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. ***

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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