Screen

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Screen

Postby Miki Yamuri » Thu Feb 27, 2020 9:05 am

Title: Screen

by LilJennie & Miki Yamuri
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It’ll be better this way, I told myself. I discovered things about myself working with “Mommy Heliose” that I’d be better off not knowing. She had a friend who was a doctor who was experimenting with erasing memories. She’d promised that I wouldn’t remember anything that we’d done in the last few sessions. None of the words, or the humiliation, or the … well, the bruises had healed by now. She’d called and called, and I didn’t want to talk, but finally I answered, and she apologized and said she had an idea. She’d been going through some rough times and taking it out on me, and she’d gotten help, and she was sorry, and she just wanted things to go back to the way they were before.

Dr. Jackie, and I never got her last name, told Mommy Heloise how it worked as she got the headgear attached to my head. “The less I know about what you’re erasing, the better … I could lose my grant if anybody finds out about this,” she said. “You have to watch the memories on this screen, and use this remote to go backward. This red button erases the memory. You can only go backward, though. The most recently formed memories are the easiest.”

“But he has to be unconscious, right?” asked Mommy Heloise.
“Yes, which is why we have this circuit here -- it can make him instantly asleep or instantly wake him up --”

“Miserable worm!” she was shouting at me. “I can’t stand you! You make me sick, horrible little sissy boy!” I was in pain. She had my body bound at extreme angles, and she was striking me repeatedly with a rattan cane. I’m pretty sure from what I’ve read that there are ways to do this safely, and she’s either never learned them or she’s deliberately ignoring them because … why? I’ve begun to suspect over the last few monthly sessions with this professional Mommy/Dominatrix that she’s got some kind of deep-seated problems, and perhaps I should stop going to see her. She’s one of the few in this area that’s accepting of my love for diapers and my transgender identity, or as far as I know she is. It’s hard to find people like her.

But … this is a dream, or a memory. Time is slowing to a standstill. I *was* on her rack, back when this happened, but I know that right now I *am* in some kind of lab, I guess, though I can’t see or feel that. But what I see and feel now is an illusion, a memory, something that isn’t happening right now. I’m quite comfortable right now. I stand up, because the ropes and cuffs have vanished. I wipe the excessive lipstick and makeup off my face. There it is on a towel. I don’t like this memory.

And then … it starts to fade away and dissolve around me. What was this? Oh -- right, they were supposed to get rid of this. After this, Mommy Heloise and I would reset things to the way they were back at the beginning, and I hope they’d go better.
Then I was … at home, talking on the phone. “Did you … enjoy what I did to you last time?” she was asking.

“I think you’re getting too rough,” I said. “I think you’re … going through some rough times or something, and I’m afraid that you’re taking it out on me. I don’t think that’s healthy.”

“But was there anything, anything at all, that you enjoyed?” she asked plaintively. “It wasn’t all horrible, was it?”

“Well … yes, there were some things,” I replied, “some things that got me very excited.”
“And … what were they?” But then this memory also started to waver and soften, and then it disappeared.

She didn’t mean to get involved in this. I mean, Felicia was my upstairs neighbor in my apartment building -- I barely knew her. But I guess she was interested in me, or something. She liked my car, or at least she noticed my car. I’m never sure whether women really like cars or not -- society tries to tell men that they can attract women with cars, but I don’t usually notice most women paying attention to them, except for a few aficionados, which basically is what you could say about men too.

Anyway, I guess she goes to classes at the university, and that’s where Dr. Jackie’s research lab was, and she noticed my car in the parking lot outside the building and wondered what I was doing there, so maybe she decided to drop in? I don’t know. But Felicia started listening in on Mommy Heloise’s little experiment from the hallway.
Felicia couldn’t believe what she heard. That strange woman was actually talking outloud about … what was that? Removing memories? She stood with her mouth open totally flabbergasted. Was that even possible?

About that time, the phone on her hip began to vibrate in the way that told her someone from the main office at her job was trying to reach her. Felicia knew in her heart if she didn’t do something fast, her downstairs neighbor was about to get into something he really didn’t want to.

When Dr. Jackie finished hooking up her test subject, pushed the button, and put her subject to sleep, Felicia realized that it sounded as if Dr. Jackie was going to leave -- and walk out right past her. Felicia saw a darkened classroom across the hall whose door was slightly open and slipped inside, out of sight. She heard the doctor’s footsteps in the hallway, walking away, and only once they had been swallowed by the opening and closing of a door did Felicia emerge again.

Catching a glimpse of the room where I was, Felicia saw a few things: I was in some kind of examination chair wearing only a shirt, socks, and … a large diaper. Perhaps she thought it was a precaution against incontinence side effects of the experiment; I don’t know. But Mommy Heloise had her back to the door and her attention focused on several large monitor screens showing … herself, from my point of view. There was sound. The woman, who Felicia didn’t know, was apparently engaged in some kind of kinky BDSM session, heavy on the humiliation, but she could also hear my voice, and I wasn’t really into it.

“All this … humiliation,” I was saying on the screen and in my memory, “I’m not really into that. I just want to be, you know, me.”

“You’ll be whoever I say you are,” Mommy Heloise said, though, again, Felicia didn’t know who she was other than the woman in the room, “and I say you’re a disgusting worm.”

“I just want permission to be who I really am -- like you used to do,” I said. “What happened to you? You’ve only gotten more and more vindictive …”

“You’re not here to analyze me,” she said. “You’re here to serve.” I groaned in pain as she tightened the straps to put even more strain on my joints.

And then the memory started to dissolve as in the lab, Mommy Heloise pressed buttons on the remote to erase it. It took a few minutes, actually, as the system went multiple times through the sequence and did all it could to scour the remnants of these events from my brain.

Felicia didn’t know what was going on or whether she should interfere. If she stopped the process, would it do more damage to me than if she let things continue? And what if Mommy Heloise got violent? From what Felicia saw on the screen, she was certainly capable of a great deal of ugliness.

Felicia watched as the woman in the room smiled and bent over the patchworked control panel. It looked like it had been made from many kinds of things all soldered together into what it was now.

Felicia could see a screen with words appearing as the woman typed, but she was at the wrong angle to tell exactly what it was saying. She did notice me as I seemed to flinch and shiver as each line appeared on the screen.

The next memory was a bit better, or I might say a bit less bad. I have to stress that the memories I’m describing aren’t in my memory anymore. Felicia told me about them later, from what she saw on the screens. Mommy Heloise was dressing me up in baby clothes, as she’d done many times before, but this time they were more extreme -- frillier, more revealing of my thick diapers underneath, less like what a real baby girl would be dressed in -- and so was the makeup she had covered my face with. I was wondering what had happened, why she was behaving this way.

“There now, don’t you look pretty,” she said, but with a cold edge to her voice. “All the boys will want you.”

A chill ran down my spine. “But Mommy,” I said. “I’m supposed to be too little for that …”

“Shhh,” she said. “Mommy knows best.” And she was already erasing this one; I could tell.

Suddenly we were at an earlier memory. This time we were in more innocent territory. “Here we go,” she said. “My baby’s all comfy.” She patted my padded bottom as I crawled into the playpen and she closed the sides around me. “What will you play with first?”

There was no trace of the harsh, humiliating play that she had forced upon me later in time. Mommy Heloise was being every bit the caring Mommy that I had signed on for. I played with the blocks, happily stacking them and knocking them down, cuddling with her giant Teddy Bear. Later she held me on her lap and fed me a bottle of warm chocolate milk.

I was so regressed and relaxed that I soaked my diaper during this, and she playfully chided me. “Oh dear, my baby girl is all wet! She must be very, very young today. What a little sweetheart.”

Felicia had noticed something before that last transition: Mommy Heloise seemed to go “forward” quite a long way after the previous memory. She saw a glimpse of the time stamp on the screen -- it didn’t have an exact date but was shown in approximate number of days before the present, and it was … almost four years ago. The other memories had all been within this year. Why was she going back this far? And … why did it look as if she was pressing the erase button again?

Her reasoning was probably about the same as yours: either there had been a long gap in time during which I hadn’t seen Mommy Heloise at all, or … she had erased those memories already. But why go back even farther to erase this earlier one, which seemed so harmless? Did she intend to wipe all trace of herself from my memory, leaving with me with no idea who she was? Was she covering up something illegal she had done?

“What?” I said within the pleasant memory as I unexpectedly felt it dissolving around me. “No! I don’t want this one erased!” Panicking, I looked around, trying to think of some way to prevent this from happening. “I like this one!”

Then I realized that my own self-image, the one that was lucid and realizing that this was going on, was remaining the same. I looked down at myself. I was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved button-down shirt, not in baby clothes as in the recent memory. This identity was separate. If I could only … well, this was all internal, mental imagery. I imagined I had a piece of paper and a pen. I started to write on it, but then I realized that the imagery of a piece of paper wasn’t very permanent. What would impress upon my psyche that I needed this message to remain?

I unbuttoned my left sleeve’s cuff to roll up my sleeve. I’d write a message on my arm. That would tell my mind, my subconscious or whatever, that I really wanted to keep this message. In my right hand I imagined I held a permanent marker, and I rolled my sleeve up to bare my arm and write …

My arm already had writing on it.

“MOMMY HELOISE ERASED ME,” it said. “MOMMY HELOISE ERASED ME AGAIN,” it said below that. “AND AGAIN,” below that. After that were three tick marks.
Feeling panicked, I added a fourth tick mark. And the message, “SHE IS GOING FARTHER. STOP HER PLEASE.”

What if she could see this? Would she erase this too? Was that possible? I didn’t know.
Then the imagery around me moved to another memory.

The doctor returned to the lab about that time (causing Felicia to have to hide in the classroom again) and said, “What are you entering into the program? You must be careful. We don’t know if that might detrimentally affect his mental state.”

Felicia heard Heloise remark with a smirk, “This little weasel of a sissy wants to be a baby girl,” Heloise hit the enter key several times in rapid succession, “I’m going to make her into the best one ever.”

The Dr replied with real concern in her tone, “Wait, I didn’t design this equipment to do that.”

Heloise replied, “It’s done a remarkable job thus far.”

Felicia was totally flabbergasted as she stepped further into the classroom and took a seat to think. Her neighbor wanted to be a baby girl? Felicia had heard of adult babies, and she had heard of trans people, but I’d always seemed so normal to her, I guess. It’s true; I was good at hiding it from all but my closest friends. But still, Felicia knew about consent, and this wasn’t it.

She took out her cell phone and called 911, but before the call could complete, someone grabbed it out of her hand and moved out of range; Felicia tried to grab for it, but Heloise had moved out of range, and Felicia was in a classroom chair. Heloise popped the phone’s cover off, removing its battery. “Looks like I’ve got one extra memory to remove tonight,” she said, stuffing the phone in her purse and seizing Felicia with her strong arms, pulling her out of the chair and dragging her struggling and screaming into the lab.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Dr. Jackie. “I’ve only got the one apparatus. It would take me days to build another one, at least. This one took me months.”

“What about the sleep inducer? Do you have another one of those?”

“Oh -- yes, I’ve got the newer one,” she said, and shortly they had brought in a second chair from another lab, strapped Felicia down, and attached the new beanie-like device to her head. With a flip of a switch Felicia stopped struggling, deeply asleep, but not connected to the memory device.

Neither of us knew what Dr. Jackie and Mommy Heloise talked about while we were both asleep, but it’s clear that they didn’t switch the memory device to Felicia. It took too long to set up. Heloise was going to finish with me before turning to erasing Felicia’s memories of her discovery tonight and setting her loose to wonder what she’d been doing here.

It was another memory now: “Oh, so you want to be a baby *girl,*” said Mommy Heloise with a smile. “That’s so sweet! A lot of my babies want to be girls. I make sure they’re all pretty and have plenty of dollies to play with. Does that sound all right, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, Mommy,” I said, or remembered saying. “Just a tiny helpless baby girl.”

“Awww,” she said, the tone of her voice dripping with honey. “What an adorable baby girl! Let’s get you all ready for your day.” And she made sure I was securely diapered before dressing me in white leggings, a frilly pink dress, pink booties, and a lacy pink and white baby bonnet before putting a bib on me and taking me to her high chair for feeding.

But I was also aware that this was a memory. Was she going to erase this one too? Did she want me to forget ever meeting her? Why?

And yes, I could feel this one dissolving too. This didn’t make sense. What was she trying to do? I had to find something out …

Over the next few memories I relived, in reverse order, my first few sessions with Mommy Heloise. During them, I kept an eye out for anything unusual, something I might not have seen when I lived through this the first time. Something about this strange recollection process made it possible for me to see things that I hadn’t really focused on before.

“Well, hello, Baby,” she said with a musical tone in her voice. I was in her playpen, trying to get used to this playing-like-a-baby thing. It was something I’d always wanted to be able to do but had never really gotten a chance to, until recently. But now that I’d found Mommy Heloise and could pay for sessions in her nursery once every few months, I had the chance -- but didn’t really know what to do. “Are we having fun?” she asked.
“Um …” I said. I had gotten out an array of plushies and dolls, but all I had really done was set them out in a half-circle, as if they were watching me. I didn’t know what to do next.

“Look,” she said, “they’re waiting for you to tell them a story! Why don’t you think of a story to tell them?”

“A … story?” I thought, and started to tell the story of the Three Little Pigs. But then, the self that existed outside the memory started to look around. The photos on the wall and end table. Heloise was there, with another woman, and a child. Was she married? Or was this her sister and niece? Either way, they were loved ones. I wrote on my arm, “LOOK FOR PHOTOS OF HELOISE W/WOMAN & CHILD”.

The photos were there in the next memory, and the next. And finally we got to my memory of the first time I’d ever seen her nursery. I looked at my arm to remind myself of the notes I’d left for myself -- I didn’t remember seeing the photos anymore, but I did see several photos like that.

She wiped out the memory where I’d first called her on the phone, and the memory when I’d first found her name online. And then …

Then it was back to more recent memories. I guess she’d gotten rid of the memories where we had play sessions together, but now she was trying to get rid of the memories around those, to remove any recollection I had of her whatsoever. There was the memory of being in the lab. There was the memory of her calling me and trying to get me to come see her. And there was … something …

The last time I’d ever gone to her nursery. It wasn’t for a play session. It was to tell her that I wasn’t coming back. The sessions were too intense, too violent, too negative. I wasn’t experiencing pleasure anymore. But I didn’t re-experience this memory, which was easy, because it wasn’t a good memory. Instead, I looked around for the pictures that my arm told me about.

They were there … but with a black band across them.

Had something happened to them? There was nothing near them to explain … or was there? …

One of the photos in the hall had a clipped newspaper story next to it in a frame: “WOMAN AND CHILD MURDERED BY STALKER”. I checked the date. It was about three years ago. I took it that this Heloise woman and I had started having difficulties in our relationship around that time, though I couldn’t remember much, though the notes on my arm were helpful. I guess this was someone she cared about. Someone who had died because of a very bad person.

I woke up. There was no Heloise in the room. I saw Dr. Jackie, and I saw someone in another chair next to mine that hadn’t been there before -- “Felicia?” I asked. Felicia’s eyes blinked.

“Shh,” said Dr. Jackie. “We don’t have much time. She wants to erase any memories you have of her, both of you. But you,” she said to me, “she wants to do far more than that. She wants to completely erase your memory. All of it. She wants you to really be like a baby. I don’t know what she wants to do after that.”

“Did she lose someone?” I asked. “A … woman and her child? I remember seeing pictures …”

“She lost her sister and daughter to a rapist and murderer,” said Dr. Jackie. “It was about three years ago. They were very close. It … broke her. She’s never been the same. She started seeing all her … clients … as just perverts who wanted to be serviced instead of valuing them as individuals. I tried to get her to see a therapist, but she wouldn’t.”
Felicia said, “Erase him? … We can’t let her do that …”

“No, we can’t,” said Dr. Jackie. “I reluctantly agreed to help her by selectively erasing a few memories, but that’s going way too far. I can’t restore the memories she’s wiped out already,” said Dr. Jackie, “but I can … change the parameters … no time to explain. From now on the wipes will be temporary. The memories will fade, but they’ll come back. But you’ll have complete amnesia for a while.”

“Why not just turn her in to the cops now?” I asked. “Get us out of here.”
“I can’t,” Dr. Jackie said. “What she’s got on me … if it got out, I’d be finished. This is all I can do. Shh, she’s coming back!” And she flipped my switch, and I was asleep again. She didn’t turn off Felicia’s switch, though. She did something so it looked like Felicia’s switch was on sleep, but it really wasn’t.

Felicia told me later that Dr. Jackie and Mommy Heloise were having a rather heated discussion as she lay there pretending to be asleep. I have no memories of this. And for weeks after I didn’t have memories of a great deal else, either. All I know is when I opened my eyes I felt so … I don’t know how to say it other than I was unburdened with anything. All I knew for several hours after were the confusing undulating voices that I couldn’t understand, and the many motions around me. Each sound and sight was totally fascinating and mind boggling. My toes were also fascinating, but that’s another story. 
I felt myself being carried by two people, taken out into the cold and dark, then put into a place where it was warmer, and then it felt like I was moving. Then I was lifted out by the two of them into the cold again, then taken to a place where it was warm again. I was uncomfortable and made noises, but they helped, and then I felt better and went to sleep.

Slowly I felt as if something deep inside began bringing back memories. Not sure what it might have been, but I wouldn’t have gotten to this mental age again if not for it. Sooner or later I started understanding words again, and I started speaking much more quickly than an infant would have, because I was really remembering what I had already known. Felicia had taken me back to her apartment with the help of Dr. Jackie, and she had nursed me back to health, treating me just like the baby I had effectively become, until the suppressed memories came back and I was able to do things for myself again.
As for Mommy Heloise? My memories of her never fully came back. Felicia told me that Dr. Jackie had ambushed her with the sleep device and put her through the procedure, erasing any memory Heloise had ever had of Dr. Jackie and her machine.

That included memories of taking me to her, which she’d done multiple times. Heloise is still out there, and although that’s obviously a pseudonym, stay away from her. Until she gets past the loss of her sister and niece, she’s dangerous to anyone who becomes her customer.

Meanwhile, Felicia and I have moved into a bigger apartment together. It turns out that she enjoys having a baby sometimes.

~~ The … End? ~~
Miki Yamuri
 
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Re: Screen

Postby LilJennie » Mon Mar 30, 2020 9:26 pm

Ooh, this one is a few years old. I think it was probably inspired by "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." A bit of a darker one.
Sunshine & rainbows,
LilJennie
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LilJennie
 
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Re: Screen

Postby TiresiasRex » Thu Apr 30, 2020 5:23 pm

I agree with Lil Jennie: this has many elements of "Eternal Sunshine," along with a bit of Philip K. Dick's story "We Can Remember It For You Wholesale" and even some of the film "Memento" or the recent Netflix drama, "Maniac."

A gripping story! And I enjoyed the dark edge: in most of Miki' stories, the hero/heroine ultimately enjoys being regressed...here, it is a trap and far more menacing at the hands of "Mommy Heloise", especially with having entire portions of your identity and memories erased.

But in an ideal world...could this device be used for good? Would we want to have all of the bad thoughts and traumatic and painful memories taken away? Would it make us better and more innocent people? A question worthy of the old Star Trek series, I suppose. And I think I'd agree with Captain Kirk: no. The machine is not worth it. Even the bad can be transformed (a Biblical lesson from Genesis 50), and the darker detritus of our past makes us who we are today.

Again, thanks for a thoughtful and thrilling tale, Lil Jennie and Miki!
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