Chapter 7
Matron took Julia into an upper level of the castle that was very high security. Guards were present at all critical points around the floor. A desk with a staff nurse and male guard was directly in front of the lift entrance. Nobody was allowed past without showing their credentials, regardless of who they were or how well they were recognised. They each received a bracelet that locked solidly onto the wrist. It was a heavy and close fitting stainless steel bangle that seemed almost seamless once it had been closed. Only a specific pulse of sequenced radio waves could open it. It was explained that without this protection they would not be able to pass by any of the security features without being hit by high intensity lasers and other sophisticated tools.
“This is our R&D wing Mrs Roberts. We are working on some pioneering babification and sissification techniques. We are fully aware that the current process can take months, sometimes we have to resort to ECT which tends to be very unpredictable. This is all changing and we have started to map specific areas of the brain responsible for the control of continence, speech, memory centres, personality and a multitude of other factors. You will have to gown up for this next part please.”
The area they went into was ultra clean and they changed twice and went through two airlocks until they arrived in a room that was packed from wall to ceiling with computers and dozens of screens. In the chair sat a young man of about 16 years old. His head was fully shaved and had a thousand spikes sticking out of his scalp that were transmitting brain activity to an extremely powerful mainframe.
Outside of this was a complicated three dimensional transmitter that could project microwaves to a finite space within that dimension. Total immobility was essential and so it was that his head was clamped tightly.
“How old are you?”asked the doctor
“Seventeen” said the boy. A three dimensional projection showed his brain activity showing the speech centres and the area in his brain responsible for age memory. There was a brief beep and microwaves were focussed.
“How old are you?” asked the doctor
“Six” said the boy. The age centre memory sparked again but with less intensity.
“Do you need to go to the toilet?” enquired the doctor
“No” he replied. New centres flashed
“Do you need to poo?” asked the doctor
“No” said the boy as some new centres flashed and some centres flashed as before. Continence was in two centres for the two functions, then other areas related to previous training and skills.
The microwave was focussed again and fired a bolt into one of the centres.
“How old are you?” asked the doctor again
“Six” said the boy looking worried
“Do you need the toilet?” asked the doctor once again
“I think I wet myself” said the boy starting to tear up. One of the many nurses monitoring some of the motor functions reported that she was seeing activity in the urine continence sector but the training centre was hardly firing up at all.
Another nurse reported “He is wetting his nappy doctor.”
“OK that will be enough for today. Jimmy you have been a very good boy for sitting so still. Would you like a present?”
“Yes please”
“What would you like?” asked the nurse
“Can I have some sweeties?” he replied. The surgical team looked one to the other. He didn’t ask for cash or other teenage delights, he asked for a childish gift. It was very promising.
It took ages to extract Jimmy from the equipment which was sensitive to the most minute of distances. The correlation of his brain mapping was taking shape and the team were getting better and better at lining up the rig and picking up from previous sessions. This had not always been the case as Archie could testify from the ten cots full of the programme’s rejects.
Eventually, Jimmy was released from the chair. He was given extra fees for wearing a nappy and plastic pants (just in case), but this was the first time he had needed to use it. The theatre nurses took off their scrubs and cleaned up Jimmy who was intensely embarrassed. They explained that it was not his fault but that his help in this brain mapping experiment could help medicine understand more about how the brain worked, maybe cure a number of mental diseases.
He was dressed in his regular clothes and underwear befitting a teenager. Jimmy felt uneasy and kept looking at his clothes as if they were somehow odd. One of the nurses noticed this.
“What’s the matter Jimmy?” she asked
Jimmy looked puzzled and then said “My clothes aren’t very colourful anymore” he eventually said after thinking for quite some time. “I normally have Superman or Big Ted, these are booooring!” he said dragging out the long vowel.
“How old are you now Jimmy? You are very grown up aren’t you. Are you seventeen?”
“I’m six silly” he said giggling
The team wanted to applaud, normally the effect of the session would wear off, but this time the result seemed to be holding. The modification to the strength and focus of the microwave was clearly having an effect.
Julia looked impressed, Jimmy’s whole demeanour seemed to have changed but it seemed to be a gradual cascade of events. His stature was changing, he seemed to be fidgeting a lot more, less able to concentrate. They brought him out of the theatre and took him back to his comfortable room. Instead of making a bee-line for his GameBoy he turned on the television and looked for some cartoons to watch.
Asked what he would like to have for tea he did not ask for a steak or chilli, but asked for chicken nuggets and fries. When offered a creme brûlée he declined and asked for jelly and ice cream. After his tea at 6.00 o’clock he started to get a bit cranky and fussy. It was at this time that his nurse noticed that he had drenched his jeans. Jimmy seemed oblivious to this fact and was carrying on as if nothing had happened.
His nurse phoned the central clinicians desk for advice while Jenny and Matron continued to observe at a distance. It was decided that a nanny would be assigned to him and that he should be put back in night time nappies for the time being until he regained his control.
Jimmy was not too upset by this new regime, and research into his background had found out that he had wet his bed until he was more than seven years old. His memories of this time seemed so fresh and as nanny was pinning him into his nappies he remarked that these were far too soft to be his nappies which were much more scratchy.
He was not at all phased when having been pinned into his soft fluffy protection that he was now going to wear a pair of plastic pants over the top. Nanny chose some plain white ones to spare his feelings but she need not have bothered as he was completely happy with his situation.
“How old are you Jimmy?” asked his nanny to check if there was any improvement in his condition
“I’m five nanny. I think I’m five but I’m nearly six” he said in a little voice.
He jumped off the changing table and tried to run to the kitchen to get his drink. His thick nappy gave him a wide-legged gait that made his progress to the kitchen very wobbly and at one point Matron and Jenny thought he might take a tumble.
“Where’s my bockie?” he demanded “I want my bockie.”
Matron was on her walkie talkie to get a full baby suite delivered with all the equipment. She gestured for Jenny to follow her back to the desk.
“That seems to be very promising” Matron said “we have had so many problems with this programme, but this is hugely encouraging and could save us a fortune in time and money. We might be able to treat a patient in days rather than months.”
Jenny agreed as her bracelet was removed. “What happened to the trials that failed?” she asked “I would like to see them please”.
“Of course Mrs. Roberts, I will organise it straight away. Just give me a moment to organise it.”
Matron was justifiably nervous, because with the failure of these ten candidates there was no funding for their treatment. The clients had wanted babified children returned to them and these vegetables were very embarrassing and the clients would no longer pay. In a neglected unfinished part of the facility she had moved the ten cots with their unresponsive charges. She knew they would have to be kept chemically coshed into quiet submission. They needed changing, feeding, clean clothes and linen. This required two full time carers who would take profit off the bottom line.
Since Archie had seen them a few moths ago they had recovered some of their perambulatory skills and all ten were now able to toddle. This made them of some potential use and Matron had mused over a solution to her ten small problems.
The uv lighting system had been installed in part of the tunnel system that was going to be used for the washing line and the fresh air was being pumped in from outside the castle. The only part that was not finished was the motorisation of the carousel that circulated the nappies.
In the space of a day a huge capstan had been constructed complete with ten large spokes and ten baby harnesses that would power the drive into the drying room. Clearly it would be unsafe to have the children in the same space as ultraviolet light as it would burn them to little crisps. So it was enclosed in its own little room, insulated to keep any noise to a minimum.
The ten defective boys were strapped into their harnesses and given a push to get them going. It was far from being a smooth operation, a few fell and stumbled and were then hauled around on their spokes with their feet dragging like brakes. A quick restart and they slowly got the hang of things but all had different rhythms and were trying to go at different speeds. Matron decided to pipe through nursery rhymes with a good beat. It was a huge success and the wheel began to move smoothly. A couple of other patients were recruited to pin nappies on the line as it went round, with two more drafted later to take them off when the line completed its circuit. The worries that 200 nappies might be too heavy to move were unfounded and the system worked well.
They worked in two hours shifts. It was tough luck if they wet or messed their nappies while at the wheel, they just had to keep going regardless. All were changed and fed at the breaks and had thirty minutes off.
Now Matron had to decide whether Mrs Roberts should be shown the ten boys or not - how would she react? It was tantamount to enforced slavery. The only saving grace was the nappies that had undergone this treatment seemed lot fresher and cleaner with absolutely no signs of staining.
It turned out that Julia thought the idea was brilliant and told her to complete the project and make it permanent.
Chapter 8
Archie seemed very happy with his life, totally content as a little girl with his beautiful baby dresses and matching nappy covers. He spent the whole day gurgling and cooing through his dummy making contented baby noises as he went from one toy to another in his giant play pen. Soiling his nappy was one of his favourite experiences and he thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of a poo forcing itself into the restricted spaces of his protection. He made two or three dirty nappies a day and recently he had regressed to not only wetting his nappy at night but now, more often as not, was also soiling himself in his sleep and not waking up while he did it. The first couple of times he was truly surprised, but in no time at all it was all normal.
Nanny Jenny had decided to enforce his feeling of utter babyishness by not changing him immediately but letting him wallow for an hour or so in his wet or dirty nappies to feel all the emotions of a real baby. He seemed to love the feeling of kneeling at the bars of his cot as his nappies sagged lower and lower on his hip as he filled them with his waste.
Archie had never felt so loved, so utterly taken care of. He did not have to worry about anything, he no longer had to think, he no longer had to plan or schedule. All he had to do was be a baby, crawl like a baby, talk like a baby, use his nappies like a baby, and forget all about ever being a big boy.
Billy was his best friend and his mummy had also wanted him to be a sissy girl. They often used to be put down in the cot together for their naps. Billy couldn’t remember how to speak either but they babbled away together sharing dummies, switching bottles and sharing their toys. They would fall asleep bundled together, Archie’s woo woo tangled up in Billy’s terry nappy comforter which he called nap nap. They would be changed side by side by their nannies, their stainless steel buttons, their little nubs, dribbling almost non-stop.
Charlie wasn’t seen around very much. He was now called Charlotte and was a little girl in nappies. He wore a red gingham school dress with his bulging nappies underneath covered by regulation school panties.On his feet white ruffled socks with black Mary Jane shoes with the strap across the top. His hair was tied into two pigtails with big bows of red ribbon. Although he was supposed to be six years old, he still went to bed with his dummy.
Charlie had been taken down to the theatre for his treatment. He was carefully anaesthetised and the tip of his tongue injected with a mixture of botox and collagen. He would always have a dreadful lisp following this procedure. It would not be reversible. His voice box had the vocal chords reduced in length and tightened so that he would have his treble voice returned to him. His nose was substantially reduced to leave it the cheeky little pert nose of a young girl.
After a few weeks when the bandages were removed, he was deemed the prettiest success the Institute had ever achieved. His mother took him home a few weeks later, but not to his old home but a new one, where his father would never find them. He was introduced to the new neighbours as Charlotte, the beautiful little girl who had suffered a few developmental problems and had some special needs. She tried so hard to toilet train her, but she was so unreliable that it was safer to keep her in nappies. She did put her on the potty every morning in the hope she could avoid dirtying her nappy later in the day, but it was a bit hit and miss. Other parents expressed sympathy that she had to lug a heavy nappy bag around all day. Some had spotted a feeding bottle and a couple of dummies in the side pockets and expressed behind her back that she should stop the child from using them.
Danny was never seen again by any of the others. He had been taken to theatre and was never seen again. The surgeons had performed plastic surgery on his face reducing his nose to a baby’s nub. His voice had been increased in pitch to that of a baby. Nerves to his limbs were compromised so that he lost coordination and could only lay on his back and wave his arms and legs in an uncontrolled manner.
In another session they removed all of his teeth and plugged all the cavities with a plate that raised the apparent level of his gums. He had the oral cavity of a baby only capable of suc-king and no chance of ever being able to chew again.
By the time the team had finished with her she was equivalent to a three month old baby. All she could do was cry as her means of communication. She suc-ked tirelessly on her dummy. She slept for most of the day and night, waking every four hours for a change and a feed from her bottles. She was dressed in a white wincyette night gown that had beautiful smocking across the breast. On her feet, she had the softest white booties tied with white satin ribbon. On her hands, she had little white matching mittens. A beautiful white soft woolly bonnet protected her almost bald head from getting cold.
Her baby frock slipped up her legs as she played with her feet to reveal her white translucent plastic panties covering a thick white fluffy terry nappy. The six foot square nappy dwarfed her and her little legs were almost completely enveloped in the mass of terry towelling and baby pants.
Danielle, as she was now known, had her mother weeping tears of pure joy as she bottle fed her baby.
[The End]
Truthfully I have run out of ideas!
Topic: Babification Institute (Read 10324 times)
