Work It, Baby - Part Five

Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, blee-

I slam my hand onto the snooze button, my drowsy brain wondering vaguely who the hell has decided to back their garbage truck down our street in the middle of the night. No, wait... I rub the sleep from my bleary eyes and blink groggily at the LCD glaring silently at me from the dresser. It reads 5:15.

Fuck. Why in the name of everything holy is my alarm going off at this hour?

It comes to me in fragments - little puzzle pieces that my sleep-soaked brain begins to fit together. Oh, that's right. Terri, you're such an idiot. You've got an appointment at 6. That's right, with the studio. And... and with Alison.

Now that's something to perk a girl right up.

I'm slipping out of bed, catching a glimpse of my tousled head and mint-green pajamas as I head for the toilet. Ahh... Nothing like a nice long morning pee. And so very different from what Allison will be doing - hah! Although, I reflect as the toilet flushes with a gurgling rush, a morning pee into that bulging diaper of hers might not feel all that different. And certainly not once she gets used to it.

Half an hour later I'm seated at my desk, the early morning light already beginning to brighten and filter through the blinds. It does suck getting out of bed so early, I muse as I sip cautiously at my steaming coffee. Hmm, just a bit more sugar. But honestly, if it involves giving Miss Allison Meriweather, experienced CEO turned inexperienced fetish model, another dose of richly-deserved humiliation... Well, that alone makes even a 5 AM wake-up call worth it. 

I adjust the equipment before me in a sudden swell of nervous excitement. I've never done much in the way of voice acting or podcasting, but the director assured me yesterday that it would be, to quote her, "a piece of cake." Okay, then. Boot up the webcam feed. Check. Slip on the headphones. Double check. Make sure the weird-looking binaural mic in front of me is on and set to default. Check, check, and check.

The webcam image blinks into view on my monitor, the grainy and green-hued picture showing just how dark it must be in Allison's little "nursery." And there she is: a prone form in a cage-like crib, blankets twisted and strewn all about the interior. Seems like she hasn't passed the most pleasant of nights, though it does seem like she's out cold at the moment. I grin and sip again at my coffee, mentally comparing this laughable image to the imposing persona the woman so recently possessed. Nope, not even a shred of dignity, I chortle internally. But oh, just you wait until I get started...

And then a ding, shockingly loud, echoes in my ears. Jesus Christ, turn down that volume! But it's just Nora's message, checking to see if I'm ready to go. Never readier, I type - and within moments I see her shadowy figure jerkily enter the frame. She has something in her hands: something I know will be a delightful little treat to wake our diapered little angel...

A minute ticks by, and then the figure straightens and leaves the room. She's fastened the VR headset around Allison's head now, I assume - and sure enough, a moment later another ding! confirms it. Oh, boy. It's showtime.

I've got the video queued up and ready to go on my second monitor, alongside the script the director emailed me yesterday evening. God, this is going to be fun - more devious than anything I've ever done before, and devious in such a delicious way that even just a read-through last night made me oddly tingly with anticipation. My job is to be Allison's personal narrator on this wake-up call, heralding her new life and welcoming her to her first full day as a diapered little fetish model.

So as the first tinkling strands of melody waft into my own headphones, I take a deep breath and begin.

"Good morning, baby," I breathe, bending closer to the twin lobes of the microphone before me. "Wakey wakey, little Allison. Your Auntie is here to wake you and tell you all about your day." I steady my voice, then continue in a whisper, panning from one ear to the other. "You're going to be such a good baby for us all today, honey. Such a very good baby..."

The video being played through her headset is brightening, and I'm sure that the groggy Allison must be sensing it now. Perhaps she's even blinking, wondering what on earth is happening... I stifle a grin, and I can hear the smile in my own voice as I continue.

"Go on, Allison. Wakey-wakey! Open up those eyes and see the pretty sights Auntie Terri has for you. Ooh, that's nice, isn't it? So colorful and pretty..." It's literally just an animated pastel swirl right now, but as I see a sudden jerk of motion on the nursery cam feed, I know that our Allison's finally awake - and likely far from happy.

I mean, who wouldn't be upset to wake up caged and stewing in their own piss?

"Ooh, baby Allison's up now!" I enthuse, pitching my voice into the nauseatingly sweet tones of my best baby talk. "Such a good wittle baby! I bet you is all hungwy and thiwsty, isn't you? Ooh, did you soak all those lovely thick nappies just for me?" I can hardly keep from laughing as I see Allison's onesie-clad form twisting within the crib, her padded rear prominently displayed for the camera she can't even see. "Such a good wet baby for Auntie Terri! I bet they're all nice and squishy and soggy, aren't they? Aren't they?"

The video is progressing on to camera footage, and much as I'd love to keep rubbing in the fact of her definitely soaked diapers, I need to move on. "Look now," I continue in hushed tones. Allison is pawing at her head to remove the headset, but Nora has done her job well; it and its bone-conduction audio remain firmly locked in place. "Look at all the lovely things you're going to do today, honey..." 

The view she's seeing now is perhaps three inches from the floor, and as it swivels to take in a pair of towering heels and pantyhose-clad legs, Allison must now be seeing herself in the role of a drooling little rugrat, helplessly crawling before her auntie. Oh, that's awesome. "You'll be learning to crawl for us, baby," I croon, my own breath hitching as I picture it before me. "Oh, and look! You're going to eat so much yummy, yummy food" - a goop-laden baby spoon swoops toward the camera -  "and ba-bas too. Sooo many ba-bas..."

Then I hear it - layered with the other audio signals, the distinct sound of Allison's angry wails.

I smile once more, then draw breath and continue. "That's right, baby Allison. Cry for Auntie. That's what all little soggy diaper babies do, isn't it? They cry and whine for their aunties to come change them..."

As the recorded video shifts to show a delightful, infant's-eye view of a nappy change, and as Allison's hysteria-tinged wails redouble, I sigh in quiet ecstasy. Fuck, yes. This may be work, in a way. But it's a hell of a lot more fun than fetching that bitch another latte.