173.)

It took a lot of talking about brainwashing and hypnosis before I knew what I was doing. I had some experience from reading stories, and I would be lying if I said it wasn't a button of mine. But my experience was entirely make-believe. In the end, we figured out the simplest solution was call and response. If I snapped my fingers and gave an order, she would have to follow it.

It felt like a game they would play in Bluey, if Bluey was for adults who wanted to learn kink. Maybe in season 18 or something.

There was some degree of reservation for Blossom, not out of a sense of her own hesitation or nervousness, and not even really something easily detectable, but because she knew that Amy had a propensity for pleasing others at her own detriment. In fact, the most recent time that Amy had been in charge of running a scene for Blossom, she'd gone overboard and didn't respect her own limits. However, Amy wouldn't learn unless she was given the chance.

"Have I mentioned," Blossom decided to ask, "that you're the world's best girlfriend?"

"That is patently untrue," I said flatly. "I'm not even the best girlfriend in this room right now."

Blossom stuck out her tongue so I stuck out mine back. It seemed to be a ritual we did sometimes. I liked it.

Blossom and I went through her clothes, but the answer was obvious. She had black diapers. She had a black bra. It was the sluttiest and most humiliating combination. But we had to go through all her clothes twice before I built up the courage to say it.

"I think... this and this." Already my imagination was running away with fantasies of her in just a bra and a diaper. I'd seen her dressed like that before, and my mind was a vault for things like that. My face felt hot.

This wasn't a mistake, right? This was fine. But I felt like that meme of the cartoon dog in the burning house.

"You have such good taste, cupcake. It's almost like you daydream about me in stuff like this~" Blossom winked. "The feeling is VERY mutual, though."

I rolled my eyes, trying to diffuse some of my own embarrassment, and walked over to the bedroom door. I wasn't sure I could handle dressing her, not if I wanted to keep up this facade of some dominant mistress or something. We didn't have a solid story, but I knew I could come up with one on the spot.

"You get changed. When you're ready, um... come downstairs. And we can start?"

I needed to prep the kitchen anyway.

"You got it, babes." Blossom made note in her head to ask about things like titles, because her standard diminutives didn't seem all that appropriate when it came to playing the role of brainwashed bimbo maid.

Once Amy had left the room, Blossom didn't waste any time. She undressed and set about putting herself in the black diaper. Once the tapes were perfectly fastened, she slipped into the lacy half-cup black bra and made sure to adjust her boobs so they had the best amount of skin on display. She posed for the mirror, contemplated removing the heart-shaped silver piercing on her belly button, but decided to leave it in place. If she'd taken the initiative, Blossom would have added some fishnets and pumps too, but today was about showing Amy how good her own ideas were.

Blossom left the room to head downstairs.

No fantasy in my brain could have prepared me for Blossom standing at the bottom of the stairs in just her bra and her diaper. A matching black set. Her breasts were bigger than mine, filling out the bra. The diaper was a little big on her, but she was tall enough to pull it off. And it forced her legs further apart.

Suddenly, I felt underdressed. Overdressed? I certainly didn't feel like a woman in charge of a house with a maid. I felt like... I don't know. Maybe the schoolgirl who comes home and bosses her maid around? Yeah, that was the only excuse I could come up with as to why I was wearing jeans.

"Well?" Blossom asked.

"Yeah. That's... definitely the right outfit," I blushed, looking at my feet.

"So, is it normal that I wear this stuff?" Blossom asked, a little nervous. She was piecing together the scene. Thankfully, Amy was a masterclass at scene building.

"I don't think so," I said quietly. I'd been thinking about it. "If this is a brainwashing thing, you'll have more fun if it's new, right?"

"True," Blossom nodded.

"So, this is your first day. I'm, uh... in charge, I guess. Wearing this was not part of the deal, but I seem to have some power over you or something. Maybe I'm magical?" That would be a fun twist.

"Oh! That's such an interesting angle. I love that. Do you want me to be sweet? Or kind of bratty? Like, do I know you're making me do this? What kind of vibe are you looking for?" This was an important question, because the last time Amy had been calling the shots Blossom hadn't made sure to check and it had gone poorly.

"I want you to have fun," I said sourly, crossing my arms. I knew I was supposed to be in charge for this, but it was hard to steer things into her kinks when I didn't fully understand them.

"I'll have fun either way," Blossom laughed. Even in nothing but a diaper and a bra, she wasn't uncomfortable with her body at all.

"Well, I want you to feel brainwashed. So... whatever feels good. I guess, if you're acting out too much, I'll snap my fingers. Right?"

Last time I was in charge of a scene, my arguments with Blossom were entirely psychological. This time, I had a failsafe. I had finger snaps. This was her roleplay, but I felt a lot more in control.

"That's super story-style and I love that. Alright. Alright." Blossom shook out her hands like a theater kid getting ready to go on stage. "Should I start?"

I nodded. I didn't know where to start. That was always the hardest part about writing too: where to start. How to start. It was so much easier when you had someone else to motivate you.

Blossom went back behind the doorway of the downstairs bedroom so she could call out from behind cover.

"...I'm wearing it."

"Good," I said with a smile. Who was I, again? Some magical lady, or the owner of an estate. Or, uh, the kid of an owner of an estate? That fit my vibe a lot more, but it felt less in control. I needed to just throw the dart and see where it landed. But Blossom was still hiding behind the door.

"Well, come out here," I said. "I want to make sure you're dressed appropriately."

"Do I have to…?" Blossom waited the requisite half of a heartbeat length of time before sighing and "accepting" that she did, and she stepped out from the doorway. She flashed a pout and crossed her arms, then uncrossed them because she did actually want her chest to be more on display.

"I don't know why you want this, why not have me in something… I don't know… sexy?"

Sexy? That wasn't an ordinary maid thing to want to wear. Maybe Blossom got the wrong idea. Or maybe her character did? I could work with that!

"Why would you wear something sexy?" I asked, tilting my head a little. "You're my maid."

"I… I don't know, I just thought…"

What did Blossom think? Hmm. Was she new here? She decided she probably was.

"Most of the time when someone hires a maid my age they want the eye candy, and I thought that's what I'd be doing."

"I hired a maid, Blossom. Not a call girl." I crossed my arms and looked a little annoyed, trying to play up the "bad girl to good girl" angle that Blossom talked about earlier. "Now get to work. I need a dozen cupcakes by dinner time, for my guests."

"…a dozen cupcakes? There must be some kind of mistake, I'm not really here to cook. I don't even really know how. I'm more of an eye-candy tidy-the-house-while-you-watch kind of maid. Maybe I could help you find someone more to your tastes?"

"You are to my tastes," I said flatly, looking sternly at Blossom. "You said you could perform any tasks I required. I require you to make cupcakes."

"But what I meant by that..." Blossom's cheeks took on a bit of a blush and she twirled her hair.

"Don't talk back," I interrupted. "You act like you have no experience at all with following instructions."

"I can follow instructions just fine," Blossom puffed out her cheeks, and put her hands on her hips to boot. "I just don't know anything about baking!"

"Is this how you talk to your employers?" I asked sourly. "Well, that won't do at all."

"I can't do something if–"

I snapped my fingers, interrupting Blossom's argument.

"Good maids don't argue," I said, and waited in suspense to see what Blossom would do.

Blossom thought a lot about the stories she'd read, about hypnosis and triggers. She thought a lot about Academy Works, actually. So she froze in place and hung her head a little bit, half-closed eyes, and loosened all of her body to a slouch.

Blossom was a really good actress. Her response was like lightning, a sudden snap into sleepiness. That's how it looked: sleepy. Then, she slowly woke herself up. She looked at me and blinked her eyes a few times. Good girls don't argue; that's what I'd told her. So I told her to do something impossible.

"Now go make cupcakes," I said, pointing to the kitchen.

Blossom paused, like she was a frozen application on a computer, and then nodded with a kind of confused look on her face. She entered the kitchen with intent, and decided to just do what seemed logical. So Blossom began opening cupboards, looking for some kind of cupcake mix in a box or something.

I followed her to the kitchen with a smile. It was cute, watching Blossom act like she knew what she was doing. She wasn't allowed to argue anymore, so she didn't have a choice. I sat on the bar stool and watched, until she came back to me looking confused.

"I can't find any cupcake mix," she said nervously.

"You have to make it yourself," I said.

"Oh."

Just oh. Just a simple, quiet, understated 'oh', with a wreath of confusion giving a corona to the acceptance. So Blossom went back to the cupboards and began to look through them again. Flour. Sugar. Those were obvious. What else did Blossom know went in cakes? Eggs, right? So she got eggs from the fridge too, and put everything down on the counter in front of her. Just three ingredients. She knew it wasn't right, but that was part of the fun.

"Tsk tsk tsk..." I clicked my tongue. "You really are so..."

I hesitated. Helpless. Little. Those words were automatic to me. I'd written those words a hundred times. But this was a different kind of roleplay. Brainwashing, I reminded myself. So I started again.

"You really are dumb, hm? You don't even know how to make cupcakes. But I won't do it myself; I'm not a lowly little maid like you."

That time, the "little" snuck out. I couldn't help it.

I'm not dumb. That's what Blossom wanted to say. So she started with a half-cut-off

"I-..."

And then stopped herself, as the "programming" halted her in her tracks. She frowned, and looked down at the ingredients. And thought about how to 'not argue'.

"Could you show me how?"

"I could tell you how, I suppose," I shrugged. "I certainly won't do your job."

"That's fine," Blossom said, pouting a little.

"Miss Amanda," I said.

"Huh?"

"You should address me as Miss Amanda."

Blossom gave me a look. A hesitance. She couldn't outright say no, because that was against the rules. But resistance through omission wasn't banned. So I snapped my fingers again.

"You'll address me as Miss Amanda from now on," I said.

"Yes Miss Amanda…"

The first time she'd "gone under", Blossom hadn't said anything until she had "woken up", but this instruction felt as though it warranted the immediate reply to demonstrate her new obedience. But her posture, her pose? It all remained the same: kind of droopy. And her voice, in that reply? Sexily dazed and monotone.

Okay, I could see why this was sexy. The snap of my fingers, and I could have Blossom do anything I wanted! Of course, Blossom probably wanted it even more than I did. Consensual non-consent was a funny thing.