The Making of a Maid (Patreon)

       You are lying on your back in a tube of smooth, hard glass. You hear the hum and buzz of electronics nearby. The room blurs and swims as you try to focus. Your body feels warm and light, but also numb. An odd electronic beat plays from a speaker somewhere above you, almost too faint to be audible, but you can feel the vibration in the glass around you. The air in the tube is cool and blows gently down from a vent above your head. It smells faintly of raspberry. A figure moves in your peripheral vision. It glides across the room outside the tube, settling directly in front of you. Your eyes struggle to adjust, and slowly, the image of a short woman with her auburn hair in a bun resolves itself. Her hands are resting on her hips, and she looks at you appraisingly through her glasses. You clear your throat and try to speak, but she beats you to it. Her stern voice echoes clearly through the tube around you, a speaker clearly having been set up for the purpose.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you have many, many questions about where you are and what's going on. Now, I have a lot more patients to see, so I can't be standing around listening to you jabber away all day. It's always the same load of nonsense anyway! Oh, where am I, why am I in this tube, how did I get here, did you kidnap me, where's my family, what about my rights, what's all this weird equipment for, blahdy blahdy blah. So tedious and unnecessary."

"Here's the short version. You were brought in by our collection specialists. I don't know very much about what they do, just as I confidently expect that they know very little about what we do in here. I won't dwell on your previous existence, and you shouldn't either. I'm sure you used to run around doing all sorts of things that aren't remotely relevant to our purposes here. You underwent a little procedure. Again, it would be quite superfluous for us to go into details, and that isn't my area anyway. Suffice to say, some things were put in, other things were taken out. Then what was left over was soaked in a cocktail of tranquilizers and the kind psychedelics that make psilocybin look like ibuprofen. The end result is that for the next few minutes, I am going to speak to you and you are going to listen. You will not have the option to not listen. In fact, options aren't really going to be a big part of your life going forward. You will absorb every word that I say, and my words will imprint onto your softened brain and form the basis of your new existence. I'm going to reshape you, rebuild your personality and your sense of self from the ground up."

"No, no, I'm sure you have all sort of silly little objections, but have you noticed that you seem to be having the hardest time interrupting me whenever I'm talking? Whoops, there I go again, cutting you off. And you don't seem to be able to cut me off, can you? That'll be that little procedure I mentioned earlier. It essentially involves pairing down and rearranging a lot of the neural architecture that governs how you interact with others socially. Stuff relating to aggression, self-assertion, self-confidence, independence and such-like we more or less carve out and chuck in the bin. Then we selectively reinforce all that other, soppy stuff, like conscientiousness and empathy and guilt and what-have-you. When you do that, what you tend to end up with a person who is extremely reliable, trustworthy, cheerful, amicable, a real all-around delight to be around, but not really the sort of person who can prioritize their own desires over those of others. You're really just not designed for confrontation any more. You're not any good at arguing. You're much too busy seeing the other person's perspective to have much perspective of your own. You're going to find that your resolve just melts into nothing whenever you try to summon it. Whenever you find yourself in a situation where you might have argued or objected before, you'll find that you simply yield to whoever is talking to you."

"Just like right now. You were so angry just a moment ago, but that's all over now. You're starting to understand that I'm in control here, and that that is only right and appropriate. You need me, you see. You don't know what to do with yourself if left on your own. You need validation. You need guidance, authority, supervision, approval. You need someone to tell you that you've done a good job. You need someone to tell you what to do and if possible, how to do it. Every conversation you have with another human being should occur under the assumption that there is something you desperately need to be doing and they, and they alone, can tell you what that thing is. You're going to be be at the beck and call of everyone around you, helpless to even contemplate going against their every whim. Very easy to boss around. A wimpy, weak-willed, human doormat, desperate to please, easy to dominate."

"So, from here on out, a lot of your life is going to go just like this little chit-chat we're having. You'll be listening to someone speak, and you'll find that your head just naturally nods along with whatever they say. Whatever they say, no matter how absurd or unfair it might seem to you, you'll be absolutely certain that they are right and you are wrong. Anyone can just walk up to you and turn your whole worldview upside-down whenever they want. If something you remember disagrees with something you've heard, you'll just ignore it or try to remember it differently from then on. You're going to be completely reliant on others to tell you what is true or untrue. You're not going to have opinions of your own anymore."

"Now clearly, living on your own is no longer an option. The very notion of having to make up your own mind and control your life is ever so frightening. Good news! The arrangements have already been made. A wealthy client of mine has agreed to take you on. You'll be ready to move in soon. You'll be pathetically grateful for the opportunity, of course. No chance of you complaining about whatever accommodation you are offered, whatever they may be. If you need to sleep in a cupboard or drink out of a dog bowl, you'll do that and be happy about it. There will certainly be no suggestion that anybody ought to be paying you. The very notion is ridiculous."

"You will spend your time doing whatever tasks your new employers assign to you. Mostly, that's going to mean doing a lot of tedious little domestic chores. Washing dishes, scrubbing floors, wiping down countertops, dusting, laundry, ironing, folding, cooking, whatever. Oh, it all sounds quite dull to me, but you'll find it quite pleasant, even blissful. Having something to do that you've been told to do will be your favorite thing in the world. Every moment you spend doing your chores will be marked by a warm, tingling sense of contentment. And once you've finished a task, you'll get a little thrill of fulfillment, like the satisfaction of a job well done, only much stronger. That will be the closest thing to a reward you'll ever receive. But it will pass quickly, and then you'll be off to your next assignment, always chasing that little high again."

"Of course, if anybody, anybody at all, decides you need to do something that doesn't fit in with your usual duties, well...they know best, obviously. If someone wants you to serve as a footstool, or catch a frisbee in your teeth like a dog, or give them a sweet little kiss on the posterior, then that's just what you'll do, and you'll do it with a sweet little smile on your face. Once someone tells you that you ought to do something, you're going to find that it is very natural and easy to just go ahead and do it, no matter how silly or demeaning. You don't need to worry about whether its a good idea or a bad idea, or whether it makes sense or whether it's fair to you. It isn't up to you to make decisions like that. Now, on the converse, you'll also find that not doing what you've been told, even very briefly, will be quite unpleasant for you. Your natural feelings of guilt have been significantly enhanced. Any time you are unable to complete a task you've been given, even if it definitely wasn't your fault, you'll feel tremendously guilty about it. And there's only one way to escape from that awful, guilty feeling. You'll need to be punished."

"Yes, punished. Naturally, anyone who can spit out a sentence in English has every right to punish you however they like, whenever they choose. And you, walking doormat that you are, will meekly accept whatever punishments you are given without question. You will provide any assistance they may require for your punishment, and you will thank them nicely when they've decided you've had enough. If someone, anyone at all, decides, for instance, that your butt needs a good sound spanking, you will grab them a nice paddle and present your cute little backside for their convenience. If someone decides you should go and stand with your nose in the corner, you will go and do so without any objection or complaint. You'll be quite frightened of being punished, of course. Even the very mildest punishments will seem absolutely calamitous to you, not because they are painful in themselves, but because they mean that someone is unhappy with you, and you can't abide that. The funny thing is, as much as you fear being punished, you'll also find that you tend to seek it out. The moment anyone expresses any unhappiness or dissatisfaction with your work, if you should accidentally drop something or knock something over, you shall find yourself begging quite pathetically to take out their anger on you in any way they please, and offer suggestions if they are uncertain of a method. You won't enjoy the punishment at all, not even the mildest and most token forms of it. You'll hate being punished, and when it's over, you'll dread it happening again and strive to be even more pathetically obsequious in hopes of avoiding it. But you know you need it. It's the only way to keep you on the straight and narrow, and you hate the thought of falling off that."

"Now let's turn our attention to your nappy situation, shall we? Yes, you're going to be heading straight back into nappies. Yes, exactly like what little babies wear. Oh, do you not care much for that idea? I expect you think you're too old to be wearing nappies? Well, you're absolutely right about that. Much too old for nappies. Which is why it's so frightfully embarrassing to be put back in them. Having to wear them all day, every day. Especially such thick, bulky, obvious nappies. Absolutely mortifying, but also entirely necessary, I'm afraid. Yes, I'm afraid so. You aren't going to use the potty like a grown-up anymore. You and your potty-training are parting ways for good. No matter how hard you try to concentrate on controlling yourself, you'll find there's no preventing you from having one silly little accident right after another. You'll reach up to dust the top shelf, and whoops, there's that weak little bladder of yours, giving way once again. Wet, soggy nappies will simply be part of everyday life from now on. Loaded, sagging, stinky nappies as well. Better be careful when you bend over to pick a bit of rubbish off the floor! I'm only joking, obviously. Being careful won't help a bit. There's only one time when you'll be allowed to use your nappy voluntarily, and that'll be if someone orders you to do it. Oh, look at your face. You don't much care for the idea of having to squat down and push a big load into your pants the moment anyone tells you to, do you? My, how humiliating would that be?"

"And then there's asking to be changed! Just imagine, you, a full-grown adult, having to go ask another grown adult to take you over to the changing table for a nappy change. No, of course you shant be changing your own nappy. How absurd! You'll have to explain every single time, out loud and and in full view of anyone nearby, that your nappy is very full and that you are utterly powerless to do anything about it. And you can be sure that you'll accept whatever conditions they might dictate for your change. If you have to get down on your knees and beg, so be it. If you have to announce your little accident over the tannoy, that's how it is. If you have to grovel and call yourself by demeaning little nicknames, oh well. If you are told to sit on the floor and mash your messy bum around while singing 'Mary Had A Little Lamb', then that's how it must be. It simply is not up to you at all."

Why? Oh my, are you still asking silly questions like that? If I say you have to wear nappies, then of course nappies are what you shall wear. But I'll go ahead and explain it to you anyway, seeing as it is really rather amusing! Being in nappies is all about control, you see. Specifically, the fact that you are under control, and that you cannot control even one little thing. The nappies are there to remind you and everyone around you, that you are at the absolute bottom of the totem pole. If there's ever the slightest suspicion that you've earned any sort of position of respect in the household, there's nothing quite like begging to have your stinky backside wiped clean and coated with baby powder to really drive home how hopelessly pathetic you are. Every time someone sees you in a nappy, you'll feel that same familiar flush of abject humiliation. It'll never get old. You'll never be used to it. The shame and indignity will be fresh every time, accompanied by the certainty that everyone around you is unquestionably your superior. Whenever someone checks your nappy or reminds you that you'll never be potty trained or even just casually mentions that you wear nappies, you'll be reminded that they deserve to boss you around, because they are simply better than you.

How does it feel, knowing that every interaction you have with another human being for the rest of your life will revolve around them degrading and demeaning you? To know that all your dignity, your very sense of self-worth, is going to be torn apart again and again, and that you'll do nothing but beg for more? Does it feel...hot? Does it all sound strangely exciting? Does it make you feel all warm and squishy inside? Yes, I rather think it does. Oh, look at you squirm. Sorta makes it all that much worse, doesn't it? Even your most secret, intimate feelings are going to be mere playthings, just like the rest of you. Your sex drive is going to be completely tied up in your utter humiliation, and there will simply be no untangling it. Oh, it's certainly possible that someone might decide to have regular old conventional sex with you, but the only satisfaction that will give is knowing that you're being obedient and that you're pleasing someone who has complete authority over you. Being demeaned, being stripped of all respect, being reduced to a helpless, silly, ridiculous laughingstock, will now be your equivalent to a good roll in the hay. You'll crave being talked down to, ordered about, mocked, laughed at, and generally made to feel a right pillock. Lucky you that that will be what so much of your life will consist of."

"There, that's everything explained adequately, I should think. I'll let you out of your tube now. Your employers should be around to pick you up in about an hour. There's a loo just down the hall there, and you will take this time to get yourself cleaned and freshened up. The outfit your new owners have picked out is waiting for you there. I haven't looked at it myself, but you'll put it on and enjoy wearing it, whatever it may. Maybe you'll get lucky, and it'll be nothing worse than a standard maid's outfit, although given the sort of clients I tend to have, I wouldn't put money on it. Off you go, now. You'll want to look your best for the people who are going to be in control of your mortal existence from now on. Chop chop!"