AB/DL Story Pages

An Unwilling Baby

by Jennifer

A couple of months ago I went through an experience that I feel others should be warned about, if only to avoid falling into the trap that I did. Believe me, when fantasy becomes reality, it may not be quite as pleasant as you might think.

For many years I've enjoyed the fun of dressing up as a baby girl, but like most people I've had to do it on my own. So you can imagine how pleased I was when a couple of years ago I managed to contact another adult baby who was happy for me to visit him for mutual dressing up sessions, and to take it in turns to be suitably restrained. He had decorated a spare room as a nursery equipped with an adult sized high chair, a pushchair, and a large cot that had been made for him. (I'll call him 'Peter'). All these items had been equipped with a multitude of straps to restrain the occupant securely.

There was only one fly in the ointment. He's married to a lady who only tolerates his activities on the strict condition that he doesn't invite any other adult babies into the house. (I'll call her 'Sue'). So it's strictly a no go zone for visiting AB's. That meant that the only time I could go around to his place was when his wife was away on business, and we could have a free hand to enjoy ourselves. Well, as someone once said, 'If you don't want to be found out, don't do it.' Easier said than done.

Earlier this year, Sue had to go to a conference in Bournemouth for five days, which Peter and I thought was a golden opportunity not to be missed. So on a rather damp, cloudy Thursday morning, I found myself knocking on the door of his house in Crawley with my suitcase full of baby clothes, prepared to stay for a couple of nights. Peter was looking forward to spending the first night helplessly strapped into his cot under my supervision. He let me in, and in a short space of time, we had both changed into a securely pinned on nappy, plastic pants, a cute baby frock, white ankle socks, and mary jane strap shoes. Peter wore a baby bonnet, while I had my fairly long hair divided into two bunches, each tightly secured with a bow of white hair ribbon and a pink plastic hair slide. I must say we both looked pretty cute.

Once we were dressed we weren't quite sure what to do until the evening, when I was to strap Peter down into his cot for the night. We thought for a moment, and then Peter had an idea. He suggested that I might like to spend some time in the pushchair. I thought that would be fun, so I agreed quite willingly.

Peter is an expert at restraining other adult babies and making them completely helpless, as I was about to find out. First of all he took some strong packaging tape and wrapped it around my clenched fists until they were just two useless lumps. Then he pulled a pair of fingerless white woolly mittens on top, and tied them onto my hands with pink ribbons round the wrists. That done, he opened a drawer and took out a large pair of pink leather baby reins with three little bells across the front. He held them up in front of me and I put my arms into them. Then he stepped behind me and adjusted and buckled up the straps behind me so that the reins fitted me securely.

Next, he sat me down in the pushchair and started to strap me in. The numerous white leather straps attached to the pushchair held me by the ankles, waist and neck, and two straps passed over my shoulders and two around my chest anchored my baby reins to the pushchair. He clipped the straps onto the four D rings on the reins before tightening them. Finally he strapped my wrists and upper arms to the sides of the pushchair so that my arms were held rigidly down my sides. One final touch was to strap my legs together above my knees.

Those straps were secure, and I soon found that I could hardly even wriggle, so I asked him to loosen them a little. But Peter obviously likes his babies to be quiet as well as helpless, and he simply grinned and shook his head in the negative. The next bit was a surprise. Opening a drawer, he produced an outsize baby's dummy, especially made for an adult. Despite my protests, he forced the big silicone rubber bulb into my mouth, and tied the dummy in place by some attached ribbons which he wound tightly round my head several times before tying them in a bow behind my head. I began to panic, because I now realised just how vulnerable and helpless I was. I tried to move, but couldn't. I tried to yell at him to stop, but couldn't. The only sound I could make was a muffled 'Mmmmmp! Mmmmm! Mmmmmmf!' I was now well and truly stuck where I was, but Peter just grinned at me and said that I'd asked for it, and now I was going to get it.

Now he made his big mistake. Going over to the cot, he got into it, pulled up the sides, and began to strap himself in just as securely as he'd restrained me in the pushchair. Soon he too was tied down and unable to move, but before securing his hands, he tied a dummy tightly into his own mouth. He then handcuffed his left hand to the side of the cot, and his handcuffed right hand to a chain on the other side as well, with the key to the padlock hanging just within his grasp so that he could release himself when he wanted to. I began to feel really nervous about the whole idea, but by now I was in no position to do anything about it.

We lay there in mutual helplessness for about an hour, wriggling around and gurgling into our dummies in true baby fashion, and I must admit I rather enjoyed it. Then the thunderbolt fell. I suddenly heard the sound of the front door being opened and closed, and a voice calling out 'Hi Peter, I'm home!' I knew it had to be Sue, and I went cold with panic. Desperately, Peter began to fumble for the key that would release him, but he'd deliberately made it difficult to reach.

A few seconds later, his wife came into the room, glanced at me for an instant, and then strode over to where Peter was frantically reaching for the key to release himself. 'Oh no you don't' she said, and quickly grabbed the key. I groaned as I realised just how precarious our situation now was. Sue was clearly furious, and looking down at Peter she said 'How could you? I trusted you, and you let me down like this, just when you thought my back was turned. You idiot, didn't it occur to you that I might be back early? You're as stupid as you are treacherous.'

She calmed down slightly, and stood in the middle of the room, frowning while she pondered her next move. She looked at both of us in turn, and said nothing for a full five minutes. Staring down at me deep in thought, she slowly began to grin before breaking into a broad smile. 'All right then' she said, 'Since you both want to be babies, then so you shall. I'm going to make you two wish you'd never started this, so I'll begin with you Peter.' She went over to the cot, and began to tighten Peter's restraints and stretched his arms out fully so that now he couldn't move an inch. Then she checked that his dummy was secure before she turned her attention to me.

'Well I don't know who you are' she said, looking down at me with a grim smile on her face, 'But I'm going to make you regret ever coming here.' I hadn't met Sue before, but from what Peter had told me, I knew I had cause to worry. As with Peter, she went round checking my pushchair restraints, and tightened them. She lifted up the hem of my baby frock and checked what I had on underneath. 'Excellent' she grinned, 'A nappy and plastic baby pants. Just as well. With what I have in mind I guarantee you'll need them later on.' She pulled the hem of my frock down again and arranged it neatly. 'Good' she said, 'That means that I can keep you like that indefinitely doesn't it? If you want to wet, or even better, soil your nappy, go ahead, because then you'll just have to sit in it like a proper baby, won't you?' She must have read my mind, because she laughed and said 'Yes, that's right. You wanted to be a little baby girl, so I'm going to oblige you, but for a lot longer than you had in mind. First of all though, I think I'll take some photos, just for the record.' She went out of the room, and came back holding a camera. Then she took numerous photographs of both of us from all angles, especially some close-ups of my face.

'Now' she said, as she put the camera down and grinned at me, 'I have to go shopping, and unfortunately for you little girl, you are very conveniently already strapped into your pushchair aren't you? So you know what that means, don't you?' I knew all right, and I panicked as I realised what she had in mind. I began to squirm and writhe in my restraints, and tried to yell in protest. But all I could manage was a muffled 'Mmmmmmf! Mmmmmmmmmp!' as I stared at her wide-eyed over my dummy. I was beginning to feel more like a baby by the minute.

Sue went over to the cot, and giving Peter's restraints a final check, she said 'Now don't get into any mischief while I'm gone will you? Come to think of it, I'd better give you two babies a name. Let's see now Peter, you can be Emily, and the baby in her pushchair I'll call Lucy. Yes, perfect. So come along Lucy, let's go shopping.' She came over to me, put a shopping bag in the basket behind the pushchair, and releasing the brake, started to wheel me out of the room and into the hall. Pausing to put on her raincoat, she opened the front door and pushed me out onto the front path before shutting the door behind her. It was a nightmare. I desperately heaved and strained against my restraints as she pushed me relentlessly along the pavement and towards the town shopping precinct. I could hardly believe what was happening to me.

The first people to notice me were three young women who obviously enjoyed a sense of fun. Sue deliberately stopped as they came up to us, and the girls fell about with laughter when they saw me in close up. They asked Sue what it was all about, and she told them I'd lost a game of forfeits, and was now paying the price. The girls thought it was hilarious, and one of them took great pleasure in retying one of my hair ribbons before they moved on, and we continued on our way.

As we neared the town centre, I squirmed in my pushchair restraints as I desperately tried to hide my blushing face, but with the neck strap holding my head up, there was no hope of that. I gave a muffled babyish gurgle into my dummy as she wheeled me into the 'Mothercare' baby shop, much to the amusement of the shop assistants. She made some purchases that she took pains to hide from my view, and then continued with her shopping.

I won't describe what it was like when she wheeled me into the supermarket, I'll simply leave it to your imagination. Let's just say that it was the most humiliating experience of my life. By the time Sue checked out with her groceries, I was almost in tears. She then decided to have a leisurely cup of coffee sitting at an outside table, and deliberately positioned the pushchair so that I was in full view of every passer by. I writhed and squirmed with humiliation at the giggles and comments they made, and the remarks made by Sue added to my embarrassment.

As she finished her coffee, the overcast clouds gave way to rain, and once again, she grabbed at the chance to emphasise my babyfied situation. Reaching under the pushchair and pulling out a clear plastic rain cover, she raised the hood of the pushchair, draped the rain cover over me, and fastened it in place with the press-stud fastenings. Then she put up the hood of her raincoat and wheeled me on through the precinct towards home. Protected from the rain under the pushchair hood and clear rain cover, but still in full view of every amused onlooker, I somehow felt even more babyish than before

At last we reached home, and Sue wheeled me back into the room where Peter lay in his cot. It was at this point that I mistakenly thought that I'd been punished enough, and Sue would now release me. But oh no. She wanted to make really sure that I would never contemplate coming back again, and so I was here for the duration.

After she had removed the rain cover and lowered the pushchair hood, Sue went out into the kitchen, and I could hear her busily preparing something. We were soon to find out what. After about half an hour, she returned with a tray and put it down on the table. I didn't like what I saw, and realised why she had been into the baby shop. On the tray were several bowls of baby food, two baby bottles of milk with teats, and two bibs. Going over to Peter first, she tied a bib round his neck and said 'Now you two, I'm going to feed you, so I'll have to remove your dummies for a while, but one word of warning. A single word from either of you, and I'll put those dummies back in your mouths along with some nice yummy slugs and insects from the garden. You've been warned.' We certainly had, and the threat guaranteed our silence. Sue now removed Peter's dummy, and began to spoon the baby food into his mouth. That done, she placed the teat of his baby bottle into his mouth, and he had to suck the bottle dry in true baby fashion. When she had finished, she removed his bib, replaced the dummy in his mouth and retied it tightly in position. 'Good' she said brightly, 'That's Emily fed, now it's Lucy's turn.' I then had to go through the same humiliating feed as Peter, and had to eat a jar of vegetable puree, a bowl of Farex, a bowl of chocolate mousse, and suck my baby bottle of milk dry. Once it was empty, Sue picked up my dummy and pushed it back into my mouth before tying it in even more tightly than before.

As soon as she had finished, Sue stood back, and grinning, said 'Now my two little babies, your problems are really about to start. Let me tell you something. Notice that I fed you both a generous bowl of chocolate mousse. Well, that was no ordinary chocolate mousse. Oh no. Each of those bowls was laced with a whole packet of grated laxative chocolate, plus a huge overdose of ground up essence of senna tablets. I guarantee that within twelve hours you two babies are going to have very full nappies, and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. You wanted to be babies. Well you are going to find that one of the nasty things about being a baby is helplessly lying in a full, well soiled nappy for hours on end, and the painfully sore nappy rash that follows it. I think that a couple of days as you are will be enough to teach you a lesson. But if I do still want to extend your punishment, I'll simply leave you like that until I feel you are contrite enough. Oh and by the way Lucy, I'm going to take you round to visit one of my friends tomorrow. Won't that be nice for you, especially with a full nappy!' Laughing, she picked up the dirty plates and bottles, and took them out into the kitchen.

I couldn't believe that I'd walked into this nightmare of my own volition, and just gurgled into my dummy with humiliation and frustration. After a couple of hours, Sue returned with some blankets to cover us up. We were obviously being bedded down for the night. She was kind enough to remove our dummies, which would have made sleep impossible, but she removed them with the warning that if she heard one peep out of either of us, the dummies would go back in. That was enough to ensure our complete silence.

Gradually it got dark, and under the warm blanket I found it possible to doze off from time to time during the night. At first, it was no more difficult to sleep than in the seat of a plane on a long flight, but as the night wore on, I began to feel an irresistible urge to relieve myself. Somehow it became almost a point of honour not to wet myself, but I was fighting a losing battle. The pressure in my bladder steadily increased as time passed, and eventually I just had to let go. A warm flood poured out into my nappy and ran around my crutch, soon to turn my nappy into a wet, soggy lump around me, trapped within my plastic baby pants. Unable to do anything about it, I soon relaxed and drifted off to sleep again.

As it was getting light, I woke up to the sound of Peter quietly moaning as he lay in his cot, and I quickly began to realise why. I suddenly heard a gurgling sound coming from my bowels, and felt a movement within. Something was happening. As full daylight began to stream through the window, I could see Peter beginning to moan and writhe against his restraints as the huge laxative overdose began to take its effect on both of us. More and more frequently my bowel movements increased in frequency and intensity, and a grim determination not to let go overcame me. As the laxative worked towards its inevitable result, I squeezed my buttocks tightly together and began to squirm desperately within my restraints, but they held me rigidly in the pushchair.

After a little while, I heard the sound of Sue getting up, and a little while later she came into the room fully dressed with a cup of coffee in her hand. She put it down, and removing our blankets, inspected our bonds. They had done their work well, for she didn't have to tighten them. 'Did I hear some moaning?' she said, smiling, 'That won't do. Obviously you babies want your dummies.' I watched in despair as she picked up Peter's dummy, and soon tied it securely in his mouth again. Then it was my turn, and I was soon once more humiliatingly silenced. But still our efforts to free ourselves from our restraints grew more and more desperate.

Sue knew exactly what was happening, and she began to giggle. 'Oh my' she said, 'I knew this would be an effective punishment, but I didn't realise how much fun it was going to be. Go on babies, let me see you fill your nappies like good little girls!'

By now I was getting desperate as I could feel the contents of my bowels creeping inexorably down towards my bottom. I heaved and groaned, but I knew that I just couldn't hold on any more. With a sob of humiliation, I finally let go, and a warm sticky flood gushed out and filled my nappy. It oozed into the wet terry towelling cloth, and I could hear it squelching around my bottom every time I moved. I was devastated with humiliation as Sue burst out laughing. 'Well well' she grinned, that's one little baby with a dirty nappy. Now for the other one' She didn't have long to wait. Almost immediately, a muffled wail of anguish came from Peter, as he too went through the horrendous experience of filling his nappy.

Sue clapped her hands with glee. 'Lovely' she laughed, 'Absolutely perfect. Two completely helpless little baby girls waiting to have their nappies changed. Well now you can wait another twenty four hours like that. I'd say that by tomorrow morning you'll both have a nappy rash that'll last at least a week. Nothing like a sore botty to make you remember. Now I'll get you your breakfast.'

The next twenty four hours were probably the worst of my life. We were fed our baby breakfasts, and then immediately had our dummies tied tightly in our mouths again so that all we could utter were muffled babyish gurgles. Just as she'd threatened to do the day before, Sue decided that it was time to show me off to the world again. I had to endure another excursion outside in the pushchair, while all the time I could feel the awful squelching around my bottom, and this time she took me round to see one of her friends. Needless to say, her friend helped to tease me with relish before Sue finally took me home again.

Another night in the pushchair followed, along with some residual filling of my nappy, but at last Saturday afternoon finally arrived. About teatime, Sue came into the room, untied my dummy, and took it out of my mouth. I heaved a sigh of relief as I moved my aching jaw. But my pleasure was to be short lived, as Sue had one last trick up her sleeve. She carefully removed the securing ribbons from the dummy, which puzzled me for a moment. But I was about to find out why, and certainly wasn't going to like it.

She went to one side, and with her back to me, picked up a small tube for a moment, and then put it down again. Turning around, she came back to me and said 'All right Lucy, open your mouth there's a good girl, and be quick about it if you want me to untie you.' That was foremost in my mind, and I obediently opened my mouth. With a broad grin on her face, Sue pushed the dummy back into my mouth, and held it firmly in place for about half a minute. I didn't know what she had in mind, because I had every intention of spitting it out as soon as she let me go.

A moment later she gave a satisfied murmer and went over to Peter. She leaned into the cot, and removed his dummy. Like me, he gave a sigh of relief as she took his dummy aside, removing the securing ribbons as she went. Again, she paused with her back to us for a few moments before returning to where Peter lay helplessly restrained. 'Now it's your turn Emily' she said, 'Open up.' Thinking along the same lines as I had, he allowed her to reinsert the dummy into his mouth, and once again, she kept it pressed into his mouth for about half a minute. Then she straightened up with a chuckle, and with a wide grin on her face said 'Excellent. Now you can spit your dummies out if you want to. If you can that is!' and she burst out laughing.

I immediately went to push my dummy out of my mouth with my tongue. It wouldn't budge. Puzzled, I pushed again with the same result, and I began to shake my head from side to side in frustration as I desperately tried to spit out my dummy. It was impossible! 'Yes!' laughed Sue with delight, as Peter and I began to mumble baby talk into our dummies, desperate to remove them, 'You can't spit them out, can you? And do you know why? Before I put your dummies in your mouths I coated the inner surface of the cover plates with a generous layer of superglue! That's right, superglue! Those dummies are well and truly stuck in your mouths now, until you can get hold of some solvent. And unfortunately for you, the shops have just shut and won't be open again until Monday. So my two little babies, you're just going to have to suck on your dummies until tomorrow. I imagine you'll be quite hungry by then. And as for you my friend' she chuckled, looking at me, 'I'd love to see you going home on the train with your dummy in your mouth. I imagine you'll attract quite a lot of attention.' I broke into a cold sweat as I realised that I really was going to have to do just that.

With a final giggle, Sue bent over me and released my hands and removed the mittens and packing tape in which they had been imprisoned. 'You can undo yourself now' she said, 'And then you can untie him. Don't let me ever see you in this house again, unless you want another dose of the same. Next time you'll spend a full week in that pushchair, so I wouldn't risk it if I were you. Remember, I've now got those lovely photos of you, and thanks to your wallet, I know who you are, where you live, and where you work. I'm sure you don't want those pictures to end up somewhere embarrassing.' I shuddered to think, and murmured my agreement.

'Right' she said to Peter, 'I'm going out now. You can clean yourselves up, and as for you' looking at me, 'You'd better be out of here when I get back.' With a grin she added 'At least you two won't be able to talk to each other while I'm gone, will you?' She walked out of the room, and a moment later went out of the front door. I quickly released myself, and then Peter, and we started to pull at our dummies, desperate to remove the humiliating objects from our mouths. But it was hopeless. The lethally effective superglue had welded the area around our mouths to the cover plates of the dummies, and the tough, resilient plastic of the dummies resisted any effort to even damage them. Anything in the way of using cutting tools to remove them would have resulted in serious injury to our faces, so that was out of the question. We looked at each other in hopeless silence as the rings on the front of our dummies swung backwards and forwards. Giving up in despair, we stiffly made our way up to the bathroom, and I won't dwell on the unpleasantness of cleaning ourselves up first with toilet paper and then with soap and water. Now I know what nurses and carers have to put up with, and I truly admire them.

The moment the hot water of the shower hit my backside I felt a searing pain from my nappy rash, and I gave a muffled yell of pain into my dummy, but I had no alternative but to put up with it. After both having a shower and dressing in our proper clothes, we looked at each other with the two dummies still securely glued into our mouths, and miserably gurgled our goodbyes. With a gulp of anticipation I stepped out of the front door with my case of baby clothes and set off down the street to the station.

The journey home was a nightmare. Just as Sue had predicted, I attracted the amused attention of just about anyone who saw me, and being effectively silenced by the humiliating dummy, there was no way that I could explain. Even when I arrived home, I still had the awful prospect of spending the next 36 hours with my dummy firmly stuck in my mouth, and the continuous raw soreness around my nappy rash lasted several days.

Going down to the hardware store on Monday morning to buy some superglue solvent was no joke either. The guys in the shop fell about laughing when they saw my predicament, but at least I was finally able to free myself from the dummy. I didn't tell them exactly how it had come to be stuck in my mouth. I just told them that some mates of mine had played a practical joke the night before.

And so ended the most horrendous excursion into the world of being an adult baby. It didn't stop me from continuing to dress up as a baby from time to time, but it certainly taught me to be more careful with whom I made contact in future.

THE END