More Hypnosis!

The glow of the screens dimmed slightly, shifting from garish brightness to a gentle, pastel hue—soft blues, gentle pinks, and warm yellows that bathed the entire Regression Chamber in a dreamlike calm. Vanessa, still seated in the crib, was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling as the reality of what she’d just done clung to her in the form of warm, squishy padding.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear the walls down and burn the screens to ash. But something else tugged at her mind. A sleepy, creeping softness.

The mirrors around her flickered and changed again.

Gone were the sharp, perfect reflections of her body, and in their place: versions of her. Future selves—or were they?

One screen showed her standing in the middle of a nursery, dressed in babyish denim overalls, her legs bowed slightly from the thick diaper beneath them. Her hair was pulled into bouncy pigtails, and a pink pacifier bobbed in her mouth as she giggled and toddled across a rainbow-colored carpet, arms out for balance.

Another screen flashed an image of Vanessa sitting cross-legged on the floor. A coloring book spread out before her, her tongue poking between her lips in concentration as she scribbled outside the lines with a big red crayon. Her diaper, now noticeably swollen and sagging beneath a frilly onesie, peeked out from under her ruffled skirt.

Yet another screen showed her strapped into a highchair, hands clumsily batting at the spoon being fed to her by a smiling caregiver. Her cheeks were puffed out with green mush, some of it smeared across her chin. She babbled happily, eyes glassy with toddlerish glee.

Vanessa stared at the screens, her horror growing—but something else tickled at the edges of her mind. Each version of her was happy. Not fake happy like she used to be for the cameras or board meetings. Not the cold, smug satisfaction she got from dominating her employees or watching her bank account grow. No… the versions on the screens were simple, pure, carefree.

And the worst part?

It looked real.

The images no longer felt like twisted projections—they shimmered with familiarity, almost comfort. Her adult brain recoiled, shouted at her to look away, to fight back. But her muscles were heavy, her eyelids drooping like curtains at the end of a long performance. The warmth in her diaper, humiliating just minutes ago, now felt like… reassurance. Security.

Her arms went slack at her sides, her breathing slowed to a soft rhythm.

The screens played on.

“Aww, does widdle Vanny need her ba-ba?”

“Oopsy-daisy, someone made a big soggy soggy…”

“Such a good girl for finishing her nap-nap!”

Vanessa’s lips parted slightly, her thumb brushing against them without her noticing. Her thoughts began to slow… and slip.

"I’ll wake up and fix this…" she told herself.

But the image of her toddling with a plush bunny in hand—giggle-babbling in a diaper so thick it bounced with every step—was so much louder.

Her thumb slipped into her mouth, her cheeks gently sucking in and out as the Regression Chamber dimmed to a lullaby-colored glow.

She didn't even notice the robotic arms lowering a mobile above her crib, spinning slowly—stars, clouds, and soft music drifting like a warm blanket over her thoughts.

She was asleep before the first verse ended.