[Fiction] New Memories

[Kenzee]

This story is an edited version of a session I had with one of my subs. I hope you enjoy it as much as she did.

For today’s session we’re going to have some fun experimenting with hypnosis. I know that you’re desperate for our usual session, but I think you’re really going to like this. We’re going to go back and give you some new memories. You keep talking about highschool, talking about so many possible fantasies that you wished happened, that I think it’s time to change that. So lie down and get comfortable. Rest your head on the pillow, and clasp your arms beneath your chest. We’re going to start square breathing. Breath in for three seconds, then hold it for three seconds. Exhale for three seconds, then hold for three seconds. Continue to do that and keep count. One, breath in. Two hold. Three exhale. Four hold.

Now, you begin to feel your feet get heavier. Heavy enough that it’s a struggle to move your feet, but if you really thought about it you could. But you won’t because you like following the sound of my voice, and my voice is telling you to stay still. The feeling travels up your legs, your ankles are now heavy, your calves are now heavy, and your knees are now heavy, locked in place on the bed. The sensation continues up to your waist, feeling so heavy that you cannot move. The feeling moves to your fingers. You feel your fingers grow heavy and unable to move, now locking your hands together. Your wrists are next, and now your elbow, and before you know it, your shoulders are relaxed and still. The sensation continues, weighing down your torso, but you still find it easy to breathe, your square breathing keeping the sensation away. The sensation reaches your neck and you feel all the muscles in your neck relax, becoming so loose and heavy. The muscles in your face relax, your face becoming expressionless as you fall deeper and deeper into a relaxed state. Now keep count and listen to my voice as you continue to breathe.

Ten. Your body is completely relaxed, it’s too heavy and uncomfortable to move. You want to stay still and listen to my voice.

Nine. You breathe in, hold, breathe out, and hold.

Eight. The sound of my voice is leading you deeper and deeper into relaxation.

Seven. You breathe in, hold, breathe out, and hold.

Six. Your conscious mind begins to fade away, as you are safe, warm, and totally relaxed.

Five. You breathe in, hold, breathe out, and hold.

Four. You picture your conscious mind like a flickering candle, just barely lit. Each breath you take threatens to extinguish it as you fall deeper and deeper into trance.

Three. You breathe in. The candle flickers. You breathe out. The candle flickers. Dimmer and dimmer.

Two. Your candle is barely lit, now just a glowing wick, a few more breaths and it’ll fade for now until I relight it in a little bit.

One. You breathe in. The candle flickers. You breathe out. The candle flickers and then is out. Sleep.

Good. You’re now in a trance, right where I want you. You feel safe, and listen attentively to my voice. My voice reassures you, and brings you nothing but relaxation as you hear it. Every word I say will imprint itself on your subconscious. And now that I have you in a trance, you cannot help but listen and respond to my every command.

Today we are going to make some new memories. We are going back into your past. Back to your favourite time. The time of your life you keep telling me about over and over again. It must be because I know you’ve never mentally left highschool. Think back. You’re nothing but a little school girl back in the twelfth grade. You’re dressed in your school uniform, the one with the white blouse and tartan patterned skirt. Only this time you feel the skirt getting shorter. It is no longer a reserved garment, but is now borderlining being too sexy. Your luscious thighs are on display for everyone, and your shirt is tighter than you remember, showing off all your assets.

Gym class finishes and you rush to the locker room. You open your locker, but to your dismay, something is missing. Something important. Your bra has disappeared. You search high and low, but it is nowhere to be found. You stand there still dressed in your tight sweaty gym clothes and you hear a snicker. You turn around. The locker room is empty except for two girls. The popular girls. Sophia and Amanda. Your highschool bullies. Still as hot as ever, if not more so now. You catch their eye for a second, but they leave the room, barely hiding the smirks on their face. You go braless for the rest of the day, your nipples erect, tenting in your thin tight while blouse. Every movement causes a shiver of pleasure to shoot down your spine. You hate your sensitive nipples, but that has never stopped you from tweaking them late at night.

Next week, the same thing. You finish gym class and open your locker. Your bra is still there, thankfully, but your panties, they’re cut up, leaving you with torn ribbons. I stare at your misfortune as everyone leaves, allowing you to change in peace. You're a little wet, the thought of running around commando all day in your short skirt turns you on immensely. You finish dressing and turn around, only to see that Sophia and Amanda are still there, this time they're even more obvious about it. Your face heats as you blush, your nipples perk up, and your hand absentmindedly makes its way down to your crotch where it begins to rub your swollen clit. You're mortified as you realize what you're doing. Sophia and Amanda however are now gutting themselves laughing at you. It’s no secret, they're the ones responsible for your misfortune. Your bullies. Your fantasy. You make it home, just in time to throw yourself on the bed and furiously rub yourself to a violent orgasm at the memory of Sopha and Amanda watching you.

The next week, things escalate. Your locker is empty. You don’t know why you haven’t started to lock it, but here you are. You’re a dumb girl, without clothes to change into. You stare at your locker as everyone filters out. You turn around, ready to leave in your sweaty disgusting gym clothes but there are Sophia and Amanda, this time they’re armed with their phones, the camera’s trained solely on you. They command you to strip. It’s a fantasy come true. You’re so excited you nearly trip out of your panties as you take them off. They close in, pushing you into a corner, with nowhere to run. The cold brick wall sends shivers up your spine. The girls each grab one of your tits each. Sophia on the left. Amanda on the right. They squeeze and pinch, grope and grab, working your large tits over and over, your every action being captured on camera. You’re getting weak at the knees, your sex now visibly dripping, your exictment running down your legs. The girls laugh at this, scooping up the liquid with their fingers, as they proceed to finger fuck your mouth.

This new sensation is too much. Your eyes cross and close as your body goes rigid, you feel your cunt spasm, squirting all over the floor. It’s the best orgasm of your life, right there in your highschool changeroom. Your two hot bullies forcing you to squirt all over the cold tile floor. The first time you’ve squirted. The most memorable time. The moment is crystal clear in your mind. Everytime you’re in the moment of squirting you think back to this moment, and your orgasmic bliss doubles. You collapse on the floor, wallowing in your own mess. The girls drag you by your hair into the showers, you follow half compliantly, avoiding as much pain as possible. You look up, they’re naked, the cameras are gone. They begin. Sophia taking her turn first. She pins your head to the ground with her dripping cunt and she makes you eat her out, begging for every breath. You work hard, suffocating under your crush.

You hear Amanda laugh in the background, unsure of what she’s doing. After Sophia reaches her third orgasm, she ascends off of her throne, allowing her equally sexy friend to take her turn. Your stomach drops as you see what's in her hand. It’s your phone And Amanda is freely scrolling through it. She begins to tell Sophia what she’s found. Pictures of dumb sluts made to suck cock. Brainless bimbos begging beyond belief for cock. Femdom porn, accompanied by huge strapons. BDSM pictures of desperate sluts tied to beds. Tied to chairs. Tied to unfriendly bondage horses, their tits in various ties, bruised, beaten, pulled, teased. It seems that you have a little bit of a submissive streak in you. It’s painfully obvious to you right now, as you munch away on Amanda’s pussy. The girls eventually tire and they throw your clothes into the cold puddle of your excited squirt before they leave you alone, freezing, and oh so horny in the locker room.

A new memory. You’ve spent the last couple of weeks answering your texts, finding new degrading commands from the girls every day. The blackmail they have over you is too much to ignore. Strip in the second floor bathroom, second stall and wait on your knees. Take off your panties and carry them in your hand for the rest of the day. Shove a sharpie up your cunt, we’ll be watching. All sorts of embarrassing situations that you never thought you would have to live through, and so many pussies eaten to orgasm. Friday night, they invite you over. You’re brought upstairs, tied to the bed, face down ass up, not a stitch of clothing on you. Binds at your ankles and wrists pull at you. They wave a bottle in front of your face. It’s lube. But the bottle stays there, resting in your field of view, inches from your face. They spit, taking turns filling your exposed asshole with their gracious lubricant before shoving a big butt plug in your ass. You’ve been training following the girl's directions. But this was big. Much bigger than the rest. But you know better than to cry out. One false move and you’ll find a drop of hot sauce trickling down your rosebud.

The girls leave. You hear the front door open and close, two new sets of feet stomp up the stairs, louder and heavier than the girls. They enter the room. It’s their boyfriends, a pair of studs from the football team. The ones with the infamously large bulges in their pants. They live up to their reputation, as they strip without a word. They line up, and plunge take their turns pounding your previously virgin ass. You cry out, the lube, your salvation eventually bumps into your face, as the bed moves back and forth under the stud's powerful strokes. They work like a set of well oiled pistons, depositing load after load of hot cum in your ass, filling you to the brim.

After countless orgasms, they are spent. They dress, fistbump, take a few pictures and leave. Minutes later, Sophia and Amanda emerge. They untie you, and make you squat in the corner, placing a paper plate under your dripping nether regions, collecting all of their stud’s hard work, and your own excitement. The girls feel each other up in front of you, turning you on so much. Your nipples strain against your skin, almost painfully pulling away. But they stop, they collect the dripping plate and begin to rub it into your face. Into your hair. On your breasts, on your pussy. Anywhere they could think of, except for your mouth. After all, you’ve been placed on a strict diet, and cum has too many calories in it for their liking. You love it, your degraded pussy making more and more of a mess, which in turn ends up slathered on your body. A few pictures later, and the plug reinserted into your sore ass, and you’re sent on your way, your clothes pulled on over the mess. You’re forced to hide as you make the long trek home, eventually sneaking into your house, praying that you don’t alert anyone along the way as you finally make it into the bathroom.

Next weekend the girls are in your room, you’ve been relegated to the corner, a quarter held against the wall by your nose. They spank your naked bottom every time it drops. You’ve quickly learned to not drop the quarter as your red ass can attest to. Your ass has shrunk. The diet the girls have you on has been working. You’ve lost any semblance of womanly curves. Your breasts have lost two cup sizes total, leaving you with teeny tiny bumps that look hilarious on your frame. The girls make sure you know just how ridiculous you now look.

They've decided to curate your wardrobe. Anything sexy is gone. Thongs, gone. Replaced with generic tight white granny panties. Leggings, gone. Replaced by sweatpants. Tight shirts, tube tops, sundresses, gone. Only hoodies remain for you to wear in the sweltering summer sun. They keep digging through your closet, cutting up anything that does not conform with your new dress code. Suddenly there is a snicker, then a full on laugh from the girls. They spin you around, and on your bed is your most personal shameful secret. Your bullies humiliation hadn’t been enough. You sought to bring yourself even lower, reaching new lows to orgasm. And on the bed was one of the ways you sought to do exactly that. Except you never anticipated that anyone would find them. Diapers. Two still folded white adult diapers rested on the bed. It took seconds for the girls to throw you on the bed. Your ass raised in the air, and your shameful secret was taped to your waist for all to see. Sophia and Amanda made sure that if they wanted to, everyone would, in fact, see. They took plenty of pictures, making you pose like the degenerate adult you pretended to be.

They take turns, cuddling you, rubbing your body up and down, making sure to pay special attention to your diaper, tweaking your fat eraser nubs that pass for nipples. Amanda comes back with a funnel. They stand you up, sliding the funnel into the front of your diaper, then you are told to kneel. The girls line up, drop their panties, and piss, aiming for the funnel, but inevitably splashing the backboard, your flattening chest. The pee trickles into your diaper, pooling around your dripping sex before being absorbed into the padding, pushing your thighs apart. The girls finish, and use your face as their toilet paper. You find the acrid taste of their pee was a delight to your senses, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. The girls see this and laugh, noting that they now have a urinal bitch to use.

Sophia and Amanda dress you, taking offense to how slow you were moving as you were lost in bliss. When you come to you realize they've driven you to the local drugstore. The drugstore where a lot of your classmates work at. You see familiar faces as you are marched up and down the aisles, the girl’s pee now starting to dry on your face, their scent marking you as their plaything. You stop in the baby aisle. They look at the baby diapers, reading them over, looking for something usable. Then it happens. Your longtime crush appears. The boy you’ve thought of third most often when pleasuring yourself, after Sophia and Amanda of course. He’s working on stocking the shelves, and offers to help your bullies. You turn nine shades of red as the girls tell him exactly what they want. Baby diapers big enough to fit you. Your crush eyes you top to bottom, and laughs, leading the girls to the correct section.

The girls load you up, making you carry three huge cases of size seven pampers. They pick up some other items, but you can’t see what they’re doing, the boxes block your view. They guide you to the register, where one of their friends is working. You are instructed to keep holding up the cases so the cashier can scan them. She laughs asking if you need a babysitter. Sophia and Amanda invite her over tonight to hang out. Your stomach drops. Finally everything is paid for, and you begin to head to the car when you feel a tug at your waist. Sophia has pantsed you. With your sweatpants around your ankles your piss soaked diaper is put on display for all to see. You are beyond embarrassed, and wet yourself on the spot, your warm piss at first soaking into your diaper, but then leaking, running down your legs and into your dry sweatpants. Everyone who can see you is laughing at you. It won’t be long before everyone at school knows that you’re a big diaper baby.

You begin to cry as the girls push you out of the store and into their car, only after ripping your used diaper off and roughly drying you with your sweatpants. They force you to hold your used diaper by the waistband over your lap in the backseat of the car, the soaked garment dripping onto you. The girls pull up to a stop light, and a car of boys your age are stopped beside you. They look over and begin to go ballistic, taunting you, calling you names, and laughing. Lots of laughing. The light turns green and you head home.

[Kenzee]

The final memory. It’s your birthday. Sophia and Amanda have booked a timeslot at a tattoo parlor for you. They want you pierced, and you can’t refuse. It turns you on to further degrade yourself for them. You arrive and are ushered into the backroom. You lie in the chair, and the tattoo artist prepares, setting out her implements. Your sweatshirt comes off, there is no bra underneath. The artist chuckles at your size, and begins to mark the spot. She liberally disinfects your nipples, then lines up the first needle. She freezes your tits, depriving you of the sensation of following cold air on them. Next is the piercing needle, she instructs you to brace and hold onto the armrests, which you obediently follow. The needle slips through, and it's painful, but not unbearable. You’re wet now, you feel your pussy leaking your excitement into your thirsty size seven pamper. The artist calls you a good girl and you shiver in pleasure. It was one of the many triggers your bullies have instilled in you. You live to be called a good girl now. The artist lines up the second needle and pushes it through. You brace and immediately feel something wrap around your wrists. You look down, seeing thick leather cuffs holding you to the chair. You open your mouth to vocalize your concerns, but a ball gag is quickly slipped into your open mouth and strapped tight, pulling double duty and holding your head still on the chair.

From behind you your bullies appear, a small metal lock in their gloved hands. The girls are all smiles as they slide the loop of their locks through your pierced nipples, only to close them after adding a thin metal chain between the two of them. You look at the girls, your sex now burning in need, and see their new necklaces, a small key front and center. You shiver in pleasure as you realize that the girls now own you completely.

You feel something around your legs. More leather cuffs holding you to the table. You can’t move. Amanda hands the tattoo artist an envelope of what you can assume was cash, and tells her to proceed as planned. The artist chuckles, and grabs the rest of her tools. As she prepares the girls slip a blindfold over your head, and a set of headphones over your ears. It begins to play a lullaby, one that you recognize. Your induction file. You try to resist, but as the tattoo artist begins you seek its comforting refuge.

You come to as the headphones are removed, followed by the blindfold and the gag. You are told by the girls to stay quiet, and you do. You feel sore all over. You look down and see that you're dressed, although you feel tightly wrapped. The tattoo artist flicks off her gloves, and says to the girls that she’s going to take the rest of her payment now. Her short shorts and panties hit the floor, and before you know it, she’s mounted on your face. You know what’s expected. You begin to lick and suck away at her dripping sex, fighting for air as she rides you harder and harder. You work tirelessly, bringing her to several screaming orgasms before she dismounts. The girls collect you and bring you home, stunned at what had just transpired.

You’re home now, and placed in front of a floor to ceiling mirror. The girls remove your sweatshirt, and your sweatpants which visibly have the telltale signs of a leaking diaper all over them. Your diaper is removed, soaked in more ways than one, the smell driving your hormones into overdrive. You see that your torso has been wrapped in bandages. The girls start at the top, and remove the covering over your breasts. Your eyes pop. On your left tit, ‘Sophia’s’ is written in an even flowing black script arcing around the top of your breast. Your areola has been colored completely black, except for the small bump that is your nipple, now red and sore with its new piercing. On your right tit, ‘Amanda’s’ has been written in rough uneven block letters. The areola has been left alone, but is now the middle of a blue flower. You feel a string of your excitement linking your thigh to your pussy.

The girls remove a bandage on your sternum, hiding an & symbol. On closer inspection you realize that it's a stylized twisted cock You look at yourself and you realize that your own flesh now says that you belong to your bullies. Sophia’s & Amanda’s with a metal chain locked to your erect nipples. But that’s not all. There are more bandages to remove. The next bandage comes off on your midsection, and you can’t believe it. It says ‘Diaper Slut’ in big bold black letters complete with two old school diaper pins flanking it. It’s official now. You are Sophia and Amanda’s diaper slut for life. There is no way out of this now. You can never be naked in front of anyone without them seeing your shameful secrets.

Your mind begins to repeat a new thought over and over. I’m a diaper slut. I’m a diaper slut. I’m a diaper slut. I’m a diaper slut. I’m a diaper slut. I’m a diaper slut. Over and over. It’s your only thought. I’m a diaper slut. The girls grab the next bandage. I’m a diaper slut. They remove it, leaving you completely naked. I’m a diaper slut. You look and you see four blue rectangles angled on your pelvis. I’m a diaper slut. It takes you a second, but you realize what it is. I’m a diaper slut. The black outline around your waist solidifies the thought to the core of your being. I’m a diaper slut. A diaper has been tattooed onto you. A new thought. Diapered sluts don’t get to cum. I’m a diaper slut and diapered sluts dont get to cum. I’m a diaper slut and diapered sluts dont get to cum. I’m a diaper slut and diapered sluts dont get to cum. I’m a diaper slut and diapered sluts dont get to cum.

Over and over and over these thoughts invade your mind, rewriting your core identity. You are a diaper slut. And diapered sluts do not get to cum. You are always wearing a diaper, even when you're completely naked, therefore you do not get to cum. Your pussy is right on the edge, dripping like a tap, burning with desire, needing to be touched. But diapered girls don’t get to cum, you remind yourself. The girls continue. Removing the bandage on your pussy itself. This one is simple. It’s just a black oval circling around your cunt. No new thoughts enter your head this time. Now onto your inner thighs. The girls unwrap your thighs, each taking their side. On the left, a red circle, with ‘No Cocks’ written and crossed through, an arrow pointing at the circle around your cunt. On the right, a green circle, with ‘Pacis Only’ with an image of a baby pacifier between the words and an arrow pointing at your circled cunt. New thoughts. I’m a diaper slut. Diapered sluts don’t get to cum. Virgin diaper sluts dont get cock. Virgin diaper sluts get pacifiers only. That’s right you’re a virgin. Virgin diaper sluts dont get cock. Virgin diaper sluts get pacifiers only. Never have you been fucked in your pussy. Virgin diaper sluts dont get cock. Virgin diaper sluts get pacifiers only. Everyone has only used your ass, never your pussy. I’m a virgin diaper slut. Virgin diaper sluts don't get cum. Virgin diaper sluts dont get cock. Virgin diaper sluts need their paci.

As the thoughts bake into your mind you fall onto your hands and knees, the pleasure in your cunt is too much to bear. Your new chain pulls at your nipples dangling down between your arms. You begin to cry, feeling empty. Your bullies laugh, commenting how effective your training has been as they grab something out of sight, and push it into your sex. You immediately feel better. You turn to look, and the pink plastic shield of a pacifier is now planted in your pussy. Virgin diaper sluts dont get cock. Virgin diaper sluts need their paci. Virgin diaper sluts dont get cock. Virgin diaper sluts need their paci. Virgin diaper sluts dont get cock. Virgin diaper sluts need their paci. As you see yourself in the mirror your new mantras play on repeat. Each time it becomes more and more true.

The girls stand you up once more, supporting you on your weak knees. They turn you around, revealing one last bandage on the small of your back. A tramp stamp. They pull the bandage off. ‘Maid’ is what it said, complete with a frilly french maid headdress arcing over the writing. You didn’t think it was possible but you got even more turned on. More thoughts invade now. Maid. My name is Maid. My name is Maid. The thoughts begin to compound on each other. I am Sophia and Amanda’s maid. I am Sophia and Amanda’s diapered maid. I am Sophia and Amanda’s virgin diapered maid. I am Sophia and Amanda’s denied virgin diapered maid. I am Sophia and Amanda’s pacified denied virgin diapered maid. My name is Maid. Maid is …

Maid is Sophia and Amanda’s pacified denied virgin diapered maid. You repeat this over and over. Vocalizing the thought to the amusement of your two owners. They begin to lather your body in ointment, and rewrap your fresh markings. They lead you to your bed and put you down to bed, a paci slipped between your other lips.

And now as you begin to come back to me, you will remember all of this happening to you. These are your memories. Any contradicting thoughts will fade away, the details being filled out by your subconscious to accept these new facts in your life. Whenever you are naked in front of a floor to ceiling mirror you will see your tattoos, and all of your memories will come to the forefront of your mind.

Now awaken, and look into the mirror. You have two guests here to see you, Maid.