Date: Thu, 27 May 2004 23:41:27 -0700 (PDT)
From: T J <thalia462@yahoo.com>
Subject: Changing Wendy 

*** This is a work of fiction. The following chronicled events did not
actually happen.  This story involves lesbian authoritarian material with
incestuous references. If the idea of such offends, please do not read any
further. ***

*** All mentioned products/companies/brands are registered trademarks of
their appropriate subsidiaries, etc. etc. ***

***Please contact the author if you wish to re-post this story. Otherwise
it may be freely downloaded for private use. ***


Changing Wendy
By
Thalia


	I really don't know why I'm even writing this down. If I were
smarter, I would simply forget the whole incident even happened and move on
with my life. Certainly that option would be preferable to my current
actions-solidifying the episode into writing. In time perhaps it would fade
from my mind or sink into my subconscious, and it would only be a small
unpleasant blip in a life that was smooth and unblemished. But to be
honest, I don't really want to forget what happened yesterday. I guess
that's the truth of the matter when I get down to it. I suppose there's no
sense lying to myself about it. I felt a way that I never thought was even
possible and I guess I'm not willing to let go of that.

	If I had to pin down the time when things began to take a turn for
the worse, it would most likely be when my best friend came to visit me
yesterday morning. She knocked on my door about eight o'clock AM, if I
recall. I opened the door and couldn't help but smile at her lovely blonde
bob and her tan features. She had a huge toothy grin on her face as she
always did when I'd greet her at the door. I remember how happy I was to
see her- she always made my Saturday mornings so much more fun and
interesting.

	"Hello Wendy, you're vagina smells lovely today," said Janice,
grinning with a sly look in her eye. I groaned at her. This was our usual
Saturday morning routine. Like clockwork she would make an outrageous
comment every Saturday, just to horrify me. She knows I'm a bit of a prude
and just can't help but rub my face in it. Janice is. "quirky," or at least
that's the politically correct way of saying it. Actually, in my
professional opinion, I consider her fairly neurotic.

	"Ughh! Janice, come in," I said, beckoning her into the house, "I
was feeding little Trish, so you'll just have to keep me company while I
finish up." I led her into the living room, where Trish was in her baby
rocker on the couch. Janice let out a quick burst of laughter when she saw
my daughter.

	"Soooo. I see you have no problem leaving your baby unattended for
long periods of time, huh Wendy? Then again I guess they didn't give you
mothering credentials when you got your Psych doctorate, eh?"

	"Ya know, Janice, you can be really cruel sometimes," I tried to
sound hurt, but I couldn't help but suppress a bit of a smile. Even though
she was joking, she had a damn good point. I was having a hell of a time
adjusting to this whole motherhood thing. It didn't come naturally for me
at all. I always considered myself an independent woman, having to work and
support myself, and so naturally it had come as a shock when I found out I
was pregnant. I knew how it had happened. It was quite easy really-- A
moment of weakness, a one-night stand, and a lack of condoms. Why wasn't I
on the pill? Well, when your sex life is as meager as mine, you don't
really worry about stuff like that. So it had happened. And I thought about
abortion, but ultimately decided against it. I kept picturing what my child
would look like, and it broke my heart to think about stopping her (or him)
from ever entering the world. I don't regret the decision for a second, but
I'm very far from a perfect mother.

	I sat down on the couch next to Trish and plucked her out of the
rocker. She gurgled contently in my arm as I nonchalantly undid the top few
buttons of my shirt to expose my left breast. Janice was just standing
there staring at me, eyes fixed on my white globe with her lips ever so
slightly parted.

	"Uhhh Janice, you're staring," I said. She looked up at me as if
snapping out of a dream.  Then she smiled widely at me.

	"I'm sorry hon, but your boob is just so gorgeous. Can't I watch
you nurse? I promise to behave myself," said Janice, one eyebrow raised
mischievously. At first I almost told her no, but then reconsidered how
mean that would be. I had known for a while now that Janice was a lesbian
and that she had a crush on me, but I had simply failed to think of that
fact as I was about to feed Trish. While she did hit on me now and then,
its mostly in jest, though of course there's always that undercurrent of
sincerity underneath it all. But I had mostly ignored that fact in our
friendship. But I guess I just never had thought of breastfeeding as a turn
on. I mean I was only feeding a baby afterall. People had been doing it for
thousands of years. Nothing sexy there, right? But, I suppose a part of me
was flattered too. And there was something else. Something about having her
watch me feed Trish. It didn't seem completely unappealing. So I patted the
cushion next to me, and she was instantly by my side. Her eyes kept quickly
darting down to my breast then back at my face.

	I looked down then also, as I brought the slightly whining Trish
gently to my chest. I noticed how much larger my breasts were these days,
now that they were filled with milk. My normal C's had swelled well into
the D range. But what really caught my eye was how the areola had expanded
and darkened considerably, becoming a dark brown circle nearly 3 inches in
diameter. The nipple likewise had become extremely distended. Even soft it
was easily an inch long, when previously I had been lucky to achieve half
an inch when it was hard. I never get out in the sun much, and so my smooth
white globe did indeed make a beautiful contrast to the large brown nipple
and areola. I maneuvered Trish's lips to the tip of the nipple and moved
her head back and forth a little, wetting it with her saliva. Immediately I
could see and feel my nipple hardening from the contact. A tiny rope
glistened between the tip and Trish's lips. Trish cooed contently as I
gently pressed her into me, pushing most of the nipple into her mouth.

	After a few seconds of Trish's sucking I could feel the milk
flowing. I put my head back and sighed, enjoying the release of tension
from within. But after only a few moments, the weight of Janice's stare
began to weight heavily on my thoughts. It was like I could feel her warm
gaze. I looked over to see her eyes fixed on the feeding scene. Her mouth
was open and she was breathing significantly faster than normal. Not that
she was hyperventilating. But she was clearly aroused, that much was
obvious. And I realized from the warmth of my cheeks and the slight warm
dampness in my underwear that I was becoming aroused as well. I had a hard
time admitting this to myself. Yet there was undoubtedly something erotic
about it, with Janice's hungry stare, and Trish's relentless sucking.

	For a while I went with the feeling letting the wetness grow as I
listened to Janice's increased breathing and Trish's suckling noises. Deep
in my gut there was the knowledge that what I was feeling was perverse, and
yet this somehow added to the arousal. I thought about how good it would
feel to lightly rub myself. My free hand slowly crept up my left leg, but
faltered at my thigh. Suddenly the realization of what I was about to do
hit me hard. Guilt and confusion engulfed my arousal. I didn't know exactly
what I had felt or why I felt it, but I knew it was wrong and unhealthy,
and I had to stop it immediately. I pulled Trish away from me, and she gave
a little cry of protest, but she was mostly full at that point. Janice
detected my altered state.

	"What's wrong Wend?" she asked as she wiped a thin sheen of sweat
from her forehead.

	"I.I don't know.I.Trish is done feeding, I think," I stammered. I
was then quite self conscious of my breast still protruding from the
robe. The nipple glistened from saliva, the end milky with little rivulets
flowing down the curve of my breast. Quickly I tucked it back in the robe;
I would worry about cleaning it in a bit.

	"I need to go to the bathroom, Janice. I'll be right back. Could
you hold Trishy?"

	"Sure Wend," she responded, "Take your time." She seemed somewhat
confused by my sudden flustered state, but readily accepted Trish, rocking
her in her arms and doing the old baby talk number.

	I took time to compose myself in the bathroom. Slowly my heart
stopped thumping, and the adrenaline died down. I felt shaky and a little
out of it as I cleaned my breast off at the sink, but mostly I was all
right again. I looked at my reflection in the mirror- a pleasantly curved
thirty-three year old woman, dark shoulder length hair framing her
face. Was that woman a lesbian? But I knew that a simple yes or no to that
question could never describe what I had felt in there. It occurred to me
that I was no better off than my patients, and probably a lot worse. I
wondered how many would still want me for their therapist if they knew how
I had considered masturbating while breast-feeding my daughter, with my
best friend looking on. No, I didn't suppose many of them would want
me. But really, had it been all that bad? I didn't actually touch myself; I
had resisted the urge. I felt a bit of relief at this prospect. I didn't do
anything wrong, I told myself over and over. I was pretty much my old self
when I returned to the living room.

	"Hey. Why don't we sit out on the porch? The fresh air would do us
both some good, huh Wend?" said Janice. To this I readily agreed. She stood
up and handed me Trish, and we walked onto the porch together. Once there,
we sat down on the porch swing to enjoy the wonderfully sunny day, big
puffy white clouds in the sky. It was nice rocking there, not saying
anything to each other for a few moments while we contemplated suburbia
together. Quaint houses lined the street in front of us, each lawn neatly
maintained. A neighbor boy biked by, chased by another on foot with a
basketball in his hand. I loved this neighborhood. I was proud that I had
been successful enough to buy my own house in a lovely place like this. It
was an ideal environment to raise Trish, too.

	At some point, the lady living to the left of me walked down the
driveway, a large canvas bag slung over her shoulder.

	"Damn!" exclaimed Janice, "How the hell is she carrying that thing?
It looks like it would weigh four hundred pounds!"

	"I know, it weird. She looks way too small to be able to do that."

	The lady reached the end of the driveway and flung the bag onto the
side of the road. She turned around then, and I couldn't help but notice
how dignified she looked. She appeared to be about in her early forties or
perhaps late thirties with chin-level jet-black hair. The lady was wearing
some sort of suit outfit that perfectly matched the color of her wavy
tresses. The result was that her face seemed almost ghostly with its
pouting red lips and slightly upturned eyes. I could easily imagine her in
France on a veranda, smoking a cigarette from one of those long black
stems. Her head turned then, and looked directly at me. A shot of
adrenaline hit me almost painfully as those eyes seemed to bore into my
consciousness. She then looked straight again and continued on into her
house.

	"Hey, when did she move in here?" asked Janice.

	"I guess she's been here for awhile, though I never see her come
out much. Strange."

	"Hmm. She looks interesting.Maybe I should go meet her," said
Janice. I looked over at her. She had that mischievous grin on her face
again. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

	"Janice, I know what you're thinking. I have no doubt you don't
have the slightest intention of simply saying 'Hi' and bringing her a
Jell-o mold," I said.

	She gasped and smacked me half-heartedly on the arm. She knew I was
right. "Ya know, Wendy-you aren't my therapist anymore, you can't
psychoanalyze my motives like you used to," said Janice.

	"Yeah, you're right. But I just know what makes you tick. I can't
help it. But you know, you do have a bit of a point about our
neighbor. Maybe I should stop by one of these days and welcome her to the
neighborhood. And I really would bring a Jell-o mold too."

	"pfft! I wouldn't expect any less from you, Wendy. Why don't you
invite her over for a Tupperware party some time? I bet she'd just love
it!" said Janice teasingly.

	"Why don't we go over there right now? All three of us?" I asked.

	"Hmm. That is an idea. But, it might be a little intimidating if we
all went over, ya know?  And technically I'm not even a neighbor, even if I
do come over here a lot. Why don't I just take care of Trish for a bit
while you go say hello? You have bottles in the fridge, right? And I know
where the diapers are and so forth."

	"Janice, it sounds almost like you're trying to get me out of the
house!" I chuckled.

	"Well you probably should get out now and then. All you do is stay
inside since you've taken the last month off from work. Get out and meet
your neighbors dammit!" said Janice. All I could do was groan. I should
probably at least say hello, I thought. If nothing else it was my
neighborly duty. And I was curious too. She really did seem like an
interesting person, though she was probably really stuck up.

	So I made what was to be one of the most pivotal choices in my
life, simply on a whim. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and so I
did it. I told Janice that I didn't think I'd be gone too long. She told me
to take my time; I could never know if a good conversation might come up
and keep me a few hours. I chuckled at that. I was only going to say hi,
then come back. I said goodbye to Janice and kissed Trish. Then they went
inside.

	I walked next door and rang her doorbell. I was feeling a bit tense
and nervous at this time. You'd think I would have no problem meeting and
dealing with new people since I did it at work all the time, but I just
felt weird doing this for some reason. I had started to go into my own
thoughts when the lady abruptly opened the door. Up close she was
stunningly elegant. I had never seen a woman who looked like that. Her skin
was pale but flawless, like a painting. I would have killed to have skin
like that in nine or ten years. Her eyes were a piercingly ice cold blue,
and she pinned my own eyes with that stare.
 
	"Can I help you?" she asked, never breaking eye contact with me.

	"I..uh.I'm your next door neighbor.and.I just wanted to say 'hi,'
so.uh.hi," I ended rather lamely. The corner of her lips upturned in
amusement.

	"My neighbor. Hmm. Yes, I saw you out front just now. Why don't you
come in for a drink?" Her voice was moderately deep and throaty. I
recognized it as an extremely sexy voice, though I was more envious than
aroused. I followed her into the dimly lit interior.

	"Have a seat on the couch," she said, "I'll bring you something
refreshing." I took a seat on the dark leather couch and looked around
while she entered the kitchen. I couldn't help noting how classy the place
was-she had paintings artfully arranged on all her walls, a few sculptures
here and there. It was a bit on the pretentious side though, I must admit.

	"So, my name's Wendy, what's yours?" I asked her somewhat awkwardly
as she busied herself in the kitchen. She only gave out a melodious laugh
in response. That began my nervousness. What kind of a person doesn't even
reveal their name when asked? It was rather creepy, really. I decided I
wouldn't try talking again until she returned.

	She came back with two tall glasses filled with ice and a clear
liquid. I assumed it was water or some sort of clear soda, but I didn't
want to be rude by asking. I thanked her for the drink and took a sip as
she sat down next to me. She seemed to be eagerly watching me drink.  "Is
it good?" she asked with an upturned eyebrow.

	"Yes, very." And indeed it was good. Although I honestly had no
idea what it was. It tasted moderately sweet and somewhat tangy. I found
myself very much enjoying the way that cool beverage coated my mouth and
throat.
 
	"So.how long have you lived here?" I asked.

	"Let's just say I watched you move in. I've been here for many
years," she responded. I was fairly shocked to know she had been here the
whole time and I had never even noticed. How could that be? I tried to
think back if I had ever seen her before, but it seemed like too much
effort at the moment. With the wonderful drink and all my nervousness, I
felt sort of woozy and lightheaded.

	She seemed to make no effort at conversation, and so neither did
I. After awhile, I was surprised to notice I was feeling rather relaxed
now, and found myself looking at her. She didn't seem to mind my stare. The
woman only smiled and stared back at me. I put the glass up to my lips and
gulped greedily from it. She leaned in then, and gently pushed the bottom
of the glass up, encouraging me to finish the drink. Even though I found it
rationally quite disconcerting that she would be doing that, I didn't feel
any anxiety about it whatsoever. I wanted to finish the drink because it
was delicious. She took the glass from me and set it on the coffee table. I
was glad she did, because I felt too lazy to do it myself. I tried to say
thank you, but the effort just seemed like too much.

	"Hmm. Darling you look so tired. Why don't you lay back?" The idea
seemed absolutely delicious. I utterly sunk back into the couch, letting
out a small sigh. She reached down and picked up my feet and legs, which
weren't on the couch yet, gently laying them on her lap.  Without asking
me, she slowly unlaced my shoes, then removed one at a time. I could only
feel this because I didn't have any desire to prop my head up and watch her
ministrations. Then I felt the sock material being peeled back on my right
foot then the left, exposing the soft flesh to the open air. When she had
released both feet from their confinement, the cool air on my bare feet was
so wonderful. She lightly stroked the arch of my left foot, sending chills
up my body.  Nobody had touched my feet in years. I probably should have
found it odd that this lady who doesn't even know me had no problem
intimately touching me like that. But I could only enjoy the sensation of
it. I felt her fingers spreading my toes, exposing the tender skin. She
would gently run her fingers over it, slowly pushing between the toes in a
rhythmic fashion. A very faint moan escaped me. I wasn't thinking anymore
at that point. My awareness had shrunk to the feelings she was inducing
upon my feet, and I could care less about anything else in the world. In
that state I began to drift off into unconsciousness. The last thing I
remember hearing was her voice: "Darling, I'm so glad you came to visit. I
was almost beginning to think I would have to take matters into my own
hands."


	As the fog of unconsciousness lifted from me, I was first aware of
the cold hard surface I was laying upon. I opened my eyes but only saw a
few dim overhead lights set in an otherwise dark ceiling. Needless to say I
was extremely disoriented. Where the hell was I? I traced back my thoughts,
and remembered lying on the couch with my feet in that lady's lap. So how
had I gotten to here? My first thought was that something terrible had
happened to me and I was in the hospital. I tried to sit up, and that's
when the panic began. My muscles wouldn't obey my command. I made an
attempt to move my arms and my legs and found they were paralyzed as
well. Confusion and panic began to envelope me. I attempted to scream, but
my voice box felt sluggish. Only an insignificant grunt escaped me. At this
point I started to hyperventilate, my mind trying desperately to figure out
what happened. Quickly there after I heard her voice.

	"Ahhh. Little Wendy has woken up, I see. Excellent." Her face came
in to view, looming a few feet above my own. She wore a malevolent smirk.

	"Please calm down dear. Panic will do you no good. You have
been.incapacitated. How did this happen you may wonder? Hmm. The drink I
gave you had a very strong muscle relaxant in it. And of course I added a
special ingredient causing significant voice paralysis. You'll notice that
you're only paralyzed from the neck down. Likewise, it only affects major
muscles groups.  You may be able to wiggle your fingers and so
forth. Internal organs aren't affected, naturally."

	The shock was profound. I tried to ask why, for the love of god
why? But of course I couldn't. I could only mouth the words. She offered a
broad and evil smile down at me. Her hand came up then and lightly stroked
the side of my face. I tried to flinch away, as I thought I still had
control over my neck, but I couldn't move it either. Apparently she meant
the neck was also paralyzed itself.

	"Oh, don't struggle little one. As adorable as it is, it is
ultimately fruitless." She continued to stroke my cheek. Anger welled up in
me. Her touch insulted the core of my being. I wanted to knock her hand
away or bite her, but it was no use. Finally I stopped trying and only
trembled with rage. One of the few things I could move were my eyes, and I
traced her pale, slender arm up to her bare shoulders. Her outfit sent
another shock through me. She wore a black corset that was so tight it made
her waist appear to be no more than twenty inches around. The effect was to
make her hips flare out amazingly. The table and my viewpoint kept me from
seeing farther than the top of the hips. What really struck me however, was
the way in which the corset cupped her naked breasts like two hands. Her
breasts were not big, perhaps B's or so, but the corset pushed them out as
if they were suspended in mid air. They were funnel-like in appearance, the
nipple and areola almost indistinguishable from one another and pointing
erectly at me like twin sugar cones. I estimated the length from the edge
of each dark areola to the tip of the nipple to be at least three inches.

	From her appearance, I realized I had stumbled into something that
I had no way of understanding. Nothing made sense to me. I didn't know
where I was, or how I got there, or how long I had been there, or why she
was wearing that horrendous outfit. And I couldn't fathom what she was
planning on doing. It occurred to me then, that I was probably going to be
killed here by this psychotic bitch. A wave of panic rose up in me
again. But then she quickly left my vision and I was left to my own
thoughts momentarily.
 
	I had to figure out how to escape. The first step was to figure out
my limitations. I couldn't move anything from the neck down. No, that
wasn't true. I concentrated with all my might and wiggled my toes
weakly. My fingers were no better off. I didn't even have the strength to
grip anything with any real success, even if there was something to
grip. But there was nothing to grip anyway. I was on some sort of metal
table, but that was all I could gather. It was hopeless. I was completely
at her mercy and there wasn't a single thing I could do about it. I could
only wait.

	Soon she returned to my side, and without hesitation reached for
the button of my pants. I had no time to even wonder what she was doing. I
was frozen in shock and dread filled my brain, my heart beating
rapidly. She deftly unbuttoned my pants and unzipped the fly in one fluid
motion. This accomplished she walked quickly to the end of the table and
pulled on my pant legs, shimming them down and exposing my bare thighs to
the cold table. Next, she walked back around to my side and reached over to
the opposite hip, hooking her finger under the band of my underwear. She
pulled it down until I felt it catch between my bottom and the
table. Leaving my underwear in that position, she unbuttoned my shirt and
maneuvered my arms through the holes.  At that point she quickly rolled me
over like I was a rag doll and then completely peeled off my underwear and
shirt. She then rolled me back over again. In less than thirty seconds I
had been stripped of all my clothes and lay as exposed as the day I was
born in front of a complete stranger. The transition was so abrupt that I
was still in shock even after it had happened.

	"Hmm. Now doesn't that feel better, little one? All naked and
free. And just so chubby and cute, aren't we?" She gathered a handful of my
ample inner thigh and gave it a moderately uncomfortable squeeze. Her hand
then traveled up my leg and stopped at my belly button. She stuck her thumb
into the crevice and pinched my lower tummy, quickly letting it go then
pinching it again. After a few seconds of this I gave out a little whine of
discomfort.

	"So baby doesn't like that, does she? But her little baby fat is
just sooo adorable." Baby?  Why did she call me that? What the hell was
going on? In all my years of working with patients, not once did I
encounter someone so psychologically disturbed. Her mind must be a rat's
nest, I thought.

	She continued to poke and prod my tummy, then my sides and up my
rib cages, I tried impotently to flinch away. I felt hands work their way
up to the side of my breast.

	"My! What big boobies for such a teeny baby!" With that she
squeezed each breast with rapid motions. The pain seemed too much for me to
take. I had not realized up until that moment how tender my breasts
were. Likewise, I had not completely emptied them when feeding Trish and
they were now full again. Her ministrations forced an involuntary squirt of
milk from my right breast. When I panned my eyes down as much as I could, I
was able see the tips of my breasts; white fluid dripped down the side of
my right nipple. I uttered weak squeal of pain. The insane woman seemed
rather perturbed by this. She stopped her squeezing and placed her hands on
her flaring hips. She bit her lower lip in mild distress.

	"This.this simply will not do," she said, almost to herself,
"Everyone knows the baby doesn't make the milk. We'll have to remedy this
immediately. Hmm." She disappeared from my view then and I was left to
contemplate what had happened in the last five minutes. Certainly it was
all too much for me to analyze. I could only imagine how I must look,
laying here on this cold metal table, completely vulnerable to any depraved
thing she wished to do to me. My body was no longer in my control. I was
like a living plaything-completely aware and feeling, but utterly malleable
and pliant. I thought of my coworkers and patients seeing what had been
done to me. The involuntary stripping. The poking. The prodding. What had
happened to that strong independent woman, working her way through
doctorate school, supporting herself, buying her own house? My eyes welled
up with tears then, as the full scope of my humiliation pressed down on
me. It was all for nothing. All of the hard earned pride had been stripped
of me as easily as my clothes had been. I couldn't move, I couldn't
protest. I was no better than a naked baby on a changing table. Everything
became bleary. I felt rivulets course down my temples and flow behind my
ears. I sobbed softly for I don't know how long. I heard her voice before I
saw her.
 
	"Ohh, my poor little darling. It's all right now. Mommy's here."
She came into view then, once again her face hovering above me. I saw her
hand move to my head. I felt her fingers stroke the corners of my eyes and
trace the tear trail ever so gently to my temples, then behind my ears. I
didn't have the heart to protest at this point. I was beginning to accept
the pointlessness of it. And her fingers were so soft and gentle. Her
strokes were surprisingly soothing. I knew I should have been repulsed by
her, but I needed a human's touch to console me just then, and she supplied
it. I closed my eyes, slipping into a more relaxed state. After a bit, she
whispered softly in my ear.

	"Shhh. It's all right, my precious baby. Mommy will make it all
right. Shhh." I suppose my mind started to slip then. I let out a little
mew of acknowledgement. With her gentle stroking and cooing in my ear, I
lost track of where I was. I thought the person comforting me was my own
mother, the woman I had known only until I was five. I felt so secure and
safe. I knew my mommy wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. I started to
drift off. She must have got up at some point, but I wasn't aware of
it. What brought me out of my sleepy dreamlike state was the painful
restriction I felt upon my left nipple.

	My eyes snapped open, and I was horrified to see she had placed a
small band around the base of my nipple. She was already about to snap
another band around the other one. They looked to be the type of rubber
bands used in dentistry-much smaller than conventional rubber bands. Pain
pulsed rhythmically from each nipple as they quickly became engorged. If I
had not been shocked with pain, I might have been amazed at the sight of
the nipples slowly becoming inflated like little balloons. Soon they were
very painfully erect and bulged obscenely. They were so hard they actually
thumped as blood pumped into them. I really thought they might rupture.
 
	"Mmm.so pointy. Just like Mommy, aren't you?" She ran her index
finger and thumb over her own conical nipples, causing them to quickly
harden as well. She then leaned over me and ever so slightly touched the
tip of her nipple to my own. Despite my rational repulsion to what she was
doing, my skin betrayed me, sending intense bursts of pleasure to my
brain. With the restricting bands, my nipples had become ultra sensitive to
the slightest of touches. She began to circle her nipple around my tip,
picking up the milky residue that was still there. I tried, but failed to
suppress a moan of pleasure.

	"You like it when Baby's nipples kiss Mommy's, don't you?" She
smiled at me as she straightened up again. I was glad she had stopped
making me derive pleasure from her perverse touch, but a depraved side of
me also missed the contact. I watched as she massaged my milk into her
pointed nipple and areola. She closed her eyes and let out a guttural moan
of pleasure.  Why so much bliss from that, I remember thinking. In the
forlorn outpost of my rational mind, gears clicked.

	She looked at me then, noticing how I had been staring at her
nipples, and said teasingly, "Now, now, baby Wendy. I know how much you
want to suckle from Mommy, but we both know you can still move your jaw. We
wouldn't want to feed Baby while she's still teething.  She'll certainly
need training before she's ready for that privilege." Now I was
confused. What kind of training was she talking about? And it's not like
I'd want to "suckle" from her anyway! I just didn't understand. I felt like
I was trapped in a schizophrenic nightmare-one moment filled with pleasure
and content, the next by confusion and pain. In a way I guess I sort of did
think this was all a crazy dream. Perhaps it was the only way I could
explain it and retain my sanity.

	"I suppose we've taken care of one problem," she said, giving my
right nipple a painful flick, "but there is still one other problem. Baby
is much, much too hairy." She then bent over and pulled a strap from
underneath the table and laid it across my hips, walking to the other side
and attaching it in presumably a clip on the other side. But there were
more straps to come. She lifted up my left leg and wrapped one strap around
my thigh, right above the knee. She stretched my leg back and secured the
strap down, letting my shin and foot flop over the strap. She repeated the
process for my other leg. The result was that my legs were spread wide-open
and bent back so that my knees nearly touched the sides of my stomach.

	This may be hard to imagine, but try to picture a baby with its
legs help up and out of the way, ready to be changed by its mother. That
was me. It might sound like a painful position, but it was only moderately
so. The true pain was in knowing what I must look like. She stood back to
admire her handy work. I was thoroughly humiliated by my position. I wanted
so bad to cover up my crotch-- I knew it must be displayed obscenely in
this position. By the cool feeling of the air running between my widely
spread cheeks, I knew my anus was exposed as well. I had never before been
so blatantly revealed to someone since my mother had changed my
diapers. While obviously I'm no virgin, it's not like I splayed my legs
open and let them see my nether regions in all its glory. I always did
things mostly missionary style. When lovers went down on me, it was always
in the dark, and even then very seldom.

	She reached under the table and brought up a pair of scissors in
one hand, shaving cream and a safety razor in the other. A hand towel was
draped over her left arm. It was fairly obvious what she had planned. I
watched her walk around to the front and climb up onto the table, the space
where my legs had lain previously. She set down the implements at her side
and ran her hands along my sensitive hamstrings. I felt each hand begin to
rub vigorously, causing my ample thighs to jiggle. I watched her actions
resignedly, unable to do a thing.

	"Oooh, I just can't get enough of little Wendy's chubby
legs. They're just so plump I could eat them up!" I saw her pink tongue
snake out as she leaned towards my right ass cheek. I felt her slippery
tongue slither its way slowly across my ass cheek and up my hamstring to
behind my knee. I mewed in pleasure despite the perversity of it. I had
always had sensitive under-legs. When she flicked her tongue rapidly behind
my knee, I wanted to pull away it tickled so much. Soon she pulled back a
bit and spoke:

	"I know Baby likes that, but we must do some grooming before little
Wendy can really play with Mommy. Little babies shouldn't have such thick,
hairy bushes, should they?" She asked rhetorically. She picked up the
scissor, making little snipping noises in the air to test out the feel. As
she brought the scissors to my pubic hair, I suddenly feared she might
cause me damage, either on purpose or unintentionally. I was tense as she
began to clip.

	Each snip of her scissor was slow and very intentional. I could see
her pale face between my uplifted legs. Her eyes were focused intently on
the task. She bit her lower lip in concentration. While I would have kicked
her away and ran if I could, under the circumstances the experience wasn't
so terrible. Actually it felt good to have someone so devoutly attending to
my grooming. I couldn't help sensing the scissors and her hand so close to
my sensitive skin. It made my crotch tingle with the expectation of
touch. When she finished trimming my hair nearly to the skin, she casually
brushed off the dark curly locks. I couldn't suppress a little whine of
pleasure.

	Next she sprayed shaving cream in her left hand and rubbed it all
around my crotch, including my tender labia. I whined again, involuntarily
deriving pleasure from her touch. I felt a finger trail down and circle a
few times around my anus. The tickling sensation brought back a vivid
memory from my childhood. My bottom had been "burny" and my mother rubbed a
soothing cream over the anal opening, running a finger up and down my
little crack. I loved the sensation so much I had often complained of a
burny bottom when I didn't really have one. I had been no more than five at
the time, because my mother had left not long after, never to return.

	When my capturer began to run the razor gently along my mons pubis,
I didn't even bother to try to struggle. I believed she would be as gentle
as she had been with the scissors, if not more so. I was not mistaken. She
shaved me meticulously, cleaning the razor on the hand towel whenever it
became jammed with hair. The process must have taken ten minutes; she did
it so slowly and carefully. I didn't feel a single knick what so ever. In
fact, the sensation of the razor would have been pleasurable in other
circumstances. When she would push my labia to the side or stretch it out
to get a better shaving angle, I couldn't help but become aroused. She
noticed too as she finished shaving me.

	"Oh my! Baby is wetting herself! She's just such a naughty little
girl, isn't she. I suppose we'll have to clean you right up." She then took
the unused side of the hand towel and vigorously rubbed the whole region
from mons pubis to anus, and back again. The sensation of the rough towel
over all that excited and tingly area caused me to become woozy with
arousal.  Obviously this didn't solve my "wetness" problem at all, for I
felt it dripping and oozing inside of me. She reached around the side of
the table and brought to my view a bottle of what looked to be baby
oil. She put a dab of it in her right hand and promptly began to rub the
whole area, making little swirling motions like she was waxing a car. I
felt her slim fingers trace all the way around my labia and then push the
thick lips away to expose the hidden darker inner lips. She ran her fingers
between the outer lip and the inner labia on either side, then pinched my
left inner lip, rubbing it between her thumb and index finger. I was
helpless to the pleasure she was causing me. I tried so hard not to enjoy
her touches, but my body was in complete revolt. It had abandoned my
commands and now only responded to what this lady wanted it to do. It was
an unfair fight with two against me. I made little whining sounds of
unhappiness.

	"Why does my little darling try to resist? All Mommy wants is to
make baby feel good.  And baby wants to feel good too. I know she
does. When Mommy touches Baby's cute little pussy, her lips get puffy. And
when Mommy strokes Baby's anus, it tightens and loosens up again." For all
the world, she was right. My body loved the sensations, whether I wanted it
to or not. My breathing had quickened and high-pitched moans escaped my
throat. When I felt two of her fingers enter me, I began to
hyperventilate. She wiggled them around in me in a way that no one had ever
done before. My body was a puppet for her amusement, feeling pleasure when
she told it to. Eventually her fingers centered on the upper roof of my
vagina. She located my G spot and rubbed it mercilessly. After awhile of
her strong rubbing, I felt the overwhelming urge to pee. She must have
known from the whiney sounds I made.

	"I know my little darling needs to make wee-wee. Its ok little one,
just let go. Mommy will clean up after you." I didn't want to pee. I wanted
her to stop making me feel these things. I wanted her to stop rubbing me
and let me go home. But she wouldn't stop the continual circular motions
against my G spot. When she began to rub my erect clit with her other hand,
my arousal and my need to pee rose in tandem. She obviously wanted me to
orgasm, but I fought all the way. I tried not to think about the
sensations, and for a while I was able to keep myself from tipping over the
edge. I began to sob from the strain of trying to keep from coming. But
mental fatigue started to envelope me. My mental defenses had been taxed
too much in too short a time.  I finally submitted to her relentless
rubbing and flowed with the sensations.

	I was wrapped in extreme bliss as I no longer fought my body or my
capturer's desires. In that moment I wanted to be her little infant, and
let her do whatever she wanted to me. In a few seconds, a blinding rush of
pleasure coursed through my awareness, stopping all thoughts whatsoever. My
vagina and anus both contracted rhythmically in uncontrollable spasms. I
let out a long guttural moan as I squirted a thick stream of clear fluid
all over her arm and her corset.

	"Such a good little girl! Mommy is just so proud of her baby. She
made wee-wee just like Mommy told her to." I closed my eyes in complete
content. In that moment I was proud of myself also, because I did what
Mommy wanted to me to do. I made wee-wee like a good little girl. When I
felt something resting against my privates, I looked up to see her black
hair between my legs. She rewarded me with a long soft kiss on my vagina. I
closed my eyes again and let out a long sigh.

	After a few moments of revelry, I heard what sounded like sucking
noises. She was still positioned in front of my crotch, but she had two
fingers in her mouth. She made sounds of bliss, and I saw her pull the two
fingers out of her mouth and rub them on her corset where I had squirted
onto her. She brought the fingers to her lips and circled them with her
tongue, enjoying every drop. She noticed me staring at her.

	"Mmm. So tangy and sweet. Just like Mommy. Here, taste." She leaned
over me and rubbed her fingers all over my lips, wetting them with the
fluid.

	"Lick." I slowly and deliberately wiped my tongue across my top lip
and then my bottom, never stopping eye contact with her. It was just as she
described it. I instantly craved the taste of it more than anything. I
realized how thirsty I was, but I only wanted this fluid.

	"No, my darling. That was not your urine that you just licked from
your lips You're a squirter just like Mommy. Oh, we'll have so much
delicious fun together! Would you like another taste, little one?" She
smiled down at me. I stuck out my tongue in response. I felt her fingers
rub through my pussy lips before she brought them back to my face. Once
again she rubbed her fingers around my lips and I eagerly licked off my own
juices.

	But this time the strong flavor triggered a memory. Me on a couch
with this lady. Her giving me a drink. The taste of that drink. It was the
same flavor on my lips at this moment! No, it wasn't exactly the same, but
very similar. That flavor had been a bit sweeter, more unusual, with a bit
of a back taste. For a second I couldn't make the connection, but then it
hit me. The realization appalled me and pulled me out of my compliant
state. Had she really collected her own juices, waiting to serve them to a
guest? Could she have poured it over ice and given it to me, spiking it
with her paralysis drug? I started to feel sick. I had drank a full
twelve-ounce glass of it.And I had loved it.

	I could tell she saw the horror in my eyes.

	"Hmm. Do we recognize a familiar taste? Oh, I thought you might. So
yummy, isn't it? If I had known you were a squirter, I would have taken
proper measures. As it is now, I suppose I must clean us both up. Such a
waist of ambrosia, though." She shook her head, looking distant. I watched
her get down from the table and walk away, leaving me to my own thoughts.

	I tried to push my own submission out of my head. I didn't want to
acknowledge that I had willingly complied to this psychotic woman's
perverse sexual games, or that I actually enjoyed any part of it. I thought
back on how simple my life had been before all this had happened. I was
amused at all my anxiety over wanting to masturbate while
breast-feeding. What I had thought was so sick and twisted seemed paltry
now in light of the recent events. I remembered Trish and Janice then. It
wasn't as if I had actually forgot about them, exactly.  Rather, other
pressing needs had been at the forefront of my mind. You know, like self
preservation? But now I really thought about them, and a sharp pang of
homesickness wrenched my mind. I could scarcely believe home was only a few
hundred yards away, Janice taking care of Trish for me. But three questions
occurred in my head. Was I really close to home? How long had I been gone?
Wouldn't Janice come over and look for me eventually?

	It seemed like a safe bet that I hadn't been unconscious long
enough for this psychotic bitch to transport me anywhere far. Even a car
ride seemed unlikely. So I was probably in her house.somewhere. I supposed
she had carried me to the changing table herself. Certainly it was possible
when I thought of how easily she had handled that canvas bag that started
this whole incident. What was in that bag anyhow? Maybe her last "Baby"?
Adrenaline hit me, but weakly.  My body had pretty much reached the limit
on adrenaline production. I was scared then. It seemed so plausible in my
mind. She lures women into her house, drugs them, plays with them, and when
she gets bored.

	But really it didn't matter though. I already knew I had to
escape. But of course that was the whole problem. I tried again to move a
muscle, any muscle. Nothing. I was in trouble. No, I was fucked. In every
sense, I was fucked beyond comprehension. So how long had I been here? I
had no idea really. The events had all happened so rapidly, but time had
lost its meaning down here, wherever "here" was. Probably not more than a
few hours. Actually, I doubted it had been more than an hour at most. My
god. It astounded me. All this had happened so quickly, and yet life before
I was laid bare on this changing table seemed an eternity ago. If Janice
was going to check on me, it might be as much as four more hours. I
wondered how long this paralysis would last. Would she re-administer a new
dose when it started to wear off? It seemed likely. Probably in a glass of
her squirt juice. I shuttered in revulsion. How could I have enjoyed that?
And yet I had. I stared blankly. I had enjoyed it.

	Lying there, I became aware of my discomfort. My legs were starting
to get sore from being tied back the way they were. And my crotch felt
sticky and clammy from my cooling juices. Worst of all were my breasts. The
perma-erect nipples felt like bullets of fire, pulsing pain radiated from
the base where the bands still held tight. Each of my breasts ached so hard
from a lack of milking. It annoyed me that my twin balloon nipples were so
erotic looking. It was like a feedback effect. The more hard and full they
got, the more aroused I became, and so they tried to become more hard and
full. I was in this state when she returned with a plastic container of
baby- wipes in hand.

	"Pretty, aren't they, little Wendy?" She saw me eyeing my distended
nipples. "I now you want to be milked, my dear. But sadly that is not to
be. It wouldn't do at all. I'm afraid you'll have to just endure the
discomfort." I figured as much. She then pulled a wet-wipe from the
container and nonchalantly wiped my tender crotch and anus while she
continued to talk.  "I do have a bit of bad news, however," she said. " I'm
going to have to cause you a bit more discomfort now. It really is
necessary for your training though. Please, little one-don't struggle.  The
more you fight it the more it will hurt." This sounded positively
ominous. I dreaded what she had in store for me. When I saw the strange
device she raised up, I moaned in horror. It was some sadistic mouthpiece
contraption.

	"You must open up your mouth now, sweet one." I clamped my jaws
down. There was no way in hell I was going to let her put that thing in my
mouth. She saw my protest, and she was not pleased.

	"I see you're going to be a naughty baby. I'm so disappointed," she
sighed, "hmm. I suppose this will hurt a bit then." Her free hand roughly
pinched my face, pushing the inside of my cheeks painfully against my
teeth. I gritted through the pain for a bit, but eventually I couldn't take
it anymore. I knew she would just continue to pinch me until I started to
bleed. I opened my jaw the slightest to relieve some of the pressure. It
was the opportunity she was waiting for. She placed the back end of the
device into my pursed lips and slowly but relentlessly wedged it between my
upper and lower teeth. I tried to scream and let out only a faint whine. I
could do nothing at this point. If I bit down now, or refused to relax my
jaw as she pushed it in, I would probably break my teeth. My lips were
stretched painfully to accommodate the metal monster. I decided that there
was no point even resisting. It was just too painful. I relaxed and let her
do what she would.

	She let out a sigh of joy when I became pliant, "Ahh. Now isn't
this better? You'll find that all in all this won't be so bad." Eventually
I felt the device snap into place, hugging to both my upper and lower sets
of teeth. I felt a very light spring loaded pressure, such that the device
would stay snug even if I opened my jaw wider. It moved so perfectly with
my jaw motions that I hardly found it uncomfortable at all. It was rather
thin and did not poke me anywhere. She reached into my mouth and made some
final adjustments to the device. Ah! This was the opportunity I had been
waiting for. With all my strength I bit down as hard as I could on her
finger. But it did nothing. My teeth stopped short of meeting each other by
about half an inch.  Try as I might, the device prevented me from biting
down any farther than that. She had effectively removed the only weapon I
had left. She laughed when she saw the comprehension dawn on my face. I was
now completely helpless and infantile, stripped of even the use of my
teeth.

	"Now Baby didn't really think Mommy would let her suckle without
some training, did you? It would be naughty if Baby decided she wanted to
teethe." Her finger probed the inside of my mouth. She felt the smooth
inner linings of my cheeks and ran along all the sides of my teeth.  It was
the most invasive thing that had ever been done to me. Frankly, it was even
more humiliating than when she had played with my crotch and entered
me. She decided she wanted to play with my tongue some. For awhile I kept
trying to maneuver my tongue away from her finger, but it was really no
use. She stuck her thumb in my mouth and started to rub my tongue between
the two fingers. At first her pinch was hard and my tongue flopped around
like a landed fish. But as she rubbed it more and more, my tongue became
docile. She massaged it for a few minutes, and really it was almost
pleasurable. When I stopped thinking about who was causing the sensation, I
just concentrated on the feeling and it was kind of interesting to have my
tongue massaged.

	But as soon as I started to accept it, she lost interest and
withdrew her fingers. They were coated in my saliva. I saw her look over at
my ballooned nipples and smile. She took the coated fingers and ever so
gently swirled my saliva all over the length of both of them. I had no idea
how sensitive they would be. I grunted from the pleasure, but also from the
pain. The mixture of feelings was so strange. It was like it felt so good
that it hurt. Once both nipples were well coated, she wiped her fingers on
my stomach and looked down at me, smiling.

	"Little Wendy, you look so hungry. I think baby needs to be suckled
now," she chuckled, "but not from these." She cupped each conical breast in
a hand and leaned over, putting them in my face teasingly. So.from what
then? I couldn't possibly fathom. With cat-like quickness she placed one
knee up on the table, then swung her other leg up and over me. She had her
knees resting on either side of my body, straddling me. She rested her soft
but firm ass on my upper chest.

	With horror, I looked at her crotch. Her pubic hair was like a dark
curly forest, so thick I couldn't see a single speck of skin underneath
it. She was wearing a piece of equipment I could never have imagined
existed. She had forced her substantial clitoris through a small hole in a
concave piece of plastic. Small holes were drilled in each corner or the
plastic piece and a thin chain was secured to each hole. On each of her
legs, the chain ran from a top hole, wrapped around her upper thigh and
attached to the chain below it. The result was what appeared to be a baby's
pacifier secured to her crotch area. I opened my mouth wide in complete
shock. She laughed at my expression.

	"Relax my little baby, in time you'll learn to love it." My mind
reeled at the idea of what she was about to make me do. She moved herself
forward, putting the device inches from my lips. I was absolutely astounded
by how large the dark pink nubbin was. As it moved towards the inevitable,
I drew back my lips to keep them from touching her clitoris. She pressed
the curved plastic against my mouth, and I moved my tongue out of the way
to prevent contact. My nose was absolutely buried in her pubic hair. I
tried not to breath, but settled for shallow breaths so that I wouldn't
smell her. The curly hairs tickled my nose.

	And there she rested, looking down at me. She didn't move herself
around to force contact, but only waited patiently. She said nothing, but
just watched, waiting to see what I would do. What would I do? My lips were
already starting to get tired from their unnatural position, my tongue
cramping. I can't tell you how long this impasse went on. After what felt
like thirty minutes I started to become delirious from fatigue and
strain. I started to have random flashbacks from my life. A conversation at
work. A masturbatory endeavor after prom night.  Playing in the backyard
with my childhood friends. It all seemed like a far distant dream. I knew
I'd never see that life again. It all meant nothing. My world had shrunk to
this test of will. I rationalized that if I held out long enough, she would
give up and either kill me, or let me go out of frustration. Seconds drew
out to minutes, to lengths of time I had no way of judging.

	After an unknown amount of time, she spoke: "My little Wendy is
just so stubborn. But I know what may bring her around." She stuck two
fingers in her mouth and began sucking on them. When they were well coated
in her saliva, she reached behind her and fully assaulted my right
nipple. Her slick and wiggling fingers were relentless and pulled painful
pleasure out of me.  I gasped through my nose involuntarily. The heady
scent of her pubic hair caused my brain to fizzle. It smelled so musky and
carnal. And it brought back a memory I had completely buried.  Scents have
the power to do that. I remembered laying my head in my mother's lap after
a particularly bad day of school. She had been wearing a skirt and it had
bunched up as she pulled my head close to her for comfort. I lay there for
an hour, just inhaling her scent. I had become intoxicated by the rich
smell of her crotch as she held me against her. I felt so secure and safe
at that moment, wrapped in the heady scent of my mother. And now here was a
scent so similar to that. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to
deeply inhale her sex scent into my nose and let it course through my
being. I wanted to be utterly wrapped in her smell. I let out my breath and
then inhaled deeply, this time completely voluntarily. Lust bathed my mind.

	My lips trembled as they ever so slowly lowered onto her bulging
clit. When I finally made contact, it was like sparks went through my
brain, like someone had poured ginger-ale in my skull. It felt so amazing
to finally stop fighting and let my lips rest on her. She began to run her
hands through my hair and softly whisper coos of encouragement. I slowly
pursed my lips and began tentatively to suckle upon her clit. She began to
moan from deep within her chest. I only wanted to make Mommy feel good like
she had done for me. I began to suck rhythmically like a nursing infant,
and she would rock her hips to match my movements. I was absolutely in
heaven.

	I sucked on my clitty-pacifier for some time before I realized an
interesting thing would occur if I sucked particularly hard. It seemed that
when I created a strong vacuum, her clitty would expand inside my mouth. It
become a fun game for me to see how big I could make it get.  As it would
bulge past my teeth I would circle my tongue around it, tasting her
delicious flesh. I liked to flick it up against my front teeth and she
would nearly scream with pleasure. At one point I sucked on it so hard that
I felt it hit the roof of my mouth.

	I lost myself in my suckling activities. There was only this world
or pleasure and that was it. I could feel myself drooling from the corner
of my lips, but also I felt copious streams of some other fluid dripping
down my chin and onto my neck. I realized that it was her pussy juice. I
had a pang of longing to taste those juices again. It had been so long
since I tasted her fluid. But I also wanted my clitty-pacifier so bad.

	When I settled down to a steady circular motion with my tongue, she
started to hyperventilate uncontrollably. Then when I was sure she was
about to orgasm, she pulled her erect clit from between my lips and quickly
planted her drenched pussy lips over the opening of my mouth. It was then
that she screamed in orgasm and rewarded me with a thick stream of her own
squirt juice directly into my mouth. It was mind boggling to have my mouth
filled so instantaneously with the juice I had craved so badly. I had to
literally gulp it down to keep it from overflowing. Some did course down
the side of my face nevertheless.

	Drinking that liquid directly from the source was like nothing I
had ever experienced. It was pure delight. When I had swallowed all she had
to give, I reveled in the touch and taste of her wet pussy lips mashed up
against my face. I ran my tongue all around them, making her shiver with
delight. In my state, I thought I was five again, licking my mother's
vagina as she had eventually persuaded me to do. I had loved it so much, as
I loved it now. I felt like such a good daughter pleasuring my mommy like
that. Those blocked out memories of my perverse childhood had rushed back
into my conscious mind, and I knew there was no repressing them now. In the
back of my mind it occurred to me that my mother hadn't left me, but rather
I had been taken away when we had been discovered one day by my father. He
had had a mental break down and checked himself into an asylum, leaving me
to spend my adolescence from one foster family to the next.

	Eventually she eased her pussy away from my mouth. I felt so empty
without the contact.  I pursed my lips out in a little "ooh." She put her
fingers against my lips and said, "Shhh. Little Wendy is so greedy for
Mommy's drink, but she'll have to be satisfied for now." I whimpered with
sadness. She looked down at me lovingly and caressed my cheeks and my
hair. I sighed.  After a bit, she spoke softly to me.

	"My little one, the paralysis drug will be wearing off soon. If I
wanted to, I could keep giving it to you for as long as I felt like it. But
I'm not going to. Because I think you'll be a good baby and do as Mommy
says. Because secretly you love it, and you can't get enough attention from
Mommy." At the prospect of being able to move again, I suddenly felt a
great happiness.  As soon as I was able to move, I would run from this
place as fast as I could and call the police.  If she thought I'd play her
games of my own free will, she was more insane than I thought.

	But then I thought back on what I had just gone through. I thought
about how content and secure I felt suckling on her clitoris. I felt like I
was completed in a way I hadn't been since I was five. An intense yearning
filled me. And then confusion, as I came to terms with my conflicting
feelings. Leave, or stay? I couldn't judge, both prospects seemed equally
pleasing. My thoughts became obsessive, weighing the choice back and
forth. I only dimly noticed when she no longer straddled me. But when I
felt the long licking strokes of her tongue across my sensitive neck, it
was hard for me to ignore. She licked up all the fluids from my neck and
face, preening me like I was a baby bird. So secure. Mommy took such good
care of me. I felt the balance tipping.

	After a time, she finished preening my face and unclipped my legs
from their exposing position. I had become so accustomed to being in that
position that I was amazed at how good it felt to be aloud to lie flat
again. She then smiled at me lovingly and put one arm under my knees and
the other under my neck. I was amazed at her strength as she picked me up,
hardly straining at all. My cheek rested against the side of her warm,
smooth breast. It was wonderful to be held in her arms like that. She
carried my limp, doll-like body through the dimly lit room. I couldn't make
out any objects until a dark leather couch came into view. It was a darker
shade than the one in her living room. She sat down on the couch, still
holding me naked in her arms. She positioned me such that I had my head on
her lap, and she placed to thick pillows under my head to prop it up. She
flipped me so that my head was facing her. For awhile we just stared at
each other. Then she spoke:

	"Looking into your innocent doe-like eyes, I know that you want to
be my little infant."  She reached up to my mouth and stroked my lips,
easing them apart. She gently pushed my jaws apart and I complied
willingly. With a few quick motions she released the mouthpiece from my
teeth and withdrew it. She tossed it non-chalantly behind her. Even though
it had never been that uncomfortable, it did feel good to have my jaw
freedom again. And of course I thought about using my newfound freedom
against my capturer. I would bite the next thing she stuck in me, and
hard. She started to move my mouth towards her left conical nipple and I
thought, "This is my chance." But then I looked up into her eyes and saw
her staring back at me. What I saw in that stare changed everything. I
could see in those cold blue eyes, behind the dementia, a fear. I knew she
feared that I would turn against her, that perhaps my training hadn't been
enough.
 
	But also, I saw a fear of rejection. I saw she feared I wouldn't
want to be her little infant and let her take care of me, let her attend my
every babyish need. In that moment I saw her no longer as my capturer but
rather as my own slave. I had complete control of her, if I was willing
to. I could demand whatever I wanted, and she would have to grant it to
me. Or I would no longer be her little infant. Brief visions flashed before
me. I making her do any number of degrading acts. Sucking my toes. Cleaning
every inch of my sweaty body with her tongue.  Wiping me after I
potty. Peeing in her face and making her clean it up. Nothing could be too
degrading. I could be an infantile dictator, demanding anything from my
Mommy-slave, and she would have to do it. And if she didn't comply? I would
become an adult again and simply walk away.

	But I knew that wasn't what I wanted, looking back into her eyes. I
was utterly touched by her trust, that simple gesture of letting me use my
jaws again. I wanted to prove that Mommy could trust me and that I was her
good little baby. I licked my lips in anticipation as she guided my head to
her breast. I felt almost sick with longing to taste Mommy and feel her in
my mouth.  She maneuvered my lips to the tip of her nipple and moved my
head back and forth a little, wetting the tip with my saliva. When her
conical nipple filled my mouth, a warm sense of security enveloped me. I
was just a little baby girl again, nursing from her mother. It amazed me
that I had ever thought I was content before, trying to be an adult and to
do grown up things. This was happiness here. Why ever leave?

	I lost track of time while she nursed me. At some point her free
hand ran along the width of my body and disappeared under the pillows. I
could tell she was stroking herself. Her sighs were so beautiful, and made
me nurse all the harder on her warm breast. But one thing bothered me. I
was saddened that she wasn't producing milk. I don't know why, but I had
assumed that she would. It would have been such a treat to feed from
her. But I thought of my own full breasts then and noticed the deep ache in
them. They were really starting to hurt by now.

	Without even thinking I pulled back from her nipple, looked up at
her and said, "Mommy, my boobies hurt." We were both shocked by my words. I
immediately closed my mouth, amazed that I was able to speak. And if I was
able to speak, that meant.

	We stared into each other's eyes. There was a moment of tension
between us, each weighing what the other would do. If I stood up and ran,
she might over power me. But if I wanted to escape, this would be the time,
before she decided to re-drug me. Yet she made no move to restrain me, only
kept my stare. Her eyes seemed touched with sadness. Perhaps 10 seconds
passed, and then she spoke, firmly but with a waiver in her voice:
 
	"Honey, why don't you suckle my other booby, then you can go home
and feed your own baby afterwards? I know your boobies hurt, but Mommy is
just about to have another orgasm.  Ok, darling?" Such caring tones in her
voice. Really, the choice was no choice at all. I nodded meekly and lay my
head back on the pillow. She shifted her position slightly to put her other
breast to my lips.

	As I nursed contently, I wondered if she had meant what she
said. Would she really let me go out of her own free will? Could it be that
easy? It occurred to me then how quickly I had become subservient to her,
seeking her permission to leave. I could have stood up right there and ran
away. And if I wanted to, I could easily attack her in her vulnerable
state. Yet the idea of hurting Mommy horrified me. I instinctively sucked
harder, trying to pull her delicious nipple farther into my mouth. No, I
loved being in her care. Mommy lavished me with attention and pleasure, and
I only wanted her to be happy and feel good. I would let her decide when
she would let me go.

	Perhaps ten minutes later she pushed my face hard into her breast
and said hoarsely, "Ohhh Wendy I'm so close. Flick Mommy's nipple with your
tongue. Help Mommy come." I gladly complied. As she moaned and squirmed in
climax, I heard the strange sound of fluid filling a plastic
bottle. Despite my confusion I continued to suckle on her until her
breathing returned to normal. She gently pulled my head away from her
glistening conical nipple.

	"My darling," she said, "please sit up so that I can give you a
present." I righted myself so that I was sitting next to her on the
couch. It felt strange to use my muscles again after not being able to for
the past hours. But even more so, it felt odd to be sitting upright next to
Mommy, as if I was on the same level as her. I found myself wishing I could
lay back in her lap.

	I watched her throw the pillows to the side and reach between her
legs, pulling out a bottle filled with liquid. A "Jane" adapter was fitted
to the top, funnel-like and shaped to perfectly fit around the pubic
area. She must have had it positioned between the cushions of the couch
before she brought me over. She reached down to the floor in front of her
and put the "Jane" adapter on the floor, picking up the artificial nipple
top to a baby bottle. She screwed the lid on the bottle and held it up to
the dim light, examining it. She smiled then, a hint of the old mischievous
smile I had first encountered her wearing.

	"Please, my dear," she said as she handed me the bottle, "Take this
as a gift from Mommy. Do with it as you like." I took the bottle in my
hands and looked down at it, shyly.

	"Thank you Mommy," I replied. She took my face in her hand then and
leaned in, planting the most passionate kiss I had ever received upon my
lips. She kept her moist mouth against mine for a few seconds before
removing it.

	"Wendy, honey. I do believe our little session is over for now. I
sincerely hope you don't hold what I did to you against me. I think you can
see it was necessary to.let your true self come out. Nevertheless, I will
understand if you do not wish to come back. But here is my offer to you:
give up your empty adult life, with its meaningless pleasures and pointless
goals. Live here as my infant, free from care or worry-- only concerned
with giving and receiving pleasure as I dictate. I will wrap you in a warm
bliss that you have only just glimpsed today."

	"But Mommy, what about my own baby?"

	"Let me raise her as my own child. She will experience a life of
endless pleasure, and receive her education from me, and me alone. You will
not be responsible for her upbringing whatsoever."

	The idea appalled me. "But give up my baby? I could never do that."

	She smiled and nodded. "It is true you'd give up your child. Ohh,
but darling, you'd gain a sibling.and a playmate." That glint in her eye
was back. I thought of my own mother. Lightly lapping her pussy like a baby
kitten when she would get home from work. Her finger slithering all around
my anus. Could I do that to Trish? Allow her to be corrupted in the way I
had been corrupted, but so much worse? Every ethical and moral thread of my
existence bristled at the thought. But it seemed so naughty. So deliciously
naughty.

	"Please, darling Wendy-go back to your home and think about
it. That's all I ask. I know you'll choose the right choice. Let me get you
your clothes." She got up then and walked across the dim room. She bent
over by the changing table, teasingly exposing her gorgeous pussy lips and
anus to me. I had the sudden urge to run over and lick her madly.

	She brought back my clothes, ordering me to stand up. I did so and
she very lovingly dressed me, picking up each of my legs one at a time at
the ankle so she could put my panties on.  It was wonderful to have someone
dress me again. When she had finished, she led me by the hand across the
room to a door. My legs were a bit wobbly but I managed. She opened the
door and led me up dark steps to another door. When this door was opened
light poured in and I was momentarily blinded. When my eyes adjusted I
wasn't surprised to see the room where I had been drugged. She led me to
the front door that I had entered in what felt like my past life. It was so
strange to see those puffy white clouds in the blue sky. I guess a part of
me believed I would never see them again.

	I began to walk out the door, but her iron grip remained on my
hand, restraining me.  "Remember, my darling little girl-a carefree life of
pleasure. Choose wisely." She let go of my hand then, and I turned to look
at her. She still wore just the corset and clitty-pacifier, brazenly
exposing herself to suburbia. In her eye I saw caring, dominance, maternal
tenderness. Lust.

	After a bit, I felt I had to say something. "Thank you," I
whispered. She only smiled, looking as gorgeous as ever. When I turned to
leave, I heard the door shut. I felt like I had just been expelled from
Eden, or from the womb. I walked down her driveway and something caught my
eye. It was that canvas bag she had been hauling when I first saw her. I
couldn't control my curiosity. I walked up to the bag, heart beating
fast. It was nearly five feet long and stuffed full.

	I undid the drawstring with my free hand; the knot was not
complicated. A rush of photographs spilled from within. I picked up one and
examined it. It was me, looking quite pregnant in my bikini bottoms,
sunbathing in the back yard. I had no top on. I realized then that one
particular window in her house was positioned perfectly to look down into
my own backyard. In the corner was a big tan blur, which I realized was the
photographer's finger, accidentally in the way of the picture. I dropped
the photograph and picked up another. It was me with Trish in my arm,
Janice by my side. We were putting ornaments on the tree. The photo had
been taken from the front window. The picture itself looked like it had
been very much underexposed.

	The few other photos I examined were much the same. They were all
of me, either pregnant or with Trish, and all with some photographic
imperfection. How many were in the bag? Hundreds? Thousands? And they were
only the rejects. If I had been capable of shock at that point, I might
have been astounded. But I only felt a few glimpses of dawning
revelation. So it had been obsession. She had fixated on me because I was
the thing she wanted to be most dearly in this world. And she had watched
me and photographed me all this time, always staying just out of my
peripheral vision.

	I wondered why she had never had a child of her own. Even if she
was a lesbian, there was still artificial insemination. There were
ways. Unless...Unless it was impossible for her to have children. Unless
she was infertile. Unless her lifestyle would prohibit her from ever being
able to adopt a child. It was possible. All very possible. But I had no way
of knowing. And what of her own relationship with her mother? I could
imagine it being something a kin to my own, perhaps much worse. Yet it was
all speculation, just ideas. The truth might be deeper and stranger than I
could ever guess at.

	I had seen enough. I swept the photos back into the bag and tied it
shut.

	When I entered the house, it was like returning after a life long
journey. Janice was on the couch, rocking the baby.

	"Wow! You've been gone for hours!" said Janice, "You musta had
quite a conversation with Miss tall, pale, and creepy." I smiled at her. I
didn't like her talking about Mommy that way, but there was nothing I could
do.

	"Yeah...she really talked my ear off..." I responded.

	"Well, I would love to hear all about it, but you look completely
wiped out! I think I'm going to take off and let you recuperate some."

	"Oh, that would be great Janice. I'm really tired actually. But
thank you so much for watching Trish. I really appreciate it."

	Janice set Trish down in her baby rocker on the couch and stood up
to leave. She stopped and stared at my chest as she approached me.

	"Woa there! Wendy I hate to be the one to tell you, but your
headlights are on." At first I had no idea what she was talking about, but
then I looked down. Two twin torpedoes pushed the cloth of my shirt out. It
was really quite obscene. I realized I still had the restricting bands
around my nipples.

	"Oh...well...thanks for noticing. But it has been known to happen."
She laughed and we exchanged pleasantries as she departed. I was frankly
glad to get rid of her for the time being. I was exhausted. I sat down on
the couch and picked up Trish in my arms. It felt so good to hold her
again. I looked at her little baby features and thought, "could I do that?
Dare I?" I had no answer to that. I had a more pressing need.

	I unbuttoned my shirt and threw it to the ground, glad to be rid of
it. I removed the bands from my swollen nipples and nearly cried with
relief. I didn't realize how much they had ached.

	I nursed Trish that night all the while playing with myself again
and again. As she drank from me, I drank from the bottle Mommy had given
me. I squirted drops of the precious fluid into my mouth and swished them
around with utter delight. I would put the bottle down when my mouth was
full of her squirt juice and masturbate with the kind of reckless abandon I
did not know was possible. I remembered the day's events, trying to recall
every last detail. At some point Trish became full, but I was not
satisfied. I put her in her crib and sat down by her. I sucked my own tits,
filling my belly with my own milk. The taste made me so horny that I rubbed
myself three or four more times until my breasts could give up no more
milk. That night as I lay in bed, I stroked my sore genitals until I fell
into a deep and dreamless sleep.

	This morning I awoke and started to think about what I needed to do
today. When I thought of feeding Trish, all the memories of the day before
filled my head and nearly crippled me with swirling, conflicting
emotions. Yesterday had all seemed so improbable that I was half convinced
it was just a dream. But I knew it wasn't. And I knew that I had to write
this down, just to see if it would seem more real to me afterwards. I can
say honestly that it has. After writing this I realize I really don't want
to forget. But will I go back? That, I can't say. But her words haunt me. A
carefree life of pleasure. I long for that. To give it all up and return to
Mommy. Though it's just so hard to say. But one thing I know: the bottle
she gave me is only half empty, and I may just pour myself a little drink
over ice, if only to sit and think about where my life may go from here.



	Thank you so much for reading my story. Please tell me what you
thought of it-- good, bad or whatever! I'd love to hear from readers!

Thalia462@yahoo.com