FILE10>Retkimmed

Mommy held up another photo.  A picture of me, back home, a lifetime ago.  My stuffed Pikachu in my arms.  A diaper on my body.  And all around me littered sex devices.  A ball gag.  A wand.  A blindfold.  Stuff I used to use to bring myself pleasure.  Now, Mommy was all I needed.  I looked up at her with submission and adoration.  Whatever was to follow today, I would do.  For her.

~~~

"You've been so very good at accepting the future, my sweet Kimberly. But you've still got some things in the past to let go of - you need to forget, ignore, discard every memory of ever being different to the way you are now." 

The woman nodded toward a duffle bag. 

"Recreate this photo now, and accept this memory as ours and not yours, and you'll be well on your way."

~~~

I looked at the duffel bag with confusion.  Recreate?  Did she... did she have all my stuff?  I crawled over to the bag and opened it up, and sure enough... there it was.  My Pikachu!  I looked happily up at Mommy and hugged it tight in my arms!  Without another ounce of hesitation, I recreated the photo.  A grey sheet on the floor of the white room.  My Pikachu.  The sex toys.  And even the same matching diaper Mommy had put me in earlier.  It was all planned.  I had no past.  Only now.

~~~

The camera was mechanical, analog, old school and film. She wanted it to click, and whirrr, and make the appropriate sounds for a photo like this; sounds that formed a kind of time bubble and redefined memories themselves. Click. Click. Click.

~~~

She held up both images.  Side by side.  They were near-identical.  I couldn't even tell which one was the past and which one was the present.  But that was a stupid question.  They were both the present.  I looked happily and dumbly at Mommy, knowing I had pleased her.  But she wasn't done with me. 

"You've been such a good girl..." With little more than that, she picked up the vibrating wand and flicked it on.

~~~

Whereas the original photo had led to sad loneliness, a kind of melancholic reflection on the nature of her games, this recreation ended in something far more rewarding - the vibrator against her diaper, pushing, pulsing, squirming against the crinkling plastic. This was her life now, this was her present and her future - and Kimmy had no past. Just now; her time had come. And so had she.