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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: RE-LEARNING BABYHOOD
A couple of hours later, Emily found himself sitting on the floor of a brand new playpen, which had been set up in the living room. Initially, it was set up by the redecorating crew from A Caring Place, but had been obscured by blankets in the corner of the room before Emily arrived home that morning so as not to ruin the surprise. Dr Thurman left shortly after Emily’s breastfeeding, and since then things had been relatively mundane around the Harper household. Well . . . as mundane as you could describe the image of a feminized, diapered sissy strapped to the rails of an oversized play-pen, as episode after episode of baby programs played on the TV opposite him.
Emily was still in shock that his own mother, who rarely ever raised a finger at him, now seemed perfectly fine with going so far as to physically restrain him inside of this big, new, wooden prison. Melissa had good reason not to trust Emily to stay put, that much was true, but to see the matriarch of the Harper household, who was usually so tender and loving, willing to use such extreme measures against her own child, made Emily even more scared about what his future might hold.
“How are you doing, baby? Still dry?” Emily heard Melissa ask from behind him. He was unable to turn his head to look at his mother, but he felt Melissa loom over him as she leaned over the side rail and stuck a hand down to check Emily’s diaper. “Still nothing, huh? I guess you just haven’t had enough to drink, have you, princess? That’s okay, mommy will heat you up a bottle.”
As Emily listened to Melissa walk away, a single tear slid down his face. He wanted to scream so badly, to get up, to rip off his diaper, and to run far away from here, but he was incapable of doing any of those things. In fact, in his current position, he wasn’t capable of doing much of anything other than reaching for the pink stuffed bunny or rattle that Melissa had placed beside him to keep him entertained.
It was the frequent diaper checks that were scaring Emily the most, however. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that not only was he in diapers now, but his Mommy actually expected him to use them! Melissa seemed downright excited for him to do so. Still, Emily resolved to hold off for as long as he could. True, he had already wet himself two times today, but those were mistakes. The idea of being fully aware that he was about to piss himself, and then forcing himself to go through with the act, however, was pretty much unthinkable.
Melissa returned with a baby bottle of milk and handed it to Emily. “There you go sweetums,” she beamed to him cheerfully, “You just drink your milkies now and enjoy your cartoons like a good baby, okay?”
Emily stared up at her mommy and didn’t know how to respond. Melissa just giggled and reached down to remove Emily’s pacifier. She quickly replaced it with the bottle she’d brought, and Emily looked away as he began suc-king on it. The taste of the milk reminded Emily of the milk he’d drank from Melissa’s breasts earlier which made him think that Melissa must have been saving bottles of breastmilk for him well in advance. He really didn’t want to drink it, but Melissa was still standing there watching with a look like she expected Emily to drink it all, so he continued to suc-k down its contents against his better judgement.
“Good princess!” Melissa complimented her with a smile.
Melissa’s motherly gaze felt omnipresent as Emily drank every last drop of breastmilk under her watchful eye. The look on Melissa’s face was so sweet and content, like she had finally been given everything she ever dreamed of. She savored the moment by reaching for her phone and snapping a quick picture of her sissfied daughter.
“Mommy, no!” Emily yelled out in horror, sputtering around the teat of the bottle.
Melissa gave her a look of mock concern and patted her on the head. “It’s alright baby, Mommy just thought you looked cute, that’s all. See?”
She turned the camera around to show Emily a picture of himself shyly suc-king on his bottle in the playpen, looking extremely demure and coy as he did so. Emily blushed bright pink.
“Besides,” Melissa added, “What’s the fun of being a Mommy if I can’t show off how cute my baby girl is?”
“But . . . but . . .” Emily began to stammer, but he was cut off when Melissa aggressively raised a finger at him.
“Hush,” Melissa scolded, “I don’t want to hear any more complaints from you. You’ve always been a baby girl, and now we’re finally just treating you like you need to be treated. And this is your life now, baby. The rest of your life. You’ll always be Mommy’s baby girl. Did you really think people weren’t going to find out eventually? It’s better to just rip the Band-Aid off now and be done with it.”
Emily’s stomach twisted in knots. If he could, he would have leapt up at that very second and snatched the phone out of his mother’s hand, but the restraints made that impossible. There was nothing he could do to stop his mother from exposing him to anyone she desired.
“Besides,” Melissa added, “We need to doc-ument your transformation as much as possible for the program, honey. Dr. Thurman has helped so many little boys and little girls ease their anxiety with regular breastfeeding and a little regression, but most of those patients get better and grow up and move on in life. You’re the very first patient ever to be enrolled in A Caring Place’s intensive regression program, and as part of my deal with Dr Thurman, I agreed to take as many pictures and videos of my sweet little girl as possible, so they can show you off to other prospective clients. This isn’t even the first picture I’ve taken of you, by the way. In your nursery, there’s a bunch of cameras set up which take pictures and record video periodically, whenever they sense motion, so there’s probably already at least a dozen pictures of you being spanked and diapered deep inside A Caring Place’s memory bank by now.”
Emily’s jaw dropped at this revelation. Somewhere, miles away from here, some random intern was probably sifting through footage of his embarrassing ordeal and laughing. How could he know this footage wouldn’t end up in the wrong hands eventually? Fresh tears began to coat Emily’s face, and he thrashed uselessly against his restraints.
Melissa shook her head in disappointment. “I know you’re upset, but there’s no need to be a brat about it,” she chided Emily as she pulled the bottle away and replaced his pacifier. “The shame will go away eventually, you’ll see. Soon you won’t even think about the fact that everyone knows you’re a baby. It’ll just be a part of your everyday life.”
As Melissa left to wash the bottle in the kitchen, Emily kept crying as he thought long and hard about what his Mommy had just said. The idea that Emily would ever accept any of what was happening right now as “normal” or “natural” was a completely absurd notion. Even an actual baby would know that Emily was too big to be treated this way. There had to be a way out of this, he was sure of it. No matter what, he would find a way to assert himself and prevent his mommy from turning her into her own personal little baby doll.
And yet, what could he do to stop it? Nothing at the moment came to mind. He was strapped firmly to his play-pen, and his mother had gained the legal rights to do all of this to him. How any of this could be legal in the first place, Emily had no idea. Dr Thurman’s lawyers must have used some sort of black magic to get any judge to approve of this.
Not knowing what else to do, Emily hung his head down in shame and suc-ked his pacifier. It hadn’t even been two hours since he was first diapered, and being a baby was already more boring than he could possibly imagine. He tried to pay attention to the bright, aggressively infantile cartoon his mother had put on for him, but there was nothing about it that could hold his interest. There was no plot or well defined characters to speak of, just childish song after childish song about the most simplistic topics, such as looking twice before you cross the road, or how to brush your teeth. Emily would have given an arm and a leg to be able to watch cartoons for a slightly older audience. Those were the same cartoons he had recently shunned as being “too young” for him mere weeks ago, but it seemed Melissa considered even those to be too mature for him now.
Some countless number of episodes later, Emily began to feel a stirring in his belly. It was getting later now, and he usually went #2 about this time of day. The fact that he was beginning to feel the need to go worried him a great deal, since he understood the diaper he was wearing was not just for show. Despite knowing that he’d eventually have to relieve himself, Emily’s pride still made him want to hold off for as long as possible. Maybe at some point he’d get the chance to sneak off and do the deed when his mommy wasn’t looking, after he was released from the confines of his playpen. It was a stretch, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
The situation soon grew worse for Emily once Melissa eventually came strolling back into the living room. “Still enjoying your cartoons, little one?,” she greeted Emily cheerfully, despite the fact that Emily clearly looked miserable.
Melissa walked behind him and began to undo the restraints. Emily’s face perked up. If there was ever a chance to make a mad dash for it and escape this crazy woman, the time was obviously now. Melissa grabbed his arm and began helping him up, using her other hand to unlock the side of the adult-sized playpen and swing the entrance open. It was now or never, if he was going to escape, he would need to move quickly and utilize the element of surprise.
But . . . he didn’t.
The more Emily thought about it, the more it seemed like a stupid plan. Where would he even go dressed only in a diaper? What if the authorities just brought him back? Instead, he obediently let Melissa lead him over to the couch, where he plopped himself submissively into his mother’s lap, losing what seemed like his best opportunity to assert her independence and leave.
“C’mon baby-butt, mommy wants to spend some time with you,” Melissa began to coo in demeaning baby talk. She further adjusted Emily so he was level with her chest, and started pulling up her own shirt, removing a large, matronly breast from her lacy bra. “I’ll bet you’re a hungry widdle baby, aren’t you?”
Even though Emily had already done this once today, he shuddered upon realizing what was coming next. “A . . . again mommy?” he asked Melissa childishly, who just giggled and booped his nose.
“Of course, sweetheart! The guidebook Dr Thurman gave me said I should feed you at least once every three hours, and breastfeed you at least twice a day! Now open up!”
Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Topic: A Caring Place (Co-Written by PervScenes11) (Read 68678 times)
