Simple Simon

[antonia]

Chapter 8



He closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep, the ring on his dummy wiggled back and forth as he slid slowly down the road to babyhood dressed as an overgrown toddler. At about three in the morning the diuretics he had been fed in his drinks earlier that evening began to demand an urgent response. He awoke knowing that he had to pee in the next few minutes. It was hours until his door would be unlocked and he was all too aware that there were no vessels or containers that would hold his desperately needed pee. He clutched at the front of himself, trying to stop the first trickle that was forcing out of him. He fumbled at the snaps on his babyish sleep suit, but they were too delicate for his clumsy mittened hands to open. He rolled in his bed forcing his hand against himself to stop the dribble. The pain got worse and worse. There were short moments of peace that were only to be replaced almost immediately with a painful urgency that had to be answered. He groaned and moaned into his dummy, suc-king it for the comfort that it had started to bring him. Then the battle was lost, he lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling as the slow trickle accelerated into a torrent that swished and splashed in his nappy flooding to the left and right and flooding down between his legs and up behind him towards the small of his back. Then it was done, the super absorbency of the nappy took it all, he did not even feel wet, just a warm dampness that was heavy against him. The nappy had swelled, he could feel it had ballooned up inside his plastic pants and it felt a lot bigger. He drifted off to sleep again and when the second urge came around about six in the morning, he just let it happen and dozed off with hardly a second thought.



The women waited until nine before letting him out of his room, they wanted to be certain that he had used his nappy for its intended purpose, but little did they know he had been in it twice during the night. His heavy wetting had leaked out of the nappy and had even made it past the plastic pants and he had a water mark that ran round his middle, up his back and down his legs. He felt very cold and wet and his sheet was saturated.



The door rattled as the key turned in the lock, Simon jumped out of his bed, shocked at the wet patches around his waist and about his legs which were a much darker pink than the rest of his sleeper.



“Here we are” said Mrs Fielder coming through the door, but who was somewhat stunned to see Simon standing up with his very wet and heavy nappy clearly sagging inside his baby grow covered in large leaks. She was even more surprised to see him suc-king pensively on his dummy and seemingly unaware that it was still in his mouth. “That’s a good boy, pity about the leaks, but it was not your fault. Having an early morning smoke dear.” She babbled as she tried to take on the huge regression that had occurred to Simon in the few days he had been staying with her. “Felicity!” she shouted “run Simon a nice bath can you dear?”



Simon just gawked back, his nappy felt cold and heavy, dragging down on his hips, and he could feel the weight pressing against the securing snaps of his outfit and pulling against his shoulders. He felt totally humiliated and despondent, but Mrs Fielder knew that the next moments were crucial to her plans.



She pulled the plastic changing pad from under his bed. “Come on lie down on your changing mat Simon and let’s get you sorted out” she told him. Simon did as he was told and Mrs Fielder with a look of absolute calm and normality set about opening his snaps and pulling his legs out of the garment. His plastic pants were steamy and speckled with moisture and the nappy inside was totally spent. “Lift up dear, and lets get these plastic panties off”, she wiggled the pants down his legs and pulled his feet out of the leg holes. She then tore at the sticky tabs at either side and Simon lifted up his bottom so that the wet pad could be slipped out. “There that’s a lot better isn’t it” she said warmly giving Simon’s dummy a playful tug and push.



Simon spat out his dummy in self disgust, he had totally forgotten that he was suc-king it. Mrs Fielder pushed it back in “you enjoy your doe-doe dear and go and have a nice hot bath”. Simon shot off the bed, his baby grow flowing behind him. “I am doing the laundry today dear, so I can you make sure that all your dirty clothes are ready for me when you have had your bath?”



Simon took off the sleepwear and jumped into the bath run for him by Felicity, who had thankfully disappeared to leave him in peace. He looked down at his manhood and was distressed at its nakedness. He had almost forgotten how they had shaved away all of his hair. He washed his hair and tried to remove the smell of baby powder and the distinctive odour of stale pee from his skin. Mrs Fielder swooped into the bathroom clutching several pairs of his boxer shorts. “These are disgusting Simon, don’t you ever wipe yourself properly? These are totally rank and I am amazed that you think that I would want to handle them. Well young man I am not and you clearly need to be taught how to clean yourself properly. In the mean time I have put some pants on your bed that are more appropriate to your behaviour and you will use these until I tell you otherwise”. She bent down and picked up his nightwear unpinning the dummy. “I will put this by your bed dear” she said clearly over her sharp spat.



Simon completed his preparations and wandered back into his room. On the bed were a brand new pair of pants made of soft white terry towelling and which had an elasticated waist. There seemed to be an additional panel of towelling that ran from the front right around to the back of them. He picked them up and they felt heavy and bulky. He slipped them on and pulled them up, they were quite loose fitting except at the waist and legs where the elastic held them close. The fabric stuck out at the front and he now recognised the garment as a pair of toddler training pants or nappy pants. He felt totally humiliated and decided that this was not going to happen. He was not learning how to use the toilet or subject to mistakes and accidents. He did not need extra padding in his pants to capture any stray dribbles or boo-boos. He went straight to his underwear drawer and pulled it open with a fury that surprised him, there were no boxer shorts, no masculine attire, only another six pairs of the toddler pants and three pairs of transparent plastic pants. He noticed the bedside cabinet door was slightly ajar and he pushed it shut, but it sprang open again. He opened the door, but inside the disposable nappies had gone and in there place were two giant terry nappies and another two pairs of plastic pants colourful with nursery characters on top of which rested two giant nappy pins. It was this bulk that prevented the door from closing properly. On the top of the cabinet was his dummy, beckoning him to take it and bring him comfort. He thought of having a smoke and his immediate thought was to take comfort from his precious doe-doe.



Simon was now very worried by this turn of events. What on earth was going on in this mad house?.......

[antonia]

Chapter 9



He pulled on his shirt and trousers. The thickness of his pants was visible in his trousers.



He went downstairs for his breakfast as Felicity was taking his two bibs and plastic pants out of the washing machine along with other items and putting them in a laundry basket. She went out through the kitchen door and started to pin the items on the washing line in clear view of the neighbours who Simon had not yet seen. The items fluttered in the wind, taunting Simon with his shameful wear. Mrs Fielder tied another new bib around his neck, this one a white terry cloth trimmed with a pale blue strip that became the ties around his neck. This one simply said “Baby Simon” and he looked down at it – he was defeated. Mrs Fielder inserted his dummy and without any thought he started to suc-kle on the rubber bulb.



Felicity came back in from the garden, the washing now all pegged onto the line. Mrs Fielder busied herself with preparing the breakfast. His sippy cup appeared full of juice and Simon knew that it would leak, he knew that the bib was a permanent feature of his life while he was in this house. He took out his dummy and placed it on the table, and Mrs Fielder put it in the steriliser. “You have done well to not have any cigarettes and I am very proud of you” she said putting her arm around him and giving him a hug.



Simon lifted the cup and sure enough a few drip of the blackcurrant juice came from nowhere and landed on the top of his bib and flowered out into a noticeable blob. Nobody said anything. Mrs Fielder had cooked a full breakfast of bacon, beans, eggs and sausages. Simon managed to drop a few beans down his front with no help from Felicity this time and they left an orange trail that ran down in a streak on the infantile protection. Once again, nothing was said as it was expected, maybe the fact that he was wearing the bib made him take less care, or maybe he was just unlucky. In reality and unknown to Simon, he was slowly being drugged with every drink and every time the drugs took away a degree of his coordination. Basically he was being made to be slightly clumsy and not fully in control of his actions.



As Simon finished his breakfast, Mrs Fielder said “we need to do something about training that bladder of yours Simon, a strapping lad like you should be able to get through the night without needing a night time nappy. So I am going to start you on a special training programme. Every hour on the hour, you will go to the toilet to do a wee wee and then have a drink.”  



Sure enough at 10 o’clock Mrs Fielder came with his dummy and put it in his mouth and said “go and do your wee wee Simon”. Simon went to the bathroom, his bib still around his neck and his dummy in his mouth. He had to pull the towelling pants down to go to the toilet. He pulled them back up without being very careful and a small amount of wetness went onto the trainer pants.



It was Saturday and Simon decided that he would do some course work on his lap top in his bedroom. Somehow nobody remembered to take off his bib and so it remained on. On the hour and every hour his dummy would be inserted, he would go to the toilet and then have a drink. Mrs Fielder was totally committed to this regime and Simon was engrossed in doing his course work. He was not all that careful and the staining in the front of his nappy pants from all the minor dribbles was acc-umulating and becoming a noticeable stain.



By dinner time, his bib was splattered with breakfast, lunch and numerous drinks, his mouth was starting to look a bit red form the continual suc-king of his dummy and the wetness that he was developing as he drooled more and more.



At nine o’clock his bladder rang alarm bells that it was time to go to the loo. They had just sat down for a casserole and again Simon shot off for the toilet with a little more urgency than before. On this occasion he dribbled just a small amount before he got his pants down and a little more as he pulled them back up. He could feel the dampness as he made his way back to the table.



They ate their dinner, Simon spilled some more on his bib and helped with the washing up. Mrs Fielder announced that she wanted an early night and that she would help Simon to get ready for bed, although he was welcome to stay up a bit later and watch the television if he wished. She took off his bib and noticed that around the neck it had become quite wet from his dribbling. “You seem to be drooling a lot more dear with you doe-doe, so I am going to put this little bib round your neck to catch the wetness”. She tied a small semi-circular towelling bib round his neck that was decorated with small dummies and said “Baby Dribbler”. Luckily Simon did not see the writing.



At 10 o’clock Mrs Fielder announced that she was going to bed. “Simon, you had better come up with me”, she said leading the way “we will get you ready for your bed”. Simon tried to hang back but she grabbed him gently but firmly by the elbow. She put in his dummy “it is time for you to have your smoke and to go to the toilet anyway” she said. Simon almost without being reminded had already felt the urgency build and once again a small dribble crept out before he managed to get his trousers down and his toddler pants about his ankles. Once again he did not wipe himself and once again he added to the dampness.  He went back to his room where Mrs. Fielder had laid out the changing mat. “Ups-a-daisy” she said patting the mat. Simon took off his trousers and nappy pants. He noticed that they were quite heavily stained, more to the point, so did Mrs. Fielder. “Oh my word,” she exclaimed “look at your panties, you really needed these today didn’t you? The wetness has almost come through even this thick padding. If it gets any worse, you will have to wear the training pants with the plastic pants on the outside won’t you or else your trousers will be ruined?” she said. Simon stood there gloomily in his gloomy nakedness. He got onto the mat which had a large soft terry nappy folded into the shape of a kite. He positioned himself into the centre of the nappy and lay back. Mrs Fielder applied cream and powder to his skin and then pulled the thick wedge of nappy between his legs to the front and fastened the two sides with the large nappy pins that she held open between her lips. She then shook out a pair of plastic pants that had the nursery characters printed on the plastic and pulled them up his legs. “Lift” she said and Simon lifted his bottom to accommodate the plastic pants. The nappy went high up his back and the pants were large enough to fit at front and back. She poked the nappy into the plastic pants and patted the front of him “all safe and sound” she said giving the waist band a final thwack as she let go of the elastic.



She then shook open a large sleeper, but this one had a small hood as a part of the outfit. Once again she fed his various limbs into the appropriate holes and snapped up the shiny fastenings with a little click. Simon suc-ked on his dummy as Mrs Fielder pulled the small bib from under his sleeper and smoothed it flat at the front. “Lovely” she said “that should keep you nice and dry tonight. You can go down and watch some more television if you want” she said fixing the ribbon of his dummy to the edge of the bib with the nappy pin.



As Simon stood up he quickly realised that the bulk of the nappy totally impeded any normal movement because the nappy prevented his legs from coming together. He looked down at the soft fleecy whiteness of his latest suit and at the huge bulk of his nappy pushing out against the fabric. As he waddled out of his bedroom he could only gasp at the reflection of the great big dummy suc-king baby that stared back at him. The apparition stood bow-legged in his nappy, as Mrs Fielder pulled the hood over his head, when all at once he saw that he was now dressed as a little lamb with ears sticking up on his head. Mrs Fielder was laughing but Simon was almost in tears and suc-king so hard on his dummy that the dribble was already starting to dampen his little bib. “You look gorgeous” she said “let’s go and see Felicity.”



They went downstairs, where Felicity howled with laughter, she laughed so much that she almost wet herself, she roared and roared. Mrs Fielder started to laugh again. Simon was livid and spluttered behind his dummy, the more they laughed, the more he spluttered. He stamped his foot in an effort to gain their attention, this infantile act just added fuel to the fire of mirth that seemed to show no signs of abating.  â€śHave you been to the Baaa-throom?” laughed Felicity putting her arms around Simon neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. “I am sorry Simon, come and sit down and watch the television” she said.



Simon sat down sulking, Mrs Fielder brought him a drink in his sippy cup and tied a full size bib round his neck. Simon took out his dummy and started to drink, the drips fell predictably on the front of the bib.



It was coming up to eleven o’clock by the time he had seen the conclusion to his programme. Felicity put in his dummy as Simon got up to go to the toilet as part of his programming. He suddenly realised the futility of his situation, his hands were in useless in the built in mittens, there was no way he could get out of his nappy to have a pee and the pressure was now getting very urgent.



He looked at Felicity with eyes full of desperation “I really have to go” he said “I need to go quite badly, can you help me to get out of these things?”



Felicity shook her head “Mum said I must never touch you or interfere with you Simon, I am so sorry”.



Simon started to bounce about



“You had better go in your nappy Simon or else you might hurt yourself, go on, nobody will mind. That what your nappy is for, Mum will not be cross, as you would have wet it by tomorrow anyway, so why worry?” She rubbed the side of Simon’s cheek with her hand as he had another violent spasm, “go in your nappy Simon, go in your nappy, please go in your nappy or you will be in agony”, she encouraged.



Simon bent almost double and tried not to clutch himself but the whole day of fluids and punctual toilet trips had set a precedent that would not be denied. He did not have a burstingly full bladder, but he did have the expectation to go and now he let go, he stood in front of Felicity aged 14 nearly 15 and wet his nappy like a big baby in front of her, suc-king on his dummy, dribbling down his bib and dressed as a cuddly lamb. Life had hit a real low.



Felicity said “come on let’s get you to bed now” and started to push him upstairs. Simon was too shocked to argue and went into his room. Felicity pulled the blankets over him and gave him a kiss on his cheek. He was still wearing the large bib and the small dribble bib, but was past caring. His nappy felt wet and soft, it felt almost comforting. Felicity kissed him on the cheek, turned out his light and locked his bedroom door. Simon lay there in his wet nappy and suc-ked his dummy for comfort.



As he dozed off to sleep the nappy started to cool, the terry unlike the disposable did not draw as much moisture away from his skin and the recent shaving was starting to sting as his wetness cooled. He was so tired that he slept as the start of his nappy rash began. Each hour he stirred and on each hour he allowed himself to wet his nappy, taking comfort from the renewed warmth that his fresh wetting gave his nappy.



At one stage in the night, he had naughty thoughts about Felicity and felt a stirring stiffness inn his nappy which had to be satisfied. He rubbed himself through all the thickness and was rewarded by a wonderful orgasm that shook him to the core. He went back to sleep and remembered nothing until he heard the key in the door. He experienced a moment of concern and without thinking allowed another stream to escape into his nappy.



He was completely dry outside of his plastic pants, the nappy had held everything. “Come on sleepy head, we opened the door over half an hour ago and breakfast is on the table.” Simon who was hardly awake, jumped out of bed and went down stairs still in his baby lamb suit and with his bibs flapping. He sat at his place with his dummy still in. Mrs Fielder took out his dummy and gave him his cup. A plate of scrambled eggs and squares of cut up toast arrived. His coordination was awful and he spilt it down himself. He looked at the clock – it was nearly eleven o’clock, so he got up to go to the toilet – Mrs Fielder saw him hesitate and realised his predicament “that’s alright dear, go in your nappy”. Simon was so groggy that he just let go, the nappy absorbed it all.



*********************************************************



Please be patient for the next parts as I am away for a few weeks. Hope you enjoy the larger posting. This will likely be my last story.



(http://unclegadget.com/UncAds/Electronics2.jpg)

[antonia]

Chapter 10



The weight of his nappy started to drag at his hips and his nappy sagged inside the bunny suit uncomfortably. Mrs Fielder took him upstairs after breakfast and took off his baby clothes.



“Oh my goodness” she said looking at the redness of his skin “you are getting nappy rash and we will have to deal with that straight away. Go and shower dear, you will feel a lot better, then come back to me straight afterwards.”



Simon took his shower, the force of the water on his lower regions caused him burning pain as his newly forming nappy rash began to hurt. Even wrapping the towel around his waist caused him huge discomfort. He completed his toilet and went back into Mrs Fielder.



“Lie down on your mat dear, while I tackle this nasty rash” she instructed. Simon complied, not knowing what to expect these days. She opened a large jar of cream and smeared it all around his nappy region, it was white, very greasy and quite sticky. “Zinc and castor oil cream” she said as if reading his mind “this will soon sort out this rash for you. You are wet quite a lot of the time these days and need to be waterproofed down there” she laughed “this will put you right in no time”.



Simon felt soothed and comfortable, but there was no mistaking the fact that he was well protected from moisture. He went to his drawer, knowing that his boxer shorts would not be there and that he would have to put on the thick towelling pants again. It was with shock that on opening the drawer he saw not white towelling fabric but the opalescent plastic of waterproof toddler training pants.



“You were starting to have bad accidents Simon, so I thought you had better have a little extra protection. Come on don’t dilly dally, put them on”.



Simon pulled them up his legs, the plastic crinkled and enveloped him. He felt like he was wearing his night time nappy again, the only difference being that this new garment hugged him closely and was marginally less visually obtrusive. The new pants were soft and comforting, he felt the warmth start to build and the effect in the towelling was sensual and almost exquisite. He felt himself stirring and also noticed that Mrs Fielding was aware of the sensuous effect this new garment was having on him.



“Lie back on your mat Simon, I just want to check the fit”, she said as Simon did as he was told. She ran her hands over the front of the pants feeling the terry nappy materials through the plastic. Simon was unable to help himself and sprang to the attention of her delicate touch. She rubbed a little faster with a wicked grin on her face. “Somebody seems to like their new panties I think” she taunted with increased manipulation of the front of his pants. Simon writhed and to his horror realised that the stimulation had passed beyond his control, the overwhelming smell of the baby cream, the softness of the nappy materials and the seductive massage conspired to give him an orgasm that made him cry out.



“I knew you would like your new underwear” she said with that gleam in her eye again “this can be our little secret dear”. Simon nodded. He went to take off his new underwear. “Leave them on dear, a little wetness will not hurt and that is what they are designed for”.



Simon looked in the mirror and could swear that he saw a yellow mark showing through the translucent plastic of his bizarre excitement. He went to the wardrobe and pulled out a t-shirt and some jeans. The fit of his trousers was very tight, forcing the dampness of his latest elimination close to his skin. His emotions were mixed. The bulge of the new underwear was noticeable under the denim and he put on a sweater to hide his secret.



It was Saturday and Simon needed to go to the college library to finish up a project he was working on. As he got to the bottom of the stairs the hour bell went off, Mrs Fielder appeared as if by magic with his dummy and he accepted it without a second thought. “Don’t forget we are trying to improve your bladder control Simon, so you must hold on until 1 o’clock”



Simon had forgotten and his brain was telling him that it was time to go. He was suc-king on his dummy furiously as he tried hard to stop the urges that were forcing him to relieve himself. “I really must go” he gasped through his dummy, so that it came out more like “I weally mutht go”. He knew that no matter how silly it looked that he had to grasp himself like a toddler to stop the leak that was threatening to spoil his new training pants. The diuretics he was being fed were not helping his condition, nor were the drugs that were interfering with his coordination.



“Don’t be silly” said Mrs Fielder “how old are you?” She blocked his passage to the bathroom and Simon knew he was beaten. Despite his extreme efforts a number of spurts had made their way into the thirsty pants. “Now you get off to college and do what you need to do” she instructed, “are you going to suc-k your dummy there?”



Simon reeled back in horror, he was now suc-king his dummy without really knowing it. Mrs Fielder took it away from him and Simon experienced a feeling that could only be described as a sense of loss.



He walked out the door, it was too warm to wear a coat and he was hoping that his infantile protection was not going to be seen by the world outside. The slight chill in the air made his recent leaks cool and Simon realised with some horror that he had wet himself far more than he expected.



It was with good concentration and endeavour that he worked in the library looking for the references and notes that he needed in order to complete his work assignment. Simon was doing very well at University and the lack of distractions, fear of his landlady’s weird practices becoming known to his student colleagues and now the new and dreadful training pants made him a perfect student.



He was really working well when his internal clock or a distant chime told him it was 12 o’clock. He knew he had to get to the loo quickly and dashed from the library to the toilets. Even as he made his urgent progress he could feel the pressure building and unable to clutch himself in an infantile way, he could feel the leaks starting as he hurried down the corridor. He dived into a stall and being all fingers and thumbs undid his belt, his fly and dropped his plastic coated nappy pants. He had already started to release and his efforts were half in and half out of his protective underwear. The double thickness of terry towelling was already looking very wet indeed and in his rush he had somehow wet the outside of his pants as well and this had run off onto his trousers and left a wet patch at the front.



He pulled up the nappy pants, they were cold, wet and clearly had served their purpose. The nappy-like material inside was bright yellow and could be clearly seen through the plastic. His trousers were wet. He grimaced as the cooling wet cloth touched his skin and groaned as he looked at the front of his trousers with the wet patch on the front. He dived for the sink and washed his hands. His jumper would not cover the damp patch, so he stood at the hand drier hoping that the warm air directed downwards would dry off his trousers. The warmth inside his toddler pants was quite erotic and once again he felt himself getting hard. He had to stop the drying process!

He decided to rush back to the library and sit at the desk and just wait for things to dry out. The heater had warmed up the plastic pants, the perfume of the nappy rash cream and his urine – the smell was very babyish. A couple of girls were walking past his desk and one remarked “that’s odd I just thought of my young baby niece, I could have sworn I smelt her!”



Time past and at lunch time he decided to go back to his digs (for our American readers this is another word for student lodgings). He had dried out now, but the inside of his pants was another matter altogether, because on the hour he had further twinges and further leakage. By the time he reached the bus stop, he felt quite sore as the stale urine was now very cold and wet against his skin and the nappy rash had begun to flare up again. He was so wet that the pants were almost at their absorption limit and he knew he had to change them when he got in.



Mrs Fielder was in the kitchen when he came in and he decided to confide in her and explain his problem. She listened patiently as he tried to describe how he had lost control and her face could barely conceal the look of pleasure as he told her of his experiences. She kept readjusting her posture in an attempt to look annoyed, but Simon could see that she was enjoying his predicament and he could not understand why she should be so pleased at his infantile behaviour. He thought that she was laughing at him and he felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and his eyes started to fill with tears. Mrs. Fielder saw him weaken and hugged him to her “it does not matter Simon, it must be the stress of college and I am sure it will soon pass. Here, suc-k on your dummy and let me put you in something dry”. She reached into her apron pocket and found his dummy which she noticed with total delight that he seemed to welcome eagerly and with relish. “Let’s go upstairs and get you sorted out” she said with warmth. Her plan was going far better than she could have dared hope, Simon was well down the road to babyhood and it would not be long now before he was on a path that would be inescapable. The college recess was due in a week or so and she knew that he would be totally dependant on his nappies by the time college resumed.



Simon turned to go upstairs “wait a minute dear, you need your bib on don’t you, no point in spoiling you shirt when you suc-k your doe-doe”. Simon went to take out the dummy “no dear, you look like you need to have it in a little longer today with all your stressful problems, just suc-k it for as long as you want today.”



They went upstairs and Simon took off his trousers. Mrs Fielder was quick to help him take off his toddler pants and even more delighted to see that they were almost saturated. An infant taking the first steps in potty training could not have done worse. She tried not to look thrilled with the day’s turn of events.



Felicity walked by the outside of the door “darling, can you put these nappy pants in soak for me, Simon has had a bad accident today” she said. Simon looked cross at the referral of his underwear as nappy pants, but had to agree that this is what they were. “Now Simon, I only have one other pair of pants like those and you are going to need those tomorrow, so I am going to put you in a proper nappy for the rest of today, so that if you have any more accidents, that you will still have something to wear on Sunday. Simon started to protest, but Mrs. Fielder shushed him quiet.



She cleaned him down with numerous baby wipes and then recoated him in nappy rash cream and baby powder. His shaven area was white as snow as she folded the nappy into a kite shape and told him to lift up. “I am going to put a muslin anppy inside to help clear up that nappy rash” she said, It was one of his night time nappies and it was enormous enough without the extra thickness of the muslin nappy.  She pulled it through his legs and pinned up both the sides with four large pink tipped nappy pins. Felicity had reappeared from dealing with his toddler pants and handed her mother a huge pair of pink plastic pants which Mrs. Fielder worked over his feet and pulled up his legs. “Stand up” she said. Simon swung his legs over and stood up, the huge bulk of nappy and muslin liner were so great that he could only stand bow-legged. Mrs Fielder pulled the pants up and over the white fluffy expanse of his nappy and snapped the elastic waist band. She then meticulously tucked in any white nappy that was sticking out and playfully smacked his bottom. “You’re done” she said almost gleefully pulling down his t-shirt that barely covered the top of the waist band of his plastic pants. Simon picked up his jeans and realised immediately that there was no hope of them fitting over his nappy.



“Nobody is coming Simon, just stay in the house as you are”. Simon looked mortified and started to mumble through his dummy. Felicity came to his rescue “Mum, I have had a thought, don’t we have some shorts that we made for the fancy dress party a few years ago?”



“What a good idea – go and get them” exclaimed her mother. Felicity disappeared and almost immediately returned with a pair of red shorts. “Here, put these on” she said opening them up for Simon to put his legs in. Simon stood legs akimbo as Mrs. Fielder pulled the shorts up over his bulky nappy and then took the two straps and passed them over his shoulders and fixed them at the back to buckles on their waist band.



The bibbed front had a large carton character on the front of a teddy wearing a nappy and a small pocket with a heart on it. “It even has a place for you to keep your dummy” she said adjusting his terry dribble bib on the outside “you look wonderful”.



Simon looked at himself in the bedroom mirror and winced as an overgrown toddler suc-king a dummy in a pair of bright red dungaree shorts stared back at him. The huge bulk of his infantile protection protruded from every opening showing that this overgrown baby was well and truly nappied. He walked away from the mirror, his rear wobbling with the large nappy and his wide open stance looking every bit the part of a two years old just learning to walk.



They went down into the kitchen and Mrs Fielder gave him his sippy cup with some juice in it. They sat down in front of the television and watched a film. Simon nodded off with his mind in turmoil, but slowly soothed by the sleeping pills ground up in his drink. Felicity pushed his dummy into his mouth as he dozed off into a fitful sleep and he automatically started to enjoy it, the ring wiggling with each rhythmic pull on the rubber nipple. He slumped over onto Mrs. Fielder’s shoulder, but his dummy stayed firmly in place, too precious for him to lose even in sleep. As it came to the hour, Mrs Fielder put her finger inside the leg opening of Simon’s plastic plants, just in time to feel him wetting his nappy. She looked at the young man who now seemed at peace and who seemed to smile as he felt the warmth increase as he helplessly wet his nappy.



“Time to wean him off his sippy cup and introduce him to a proper baby’s bottle Felicity” she said “and I think it is almost time to start dressing him more befitting his age” she said laughing. The two of them sniggered and laughed as Simon finished using his nappy, totally oblivious to the plans that lay in store for him.



Felicity disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a large feeding bottle full of milk laced with all manner of special additives to help Simon down his path of regression. Mrs Fielder carefully removed Simon’s dummy and swapped it for the similar shaped nipple of the bottle – after a small shudder and small gasp of surprise, without ever fully waking, Simon started to nurse on the bottle as if he were a baby in arms. The training he had experienced with his dummy had prepared him for the easy transition to his bottle and he suc-ked away with the occasional slurp until the contents were gone.



As the film credits were rolling, there was the unmistakable hissing sound of a nappy being thoroughly wet again by a very sleepy baby boy. Mrs Fielder put a finger up the leg of his plastic pants and felt that the nappy within was soaking wet.



She slowly eased herself from under Simon who stirred and resettled. Felicity covered him in a baby blanket that she had dug out from a cupboard upstairs.  The effect of the drugs was unavoidable and as Simon entered that netherworld between sleep and wakefulness, between dreams and reality he thought himself to be in the loo and let himself go. A strange resistance seemed to be in his way, nature did not seem able to take its course and so he pushed to help things along. In his dream-like state he could not imagine what was happening as he sat on the toilet and so he pushed harder still, his face back in reality was reddening with the exertion. Felicity watched with amazement and under her breath called out for her mother.



Mrs Fielder cam into the room just at the moment that Simon’s endeavours had paid off and he had succeeded in forcing a very large deposit into his nappy. He slowly awoke and almost immediately realised with horror what he had done. He had wet and soiled his nappy like a baby. The smell was horrific, but Mrs Fielder and Felicity looked pleased, indeed almost delighted with his performance. Nothing was said, not a comment was made and Simon could not think what to do.



“Let’s have dinner, I have prepared a cold supper for us and it is on the table” said Mrs Fielder breaking the silence. Simon was so shocked and in such distress that he wet his nappy again with barely a second thought. Simon looked at the huge baby blanket that covered him and thought that perhaps this was shielding the smell. The women went ahead and Simon thought about changing his own nappy, but he knew that it would be impossible. The straps fastened at the back and there was no way in to his infantile prison.



He waddled into the kitchen the latest addition to his nappy was heavy and sticky. He sat on his chair sure that the smell was awful, but the women still said nothing. The mess he had made spread itself all over and he felt dreadful.



“After dinner, I will change your poopy nappy baby boy” said Mrs Fielder half way through dinner. “Did you know you had done a poo-poo in your nappy or have you become such a baby that you do not know when you have been?” she taunted. Simon blushed profusely as he finished his dinner and then cringed as he was presented with another baby bottle full of baby formula laced with all manner of additional supplements. He raised the bottle to his lips and began to suc-k his bottle, he had no argument not to suc-k on it, because who could do what he had done in a baby’s nappy and deny that he was anything other than an overgrown baby. His first major step to becoming an overgrown toddler that was going to be totally dependant on his nappies was well and truly under way. Mrs Fielder and Felicity were glowing inside, the next few days were going to be very interesting.

[antonia]

Chapter 11



After dinner Mrs. Fielder took Simon upstairs and set about removing his dirty nappy. He cringed with humiliation and his dummy wiggled back and forth as he took enormous comfort from its soothing feel in his mouth. He shut off his mind and lay on the changing mat with a glazed expression as Mrs Fielder went about her task with no sign of emotion or rancour. Indeed, to the contrary, Simon almost detected a sense of happiness as Mrs Fielder cleaned him up and applied copious layers of zinc and castor oil cream to his reddened skin. He lifted his bottom with barely any need for an instruction, as his nappying became an established routine and kept very still as she drove the large pins into thick soft nappy to secure it about his waist. He helped thread his feet into the plastic pants and lifted himself up again to accept their waterproof embrace, knowing that whatever happened inside his nappy would be safe. Mrs Fielder busied herself tucking in the odd pieces of terry under the plastic and then shook open a white baby grow made of the finest brushed cotton.



She worked his arms into the openings and he again lifted up so the garment could be fitted under him. She bent his legs at the most awful angles (or so it seemed) in order to get his legs into the baby grow.  He realised that his hands were trapped in the sleeves and then realised that the sleeves finished not with a cuff, but with built in mittens and the feet also encased his feet in built in booties. He looked down to see Mrs Fielder popping together the large silver fastenings that ran up the inside of each leg and finished in a complex array of meeting flaps and poppers at his crotch. The huge bulk of his night-time nappy and plastic pants made the bulge below his waist very prominent. He sat up so that Mrs Fielder could tie his new clean white terry dribble bib lined in PVC plastic about his neck, his legs opened wide to reveal glimpses of the plastic pants poking through the spaces where the poppers did not make a perfect fit.



She gave him a hug and gave the ring of his dummy a gentle and playful wiggle, and Simon despite himself gave a big smile behind the guard and let out what only could be described as a gurgle. Mrs Fielder hugged him once again and gave a little clap without offering an explanation.



She helped him off his changing table and onto the floor, he could feel every movement in his baby grow, every move of his arms or his legs had an impact on his nappy and pulled it one way or the other, heightening his awareness inside his soft confinement.



His trapped hands and feet enhanced his feeling of helplessness and as he waddled past the mirror the image that shone back at him was not even that a toddler, but a rather large baby. He recoiled back in shock and his enclosed feet slipped on the carpet and he fell backwards spitting out his dummy as he landed with a great thump on his thickly padded rear. Mrs Fielder rushed to help him but held back as she watched him reach for his dummy and struggle to pick it up with his mittened hands. He used both to cup up his dummy and then put it in his mouth. Mrs Fielder looked in amazement as he had clearly become totally dummy dependant. Simon looked round and caught her expression and looked away guiltily with the realisation that his dummy meant more to him than he wanted to admit.



He went to stand up, but Mrs Fielder said “It would be safer if you crawled Simon and bump down the stairs on your bottom. I do not want you having a nasty fall”. Simon crawled out of the room and then turned to face down the stairs and bumped down like a pre-toddler. Felicity stood at the bottom and watched him as he came step by step towards her. “Simon’s come down to say night night Felicity, so give him his bottle then put him to bed for me can you dear?”



Simon looked shocked “No want bottle” he mumbled past his dummy, but it came out as “no wan’ bockle”.



Mrs Fielder was again pleased that the structure of his sentences were becoming more and more baby-like with lack of grammar and structure as he struggled to make himself understood with his big dummy filling his mouth. He enjoyed suc-king it far too much to waste precious time taking it out to speak. He crawled to the lounge and crawled up to sit next to Mrs Fielder who tied a large terry bib around his neck and took the hot bottle of milk from Felicity. She removed Simon’s dummy and plugged teat of his bottle in its place. Simon started to suc-k with relish and his eyes soon started to flicker as the potent coc-ktail of relaxants and sleeping pills started to be absorbed into his bloodstream, speeded by the warmth of his bottle. Little rivulets of milk started to dribble down his chin and onto his massive feeding bib, as he slowly nodded off. Mrs Fielder gave him some gentle shakes to awaken him and encourage him to finish off his bottle. He flickered back into life and took a few more suc-ks before succ-umbing to sleep and once again Mrs Fielder had to shake him and wiggle the teat in his mouth in order to get him suc-king again. Eventually his bottle was finished and Simon was totally wiped out and ready for bed and the time was only 7 pm.



She wiped his face on his bib and slowly sat him up. He let out a burp and they all laughed. The two women then man-handled Simon up to his bed, where they had found some soft full-size baby blankets and a colourful quilt decorated with clowns and animals from the circus. He crashed back. He was totally out for the count and Felicity put his dummy in which was immediately accepted.



Mrs Fielder undid a couple of poppers and put a finger up the leg of his plastic plants.



“He is wet already, but I will not change him now, perhaps I will change him when I go to bed” she said to Felicity, who was looking at Simon with his legs akimbo and drool running down his chin onto his bib as he nursed rhythmically on his dummy.



They turned on his little night light and Felicity placed a little cuddly teddy in his arms, which she had found in the cupboard. Simon gave an extra loud suc-k on his dummy and clutched it to his chest.



Simon was deep in a drug induced sleep brought on by the heavy dose of sleeping pills, muscle relaxants and sedatives. The small amount of a recreational psychedelic drug was playing havoc with his dreams. He was fighting fearsome monsters and the demons of his id. They were terrifying images and each confrontation caused him to lose control and wet himself a little more. He discovered that he could find protection by being a baby and that the demons did not attack him in his dreams when he was in this secure haven. His mind retreated willingly to avoid the horror of his thoughts. He let every muscle relax and hot warmth filled both the back and then the front of his nappy as he relinquished all conscious control. The warmth and closeness felt good and old memories started to take over as he let himself slide back on his developmental ladder.



Mrs Fielder looked in as she was going to bed, the smell of a dirty nappy filled her heart with glee as Simon was slipping deeper and deeper into the abyss of babyhood. The feel of a dirty nappy would do no harm at all and he was going to have to get used to the feeling and eventually enjoy it. After a few weeks he would not even realise he had used his nappies and would become oblivious to his babyish eliminations until somebody pointed them out to him.

Simon awoke and felt groggy, he had suc-ked his dummy all night and his lips were sore as he continued to suc-k. He took stock of his situation and realised that he was both wet and dirty. A tear welled up in his eye and rolled down his cheek and onto his already soggy bib. He wet his nappy again almost unaware that he was doing it, his shame had no limits and he let out a huge wail that resonated through the house. The point of no return had just been reached and Simon was in for some very interesting developments.



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[antonia]

Thank you for the kind comments, makes writing such a pleasure to know it brings enjoyment.



Chapter 12



His huge wail brought Mrs Fielder at a run. He slid off his bed and onto the floor and the nappy that showed through the gaps in the poppers was not a very pretty sight. He cried in large gulping breaths and the tears ran down his face and onto his already soggy dribble bib. His dummy was wiggling overtime in his enormous distress.



“What is it baby?” asked Mrs Fielder sweeping him up into her arms.



“I baba” he mumbled and sobbed through his dummy “me do pooh pooh in my nappy”. This latest humiliation seemed to have broken his will and his speech was now that of a small toddler. Mrs. Fielder looked at him with kindness, as his confused mind allowed a stream of infantile wetting to add to his already over-burdened nappy and a slow wet patch spread out over his baby grow.



“Let’s get you cleaned up little one” she said encouraging him to crawl to the bathroom. Simon followed her, his sagging baby grow showing the world just how much he had needed to use his nappy during the night. The clean up process was not very pleasant for either of them, but Mrs. Fielder carried on as if all was perfectly normal. Felicity, who had heard the commotion had already been into the kitchen and made a bottle of milk for Simon. By the time Simon had had his bath and was lying on his changing mat, Felicity had arrived with his drink. Simon grabbed it with both hands and without any encouragement put the nipple into his mouth and started suc-king. “There’s a good baby boy” said Mrs Fielder thrilled that Simon was so very close to reaching the point of no return in his regression to babyhood.



As she pulled his nappy up between his legs, Simon suc-ked contentedly on his bottle and without thinking let the pressure that had built in his bladder release. The new nappy that was in the process of being pinned by Mrs. Fielder showed a spreading patch as Simon wet unchecked. He realised with horror what he was doing and tried in vain to stop his foolishness, but to no avail. He wet his unprotected nappy until he was empty. Mrs Fielder laughed “there’s a good baby to go in your nappy, even if I had not finished putting it on you. Never mind, I will get another one. Don’t move or you will make a mess”. She went to the great stack of nappies and picked out a clean one. “I think you had better wear your night time nappies from now on, you seem to wet so much that these day time ones are barely adequate” she smiled holding the folded nappy in front of his face as an indication that he should lift his bottom. Simon did so automatically and thought nothing of the gesture, let alone the fact that he was being put in a nappy during the day.



Once again she pulled the thickness of soft terry nappy through his legs and this time managed to fasten it securely on both sides with the two pink nappy pins. She then shook out a pair of  pastel pink plastic pants which she allowed to linger in Simon’s gaze for a few seconds, before he raised his feet and helped to locate them in the leg holes of the pants. Mrs Fielder worked them up his legs and once again Simon lifted himself from his mat in order to allow her to pull them over his nappied bottom. She snuggled them over his nappy checking all was covered and then went to the wardrobe and took out a garment. Simon recoiled in horror, because in her hand was not a t-shirt but a pink baby dress made for an over-grown toddler and in her other hand she held a white petticoat. “You are the one wetting a nappy not me Simon and I do not have all day to change you, so the only answer is for you to wear baby clothes” she said threading his head through the petticoat and pulling the bodice down over his chest.  Simon had dropped his now empty feeding bottle and Mrs Fielder reached into her apron pocket and produced the largest dummy he had ever seen. “Lift up” she said pointing to his arms “let us put this dress on you and if you are good I will let you have your new dummy”. Simon complied and was rewarded with his mouth being completely filled with the huge new latex teat of his new dummy. The face plate almost reached from ear to ear. He was so busy exploring the feel of this new dummy in his mouth that he had totally missed the fact that his hands were being encased in mittens which allowed no movement of his fingers at all. By the time he realised that his hands were being rendered useless, he also realised that a matching pair of white woollen booties tied with pink ribbon had been attached to his feet.



Mrs Fielder tied a much larger than his normal dribble bib around his neck. It was made of white terry towelling, backed in clear PVC and had a pink border and neck ties. The words on the bib said “Baby Simon” and in one corner was an embroidered teddy wearing a nappy.



“This has all been a bit of a shock for you, hasn’t it Simon?” asked Mrs Fielder “so I am going to put you down for a bit of a nap to let you allow your mind to catch up with events. Look at me!” she commanded. As Simon looked at her she produced a woolly hat with pink ties that she put on his head and secured beneath his chin. “You have behaved like a baby and so I am going to treat you like one. College has finished for a couple of months and nobody is going to miss you during the holidays are they?”



Simon looked in the mirror at the over-grown baby girl sitting in her little pink and white dress with the smocked bodice and little petticoats fanning up from her chest to reveal a thick nappy covered in totally babyish pink plastic pants. The baby bonnet and huge dummy left only a pair of eyes to be seen and those eyes were fast filling with tears. Once again a great wail came from him, totally muffled by the huge dummy which caused him to splutter and dribble uncontrollably as the tears flowed down his face. Indeed, so big was the dummy that it did not fall out like the old one, but stayed firmly in place as he tried desperately to talk past the latex bulb. The emerging noises were akin to the gurgles of a baby learning to talk – they were totally unintelligible and rather cute. Mrs Fielder and Felicity both patted and hugged their new baby and gurgled back at Simon.



“Look at you sweet baby” said Felicity who was almost in tears herself “Oh Mum she is the best we have ever made”.



“Felicity” commanded Mrs Fielder “enough of that. Simon has to meet Angela first, and she is coming tomorrow.”



The two women helped Simon down onto the floor. The bulkiness of his nappy and his slippery booties made crawling the only sensible way to travel and he crawled towards his bedroom. He stopped as he came into the doorway, for now his bed had railing and a babyish headboard. Somehow they had transformed his bed into a great babyish cot. He tried to turn, but Mrs Fielder slipped his arms through some straps and did the harness up at the back. He looked down onto a pink leather oval that has a picture of small rabbits on it underlined with three jangling silver bells out of which came straps that passed about him securely. She had put him in baby reins and the tug on the lead told him in no uncertain terms that he had to get in his cot. Simon crawled into his new bed and was surprised when Mrs Fielder fastened him to the cot with straps that ran from the base of the bed and clipped onto d-rings on his new harness. His little bells jingled as he struggled to get free, and Mrs Fielder pulled his bib from beneath the harness so that it was on the top, slapping the back of his hand to stop his struggling.



“Now be a good baby and have a little sleep” she commanded as she drew the curtains to his room.



Simon slipped down his cot, allowing his head to rest flat on the flannelette sheets, and he realised that they had even taken away his pillows to make his bed more babyish. He suc-ked on his dummy as the women left him to take his nap. Soft tears ran down his cheek as he cried without a sound, realising that once again he needed the loo, but that there was no way he could use one. It was without barely any hesitation that he allowed himself to wet his nappy, the futility of his position was mentally accepted. He could clearly see his nappy inside the pink plastic panties and in his foetal position he could see the result of his lack of control through the semi-transparent plastic. The woollen bonnet dulled the outside world, his fingers felt only wool and his feet were snuggled in the softness of finest baby knitting. It was only a few minutes and he was fast asleep, totally cocooned in baby softness, warmly embraced by a soft nappy that he had only just wet and which now moulded itself tightly to his body. His body seeking comfort from the day’s traumas allowed itself the luxury of a wet dream and the women were there to watch him go in his nappy as he suffered a further indignity.



The women looked at their creation as he moved from a foetal position to lying on his back, his legs wide apart to show the world that his nappy was wet again and he needed his dummy as much as any nursing baby waiting for his feed.

[antonia]

Chapter 13



Simon awoke wet and miserable, his face was sore from dummy suc-king and crying. He did not seem to be able to stop himself these days. Little did he know that the drugs he had been fed were encouraging huge insecurity and were making him nervous and leaving him agitated. The same drugs that caused his clumsiness were turning him into a bit of a sissy who whined and wailed at the least provocation. He tried to stand up and remembered that he was secured using the jingling reins to his cot. He looked through the bars and felt more tears well up as he felt the coldness of his wet nappy press against him. He felt the need to wet, it was nothing particularly urgent, but his mind gave the instruction to let go and his bladder cut loose to revive some of the warmth in his nappy. He let the feeling wash over him. His nappy felt very heavy against him and the warmth spread between his legs and up the back of his bottom. The new flow triggered an experience he had had before, and that experience was pain. His skin was on fire, the new wetness triggered a response that had him crying out. Simon had contracted a very bad case of nappy rash again. He cried out loud in frustration and once again Mrs Fielder appeared.



“What a noise little one” she said “what is the matter?” Simon was pumping his dummy hard as he tried to mumble an answer past the large rubber bulb filling his mouth.



“Naffy hurt, naffy weally hurty” he tried to articulate without any chance of success.



“Your nappy hurts?” asked Mrs Fielder with astonishment and lowered the rail to his cot. She undid his harness from the cot and raised his little night dress which barely covered the elastic waist band of his plastic pants. Undoing the ribbon at his neck, which was covered in drool, she removed his little bonnet and then undid his soggy bib. She could see that his nappy was very wet indeed and totally saturated and she gripped the top of his waterproof pants and peeled them down a few inches and unfastened the pins on both sides, removed them from the wet terry and held them between her lips. Simon lifted his bottom and she slid the pants and nappy down in one soggy mass. The withdrawing nappy left a wet trail down his legs and over his feet as he slipped out of his baby pants. Mrs Fielder gasped when she saw his skin, as it was even more severely reddened than last time. “Oh dear” she said “that will not do at all, we must treat this straight away, and what a shame with Angela coming today”.



Simon spat out his dummy “I don’t want to be treated like a baby any more, I can be careful and I promise I will not have any accidents. Please let me wear my normal clothes again. How did I end up like this? I want to be like I used to be.” he remonstrated.



Mrs Fielder looked at him and then picked up again his wet nappy inside the transparent plastic pants and turned the large waist opening towards his head and then in one quick movement stuck his head in the hole. “Have a good look at that Simon, what do you see? See anything you recognise? Is that a clean dry white fluffy nappy like the one you had to put on last night, or is that a very wet nappy that a baby might be wearing? Simon struggled against his restraints, the bells jingled loudly as he tried to clear his head of its wet and smelly prison, but Mrs Fielder pulled them further over his head and strapped his hands to the harness. Simon struggled in vain as Mrs Fielder continued her task. She removed his booties.



“I was going to give you a bath and treat that nappy rash, but now I cannot be bothered you ungrateful boy” she said shaking open another clean nappy and folding it into the traditional kite shape. She tapped him to lift up and without thinking Simon lifted his bottom as she pushed it beneath him. She dragged through the tail of the nappy and shook in some baby powder, before securing the nappy at the sides. She then shook open a pair of thick clear vinyl pants and threaded his feet into the openings and once again Simon obliged by lifting up his nappied bottom to take the protective covering. Inside his wet heady prison he was beginning to tire of the smell of his old nappy and could see little point in revolt in this present situation and he was once again compliant. Mrs Fielder sensing his new frame of mind removed the nappy from his head and he gratefully drew in a lungful of fresh air.



However, Mrs Fielder was not a very happy lady and she had decided to punish Simon further “as you have been so ungrateful I am going to confiscate your dummy for the whole day”, she said noticing that Simon’s face was one of total shock.



Simon fought a number of emotions. He now needed his dummy. Over the weeks he had become almost totally reliant on its use as it was a dependency that had perfectly replaced his need for nicotine. His face could not hide his emotions. Mrs Fielder looked at him quizzically and raised her eyebrows. “If you asked me very nicely, I might let you have your dummy, but I want to hear a very big baby asking me in a very babyish way” she instructed, “how much do you want your dummy little one?”



Simon thought for a very few short moments, “please can I have my dummy back Mrs Fielder?” he asked politely. Mrs Fielder shrugged her shoulders and turned her back on him. Simon thought again quickly, “want dum dum -  pwease, pwease. – me good, want my doe doe, want dodie, pwease, pwease, pwease” he started to wail in a high pitched voice.



“And is my baby going to be good and wear his nappy, because we all know he needs a nappy on during the day now, don’t we? she asked him scornfully. Simon admitted defeat and nodded his head. “That is a good baby and here is your dum dum back” she said stuffing dummy back into his willing mouth. Tear ran down Simon’s face as he realised that his need was now clearly an addictive habit which could be used against him. Mrs Fielder undid his harness and removed his night dress.



Simon sat in his cot suc-king his dummy and wearing nothing more than a large nappy and plastic pants. His hands were still enveloped by a pair of soft woollen mittens. His nappy rash was still stinging, despite the new soft nappy. Mrs Fielder shouted for Felicity who appeared carrying an armful of clothes which she passed to her mother.



The first garment was a pair of white nylon panties covered in rows of lace across the bottom and trimmed in lace around legs and waist. They were a hideous confection of baby design and lacy softness. Mrs Fielder drew these over his plastic pants and the voluminous size of his bottom grew still further with these pants.



She then told him to lift his arms and she put on a petticoat that had layer after layer of lace that finished at his tummy button. Over this she pulled a white dress trimmed in more white lace that sat atop of the petticoat. He could see nothing below this dress as it fanned out from his waist. To his feet she applied a pair of white woollen booties tied with white satin ribbons. She removed his mittens and replaced them with another matching white pair, again tying the white ribbons. On his head she placed a large white satin bonnet that tied at his neck with more white satin ribbons and around his neck a huge white towelling bib that was also trimmed in white lace and white ribbons that was so long that it rested at the point where his dress fanned out on the petticoats.



“Now you are going to meet Angela today as my new virgin baby, all dressed in white. Angela is going to help you to adjust to your new world and help you complete your journey Simon.  She fitted a new white leather harness over his dress, which had a line of silver bells on the breast plate and did up the straps at the back.  â€śCome on, we have a surprise for you downstairs, come and see! Here hold this” she said handing him a clean white nappy that she had dusted with a little baby powder, “you can cuddle this when you feel insecure” she said encouraging him to rub his ear with the corner of the nappy and then rub his nose and cheek. She did not know exactly why this had such a good psychological effect, but her previous candidates had reacted well to the suggestion and would never go anywhere without the comfort of their dummy and nappy comforter.



Simon took the nappy and held it to his face, the combination of the softness of the terry fabric and the suc-king of the dummy did indeed bring back memories that were deep seated and all but long forgotten. The unique baby smell of the powder further reinforced the desire to nuzzle his face deeper into the folds of the nappy. His eyes glazed over as the sensorial effects took a hold and Mrs Fielder looked at him with an almost motherly affection as Simon slipped deeper and irretrievably into the abyss of his newly rediscovered babyhood.



She gave a small tug on the rein of his baby harness and he climbed out of his cot and waddled towards the door. The sight that greeted him this time in his bedroom mirror was unbelievable, because the image in the mirror was of a small baby that had barely learnt how to walk and was toddling her first new steps all dressed in white and wearing an enormous nappy. The reflection clutched the nappy to its ear and took great comfort on its dummy.



The party wandered downstairs and to Simon’s utter amazement discovered that a large high chair had been placed in the kitchen. A wooden piece of furniture painted in white with a red padded seat and cartoons on the back of the seat. There were harness straps on each side of the seat and a wooden tray that fitted in front. Across the front legs ran a foot rest that had additional restraining straps for the ankles. It was solid and dependable. “Jump in” said Mrs Fielder giving a short tug on his reins. Simon sat in as she attached the clips from the seat to the D-rings at the side of his harness and pulled a strap up between his legs and attaching it as well. He was now firmly anchored to this seat. Felicity applied the straps around his ankles making sure that the soft booties were between his skin and the strapping.  The tray was swung round and firmly held him in his seated position, he could neither slide down nor climb out. He looked alarmed and looked both left and right, but the bonnet was obscuring his view. He took comfort in his dummy and the new comforting nappy in his mittened hand.



Mrs Fielder took off the bonnet and pulled his bib out from beneath the restraining harness, it fell over the tray and Mrs Fielder tucked it into the space between the tray and his tummy. Felicity gently took out his dummy and placed it on the tray and fed him his warm bottle of milk, which Simon took sitting back and allowing her to feed him. He allowed his nappy to go to his ear as he suc-ked his bottle and Felicity stroked the other side of his cheek making soft encouraging sounds. He relished the moment, his senses swamped with love, softness, caress and he could not think of a time when he had ever felt so weightless, so free of any cares or in such total warmth and security. He was protected by his bib from all his spills, and he was protected from any accidents by a huge soft absorbent nappy covered by large plastic panties that were totally dependable. There was nothing he could do that would upset or hurt anybody. All he had to do was be a baby – what could be easier?



The door bell rang and Simon vaguely felt a warm wave descend on the front of him. He had wet his nappy to the cue of the ringing bell and not really been aware that he was doing it. The two women looked at each other smiling, they had seen the look that had past across Simon’s face and they knew it was a look that all of their babies had, when they wet their nappies. Felicity removed the empty bottle and replaced his dummy and automatically Simon’s reflexes started to work and it popped in and out rhythmically as it would for any baby. His warm restricted state and sense of security instilled a sense of hypnotic euphoria and he slowly felt his eyes closing and his head slump forward. He was asleep in his high chair with a wet nappy and just like a baby that was late for an after breakfast nap. The women had not used any drugs in his milk, no muscle relaxants, no sleeping pills, no sedatives or any mind altering substances. Simon was a baby because he wanted to be a baby.



The woman who had rung the bell entered. She was dumpy, dark haired, had an ample bosom and the look of somebody for whom the care of babies had been a life long passion and commitment. If there was a label to be applied, it would instinctively have said “nanny”.



She looked at Simon in his high chair, her face beaming with pleasure and loving understanding. She slipped her hand under the tray and with a lifetime of experience found a way through all his lacy finery to the leg opening of his plastic pants, where she inserted her finger. She smiled at his wetness and at the fact that he had barely stirred despite her probing.



She carried a small black bag from which she took a number of different things that she was going to require for Simon’s final stages of regression to total babyhood. After today, Simon was going to be totally reliant on his nappies and there would never be a way back. Had he known what was in store for his future he might not have been quite so relaxed.

[antonia]

Chapter 14

Angela hung the large bag on the door of the kitchen unit and ran a tube from the nozzle which she fitted into the back of the face plate of a large white dummy. Almost immediately drops of liquid appeared on the rubber bulb. She deftly removed Simon’s existing dummy and quickly replaced it with his new one which she inserted with him barely stirring.

Onto the tray of his high chair she put a rattle with three large balls on long stalks that stuck to the top with a large suction pad. A wire came out of the base which she plugged into a small black box. From the black box she ran another wire with a small paddle sensor that she carefully threaded through all of Simon’s lacy finery and put inside his nappy. One of the balls lit up a bright amber. From another socket on the box she ran another wire ending in a small metal plate, which she ran to his foot and threaded deep inside his bootie. Simon stirred and spluttered as he realised he had been drinking through his dummy. He tried to stop suc-king, but the reflex action prevented him and he took on more and more of the fluid.

Angela spoke “Hello Simon. Look at your rattles. If they go red, then you will have a nasty pain in your foot, because the heater will be activated. In your nappy is a moisture sensor, and if that becomes dry, then the balls will turn from green to amber then red. Once the ball goes red you have two minutes to wet your nappy or else receive a nasty burn on the sole of your foot.

She no sooner told him this information when the red light came on – a small buzzer went off and Simon tried hard to wet his nappy, the heat on the sole of his foot caused a tingling pain to his instep and this was enough to trigger a flow of baby wetness. The lights changed to orange and then green. Simon sobbed with the pain and gripped his nappy to his face seeking all the comfort he could find. Angela watched him with an understanding look on her face. You will want to learn to wet your nappy little and often, so you had better drink as much as you can and as quickly as you can. Simon started to suc-k on his dummy as if his life depended on it. He had already drunk over a half of the two litres and the wetness was beginning to migrate from the sensor and distribute across the rest of his nappy. The green light started to flicker alongside the orange. Simon had no idea how long he had before the red would come on again, so he drank as fast as he could and although he was almost bursting at the seams he drank the remainder of the bag in less than 10 minutes. He felt very bloated as Angela hung another bag on the unit and swapped over the feeding tube. The orange bulb started to dim and once again a flicker started. In absolute fear, Simon allowed himself to trickle out into his nappy and the light returned to green.

Angela allowed herself a small smile as her new charge learned an important lesson, which was to wet his nappy little and often like a young baby. The training went on all day and Simon drank buckets of the watery feed and had five changes in as many hours. In the afternoon they moved him to his cot and took the training equipment with them. Simon had learnt his lesson well and only received one additional burn as he dozed off, by late afternoon he had been turned into a wetting machine that was getting through nappies at the rate of almost one an hour. He was put into two huge overnight nappies and the treatment continued, so that by morning the green light was permanently on as Simon wet his nappy in short intermittent trickles without a second thought.

Mrs Fielder came into his room with Angela, Simon was lying on his back with legs akimbo (the only comfortable way to sleep in such a massive nappy) and he was suc-king on his dummy with the two large bags almost empty. The women set about changing him together and as they took off his nappy Simon automatically wet into the air. The women laughed as they tried to protect themselves from the small jet.

The training continued for another 24 hours and it would be pointless to describe the procedure in detail again, suffice it to say that Simon was totally nappy dependant for all his wetting at the end of this period. His nappy rash by this time was agonising and the continual wetting had really developed the skin redness to a deep and viscious hue.

Angela said that it was now time to start the next part of the training on day three. Although Simon was incapable of staying dry during the day or night and needed his nappies as much as any six month old baby, he did not believe in his mind that this was a permanent state, nor did he envisage the situation lasting forever. Babies wear nappies without any second thoughts, they know nothing different, for them it is perfectly normal and if they were not trained to be different they would always be in nappies. Simon needed to take just one more step in his return to infantile dependence.