Victoria Volunteers, Part Five
Be sure to check out Parts One, Two, Three, and Four!
No thinking. Good girls don't think. Good girls let go. Good girls relax. And you… are a good girl. A very good little girl…
The chorus of whispers – some in sultry feminine tones, others in now masculine rumbles – seeped out through the headphones and into the hapless woman's brain. How long she had been here in this medical facility, she no longer knew. She no longer knew much of anything, in fact – not even how many times she'd fallen into unconsciousness and then blinked back to confused reality. Besides, how could anyone think straight with all these voices echoing nonstop in their ears?
Little. Yes, a little girl. You're forgetting everything else… except that you're a good, obedient little girl. You've always been a little girl… so very good and little and obedient…
Was that the truth? Victoria's external struggles had ceased long before – the straitjacket and bonds had seen to that – but now a small, tired burst of resistance flared within her drowsy brain. No… adult. She was… adult. Young adult. And good girl…? Well, Daddy had called her that in years past. Mandy also liked to joke about her "little" sister. And so she… well, she kinda was? The voice… it might be right after all…
Little girls like you… they forget. They don't have to think… or remember… or do anything. They get to relax. Yes… relax. Let everything go. Everything. Their thoughts… their memories… their bodies…
Victoria twitched silently, her mind and body still struggling feebly against the regression programming. But she… she didn't want to forget… did she? Somewhere far off – in the faint corners of her mind – there seemed to be something about urgency. Something between her legs, deep in her belly. Something she had to do…
Good little girls… they always want to become good little babies. Yes, they do. So sweet, so cute, so adorable… You're a good little girl… and we know. We know how you long to be an even better baby… Because babies don't even know how to think. They can't. They just play… and sleep… and drink. They crawl and cry and coo… Their bodies don't obey them… They have no control, because they don't even know what control is…
Control. What… was this control about? Victoria was having trouble remembering amid the wash of sound. Whatever it was, it sounded hard. She was so tired after all this fighting. She just wanted it all to stop. To relax. To let everything fade away…
And you don't know either… do you? Of course you don't. You don't even understand the question anymore – and that's because you've become a little baby now. Oh, yes. You already have. No control… no thoughts… just relaxing every… single… muscle… Letting everything go…
Something slowly unclenched deep within her now. Victoria's bound body twitched involuntarily… but it was a primal reflex and nothing more. Her mind was drifting now: only vaguely aware in the dreamiest of ways of the trickling sensation between her legs… and practically oblivious to the warm, silently swelling bulk of the diaper as it drank in her first infantile accident.
Above her, and unseen by Victoria's glazed eyes, a blue light winked. A moment later, it winked again. And then again… the only indication of the high-resolution camera mounted there, and which was effortlessly documenting this patient's first and most momentous foray into regression therapy.
Not that Victoria was aware of it, of course. Let alone that her image – as a bound, gagged, and diapered prisoner – was at that very moment flashing up on a monitor some three hundred miles away in her elder step-sister Mandy's office.
An image, it must be confessed, that brought a slow, satisfied smirk to Mandy's handsome face.
Image Credit: ABDreams.com
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