From Party Pooper to Diaper Pooper – Chapter Ten (Commission)

Thanks as ever to Bondagediaperlover93 for commissioning this latest installment!

***

"Listen, I know it's pretty scary. I know you have every right to be upset. But we're gonna fix everything up, okay? I promise it's going to be all right. You just need to listen to what I'm saying…"

Oh, poor girlie! I've got a good imagination, so I can definitely imagine what it must be like to be in Megan's shoes. But even so, I guess it's only when you've actually been there that you can know what going through it feels like, huh? Waking up completely naked on your friends' floor, with nothing but one of their ratty blankets haphazardly covering you? Finding out only now that the guy you were taking care of broke free… knocked you out… and yes, did all kinds of weird things to you while you were literally unconscious?

Megan's hands are trembling as she sips at her glass of ice water, her eyes clouded with anger and shame. "Wait, you mean… You're saying he actually… took my clothes off? All of them? And… and tied me up?" I nod silently, trying to decide whether I should give her the entire truth. Should I tell her? Yep, trussed like a turkey! Duct tape everywhere. Oh, and he'd even gagged your mouth using your own panties. Good thing we came back when we did, or you would have been stuck there for god knows how long…

"Yeah, I guess so," I admit softly, with an empathetic sigh. "Fortunately, that's about it; it seems like he just wanted to make sure you wouldn't chase after him. And don't worry – he's already back in hand and well restrained, I promise. We got him back last night and put him back where he belongs, remember? You know, right before Tom came and picked you up…"

But Megan's barely listening to me. "I… I was just trying to be nice, Jane," she falters, raising her troubled eyes to meet mine. "And here I thought he was learning to be a decent guy, too. I was convinced he'd learned his lesson, and- and-"

I sigh, adjust my glasses, and reach over to pat her hand gently; my psychology classes have taught me all about the importance of physical touch to reinforce empathy. "Of course you were being nice, Megan!" I agree, and I mean it – though internally I'm adding, Way too nice. "You're super sweet, and kind, and good-hearted. And I guess it's sad, but not everyone in the world is as nice or as easy to reform as we might wish."

She frowns and stares reflectively at the table, then raises her gaze to mine once more. "Guess you're right about that. He's really a bad guy, isn't he?" "The worst," I confirm, and gesture upward toward the upstairs loft where our captive Bob is now safely imprisoned once again. "There's a really, really good reason why we've had to treat him like this, you know. Some folks might turn him over to the police, of course. But we… well, Michael and Cassandra and the rest of us would rather settle things in our own way…"

"So now what?" Megan's shifting to the edge of her seat, a look of anxious eagerness in her brown eyes. "What are you going to do now? I mean…" She frowns and glances over at the smashed heap of glass and plastic that was until recently her phone. "I don't suppose we can get him to pay for replacing my phone…"

"Oh, Megan," I begin, and a quiet laugh wells up within me at her sweet naivete. She's been knocked out and practically molested by a confirmed, violent, dangerous criminal – and she's worried about her cell phone?! "Megan, that's no big deal, I promise! Heck, Jessica and I already ordered you a new one just last night – you know, 'cause we feel so bad about what happened to yours."

"Wait, really? You- no way-" I nod my head energetically. "Of course! It happened while you were helping us out, and out of the goodness of your heart. Of course we'll replace it for you!" But then I lean forward and gesture upwards again. "Now, listen. I've got just the thing to take care of that guy – honest. I just want to see what you think first… maybe get a few ideas…"

And then, at last I say it. "Soo… have you ever heard of post-hypnotic triggers?"

Of course she hasn't. She's not the psychology major, after all. She's not the one who's been fascinated by the idea of hypnosis since grade school – since watching those riveting movie scenes of poor, hapless heroines getting spellbound and brainwashed by nefarious criminals. And she's not the one taking course after extra course, working crazy-full semesters just to make sure she can go right into a psychotherapy practice after graduating.

"It's really quite easy – like a form of guided meditation," I confidently assure her. "And when it's done well, it's really, really effective! See, hypnotic triggers aren't magic, of course. But they can still make people behave in certain ways… get them to do and remember and forget things on command…"

And so I begin to elaborate it to my increasingly wide-eyed listener: my delightful ideas about training our neighbor Bob into some truly life-altering – and, may I say, humiliating – trigger-dependent behaviors.

"It's easy," I explain simply. "Over the next few weeks I'll implant triggers in his mind: key words or phrases that will nudge him to behave a certain way. We'll make sure that you and the rest of us are the only ones to know them. And then… well," I chuckle knowingly, "there's no end to what we can do – and how easily we can control him!"

"Control him?!" Megan's still not tracking, and so I have to spell it out for her point-blank. "Uh, yeah! How about a trigger that will make him pee his pants on command… no matter where he is?" Her eye's widen in sudden comprehension and growing mirth. "Wait… really? You could really do that?"

"Sure could," I affirm confidently, with a toss of my nut-brown hair. "How about one to make him poo himself, too? Or, I dunno. Maybe one to make him think he's an actual one-year-old baby?" She's stunned, but behind the hand she's got over her open mouth I can tell she's laughing. "Oh my god… really?! That would be- that would be incredible!"

"I know, right?" I enthuse, and I can already tell I've won her over. "Just think: if he ever broke free again, no more wrestling him into submission. Just say a sweet little phrase – something like, I dunno… 'Be a good baby!' And down he'd plop on that diapered butt of his, maybe sucking his thumb and drooling like the sweetest little baby ever…"

And so it's settled – or at least, I think it is. Over these last few weeks I've been brainstorming all the triggers I might use and how I'd implant them, so really these latest events have just accelerated them and given me a reason to put them into motion right away. All that remains is to give it a try – and of course, now that Megan's so stoked on the idea, I can't do it without at least letting her watch.

"Pretty good way to get revenge, if I do say so myself," I whisper as we head up the ladder to our waiting patient. "After what he's done to you and to Michael, he deserves far worse than a couple of harmless triggers." I laugh and help her up the final steps before heading into the makeshift nursery. "This is going to be so good! Cassandra and all the others have been rooting for him to be treated like a baby, of course – I think to humiliate him more than anything. But now…"

I pause by the end of the dimly lit bed, gazing down at the motionless guy before us. And as Megan slips up beside me, I give her hand a quick squeeze. "Thanks to a little bit of hypnosis, we'll have a way to make him a baby for real."

***

It's uncanny, really – just how quickly Megan has swiveled from being shocked and upset over Bob's treatment here, to being fully onboard with it, to begin not merely okay with it but thirsty for him to be punished more thoroughly than anything so far. It's maybe even a bit creepy, given what a sweet girl she seems to be. But then again…

Well, I guess getting knocked out and stripped naked and tied up by a weird guy can really change a person, huh?

Fortunately, our first session goes more easily than I've even anticipated! Bob is already lying motionless in bed, stripped down once more to just his diaper. He's already been fed, and his diaper is obviously wet. He gurgles a tiny bit behind his gag, and of course he doesn't exactly look happy. But thanks to the strict medical bonds he clearly can't get away – and really, I suppose it's natural that having so few ways to distract himself must be helping…

So I begin the induction, nice and simple. I quietly chat with him, beginning to weave soft, simple instructions into my gentle words once I see he's listening. Only then, once he's following along, do I produce my trusty pendulum. Just rest. Relax. Listen along. Try to follow along. Watch. Let your eyes follow this pretty ball on a string.

Maybe I'm really that amazing. Or maybe, just maybe we're fortunate enough to have a highly susceptible patient before us. Because let me tell you: not ten minutes into the session, his breathing has slackened – his dull eyes have glazed – his muscles have gone limp. That is to say, he's already clearly under my hypnotic control.

"Now then," I whisper softly, with a sideways grin over at the spellbound and wide-eyed Megan. "What would you like to train this big, stupid baby to do first?"

(To be continued!)