Therapy

[Personalias]

Therapy
 

Session 1 (already in progress)

“I’m not doing it,” Ciara said, arms crossed.  “I’m not doing it.  Not gonna happen.”

Dr. Mattis looked at Ciara from across her office.  “That’s your choice.” Ciara waited for her to continue.  Nothing happened but silence. 

“But?”  Ciara prodded.

“No buts,” the shrink said.  “‘But’ implies that you don’t have a choice, and you do.  It’s just a matter of whether you are willing to accept that your choices will have ramifications.”

Ciara kept her voice steady.  “What kind of ramifications?”

“Considering that you’re here under court orders, violating that order will result in you going to jail.  If that’s acceptable to you, you may leave and I will be legally mandated to report it to your parole officer.  If not…”  There it was.  There was the threat.  

Stay or go to jail.  That was the choice Ciara faced: bullshit new age therapy, or a month in jail, and Ciara could not afford to miss work for a month.  It was such bullshit.  All of this was bullshit. 

An unpaid toll led to a suspended license, led to arguing in court, led to Ciara losing her temper to...this.  Court mandated anger management.  “Look,” Ciara said. “I understand that you’re just doing your job.  Please understand that I’m incredibly frustrated by all this.”

“I agree,” Dr. Mattis said, a pen coming up to ruby red lips.  “And your feelings are valid.  It was a literal series of unfortunate events that brought you here.  It is, frankly, bullshit.”

Ciara sat up from the overly cushioned couch she’d plopped on.  “So you don’t think I have an anger problem?”

The doctor lady laughed at that.  “Oh-ho-ho!  I think you do have an anger problem.”

“But you just said-”

“I think it’s bullshit that it took a judge finding you in near contempt of court to bring you to me.  You definitely have an anger problem.”

Ciara’s hopes sank, and with them so did her posture.  Figures that this lady would think she had an anger problem; she was an anger management specialist.  Hammers saw nothing but nails.  “Oh…” was all she could say.  This was gonna be a looooong court mandated treatment.

“I don’t think you have the anger problem that the court diagnosed you with.”

Ciara arched a ginger-colored eyebrow.  “You don’t?”

Dr. Mattis shook her head.  With her raven black hair done up in a bun, the back of her head almost looked like one of those little stubby-tailed dogs wagging their butts.  “Not at all.  I think your anger is more self-destructive than anything else”  She gave Ciara a long, hard look. “Let me guess: you heard the words ‘life isn’t fair’ a lot growing up, right?”

Green eyes batted in confusion.  “Yeah?” Ciara said. “Who hasn’t?”

“You’ve had to make compromise after compromise after compromise.”

“Life is compromise,” Ciara agreed.

“And you’ve been good.  Held control of your temper.”  Ciara was nodding along.  Then the doctor ventured.  “Oldest child or only?”

“Only.  How-?”

The doctor just kept bowling over her, not letting Ciara get in a word in edgewise.  “So you’ve always had to be a tiny adult, right?”

“No, I-”

“Never really silly, and having to accept circumstances as they were instead of how they could be.”

“Doesn’t everyb-?”

“Always settling for less?”  Ouch...that one hit her.  “Never getting what you really want?”  

Ciara opened her mouth to object and stopped herself.  Then, after a moment, she said, “Well...when you put it that way...”

The doctor pushed her wire-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of her nose.  “Ciara, I don’t believe that you’re destructive toward others.  I think you’re potentially damaging to yourself.  You’re the type of person who just takes it and takes it and takes it. You never get to dish it out.”

The ends of Ciara’s mouth plummeted to the carpet.   “Yeah…” she said. Ciara had read somewhere that it took more muscles to frown than to smile, but there was a certain relief that came with frowning.  For the first time that she could remember, Ciara felt like she was letting her guard down. There was a sense of relief in admitting it. Nervous fingers picked at curly red hair.

“That’s what happened with the judge,” Dr. Mattis said.  “You’ve taken it and taken it and taken it and just lashed out at the wrong person.  And right now, I’m betting that your brain is telling you that the mistake you made was not keeping things more under control.  You didn’t keep your guard up enough.”

“I guess so…” Ciara said.  Still frowning.  Finally being honest with herself.  Fuck.  Spelled out like that it made perfect sense.    

Leaning forward in her chair, Dr. Mattis said, “I’m betting that frown you’re wearing is feeling pretty good, all the same.”

Ciara wanted to die from embarrassment and shock.  Was this lady a psychic?  She wanted to scream and dig into this couch and hide from the world.  “No,” Ciara lied.  “It feels awful.”

“Does it?” the doctor said.  “Does it really?”  Her tone wasn’t harsh, but Ciara couldn’t help but feel like a little girl caught in a lie.  “You pen up all this anger inside of you, Ciara,” Dr. Mattis told her, “but you’ve got fatigue from doing it.  It’s only going to get worse from here unless you can find a way to properly express your emotions.”

“How do I do that?”

“Complete and total emotional honesty,” the doctor replied.  “Saying exactly how you feel to people when you feel it.”

Ciara pointed to the frilly pink panties on the table between them.  “Okay.  But why do I have to wear those?”  They were clearly sized for an adult, but they looked like something a three year old might wear.  Who the fuck made My Little Pony underwear for adu-...Bronies existed...never mind.

“They’re little girl panties.”

“I know what they are.  Why, though?”

Dr. Mattis blinked and looked as though she were doing complex mental math.  “They’re a psychophysical trigger.  Wear them to help keep your emotional guard down.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“A small but vital way to reinforce your emotional vulnerability and help you let your guard down.  Very hard to feel tough in something like those,” she motioned to the panties.

“So kind of like I’ve hit rock bottom, so there’s nowhere to go but up?”

“Something like that.”

Ciara tossed the concept around in her mind.  It was only pink underwear with cartoon characters and some frills along the waistline.  Lots of girls wore girlier and/or sluttier.  “I don’t have to show anybody, right?”

“Not at all,”  Dr. Mattis assured her.

The young woman reached across and dared to pick them up.  It almost felt like she was holding some kind of voodoo talisman.  “Um...okay then.”

“Good,” the doctor stood up from her chair.  “I’ll make sure you get several packs of these to take home.”  She took the pink undies from Ciara   “But first...”  She inserted her fingers into the waistband and popped them open.   “Step in.”

“Now?” Ciara asked.  “Right here? Right now?”

“Yes,” the doctor said.  “No better way to acclimate than right away.”

“Do I have to take my pants off?”

“Ideally,”  Dr. Mattis replied.  “Unless you’d like some help with that.”  There should have been some kind of sarcasm or threat, Ciara sensed, but there wasn’t.  This woman was genuinely offering to help Ciara strip and change her underwear.

“Can’t I just change in the bathroom?”

“I don’t have a bathroom.”

“I don’t like this…”

“Good!” The doctor smiled.  “Progress already!  Good job expressing your feelings.”

“But I’m…”

“Don’t worry,”  Ciara was interrupted.  “I’m a doctor.  You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before, and I do this all the time with my clients.”

Nervous fingers were already unbuttoning her pants.  “Well...okay then,” Ciara said, despite every instinct in her body telling her to kick the bitch in the chin and run. Quickly, Ciara stepped out of her sneakers so she could slide her jeans off.  Off came the jeans, then her perfectly sensible granny panties. Then, like a two year old that hasn’t quite mastered dressing herself, she stepped into the little girl undies sized for an adult woman.

“Up we go!” Dr. Mattis cooed, sliding the panties up Ciara’s legs and over her hips, letting the waistband fall in place with a tiny snap.  “Such a good girl!  So pretty!”

Ciara could feel her cheeks turning scarlet.  Pure scarlet.  Nimble, well-manicured hands gripped Ciara’s shoulders and turned her towards the office door.  

So that’s what the mirror on the reverse side was for.

Standing back from the mirror, Ciara saw herself, a grown woman in a green tank top, wearing frilly pink panties with Lamb Chop on the front.  Behind her, holding her shoulders, in a black pantsuit and looking very much like a proud mother, was Dr. Mattis.  

Then the most alien thought entered Ciara’s brain.  Holy shit, she felt kind of pretty.  Cute, even.  

“You like?”  

Ciara didn’t want to admit it, but she nodded her head anyways, all but tucking her head into her chest in an attempt to hide.

Her therapist walked over to a speaker and pressed a button.  Gentle, lilting xylophone music tinkled into the office.  “What I’d like to do, next,” she said, “is to guide you through some minor meditation exercises...”  Ciara barely noted that Dr. Mattis was inserting ear plugs.

Session 2

“Have you been wearing your big girl panties?”  Dr. Mattis began the session.  

That was odd, Ciara thought.  Was that what her therapist had called them last session?  She could have sworn that Dr. Mattis had said something else.  “I thought they were little girl panties.”

The other woman seemed amazingly amused by this.  “Little girl panties?  Who would call them little girl panites?  Are you a little girl?”

“NO!”  Ciara yelped before shutting her mouth instantly.  She hadn’t meant to say it. That is to say, she HAD meant to say it, but not like that.  Not so...so..childish.  She was yelling at the judge in traffic court all over again.

“Just as we discussed during last week’s guided meditation, you’re wearing big girl panties.  It’s not like they’re training pants.”  Abruptly she changed the subject.  “How have you been feeling?”

“Not great,” Ciara admitted.  “I’ve started crying more often.”  She looked down at her feet.  “Like, my boss yesterday said that I was late on delivering a last minute report, and I had to run to the bathroom just so he wouldn’t see me cry.”

Dr. Mattis nodded.  “Good,” she said.  “Very good.”

“Good?”

“Crying means you’re learning to process your emotions.  You’re stressed.  The world is unfair.  But instead of holding it all end and letting yourself explode, you’re expressing yourself and crying.  Does crying feel good to you?”

Yes. “No…?”

It was like the therapist could see through Ciara’s lie and just chose not to address it.  “Good...good.”  She took a seat on the couch next to Ciara.  “If the crying reflex you’ve developed is bothering you, I might have something that will help.”

Crying reflex?  Holy shit!  That described it perfectly.  All week long, Ciara had felt a terrible compulsion to just tear up at even the slightest set back.  It was like someone was hammering on her tear ducts.  “What kind of help?”

Dr. Mattis reached into her pocket and pulled out a plastic bag.  Inside the plastic bag, a little rubber bulb with a shield guard rested.  In other words, it was a pacifier.  “Object transferal.”

“I am not putting that in my mouth!”

“Oh really?”  Dr. Mattis asked.  “Are you not in control enough for a simple therapy exercise?  Are you that undisciplined?  Do you even lack that degree of control?”

Ciara’s lip started trembling.  She had control!  She did!  Really!  Her own resolve was crumbling, even as she took stock of it.   She thought she was doing well!  She’d worn her big girl panties all week and been honest with her emotions.  She was allowing herself to feel, and like a good girl she was listening to the meditation files at home every night, too. The catharsis was just amazing!  Addicting.

And here she was feeling like a total idiot; all because she didn’t want to put a stupid pacifier in her mouth. “I...I...I…” her voice was trembling even as she tried to choke out the words.

*pop!*

Past shaking lips, the pacifier fairly zoomed and stuck itself between her teeth, courtesy of her therapist.  Ciara shuddered.  An electric shock went through her spine.  Pure relief.  Instant relaxation.  Without even being prompted, Ciara started sucking as she oozed back into the couch cushions.

Oh god.  It was like a screwdriver had been injected directly into her veins.  It was like pot.  “Better?” Dr. Mattis asked.  Ciara nodded.  No hesitation this time.  She was sucking on rubberized morphine.  Holy shit.  “Good,” the doctor lady seemed to approve.  “Very good. I see you’ve been listening to the files I prescribed.”  Ciara felt a surge of pride at the praise.  She was a good girl!  Why should that make her feel proud?

No...no.  Her therapy called for complete emotional honesty.  No more pent up anything.  “Fenkoo,” Ciara mumbled over her pacifier.

“From now on,” her therapist instructed, “whenever you feel overwhelmed, just use the pacifier.  It will calm you but allow you to process.”  She reached for her ear plugs and started up the xylophone recording.  “Let’s do another guided meditation together, yes?”

Yes.  Very much yes. Just the sound of the childish instrument was starting to make Ciara feel drowsy.  “Duh uh haftuh tik muh pnts uff?” she mumbled around the rubber teat.

Without asking, Dr. Mattis yanked the pacifier out of Ciara’s mouth.  “Come again?”

Ciara felt a surge of panic.  Her paci!  No!  She dug her fingernails into her knees to keep calm.  “Do I have to take my pants off?” she repeated herself.

“You can if you’d like,” Ma...Dr. Mattis said.  She popped the pacifier back in Ciara’s mouth. Sweet relief! “It’s best if you're comfortable.”

That made sense, Ciara reasoned.  The dark haired woman hadn’t even finished the last sentence when Ciara’s pants were sliding down past her ankles.  She’d been listening to these meditations just before bed, so it made sense to wear as few clothes as possible; it’s what she did before bed.

A gentle tap by the taller woman on her own lap was all Ciara needed to lay her head down as the soft music and the therapist’s reassuring intonations lulled her into a trance.  Soft reassuring hands started to stroke Ciara’s long and curly hair. For the first time in weeks, her light-skinned freckled face broke out in a quiet smile, and felt relief instead of disappointment or panic.  Who cared if that smile was largely hidden behind something meant for a baby?

Ciara didn’t.

Session 3  (Already in session)

“What makes you think they’re all laughing at you?”

“Cuf vere aw wuffink ut meh!”  No tears were coming just then, but Ciara couldn’t help but feel just a little frustrated.  Her eyes drifted past her nose, allowing her to realize she had her paci in her mouth.  “Cuz they were laughing at me!”  she said after spitting the bulb out.

“And how does that make you feel?”  Great. NOW the lady wanted to sound like a typical therapist.

Clutching the infantile item for comfort, Ciara replied with, “It makes me feel like I wanna cry, that’s what.”  

Dr. Mattis remained unphased. “So in summation,” her therapist said, (Ciara hated when Dr. Mam...Dr. Mattis used big words like that) “your coworkers discovered your binky and teased you about it.”

“Mmm-hmm.”  Already the binky was back in Ciara’s mouth.  She didn’t consciously realize that that was the first time her therapist had called her coping device a ‘binky’.  Nor did she realize that she was now thinking of the little rubber teat as a ‘binky’ when moments before it had been a ‘paci,’ and a ‘pacifier’ before that. Ciara might have been a little shocked if she had.  Whatever she mentally labeled it, it was emotional heroin.  Baby girl needed her fix.  Needed it bad.

“They teased you about it, and you wanted to cry?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And to stop yourself from crying, what did you do?”

“Puh muh bnkee in muh mowf.”

Dr. Mattis made some notes in her big fancy chair.  “Good.  Very good. I’d say you handled that situation very well.  Excellent object transference.  Good girl.”

“Funkyoo?”  More notes from Ma...the doctor.  What was she writing?  Why wasn’t she helping?  Ciara could only comfort herself by sucking on the binky a little more.  She shifted, feeling a little uncomfortable.  She had to pee, too.  Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it.  “So what should I do?” Ciara asked, finally feeling emotionally strong enough to speak without her binky.  

“About what?”

“About the laughing.”  She couldn’t handle another week of the snickers of co-workers behind her back.

Ciara had never seen ‘nonplussed’ before, but Dr. Mattis’s expression perfectly expressed it. “Oh. That?” the good doctor said.  “Just ignore it, I guess.”

“Juph inow ih?”  Ciara said before spitting the binky out again.  How had it gotten back in there? “How am I supposed to just ignore it?  Everyone at my job is making fun of me.”

“I think it says more about them than it does about you, don’t you think?”

“I phin,” she took the rubber bulb out just enough to talk.  “I think it says that I look ridiculous.”

“I don’t think you look ridiculous,” her grown-up doctor said.

But her friends at schoo...work did.  And that’s what hurt the most.  “Buh-” she started to say.

Dr. Mattis cut her off.  “Does your job require that you talk overmuch?”

“Nnn-nnn,” Ciara said.

“So your binky isn’t hurting your productivity?”

“Nnn-nnn”

“Then I fail to see the problem.”

Her therapist was talking to her slowly and calmly, the same way that an adult might patiently address a well liked but particularly fussy child. Softly (but not too softly), Ciara stomped her foot in frustration.  Sometimes not talking was the best way for her to express herself, she was finding.

Dr. Mattis removed her classes and rubbed at her temples.  “Would it help if I wrote you a note?”  Like a prescription!  Yeah!  That made sense.  They couldn’t make fun of Ciara if she had a prescription for her binky.  It’d be for therapy.  The redhead was practically bouncing at the idea.  “That’s fine,” Dr. Mattis said.  She finished rubbing her temples and replaced her glasses before making a few more notes on her notepad.  “That’s fine.”

Ciara was working her binky, in joy this time, instead of anxiety.

“Is there anything else that I need to know?” Dr. Mattis asked when she was finished writing things down.

Ciara was now practically playing with her binky, popping it in and out of her mouth like a lollipop. “I’ve been taking this to bed with me,” she said in one of the spare moments where it was out. It came about so naturally.  She’d been taking the thing with her for her meditation sessions before bed, and she tended to drift off soon after...

Dr. Mattis waved that problem off as quickly as she had the last one.  “Binkies are fine for bed. What else?”

What else? What else?  What else could there be…

Her entire face buzzing with embarrassment, Ciara felt the blood drain out of her.  Oh yeah...that.  “I’ve been having...accidents at home,” she said.

“Excuse me?” her therapist said, leaning forward.  “What did you say?”  Dark brows furrowed with concern.

“I’ve been havin’ accidents.”  She shouldn’t have told the other woman that, Ciara knew.  But it was something she only realized after she said it.  It’s almost like she already knew.  What was up with that?

“Spatial disorientation isn’t typically a symptom for this kind of treat-”

“No,” Ciara interrupted.  

Furrowed brows became cocked.  “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m not hurting myself or falling down.” Ciara breathed deep.  Now or never, girl.  “I’ve started to wet.”

All the tension left Dr. Mattis. “Oh, is that all?” she said. “I’m sorry.  I misunderstood.”

“But I’m wetting the bed.” 

“That just means that your body is processing through your negative emotions the same way your brain is.  It’s just unconsciously letting its guard down. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“Buh um wuddin da but.” Darn it. Binky was back in.

This time it didn’t stop Dr. Mattis from understanding.  “I have just the thing.”  Standing up from her chair this time, the doctor went to the back of her office and bent down low to fetch something.  

From a back cabinet, amongst a cluster of similar packages, the therapist withdrew a medium sized box of clear, plastic, tightly constraining bits of pink.  Like a cat bringing a dead canary to its owner, Dr. Mattis displayed the contents to her client.  “Here you are, dear.”

“Diapers?”  Ciara gasped, the binky finally tumbling to the floor.

“Diapers?”  The other woman seemed as if she were stifling a laugh.  “No.  These are Pull-Ups.  You can put them on yourself.”

Ciara didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t this! “But-”

“These are only for bedtime,” Ma...Dr. Mattis promised.  “You’re still a big girl, in your big girl panties, during the day time.”

She wanted to say ‘No.’  She desperately wanted to scream, or curse, or punch the dark haired woman.  But the anger flooded right out of her as soon as she experienced it.  Instead, all Ciara could make herself say was, “Promise?”

“Of course, dear.”  Her Therapist dug out her ear plugs.  “Now, let’s finish the therapy session on a strong note.  Time for some guided meditation for your emotions.”

Ciara was yawning before Mama finished the sentence; her head placing itself in the other woman’s lap.  The pacifier found its way back to her mouth, and her eyelids started getting heavy.  

…

…

...

“Ciara...Ciara?  Ciara?”

“Huh?”  Ciara opened her eyes, feeling as if woken from a pleasant dream; a common side effect after her meditations, especially the guided ones.

“It’s not your fault, dearie.”

She yawned.

“You told me you were having accidents and I should have prepared you…I should have listened.  This is Mama’s fault….my fault, I mean.”

Ciara woke up to a cold dampness from the waist down and a wet dark patch that had bloomed out and soaked her pants.  She would have thought she’d be used to waking up wet after this past week.  But doing it in front of someone else made it so much worse. Not even the pacifier could stop the tears this time.

Dr. Mattis stroked Ciara’s hair and shushed her. “I know.  I know.  Don’t worry.  You’re not in trouble.”  It wasn’t the idea of being in trouble that made Ciara cry so.  It was the complete lack of any kind of autonomy or control she felt.  Her guard was completely down and even in this most dreadful and humiliating of moments, she secretly relished the comfort being heaped upon her.  Or maybe it wasn’t so secret... 

“I don’t have anything dry for you to change into.  Would you like help getting into the Pull-Ups?  I can walk you to your car so that you can get home.”

Ciara could only sniffle and nod her consent.

*****************************************************************************************

Session 4

Ciara walked in, humming.  The meditations had finally kicked in, and her anger and tension had melted away over the previous seven days.  That wasn’t why she’d been humming, however. Ciara needed the humming to cover up the crinkling as she moved into the office and took her usual spot on the couch. “Good morning, Doctor.”

“Good morning, Ciara.” Dr Mattis’s tone was equally cheery. “I trust you’re doing well.”

Ciara beamed. “Yup-yup!  I’m doin’ really bestest!”  

Bestest?  Was that even a word?  

Screw it.  It was now.  No point in holding on to the grief.  Right?  Right.  Speaking of holding on, she didn’t need to constantly have her binky in her mouth anymore. A shoe string around her neck took care of that need.  Ciara had felt like Abraham Lincoln when that apple had fallen on his head and he invented the theory of relativity.  

Wait, what?  

Ciara banished the cognitive dissonance right out of her brain.   So smart!  Finally, things were looking up for her!

A thin, amused smile spread out from Dr. Mattis.  The dark haired woman seemed almost as happy to see Ciara as Ciara was to see her.  She was close to a breakthrough- she knew it! “How are you doing?”  her therapist asked.  

“I’m good.”

This time, Dr. Mattis took a seat right next to Ciara instead of across from her in the chair.  “Good,” she said. “Do you feel better about your accidents?”

“Yes?”  Ciara chirped.  “I mean no.  I mean they’re fine.  Fine.”

“Still wetting your pants?”

Last session, they were just accidents.  “Yes…”

“But only at night?”

“Yes…” A lie. A bold-faced lie.  She’d made it a total of one day dry last week.  Could it really be an accident if she’d given up on trying?  She picked up her binky and plugged it in between her lips. Mommy nodded her approval.  

Mommy?! Dr. Mattis!  

“Good,” the doctor said.  “Still wearing your big girl panties?”  

Not in close to a week.  She was wearing her Pull-Ups right now, hence the humming.  She nodded.  “Mmm-hmm.”  She worked on her binky to help relieve the tension.

“Are you dry?” the doctor asked.

She wasn’t sure, to be honest.  These diapers...pull-ups...were so absorbent.  So cushy.  So comfortable.  It had gotten hard to tell the difference between wet and dry.  It might have had something to do with how squishy she felt.  Squishy was dry, right?  Part of her was scared that she couldn’t quite recall the answer.

“Ciara?” Dr. Mattis interrupted.  “I asked you a question.  Did you have an accident?  Are your panties dry?”

“Mmm-hmm…?”  Was it a lie if she didn’t know what the truth was?

Darkly painted nails slipped up Ciara’s baggy shorts, the only pair she had left that could accommodate her new padded undies.  “I’ll check.”  Ciara sucked harder on her binky. No time to refuse.  Barely any time to brace herself.  

And yet something felt right about this.  Mommy was just checking her pants for her.  That’s what her brain said.  Don’t scream.  Don’t kick.  Just be a good girl and let Mommy check.

“Hmmm…” Dr. Mattis, said.  She was wet!  Even if Ciara wasn’t wet, Dr. Mattis knew she’d lied about wearing her big girl panties anymore.  These were nothing like big girl panties, were they?  HOLY GEEZ she couldn’t remember and that freaked her out even more!

Mommy withdrew her fingers and cleaned them on a wet wipe.  “And what about your job?”

Ciara let the binky drop and dangle on her shoestring. “My job?”

“Have the people been laughing at you at your job?”

“No,”  Ciara sighed in relief. “Definitely not.”  This was true.  Mostly because she hadn’t gone to work.  Her meditations had led her to decide to not show up.  The idea of calling in just made her panic to the point of tears.  She just didn’t show up.  They’d get by without her.

“Good.”  There was a pause as Dr. Mattis kept looking at her...looking through her.  Ciara was doing everything she could to stay out of her own head.  The girl felt that if she spent any more time in there, she’d drown.  “Okay,”  Dr. Mattis chirped.

Ciara felt a new wave confusion wash over her.  “Okay.”

“We’re done here.  You can go.”

Ciara stood up from the couch, not even humming to cover up the crinkle this time.  Mommy...Dr. Mattis knew.  “Oh,”  she said. “So...see you next week?”

A dark chuckle came from dark lips. “No.  I think we’re done.  No more anger.  You’re acting like a big girl by wearing your big girl panties.  You’ve clearly been doing your meditations.  You’re cured.”

“Can I get another pack of…?”  She paused and gestured down to her waist.  “For the road?”  Dang it!  Why didn’t she just gesture to the cabinet?

“The pack I gave you should last most of this next week.,” the lady said.

The redhead found herself whining.  “But...but…”

“And Depends will do well enough if your bed wetting persists.” Dr. Mattis said. “They’re not as cute, but they’ll get the job done.”  It wasn’t just bed wetting!  If only!  

And job?! “But...but...I can’t...I may have quit my job.”  It felt like word vomit spewing out of her.

“You quit?”

“I just didn’t show up all week!”

“Ciara. That’s not something a big girl does?  Is it?”

It wasn’t.  “I...I...I...words are hard right now.”  Ciara wanted to crawl inside her own brain and claw out the words she was supposed to have right, like picking out needles from a cactus.

“Words typically are hard for little girls.”

“I’M A BIG GIRL!” she cried, stomping her feet. Those words came out easily enough.

Finally, Dr. Mattis stood up.  She seemed so much taller to Ciara, even though neither of them had really changed.  “Do big girls lie?”  she asked.  “Do they quit their jobs?”

Ciara went for her binky again, only to find it snatched from her. Her thumb had to suffice.  “Do big girls suck on binkies or their thumbs?”

“Y-y-yeph?”

“Really?”

“No...”

Shocked as she was, she couldn’t react quickly enough to stop the grown-up from yanking her shorts down, exposing the big saggy pink padding clinging to her bum.  “Do they need diapers?” she was asked.

The girl couldn’t help but feel defensive.  Literally couldn’t help it...“These aren’t diapers, they’re-”

“I didn’t say ‘wear diapers’.” Mommy all but spat.  “I said ‘need diapers’.  Pull-ups are for little-girls learning how to be big girls.  They still make it to the toilet sometimes.  When was the last time you went potty all by yourself?

The redhead felt deflated.  She was beyond embarrassment.  Beyond anger. She felt nothing but exhausted.  “I’m not a big girl,” Ciara finally said.  “I’m...I’m not a little girl.  I’m..I’m a baby.”  It was true.  The meditations had led her here.  It was self evident.  This was just the physical manifestation over her inability to control herself.  

Mommy went over to the back cabinet in her office.  Left drawer this time.   “Then let’s have you look the part, dear.”  What she came back with weren’t Pull-Ups.  They were white.  And much thicker.  And the baby blocks on the front literally spelled out who they were meant for.  “Lay down, baby.”

A little gasp escaped her as she laid back down on the couch and Mommy ripped open the sides of her Pull-Ups.  The feeling of the wet mushy stuff being unfolded away from her was a palpable relief.  They were a bother to deal with anyway..  “No…” the words came out of her automatically.

“No…” Again the word as this stranger...as her Mommy...gently caressed her nethers with a cold babywipe.  Mommy ignored her, instead humming a familiar tune, a lullaby, not unlike the gentle melodies in her meditation tracks.

Like a good girl, Ciara lifted her hips so that the grown-up could take away the yucky Pull-Up.  It was practically second nature to do so.  

“Hold-on-hold-on-hold-on,” Mommy chuckled as she quickly unfolded a fresh diaper.  “Rookie mistake, I know!”  

Ciara sniffed.  The smell of her old pee-pee mixed with the perfume of the fresh diaper that Mommy was sliding under her.  “No….”  Why was she still saying this word?  She wanted this! She needed this!

Mommy started sprinkling bits of baby powder on Ciara. “Nooooo…” she moaned.  WHY?!  SHE NEITHER WANTED THIS NOR NEEDED THIS! THIS IS JUST WHO SHE WAS! WHO SHE HAD ALWAYS BEEN! 

The diaper metamorphosed as Mommy pulled the plastic backed padding up between Ciara’s legs and taped the ends together.  From useless rectangle to cute and indispensable clothing; a part of Ciara’s identity.  “Seems like someone is on the verge of another tantrum,” Mommy said, a hint of concern in her tone.

Mommy then laughed and smacked her forehead. “Of course.  Silly me!”  She went for her earplugs.  “We’re not done yet.”

No...no...please no.  The music was playing again.  The beautiful music.  Words were going bye bye now.  Ciara was gurgling now as Mommy put her head in her lap.  Her eyelids were getting heavy.  Was this dying?  Part of her was afraid so.  

A bigger part liked it.

Other words, last words, flashed in the front of the big baby’s brain.  “Bye-bye.”

Mommy Mattis all but melted at hearing it. Lovingly she stroked her new daughter’s hair. Those were the last words of the therapy.  Proof that the subliminal messaging had run its course.  All she’d need is two more words to lock everything in.  Two little words and Ciara would be all hers, and she’d be perfect.  Needed. Complete.    

“Good baby.”

(Fin)

[kirababy]

wow.   well done.

[vended]

Great little story. Definitiely one of your best of that size.

[Personalias]

Just now, vended said:

Great little story. Definitiely one of your best of that size.

Thank you.  I like doing smaller stories as well, despite my propensity for doing wordy novellas.

[vended]

I wish I could commission you one of those. Crossing fingers for some open slot on your Patreon. :]

[Personalias]

Just now, vended said:

I wish I could commission you one of those. Crossing fingers for some open slot on your Patreon. :]

In the interest of fairness, I've got 2-3 short(er) commissions I'm working on that may or may not.  But in hmu on patreon in January.  My biggest flaw is the novels/novellas.  I can only do 2-3 at a time (and I'm working on 3 right now)  If you want a 5k-10k on patreon come January that should be relatively easy to accommodate.

[vended]

You mean just as a 5$ patreon? Big if true

[Personalias]

Just now, vended said:

You mean just as a 5$ patreon? Big if true

Yeah.  I do short 5k freebies for the $10.00 folks.  But I don't mind taking short commissions from anybody.  It's just most people who have approached me are like "I have this idea for 50k-100k story!"

[vended]

Great to know! :]

[ruby03]

Very happy to have read this. Your writing never disappoints, and I like how short, sweet, and to the point this is. Using therapy sessions as a framing device was clever. We don't see Ciara wetting her bed or getting laughed at, but we believe the circumstances. Wonderfully done. 

[Cute_Kitten]

A fun read!  

[Personalias]

17 hours ago, ruby03 said:

Very happy to have read this. Your writing never disappoints, and I like how short, sweet, and to the point this is. Using therapy sessions as a framing device was clever. We don't see Ciara wetting her bed or getting laughed at, but we believe the circumstances. Wonderfully done. 

Thanks.  Sometimes it's fun to experiment with framing advices and use coding and shorthand to get across ideas.

12 hours ago, Cute_Kitten said:

A fun read!  

Yeah.  Nice little toe dip.