Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Sissy Story Archives (older stories) => Pre-2011 Sissy Stories => Topic started by: antonia on March 24, 2006, 05:29:36 AM
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Part 1 The New Job
My name is Charles and I was out of work when I saw the advertisement in the local paper for a driver. The company concerned was located in a small business park not far from where I had my small flat. I gave them a ring and was invited to come for an interview that day.
The offices were in one of those units where there was a small warehouse on the ground floor with offices above. The sign on the front of the building declared Baby Dreams. I was nervous as I pressed the intercom button to give my name and gain access at the sound of the buzzer, so nervous that I missed the buzzer and had to ring again for the person above to give access. An unmistakeable urgency gripped my groin as I realised I was being foolish and my mind rang the need for a toilet break.
I climbed the stairs to the office above and entered a neat and tidy office with a number of computers happily whirring away with three very attractive women in front of each screen. The desks were all the same size and arranged around the three walls of the office, each facing the centre of the room.
A dark raven-haired woman in her mid thirties introduced herself as Anne the Managing Director. She was probably the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen. Her figure was stunning and she wore a white silk blouse that showed the outline of her bra and dropped down over an elegant black skirt that flared at the knee.
She invited me to take a seat and started to explain her business and the requirements of the new vacancy. My bladder again sent the urgent call and I asked if I could use the facilities. Her reply surprised me, since she refused my request saying that the interview would be over in no time and I could surely hold on until its conclusion.
Without further ado, she ignored my request and started to tell me that her business was in the making of baby clothes and the selling of accessories. She had a network of outworkers who sewed, knitted and crocheted a whole range of items from rompers to dresses and from the smallest of items like booties, bonnets and bibs to large items like hand crafted cots, highchairs and playpens. The job on offer was to collect the finished items from these outworkers and to deliver them back to the small warehouse below. The lucky applicant would have to learn the collection route and take over from Jane who was now promoted in the office to Sales Executive.
Jane was another lady with a remarkable figure and long blonde hair that flowed down her back almost to the base of her spine, she wore a t-shirt that stopped at her navel and jeans that started an inch or so below the hem of her shirt, showing that delicious gap of flesh and a discrete piercing of her tummy button. On her desk was a stack of terry towelling squares which she explained was a sample delivery of home made nappies made from a new batch of extra soft towelling from India. Yet another urgent call from my bladder, I clenched hard to shut it up, but a small dribble leaked out. Jane saw my discomfort and said that I would need to do better than that if I wanted the job, because the collection routes were long and did not have any rest stations on route. She jokingly suggested that perhaps I should buy a dozen nappies to get me through the day! She then held up a pair of oversize pink plastic pants and told me that they catered not only for babies, but for the disabled and mentally unfortunates as well.
The third member of the team was called Mary, and she looked after the warehouse and distribution. She was a rather masculine looking woman who had a laugh like a hyena and muscles like a gorilla – probably from lifting all those boxes I thought. She was attending to a boiling kettle in the small kitchen that led off from the side of the office.
The urgency mercifully passed and having stopped fidgeting, I went on to learn that all the women were former nurses from the local hospital who were fed up with the poor conditions and low pay and had decided to set up a small business on their own. It had proved very successful and the business was thriving and could now afford to expand a little more.
Mary walked in with a tray of cups. Anne and Jane both took their personalised mugs leaving a cup with the name “Mary” and a baby’s sippy cup with a picture of a teddy on it and two handles poking out from each side. Mary apologised saying that she had broken the spare cups the day before, she emitted one of her pitched laughs and said that this was the best she could offer.
I nearly declined the drink because of my urgent need for the loo, but then realised that my refusal might be seen as a revolt against their hospitality or rudeness for turning down the use of this infantile drinking vessel. I changed my mind and accepted.
It was odd (if not totally humiliating) to drink from the cup, but I made up my mind to allow the infantile memories to resurface and endure the strange shame that came over me as I held both of the handles and lifted the spout to my lips. Another dribble escaped as once again the brain sent messages to my bladder that I really did not need at that moment. Again I asked for the loo and was surprised to be refused yet again, but even more surprised when I was told by Anne that I had got the job subject to a trial. I was to report tomorrow at 8 am and not to be late.
As I left the office I noticed three pairs of eyes looking at the front of my trousers – a small but distinct spot of wetness had appeared…….
End of part 1
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Part 2 The New Job
Anne, Jane and Mary were already in the office when I arrived bright and early the next day.
“Hello Charlie” said Anne as I nervously entered the office, “glad you were on time, because you have one of the longer runs to do today. Jane is going to go with you and show you the ropes”.
“Thank you”, I said still with a feeling of apprehension that I could not explain.
“Just go into the small office and change into you uniform and then you and Jane can set off” said Anne smiling sweetly.
I went through the door and nearly died of embarrassment, because lying on the table was a large blue romper suit with a large teddy embroidered in the centre and a pair of blue babyish sandals with a strap that went across the top. However, the most alarming garment was a thickly padded pair of terry towelling pants, the type that would be worn by a toddler prone to ‘accidents’. I stared for some minutes at the ensemble of garments that lay before me.
“Come on don’t dawdle Charlie!” shouted Anne through the closed door “you have too much to do for this time wasting”.
“But this is all baby stuff” I whined “I cannot wear this, people will think me a right plonker”.
“Look Charlie, all of our workers are women, many of them feel vulnerable, a fair number are single Mums and they might feel threatened if a man calls on them, so this uniform is to put them at ease and enable them to recognise that you are a part of our business” said Anne forcefully.
“But this is so babyish”, I retorted
“And babywear is exactly what we are in the business of selling, so your uniform is ideal. Now stop this childish behaviour and get changed at once!” I slowly took off my clothes until I was naked and then pulled on the trainer pants. They were huge, there must have been eight layers of terry towelling in the front panel that ran between my legs and to the waist band at the back. I could barely close my legs on the thickness of it all. I examined the romper suit and pulled it on over my head, the top part came down to my waist and then flared out into a great bubble that ended in a line of four press studs that fasted at the crutch. I could not reach to do them up. I put on the white socks with pictures of Mickey Mouse on the tops and did up the sandals.
My entrance into the main office was met with gasps of delight from the three girls.
“Come of Charlie, you have not done up the snaps, let me help” said Mary the muscular lady from the warehouse as she dropped to her knee and pulled the flap from behind and connected it to the one at the front.
She stood back to look at me. “Something missing” she said “he has not put on his hat with the company logo”.
“That was my fault” said Mary, her eyes twinkling “I only finished it late last night and it is in my bag”. She went over to her desk and pulled out a blue gingham bonnet with ‘Baby Dreams’ embroidered around the fringe. She put it on my head and tied the ribbons under my chin.
“No, this is absolutely unacceptable” I moaned “I look so stupid, I look like a big baby”
“And of no threat to any woman and so absolutely safe with no chance of being intimidating” said Mary
“You look wonderful, and we spent ages making this outfit for you last night. We were here until very late last night to make it beautiful for you and all you can do is be nasty” replied Anne, starting to look very upset and almost tearful. “We have tried so hard to be kind and all you can do is moan and be mean”.
I was immediately sorry for my outburst and looked at the three girls who were looking very downcast and upset. “I am sorry, I will not say any more about it.”
Mary grinned a huge smile and leapt forward to place a kiss on my cheek. “We need you Charlie and we want you to be a part of our team, thank you. Let’s have a drink before you go”. The three girls went into the kitchen clearly delighted at the way the new uniform they had made had turned out and started to brew up.
My drink was in the sippy cup as before, but little did I know that they had laced it with a strong dose of diuretics. “Hurry up slowcoach, you have a large round to do today”. I suc-ked the tea past the small non-return valve and the cup made a hissing gurgling sound as a quickly drank it down. The girls smiled.
Jane threw her head back and a wave of golden blond hair flew over her shoulder, to leave her face unobscured – I realised at once that she was exceptionally stunning and for a moment a jolt of electricity leapt across me touching my heart on its way. I suddenly wanted to spend the day with this lovely woman regardless of how silly I might have looked. It was only as we went down to the van that we passed a mirror. The reflection that stared back from under the bonnet was an overgrown baby in a romper suit clearly wearing some sort of protection against an unforeseen wetting problem.
End of part 2
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Part 3 The New Job
Jane unlocked the van and opened the door for me to get in the front passenger seat, she gave my bottom a spank as I moved to slip into the seat. “Buckle up” she said with a smile “we want to keep our baby safe”. I did a double take, had she called me a baby?
She walked around the van and slipped into the driver’s seat, I caught the briefest glimpse of her underwear as she swung her legs in and I was in no doubt that she noticed me looking. She pulled the seat belt over her breasts, the overlap of her blouse opening just sufficiently for me to get a glimpse of a white lacy bra beneath. Again she caught my peeking and smiled softly. “Naught baby” she smirked.
We set off and had driven for almost four hours on the way to our first call. Jane told me how the business had been set up to supply unique hand crafted quality babywear made by women who had commitments that did not allow them to go out to work full time. Their business enabled them to work at their own pace and do their own hours. The company supplied most of the raw materials like cloth, patterns and other sewing requirements. Some women worked in isolation, whereas other worked as a cooperative with each doing specialised piece work and passing the job through the various stages of its manufacture.
My bladder started to ache as the diuretics in my earlier sippy cup started to kick in. “Jane, I need to stop for a comfort break I said”, that drink I had in the office seems to have gone straight through me.
“You knew the rules Charlie”, explained Jane “no toilet stops”.
“But I am getting a bit desperate” I said “I am not sure I can go the whole day without paying a visit”.
“I have only one solution” said Jane as she reached into the glove box “undo the snaps and slip these over your underwear”. She handed me a large pair of baby-style plastic pants “they will fit you, we thought this might happen and I thought it sensible to be prepared”.
“Can’t you stop the van somewhere?” I pleaded “I can go in the bushes”
“Look around you baby, we are in the middle of town”, she said scornfully “just put on the pants and do as you are told”.
I put on the pants and pulled them up over my trainer pants, and then found that doing up the snaps again was quite easy while I was sitting down. “Can I ask the lady at the first house if I can use her loo?” I enquired
“No” was the firm response “these women have often had traumatic experiences at the hand of man and do not want you going into their most intimate of places and piddling all over the seat”
“I always lift the seat and I do not piddle or sprinkle on the seat ever” I retorted indignantly as my bladder sent a really urgent message to seek release. A small amount of pee escaped into the soft terry towelling only to be immediately soaked up by the thirsty cloth. Then I gasped, a car had suddenly pulled out in front of us and Jane slammed on the brakes causing the car to skid and spin into what looked like a certain broad side collision. Miraculously we avoided contact be millimetres, but my bladder already under huge pressure gave up the struggle and flooded into my trainer pants. The small trickle turned into a torrent that spread with an unfamiliar warmness that spread around my limp manhood and soaked between my legs and up behind me. I cringed with the horror of it all.
“Stay here” barked Jane as she jumped out of the van. There was an exchange of words with the careless driver of the car and she returned. “Silly ba****rd” she said “my goodness we were so lucky”, as the owner of the car stared with wide eyed amazement at the sight of me in the passenger seat dressed as an overgrown toddler.
“Well actually I was not so lucky, this is so embarrassing” I said with a faltering stutter, “but I seem to have had an accident and wet myself with the shock of it all” I admitted with guilt.
Jane looked almost triumphant and the warmth of her smile was strange. “It is so lucky that you were wearing your trainer pants and even luckier that we put some plastic pants on top” she responded “you were a good baby to do as you were told”.
“Look Jane” I shouted “why do you keep calling me a baby? I am not a baby, I am a man”.
“A man wearing a pair of toddler’s training pants and protective plastic panties that you have soaked with your wee wee?” she asked “is that what being a man amounts to for you?” she mocked.
“But that was an accident Jane” I pleaded “can I change before we get to the first pick up?”
“Okay” said Jane, but I do not have any more training pants, so we will have to use something else”. She stopped the car and said “jump into the back of the van”. I did as she bid and as she opened the doors I saw a large changing mat on the floor. “Jump on the mat and lie down” she ordered. I did as I was told.
She jumped up behind me and closed the doors. Bending down she took off my shoes and socks and undid the snaps of my romper suit and peeled down the sopping pants and plastic knickers. “Well you certainly do not seem to have held back anything baby!”
Reaching into one of the many boxes on the floor she pulled out an enormous terry towelling square. “What is that?” I asked with dismay.
“This is your nappy, baby” she said undoing two large nappy pins and holding them between her lips “lift up your bottom so I can put this under you”.
“I am NOT wearing that” I shouted trying to get up. Jane slapped me across the face and looked dark with rage.
“You have just wet your uniform and behaved like a baby, so don’t tell me that you are too big to be put in a nappy. It seems to me that a nappy is the answer to your pathetic problem. We are so far behind schedule now that I am not going to argue as I do not have the time”.
She wiped me with some baby wipes and I was too embarrassed to worry about her seeing my manhood so exposed, I did as I was told and lifted my bottom as she slipped the large nappy beneath me, pulling the front up between my legs and pinning both sides with the pins that she had held in her mouth. She peeled the wet trainers out of the plastic pants and put them in a plastic bag. “I am sorry baby, but we are going to have to use these plastic pants again, because I do not have a spare pair”. She pulled the pants up my legs and asked me to lift up again as she fitted the excess folds of the nappy into the confines of the plastic pants. She patted the front of the bulging nappy-filled plastic pants. The site of this beautiful angel looking down on me with such affection in her eyes, the warmth of the fluffy soft nappy and the patting of my front started a stirring in my loins that I could not begin to explain. “There you go, all tucked up in a nice clean nappy and ready to go. Let’s get you snapped up and get your shoes back on”. “All done, baby is nice and clean again” she said “jump down and let’s get going, not far now!”
I jumped out of the back of the van, the trainer pants had been bulky but the nappy was so big that it barely fit into the romper suit which looked positively stuffed. The thickness of the nappy was so wide between my legs that it was impossible to put my knees together and I was forced to waddle with a staggering bow-legged gait like a baby that had only recently learned to stand (let alone walk).
I got in the front seat and did up my seat belt. Jane was on her mobile phone outside speaking excitedly but in hushed tones. I could not hear all of the conversations, but snippets reached my ears. “wet his pants……accident ……. nappy……yes stage two”
Jane got in and started up the engine. “We are on our way again, do you want a drink?” she asked pulling a bottle of sports water from the side pouch of her door.
“Yes please” I replied “I seem to be parched”
“Well, I put a drink in the side of your door for you before we came out” said Jane. I reached down beside me and my hand fell on a pink sippy cup with a large care bear transfer on the front.
“Why do I always have to have a baby cup” I asked “why could I not have a proper bottle of water like yours?”
“Did you give me any money for a drink baby?” she retorted, I shook my head. “I made this for you in the office before we left, just to be kind, and you are so ungrateful that I do not know why I bothered”. I thought I saw tears in her eyes as she spoke and my heart felt heavy.
“It was a lovely thought and I will enjoy my drink – I am so sorry Jane” I said sincerely looking across at Jane. Once again, did I catch sight of a small smirk? I started to suc-k on the cup and the familiar slurping, gurgling sounds came from the cup as another huge does of diuretics cascaded down my throat into what was soon to be another case of bladder tragedy.
We arrived at the first call, Jane told me to get out and come with her, as she wanted to introduce me personally to all the workers on the route. She rang the bell and a young girl came out with a young baby clinging round her neck which was suc-king on a large dummy.
“This is Sheila” said Jane “she makes nappies and terry bibs for us and is one of our longest serving members”. A young boy slipped up beside her and clung to her skirt.
“These are my two babies” she said with obvious pride “Darren who is 18 months and little Simon here who is nearly four, aren’t you pet” she said rustling his hair with her spare hand. Simon was dressed in a vest and was wearing a nappy covered by pink plastic pants and judging by the way it hung on his hips, it was in desperate need of changing.
“Simon is a bit big to still be in nappies isn’t he?” I said without thinking
Sheila went immediately on the defensive “Since his old man beat me and the kids up and left, Simon has had a problem with his toilet training and he is getting over the trauma and will be a big boy soon, won’t you darling?” she said looking affectionately at her older sibling.
Jane quickly seeing the friction said “Charlie, how could you be so cruel, you wet yourself this morning and I have had to put you back in nappies, so that comment is hardly very fair is it?” I blushed profusely and started to squirm.
Sheila was very quick off the mark and said “you mean you really need to use your nappies like Simon and at your age too – well really” she laughed. “Come on in baby boy and help to load these nappies and bibs into the van” she ordered “I knew that the girls were going to make you a nice ducky uniform and so I have made you a very special bib to go with your ensemble. She went to the table and came back with a huge white terry towelling bib beautifully edged in pink gingham and bearing a large embroidered picture of a teddy wearing a nappy in the corner. That was not the worst part of this new accessory, because in big pink letter across the front it said “BABY CHARLIE”.
Jane was very enthusiastic “put it on, put in on Charlie, oh it is wonderful thank you Sheila”. I looked thunderstruck and shook my head vehemently. “Look Charlie, you have been mean to Sheila about Simon and now you are turning down her kindness. Give it to me”. She took the bib and tied it firmly round my neck, pulling the ribbons tight. “Say thank you to Sheila” she ordered
“Thank you Sheila” I said humbly
“No Charlie, you have to call all of the workers Auntie, because that will make you less threatening”, Jane said.
I was losing the plot with all this and decided that as I was never going to work on this job again that I would go along with the game for today. “Thank you Auntie Sheila” I said in my sweetest voice. Darren suc-ked on his dummy looking at me bemused, Simon tugged at his mother’s skirt and she reached into a pocket and inserted a dummy into his mouth as well. The two of them looked at me in awe.
I picked up the boxes and started to fill up the back of the van with the new stock, my new bib flapping in front of me. I completed the loading and Sheila came to the door to say goodbye “I will make you some more things for next time” she said “I will make you a nice set of nappies with your name on them – would you like that?” she said mockingly.
End of part 3
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“I would like that very much” I grinned, knowing in my own mind that I was never going to do this job again, but suddenly being aware of the nappy that I was wearing in front of her and glancing down at the large bulkiness that spread out around my nether regions.
“That will be one of my nappies I bet, but I am going to make you something very special Sweetie Pie for next time” she said in a sweet sickly voice. “I am also going to make you some new bibs as well, because I cannot see a big baby like you being able to keep that one clean!” she said mockingly and beginning to laugh. Jane looked on smiling that aggravating but knowing smirk.
The little baby held at her hip started to wail almost losing his dummy, which Sheila deftly pushed back in with her two fingers, “he is hungry and Simon must be hungry as well judging by the way he is attacking his dum dum” she laughed to Jane. “Oh, and I have made some lunch for you and Charlie to have on your way”, she said reaching inside the front door to a sandwich box and another childish lunch box covered in cartoon characters.
We said our goodbyes and returned to the van.
Jane started up the engine and we started rolling again. “Only twenty minutes to our next call” she said, but we will stop for lunch at the next lay-by area in a few minutes”. True to her word we pulled into an area just off the main road and we opened up our lunch boxes.
My box had some dainty sandwiches with the crusts trimmed off and made of cheese and crammed with tomato. To be fair Sheila had excelled herself and the sandwich was very inviting. As I picked it up to bring it to my mouth, a section of tomato fell out and hit the bib, leaving a big red stain, because she had blended it with tomato sauce. Jane looked across and raised her eyebrows. “just as well you were wearing your bib” she said laughing.
I looked deeply shocked, would anything go right for me today? Clearly not, because as I picked up the piece of very gooey chocolate cake the centre fell out and landed right on the centre of my name embroidered on the bib. Trying to wipe it off just made matters worse and made sure the bib looked as if it had been well used for its intended purpose.
Needless to say, the drink was in a large spouted sippy cup (bigger than the one I had used earlier). This was full of blackcurrant juice, but unknown to me a very small hole had been drilled in the side nearest the spout and as I drank so small drops of vivid purple juice dripped onto the bib showing the world exactly what I had consumed for my lunch. As I drained the drink, now used to the bubbling, slurping, gurgling noises that such a vessel made, I just caught sight of the mess that had dribbled down my chin and soaked my bib. I was horrified, I looked to be in more of a mess than any toddler and my bib was a disaster. However, the mess on my bib was going to be a minor situation compared to the effect that the drugs-laced juice was going to have on my bladder.
Jane looked at me clearly delighted with my predicament. I tried to take off the bib. “No, you leave that on baby”, she instructed “if you cannot eat properly then you need to be punished, so the bib stays on” and she reached behind my neck and pulled the bows through to leave a reef knot which she then pulled tight. “Just in case you have any ideas about taking it off” she retorted.
In the meantime, as we set off to our next call, my bladder was reaching bursting point, how on earth did Jane manage to hold on so long, surely she would need to stop for a pee soon?
Once again I felt myself beginning to lose control and I pleaded to Jane “look I am really in urgent need to go to the toilet, please stop somewhere”. I sounded like a pre-schooler with my request and I knew it.
“Go in your nappy baby”, she replied sharply “you are wearing all you need. You have held us up enough already with your accidents and infantile behaviour”.
“I can’t do it” I said, starting to feel very sorry for myself “I cannot go in my nappy like you ask, I am not a baby and I do not want to go in it”. I stamped my foot to the huge delight of Jane who was clearly pleased with the situation in which I found myself.
We pulled up at the outside of another small cottage and Jane got out of the van and beckoned me to follow her. Once again we rang on the bell and an older lady came to the door.
“Hello, Phyllis” said Jane, “this is Charlie our new driver who joined us today”
“My goodness, just as well he was wearing his bib – what a mess. Do you have trouble feeding yourself Charlie? Because I am responsible for the hardware side of the supplies like sippy cups, bottles and dummies. We might have something to suit you as you seem to be having so many problems. Do you think a big baby’s bottle might help Jane, because judging by that blackcurrant juice he is having problems even using the sippy cup?”
“No Auntie Phyllis, the cup I was using was broken” I said looking distressed. Suddenly the shame of it all became too much and my straining bladder started to lose the battle. “Can I use your toilet please Auntie? I really need to go badly”
“Well I don’t allow strangers to use my toilet Charlie, it is something very personal, but I am sure I still have an end of line potty that we used to sell that was a little shop-soiled” she tittered. “I will have to take a few minutes to find it though, come through to the kitchen and take the boxes and put them in the van will you?”
end of part 4
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I went through into the oak-beamed kitchen, the Aga was pumping out heat and the smell of fresh bread. The running tap rinsing some vegetables again sent a message to my brain saying that I needed to go now and urgently. I picked up the large box which according to the label was full of baby monitors. It was heavy and the sudden tension in my muscles made any hope of toilet control evaporate. The sudden exertion caused a sudden spurt of urine into my nappy and having started wanted no restriction. I dropped the box and frantically grabbed myself just as Phyllis was coming back into the room with a giant pink plastic potty.
“There you are!” she said, smiling at me as I hopped about trying to seal the flow of my accident, which because of the thickness of the nappy meant that I could not get a grip of anything. The whooshing, splashing sound coming from inside my nappy proved that her journey was in vain. I was in full flood, the soft confines of my nappy working hard to absorb the deluge, with liquid hitting liquid and the telltale sound giving away the secret of my awful predicament. “Too late!” she beamed “seems like Charlie preferred to go in his nappy rather than wait for his potty. Never mind he can take it as a present from Auntie Phyllis, what do you say Charlie” she asked.
“You can stick your potty where the sun doesn’t shine you old bag” I screamed “why wouldn’t you let me use your loo you bitch?” Phyllis looked shock and in a trice had picked up a rolling pin and cracked me over the head with it. I fell to the ground seeing a constellation of stars, my bonnet flying off and landing on the Aga.
“You ungrateful wretch” she shouted “what a foul mouth you have and what shall we do about it?”. She went to a drawer and pulled out a cardboard carton, inside of which she pulled out the largest dummy I have ever seen. “This should shut you up once and for all” she shouted as she forced the latex teat in to my resisting mouth, “now see how well you can speak while suc-king your dummy?”.
Jane picked up some thick ribbon and threaded it through the handle of the dummy and then tied it securely behind my throbbing head. She retrieved the bonnet and retied it. A second wave of wetting rushed over me as I finished emptying my bladder into the soft folds of my nappy. I felt totally beaten into submission, there was nothing about today could get any worse, I could not wait to get home and put this whole awful experience behind me.
“Are you alright Charlie?” asked Jane with far more sympathy than I deserved, “if so you must get those boxes into the van. I would have changed you, but as you have been so nasty to Phyllis I have decided that you can stay in your wet nappy until we get back to the office. With any luck you will have the start of some painful nappy rash as a reward for your nastiness”.
I tried to speak past my dummy, but all that came out was babyish sounding nonsense and I noticed with equal horror that with the dummy in place I was unable to stop myself from dribbling down my already filthy bib. I walked bow-legged carrying the boxes with my soaking nappy rubbing against me and noticed that for some reason my willy was beginning to harden with the contact between skin and soft moist terry towelling. Things were definitely taking a turn for the worse.
As I came back from the van I could not help but look at myself in the hall mirror – a big baby in a bonnet, suc-king his dummy with a dirty bib round his neck and quite clearly showing the discomfort of an uncomfortable and very wet nappy. I felt like wailing I felt so miserable. The bad news was, that as my nappy cooled so my erection grew – this was bizarre and very worrying. The more I thought about it the worse the problem became, if I did not think of something very shortly I would be coming in my nappy with a new type of wetness.
Jane and Phyllis looked at me as I waddled back into the kitchen. “He will be a good baby when I have finished with him” said Jane “that nonsense must not be allowed to happen again and I cannot apologise to you enough for that outburst”.
Phyllis looked at me as I dropped my head forlornly “Come here baby” she ordered “let me look at you”. She went to the kitchen cupboard and took out a tube of something clear. She then untied the ribbon holding my dummy and took out the offending implement. To my horror I realised that the substance she was applying to the inside of the guard on the dummy was superglue. She instructed me “open your mouth and suc-k your dummy like a good baby”. I tried to wriggle away, but Jane had grasped my ear and twisted it. The dummy was rammed home and almost immediately I could feel the dummy becoming a part of my face. Phyllis looked again in the drawer and took out a nappy pin which she used to pin the dummy to my romper suit. “That’s better” she said “what baby needs to have their dummy tied into place? We know that all babies love to suc-k on their soothers.”
I was stunned and totally unable to do more than grunt through the disc on the dummy. I began to feel very sorry for myself and slowly but surely the dummy started to move rhythmically below my nose as some sort of hidden memory kicked in and took over. I was suc-king my dummy and I hardly realised it, more to the point it was a reflex action over which I had no control. Despite the superglue, I was still able to dribble out the corners of my mouth and as a tear welled up in my eye, a droplet of drool dripped off my chin and onto my bib.
“Come on let’s go baby boy” said Jane pushing me towards the front door “we still have lots of calls to make”. I waddled comically in front of her much to the delight of Phyllis who chortled from the doorway.
“You go carefully Jane and don’t let that baby be too much of a burden to you!” Jane waved and ushered me into my seat. Again she made a call on her mobile and was barely able to be heard from inside the van. “stage 4….amazing……dummy….twice”.
end of part 5
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We started off again and I could not believe it but I had to wet my nappy, so instead of fighting it I just let go and rewarmed the cooling sogginess. Jane glanced at me as she heard the characteristic wishing sound, “That is a very good baby” she said “now why couldn’t you have done that in the first place? Instead of making all that fuss”.
I sat there unable to anything other than suc-k my dummy and rue the day I had taken on this rotten job.
We arrived at the next stop after passing through some very grand gates and driven down what seemed a never ending drive. We again went up to the door of a very impressive mansion and rang on the large doorbell. A nurse opened the door and ushered us in.
“This is Charlie our new driver, but he has had a whole series of unfortunate accidents and in addition to his very wet nappy, his dirty bib and a dummy glued to his lips, he also might have a case of concussion” said Jane. “Can you check him out and make sure that he has no lasting damage please?” she said with a wink.
“Charlie, this is a private clinic who in addition to supplying us with knitted goods made by their long term patients with mental problems, also supply us with us hypnotic tapes that we sell to parents of bedwetters to help them with their nocturnal enuresis. They also have quite an impressive medical facility, so I think we should double check that Phyllis did no lasting damage to your cranium”.
I was loaded into a wheelchair and taken by the nurse into a lift that opened up into a large lobby. “This is Charlie” she said to the receptionist “he has come in for a check up and some profiling.” She wheeled him into a large white room gleaming with stainless steel and appeared to be an operating room. “Hop up on the couch and let us get you ready” said the young nurse. I felt very groggy and it took both Jane and the nurse all their strength to support me as I mounted the couch. Perhaps the bump on my head had been more severe than I expected.
Jane worked loose the knot in my bib, while the nurse undid the snaps to the romper suit, which was now wet from the leakage from my nappy. My bonnet was removed and the nurse went to fetch some solvent to unglue the dummy from my lips. In no time at all I was completely naked and being given a blanket bath on the couch. My nappy area was coated in baby lotion and finished off with clouds of Johnson & Johnson baby powder.
“Lift up baby” said Jane who had another large towelling terry nappy in her hand.
I shook my head and pleaded with her, but to no avail “I don’t want to wear a nappy, please don’t put that on me, I promise I will try harder to control myself, please I am begging you”. As I continued to beg my case I felt the sharp prick of a hypodermic needle puncture my arm as I was being bodily rolled onto the clean nappy. My eyes were drooping as the plastic pants were being pulled up and I have no memory of the one piece fleecy white bunny suit being put on me.
I do not know how long I was out, but when I awoke it was to the sound of music playing into my ears through the hood of the bunnykins suit. I had a new dummy in my mouth that was bringing me security and the nappy wrapped around me seemed even bigger than the one they had taken off. I tried to feel myself down below, but realised that the bunny suit had sewn in hands and feet that rendered me completely helpless. The nappy I was wearing was soaking wet and I could feel it pressing down on me, but I was not too worried by this fact. The leather harness with the row of bells on the front panel did bother me, because it meant that I could not sit up. I shouted out to an empty room from my cot. I was in a giant cot I realised, what the hell was going on here?
Jane and the nurse came in. “you have a fractured skull Charlie which has affected you strangely, you seem to be regressing to being more and more like a baby, so we have decided to keep you like one for the meantime until you get better”. I felt the injection going in to me as they set about changing my nappy. The music seemed to talk to me I could not resist the messages it sent out. I loved my dummy, suc-king my dummy made me feel calm and relaxed. All the time I suc-ked my dummy I would be safe, my dummy was like Jane’s breast, warm and comforting against my lips. My nappy was my greatest pleasure, it was soft and fluffy and reassuring. Wetting my nappy was better than making love and I could luxuriate in the warm wetness and feel myself getting hard inside its caressing folds. Jane loved to see my nappy wet and wanted nothing more than to change me, and for me to be her loving baby. Jane wanted me to nurse on my bottle or her breast and wet my nappy for her. I would do anything for Jane.
I came to some time later, who knows the time any more? “Hello baby” said Jane lovingly “let’s get you changed and fed shall we?”. She changed me into a new nappy and slipped a pair of pink plastic pants over the top. She then fitted a pair of knitted booties to my feet and a pair of mittens to my hands which she secured with pink ribbons. Getting into the cot with me she produced a bottle off warm milk and holding me to her breast she began to feed me – it was heaven and within a few suc-ks I had wet my clean nappy without any real knowledge or intention of doing so. “You naughty girl” she said “I only just changed you”.
“Girl?” I screamed “girl? I am a boy, I am not a baby girl”.
Jane hushed me and said “what does it matter? As she fed me the last of my bottle. “come on let’s make you go in your nappy”. She then started to rub the front of my nappy and I grew strong and hard for her, even though the physical size of me was pathetic. “You were never much of a man baby, so let us make the best of what you have” she said as she whipped me into a frenzy and I erupted further into the nappy. No sooner had I reached this peak of excitement than I had the huge desire to wet again, the subliminal message over-wrote my sexual excitement and enjoyment with the message that wetting my nappy was more fun that anything else.
“What a big baby to go in your nappy for Mummy” said Jane “you love wetting in your nappy don’t you darling?” as she pushed my dummy into my mouth. “suc-k your dummy like a good girl and feel that lovely warm nappy. Isn’t that lovely” she asked reinforcing the wet feeling by rubbing her hands over the front of my plastic pants.
I was in seventh heaven, the warmth and wetness totally outscored any other feelings. My eye lids grew heavy as she tucked me up in my cot to let me savour my situation as she placed a set of ear muffs over my ears to continue the reinforcing messages.
I woke up an hour or so later – who knows what time was any more and had a desperate need to do more than wee. I do not know what possessed me to shout out, but I cried “potty Mummy, potty please”. Jane appeared with a great big pink potty and said “you can go in your nappy if you want to baby, I will not mind”.
I shook my head suc-king my dummy furiously as she pulled down my nappy and plastic pants for me to perform. I made it with seconds to spare and after a quick wipe of the rear, my nappy was pulled off and we went through the process of putting on a clean one.
End of part 6
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I lost all track of time, every day seemed as the last, a mix of injections, nappy changes and feeds. They no longer played me the pretty music with the strange voices in the background and I had become totally self-centred.
Jane was always at my side when ever I awoke and my little thing never got stiff any more as I revelled in the simple pleasure of wetting my nappy. Everybody seemed to be very pleased with me. At this time I understood every word that was said and was quite capable of adult thought and conversation, indeed after so much rest (and who could tell how long they had been treating my brain injury) I felt as bright and acute as I ever had been.
However, it did seem to me that when I did engage in normal conversation, which was difficult as I had formed a total love affair with my dummy and could never be without it these days being totally dummy dependant now, my speech was somewhat garbled and one needed to be listen very carefully to interpret what I said.
It was in this state of heightened awareness and with a freshness and vitality (that I had never experienced before) when things took a turn for the worse. The young nurse who was always attentive to my comfort and needs appeared one morning with a woman in a white coat and Jane by her side.
“Charlotte is now incontinent isn’t she?” said this new woman who was apparently the senior consultant at the clinic.
“Partly” said the nurse, “she continually wets her nappy now and does not know when she is doing it”. I had only been changed half an hour previously and to prove the point flooded my clean nappy almost on cue.
“That is good” said the lady doctor “and what about soiling herself?”
“No she insists on using her potty and will not be tempted to use her nappy for that” said Jane joining in on the conversation, “and she is not prepared to regress any further despite the subliminal implants”.
“She seems to have taken well to her dummy hasn’t she? She seems to be a very contented baby, so we can certainly say that this part of the procedure has been successful”
“I am not a baby” I mumbled, I reluctantly took out my dummy and continued “I am a man and I don’t know why I am here and I don’t understand why I have lost all control of my bodily functions and I don’t understand what you are doing to me. Why am I here?” I fought back the urge to have a massive tantrum.
“You are here because you had an accident” said the lady doctor “that crack you took on your head was a great worry to Jane and she took the very wise decision to bring you here straight away, in case you had sustained any damage”.
“But why am I dressed as a baby and why are you calling me Charlotte all the time?”
“Okay, I will tell you the truth Charlotte” said the doctor crossing her arms across her chest “we want you to join our organisation and become an effective member of our team. You are a lonely, sad little person who has a miserable existence, few friends and will not be missed by anybody”.
“That’s not true, I have lots of friends” I retorted trying to suppress a huge feeling of self pity and fighting back the tears which for no reason had started to well up inside me. To make matters worse I also felt myself wetting my nappy and despite trying with all my might to stop the flow, the process continued unabated. “What is happening to me?” I cried, the tears now streaming down my face.
“You are becoming one of our new members, darling” said Jane “and we are going to adapt you to fit in with our workforce. We are a very small and new business and we certainly cannot afford to pay reasonable salaries, especially with the huge margins and discounts expected by the retailers so we have found a new solution”.
“What do you mean?” I said sobbing and enjoying the fresh warmth in my nappy.
“You are going to be totally reliant on us for all your needs. You are already nappy dependant and that dummy of yours has not been out of your mouth for almost a month”.
“A month, a month” I exclaimed “you mean I have been here for a whole month? What about my flat, what about my bills?”
“When you came in, you signed a form of consent to treatment and at the same time you also signed a consent form to take power of attorney over all you financial dealings. Your flat is now a part of our assets and will pay for your treatment and new wardrobe sweetheart”.
I tried to get up out of my cot, but the harness around me prevented any such movement. I tried to tear off the bib around my neck, but the mittens I was wearing made undoing the fiddly bow impossible, it was not even possible to tear off the thing because the mittens were too slippery to get a grip. I went to rip off the ribbon that was attached to my baby vest with a nappy pin and ensured that my dummy would never be lost to me. I suddenly realised that throwing away my dummy was probably the last thing I ever wanted to do.
I decided that I would try and take off my nappy, but pushing off the clear plastic pants, that showed very clearly the wet nappy inside, was impossible because a strap ran down from the restraining reins and between my legs. I let out a pitiful wail of frustration and grunted with frustration, which was an appalling mistake and was interpreted by my sphincter to let go. “Oh no, I go pooh pooh in my nappy” I screamed out.
The three women looked delighted with this announcement. Jane said “you are such a good baby, and you told Mummy so nicely”.
The doctor looked equally pleased and nodded her head “well young lady, you have just saved everybody a lot of money with expensive surgery”.
I was so confused, the warmth in the back of my nappy was wonderful and I emptied my bladder again into the thirsty nappy, experiencing the hardest stiffness that I had ever experienced, which with my wriggling and ecstasy quickly finished with a mind-blowing orgasm.
“She seems to have used her nappy for absolutely everything this morning doctor” she chortled “there’s a good baby girl Charlotte”. She reached into the cot and tickled me under my chin, and gently lifted my dummy by the ribbon and placed it gently into my willing mouth. I was exhausted, my face was tear-stained, my bib was covered in dribble and my vest was soaked with sweat and as for my nappy – well that is best left to the imagination.
“Let us get Charlotte cleaned up” said the nurse getting a whole load of things from the stainless steel trolley beside my cot. She lowered the side of the cot and slowly and patiently undressed me until I was naked. Then wiping me off as best she could, she helped me down and led me to a bathroom that was off the main theatre.
I was surprised to see another nurse in this bathroom, who was filling a bath full of Baby Bath. “We are going to take off all your hair tomorrow Charlotte to make you nice and smooth. Now you are doing everything in your nappy we have to be extra careful that you do not get nappy rash. You will spend most of today in your cot, because we are going to give you some more treatments this afternoon”. I was terrified, my lip quivered, my bladder opened the flood gates, what more could they do to me?
End of part 7
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I was changed by two nurses who lavished love and attention on me, spreading zinc and castor oil cream on my sore bottom, which as a result of the earlier soiling had become inflamed with the early stages of nappy rash. I noticed that at this change time that they were putting a thin disposable liner into the back of my nappy to catch the new source of elimination. I was depressed and distressed at this further step back into babyhood. My regression was becoming a situation that was almost beyond my control. I suc-ked pensively on my dummy as I thought of ways to mentally claw my way back to normality. I lifted up my behind as they slipped a pair of almost transparent pink plastic pants over my nappy, they were brand new and crackled with static electricity and smelt strongly of vinyl. The nurse shook baby powder over them to make them smell sweeter.
“Sit up baby” she said “let’s put you in a nice new babygrow today”. A pale pink vest with snaps at the bottom was pulled over my head and I again automatically lifted up so that she could secure the small poppers between my legs. She then went to the trolley and picked up a pink dress that had puff sleeves edged with lace and a smocked bodice that was almost elasticated with lots of different threads passing through the rucked material (it must have taken hours to make I thought subconsciously). The cloth felt as if it was made of same flannelette that was in my cot sheet, but so much smoother and so beautiful to run my hands over. My sense of touch seemed to be electrified these days, texture and feel was a pleasure that was beyond description and my world was increasingly delighted by touch. The dress finished just below my waist and allowed my nappy to be seen very clearly through the transparent pants.
“Handies” said the nurse and I put my hands up for them to be encased in pink woollen mittens fastened by a slightly darker pink ribbons. “Tootsies” said the nurse and I stuck my feet in the air, so she could put on and securely tie a matching pair of booties. “Nearly there” she said and reached behind to the trolley and picked up a white towelling bib backed in vinyl and edged in pink satin ribbon with Baby Charlotte embroidered on the front and a large number 7. She tied it around my neck and smoothed it down at the front. Then she picked up a white knitted sleeping bonnet edged in pink lace and tied the two woollen straps under my chin. Finally she pinned the pink ribbon of my dummy to my bib with a nappy pin and pressed home the safety cover on the head of the pin, which I noticed was a little pink teddy.
I waited for the restrictive harness to be put on, but to my great surprise she said “come on baby, we are going to your new home”. I was confused and hopeful, but dressed as I was, my hopes were somewhat fearful. The two nurses helped me out of the cot and onto the floor. My legs were so weak from lack of use that I collapsed to the floor, falling onto my thickly nappied rear – wearing a nappy it seemed did have its advantages. I suc-ked hard on my dummy and by the time we made it to the doorway on my hands and knees my new bib was already starting to feel damp around my neck.
The two nurses laughed at the sight of me with my ample bottom poked high in the air as I struggled to follow them to who knows where.
After about ten minutes, and I have to say that my knees were in agony from crawling on the hard floor, we came to another room that said “Patients Activity Room”. The nurse said “this is where patients come to have some therapy to keep them busy”. She laughed, but it was a cruel and unkind type of laugh, a sound that was pure evil and decidedly menacing. As the door swung open I could only gasp, sitting in large high chairs were six overgrown babies each wore a bib saying Baby whoever they were and each had a number beneath. So I was to be the seventh.
They called for the services of a giant of a woman who was dressed in a dark blue matron’s uniform to help haul me into one of the empty chairs. I spat out my dummy and started to yell “take your hands off me. I am not going to do this. Let me go”. It was all to no avail, the matronly woman soon had me harnessed into my chair and my dummy firmly in place.
From behind the chair she took what looked like a flattened silver spoon connected to a wire which she poked up the leg of my plastic pants and under my nappy until it was almost on top of my deflated willy. “What is that?” I implored.
“You really do not want to know” said one of the nurses as she shaved a small patch of hair away from the back of my neck and glued in the new bare space a similar paddle. “Just do everything you are told and you will be fine, trust me, you do not want to be naughty”.
A large tray swung round and clipped me tightly in place and my mittens were removed. I was presented with a box of tiny beads, a small box of needles and some thread. The matron then brought me a piece of cloth with a stencilled pattern on it. You have to sew a little blue bead where it says “B”, a little red bead where it says “R”…
“Okay, okay, I get the picture” I shouted through my dummy sounding more childish than authoritative. “…and the yellow bead goes on “Y””. I was fuming, I was in a pure rage, I was in the middle of a terrible two’s tantrum then almost immediately I was in agony….”
A tingle ran from my neck to my crutch, the tingle got stronger and stronger until it was like I was being electrocuted, my back arched in the chair, my dummy was almost bitten in half and my bladder just cut out as I deluged into my nappy, slobbering drool down my bib I did the only thing I could and started crying. Matron held up a little box with buttons and dials on it “one for each of my lovely babies she said” smirking with glee “we don’t have much nonsense in here”.
End part 8
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I looked around at the other big babies, their lights may have been on, but everybody seemed to have gone out. They worked mindlessly on their tasks apparently oblivious to their surroundings or to the extreme treatment I had received. “They were amongst the first of our visitors”, said Matron who had spotted the look of puzzlement on my face. The drugs we used in the early treatments burnt them out, they are one step up from little vegetables, but ideally suited for these simple tasks. You work a set number of pieces and then you will be fed, if you work too slowly, then you might go hungry or we might forget to change your nappy”.
I wanted so desperately to escape, panic washed over me in waves, I suc-ked my dummy for all it was worth, but even as the frantic wiggling of the disc beneath my nose increased in frequency, my heart was sinking like a stone.
I worked as hard as my fingers would allow, glancing across to the other occupants of the room who were dressed identically to me, all suc-king their dummies and occasionally being removed from their high chairs for changing. The paddles seemed to work in two ways, one to inflict punishment (as I had experienced so graphically) and also to warn of a wet nappy. The other gooks (as I called them) were so far removed from reality that they neither looked at me nor made any contact either by voice or glance. Whether they were controlled by drugs or whether they were mentally broken was something I neither wanted to know or find out.
The day passed slowly and uncomfortably, my light was definitely illuminated on Matron’s box of tricks, but my punishment was to suffer the wet confines of a very soggy nappy, which I must have wet on a number of occasions without really noticing it. I rarely bothered to register when I was going any more, after so many weeks it was becoming an automatic reflex.
Late in the afternoon, the two nurses came to remove me from the room, I had leaked badly and my babygrow had wicked up to my dress which also had a water mark. The plastic seat of my high chair was also awash. I had neither eaten nor taken any fluids at all and whatever spirit I had at the start of that awful day was almost exhausted.
Jane came in and for a brief instance my heart sang out, but then I thought about my miserable day and the ruined lives of my chair mates and a sense of anger washed over me. “Have you been a good girl Charlotte” she asked “I put you in here today to show you how bad things could be. We could reduce you to this level in a matter of five days, would you like that?” she enquired softly.
Weak from my experiences and lack of nourishment I could only shake my head and feel the misery wash over me. Tears that seemed to come so easily these days cascaded silently down my cheeks. Jane held me to her bosom and gently stroked my woollen sleep bonnet, wrapping her hand round my head to hold my dummy firmly to my lips for reassurance.
The brutish Matron came over to my high chair and unclipped my tray, “he was clumsy and useless, I hope he is not coming back here” she said “worst figure we have ever had for production, he did not deserve to eat or drink”.
Jane looked at my very wet condition “no food, no drink and no changing?” she asked clearly shocked.
“And we had to give him the buzzer” laughed the matron “he nearly broke in two. I thought we were never going to get him out of spasm”.
“You have exceeded your authority Matron and I will make sure that you will be severely punished for this infringement”. She took a small black box from her pocket. Matron recoiled in horror as Jane pressed the button. The miserable woman went to the floor like a heap of bricks and arched in agony as the voltage contained in the power packs presumably sewn into her uniform coursed through her body. My thrill at this turn of events was made all the sweeter by seeing that Matron was fully encased in her own nappy which was quickly filling up as she wet herself uncontrollably. Jane stopped pushing the button and Matron rolled over onto all fours and with a huge grunt pushed a large mass into the back of her nappy that caused it to bulge out. Three more nurses came into the room.
“Seven days confinement, take matron away” said Jane and unclipped my harness. She attached a leather strap and helped me to the floor. “Come on baby, let’s get you sorted out” she said softly as I crawled towards the door in utter discomfort. She gave a gentle tug as I headed back to my old room “not that way darling, you are going to a new place now”.
I shuddered slightly at the thought of what lay ahead of me next as my saturated nappy refused to hold my new wetting and a trail of wetness ran down my leg and streaked onto the shiny floor.
End part 9
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[Thank you by the way for all the kind comments, I am sure other writers would agree that it makes the effort so much more rewarding]
Progress was painfully slow down the corridor and crawling into the lift was agony across the rough threshold. Jane pushed a button and we ended up at the top of the old building. The doors opened into what seemed to be a palatial private apartment. “Nearly there baby. You are going to stay with me for the time being”. If I was a tenor I would have sung from the rooftops, but with my dummy firmly in place and quite out of breath from all my exertions I could only manage a “nggg nggg” from behind the ring of my soother.
We entered a room off the main lounge and came into a large nursery, pink, frilly and after the stainless steel environment of the previous month an absolute for the eyes.
“Darling, we are going to have to have a few things done to you, but then I have decided that you will be all mine and work directly for me”. At that moment the lady doctor came into the room with a large black bag. I knew I was not going to like anything she did to me. I flooded the hopelessly saturated nappy and Jane and the doctor moved me onto a large plastic changing mat on the floor. Jane peeled off the pants and undid the pins holding the nappy, which was so wet it just stayed pressing against me. She peeled it away and I lifted up to let her remove it from behind me – it was so wet, she had to give it a small tug to get it off. “That Matron is a bitch, look at the state of you, and you have got a nasty case of nappy rash now”, she said sadly, I thought she might cry she looked so upset “I was making sure that you were always looked after kindly”.
The doctor came with a basin of warm water and between them they cleaned me up (my goodness nappy rash is painful and it felt as if they were cleaning me with wire brushes). Jane applied copious quantities of a soothing nappy rash cream and the doctor applied some soothing antiseptic gel to the sore patches. Between them they sprinkled on baby powder to cut back on the stickiness and Jane put me in a clean nappy, but this time lined with a soft Harrington muslin nappy to make the softness complete. She shook out a pair of clear plastic pants which the doctor had dusted with baby talc and worked them up my legs and making sure that no ends of the nappy or muslin liner were poking out. She went to the chest of drawers and pulled out a fleecy white sleeper with hands and feet like the one I had originally worn. She directed my various limbs into their correct locations and did up the zip at the back. I felt so clean, soft and comfortable that I felt sleepy, despite the fact that I had not eaten all day.
“Stay awake just a little longer baby Charlotte” said Jane “because the doctor has to give you a little injection, to make you even sweeter”. She removed my dummy and said “let’s get you a nice clean dodie while Dr. McClean gives you a little injection, this one must be horribly dirty and you have almost bitten it through.
“Stick out your tongue for me Charlotte” instructed the doctor “I need to give you a little injection and I promise it will not hurt”. I was alarmed and very unhappy about the idea of any injections. I was about to struggle when Jane returned with a brand new white dummy.
“Do as you are told and I will give you this lovely new dummy. It is bigger than your old one and you will love suc-king this one more than all your others put together. So be a very good baby and poke out your tongue to let the doctor give you your injection”.
I stuck out my tongue and the doctor stuck in the needle, she stuck the needle in all over the front of my tongue, in and out all along the edge and then a few times in the middle. It was not too painful, it was like a benzocaine injection the dentist gives you, my tongue felt cold and then it felt warm, it felt and then it didn’t feel at all, I could not feel the tip of my tongue at all, it was paralysed. My eyes opened wide in horror as the doctor took another needle and injected one last ingredient into the tip of my tongue. “Collagen and botox” she said with a kindly smile.
Jane gently pushed my new dummy into my mouth, I spat it out “wha haf you done wif me? I canna thpeak pwoply” I lisped as my tongue had been rendered virtually useless. Jane clapped her hands together “Oh baby, you speak just like a real baby girl now. Doctor, will she ever be able to speak properly again?”
“No this procedure is irreversible, the first injection has destroyed the muscle at the tip and edges of her tongue, so that normal speech is impossible, but I have not stopped her from eating and swallowing which I am afraid to say might be a bit messy now because she cannot feel her tongue very well or move it properly. The second injection has made the tip of her tongue larger so that she cannot form her words properly, especially words like yes and must with an ‘s’. They will come out as yeth and mutht”.
I was just about to speak, when I realised that there was little point as my speech was barely intelligible anyway. I looked despairingly at Jane who hugged me to her and slipped my new dummy into my mouth. There was no pain in my mouth, I could still feel the mouth-filling comfort of my new dummy and I automatically started suc-king on the teat that filled the whole of my mouth. It was heavenly and all the recently discovered baby instincts took over and I felt the irresistible urge to close my eyes. My last vision was of Jane looking at me lovingly.
The doctor whispered to Jane “as she has not eaten all day, we might as well take her down to the theatre and I can do the next procedure if you like?”
“Oh can you? That would be wonderful. It isn’t too soon is it? I don’t want her cracking up on me, she is very precious to me and I want to keep her, but I will not do anything if it causes her pain or damage”.
End part 10
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I awoke briefly when the new dummy was removed and a mask placed over my nose and mouth. “Breath deeply” said a member of the theatre staff “breath deee…”, but I had gone to a world where my whole life was filled with nappies, bibs, dummies and confusion, where my mind though acutely aware of everything adult was subconsciously doing everything babyish and regressing me back to a toddler incapable of controlling any of the fundamental skills.
I dreamt of suc-king on my bottle, I dreamt of Jane and I dreamed of sitting in a high chair and being electrocuted and I awoke with a start. My throat was on fire, I opened my eyes to find that I was in the brand new cot in the pink room that Jane had moved me into. I looked round, feeling slightly nauseous from the anaesthetic, at the pile of white fluffy nappies stacked on the dresser, the unopened plastic pants still in their packets and the heap of bibs waiting to be tied around my neck. I looked at the line of brightly coloured balls and shapes that were strung from one side of my cot to the other and patted one with my hand encased in its woolly mitten. The ball rattled and span.
Jane came in with a beaming look on her face. “My baby is awake then, how are you sweetheart?”
I took out my dummy. “My thwoat hurtth” I squeaked not recognising the sound of my own voice. I tried to clear my throat, but all that came out was a falsetto squeak and it hurt like hell. “Wath happened to me?” I said in that ridiculous voice which did not seem a part of me “why ith my voith thow funny?”
“You have got your new baby girl voice darling, isn’t that wonderful? Now let it heal or else it will hurt. I have made baby a nice cold drink to soothe her throat”. She reached into her apron pocket and took out a baby bottle with cartoon characters on it. She got into my cot and snuggled next to me, I moved closer to her and she hugged me tight as I took the bottle’s nipple. Almost the second the first cooling sip went down my blazing throat, I started wetting almost at once which Jane immediately covered with her hand enhancing the feeling of my wetting into the soft muslin lining of my nappy. She slowly started rubbing the front of my plastic pants and for a brief moment I experienced a stiffening, but this was quickly replaced by the urgent desire to push and fill my nappy. suc-king my bottle, feeling Jane stroke me while I pushed hard to squeeze past the tightness of the fabric against my bottom immediately caused a limp eruption without any erection. “Charlotte, you are a good baby girl, I think you wait for me don’t you. You have done everything in your nappy, it’s lovely to go in your nappy isn’t it, you love going in your nappy for me, you love all the lovely feelings that you have in your nappy”. She reinforced all the old messages and my regression slipped down another step of the road to total babification. I finished the job on my nappy with another glorious wetting as Jane rubbed her hands all around me, saturating my senses with feelings I thought I had left behind me so many years before.
Bottle finished and dummy replaced, Jane changed me in readiness for bed. She continued the idea of lining my double nappy with a muslin square and having put me in a thick wide pair of pink plastic pants pulled on another version of the bunnykins suit with the floppy ears on the hood and a small bunny tail at the rear. It was so soft that I kneaded the inside of the built in mittens with my fingers to savour the softness. The caress of the soft hood against the side of my face and the soft muting effect it had against my ears was cocooning and soothing. She tied on a pink bib covered in small bunny rabbits and said “to catch baby’s dribbles”.
She took off her clothes and climbing into my cot beside me, she gently removed my dummy and said “I want baby to kiss me”. I moved my head to be next to hers and kissed her lips. “No Charlotte, I want you to kiss me and suc-kle me down there” she said pointing between her legs. I moved down in my cot until I was over the selected spot and kissed and stimulated her with all my might. She came in wave after wave of convulsive spasms as she climaxed again and again. She held my head tight to her, massaging my head through the soft fleece of my bunny hood. I was in a heady euphoria, thrilled that the person I loved with every fibre of my body was in a heaven of my making. She grabbed the ears of my bunny suit and gently pulled me to her breasts, I gently suc-ked on her nipple and let the arms of sleep wash over me, we both fell asleep and next morning I awoke with her breast still in my mouth, savouring the fragrance and warmth of her soft body.
During the night I had wet my nappy without stirring, I never realised that I was doing it, a step that showed my regression to being a baby was going to continue unless I started making some special effort to fight it.
Jane stroked my cheek “you naughty girl, you have made me a bit sore with all your suc-king” she laughed. “and your cheeks are starting to fill out with all the suc-king you do, your cheek muscles are really starting to develop and you are beginning to look like a real little toddler. I love you more and more each day”.
“I’m not a toddler, I am a big boy, not a thtupid baby girl”.
“Well answer me this Charlotte, if you were a big boy would you be wearing a bib covered in dribbles from suc-king your dummy, a wet nappy covered in plastic baby pants, and a bunnykins sleep suit?” she asked with a smile “and would you say the way that you spoke was like a big boy or a baby girl?”
I admitted defeat and Jane put in my dummy which I suc-ked with renewed vigour. “Come on baby, let us get you some breakfast” she said “I will change you after breakfast”. I tried to stand, but my legs seemed as weak as ever and I fell to my knees on the thickly carpeted floor, hitting my padded bottom with a bump. I moved onto my knees and followed Jane into the kitchen looking like a pregnant bunny, I spotted my reflection in the mirror as I crawled. A big moon-faced baby with enlarged cheeks from all the weeks of continual suc-king, with a huge nappy under a ridiculous sleeper.
“Up into your chair baby” ordered Jane helping me to climb up, which was a huge effort for both of us. “I have asked cook to make us some cereal and a boiled egg”. I was starving and could hardly wait. Jane clipped me into the harness that was connected to the high chair
“Thank you Mummy” I squeaked. A lady dressed in a huge white apron came into the room pushing a trolley with the makings of a sumptuous breakfast. My mouth watered at the sight of it all. I waved my arms up and down with excitement (why was I doing that?) Wearing my bunnykins sleeper with fitted mittens I could not handle a spoon, so Jane poured out some cereal, added the milk and then started to load a spoon. I was not too thrilled about being fed, but I still had on my bib and Jane was at the ready, so I opened my mouth. The food went in but my tongue did not work very well and a large quantity seemed to find its way out again, which Jane scraped up with the spoon and fed back in again.
Having finished the cereal I was then fed an egg and toast fingers. My bib was used for its purpose and I was covered in splatters of cereal, egg and toast. My mouth was coated in a good coating of Marmite which Jane gently washed off with a damp flannel. “You sit here baby, while I get dressed. You can play with this.” She handed me a baby’s rattle which was not what I wanted and as I was just starting to grumble the dummy appeared as if by magic and went to silence my protest.
Looking through the dining room door, I could just see Jane putting on her bra and silk underwear. I instinctively rubbed the front of my sleeper suit with my mitten covered hand and began to strain to fill my nappy. I shook the rattle in frustration and kicked my legs as I desperately tried to stir some life into my almost dormant winkle. In the mirror I could see myself going red in the face behind my dummy as I tried desperately to fill my nappy.
“I know what you are doing in there!” said Jane grinning more than the Cheshire cat, as she looked back at the mirror to see my reflection. “You are such a good girl to go in your nappy and I did tell you that you would enjoy using your nappy much more than your potty. Anyway, your potty has been stored away and I do not think you are going to need it for a very long time. Come on baby shake your rattle some more for Mummy and see if you can go in your nappy like a good girl. That’s it! I can see you are nearly there.” She rubbed her breast in a sensual way, “want some titty baby, want to have another suc-ky on Mummy?” she teased.
I looked at the arousing sight of Jane changing into her underwear and was captivated by her teasing. I continued to strain as the weeks of subliminal programming brought me more and more pleasure. It was a real effort sitting in a thick nappy and trying at the same time to go potty. My efforts were rewarded and the joy of messing another nappy brought the feelings of euphoria even though my limp pen-is was only being treated to another warm wash with my wetting.
“Somebody has been a stinky baby” said Jane coming in wearing nothing but her lacy underwear “I will get nurse to sort you out.” She grinned at me with my big red face and knew full well that her erotic display of dressing had been the reason for my performance. She also knew that the more I indulged in the delights of babyhood, the more impossible it was going to be for me to put up any resistance. The infantile performance in my nappy was also confirmation that my pleasure was less to do with sex and more to do with the pleasure of going in my nappy like a baby. I suc-ked on my dummy and gave my rattle a little shake. Every day the desire to be released from the imprisonment of my nappies seemed less urgent as I mentally began to accept my situation.
“And after we have you straightened out little stinker, we are going to have some more fun”
What next I thought, haven’t I been through enough?
End part 11
-
I was dressed in a pair of shorts made of pink denim with a bib that had straps crossing over at the back and fixed on the waistband behind and out of my reach. Underneath I was wearing a white cotton vest with a line of buttons along the shoulder, presumably so my head would not get caught putting it on and off.
I was still wearing a terry nappy with a muslin liner to take the pressure off my nappy rash and it just made the whole outfit bulge at the seams. The nappy was so big that the white plastic pants had forced their way out of the leg openings of the shorts threatening to force the snaps at the crotch to pop open. I had a thick white terry bib tied around my neck and today’s embroidered animal was a frog, I was relieved to see that I was no longer number 7, but ‘Baby Charlotte loves her Mummy’.
Today I decided that I was going to work hard to retrieve my toilet training, because without control I was never to going to make it outside of the clinic. I planned to find some grown up clothes and a place to hide them in. I was still going to have to use my nappies, because with my hands in mittens I was never going to be able to do anything else, but I was going to make any wetting deliberate and try to hang on for as long as I could. I was going to re-learn how to take control, but it was going to be difficult. Unlike a toddler undergoing potty training and running around with no protection or with terry towelling training pants which would show or lead to an immediate recognition of an accident and feel uncomfortable very quickly, I was enveloped in a pure soft heaven that promised only total reliance on being incontinent.
My biggest problem was the lack of shoes, because with my lack of leg strength I was now put in soft woolly booties all the time. I decided to try and do muscle building exercises to get my strength back, but I would have to train in private whenever I could. As for my dummy dependence, I decided that I could work on that later, my speech seemed a major problem but I was sure that with a good surgeon I could be restored eventually.
Jane and Dr McClean interrupted my thoughts as I sat in my playpen. “Come on Charlotte we are going with Dr McClean to see some pretty pictures and listen to some music. You really will like it and it is the newest part of the clinic.”
Once again that dreadful insecurity came over me and I felt myself starting to dribble in my nappy. I suc-ked hard on my dummy to try and stop the flow and was rewarded with a modic-um of success. I smiled to myself, this was the first step to the road of recovery.
Jane fitted my reins and I set off on my knees to the lift. We all got in and descended to a low floor. The room we entered from the lift was dark, spotlights punctured the ceiling like stars in a night sky. We went into a large room with a semi-circular screen and sound surround speakers. At the focus of the semi-circle was a padded chair (it looked like a car seat to be honest).
“Get in Charlotte” said Dr McClean “and we will start the show for you”. I climbed into the chair and Jane pulled a fairground type restraint over my shoulders to keep me in place. My hands were held on the arms by Velcro straps which Jane gently applied. The headrest of the chair had two flaps that bent at right angles and held my head firmly in place. I was growing alarmed again and any decision I had made to stay dry was quickly forgotten as I wet my nappy.
“You have been a very good baby girl Charlotte, but your mind is that of an adult full of long words and complex concepts which we want to take away”, said the doctor. “This is the dangerous part of the procedure where we have made mistakes in the past and this new facility was added to the clinic to evaluate new and hopefully safer techniques”.
A bonnet with a pair of fitted headphones and mass of neural detectors was placed on my head and securely strapped into place under my chin. Doctor McClean took some special goggles and placed them over my eyes. “These monitor eye movements and tell us what you are looking at in the picture, they also tell us whether you are awake or asleep! I am now going to fit a series of electrodes to you to measure your well-being. Everything you do will be monitored and fed into a computer and the programme you see will be monitored and determined by the results of your feedback”.
As if by magic she produced a hypodermic and shot it into his arm “to make you think straight sweetheart, a psychotic drug to muddle your mind without destroying it. I hope” she said.
The screen lit up with pictures of toddlers, the speech was infantile, a question was asked, I mouthed the answer around my dummy and was rewarded by a massive jolt of neural pain. Another toddler asked a question, I answered and was rewarded by stronger neural stimulation that made me gasp. Another toddler asked a question in broken English and again I mouthed an answer, but this time in infantile syntax and poorly structured grammar. My reply was rewarded with pleasure, neural stimulation that produced endorphins, the endorphins triggered happiness and I wet my nappy smiling and laughing. I was shown things like computers, cars, mobile phones and other technology – recognition resulted in pain, neural stimulation that threatened to tear the very heart out of my mind. I quickly learned to put such things out of my mind, to forget the words, to forget the names. Baby things brought me huge pleasure, my nappy, my dummy, my bib, my bottle, dolly, teddy, baby blanket all were allowed in my vocabulary. Every time I saw these objects I answered the question and would receive pleasure. It got to the stage where my mind made the association between those things allowed and those things forbidden. A fountain pen was shown and I shook my head, “no, no no” I mouthed in absolute terror of the object “don’t know, not baby thing I mouthed”. Torrents of neural pleasure fired into my bonnet, words of encouragement flowed through the headphones. The process continued for hours and hours, the drugs were replaced at regular intervals and slowly but surely my mind was altered to do their bidding.
Eventually the toddlers came back and spoke as they had at the beginning, they asked me inane questions to which I babbled replies behind my dummy in broken short sentences “me good baba, me do poopy nappy, me go wee wee”, Jane and Dr McClean looked on in triumph, the first part of the process seemed to have been a total success.
“You will have to talk to her only in baby talk Jane, there can be no adult conversation from now on and you must reinforce her new learning with total commitment” said the doctor. “She is going to be confused and require praise whenever she gets the words right and you must ignore her whenever she uses an adult word, we have tried to cut down the number of words she uses to less than two hundred and that is a massive loss. Her world is now very pictorial and she will try hard to remember her words, but when she does remember she will associate that memory with pain and hopefully quickly put it out of her mind again”.
The lights in the cinema went up, I grinned at Jane and the nasty lady (what was she called? OOOh pain, think of something else, Mummy good) as I suc-ked on my dum dum. I knew there was something I was supposed to do, but it made my head hurt so I thought about my nappy and as if by magic I wet it with no thoughts at all. “Me go wee wee in my nappy” I babbled with my squeaky little voice.
“She’s perfect” said Jane “Good baby Charlotte, mummy change wet nappy sweetheart?”
“She will have to come back Jane, you know that, we have to reinforce this for a long time until it is second nature. She is extremely receptive I must say” said the Doctor in a whisper as I jigged up and down in my seat waving my arms.
My training was almost over, I was reduced to a toddler in an adult body, totally incontinent, totally dependent on Jane for all my needs and not knowing what life had in store for me. I could hardly communicate with the outside world, and what words I had were said in a ridiculous way. The saddest part is that I now thought and enjoyed my life as a toddler.
Jane came in once I had been dressed in my latest outfit which was a pink bubble suit that flared out just beneath my arms and enclosed the bulkiness of my nappy. My bib announced that I was “Test Baby Charlotte” and Jane told me in simple terms “Charlotte test all the new things for Mummy”. I hadn’t a clue what she meant, but I had a dummy in my mouth, a clean soft nappy on and brand new hand knitted soft woollen shawl to cuddle – what could be better in a new job?
End part 12
-
Chapter TWO
Sheila and her outworkers
We leave Charlotte for the time being, as she settles in with Jane and we go to Sheila, who you may remember was one of the outworkers who made for Baby Dreams and had two children Darren who was 18 months old and Simon who was nearly four. She claimed that her husband had beaten her and the children and subsequently left them. This was nothing like the truth as we will see.
It was about two years ago that things went bad. Sheila had two daughters from her first marriage who were 13 and 15 years old. She also had another son called David from that marriage who was now 12. Her first husband had been killed in a rather gruesome car crash, but had left his family well-provided with a generous insurance policy. The four of them had lived together and Sheila would say that it was a sad day when Richard had drifted into their lives ten years ago. Although to be fair he came at a time when she was lonely with three children still in nappies and a social life that resembled that of a live-in nanny.
Within a year Richard and Sheila were expecting another baby (Michael) and it was this news that triggered the start of the problems. Richard had been dipping into Sheila’s savings and spent too much time drinking and little time helping around the house. They battled on for the sake of the child and over the next years Michael (now 10), Sam (8), Freddie (6), Simon (4) and Darrren (1) came at regular intervals.
Sheila resented her partner and the way in which he was destroying her life and spending the last of her precious resources. Although she loved her children, she began to tire of the loutish behaviour of her children, especially the boys, who were ganging up on her and her daughters.
Her fast task was to tackle her unruly mate and to start the plan that she had formulated in her mind. She also had plans for all of her boys and knew that her daughters would be more than happy to be her willing assistants. She decided that neither Simon nor Darren were going to be potty trained and would remain nappy dependant for the rest of their lives. The other boys would be regressed in time.
She met Mary, Jane and Anne through her nursing association, as she herself had been a specialist geriatric nurse before she started producing her tribe of children. The idea of working from home suited her and the house she owned was a substantial property which her first husband had picked up at a snip as an estate agent. It had seven bedrooms, a substantial cellar and a large barn outside, which they had subsequently converted to a work shop and storage facility. The huge bolts of terry towelling came in each month along with satin ribbon, cotton thread and labels.
In the barn was a line of 10 sewing machines tow of which were being operated by Michael and Sam, who nimbly were sewing around the squares of terry towelling to make nappies. Jenny the eldest daughter was folding the finished nappies in packs of six and using the wrapping machine that fed the bundles into the shrink-wrap tunnel. Freddie who was still very young was sitting in a giant high chair sticking the labels on the finished packs of nappies as they went past his tray on a conveyor belt. Julia the last and younger daughter was packing the finished packs into the cardboard transit cartons and sealing them.
Phyllis who was a retired teacher came in to give the boys their education at 6.00 each morning and they worked at their lessons until midday before they started their factory jobs. They had lessons every day of the week and worked every day of the week until 6.00 at night. It was a long and arduous day, but they never complained.
But I digress. Richard came home from the pub one day much the worse for drink and crashed out on the couch having delivered his stream of unpleasant and offensive abuse. He had also gone to strike Sheila, before she had slugged him with a right cross and he had collapsed backwards onto the couch. The two girls appeared to comfort their mother, having seen this behaviour so many times and also seen the awful distress it caused. Sheila sprang into action.
“Get him stripped off girls” she barked “get all those clothes off him and throw them in this plastic bin liner”. The girls winced at the soiling in the underpants which were damp, and at the state of his shirt which smelt of beer and cigars. Sheila went out of the room and reappeared carrying a hypodermic needle charged with a pale amber liquid, which she injected into the arm of her rec-umbent partner. He groaned briefly and then slumped back. Sheila went back to the chest of drawers and pulled out a polythene sterile packet.
“What is that Mum” asked Julia, not recognising the contents.
“It is an in-dwelling catheter darling” smiled Sheila “and it is at least one size too big. This rotten excuse for a man is going to have a permanent catheter installed and despite the need to replace it every month I am going to let it stay in for a lot longer and increase the size at each replacement”.
“Why do that Mum?” asked Jenny “won’t he be peeing himself all the time with that fitted?”
“Exactly!” said Sheila laughing “so who wants to go to the pub unable to stop piddling the whole time. The beauty is that by leaving a catheter in for a long period of time and not being too careful with his hygiene that there is a good chance he will suffer protein build up. This might well lead to painful infections, more protein build up and by changing to the larger sizes we might well cause some permanent damage as well. Now go and get me a large adult nappy and a pair of plastic pants Julia, Jenny you go and get me one of those large size pyjamas that we do for the nursing home in the Wincyette fabric.
All dressed up in his new finery, the three girls man-handled him down into the cellar, which unbeknown to Richard had been sound-proofed and secured with a stout lockable cell door. The room was carpeted in pink and had pink walls. Against the wall was a large white cot complete with a safety harness. Richard was unceremoniously bundled into the cot and secured using the straps that were bolted to the underside. His hands and ankles were handcuffed to the rails of his new bed and
as a finishing touch Sheila pinched his nose and forced a huge rubber nipple into his mouth, which she secured with two giant rubber straps that she fastened behind his head. Into this dummy-gag she fitted a length of rubber tuning which she connected to a bag of pink juice hanging from a plasma stand. The juice started to flow as she released the clip and Richard was forced to swallow as the juice flowed into his mouth.
Julia pointed at the front of his plastic pants “he is wet already” she said “does he have no control?”
“None at all” gloated Sheila, “he is going to dribble continuously. Now let us set up the television”. The set was set behind a polycarbonate screen and virtually bullet-proof, the speakers were set in armoured recesses in the ceiling and the controls were in Sheila’s office. The CCTV completed the equipment in the room and ran to the monitor that showed as a small screen on Sheila’s computer.
“This is not going to be a very happy bunny” said Jenny “he is going to go ballistic when he come round”.
“If he misbehaves he stays wet” said Sheila as a matter of fact “I will allow him to use a potty for some of his eliminations and we will set a routine for that. In the meantime he will have 24 hour telly running non-stop with Care Bears, the Teletubbies, Barney and other childish series running the whole time. With any luck I will drive him mad, this is just the beginning….”
End part 13
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Richard woke up soaking wet, he had drunk two litres of cranberry juice and had a filthy hangover. Every muscle in his body ached from the restriction placed on his limbs by the straps and shackles. Some idiotic kids programme blared away in the background, it had been droning on all night and was now causing him mental anguish. He tried to call out, but the large rubber teat in his mouth prevented any speech “Nnnnng” he groaned aloud “NNNNG”.
Sheila was at her desk working and saw that Richard was awake. The rest of her children were having their morning lessons with Phyllis who was doing science with them. She picked up the large key to his cell and went downstairs.
“Morning Richard, how are we today? asked Sheila “nice and wet?” She went over to him and undid the straps behind his head and removed the feeding teat. She was pleased to see that his face was red and sore from the close contact of the rubber guard and could not help smiling when she saw that it had left an imprint of its shape on his face.
“What the hell are you doing to me? What is happening to me?” he pleaded.
“You are fitted with a catheter at the moment Richard. I am going to physically damage your bladder and all the muscles that control it, so that in three months you will almost certainly be incontinent and remain so for always. I am going to make sure that you work in the family business and pay your way. You are going to repay every single penny that you have taken from me and then squandered”.
“You’re bloody mad, do you think that I am going to take this lying down? I will rip this thing out of me, I will tear your head off” he stuttered to a halt “I will…..”, He stopped as he took stock of his situation and realised the futility of his present position.”
“I’ll go then” said Sheila “you seem so happy with your position and don’t seem at all bothered with being soaking wet. What are you going to do when you need to take a dump?” She made a move towards the door.
“Don’t go, please don’t go Sheila” begged Richard “I am so uncomfortable”.
“Why?” retorted Sheila
“Because I am wet” replied Richard
“What have you wet Richard” asked Sheila, leading him to the truth of his situation
“I have wet this nappy” he cringed.
“Sorry?” barked Sheila
“I have WET MY NAPPY” he admitted in defeat
“And who wets a nappy?” she probed
“A baby wets their nappy” he sobbed, as Sheila looked at him for more submission “I have wet my nappy like a baby, alright I AM A BABY WHO HAS WET HIS NAPPY, What do you want of me?” he screamed.
“I want to change you, but I must have your word that you are going to behave and not do anything we might both regret”.
Richard nodded with a look of defeat.
Sheila went to a cupboard in the room and took out a rod which had a wrist strap and slipped it over hand. She undid all the straps and cuffs and told him to stand up. He lunged towards her, but with a reflex reaction she touched him with the rod. A sharp crackle of electricity coursed through him as the stun stick hit him with a thousand volts of low amps current. He froze in spasm and fell to the floor twitching. “So much for your word” she growled “now get up”.
After a few minutes he had managed to regain muscular control and gingerly stood up. She stripped him of his plastic pants and sopping nappy which she threw into a bright yellow nappy bucket that stood by his cot. His catheter was continually dripping.
She spread a clean nappy onto the cot mattress that was protected by a large blue crackling plastic sheet over which was a cloth sheet covered in small teddies. It was more than a little damp, but after his broken word she decided that he would have to suffer the discomfort. “I am going to get your potty out, do you want to go? I will not be getting it out for another 24 hours so make up your mind. You will have half an hour and all the time you sit on your potty you have to suc-k this dummy” she said digging a new dummy out of her pocket.
“Okay” he said
“Unacceptable speech” she barked “I want to hear a very different tone, or else the offer is withdrawn. Let me hear baby beg for his potty”.
Richard thought hard for a few seconds as he weighed up his options, his face was a picture as he realised that he had no choices whatsoever. “Baby want his potty please Nanny, please let baby have his potty to do a poo poo”. Whether by bad luck or judgement his bowels suddenly sent an urgent signal to him, “pleeeease Nanny, baby need his potty quickly” and he started to jiggle up and down as nature started to take its course.
Sheila got the large yellow potty out of the cupboard and he dived to sit on it . “Not so fast baby, what about your dummy”.
“I want my dummy Nanny, I really want to suc-k my dummy, please, please I am begging you” he implored. She put the dummy into his eager mouth and he clamped his lips around the teat desperate to sit on his potty. The splash guard fit tightly between his legs, the end of the catheter just protruding and scraping along the front of the plastic making a scratching sound. He let everything go, his face a picture of relief. She passed him some toilet paper and he wiped himself.
“Stand up and lie on your cot” she ordered “then I will put you in a clean nappy”. Sheila did not apply any cream or powder, nor did she even bother to wash him and was delighted to see that he had a very red rash beginning to appear even after the very short time she had started his treatment. The nappy she put on him was new, but she lined it with an old nappy that had seen service for most of her other siblings. It was highly absorbent but as soft as sand paper, the fabric had become crushed and rough. Richard grimaced as the pins were attached. She picked up the old plastic pants which already smelt of stale pee and pulled them up his legs over the nappy. The elastic was still wet and clammy from his previous wetting and Richard certainly had the smell of urine about him and did not smell at all like a baby.
End part 14
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“Lie back, Richard”, she said to him “I have to restrain you until you learn to behave properly”. She refastened him at all the anchor points and was delighted to see that he had kept in his dummy, even though he had used his potty. “Dummy out, please.” She took his dummy and put it by his head in the cot. “Time for your breakfast” she explained as she strapped his feeding gag dummy into place. Richard’s eyes pleaded with her not to attach the tubing, but Sheila was not going to have any of it and hooked up a huge bag of red juice. She went over to the cupboard and took out a syringe and medicinal phial from which she took a 20ml sample. She came over to the bag and injected it into the top of the bag. Richard’s eyes were full of terror.
“NNNG, NNNNGO” he tried to scream, he struggled against his bindings and shackles as Sheila looked down on him with glee.
“You are going to be wide awake and your senses are going to be tuned to fever pitch all day and most of the night. You are going to feel every dribble of piss that goes in your nappy, every sore patch on your bottom is going to hurt like hell, and light and sound will become agony to your senses, Do you like your baby programmes because I am going to put them back on as soon as I get back to the office and because you are only wearing a nappy I am going to crank up the heat to keep you nice and warm. Enjoy your amphetamine and ecstasy mix!”
True to her word Sheila put the heating in the room up to 27ºC and it became hotter than tropical Africa. She watched thrilled as the heat made Richard thirstier and thirstier and the drugs also added to his parching thirst. He drank and drank his juice and in no time his nappy was clearly very wet, and Richard was very wet with sweat, very wet from his saturated nappy leaking out over the already damp sheet that seemed to radiate heat from the underlying plastic sheet. The Teletubbies was going at full sound, his nappy rash was total agony and he screamed out, only to nearly drown in cranberry juice.
It was a very compliant Richard that greeted Sheila when she went into the cell just as he suc-ked down the last drop of juice. Once again she took the prod out of the cupboard and slipped it on her wrist. She then undid all of her partner’s restraints and took out the feeding gag.
Richard was buzzing with an adrenaline rush and drug induced euphoria. His senses screamed out in pain. He was a total mess both physically and mentally. His face was red and sore from the close tightness of the feeding dummy, his neck and chest wet and sticky with the juice that he had dribbled. He was so wet that he was swimming in the drainage from his catheter. “I am begging you Sheila, let me out, let me go, I promise I will do anything”.
“Unacceptable talk” said Sheila her gaze hard and unyielding
Richard ran back through his memories of this awful ordeal “Me be good baby, Nanny”
“Much better, you are beginning to see where you fit in to all of this” said Sheila “Come on, jump up and let us change you again”.
Richard got up out of his cot, his skin was red from lying in the damp and when Sheila dropped his soggy nappy she was almost shocked by how his nappy rash had flared up, but sorrow was not quite in her heart yet. She stripped the wet sheet off his mattress and roughly dried off the plastic protective undersheet. She put a soft flannelette sheet on his cot and told him to lie on a fresh clean nappy and once again she lined it with two of the old sibling nappies which were horribly scratchy (so bad in fact that she had rejected them as dusters or floor cloths). Once again she pulled the old plastic pants over his nappy and the smell was beginning to become over-powering.
Julia came into the cell carrying a bowl of mush made from fresh vegetables and mince mixed up with mashed potatoes. Sheila tied a plain white terry bib round his neck. It was actually a delicious meal, the catch was that he was not going to be given any eating irons with which to eat it. He took the bowl between his hands and ate it from the plate like a dog. His bib took a bit of a pounding, but he was so hungry that he licked the spillage off with relish.
She reattached him to all of his restraints and hung another swollen bag of juice on the drip stand, once again she injected a full dose of stimulants to the bag. The desperation in his eyes was pitiful, even daughter Julia was clearly upset at his treatment.
“Mum?” she entreated “does it hade to be quite so cruel?
“Trust me darling it is for Richard’s own good. He will be much happier if he is a good baby boy tomorrow” said Sheila looking deeply into his eyes. “If he behaves exactly as I want, then I will let him out of his restraints and I might even turn down the heat and treat him like a proper baby. If he is really good then I might even turn off the television.”
Richard nodded his head vigorously, his eyes pleading from behind his feeding dummy which continued to dribble down onto his grubby bib as he gulped down the liquid in increasing quantities. His nappy although it was many thicknesses of cloth was already showing yellow through the transparent plastic pants.
They left the room, Sheila cranked up the heat and turned up the television, which was showing Teletubbies for the umpteenth time that day. Richard started screaming and choking at about 3.30 in the early hours of the morning, he was on the verge of going mad with the pain, the noise, the heat, the discomfort and restrictions placed on his body.
Even Sheila realised that he had reached his peak and entered the cell. She removed the dummy feeder and was shocked at the state of his red raw lips and sore face which had been irritated by the acidity of the cranberry juice.
“Nanna, me good baby, want my dum dum, nappy baby nanny”. He was crying in pain and misery and even Sheila could not help but feel compassion. She released him, deciding that she had done enough for the time being. As she removed his soaking nappy she was amazed at the rapidity his nappy rash had developed from angry redness to skin that was broken and severely ulcerated and blistered. His pen-is was so raw that it had swollen to such an extent that removal of the catheter was quite impossible.
End part 15
No more parts for ten days - as I am away (SORRY)
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She stripped him and his bed and with the prod on her wrist escorted him to the bathroom where she ran a lukewarm bath. His agony was obvious, he screamed in pain when the water touched his skin, he was almost like a burn victim. She gently cleansed him with a soft natural sponge, cleaning his hair and washing him from top to bottom. She patted him dry with the newest and softest towel they owned and led him back to his clean cot. She pulled a soft shawl knitted from the softest wool and put it in his cot.
“Lie down” she said gently “I will be as kind as I can, but this may hurt a little. She cut away his hair using an electric razor and applied a cooling nappy cream to his bottom. “This hair had to come off otherwise it would have caused possible infection”. She dusted him with baby powder.
“Me good baby” he said with tears in his eyes.
“I hope so” she said “I don’t want to have to do that again to you”
She pulled out a brand new nappy of the softest and finest quality and lined it with a soft conditioner washed muslin liner, which she pulled gently between his legs and fasted with two large pink nappy pins taken from between her lips. “Nice new plastic panties, these are two sizes too big for you, but they will allow you to be more comfortable.
She then dressed him in a long white cotton nightie which she had worn when she was pregnant and helped him lie back in this cot. She applied a soothing salve with hydrocortisone to his lips which made him draw back and wince in pain. Then gently stroking his hair she pulled the new large shawl over him and then a cellular white blanket.
He grabbed the edge of the shawl and held it to his ear and wrapped his fingers around the dummy she had left near his pillow and put it in his mouth. The drugs seemed to have worn off and the arms of the sandman beckoned. In seconds he was asleep, dummy in mouth and she noticed the start of a gentle suc-king motion.
It took a few months and a couple of catheter changes to ever larger sizes when the day of reckoning arrived.
Sheila entered the cell to the ever docile Richard, who had entered into the spirit of the event and was a compliant baby always willing to please and never a word out of place.
Sheila came to perform the regular change but on this occasion she removed the in-dwelling catheter and threw Richard a pair of boxer shorts. A quick examination of the catheter showed white fatty deposits along its length and mineral encrustation, it looked very unhealthy and more than enough to strike fear into the most experienced of urologists.
“You have done your time Richard and your punishment is over. I expect nothing but respect from you and who knows I might even get to love you again. You have been a wonderful baby and I don’t think I have ever loved you more. Caring for you as an infant was a thrill for me” she reflected. “Your trousers and a clean shirt are in that bag, socks are in there as well I think”.
Richard slowly started to dress pulling on his boxer shorts and then his shirt and trousers. As he reached down to pull on his socks he felt a dribble of wetness enter his pants. He looked shocked, and had a brief look of horror that did not go unnoticed by Sheila. He pretended that nothing had happened and made for the toilet. He clenched as hard as he could but the damage done to his urinary tract meant that total closure was impossible. He felt a shooting pain and his bladder released in spasm, he estimated that the total discharge amounted to less than a 100ml, less than half a tea cup full. He was frightened and suc-ked on the dummy that he had forgotten to take out of his mouth. He assured himself that it was just the bladder adjusting to being catheter free. He had no sooner joined Sheila in the kitchen when he felt the urgent need to go back to the toilet. He shot back to the loo. “I thought you had just been” shouted Sheila to the rapidly disappearing back of Richard “is everything alright?”
“Just adjusting to being without the catheter I guess” said Richard not sounding convincing “I keep getting the urge to go.”
He returned after depositing less that half a cup in the bowel, the cistern had not even had the chance to refill. Sheila was standing in the kitchen with the potty in her hand. “Sit on this Richard and learn to feel you bladder again for an hour”. Take off your trousers and pants and let me have them, you can sit here in the kitchen and keep me company. Richard did as he was told as Sheila noticed with a smirk that his pants were very damp indeed.
He found that he could only hold his water for about 15 to 20 minutes before he had to tinkle into his potty, despite his best clenching. Sheila pretended to be sympathetic. “You have been sitting there for more than an hour Richard and it is lunch time now. Why don’t you put these absorbent pants on, at least they will give you enough time to go to the loo”. “Do you want to suc-k your dummy?” she asked. Richard recoiled in amazement, he had not realised that he was still suc-king his soother. He took it out and handed it to Sheila. “It has stopped you smoking, do you want to hang on to it and suc-k it when you have an urge to smoke?” she suggested. Richard felt relief and gratefully accepted back his old friend.
Richard put out his hand as was disappointed to see that the pants were made of thick terry towelling material and covered by an integral pair of plastic pants. He saw the wisdom of the solution and slipped them on. After more than three months in nappies his brain saw nothing wrong in wetting into the soft towelling material and he let the half cupful trickle out of him. He barely noticed that he had wet himself, but Sheila was very quick to point out the yellow towelling beneath the plastic pants. “Richard, you have wet yourself baby” she said with compassion “take those wet trainers off and put these clean ones on, but I don’t have any more, so try and be careful this time”. Richard was clearly embarrassed as he pulled on a second pair of overgrown toddler pants.
Within half an hour he had leaked into his pants again and Sheila said “I have no more training pants Richard, I am going to have to put you back in nappies”. Let’s go and sort you out.
End part 16
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Part 17
He went to his new room which now had a changing table complete with his special cot. A large stack of clean nappies was placed on a chest of drawers, which he could see contained plastic pants, nappy pins, and all the paraphernalia associated with a young infant.
She stripped off his trainer pants which were very wet indeed, the terry towelling lining was almost saturated from his lack of control. “Oh dear baby, you really do need to have a nappy on until you regain your control. I will have to use a double thickness of nappies on you” she said smiling. “Jump up and let me get you sorted”.
Richard hauled himself up onto his changing mat and Sheila cleaned him off with a number of baby wipes. “Lift up, so I can get this nappy under you” she commanded. Richard having dusted him with a cloud of baby powder, he was now quite used to this treatment complied without complaint, already he could feel himself under pressure and as Sheila pulled the thick wedge of nappies between his legs she noticed with satisfaction that he was already starting to dribble, as the muscles in his bladder fought a battle that could never be won. She took hold of a voluminous pair of clear transparent plastic pants and taking each foot threaded them into the leg opening. She slid them up his legs and without asking he lifted his bottom as she snapped them around his waist with a resounding snapping ping. She then adjusted his nappy making sure that everything was safely in the confines of his plastic pants. They were more than large enough to encompass the huge bulk of terry towelling.
Sheila then went to the cupboard and from a shelf took a large pair of pale pink shorts. “I am afraid that none of your clothes will fit over your nappy, so I managed to find you a pair of shorts that should fit” she informed him (in fact they had been made by one of her outworkers). As she threaded these up his legs she noticed that a yellow spot had already started to build in his clean nappy and was clearly visible through his transparent pants. The shorts were not at all adequate to cover his nappy and a three inch band of plastic pants and white nappy showed above the waist band and another wedge of transparent plastic covered nappy peaked out from each leg opening. Richard started to moan and Sheila reached into a drawer in the chest and pulled out an enormous pink dummy which she pressed firmly against his lips. Richard accepted the offered nipple and almost immediately began suc-king with a furious passion.
“Stand up” she said “let us put on a top, or else you will get cold”. She said pulling out a pale pink t-shirt with a line of buttons along the shoulder. The new top just came down to the place at which his protruding nappy was exposed over the shorts. “Lovely” she said “you look really sweet and smell lovely and clean, just like fresh baked bread”. Richard had to admit that his smell was exactly as he remembered his children when they had been babies, baby powder and the smell of fresh pee that seemed to be a permanent part of his skin odour.
The nappy was so thick and bulky, that when he stood up his legs were placed wide apart and he could not bring his legs together at all and maintaining balance was difficult to the point of being impossible. He wobbled and despite clutching for his changing table plopped to the floor and sat down with a thump on his thickly padded bottom. Sheila laughed and while he was sitting on the floor placed a thick pair of woollen booties on his feet and secured them with the pink ribbons at the ankles. “There, that will keep your tootsies nice and warm baby”.
As he suc-ked on his dummy, Richard realised with horror that he had flooded his nappy already and he barely realised that he had done it. The nappy was so warm and soft, so comforting, so much a part of him, that the first he realised that he had wet himself was when he felt the warmth creep between his legs and start to wick up at the seat of his nappy. Sheila, however, was in no doubt, she had heard the characteristic noise of his wetting hitting the fabric of the nappy with some force. She could also see that the nappy not covered by his pink towelling shorts was already showing a yellow stain. She chose to ignore it, the nappy was good for many more wetting before he would need changing again.
“Come on” said Sheila “you have work to do” and she led him into the office where he noticed a new desk had been installed with a pink computer and lots of babyish accessories placed on top. There was a picture of him in his baby clothes and a bottle warmer for his breaks. A plastic box was on the desk with a pair of spare dummies inside and a neatly folded bib on the back of his pink chair. Sheila took the bib and tied it round his neck. “We don’t want you spoiling your clothes with your dribbles baby”.
“I don’t dribble” he mumbled through his dummy and realised that he had in fact been dribbling profusely since he had started suc-king on his dummy and his chin and neck were already starting to feel quite wet. “what am I supposed to do here?” he asked.
“You are the accountant baby and I want you to keep the books. I know you can do that for me, can’t you?” she asked. “In return I will keep you clean and dry and we will keep your problem a secret until you get better”.
The shock of this statement made Richard realise that he was wetting his nappy again. He clenched hard to try and stop the flow, but the flow was unrelenting as another wetting was absorbed by his nappy. The front of the nappy now clung to him with its clammy warmth. He felt a wave of depression wash over him, which Sheila noticed with delight. His path to babyish lack of control was showing no signs of improvement and if anything she thought he was becoming less and less able to control his wetting with every minute that passed.
Sheila went through the accounting system as Richard wet his nappy again and again over the hour. Every time he wet his nappy, Sheila noticed that his eyes seemed to glaze slightly and the rate at which his dummy oscillated in and out seemed to increase. After the hour Richard did not even notice when he had wet his nappy and suc-king his dummy seemed second nature, and he never seemed to notice that he had it in his mouth.
Sheila brought in a bottle of cold cranberry juice, Richard did not even complain that it was not in a proper glass, he seemed to have given up altogether and accepted whatever Sheila threw at him. He suc-ked on the bottle oblivious to the fact that his nappy was receiving another soaking. It was so thick and so wet by now that he could not detect his fresh pee going in. It was after another half an hour that he realised that he had leaked onto his chair and a dark stain was starting to appear from underneath him.
He called out through his dummy “Nnnng, nnnng” he shouted. Sheila came in and saw Richard almost in tears. She looked down to the seat of his chair and saw that it was very wet. His face was wet from his slobbering and even his bib was soaked through.
“Come on baby, let’s get you sorted out” she said compassionately, “stand up”.
As Richard stood up he realised that he had wet his nappies so much that the weight almost dragged them from his hips. The inside of his transparent plastic pants were steaming up from the warmth of the pee. He grabbed himself as the nappies were pulled down by gravity.
Sheila took him back to his changing table and put another two nappies on him, and a clean pair of the transparent plastic pants which she liked immensely as they showed his babyish condition to full effect.
Richard suc-ked his dummy in the total comfort that it brought him. His will was totally broken, he knew in that one day that his bladder was destroyed for ever and he would be nappy-dependant for the rest of his life. He looked at himself in the mirror, a new clean white terry bib, edged in pink gingham and with an embroidered teddy was tied round his neck. His pink dummy bobbed in and out without him thinking. He now wore a white romper suit with pink smocking at the chest. The part below his waist billowed out in a great bubble that accommodated his bulging nappy. Once again, there was a peaking out from the leg holes of white nappy protected by the clear plastic. His feet were encased in white woolly booties with pink ribbons again and pinned to his top was a pink ribbon attached to his dummy. There he stood bow-legged, back in nappies and looking like an overgrown toddler totally reliant on being able to find his dummy at a second’s notice. Sheila looked at him studying himself in the mirror and realised with glee that Richard had accepted completely his return to babyhood. He was almost at the end of his road and she had turned him into a compliant baby who would work for her at no cost and without complaint. Now she needed to tackle the arrogant sons and she knew exactly how she was going to do this.
“Time for bed Richard, it is seven o’clock baby, let’s go!” she said breezily. Richard whose will was now totally broken followed her docilely up to his cot. He climbed into his new bed. There was no need to ask if he had his dummy, it was where she expected it to be - in his mouth.
The nappies were so thick that Richard could not sleep on his side, but slept on his back with his knees wide apart and his feet almost touching. His cot was sunk into the floor like a sunken bath, but the rails came up to full height above the floor. He could not have climbed out even if he had wanted to. Sheila placed a cuddly teddy in his arms and kissed his forehead. Richard was already falling asleep as the sleeping pills in his last bottle kicked in and knocked him out. In his other hand he clutched a brand new nappy to his ear and rubbed it against his cheek as he suc-ked heavily on his dummy. Sheila popped open the poppers at the crutch of his romper suit and peeled back the front. As she did so, Richard wet his nappy as he drifted into sleep and Sheila could not help but smile at the ridiculous sight her husband made in his infantile attire, the wetness spreading across the front of his nappy and downwards between his legs. It was odd how he always suc-ked faster on his dummy when he was going in his nappy she thought. She did up the poppers and wrapped him in his new soft shawl that had been knitted by one of the circle especially for him. She put on a pair of mittens and did them up at the wrists with the pink ribbon ties, replacing his cuddling nappy back in his hand.
She pulled up the side of the cot carefully and it clicked into place. Then she was startled to hear something she never expected, Richard had let out a little grunt and made a number of wriggling movements, he was doing a poo in his nappy and most surprising was that he was fast asleep. This was indeed a remarkable regression into babyhood that she had never expected in her wildest dreams. She had not even laced his food with laxatives or anything to encourage this part of his babyfication.
Sheila decided to leave him as he seemed to have a contented smile on his face and was suc-king on his dummy so beautifully. She could not wait to see his face in the morning when he woke up with the big load sitting in his nappy. A touch of nappy rash was no bad thing and he had to build up a resistance if this was going to be a regular event from now on.
End of part 17
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True to form Richard was standing at the bars of his cot with a very saggy and stinky nappy. He was suc-king his dummy as if it were going to be confiscated at the very next moment. His dignity and self–respect was at an all time low and his spirit was totally broken.
Sheila stripped him off in the bathroom, she had decided that now was as good a time as any to completely remove all of his body hair and covered him with depilatory cream which left him smooth and pink all over. She then gave him a long bath and cleaned him up until he was sweet-smelling once again. Richard said nothing, lying back when he had been dried off and powdered to be put in a double thickness nappy and the clear plastic pants that Sheila liked so much to use. He lifted his arms to have on the baby vest with the buttons across the shoulder. Today she pulled out of the wardrobe a pink high-waisted dress with little puff-sleeves that was highlighted with bright red hearts and lace trim at neck and sleeves. He was so past caring that he lifted his arms and allowed it to be buttoned at the back. She pinned his dummy to the dress and then tied his terry bib with the pink trim around his neck, although it had been freshly laundered and smelt clean and fresh, the bib had some stains that even the most powerful detergents had seemed unable to completely remove. She then took out a pair of pink pants with red hearts and three lines of white lace across the bottom and threaded them over his plastic pants. The pants were woefully small and his nappy and plastic pants poked out of every opening. She then tied on some pink booties with white ribbons and put his hands in some matching mittens. She looked at him with a satisfied smile on her face, his regression had gone a lot better than she could have ever dared. She put her hand on the front of his nappy and started to rub it gently and sensuously. “Come on baby, go in your nappy, be a good boy and go in your nappy” she tempted him with baby talk and was thrilled that he was stiffening and responding to her treatment.
“I’m not a baby” he mumbled through his dummy
“No, of course not darling” she scorned “you go in your nappy and plastic pants like a grown man”.
“I don’t want to be a baby” he wailed
“Look darling” she said while continuing the stimulation “you can be a big grown up man and I can stop, or you can be a baby. How do you want this to go?” The stirrings in his loins was something that he had not experienced since his nightmare regression had begun. He felt the warm soft prison of thirsty nappies about him and could feel the inside of his nappy begin to get slippery with the emissions that were coming from him. The slight fill of his bladder also heightened his feelings of pent up expectation. The continued stimulation from her soft caress on the front of his plastic pants was so good it was irresistible. “Say it” she ordered “what does baby want? What is your biggest dream at this very moment” she demanded as she increased the rate of her rubbing.
He was now suc-king furiously on his dummy and dribbling all over the clean bib. His mind was in turmoil and he wanted to avoid the humiliation, but his pleasure zones told him otherwise. Sheila suddenly stopped and lifted her hands, just as Richard was beginning to climb up the path of ecstasy. He hesitated and then blurted out “I want to be your baby. I want you to make me come in my nappy”.
Sheila looked at him amazed, that he was so eager to descend even further down the road to being a sissified baby. “Tell me more” she demanded “and I will see what I can do”.
“I’m your baby girl and I need to go in my nappy. I want to be your baby, please make me go in my nappy”
Sheila was thrilled with this and resumed her massage on his nappy “You have been a very good baby girl, so go in your nappy for me, you have done a poo, you already wet your nappy all the time, so now lets see what else you can do in your nappy for me. Come on baby, go in your nappy like a good girl”. She rubbed the front of his juvenile panties, the pink cotton sliding back and forth on the shiny clear plastic. “My baby is nearly there isn’t she? Are you going to do a special wetties in your nappy with your tiny little pee-pee? You were never much of a man, but you make a beautiful baby girl don’t you? You can do everything in your nappy from now on, Come on baby, come on baby, you are nearly there aren’t you? You are going to use your nappy aren’t you?” She rubbed furiously, Richard arched his back, helplessly outwitted and manipulated to this humiliating babyish act. “What are you doing baby?, tell me” she instructed
“I am going in my nappy like a good baby, me coming, me coming. I going in my nappy like a good baby girl. I need to be in nappies because I am a baby”. He arched his back as he had the most powerful explosion that he could ever remember. As the wave subsided he realised just how infantile he had been and regretted all that he had said. At that moment as his erection was collapsing, his weakened bladder decided to release and flood his nappy with a new type of wetness.
Sheila held up a video recorder from the shelf on the wall. “All captured on video darling, a video of you dressed up as a great big baby girl begging to come in your nappy and then clearly wetting yourself afterwards. I particularly liked the way you kicked your legs and suc-ked your dummy as you got excited” she laughed. “Come on time for breakfast”
He jumped down from the changing table and made his way into the kitchen. Michael, Sam, Freddie and Simon looked in amazement as their father toddled into the room dressed as a baby girl suc-king his dummy. They were only just used to his need to wear nappies, but did not understand how he had come to that position. They all started to roar with laughter.
Sheila appeared with Darren and put him in his high chair.
“Okay boys, I want you to stop that, your father had a bad time of things and this is his way of coping with life now. I guess you could say that he has had a nervous breakdown. I want the four of your to go up the airing cupboard and bring me down the plastic bags that are in their for each of you” Sheila said.
The boys went up to the airing cupboard unsure what to expect. They opened the door and in place of the normal chaos that this small room normally exhibited. It had now been totally re-shelved and re-organised. Each boy noticed that there was a shelf for each of them, each bearing his name in black on a blue framed label. On each shelf were at least two dozen soft white nappies in neat tall piles. Bibs, plastic pants and all manner of other baby paraphernalia was on each of their shelves. A white plastic bag was on each shelf as well that the boys collected one by one.
They re-grouped downstairs and were confronted by Jenny and Julia their older half-sisters. “Open the packages boys, you are in for a big surprise”.
THE END
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Part 19
Darren sat in his highchair suc-king his dummy looking with great interest at all the commotion that was happening around him. Simon who was four had no idea what the commotion was about and sat in his tall chair. Sheila had never attempted to potty train him and he too suc-ked on his dummy in a rather wet nappy. Their father was in no position to make any comment and said nothing.
Jenny and Julia had put on terry towelling aprons lined in plastic with bib tops that totally protected them. They took Michael, Sam and Freddie into the lounge where three large changing mats had been placed on the floor.
“Open up your parcels boys” ordered Sheila grinning “you are in for the biggest surprise of your lives”. The boys opened the plastic bags that contained their surprises. Each parcel contained a large nappy, a voluminous pair of pink plastic pants, a baby dress in a sweet pastel colour, a matching pair of matching panties lined in delicate white lace, a pair of booties, a pair of mittens, a white woollen sleep bonnet with a small scalloped brim, a bib trimmed in the same ribbon as the dress and a large pink dummy. “lay back on your changing mats and the girls will sort you out” said Sheila her arms crossed in the no nonsense pose that could not be argued with.
Michael started to struggle but Jenny who was his elder and stronger pushed him back with relative ease. She stripped of his clothes with rapidity, throwing his shirt, pants and trousers into a heap in the centre of the room along with his socks. The angry buzz of an electric razor soon made short work of his hair as she shaved him bare. She fitted a comb to the razor and shaved his head to the fuzzy length of a few month old baby. Sheila suc-ked up the hair with a cylinder vacuum fitted with a long hose as the elder sister smoothed her brother with relish. Michael resumed his struggles and started to shout profanities which Jenny silenced by forcing the teat of the dummy in his mouth and fitting a white woollen sleep bonnet to his head which had two straps that came from the back and had a hole in each strap that fitted over the handle of his soother.
“Lift up your bottom Michelle” she commanded Michael as she slipped a large terry nappy under his bottom and inserted a woven liner. “okay drop down” she said as she rubbed a thick white cream over his tingling skin and enveloped him in a cloud of baby powder. “Soon have you done” she said, pulling the thick wedge of nappy up between his legs and pinning it to the two sides with two large safety pins topped with Minnie Mouse. She picked up the plastic pants and shook them to open them out, then putting her hand through the leg opening she grabbed each of his feet and guided them through the leg openings. “Lift up again” she ordered as she gently eased the pink plastic panties over his bulky soft white nappy and let the waist band go with a snap. She spent a little time making sure that the waist of his nappy and the area around each leg was covered by the plastic and then patted the front of his nappy with her hand playfully “baby is all ready for his clothes now.”
The dress she held up was of the palest lemon with a sailor collar in white and lemon trimmed in white lace. The other two brothers had identical dresses but in pale pink and pale green. “Arms up” she said as she slid his arms through the puffed sleeves and secured the zip at the back. The dress seemed to have a tight bodice that ended at the top of his chest and then flowed out into a full skirt that ended on the waist band of his plastic pants. “Stand up” she said “step into your pretty panties”. Michael wobbled as he tried to pull his legs together against the unexpected thickness of his nappy between his legs. He managed to put first one foot and then the other into his frilly pants and Jenny pulled them up over his nappy just as he lost his balance and fell to the floor with a thump, landing on his thickly padded bottom. “Oh dear!” laughed Jenny “never mind, I had to put on your little shoes anyway”, She fit his feet into the white woollen booties and secured them around his ankles with the matching pale lemon ribbons. She then asked “where are your hands, hold them out please” and fitted the matching mittens and secured them to his wrists with the lemon ribbons.
Finally she picked up the terry cotton bib edged in lemon ribbon which made the wide ties and secured it around his neck. The bib was so large that it was almost as long as his dress and ended only an inch or so above the hem of his dress. “Mum” she cried “this bib is far too big, it makes Michelle look almost like a new born baby and almost swamps him.”
Her mother looked at Michael and said “perfect, I think we have chosen very well and I am sure we are not going to have any trouble from these naughty boys any more, especially as our boys are now our baby girls! Get the camera, we have to take some pictures.” Jenny rushed out to find the digital camera, while Julia put the finishing touches to Samantha who made a perfect pink twin to Michelle. Sheila was dressing Freddie, who was only six years old and still wet his bed anyway and so he was not too unused to wearing a nappy, since he always wore a thick night time nappy to protect his mattress from his nightly wettings. His hair was already quite long and Sheila had decided that instead of cutting his hair short, that he would be allowed to grow his hair long and be allowed to look older than his two brothers. He was not given a sleep bonnet, but had a pale green Alice band with a dark green bow on the front to match his dress. In place of booties he was wearing a pair of straight sided soft pale green leather shoes, like the first shoes that might be given to a toddler. However, the inside of these shoes had an inner fitment that bent the feet outwards at a wild angle making walking almost impossible as the legs were forced to be bow-legged.
Jenny came back with the camera. “Stand up everybody” she commanded. Freddie stood up and almost lost his balance as his stance resembled that of a toddler who had only just learnt how to walk. Michael and Sam were in for a nasty surprise, because in the thick woolly sole of their booties was hidden a spring platform that when compressed forced a bed of sharp spines into the souls of their feet. Almost immediately the two older brothers tumbled to the floor sobbing into their dummies as they got to their knees, exposing the layers of ruffles and thickly nappied bottoms. All the girls clapped their hands together and in chorus shouted “they are perfect little girls, how babyish they look, what perfect sissies we have made of them!”.
The boys could not stand in their booties, no matter how hard they tried, as the slightest pressure on the bottom of the soles exposed the sharp spikes. One step was the best either of them managed before they tumbled onto their fat nappied bottoms.
“Look at Michelle and Samantha” cried out Julia “they are really suc-king on their dummies and is that dribble I see on their chins?” The mother and her daughters were delighted and continued their revelry until the sound of the doorbell interrupted their enjoyment.
“It must be Phyllis to give them their lessons” said Sheila “I lost all track of time, and these sissies have not had their breakfast yet. Girls, you go and make up their bottles, while I let Phyllis in.”
Phyllis came into the lounge to see the three children crawling and staggering around on the floor. “And who have we here?” she said in a sickly way reserved for the smallest of children, “do I know these baby girls?”
“Nnng, mo noff baba, mo Mypol”, spluttered Michael trying to articulate past the large dummy in his mouth that was held in tightly by the restraints built into his bonnet.
“You like your dummy baby?” asked Phyllis pretending to try and understand, “yes, it is a very nice pink dummy isn’t it? Can you say ‘nice pink dummy’ sweetheart?” She turned to Sam “and do you like your pretty dress little one?” she asked in the same sweeter than syrup tone.
Sam tried to speak, but the dummy was even more constricting in his mouth and all he could manage was a series of grunts and squeaks. “you can’t talk yet can you baby girl? Never mind, you look so pretty in your lovely dress and so sweet suc-king your dummy. Just as well you have a bib to protect your pretty dress, because you really are a little dribbler, perhaps you are teething?” she continued in a sickeningly sweet tone.
Freddie rushed over to hug Phyllis, he liked the lady who taught him very much and although he had not a clue as to why he was dressed in the way that he was or why he was wearing a nappy. He just wanted a hug with his cuddly ‘auntie’. “Hello sweetheart, I see you have got your dummy back and we only took it away from you a few months ago didn’t we. I see you are back in nappies again full time as well. Well never mind, you look like a beautiful little angel.” Freddie, whose bladder control was poor at the best of times and for whom night time accidents was a daily event, was the first to slip backwards into babyhood. He hugged Phyllis with a big smile on his face and let go of the pressure and he flooded his nappy without really paying it any attention. His nappy sagged visibly on his hips and the pretty pale green panties slipped slightly down with the weight of his wetting.
Sheila looked at her three sissified boys and had only one thought and that was that her first day had been a total success.
End part 19
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A year has past. Charlotte (the delivery man who had undergone horrific experimentation and brain washing at a private clinic) was now a gurgling baby girl who tested all the new products for his boss Jane, who had taken him to her heart.
Anne the Managing Director of Baby Dreams, who was a partner with Jane and Mary had grown the business to new heights with their cheap, high quality products. The various outworker units were hard-pressed to keep up the supply and were requested to expand their cells and attract new members.
One of those cells run by Sheila had co-opted the help of her two daughters Jenny and Julia to help with the babification of first her husband Richard who she destroyed by the use of catheter abuse. She then submitted her three older sons Michael, Sam and Freddie by a regime of nappy therapy and she decided that she would not bother to potty train her two other sons Darren and Simon and avoid the complications of adolescence. Her washing machine was always on the go and her new regiment of nappy dependent and dummy suc-king sissies produced lines full of lovely white nappies and plastic panties fluttering on the line every day it was dry.
We continue with the story (if you have any ideas you would like to be put into this story then please ask and I will weave it into the plot)…….
Sheila’s success quickly spread to neighbours and villages nearby. Baby Dreams was being inundated with requests to become members of their out-workers team. The sight of Sheila displaying her new wealth by driving around in a brand new Mercedes and wearing designer clothes did much to advertise the success of her personal sissy team of baby workers. As a result Sheila had been promoted to Personnel Manager and was in charge of recruiting new members. Clearly the main route to profit was to reduce the cost of labour and to reward hard work with a much needed nappy change.
One lady that Sheila was keen to recruit was Amanda who had recently married Tom. They had returned from their honeymoon only to be greeted by the complete failure of her new husband’s business as a marketing consultant, brought about by his total incompetence and inexperience. Amanda confided in Sheila and admitted that the honeymoon had been a great disappointment. These two young people had taken an old-fashioned vow of chastity and saved themselves for their wedding night. Tom was a huge disappointment, lacking in size, control and stamina. Amanda had had to resort to her vibrating friend in private to achieve any sort of satisfaction.
Their new life was apparently doomed, Tom’s business working from home was a joke, their mortgage repayments were starting to fall into arrears, they were arguing almost continually and their sex life no longer existed. Tom was morose, lacking any sort of drive and a total waste of space, but still Amanda had a soft part in her heart and was desperate to find a solution to their predicament. Her own business plan was to make wedding dresses from a room that she had set up as a sewing room in her extensive loft conversion, but the job was in its infancy and commissions were few and far apart. Sheila had seen some Christening dresses that she had designed and made in glistening white satin, beautifully embroidered and decorated with small white pearls and fine Honiton lace. These dresses came with sweet puffy satin panties trimmed in lace around the legs and in five rows across the bottom. White silk ribbon bows adorned the neck and puffed sleeves. Sheila could not wait to show Baby Dreams and was eager to take Amanda on to the team. It was the simplest task of sewing on so many pearls and trimming that turned the dress from being a profit maker to a loss. Production could be doubled if somebody else could do the monotonous bead and pearl work.
Amanda knew about Sheila’s own operation and how she had reduced her entire family to the status of infantile nappy wetting babies. Sheila explained how she kept all the profits and paid all the domestic bills – there was no need for designer clothes, no expensive computer games or accessories to buy, no wasted money for cigarettes or alcohol. The highlight of their week was a new bonnet, a new bib or a video of the Care Bears; and if they were really good – a new dummy. They all worked together, played together, learned together and were incontinent together – a real close knit family.
The opportunities were quite clear to Amanda, but although she was a very attractive, sensible and quite dominant beauty, she was not cruel and could not hurt Tom, although she was sorely tempted by his recent inadequacies.
Sheila who was eager to recruit her, came up with a plan that would hopefully save their finances, their house and their marriage. Amanda listened with her mouth open and her eyes wide open with the boldness of her scheme.
“You will have to work on him slowly Amanda” said Sheila leaning forward on her elbows as they faced each other across the table with the coffee steaming between them. “I am going to give you the latest tapes from Baby Dreams that we have just developed at the clinic, but first of all we need you both to meet with Dr McClean from the Institute Clinic who developed this external programme. We need to make Tom suggestible to the programme and this would be a softening up process. I am going to give you a very powerful drug that is going to give Tom a very bad night with a fever, vomiting and diarrhoea. You are going to have to call out the doctor to him and this is when we will have our own doctor make the house call, she will say she is a loc-um. After that it should be plain sailing”.
“Could we not just hypnotise him to think he is a baby?” asked Amanda
“We could, but this would be an artificial situation and could be a short term solution. Hypnotism requires an acceptance by the subject of what is being suggested to them. We need to sow a seed in Tom’s mind and then let the events develop and grow in his mind. Charlotte (our delivery man) was given quite an intensive programme and although he has turned out very well, he still needs expensive reinforcement therapy. We have been finding that a gradual and inevitable regression is more likely to be permanent and to become an accepted route by the subject.”
“Tom will not be hurt though will he?” asked Amanda with a look of concern “I don’t want him to experience any pain of abuse”.
“Not at all, the only unpleasant part will be the first night of sickness. We also need you to spend a few days at the clinic to learn some techniques that will make this treatment effective”.
The two women continued to plan their strategy and make some entries in Amanda’s diary. When Sheila left, there was a plan that seemed foolproof and certain.
Amanda attended the course at the clinic and was taught how to implement a series of keywords that would ensure that Tom would be compliant to his new treatment. In order for her not to fall for the subliminal messages herself, she had to be given a mental firewall that would protect her from the treatment she was giving to her husband. She was also supplied with a variety of drugs and medicines that would hasten Tom’s decline in this brand new therapy.
She arrived back at their home and Tom was delighted to have her home again and kissed her fully on the lips as she came through the door. She could feel his ardour press against her and did not resist his advances as he took her upstairs to their bedroom. She felt sexy and ready for love, she wondered whether she had been a little premature in her plans for Tom, however, true to form it was Tom who was premature and he squirted all over her long before they connected. He blushed with embarrassment as his stickiness ran over her. Amanda was caring and understanding, knowing that this situation was hopeless and that the plan would be executed as planned. She slipped the powder into his chilled champagne that he had thoughtfully put in their room as a prelude to their love making and watched him slowly sip the first stage of his treatment.
Within an hour Tom was retching in the bathroom, he convulsed in spasms as the drugs tore at him. His temperature soared into the low hundreds and Amanda was genuinely concerned for his safety. She telephoned Dr McClean and begged her to come quickly, as Tom became drenched in sweat and drifted in and out of a pained sleep.
The doctor duly arrived and gave Tom another injection to help him relax. At the same time it countered the nausea that was gripping the young man.
“Look at me Tom” she said shining a penlight into his pupils “I want you to look at me”. Tom looked at the light in a daze, his mind already reacting to the psychotropic effect of the injection. “Look at me and listen to every word I say”
She went through a complex series of commands and routines that implanted the few key words that had been taught to Amanda and ensured that he would slowly absorb the commands on the subliminal tapes. “You will now drift into a deep sleep and awake tomorrow remembering none of this conversation”.
A look of calm came over Tom and he drifted into a restful calm sleep.
“He may sleep so deeply tonight that he may well wet the bed” said the doctor “so I would put the plastic sheet under him tonight, but do not forget your training tomorrow it is absolutely critical. Start running the first of the music tapes tonight as well”.
Amanda nodded her agreement and after a few more reminders the doctor left to leave Amanda tingling with anticipation and in need of satisfaction from her vibrating toy friend. The very thought of the next few weeks left her weak-kneed with sexuality and excitement.
Tom awoke the next day feeling slightly groggy and realised with horror that he had soaked the bed. Amanda lay next to him knowing full well that he had lost control in the night and she too was more than slightly damp from his wetting.
“Oh my God” wailed Tom “I have wet the bed, Amanda I am so sorry. Oh no, I have soaked your side as well”.
“It doesn’t matter darling, the doctor told me that this might happen and we took the precaution of putting a rubber sheet on the bed to protect the mattress. I will soon have everything cleaned up so don’t be a big baby (key phrase) and help me take off these bed clothes.” She watched as the key phrase triggered part of Tom’s programming and his eyes were drawn to her ample firm bre ( " at " ) sts.
Tom could hardly keep his hands to himself and went to fondle his wife’s beautiful assets. “Not now Tom. Let us get the bed changed and I will see if we have any time left for a cuddle”. They worked in unison removing the wet bedding and wiping down the rubber sheet. “We had better leave that on the bed for now as the doctor said you might well have another accident tonight because the drugs she gave you were very strong”. In reality, the first stage of the programming was in effect and Tom was more than likely to have a babyish accident.
With the washing machine running and the new sheets fitted, the two newlyweds returned to the marital bed. Tom was fully aroused and totally fixated by Amanda’s bre ( " at " ) sts, she smiled at his new attention to her and slowly drew his head to her nipple. He suc-ked on her with a furious passion. “Gently baby, gently my big baby (reinforcement) you don’t want to make me sore”. Tom experienced two effects almost simultaneously, an explosive orgasm followed almost immediately by an urgent need to pee. He leapt out of bed “I am sorry, I am sorry, I am soooo sorry he” he shouted as he dashed for the en suite bathroom. He was already starting to dribble urine as he reached the loo.
He came back into the room embarrassed and distressed, Amanda thought he looked almost close to tears. “Come and have a cuddle Tom” she said kindly “come back and let me hold you”. Tom returned to the bed, the burning desire to look at Amanda’s bre ( " at " ) sts was as powerful as ever.
“You like these don’t you Tom?” she said lifting them to his face and wiggling them under his nose, “you really want to suc-k on me don’t you my big baby boy” (reinforcement). Tom slowly moved his head towards her nipple but Amanda pulled back laughing teasingly. “Not yet Tom, you have to make me happy first” she said pulling his head down “and you have to kiss and suc-k me until I have some pleasure, then you can have some of my titty”. Tom set about pleasuring his wife with reckless abandon and Amanda had wave after wave of pleasure that caused her to scream out in joy and ecstasy, she arched her back with a mighty groan, having had the most wonderful orgasm of her life. Tom surfaced and headed for his promised reward, but Amanda was already getting up and waggled her bre ( " at " ) sts at him “you are a good baby boy this time, but I will save your reward until tonight!” she said.
Tom looked at his wife’s bre ( " at " ) sts and had an almost irresistible urge to pee again. He was puzzled by this new weakness and made his second dash for the toilet. Amanda stared after him with a small smile on her lips. The plan seemed to be going exactly as predicted.
She made him a cup of tea as he finished shaving in the bathroom, her body still tingling within her soft white towelling dressing gown. As instructed she added a strong dose of diuretic to her husband’s brew in the teapot. She opened the coffee jar and made herself a drink.
Tom came down smelling of aftershave and dressed in a casual open necked shirt and blue shorts. “The doctor said that you must drink plenty of fluids after your tummy bug darling, so drink up your tea.”
“I am sorry about the accident Mandy, I haven’t wet the bed since I was about seven. I just do not know what happened to me”. He sipped his tea “Mmm this is nice, is it a new blend?” he said as the powerful diuretics slipped down his throat and headed straight to his kidneys to create some havoc.
“Yes, we had it on the course and I thought I would buy you some as a treat” said Amanda as she watched her husband pour himself a second cup. “Drink plenty, the doctor said you lost a lot of fluids with this bug, and more besides when you wet your bed my big baby boy (more reinforcement)”. Tom blushed bright red and felt his eyes drawn to his wife’s chest, he could not get the thought of them out of his mind, again he had an almost irresistible desire to suc-kle on her and the implanted message again caused him to want to urinate and again he sped off to the toilet. He made it with no more than seconds to spare, he had already lost a few drips in his underpants.
While he was gone Amanda topped up the pot with fresh water and added some more of the diuretic. She loosened the folds of her dressing gown and put some bread in the toaster as Tom returned looking embarrassed from his latest journey. She topped up his tea cup and passed him some buttered toast she had made and liberally coated in marmalade, leaning over him in such a way that her bre ( " at " ) sts were in his face. He reached up to put his hand in her dressing gown in the hopes of fondling her. It seemed the most vital thing on his mind, a total fixation that needed to be satisfied and Tom was crushed as Amanda stood up quickly with that new sly grin that he had never seen before. He did not know where the urge came from, but almost immediately he was desperate to go again. ‘How could this be?’ he thought ‘I have only just been, I must hold on a bit longer’. Good idea but poor plan and as a few drips made there way into his underwear again he decided it would be prudent to go the loo again.
Amanda watched with fascination, her plan was slowly coming together faster and more assuredly that she could ever imagined. Tom came back and Amanda noticed that there was a small spot beginning to form on the front of his shorts where his dribbling had exceeded the capacity of the thin fabric of his underwear.
“Tom, do you know you have wet yourself a little?” she asked looking down at the front of his shorts “you really are being a big baby (reinforcement), do I need to put you in terry towelling nappy pants (new keyword)?”
Tom felt his insides begin to curl up, the need to suc-k her bre ( " at " ) sts leapt to new heights and he just had to suc-k on something, anything. He felt his thumb slowly move towards his lips and with a huge effort he dragged his arm back down to his side. If that was not bad enough he was consumed by a massive thirst and a desperate need to go to the toilet again. He picked up his cup and drained the hot tea as again he set off on the familiar journey, with additional wetness being added to the front of his shorts.
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Part 21
Tom was in despair by the end of the day, Amanda kept calling him a big baby and every time she did so he was filled with an unquenchable desire to suc-k on her bre ( " at " ) sts and an unexplainable desire to go to the loo usually accompanied by some loss of bladder control. At lunch time he had changed his shorts and his underwear, because the small patch of wetness had begun to grow quite noticeably. As he was trying to secrete his wet shorts and pants into the laundry basket, Amanda had come up behind him and asked what was wrong. Again she had sort of sneered at him and asked if he wanted some training nappy pants and again he felt his thumb work its way up to his mouth. The desire to suc-kle was becoming unbearable and his distress was so apparent that Amanda suggested that he have a rest and listen to some of his new music that she had bought him.
Like a lamb to the slaughter he accepted her suggestion as she put on a CD of light classical music.
The subliminal messages took a hold almost at once as Amanda explained to him that his condition was probably brought about by the stress of his failing business and kissed him softly on the cheek.
The CD instructed him with more re-enforcing messages, “a big baby suc-ks on Mummy’s bre ( " at " ) st, a big baby does not use a potty, a big baby wets without thinking, a big baby wets her nappy, a soft warm nappy is fluffy and safe, a big baby loves to go in her nappy, when baby suc-ks her dummy she has to wet her nappy, a dummy is all a baby wants, a wet nappy and a dummy to suc-k is all baby wants. When you suc-k on Mummy you wet your nappy, if you cannot suc-k on Mummy you suc-k your dummy. You must have a nappy, you must have a dummy, you must be a baby. You wet your bed last night like a good baby, that was a good baby, you can wet yourself now, pretend you are wearing a nappy and wet it like a baby, suc-k your thumb and wet your nappy.
The messages went on and on behind the music as Tom’s eyes slowly closed as he lay rec-umbent on the leather sofa. You are falling asleep as a big baby, you will soon wet your nappy as you suc-k your thumb.
Tom’s thumb made its way to his mouth and he started suc-king on it with passion. Amanda slipped into the room as Tom suc-ked furiously and smiled as a small wet patch appeared on the front of his trousers. The small patch grew and grew, until it extended all over the front of him and started to work its way down each leg. It even started to work is way up his shirt. He was awash with his own pee and a small satisfied smile appeared on his face as the subliminal messages praised him for going in his imaginary nappy like a good baby.
Amanda left him for a few minutes than gently gave him a shake
“Tom, Tom wake up darling you have had an accident while you were sleeping” she said gently feigning some alarm. “What is the matter with you? You are behaving like a big baby more and more these days”.
Tom reacted to the cue and his eyes turned to the breasts close to his head. He was desperate and realised with horror that he had been suc-king his thumb so hard that it had started to prune and wrinkle. He tore it out of his mouth and made a grab for his wife. Amanda opened her blouse and knelt down beside him, easing her breast out of her white satin bra. Tom was groaning as his desire to suc-kle became unbearable and he latched on to her. Within less than 30 seconds he had added to the wetness of his clothes with a massive and explosive orgasm, he nuzzled into her breast with fresh fervour as he bathed his limp member in a fresh elimination of pee.
“It’s no good Tom,” she said “the stress is clearly getting too much for you. Look what you have done, you have wet yourself like a baby and ruined our sofa. I am not going to get cross, but we are going to have to take some precautions or else you are going to ruin all your clothes and all our furniture. I am sure this is just a temporary thing, will you let me help you?”
Tom nodded, he had to admit that the recent turn of events was outside of his understanding and control.
“Take off all those wet clothes and leave them on the bathroom floor, then take a nice long bath and I will come up and help you. I am just going next door to see Sheila for a few things. I am sure she can help us out”.
“I don’t want to get involved with that crowd” snapped Tom “she has all of her kids back in nappies and even her old man is incontinent and pees himself all the time”. Tom felt himself widdling a little more (where was all this urine coming from he thought to himself?). Amanda looked annoyed.
“We can either tackle this problem together, or you can sort yourself out” she said starting to go teary eyed. “I am only trying to help you. Your business is a disaster, we are up to our eyes in debt and all you can do is regress to an incontinent big baby. Sheila is a good friend to me and has suggested that I work for Baby Dreams, as she loves the things I have made to show her. Even you could become a part of that business and we might, yes we just might, get through all of this”.
Tom looked down at his sopping clothes and said “I am so sorry darling, I don’t know what is happening to me and I really appreciate your help. Go and see Sheila and see what she can come up with.”
He picked himself up from the sofa as Amanda returned with a bowl of water to sponge off the dampness from their furniture. Tom went to the bathroom and stripped off all his soaked clothes.
He ran a bath, and as he stood there watching the water flow from the taps, he absent mindedly suc-ked his thumb. It was several minutes before he realised what he was doing and when he did notice he withdrew it immediately only to have his mind crave something else to suc-k on. He saw in his mind the image of a baby’s dummy, he wanted to suc-k a dummy, he had to have a dummy. He realised with horror that the one thing he wanted more than anything else was to have his own dummy, a dummy that he could suc-k on whenever he felt the need or desired the comfort he knew it would bring. He turned off the taps to the bath and lowered himself into the water.
Amanda had already made plans with Sheila who had organised stock to be made available from her small warehouse. There were three large boxes waiting by her front door and she welcomed in Amanda as soon as she rang the door bell.
“I’ll give you a hand, let me get Darren and Simon, the rest of the family are working on a rush order” she said, picking up two sets of reins from the hooks in the hall. They jingled with small bells on the front leather panels which were in identical pink and declared “baby” in dark pink letters on the front.
“The two boys have just had some tea” she explained as she headed into the kitchen. Darren and Simon were sitting in their high chairs suc-king on their dummies with their white terry bibs liberally covered with baked beans, Marmite and ice cream, both had most of their tea around their faces, their feeding greatly impaired by the thick woollen mittens they wore on their hands. “They were naughty today so they lsot the use of their hands and had to wear their mittens.
She unclipped Darren from his high chair, took out his dummy and roughly wiped his face with the end of his bib while he was still wearing it. She reinserted his dummy and fixed on his walking reins. She repeated the procedure with Simon. “Come on my baby boys, you can help carry some things into Aunty Amanda’s house with Mummy”.
She went to the cupboard under the dresser and took out a cardboard box “some dummies” she explained “I expect Tom is almost ready for one now, you can carry these Darren”, she went to another cupboard and took out three large bibs similar to the ones being worn by her two boys and put then in a plastic bag, “You can carry these Simon and help me with one of the boxes as well”.
“What is all this stuff you have got me Sheila?” asked Amanda.
“Training towelling pants without plastic covers – two pairs” she said reading down her list, “training towelling nappy pants with protective plastic covers – two pairs, a dozen terry towelling nappies, three pairs of transparent plastic pants, two sippy cups, and a couple of onesies for night time sleeping. Look at you boys, all you have got on is a nappy and a tea-shirt. You will be alright running next door in just your booties” she laughed.
They trooped out of Sheila’s house and quickly covered the short distance between their two house. Sheila held the reins to Darren and Amanda controlled the reins to Simon – neither boy objected, they were so used to the treatment. Judging by the way that their nappies hung on their hips, they were both wet and in need of a change.
They piled the boxes in the lounge, Amanda had related the problems that Tom had been having on the way and Sheila opened up one of the smaller boxes. “You are lucky, because we only just made a large batch of these last week” she said “these will fit Tom.” She held up a pair of towelling training pants, double thickness of terry nappy at the back and six layers thick at the front. “This will hold a fairly bad accident, but not usually two” she said. “Tell Tom to slip them on and come down so I can see how they fit”.
Amanda rushed up to the bathroom as Tom was drying himself off. She passed him the training pants and told him to slip them on. He recoiled in horror. “Those are for toddlers” he complained “I am not wearing those, not ever.”
“Make up your mind Tom, wear the pants or get out” she exploded “do it, NOW, You are behaving like a big baby and you need this type of protection right now.” Tom did as he was told, the large padded terry towelling pants slipped up his legs and almost immediately needed to go to the toilet. He clutched the front of himself and managed to pull them down enough to relieve himself in the loo.
Amanda took his hand and led him downstairs to the waiting Sheila. The two boys sat on the couch suc-king their dummies and they were not at all phased by seeing Tom in such babyish attire, since all their male family were similarly dressed.
“Perfect” said Sheila “those nappy pants could have been tailor made for you Tom” she said smiling (because they had been carefully made to Tom’s exact measurements). Tom was dying of embarrassment, and the latest trigger had started his thumb on the way to his mouth. He was so captivated by the sight of the two boys suc-king their dummies that he forgot what he was doing and put his thumb in his mouth. Darren passed him the box he was holding and Tom removed his digit from his mouth and opened it. He went bright red as his desire to own and suc-k the two pink dummies was in direct conflict with his maturity.
“Dummies, what do I want with dummies?” he asked incredulously. Unfortunately the warm soft comfort of the nappy material against him, triggered another implanted message and he forgot to think about holding on to himself while he was ranting about the tendered gift. A yellow stain slowly started to spread across the front of his training pants and work its way between his legs.
“Good idea to test out you nappy pants” said Sheila smirking at the sight of Tom wetting himself in front of everybody, “as I said Amanda, they will easily take one accident, but probably not cope with two. But Amanda was pretending to be furious, even though inside she was thrilled with the rapid regression of her husband to babyhood.
“You big baby, you big booby, look at you wetting yourself in front of our neighbours, what is the matter with you?” She snatched the box from his hands and took out one of the dummies. “I want you to suc-k this, and if I see you take it out there will be trouble that you could not begin to imagine”. She stuffed it into Tom’s mouth, he resisted slightly at first, but in reality he could not wait to suc-k his new dummy.
The warmth of his freshly wet nappy, soft and fluffy against him coupled with the sensation of the big teat of his new dummy filling his mouth caused a new wave of subliminal programming to activate and he wet himself again. Half of him was dying of shame, the other half of him revelled in the delight that the programming had made him expect.
“I don’t think they are going to cope on their own Amanda, make Tom wear a pair of the plastic coated ones over the top otherwise he is going to start leaking after a bit. She shook out a pair of the infantile lined plastic pants and motioned for Tom to step into them. He was so engrossed in the new sensations that he was too stunned to argue. The feel of the transparent plastic caressing his legs as they were pulled up sent further triggers to his overloaded senses. He placed his hand on the front of his plastic panties and caressed himself gently through the thickness feeling the soft padding through the vinyl protective layer. The ring of his dummy wiggled furiously as he savoured the sensations of his new programming.
End part 21
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Part 22
[Thank you for the very kind comments or two - it makes writing easier if you know somebody is reading it!]
Simon and Darren pointed at Tom and said in unison “Big Baby Mummy” and the two women laughed as Tom went bright red and wet his training pants so that the outer pair tinged yellow at the front. Amanda was thrilled at the rapid descent Tom was taking to being an overgrown toddler. He certainly was regressing much faster than she ever expected. He suc-ked nervously on his dummy his mind swimming at the turn of events.
The large knocker on their front door suddenly broke the mood with its banging. Amanda looked out of the window to see who it could be. “It’s Tom’s mum” she exclaimed “what a surprise we have for her today!” Sheila stood up to leave. “No, don’t go, stay and meet Sherry, I know she would like to meet you, especially as you have been so kind to us both. She is a lovely lady and we can all have a nice cup of tea.”
Amanda opened the door as Sheila hovered by her chair. Tom suddenly realised his current state and looked around the room as if there a means of escape. He decided to sit down and try to hide his new infantile clothing and took the dummy out of his mouth and put it beside him on the cushion of the chair.
His mother was a tall and distinguished looking lady who you could tell commanded respect and attention. Her steel-blue eyes were sharp, alert and piercing, capable of spotting anything out of the norm instantly. She swept into the room with Amanda close behind. “Where’s my boy? He never rings, never calls and is always so busy trying to make that business of his a success”. She swoops over to where Tom has just managed to seat himself and cover his lap with the daily newspaper. “Lost your manners Tom? Stand up and give your Mother a big hug.” Tom stood up trying to cover his soggy plastic training pants with the paper, but his mother was far too sharp to miss anything as obvious as that. “Where are your trousers?” she asked seeing his bare legs sticking out from behind the paper, which she swept aside with one sweeping gesture of her arm. “My God” she exclaimed as she saw the wet terry nappy material through the plastic pants “you’re wearing nappies. You are a full grown man back in nappies and more to the point you have wet them like a big baby”. John reacted immediately to the trigger phrase and once again he released more wetness into the soft folds of his absorbent toddler pants. “And what on earth is that?” she exclaimed, pointing to the large adult sized dummy on the chair, “it is far too big for these two baby boys here, so don’t tell me that you have taken to suc-king a dummy as well?” She glared at him in disbelief, and her face moved to within inches of his. “I want to know exactly what is going on. I want to know why you have turned out to be such a disappointment to Amanda and why she has to treat you like a toddler back in nappies?” She picked up the dummy, examined it between her fingers and then not knowing what to do with it, suddenly turned on Tom and said “open your mouth”. Tom jumped and immediately obeyed as Sherry rammed the rubber teat between his lips. “suc-k on your dummy you big baby, while I decide what has to be done here”.
Tom bravely tried to talk back to his mother (as he felt more wetness fill his pants in response to the trigger phrase) and babbled “I am not wearing nappies I just had an accident and was wearing some training pants to stop the damp patches”. He sounded infantile and he knew it. His mother grabbed the front of his terry-lined plastic pants “these are not an accident, you have wet them completely. It isn’t training pants you need, it is a good old-fashioned thick terry nappy and a good stout pair of clear plastic pants so that we can see exactly what a big baby you have become. Look at you, these pants are soaking and let me see here…”. She took hold of the waist band and looked inside. “You are wearing two pairs of training pants and have soaked them both”. Tom suc-ked forlornly on his dummy. “I am going to sort you out for Amanda. What a disappointment you must be for her, you are such a disappointment. You wet the bed until you were ten years old, so I might have guessed it was too good to last”.
Sherry looked at Amanda and then to Sheila as if looking for an explanation. Amanda broke the moment of tension by suggesting they should all go and make a cup of tea, while she would try and explain what had happened.
“Tom you play with the two boys while Sheila and I go and put the kettle on” said Amanda as she led Sherry and Sheila into the kitchen. Tom sat down with the two boys and started to show them how to make things with Lego blocks. Voices were raised in the kitchen and Tom heard snatches.
Amanda was saying his business was rubbish, they were in debt, the mortgage was in arrears and the honeymoon was a disaster. Tom was a useless lover and not very well endowed either, and now he had started to have his babyish accidents and wet the bed two nights in a row. She did love him and Sheila had offered her a well-paid job in the business to help ends meet. Tom then heard his mother say that she was trained in embroidery and needlepoint and would love to help out. In the meantime she was going to move in to sort out Tom and help her as much as she could, after all there was a spare room she could use. Amanda welcomed the idea. Tom was horrified.
He heard them returning to the lounge and he quickly went back to playing with the boys. “Look at the babies playing on the floor” said Sherry laughing, “and they all look as if they could do with a clean nappy!” The three of them turned to look at Tom’s mother all three dummies being suc-ked with pleasure and all three nappies soaked to capacity.
Sheila scooped up the reins of her two boys and said “we must be off. Lovely to meet you, Sherry. “ she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Do you need any more supplies Amanda? I have a dozen of those large night time nappies if you would like them?”
Sherry did not wait for Amanda to reply “We will take them and we will use them gladly my dear. How much do I owe you? I want some good quality plastic pants and some mittens to stop him playing with himself. I also want some big terry bibs with plastic vinyl backing. It is going to be fun having a baby back in the house.
End Part 22
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Part 23
Tom’s regression was really taking a hold and the desire to wet himself was growing stronger and stronger each time he let himself release into the fold of the terry training pants. The continual reinforcement of his subliminal programming was not helping him to be an adult.
At 6.30 Amanda and Sherry descended on him in the lounge. He was sitting on a plastic play mat in the middle of the lounge floor surrounded by the Lego bricks which he was putting back into their boxes. He was uncomfortable as his toddler pants had filled to capacity and leaked out onto the surface of the plastic. His tea-shirt was already starting to have a tide mark where his wetting had started to wick up the cloth. He was still suc-king on his dummy and a thin line of dribble was running down his chin.
“Come on Tom” said his mother “time to get you sorted out. Let’s go upstairs and get you bathed and clean again”.
Tom stood up almost sloshing he was so wet. They went to the bathroom where Amanda pulled down his plastic training pants and inner terry protection. They plopped to the ground with a thud and the two women looked at each other with huge smiles. “What a big baby we have here today Sherry, look at him, have you ever seen such a pathetic little willy?” Amanda pulled out his dummy and put it in her pocket. She could swear that Tom looked almost disappointed.
“His father wasn’t much good either my dear, I had to have a whole succession of lovers to keep me satisfied and left him to look after himself with his dirty book collection”.
The bath was running with loads of huge bubbles, the unmistakable smell of baby powder infused the room. Sherry had opened the bathroom cabinet and taken out Tom’s razor. “Better to have this hair off Amanda, it will only lead to problems with nappy rash in the future”. She went round him cutting and scraping his hair off, which caused a wicked stinging that made Tom wriggle with discomfort. “Oh do keep still Tom, or else you will end up without this pathetic piece of manhood”. Amanda laughed again.
They pushed him into the bath and scrubbed him clean, he was glowing pink by the time they had finished and his groin was on fire. Amanda and Sherry set about drying him with a soft white towel and made sure he was completely dry. “Follow me Tom” said Amanda, “you have to get ready for bed”. In their bedroom there was a large white plastic sheet on top of the bed with a large terry nappy folded and ready to receive him. A large pair of plastic pants and a nappy liner was lying next to it.
“Can I put his nappy on him Amanda?” asked his mother “it is a long time since I have done this! Go on, lie down on your nappy Tom. My goodness your winkle looks even smaller if that is possible, I think the most suitable place for it is inside your nappy, it looks as its best use will be to do your wettings”. Amanda reached in to her pocket and inserted Tom’s dummy into his mouth, which she noticed Tom took rather too eagerly. Sherry smeared a thick oily white cream over his nappy area and then nearly choked him in a cloud of baby powder. She undid two large nappy pins and held them between her lips, then she pulled up the thick nappy between his legs and pulled one side round to the middle and pinned it securely. She then pulled the other side round and tugged it tight before inserting and securing the second pin. The plastic pants were totally transparent and looked almost as big as a carrier bag, Sherry shook them out and pulled first one foot and then the other through the elasticated leg openings. She then pulled them up his freshly shaved legs and told Tom to lift his bottom. In no time at all his giant fluffy white nappy was encased in the protective plastic of his pants. The loose edges were tucked in and Sherry patted the front of his pants saying “we can see when you need a change in these can’t we dear?”
Amanda looked at her pathetic husband lying on the bed suc-king his dummy and wearing the largest nappy she had ever seen. “What a big baby you have turned into Tommy, who would have thought that I would be putting my husband back in nappies.” Tom looked hurt, he had no explanation for his recent accidents and behaviour, all he knew was that he wanted to suc-k on Amanda’s breasts and cuddle up to her.
The two women manhandled him to the floor and took him down to the kitchen. He sat at the kitchen table in nothing more than his nappy and plastic pants. He was already feeling the familiar pressure on his bladder and got up to go to the toilet. “Where do you think you are going Tommy” asked his wife.
“I need to do a wee” said Tom mumbling round his infantile dummy and barely intelligible. He started to step from one foot to the other as the pressure started to build.
“You are wearing a nappy now and babies do their wee wee in their nappies don’t they? So you just go in your nappy like a good baby”. The subliminal messages were wearing slightly thin as the day came to a close, but the many stimuli and feelings were powerful enough to override his decreasing control and the slow leak turned into a total flood. The two women watched with fascination as the front of Tom’s nappy showed a spreading wetness through his clear vinyl pants. They watched with disbelief as the wetness expanded from the centre of the nappy and made its way down between his legs.
“Those are wonderful nappies Amanda, he will be able to wet himself quite a few times before he needs changing and we can easily see when that change should happen. He loves suc-king his dummy doesn’t he, I had an awful job trying to take it away from him when he was a toddler and had to give in eventually. He made such a fuss! He was the only child I knew who still had a dummy at the age of six, it was so embarrassing and he still had a his do-do to bed when he was nearly nine years old. He used to take his old baby shawl and a freshly laundered nappy to rub against his ear right up to his early teens. I had to cut bits off the shawl each month until it was no bigger than a handkerchief! I think he took his cuddling nappy (as we called it) to bed until he went to University”.
Tom looked mortified that his mother was telling all his deepest secrets to Amanda. He suc-ked forlornly on his dummy finding it comforting and helping to make the babyish revelations a little easier to bear.
His mother was now in full flood and continued her stories. “He took ages to potty train, he must have been almost four when I eventually got him dry during the day and out of nappies, but I still kept him in plastic training pants until he was six and then in terry towelling pants until he was almost eight I think. Of course, he wet the bed until he was twelve and I had to have special nappies made for him. He used to look so sweet in his bunny suit when he had been naughty or cheeky and I had some lovely flannel pyjamas made of Wyncyette for him that had large bottoms to fit in the bulk of his nappy. He was such a lovely baby, but my goodness he was sooo messy” Sherry stopped to have a chuckle as she brought up the vision “he was always dropping his food down his front and we always made sure that he wore his bib for every meal – he needed it! We always took his bib out with us when we went out, as you know his father walked out on us when he was a baby, so perhaps I was taking out my anger on Tom. I hated the idea of standing outside the male toilets waiting for him when we went out, so I used to put him in a nappy, as it was so much more convenient, and he had such a small bladder that he wanted to stop every five minutes. I found a pair of bibbed shorts for him to wear that allowed me to fit in his nappy, how he hated our trips to the department store, especially when we went to the fashion shows. If he wet a lot, I would stand him in a quiet corner and stuff a clean dry nappy inside his wet one to keep him going until we got home. He hated wearing that terry bib when we had a tea cake and cup of coffee, but money was so tight that I had to count every penny in those days. Clothes were expensive”.
Sherry sat back her face glowing with pride “My washing line always seemed to full of nappies in those days and my neighbours said that I had the whitest fluffiest nappies that they had ever seen. It did not do Tom any harm, I think he turned out very well, but I never expected him to want to go back to his early days” she said looking at Tom sitting beside her in his wet nappy and glaring at her with a look of pure hatred.
Amanda who had been cooking placed a plate of fish fingers and chips in front of her husband “we will eat later Sherry. I think your bib idea is a good one and I think Sheila put one in to the box of supplies she delivered”. She went into the hall and opened one of the boxes. “Here we are, I thought I had seen one” she said coming back into the kitchen bearing a white towelling bib, lined in a white vinyl with an appliqué teddy in one corner. “Would you like to put this on Tommy for me please Sherry?” The humiliating bib was tied around Tom’s neck and he felt his morale drop still further as his descent into babyhood took another step. His dummy was removed and placed next to his plate. Sheila shook up a bottle of tomato sauce and squirted a generous amount to his chips and fingers. Tom started to eat, but to his horror a chip laden with tomato sauce fell off the fork and skidded off his bib leaving behind a vivid flash of red as it landed back on his plate. The two women nodded knowingly.
Sheila filled a beaker that she had also found in the box and fitted the spouted lid. The drink had been laced with muscle relaxants, crushed sleeping pills and diuretics. She put it next to Tom’s dummy on the table. “I am not drinking out of a baby cup” he fumed as another piece of his tea fell on to his bib.
“You seem to be making such a mess Tommy, that I think this is a wise precaution” said Amanda beginning to relish the new infantile Tom. Tom was out of fight and picked up his sippy cup and drank with a gurgling hissing sound as the liquid in the beaker was replaced with air. Within minutes he was so sleepy and his muscles so relaxed that he could barely lift his arms. His last spoonful of dinner barely made it to his mouth and another load of food soiled his bib. He started to drift into sleep and filled his nappy with a fresh wetting.
“Come on sleepy head, time you went to bed” said Amanda. The two women took hold of Tom and dragged him to his feet. Amanda put his dummy to his lips and Tom took it automatically.
“Are you going to have him in your bed Amanda?” asked his mother.
“Yes, I like feeling him next to me and as long as I am not soaked, then he is welcome to stay” she laughed “do you think we should change him?”
“No dear” said Sherry “he will be alright and he has to get used to a wet nappy, even if that means he has a touch of nappy rash while his skin gets used to the new situation. He never had a problem as a boy, so I am sure he will soon get used to everything. We will leave him wearing his bib, because it will catch his dribbles. Do you have something for him to wear in bed dear?”
“Yes, I asked Sheila for a babygrow”. Amanda disappeared for a few moments to re-appear with a cream coloured bundle of softness which they manhandled onto Tom finally securing the garment with five large poppers between his legs. They arranged his bib and stood back to admire their work. Tom was lying peacefully on his back, his dummy being suc-ked rhythmically and the dribble being caught efficiently on his dirty bib. His waist was a puffy mass of nappy covered in the softest fabric with a small hint of nappy and plastic pants poking out from each leg opening of the new babywear.
“We had better put on his relaxation tape” said Amanda “he needs it to calm his nerves these days”. Sherry looked puzzled and examined the tape which had the label ‘No.4 dummy dependency, dirty nappy and bottle training”
“What’s going on here Amanda?” demanded Sherry “Tom is being manipulated isn’t he? You are deliberately making him turn into a big baby aren’t you? All of this regression is your doing isn’t it?”
Amanda looked embarrassed and worried “I had to do it, we would have to sell our home and I would loose Tom if I did not do something special. I love him so much Sherry, I do not want to see us fall apart. This job with Baby Dreams is just too good an opportunity, my designs are well liked and we have the opportunity to make some money and clear our debts”.
“I would have lent you the money dear” said Sherry “but I like your idea a lot more!” Sherry laughed and laughed, she patted the front of Tom’s nappy and then tussled his hair. “We can live with this and I think you have found the perfect solution. It is just like the old days”. Tom listened to the tape and started to wet his nappy, his mind full of the vision of a large toddler in a fluffy white nappy taking delight in making it dirty.
“You had better get out of here Sherry, or else you may be influenced by the subliminal messages!” They took one last look back at Tom, who was clearly in bliss as he continued to wet his nappy. “Hold on, I have an idea” said Sherry, who shot over to the chest of drawers, took out a large nappy and placed it in Tom’s hand. He felt the soft fabric and automatically moved it to his ear and rubbed it gently allowing the fresh smell to waft into his nose.
“Just like his old days!” exclaimed Sherry.
End part 23
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Part 24
Tom awoke the next morning still suc-king blissfully on his dummy. His nappy was soaking wet and had just started to leak onto his under-sheet and babygrow. He had no recollection of wetting his nappy and could not even remember whether he awoke during the night to relieve himself. He clutched the nappy to his ear and turned onto his knees so he could bury his head in the soft fabric inhaling deeply while he suc-ked hard on his soother. The feeling was almost intoxicating.
Amanda and his mother crept quietly into the room to see Tom with bottom raised high in the air, suc-king hard on his dummy while nuzzling into his comforting nappy. His nappied bottom looked enormous and the evidence of its wetness was clearly visible from the wet patches on his sheet and around the waist of his babygrow. Tom was oblivious to the presence of his mother and wife standing in the doorway when all at once he was gripped by a pain in his stomach. He pulled his legs closer to his stomach and the mental images planted in his mind from the messages given to him subliminally slowly clicked in. He knew it would be nice to make a mess in his nappy, all babies made a mess in their nappies, after all it was for that very reason that babies wore nappies. He was a baby, because the tape told him so, he wore a nappy, suc-ked a dummy and had to wear a bib. He had already wet his nappy and that was definite proof that he was a baby. His inner mind spent a few seconds trying to argue against the programming, but the pressure was building up within him. His programming told him it was what a good baby should do, his mind told him that this was the most disgusting thing a grown man could let happen. He suc-ked hard on his dummy to try and make the voices go away, he groaned out loud, the programming was starting to win over his adult ego and the forces of nature were almost beyond the point of no return.
Amanda looked puzzled and looked at Sherry who smiled knowingly. She whispered very quietly to Amanda “he is going to go poo-poo in his nappy, he always used to kneel like that when he was a toddler”. Amanda looked shocked.
“You mean he is actually going to do a number two in his nappy like a baby” she said in a barely audible voice.
“Unless I am very much mistaken, he is going to go any second now” she replied very softly.
Tom was in total conflict, the programming was hardly completed for this event and this was not to have been expected for many days or even weeks. His mind was regressing at a fast rate of knots and then the inevitable happened, as he could no longer stop the demands of his bowel. At first he tried to stop the process and then the decision was made, the programming in combination with all his babyish sensations decided his fate. He pushed hard and with determination, his face went red with the exertion.
Amanda gasped with surprise, Tom was trying to soil his nappy! He was really going to go in his nappy like a baby or untrained toddler. Sherry smiled at her and gave her a reassuring hug. Amanda went towards Tom with a view to stopping him, but Sherry held her back with a strong grip on her shoulder.
Tom continued to strain, he was experiencing a wave of pleasure that had made his willy go stiff in his wet nappy, the first part of the delivery was starting to arrive in the back of his baby protection. It felt wonderful, it was warm and heavy, he felt it weigh down in his nappy and he continued to push as more snaked its way into the soft confines of his baby toilet. His erection disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived as the programming reinforced that his wee wee washing over his now limp member was more exciting.
Sherry broke his revelry and said “there’s a very good baby boy to go poo poo in your nappy. You liked that didn’t you?” she asked re-enforcing the programming and helping to break his will and toilet training. She patted the back of his nappy further heightening his sensorial experience. “What a good boy to go in your nappy, I expect you would like Amanda to give you a cuddle?”
Amanda was still quite shocked, although she had expected the programme to take her husband down the road of babification, she had not expected it to go quite this far. She went to Tom, he had rolled over on to his side and the bulge in the back of his nappy was very noticeable. “There’s a very good baby boy Tommy, what a good baby you have been to use your nappy to do a poo-poo and as a reward I am going to let you have a suc-k on Mummy’s breast”. Tom turned round as Amanda took her breast from her nightie and offered the nipple to his lips. She removed his dummy and he suc-ked on her with the fervent desire of a new born baby. Amanda smiled down at the sight of her husband suc-kling on her breast and felt the juices begin to run as this vision strangely excited her. It was the power she now exerted over him and the helplessness of her husband’s state that seemed to intoxicate her senses. Sherry indicated that she was going to make some drinks and left quietly, while Amanda put her hand between her legs and rubbed herself off to a massive and inexplicable orgasm that went on and on, wave after wave until she was dripping with sweat. Tom was aware of all that was happening, but his willy remained limp and not at all aroused, but he did enjoy the feeling of his saturated nappy taking a final soaking and warming from the last of his wettings.
Amanda removed her tingling and sensitive nipple from his lips and replaced his dummy. “That’s a good baby, you suc-k your dummy for Mummy while I get you cleaned up”.
We spare our gentle readers from the gruesome details of this clean up operation.
His days were becoming very simple, ten hours a day sewing, one hour working on his own business and another hour washing his nappies, plastic pants and other baby clothes. However, Amanda did the hanging of the freshly laundered clothes on her washing line. She liked the neighbours to see her putting the white nappies out in a long row across the garden with the plastic pants hung in puffy balls at the end of the row. At the other end the bibs were hung upside down with the strings dangling down, so there was no chance of mistake in identifying exactly was on display. There was little chance of mistaking what had happened to Tom, because many of his sewing lessons were taken in the garden in front of his drying baby clothes often dressed in his pretty bonnet to protect his head from the sun and always in his nappy and plastic pants.
We will rejoin Tom when he has learnt the finer skills of needlepoint, sewing and beadwork which will be taught to him by his two Mummies. Be assured that the family fortunes were now completely under control, a large and substantial order from a major London retailer in Knightsbridge (to mention no names) was phenomenal, this contract had quickly encouraged other orders from jealous competitors and Baby Dreams were subcontracting Amanda’s designs to other workers for a percentage commission on each unit made. The marriage was saved, Tom was a perfectly normal adult, attentive, polite and his only problem was that he was totally nappy dependent and an absolute misery if he lost his precious dummy. Any sign of rudeness and he knew that he would be sitting in a wet or dirty nappy for a very long time.
In the next chapter will be meeting another unfortunate worker recruited into the Baby Dream organisation, which was so much in demand for its high quality hand made baby clothes that demand was beginning to far outstrip supply. In the rural locations, where work was scarce the demand to become a part of the network was growing and rumour had started to circulate that the biggest profits were to be made where compliant males were somehow forced into slave labour. There were many idle men made redundant from mining districts and rural areas who were ripe for this type of recruitment. An unscrupulous, wicked and seductive temptress was about to become the most successful recruiter the company had ever seen and her methods were not pleasant. Not for the squeamish the next episode will be posted in a week or so.
End part 24
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Part 25
Sabina was of Brazilian extraction, tall, slim muscular and extremely fit. Her daily regime of working out with weights and training at the gym had left her with a body that rippled its muscles like an animal of prey with every step she took. Her tough upbringing in South America has left her mean and totally self-centred and she had no time for anybody but herself and her latest lover Amelia. Her abuse as a child had left her with a loathing for men, whom she despised and looked down upon with contempt. All her life she had rejected them and made sure that as they left they would be hurt either psychologically, physically or perfectly humiliated.
She was not lacking funds, her passage through life had exploited many men in return for money, often through blackmail or potential scandal. Some might have called her quite wealthy, but with her financial methods came a reputation that made business extremely difficult, especially when some of the more spectacular affairs had caught the attention of the press and their associated paparazzi. She had dodged around the world to lose these photographic intruders and had eventually gone to ground in the small village next to Sheila’s. It was pure chance that Sabina met Sheila, because Sheila had nearly run her down in her Mercedes as Sabina went to the local shop to buy some groceries. They had started a row, but ended up laughing and joking and a slow but firm trust had started to build between the two of them.
He learnt how Sheila made the nappies for Baby Dreams (200 dozen a day and growing) and made commission on every new member she recruited. It was pyramid selling by any other name. Amanda and her mum were turning out Christening dresses and fine silks and satin wear at the rate of 5-6 dresses per day (at over £500 each this was not a bad start) and was also making huge commissions on the royalties from her designs.
Sabinsa knew that she had to find a niche in this growing empire for herself. They talked and talked for ages, the bibs were being made by numerous outworkers who just wanted pin money, others were making rompers, onesies and vests. They had some specialist milliners who were making bonnets and other head wear. The booties and mittens were being knitted and crocheted by numerous old ladies who were keen to add to their meagre pensions.
The one area where Baby Dreams had to buy in from outside was all the plastic goods, the bottles, feeders, rattles, dummies and other paraphernalia that a baby required. Another part of the business where good had to be bought in was the plastic pants and vinyl liners for specialised dungarees, rompers and lined shorts. However, the margins on these goods was very small and would require a high degree of capital investment as well as a cheap labour force in order to compete with the inexpensive imports from the Far East.
Sabinsa had already formulated a plan and asked Sheila to give her a few days to think about it. Next door (well a few hundred yards away) from Sabinsa’s house was an old MOD site which had come up for sale. It had a large deserted hanger and several mizzen huts in various stages of decay. The area was an old Battle of Britain airfield and although planning permission for any new dwelling was very unlikely, the existing buildings were able to be used for virtually any enterprise.
Sabinsa visited the site and did her research. In addition to the building above the ground, the site also had extensive underground bunkers and storage areas where the ordnance and other explosive materials had been stored. This area was extensive and well away from the buildings and the hanger, being approached by a staircase that disappeared into the ground and was covered by two huge steel doors that lay flush with the ground. Only one old man in the village remembered the underground bunker and she had plied him with numerous large brandies in the local pub to help his memory. Sadly he suffered a massive coronary the very next day much to the regret of the landlord who saw his largest customer pass away. Some of the old ritualistic South American Inca herbs uses by the local Shaman were very subtle.
So it was that Sabina bought the site at auction with little competition, there was no planning permissions for re-development and only the existing buildings could be renovated, there was no commercial appeal and nobody had the plans showing the old bunker system beneath. She was delighted.
Over the coming months, she and Amelia repaired the huts and refurbished the vast hanger, which despite its age had weathered rather well and needed far less work than they expected.
She and Amelia equipped the bunker complex with a unique set of equipment more becoming a medieval dungeon. Her time she had spend with an old established drug baron (who she had robbed of millions) had taught her most of what she needed to know in the not so gentle art of persuasion.
Drugs, pain and degradation were the tools that she planned to use on encouraging new members to join her workforce. She was prepared to be ruthless to achieve her goals and she and Amelia talked late into the night on many occasions as they planned their recruitment programme.
The equipment and materials were eventually installed in the large hanger by a well-known specialist Italian injection moulding company. The equipment cost a fortune and even the moulds from China were expensive. Only virgin PET was going to be used on the feeding bottles, and she had commissioned a design studio to produce her artwork for the finest transfers that were going to be integrated into the feeding bottles.
The quality and safety was going to be second to none.
The bunker was equipped stealthily during the night and they moved beds and other furniture from the huts to the bunker during the dead of night. In its remote location there was nobody to see or know what was happening beneath the ground.
The recruitment began in earnest.
Amelia and Sabina would go out each night and entice another lonely man into their cars either drugged in the club or pub or injected once they had come to their car for ‘something extra’. They chose victims who would not missed, people who were far from home or loners. They enticed people to visit them through chat rooms and other internet sites, grooming them with promises that would fulfil their wildest dreams.
In a matter of months they had over a dozen men secured in their bunker ready for processing. They were unwilling slaves who were about to be subjected to the cruellest of conditioning and control. To the world these men had disappeared off the face of the earth, many of them were about to wish that they had never met this cruel pair.
Part 26
Amelia dressed in the most unlikely nurses uniforms (more like strip-o-grams than reality) and donning their raincoats crossed from their back garden into the airfield. The door to their bunker was only a matter of a few short yards. They hauled up the large steel plates and descended the stairs
The bunker was left in darkness and as they opened the inner door, they were met by groans from the captives who were handcuffed to metal beds. Beside each bed was a large plastic pot for them to relieve themselves. In the pitch blackness many had missed their pots and so the whole dormitory had a smell of stale pee, sweat and best of all fear.
“Issue the collars Amelia” said Sabina handing her lover a box of what appeared to be dog collars. However these collars were sophisticated tagging systems designed by Amelia who was an electronics wizard.
“Listen up boys, these collars is unique to each of you. This whole complex is mapped out with sensor points and we can triangulate you to within a few centimetres. If you stray outside of the yellow lines painted on the floors you will be shocked by the collar, the further you stray the stronger the current. Touch the lock and you will be shocked, tamper with it in any way and you will be shocked”.
Amelia fitted the dozen collars and came back to stand by Sabina
“This is what it feels like on the lowest setting” she said pressing a master switch on her handset. The dozen men clutched their heads in unison writhing in pain and a couple fell to the floor and retched into their pots. “So do as you are told and you will not come to any harm. You may wonder why you are here. You are here because I need a workforce to make my products. By the time I have finished, you will be the best workers in the land, you will be skilled and proud of the work you do. You will be well fed, well cared for and permanently employed, but I am not going to pay you a penny” she said laughing “you are all going to be my slaves”.
The men started to shout out and wave their arms, the language became obscene, the violence was growing and Sabina pushed the switch on her handset. The noise stopped immediately and was replaced with a whimpering as she chose the second setting which was almost mind numbing as it was so painful.
A man called Arthur wet himself as he fell to floor in a foetal position. “We will take him first” said Sabina to Amelia “let us use him as the demonstration model! The rest of you can sit on your bunks until Arthur comes back.”
The two of them dragged Arthur through a steel door that had been one of the munitions stores for the Hurricanes’ machine guns. The door squeaked and complained as it swung back on its great iron hinges.
Inside the room it was white and clinical. Arthur was stooped over with his head down, his muscles still barely operating after the electric jolt. The two women stripped him of all his clothing and threw the garments into a large ‘wheelie’ bin. From the ceiling were suspended two bright chains that ended in manacles which they attached to his wrists. Amelia pushed a button on the hand set that dropped from the winch on the ceiling. Slowly the chains became tight and Arthur’s arms were drawn high above his head to leave him standing almost on tip toe.
The two women set about him with electric razors and shaved his whole body of hair, they then applied a foul smelling resin to his body that caused him to yell out in pain as the acidic blend of mimosine extracted from a rare breed of acacia tore into his skin killing follicle and irritating his skin.
They left him writhing in agony for half an hour, more than enough time for the potent blend to complete its job. They then prodded him to move along to a shower head fitted over a large stainless steel tray fitted into the floor with a drain. The water was turned on and the freezing water cascaded over him taking away the last residues of the preparation. He gasped with the coldness of the water as they took long handled brushes and rinsed off any parts that were still adhering to his skin.
“The next part is going to hurt” said Amelia who was holding a large hypodermic syringe in her hand. The two women smiled at each other. “This is going to eliminate any naughty thoughts you might have now or in the future, this little gem is going to be injected into your testicles and you are going to be chemically castrated. The only thing your dic-k is going to be used for from now on is peeing” she said in a voice that was sinister and threatening.
Arthur renewed his struggles, but with only his toes on the floor he could offer little resistant. Sabina held his legs while Amelia delivered a shot of the poisonous blend into his testes. He screamed in pain, the warm glow coursed through his scrotum and went between his legs and quickly developed into a hot burning pain that felt like pure acid. He had never known such pain and he let go a stream of urine as he lost control.
The girls laughed and danced around him with sadistic joy.
The pain became too much and Arthur collapsed hanging from his arms. The girls dried him off and rubbed his whole body with a soothing lotion in an attempt to calm the severe erythema. They grabbed his legs and ran him further along the track in the ceiling until they reached a stainless steel table, when they lifted his legs and lowered don the hoist. They turned him face down and spread his legs.
Sabina took an annular ring with two fine wires coming from its base and wedged it into his rear. A deep groove around its circ-umference ensured that it would stay in place. Amelia had inserted a large needled hyperdermic into his lower buttock and was threading a fine silicon tube beneath his skin, which ended in a small sensor terminal. Sabina threaded her two wires into this tube and Amelia soldered them to the terminal and applied a wet pad to cover it, before sealing it with a piece of adhesive tape. None of this was done with any form of local anaesthetic and Arthur who had been on the verge of coming round let out an agonising yell and slipped out of consciousness again. The ring in his bottom was capable of expanding if the terminals became dry. It would not stop expanding until it became wet and the conductivity increased. It was a merciless torture guaranteed to give results.
They turned him round powdered him in baby powder and slipped a huge white nappy under his bottom and pinned up the two sides. Amelia shook out a pair of plastic plants a slipped them up his legs. They then dressed him in a large pink footed sleeper which had both fitted mittens and covered his feet. The poppers ran down the front and across his crutch.
He started to come round once again, the pain in his scrotum was unbearable, but the ring in his behind was agony. They pushed the button on the hoist and he was hauled up into a sitting position. They tied a white bib around his neck, which was in plain white terry towelling and simply said “Baby Arthur stage 1”.
He opened his mouth to say something and was rewarded by a large pink dummy being forced between his lips. The dummy was attached to his sleeper by a ribbon that they pinned to him with a nappy pin.
Around his waist they buckled a small belt which contained six pockets. Into each pocket they placed a baby’s bottle full of a pink liquid. “These are for you to drink Arthur, because if you do not keep your nappy wet, your expander is going to grow and grow until you split in two. We have put a wet pad over the sensors in order to give you an hour or two to make your nappy wet enough to stop this from happening. It will evaluate your wetness every 20 minutes. If you fail to comply, then this gadget is going to tear you apart and you will damage and eventually destroy the muscles that control you eliminations. Your sphincter will lose all control and you don’t want that do you?”
Arthur tried to take in everything that had happened to him, he was in a painful haze of disbelief. He realised these women were totally mad but meant business. He spat out the dummy and took one of the bottles from his harness. Feeling more than a little foolish he started to suc-k on the first bottle, he was not so foolish not to appreciate that these two meant everything they said.
“This will help you a lot” said Amelia who had loaded another hypodermic “it is a relative of the curare family, but it will not kill you, just help you to relax”. She plunged the needle into his neck and pressed the plunger. Almost immediately Arthur felt his body begin to slump, his heart rate fell dramatically and he was overtaken by a feeling of intense calm. The women helped him off the table and into a wheelchair, which they wheeled back into the dormitory. Arthur was off-loaded onto his bunk suc-king his feeding bottle and looking like an overgrown baby who had been kept up past his bedtime.
They took Bill away for some treatment.
After an hour and a half the pad on Arthur’s buttock was beginning to dry and the first notch on the expander opened up – Arthur yelped in pain and renewed his suc-king, he tried desperately to wet his nappy in the hopes that the ring would not expand any more. He knew he had about quarter of an hour before this would happen, but the more he tried to go the harder it seemed, his body would not forget the years of training and control without a fight. Eventually he slumped back the drugs had relaxed him, but the fear was beginning to frighten him, like when he played hide-and-seek and was about to be discovered. This sensation was all he needed and he flooded his nappy, it ran down between his legs and soaked through the plaster and onto the sensor. He could have cried with joy as the expander rested back with a click.
End part 26
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Apologies for the long delay, but I have been away
Part 27
Bill was in the clinical room and had been stripped of all his hair. The girls had another plan for Bill which was totally different to Arthur’s little invention. He was being fitted with a catheter that had a major difference, because this one had a small piece of electronic wizardry that opened a valve within the device at a preset time. It also had an umbrella tip that when fitted would open inside the wall of his bladder and make removal impossible without a complex surgical procedure. Insertion was painful to say the very least, as the electronics, although miniaturised were still very large to fit into such a narrow channel. The ‘brolly’ was deployed and the tubing unscrewed from the unit. The device was now firmly embedded within him.
“You will love this Bill, if you are good you will pee every 30 minutes, but if you are disobedient, then we will switch the unit inside you off. You will be in agony if you cannot relieve yourself, so don’t make us cross will you baby?”
Bill looked at them in horror.
They nappied him with rapid efficiency and took out a reel of polythene tubing which they tried to poke up his nose. He struggled and writhed as the tube made its passage down the back of his throat and caused him to gag. He screamed and made violent threats to an unseen audience. The room mates on the other side of the steel could only imagine at what horrors Bill was undergoing. The tube was inserted into his stomach and without anaesthetic they stitched the tubing to his cheek and ensured the arrangement was permanent. The pain was unbearable and Bill slipped in and out of consciousness. When he awoke, he saw that he had been encased in a baby grow and was wearing reins that had a large box attached to the breast plate from which came the other end of the plastic tube that resided in his stomach. It whirred quietly and he could see milky fluid moving up the tube.
“It is an automatic feeder baby” said Amelia with an evil grin “it holds almost a gallon of a special diuretic mixture laced with a coc-ktail of exciting things to make you happy. It will feed you at the rate of 3 litres an hour, ensuring that your bladder will be totally full every 20 minutes or so, but sadly your release valve is set for every 30 minutes unless you can prove to us that you are going to be totally compliant and do everything we say.”
Bill was already desperate to pee “Please let me go to the toilet”
“Sorry, what did you say?” asked Amelia looking down at him, as she increased the flow rate in the pump. The pressure inside Bill was starting to build, the valve was water-tight, not a drip seemed able to escape, he squirmed as the pain started to build. He strained to force out some of the volume in his bladder to no avail. The idea of wetting himself while wearing a baby’s nappy was the last thing on his mind. He tried so hard to pee that he almost pooped himself, but the gadget controlling him was remorseless. He started to sweat as his body fought against the pressure.
“Please let me go to the toilet” repeated Bill “I am begging you”
“What are you wearing?” prompted Amelia
“A nappy” said Bill, the idea went through his mind for a few seconds as he made the correct connections and he came to the right answer “please let me wet in my nappy Nanny, let me do pee pee in my nappy, me good baby”. He was screaming now, the pain was beyond belief, his brain unable to understand why muscles were not working. If these evil women wanted him to behave like a toddler, then he was happy to play. The need to have some relief was now off scale.
Amelia laughed and pressed a button on the control panel, the valve deep inside him opened up and he flooded the thirsty terry cloth. Bill had never been so grateful for anything in his whole life, he revelled in the relief, he even enjoyed the warm feeling that now encased his gushing member. The drugs in the blend were affecting his judgement, his senses were heightened to screaming pitch. The pressure was already starting to build and his thoughts as he was being taken out of the preparation room was how long before the valve would open again? His whole life was focussed on how long before he could wet his nappy. He suc-ked on the dummy that they had put in his mouth and wondered how he was going to survive the rest of his life.
End part 27
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Part 28
Arthur in the adjoining bunk was having his own problems. He too was drinking the bottles as fast as he could in order to produce enough wetness to keep the sensors from driving the expander. Little did he realise that within the feed he was consuming lay a tranquilliser and sedative that were slowly letting him slip into a deep sleep. As he was about to drift off Sabina came in clutching a clean nappy and a pair of plastic pants.
“Lift up” she said pulling at his pants “let’s get you freshened up before you fall asleep”. She removed his wet terry nappy and replaced it with a clean one, she did not bother to clean or powder him, because nappy rash would be a part of her plans for him. Nonetheless Arthur was grateful for the clean and fresh softness, however, had he been thinking straight he would have realised that the sensors were now close to drying out again. She just managed to pull up the plastic pants and snuggle his nappy into place as he was drifting off into a deep sleep.
Sabina stood at the foot of his bed watching him as the electronics sent a message to the annular ring in Arthur’s rear. He screamed into his dummy as the pain ripped through him and he at once started to try and wet his nappy, now totally alert and with tears streaming down his face. A small smile appeared on the face of his torturer as Arthur went red in the face as he tried to force some liquid into the drying terry cloth diaper. Time passed and once again the ring clicked open another notch as the required wetness failed to materialise. This new surge of pain triggered his brain to allow a small trickle to escape him and satisfy the relentless and unforgiving sensor. The ring clicked back one notch, still leaving him in tremendous discomfort. Once again the pain subsided sufficiently for him to drift off into sleep once again. Again and again he forgot to wet in time and he suffered the painful punishment.
Sabina changed him twice more that evening as he became more and more exhausted suc-king furiously on the bottle to maintain a constant supply of liquid. His life revolved around the intruder that lived in his body, the suc-king became automatic and with the first twitch of expansion his brain released a stream of his babyish wetness to flow deep into his nappy. The whole challenge was relentless and it was only a matter of hours before his brain had released all conscious control over his bladder as Arthur drank and wet at intervals that were measured in seconds rather than minutes. Deep within his subconscious a part of him had worked out that constantly being wet and continually wetting his nappy like a small baby was the only way to stop the pain. The basic skill of potty training that had been learnt over his early years had been totally eradicated in a few short hours.
Sabina came the next morning to see an Arthur who was totally wrecked and exhausted. His bottles had been replenished and refilled throughout the night. Sabina and Amelia had filled him up with almost six litres of fluids and now as they were trying to take the feeding nipple from his mouth he started to scream. They tried to placate him with soothing sounds and reassure him that the expander was turned off, but his brain refused to believe them. The supply from the bottles was deeply entrenched in his mind with the wetness to keep him free from pain.
They put a big dummy in his mouth which seemed to pacify him then gave him a much needed change. Arthur was so stressed, twitchy and wide eyed that Sabina decided to give him a calming talk. “You have been a very good boy Arthur” she said sitting on the side of his bed “I will take out the ring tomorrow if you promise to be good”. She pushed him back so that he was lying down and started to undo the belt with the six feeding bottles that were now empty.
Arthur looked at her over the ring of his dummy, suc-king for all he was worth. “Nnnng” he tried to speak through the teat as she removed the contraption that fed him. He was now paranoid about having enough liquids to fuel his wetting. As they replaced his wet nappy they noted that he now seemed to dribble urine almost continuously. The expander was left in place, but they were both quite sure that Arthur had been mentally broken in the space of one short night. They decided to keep him in training for a further 24 hours before removing the device.
The two women lavished great care on Arthur who had responded to their harsh treatment better than they could have ever wished. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and puffy white romper suit trimmed in pink rosebuds that was large enough to accommodate his bulky nappies. On his feet they put some woolly booties that tied with a pink ribbon. His white mittens and a plastic backed terry bib that they tied around his neck completed the ensemble. The dummy that was bringing him such comfort was tied on a ribbon that was pinned to his t-shirt.
A baby harness was strapped around him and he was led on the reins to the breakfast area that was off one corner of the dormitory and clipped into a large high chair. He looked around the room. It was part of a cavernous room that together with the dormitory and the preparation room had been partitioned off with stud partitioning. There were probably twenty other high chairs up against the wall and another dozen or so set around the edge of the huge wooden refectory table. He sat alone in the room trying to turn round in the restrictive space of his high chair and he turned both to the left and to the right in order to try and see what was directly behind him but the baby harness around his shoulders and chest firmly pinned him into his seat. His bib covered the little bells on the breast plate and muffled their tinkling. The constant suc-king on the dummy had not abated at all and he had succeeded in drooling sufficiently to make the neck of his bib quite damp so making it feel cool to his skin.
A sudden unexplained panic attack caused an unexpected wet release in his nappy and he clamped down involuntarily against the metal ring in his bottom.
A door opened at the other end of the room and a girl wearing a simple blue uniform with a white apron came into the room carrying a tray which had bacon sandwiches and two full bottles of what looked like milk. Arthur began to salivate and dribble poured between the gap of his dummy and his lips to further saturate his terry bib.
The nurse said nothing, but released the bows on his mittens and pulled the dummy from his lips and laid it on the tray beside his tempting sandwiches. Arthur was so hungry that he rushed into the sandwiches with reckless abandon - the molten butter, tomato sauce (ketchup) and crumbs fell from his mouth and further soiled the white bib. He ate until it was all gone, wiping a splodge on his bib with his finger and savouring the flavour then he picked up the plastic bowl in which the food had been placed and ran his tongue around the rim. In no time at all the saltiness of the bacon made him realise just how thirsty he was and he picked up the bottle, tipped back his head, and started suc-king the sweet formula for all he was worth. The women in the control room looked at the images from the CCTV placed in the dining room and laughed at his childish behaviour. He looked every bit the toddler and was playing the role perfectly. The final enactment of his return to babyhood was when he was half way through his second bottle and the sleeping medication that had been added to the formula kicked in. His head slumped, the teat of the bottle still in his mouth as he slowly nodded off, his head jerking a few times as he tried to wake up, before he fell forward in a deep sleep.
Three nurses went into the dining room and helped him sleep walk back to his bed which was now fitted like a cot with bars, so that he would not fall out while he slept.
They changed his wet nappy and made him fresh and clean again. As one pulled up a clean pair of plastic pants, another nurse was setting the annular ring back into operation with a switch on the control box. The third nurse offered up a dummy to his lips which took suction almost immediately and she pulled out the centre ring to fit a tube that ran to a large bag of fluid on a stand by his head. Almost immediately the bag gurgled slightly as Arthur started to draw in the fluid with his frantic suc-king. Memories of the night flooded back and he fell into a routine that his subconscious had devised and implemented for his painless existence. In a minute he had emptied the small content of his bladder into his clean nappy. One nurse nudged the others as the front of his nappy yellowed in front of them – they giggled to each other and pulling up the bars left for the nurse’s station.
In the next cot Bill was about to have a huge surprise.....
End part 28
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End part 28
Bill was continuing to suffer in agony as the relentless flow of liquid coupled with the unwillingness of the catheter to release his bladder was ripping him apart internally. Every time the nurse came to change him he pleaded with her to let him be a baby. He would do anything to stop the pain which was so severe that he was almost blacking out with the pain and not to mention that the restriction to his eliminations was on the verge of giving him toxic shock.
The team looked at Bill through the double sided mirror fitted into the wall near to where he lay in his cot. They basked in the warm comfort of their comfy nurses’ station quietly drinking tea and attending to the occasional chores involved with looking after their charges while they relaxed in the soft sofas within their room. Bill was arched in pain as the automatic valve failed to release at the 30 minute mark. He had been in pain for over ten minutes, but now the level of that pain was beyond his endurance. Bill did the only thing he could, he screamed and screamed at the top of his voice, trying to tear out the tube that was stitched to his cheek to stop the flow of milk to his stomach.
At first the nurses looked through the mirror and laughed, but as he tore at the feeding tube and started to bleed from the ripped stitches they realised that this was a very serious trauma that was happening. The staff nurse rushed to get the control box, but despite pushing the over-ride button to release the valve nothing happened.
She grabbed the catheter kit and motioned one of the duty nurses to come with her as she rushed into the ward where Bill had had a massive muscular contraction and collapsed. She tore down his plastic panties and undid the pins securing his still dry nappies. Not a drop of wetness had escaped him and he looked bloated. She took his shrunken member and inserted a gadget that would connect to the valve and enable her to withdraw it. However, the tissue was swollen and the spines of the device had embedded themselves well into him. She pushed and pressed at the wire that was supposed to connect and retract the device, but in her rush and panic she was causing damage and lacerations to the muscular structure that controlled his bladder. It was almost ten minutes later and not without causing irreversible damage that there was a sudden rush of his wetness. She covered him up with his dry nappy and held it in place while reaching for another from the stack beside her and adding it to the pile. She withdrew the valve from the tip of his pen-is and saw that the connecting fins were present but badly bent. His nappy was a coral pink from the blood flushed out in his wetting.
They cleaned him up and dressed him in a clean nappy, before they had even pinned up the sides, they could not help but notice that he was trickling a steady stream of pink urine. One of the nurses carefully removed the tube from his cheek and withdrew it from his mouth, then cleaned the wound and applied a bandage. The stinging of the antiseptic brought Bill out of his collapse. The nurses were sympathetic and kind, even a dog should not be put through such pain. They wheeled up a trolley that contained a bowl of hot water and began to give him a bed bath. They caressed and pampered his tortured body with loving attention, drying him with a fluffy soft white towel and powdering him with baby powder. The clammy sweat was gone from his face and slowly the colour was starting to return to his skin.
Their administrations had restored circulation to him and in the time it had taken to restore him he had flooded the nappy they had put on at the beginning of the treatment. Through the steamy transparent plastic pants they could see that his wetness was very much tinged with blood.
The staff nurse was called Amanda, she was petite and had a bosom that might have been more appropriate on a larger girl. She wore a dark blue uniform with a white starched apron that barely disguised the fact that the buttons on the front of her tunic were under pressure to remain closed. “Lift up Billy Baby” she said softly and with kindness, “let us change that wet nappy of yours”.
“I’m a good baby nurse, please don’t hurt me” mumbled Bill almost in tears as fear overtook him at the thought of his bladder being stretched to breaking point. His eyes started to water as he lifted up to have the plastic pants removed and a new nappy slipped under his bottom. The babyish smell of lotion and powder brought back memories that had long been suppressed and forgotten. “Let me go in my nappy like a good baby, I promise I will wet it all the time, please don’t hurt me any more” he wailed as tears started to flow down his cheek as self-pity washed over him. Amanda pulled up his clean plastic pants and carefully tucked in all the edges of the soft white terry nappy that were peeking out from the elasticated openings.
“It’s okay Billy, you can go in your nappy like a good baby boy now, because I have taken out the valve” she said looking at the front of his nappy which was the already starting to become wet, but without the pinkness that had been of such concern only a few moments earlier. She shook out a pale blue sleeper and pulled it over his head and threaded his arms through the holes. Bill lifted up his bottom as she eased the garment under him and pushed his legs into the waiting legs, before snapping up the poppers that ran in a huge semi-circle from one ankle round to the other. The garment completely enveloped him in soft fuzziness and the built in mittens and enclosed feet made him feel secure but helpless. He had the sudden desire to suc-k his thumb and raised his hand to his mouth. Amanda looked at him with understanding and ran her hand over his forehead with a gentle stroking motion. She looked down at him and realised that his mental integrity had all but cracked as the thickly nappied person in front of her had taken all he could endure and had regressed back to a time when there was no worry in the world. She reached under her apron into one of the cavernous pockets in her blue tunic and pulled out a large orthodontic dummy with a white disc. “Does this baby want to suc-k on a dummy for comfort?” she said in a voice reserved for distressed toddlers and sobbing babies.
Bill looked at the goddess before him and the last thread of reality slowly split and parted. As Amanda pushed the teat against his lips he allowed it to pass through intro his mouth and gratefully suc-ked hard on the rubber bulb to revive the babyish memories that were awaking within him. She gave the ring on the dummy a gentle push and wiggled it against his lips with an impish smile. “There, that’s a lot better isn’t it? You suc-k on you dummy and get some sleep, but I am going to tie a bib round your neck to stop your sleeper getting wet” she said presenting him with a large white terry bib with a plastic backing trimmed in blue gingham ribbons that she tied behind his neck in a large bow.
Bill’s eyelids slowly became leaden and he could no longer stay awake, the dummy in his mouth gently oscillated in and out as he suc-ked the comfort out of it. His damaged bladder, barely functional, let a small stream of pee out into the soft thirstiness of his fluffy nappies.
End of part 28
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Part 29
The next day came kissed by the sun, but in the subterranean world that belonged to Arthur and Billy the world never changed. The women had deliberately lengthened their sleep periods to more babyish times in readiness for their move to the plastics factory above. Although they did not realize it, the two of them were taking naps after each meal, which never gave any indication as to what meal it actually was. Sometimes they would get two breakfast type meals in a day or three dinners and it was strictly forbidden to talk about times or days. The nurses slept in the nurses station and appeared to be there all the time, so even shifts were abandoned as a source of temporal stability.
The weeks had passed by and Billy and Arthur had both proved excellent subjects, although the catheter shunt valve had now been totally abandoned as a means of conversion. Poor Billy had become incontinent immediately as the muscularity of his bladder never recovered in a workable form. He tended to dribble once the pressure built up and then suffer a release shortly afterwards once his volume threshold had been reached. The nurses were now putting two nappies on him day and night because he had become such a big wetter.
Arthur was in a similar state and was completely incontinent continually wanting a bottle and drinking almost incessantly. The second round of treatment had eventually damaged his bowel and he tended to be unable to hold back once he felt the need to go. He too was clad in double thickness nappies and because of the thickness between his legs had to waddle around the complex usually with his bottle hanging out of his mouth.
The two new babies had been kept in the facility as the other members of the ward had been processed and introduced to the factory above. Now the injection moulding equipment was churning out bottles, rattles, dummy mouth shields and rings, and other baby equipment in both regular and larger sizes. The workforce was now totally dependant on wearing their nappies and did not want to be seen by the outside world. They were slaves to the women who cared for them and kept them clean and dry. The large boiler suits that they wore were made of the finest brushed cotton and were like giant sleeping suits. If they had pom-poms on their bottom then they would have looked exactly like bunny suits. Their hands were left uncovered so that they could do the delicate work required, and on their feet they wore booties with soft leather soles sewn in to the bottoms.
The new factory shone and smelt like a hospital, it was brand new, the floor was sealed in shiny grey polyurethane and the walls gleamed white with food factory quality wall claddings. Every day two of the baby-men would start their day by pushing two floor cleaning machines over the floor, but these machines had the humiliating tweak that they looked like dolls prams. The two workers looked like toddlers playing with their toys together and taking their dollies out for a walk.
All the workers carried white fluffy nappies which they used to dust and polish their work stations before tucking them into a special loop sewn into the waist of their suits. On a ribbon hung their dummies which all of them suc-ked without any second thought as they drooled onto their baby dribble bibs. In the teat part of the factory, where they dipped the stainless steel formers into a rubber latex solution to form the other half of the dummies it was essential that the hair was kept covered to keep the teats totally clean and free of imperfections. The small team of three queued up as their heads were covered with cotton baby bonnets and secured with different coloured satin ribbons to keep their hair out of the product. They wore bibs that had matching trimming to the ribbons on their bonnets. The corridor that ran alongside this suite of rooms were glass panelled to allow an unobstructed view to the dummy teat department. The team were well practiced and competent. Their quotas were stiff and required total commitment. You may wonder what motivation there was to ensure that efficiency was maintained at such a high level. I guess you have never been deprived of a potty to go poo-poo or left in a wet nappy for a day.
Business was booming – major retailers loved to come and see the facility. They were told that the workers enjoyed dressing up as it reminded them that these products were high risk and were intended for babies. If you were continually suc-king a dummy and pinned up in a nappy then you had no option but to focus on “baby” and the importance of what you were doing.
One visitor asked if they actually used their nappies for their intended purpose. Sabina who was leading the tour simply replied “What do you think?” and left it at that. The visitors talked about the topic all the way home. “Had anybody actually seen a toilet in the factory?” What was the room that they did not enter (it was a sluice room but they would never have been admitted)? They never got to talk to any of the workers, because they were behind the high visibility screening separated those areas that were at a positive pressure. The workers had to change when going from the visitor zone into this clean area and nobody from outside was allowed into this area which might then become contaminated.
Workers were called on rote to a changing room where two nurses pampered and changed their precious workers. Good work and high productivity was rewarded with manual treatment of the front of their nappies prior to changing. A good worker would know if he has earned this privilege, because he would be given a dummy with a green mouth guard as he went into the factory to start his shift. All the time he suc-ked and drooled on his babyish dummy, he would catch sight of its colour and know that he was going to be pleasured at his next nappy change. Almost all of the workers with the green dummies had little stiffies in their nappies that almost throbbed with anticipation. This made their gait even more babyish as they tried to walk in this condition! The excruciating anticipation was sometimes too much for some of the babies and you would sometimes see one twitch and wail with disappointment as he came off in his nappy with a massive explosion. The nurses were sympathetic and sometimes would let them have a gentle suc-k on their breast as a consolation, or would hug them to their bosom as they fed them their baby’s bottle.
Rest assured, these workers were totally adored by the nurses who looked after them. The workers totally adored the nurses who ensured that their helpless incontinence was made a beautiful experience for them with the soft and gentle babying they received.
Only a couple of them were incontinent of bowel and on some occasions they did manage to toddle to the red button by the door and summon a nursery nurse to rush them to the potty room. On some occasions the split seconds involved was all it took to be a success or failure. In most of these cases the time it took to undo the poppers, slip of the plastic panties and undo their nappy was just a wait that was too long. The nurses would sometimes just hug their charge and let the poo poo drop in his nappy, before making the change. It was often a tearful moment as the distressed toddler apologised almost unintelligibly past the slobbering of his dummy.
This was a contented community. Work started at 07.30 am and worked until 10.30 when they all had a bottle of juice and nappy change. They then worked until 12.30 when they had lunch and were then put down for a nap – modern thinking has already proven that this encourages workers to be more alert and more refreshed. It was also a time when they reinforced the helplessness of their situation. They were told that outside of the factory they would probably be institutionalised and locked away as weirdoes because of their incontinence and because they were all dressed as babies. They were totally dependant on their nappies and totally addicted to suc-king their dummies, so what would they do outside? Here they were loved and cherished, what more could they want? Then they all got up and were changed again to work until 5.00 pm when it was time for high tea with a suc-ky tea break at 3.00.
There was a problem however, because demand was beginning to exceed what they could supply and the need for additional labour was not that easy to come by…..
End part 29
Part 30
In the village sat at her breakfast table was a lady called Emily Prim, mother of Elizabeth and Neil, grandma to Lauren and widow for many years. She looked at Neil who was unshaven, unwashed, scruffy and rude. Emily asked herself how she could have produced her beautiful daughter Elizabeth who was a university graduate and now wonderful mother, yet at the same time have made this offensive brute who sat opposite her.
“Are you going to college dear?” she asked, fearful that the brutish boy would over-react to her simple question.
“What’s it to you?” he barked, slurping on the mug of tea and reading the latest copy of the Beano. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and sniffed. His shirt was dirty, splattered in food where he had not been bothered to take any care in the way he fed himself. If he has any best friends they would have told him that he smelt and that his lack of personal hygiene was noticeable and would be offensive to anybody who had a sense of smell.
Emily looked, absorbed the atmosphere and sniffed the air surrounding this evil little twerp who she was not at all proud to call her son. A veil of sadness fell about her and the oaf failed to notice his mother starting to have watery eyes as the disappointment overcame her.
“Are you enjoying college dear? Would you like me to drive you in to your lessons this morning?” She asked treading the virtual ground as if it were covered in jagged glass.
“Look I am not a baby at school, we don’t have lessons we have lectures. I go to big boys’ university now, so you don’t have to continually treat me like a baby. I will go when and if I am ready. I am reading right now” he yelled back
“You ignorant little twerp” his mother retorted “you are reading a little kid’s comic and you smell like a zoo. Look at the state of you, look in the mirror you filthy sod. If you were a baby, you would never have looked or smelled like this. I kept you and your sister immaculate, neither of you ever had nappy rash and my nappies were the whitest in the street and more than once neighbours would praise them”. She reddened and became heated as the fury within her started to reach boiling point.
“That was a long time ago. You don’t do much for me now” he said barely looking up from his absorbing comic “it would be nice to get a bit more cash once in a while so I didn’t have to sit around here all day listening to you drone on and on. Get your bag out Mum and give me a bit of cash so I can join the lads for a drink. Stop going on and on about how great you were at scrubbing up nappies and give us a sub to have a bit of fun. Why don’t you try and be a proper Mum for a change, instead of preaching doom and gloom at me the whole time. You are turning into a right old drudge, how many time do we have to hear how white your nappies were, how you knitted all our matinee jackets and booties, how you breast fed us both and generally smothered us with your goodie-goodie motherhood” he said scornfully.
What happened next would have shocked the most hardened. Emily Prim drew herself up to her full height of 5 foot 6 inches and leapt in one bound to be next to her son. Then she wound up her arm an unleashed a slap that hit him with such ferocity that it sent him flying out of his chair. “You ungrateful bastard” she screamed at him “I brought you up single-handedly, your father was killed when you were two and I had to scrimp and save to produce a miserable little git like you? She pulled aside the tumbled chair that stood between her and her errant son. She reached down and grabbed his hair with her left hand and pulled him to a sitting position before unleashing another slap with her right that almost had his head off and ripped out much of the hair she was clutching with a vice-like grip. Neil wash shocked, but his mother who had now begun to enjoy the release from the many years of her forced timidity was like a demon released. She hit him again and again, so hard and so fast that the boy was unable to block the blows. His nose that had received a couple of well directed blows had started to bleed as he slumped over. She kicked him hard between the legs and he groaned as his legs instinctively drew up to his chest.
She had just drawn her foot back for another kick when she heard the front door open
“Let’s go and see Granny now shall we sweetheart. Let’s show her how pretty you look in the new dress that she bought you. I expect you need a clean nappy now don’t you?” came the voice as the party bustled and rumbled through the hall towards the kitchen.
Emily brushed back her silver flecked hair and examined her hands as if she expected to see blood or pieces of skin. “Hello dear, hello Lauren” she said in the special sing-song voice that she kept exclusively for her grandchild. Elizabeth came into the kitchen just as Neil was trying to extract himself from the small space between the dresser and the radiator. His nose was bleeding and Lizzy (as she preferred to be called) thought that there was a good chance that he might have the beginnings of a black eye.
“What has happened Mummy?” she said looking at Neil who was making no attempt to get up, but was still restricted by the pain in his testicles.
“This oaf has been acting up like a big baby and so I gave him a smack” she smirked, pleased that she had reasserted her authority and walked to the stove to put on the kettle before coming back to fondle her grandchild. The baby Lauren looked worried and clung on tottering legs to her mother as Lizzy reached into her pocket and took out a box that contained her dummy.
“She needs a change Mum and I think she needs a nap as well, because she did not sleep in her pram when I walked round like she normally does”. She looked down at Neil who in addition to the red nose now had a very red face. “You are a bastard Neil, why did you have to upset Mummy, she tries to everything for you and how do you repay her?” Lizzy was cross and angered by her brother’s thoughtless behaviour and was about to give him a verbal lashing when she noticed Neil squirming with embarrassment as the wet patch on the front of his trousers continued to wick out in an ever widening circle. The kick in his crotch had had a very bad effect on him. “Mummy, Mummy” she cried out “did you manage to wash and dry the terry nappies that Lauren used last time we were hear?”
“Yes sweetheart I did. They are in the airing cupboard. I think there are about nine or ten now, because there are some from the time before as well. Why do you ask? I will go and get them - there are some plastic pants and bibs as well.
“Do you have a nappy big enough for Neil? He seems to have wet himself!”
The two women looked down at him with baby Lauren laughing as well, although she was far too young to understand what was going on.
“Mum I am so sorry” he said in a childish voice.
“No my lad, from now on you can call me Mummy” she commanded “things are going to change around here starting now. Stand up” she said a camera in her hand that had been conveniently placed there by Lizzy. The flash went off about six times as she took picture after picture of Neil in a pair of light blue joggers that had clearly been wet by him having an accident. She particularly liked the look he had that was identical to the face he had made when he had not quite made his potty when he was a toddler and flooded his training pants.
Neil made a move to grab the camera, but Emily smacked him hard on the cheek. “Any trouble from you and I will have these pictures on the internet and pinned up ton the notice board at University” she said with authority, “now get upstairs and have a bath, a shave and brush your teeth and be sharp about it”.
Lizzy finished changing Lauren on her changing mat on the table and was just tucking in the protruding corners of her clean nappy. She turned her head and looked sleepy as she nursed her dummy. “I am going to put her down now Mummy” she said as she went upstairs to the cot that was in the spare room for when her mother did babysitting.
Neil was in the bathroom, the sound of running water came from the room and he had piled all his dirty clothes outside the door to be put in the laundry basket. Emily collected it all up, went to the back room that was Neil’s room and opened the window. She threw the clothes out into the garden below.
“What are you doing Mummy?” asked Lizzy who had come from the darkened room next door in which Lauren was now sleeping.
“No talking, just throw all of Neil’s clothes out the window, that is shirts, underwear, trousers, absolutely everything. I do not want a stitch of his clothes to remain. She threw a dressing gown out the window and numerous pairs of socks and pants. “You keep going, I have things to do downstairs”
Emily went downstairs and out into the garden, she dragged the garden brazier onto the concrete plinth and started to load his clothes into the bin. She poured on some paraffin and lit the garments which went up like a torch. More and more items of clothing she threw on until there was an inferno of burning clothes. The trainers came flying out the window and these were added to the conflagration fuelling the fire with smoke and the unpleasant stench of rubber. Particle of black ash were starting to float into the air. Her task completed she went back upstairs. The bedroom was devoid of any footwear or clothing. Every drawer was empty, every cupboard was bare and no hook supported a single item of clothing. She checked the airing cupboard and not so much as a pair of pant remained. There was only her clothing (far too small for her loutish son) and a pile of nappies left, apart from the sheets and linen.
She took the nappies, bibs and plastic pants and gave them to Lizzy. “Do you have some nappy pins?” she asked “because the only thing Neil is going to be able to wear is a large nappy which I am going to make out of a large white bath towel” and with that she went into her small sewing room and within minutes had cut and edged the towel into a serviceable nappy.
Lizzy and her mother met up again in Neil’s room as he came out of the bathroom with a towel round his waist. The smell of his incinerated trainers and slippers was starting to smell through the open window. Emily closed it shut as some black fibrous ash sailed high into the air and threatened to waft into his room.
Neil went to his drawer “Where are my clothes?” he demanded going from drawer to drawer and cupboard to cupboard only to be greeted by the appearance of bare wood. He slammed the drawers back one after the other and slammed the doors, while gripping at the towel around his waist that threatened to come apart at any moment
“Where are my clothes?” he wailed “what have you done with my clothes?” He stood in the centre of the room as his sister and mother sat quietly on his bed waiting.
“Come and lie down on your bed baby boy, Mummy has all the clothes you are going to need right now”. Neil looked apprehensive, a man without clothes is vulnerable, a man without his clothes is a prisoner. “Where have you hidden them” he stuttered as he thought whether to be aggressive of submissive, but realising he held none of the cards he decided “Where have you hidden my clothes Mmummy” he hesitated.
His mother looked joyous and her face was now beaming “Mummy has burnt all your clothes to ashes my baby boy and your life is about to change forever…..”
End part 30
-
Part 31
Lizzy watched with a bemused expression as her mother folded the soft fluffy towel into a kite shape and signalled to Neil to lie on his bed. As he moved towards the bed she ripped the bath towel from around his waist and leaving him exposed. Neil instinctively clutched his manhood and tried to cover his nakedness from his sister, but his mother slapped away his hands.
“Stop it, get your hands away from there you naughty boy” she scolded him, her blue eyes flashing triumphantly, “I have got to clean you up properly, before I get you dressed again”. Out of nowhere an electric razor appeared in her hand, it started to buzz and Neil’s eyes almost came out of their sockets as he spied the instrument of his demise”
“No, no no” he said repetitively “please don’t shave me Mummy, please don’t take away my hair. I will look like a baby”. His mother warmed at the use of her old name when he had first learned to talk and smiled a maternal smile that was exclusively saved for younger siblings. She put a firm hand on his stomach and drove down into his thatch with the shaver and in no time at all he was as naked and devoid of hair as the day he was born. Lizzy sniggered and then snorted back a stifled laugh.
“Not much manhood to hide there” she said almost bursting into laughter “my goodness with a thingy that small it is best wrapped away in a baby’s nappy to stop it from being an embarrassment”.
Emily motioned for Neil to roll over and then proceeded to remove more of his hair from his bottom. She brushed the hair onto his bath towel and then told him to lift up so she could pull it out from under him. The underlying kite-folded nappy was in place and waiting. “Can you lend me a couple of nappy pins Lizzy?” she asked “Perhaps Lauren would not mind if we borrowed some of her nappy cream and baby powder would she?”.
In less than a minute Lizzy had passed over the required toiletries and her mother had rubbed the thick cream all around Neil’s bottom and then sprinkled a huge cloud of the fragrant talc on top. Neil felt so babyish and humiliated that he was shaking his head in despair. The smell was so obvious and was a floral perfume that everybody would only associate with an infant.
Lizzy undid the two pins that she had fastened to her towelling apron that she had put on while she was changing Lauren. Her mother put them both between her lips and pulled the nappy up through Neil’s legs and gathered the part at the back and positioned it over the part between his legs. She took one of the pins and fastened it with a flourish before snapping the safety cover over the catch. Neil started to wriggle and she pushed him down.
“Stay still you bad baby” she admonished him with a light slap, before removing the second pin from her mouth and securing the other side of the nappy. “Now you are going to wear this all day until I can organise some proper clothes for you” she said. “I am going out with Lizzy to do some shopping for you and will make sure that from now on you are going to smell nice rather than like an old dog. I want you to stay in bed and have a snooze while we are gone. You are not to get up for any reason at all and you are certainly not to go out.” Lizzy and his mother laughed at this remark, since he no longer had any shoes or a single stitch of clothing that he could change into - even if he wanted to!
Neil looked down at the huge nappy that now enveloped him and at the cream and powder residues that were up to his stomach. He was defeated and he knew it, but he was no dullard and his mind was working on ways to escape his situation. His deliberations were interrupted by a sharp poke from his mother. “I want your word on this Nee-Nee” she said with a cruel smile on her face, because she had not used his baby name in many years and it amused her to use it again. Neil had been unable to pronounce his own name and this was the closest he could get, the childish nickname had lasted until he was almost twelve.
“I promise” he mumbled
“I didn’t hear you Nee-Nee” she prompted “I want you to answer me properly and clearly”
“I promise Mummy” he said in total submission and crawled up to the top of his bed in order to slip under the duvet. His mother pulled the duvet up to his neck and kissed him on the forehead.
Lizzy and Emily pulled the curtains and left the room gently closing the door as they departed. Once they were through the door Emily burst into action.
“Find his mobile phone and take out the SIM card Lizzy” she ordered. “I am going to put his laptop in the boot of my car and will password-protect my own computer. I am also taking the broadband router with me just to make sure that he cannot send any emails. I am also taking the house phone out of the charger and taking that with me as well. Is there anything I have forgotten?”
“You are sure that he has absolutely nothing to wear? What about his sports kit?”
“He has not worn that in months, I put it all in the charity bag weeks ago” said Emily. “I burnt his dressing gown and all of his clothes and I have checked the airing cupboard. There is certainly nothing of mine he could fit into. If he looked in the attic he would find all of his old baby clothes which I kept just in case you had a boy instead of a girl, but I don’t think he would fit into any of those things” she said beginning to chortle.
“Why exactly are you doing this Mummy?” asked Lizzy
“Well to be honest I have had enough of his rudeness, his sullenness and his total lack of cooperation. There are times when I don’t think he is a member of our family, he just comes and goes as he pleases, he drinks, smokes, takes drugs I am sure and never does anything to help me. I’ve had enough and he needs to be taught a lesson.
“But you aren’t going to keep him dressed up in just a nappy are you?” she asked incredulously. “He cannot wander around in just a nappy all day, what would the neighbours think and what about college?”
“College finishes in about a week anyway and then there is the long summer break. He has not made any plans to get a job during the summer and just planned to mooch about with his friends drinking, smoking and playing computer games. I just cannot afford the luxury of such a selfish oaf” she replied starting to become a little emotional as she thought about his behaviour. “Of course he is not going to just wander about in nappies as that would be silly. I am going to buy him some plastic pants to wear over them. I ordered him some things off Ebay last week which should come any time soon. You’d be amazed at how many adult sized baby clothes they sell, you can even buy extra large dummies and feeding bottles. I bought him a set of reins as well from a company on the internet, you would love them as they are really old-fashioned leather ones with little bells on the front.”
Lizzy was agog, her mouth wide open and eye brows deep into her hair line. “You have bought him baby clothes? What on earth are you going to do to him? “Don’t you think this is going a bit far Mummy? She said rattling off question after question.
“Not at all, he has been a monster and I want my old son back and if that means turning him back into a baby who is dependant on me, then that is what I am going to do. I have even bought a tape that he will be forced to listen to every night and if I am really successful then those nappies are going to be used for the purpose they were designed for and he will be wetting himself ten times a day and pooping after virtually every meal.”
“You are joking! Then what?” asked Lizzy who did not like her brother that much, but was not that full of hate to see him humiliated in this way.
“I am going to sell him!” Emily replied with a huge grin “I am going to sell him to a company called Baby Dreams, who said they would give me £2000 if I could get him to visit their special clinic and double that if he was already nappy-dependant! They are the ones who sent me the CD and told me what to do. I also have some special medicines for him to take.”
“What do they want Neil for and why do they want him back in nappies?”
“Would you want to run away if you knew that you were totally reliant on your nappy? Would you want any of your friends to see you? If you only had baby clothes to wear, would you leave the building? They make baby clothes, accessories and everything a real baby would need, but they also make larger sizes as well. Lauren has some bibs and dresses that came from their factory.”
“But what would Neil do while he was there?”
“They are looking for a whole range of people, he might be in their IT department, or he could just as easily be in the warehouse. Who cares? All I want is for him to have some work experience and to learn that he has to grow up and become a great deal more mature”.
“And needing to wear nappies is being more mature?” asked Lizzy “I think you have gone barmy, but I have to agree with you that something has to be done.” They worked diligently seeking out possible escape routes and closing down or removing electronic devices that would enable Neil to escape his fate. As Lauren stirred in her cot in the spare room above, there was a knock on the door.
Lizzy headed for her daughter, as Emily went to the door. As the door opened her look of astonishment was priceless, because in front of her stood a toddler dressed in a blue sailor suit with matching blue frilly panties trimmed in lace around the legs and clearly covering a huge nappy. About his neck was a white terry bib edged in dark blue striped ribbon that was tied in a large bow at his neck. The bib was embroidered with a large fish inside of which was the name ‘Baby Bobby’. On a deep blue ribbon pinned to his top with a nappy pin was a large blue dummy which bounced on his chest.
“We got pwesents” said the outsized toddler waving his mittened hands towards the pretty girl standing behind him.
“Hello, I am so sorry, Bobby has only just started helping me and he is just learning. Aren’t you Darling?” she said to the babyish figure doing a little jig on the doorstep. “Do you need to go potty sweetheart? I think you do, don’t you?”
“Does he want to use the toilet?” asked Emily looking concerned
“No thank you Mrs. Prim, Bobby has not used a toilet for three months now that is why he has to wear a nappy, he is almost potty untrained now and will soon not think twice about using his protection. He wets his bed every night now and it will not be too long before he is wetting in the day as well. Look I think he has gone now” she said looking at Bobby who had stopped his dancing and was now suc-king quietly on his dummy. She reached under his blue panties and put a finger up the leg of his knickers before giving a knowing smile. “All done” she said “that’s a very good boy to go in your nappy. We always give you a reward when you have been a good boy don’t we? She reached in her pocket and pulled out a little packet of chocolate buttons. “You can have these when we get back in the van sweetie”.
“I am Natalie by the way Mrs. Prim and we have the order you placed with us. You forgot to order the plastic pants and we have given you half a dozen pairs on the house!”
The girl went to the van and with Bobby’s help carried a number of large boxes into the hallway. Bobby walked with a wide-legged gait as his wet nappy rubbed against him and dragged at his hips. His dummy wiggled in and out as he suc-ked it with increasing embarrassment as he felt some of the heavy wetting escape the confines of his saturated nappy and run down his leg. A tear from his eye ran down his cheek as his humiliation at the hands of his employer slowly sank into his dazed mental state.
Lizzy looked on from down the hall, while Lauren was pointing at Bobby and saying over and over again “Baby, baby Mummy.”
Emily closed the door and opened the first box, her hand fell upon the plastic pants “just what we needed” she said clearly pleased “let’s get these on Neil before we go out.”
Neil had no idea what was to befall him as the women ascended the stairs.
End part 31
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Part 32
Emily walked up the stairs pulling the brand new plastic pants out of the polythene bag. They had that unique smell of vinyl freshly opened to the air, pungent and slightly cloying, not unpleasant while not exactly pleasing to the nose either. It was a smell that she knew would adhere to Neil and mingle with the babyish powder smell that already had enveloped him. She shook out the pants to release the folds and puffed them out into a large ball. They were enormous.
She entered Neil’s room and without bothering to see whether he was asleep or awake peeled back the duvet on his bed, put her hands through the leg openings on the pants and grabbed his feet, lifted them and threaded the pants over his legs.
“Lift” she barked at Neil who had been dozing quietly and was trying to recover his wits. “Lift” she said more forcefully. Neil dug his heels into the mattress and lifted his bottom off the bed and Emily pulled the pants over his nappy being sure to tuck in the fluffy white terry that was poking out of the legs. She noted that the back of his nappy was well covered by the vinyl covering of his new pants, showing that they were perfectly big enough and totally secure. How many times when he was a baby had she put on his pants only to discover that the back of the nappy was not protected and then find him in the morning in a wet sleep suit and damp cot?
“What’s this?” grumbled Neil “why do I have to have plastic pants over the towel?”
“For a start it isn’t a towel silly baby, it is a nappy. Second, you are just too big to have a modern wool nappy cover like Lauren because they do not make them in your size. I would have liked to use the woolly covers because they are cooler and less sweaty, but you will just have to get used to these plastic knickers.”
“But why?” wailed Neil “I can go to the toilet and I don’t need to be humiliated by dressing up like this”.
“Now that is where you are quite wrong, yes, quite wrong” said his mother drawing herself up to full height and noting with more than a little satisfaction that the nappy was very visible through the plastic pants which were remarkable transparent. She would very easily be able to see when he had wet or soiled his nappies with these pants. “You are not being humiliated; I would never want to be so cruel. You are wearing nappies because you are going to use them for their intended purpose and that is to go potty. The plastic pants you are wearing are to keep your wetties inside and not make your bed or the furniture wet - silly baby”.
“You can’t make me do that” shouted Neil “I will not wet my nappies like a baby”
Emily smiled as she realised that in his sub-conscious mind he had already made the connection that they were ‘his’ nappies.
“No you won’t” she said noting the look of hope that suddenly appeared in Neil’s eyes “you will be doing your number two’s in them as well”.
“What” he exclaimed
“Look Nee-Nee they are nappies, nappies are for wetting and soiling and that is what I expect you to do. End of story. Now get back into your bed and lie down or else there will be trouble. I am already late to go out and Mummy does not want to be made late by a silly baby”. Her point made she left his room and headed fore the upstairs bathroom on the landing. She took the key from the lock on the inside and closed the door, then re-inserted the key on the outside and locked it. In his bed Neil heard the levers of the lock turn and knew that the toilet was now closed to him.
Lizzy and her mother locked up the back door, changed Lauren into a clean nappy and packed the car with the things that they did not want Neil to have. They also locked the downstairs cloak room which had the home’s second toilet and left.
The house was quiet and Neil got out of his bed and looked out of the front window of his mother’s room as their car pulled off the driveway. He felt strange with so much padding between his legs and found it hard to walk without having a slight waddle. The rustling of the plastic pants seemed almost deafening.
He tried the door of the toilet knowing it was locked and went downstairs to find the other loo to be equally secure. He was starting to need the toilet as his bladder filled, so he went to the kitchen and found a glass jug. He poked his member through the leg hole and relieved himself. Even he found this to be a horrible situation and poured the jug into the sink and rinsed everything thoroughly. The trouble with the operation was that the tight pinch of the elastic had not allowed all of his eliminations to escape, but released when he repositioned himself inside the nappy. A small dark yellow spot was clearly visible through his plastic pants, but Neil could not see it.
He found his phone only to discover that it was useless. He looked for the house phone, but all that was left was the base station. He switched on the computer only to discover that it now had a password to boot it up.
Neil searched the house for alternative clothing but could find nothing, he looked out of the window to see the remnants of his wardrobe were nothing more than blackened pieces and not a stitch was left. The airing cupboard had nothing and he realised that he was well and truly stumped. He then went to the end of the hall and examined the boxes left by the recent caller. The first was full of nappies and plastic pants, another had “Babygro” sleepers and onesies with huge bibs, mittens and booties. “How much had she spent on all of this junk”? He thought as he looked at the contents. He did not want to break the seal on the third box, because by this time he had realised that the contents were not going to be of any interest to him.
It was a sense of despair that he realised that desperate times required desperate solutions. He decided that the only solution was to get out and buy some new clothes, but how was he going to explain to anybody the way in which he was dressed? This was a puzzler.
He ran up to the airing cupboard and took out a white sheet, then he went to his room where kept his artwork supplies. In big large letters he wrote “SUPPORT GREAT ORMOND STREET HOSPITAL FOR SICK CHILDREN” on the middle of the sheet. Then he went to the airing cupboard and took out one of Lauren’s clean bibs which he tied around his neck. He took two of the nappies and wrapped them around his feet to make protection for his feet. He did not want to touch anything in the boxes, because rest assured that was all going back untouched.
He went downstairs and into the kitchen. In a steriliser was one of Lauren’s bottles, teat, cover and a dummy. He took out the lot. Into the bottle he put some milk. He rinsed off the dummy and put it in his mouth and draped the sheet over his shoulders. He noted with dismay that this barely covered his plastic pants and nappy which were still quite visible. So it was with more than a little trepidation that Neil set out the front door on his one mile journey into town, with his wallet tucked into the waist band of his nappy, dummy in mouth, bottle in hand and bib flapping in the wind.
Murphy’s Third Law says that if anything can go wrong, then it will. A neighbour saw him and rushed out to make a donation. “Oh wonderful Neil, how good of you to support such a worthy cause, let me make a donation”. She handed him a five pound note, but Neil did not have a collecting can and put it in the one place that he thought would be safe and took out his wallet. The neighbour was most distraught, “it isn’t for you” she shouted, “it is for the sick children. Where is your charity warrant card and where is your collecting tin?”
Neil looked at her wild eyed with fear and then made a dash for it. The neighbour started to run after him then decided better of it. She went back inside and made a call to the police.
He tore down the street his nappy chafing and rubbing, the milk in his bottle was dribbling with all the shaking and so was he with all the huffing and puffing he was doing around his dummy. He arrived in town and made his way into a well-known high street retailer to buy some adult clothing. At that exact moment two things happened. Lizzy and his mother spotted him just as the police car came roaring around the corner with flashing lights and sirens wailing. It screeched to a halt and two policemen jumped out and grabbed his arms, just as his mother and Lizzy came rushing up.
“Now don’t get in the way Ma’am” said the policeman gruffly “we are going to arrest this lad for robbery and defrauding the Hospital”.
“He is my son officer and he has just had a nervous breakdown. He really needs what he is wearing and we are trying to nurse him back to health.” Neil was so nervous that he felt a trickle of warmth run into his nappy, and then a griping pain caused him to bend his knees and grip his stomach as a large poo worked its way into the back of his nappy. This was quickly followed by another package that dragged into his nappy and slowly slid down. He felt his eyes moisten and the tears began to flow as he felt the full shame at what was happening to him. He suc-ked on Lauren’s dummy for comfort.
The officer saw the yellowing of the front of Neil’s nappy and was hit by the stench of his second accident. Nobody in their right mind would ever go to such lengths to avoid arrest. He and the other policeman released their grip and stood back from the smell. Emily spotted the wallet and took it from the waist band of his nappy. She opened it up and took out all the notes. “Please donate all of this to the GOSH for sick children and let the lady have her money back”. The policeman snatched the sheet of Neil’s shoulders and rolled it into a ball.
“Thank you Ma’am we will do that. In the meantime can we rely on you to take care of your lad and make sure he does not get into any more mischief? I am afraid the sheet has to go.” Emily agreed and took Neil by the hand.
“Come on Nee-Nee, let’s get you home and cleaned up and that dirty nappy changed sweetheart. Where did you get that dummy?”
“Good heavens Mum, he has stolen Lauren’s dummy and that is her bottle as well. How could you Neil? That is her bib as well and I was saving that clean one for her dinner. You take him home Mum and I will get replacement things for Lauren, I will see you back home.”
“We will walk dear, you will need the car to bring Lauren home”.
“Come on Nee-Nee – off we go!” she said merrily, so happy that Neil was further down his road to infancy than she could ever have hoped. Not only had he wet his nappy, but he had also soiled it as well and all on the same day. This was way ahead of her schedule for him.
Neil now wearing nothing more than a pee-stained nappy with a brown mark showing in the rear and a bib damp with his dribbles started the longest trudge home that he could ever remember. The front of his nappy was now cooling and at the back it felt like a hot banana was being mashed up in the blender as his legs and bottom rubbed together. The local people and shoppers who had been alerted by the noise of the police sirens had come out of the shops to witness this nineteen year old boy being taken home by his mummy in a filthy nappy and suc-king on a baby’s dummy. He gripped her hand and walked slightly behind her as she strode ahead. Emily was not ashamed and she was not embarrassed (it was not her in a dirty nappy!), in fact she was feeling like a real mummy again, with her own little man who had made a big poopy in his pants because he had not learned how to control himself properly. Toddlers were often unreliable and she always put Neil in a nappy for her shopping trips because he could never be trusted. She remembered how he hated having his big boy’s pants taken off only to be replaced with nappy and plastic pants, because at the age of six he looked a real sissy baby when they went out.
Neil was wrapped up in his own thoughts as he remembered how his mother used to put him in a nappy when he really could have coped in proper pants. How old had he been? Six, seven? Did he really need to be humiliated like that? None of his friends at nursery school were treated like that, he remembered seeing then in town holding hands with their mothers, while he was strapped into baby reins and had special knitted shorts that would stretch and fit over his nappy. She always allowed bits of the terry nappy to poke out just in case anybody was in any doubt about what he was wearing. Now he was suffering all over again, he was so intimidated that he felt the need to wet again.
“I need to go to the toilet Mummy” he said in a small voice as they came up to the small public conveniences tucked off the edge of the pavement on the outskirts of the town.
“Nee-Nee, I cannot believe you are asking me if you can go to the toilet when you have already done everything in your nappy once already! Go in your nappy again. Do it now. I will change you as soon as I get in and then you can have one of your brand new nappies on which came today. That will be a nice treat won’t it?”
He relaxed and allowed his limp pen-is release another stream of his babyish wetties flow into his cold damp nappy. The rewarming gave a pleasant sensation around his testicles and with horror we realised that the sticky concoction was giving him an erection. The messy caress was driving him crazy, every step he took was shear delight and he could feel himself beginning to lose control. He could barely walk because of the pleasure it was giving him and almost ground to a halt, but Emily pulled him by the hand. The effect was all too much, what on earth would happen next......?
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Part 33
We will return to Neil in a letter episode and leave him to fill his nappy in new and unexpected ways.
In another part of town a few streets away from where Mrs. Prim and Neil were living (in the best part of town) was Mrs. and Mrs Arthur Godfrey and their son Tim. They had lavished an expensive education on their son and sent him to that famous school called Stoke. Here the rich and wealthy sent their off-spring to become self-confident, well-educated and the future pillars of society. In Tim’s case he had become arrogant, spoilt and unruly. His father was always away on some business or other and had spent so little time with Tim as to have become a stranger. During his time away at school his mother had become involved in all the “right” committees and a part of the social calendar and Tim’s infrequent trips home were more of an inconvenience than a pleasure.
When Tim came home he hit the pubs and clubs, met with his partying friends and lived life to the hilt. This all reached a climax, when one night his mother received a call from a fellow parent of another Stokian to say that Tim had been taken away in an ambulance from a garage party they had thrown for their son. Evidently he was suspected of having taken an illegal substance in combination with a vast excess of vodka which he had been ‘downing in one’ to impress his friends. It had upset her greatly and she had managed to contact her husband in Paris and he had flown back straight away. The next day the medical staff released Tim from hospital and it was his parents who received most of their scorn and derision.
Mrs Godfrey decided to make sure that such an event was never going to happen again. She wrote to his house master and explained to him what had happened and asked that he keep an extra wary eye on Tim in the future and that he should never be allowed off the school campus without proper supervision.
On his next trip home Tim had already planned to go to a couple of bashes and had made plans to stay at home for as little time as possible. His father was in Dusseldorf all weekend and his mother was going out on Friday to a function. His path seemed clear for a really ‘stonking’ good time!
Gail Godfrey had other plans! A friend of hers who had a son in the year ahead of Tim had experienced a similar problem the year before and had heard of a retired nanny called Mrs. Tibbs who in the space of one weekend had turned her son around completely and to this day he was still as ‘docile as a little lamb’ (as she had said in her words).
She picked up Tim from the school in their family Range Rover and she noticed that he was as surly and arrogant as ever. The said barely a word in the car, because she had told him that he was not going out anywhere and so he sulked and turned his favourite weapon against her, which was being just plain nasty.
He threw his dirty washing on the utility room floor and slobbed out on the settee with the sports channel blazing noisily. His mother was so upset that she could do little more than cry softly as she produced the oaf his supper and take comfort in the fact that Mrs Tibbs was coming that night.
The lazy, rude son continued his nagging and niggling to get his own way and to be allowed out, but his mother was having none of it.
“You are staying in” she said “and to make sure you do not get up to any mischief, I have invited Mrs Tibbs to come round and keep an eye on you.”
“And who pray is Mrs Tibbs?” asked Tim “I don’t need a blasted baby sitter and anyway I am going out. If you can go to one of your committee meetings, then I can go to a party”.
“You will like Mrs Tibbs, she is really nice” replied his mother with a smirk. At that very moment there was a ring on the doorbell and Gail went to the door to open it. Before her stood a large buxom lady with a peaches and cream complexion, dressed in a dark blue uniform with a white bibbed apron. She was a cross between Mary Poppins and Mrs Doubtfire. In her hand she carried a large and expansive carpet bag which was clearly full and quite heavy. “Come in Mrs Tibbs, how lovely to meet you face to face at last. I have heard so much about you and I have been looking to meeting you so much” she said
“How kind of you to say so dear” she said with a warming smile and that air of confidence that comes after so many years of being a servant that called the shots.
“Let us go and meet Timmy shall we dear?”
“He will not like being called Timmy Mrs Tibbs” said Gail with absolute horror “you better not call him that!”
“Oh he’ll be a baby in my hands when I have finished with him sweetheart, you just leave Master Timothy to me” said Mrs Tibbs with a big grin.
They made their way into the television lounge where Tim was lying stretched out on the settee. He never bothered to look up when his mother and Mrs Tibbs entered the room.
“Hello Timmy, I am Mrs Tibbs” she said sweetly to him. Tim totally ignored her and continued to watch the sport, taking a sip of cola out of the can that had left rings all over the table because he was too lazy to use the coaster.
Mrs Tibbs walked over and stood between him and the widescreen, Tim waved to her to get out of the way. “You are a naughty boy aren’t you?” she said “and more than a little rude dear, for a lucky little man who has had so much money spent on his schooling”. She bent over, her huge bossom thrust into his face and reached over and grabbed his ear which she took in a pincer-like grip and then turned slowly to put pressure on sinew and nerve endings. With effortless ease she lifted Tim from the sofa and had him standing before her eyeball to eyeball”. Under her breath she murmured “Look you little shit, we can do this the easy way or we can play with a hard ball, the choice is yours”. She tweaked his ear with a final flourish and tapped him on the nose with apparent playfulness “you little tinker” she said smiling. In reality the blow to his nose had been delivered with the skill of a karate black belt and hurt so much and so intensely that it caused his eyes to water. “You go out Mrs Godfrey and leave Timmy and I to get to know each other dear”.
Gail made a hasty exit while Mrs Tibbs sat next to Tim on the couch. “I don’t like this channel dear, she said in a sweet but authoritative manner, please turn it over to Coronation Street and then make me a nice cup of tea so we can have a little chat.”
Tim started to speak “now look hear whatever your name is..”
“You can call me nanny dear and I am here to be your baby sitter”
“A baby sitter, look, I am nineteen” Tim spluttered
“Is that nineteen months dear?” said Mrs Tibbs with the sweetest and most sickly tone imaginable “put the kettle on for nanny and we can have a really nice chat”. Something of the school instilled requirement to obey discipline kicked in and Tim changed the channel and then went to put on the kettle. He returned with a cup of tea on a saucer (as he was sure that a mug was not appropriate) and carried the sugar bowl should she require extra sweetness.
He gave her the drink and went to make his leave. “Sit next to me dear and tell me what you young folk get up to these days, because it is a long time since I have looked after a boy of your age. Tim went for the door handle. “I said sit here dear” instructed Mrs Tibbs, as Tim faltered at the exit of the room. He walked and sat down beside her and she patted his knee “that is better dear, what a good boy you can be”
They started to talk about pubs and clubs and Tim started to brag at how good he was a downing shots in one go. “Oh this I have to see Timmy, I think I have some medicinal brandy in my bag” she said fumbling around in the giant holdall. “Go and get a shot glass, I really want to see you do this – in fact I don’t believe a young lad of your age is capable of such a thing” she taunted him while scrabbling around in one of the many internal pockets of her specially made nanny’s bag. “Here we are, some of Nanny’s special medicine” she said removing half a bottle of brandy that had been doctored with 100% pure ethanol and was so strong as to be almost impotable. She took the glass from Tim and filled it up “come on sweetheart, let’s see how you do it, one two three, go” she encouraged with glee as Tim necked back the equivalent of three doubles. Tim reeled from the strength of the spirit which had hit his stomach with a blast. “come on one more for nanny” she goaded filling up his glass before he could argue” and once again she counted “one, two, three and down the tunnel for nanny” as Tim hesitated before taking down the equivalent of another 6 measures.
“That is good brandy nanny” said Tim who was already starting to look a bit bleary eyed and could feel the alcohol eating into him.
“Would you like some more Timmy?” asked nanny knowing full well that his stomach would be close to throwing up the two super-strength charges of alcohol. Tim felt his stomach do one of those horrible somersaults and shook his head to indicate he had had enough. Nanny had chosen exactly the right strength to ensure that Tim would not be sick, but he was going to be seriously inebriated in the next half an hour or so.
“I expect you like to smoke a spliff don’t you - a nice bit of skunk or a bit of Hashish to settle the nerves? Would you like one of Nanny’s specials dear?” she asked Tim who was wide-eyed with amazement. “I know what my boys like and if they are good I give it to them. Are you a good boy Timmy?” she said with her self-assured smile.
“Oh yes Nanny I am a very good boy” said Tim eager to get the special reefer.
Mrs Tibbs again returned to her bag and after a brief search came out with a stainless steel tin that contained a number of giant roll-ups with the characteristic taper of a joint. “Skunk I think” she said looking at Tim and weighing up the best dosage for him “high in cannabinoids and THC which will make my little boy very happy”. Tim ignored the childish way in which he was being addressed and took the spliff from Mrs Tibbs, who lit it for him.
It was a home grown plant which had flowered proliferously and produced one of the highest potencies that she had seen in years. To smoke a whole spliff was going to bring him deep into euphoria. Tim’s eyes started to glaze over after a couple of puffs and Mrs Tibbs herself was feeling some of the effects just from passive smoking his exhalations.
They sat in silence for a while as Tim became more and more sedated. His conversation started to ramble and become surreal. Mrs Tibbs drew him onto the subject of raves and ecstasy tablets. Tim admitted that he had been to one of these last year and had taken one of the tabs offered to him by a friend. He said that his mouth had become so dry that he had suc-ked a baby’s dummy and drank gallons of water to quench his thirst and stop his tongue from drying up in his mouth.
Nanny looked at Tim and decided that he needed a stimulant before he passed out from the cannabis. She went to the kitchen and filled a huge glass with water and offered him a tab of the drug. She then searched in her bag and came up with a large pink adult-sized dummy which he took without question. “To stop your mouth getting dry sweetheart you must suc-k on this dummy like you did at the rave party.”
Tim suc-ked away as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do. They continued to talk away as Mrs Tibbs got him onto the subject of gambling and Las Vegas, Tim admitted that he had spent a fortune on gambling and was trying to think of ways to tell his father that he had maxed out on his credit card.
Mrs Tibbs asked him “is it true that some gamblers are so loathe to leave the slot machines and tables that they wear a nappy so that they can stay on gambling all night?”
“Yes Nanny, that is true and I read about that on the internet” said Tim in a drug induced haze.
“Did Nanny ever tell you that she was a very good gambler and had a system that usually beat the roulette wheel?” she told Tim who looked at her open-eyed (drug induced) as drool started to run down his chin (dummy induced). “Look at you” she said “your shirt is all wet now. Let’s take it off and put a clean one on you from Nanny’s bag shall we?” She stripped off his shirt and pulled out a delicate pink one from her bag that had little bunnies all over it and buttons along one shoulder. Tim did not notice that the front and back narrowed down to two flaps that had poppers at each end. “There that is better” she said tying a terry bib round his neck while he was unaware and tripping out on the drugs she had given him.
As so often happens with people who have drunk too much and over-indulged in illegal substances, Tim’s bladder control chose that moment to leave him and like most good drunks he peed straight into his trousers.
“Right then” said Mrs Tibbs as if talking to one of her toddlers “we had better sort this out before Mummy comes home shouldn’t we Timmy”. Timmy who was a million miles away in his head agreed. “Shall we gamble on line and try and win your money back Timmy?”
“Okay Nanny” mumbled Tim not really sure if he was on planet Earth or Mars,
“We said the professional gamblers had to wear a nappy didn’t we Timmy? So that if they were on a run of luck they would not have to stop for a single moment, not even to go potty”
“I have to wear a nappy then?” asked Timmy who was hanging on by a thread as he suc-ked his dummy.
“Good baby” said Mrs Tibb’s who had already taken a huge fluffy white terry nappy out of her bag and folded it into a kite shape. Next to the nappy she had baby powder and lotion, as well as a huge voluminous pair of plastic pants. She dragged of his trousers and underpants and pinned him up in the babyish nappy before pulling up the pants and tucking everything in. She left the poppers undone, because it was just too fiddly with a wriggling baby this big! “There - all ready to play” she said in her best Nanny voice “Let’s go online and play roulette shall we darling Timmy?”
Tim and Nanny went to his room and switched on his computer and within seconds Mrs Tibbs was on line and had Tim playing roulette. Honest to her word Mrs Tibbs was an excellent player who played the odds and gambled skilfully. She was more than a little lucky and the wheel was going her way.
“I gotta take a pee, Nanny” said Tim who was still very much under the influence but was now starting to make a little more sense out of his situation.
“You cannot leave now Timmy, we are on a winning streak and you said yourself that the best gamblers go in their nappy rather than leave the table” she said pressing her hand hard on his crotch knowing full well that in his weakened state he would flood his clean nappy. Tim looked embarrassed and Mrs. Tibbs knew from her many years of looking after babies and toddlers that he had wet his nappy.
“There’s a good baby boy Timmy. Now you play our numbers while I go and get us a drink” she said going to the kitchen. She returned to her bag and dragged out another piece of useful equipment and filled it at the tap before returning to the computer.
“I won again Nanny” said Tim like a small child who had won a prize at the funfair.
“That’s a good boy. Now drink you drink or else you are going to get very dried up” she said removing his dummy and tying it to a ribbon that she pinned with a nappy pin to his shirt. She gave him the bottle.
“It’s a baby’s feeding bottle nanny!” he exclaimed.
“And you are a messy baby sweetheart, who has wet his shirt with his dribbles, wet his trousers with his pee and recently soaked his nappy. So you just drink up your water like a good baby” she said forcefully. Tim did as he was told and with unfamiliar and long forgotten skills started to suc-k his bottle.
They continued to win and nanny eventually cleared up his debts. It was late into the night when they finished gambling and the extra drugs she had put in the bottle had made Tim compliant and malleable. It was a very happy Tim that she took downstairs, with the huge worry of his gambling debts resolved. His nappy had taken another wetting later on and the nappy now sagged on his hips.
“You had better sit on the floor Timmy” because that nappy looks almost finished. Tim was almost past caring, his consumption of various substances were making him very sleepy and his head nodded down against his chest as he sat on the floor nursing his dummy. Nanny reached into her bag and took out a pair of soft woolly booties and mittens trimmed in ping ribbon which she put on the now dozing Tim. She took her camera out of her bag and photographed the over-grown toddler who was sitting on the floor with legs spread wide by his large wet nappy, wearing a baby vest that was protected with a white terry bib that was clearly wet judging by the wet ring that ran from his neck. The pink dummy moved in and out rhythmically as he dozed.
She took pictures from both close and afar. She photographed the yellow stains in his white nappy, the bib, the bottle lying beside him half consumed. She photographed the booties and the mittens which completed his babyish attire. She took pictures of the silver poppers on the bottom of his onesie that now rested on the top of his plastic pants
She then downloaded the contents of her new digital pictures in My Place on the web, where like an idiot he had left this confidential diary of his life wide open for all to see and for her to make some stunning additions to his life as he portrayed it.
Mrs. Tibbs always had perfect timing and just as she was putting the A4 sized photographs face up around Tim as he slumped back against the couch, she heard the door open.
Mrs Godfrey came into the kitchen recreation room and nearly collapsed when she saw her arrogant son reduced to a dribbling dummy suc-king toddler sitting in his wet nappy in a matter of an evening.
“What happened to Tim Mrs Tibbs?” she asked not knowing how to react to what she saw before her.
“He wanted to play baby with Nanny” said Mrs Tibbs “I can leave you some extra nappies and plastic pants if you like, but I think he has learnt his lesson. He will not want to go out as much as he used to and you may find he likes to stay at home more than he used to. My fees are not cheap as you know, so he can keep the dummy and all the clothes he is wearing.”
“I don’t know what to say to Mrs Tibbs, he looks so peaceful, just like he was when he was a baby. Can I take up the offer of a spare nappy, because I would like to keep him like this just a little bit longer and judging by the look of his nappy he will need a dry one soon!”.
“I’ll do it Mrs Godfrey and while I am down there I will shave him so he does not get nappy rash”
Mrs Tibbs did what she did best and within a very short time Timmy was a sweet smelling dry little boy again. Nanny knows best and this was one baby sitter that Timmy was unlikely to ever forget as his blog started to get the highest hit rate in the country as people logged in to see the over-grown baby in his nappies.
End part 33