusty law school boxes. Jessica’s voice was calm, measured. “Strip everything out. Replace it with soft, safe furniture—no sharp edges, nothing heavy. I want it comfortable, but controlled.” The team nodded and immediately set to work. Jessica watched the first few moments of the transformation, then turned toward the door. She had more important things to do. Jessica slipped Samantha’s leather tote onto her shoulder, the familiar weight settling against her hip. Inside were the keys, the laptop, the phone—the tools of a life she was about to step fully into. Her own belongings—gone. No loose ends. This was the first test. The moment she walked out as Samantha. Her heart didn’t race. It didn’t even flutter. It was cold, to be precise. She glanced once more at the surveillance feed: Samantha still rocked softly on the floor, lost to the world Jessica was about to inherit. Taking a deep breath, Jessica closed the door behind her. As she took the elevator down, she checked the apartment’s surveillance feeds on her phone. Samantha was curled up on the floor, rocking slightly. She’d clearly wet herself. She hummed now—something tuneless, soft. Her hair was matted. Her thumb hovered near her mouth. A thin line of drool traced from the corner of her lips. Jessica smiled. Jessica arrived ten minutes early—better to be waiting than caught off guard. She wore Samantha’s tailored coat, Samantha’s ID slipped neatly into her wallet, and the lipstick on her lips was the exact shade Samantha favored. She ordered Samantha’s usual: oat milk flat white, no sugar. Handed over the credit card. The barista glanced at the name. “Samantha?” Jessica smiled—small, controlled. “Yes.” First test. Passed. She claimed a corner table by the window, back straight, phone untouched, eyes calm and alert. When Erica arrived, she spotted Jessica immediately—and softened, like a well-trained dog recognizing its handler. She wore a pale sweater with a cartoon bunny, soft pink leggings, light-up sneakers blinking faintly with each step. Jessica rose halfway to meet her. “Hi, sweetheart.” Erica’s shy smile bloomed as she slid into the seat opposite. “You remembered my order?” Jessica nodded, sliding the second drink forward—warm milk, lightly sweetened with vanilla. A child’s comfort in an adult’s cup. They talked lightly, the casual rhythm of normalcy. No mention of restraints. No whispers of Samantha’s shaking, her drugged breath. Just coffee, warmth, routine. Then, after a pause: “Want to help me shop for her?” Erica’s eyes brightened. “For the girl?” Jessica sipped. “Yes. For the girl.” They stood together. Jessica took Erica’s hand as a mother might guide a toddler—fingers curling firmly. Instinctively, Erica’s thumb found its way toward her mouth. The pharmacy. They moved slowly through the aisles. Jessica carried the basket; Erica trailed, quietly suggesting: powder-scented lotion, soft burp cloths. Jessica accepted only what was necessary. In the clothing section, Erica held up a pink onesie with glitter trim. “This one’s cute.” Jessica studied it. “Too young. She’s further gone—but not that far. Not yet.” Erica flushed and quietly replaced it. Jessica paused at the sleep sacks, selecting a neutral cotton one and adding it to the basket: extra absorbency briefs no-rinse shampoo childproof locks training spoons wipes At checkout, the clerk glanced between them. Erica stood slightly behind now, thumb near her mouth, eyes lowered. He hesitated, eyeing the items, then Erica—still sucking her thumb— “For her?” Jessica’s gaze didn’t waver. She handed over Samantha’s card. “No,” her voice cool, even. “She already belongs to me.” Then, holding his uncertain stare: “A new one is coming.” The clerk forced a nervous half-laugh. Jessica didn’t smile. She held his gaze until the payment processed. The clerk took the card and tapped a few keys. Then he paused. “Do you have ID to match this?” he asked, glancing back up. Jessica didn’t blink. “Of course.” She reached into Samantha’s tote, pulled out the wallet, and slid the DMV-issued card across the counter. The photo. The name. The number. All matched the card. He studied it for a beat too long. The overhead fluorescents hummed. Jessica didn’t shift her weight. Didn’t breathe too shallow. Just watched him, pleasantly patient. Then—beep. The register accepted the payment. He handed back the card and receipt. “Have a good one, Samantha.” The second test passed. Outside, Jessica turned to Erica, voice soft but firm. “Remember—the party tonight. You’re dressing up as a grown-up.” Erica nodded slowly, thumb slipping from her mouth, eyes flickering with something unreadable. They parted ways—Jessica heading back to Samantha’s, Erica lingering a moment longer in the shadow of the ordinary. Jessica’s heels clicked sharply against the cracked concrete of the underground garage. The space was cavernous, shadows pooling in every corner, swallowing the muted glow of the flickering fluorescent lights. The stale, metallic scent of oil and dust hung thick in the air. She approached Samantha’s car—its cold metal frame sat like a tomb, the faint haze of stale cigarette smoke lingering just beneath the driver’s seat. The parking permit on the dashboard gleamed under the harsh light, a quiet reminder of the life she was about to inherit. Jessica slid into the driver’s seat with practiced ease, her fingers brushing the smooth leather. The engine roared to life with a low growl that echoed unnervingly off the concrete walls. She gripped the steering wheel, eyes narrowing in on the rearview mirror. Her reflection stared back—calm, composed—but behind the glass, the shadows seemed to ripple, as if the darkness itself watched and waited. She turned off the garage lights, the car’s headlights cutting through the gloom like twin beacons, then pulled out slowly, the tires crunching softly over scattered debris. As she emerged onto the empty street, she pulled Samantha’s phone from the tote and scrolled through the contacts. Maya – (work, but more) Jessica tapped the call button. Two rings. “Sam?” The voice was fast, alarmed. “Oh my God, where have you been?” Jessica let just enough breath catch in her throat. “Hey. I’m okay. I just… needed time.” The drive blurred past fractured streetlights and empty intersections. The city felt drained of its usual chaos. The quiet made the voice on the phone feel unnervingly close. “Time? Sam, you disappeared. I thought you were dead.” Jessica’s smile curved faintly as she took a left onto a side street lined with shuttered shops. “I had to clean up a few things. Make space.” “You don’t sound like yourself.” Jessica passed under a blinking traffic signal. “Maybe I’m just… better now.” “Are you back?” Maya asked, voice quieter. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Jessica replied. A pause. “You sound weird.” Jessica softened her tone. “I missed you. I’m having something tonight. You should come.” “Tonight?” “Just a few people. Quite. Familiar.” Maya hesitated. “Why not, I can’t miss it.” “Great!” Jessica replied before Maya could reply. She ended the call before Maya could say goodbye. The car rolled to a stop outside the crumbling apartment block. Jessica didn’t move. Just watched the darkened windows. Test three – Passed. Scene of the Crime When she arrived, the building loomed before her like a wounded beast—its stone facade cracked and stained by years of neglect, windows dark and uninviting. Jessica’s heels echoed on the pavement as she crossed the parking lot toward the side entrance, the sound sharp and deliberate. The elevator was slow, groaning and rattling as it crept upward. Each floor passed with a prolonged creak, the dim light flickering, threatening to fail. The air inside the cab was thick and stale, pressing against her skin like a physical weight. Jessica’s breath hitched slightly—not from fear, but from a cold anticipation that tightened her chest. The doors finally groaned open, revealing a dim hallway. The air hit her immediately: not just stale, but alive with rot. A wave of stench rolled out—thick and inescapable. It was human. It was Samantha. The acrid sting of urine hung heavy in the air, layered beneath it the sour reek of feces, and something subtler—something that hinted at rot and abandonment, like flesh too long ignored. It clung to the walls, soaked into the floorboards, radiated from the living room like a heat. Jessica stepped inside. For a moment, Samantha didn’t see her. Didn’t process her. Then, slow and uncertain, her eyes lifted. She saw a woman standing in her space. Familiar somehow. The coat. The hair. The posture. It was like staring into a mirror bent by heat and time—Jessica wore her face, but sharper. Calmer. Cleaner. Smiling with something cold and claiming. Samantha’s mind was a swirling fog — she was somewhere between waking and dreaming, reality slipping through her fingers like fine sand. Shapes blurred, sounds distorted, and the stench filled her nose with every ragged breath — soil, decay, something dead buried beneath it all. She couldn’t tell if she was sinking or floating. Jessica stepped forward. Knelt. The difference in size was uncanny—Jessica seemed mythic, towering, stable amid the room’s slow collapse. From her coat, she produced a pair of scissors, gleaming faintly. Without a word, she began to cut. Jessica moved the scissors with slow, deliberate care, the sharp snip echoing softly in the hollow apartment. Each clump of Samantha’s greasy hair fell to the floor like discarded memories, dark and lifeless. The air was thick with the stench of soil and death—an oppressive presence that seemed to seep into Jessica’s bones rather than repel her. Jessica leaned closer, her voice low and unnervingly sweet, a lullaby twisted by darkness. “This is your first day with me,” she murmured, fingers grazing Samantha’s clammy forehead as if soothing a restless infant. “No more worries, no more bad days. You’re safe now. I’ll take care of you.” Samantha’s eyes fluttered open, wide and glassy, but unfocused—like a child waking from a foggy dream. It took her a long moment to realize who stood over her: a towering figure whose face was familiar, yet alien. It was her own reflection, warped, but with a different mask—Jessica’s. Jessica’s hand trembled slightly as she combed through the tangled mess of hair, then began to cut. Strands fell away, revealing the pallor of Samantha’s scalp beneath. With every snip, the woman she was seemed to shrink, folding in on herself, becoming smaller and smaller—less a woman, more a child, more a ghost of herself. The light flickered above, the shadows stretching and twisting like living things, swallowing the edges of the room. “Such a big girl… but you’re small now,” Jessica cooed, voice thick with false tenderness. “You don’t need to worry about being grown up anymore. It’s time to rest, little one.” Samantha’s breath caught. The air felt heavy, thick like damp earth pressed against her lungs. Her limbs twitched, small spasms of resistance, but they faltered. Jessica reached for a damp cloth, cold and sterile against Samantha’s fevered skin. She wiped gently at the grime crusted on her cheeks, her touch the first real contact Samantha had felt in hours. Only then did Samantha’s eyelids finally fall closed, surrendering fully to the blackness creeping at the edges of her mind. The room seemed to tilt, sounds bending and warping—the lullaby inside her breaking apart like glass. “You’re mine now,” Jessica whispered, voice steady and sure, not a threat but a fact carved into the very bones of the room. She repeated it softly, almost reverently, as if sealing a pact: “Mine.” The world melted away around Samantha—the pain, the memories, the name she once wore like armor—all erased by a darkness deeper than sleep. Until there was nothing left at all. Waking Up to the Party The first thing Samantha registered was softness—beneath her cheek, beneath her limbs. Then came light. Muted. Pastel. Gentle. The world bled slowly into view as her heavy eyelids fluttered open, weighed down by something far beyond sleep. She was in the guest room. That much she knew instinctively—the angle of the morning light, the familiar creak of the ceiling fan, the position of the closet door. But everything else was wrong. The walls had shed their cool gray coat she’d painted months ago. Now, they blushed a soft pink, edged with delicate white trim. Shelves that once held framed photos and books were crowded with oversized stuffed animals and plastic bins of toys. Her work desk had vanished, replaced by a low, rounded dresser stocked with baby wipes, lotion, and neatly folded pastel clothes. A camera blinked silently from the corner of the ceiling, watching. The bed beneath her was too soft. Too low. A fitted sheet patterned with cartoon bunnies hugged the mattress, boxed in by a mesh safety rail. The air smelled faintly of lavender, baby powder—and something synthetic, artificial, like a memory rewritten. Her heart stuttered. Samantha tried to rise, but her arms buckled beneath her weight. Her legs swung off the bed—only to collapse beneath her again. She hit the thick carpet with a muted thump. It was plush. Padded. Like the kind used in a nursery. She pushed herself up again, confused by her own sluggishness. Her limbs felt slow, heavy—as if they weren’t entirely hers. Still, she lifted herself to her hands and knees. And froze. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirrored closet door. Hair trimmed brutally short. Skin pale. A pale pink onesie clung awkwardly to her adult frame, stretched tight across her chest and snapped at the crotch. Around her neck was a white collar, soft and padded, secured with a silver buckle. Her breath caught. Then came the sound—muffled, distant. Music. Laughter. Glasses clinking. Samantha crawled forward, her head spinning. The carpet dulled the sound of her palms hitting it. Her mouth was dry. Her muscles trembled with unused defiance. The door stood slightly ajar. An invitation—or a test. She hesitated. Then pushed onward. The hallway beyond the guestroom was warm, almost inviting—soft golden light pooling over worn rugs and familiar framed art. It looked exactly as she had left it. Yet the moment she stepped in, Samantha felt a weight settle over her chest. This place was no longer hers. She lowered herself to her knees on the rug runner, the coarse fibers scraping against her skin. Every movement was a battle—the ache in her joints sharp and unyielding, her limbs heavy as if they belonged to someone else. The doors along the hallway wore childproof locks—tiny, plastic barriers rigged in a cruel mockery of protection. The bathroom, the master bedroom—everything was locked tight. Just like her, confined. The faint murmur of voices and laughter drifted closer as she crawled toward the staircase. Mid-century jazz hummed low beneath polite conversation, a distant soundtrack to a world she was no longer part of. She smelled wine, rich perfume, and citrus—luxury and warmth wrapped in a velvet haze. But none of it was for her. Her breath caught. The party was alive beyond that staircase—light and laughter pulsing just out of reach, like a dream she could never quite touch. She was outside now. Outside the life she once knew. She reached the edge of the living room. No gasps. No stares. A grown woman crawling in a pastel onesie, collar around her neck—and the party simply smiled. Some guests exchanged knowing looks. Others offered indulgent nods. She was part of the decor now. Jessica stood in the center of the room—radiant in Samantha’s red dress. The one Samantha used to save for important dates. The fit was perfect on Jessica, as if tailored anew. Samantha locked eyes with Jessica—the woman now living her life—and felt a cold, hollow pit open in her chest. Then a woman approached, middle-aged and calm, carrying a small velvet box. She knelt beside Samantha and, without waiting, clipped a white ribbon to the collar. From the box, she produced a pastel pacifier and gently pressed it toward Samantha’s lips. Samantha’s lips pressed shut firmly—an instinctive, final protest. She tried to turn her head away. Jessica’s voice cut through the room, firm and uncompromising. “Put it in,” she ordered quietly but without question. Samantha hesitated, panic rising—then compliance overwhelmed her. The pacifier was forced gently but insistently into her mouth. She tasted the soft plastic, bitterness flooding her senses. Jessica knelt and opened her legs, pulling Samantha toward her. From behind, Jessica began opening presents. Pastel footed pajamas. Teething rings. Rubber alphabet blocks. Samantha didn’t understand why but was drawn to the teething rings and the blocks, while the pajamas bored her. The crinkle of the wrapping paper entertained her more than she expected. Someone gave her “My First Music Set.” Jessica didn’t like it, but Samantha found comfort in the delicate melodies. Then came gifts more suited for an untrained pet—chew toys, a pink leash, a silicone gnawing ring. Finally, a plush puppy with a squeaker and a stitched name tag. “This one’s my favorite,” Jessica whispered, brushing Samantha’s hair. “Look—it even says your name.” The tag read: Lila. Samantha was transferred like a toy to one of Jessica’s friends, lying there on the floor as the woman gently set her down. Without hesitation, the woman removed the pacifier from Samantha’s mouth and put it in her own, sucking on it playfully. Soft laughter rippled from nearby guests—the woman clearly enjoying herself. As she sucked, the woman tilted a baby bottle toward Samantha’s lips. Samantha’s lips trembled, a flicker of protest and confusion rising inside her. She tried to pull away, but her limbs felt leaden, uncooperative. Jessica’s voice cut through the soft jazz and murmurs—clear, calm, commanding. The woman smiled softly and pressed the bottle to Samantha’s mouth. At first, Samantha resisted, biting the nipple gently—but soon the warmth and sweetness overwhelmed her defiance. Her eyes flicked toward the children at the party—dressed with autonomy, treated with respect. Then back to the woman before her, still sucking the pacifier—an image so absurd, so surreal, Samantha wondered if she was dreaming. The woman was fully grown, dressed in formal evening wear, seated above Samantha, her towering presence a silent assertion of control. Just as the bottle emptied, Jessica appeared. Without a word, she pulled the pacifier from the woman’s mouth, “cleaned” it in her own—a moment that stretched like eternity to Samantha—before reinserting it into her lips. The room’s light laughter swirled around her, but Samantha felt smaller than ever, swallowed whole by the infantilizing roles forced upon her. Was this real? Was it a dream? Or a waking nightmare? She no longer knew. Goodbyes & Submission The apartment emptied slowly, guests trickling out with cheerful goodbyes. One by one, women approached, offering soft smiles and gentle pats. Samantha leaned against Jessica’s side, her head resting heavily on Jessica’s shoulder, pacified and still. Though Samantha’s frame was taller—her presence overshadowing Jessica’s slight form—the ease with which she surrendered made the difference feel strangely diminished. The quiet between them was heavy, charged with an unspoken shift. One woman stepped forward and cupped Samantha’s cheek with tender familiarity. It was Maya—Samantha’s best friend. Jessica popped the pacifier from Samantha’s mouth with a soft plop—and without hesitation, slid it into Maya’s own mouth. Maya’s eyes widened in startled surprise, a flicker of shock passing over her face. Yet, as the pacifier settled between her lips, a strange curiosity bloomed—an intrigue she didn’t fully understand, tangled with an unsettling fascination. “Give her a kiss, sweetheart,” Jessica cooed, her voice dripping with false affection. Samantha obeyed, pressing a damp, uncertain kiss to Maya’s cheek. Her lips felt foreign, her gestures clumsy—more infant than adult. Maya smiled softly, eyes flicking toward Jessica with a strange tenderness—as if Jessica were the true Samantha, and Samantha a helpless newborn. Jessica pulled the pacifier from Maya’s mouth and silently reinserted it into Samantha’s lips. Samantha blinked, confused and disoriented. These people—some familiar, others distant—watched with vague amusement, polite detachment, or a flicker of superiority. They saw her. But they didn’t see her. Jessica’s hand returned to Samantha’s chin, steadying it firmly. Her eyes gleamed with a chilling certainty. “That’s my good girl,” she murmured gently. “Let’s get you ready for bed.” Jessica carried Samantha down the hall and into the nursery. The low light hummed softly, casting warm shadows over the pastel walls. Samantha’s limbs hung useless as she was lowered onto the bunny-covered changing table, soft and padded beneath her. She worked quickly, wiping away the warmth and scent that had gathered there, the air heavy with the faint, sour tang of humiliation and surrender. A fresh diaper was unfolded, soft and thick. Jessica secured it snugly around Samantha’s hips, smoothing the edges with a tenderness that only deepened the sense of powerlessness. Once the change was done, Jessica retrieved the pacifier and pressed it back between Samantha’s lips, holding her chin steady as it bobbed gently with each breath. Jessica tucked a soft blanket over her and kissed her forehead. “Tonight’s story,” she said gently, “is about a princess in a faraway land.” Samantha’s eyes fluttered. “This princess… didn’t get what she wanted. Her life was hard. She had to work from a young age, to fight for everything—her education, her job, her dreams.” Jessica’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “But one day, she met someone. Someone who had what she wanted. Her name was Samantha.” “Samantha had the perfect job, the perfect apartment, the perfect smile. She didn’t even have to try. And I knew... I deserved to be her.” Jessica reached into a drawer. Paperwork rustled. “It took two years. But today, I’m no longer Jessica. I’m Samantha.” She held up the forms—documents signed in Samantha’s name. A new identity relinquished. A new name sealed. “And you, my dear? You’re not Samantha anymore.” “You’re my baby. You’re Lila.” Jessica leaned close, brushing a hand through Lila’s cropped hair. “And if you ever misbehave... if you ever try to run... I’ll destroy this new life you’ve built, and I’ll continue….” “And I’ll give the old one back to you—ruined, stained, erased. No name. No job. No voice.” Samantha’s eyes wide, pacifier bobbing gently with each breath, felt the crushing weight of loss. Jessica smiled softly and rose to her feet. “Goodnight, my sweet girl.” She closed the door with a whispering click. At first, there was only quiet. Then—faint, nearly imperceptible—a voice stirred in the hush. That voice. The same one from the apartment. The one that had lulled her, night after night. Calm. Measured. Sweet as syrup. The one that told her she was tired, so tired. That it was okay to give in. That it felt better not to think. Her eyes closed, still not sure if this was reality or dream—as she slipped into sleep. The Final Stamp Inside the apartment, the walls seemed to listen. Morning light filtered in cautiously, as if afraid of what it might uncover. Dust drifted in the still air—slow, unmoored. Samantha wore only an oversized shirt—just enough to conceal the diaper beneath. Every slight motion betrayed the faint crinkle of its padding. Jessica clipped the soft pink leash to the ring on Samantha’s collar. The pacifier, dangling from a delicate ribbon, swayed with each of Samantha’s nervous breaths. She stood motionless. Bare legs trembling. Her gaze lowered, fixed on nothing. She knew better than to meet Jessica’s eyes. Jessica said nothing. She simply lifted the familiar tote bag—Samantha’s old comfort, worn and overstuffed with plush memories. It was Jessica’s now. Samantha whimpered, almost inaudibly. Jessica’s fingers closed around the leash. A small tug. They moved slowly—past the couch, past the mirror— Samantha’s reflection flinched. Pale. Shrinking. A girl she barely recognized. The leash clicked softly—quiet, but final. And the door creaked open. Jessica smiled down, voice warm and steady. “Ready to go, baby?” The soft ding of the elevator chimed as they reached the hallway’s end. The doors parted. Inside stood Erica, long sleeves pushed halfway up her forearms, shoes neat, posture casual. She smiled the moment she saw them—saw Samantha—and stepped aside, letting them in. “I was just stopping by,” she said. Her voice was pleasant, but her eyes lingered—on the leash, on the pacifier, on Samantha. Jessica didn’t respond right away. Instead, she reached out without looking, fingers brushing the cuff of Erica’s sleeve. A quiet gesture. A test. Erica didn’t pull back. Jessica gave the faintest smile. Then: “Of course you were.” The doors closed. By the time they opened again at street level, Erica’s shoes were gone. So was the long-sleeved shirt. Now she stood in a thin tank top—bare shoulders, bare feet, exposed in a way that looked accidental but felt chosen. Jessica walked out first, without pause. Samantha hesitated—then the leash tugged gently. Jessica’s voice was even: “One step behind.” Not to Samantha. To Erica. Erica obeyed. They walked slowly through the street, a strange, unspoken procession. Each step felt choreographed from a dream no one wanted to admit having. They passed a shop window—glass like a mirror. Jessica glanced, then spoke, soft as fog. “Thumb.” Erica didn’t falter. Her thumb slid into her mouth with practiced ease. Jessica kept walking. The café was too normal. Too awake. Sunlight spilled across the patio. Distant laughter. Plates clinking. Jessica ordered with Samantha’s old credit card—her name still legible, her life erased. They sat outside. Samantha was tethered to Jessica’s bag like a well-behaved pet. Head down. Hands folded. Still. Jessica opened the tote, pulled out the familiar container. Unscrewed the lid. Powdered baby food. Vanilla-scented. Synthetic sweetness that made Samantha’s stomach turn. She poured it into a bowl, stirred slowly. “Here,” she said, removing the pacifier from Samantha’s mouth. Her tone was gentle. Almost kind. Samantha’s hands twitched upward instinctively— Smack. Jessica slapped them down. A single, surgical motion. “Try again. Mouth only.” Samantha hesitated. Then bent forward. Lips to plastic. She began to lap. Erica flinched. But said nothing. Jessica continued chatting idly, sipping from her cup like this were any other café morning. Like none of it was strange. Then, her voice shifted. Lower. Calm. “Show me.” Erica froze. Jessica nodded once, slow and deliberate. After a pause, Erica knelt. She reached for the pacifier still clipped to Samantha’s collar. Her fingers hesitated. Then she took it—placed it in her own mouth. Not submission. Something worse. Compliance. Jessica’s gaze remained level. She unfastened the ribbon from Samantha, let it dangle, then clipped it to the strap of Erica’s tank top instead. It looked absurd. Deliberate. Erica exhaled through her nose. Her cheeks flushed. Jessica reached down again and tugged the leash. Samantha rose, uncertain. Stiff. Jessica guided her onto her lap, piece by piece, like a puzzle only she could solve. From her coat pocket, she drew a second pacifier—sleek, untouched. She pressed it to her own lips. Sealed them around it. Samantha blinked. Jessica began to bounce her. Lightly. Rhythmically. Then: a sound. Small. Unbidden. A burp. Jessica froze. Her eyes sharpened. She leaned forward and removed the pacifier from her own lips—a thread of saliva connecting bulb to breath. Then she placed it into Samantha’s mouth. Click. Samantha’s eyes fluttered. Her body softened. Something in her folded tight and quiet. Erica stood up slowly. She brushed crumbs from her thighs. Her feet were bare against the concrete. Jessica didn’t look up. “That pacifier better still be there when I come check.” Erica paused. A breath caught. Then she nodded. And walked away. The leash tugged softly. Samantha began to crawl. The morning air was cool against her skin, but the heat trapped inside her diaper clung—thick and humid. The pacifier bobbed between her lips, its ribbon swaying gently with each movement. She could still taste Jessica’s saliva mixed with the vanilla-laced baby food from breakfast. Jessica walked a few steps ahead, heels clicking crisply on the concrete. One hand holding the leash like it was second nature. Each heel-click: a metronome. Each shuffle of Samantha’s limbs: a reply. A rhythm. They left the coffee shop behind, winding slowly through quieter streets—clean, expensive, private. The kind of neighborhood where eyes turned away politely. Where no one asked questions they didn’t want answers to. Samantha no longer looked up. She didn’t want to see their faces. She knew what her own would show. Jessica began to speak. Not loudly. Not unkindly. Just calmly. Like she was describing the weather. “I suppose you’ve wondered about them,” she said. “The ones at the party.” Samantha blinked. The sidewalk blurred at the edge of her vision. “They weren’t guests,” Jessica went on. “Not in the way you thought. Not really friends. Not strangers either.” She paused to let a car glide past, never once looking down. “They were clients.” Samantha’s breath hitched. The pacifier muffled the sound, but Jessica heard it. She smiled faintly, like reminiscing. “Before I was a lawyer, I found other uses for my skills. Structure. Control. Clarity. And I found people who were willing to pay for that.” They turned a corner. Samantha followed slowly on hands and knees. Her knees ached, but she didn’t stop. “A few of them had very specific requests,” Jessica said. “And I delivered something they couldn’t buy anywhere else.” Her hand flicked the leash. Gentle. Corrective. Samantha picked up the pace. “One of them wanted to see someone taught. Unmade. Step by step.” Her tone stayed even. Almost cheerful. “But not just anyone. Someone strong. Someone proud. Someone who thought she couldn’t be touched.” Jessica’s gaze flicked back—just for a moment. “Sound familiar?” Samantha’s heart thudded harder. Still, she crawled. “The way you looked at me in that office?” Jessica’s voice was still light, casual. “Like I was beneath you. You don’t remember saying I lacked focus?” Jessica didn’t wait for a reply. “I remember. You had your little nameplate. Your view. And I was just another intern, wasn’t I?” A breeze stirred the leash between them like a thread pulled taut. “And when the right client came looking... I knew exactly who I wanted.” Silence stretched. “That party?” Jessica’s voice dipped lower, colder. “That wasn’t for you. That was your final exam.” Samantha whimpered around the pacifier. “Some of it was real,” Jessica added, still walking. “Some of it... wasn’t. But I won’t tell you which.” Samantha flinched. “Maybe the man in the mask was hired. Maybe he was imagined. Maybe the girl you thought you saw crying was just a mirror.” Another tug. Another corner. “You’ll never know, baby. That’s part of the training.” Samantha didn’t speak. Couldn’t. But something in her chest coiled tighter. They approached the familiar building. No. Not hers. Her old office. Jessica’s now. Jessica stopped walking. Samantha halted at her feet, panting softly. Jessica crouched. Brushed a thumb against Samantha’s cheek—not gently, but intimately. Like someone inspecting property. “I didn’t break you,” she whispered. “They did. They trained me to.” A kiss on Samantha’s crown—soft, possessive. “And now, I get to keep you.” She stood. And just as she reached for the building door, she added, almost as an afterthought: “Erica? She’s the only client I still see. But she’s not just a client anymore.” Jessica’s smile curved slightly. Then: a pause. A tilt of the head. Almost tender. “You looked surprised when she knelt. When she took the pacifier.” A faint laugh. “That wasn’t training, baby. That was love.” Jessica stepped inside. The leash slackened behind her—just for a moment. Then it tugged again. Without a word, Samantha followed. The elevator ride was slow. Suffocating. Samantha sat obediently on the floor, legs spread just enough to keep her balance. The pacifier bobbed gently with each breath, a fragile metronome in the confined space. She didn’t try to remove it. She wasn’t sure she remembered how. The faint scent of her own diaper grew stronger, pressing against her senses—warm, sour, undeniable. She said nothing. She was nothing. Ding. The doors slid open to reveal a corridor of polished wood and frosted glass. The air was tinged with eucalyptus and quiet ambition—whispered meetings, starched collars, espresso shots pulled for the privileged few. Jessica walked ahead with steady confidence. Samantha followed on her knees, tethered and silent. In the private office—her old one—a pink mat had been laid neatly in the corner, aligned perfectly with the floorboards. A chair’s foot served as the tether post. Samantha’s fingers moved with absentminded ease, tying the leash to it like one might secure a pet outside a café. She settled quietly. The light sparkled on the windows, reminiscent of the silver stars she once drew in kindergarten—distant and unreachable. Behind her, voices murmured. Familiar names. Legal jargon. Calculated arguments. Strategies once hers. She remembered them all. They no longer belonged to her. The door creaked open. Samantha turned her head slowly. Management was arriving. “Good morning,” said the Managing Partner, setting a binder on the table with deliberate calm. “Shall we begin?” The others nodded. A formal hush settled over the room. “So, Simon,” someone asked casually, flipping to a tabbed page, “who did you pick in the end?” Simon smiled—a slow, knowing smile. “Samantha.” Her eyes widened. That name—her name—hung in the air. But the room didn’t turn to her. No one acknowledged her existence. Instead, Jessica—immaculate, radiant, flawless—nodded with polished grace. “Thank you,” she said smoothly. “I’m honored.” Polite applause followed. Measured. Congratulatory. Samantha didn’t move. She couldn’t. The leash tugged taut against her collar, anchoring her still. The applause stung more than any slap. It had only been a weekend. Just a weekend. And already, she was gone. Her body betrayed her again—a quiet release. Warmth spread beneath her, undeniable and intimate. The smell rose slowly—less sharp now. She was used to it. In that polished, professional room, surrounded by voices that once belonged to her, she felt less like a woman. Less like a person. Not quite a baby. Not quite a pet. She was furniture. An object to be placed and forgotten. No one looked at her. Not even Jessica.

Elizabeth's Behavioral Modifications (Rewrite) Edited and Updated 11-18 Chapters 1-4 https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/326758372-elizabeths-behavioral-modification Plea For Help Greetings, I am Dr. Anna Christenson; I want to introduce myself and my finding on you to the Board and my Peers regarding the revolutionary behavioral modification program my team, and I have developed for unruly Individuals who tend to misbehave. We begin with our most recent case study. The patient was presented to us by her so loving husband, who contacted us on her behalf regarding her poor behavior. He described her behavior as an out-of-control teenager with the mouth of a sailor. I explained to Ryan that our behavioral Program is considered experimental at best as we are still collecting long-term data, and we couldn't charge him for services. Ryan understood these conditions and asked if we could set an appointment to discuss this further. I was initially hesitant, but something in his voice sounded desperate. I agreed and got his contact information for our intake coordinator to contact him with the pre-physiological questionnaire. Good Morning; I see everyone has gotten their coffee and treats. Let's discuss our caseloads and possibly new candidates. Let's start with a quick update on patients; Alisson's responded after looking at her notes. Adma is doing great with his continued hormone the virtual environment therapy sessions; Greg and Sarah have been transitioned to the daycare program while their caregiver is at work with private one-on-one sessions with you, Dr. Christenson. Melissa, how are you coming along with the maintenance dosages for behavior control? Making excellent progress, Dr. Christenson. I'll have a new formula ready for clinical trials by next week, which should prove more robust and resilient. Ok, on to new business. In your folders, I present you with a 26-year-old female who shows signs of verbal abuse towards others while acting immaturely. Her husband has hired four life coaches to date. The first three quit, and the other was put into the hospital. The patient threw a vase at her. Her husband also says she has a mouth of a sailor. Please Let me hear your opinions. Can we help this young lady learn to act appropriately? Dr. Greg smirks; it sounds like she needs a good spanking and a bar of soap in her mouth for that kind of language; nurse Heart says, we all know you'd enjoy that way too much, Doctor, but I think she will be a good fit for phase three trials. After a few more comments, everyone agreed they had their next candidate, willing or unwilling. Alison, will you contact Ryan and set up an appointment for the first available in my calendar? Yes, Doctor. I'll make the call and get everything in motion for her. Good Moring, is this Ryan? Dr. Christenson asked to call you to make arrangements for you and Elizabeth to come into our office for an intake appointment this coming Monday at 7 am if that could work for you. Please, pack Elizabeth a bag of clothes for her trip home. We'll have you done here in about 2 hours. We are sorry to admit that you must wait about an hour Before meeting the Doctor. This is entirely for Elizabeth's benefit, though. Ryan and Elizabeth arrived at the clinic with the ruse of them participating in marriage counseling. Ryan and Elizabeth buzzed into the waiting room, where the receptionist had already set out some breakfast pastries and drinks. Elizabeth jumped at the opportunity for free food and proceeded to have several cups of expensive coffee and pastries. Ryan just sipped a cup of coffee while reading an article on his phone. Elizabeth whined to Ryan that she forgot to charge her phone and was about to die and he should let her use his work phone to play games on. After an hour of waiting, Elizabeth was bored, and her whining turned into insults and profanity about Ryan being inconsiderate for not letting her have a new phone. Elizabeth demanded that the receptionist get off her lazy ass and get the Shrink so they could get this over with. The receptionist typed into her computer, "The Patient is ready. "Exactly 5 minutes later, Heart walks into the waiting area and Says," Good Morning; you must be Elizabeth and Ryan; please follow me to the therapy room. Nurse heart pulls out her access card and passes it in front of the card reader, unlocking the door to a hallway; as she escorts the couple down the hallway to a beautifully decorated office; The Doctor will be with you in a moment. I'll be back a bit when it's time for her physical exam. A moment later, A knock on the door; opens with a tall, slender woman entering who is wearing a lab coat. Good Morning you must be Ryan. It's a pleasure to meet you in person finally. I'm Dr. Anna Christensen, Head Psychologist, and you must be Elizabeth Ryan has told me so much about you and how much he loves and cares for you. Now Elizabeth and Ryan, what brings you into couples therapy? Elizabeth goes first, proclaiming her worthless husband will not provide for her and is neglecting her needs, thinking he should do more to help out at home once he gets home from work. After Elizabeth finished berating Ryan, I messaged The Nurse to come to get Elizabeth for her Physical so that Ryan and I could speak privately. A moment later, a knock on my door Nurse Heart entered the room with a clipboard telling Elizabeth it was her turn to take her vitals. After Elizabeth leaves the room, I ask Ryan what the real story is; Ryan begins with I am sorry for my wife's horrid behavior. As you can see, she has no respect for anyone and believes the world revolves around her. Elizabeth refused to work at home or find a paying job out in the town; as I told you on the phone, Elizabeth injured the last life coach I hired. She feels work is beneath her, so I am forced to come home, cook dinner, and do the housework before I get any free time. It is like living with a helpless child; I have to tell her to shower half the time because she smells horrible and is still wearing the same clothes from 3 days ago. I'm sorry, Doctor, for ranting like this, but I am desperate. Can you help us? I am so sorry, Ryan, that you have endured this, and why haven't you left Elizabeth? You have only been married for five short years. Ryan responds, stating he still deeply loves his wife and believes she can do better with some counseling. Ryan, this Program is an intensive program. We start with a five days inpatient program that will use medication and hypnosis to curve the destructive behaviors. At first, there might not be many new changes, but gradually over time, she will change and have those more desirable and appropriate behaviors. Now I do have to warn you that we have had some behavioral regression in this Program. The reversal does have the advantage that the patients are more docile and cooperative, and there have been cases of even infantile behaviors. Rayan Infantile behaviors! Like what? Well, Ryan, in all our cases, all the patients have regressed to the state of a small child. This state can last for as little as a few weeks while we work through her childhood traumas, so please don't be surprised if she has a few accidents. You did say you were taking care of a bratty child. How about a polite child? Ryan sat there listening to every detail, almost unsure how to respond. A moment later, Ryan calmly says, ok, but just one question, will I be washing her bedding more than the 2 or 3 times a week she is peeing in her bed? No, Ryan, we'll send her home with some appropriate nighttime attire for that issue. Ok, Ryan says what do I need to do to make this all happen? Nothing at all, Dr. Christensen says it began. My nurse or I will call to keep you updated on her progress this week, and you will take her home Friday on your way home from work. The Exam Meanwhile, Nurse Heart was getting Elizabeth's height and weight back in the clinic. While Elizabeth was taking her blood pressure, she began nervously shifting in her seat, asking the Nurse to hurry up because she needed to use the bathroom. Nurse Heart told her she would be done sooner if she could sit still to get an accurate reading. Elizabeth was dam near dancing in her seat when the Nurse took her blood pressure cuff off and then proceeded to have her put the thermometer in her mouth. Elizabeth was almost begging to be finished because she had to pee so badly. All done, the Nurse proclaimed. Elizabeth ran down the hall, trying to remember the direction that had come to find her way back to the bathroom. The nurse Heart followed, telling her they needed a urine sample. Still, it was too late as Elizabeth rounded the corner finding the bathroom just as she began losing control busting into the bathroom, ripped off her tight jeans, jerked her panties down in one motion, and sat on the toilet. While sitting in the bathroom, Elizabeth surveys her wet clothes to see how wet they are and convinces herself they'll be okay till she gets home in an hour. A moment later, there was a knock on the bathroom door. Nurse Heart asked Elizabeth are you alright? Is there anything you need? A few moments later, Elizabeth emerges from the bathroom and greets by the waiting Nurse Heart; Elizabeth, all done? May we finish with our tests before returning you to your husband? Elizabeth nods and" says yes, Nurse." Now let's get you down to the exam room so one of our fine resident doctors can do a quick physical on you to make sure you qualify for this Program. Elizabeth questions the Nurse what about Ryan? Oh, don't worry, Honey; Nurse Megan is taking excellent care of Ryan as he is having the same test down and some blood tests to check his testosterone levels, just in case. Hello, you must be Elizabeth; I'm Dr. Miller. I am here to give you a quick physical. Please take a seat at the exam table. The Doctor quickly checks her heart, asking her all the routine questions, asking when her last period was and if she has had recent issues with her bladder. Elizabeth answered that she had just finished her period and had no bladder issues since she was a teen. Dr. Milles asked her if he could do a quick OB exam. Elizabeth, now panicking, asked the Doctor if this was necessary. It's just marriage counseling. Dr miller responded yes; it is essential because there might be the need for medication to help her feel happier if the Dr orders it. We want to make sure there will be no unforeseen issues. Reluctantly Elizabeth lies back on the exam table, allowing the Doctor to remove her black sweatpants, revealing her white-soaked panties. Excuse me, Nurse, can you make a notation in her chart that our little patient has had an incontinence episode so that Dr. Christensen is aware of her minor issues? Elizabeth, did you have an accident? You just told me you don't have any bladder control issues. Did you lie to me? Trying to avoid making eye contact, Elizabeth said, "no, Dr, I'm a big girl only children pee their pants." You are correct, Elizabeth. Only children who can't control themselves wet their panties, the Doctor responds condescendingly. Nurse, can you get her some dry clothes and appropriate panties for her to wear, please? Yes, Dr, please excuse me. I'll be right back, Elizabeth; one last question has you got this year's flu shot? Elizabeth Answers no, Doctor, I have been too busy to make the time. Okay, thank you, Elizabeth. Would it be okay if I gave you your flu shot? You aren't scared of needles, are you? No, I'm not afraid I'm a big girl, and yes, you can give me whatever shots I need so that we get this dam appointment over soon. Okay, I understand, but language like that is inappropriate and will not be tolerated here, especially with Dr. Christensen. He disapproves of little girls using foul language like this. OH, I'm glad you're back, Nurse. I explained to our little patient that her potty mouth was not appreciated and not allowed in our offices. A moment later, Nurse Hearth returns with what appears to be a pair of sweatpants and a clean pair of panties for Elizabeth to wear, handing them to Dr. Miller while she walks over to the tall glass cabinet and retrieves three vials. Elizabeth is already lying on the exam table, and she instructed her to lift her legs up and then lift her butt so Dr. Miller can slide her pants on so they can see Ryan. Elizabeth hardly noticed as she was paying close attention to the Nurse's Heart, filling three syringes with clear liquids. Dr. Miller announces there all done. Elizabeth's attention snaps back to Dr mill just as he fishes, pulling up the sweatpants and what feels like some very bulky granny panties, not her bikini-cut panties. Elizabeth is confused as she begins to reach down her pant to feel her underwear just as the Nurse comes over to the exam table with the syringes in hand. Okay, Elizabeth, I have three-shot for you as Dr. Miller has requested, and you also agreed to know with these three shots, some of our patients might get a little sleepy, but it's okay and will pass quickly. Okay, here is the flu shot, your B12 shot, and lastly, some Ativan to help you calm down and help you act your appropriate age. Elizabeth begins to tense up as the user gives her shots, thinking how much she hates needles. As Elizabeth becomes very relaxed and begins nodding off, Nurse Heart steps out of the exam room and promptly returns with a wheelchair. The Nurse and the Doctor transfer her to the waiting wheelchair securing her with a butterfly harness. The Nurse comments to the Doctor, "I hope she can stay dry till Doctor Christensen is all ready for her" Therapy Hello, Doctor Miller. Is our little patient ready for her therapy session? Yes, Doctor, she is already wearing a pair of training pants because she already peed all over our guest bathroom earlier. Nurse Heart, can you please assist Doctor Miller with setting up treatment room 3 and go ahead and top off the diaper cart with some extra supplies for our little patient? Doctor Miller started her IV, so she is well hydrated. Nurse Heart, can you get her wired to EEG, EKG, and bladder pressure sensor? Nurse Heart, you perform a "DRE" Digital Rectal Exam on her, please? Doctor, It feels like she is slightly impacted. Would up like me to insert a suppository or give a micro enema now or wait, Dr. Christensen? No, we can work on that in our therapy session today. Okay, Doctor Karen, send her in! Start the dosing of Lysergic acid diethylamide -25 very light we want her to be open to new suggestions from the hypnosis script and let the drip go for 30 or 40 mins for that to take full effect. Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Honey, can you hear me? Yes. And do you know where you're at today? Yes, and where is that? At School. What are you doing at school today? Swinging. Are your panties still dry? Yes, teacher. Thank you, Elizabeth. Nurse Heart, can you note on her chart that she regresses to about a 5-year-old level with our initial induction? Okay, let's begin again, a little light up and the IVs. We want her to be more aware and responsive. Elizabeth, can you hear me? It's your teacher Mrs. Christensen. Yes, teacher, Elizabeth responds. Are you being a good Girl today? Yes, teacher, I am a good girl... That's right; you are a good girl! Do good girls say bad words? No teacher. That's right, Elizabeth, a good girl, uses nice words. What happens if you use naughty words? Elizabeth responds by shaking her head NO. Elizabeth... Bad girls who use naughty words get spanked, and Bad Girls who miss behaving are sent to the corner for timeout... Do you like time out? NO Elizabeth responds Nurse Heart, go ahead and put the VR Headset on her and let's start the program one day 1, please. And we'll let her sleep while we eat our lunch here and let nature take its course, which shouldn't be much longer with all the high-fiber food she ate this morning. As everyone was finishing their lunch, they heard the familiar gurgling sound coming from Elizabeth's direction then the smell filled the room. Doctors, why must we use cloth training pants on the patients if we intend for them to make messes in their panties? Because Nurse Heart is part of the reinforcement program, they are not big girls/boys; only toddlers and babies mess and wet their panties. Okay, back to work, guys; I'll get the diaper cart while you Doctors do your doctor thing for her. Okay, Christensen was ready. I've stopped her IV, and there she goes peeing her already poopie patties like the baby she is. Doctor Christensen removes her headphone and stops the music. He calls Elizabeth, Elizabeth; what did I say about being a good girl at recess? Elizabeth shakes her head and says I was good, I promise. Elizabeth, did you have an accident again? No, teacher, I didn't have another accident. I'm a big girl! I see. Let me check your pants then and see if my nose is lying. You should be ashamed of yourself, and you said you're a big girl. Do big girls wet and mess in their big girl panties? No teacher. Elizabeth, can you tell me who pees and poops their panties? Little girls? Wet and mess up their panties. And what do little girls like you wear, Elizabeth? Diapers, "Elizabeth responds," Do little girls get to wear pretty panties? No teacher. Little Girls wear diapers. Okay, Honey, let's take you to the Nurses office so she can clean you up. Alright, Nurse Heart, your turn. Let's get her cleaned up and into something more appropriate. Okay, Doctor, give me one minute to finish up her notes. Did you ask her daddy if he wanted cloth diapers or disposables for her? We need to know by Wednesday so that I can submit the requisition order to the diaper delivery service with her measurements. for her diapers, rubber panties, and onesies. Okay, back to the business at hand. Elizabeth, still under the effects of the chemical cocktail Hurse Heart, "I thought you were a big girl; I was mistaken. You are just a little girl, aren't you? Elizabeth," making a pouty face, Nurse Heart says firmly, you are a preschooler; only preschooler make wet and mess their pretty panties as you did. That's not being a good girl. Now is it Elizabeth? It's okay, baby. The Nurse responds, let's get you cleaned up. There you go, all cleaned up; let's get you into these pretty diapers for the rest of the day. I know, Honey, these aren't your panties. You soiled your backup panties, so all we have is emergency diapers for you till your daddy picks you up with clean clothes. It's okay; I'll tell you, daddy, it was an accident. Why don't you lie here in my office and take a nap till it is time for your daddy to get you? Okay, Doctor, your turn. Okay, let's take her down to level 2. Do 2 hours of subliminal messages following up with 1 hour of post-hypnotic trigger words. The Alarm will sound if she wets her diaper and will record how much pressure is in her bladder so we can work on those levels later this week. The Nurse Heart, please let Megan on the Teen floor know that we have a new tween for her coming up at the end of the day. A short time later, an alarm begins to sound from the therapy room as Nurse Heart pushes around a cart of supplies filling the cabinet before she goes home for the evening. Nurse Heart coos to Elizabeth while checking her IV to see if it is empty yet, who is still wearing the headphones, that she is such a good girl and you deserve a special reward for being a good girl. Nurse Heart walks over to a metal two-door cabinet and gathers the supplies needed to change Elizabeth's diaper and a new in-the-box magic wand vibrator. She begins by removing her headphone so Elizabeth can see her Nurse. Nurse Heart unpins her wet diaper and pulls the front down, exposing her cleanly shaven Vulva. Only good little girls who use their diapers get this reward. Nurse Hart applies the now pulsating vibrator to her Vulva and gently moves it in a circular motion as she gradually increases the power and speed of the vibrator until Elizabeth's Heart is pounding and she is breathing quite heavily. As Elizabeth's breathing slows and her body relaxes, Nurse Heart Turns off the vibrator, places it back into the box, and changes Elizabeth into a clean diaper. The Nurse places the headphone back on Elizabeth's head and allows her to nap until Megan calls down from the teen floor, saying her room is ready for her. A short time later, Elizabeth is wheeled up to the 3rd floor to a nearly empty secure ward that is brightly colored like a juvenile teenager's room. Nurse heart presses the call button when a heavy-set brunette woman wearing a lab coat approaches the door and buzzes her in. Hey Alison (Nurse Heart), how is our little Princess doing tonight? She had a fantastic first day, with about 8 hours of therapy so she might act a little bratty we're focusing on the usual week one phrase, "Elizabeth is a good girl," "Elizabeth is a bad girl," and if you need to put her in her place tell her is an "Elizabeth is being a brat," be warned she'll probably wet and mess with this phrase and embarrass the hell out of her with any luck. She is in a daytime diaper, but it's up to you now if you want to treat her as you did Sarah. With training pants till she loses her potty privileges, then heavy diapers. Go ahead and do the usual nighttime diaper for bed tonight. She is on diuretics and laxatives. Here is her medication box for dinner and bedtime. Her meds are to be crushed and served in a baby bottle or sippy cup with either juice or milk; Her med dosing is on the high si, so that it might help her in the morning with behavioral issues. We'll see. If she misbehaves, Doc said level one punishment, so Corner time and spanking if she pushes the matter. Typical age-appropriate bedtime pajamas for her and whatever you see fit for the rest of the night for clothing for her The Teen Floor Gradually Elizabeth is awoken by the sound of voices or a TV. She groggily gets out of bed to tell Ryan to turn the fucking TV down so she can sleep off her hangover. As she walks out of her room and yells and swears to turn the TV down, she stops mid-sentence as everyone looks and starts at her with their mouths wide open in shock. A Heavyset Woman wearing a white nurse's uniform gets up from a rocking chair and says it's okay. Let me get you straightened out. Jimmy, Why don't you let someone else have a turn at Mario? Hello, Elizabeth. I am Nurse Megan, and you are on the Adolescent floor for the night. Wheres Ryan? Ryan is probably at home after a long workday relaxing, and you are here at the clinic still. But I was just at the clinic for marriage counseling. I know, honey, But the doctor said your behavior is way out of control, and you need some more therapy to help you and Ryan get along better. Now sobbing and unsure of what to do next, Elizabeth is shocked when she hears Nurse Megan Say," Elizabeth is a good girl" and should come with her to the bathroom to get her wet panties changed for the evening. Elizabeth nods and responds, Yes, Nurse and follows Megan down the hall past several other bedrooms to a communal bathroom. Let's get you up on the changing table so we can clean you up now. Nurse Megan lifts Elizabeth's legs in motion, pulling down her wet sweatpants and exposing her soaked diaper. Elizabeth is almost in a daze and suddenly realizes she is not wearing panties. Still, she is wearing a diaper, not the panties that she was wearing this morning, or even the fucking panties she had to wear after the dam nurse didn't let her go to the bathroom in time, causing her to pee herself. What the hell? Why am I wearing a Fucking diaper? Elizabeth expresses. Excuse me, young lady, Elizabeth, that is being a bad girl; that is not how you speak to a caregiver, now is it? Nurse Megen lifted her legs even higher, exposing her butt to the air in one motion slapping it? Use this as your only warning if you use foul language here, you will be spanked with my paddle. Do I make myself clear young lady? Or do you need a handprint on that pretty butt of yours? NO! Nurse Megan! I'll be good. Now let's find you some age-appropriate panties. Let's see; I have little girl's diapers and preschool panties, Elizabeth cries, begging Megan for adult panties, not those ugly baby ones, and trying to convince Nurse Megan that she is a big girl and wears panties. Megan responded by saying according to what the nurses have said, there were several accidents today, including peeing all over our lovely guest bathroom and them messing in both of your big girl training panties during your therapy today; maybe I should keep you in a diaper like a little girl. Elizabeth was half sobbing and crying, begging not to wear diapers like a baby. Megan says big girls wear pretty panties, not little girls who poop in their panties. Elisabeth, what do little girls wear who wet their panties? Diapers Nurse Megan. And if I let you try wearing big girl panties, that's a big IF, and if you wet those panties tonight, does that mean you are a little girl? NO! I am a big girl. I don't pee my panties on purpose. Okay, Nurse Megan responds I'll give you a chance tonight to wear big girl panties till bedtime, but at bedtime, you will wear a diaper like the other kids here. Elizabeth Nods her head in understanding. If you argue at bedtime, I'll have to introduce my spanking paddle to your bare butt. Now young lady, about the mouth of yours, you used a bad word when you came out in the day room. I will give you A choice. Now you walk back out there and say you are sorry for saying bad words, or you can choose to take a time out in the time-out chair over by my desk, and if you continue to use bad words, I will spank that bottom of yours. Not what is your decision will you go? Say you're sorry for talking rudely or take a time-out. Looking confused and not remembering using any bad words, she told Megan she would be nice and say sorry. Elizabeth shuffled her feet back to the day room where the others were the kids playing the Mario cart and said in an obnoxious tone; I am sorry for being inappropriate. Megan flops on a couch by herself, pouting and watching the others play the stupid game. Elizabeth is more aware of her surroundings and notices that everyone in this room is an adult but acts like a kid. She also noticed a horrific smell from the man playing the game on the couch. At about the same time, Nurse Megan approaches, pushing a metal cart and asking who is ready for snacks. Everyone jumps up and grabs a cup with a straw or what looks like a giant sippy cup Megan hand Elizabeth a cut with a straw and a few containers of animal cookies and goldfish crackers. When the man so smelled walked up to get his snack Megan announced, Hold it right there, mister, I think we need to change your poopy butt first. Elizabeth ripped open her snack because she hadn't had anything since breakfast, and she was starving; throwing her trash on the couch next to her, and then proceeded to suck down her cup of apple juice. A moment later, a young girl looking about Elizabeth's age came bouncing in from another part of the room, still sucking what looked like a giant sippy cup. Hi, I'm Sofia. What's your name? Elizabeth responds, saying hi, to Sofia. I'm Elizabeth. Say you want to go and help me do a puzzle till they let us have a turn playing Mario. The boys always hog the Nintendo after school. Elizabeth having nothing better to do, says sure, gets up, leaves her trash on the sofa, and goes into another part of the room as Sophia takes her trash and now empty sippy cup to the bins over by Nurse Megan's desk. A short time later, the boys come running back into the room, crashing back on the couch, yelling it's my turn now, Sophia, oh that's Jimmy, and he's a big poopy pants. Suddenly Sophia looked up behind Elizabeth and said hi, Nurse Megan; I was making a new friend. Well, that's nice of you, Sophia, but Elizabeth left her trash on the sofa and needs to go pick it up and be a good girl. Now Elizabeth! Please clean up your mess and do like the other kids did and put your trash in the garbage and your sippy in the dirty dish bin. Elizabeth lets out a grown, rolling her eyes, gets up from the puzzle, pushes past another kid, and throws her cup and trash in the garbage in front of Nurse Megan. No, Elizabeth, you didn't listen, did you? I said the cup goes in the bin with the dirty dishes, and the trash goes in the garbage can. Now fix it, or I'll send you to the time-out corner. Elizabeth's mouth lights up without thinking again, "What the Hell? I am the adult here. Why are you treating me like a child?" you have no right to tell me what to do. Now pissed off! She grabbed the cup from the trash, threw it in the dish bin with a loud crash, and walked by Nurse Megan, muttering that she was bitch under her breath. Megan gasps well, "I guess time-out will not work for a mouth like that now, will it." Megan reaches over at lightning speed and proceeds to grab Elizabeth by the ear and a wooden object from the top of her desk, all while dragging Elizabeth down the hall, screaming and swearing toward her room. Once in her room, Megan told her to stand in the corner while getting ready for her spanking. A moment later, Nurse Megan ordered Elizabeth to come and lay across her lap. Now I am going to spank you for being a bad little girl. Pulling down her sweatpants and training panties, exposing her bare butt while keeping her panties in place, I am going to give you ten swats for using such naughty words, young lady. Elizabeth begins kicking and screaming NO, NO, you can't spank me. I'm too old to be spanked. Oh, I see, and what happens to little girls who use bad words? Elizabeth is still struggling. Elizabeth responds that bad girls get spankings. And is Elizabeth being good right now? No, Nurse Megan. Hold still while you get this spanking; smacks her butt with the paddle and says one out loud Elizabeth screams in pain with Megan, conveying now count 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. Okay, now that's over; let's change your panties; you are wet. Look like your sweats are still dry here. Let's put these on now. Please be a good girl tonight, so I don't need to spank you again. Megan begins to walk back to the day room. She notices her panties are thicker than she had a moment ago. Nurse Megan the panties feel weird. Those panties are our preschooler training panties. Let's see if you can keep those dry for the rest of the evening. If you have an accident, they should be okay and not leak. Nurse Megan tells Elizabeth to be a good girl and find Sophia so they can play Mario together and play Legos until cleanup. Elizabeth walked over to the couch and took the controller from the boy's. This game is stupid, and I could be home watching reality TV shows. Hey Sophia, can we watch TV instead of playing these silly games? No, we can't watch real TV here. We only get to watch movies here. A little while later, Nurse Megan came around again, passing big cups of juice this time as if I wanted apple juice or grape juice; I picked an apple juice. Nurse Megan said she didn't have any clean straw cups left for the night, so everyone got sippy cups and no complaining, warning us it was almost cleanup time. Nurse Megan disappeared again, probably going to bug the boys; thank God I was trying to win this race until Megan yelled clean up time. After cleaning up, everyone must go potty and wash their hands before dinner. I didn't want to stop. I was having fun for once; Nurse Megan walked over to Sophia and asked her if she was dry. While dodging her head around, Sophia was trying to see the TV, so she didn't crash in the race. Nurse Megan responds no; you're wet; you need to sit on the potty, change your pull-up, and take Elizabeth with you. She probably needs to go potty anyways. Elisabeth proudly says no, I am a big girl, and I'm still dry, unlike baby pee pee pants over here. Nurse Megan Says, "Elisabeth, you're being a brat, that was means," Sofia groans. It's okay, as she crashed her car in the game with Megan turning the TV off. Let's go potty, Elizabeth, before we get into trouble, as you did earlier today. As Elisabeth and Sophia walked towards the bathroom, Elizabeth suddenly needed potty because she had to pee and make poopies and began yelling she needed to go potty; Elizabeth tried running but just froze as she wet and messed in her preschool training pants. Nurse Megan comes over to Elizabeth, asking if Elizabeth is still a big girl and if she is acting like a little girl. Elizabeth, now standing with a yellow and brown puddle crying meekly, said I'm a little girl. Okay, let's get you changed; Sophia flies by, running to the potty and sitting on the potty. Moments later, Sophia, when you are done on the potty, you may pick out any pair of preschool training pants you would like to wear. Would you also please get a pair for Elizabeth while I find her some clean clothes? Nurse Megan says Sophia comes and picks out two pairs of princess-printed training pants and transparent rubber panties for them, about the same as Nurse Megan, returns from the lines cart one last pair of preschool pants and onesie for the evening. Elizabeth was less than thrilled by the attire. Once all dressed, Nurse Megan helped her off the changing table. Sophia took Elizabeth by the hand back to the day room to help set the table as instructed by Nurse Megan. A woman wearing a kitchen apron set out dinner trays and filled our sippy cups with more juice. Everyone was excited to see we were having chicken nuggets and pizza bites for dinner with steamed vegetables and rice. Nurse Megan said if everyone eats all our dinner, we could watch a movie and have popcorn before bed tonight. We were allowed seconds on the nuggets until they were all gone and all the juices we wanted to drink. After everyone had been excused from the table and cleared their plates to the dirty dish bin, we ran to the couches. We waited for Nurse Megan put a movie on. Okay, Sophia, you get to pick a movie while I take Elizabeth to her room to help her get her Pajamas on before the movie starts. Nurse Melisa and I walk back to my bedroom. Now Elizabeth is a good girl. Let's get you ready for bed so you can watch the movie. She then proceeded to undress and change my wet training pants into a thick cloth nighttime diaper and a pair of onesie-style pajamas that zippered in the back with a loud-click sound. After she finished, she told me I was a good girl and told me to tell Sophia it was her turn and to wait on the couch till the movie started. After everyone was in their nighttime diapers and pajamas, Nurse Megan put in the movie Sofia had selected: The "Little Mermaid." I didn't complain about the movie. It was okay, and Sophia seemed to be enjoying it. Nurse Megan joined us on the couches, sitting with us girls, bringing over a bowl of popcorn that we all devoured and sippy cups for the boys and me. As the movie continued, Sophia whispered something to Nurse Megan. Sophia, "Are you ready for your baba?" Nurse Megan asks. Sophia nodded yes. Sophia scooches into nurse Megan's lap. As Nurse Megan reaches over to the tray, picks up a full bottle of milk, and then placing into Sophia's waiting mouth, letting her snuggle until her bottle was all gone. As the movie ended, two boys and I were sound asleep, and Sofia was fighting to stay awake till the movie was finished. Nurse Megan told us it was time for all of us to go to bed, and she would be in to give us night time loves and to tuck us in momentarily; then we needed to be quiet while she did her paperwork and had coffee with Nurse Kathy when she came on shift. The Night Shift How did your evening go with the children tonight, Megan, " it was ok, Kathy, fairly routine we got a new one. She is still in the adult brat stage so she might be an issue come morning time. I had to lite her butt up once tonight. She seemed to have made new friends with baby Sofia. Oh, that reminds me, we need to adjust Sophia's bedtime program to level 3 tonight and that she has a pacifier tonight. How did the boys do tonight? Let's see, Jimmy and Stevie are on week one of level 3. They just had their hormone shots yesterday, so they are a little whiney; watch out for Stevie. He has been tugging at his cage, and it looked red when I changed him tonight. I'll have Dr. Milling check it during morning rounds to ensure it is not too tight. Adam did great tonight. He played with the boys most of the evening. He did ask if his mama would come to visit, but I think she had errands to run after she left for work, so she'll probably check in on him in the morning while he is down at the daycare. Adam stays at level 3 for another week until he starts sucking his thumb more often. At least there were no new notes in his chart about adjusting his program tonight. All their Bottles and headphones are on the cart, along with four new pacifiers. Ok, Great, thank you, Megan; kiss your princess on the head for me when you get home. Kathy poured herself a warm cup of coffee and set off on her rounds, taking care of the boys first with a quick diaper change and placing each of their headphones on their heads for some soft, soothing music for the evening. Jimmy and Stevie were sound asleep, both sucking their thumbs, and Kathy replaced the thumbs for milk bottles with their nighttime medications. On the other hand, Stevie was sucking on the corner of his blanket. Kathy made quick work of him, stopping ever so briefly to appreciate how baby-smooth his pubic region was. On to the girl's room, slipping into Sophia's room and slipping the bottle in her waiting mouth, and placing her headphone on was a piece of cake. Kathy slips into Elizabeth's room to find her sleeping facing the wall and glides her hand down to the hidden crotch zipper; she unzips the sleeper enough to slide her hand in to feel her warm diaper. She is not too wet and will be fine for a little bit. Her favorite part of the job was the week one babies, who are still adjusting. Not sure if Elizabeth would be willing to take her bottle yet, Kathy decided some snuggle time was to ensure she drank all her bottle with the nighttime medication in it; Kathy Slips into her bed and under the warm heavy blankets, allowing Elizabeth to roll over and snuggle her naturally. Kathy gently guided Elizabeth's head to rest on her chest, allowing Kathy to feed her the bottle and rub her back simultaneously. With a bit of rubbing of her lips, her mouth opens, and she begins to suck the bottle slowly, but she is doing well. Kathy eventually stops snuggling, whispering in her ear that she is a very good girl, and slips a pacifier into her mouth before adjusting her headphones for the night. Kathy does the same with the rest of the children swapping their bottles with pacifiers and whispering to each one in their ears what good boys and girls they are. Returning to her desk, Kathy types on the keyboard and, with a mouse click, turn on soothing music for each child. Making a mental note to probably change Elizabeth in an hour once the laxatives work their way threw her. Floating on Clouds Elizabeth walks back to her bedroom with everyone else. She is not sure what to think of her situation. If she argues or uses terrible words, Nurse Melisa will spank her again, but if she acts like everyone else, it is not so bad except for the wetting my panties thing. I had never peed my panties like this before, except for the occasional accident. Nurse Melissa shouts. "Ok, kids, lights out. I'll be around a bit to tuck you all in and give you bedtime, loves." A few minutes later, Nurse Malisa comes in, pulls up a thick heavy comforter, and tucks me in, kissing my forehead, telling me to be a good girl and sweet dreams, princess. Elizabeth, oh Elizabeth, where are you, silly? I hear a familiar voice calling, but I don't see who calls me by name. All I see are other kids playing at a park. All I desire is to play; then I hear the voice again saying good girls get to play with their friends. As I run off to the swingset, my tummy starts to hurt, so I stop running; then I hear the voice again say, Good Girls, make poopies in their diapers; play with your friends. So I run off to play on the swing set. I swing for what feels like forever, going higher and higher until I feel like flying through the clouds. I fly through clouds with a blue waterfall flowing from cloud to cloud. I hear a woman yell snack time, so I fly back to the park, where a bright blanket is lying on the soft green grass. I join several other exciting children for snack time. As I am eating a snack, I hear Honey, you must be thirsty; let's get you a nice bottle of juice to drink. The woman tells me, good girls, drink their bottle till it's all gone, she reaches into a bag, pulls out my bottle of juice, guides the nipple into my mouth, and gently lays me back till my head is resting in her lap as I lay there slowly sucking and enjoying the sun shining down on my body, feeling all warm and tingly. I hear the voice again say it's time to get you changed. I lay there sucking my baba while she unsnaps my Jumper and unpins my wet, messy diaper. "I should give you a big reward for being such a good girl," The woman says as she pours lotion into her hand and slowly works it into my diaper area. I like this a lot. I spread my legs wide and let the woman's fingers work. A few moments later, I felt pulses of electrical shocks racing through me as the woman announced she was all done, closed up my diaper and rubber panties, and pulled her Jumper; ok, you can play some more till nap time. Rounds Nurse Kathy checks her watch, lays down her book that she has been reading out of boredom, and glances over at her security monitors, checking on all of her babies and making sure everyone is sound asleep for the night; their movie-time bottles should ensure that they all stay asleep for the evening. She puts down the terribly written romance novel one of the other nurses left for her to read. Getting up and stepping into her supply room, she emerges with her stocked diaper-changing cart and heads down the hallway with the cart in tow. Starting with her poopy boys, expertly, she unlocks and unzips the legs of each sleeper and removes their soiled diapers. Then uses her pocket lite and inspects each chastity cage. Making sure there was no poop anywhere on the cage, she removed their cages and put clean ones on them. When she was cleaning Jimmy's cage, she noticed how small he was now; she remembered when he first arrived, Jimmy was above average size, but now he was no bigger than 3 inches. Oh, Jimmy, you have been such a good boy, I hear. It would be best if you were rewarded. Kathy reached into her cart, pulled out a bin with Jimmy's name on it, and retrieved a rectal massager slipping a condom over it and slipping into his now lubed bottom. she then proceeded to do quick work of bringing jimmy to an orgasm and obtain semen sample for the lab. In contrast, jimmy lay there sucking on his pacifier. She gives him his reward as she brings him to another orgasm, making sure he is adequately drained of semen, and he slows his sucking. Kathy takes a baby wipe and cleans him up, applying a heavy coat of barrier cream and powder, then locking him back up in a new clean chastity cage and pinning him back into a thick nighttime diaper. Kathy makes her way to Sophia's room; she notes in Jimmy's chart about her rewarding him and producing a semen sample for the lab. Kathy quickly changes Sophia and rescues her stuffed doggy that had fallen to the floor. Her final stop of the night was Elizabeth's room. She turned on a small night light, adjusting it so as not to bother her while she unlocked her sleeper and pulled down her very wet and stinky diaper. She quickly cleans her up, tossing everything into the attached diaper bin on the cart. As Kathy glances at her chart, it doesn't say I can't reward you for the rest of the night. Maybe it will help you sleep better. Kathy reaches into a drawer in the cart and pulls out a small pink device designed for encouraging positive behavior. Kathy applied a liberal amount of lubricant and slipped it into her vagina with a moisture sensor wire sticking out into her diaper. Kathy then programs the device with her tablet to activate when the moisture sensor reaches 98-96 degrees with a ramped program until Elizabeth orgasms; then, the device turns off till it's activated again. Kathy could also manually control them from her tablet anywhere on the floor. After pinning the clean diaper back and snapping on clean rubber panties, she zipped and locked the sleeper back up. Kathy went into the bathroom, pulled out the now full diaper pail, and placed it by the main hallway door for the night crew to pick up when they drop off clean diapers and linens. After she finishes her rounds, Kathy goes into the small kitchen area and fixes herself a meal and a fresh cup of coffee. While eating, she pulls out her cell phone, opens her nursery cam app, and spies on her baby, who is sound asleep at home. Kathy sat back at the desk with her coffee and continued reading her book, tapping a button on her desk to reactivate the motion sensors in case someone tried to get out of bed like last night, glancing at the security monitors every once in a while. A while later, the alarm went off, indicating one of the kids was moving a lot. She mutes the alarm and looks at her security monitors. Seeing that Elizabeth had just rolled over to her stomach, Kathy turned her tablet back on and looked at the app for the vibrator, indicating it had just activated and turned itself off within 5 minutes. This process happened a few more times before the kids were gotten up. Morning Routine At 6 am, the door alarm sounded. Kathy was delighted to see it was her long-time friend Ruth, who had come in an hour early to visit before Ruth started her day shift on the floor. She pushed in two large hampers of clean diapers and another card full of linens and children's clothes. There were five shelves on the tall cart, each labeled with a child's name and containing clean clothing and bedding. Oh good, you found a cleaJumperer for Sophia. She was upset she didn't have one to wear for school yesterday, and I figure she and Elizabeth can share till Elizabeth's clothing order arrives. Over the next hour, Kathy and Ruth worked together to get the ward cleaned up and ready for the day's activities. Shortly after breakfast and the morning rounds, the caregivers from the school program would arrive to collect the children for the day's therapy and learning activities. The two nurses worked quickly to get the kids up from bed. The first began with the three boys taking them to the shower room and stripping them out of their heavy soiled overnight diapers. The Nurses strapped each child into a tilting shower chair with a locking butterfly harness and wrist straps, preventing little hands from wandering while they worked. They then rolled them into the large oversized shower, where the nurse made quick work washing them down and doing a quick shave off any excess facial hair; since the Hormones and laser hair removal treatment last week, the boys now lacked any form of pubic hair making it easy for the nurses to perform their morning duties. Each of the boys was washed and then dressed in clean diapers and secure locking onesies before being allowed to choose their clothes for the day. After the boys were ready for the day, they were sent off to the playroom until breakfast. Next were the girls; the Nurses usually took extra time getting them all pretty for the day. Kathy woke Elizabeth up, removing her headphone and placing them on the nightstand in their charger for later use. Surprisingly Elizabeth was still sucking on her pacifier this morning, so she opted to let her keep it for the time being to see how long till she didn't want it anymore as a way to judge her age level today. If the smell in the room was not telling enough, the vast brown and yellow stain rubber was a sure sign that she was in a very heavily soiled diaper. Still groggy, Kathy helped Elizabeth out of her locking sleeper into the waiting shower chair, where Kathy secured her with a locking neoprene butterfly harness to prevent her from falling out and hurting herself. Once they were in the shower room, she removed the heavily stained diaper. At that moment, Elizabeth begins to moan through her pacifier, breathing heavily as a stream of pee through the over-saturated diaper onto the floor. Kathy noticing that she is peeing, immediately begins to praise her telling her what a good girl she is and that a good girl gets rewards. Let's give you a break as Kathy removes the vibrator from her and places it into the bin to be cleaned later. Kathy went to work scrubbing her down in the warm steamy shower. Elizabeth waking up from her groggy sleepiness, is enjoying the ever-so-gentle touch and soothing lullaby that nurse Kathy is signing. At about the same time, Nurse Ruth entered Sophia's room to discover that she was awake already, having removed her headphone and placed them neatly on her nightstand, which was still happily snuggling her stuffed doggy while sucking her pacifier. Nurse Ruth reaches out her hand to try to steal her precious passy was meant with a blocking hand and her head shaking NO. It's mine in a baby voice. Ok, princess, hop up into the shower chair and let got get your princess parts squeaky clean Ruth helped Sophia into the waiting shower chair and strapped her in with a locking butterfly vest. Sophia loved her morning shower time, especially with Ruth, who knew how to make her feel special. As the hot water sprays over Sophia, she begins to relax as Ruth expertly scrubs every inch of her body, paying extra attention to her princess parts, letting her finger wander into Sophia's now waiting vagina, asking Sophia if she was a good girl last night for Nurse Kathy. Sophia spread her legs wider as the pressure began to build until there was an explosion of sensation and warmth. as Ruth removed her figure, a gush of pee poured out of Sophia onto the shower floor with nurse ruth telling her she was such a good girl as Ruth finishing up washing Sophia's hair as she is making a muffled whining sound though her pacifier that she needed to make poopies without missing a beat, Nurse Ruth whispered in her ear Good Girls don't need the potty to make Make poopies. Soon Sophia was grunting and pushing out a load of poop in the shower while Ruth told her she was a very good girl and would get a treat this morning. The Nurses took each girl into the adjacent dressing room, where brightly colored jumpers with matching tights and diaper covers were on the changing table. Now girls announce Nurse Kathy. Are you big girls today or princesses? Kathy approaches Sophia and asks if princess Sophia is a big girl because if she is a big girl, she could wear those great sweats pants and sweatshirt with training pants, or if she is a beautiful princess, she could wear this beautiful Jumper and matching tights. Sophia almost spat out her pacifier, announcing she was a princess and wanted the pretty clothes. Kathy approaches Elizabeth, still contently sucking on her pacifier and staring at the brightly colored Jumper. Elizabeth, you know good girls wear Jumpers and tight, right? Only big girls wear ugly clothes with yukky training panties; you know you want to be a princess today, don't you? You did not like those yukky cold wet training panties yesterday! Elizabeth is now screaming in her mind that she is a big girl. Still, while staring at that beautiful Jumpers, she slowly nodded her head yes and pointed to the Brightly colored Jumpers for her clothing choice today. Elizabeth, that's a good girl. You make good choices. Nurse Ruth and Kathy do quick work dressing the girls and combing their hair into ponytails for the day. Kathy reaches into a bin under the changing table, finding matching pacifier clips for each girl. Before helping them down to the floor and escorting them into the playroom until breakfast time.

This role play is about a women who is seeing a therapist about her childhood. She would like to relive her childhood.