Waking Up The Baby

[diaperpt]

Waking Up the Baby by bbpt

I awoke slowly from a deep sleep. I lay on my back feeling my legs and arms a little cold, but a strange warmth around my midsection. Had I shaken off the bed covers in the night? But then, why was my midsection warm? Gradually overcoming my grogginess, I became aware of a thick heaviness between my legs. I rolled to my side. The heaviness in my crotch followed me. It felt almost like I had a pillow between my legs. I began to open my eyes as I tried to understand the feeling between my legs. As my eyes began to focus, I found something else to try to understand as well. What were these vertical lines in front of my face? Was I waking up in a dream? It seemed that it might be that, since I felt an incredible heaviness throughout my body and a fuzziness in my mind. It didn’t feel quite like a dream though. It felt more like a bad hangover, but I hadn’t had anything alcoholic the night before; just the glass of soda my wife had gotten for me just before we got ready for bed.

As seconds ticked away, seemingly in slow motion, the vertical lines in front of me became clearer. They were silvery bars, evenly spaced, reminding me of something I couldn’t quite place. I rolled back onto my back and my eyes traced the shiny bars to the top where more bars crossed over my head only about two feet above me. My extreme grogginess began to mix with panic. I had no idea where I was or how I’d gotten here. My ears began to tell me of a crinkling sound beneath me as if I were lying on some sort of plastic covering. My hands began to realize the sensation of soft cloth over a slippery surface. Deep in the recesses of my memory, it was almost like I remembered back to my infancy and these same feelings as I awoke in my crib.

Still very groggy, I began to move my hands to my body. Instead of feeling my pajamas, I felt soft smooth skin. As I ran my hands across my stomach, it felt like I was touching someone else’s body. This couldn’t be me because I had been covered with a thick mat of hair since puberty. The skin I felt was entirely hairless and smooth, much like a baby’s skin would feel. As my hands moved lower, they came in contact with a soft, slippery material; plastic-like but bubbled up a distance from my body. As I pressed down, I felt a thickness between my hands and my groin. I tried to lift my head off the mattress, but for some reason it was too heavy to lift.

Instead, I rolled again onto my side in a foggy slow motion, feeling very lethargic. I tilted my head slowly downward scanning across the bars in front of me, but not being able to focus on what lay beyond. An inner terror gripped me at my first clear view of my body. I saw my legs – but could they be mine, with no hair at all? And even in the dim light, I could see the pale pink covering over my midsection. I began to put together the vague memories of my infancy with these sights. This must be a dream. It couldn’t be real. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to the security of sleep, when suddenly the room brightened and I hear my wife’s voice.

“Hey! My little baby’s awake! How do you feel, little Petey? Are you all ready for the first day of the rest of your life?”

This sharp intrusion into my grogginess perplexed me even more as I realized fully now that this was no dream. There was a reality to her voice that couldn’t be a dream. I was groggy, but very definitely awake. My heart beat faster in the realization that something very strange had happened to me. I tried to speak, but though my mind formed thoughts, no sound escaped my lips.

“Oh baby Petey! You look confused. Well, no wonder. You drank that soda last night thinking we’d go to bed like every other night and you’d get up this morning and just keep behaving like the jerk you’ve been for far too long. Well, that life is over for you. No more Mr. Jerk. Welcome to your return to helpless, innocent babyhood!”

My mind raced. What could this be about? Then as I lay there, I felt a sensation in my penis telling me I needed to pee. I tried to jerk up as if to sit up, but my body would not move more than a quick inch or so before falling back on the mattress with a loud plastic rustle. I tried to hold back, but I felt a flow out of my stem. I was peeing my pants! I sensed the warm flow of my own urine around my groin but surprisingly the flow turned into a general growing warmth.

“Oh, Petey, from the look on your face I can tell you’ve just wet your Diapers! Doesn’t that feel good, Petey? No? Well, you’ll get used to it. That’s what babies do – they wet their Diapers. And that’s what you are now – a little baby.”

I was humiliated to think that I’d just peed myself in my own bed. But wait – this wasn’t my own bed. The bars around me and my wife’s words gave me the realization that for some reason I was now lying in some sort of adult sized baby crib except with bars across the top as well! Ann must have read my mind as I lay there staring up at her helplessly. I tried to form words, but I was still so groggy I couldn’t even organize my thoughts.

“Oh there is so much for you to get to understand Baby Petey. I started the planning for this almost three months ago, after that party we’d gone to at the Kirk’s where you humiliated me so much with your lewd and stupid comments. As soon as we got home and you fell asleep in your little drunken stupor, I went on the computer and found an amazing website. It’s run by women like me who’d had enough with their husbands. I ordered the little cribby you are lying in, the diapers you just wet – and enough more to keep you in them permanently. I ordered your cute little plastic panties to keep your nice new cribby sheets dry, the plastic covered mattress and oh so many other necessities for your new baby life!”

“This group is so great, because they not only have all the supplies like diapers, panties, cribs and stuff but they also have doctors available to prescribe medications like I slipped into your soda last night to put you to sleep. Luckily, I was able to connect with another new Mommy in the area who came over last night and helped me get you all ready for your new babyhood! We carried you up here to your new nursery, which as you might have guessed was my old sewing room. She helped me with the depilatory to remove all your hair and with your very first adult diapering. Wasn’t that nice of her?”

As she said this, I felt another involuntary release of pee into what I just heard was ‘my Diaper.’ The warm wetness felt strange as I felt the flow across what I realized was a completely hairless crotch. Anger built within and I gathered all my strength to push myself up off this adult sized crib mattress. I reached up to push away the bars over me, but they harshly rattled at me and pushed me forcefully back onto the mattress.

“Oh little Petey, don’t even bother trying to get out of there. Only Mommy will let you out and then only on her terms. Your adult life is OVER! Do you get it? OVER! You are going to be kept in Diapers, plastic panties and baby clothes for the rest of your life. This is where you sleep from now on and the top of your crib will be locked at all times when you are inside. I have available to me prescriptions for any and all drugs I need to keep you weak, compliant and in a very infantile condition. Isn’t it nice to realize you no longer have control over your stupid little pee-pee? For now, that’s drug induced, but gradually you’ll just lose your bladder control completely and you’ll just wet your Diapers uncontrollably without the need for drugs.”

I could feel myself redden from a combination of rage at what I was hearing and embarrassment for my predicament. Before I could act, I realized Ann had reached into my crib, and fastened a tight fitting cuff around my right hand. As I looked to the right to stare at my wrist bound tightly to the side of this cage, I felt my left hand yanked to the other side and bound in the same way. I was helpless to resist as she bound my ankles in similar restraints. The drugs I’d been given must have started to wear off, as a low moaning guttural sound arouse from me – still unable to form words, I voiced my misery in the only way I was able.

“Good for you, Baby. Now that the medication is wearing off, I can give you breakfast. Of course not bacon and eggs, but I think you’ll learn to like your formula. It’s made especially for new babies like you. It has all the nutrients you need without too many calories and best of all, it has just the right combination of medications to allow me to be your Mommy without any of your stupid interference!”

As I lay there with my arms tightly bound to the edge of the crib at waist level, Ann approached with a strange looking device. She set it down, unlocked the top of the crib and began straightening out some straps attached to a large bulb. Although I fought as best I could I was in no position to prevent her from holding my nose until I had to open my mouth to gasp for air. Immediately my mouth was filled with the bulb and almost instantly I felt the strap tighten around my head holding it in place. Ann then attached a long clear hose to the front of the mask and attached the other end to a large bag of liquid hung on a pole at the top of the crib.

Ann released a clip on the hose and I saw a white liquid make its way down the tube to my mouth. It filled my mouth and I was forced to swallow before I tasted the sweet formula laced as promised with drugs. The flow of formula continued well past the point of my stomach feeling full, but I had no choice as the flow continued into my mouth. It wasn’t long after I finally swallowed the last of this concoction that I felt a fuzziness creep over me. Even though my arms or legs were held by the straps, I could feel the weakness that Ann had promised. Even attempting the slightest movement felt like trying to move a mountain. A slow and at first unconscious release from my bladder distracted me for the moment as the weakness continued its intrusion.

When Ann was satisfied I was sufficiently under the spell of the drugs, she unlocked the crib bars, lowered them and produced an armful of cloth. As I lay there in a haze, I heard snaps and felt a tug at my waist. Ann kept a patter going as she worked on me, “Baby Petey, you are so very wet! See, you really are a little baby, aren’t you? Now I undo your little diaper pins. Oh look how cute your little pee-pee is with none of that messy big boy pubic hair around it. It’s so much neater and cleaner now. Let me wipe off this icky wet baby powder. Here’s some nice Baby Oil to keep your skin nice and fresh. Do you like the smell of it Baby?...”

Her humiliating one sided conversation demeaned me in the most basic ways as I felt her hands have her way in cleaning and re-Diapering me. I was assaulted by sounds, smells, sensations and emotions. As soon as she began removing the plastic pants my nose had been assaulted by the smell of stale urine. When the old wet diaper was pulled away, I felt the cool fresh air as it met the warm dampness of my skin.

The sweet smell of baby wipes fought back the smell of urine. The coolness of the wipes almost tickled as Ann wiped away the offensive reminders that I’d been forced to wet myself. All the sensations of the cloth, the wipe, her hands; they all felt so strange on my hairless skin. Next I saw and smelled billows of baby powder being liberally sprinkled over what Ann called my “diaper area.”

The soft fluffiness of the fresh diapers was inviting, but knowing what the cloth represented prevented me from feeling any pleasure. When she pulled the diaper cloth across my front and pinned them tightly it occurred to me that Ann expected me to wet these diapers as well.

I felt the tightness of the elastic of the plastic panties as I heard the snaps enclosing the fluffy material of the diapers inside the protective cover the panties afforded, With each snap, I felt myself being locked into a forced babyhood.

When she was done, she produced two strange looking thumbless mitts. She slid one over each of my hands, tightening a band at my wrist and locking them on. Inside I could wiggle my fingers, but only within the mitts. My hands were now useless, even if they hadn’t been bound to the crib.

In spite of what she had said, I wondered how long she would keep me like this. She’d been angry with me before, even moving out a few times for a couple days each. Each time, she returned, we’d argue over whatever it happened to be that time; I wasn’t a drunk, but after a point I had a tendency to say and do things I probably shouldn’t have – that’s what I’d been told. There were other times when Ann complained that I’d spent too much time with friends and ignored her. Still other times she’d complain that I didn’t do enough around the house. All these thoughts were fuzzy and increasingly faint until even the clank of the top of the cage seemed faint and far away.

My eyes drifted open to see Ann relock the bars over me and I felt myself drift into a hazy sleep. I had no idea how long I slept. This time, as the grogginess of my enforced nap receded, I knew where I was and who had put me here. As much as the realization of my situation depressed me, the sensation of a very wet Diaper brought me to depths of despair I’d never experienced. I lay there and wet twice more, each time not realizing I’d had the urge until the warm flow of my own urine ran across my hairless skin, soaking into the already soggy Diaper encasing my midsection. The feeling of wetness was bounded by the bite of the tight elastic of the waist and leg bands of the Diaper panties. Above and below my skin was cool, but within the panties the damp warmth remained constant.

The strange feelings occupied my mind, but beneath those physical feelings, I also felt the emotional feelings of outrage, fear, and bewilderment at the fact I had been peeing myself in my sleep without being aware of it. I’d had many medications over my lifetime for many different conditions. I’d had procedures where I was put to sleep by drugs. None had ever affected me this way. Never in my adult life had I had any problems with my urinary function. As I lay there in these ridiculous baby clothes, trapped in this oversized crib, I was embarrassed at the thought of what I might look like; I was furious with Ann for doing this to me; I was bewildered by how any drugs at all could be making me wet myself and fearful of the long term affects.

As all these feelings washed over me, I felt a distant fullness in my bladder followed by a sudden rush from my stem. I felt the hot pee flow and the wet warm spread quickly into my new cloth underwear. I’d had no chance to even try to control this flow! How could that be? I felt myself flush and burn with humiliation and anger. My hands went to the waist of the plastic pants as I tried to get them off me, but encased in the mitts, they were useless. I reached up at the bars above but only succeeded in making noise as they rattled tightly against the solid locking mechanism.

I was a prisoner in this cage, in these clothes, and with the drugs, in my own body. How long could this go on? I’d have to be let out of this cage eventually. I’d have to eat, shave, shower, and go to the toilet…wouldn’t I?

Ann returned with more demeaning comments, more of the formula and another change, having fixed the tight straps on my arms. The dry cloth of my new Diaper felt strangely good even though the thought of it again drove me to despair. This feeling barely lasted until the last snap of my clean panties snapped shut, as a fresh flow of hot urine gushed out of me without even asking permission. I slept more and this time when I woke, Ann approached with a hypodermic needle.

“The formula really seems to be having the desired effect on you, but I have to give you a couple of these shots each day, at least for now. I never thought I’d be able to do this sort of thing – you know how squeamish Mommy has always been. My group has trained me well to do all the things I need to keep you as my little Baby Diaper Boy.”

Mommy…she called herself Mommy. Why was she saying that? Why was I here? What was this all about? My mind was so cloudy, yet I tried to puzzle out what was really going on. Shots? What about shots? I tried to pull away. I couldn’t believe any of what she was saying and I was in such an incredible fog.

I still felt incredibly weak anyway, but with my wrists bound to my side there was nothing I could have done. The sharp point of the needle slid effortless into the flesh of my arm and a warm tingle spread out from the point of intrusion. For some reason, this injection did not put me to sleep. Instead, I lay there for what must have been hours, feeling myself wet uncontrollably as I continued on a carefully planned path to complete incontinence and forced life as a grown adult baby at the hands of my wife – the one person in the world I should have been able to trust the most.

In my waking moments, the almost constant wetness of the diaper was uncomfortable and humiliating. When I wasn’t thinking of the discomfort, I tried to make sense of what was happening. It began occurring to me that during our marriage, each time Ann had left me she’d come back with a little more of an edge. When we married, she was shy and introverted. She pretty much expected me to be in control of our marriage and I obliged.

I hadn’t even thought of it, but now it came to me that this attitude had slowly changed. I’d tried to maintain control over our marriage, but she gradually and very subtly had taken over one then another area of our marriage. I didn’t really understand what I’d done that was so bad, but unless Ann had suddenly gone crazy – which I thought was a possibility – I must have done something wrong.

Growing up I was a decent enough person, but somewhere along the line I guess I’d learned to be a little rude and insulting to those close to me. It was just how I was – it didn’t occur to me that I was offensive to anyone. It didn’t seem that would be enough to trigger this treatment, but still I was at a loss to explain it.

In my drugged state, I imagined myself reforming and treating Ann better in some way. At the same time, I couldn’t imagine how I’d be able to convince Ann to let me up out of this crib and let me back into my own clothes. Each time she entered the room, she smiled as if I truly were her little baby and she demeaned me with a continuous stream of talk about how wet I was; how cute my diapers and panties were; how I loved my formula.

The drugs continued – in my formula and in the shots which continued as promised. As weak as I was, I was still bound to the crib for each diaper change and each time the crib cage was opened it was again shut and locked with the bars across the top staring back down at me daring me to try escape. When I wasn’t thinking about making up and reconciling with Ann, I thought about escaping and punishing her – maybe by putting her into diapers for a while to make her understand what she’d done to me.

I shouldn’t have wasted my time thinking about all this. There was no way Ann was going to reconsider her decision to turn me into an incontinent adult baby. On the other hand, it didn’t matter what I thought about, since I had lost complete control of my life. I could think of anything I wanted to, but the facts of my life came down to drugged formula, wet Diapers, and a locked crib cage. That was for the first couple days of my captivity.

On the third morning of my captivity, I woke to sun streaming in the window and to a fullness in my bottom. A realization began sinking into my psyche; I was going to have a bowel movement whether I wanted to or not. I had not been let up to shower. I could feel the beginning of hair stubble all over my body and I knew there must also be growth on my face and neck. I had not been allowed to shave yet and the subject of bowel movement had not been mentioned at all.

Although the thought of peeing myself was humiliating, I’d began to get accustomed to the involuntary flow followed by the spreading warmth of my Diaper. The thought of having to move my bowels into a Diaper disgusted me so much that I began struggling with all my might to hold back the movement which I knew intellectually was inevitable.

I was locked in a barred cage which my wrists and ankles bound much of the time and was dressed in a thick cloth Diaper and plastic panties; how in the world did I think I was going to prevent myself from pooping into the Diaper? Still, I held out. What I didn’t realize was how futile my attempts were. The drugs had weakened my muscles to the point where as hard as I tried, I felt a mass begin to slide down my rear passage.

I tried to will my muscles, but it was no use. Suddenly, with an involuntary thrust of my weak muscles, I felt a swelling force itself out from my butt crack down into the diaper cloth. The mass grew and spread as it could within the tight confines of my Diaper. Even as the mess began clinging to my skin, more shit slid out into the Diaper. It seemed to create an enormous mound. I couldn’t imagine that I’d ever shit that much ever in my life.

Once the initial mass had forced its way out into the diaper, I found myself pushing to finish the movement. As I pushed more shit into the diaper I felt myself pee more as well. Knowing that I’d been totally unable to deter or even slow the movement made the discomfort of the sticky mass of shit even more intolerable. Intolerable had no meaning, however, as I would tolerate exactly what Ann demanded that I tolerate. I was completely under her control and sinking further into compliance, involuntary as it was.

I knew I was an adult. I knew I was being held and drugged. Still, the embarrassment of wetting and now shitting myself – ‘my Diapers’ – was overwhelming. Just as the shit stuck to my skin, the realization that I was slipping into behavior Ann was looking for stuck as well. As I lay there it grated on me that there was nothing I could do about my situation. Gradually the poop cooled and began to crust against my skin. While I was furious with what was being done to me, I hoped for Ann’s return so she could clean up this mess.

I was relieved when Ann came in and noted in as humiliating a way as she could that I’d pooped my Diaper.

“Eeeuuuhhh! Stink! What a dirty baby! Aren’t you glad though? This is a milestone. You’ve done the first poop of your new baby life into your diaper! What a good little baby you are! You should be proud of yourself. Oh, I can tell in your eyes that you aren’t very proud. Oh well, it will still take some time for you to get used to all this, but you will.”

“I made the mistake of not recognizing who you really were behind the mask I saw when we were dating. I made the mistake of staying with you until my finances were too closely tied to you. I made mistake after mistake until I found that website. No more mistakes for me. I promise. You’re going to be my little baby from now on. Mommy will take care of you and help you be the little baby you have been all your life.”

Even the humiliation seemed acceptable as long as she would change the very messy and very wet Diaper. Even better; I was released entirely from the crib to be brought into the bathroom for a bath. Although my mind told me I ought to try to escape when I was let out of the crib, my body was much more realistic in its expectations. Standing turned out to be totally out of the question and even trying to creep on hands and knees was a serious challenge. Ann had to help me along and into the tub where the warm water felt incredibly good.

She watched as I soaked in the tub to make sure I didn’t try to escape. I was far too weak to escape and she knew it, but it was another way of demeaning me. My feelings of humiliation, anger and yet total helplessness washed around me like the water of my bath. These feelings were so strong that I barely felt the tingle of the depilatory mixed into the bath water.

After a while Ann took a soapy washcloth and began washing me. The feeling of the cloth on my body was a strange sensation. I didn’t even notice as any newly grown hair was washed and wiped away, just as my independence and adulthood had been washed away from me.

In some deep down way, I realized the feelings of being washed would have been very sensuous if the circumstances were any different. As it was, the continuous patter about my little baby pee-pee, cleaning my poopy bottom and pissy diaper area was totally humiliating and I would have struck out against her if I had an ounce of energy or fight in me.

When she had washed and rinsed me, paying special humiliating attention to my crotch, she drained the water and roughly dried me off. I had barely enough strength to crawl back to my crib, where she helped me up into it again. Being diapered was still a humiliating experience. She spoke to me as if I was two years old, pinched my butt to make me lift up for her to slide a triple thick cloth diaper underneath. Knowing this was my only bathroom was embarrassing, but at least it was dry for now. As she applied and rubbed in baby oil, carefully explaining how this would help prevent diaper rash on her pissy little baby, I still felt a stirring and the beginning of an erection. “Silly little baby! Are you getting a little stiffy? You must like your diaper! Good for you!”

My tumescence even grew as Ann drew the cloth of the diaper tightly up over me and fastened it with two pins on each side. I wanted her to jerk me off or at least be able to jerk myself off. It wasn’t that I felt sexual, but it was one last vestige of adulthood.

She had no such ideas. “Too bad you’re just a baby – I bet you’d love to cum in your cute little diaper. Oh well, maybe in twelve years or so when you reach puberty!” She laughed at her own joke as she snapped the plastic panties over the cloth then slid the bars over the crib and locked them. She then took each wrist and locked on restraints fixed to the sides of the crib. “No, you aren’t going to be able to get yourself off, little jerk.”

As she walked out of the room, I lay there almost in tears with the frustration of unsatisfied arousal when suddenly I felt an unexpected flow of pee into my diaper. Now I did cry. I had never cried as an adult. The tears came naturally though and it didn’t even occur to me that my frequent doses of drugs might be affecting my emotional state.

I cried in embarrassment and self pity. I cried in anger and frustration and I cried because I was giving up hope of ever regaining my adult life. I cried myself to sleep. When I woke, I lay there soaked in my Diapers until Mommy came to change me. After my change, she fed me my formula from the large bag hung over my crib. I felt very hungry and didn’t resist as she put the nipple into my mouth and fastened the strap around my head. Even after I’d finished all my formula, I unconsciously continued to work the nipple in my mouth. It gave me a sense of comfort that I desperately needed.

Mommy returned and replaced the empty bag with one filled with something that tasted a little like apple juice. She told me it was to help me be the little baby I really was. I wasn’t thirsty, but I couldn’t stop the flow into my mouth so I just swallowed. I could feel my stomach swell almost painfully until I’d finished the juice.

As I wet my Diapers again I began getting sleepy. I was almost asleep when I felt a release from my backside – soft and hot, mush began to flow. The hot wet mushy feeling against my skin almost but not quite roused me out of the deep sleep I was sliding toward.

I woke to Mommy’s cooing voice. I felt her hands rubbing baby powder across the smooth dry skin of my diaper area. How long had I slept? She had obviously cleaned me up from the mess I’d made in my Diaper. Her hands felt so gentle. The baby powder smelled so sweet. I felt so dry and comfortable. The cloth of the diapers felt so soft and secure as they were pulled up between my legs and pinned tightly shut. The crinkle of the diaper pants sounded so natural, along with the snap, snap, snap as Mommy fastened one side then the other of the plastic pants which would keep all my messes safely inside.

All these thoughts flowed through my mind at the same time as I felt imprisoned, punished, and totally disgusted by the thought of my own urine and feces against my skin. The sight of my hairless arms and legs, knowing my pubic hair was now gone as well from under the tight confines of this plastic and cloth prison, disgusted and angered me.

Rage built up within me but had no place to go, as my muscle could barely respond. I tried to lift my arm, but it merely fluttered in front of me. Ann made a simple motion at it and it flopped back to the crib mattress, making a crinkling noise as it bounced on the plastic mattress cover beneath the crib sheet.

“Silly baby. Are you trying to play? You look angry, but there is nothing you can do. You’re just a little baby. The drugs I’ve given you have weakened your muscles now to the point where I don’t need the restraints any more for my own safety. You have the strength of maybe a 6 month old. You can roll over and crawl, but you wouldn’t be able to stand unless I held you up. Isn’t that nice?”

My face burned as I thought of what Ann had done to me. And as I raged inside, I peed into my Diapers. I didn’t feel it coming until the hot liquid soaked into the thirsty cloth of my Diapers. My anger turned to feeling sorry for myself. The warmth spread through the cloth of my Diapers as sympathy for my situation turned to self-loathing. How had I let this happen to myself? How had I let Ann do this to me?

I went through cycles of thoughts. I was angry at Ann for doing this to me. I was angry at myself for allowing it to happen. I felt sorry for myself. I felt sorry that I’d not been a good husband to Ann. I felt I deserved to be punished. I was embarrassed to be humiliated like this. I deserved to be humiliated. I was embarrassed to be dressed and treated like a baby. I was wet and messy like a baby and deserved to be. I hated being in wet and messy diapers. I looked forward to being changed. I hated when Ann changed my diapers. I loved it when Mommy changed my diapers. It was humiliating to be fed through a nipple. I was hungry and happy to be fed at all. The nipple began to feel natural and I looked forward to having it fill my mouth.

Cycles of thought; cycles of emotion. Time passed. I lost track of days; weeks would have had no meaning. Time passed in terms of feedings, changes and baths. Naps were scattered. I could no longer tell if it was my own exhaustion or the effects of drugs. I no longer felt my strength slip from me after bottles or even after injections; Mommy had to help me down from my crib so I could crawl to my bath. Mommy would regularly coat my skin with a special cream and gradually the stubble of my adult body hair stopped intruding onto my baby soft skin.

I thought less of Ann and more of Mommy. I thought less of punishment and more of natural consequence; less about anger and more about resignation. I got used to wetting and messing my Diapers. I got used to lying in my crib wet and messy, waiting for Mommy to change me. Memories of my adult life stayed with me, but inside I knew I deserved to be treated like a baby. I shouldn’t like what I’d become, but I should accept it. I had acted like a baby in my adult life and so I deserved to be treated like a baby now.

Mommy gradually introduced me to baby bottles scaled to my size. She at first had to hold the bottle for me, but gradually I began to be able to steady the bottle with my mittened hands. In between my bottles, I was given a pacifier which was strapped around my head so it couldn’t slip out. I found myself almost constantly and mindlessly sucking on it.

I became weirdly proud that I could hold the bottles with my mittened hands. I strangely loved the sensations of sucking my formula, my juice or sometimes just water from my baby bottles. My pacifier calmed me and allowed me to soothe myself even through the quiet self-loathing I felt. I was really an adult, but I was really a baby. I deserved my treatment, but it was a treatment. I was being demeaned and mistreated, but I was being lovingly cared for.

When I would first begin feeling the itch or irritation of Diaper rash, Mommy would take care of it immediately, putting cream on me and taking away the rash. When my tummy growled, Mommy always had my bottle ready for me. Mommy gave me little kisses on my forehead and on my cheek. Her hands were always gentle with me.

Eventually Mommy got me a playpen for my room and she put nice soft toys in it. I had little dolls and little stuffed animals. There was a little toy she hung on the side of the playpen where I could push little buttons or turn little twirly things. At first I had to do this through my thumb-less mittens, but gradually Mommy discovered I couldn’t make my fingers work like a grown up anymore and she didn’t put the mittens on me any more. Even when I tried to unsnap my Diaper panties myself, I couldn’t. I didn’t have any coordination or strength like the old days when I was a grown up. It didn’t matter – I shouldn’t take off my Diaper panties myself anyway. I was a little baby now and deserved to be. I needed my Diapers because I had no control over my pee and poop. It was embarrassing, but it was what I deserved and what I needed.

By the time Mommy brought my new Nanny in to see me, I knew there was no going back. I was so embarrassed to be seen by a grown up in my baby Diapers and little baby clothes Mommy had begun dressing me in. Still, I knew it was OK. Mommy needed to get on with her life and my new Nanny understood me and took care of me just like Mommy. Nanny would come in to me when I was all wet and messy and she would gently pull down my plastic panties. She’d unfasten my Diaper pins and pull down the soaked cloth, all the time cooing to me. I’d look up into her eyes past my pacifier and see the care in her eyes.

While adult thoughts flowed through my consciousness – memories, realizations, emotions – they were always mixed with my baby thoughts. As much as my adult thoughts carried adult words, my mouth became strangely unable to form those words. My tongue, which had become so good at sucking the nipples of my pacifiers and bottles, no longer worked to make coherent sounds. As always the mix of adult and baby feelings intermingled; anger, resentment, fear and embarrassment flowed within me as my mouth could only make nonsense baby sounds. But the baby side of my emotions felt these sounds were all I needed. Mommy and Nanny took care of my every need. Why would I need words?

The wipes always felt so good and refreshing; the clean dry Diapers so soft and I loved both the feeling and smell of the baby oil, then baby powder as I was cared for. Even so, I didn’t feel quite right until the Diapers were pulled tightly across my front and pinned. I didn’t feel quite secure until my Diaper panties were pulled up or snapped on, with the tight elastics sealing in my diapers. I’d almost giggle as Nanny or Mommy tucked in stray diaper cloth, making sure I wouldn’t leak.

I had so many baby clothes now; little print tee shirts, onesies, bubble rompers, cute little baby shorts. In the summer I’d sleep in just my diapers and maybe a tee-shirt; sometimes I had little pajama tops and bottoms which would snap to each other at the waist. When it got really cold, I would be dressed in big blanket sleepers with little feet on the bottom. I’d be zipped from my diapers to my chin and I’d feel so secure inside – all warm and cozy. Sometimes I’d wet so much I’d leak out of my diaper panties, but Mommy or Nanny would come change me and change my crib.

I didn’t need the bars over the top of my crib anymore. Where could I go? Why would I try to go anywhere if there were anywhere to go? I was a baby now – yes, I was an adult; 45 years old – but I was a baby; maybe 6 months old. I could crawl anywhere in the house now unless the doors were shut into a room. I didn’t have the strength to pull myself up nor did I have the coordination to turn the knobs. How demeaning it was, but I was, after all, a baby.

At mealtimes now, I’d be allowed to crawl to the kitchen where I’d be helped into my new highchair. I’d be strapped in so I couldn’t fall out, then the tray was fastened in front of me. I’d be fed pureed baby food – sometimes what Mommy or Nanny ate put through a blender or sometimes just my own baby food. I’d be given tiny scraps of soft breads or sometimes Cheerios. I remembered grown up food – especially when Mommy let me stay up in my highchair while she ate – but I knew it was for real grown ups, not babies like me.

One day Nanny brought in my new stroller. I remembered seeing ones kind of like this – it was kind of a cross between a wheelchair and a baby stroller – years before it seemed, I’d seen ones like this used for handicapped people. Nanny helped me up into it and strapped me in so I wouldn’t fall out. I had gotten in because she wanted me to. It hadn’t occurred to me that I was being taken outside. I’d long since stopped thinking past the moment.

At some point, Mommy had had a ramp put in outside the house and now Nanny was wheeling me down the ramp, out to the sidewalk and down the street. Neighbors came out from their yards to see me. “How’s he doing?” they’d ask.

Nanny would answer, “He’s fine. Well, at least as fine as he’d ever going to be. He doesn’t talk anymore. As you can see, we have to dress him in diapers and plastic pants. He seems to imagine himself as a little baby, so we dress him that way as well. The doctors say this is what he’ll be like for the rest of his life. Ann has accepted that and is dealing well with it all.”

They’d look at me sympathetically. I’d look up at them and suck on my pacifier. What lies; what truth. I’d been forced into this; I’d deserved everything I’d gotten. But I really was fine. I didn’t talk anymore; there was nothing to say. I’d mumble nonsense baby talk now and then, but the only words I ever formed were in my own mind. I needed my Diapers and Plastic Panties – my body functions were those of a 6 month old baby. The clothes were just right for me at that age. I knew there was no going back ever, ever again. No lies; only truth. I hated it, but in a way, not only did I accept it; I embraced it. I loved my Mommy. I loved my Nanny. I loved who I’d become. It was more than deserved, it was more than OK; it was me.

My pacifier fell out and the neighbor caught it and put it back in. I sucked on my pacifier and rocked in my stroller. I looked up and smiled. Everything was just as it should be.

[babyfozzy]

wow, very nice way of portraying forced babyhood

thanks for sharing

[MillyMoo]

Wow

Love it!

[Latexman]

This is a GREAT story!!! Thank you so much for sharing it with us! i love all of the aspects of it, and it really pushes my buttons!!

[Three Rivers]

Great Story.

[BabyTina]

good story

[Antonia]

A complete joy and wo9nderful story - thank you

[babystevie1987]

That story was so magical. I felt that I was that guy. It had such a calming effect on my that is hard to explain.
Thank you so much. I felt so relax while I lied here in my bed diaper, sucking my pacifier, cuddling my favorite teddy and my baby blanket ? 

[Rachael-Little]

This is the kind of forced babyhood I would love.

The adult thoughts still in your head but knowing your really just a baby as it should be 

[Sarah Penguin]