FILE7>Kimprinted

I looked up at Mommy with tearful eyes as she showed me a new picture.  What was this?  The fifth photo?  The tenth?  I felt like I'd been in this facility for weeks.  My resistance had faltered after I filled my diapers a few days ago, and now I just wanted to go home.  But there I was, in the photo, with a thick diaper between my legs and a leash tied to my neck. "Mommy, I'm a good girl... no more..."

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"You are, you're a very good girl, Kimberly. Now. You're good, now, but like any little pet one brings into their house, can I really truly be sure you're a good decision?" This was new, this was a line of dialog not yet presented: bring into her house, that's the woman said. Was she truly planning to keep Kimberly?

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As she approached me, I slid to the floor, plopping down on my diapered tush as I'd been taught.  I'm a baby around grown ups.  If she's near me, I'm not allowed to stand.  As she fitted me with a thick steel collar, I didn't move a muscle.  I didn't protest.  I didn't argue.  I knew better these days... "S-see Mommy?  I'm good... I'm a good girl... please..."

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"Mmm, I think that might be true." The woman leaned down, bending at the waist, and put her face close to Kimberly with a smile while her hand took the steel collar in a firm grasp. "You're awfully clever, though, Kimmy, aren't you? You could just be playing the long game, waiting for a chance to rebel. I think I'm going to need to continue working on you, training you, programming you... for a while longer."

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I shook my head and tried to pull away.  But that was a mistake.  I knew it was a mistake, but my instincts kicked in.  She held tight to the collar - irremovable around my neck - and pulled me to the center of the room. "I knew you couldn't be trusted," she said, and latched a chain to my collar with a lock.  Then, she fed the other end of the chain through a loop on the floor.  I couldn't move more than five feet away from that spot, chained up like a dog.  Tears ran down my cheeks. "I'm a good girl," I repeated again.

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"And a good girl will follow every single direction she's given, no matter what." The woman reached into her pocket and pressed a button on an unseen remote control, which started a set of the speakers on the ceiling giving commands in her own voice. Two steps forward. Play dead. Beg. Wet. And so forth. And after each verbal command was a tick tock tick, and an electric shock up the chain to her collar if she didn't obey. "I'll see you in a few hours, Kimmy. Let's see how your programming sticks."