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marxthebaby

Starting Over(private for me and Baby_Amanda)

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Oliver had been expecting the school year to be one of boredom and too much homework, but instead of hearing sneakers squeak against polished linoleum or chattering classmates, he was listening to a woman speak in a white, plain-looking academy. "Hello, little one. Tell me, what's your full name?" Confused by the way she spoke to him, as if he were a child, he scowled and ran a hand through his tangled, white-blond hair before responding with, "Oliver Stacy Patterson; is that simple enough for you, bitch?

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Melanie nods. "Yes I will." She walks into the nursery and deposits him changing table. Once the nurse left Melanie smiles at Oliver. "Bet you never thought you would see me again. Well the shoe or more precise the baby shoe is on the other foot. By the time you leave. You will be a new person. One who is nice and polite like a boy should. Well enough of that for now. I have to get you ready for your new life. Melanie took out some cream and rubbed it all over Oliver's body. Leaving him hairless everywhere. She took out a pair of electric clipper and shaved Oliver's head hair off leaving only stubble. Melanie rubs Oliver's body down with baby oil and took out a thick disposable diaper. She put it on him and tapes

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Oliver squirmed frantically as Melanie spoke, taking him into an oversized nursery. He stared at the baby blue walls, covered with pictures of yellow ducks, with a disgusted frown, annoyed by the infantile decor. Before he could properly protest, Melanie told him that the "baby shoe" was on the other foot, which baffled him. What did she mean, baby shoe? Was she out of her mind, or something? Why was everyone treating him like this, now that he was here? As Melanie went on, telling him that once he departed from wherever this place was, he'd been a different person, he felt his heart sink into the pit of

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Melanie smirks. "That is what you think little one. You might look like a teenager on the outside, but mentally you will be a lot younger. I wouldn't be surprise if you don't make it out of diapers. A lot of the people who leave here at the end of their time remain in diapers forever. This of it as a constant reminder of your time with us."

Melanie watched from the other room Oliver's temper tantrum and smiled to herself. She loved watched the new students thrash about in their cribs. Sooner or later they accept their fate and come down. Melanie waited to see if Oliver was going to calm down before she would go in and change him into a new diaper. If he waited too long. He could be very uncomfortable because of the rash he would have.

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Tears began to trickle down Olivers' flushed face as he squirmed, pawing frantically at his thick diaper. Wetness, clammy and burning hot, reddened his thighs with every movement, making him whine and whimper like a baby. His shaved head made him look far more vulnerable, and his frightened, light blue gaze appeared to be frantic, searching each wallpaper-covered

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Melanie watches until Oliver tired himself out and then unlocked the door. She walked in and closed the door behind her. Melanie turned the lights up. So she can see to change Oliver. She lowered the side of the crib and untapes the diaper. Melanie sees Oliver's skin was red. "Oh the poor baby. He has a rash." She gets a washcloth and cleans up his skin and put a thick layer of diaper rash cream on his skin and then put a new diaper on Oliver. Melanie pat the front of the diaper. "You might not like this, but you will learn to accept your new life and when you do. I will not need to keep your hands in mittens." She throws the diaper away and puts the side of the crib back up. Melanie leaves the room and locks the door. She washes her hands and adds the diaper change into Oliver's file.

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Luckily for Melanie, Oliver slept right through his diaper change, only ever moving when he was wiped with the washcloth. His aching rash, while immensely painful, was not more powerful than his fatigue, and just made the teenage boy squirm restlessly. Once the rash cream was rubbed onto his skin in a thick, greasy layer, relieving the stinging pain of the diaper rash, Olivers' whimpering ceased and he sighed. Momentarily, the designated newborn was silent, sleeping even as he was taped into a brand new diaper. Fortunately, he hadn't heard a word of what she had said earlier, caught in a dazed dream and unable to truly awaken. Penetrating the fog of sleepiness was almost impossible, but when Melanie spoke again, he heard her loud and clear, as she told him that he'd learn to accept his new life. His lips moved around the pacifier once he was left alone yet again, drinking the warm baby formula without protest, and he slept until the next morning rolled around. Once more, he took to eying the corners of the darkened room, and realized that he was done with his formula. Without a word, he whined and yanked at the pacifier, staring at the empty plastic IV bag nearby. "Mmmmph." A muffled wail was all that escaped his parted lips as he began to throw a weak tantrum, kicking and writhing about frantically.

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Melanie came in the next morning to check on Oliver. She sees he is awake. "Morning little one." Melanie came over to the crib and lowered the side. She felt the front of his diaper and felt it was wet. "Well you seem to be well on your way to not having any bladder control. Which is good. Babies don't have bladder control." She removes the pacifier from Oliver's mouth. "If I remove your mittens. Do you promise to leave your diaper alone. If I can't trust you to leave your diaper alone. Then you will be left in mittens forever."

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Oliver glanced down at his soggy diaper, and squirmed quite a bit when Melanie walked into the room. He continued to squirm uncomfortably until she finally placed a firm hand on the front of the soaked

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Melanie nods. "Ok I'll get you some milk." She turned to leave to get Oliver some milk when she caught a glimpse of what he was looking at. "You can nurse if you want to, but I don't have any milk in them. Maybe I can get shots to make my breast produce milk." Melanie took the gloves off Oliver's hands and helps him out of the crib. She takes him over to the rocking chair and sets down. Melanie opens her shirt and lets Oliver nurse. "See I told you. No milk."

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Oliver allowed Melanie to help him out of the crib, and blushed deeply when he was taken over to the rocking chair. He chose to ignore his hate for his newfound helplessness, allowing his primal ache for milk to override his mind. While he was tempted to remove the thick diaper while his mittens were removed, he chose not to, fearful that he would be harshly punished for doing such a thing. Once Oliver was set down and Melanie opened her shirt, he began to nurse, suckling on her dry teats hungrily. Though the lack of milk made his stomach churn, he couldn't resist the urge to nurse, and continued to do so with beet-red cheeks. His diaper restricted his mobility, making him whine in protest, but he eventually stopped squirming and relaxed himself when he realized that Melanie wasn't jeering at him or making fun of him. Oliver finished nursing after he came back to his senses, and muttered, "Thank you." He stared at the diaper, and then peered over Melanie's shoulder, staring at the door. While he wanted to escape, he couldn't do very much at the moment, and felt a surge of curiosity; what could be outside the door? Could other teenagers be trapped, like he was? Could he see them, would they tell him anything to help him survive? "Can we go out there?" He asked, pointing to the door with one finger while clinging to Melanie with the other, happy to be able to speak without the pacifier.

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Melanie looks at the door. "I guess so. I'll get a stroller to put you in." She puts Oliver on the floor and goes into the closet to get a stroller. Melanie heard a clicking sound coming from the nursery. She walks to the door and looks out. Melanie smiles and walks up behind Oliver who was trying to open the door. "The door doesn't open without a passkey and passcode. It is so the babies, toddlers and preschoolers can't escape before their time here is up." She puts Oliver in the stroller and took him out of the nursery. Melanie took Oliver to the playroom and lets him out of the stroller. "Have fun. I'll be back later to get you."

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Oliver smiled when Melanie plopped him on the floor and departed momentarily. Seeing his chance, he crawled up to the closed door and tugged at the sides of it, but it wouldn't budge an inch. Bothered by this, he poked at it with his feet with an angry wail, kicking at the metal and heaving until his muscles burned like fire, but it was no use. The door wouldn't budge, no matter how hard he punched or kicked, and he eventually gave up, breathing heavily and sweating. Once Melanie came up behind him and informed him that the blasted door wouldn't even open without a passkey and passcode-whatever those were, he didn't know-before plopping him into the stroller. Oliver begrudgingly allowed her to wheel him into a playroom, full of mostly toddlers and preschoolers, it seemed. Girls around his age toddled about in thinner diapers with boys following, playing a cute game by stacking little wooden blocks. Other "children"(preschoolers in childishly patterned shirts, lacking diapers and wearing loose-fitting overalls)

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One of the other nannies was watching the children in the playroom heard what Sally said. She came over and picked up Oliver. The nanny took Oliver over to one of the chair and took Oliver's diaper off. She put Oliver across her lap and spanked Oliver until his bottom was bright red. The nanny pulled Oliver's diaper up and put him into the timeout playpen in the corner. "Stay there until your nanny comes back to pick you up." She walks off leaving Oliver to set alone on his very sore bottom and think about his bad behavior.

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Oliver squirmed when someone picked him up, crying out in protest as he was carried over to one of the chairs. He refused to cease his frantic writhing, even when the nanny removed his thick diaper and plopped him over her lap. However, the spanking was what made him truly cry, fussing and wriggling like a real newborn, wailing in terror with every hard smack administered to his tender little bottom. No matter how he moved about and cried, the nanny continued to spank him without a smidgen of sympathy, striking him repeatedly until his backside was bright red. Tears poured down his cheeks, and he bawled childishly as he was rediapered and placed into the timeout playpen in the corner. Sniveling, Oliver refused to sit up, instead flopping on his back and fussing with all of his remaining strength.

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The nanny took out her tablet and added the spanking to Oliver's file. She saved it and put her tablet into sleep mode. The nanny put it down and went back to reading her book while the children played.

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Laying on his thickly padded rump, Oliver eventually stopped fussing and looked around the room. He struggled into a sitting position, watching the toddlers hide under blankets and pillows,

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Melanie came in the door of the playroom when Oliver started to cry. As she got closer to the playpen. Melanie could smell what the problem was. "There there little one. Nanny will take care of the problem." She opened the playpen and helped Oliver out. Melanie took him over to the changing table and laid him down. "This took longer than I expected. I thought when I came in this morning. I would find you in a messy diaper, but I guess the medicine in your formula last night took longer to work." She cleaned him up and put a new diaper on him. She put him in

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Oliver cried out in humiliation and shame when Melanie walked into the playroom. Once she opened the playpen and helped him out, he looked over his shoulder, staring down at the sagging diaper filled with poop. He felt more and more infantile by the moment, and Melanies' talking about "his" formula and messy diapers wasn't helping in the slightest. Disgusted by the revelation that she'd drugged the formula, Oliver scowled and wriggled about while she gently wiped off his sore bottom of waste and taped him into a clean diaper. He wriggled around even more once he was forced into the dreaded stroller, kicking and whining as he was told that she'd heard what he said. "She wasn't a little fucking girl; she's obviously my age, or older. It's sick, what she was doing, acting like a fucking toddler. I hope you don't expect me to do that, because I'm not a mother-fucking baby, and I-" His tirade and cursing was cut short when he was strapped down in his crib so he couldn't move at all, and he began to scream for help. The large pacifier cut off his cries, stifled his protest, and made him drool all over himself as he struggled to spit it out. Unable to move, covered in drool, muzzled and blind, Oliver felt like a real newborn for the first time since he'd come here; a weak, defenseless newborn. Even as he tried to kick or punch at the mattress, the straps held him down firmly, and he couldn't really hear or see anything going on around him. For the first time, he panicked, in spite of the music and waves he was hearing in the headphones, hyperventalating and sobbing.

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"What she was doing to being brought up to be a proper little girl. Before she came here. She was a very bad girl. She was one arson arrest away from being put into jail. This is her parents last resort to keep her from being put in prison. When she leaves here. Her criminal record will be wiped clean. No I don't expect you to act like a toddler. It will be a while before you get to that stage. We would hope you aren't. That is just sick a baby fucking their mother." Melanie left the room and came back a short time later with a syringe in her hand. She swabs Oliver's thigh and then injects him with some medicine to put him into a trance like state. So the music and the hypnosis can start working on him.

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Oliver slobbered over his shirt, and gagged on the oversized rubber nipple. Before he could react, Melanie told him about the girl he'd met, how she had been trapped in this awful facility. A chill ran down the length of his spine when Melanie chose to inform him that it'd take quite a while before he became a toddler again. This situation

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Melanie watched for a little bit and then sat down in the rocking chair to read her book while Oliver listened to the hypnotic file to turn him into thinking like a newborn. She nods off with the book in her lap.

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When Oliver awoke, everything was different. He only knew that he was...comfortable, in some kind of..box with bars, and staring up at something spinny. Happy to see this amount of movement, he squealed babyishly and reached for the spinny thing, batting at it with a giggle. He frowned when he couldn't grab it, and the spinning made him feel sick, his stomach churning repeatedly as he squirmed on his bottom. Oliver turned his head to one side, drooling on his body, and cooed when he saw a lady in a rocking chair. She looked friendly! Happy to see whoever this friendly-looking

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Melanie heard giggling and squeals. She opened her eyes and saw Oliver batting at the mobile above the crib. Melanie was surprised it happened that fast. It usually takes longer for the program to start to work. Maybe Oliver was close to being a baby before he got there and it only took a short time to turn the corner. She got out of the rocking chair and walks over to the crib. "Hello sweetie. Did nanny's little one have a nice nap?"

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Oliver smiled cutely at Melanie, and gurgled in response. "Yuh-huh!" He giggled, kicking his legs as he bat at the spinny thing again, entranced by how it made such pretty noises. Before he'd gotten here, Oliver had a sort of secret, one he had veiled under a mask of contempt and teasing, a secret that made him vulnerable to this. He'd had experience with diapers before this...and he'd liked the way it felt.

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