Chapter 19
Susan and Mary were not surprised to come in to the new nursery and see a very flushed Sarah and a very smelly Tommy in his recently soiled nappy sitting sheepishly in the playpen.
“Have you two been behaving yourselves or have you naughty babies been up to mischief” asked Susan with a smirk. “Tommy! You cannot have dirtied your new nappy already? You did a big poo in your last one! You’re after more choccie buttons aren’t you?” she asked him with a huge smile. Tom who was hugely embarrassed then wet his nappy for good measure adding to his humiliation. “Why is your mitten all wet? What have you bad babies been up to?”
Julia chose the moment to enter the room, her face still red from her own moments of pleasure. “I will change Tommy” she said helping him on to his new changing table where a tall stack of freshly laundered terry nappies was prepared and waiting along with a wicker basket stacked high with an assortment of plastic pants. She noticed that Tom was suc-king furiously on his dummy trying to hide his embarrassment and hoping that he would not be caught out (little did he know that Julia had seen the whole thing). In hardly any time at all Tom was creamed and powdered, pinned snuggly into a thick fluffy nappy and protected by a large pair of translucent plastic baby pants that had been pulled up and all stray pieces of nappy tucked carefully in. He was put into his high chair, a large bib tied round his neck and a little plastic bowl of chocolate button put on his tray.
Julia had quickly removed his mittens and replaced them with a new pair, because she knew exactly why they were wet and had that unique smell of Sarah! Tom struggled to pick up the button with his mitten and it dropped on to the plastic tray of his high chair. He pushed it to the far edge of the tray and then bent over, straining against the straps that held him secure, and sticking out his tongue managed to get it into his mouth. A stream of chocolate brown dribble ran from his lips and onto his bib. He hardly ever noticed when they put him in a bib any more as it was now a regular part of his life. Originally the bibs had been gleaming white with bright embroidery or little animal patches, but now they were quite faded and, in some cases, showed stains that despite being boil-washed would no longer come clean. In some bibs there were signs that the ties were becoming a little frayed from being used so regularly.
Sarah was also changed and as her dress was so creased and covered in dribble and slobber, that it was replaced with a little pink bubble suit and a delicate white vest. “How on earth did you get your pretty dress into such a state?” asked Mary shaking her head and pulling the protective sheath from the needle of a hypodermic she had in her hand.
Sarah saw the needle and immediately panicked, but it was too late and the sedative was already in her veins causing her to slump. Mary and Susan took her to her cot in the room next door and secured the room. In no time at all Sarah was in a deep hypnotic state, an act that had been increasingly simple after her ECT and diminished brain function.
“Sarah, you like having Tommy suc-king at your breast don’t you? You wish Tommy was your little baby for real don’t you Sarah? You want him to call you Mama and be your little baby don’t you Sarah? You want to wash him and care for him. You want to put him in a clean nappy when he has wet or soiled himself, don’t you? Would you like to feed Tommy his baby bottle and cuddle him?”
The suggestions with Susan went on for an hour and then she fitted ear pieces to allow the indoctrination to continue under the pink sleep bonnet that had been fitted to keep the pods in place. Sarah’s dummy bobbed rhythmically in and out as she deeply absorbed the new ideas. Her desire to be a maternal figure for her baby Tommy grew and grew as the light in the nursery slowly faded and night fell. Her injection was topped up as Susan changed her into a clean nappy before going to bed herself.
Tom had spent the day playing by himself and was worried when Sarah had disappeared for the rest of the day. He sat in his high chair chasing his chocolate buttons until lunch time when he was fed some chicken dinner ground up in the blender and then given two large bottles of milk to drink before being put down for a nap in his play pen. Two nappy changes later and he was back in his cot having spent all day playing with his bricks and watching and endless stream of episodes of the Teletubbies that had been recorded for him.
He looked across at Sarah but her cot was surrounded by a hospital screen and he could see nothing. He lay back in his cot suc-king on his do-di without a second thought as it was a necessary part of him now and he knew that it would be harder for him to give it up than it had to quit smoking. He reviewed his life as he lay in his cot and the light in the nursery started to fade and the fairy nightlight threw a pale-yellow glow across the room.
A man? Certainly; although his need to wear and use his nappies was not supporting his argument. He thought about the dummy that he was suc-king very nervously and bobbed in and out rapidly, causing him to dribble quite profusely, so succulent was the teat of his soother. This he agreed to himself, was a very babyish habit, but there must be many secret dummy suc-kers who lived their secret lives suc-king discretely whenever they had the opportunity, otherwise why make them big enough for grown-ups? He resolved in his own mind that this was a bit out of the normal but not a crime. He looked down and felt the wet bib tied around his neck to protect his sleepwear. This was very babyish he agreed but why then did he not take it off? He couldn’t take it off because he was wearing woolly mittens, but in truth if he made a real effort, he could have taken off his bib because they were not the restraining garment he originally wore. So, he wore the bib because he did not want to spoil his ‘BabyGro’ that held his nappies in place while he slept. Slowly Tom began to realise that he was far from being a man and the soft booties on his feet further confirmed his suspicions. He could have taken these off surely, and he could have easily climbed out of his cot, but he agreed not to try; if they removed the heavy leather baby reins that were so uncomfortable.
The more he argued with himself, the more he agreed that he had meekly and calmly submitted to behaving as a baby, slowly giving up a little discomfort in return for baby softness and security. He started off drinking out of a sippy cup, yet now he drank everything out of plastic baby bottles and this just happened one day and he had not bothered to complain. Why was he so weak? He was in despair, how could he come back from the situation in which he found himself? A surging warmth spread across the front of him and down between his legs and into the seat of his bottom. He realised that he was wetting himself without any prior warning and that far from being a man, they had reduced him with his permission to a nappy-pissing baby. Worse than that, he had now discovered that to soil his nappy was to experience not disgust or revulsion, but experience the heights of sexual excitement.
A tear ran down his face to mingle with his dummy suc-king slobber as he realised that this was his lot now. No more drinking in the pub, no going anywhere on his own, no mixing with other adults, no car, no money, no nothing apart from his baby routine and being dominated by Susan and Mary who now called themselves Nanny and Mummy. He had to escape but how? He would have to escape with nappies and plastic pants, and he could not run away without his dummies.
He slowly drifted off in to a troubled sleep and he wet himself a few hours later and never broke out of his reverie. By the time he awoke, his nappy was wet and heavy about his hips and on the point of leaking. At this stage a nappy is very uncomfortable and a million miles away from the soft fluffy nappy that was applied at the time of his previous evening’ change. Indeed, what started out as soft now feels quite hard, and the skin is increasingly irritated by the eliminations. The beginnings of nappy rash make Tom squirm with discomfort and the hope that somebody will come and change him. He never asks himself why he does not change himself? He could easily do so, but he has been conditioned to do as he was told.
Julia and the other women came into the room and take down the screen around Sarah’s cot, removing her bonnet and air buds from her ears. She points at Tom “That’s my baby” she shouts.
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Topic: It Never Rains but it Pours (Read 47282 times)
