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by premiepeter



As I drove past Teasers, my foot seemed to move automatically from the gas to the brake pedal. With a deep sigh, I halted the movement of my foot, and returned it to the accelerator. However much I might want to stop at the topless bar I had frequented regularly for more than a year, I simply didn't dare. Marcia had warned that I would suffer very humiliating consequences, if I were foolish enough to enter the topless bar ever again

  I had no doubt at all regarding Marcia's ability to deliver on her threat. In the last month, I had received numerous demonstrations of her ability to make me do virtually anything she wanted through post- hypnotic commands implanted under the influence of drugs which increased my suggestibility to the point of brain-washing, or mind control. By use of "trigger phrases", or a prescribed set of conditions (as in, "Every time you enter Teasers, you will..."), Marcia had established that she could compel me to do whatever she liked

  Though I had wracked my brain for weeks, I had not been able to devise an approach that might get Marcia to relent, and release me from her hypnotic control. Indeed, the situation had become steadily worse, and now I had no idea when I might find myself doing something demeaning or embarrassing. It was obvious that she was enjoying her power over me, and the revenge she was taking for my unfaithfulness

  I had to be very careful about any schemes to get Marcia to forgive me, however

My only attempt at getting Marcia to relent previously had completely backfired on me 

  One of the first things Marcia had done to punish my unfaithfulness was to compel me to constantly wear lacy women's panties. She said it would keep me from taking my pants off in front of strange women, and remind me that I was her property. I was sure the primary purpose was simply to humiliate me. After a week of having to wear panties constantly, I had complained that I didn't dare use the lavatories at work for fear that one of the employees might notice that I was wearing panties

  I'd hoped that this would get Marcia to release me from that compulsion, and it did. Unfortunately, I hadn't imagined that she would devise something even more humiliating to replace the panties 

  She had placed me into a trance state to remove the compulsion to wear panties. When I awakened from the trance, I found myself instead now wearing thick cloth diapers, and plastic panties. Marcia had explained that wearing diapers would continue to ensure that I was not likely to remove my trousers around any strange women. And, she added with a delighted grin, the diapers would also ensure that I didn't need to worry about being discovered, since I would no longer need to use the lavatories. Of course, it also meant that I would have to wear the same diaper all day long 

  In the nearly three weeks since Marcia had compelled me to wear diapers, I had completely lost the ability to control my bladder and bowels. I now had to sleep in diapers, as well as wearing them constantly during the daytime, since I had no more self-control than an infant. Twice, during important sales conferences, I had filled my diapers, and been humiliated at the tell-tale odor that resulted. All I could hope was that the staff at the meeting believed it was merely an embarrassing attack of gas. Despite my humiliation, however, I hadn't complained to Marcia about having to wear and use diapers. I was too afraid that she would devise something even worse

  I had been a fool to believe her story about wanting to use hypnosis to help us both quit smoking. I'd been an even greater fool to take the pills she said would help ensure that the hypnosis was effective 

  I still had no idea what was in those pills, but I certainly had ample proof of their effectiveness. When she used the pills before a hypnotic session, on waking, I found my programmed behaviors to be irresistibly compelling. Whether it was due to the pills, or Marcia's skills in hypnosis, the effect was the same - I was completely under her control

Her wish was literally my command. Even worse, as she regularly reminded me, she couldn't force me to do anything under hypnosis that I wasn't willing (at least subconsciously) to do. It was demoralizing to realize that, even if only on a subconscious level, I wanted to act like an infant 

  There was a dark green BMW parked in the drive besides Marcia's Mercedes when I arrived home that evening. I didn't recognize the Beemer, and wondered who was visiting. I hoped that whoever it was would not stay long - I needed to get to my room for a diaper change. The soaked one I wore hung heavily from my hips, and had a large load in the back. Wearily, I waddled into the house 

  Marcia was in the library with a slender brunette I didn't know. I stopped at the door, "I see you have company, dear. Don't let me interfere. I'll be upstairs changing."   "Hold it right there," Marcia ordered curtly, as I turned away, "Get in here. I promised Janet a little demonstration."

   "No, please, Marcia," I pleaded softly with her, as I was compelled to obey her command, and approached them slowly, "Please don't..."   "I'm tired of listening to you whine when I give you an order, Dana," Marcia said angrily, "Since you can't seem to learn how to speak properly to me, I don't think I'll let you do any talking at all, for a while. You can learn to communicate your basic needs without talking, just like any other baby does. So, tell me, sweetheart, WHO'S MOMMY'S BIG BABY GIRL?"

   I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of weakness and dizziness. Unable to hold my balance, I landed on my diapered bottom with a painful crash. I immediately began to wail loudly in pain and surprise, unable to control or halt this reaction. The sticky mess in my diapers felt horrible, and I cried even louder with that realization. Since Marcia wanted me to act like a baby, I obviously didn't have much choice. But, that didn't mean I had to be a good baby, I thought, with a little satisfaction

  I couldn't recall ever hearing that trigger phrase before, but I could easily have been commanded to forget hearing it, so that was no proof. My reaction was ample indication of how deeply programmed my conditioning was, however. I had instantly assumed the personality and capabilities of a nine-month-old baby girl. I 'knew' I was now a baby girl named Dana, and that Marcia was my Mommy

  I would soon find the limits of my abilities, in the same way any other baby did, by testing them. I would find that I could sit up by myself, crawl freely, and even pull myself to a standing position. I could walk a little if holding onto something for support, or if helped by a grown-up. I didn't know how to talk, of course; everything I tried to say came out as baby babble. Whenever I thought of myself, I saw myself as a baby girl, who looked a little like Mama 

  "Hush, Babykins, Mommy's right here," she said, kneeling beside me. At the sound of her voice, and the gentle touch of her hand, I quieted instantly. Trust Marcia to ensure that she could control my every reaction, and ensure that I did have to be a good baby. She smiled down at me, and took my arm, "C'mon, sweetie. Try to stand for Mommy, and we'll go get those nasty stinky dydees changed. That's a good girl. WHO'S MOMMY'S BIG BABY GIRL?"   The second invocation of the trigger phrase seemed to make my infantile personality even more real. My adult mind felt completely disconnected and ineffectual. I was a helpless observer inside my own body, which was behaving exactly like a real baby's. I waddled bowlegged, and unsteadily beside Mommy, clinging to her for support whenever I swayed too far to either side. The other grown-up lady followed us as Mommy took me back to my nursery 

  Mommy led me to the changing table, and boosted me onto it. I played with my fingers as Mommy undressed me to just my diaper and plastic panties. I found myself sucking my thumb with no recollection of putting it into my mouth. Mommy pushed me back onto the changing table until I was lying on my back 

  I was very wet and messy. It took Mommy quite a while to get me completely cleaned. When she finished, she took a thick diaper from the pile on the shelves by the table, and lifted my legs to slide it under my bottom. It felt wonderfully soft under my buttocks 

  I cooed and babbled happily at Mommy. She tenderly rubbed my diaper area with baby lotion, and dusted me lightly with baby powder. The scent of the baby powder seemed the most delicious aroma in the world. The silky caress I felt as Mommy lightly rubbed me with the powder was tremendously exciting. A soft moan of pleasure escaped my lips as Mommy drew the front of the diaper over my groin, and tugged the rear corners over the front to pin the diaper. My warm, dry, soft, thick diaper felt incredibly pleasant. Its yielding gentle caress was comfort itself. I continued to sigh, and lightly moan with delight at these sensations while Mommy was drawing my plastic panties over my diaper, and carefully adjusting the fit at my waist and thighs 

  All of these sensations and experiences seemed more intense than anything I could recall from my adult existence. It felt wonderful to be a baby again, and I never wanted to have to go back to being a dull old grown-up. Even though I knew I wasn't really a baby girl, I felt like one in every way, and I loved the way I felt

  "Does he really believe he's a baby again?" Janet asked, staring down at me. She seemed to loom hugely above me, as did Mommy 

  "No, there wouldn't be any point. If Dana really believed he was a baby, he wouldn't even be aware he was being punished. What I've done to him is much better. He's compelled to act in every way just the way a nine-month-old baby girl would act, and he's helpless to act any other way, even though he's always aware of who and what he really is. Believe me, this is a very satisfying way to punish a man," Mommy replied, grinning down at me 

  She helped me to a seated position, and began to dress me. Of course, I was totally helpless to assist or resist. She held a cotton lace-trimmed slip over my head to guide my arms into it, and gently settled it over me. It just brushed the tops of my thighs. The baby dress Mommy took from the closet was an authentic reproduction of a short infant dress. The cotton print fabric featured tiny, pink roses on a creamy white background. With the matching panties, bonnet, and booties, I was fully transformed. In the mirror, I saw myself - an oversized baby girl between the two grown-ups - and I wanted to die of humiliation 

  I felt the hot stream of pee-pee between my legs, and soaking into my thick diaper. It felt like an orgasm, though it didn't feel like I had an erection. Hot pee-pee continued to stream out of me, and I could not restrain the reaction of my baby personality to that intense pleasure. I crouched slightly to spread my legs, moaning and cooing with the powerful sexual sensations 

  "What's she doing?" Janet asked, staring at me 

  "Wetting her dydee," Mommy replied, chuckling, "She has an orgasm every time she pee-pees in her dydees. That reinforces the pleasure association subconsciously between sexual satisfaction and wetting herself. She loves pee-peeing in her dydees so much, I'm afraid poor Dana will probably never be able to be toilet-trained again."   "Let's get her a bottle, and we can chat while Dana's nursing," Marcia suggested. She took my hand, and said, "Go walkies, Dana? Hold Mommy's hand, now."   I did as she wanted. I didn't have much choice, and it was for my own good. I was too wobbly to walk by myself. On the way to the living room, Mommy had to catch me several times to prevent my falling. I was glad to get to the padded plastic infant play mat, and have Mommy ease me down to a seated position. I began to play with the spinner toy in the center of the nearest square, and the telephone-rattle attached to another square 

  Mommy returned with a large infant nurser, and held it out to me, "Look what Mommy has for you, Dana? Want your baba?"   

"Baba! baba! Gee baba!" I replied eagerly, compelled to feel a thrill of excitement at the sight of the nurser, and to beg for it 



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