Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Menu => Active Sissy Stories => Topic started by: antonia on October 02, 2023, 07:46:18 AM
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Little Miss Muffet’s Creche for Babies
Author's note: I apologise for stealing a theme from Princess Powder Puff but I found her story so compelling that I wanted to explore the topic for myself. I wanted to look at the baby side of the business more than the sissy side. If this infringement of an excellent topic offends anybody, then of course I will take it down immediately.
Chapter 1 The background
Tom (or Tommy as his mother used to call him) had fought with all his might against his wife Dianne and her mother Celia who had managed to restrain him according to the guidelines recommended by the creche. The use of a Lexan paddle employed without restraint on the back of his legs and the application of a ‘stim stick’ used to control cattle they had subdued him into a compliant state. Nurse Sarah and Matron Edna had provided the backup advice and training to complete the mission.
The creche had been marvellous and more than helpful when they called into their old-fashioned looking establishment with its gloomy cabinets and tall wooden shelves packed with glass fronted drawers that ascended to the ceilings. This was a highly respected and much regarded establishment that had been in business since the early 1900’s. The provision of baby apparel and associated layettes had been their major trade until the advent of Paddipads and then Huggies and Pampers disposable nappies began to erode their traditional business of supplying terry nappies made by the famous names like Harringtons and Zorbit. Mothercare and Boots supplying traditional cloth nappies and then even M&S and John Lewis supplying high quality towelling nappies further made their trading proposition more difficult.
As LGBTQ began to surface and people began to become more open about their sexuality, so the fringes of adult babies, diaper or nappy lovers also began to surface, creating demands for products that were scaled more appropriately to their sizes. So it was that everything from nappies to dummies, bibs to onesies all began to become available. Web sites also started to appear that catered for these special people and another sector which was the humiliation and punishment side of the business. Little Miss Muffet went from strength to strength and began to supply everything that a willing or unwilling big baby could ever need.
Hypnosis tapes, restraints, harnesses, leading reins, high chairs, cots, playpens, and even prams and strollers were added to the catalogue and huge cost to the purchaser who seemed to have deep and generous pockets.
Clearly, the major part of the inventory was the baby clothes, with lovely soft woollen matinee jackets, bonnets, booties and mittens in the palest and most delicate of pastel colours. Babygros, onesies, childish pyjamas with the most adorable of baby print in soft winceyette fabrics, smocked nighties for the youngest of babies and baby doll with matching frilly panties to fit over the largest of nappies for the older child.
The traditional side of their business was always the terry nappy and they had the finest quality night time nappies made from the very best Turkish towelling that was thick enough for multiple wettings, down to the regular day time nappy made from quality towelling from Pakistan. They catered in sizes from 24 inches square up to a massive 72 inches, recommending the smaller baby size as an insert or stuffer to the larger nappies for added absorbency.
Plastic pants came in all sizes up to 3X which was about a 60 inch waist. They had pull up and popper pants that fastened at the side. They had vinyl, PVC, rubber and crackly polyurethane. Of course, the also carried the terry lined plastic pants for toddlers in potty training as well as terry towelling pants for the occasional dribbler.
The latest line to be introduced by Miss Grimshaw, the owner, and fearsome head of the organisation, was a range of useful ‘medications’ that could be used to aid the transformation of any miscreant or unwilling participant. Sedatives that ranged from mild to almost anaesthetic, diuretics, laxatives, psychedelic drugs that could induce euphoria and improve susceptibility to hypnosis, muscle relaxants, drugs that increased salivation and drooling, drugs that numbed the mouth making speech almost impossible, drugs that induced amnesia and drugs that could cause gender alterations.
In terms of service, the organisation had no rivals. They offered everything from the initial pacification of the subject through to the training and maintenance of that candidate using the special classes and training programmes offered within the creche.
The first class (and most important training) was the loss of bladder control and proper use of nappies. This was carried out on a residential basis and lasted a week. It was the most expensive part of the treatment and was considered an absolute ‘must’ for any new unwilling baby. The use of a catheter was also an option but not considered to be a proper solution. There was a technique of using a catheter on a long-term basis and slowly increasing the size until it damaged the urethra and caused incontinence but it often produced very bad infections and so was discontinued. Diane and Celia had chosen the tried and tested method that was almost guaranteed to be successful.
The second class was very closely related and involved the removal of bowel control so that the subject would be unable to avoid soiling their nappies at least once a day. Many new mothers and grandmothers did not want this less attractive feature and would prefer to have the child use a potty which the organisation produced and sold in an age-appropriate size. There were two ways to achieve this state of incontinence, the first was to reduce the consistency of the elimination, but the second and most effective was anal dilation. The cheapest solution was the fitting of a tube that was fitted up the bottom and bypassed the anal sphincter so that the passage was continually open. The second and less permanent solution was the application of a series of increasing diameter sized rings that slowly increased the opening until it was stretched open to such an extent that the sphincter became less effective. This treatment took two days of intensive and had to be repeated every few months. Most carers or guardians opted for the surgical approach that cut the main nerves going to the sphincter and cutting and scarring the tissue so that the muscles failed to operate and at the slightest pressure released.
Celia and Diane were given a full tour of the facility and spent a large part of the day buying the necessary supplies. They sat at the large mahogany counter as shop assistants, who, it had to be said, looked very sissyish in their pink uniforms and with hair in ringlets and heavily beribboned.
Glass fronted drawers declaring Big Boys Towelling Nappy (Day), Big Boys Towelling Nappy (Night) were opened and samples brought to them on their comfy chairs for inspection. They decided between them that quality was key because these were going to be in service for many years. Babies outgrew their nappies in a few years, but Tommy was going to be in his forever. They fondled the fabric, marvelling at the thickness and softness, appreciating the craftsmanship used on the edging and seams. They decided on three dozen of the daytime and a dozen of the nighttime nappies.
The choice of plastic pants was almost overwhelming and the counter was stacked high with pink, translucent, pale lemon, and clear baby pants in all manner of styles and cuts. They chose pairs that were see-through, so that they could see when he was wet or dirty. These they decided would be best for when he was at home. They had nursery print pants for bed time and ruffled over-pants or nappy wraps lined in plastic for when he went out or when visitors came. They had extravagant rhumba panties with row after row of pink lace. They chose pants with lace around the waist and leg openings. They purchased dozens of different pairs and on reflection decided that they had gone a little mad!
They acknowledged the expertise of Princess Powder Puff and chose the same Tiny Tots harness that David’s mother had chosen for him with the locking buckles and tinkling bells on the breast plate – which was one of the organisations best sellers and so was at a reasonable price.
They purchased baby vests and onesies, they invested in ribbed tights with babyish patterns, and special shoes that leaned outwards to increase the bow-legged gait of a baby just learning to walk.
Booties, bibs, and bonnets and all the things that a new baby could ever want, began to pile up along the length of the counter. On the floor were flat packs of a new super secure cot with restraints and a locking lid. A high chair that Houdini would find hard to escape from, made of the finest oak and fitted with the strongest stainless steel fittings. A wooden playpen with rattles and balls built into the bars that would surround him and keep him safe and out of mischief.
Bottles designed for a big baby with large NUK 5 nipples, dummies in all shapes and colours to match his clothes of the day. A steriliser to make sure that he did not pick up any germs.
Of course, they spent most time and money choosing his little baby dresses with their puffed sleeves and flouncy petticoats that were just long enough to reach the waist band of his puffy plastic pants. They spent a small fortune.
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AWESOME!!
Not quite the direction I had envisioned Little Miss Muffet's going but at the end of the day it's purely a vehicle to wrap a story around so it can be whatever the author wants it to be.
I might have to steal your playpen and highchair for David's use in some of my upcoming chapters.
I'm looking forward to reading your second chapter of what could turn out to be quite a saga.
(check out page 7 of A Sissy is Born for my response to your earlier reply)
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Antonia you never disappoint please continue
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Thank you for allowing me to continue. I hope you enjoy my take on Princess Powder Puff's excellent story that I continue to support and follow with a great passion.
Chapter 2 – How it all started
Tommy was the Managing Director of Travel Tours a business started by his mother-in-law Celia and her husband (sadly passed away) in the early sixties. Diane joined the business from university once she had completed her degree and brought new expertise in the form of accountancy skills and learnings of the hospitality industry. Tom had joined shortly after he had married Diane and worked his way up from branch manager to managing Director in the space of five years. The had ten offices dotted about the country and specialised in executive holidays and those adventures that were off the main tourist track. Tommy had expertise in computers and web design, so in virtually no time had hugely increased the volume of business through their web site offerings.
Diane and Tom had a good loving relationship, although his skills in bed were hardly impressive and he had a rather poorly endowed piece of equipment that had a nasty habit of going off unexpectedly. Diane taught Tom the oral skills that gave her more satisfaction than his rather ineffective fumbling and lack of penetration that usually resulted in him ‘falling out’ anyway. More often than not, it was quicker and more effective to finish him off by hand than by having normal intercourse.
Tom clearly had a position of prestige and thought that in his high position that he could perhaps expect more out of his employees than they had signed up for. Sarah, his new secretary was very attractive and extremely bright. Tom mistook her smiles and kindness to be an invitation to make sexual advances. She was just paying homage to her boss’s position and had no interest in him sexually. Tom started to pat her bottom as she passed by him, he used to rub her shoulder if her was looking over her computer screen as she was typing. One day he grabbed her breast and tried to fondle her crutch. It was a step too far and she screamed out. Diane in the office next door came rushing in to see Tom with her hand inside the poor girl’s blouse fondling her lacy bra. A button had ripped off and Sarah was in a state of disarray and clearly distressed.
“Get out Tom, I will speak to you later” she barked as she immediately went to comfort the assaulted Sarah. It was a miracle that there was not a court case for attempted rape and Sarah was given a promotion and relocated to another of their offices in a neighbouring town.
Sadly, this was not the first time that Tom had been in this type of trouble and he had had a narrow brush with the law when he was over-friendly with a local bar maid who did not welcome his advances a few weeks earlier. Indeed, over the years he had clocked up several similar misdemeanours and Diane was losing her patience.
It was that night after the secretarial incident that Tom crossed the line and full of frustration and bitterness forced Diane into the bedroom after a rather tense supper and attempted to rape her. He failed in the attempt because his tiny appendage fell out of her and he ended up squirting his load over her underwear that had become ripped and torn in the assault. Diane hit him with a slap that nearly parted his head from his shoulders. She kicked him out of their marital bedroom into the spare room and called her mother, who came round immediately.
Celia spent the night with her daughter in her bed. Tom disappeared as he was told into the spare bedroom and did not appear until his mother-in-law and Diane had left for work. He went down in to the kitchen and saw a note on the table. “Stay at home today, Tom, it is best we sort this out at work for you. Take a few days off, go and play golf or something and we can discuss your behaviour when I get home tonight. Diane.”
Tom did go and play golf, albeit rather badly as his mind was very much elsewhere.
In the meantime, his wife and Celia had paid a visit to Little Miss Muffet’s Creche for Sissies and put in place plans for Tom’s future. They paid up front for a comprehensive plan and began the process of making Tom firstly in to Tommy and eventually into Tammy who was going to be their little baby girl.
Tom bought his wife a beautiful bracelet, a huge bunch of flowers and spent the afternoon preparing dinner for her. He sent her text after text saying he was sorry, but never received a reply. He laid the table, chilled a fine Pouilly Fuisse and carefully placed the crystal wine glasses on the table. On her place mat he put the card saying he was sorry and the beautifully wrapped gold and diamond tennis bracelet that had cost a small fortune.
Diane returned, she was cold at first, but slowly warmed as she sipped on the wine and opened her present. They faced each other over the table as Tom apologised and pleaded for forgiveness. He had prepared smoked salmon as a starter and then cooked a fresh spaghetti carbonara. It was one of his finest efforts.
Tom cleared the plates from the table and was about to serve freshly brewed coffee when the door bell rang. He looked annoyed, Diane looked quizzical, but Tom shrugged and went to open the door.
Celia stood there looking black as thunder. She pushed past him and went to her daughter leaving Tom holding the door. As he looked after her – somewhat confused, two women took him from behind. One stuck a hypodermic needle in his arm, whilst the other wrestled his had into a glove. Once the injection was delivered the first woman put his other hand into a similar glove. His hands were immobilised in a woollen mitt fitted with a stiff leather insert that rendered his fingers useless. He felt himself becoming dizzy and he staggered away from the doorway and into the hall. Celia took Diane to the front doorstep and they began to bring in bags of supplies. In a few minutes the hall was full of bags and boxes.
Tom had been led into the lounge where he had sat down on the couch, his legs were going wonky and he needed to catch his breath. He lashed out at one the women dressed in the dark blue uniform of a matron. Her name was Edna and she would not accept any nonsense from her new charge, she pulled what Tom thought was a truncheon from a leather pouch on her belt and touched it to Tom’s leg – a sizzling flash and searing pain went through Tom like a bolt of lightning. He dropped his arm immediately and twitched a little.
Nurse Sarah was already in the process of cutting away Tom’s clothes with a set of cloth cutting shears as Diane and Celia unpacked a vinyl changing mat and a variety of other equipment including a barber’s Wahl razor and other paraphernalia. Tom watched in a daze as large towels were unpacked form a large packet – surely not – they were nappies. His suspicions were confirmed as a large pair of plastic baby pants were carefully taken out of their packed and flapped out to open them up. Baby powder, nappy rash cream, baby oil and other cosmetics also made their way onto the floor by the mat.
“Are you mad?” he managed to exclaim “No way are you putting me in that shit.”
The women dragged him onto the floor as Celia finished folding the nappy into a giant kite shape. He struggled and writhed as they turned him onto his front. Diane unwrapped the long paddle with the holes along its length and systematically started to spank the back of his legs until in no time at all they were the colour of a fire engine. As she was spanking, the nurse was shaving his bottom with the razor until it was baby smooth.
They flipped him over and Tom started to flail his arms hoping to hit somebody, once again the stim stick was used and he lay there twitching. They continued to shave him.
Celia coated the nappy area with zinc and castor oil cream, everybody yanking his feet over his head to reach his bottom. Baby powder fell like snow. A stainless-steel ring was put over his testicles and a lubricated tube fitted into his urethra that was connected to a dome that quickly connected to the ring and secured the two parts with a locking lug. His pen-is looked like a little silver dome.
His nappy was pulled between his legs, nurse Sarah (not related to his secretary by the way!) folded two baby sized terry nappies in half to act as a soaker. Diane had the best job which was to finish off his ensemble by pulling the giant plastic pants up and over his bulky nappies. Between them they made sure that every piece of terry towelling was carefully enclosed in the protective plastic shell.
Celia unwrapped a dummy and forced it into his mouth. “If that dummy comes out, then I will happily superglue it to your face” she warned. Tom clearly frightened suc-ked on the silicon teat experimentally. The pink face plate entirely covered his mouth and he looked every inch a baby.
Diane tied a pink terry bib around his neck in case he drooled. It was trimmed in lace and had an applique of a teddy wearing nappies sewn on the front.
A pair of pink booties with pink ribbon were tied to his feet and a matching pair of mittens put over the restraining mitts. They too were fastened with pink ribbons.
They had decided that they were going to let him sleep in just his nappy and bib. It was too late to assemble a cot so they decided to let him sleep on his changing mat. In the morning he was going to go straight to the creche for his first babification lessons. Matron took out her stainless-steel box that contained her syringe and prepped it with a sleeping draft that would knock Tom out for the night. A small fountain of the drug went into the air before the rest was injected into a vein in Tom’s arm.
Diane unpacked a fluffy pink blanket and laid it over her husband who was almost comatose. She smiled as the dummy in his mouth began to bob in and out. He let out a little groan, and as Diane peeked under the soft new blanket she could see that Tom had wet his first nappy since his mother had potty trained him over thirty years ago.
The women all crept out of the lounge to finish off the desert Tom had made and enjoy a nice cup of coffee. The four women congratulated themselves on a very good night’s work. The matron and the nanny would stay the night and they would all go to the creche the next day with Tommy for his induction.
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Chapter 3 – The journey begins
Tommy was in a bit of a state when he woke up from his drug induced sleep at around 07.00 o’clock the next morning. His legs were sore from the paddle slapping and had red welts from where he had been shocked. He was surprised that he still had the dummy in his mouth and even more surprised that he was suc-kling on it quite naturally. He was most concerned that what he had thought was all a bad nightmare was in fact a dreadful truth that was confirmed by the realisation that he was wearing a very wet nappy inside a pair of plastic pants; even worse that he had probably wet the nappy more than once while he had been asleep.
He looked at his hands and feet and wondered why on earth they had put him in such babyish attire. During this recollection of the night’s event the two medical staff from the creche came quietly into the room. He looked at them and contemplated his next course of action, although he felt a little drowsy, he was certainly fit enough for a good fight, but then he would not learn anything new about his situation.
“What is happening to me?” He asked calmly, spluttering through his dummy
“You are being taken to the Little Miss Muffet’s Creche for Babies this morning” replied Edna the Matron dressed in a clean dark blue uniform with a gleaming white bibbed apron and white starched ruff collar.
“Sorry?” he replied in astonishment
“Your behaviour has been appalling and your new Mummy Diane and Granny Celia want to take you back to a time when you posed no threat to women” said Edna “you can’t go assaulting women and hope to get away with it Tommy.”
“But Diane is my wife, not my mother you idiotic woman” he retorted
“Not anymore” explained Sarah “you are going to be taken to our facility where you are going to unlearn a lot of things you have picked up since you were born. You are going to forget about potty training, you are going to remember when you loved the women who looked after and cared for you, changed your wet and messy nappies and fed you. Slowly, the facility is going to mess with your head and slowly you are going to be regressed until even your speech will be that of a toddler.”
“You cannot be serious” shouted Tom who was slowly losing his cool demeanour.
The two women sat him up and pulled a pink vest over his head. They dragged him to his feet with difficulty because he was still groggy and pulled the vest right down over his wet nappy and fastened the press studs between his legs. He wobbled precariously and sat down with a bump on a dining room chair that Diane had brought in for him to sit on. His bib was quite wet from his night time session on his do-di and his nappy was now hanging heavy in his pink Babygro.
Diane was delighted to see the dark rings under his eyes from his troubled sleep and was thrilled to note that he had taken to his binky like a real trooper and had made an excellent job of using his nappies. He seemed very subdued and not quite on his game.
Celia came sweeping in, full of the joys of spring and dressed for business in a smart grey skirt with crisp white blouse. Her makeup was immaculate as always and her beautifully manicured nails were flawless. She walked over to the chair and planted her hand flat on the front of Tommy’s crotch. She beamed at him and picked up the bottom of his bib to wipe a rivulet of slobber from his chin.
“Good baby” she said to him with his chin in her hand “a very wet nappy and a good boy for using his dum dum all night. Now we are going to get you fixed for good.” She said with a cruel grin.
Tom glared back at her. “My nappy is wet Celia and I want you to take it off right now” he sputtered past his dummy sounding very juvenile.
“They will sort you out at the creche” said Celia “and from now on I am not Celia to you but Granny.”
“It’s time” said Edna as the creche mini bus came into the drive way.
They buckled Tommy into a new fitted seat in the back of the minivan designed for a disadvantaged large child. It had a five-way harness that was befitting an aeronaut and Tommy was completely immobilised. He was so deranged and out of his comfort zone that he resumed a passionate suc-king on his soother. The door slammed shut. Sarah and Edna took up their seats in the front as Granny and Mummy got in Mummy’s Mercedes.
Half an hour later they arrived at the private entrance to the creche. Tommy was transferred to a stroller and taken to a room marked with a sign that said “Incontinence Training.” Tommy shuddered and wet his nappy again. He felt it leak and his seat and the back of his legs felt wet.
A team of specialists were waiting for him. They quickly stripped him naked and washed him thoroughly with soft flannels and hot sudsy water. Only his hands remained restrained. They set about carefully taking his hands out of the special gloves. Tom thought about putting up a fight but the team looked ready for trouble and the presence of the painful prods and paddles were enough to make him behave sensibly.
The use of superglue and bandages made his hands useless and they replaced the soft mittens in which he had arrived. Although incapable of doing anything tricky his hands did feel a lot more comfortable and the pins and needles caused by the cramp slowly receded. They removed the chastity device and he was pleased to hear it clang as they threw it in a kidney dish. The tube was removed from his willy and the ring removed and again he was grateful.
They flipped him onto his front and inserted something into his bottom, they turned him onto his back and slipped a soft silicon ring over his pen-is. He looked puzzled. The man in the specialist group spoke.
“Hello Tommy, I’m Dr Stevenson and I am responsible for your care and treatment” he explained “you have been fitted with a stimulator and I can promise you that the next 24 hours or so are going to be a lot of fun and enjoyment for you. As you wet your nappy it will trigger a sensor that will activate the appliance I have put in your bottom next to your prostate. It will rotate and gyrate against the prostate and stimulate you; at the same time the ring around your pen-is with vibrate and swell causing you to have an erection that will be insatiable.
The rest of the team set about pinning Tommy into double thick nappies with two sets of soft fluffy white baby nappies as soakers. Two wires came out of his bottom and were connected to an external control box. A pair of plastic pants were pulled up over his very thick and bulky nappies and carefully fitted. Finally, a pair of tight fitting rubber pants were pulled over the whole ensemble to ensure no leaking.
“The more you wet, the more you will enjoy your nappies, but to make sure you make enough urine, we are going to make sure you have an endless supply of liquids, which are full of nutrients and diuretics to encourage copious wetting.” Dr Stevenson explained.
Tommy was escorted off the changing station and taken to a large cot that was surrounded by medical equipment and monitoring devices. A huge bag of pink fluid was hanging from a pole that was connected to a large feeding teat that looked like a huge dummy with a feeding tube coming out of the front. He walked with difficulty, the bulky nappies making him walk with his legs akimbo and gave him a definite waddle. He looked just like a baby taking its first steps.
They made him lie down and secured him in the cot with a baby harness that attached to the base. A thick absorbent bib was tied around his neck that was trimmed with pink gingham edging. A little pillow supported his head. A nurse removed his dummy and replaced it with the feeding teat and almost immediately the sweet juice began to trickle into his mouth. It was slightly tangy and pleasantly fruity; the more he suc-ked the more he felt himself become placid and relaxed. He felt the volume in his bladder begin to be noticeable and he was curious to know how the experiment would work.
“If you need to go, you should not hold back Tommy” said the doctor “trust me this is a wonderful experience.”
Tom let a small trickle out and the sensor twitched just a little. It felt good but needed a little more wetness to be fully effective, so he released a little more. The explosion to his senses was beyond words and the stimulation to his little sissy stick was more than anything he had ever experienced. In no time at all he was spurting his cream into the thick folds of his soft nappy- it felt wonderful. He suc-ked greedily on the feeder trying to replenish his bladder as quickly as he could. The soft warm confines of his nappies were already providing stimulation enough and in no time at all he was stiff again. He wriggled about in his cot, writhing and trying to get the stimulation he so greedily desired. He bucked his hips and tried to rub himself with his mittened hands but his nappies were too thick to allow such rewards.
His brain was not stupid and as soon as he had sufficient head of pressure his bladder again released and the cycle of stimulation started again. The process repeated itself hour after hour until he had lost count of how many times his body had been abused. He was milked dry long before morning arrived, but still his brain made him suc-k and wet. He was totally exhausted twenty four hours later but still he suc-ked on the feeder as he slept and still he wet without even thinking.
The nurses had only changed him once after twelve hours and he was almost delirious when they put him in clean nappies and refreshed his feeding bag. By morning his eyes were glazed, his sissy stick was sore and exhausted and his bottom throbbed. They dismantled the apparatus and fitted a new device in his bottom. He was almost weeping by this stage as new nappies were pinned on to him and fresh plastic pants and linen were replaced.
“Okay Tommy! I know you enjoyed that, but now we are going to use the anal dilator on you. It works just like before, but instead of pleasure you will experience discomfort as the hole in your bottom will be expanded if you do not wet enough. This will set you up for a later phase of your training, so it will not be wasted.”
Tommy was again plugged in to his feeder and the new device activated. This time he was quite heavily sedated and was less aware of his bladder and less awake. He fell into a deep slumber and he suc-ked on his feeder but forgot to let go of his bladder. A bottom ripping pain woke his from his slumbers and he immediately wet his nappy. The ring relaxed a little and he was able to slip back into the arms of morphia. He again forgot to activate the sensor by wetting and again his bottom was ripped open by the expanding ring. It was agony and he again wet to release the ring slightly. He once again drifted back in to a drug induced sleep.
The staff who were carefully monitoring him were thrilled when after half an hour he wet himself without waking, suc-king intently on his feeder all the while. The ring did not expand and more and more frequently Tommy wet his nappies from a very deep sleep and was totally unaware that he had returned to being an habitual bedwetter. He was now wetting himself like an incontinent toddler with absolutely no control.
Tommy was dreaming, he had flashbacks of being a toddler and one particularly embarrassing night when he soiled his pyjamas because he was too cold and lazy to go to the bathroom. His mother threatened to put him back in nappies. He said that she didn’t have any, and in response she showed him the large stack of his freshly laundered nappies in the airing cupboard. He experienced the dream with huge clarity, he could even feel the large log force its way out of him and into his protection and could also feel the pressure as it met the resistance of his nappy blocking its path. He wriggled and squirmed as the staff watched with amazement as Tommy soiled his nappy in his sleep for the first time since he was about six months old. The performance ended with him adding a large wetting before he woke up with shock as he realised what he had done. It was morning and day two of his training had now been completed.
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This is very much a Little Miss Muffet's through the Looking Glass that offers a more sinister side to the firm than poor David has experienced. It's quite a contrast to the other version and is eminently readable.
How do you manage to write so much so fast? It takes me forever to produce that much content.
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Great job you pull of so much creativity. I hope they begin to brainwash him and have a hypnotherapist regress him back to a past with an abusive mother or granny.
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Thank you for the kind comments.
I have spent my life writing so putting words on paper comes easy.
I know what you like Mac! I’ll try not to disappoint !
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I have always loved your stories, but this story, based off another awesome story on here is top notch.
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A new classic! Thank you Antonia!
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Yummy start to this story
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Chapter 4 Tommy makes good progress
Tommy was mortified when the nurses praised him for making a stinky nappy and being such a good baby. They took him from his cot and put him in a hot bath of bubbles where they washed his hair and pampered him. He was more than a little cross when they cut off all his hair apart from a tuft in the middle to which they tied a pink ribbon.
He was carefully coated in zinc and castor oil cream and powdered in baby powder until he smelt sweet. New nappies were applied and a pair of cute plastic pants in a nursery print. He was really pleased that nothing else was going to be put up his bottom. His bladder released into his nappy and he was unaware of what he had done until he felt the warmth spreading around his bottom. The nurses decided he could go a few hours until his next change and that it would do him good to appreciate a wet nappy just as any baby would need to get used to being wet for extended periods of time in between changes.
For the first time he was put in a sweet little baby dress that came down to the top of the waist band of his plastic pants. It was white with little pink hearts printed on the fabric and a large pink heart that was sewn onto the bodice. He had pink knitted booties on his feet and matching mittens. A pink dummy on a pink ribbon was pinned to the lacy pink bib that protected his dress from his drooling. He suc-ked on his dummy relentlessly and he realised that he was becoming very fond of its comfort.
He was made to crawl on his knees because something prickly was in the sole of his booties. A thick carpet covered the side of the room where his cot stood as they took him to a large high chair that stood in front of a wide screen television. They carefully lifted him into the chair and secured him with the harness, pulling down the tray in front of him. He was totally contained.
A bonnet with a restricted view focussed his attention on the screen, and as the screen flickered into vision the earphones in his bonnet came to life further immersing him in his viewing. His heavily padded high chair was sumptuously comfortable and radiated a gentle warmth from its furnishings. The headrest gently kept his head facing forwards. Having been asleep for almost 48 hours under drug induced slumber he was quite alert and receptive. On the tray of his new high chair were bottles of juice with baby teats suitable for his size. He took out his dummy and inserted one of the bottles, the act of putting the nipple in his mouth triggered a wetting.
He savoured the juice and found himself drawn into the video of babies and toddlers in the care of their nannies. “You love to wet your nappy” started the soundtrack as the film showed a close up of one of the older children in nappies wetting and the cloth slowly turning yellow as the fabric became saturated. “Nappies are so comfy baby, you cannot be trusted not to wear a nappy because you are now a baby and babies have to wet in their nappies.” The video faded into a nanny taking the plastic pants off a toddler to reveal a very wet and soggy nappy. “What a good baby to go in your nappy, you are such a good baby. I bet you cannot wait for nanny to put you in a nice new soft fluffy nappy? Can you? I think baby quite like sitting in his wet nappies though, doesn’t he? Yes he does! All babies like to wet their nappies and sit in them and enjoy the warmth.” Tommy suc-ked on his bottle intently absorbing the show and felt his own nappy rewarm from a fresh wetting. He felt as though he was about to have an orgasm as his wet nappies felt so good. Suddenly he jolted “Are you enjoying your wet nappies Tommy?” asked the film.
“Yeth” he replied past the teat of his bottle, allowing a trickle of juice to run down onto his already damp bib. The team monitoring his progress by web cam in the control booth were thrilled with all the telemetry being measured from the sensors around Tommy and the brain sensors embedded in this bonnet. He was going off scale in serotonin levels and alpha wave activity. The chances of failure with Tommy were looking very slim.
The film moved on to a particularly older child who was maybe eight or so in a nappy and showed the child being particularly agitated as inside the transparent plastic pants the nappy was rapidly going yellow, furthermore, that the boy was straining hard and grunting as in pain. The camera zoomed in to the back of the nappy as it slowly expanded as the child was clearly doing more than just wetting his nappy but soiling it with a vengeance. Once the growing bulge in his nappy had been completed, the camera zoomed into his face as tears ran down his cheeks. In the next shot, a nanny was seen changing the boy. “Don’t cry sweetheart, nobody is cross with you. Everybody has the odd accident in their nappies, that is why you wear a nappy, in case you need to do a wee wee or do a pooh. What a good boy to go in your nappy rather than mess your pants or go in your jammies like Tommy.”
Tommy looked totally shell-shocked, how could they have known about his awful and shameful accident? Another wetting warmed his nappy as the nanny finished dressing the older boy in his clean nappy. She pulled up his plastic pants and snuggled them to get them to settle over the thick terry fabric. She patted the back of his plastic pants. “You look adorable” she said to him. The boy sniffled a little and the nanny clutched him to her breast and gave him a long hard cuddle. “Such a big boy to go in your nappy and not make any work for nanny cleaning out potties and other horrid jobs involving dirty toilets. So easy to change a nappy and so lovely to be able to baby you and make you feel precious.” She said lovingly.
A pressure started to build in Tommy and after the recent anal dilation programming he was quite helpless to stop himself from soiling himself in his comfy warm nappy. He felt himself becoming aroused in his nappy and as he associated such arousal with wetting himself now he gave a little push and allowed the last of his bladder to empty into his already saturated nappy. The elimination slowly squeezed itself out into the fluffy towelling and Tommy cried silent tears as the humiliation of what he had done slowly sunk in.
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This story is awesome. A perfect addition to the story it’s based from.
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Chapter 5 Tommy continues to fall
In the control room they were ecstatic as such regression was almost unique. Celia and Diane had been signing off the necessary papers for the future surgery and paying a few rather substantial bills. They were shown into the control room for an update only to be received with shrieks of delight and total joy.
“How’s it going?” asked Diane surprised at the noisy reception they had received.
“Your new baby has not only been wetting his nappy like a newborn but has also managed to soil himself twice; but not only dirty his nappy but he totally enjoyed doing it. His brain levels are off-scale and he is totally on board with his nappy wearing. This is a very rare event and we are not going to have any problems with him. We are going to continue the week as planned and we will do the surgery on his bottom to make life easier for him, even if it is probably not totally necessary. You can be totally confident that Tommy is going to be completely nappy dependent and amazingly he seems to be quite dependent on his dummy already.
They watched the nurses take Tommy out of his high chair, remove his bonnet, and change his dirty nappy on the changing station putting him back in clean diapers and plastic pants. He cooperated fully suc-king on his dummy and clutching his clean plastic pants to his chest as they pinned him into his nappies that now included a liner to protect his protection from heavy soiling.
He lifted his bottom and made life easy for the nurses to slip the clean terry towels under his bottom and then pull up his protective pants, once the nappies had been fitted. They sat him up and straightened out his pretty little baby dress. A clean bib was clearly needed as he had messed up the first one with his dribbling and sloppy bottle feeding.
Once returned to his high chair a few sissy maids minced in with his lunch. Tommy was starving since he had not been given any breakfast because of an administrative error. A sissy boy who was about 16 years old with blond Shirley temple curls wearing a bright pink uniform with a short skirt that revealed white frilly petti pants, put a plate of sandwiches on his high chair tray. He had a brilliant white frilly laced pinny to protect his uniform and his makeup was perfect. “Enjoy your thandwicheth” lisped the sissy.
Another almost identical sissy appeared with a baby bottle of milk which she slotted into a bottle carrier fitted to the side of the tray. “Have a nice dwink baby” she said.
Finally, a third sissy appeared with a yoghurt and a spoon for his pudding. “A thpethial pudding baby” she said.
Tommy looked at his hands and realised that he could only hold the bottle between his two mittened hands. He had no idea how he was going to eat his little sandwiches and he began to drool behind his dummy as he realised just how hungry he was feeling. He pawed at the plate and began to feel tears well up as he realised how cruel they were to tease him. Celia appeared just as he was about to cry and took the plate from the tray and pulled up a chair to sit beside him.
“Who am I? she asked as she waved a square of sandwich in front of his face.
Tommy looking a little startled replied “Gwanny, you’re my Gwanny” his speech garbled by the big juicy dummy filling his mouth. Celia was thrilled with the response and delighted by the appearance of this overgrown toddler, suc-king on a soother, hair with a pink bow tied on to the little tuft of hair left in the centre of his head and wearing a bib that was already damp with his continual drooling.
She gently pulled on the ring of his clearly loved do-di and it came out with a plop, leaving a rivulet of dribble in its wake. She put it on the tray of his high chair and she noted with satisfaction that Tommy’s eyes followed it to its resting place, clearly concerned in case he lost it. “Open wide” she asked, as she aimed a square of his sandwich at his mouth. Tommy obliged and a rather large mouthful went in, maybe a tad too much for him to chew it all in one bite. Some of the sauce and sausage fell out and went on his bib, the rest remained caked round his face. Celia followed it up with another piece as Tommy did his very best to finish the first mouthful. He was so hungry that he was salivating and, despite this, he still had unfinished food left in his mouth as the next bite was delivered. More debris fell down his bib and onto the tray, more food remained on his face. He looked the perfect picture of an overgrown toddler.
As the third bite was approaching Celia noticed that Tommy had a momentary loss of concentration and his eyes showed that he appeared a little distracted. She also noticed that he had glanced down the narrow gap between his high chair tray and his tummy – she realised with delight that he had just wet his nappy and was looking down to see why he had experienced a warmth. He appeared surprised for an instant and then normal service was resumed as he opened his mouth wide for the next bite.
Tommy was suffering intense confusion, he had been cruising along letting all these strange things be done to him, but suddenly he had a moment of clarity, and that was suddenly dashed by a feeling or warmth spreading over the front of his nappy and down to the bottom of his seat. He never felt it coming, one minute he was continent and seemingly now he was totally incapable of holding his urine, or more to the point, was totally incapable of knowing when he was wetting himself until he felt the results heating up his nappy. His bladder and his brain had ceased to communicate. This overwhelming thought caused his lip to quiver and before he could control himself he let out a wail, tears cascaded down his cheeks and unchewed food fell out of his mouth and onto his bib, only to be joined by a line of snot that ran from his nose.
Celia wiped his face with the bottom of his bib and felt some compassion. She stood up and hugged the overgrown baby to her breast until his sobbing subsided. “It’s okay Tommykins, you are being such a good baby, aren’t you? Look at you eating up all your lunch and not complaining about wearing a bib so that clothes will stay nice and clean. And you are so good to go in your nappy so that you don’t mess up your pants or make your lovely highchair messy. You even did a big stinky today didn’t you? You are being sooo good!”
Tommy took little comfort to all these facts, but he did like being cuddled by Celia who had always been quite aloof with him as she never believed he was nearly good enough for her precious daughter Diane. He continued his lunch and by the time he had eaten his sandwiches and yoghurt, his face was a riot of colour and his bib was filthy. He shifted his weight in his high chair and realised that a huge mass of soggy nappy was filling his plastic pants. It was clear that he was wetting himself almost continually and the worrying thing was that he knew nothing about it.
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Chapter 6 Tommy goes to deeper depths
The staff were clearly thrilled with the way in which Tom had been regressing and his fast loss of control over his bladder was considered outstanding. Unlike most candidates who raged and fought the treatments, Tom was subservient and relatively placid. They heaped love and praise on him as they changed his wet nappies and noted with satisfaction that the back of his nappy had received a small deposit.
Diane came in to see him just as they were pulling up some wool tights over his bulky nappies and settling him in to his baby dress with all its bows and frills. He was anxiously looking for something and beginning to fidget and fret. She spotted his now much loved dummy on the high chair and retrieved it.
“Do you have some ribbon and a nappy pin I could have?” asked Diane of one of the nurses “I can pin his do-di to his bib so that he won’t lose it.” The bib they brought was thicker and fluffier that his old one because they realised that he was a big dribbler. Diane affixed his dummy to the ribbon and made it safe. “Do you want your dum-dum Tommykins?” she asked knowing full well that he was desperate to have it back. “You’ll have to give me a kiss first though!”
Tommy at that moment in time hated Diane more than any other person on earth, she had put him in this intolerable position. To give her a kiss was to forgive and he was in no mood to give her that satisfaction. He vigorously shook his head and Diane waved the soother in his face with the ribbon fluttering beneath it.
“No problem” she retorted “I am sure they will give you a new dummy if I ask them nicely, because nobody is going to listen to a snotty little toddler, are they? Can you take the risk that they will not give you a new one, because you refused to give Mummy a little kiss?” Tommy looked panicked and although his nappy had only been changed a few minutes ago he felt it warm up as he wet himself involuntarily. Once again, he felt himself tear up. Little did he realise that he had a coc-ktail of female hormones coursing through his body that were turning him into a total wimp. He decided to relent and pursed his lips in her direction. Diane pecked him on the lips and kissed him on his forehead.
“What do you say?” she asked as she pinned the dummy to his bib with a pink tipped nappy pin. She offered the dummy to his lips and he took it eagerly.
“Fank oo Mummy” he spluttered grateful for the return of his beloved do-di. Diane adjusted the little bow in his hair and then put her hand under the high chair tray to feel his nappy. She slipped a finger beneath the elastic leg band of his plastic pants and felt that he was damp but not wet. A small spurt of wee from his little appendage onto her finger sent a shiver through her that sent a wave of yearning into her own pants and she felt her sex grow wet with excitement. The dominant feeling she had over her regressing little Tommykins was electric and her face and neck started to blush and redden. Celia looked at her daughter with raised eyebrows as she realised what was happening. Diane kissed Tom on the cheek and beat a hasty retreat to ladies toilet where she rushed into a booth and rubbed herself to a succession of multiple orgasms.
In the meantime Tommy had been taken out of his high chair and put in a stroller to take him to see his next stop which was the psychologist. Dr Cynthia Allen was not only a fully qualified psychologist but also an accomplished hypnotist and psychotherapist. It was wonderful that Tommy was wetting himself without any sign of restraint on his part, but this might only be transient, if he should manage to gather himself together and try to reverse all that had passed.
“Hello Tommy, I’m Dr Alan and I am going to make sure that you are happy and content while you visit us here. You might be worried that you are wetting yourself without really having any control, but this is perfectly normal.”
Tom wondered how on earth such an infantile act could be normal.
“Your Mummy and Grandma love you very much and want you to be happy. They know that you were having problems as a grown up, fighting with the girls and having problems making relationships with the chaps at work and the club. They found out that there is a more simple life that would suit you, where there are no stresses, no need to impress anybody, no need to look macho or strong, but a place where you could be the lovely person that lives inside you.”
Tom listened and looked at Dr Alan with intense concentration.
“In this place we have lots of people like you, some want to be little girls, some want to be little boys, some want to be like children, some want to be like toddlers and others want to be like babies. They talked to your Mummy Joanne a lot and she said that growing up at school you had lots of problems and were so stressed that you started to wet the bed again and she had to put you back in nappies at night time on more than one occasion. On one night you were so stressed out at going back to school at the end of the summer holidays that you had an accident in your pyjamas and did a poo-poo. She offered to put you back in nappies but you refused, but inside you really wished that you had accepted her offer and worn them.”
Tom felt a little tear run down his cheek, he had forgotten the actual story of how and why his accident had happened.
“So, today we are helping you to get rid of all that stress. There is nothing we can force you to do and we wouldn’t want to force you to do anything that you wouldn’t want to do.” She laughed at her tongue twister and Tommy smile back from behind his dummy which was bobbing back and forth quite furiously. “You are now back in nappies to help you get rid of the stress and we have been looking very carefully at you and think that this is what you want. You are being a very good baby and wetting yourself quite freely and we believe that this making you feel a lot better about yourself. We even think that you quite like having the odd accident in the back of your nappy and doing a stinky? Yes, you do! Admit it; you like the feeling of a poo pushing out in the back of your nappy – and this is perfectly alright because that it what babies do. It is what babies are expected to do. You like to feel it sagging in the back of your pants when you stand up, dragging down into the seat of your terry nappy.” Tom looked embarrassed but had to nod quietly.
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Really creative stuff please keep going
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I am working on the next three chapters and should have another ready for tomorrow!
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Chapter 7 The end is in sight
Dr Alan looked at the rather compliant Tommy sitting in his high chair suc-king on his dummy carefully listening to all the things that she told him. She pulled an hexagonal silver pendant from within her blouse and Tom’s eyes immediately picked up on the twinkle and sparkle as it rotated in her hand. He was an excellent subject and within a few minutes she had dropped him into an exceptionally deep level of hypnosis. It was not her intention to try and change anything that was already within his acceptance but to completely reinforce that being a baby was exactly the right thing for him. She asked him at a very subconscious level whether he enjoyed being a little infant, whether he was happy using his nappies and dummy like a toddler and whether he ever wanted to be a grown up ever again.
She realised that there would also be the possibility that Tommy might come to his senses and try and reverse his situation and to help avoid this she implanted a trigger phrase that would reassert his will to remain as he now was.
The relationship between his Grandma Celia and Mummy Diane were also explored and she wanted to enforce the love that they felt for him was genuine and that he would realise this through the love and cuddles that they would bestow on him. She explained that they were not responsible for making him a baby, but that they had acted as a conduit for him to realise his deepest dreams. Bending the truth would make Tommy much more comfortable with his current situation and far less likely to rebel.
She brought his back to the reality of being fully awake and Tommy appeared content and happy sitting in his now very wet nappy and suc-king his dummy. He was returned to his viewing of the special videos wearing his bonnet and listening to the dialogue with intent concentration. He enthusiastically interacted with the nannies and babies shown and answering the questions put to him from the specially crafted film.
The end of the week was fast approaching and the Little Miss Muffet’s Creche for Babies had certainly delivered on their first promise to make Tommy nappy dependent. He was changed in to clean nappies and put in a sweet pink bubble romper trimmed in lace around the legs and arms. A pale pink matinée jacket was put on him and his reins with the tinkling bells fitted over the top, before a large white terry bib trimmed in pink lace was put round his neck as his pink dummy was inserted. Two nurses supported him by holding his hands as he waddled bow-legged with a huge set of nappies bulging out in his pink bubble suit to the waiting Miss Muffet minivan.
He arrived home to be greeted by Diane and Celia who ushered him to his high chair set up in the kitchen to feed him his bottle before putting him down for a nap. It was a top of the range, beautifully padded and very comfortable seat for him and he was helped in and fully restrained by a secure harness, once his walking reins had been removed and hung up on a hook in the hall.
Diane slipped a finger inside his plastic pants to check his nappy and announced that he was only a little damp and would ‘keep’ for a little while longer. The nurse who had accompanied him left some tubs of ‘vitamins’ for him to take. One was a diuretic to encourage a good flow of urine, another was a sedative to keep him calm and unstressed, while another was to ensure that he would sleep more hours than he was normally used to. The last tablets were to make him a little disconnected, and were based on a cannabis derivative that broke the response time between senses and actions – when he moved his hand it would be a millisecond or so away from where he expected and this would have the effect of making him appear a bit clumsy and uncoordinated.
The nurse reminded them that a good supply of bottles was important if Tommy was to remain hydrated. He could use sippy cups if they wanted, but considering his love of dummy nipples it might be nicer for him to use the more infantile bottles.
Tommy kicked his legs in his new high chair and suc-ked happily on his new bottle filled with rosehip syrup and vitamin C drink with a hint of sedative to make him want a session in his new cot for a good nap in half an hour or so. The creche minivan left and the two women descended on Tommy eager to play with their new toy.
“Who’s a good baby for his Mummy then?” asked Diane giggling as she looked at the big overgrown toddler sat in the high chair with both hands on his feeding bottle that was tipped up to finish off the last 30ml left in the bottom. His little legs clad in pink woollen tights and a pair of booties kicked gently back and forth. He was still wearing the pink bonnet that was trimmed with pink ribbons, little roses and pink faux fur. It framed his face beautifully keeping his almost bald head of fuzzy baby hair snug and warm.
Celia had in her hand an MP3 player that was connected by Bluetooth to the earphones cleverly embedded in the soft woollen sides of his bonnet and Tommy was listening to nursery rhymes that provided rhythm to his waggling legs. Underneath the babyish songs and quite subliminal voice was praising him for wetting in his nappies and reminding him continuously how wonderful it was to forget all about toilets and potties and just let go whenever he felt the urge. Every so often the voice would remind him how much his Grandma and Mummy loved him. The voice told him that he might still be a little bit cross about being made to be a baby again, but that if he soiled his nappy then that would make them prove just how much they loved him. A dirty nappy would prove beyond doubt that he was really loved in his new role.
He suc-ked out the last of the juice and his bottle made a slurping noise. The two women clapped and told him how clever he was. He let go of the bottle and it clattered off the tray of his high chair and fell to the floor. In a trice he had found his dummy on the end of the ribbon and plugged it into his mouth and began suc-king with gusto. He bounced up and down in his chair in time to the wheels of the bus go round and round. The harness allowed for little movement and he began to feel a bit claustrophobic. He struggled against the straps and tried to open the catch at the front that was restraining him. It was all in vain and he began to grumble, he put all his energy into wriggling this way and that, and as he was struggling and pushing, his bowel thought it was an invitation to fill his nappy. For the first time in his new status he began to have a tantrum and he threw all his efforts into bouncing up and down, while grunting and pushing against anything that was keeping him pinned into his high chair.
“Want out” he managed to push out through gritted teeth. His wife and mother-in-law watched him clearly amused and were both grinning. “Let me out” he spluttered past his dummy, trying to use his arms to push against the arm rests of his plush and luxurious chair. He made one last effort and suddenly felt a movement pass his prostate. He was rewarded with an erection and his pathetic little sissy stick swelled within the confines of his wet nappy. The strap that ran between his legs pressed against him and he renewed his efforts pushing and bouncing, grunting and groaning as the need to eliminated the load from his bowels slowly forced its was into the secure tight confines of his beautiful soft nappy. He felt his sexual excitement build to a crescendo and he ejaculated with an almighty climax at the very moment the huge log forced its way into the back of his pants. He bounced and bounced, enjoying the warm mass in his seat and the slippy mess in the front leading to a final climax of his bladder cutting loose and he completely finished off his nappy in spectacular style.
He fell back exhausted, a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead, his bonnet was all askew, his bib was half way around his neck and his dummy was hanging out of his mouth, slobber and dribble falling away from the mouth guard and dripping onto his bib.
Diane watched the degrading and humiliating performance being put on by her husband and was dripping juices into her panties that needed urgent attention. She sat on a dining room chair next to him, hoisted up her skirt and unashamedly rubbed her clitoris to a mind-blowing orgasm under the table. Her mother looked a little shocked until she realised that she too was feeling a little more than excited by the spectacle of her son-in-law’s debasement.
It took a good few minutes before everybody settled down, even Celia had to go and attend to some urgent business! Everybody needed a fresh set of underwear that moment.
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Nearly at the end of my story now, but I am adding two chapters today. Sadly, there is no more written after this set, so it might be a good few days until the next/last chapter, so I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 8 Talk training
He would spend a few days at home equilibrating, then after that he would begin to attend the creche a couple of times a week and begin to make some new friends and start his Baby craft lessons. The courses he had been registered for were; the baby talk improvement class, the baby play class and finally, the baby time schedule that was designed to introduce naps and sleep time schedules that would have to be relearnt.
The trouble with being a grown up is that they do not have a huge amount to learn and so the brain does not have to work so hard and so therefore does not tire. In an infant, there is continual barrage of learning, from speech learning, understanding, and using their senses and recognition learning. There is also a huge physical development and a huge expenditure in energy flapping about moving limbs, toddling or crawling depending on the age of the infant.
The creche developed a room where the senses were swamped with all manner of things that an adult would be hard pressed to cope with. Bonnets had hidden earphones built in to them and this would play music and speech continually. Foreign languages were found to be very helpful especially if the stories were interesting and they wanted to understand what was being said. The floors were moving like a ship in a swell so that they continually had to adjust to keep their balance. The lighting went from bright to dim with colours altering the whole time. It was a mental challenge for any adult and an hour was found to be quite exhausting, especially when they had to produce coloured pictures while all this was happening.
A session in this room and big baby was completely tired and ready for a nap.
However, there was an alternative that was being investigated at the creche and that was a special derivative of a plant called mescal button a type of cactus with the potent active mescalin. It had an acute affect on the mind that caused varying degrees of illusions, hallucinations, altered perception of space and time, and altered body image. Users may also experience euphoria, which is sometimes followed by feelings of anxiety. The effect on body often came with intense nausea, vomiting, dilation of the pupils, increased heart rate, increased blood pressure, a rise in body temperature that causes heavy perspiration, headaches, muscle weakness, and impaired motor coordination. All perfect for your new baby.
Fentanyl, an opiate that has ravaged America's youth, and xylazine are combined to create Tranq. This causes intense almost instantaneous drowsiness that can also lead to amnesia. This mix plus mescaline is the new coc-ktail developed by the creche, which is prepared in a gel that could be used to dip the baby’s dummy in and to make life simple for baby to ask for it, they called it mumu.
Tommy was delivered to the creche for his first session in the Baby Talk class and he was introduced to Bobby, Charlotte (who was originally Charlie), Davina (who was originally David), Simon (who will become Simone in due course) and Baba (who’s name had been deliberately erased from the records). They were all new additions to the creche and had over the last few weeks been through the nappy training that he had.
The six of them sat on little plastic chairs wearing onesies of various colours. Big nappies bulging out from their nether regions, all securely bibbed and dummied in readiness for their lessons. All of them were nervous and had been told not to talk as they had to listen to what they were going to be told.
Nurse Mary was the speech therapist in charge and she walked along the line of plastic chairs patting them on their heads and welcoming them to their new class. After a few minutes Nurse Elizabeth came in with a stroller and sat Bobby in it, then wheeled him away.
“He’ll be back in a minute” explained Nurse Mary, “he has gone for his morning treat and will be back in a moment.” Sure enough a few moments later she returned with Bobby who had clearly been crying. This unsettled the remaining babies. One by one they were taken away and returned, all showed signs of tears. The last to go was Tommy.
The nurse walked him out one door and straight into the door next to it. A man in a white coat said “take out your dummy and stick out your tongue for a sweetie.” The minute Tom did so it was grabbed by a tube with quite a strong vacuum that held it firm as a series of needles stabbed it all along the top and particularly at the tip. Within seconds it began to feel numb and tears began to well up in his eyes as he slowly lost much of the feeling in his tongue. He went to talk but the doctor wagged a big finger in his face and said “No!” as he put a chocolate bean on the top of his tongue and told him to close his mouth. The dummy was replaced but it now felt alien in his mouth. More tears formed as he was wheeled back.
The group was very subdued. Nurse Mary said they were going to learn a few words and was going to show them some pictures. The first was a feeding bottle. “This is a ba ba” she said “can you say that?”
The group went to remove their dummies, but nurse Mary said “No sweethearts you can keep your dummies in because these new words are so you can talk without taking them out and still your Mummy will understand you.”
“Ba ba” they all said in unison
Next she showed a white square cloth hanging on the line, a nappy. “Naffy” she said “you say it, naffy.” They all complied. Rubber pants were wubber panth, thank you was fank oo, potty was pothy (not that they would ever be needing one), and grandma was gwanny or nanna depending on what she liked.
They worked away on a list of almost thirty words and it took almost an hour. “Okay babies, you can take a rest now and take out your dummies and talk to each other for a few minutes.” She left the room and within seconds there was a great cry that came from within as the six realised that their tongues were no longer capable of forming proper shapes to form their words.
“My nameth Thimon lisped one, dribbling and spluttering past his misshapen tongue. “I’m ethpethially sowwy to be here” moaned another. “Me need a cwean naffy” said another breaking down into tears. “My dum dum ith mithing” wailed another searching for his pacifier.
Nurse Mary returned with six nursery nurses who took each of their charges to go for clean nappies and then to go for their morning naps. The team had decided that now was a good time to try out the newly introduced mumu and to study the effects.
Tom was the first.
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I have to go out tomorrow - so here is the last part!
Chapter 9. Sleep training
Tom’s dummy was extracted from his mouth dipped into a jar of gel and quickly replaced. He blinked at first because it tasted a little of antiseptic and alcohol. Almost immediately he had a blinding sensation in his head, his mind filled instantly with a thousand images. He was a man, no a baby, he was floating above his body looking down on himself, there was an huge organ playing the wedding march, he was flying through the air like a bird on the wing. He had the erection from heaven, he had the feeling of the greatest joy and this was followed by a huge passionate crush for his nursery nurse Heather. He suc-ked heavily on his do-di, he felt wonderful, he felt exhausted, his world went blank, his eyes closed, he was done. He felt his nappy go warm, he loved everything.
The nurse Heather covered him with his pink fluffy cot blanket and made sure his dummy was safely in place. A bottle of water was placed by his head should he wake up thirsty. She adjusted his bib and made sure it was loose enough so that it would not strangle him. His Babygro was snug and comfortable and Tommy lapsed in to a deep and contented sleep where all his babyish thoughts became reality in his mind.
He was totally zonked out in a state of bliss and paradise as he slept in his creche cot. The staff looked at him in amazement, just over a week and Tom had reached his infantile level and seemed to have adapted perfectly. The level of diuretics had been substantially reduced as he no longer need the encouragement, because when he wasn’t suc-king on his binky he was nursing from his baby bottle. He was getting through litres of milk, juice and even water gave him the oral satisfaction he craved from suc-king on the bottle nipples.
It took him a moment to revive from his very deep sleep and his mind slowly sparked into life. He felt a complete baby and was very happy to be in the mental place that he was. He was changed in to a clean set of nappies and put in nursery print plastic pants. A pink vest was slipped over his head and secured between his legs with five poppers. The nursery nurse Heather took him into the art room so he could make a picture to take home to his mummy and granny. She sat his down at a little plastic table with Simon and Charlotte who were also still slightly subdued from the effects of the creche ‘special drug brew’.
The three of them sat around the table where a tray full of various coloured poster paints were ready for use. The art today was going to be finger painting and before they started the three nursery nurses put large plastic smocks on them to protect their clothes. The start was slow and tenuous as the three large toddlers tried not to crash in to the paints at the expense of a colleague. Luckily, they were very polite and each wanted to start with a different colour. “wed one pwease” said Simon, “wellow for me pwease” requested Charlotte. The art work was also being used by the control room monitoring the table to see what mental state the babies had reached. An adult would take time to blend primary colour to make secondary colours and then use the resultant blend. A baby would do blue, then maybe use yellow to discover green or add red and find the colour purple as the colours mashed together on the paper. They all painted like perfect toddlers, faces were streaked in paint, hands were totally covered and protective smocks were artworks in their own right!
Dummies were suc-ked intently as they immersed themselves in a task they totally enjoyed. All three of them wet their nappies within minutes of starting and none of them realised until the end of the session. The nursery nurses wrote their names on the corners of the pictures and pinned them to a huge easel with magnetic clips to allow them to dry.
“Mumu” shouted Simon to his nurse “Mumu” he repeated with urgency. “Me want mumu” he pleaded waving his dummy at her. Clearly the high from the drug had receded and now he wanted a top up. Simon had been on the drug for almost a month now and it was becoming evident that he had been very susceptible to becoming addicted to the medication. They were desperately trying to reduce the dose daily, but unfortunately had forgotten about the jar that they had given to his parents at home, who sadly had given in to his excessive and noisy demands. It had reached a very tricky stage now and they had taken the jar back from his parents and were desperately trying to wean him off it.
A nurse came from the control room armed with a dose of tranquilliser that was quickly administered to calm him down. Simon became very floppy and needed to strapped into his pushchair. Tom thought that it might be nice to have some more mumu but his request never vocalised. “No mumu” said the nurse “mumu is only for nap time.”
The parents started to arrive to pick up their charges. Diane was finishing work in town and decided to pick up Tommy rather than have him delivered in the minivan. Tommy was really delighted to see her and waved at her from the painting table trying to brush past Heather who was trying to clean off the paint that covering his hands and face. “Hewwo Mummy” he shouted though his dummy and waving his arms “me made pwetty picker of hands”. Diane looked puzzled and Heather nodded toward the easel.
“Oh, what a clever baby you are!” she enthused “that is wonderful, let us take that home and show Gwanny shall we? She is going to think you are so clever.” One might have expected Tommy to have been more adult, but the side-effect of mumu was certainly a diminution of his perceived developmental state, so all seemed perfectly normal to him.
Heather helped Tommy to stand up and fitted him into his baby harness. His nappy sagged heavily inside his Babygro as he had wet himself numerous times during his art session. “I had better put Tommy in a new nappy” said Heather.
“Oh, don’t bother Heather” said Diane “it will do him good to get used to being in a wet nappy. Babies don’t always get changed straight away, and besides, I think Tommy quite likes the feeling of being in a soggy nappy!” Tommy didn’t disagree.
They arrived home and Celia (as was becoming the norm) was eagerly waiting for them to arrive home. “Hello Tommykins!” she exclaimed as Tom waddled in from the car in his leading reins, his nappy sagging even more as its saturation point had almost been reached. Diane held up his picture. “What a clever baby you are!” Celia said taking the picture and getting out some tape to pin it to the kitchen wall. Tommy was bursting with pride and his dummy was pulsing furiously as he tried to control his happy emotions.
Tommy was taken to his nursery and stripped down and given a bath. A lovely clean baby was put in his extra thick, fluffy, night time nappies with two Harrington nappies as soakers that were enclosed in a large pair of clear PVC pants that would keep him nice and dry all night long. He was put in a smocked winceyette and very babyish nightdress that his grandma had spent many days carefully smocking with different coloured embroidery threads. It was a work of art. It just touched the floor and his booties could only just be seen as he waddled along. The bottom seam of the nightwear had a line of buttons that could be closed when he was put in his cot and produced a snuggle bag that would stop him from walking of crawling. It was lovely and toasty inside and so soft against his skin. Tommy loved it and suc-ked on his dummy as he appreciated the love that enveloped him.
The two women fawned over their new baby and he loved it. The Little Miss Muffet Creche had delivered the perfect result and everybody was happy.
[Concluded]
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Encore
I look forward to many more Sissy Central and Little Miss Muffet's Crèche stories from you in the future.
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And to think, this story came along all from one line in another story. Antonia, you have an awesome gift
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Marvellous it is so interesting to read your stories
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And to think, this story came along all from one line in another story. Antonia, you have an awesome gift
Now I'm curious, what was the line?
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hmm. would have thought baby be fed baby food, not sandwhiches.
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And to think, this story came along all from one line in another story. Antonia, you have an awesome gift
Now I'm curious, what was the line?
The baby training line with David.
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Thanks mikeh, I should have been able to work that out on my own. I think my compos mentis is finally turning into just compost :)
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Thank you for all the comments. I wanted to explore the idea of baby classes and unlearning simple skills. It was fun for me to explore this area.
The other epic story - A Caring Place - took a teenage boy and reduced him to being a baby girl back in nappies. It finished just as he was about to go to baby classes. Stopped at a point when I was screaming for more!
So, I’m fairly happy with my efforts but am now thinking of some new scenarios. We live in a world of our own, but there has to be an element of belief that such an event could really happen.
Oh, and before I go, there will be a final prologue to this story!
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Thanks mikeh, I should have been able to work that out on my own. I think my compos mentis is finally turning into just compost :)
Nah it hasn’t. You’ve done great with your story.
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Thank you for your great story always love reading your work.
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excited for the epilog. :)
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very good story, if you do an encore should be baby food and formula. You may wish to throw in the odd tittie feed as well
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I have long enjoyed your writing. You hit the mark once again. Thank you for weaving the lovely world so many of us wish to occupy.