The New Job Part 1

[antonia]

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

[antonia]

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

[antonia]

[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

[antonia]

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

[antonia]

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

[antonia]

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

[antonia]

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