Author’s note: This is another tandem story. It was written through RP between myself and a good friend. It’s rather long, coming in at around 75 pages single spaced in word. We had a lot of fun writing it, hope you all enjoy reading it.
Clarisse sat in the waiting room, hands clutched around a cheap handkerchief in her lap, her eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. Behind the desk, it was fairly obvious the receptionist was playing some sort of game on the little computer, probably solitaire, which because of the relative emptiness of the room, annoyed Clarisse. In fact, she was the only one there. Checking the clock once again, she dabbed at her slightly runny nose with the handkerchief and sighs, wondering how long this is going to take.
Dr. Veronica grinned as she checked her excel sheets one more time. Things were looking good, products were rolling in, and the front was covered. She re-encrypted the files and opened up her calendar, frowning at the appointment. Well, the front had to be maintained… she pressed the com button. “Gloria, send in my 10 o’clock,” she said, not bothering to care that it was 10:15. She got up from her desk and went to the examination room adjourning her office, putting on her ‘doctor coat’.
Gloria didn’t even get up or look over at the girl in the waiting room. “She’ll see you, first door on your left,” she said with a slight head motion to indicate the direction. She was doing pretty good at Bejeweled and didn’t want to lose her score.
With a little bit of a start at the sudden interruption in the otherwise silent room, Clarisse stands and gives a little nod, dabbing again at her nose. “Thanks.” she says, though it’s a dead sort of sarcastic tone. She stepped through the doors and looked at the door with ‘Examination Room A’ on the door, swallows and sniffles, and then opens the door, poking her head in to see if anyone is already in. Spotting the doctor, she stepped in fully, putting on her best business smile.
“Hello! Thanks for taking the time to see me. I hope this isn’t a big issue or something more serious, heh.”
“Sorry about the wait this morning, and no trouble at all. I’m always happy to bring in new clientele,” she motions for Clarisse to sit in a chair next to the table and pulls herself a rolling chair to sit in across from her, grabbing a clipboard. “All right, let’s get down to it, what’s brought you in today?”
The young professional takes the offered seat, feeling a bit better about this than she had been while sitting out in the lobby, and smiles. “Well,” she starts, “I wasn’t too worried at first, but it’s been about three months now and I just can’t seem to get rid of this cold. It’s all runny nose and watery eyes and feeling tired all the time. I manage with the off-the-shelf stuff, but it just isn’t going away.”
“Hmm… well has this led to sore throat at all? Fevers? Do you find its worse when you’re outside or sitting around at home?” She goes on with a few similar questions, trying to narrow things down. She is a licensed doctor, but even as she spoke she was already analyzing what ‘medicines’ she could prescribe for this kind of problem. “Why don’t you lift your shirt a little, I want to take your vitals, make sure this phlegm problem isn’t causing any breathing issues.”
The girl blinks, not expecting to be barraged by all of these questions, but she tries to keep up as best she can. “Uhm, no, none of that, really. It’s not any worse or better when I’m outside or inside, though sometimes it gets worse on the weekends.” she explains, slowly un-tucking her blouse and raising it just enough to expose her midriff.
Dr. Veronica gets out her stethoscope and tries not to look bored as she goes through the song and dance routine. “Deep breathe, let it out… does it hurt to take a deep breath?” and a few other questions. After ten minutes of questions and non-invasive checks, she reviews her clipboard.
“Well, from what I can see it might just be an allergy or some lingering cold your body hasn’t been able to flush out yet. I’m going to write you a prescription for some basic anti-biotic, they should hopefully help your body get over the problem. It also might not hurt to give your home a good spring cleaning, get all the high dust and what not.” she says scribbling some eligible notes on a prescription pad. “If you don’t have medical insurance, we can sell you the medicine here from my small pharmacy in the back. We don’t mark up so with most we can get you them wholesale.”
Clarisse’s frown at the idea of having to shell out for a prescription suddenly changes as the mention of wholesale comes up, and she smiles brightly.
“Oh, really? Yeah, I just started my job here about half a year ago, and my insurance hasn’t fully kicked in yet. I’ve got some cash, but if you’re not charging any overhead, that would be really helpful.” she chirps, looking over the pad to see if she can make out what exactly she’s being prescribed, but the handwriting is nearly illegible.
Dr. Veronica nods. “No problem, let me go fill the prescription and I’ll meet you back in the waiting room. It’ll be good for two weeks, but I want you to call again, no charge, so we can discuss if you’re doing any better. At the end of two weeks, and things are good, then we’ll just see each other again for your 6 month regular checkup.” she said smiling, before opening the door for Clarisse and heading down the hallway in the opposite direction.
Her business was small, and on the ground level. She actually had more office then it looked like she had. The second exam room had a utility closet, which actually led to another small hallway with three doors in it. Two for ‘overnight’ treatment, and the last for her more interesting ‘pharmacy’. She let herself into the utility closet where some basic and normal medicines were, and then let herself into the other room, which from the way the closet was position looked sort of like it was going into the other exam room, but wasn’t. She hadn’t had an overnight patient for ‘study’ in a little while, but she was fairly certain it wouldn’t be long. She checked her shelves…
She put on gloves, took out a sealed container and a small prescription bottle. She printed out a label for some mundane anti-biotic and then measured out a very careful amount of pills containing something she’d recently been asked to field test. The pill was an immune booster, but also a mild psychotropic that when taken in larger doses could induce hallucinations… not to mention an inability to retain water. Its effects were listed as ‘mild’ as her medicines went, but the pills could be addictive, which was her favorite selling word. She bottled it up, put it in a paper bag, and closed the doors, heading back to the waiting room.
“Here you go, that’ll be $17. Take one at night, before bed. It can cause drowsiness, so no driving after you’ve taken one of these. Understood?”
Clarisse looks over the bottle and the little pills inside, nodding slowly. “Right, at night, no driving. Shouldn’t be a problem, I don’t have time for a social life these days anyway…” she mutters the last bit a little bitterly, then lets out a sigh. “You don’t have something that could be used during the day, though? I guess I can keep chugging day-quill.” Then she seems to think about what she’s said, “Oh, is there any sort of things I should avoid while taking this stuff?”
“Drink lots of liquids, sleep more if you can afford the hours, and get some regular vitamins. Its standard fare really. Remember, I want a call after a week. Let me know how your cold is doing,” she nods politely, and mentally makes a note to order a few more stock items to have ready.
With a good amount of thanks, Clarisse hands over a check for the drugs and the appointment before heading out the door, pocketing the pills and returning to work for the rest of the day. Later that evening, never being one to disobey a doctor’s orders, she takes out the little bottle and takes a couple of the pills and a large glass of water. With a deep breath and a little prayer of hope for getting over this god-forsaken cold, she downs them and continues going about her evening pre-bed routine.
Dr. Veronica does a bit of careful research that evening, checking up on Clarisse’s medical history and background. She was fairly well connected and it wouldn’t be too hard to find her Facebook, linked in and other business profile sights for a young professional. In particular, she wanted to hone in certain traits, such as how eager to please she was, how willing to self-indulge and she was happy that all signs pointed to her being more the shy type.
Checking her supplies, Dr. Veronica made an order for some adult sized ‘youth’ briefs. They were a little expensive, but it’d have the best affect and she could sell them at a loss to her newest patient when she invariably came back. Part of her success as a doctor was knowing when to put a little money in, to get quite a bit more back.
It isn’t until about, say, three in the morning that Clarisse is woken up by a small tapping sound somewhere in her apartment. As she opens her eyes, the whole room seems to be tilting gently to one side, and there’s a steady drip of water coming from her apartment’s ceiling just over her bed, tapping loudly on her sheets. Woozily, she tries to roll over to figure out what’s going on, but things just don’t seem quite right. There’s a chipmunk sitting on one pillow next to her head, startling her immensely. Eyes flying open, the young professional jerks up in bed, breathing heavily and looking around wildly, the sounds of her alarm clock warning her of time to get out of bed, and no chipmunks to be seen, and the room seems to have returned to its previous orientation. The only remnant of what she can only describe as a very lucid dream is the wet spot on her bed from the dripping water, but from the size of the ‘spot’ and its location, it’s fairly obvious that it isn’t water.
The rest of the day at work was fairly… weird as well. Clarisse had to send off a short email before she got even herself cleaned up, letting the office know that she’d likely be in a bit late due to personal matters, hoping no one would pry too deeply into the ‘matters’. Getting cleaned up was an embarrassing affair, but halfway through her shower it occurred to her that her nose wasn’t quite as drippy as it had been, so there was at least some positive to come out of this whole affair.
Work itself seemed to be rather mundane, though a couple of times she could have sworn her phone was ringing, but was just a dial tone when picked up, or there was that weird email that vanished out of her inbox before she could check it. By the end of the day, ‘annoyed’ wasn’t even the half of it, and Clarisse unloaded on Facebook immediately upon getting home, but ended her post on a high note of “Maybe tomorrow will be better.” before numbing her mind on some television before taking her medicine for the night and wrapping herself up in some clean sheets.
Dr. Veronica did a casual check on Clarisse’s Facebook account laughing a little at her post, poor girl didn’t have a good handle on privacy settings. Still, it provided some interesting insight if she read between the lines. The medicine appeared to be working, and with that, she would have to shape the dosage much more carefully next time. According to what her supplier told her, it could adjusted to induce certain effects when cut right, and Dr. Veronica already had some interesting thoughts in her head on how she could sell off the results.
Later that night Clarisse found herself sleeping a bit deeper than the night before, although at one point she thought she might have woken up, she wasn’t entirely sure, she felt a little flushed, and rolling over, she fell out of bed… at least she thought she did. Clarisse realized she was up, and oddly, had nodded off at a business meeting… she wasn’t sure the company, but it made sense that she was there. She had an armload of print outs and everyone was looking expectantly at her as she stood before everyone else.
The girl quickly looked down at the papers in her arms, trying to figure out what she was supposed to be speaking on, and not getting anything from the esoteric title of the presentation, she cleared her throat. “Ahem. Ladies and Gentlemen, I first want to uh, thank you, for uh… coming out to my presentation on…” and she looked at the papers again, which somehow seemed unreadable. “The topic at hand. I’d first like to start out by asking if anyone at the table has any preconceptions about what we’re doing here, and if so to bring them up so that I’m not just repeating what everyone might already know?”
A faceless woman spoke without raising her hand in a fairly booming voice. “What a sweet girl, yes, I think she’ll be perfect for that position, in fact, do we have anything in upper management?” There was a chorus of approvals and even a light applause… the only problem was Clarisse was suddenly feeling the effects of the water she’d drank before bed.
With a gracious smile, Clarisse decides that perhaps a joke is the best way out of this odd situation. “Uh, right, with a private executive restroom, eh?” she chuckles and looks towards the door of the board room. “Speaking of, if you all need time to discuss this sort of decision, I’ll just step out for a moment.” She took a few steps towards the door, keeping her ‘best polite smile’ plastered on, despite the quickly growing desperation.
Hurrying out of the room, Clarisse was seized up by a rather sharp sense of pleasure, running up from her toes and traveling all the way up her body till it caused her eyes to roll up and her body to crumple to the floor, the conference room disappearing, and everything going to a hazy black as she slept through the rest of the night… and her desperation.
Still feeling the pleasure released during the dream, Clarisse opens her eyes and stretches in the morning sun, aware after a moment that her alarm clock isn’t going off. Lazily, she rolls over and looks at the clock with a small smile on her lips and a tingle across her whole body, and she sees that it’s still thirty minutes or so before the alarm would go off.
Sighing and closing her eyes again to try and keep that strange, pleasurable sensation going, she shudders as the mild tingling takes on a much more warm and distinct center, a gentle cascade of warmth across her upper thigh and pool-- wait, what? Quickly she sits up and clamps down, stopping the unwanted release from her bladder into her bed, and realizing that once again she was waking up to a wet bed. So much for her euphoric high, but then again, waking up that way made this not seem so bad, but she would definitely have to call that doctor as soon as she had a chance to see if there were any side effects to that medicine that she wasn’t told about.
On the plus side, given how early she had woken up this morning, Clarisse didn’t have to send an email in to work or go in late while she cleaned up her embarrassing mess, and on the train ride into the city, she used her phone to put in a same-day delivery from a local store for some of those bed pad things. By the time she gets to the office, that pleasurable feeling from earlier in the morning is definitely starting to fade away, leaving her anxious and nervous.
Oddly, toward the end of the day, Dr. Veronica gave Clarisse a call, figuring it might be a little early, but with no post to go off of the night before, she had a good idea on how to draw out a little information.
“H… hello?” Clarisse asked, not recognizing the number, but actually surprised that it wasn’t just a dead line this time. Again, ringing phones, vanishing emails, notes not taken, and co-workers asking questions and then not remembering them. Slowly, Clarisse thought she was either very forgetful, or losing her mind.
“Hi Clarisse, this is Dr. V, I wanted to call and check up on you. I know I said a week, but since we weren’t completely clear on what was happening and today being a slow day at my office, I thought I’d ring you up. Have your symptoms gotten any better?”
It takes her a moment, but Clarisse realizes that, yes, her cold had started to clear up some today, and she hadn’t gone through half a box of Kleenexes during the course of the day. “Oh, well, the initial symptoms are getting better, yes…” She says quietly, looking around the office and spotting some people still working. “Look, Doctor, can I call you back or come in for an appointment sooner than a week? Maybe tomorrow morning early?” she asks, almost pleading, “There’s some complications I want to talk about, but I’m still sort of at work…”
“Clarisse, if there are complications, then this is important. Please, your health isn’t something you can hold off. What’s happening? Do you have any inflammation anywhere?” she asks, pressing the issue.
Clarisse shakes her head, though there’s no way the doctor could see it, “No, nothing like that. Look, I’d really like to discuss this in person, not over the phone.” she says, biting her lip and hoping that she can get an appointment as soon as possible.
“I’m not available for another two days. Right now I’m available, and I’m on the phone, find a bathroom if you must, but I’d like to talk about this now. Let me help you, I am your Doctor,” she said still more insistent. On the other end she was smiling.
Clarisse sighs, and looks around, spotting a small conference room that was open at this time in the afternoon, and she quickly ducks inside, closing the windows and door, locking it just in case. “Okay…” she says, then sinks into one of the chairs and explains the problem. “The last couple of nights I’ve been having very lucid, strange dreams, accompanied by… well, uh… Nocturnal bladder releases, I guess you could say.” she says, her cheeks burning at the admission, “And I think I’ve been seeing and hearing things during the day, but that might just be me being way over worked.”
Dr. Veronica sat up. “Seeing and hearing things during the day? Like physical manifestations?” she said making a note on her clipboard. “Those are a bit more worrisome… the nocturnal ‘releases’ are most likely the stress, maybe the dreams too, but can’t be sure… you know what? This is too important to wait, if you’re available, let’s get you in here tonight, or tomorrow. I can hold irregular hours if you can make it.”
Clarisse frowned into her phone receiver, but slowly nodded. “Well, even if I were to leave now, with traffic and the like, it’d be at least seven before I got to your office. Are you sure you can’t work me in early in the morning tomorrow? I’ll go out if you think it’s really important…” she is already typing up a message to Facebook regarding the day’s events, stating at the end that the doctor is worried about ‘Certain Complications’.
“Tomorrow, first thing then. I’ll be in early.” Dr. Veronica said penning the appointment. “Keep up with the medicine tonight, lots of fluids, has it at least been beneficial to your cold?”
“Yes, that part’s going well, thanks. It’s just this other that I’m worried about. First thing in the morning, yes, thank you Doctor.” Clarisse hung up, and slumped back in the chair, longing a little for that bit of pleasure she had first thing that morning, and with a long sigh she stands and makes her way home.
The train ride is too long, and bus ride feels even longer, and by the time she gets back to her apartment, she’s so out of it that she nearly trips over the small box in front of her door. Dragging the package inside, she first covers her bed with a pair of the absorbent pads, frowning at the large dark stain on the mattress before putting more clean sheets on the bed. After that, she makes herself a sandwich, eyes drawn as she eats at her little island bar to the small bottle of pills nearby. Maybe they were responsible for her strange pleasure, and they were at least drowsiness inducing, so despite probably her better judgment, and looking for a little ‘pick me up’, Clarisse downs a dose and a half of them before curling up on the couch for the evening.
The medicine put her to sleep on the couch, knocking her out heavy in just a short span of time. She swam in darkness and pleasant sleep for a little while, before slowly dreaming of herself… in a classroom this time… unlike any classroom she’d ever seen before. There were juvenile pictures on the wall, and the ceiling seemed way above her.
She was standing in this strange classroom, naked from the waist down, before her, and before the chalkboard were 4 colorful children’s potties and very tall woman whose face was obscured by the shadow of her long curly hair. “Sit down this instant Clarisse!” she commanded in a booming voice to the pants less girl.
Terrified at this turn of events, the whole thing feeling as real as anything else, even down to the feeling of the floor beneath her bare feet, Clarisse nearly jumped onto one of the potty chairs, cringing a bit at the tone. “Wh… what’s going on here? What’s this all about?” She demanded, trying to keep her voice steady and assertive as she’d been taught in business school. “I want to know who you are. Where am I?” She kept on, her voice getting stronger as she kept talking, though her bottom stayed plastered to the plastic seat.
The woman said something but it came out garbled as she explained where they were and Clarisse’s reason for being there, but then as if someone were tuning the radio it came in clear. “And that’s why you’re going to get a little placement test…” before going fuzzy again. With the water she drank while downing the pill, she did need to pee, and the woman came to stand right over her, pointing at her watch and mumbling something again before it clarified, “15 minutes, you are going to sit there for 15 minutes, and we shall test to see how good a girl you are.”
Clarisse raised a hand to her ear, trying to see if she was just not hearing correctly, or if something was causing interference. “I’m sorry, what? What am I supposed to do? I don’t get it.” she says, starting to feel a bit frustrated and exasperated with this. It felt so real, but somehow she knew this couldn’t be anything other than a dream, but her dreams rarely felt this physically raw. “Just tell me what I need to do and let me go. I have to get to bed and wake up early for an appointment.”
Looking around the woman was gone, but on the board, in morphing chalk letters was a 15 minute timer, cycling down just past 14:35 now. A seat belt flew over her tummy, holding her down to the plastic potty, the other three still visible as she sat at the front of the class… seemingly alone… until she heard a soft noise. Just over her shoulder a half dozen feathers fluttered on an invisible breeze, coming to dance slightly in the air before her.
Pulling lightly at the ‘belt’, the young professional shakes her head. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real…” she repeats to herself, though her eyes track the feathers as they flutter around in the room. “And that can’t happen because this isn’t real.”
One of the feathers floats toward her side, flipping and brushing against her, another shoots right between her legs, to flutter around in the pot below her… and tickle up at the spots just above it.
With a loud squeal, Clarisse tries to bat at the feathers, grabbing the one on her side, and reaching between her thighs to try and grab at the one below, but her hand can’t fit between the rim of the training potty and her own body, so instead she simply clenches her thighs together to prevent any access, to little avail. “Nnnnn! Cut that out!” she cries out, squirming on the seat as much as the restraint will let her, though the tickling in such a sensitive area is eliciting a dual response in her, one a growing urge and clenching of her bladder, the other a growing pleasure that seems to be building up slowly towards the same level of euphoria as the previous night. “Stop! Please, let me go! I don’t want…. This…”
The other feathers just swirl around her, not attempting to go for her sides or other visible areas as she already got one of them… but the one inside the pot continued to merrily flip about, teasing and tickling, fiendishly working on her. The chalkboard clock was barely at 13 minutes now.
As distracting as the tickling feather below her bottom is, though, Clarisse tried her best to concentrate on standing up, getting away from this cruel form of ‘torture’, looking in vain for any sort of buckle or attachment keeping the belt across her lap and her butt planted on this child’s potty chair. Out of frustration, she swings her hands wildly at the feathers, trying to push them away, not to mention perhaps tipping the training toilet over so that she might get some relief from the bit of stimulation below her bottom. As the bit brushes against a particularly sensitive spot, she clenches her eyes and bites her lip, concentrating on keeping control of herself, and as her eyes open she finds she’s looking directly at the ticking clock on the chalk board, wishing that it would speed up or something, anything, to get this to end.
The toilet was rooted to the ground, just as her butt was rooted to the toilet. The clock was at 12 and then 11, the merciless assault continuing in such vivid lifelike detail.
Pressing her thighs as close together as she possibly could, Clarisse’s eyes watering to the point that she could barely make it out, she concentrated on that ticking number, her teeth leaving little imprints on her bottom lip as the pressure and feelings beneath her began to grow. Later, she’d like to tell herself that she remembered making it at least past the 10 minute mark, but at 9:43 on the ticker, she couldn’t take it anymore. Her body seized up, and once again wave after wave of pleasure shot through her body, same as the night before when she’d dreamed of the office meeting. Her release into a euphoric stupor was accompanied by the warm feeling of release from her bladder, the sound of liquid hitting plastic filling her ears as her head swam.
The chalkboard erased itself, and the same shadowy faced woman was suddenly back, but she sounded happy, almost congratulatory as she gave a few pats to Clarisse’s back. The last thing Clarisse remembered seeing before it faded was the woman holding up a pair of what looked like girls pull-ups, lined pink and with Disney princesses on the front, like she was going to give them to Clarisse. It was dark after that, and although still tingling, Clarisse was on the couch, where she’d fallen asleep the night before. It was still very early.
The apartment was dark, and the TV’s inactivity timer had long since turned it off of its own accord, and the young professional’s eyes slowly open, and again she feels that familiar trickle on her leg and the afterglow of the strange dream. However, instead of clamping down to stop the release, Clarisse simply tried to enjoy the post-dream pleasure, her addled and tired brain not tying the spreading warmth to anything bad. It’s not until a good five minutes after waking, though, does the idea filter through that she has once again made quite a mess, and with some reluctance, Clarisse starts to uncurl from the couch, frowning at the dark spot on her cushions and the streams running down the front of the furniture to pool on the floor there. Her business casual pants she’d been wearing to the office earlier clung wetly and rapidly cooling to her thighs and legs, and with a loud sigh, she began cleaning up and stripping down, wiping herself off with a wash cloth and throwing on some night clothes, leaving her wet couch and blanket for the morning proper, and crawling into bed, feeling the absorbent pads beneath her as she flops back to sleep.
Veronica checked her office supplies one more time in the back wing. She had ‘adult garments’ as well as more specialized fetish items that looked and were proportionally as thick as baby diapers. She smiled, the psychological effect they sometimes had on her patients was delicious. She double checked her ‘pharmacy’ shelf and it was just as well stocked, and product trials were going well, especially from what she’d heard of Clarisse, who she was looking forward to checking up on today. She closed the supply closet and quietly left out of the secret entrance in one of her back exam rooms to head to her office
She took a seat, reviewed her schedule and double checking the list of effects she’d need to check over. By now, if she was on schedule, she should be having some mild hallucinations during the day, followed by some wild dreams at night, and a problem keeping her bed dry. The fun would be getting that information out of her, and also double checking it herself.
She prepared a foot peddle under her desk that when pressed would play just a few bars of a very soft nursery rhyme, and she set up her monitor to have a fairly bright and vivid screen saver. “Okay… should just about do it… all there is to do now, is to wait,” she said. She turned on a direct feed of the lobby, it wouldn’t do to let Clarisse get grated by the receptionist, she needed to build a modicum of trust and feelings of relief whenever she came to the office… so she sat, and she waited.
Waking up later in the morning, though still rather early for most people’s standards, Clarisse’s attitude was already off to a bad start. Along with her freshly ordered bed pads being slightly damp, though not fully wet, she still had the couch and floor of the living room to clean up, which took her about an hour before getting cleaned up, dressed and out to the clinic. With nerves fully on edge, it was as if she couldn’t at all sit still on the bus over, fidgeting in her seat and looking around anxiously. She felt as if people were watching her, or whispering her name just at the edge of hearing, and by the time she finally stepped off at her stop, the poor girl was very nearly in tears or hysterics.
Taking a long moment to settle herself and breathe deeply, she entered the clinic, trying to look calm and collected.
Seeing her through the security cam, Dr. Veronica got a folder and walked out looking purposeful to hand it to her secretary. “10 copies if you could, oh, and good morning Clarisse, please, come in come in, right to my office,” she said warmly.
She was already turning and walking that way without waiting much for a reply.
Clarisse started to wave, then greet the doctor, but instead found herself taking long strides to try and keep up with the other woman as she moved further back into the office. When she finally caught up, she put on her best ‘Nothing Bothering Me’ smile and nodded politely.
“I really appreciate you taking time to see me this morning, Doctor. I… well, I think I’m having those side effects we talked about over the phone. Maybe there’s some other drugs or something we can try?” she tries at the start, hoping to take control of the situation and hopefully not seem so completely out of it.
“We’ll see, but first, please, take a seat, I want to go over, in detail, what’s been happening. You’ve barely started this set of pills, switching you to something new this fast could be risky, especially since you’ve apparently just gotten over your cold… so let’s start from the top, first night you took them, what happened?”
Taking a seat behind her desk and looking concerned, but caring, Veronica focused all her attention on Clarisse.
The young professional sits down across the desk, hands folded in her lap, and starts slowly, obviously not wanting to have to re-live the last couple of night’s events.
“Well, it started off okay. I took the normal dosage, and things were fine. I got a little drowsy and went to bed. Nothing really out of the norm, except for the dreams I was having. It was so… Vivid, you know?” she says, and then takes a deep breath, “But when I woke up, I found I had… well, for lack of a better way of putting it, I wet the bed.”
After a moment’s silence, she nodded a little, “Then again last night as well. Then there’s all the little things, like hearing people talking when no one’s around, or missing emails that were never sent…”
The better part of her business was in funding for ‘testing’ medicines and the supplies of other medical products she invariably sold from their lingering effects. She nodded, looked interested. “Hmm dreams? That’s an odd affect, usually medicine of this time doesn’t promote brain activity in slumber, it’ll make you tired, but that’s about it…” She peppered a few honest questions, but also a few business questions about comfort and drowsiness. “This may be a symptom of a larger problem. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”
She pressed the pedal and a soft 4 cords of “Bah Bah Black Sheep” played deceptively low. “The fact that you’re hearing things is especially disconcerting. Have you ever had a history of this in the past?”
“Uh, no, I haven’t…” the other girl shakes her head, looking around for the source of the noise, “No history of it. Not even when I was still little. As for stress, well, I just started a new job and maybe that’s causing some of it, but I wouldn’t think to this extent.” she’s hopeful that perhaps there’s a chemical solution in the form of modified dosages or something similar.
“Do… do you hear anything? Like, music or something?” she asks, though, not wanting to sound completely crazy, but still very nervous. “I could have sworn…”
“Can you describe your dreams a bit then? I’m not much of a psychologist, but it might give me a clue into what stresses are manifesting. I really don’t think the medicine is at fault here for the dreams and bedwetting… and no… I don’t hear anything, do you?” she looks up tilting her head from her notes, obviously concerned.
Not wanting to rush things too fast, she thinks about halving the dosage, but then smiles and holds off on that suggestion, instead waiting for her reply.
With another shake of the head, Clarisse tries to remember the dreams, finding them coming back to her quite easily and readily. “Well, the first one was something about I was giving a presentation at a board meeting. I didn’t know what it was about, or why I was giving it, but apparently I did a good job.” She says, then shifts in her seat again, trying to ignore the softly playing nursery tune.
“Then I left the board meeting, and it was like as if I were having a, well, an orgasm…” she almost mutters the word, “Just this intense feeling of ‘feeling good’. That’s about when I woke up, right in the middle of uh, peeing.”
With a swallow, she continues on. “The other one, last night’s, was a little more weird. I was in this classroom, and somehow strapped to a toilet of some sort. There was a woman, but I can’t remember anything about her, and she left. Then there were some feathers, and one of them was…. uh… it’s rather personal, y’know.” She stammers, but this is her doctor, so she keeps going, “It was… touching me, in the dream. Again, that pleasant feeling, and again I woke up peeing, but was a little too drowsy to really ‘get it’.”
Writes ‘pleasant feeling’ in quotes about how Clarisse described her dreams. “Would you say these were bad dreams then? Or did you on some level enjoy them?” she asks. “From what I see, right now it seems you have work and worries about your ability to go to the bathroom stressing you. Have you taken any steps on your own to combat the ‘nightly’ problem since you started the medicine?”
“Uh, I wouldn’t say I ‘enjoyed’ them, but it isn’t as if I woke up feeling panicked or anything.” she tries to explain, again shaking her head. “They weren’t bad, and, to be honest, if I could get the end bits of the dream without the, eh, wetting, I’d be fine.” she says, a bit embarrassedly, but again hoping full disclosure will help to find a solution faster.
“So far all I’ve done is bought some of those bed-pads to help with the clean-up.” she admits, “But that’s it, really. Are you sure you don’t hear anything?”
Veronica takes her foot off the pedal. “Nothing, just you and me talking. This is very worrisome though. Here’s what I’d suggest. Continue with the medicine till the end of the week. Take it on schedule. If the problems get worse, I want you back here immediately and we’ll get you on different meds. In the meantime though, I think it might be prudent to look into some more protection at night. I have some sample ‘adult garments’ I can give you free of charge.”
The crease between Clarisse’s brows deepens a bit at the sound of that, and she shifts in her seat as the music fades away, though the melody is now stuck in her head. “Do you really think that’s necessary?” she asks, quietly, with a glance to the door to see if the receptionist out front may have overheard the conversation.
“And, I mean, I’d be grateful, but I’ve got to go to work right after this, and I’d not want to have to carry them around all day, you know…” she says, trying to think of a reason not to have to accept them. “it’s just, well, not something I’d want anyone to find out about.”
Veronica tries to hide a smile while watching her squirm. “I’m concerned about rashes and your personal property. If you’ve wet the last two nights,” she says adding a little bit of a raised voice to wet, “Prudence would be to wear something on the third. They’re not uncommon, plenty of people wear them and I can give you a brown bag if it’s not something you want on display… or, if you wanted, you could pick some up at a store on the way home. I can suggest several and either way I recommend you try something more then you have.”
She began to scribble on a piece of paper. “I can write you a prescription, or you can get them here free. Up to you,” she said smiling again and tearing the paper to hand over to her.
Veronica knew the dreams would continue, and so would the wetting. The hallucinations would be intermittent, but not crippling until the next type of medicine. The first week was important, it opened her mind to some infantile possibilities, the later type would set them loose. She’d need to start getting used to the idea of being diapered if this was going to work. Her dreams would likely pick up it, same as they’d done with her work and embarrassment at an accident. They were designed to tickle embarrassment centers.
She tried not to get too lost in her thoughts as she held the paper out for Clarisse, waiting on her answer.
At first, it seemed as if the girl might reach for the paper, but then the fact that she’d have to actually go into a store and fill the prescription seemed to dawn on her, and she put her hand back down, averting her eyes. “Well, if you think it’s best… and if I can get them discreetly here, that would really be better for me.” she says in a bit of a rush.
“I’ll take them, if you have a bag. Probably no one will notice, right?” she smiles a bit, relieved that she’s not hearing the music anymore, despite having it stuck firmly in her head. Her eyes dart to the screen saver on the computer, and she blinks once at the bright colors, though it seems to lighten her mood a bit. “Really, thank you, I’m so glad to have found this place. You’ve been way too helpful, Doctor.”
Doctor V gets up and walks around her desk. “I’m glad to be of help,” she says opening her arms and giving Clarisse a hug even as she sat in the chair. “Just give me a call if you have any complications,” she says in an almost motherly tone as she briskly heads out of the room.
She had a bag waiting in the back examination room, a nondescript grocery bag with paper handles and a small pack of 8 Molicares in a small plain purple plastic case. She looked them over, waiting a minute or two to make it seem like she actually had to look around for them and then went back into her office, leaving the door open as she said ‘here you go, these should help with your bedwetting,’ to which there was a slight giggle from the lobby receptionist.
“Thanks…” comes the sullen response, with a somewhat rueful glance out the door. “I’ll be sure to let you know if things get any worse. Is there anything else I should know? If not, I really need to get to work. I’ve got a meeting later, and a conference call, and then I’m off for the day.”
“Just keep taking your pill before bed, I’d still recommend lots of fluids, but try to pee before you ‘pad up’ for the evening. Again, gets any worse, don’t hesitate to call. Either way, I want you in after a full week of the pills. Sound good?”
Clarisse nods, and tries to find a way to hold the package that doesn’t look conspicuous, fails, and instead takes her leave of the doctor’s office.
The package itself sits all day beneath her desk at work, as Clarisse nonchalantly kicks it about and tries not to let anyone see it. Several times that day, though, and even once during a conference call, she catches herself humming along to ‘Bah Bah Black Sheep’, as the song is stuck in her head, even to the point of having to check her computer speakers to make sure the sound is turned off. By the time she arrives back at home for the evening, her nerves are a wreck again, having sworn the engine noise on the bus was playing the song as it trundled along the roadways.
Tossing the package on the bed without even looking at it again, Clarisse sat and hung her head on the couch, keeping well away from the still drying portion she had to clean that morning. Again, the she finds herself humming the nursery rhyme to herself for a bit of comfort, her eyes drawn to the bottle of pills that, with the doctor’s reassurance that her problems are not being caused by the medicines, have proven themselves to be quite good at getting her to sleep and forgetting, if for a brief time, about her problems.
Clarisse put off thoughts of sleep tonight, though, until after her evening meal and some ‘down-time’. With some effort, and a bit of uncertainty, she went through the unenviable task of getting herself ready for bed, puzzling out the new ‘adult garments’ she’d been given, and then taking her medicine. It felt odd in just her nightgown and… well, ‘adult undergarment’, but soon the pills started to do their thing, again having taken the relaxing double dose, and Clarisse slipped into bed, and out of the waking world.
As Clarisse lay in her drug induced sleep, her mind began to churn and process the stimuli from the previous day… She was at her desk, at work, or what looked like work, but was really just a cubicle in a sea of cubicles… There was not a single sound around her and there was no ceiling, just a foreboding gray mass that was somehow above her.
As she sat at her desk, dressed in the same clothes she’d gone to work with. She found that the shopping bag that her legs had bumped most of the day was not there… and… slowly, building as if coming from far away, she heard the song ‘Bah Bah Black Sheep’ followed by the sounds of something shuffling, coming from the cubical alleyway.
With a long blink, and a shake of her head, Clarisse reaches over and pinches her arm at first, actually feeling the pain and sucking in a sharp breath. The dream, if it was one, was far more vivid than even before. It’s just hard to wrap her head around this type of stimuli. Even so, the sound of the song that had been shifting through her brain all day brought her back to her surroundings, and with a bit of trepidation, she slides slowly backwards and peeks her head out into the cube farm, marveling at first at how vast the sprawling collection of work spaces seem to be, though she finds she can’t make out any other people working at any of the stations.
“Please, not more feathers….” she mutters to herself, trying to pinpoint the source of her torment for so long in the previous day.
Down the alley is a small parade. Teddy bears, almost a dozen, all black furred, one with a xylophone and playing their musical march were on their way to her. Two of them at the back were sharing the heft of her shopping bag.
One of them had a bottle of baby powder. Another had a bottle of baby oil. Another had a Sippy-cup that was sloshing around as he marched. Another had a pair of scissors that he was carrying in a ‘safe carry’ manner, and yet another held a pacifier above its head like a like a torch in a race.
They plodded along at a steady pace, heading right down her isle.
“What the…” Clarisse mutters, but instead decides this is not the way she wants this dream to go, and slides back into the cubicle. Glancing up, she hops up on her desk and starts to go over the cube wall, ignoring how it may make her look to her co-workers, but a parade of animated teddy bears isn’t exactly normal either. Despite this, though, she does find herself once again humming along with the addictive tune as she negotiates an escape.
Climbing over the cube, she finds just an empty cube, and another and another, in a series on down the line. There’s not really a lot of room to hang out on top of the cube walls, since it’s just about a solid inch or two of cheap plastic and felt covering.
The parade continues merrily in the isle, following her as she climbs over the cubes… the walls are raised enough that should she try getting to another isle, they crawl on the floor and push and pull their objects with them to meet continue on down the next isle. They really don’t slow down much as they continue at a steady pace, their frozen semi-smile stitch faces.
Clarisse is panicking now, seeing the small, fuzzy, soft mob not deterred by her attempts to get away. Instead of climbing over the next cube, though, she turns and begins to sprint down the aisle, darting out just in front of the little group. She keeps looking back over her shoulder, and finding that despite her running, the scenery doesn’t seem to change. IN fact, it’s just more of the same bland, gray, boring cubes.
Not only does the scenery not seem to change, but the parade never seems to get proportionally far away from her. They don’t change their pace, but even at full sprint, they’re really only 10 or 15 feet behind her playing their happy tune in full and continuing toward her.
Clarisse reaches into a cubicle, taking the precious few seconds she could spend running to grab a rolling chair and spinning it out into the aisle, trying to block the path of the on-coming gang of cuddly stuffies, letting out a little yelp of something akin to fear mixed with anger and a splash of desperation, though that turns immediately into her singing full-on along with the nursery song as she continues to run from her pursuers.
The chair doesn’t deter them, they only side step and break formation with surprising ease as they continue on. Somehow… as the time in her escape attempt prolonged, their ranks had grown, behind the two carrying her paper bag was another teddy with a small white bandana on. He was carrying something that looked to be about the size of a hammer, only the end of it seemed to be white and some type of rubber.
Not sure how long this chase has been going on, and with no reference points or any sense that there’s even an exit, Clarisse turns, singing the song back at the little band angrily, clenching her fists and preparing to try and fight them off.
“Bah Bah Black Sheep, have you any wool!” she cries, and throws a punch at the lead bear.
The lead bear drops his supplies and takes the punch, him being a good two feet in height and his body quite fluffy and soft. His fingerless round paws come together at her wrists, his companions dropping their items to plod up behind him in the same ever-march pace.
The only one not to join them is the xylophone player.
Clarisse tries to shake the bear off, not at all expecting that to happen, and more expecting to see the animals go flying across the cubes like so much fluff.
“H… hey! Get off! Get back!” she cries, though still in tune with the song, taking a few steps back to try and get some distance while pulling at the bear on her wrist. “Get away!”
The bears come up on her, although not exceedingly strong, they are somewhat forceful, and the pull at her arm she’d used to punch the first, the others going around her.
Tugging on her arm, and pushing on the backs of her legs, they try to force her to fall forward on her tummy.
Clarisse is off balance, trying to pull a tenacious teddy bear off of her wrist, and slightly panicked at her own inability to stop singing that damnedable nursery tune. Without so much as a comedic waving of arms to keep her balance, she suddenly finds the floor rushing up to meet her, and bends her knees, only to have her shins fall on one of the stuffed animals, sending her more off balance, but into a face-plant onto the floor, but much lighter than had the bear not broken her fall.
“UNF! What the hell?” she tries to scramble away, pulling at one of the cubicle walls to try and get back to her feet, or at least out from under the encroaching creatures.
The bear under her continues to move around, getting a little grope-y with her boobs, while the other bears work to hold her down. The bear who had been carrying the scissors goes back to where he’d dropped his parade item and comes back to her, starting with right behind her neck and snipping his way through her clothes.
The young professional squirms, trying to get away from the cushiony paws at her chest, and at the same time trying to bat at the bear with the scissors, but finds that even though individually they’re no big deal, an entire pile of stuffed animals on your arms can really impede your motor skills. Instead, she tries kicking her legs at the animals still coming up on her, still humming loudly along with the tune on the xylophone while biting her lip to try and stop herself.
With a loud gasp of air, trying to breathe in before the next verse starts, she lets out a desperate, “Three bags full!” while still thrashing about.
The bear starts walking on her shoulders as he cuts a steady line, shearing right through her top and working now at her waist. The other bears aid him by laying on her arms and pulling at the top to leave her back bear and the top slowly traveling off her body.
Her kicking legs give only a moment’s pause before the other bears dive onto them like they were cowboys on broncos, effectively squashing her to the ground, half in a cubicle, half in the alley as they work to undress her.
The feeling of the cool air on her back, rare if not unheard of for a dream, elicits a new round of struggles from the girl pinned beneath the stuffed legions of hell, her hands clawing at the carpet yet so useless under the combined weight of her attackers. With her legs pinned now, Clarisse can do nothing but try to squirm around, trying to buck off the one with the scissors but not gaining much leverage. She raises her head, trying to look back over one shoulder to see what the rest are doing, and wishing desperately that the playing of the song would simply stop, the song digging its way into her mind and forcing out nearly every other conscious thought at this point except the desperation of wanting to get free.
With a few final snips, and the help of the other bears, Clarisse’s clothes were cut to pieces and she was left naked on the ground with the exception of the lead bear still squirming around under her weight.
The scissor bear went to one leg and took the place of the bear that had earlier, been holding the pacifier above his head. He shuffled over in front of Clarisse, and made a show of carefully picking up the pacifier, careful as earlier not to touch the nipple but only the handle and came marching up to her face which was either chin to the ground or turned to the side, closing in slow like a power cord about to plug into an electric socket.
With horror, Clarisse jerks her head to the side, again biting her lip to keep the thing from entering her mouth as she still hums the stupid song over and over, unerringly, not stopping. She clutches her eyes tightly, not even wanting to see the oncoming, seemingly inevitable item held by the stuffed animal.
The bear pays her no mind, pressing the rubber nipple up against the outside of her lips, an odd tingling and numbing sensation immediately present from the area the nipple touches. Her lips cease to follow her commands and her teeth are forced open a little as the nipple slides home and she can just barely feel the plastic guard coming to rest around her mouth.
The tingling sensation spreads quickly from her mouth to her neck, her chest, her arms, her legs and all the way to her feet. Her body goes limp, the struggle stops and she finds she can’t move. The bears slowly let go of her, dragging away the last scraps of clothes and throwing them in a little heap on the floor. They work together to roll her over, the leader bear getting helped to his feet by one of the others as they successfully roll Clarisse on her back.
The song suddenly changes from ‘Bah Bah Black Sheep’, ending the madness, but just as quickly is replaced by ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’, The bears moving together now and forming a line.
First the two bears break open the package with the help of the scissors and get a diaper out… followed by the oil bear, followed by the powder bear, followed by the Sippy cup bear… and finally, the bear with the bandana… all in plain sight of Clarisse as she’s on her back, only able to suck on her pacifier and watch them go to work.
The young professional, now as naked as the day she was born, lets out a sigh of relief for the ending of the song, even as she’s laid open and numb on the floor of the cubicle farm, squirming lightly but not really able to coordinate any sort of other movement. However, her relief is a bit short-lived as the new song starts up, and while not as maddeningly driving as the other song, she again finds herself humming along with it, her cheeks twitching her unfeeling lips up into an idiotic smile. The music, she realizes, is all she really has, and tries to lose herself in it, but as the bears go to work, she finds that she cannot tear her eyes away from their exceedingly coordinated efforts, moaning the tune, nearly at the brink of tears.
The diaper is unfolded, two bears lift up her legs and push them all the back till her knees are almost touching her chest. The padding is slid under her, and while she’s in such an exposed position, the oil bear takes his turn, liberally squirting oil on her privates and bottom, not seeming to care that it mats the fur on her rounded paws as he works it in.
The powder bear comes up next, sprinkling an ample amount of white dust on her, and walking around to do more not just her nether region, but most of her tummy and sides as well…
Oiled, and powdered, the bears ease her down onto the diaper, two of them working together to bring it up and tape it to her waist. Giving her a firm pat as its secured.
The bears work on moving her body, propping her back onto a cube wall and splaying her legs out in front of her. The bear who carries the pacifier follows up with Sippy cup bear at his side, yanking the pacifier unceremoniously from her mouth, and the other bear stuffing the Sippy cup in it and holding it for her.
The final bear with the white bandana picked up his parade object and fiddled a little with it. The device’s soft head began to hum and vibrate visibly as he marched over, holding it like a spear, and standing between Clarisse’s splayed legs.
With the Sippy cup being held up for her, the young woman has no choice but to suckle on the spout or, and with the vividness of what she is still trying to convince herself is a dream, suffer the real fear of choking on the liquid inside. The flavor is not easy to place, the only wrinkle in the otherwise perfect feel of these sensations. Even the light tickle of the bear’s paws, the smell of the baby powder on her skin, and the slick feeling on her bottom and other parts from the oil, even down to the slight cushioning of the diaper taped around her waist.
Immediately recognizing what the bear holds, Clarisse begins to moan the lullaby louder, trying desperately to kick at the bear, but managing only a meek and pathetic squirming of her legs on the carpeted office floor as she continues to drink from the seemingly bottomless toddler’s cup, keeping her eyes as much as she can on the approaching stuffed tormentor.
The bears who at this point no longer have a task, do not seem as menacing, they each look for a part on her, either leg, hip, or limp arm to hug. They’re soft and warm, and even as she’s force nursed, the music stops… and there’s quiet, except for the sound of her drinking and the hum of the device in the bandana bear’s hands.
He is gentle, almost like someone washing something fragile, as he begins to press it toward her, a loud crinkling as it goes right up against the outside of her diaper and recently oiled sex.
The feeling that comes over the office worker is unlike any she’s ever felt before, the soft padding of the diaper rubbing against her slick crotch, stimulating her even without any penetration, and suddenly her moaning takes on an entirely new pitch between swallows. Even in her numbed state, her hips react immediately, trying to rock forward against the device, even though deep down, she knows she should be trying harder to control this, to clamp down and ignore the pleasure, but she can’t. Even with just the light touch, the combination of the smell, the feeling, and the light sound of the crinkling of the vibrating diaper, mixed with the fact that she finds she’s still humming the gentle lullaby in her head begins to overwhelm her senses.
As she begins to react, and her hips work with the bear, things begin to change… the cubicle fades away, the wall she’s resting against gets softer, till she’s resting against the pastel colors of a kids playhouse. The bears change from black to a more soft pink color. She feels warmer, the sensations feel better… the moment that she stopped fighting it, the bears hugged her more tenderly, the Sippy cup tasted like sweet nectar, and the humming vibration on her diaper rocketed her right to the edge of orgasm…. not to mention the feeling of how much she’d already drank…
Here, in the very childish surroundings, the bears piled on her and the toddlerish walls of the kid’s play house, her attire and garment don’t seem nearly so out of place or strange. The pleasure of her stimulation at the hands of the gentle teddy bear driving her onwards, she smiles to herself around the spout of the Sippy cup as things reach a head, her mind reeling at the sudden softness of the surroundings, the lighter colors, she sighs and releases, falling into an orgasmic haze, feeling the pressure in her bladder releasing at the same time as she ones again loses her senses in the dream, everything going hazy as she moans loudly.
The dream washes out, even as the padding on her diaper soaks it up. Implanting itself in vivid glimpses of the scary parade chasing her, to the happy relaxed euphoria of just laying dopily on the floor. Its feels like hours and a good rest have come as she hears the alarm go off next to her bed.
Clarisse rolled over and slapped at her alarm clock, not quite yet remembering the dream, but realizing that she didn’t at all want to wake up from it. Again she had that all-too-pleasant afterglow flowing through her body, and she was warm and dry. Slowly, she slipped one hand beneath her covers, eyes closed, not realizing she was lightly humming ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ to herself as her hand brushed gently against the swollen, still slightly cooling diaper at her waist. At that point she woke up fully, not in a rush, but with a slow realization of what the dream had been.
Embarrassed by the pleasure she’d received in the dream at the near toddler-level surroundings and stimulation by stuffed toys, she tried to be more clinically detached from the whole thing. Getting up, she noted how well the ‘adult undergarment’ had done its job, tossed it away, and got in the shower, trying to wash away the feelings of the lingering fantasy. Despite this, as she boarded the bus for work, she unconsciously began to sing ‘Bah Bah Black Sheep’ once again, with a little smile on her face, and the whole bus was singing with her… but she tried not to let it bother her.
As the morning began and as Clarisse found her way to