The Trickster's Box, Part 4 (Patreon)

Part 4

Captain Ara Lee sat up late in her quarters. The day had been rather stressful for her. Her Chief Engineer and Chief Medical Officer had both been off-duty, and she had discovered quite late in the day that her First Officer, the usually efficient and reliable Priti Basu, had transferred all her communications to her for the evening. Ara often complained that Priti did too good a job coordinating the crew, to the extent that her own schedule was generally quite light. Today, however, she had seen how many questions and requests for support Priti received in a typical evening, and she couldn't envy the workload.

Thanks to to having to keep on top of the engineering team, Captain Lee had barely had time to look at the strange inscriptions on the object in the ship's laboratory. Now they were all displayed on her screen, with streams of text running down the screen as the computer tried in vain to decipher them. They had a certain tantalizing beauty, like something in-between Egyptian hieroglyphs and Aztec pictographs. She couldn't escape the nagging feeling that there was something right in front of her that she was missing. Which is why she was now staring at them well after her usual bedtime.

Frustrated, she got up and placed her empty teacup in the replicator. The first two cups hadn't relaxed her in the way she had hoped they would, but third time is the charm.

“Computer. Chai Tea. Hot.”

Nothing happening. The computer didn't even chirp to acknowledge her order.

“Compuer. Chai Tea. Hot.” she ordered again.

This time, the computer responded with a series of random-sounding, beeps, chirps, and screeches.

“Ack...ack...nnneeeennegaat...affirmative..tive..tive.”

The computer seemed to be producing multiple messages simultaneously, and getting them twisted together. Her cup of chai materialized next to her empty cup, then another saucer and cup materialized on top of that one, and then another inside of that one, causing the crockery to shatter and tea to spill everywhere. Soon, her replicator pad was covered in a steaming pile of broken ceramic cups, and tea began spilling out and onto the floor.

Ara sighed at the mess. The computer issues clearly hadn't been dealt with properly. Still, the engineering team would be in bed by now, and this was nothing that couldn't wait till morning. All the same, having the computer on the fritz worried her. It was tied in to almost every system on the ship, from the shields that kept them safe from ionic discharges to the life support system that kept the air oxygenated and breathable. She hated having to go to bed without knowing that dozens of automated system were monitoring her and protecting her from dozens of potential problems.

The lights in her quarters began randomly dimming and flaring to life, which did nothing to calm her anxiety. On her desk monitor, the images of strange symbols wavered and blurred. Suddenly, a pop-up window appeared, covering her work. It looked like a video file of an old television program. A group of minute figures in odd, colorful jumpsuits were dancing awkwardly around what looked like a poorly-constructed mock-up of a space-craft, while a sun with a rather creepy-looking face grinned down on them from the blue sky.

“Computer. End Program.” she tried, with no real hope of success. Instead of closing, the window changed to an image of a dimly-lit stage. On it, two Klingons were standing and debating one another in the typically overdramatic way of Klingons. There were English subtitles running across the bottom of the screen, but Ara was proficient enough in Klingon that these were not necessary. Judging by the costumes and the quality of the footage, she judged it to be an early twentieth century Klingon talk show.

“Fool! Is it not self-evident that to crush one's enemies is the ultimate goal of all life? To slaughter those who resist, enslave those who do not, to die gloriously if fate decrees it? What other life is there for a warrior!”

“Idiot! Do you not see that killing one's enemies grants them the very death that you yourself desire? To attack directly not only grants them the opportunity to slay you, but even if you succeed, they die nobly! Why should we give to our enemies what we desire for ourselves?”

“Coward! What alternative do you suggest? To sneak around like rats and slay our enemies in their sleep like a fever? Such talk is unworthy of warriors!”

“Oaf! You cling to ancient tradition and primitive dogma like an infant to its mother's breast! To overcome one's opponent by force only proves that you possess a temporary advantage! Strength fades, and the limbs slow with age! To overcome one's enemies through superior cunning is the true and most worthy of victories! To bind a man with chains and torment him until he does your bidding grants his cowardice an aura of nobility, but to make him truly desire an existence of servitude...what could be sweeter?”

“Computer. End Program.” Ara tried again. Frankly, she found this program and the last one about equally inane. Human debate traditionally involved a relaxed setting, with the two participants trading grandiose displays of modesty and respect, even if they actually despised each other. Of course, Klingon culture had taken the other route, turning shouting and insult-slinging into de rigeur for even the most elevated philosophical debates.

The window changed again, this time showing an old-earth cartoon program. A bunch of colorful puppets doing strange, random skits in the streets of an urban neighborhood. Captain Ara decided that she could probably sleep with that on, even if it was difficult. In the morning, she would have Tamar run a Level-4 diagnostic of the whole computer system, and hopefully she would put a stop to this nonsense. Feeling defeated, the captain wrapped her head in a pillow and tried to get some sleep.

Priti awoke. The lights of sickbay were back at full illumination, indicating that it was at least seven hundred hours. She realized with a start that her thumb was in her mouth, and she withdrew it with a pop. Sitting up, she found that her legs were bare, and that the frightful images that lingered in her mind from the night before had not merely been a nightmare, as she had faintly hoped. The EMH program had actually put her in a pair of colorful training pants. She recalled with horror how easily the hologram had reduced her to a submissive thumbsucker.

Priti wrapped her legs in her arms and began casting about for something to cover herself with. The doors of sickbay could slide open at any moment, and any member of the crew, from the captain to  the most junior crewman, would see her with her officer's uniform on top and a toddler's absorbent underwear underneath.

The EMH was nowhere to be seen. The only person in sickbay other than herself was Dr. Nixila, who sitting up in the bed next to hers.

“Aww!” yelled Priti as she fell to the ground. It wasn't the most dignified position, but at least her training pants were covered. “Uh, uh, Wonan! You're awake! Thank goodness! That EMH is malfunctioning something horrible! You won't believe what I've been through!”

“I'm afraid I would, Commander. This is...this is very bad. She got both of us.” Dr. Nixila was normally a cheerful and outgoing person, but right now she looked very tired and stressed. Her short hair was uncombed and her usually rosy cheeks looked oddly pale. She sat up in bed, wearing her medical uniform but still wrapped in a blanket, as though she were cold.

Priti's eyes widened. “What do mean?”

“Try touching your com-badge.” said the doctor.

Priti brought her hand up, and once again, no matter how she moved, the com-badge was always just out of reach. Neither of her hands could come withing an inch of the tiny device.

“How is this possible?” she asked.

Dr. Nixila sighed. “Commander, does the term “nerve staple” mean anything to you?”

Priti hadn't heard that term, but she definitely didn't like the sound of it. She silently shook her head.

“That's probably because they haven't been used in over a century. A few governments used them during the Eugenics Wars. It is a hideously unethical form of technology, banned in all civilized societies. Not even the Klingons or the Cardassians will use them now, at least not openly. Essentially, one of the vertebrae is removed from the victim's spine, usually near the base of the neck, and is replaced with an artificial nerve conduit. This, in turn, is tied into a supervisory computer program via a subspace transponder. Once in place, the device allows the computer to selectively block or stimulate any nerve impulse that is carried through the spinal column. That includes the entire cardiopulmonary system, the endocrine glands, voluntary muscular impulses, even physical sensation. The computer can make your heart stop beating, stimulate pain, and block the muscles from performing particular actions. I don't know who is responsible, but we both have them now, Priti. Its over. We lost.”

Priti listened with growing horror as the usually upbeat Dr. Nixila delivered this sad speech. “You can't be serious. This can't be happening.” she whispered, more to herself than to Wonan.

“Whatever or whoever is doing this, they have control of the ship's computer. They control the EMH, and through the nerve staples, they control us. I don't see any way out of this Commander. I'm sorry.”

Priti closed her eyes. It was horrible, yet everything she had heard made sense. There was no radiation poisoning. The computer had made her legs give out under her, made her bladder release, magnified the pain of her spanking at least tenfold, and even created those blissful sensations of pleasure she had felt when the hologram had put her in training pants. “I can't accept this. These things can't change who we are! They can't control our minds!”

Dr. Nixila nodded. “That's true, but that doesn't help us that much. Once you're stapled, you can only do what you're allowed to do, and their ability to punish you for disobedience is limitless. I'm afraid that whoever is doing this, we're at their mercy.”

“Can they be removed?” asked Priti. Her voice had hardened. Being embarrassed was one thing, but this was beyond her and her feelings. She needed to be a Commander, more than ever.

“Possibly, but not by me. I can't do a thing if the computer doesn't let me. I can't even take this stupid thing off.” Wonan pulled off her blanket, revealing that she too was wearing nothing below her waist but a pair of training pants. She pawed the childish garment, but could do nothing with them beyond tugging the waistband half an inch in any direction. After a few seconds, she gave up, panting and blushing furiously. Priti struggled with her own underwear, but did no better. The fact that she was trapped in something so ridiculous made it even worse.

“Damn it! Why? What do they gain by making us wear these things?”

“Isn't it obvious?” asked Wonan. Priti arched an eyebrow warningly. Even dressed like this, she was the superior officer.

Wonan deflated, even more than she already had. “Sorry, ma'am. The point is to break down our resistance. To make us feel weak and helpless. To humiliate us.”

Priti nodded. That did seem obvious now. She just wasn't used to following this kind of twisted logic.

“Alright. How much control do they actually have? If they're trying to break our resistance, that means we must have some ability to resist.”

Wonan nodded. “This version of the device is a lot more advanced than the ones humans once used, but it still doesn't seem advanced enough to control our actions completely. Basically, it can easily stop us from doing something, like walk or touch our com-badges, but I don't think it can force us to walk somewhere or do anything on its own. If it wanted us to attack someone or sabotage the ship, it would need our actual minds to cooperate.”

“In that case, we still haven't lost. Not completely. We won't turn against our crewmates, no matter what happens.” said Priti.

Wonan didn't respond. She knew that Priti was trying to put on a brave face for her benefit, but to a Betazoid, the effect was lost. She could sense the rage and fear in Priti's mind, mirroring her own.

A soft buzz announce the activation of the EMH. “Please state the nature of the medical emergency.” said the cheerful voice that had once been pleasing, then became annoying, and had now progressed to infuriating. “Good morning, girls! And how are we this morning?”

“That's 'Commander Basu' to you.” snarled Priti.

The hologram was unmoved. “Ah, somebody a little grump this morning isn't she?”

“Drop the act. What are your intentions?” demanded the Commander.

“Oh, I think a smart girl like you can figure that out! Why do you think you're wearing training pants?” asked the hologram.

There was a long pause. “Are you intending to 'train' us in some way? Is that what you want to hear?” said Priti.

“See? Such a smart girl. Training is exactly what you're going to be doing today. You're both going to learn how to be good girls. We're going to have so much fun today!”

“We will not cooperate. One way or another, we will put a stop to this.” answered Commander Basu coldly.

The holograms adopted a theatrical pouty expression. “Oh, dear. That sounded an awful lot like something a bad girl would say. Have you already forgotten what I taught you last night, little Priti?”

“You taught me that you're willing to torture us to get what you want. Someone that would do that is unworthy of respect.” said Commander Basu.

The hologram turned to Dr. Nixila. “And what about Little Wonnie? Are you going to be a bad girl too?”

Priti interrupted. “Any question you have, you should address to me. I am her superior officer.”

Wonan clearly wanted to speak, but she had to show solidarity. She pursed her lips and stayed silent.

“Is that true, Little Wonnie?” asked the hologram. “Is this little girl superior to you?”

Wonan cast her eyes downward, but didn't speak. The hologram, or whoever was controlling it, was obviously trying to reframe the chain of command as something shameful. She refused to fall for such a juvenile trick.

“The command hierarchy is based on the practical necessity of coordinated action, not on any claim to superiority.” stated Priti, quoting the Starfleet Training Manual.

The hologram entirely disregarded her statement. “Oh, Wonnie! That's not true at all. Priti here is just a little girl who needs training, just like you. If anything, she might be a little slower than you! Here, let me show you.”

The hologram grabbed Priti and began rearranging her on the medical bed. Priti felt her limbs betray her, refusing to resist the hologram's motions, however gentle. Soon, she was sitting on her hands and knees on the bed, with her butt pointing upward behind her. She struggled to make her limbs move, but it was clear the signals from her brain were not reaching her arms and legs. Every joint was locked in place, and all her struggles accomplished was to wag her ass pathetically back and forth.

Slowly, without any hurry at all, the spanking began. Even with the cushioning of her training pants, Priti felt herself tear up almost immediately. If anything, it was worse than the last one. Priti wondered if the nerve staple could just transmit the pain without the help of the hologram's hand.

“Stop!” shouted Wonan. She could sense the pain of the spanking through her empathic abilities. She knew that although the spanking looked mild to the naked eye, her friend was in serious pain.

“Do not...ah! Give in!” ordered Priti. She was determined to redeem herself and show her strength.

“You can stop it any time you like.” said the hologram, moving to Priti's exposed thighs.

“How? Tell me!” said Wonan.

“Ughhh! Don't!” hissed Priti.

The hologram didn't even break the rhythm of her hand. “All you have to say is: 'Priti is just a dumb little girl, like me.' Say that, and I'll stop.”

There was no hesitation. She spoke quickly, to end her friend's pain as soon as possible. “Priti is just a dumb little girl like me!”

The EMH instantly went from spanking Priti's rump to rubbing it. Priti winced from the humiliation, but the rubbing felt incredibly good after the spanking.

“Much better.” said the hologram. “Don't you want to say 'thank you' to your little friend, Priti?”

“You...heh...you violated a direct order, Doctor.” said Priti, even as she gasped with the relief that her friend's betrayal had earned her.

“Your pain won't help us or anyone else, Commander. I won't let you suffer for the sake of pride.” said Dr. Nixila.

“Ahh!” answered Priti, as the hologram's hand had just abruptly gave her two more spanks. “What was that for!”

“You need to learn how to properly address one another.” explained the EMH. “There's only one 'Doctor' in this room, and it's me. I am also the only one giving 'commands' around here. Now, are “Little Priti” and “Little Wonnie” going to learn their lesson this time?”

“Yes, Ma'am.” answered Dr. Nixila immediately. Priti cried out as another swat landed on her thigh.

“I'm sorry, Little Wonnie. What was that?” asked the EMH.

“Yes, Doctor.” amended Dr. Nixila.

“Good girl.” said the hologram, once again giving Priti's sore cheeks a rub. Priti moaned and shook in pleasure as the holographic hand caressed her. The pain of her spanking vanished again into soft coolness.

“Priti, are you ready to say 'thank-you' to Little Wonnie yet?” asked the hologram.

“Huh..huh...Fuck...you!” snarled Commander Basu, even as the delicious feeling washed over her body.

“Dear me.” said the EMH sadly. She stopped rubbing Priti's butt and walked slowly over to Dr. Nixila's bed. “Sorry, Little Wonnie. Looks like your friend doesn't like you the way you like her. Into position now dear.”

Dr. Nixila quickly assumed the same position that Priti had been arranged into. She saw nothing to be gained by disobeying. Once her padded butt was raised into place, the EMH began spanking her with the same slow rhythm.

“Ahh! Hurgh! Ooh!” Dr. Wonan couldn't stand up to the pain at all. She really admired Commander Basu's endurance. Even the empathic impression of pain was nothing next to the pain itself.

“Stop it!” demanded Priti, still frozen in the same submissive pose.

“You know what you have to do to stop this, Little Priti. Do you need to hear it again?” asked the EMH as she continued to rain blows down of Dr. Nixilia's backside.

Priti was torn. She so badly wanted to show defiance in the face of this madness, but whoever was controlling the hologram knew their business. Being responsible for someone else's suffering was so much worse than suffering itself.

“Thank you, Little Wonnie.” she spat. The spanking was immediately replaced by gentle caresses. Dr. Nixila gasped with relief.

“That's better. See, you can be a good girl if you try. Do we need any more spankings today? Are a you ready to be good girls?”

“...yes.” whispered Priti through clenched teeth.

“I would like that in complete sentences, dear. And speak sweetly, like you mean it.”

Priti took a deep, ragged breath. She adopted a extremely fake-looking smile. “We don't need any more spankings...Doctor. We are ready to be good girls.” Even compared to being put into training pants, that sentence was utterly mortifying.

“Wonderful!” announced the EMH. “Hopefully what you've said is true. Let's move on to your next lesson. Who here needs to go potty?”

Neither woman moved, or even tried to move. Both, however, felt a sudden twinge in their bladders.

“Come now, girls. You must need the potty by now. This offer isn't going to last forever.” said the hologram.

Dr. Nixila nervously raised her hand.

“Huh?” said the hologram, cupping a hand to her ear. “Use your words, dear.”

“May I please use the potty, Doctor?”

“What a good girl! So polite. Right this way, little Wonnie.” said the EMH, grabbing Dr. Nixila's hand.

Priti remained trapped on her hands and knees as she watched the holographic doctor walk the real doctor toward the sickbay's restroom, one hand on her arm and another on her ass. She guessed that the pose had probably literally been calculated to be as undignified as possible. Meanwhile, she had her own problems. The twinge in her bladder was blossoming into uncomfortable pressure. Priti was perfectly aware that her bladder was nowhere near in need of release. She was certain that this was the work of the nerve staple, sending false pressure signals to her brain. Of course, the staple had already demonstrated that it could send signals to her bladder as well.

Dr. Nixila was marched into the sickbay restroom, which she used far more often than the one in her own quarters. The EMH tapped a wall panel, and the receptacle slid out from the wall as usual, adjusting its height automatically for the comfort of the prospective user. Efficient matter-energy conversion technology had long since done away with the need for any pipes. The toilet simply recycled any matter that was placed in it (with significant safety features, of course).

Dr. Nixila did not even bother to ask the EMH to give her privacy. It was clear that she intended to supervise the proceedings. She tugged once again at the waistband of her training pants, but they were no more cooperative than before.

“Need any help, dear?” asked the EMH, as though this problem had nothing to do with her. Resigned to her fate, Wonan did what she knew was required of her.

“Could you...would you pull my training pants down, please?”

“Good girl.” said the hologram, gently tugging the juvenile underwear down to Wonan's knees. She felt a brief sensation of warm, gentle pleasure caress her legs as they were pulled down. She chalked it up as another attempt to make her feel better about being forced to wear the silly thing. She sat down on the waste receptacle.

She jumped back up immediately. The sensation of a sitting down of the receptacle was normally somewhat pleasant. The seat automatically changed temperature to match the body temperature of the user. This time, however, it had been like sitting down on a running belt-sander. She certainly didn't want to sit on it again.

“What's the matter, honey?” asked the condescending EMH. “Aren't you going to go potty?”

Wonan's bladder was absolutely begging for release, but touching the seat again was unthinkable. She tried to squat over it without touching it, but found that her bladder refused to let go in any position she tried.

“Let me help you get comfy, little Wonnie.” cooed the EMH, grabbing her by her hips and pinning her down to the seat. Wonan screamed in pain.

“Aaaah! Let me up, lemme up, lemme up!”

The hologram let her simmer on the burning seat for a few seconds before lifting her up and setting her on her feet again.

“I thought you wanted to go potty. What's the matter, little Wonnie?” asked the EMH is the same infuriating tone of voice.

Dr. Nixila gritted her teeth. Being cooperative wasn't turning out to be much better than resistance. She was starting to think that Priti had the right idea all along. “Stop whatever you're doing. I won't go along with this if you keep hurting me.”

“Oh, you don't want to be a good girl and use the potty?” asked the EMH, as though it hadn't heard her. “Training isn't always easy, dear. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort. I'm sure you can learn to use the potty if you really, really try.”

The hologram gently pressed her down toward the seat once more, but D. Nixila was able to resist this time. “Stop it! What do you want from me!”

“A smart girl like you would know the answer to that.” answered the EMH, increasing the pressure that pushed Wonan ever closer to the seat.

Wonan thought quickly. She knew that the goal here was to humiliate her. Being forced to use the bathroom like a potty-training toddler would be demeaning, but apparently other plans were in store for her. An idea struck, even though she wished that it hadn't. With blushing cheeks and a bladder on the edge of explosion, she gave in.

“I'm...I can't use the potty, Doctor.” she said, feeling her heart beat even faster as she spoke.

“What?” asked the EMH with a face full of motherly concern. “but you have to, darling. Don't you want to use the potty like a big girl?”

Wonan knew she was on the right track, but it didn't make really make it any easier. “I'm just...not ready. Sorry.”

“Well, what are you going to do then?” asked the EMH. “You can't just pee on the floor, can you?”

That much was certainly true, thought the Betazoid. If the staple would have allowed it, she'd have done that already. The pain in her bladder was becoming serious. No, there was only one way forward, unpleasant though it was.

“I need...diapers.” she said softly.

The hologram covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Diapers? You're thirty-three years old, honey! You're much too big for diapers. No, its the potty for you dear.”

Wonan seethed. She was struggling to keep control of her emotions. Every way was blocked except one, that of total, abject humiliation. She folded her hands in supplication.

“Please! I need them! Please put me back in diapers! I'll do whatever you want, but please put me in diapers!”

The EMH adopted a very stern expression, far removed from her usual insufferable good cheer. Without a word, she yanked the training pants back up to Wonan's waist, this time producing none of the pleasure that had accompanied the act last time. Wonan discovered that her bladder wouldn't release into the panties either, even if she pushed. Taking the Betazoid physician by the wrist, the EMH dragged her out of the restroom. Priti was still crouched in the spanking position, the strain of her aching bladder visible on her face.

“Little Priti! You simply won't believe what little Wonnie just told me! Come on, Wonnie! Tell Priti what you just told me!”

Wonan stared at Priti. She knew that both of them were feeling the awful pressure in their bladders, and that she was the one who had broken. She wondered if what she was about to go through would be in any way worth it.

“I...oh! I need to be in diapers again! I can't use the potty like a big girl! I'm a....I'm a big baby, and I need my...ahhhh!” Wonan's humiliating speech was cut off by the sound her bladder finally emptying itself into her training pants. The deep shame she felt did not prevent her from sighing with sweet relief. She felt her knees bend, and she knew before it even began what she was about to do. Her stomach gurgled, and without preamble at all she felt a soft mess pile into the seat of her training pants. She moaned with pleasure as the feelings of relief were magnified, just like the pain of her spanking. Her vagina pulsed with pleasure as she felt her training panties fill with hot piss. She collapsed to the ground in ecstasy, her mess squishing around her butt in a way that would have found revolting a moment ago. Her mouth hung open as the fumes hit her. She lay on the ground panting as orgasms began washing over her, one after another.

“Well, that answers that question, doesn't it? What about you, little Priti? Are you big girl, or a pants-pooping baby like your friend here? Why don't you show little Wonnie how a big girl uses the potty?”

Priti felt tears forming in her eyes. This was too much. Seeing her friend and respected colleague forced to beg her captor to put her in diapers, then watching her shit herself in obvious sexual ecstasy...she knew that she couldn't keep this up. Her ego couldn't withstand this kind of bludgeoning forever, but she also knew that Wonan, in spite of her current position, had a point. All her fighting wasn't getting them anywhere. If an opportunity to turn the tables on their captor was ever going to come, it would only come after they were both too broken to pose a serious threat. A shift in strategy was called for. She shut her eyes and showed her teeth, as though caught in a desperate inward struggle, which was only partially the case.

As Wonan lay a pulsing haze of relief and pleasure, a voice echoed through her mind, every word amplified by intense concentration. “Doctor, can you hear me? You did fine, don't worry. I'll pretend to struggle a little longer, than I'll make a big show of breaking. Hopefully, we can find out who's behind this and make them drop their guard. Don't lose hope. No matter what they do to us, they haven't won until we let them win.”

She had no way of communicating telepathically with non-telepaths, so Wonan simply nodded her head in silent agreement.Anyone watching would be unlikely to distinguish the gesture from her general writhing motions.

“Fuck you, bitch!” screamed Priti. This time, Wonan heard it with her ears. “I don't need training pants, or diapers, or potty-training, or any of this crap! Go to hell!”

“Oh, somebody being a little fussy britches, isn't she?” chuckled the EMH. “Oh well. I'll get little Wonnie here into some more suitable attire, and then we'll see how you feel.”

Wonan felt the hologram's fingers grip her arm and pull her gently but firmly to her feet. “Come along, little Wonnie. I'm sorry, you were right. Even at your age, you're just not ready for big girl pants. Let's get you cleaned up and into a nice, thick diaper.”

Wonan shut or eyes and cast her head downward as the EMH led her back onto her bed. The sides of her training pants were torn apart, and the EMH got to work with a dispenser of wipes. Her medical officer's uniform came next, leaving her sitting naked on the bed. The EMH balled up her poopy training pants in her officer's uniform, and made a quick trip to the replicator.

“Computer. Recycle.”

“Computer. Little Wonnie's New Uniform.”

Wonan buried her face in her hands as the hologram returned. She knew she wasn't going to like what she saw.

“Here we are! You don't have to worry any more, sweetie. Now that you've officially failed your potty training, you don't need to stress about it any more. No more accidents. No more mean old potty. Just a big baby who belongs in her diapers!”

The hologram unfurled the outfit and displayed it to the blushing medical officer. Wonan couldn't help but take a peak. Her “new uniform” consisted of a massively oversized disposable diaper, easily two inches thick and decorated with a large Starfleet insignia in pastel pink. It was so big that the petite hologram was almost concealed behind it. The top was a ludicrous parody of her uniform. It was shaped exactly like a Starfleet uniform, but the portion around the shoulders was pink instead of green, and the black was replaced by cream white. The com-badge and pips were larger than normal, and made from plushy material. It was a toy uniform, a costume for a big baby playing make-believe. The hologram lifted her butt to slide the diaper under her. As soon as her butt touched the soft plastic coating, her toes again began to curl involuntarily. As the smiling woman powdered her groin generously, and sealed her fate with two crinkling snaps of tape, the feelings of soft comfort emanating from the diaper became more intense. She lifted her arms cooperatively as her new uniform was slid over her naked breasts, the warm comfort now embracing her whole body like a gentle hug. The uniform top stopped several inches above her waist, leaving her soft belly exposed.

“There. Can you say: 'Thank you for putting me in my big baby pants', little Wonnie?” asked the EMH.

“Thank you for putting me in my big baby pants, Doctor.” she said automatically. In spite of everything, she knew that what she had said was only mostly an act. Part of her really was grateful for the wonderful softness that enveloped her body.

“Good girl! Now, tell your little friend how your new uniform feels.” said the smiling EMH.

“It feels...it feels really, really good...little Priti.” obeyed Dr. Nixila.

“Well, that's a ringing endorsement from little Wonnie! What do you say, little Priti?"

Priti's aching bladder had only become more painful while she had watched her friend be dressed in a horrible mockery of her status as a physician. She actually tried to piss her training pants, anything to relieve the pressure, but the signal wasn't allowed to reach its destination. Sweat was dripping down her forehead, and tears were in her eyes.

“Go...huh...to...hell!” she snarled.

The EMH shrugged. Oh well. I tried. I guess there's nothing to be done for our little “commander”. Come on Wonnie, its time for you to run and play.” announced the hologram. She took Dr. Nixila by the hand and led her toward the sliding double doors of sickbay.

“Wait!” said Wonan, her relief suddenly draining away. “Where are you taking me! What are you going to do with Priti?”

The hologram tutted. “Priti is just going to stay in time-out until she learns to cooperate. You, my dear, are a very good girl, so you get to go have playtime. You can go take a little nap, or go see your little friends, or go have a snack. Whatever you want. You don't have to come back, unless you get a boo-boo or need a fresh diaper. Understand?”

The doors slid open. Dr. Nixila turned back to look at the miserable face of Commander Basu.

“Go! Just go! Tell the Captain! That's an order!” came the projected thoughts.

The hologram gave her one last condescending pat on her massively padded butt. She stepped into the hallway, beyond the reach of the holoprojectors, but not the computer.