Go ahead, baby. Whine and moan, struggling to make your pathetic little voice heard from behind that pretty pacifier gag I’ve strapped in your mouth. Struggle for me. You know you want to! Why don’t you tug against those straps for me? Kick those legs, those pink-booted feet aimlessly, hopelessly flailing against the sides of the adorably babyish crib that is now your prison. Wriggle those trapped arms in that lovely pink straitjacket - so pretty and yet so uncompromising. Show me you have some fight left in you…for now. Resist me all you can, a little fly caught in a devious mommy spider’s web. Fight me, baby. It’s a losing battle, but that’s precisely why I want you to fight so much…
Oh, I know you can’t hear me. You can’t see me, or feel me. For all you know, I’ve abandoned you here, leaving you to your hapless fate. For all you know, you’re alone…and that’s why this is so delicious. Because while I watch you, devouring every beautiful shred of resistance you make, I know that in your panicked, bewildered mind you’re no longer fighting me…you’re fighting yourself.
Or rather, those things that soon will be a part of yourself. You’re fighting the sensory overload I’ve deliberately, carefully concocted to destroy the old you and remake you according to my design. You’re fighting the seductive audio washing untiringly into your captive ears, the hypnotic suggestions and domineering tones of my voice trickling incessantly and inevitably into your brain. You’re fighting the explosions of color on those screens I’ve secured over your pretty little eyes, the spirals dizzily dancing before you, drawing your gaze inward, their brilliance refusing to leave you in peace even if you do frantically try to shut them out. You’re fighting the rising tide of urine coursing down into your swelling bladder, desperately trying to refute the idea that you just might piss yourself, that a grown woman might actually have her control over even that so forcibly and humiliatingly removed… And you’re fighting your own mind, too. For from somewhere deep inside you, you’re hearing a tiny voice whispering that resistance is absolutely useless, that no matter how long you hold out you will inevitably cave in, that before the week is done you will have become nothing more than a vacant, brainwashed shell of your former self…your very brain overwritten with my own programming…your old personality morphing and transforming into what I want you to become…
Yet as you struggle, baby, you have no idea of the beauty that awaits you on the other side. You have no idea yet of the ways in which I will perfect you, training you and transforming you from that beautiful, sexy, independent young woman you think you want to be into an even more beautiful, sexy, docile, fully grown baby girl who lives only to please her mistress. You have no idea yet of how much mind-numbing pleasure awaits you in obedience, of the sheer joy I will force you to feel, of how beautiful you will become to me. With every swollen diaper you soak, and fill, and soak again… With every bottle you obediently drain and beg for more… With every waddle, every crawl, every helpless gurgle and coo you emit in your brainwashed stupor, you will thrill me ever more with your innocent, helpless beauty…
So fight me for now, baby. It’s only right. Put up every bit of resistance you can muster, and you just might be able to last a few days…but don’t worry. Mommy can wait.
Image Credit: @lilbabyfae and ABDreams.com
Please keep my caption intact if reblogging; as long as you do, may cabbage worms never attack your cabbage.
dailybridgerton
jacobvanloon
areudirty
2087
snowghoul
