Dangerousangleofadream - Femdom

Regression is progression

Lying in bed, I found myself an involuntary audience to a conversation between Emily, the care director, and Julia, my primary caregiver. They were discussing my progress at Alderwood, their voices clinical and detached. I lay there, listening but not invited to participate, a passive subject of their assessment. "It's time," Emily said, her tone indicating a decision had been made. "Jason has adjusted well to his initial transition. We should progress to the next phase. How is his physical state?"

"Significant muscle atrophy," Julia replied. "It makes him more manageable and reinforces his dependence, which is in line with our goals. The regression is progressing well."

Emily seemed pleased. "Good. And the restraints?"

"We’re moving to a more restrictive helmet and restraints," Julia continued. "He will be bed-bound in a mobile care bed. No more wheelchair."

I lay there, listening in growing horror. The thought of being confined to a bed, my mobility further restricted, was terrifying. Yet, their conversation continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

"The sedation, laxatives, and stool softeners are working well," Julia added. "His stool is consistently runny, which reinforces his new care-dependent identity. We’re planning appropriate activities in the playroom to match his targeted mental age."

Emily’s response was curt and businesslike. "What would you estimate his appropriate mental age to be now?"

"Like a special needs resident," Julia stated matter-of-factly. "He's progressing well, using simpler language, becoming more docile and compliant. The transition to his new life is proceeding as planned."

Emily nodded, her expression one of satisfaction. "This aligns with our Total Life Management approach. His care-dependent identity is becoming well established."

As I listened, a sense of profound despair settled over me. My new life at Alderwood was taking a turn towards even greater dependency. The prospect of being bed-bound, my movements and activities even more restricted, filled me with dread.

Their conversation painted a dark picture of my future – a future where I would be completely care-dependent, my identity molded into that of a docile, compliant resident. The mention of toys and playroom activities meant for someone of a much younger mental age only deepened my sense of loss. The thought of being confined to a mobile care bed, my physical and mental faculties further diminished by increased sedation and medication, was terrifying. The notion that this was seen as progress, as an appropriate outcome for my time at Alderwood, was almost too much to bear. Every aspect of my life, from my physical abilities to my mental faculties, was being systematically managed and controlled.

As Emily and Julia concluded their discussion, I lay there, a silent witness to the planning of my own regression. The realization that my identity, my autonomy, and my future were no longer in my hands was overwhelming. I was a resident under the total care of Alderwood, my life defined by the institution's policies and goals.

As they left the room, Julia’s final words to me were a firm reminder of my new reality. "Jason, you’re doing well. Embrace your new life. This is where you’re meant to be."

Medical Restraints

I’m making a medical restraints (padded cuffs, straight he keys, etc) whump list so if you could reply with all your favorites I can add them to what I already have and making as complete a list as I can.

Not saying I want this but..

Okay, yeah, I want this.