The Executive (Complete)

[tammie2]

The Executive

1.

            Amy Stevens sat at the kitchen island nursing her second glass of wine and staring across at the untouched plate of food she had so lovingly prepared. Tim had been working long hours for weeks and missed far more meals than he made, but had sworn he’d be home tonight in time to share dinner together. Amy sighed. Broken promises had become all too common of late.

            She tried to temper her annoyance as she wrapped the plate of food and placed it in the refrigerator. She understood her husband’s delinquency, at least to some extent. He spent years building the chemical company he founded into one of the top in the industry and now was about to realize the fruits of his efforts. A large international conglomerate had offered a generous buyout that would make them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. Making that happen, though, meant a lot of long hours consulting with lawyers, reading voluminous documents, and meeting after meeting after meeting. The last few months had been difficult for her but absolutely hellacious on Tim, who was showing signs of wear from the stress both physically and emotionally, and the deal still had five weeks to go before the proposed closing date.

            It hadn’t always been like this. When they’d first married fresh out of college ten years ago, he accepted a job that paid him well and insisted that its employees prioritize time with their families. Tim was home for dinner every night and rarely had to work on weekends. Within a year they were able to purchase a large fixer-upper at a bargain price and spent many happy hours together renovating. Not long after that Amy began envisioning which of the spare rooms would be best as a nursery for the baby she longed for.

            Unfortunately Tim’s ambitions forced her to put her plans for a family on hold. He began to feel trapped in his job, unable to freely explore the myriad of ideas he had for new and exciting products that pushed boundaries. Three years into his job, he abruptly quit to form his own company. Startup costs depleted their savings and money was tight. Amy didn’t need to be told that the timing wasn’t right to add a third member to their home. The delay saddened her, but she stood by her spouse knowing she was young and had many child-bearing years ahead of her.

            The early years of the new company were difficult. They soon learned that Tim’s brilliance in innovation didn’t carry over to the skills necessary to run a business. Once he admitted to himself that he needed to surround himself with competent employees, he formed a team that in no time helped the firm secure a name for itself as the place to go when seeking out-of-the-box thinking. It began to thrive and expand and soon finances were no longer a concern for Tim and Amy.

            The company’s success came at a cost, however. Tim was no longer home for dinner every night and worked every Saturday. Worse, the burden of leading the company began to fray his nerves. The gentle, kind, considerate, and loving man Amy married began to get short-tempered, snippy, and at times distant. Even when they shared some intimate time together, which was rare, his mind appeared to be focused elsewhere. There were still times where a glimmer of the old Tim resurfaced and gave Amy hope that their happy times could be restored. And now, with the buyout, those dreams were within reach.

            In the meantime, though, things were worse than ever. Amy nestled onto the couch and tried to remember the last time Tim had let his guard down and become his old self. It was probably as long as six months ago on their anniversary, when he pulled himself away from the office for a late dinner out. Amy caught him staring at a woman at a nearby table nursing her baby and called him out for being rude. Sheepishly, Tim admitted that it wasn’t the woman he was looking at but the infant. How nice it would be, he told her, to switch places with that child for just a short time, with no cares in the world and no responsibilities. All his decisions would be made for him, from what to wear and when to eat to what they would do on any given day. He didn’t even need to worry about interrupting his day to use the bathroom. He would just go in his diaper and a caring adult would clean him up and make everything better. A couple days as a baby would do more to rejuvenate an adult mind than a week on the beach, Tim mused at the time.

            Their food arrived just at that time and nothing more was said on the subject. Now, though, Amy began to turn over the conversation in her mind. What if she could make Tim’s dream come true? Once his deal closed, she could give him exactly what he desired as a surprise, and at the same time give her the opportunity to let her motherly instincts out. Even better, Tim would be her practice baby. With financial independence and no more business worries looming, she could finally get pregnant. She could use Tim to learn how to care for an infant. Any mistakes she made wouldn’t affect an adult as they would a baby, and once his time as a baby was over he could give her feedback, both positive and negative. For that to work, she would need to make the experience as close to real as possible.

            Excited now, and all resentment at Tim a memory, Amy fired up her laptop. Within minutes she was immersed in a world she never knew existed and awestruck at all of the resources available that could make her plans a reality. Furniture, clothing, supplies, and more. She had five weeks and an open checkbook to make this happen as she began to place her orders, giggling at the images flooding her brain.

            The one issue left was how to make sure Tim would effectively leave his adult behaviors behind to become the baby he envisioned at the restaurant and that she wanted him, needed him, to be. A thought struck her. She opened up the company directory, found the name she was looking for, and began typing an email.

 

[tammie2]

 

2.

            Gina leaned back in her chair, silently fuming. For the past six years she had been the head of Research and Development and had been instrumental in the success the firm had achieved. As such her boss, Tim Stevens, had shown his appreciation by compensating her well and granting her the funding to pursue often crazy ideas for new chemicals. Most of those ideas went bust, but the ones that did work out resulted in valuable patents and tens or hundreds of millions of dollars into the company coffers, as well as a long string of awards for Gina and worldwide recognition for her genius. 

            Lately, though, she was becoming unsatisfied with her role here, a feeling that intensified once the company found a suitor to buy them out. She felt that she was being marketed as a tool instead of as a person, a company asset to add value to the price of the buyout. She was cautioned against spending money on new projects, causing her to have too little to do and nothing to engage her mind while at work. Tim had become a major pain in the ass, micromanaging each department despite his lack of knowledge as to what they actually did, and all of the workers were worried about what would happen after the deal closed. There had been no guarantee that anyone, including herself, would still have a job. Then on top of all that, now her boss’s wife wanted to have lunch with her but gave no specifics as to why. She had met Amy at a few office Christmas parties and other events and the two of them immediately bonded, talking the hours away as drunken mayhem unfolded around them. Was Tim using her relationship with his spouse to tell her that she’s been fired? Anxiety and the lack of work made the minutes until lunchtime pass agonizingly slowly.  

            At the restaurant Amy greeted her with a broad smile and a hug. They made small talk for several minutes before Amy grew quiet and looked uncomfortable, which sent warning signals that Gina couldn’t ignore. She decided to be blunt to get this over with.

            “Are you here to tell me I no longer have a job?” she asked.

            “What? No! I mean, is that what you thought?” Amy replied, shocked. “Tim wouldn’t have me do that. In fact, he doesn’t tell me much of anything that’s going on here. That’s part of the reason I’m here. Tim has been, let’s say, not himself at home. Difficult and moody. I’m hoping you can tell me what’s going on with him. Have you noticed changes as well?”

            Gina eyed Amy cautiously before deciding to open up. “It depends what time period you’re referring to,” she said. “For the first several years I worked there, it was an ideal job and he was the ideal boss. Gave me my independence and let my department do its thing no matter how outlandish it seemed. As a result we created some incredible chemical solutions and drugs that have made a huge impact to the general population. It was a dream team. But...”

            Gina hesitated, unsure whether to go on. “But?” Amy prompted.

            “But the last year and a half, maybe longer, have been hell and I hate to tell you this, but it’s because Tim has changed. For a while he considered taking the company public, so all of a sudden profits became more important than societal good. He began to drive everyone hard, kept us working long hours with no overtime, and seemed to forget that we functioned best as a family, not as his employees. It’s gotten even worse since he decided to sell. And to answer your question bluntly, Tim has become an intolerable jerk.” Gina suddenly looked up, having forgotten who she was speaking to. “I’m sorry, Amy, I...”

            “No, don’t apologize. I appreciate your honesty. In some ways it’s a relief to learn that it’s not just me that’s been suffering.” Amy wiped a tear from her eye. An awkward silence followed.

            Gina felt she had to say something. “You said that was part of the reason you asked me to lunch. What’s the rest?”

            Amy’s eyes suddenly brightened and her voice took on a surprising enthusiasm. “I’ve come up with a plan to get the old Tim back,” she smiled. “It won’t make a difference between now and when the sale is finalized, I’m afraid, but I’m hoping you’ll be willing to help me by helping him. And I’ll pay you for your efforts.”

            Amy briefly filled Gina in on the incident in the restaurant with the breastfeeding mother and Tim’s reaction to it. Gina listened intently, her jaw dropping open as the tale unfolded. Amy finished talking and sat back in her chair. “Well?” she asked.

            “That was fascinating, Amy, and I’ll bet Tim wouldn’t be happy to know you shared his thoughts. But what does that have to do with me?”

            “Don’t you see? I’m going to make his dream come true and give him a long weekend to remember as my baby.” Amy’s voice was rising as she spoke. “I’ve already ordered a crib, high chair, playpen, an assortment of baby clothes in his size, as well as a bunch of stuff I don’t even remember, and I’m turning a spare room into an adult-sized nursery. What I want you to do is to use your skills to develop a drug, or formula, or something, to make his experience as real as possible. I want you to help turn him into a helpless baby. Temporarily, of course.”

            Gina stared at Amy in disbelief. “Let me get this straight,” she said, struggling to keep a straight face. “You want me to come up with something you can give him that’ll make him lose all of his adult behaviors. Something that’ll make him as weak as an infant, unable to control any of his functions. Does that include...?” 

            Amy grinned. “Yes, of course. Diapers. No control over his bladder or bowels. Go wild if you want. So that he drools, and can’t do anything other than babble and cry, and can’t eat without dribbling all over his bib. If all you can do is diaper dependence and lack of muscle control that would be fine, but knowing you, you can do better. I do want him to keep his adult mind, though, so that he can fully enjoy the experience.”

            “And all of this is to be done with or without his knowledge?” Gina asked.

            “Oh, I want this to be a total surprise. And it’s got to be reversible, although I’d like a large enough supply of whatever you create so that if it works out we can do it on a regular basis.”

            Gina closed her eyes in thought. She could use the extra cash and she didn’t have any other projects filling her time. A month should be enough time. It seemed harmless enough and she welcomed a challenge. It might even be fun. “Fine, I’ll do it, as long as you know that there are no guarantees, and I get paid no matter what.”

            “That’s wonderful!” Amy exclaimed as she reached over to squeeze Gina’s hand. “You’ve made me so happy.”

            As the two woman chatted about details over the rest of lunch, Gina began to share Amy’s enthusiasm for the project and already possible starting points were bombarding her brain. By the time she left to go back to the office, she couldn’t wait to get busy on her new task.

            The first email that greeted Gina when she got back was a short memo from Tim stating that all employees would have to interview for their jobs with the new management team and that current salaries would be renegotiated for those hired to stay on. Gina’s anger at her boss immediately rocketed into new heights. She took several calming breaths and grabbed a scratch pad with an evil grin. So he wants to be a baby, does he? She was going to make him wish that thought had never entered his mind.

 

[keith60]

i hope there is more to this story soon

[tammie2]

3.

            Over the next few weeks, Amy delighted in preparing the nursery for what she was sure would be one of the most enjoyable times together she and Tim had ever shared. He would realize a dream he would never expect to come true, reenergizing and refreshing his tired mind and body in the process, while she would derive pleasure from helping him in his fantasy and getting to practice being a mother. Once his time as an infant was over, they could start working on making their own baby, which would have its own pleasures. If all went well, within a year she’d have a baby girl or boy to care for. She giggled. Maybe the baby and little Tim could have a play date together. 

            It didn’t take her long to clear out one of the spare bedrooms, which had been used to store holiday decorations and some rarely used exercise equipment. She left the walls white but had the bottom half covered in wallpaper with representations of nursery rhymes that stretched across all four walls. Higher up, she hung drawings of baby animals in diapers and some wall stickers with the ABCs on blocks. She even pasted luminescent stars on the ceiling that would glow until slowing fading while the baby fell asleep.

            She had to force herself not to have the new, adult-sized crib painted pink, as she found she craved caring for a baby girl, but she couldn’t resist adding a frilly white canopy with pink trim that arched above the crib rails along with matching bumpers. Along the wall opposite the crib was a large changing table with built-in shelving below. A wide, sturdy hospital-grade Velcro strap sat at chest level to make sure the baby wouldn’t fall off during changes. It would also give Tim a greater feeling of the helplessness he desired.

            Two of the shelves beneath the changing table were filled with stacks of colorful disposable diapers in a wide variety of patterns. To get so many different styles, Amy had to order a large number of packages, so she had enough extra diapers stored in the back of the closet to use for several more week-long sessions if they decided to repeat their role play. A third shelf contained thick cloth diapers and the most babyish plastic pants Amy could find so that she could practice folding them and test her tolerance for the extra mess and work they entailed. A separate cart at the end of the changing table put powders, creams, and wipes within easy reach while the lower shelves held bathing supplies, a rectal thermometer, pacifiers, and other assorted baby supplies.

            Looking around the room, Amy made a mental checklist of items still missing. A mobile for the crib, a cozy oversized chair for bottle feeding and story time, and of course a toy box filled with age-appropriate toys. The highchair and playpen she was having specially made would be ready in a couple of days. She wondered again about her decision not to commission a stroller and car seat in Tim’s size. As much as she wanted them, she wasn’t sure when they would be used since Tim’s baby time would be just between the two of them. What the hell, she thought, in for a penny...

            She wandered over to the closet and beamed at the long row of outfits nestled on hangers. Playsuits, rompers, onesies, and more. Even a few frilly dresses that she couldn’t resist. She’d pull one of those out after Tim settled into his role as a baby and understood that all decisions were made by the grownup, and they wouldn’t always be what the baby wanted. She knew she’d gone overboard with spending on clothes; she could change Tim’s outfit three times a day and still not come close to exhausting new ones. Besides, what if he spilled food on them?

            Feeding! How could she have forgotten? She’d need bibs and plenty of them, if Gina was able to affect muscle control to that extent. She wondered about how much baby food to buy. She didn’t want Tim to starve but the thought of opening up ten or more jars of food for every meal didn’t appeal to her. Simple, she thought. She’d just take the same meal that she was eating and throw it in the Vitamix then feed it to him from cute plastic bowls. Amy smiled at the vision of the face Tim would make the first time she shoves a little spoon filled with gray glop into his mouth. Well, this is what he wants, she thought.

            Amy felt a familiar tingle as her imagination brought up images of her towering over her husband as she changed his stinky bottom, of forcing disgusting mush into his mouth, of buttoning up the back of his dress. Whether it was the thought of caring for a helpless infant or the reversal of the marital power exchange in which Tim would now be completely reliant upon her, the pleasure these images conjured had the effect of turning her on just a bit. She verified that the electronic lock she installed on the nursery door to make sure Tim didn’t accidentally wander in was engaged, then headed to the bedroom.

[little won]

You are one of my favorite authors. Thank you for the new story! Can’t wait for the rest.

[aldl4811]

I LOVE this start! Can’t wait to see this unfold 

[diaper24/7]

This is going to be good.

[tammie2]

4.

            Gina started out methodically, making a list of typical infant behaviors. Her initial impulse was to delete the more outlandish ones as too difficult to achieve, but as the stress of the workplace intensified due mostly to Tim’s behavior, she became determined to at least give them a shot. She was supposedly a creative genius after all, and what’s the harm in trying? She’d begin with the easier and more essential traits then branch out from there as time permitted. Thankfully, with Amy bankrolling her efforts, cost was no object.

            The first was both the easiest and the most essential, lack of bladder and bowel control. It was also the one that gave Gina the most satisfaction, picturing her overbearing boss pissing and shitting himself with no way to hold back. Over the counter diuretics and laxatives gave her a clue as to what areas of the body’s physiology to focus on but wouldn’t have the desired effect of total short-term incontinence. She needed to find a way to cancel out the physical body’s signals to the brain of the need to release so that the first notice Tim would have of his need to pee or poo would be a warming in his crotch area or the smell coming from his rear. 

            Researching incontinence and its causes brought her closer to a solution, and within three days she was pretty sure she had the combination of drugs and herbs that would reach the desired goal. Another day and she discovered the process to merge them all into a potent powder form. To test it, she dissolved a mere eighth of a teaspoon in a small cup of water and drank it. An hour later she was sitting in a pool of her own pee. When she rushed to the bathroom to clean herself up, she was shocked to see a small load in the back of her panties, which she reluctantly had to discard. Only after several accidents and packages of disposable adult pull-ups later, along with focusing intently on retraining her brain to recognize the signs of an imminent release, was she able to function normally again, not counting the couple of random wet beds a week later. At first Gina worried that the effects of the drug might remain long after Tim stopped taking it, and that Amy might have to re-potty train her husband, but then the image of Tim being escorted to the ladies’ room at Target to have his panties changed made her smile and her concerns vanished.

            Still, she wanted his humiliation to go beyond snickers at his infantile lack of toileting. But how? Then it dawned on her after eating a dinner with asparagus. Wet and messy diapers would obviously embarrass him, but his accidents would be hidden to anyone but himself until Amy did a diaper check. Even dirty diapers weren’t always that obvious unless you were up close. Within a couple of hours she was able to add one more element to her concoction. The odor of his urine and bowel movements would be somewhere between three and five times greater than normal. The scent of even the smallest accident would fill a room. As a bonus, she included an additive that would give more depth to the yellow color of his urine, leaving no doubt that he didn’t simply spill water on his pants should he have a little accident while still playing grownup.

            Next on the list, and also one of Amy’s requirements, was a substantial reduction in motor skills. This would be no issue at all, as Gina’s doctorate thesis centered on solutions to muscular degeneration in adults. Her research included massive amounts of information on the causes, so all she had to do was reverse engineer available medications and target healthy areas of the body to essentially lose their control. An elusive thought flitted at the edge of her brain from when she wrote that damn paper but she couldn’t capture it. Finally, when she got home, she dug into boxes until she found her notes from school. Of course. An experimental medication meant to help strengthen muscles to improve motor skills turned out not only to be ineffective, but significantly reduced the strength of its subjects. She had to be careful here, as she needed to give Tim enough power to crawl into his crib or highchair, but still be unsturdy and weak to the point that he’d be unable to resist the actions of any adult, or even an older child, and would find crawling preferable to walking. Check that off the list.

            Gina now had Amy’s essentials covered, and with weeks to go she could expand and refine what she now called her “baby powder.” She found a way to limit his ability to form words similar to having an injection of Novocain, which would also encourage near-constant drooling. It was easy to have his digestive system react to the intake of liquids by becoming gassy, which could only be alleviated by burping him. She was getting closer and with each passing day, her delight in her creation increased her excitement. She hoped that Amy would let her see the results of her efforts.

            Still, she knew something was missing. It finally clicked one night when she was watching a movie with an erotic love scene. She was focusing on behaviors a baby has that an adult does not, but not behaviors that an adult has that a baby doesn’t. The number one, of course, was sex. If Tim was going to be a true toddler, she had to take away his ability to achieve an erection. A quick perusal of online medical journals gave her the solution to that. It would be reversable, so Amy could still get pregnant once she stopped administering the powder to Tim. Since it involved high levels of anti-androgens and other testosterone suppressants, as well as ingredients that mimicked estrogen, though, extended use could cause some shrinkage down there and some breast growth, but occasional short-term use should be fine. After some thought, Gina decided there may be some effects it would be better not to tell Amy about, and temporary impotence was one. She didn’t want to cause unnecessary panic.

            Five days before Amy’s deadline, Gina was able to manufacture large quantities of her magic powder as well as a vial of liquid to allow for a head start if she wanted. Gina drove around to several big box stores buying up cases of baby formula. She carefully weighed out each individual portion of her creation and whisked it into each container of formula, resealed them, and packed them back in the boxes. It was a large supply, such that even if Amy and Tim used it every day it would last for several years, and Gina had the recipe for the additive safely stored in case they wanted more. Satisfied, she called Amy to set up a time for delivery.

 

[diaper24/7]

She like a cat playing with a mouse in this chapter lol.

[tammie2]

 

5.

            “You have to understand that it hasn’t undergone any testing,” Gina told Amy as they packed away the last of the cases of formula in the storage room, choosing not to disclose her own panty-wetting episodes. “I don’t have any doubts that it’ll work, but there are a lot of unknowns, especially as to how long-lasting it is. As far as the dosage, you’ll get maximum effect with up to six bottles per day if you follow the container’s instructions on the number of scoops per ounce of water. I don’t think you should go beyond that without checking with me first, so if you plan giving him more formula than that you should stock up on some unadulterated stuff. Remind me, how long are you planning on caring for him as your baby?”

            Amy’s initial plan to do it only for a three-day weekend gradually stretched out as the amount of work she put into the nursery increased. “A week, I think,” she answered. “I told Tim that I’ve made plans for us to go on a surprise vacation for that amount of time, and it might take him a few days to relax into the role of a child.”

            “In that case,” Gina said, “you might want to wean him off the mixture after the fifth day, just to be safe. There might still be some lingering effects, though, so if you don’t want to be cleaning up puddles you may want to invest in some thick training pants to use for a few days after you bring him back to adulthood. At the front end, though, I made this for you.”

            Gina reached into her purse, brought out a small blue vial, and handed it to Amy. “It’s a diluted form of my formula in case you want to get just a little head start before his first diaper. Put four drops in his coffee each morning starting on Wednesday. By Friday night, he’ll be running to the bathroom every half hour or so and will start to feel weak. That should make his transition to diapers easier in case his initial impulse is to resist using them, which isn’t healthy. It wouldn’t surprise me if you have a well-soaked, dirty diaper by bedtime that day.”

            Amy took the vial and stared at it with a strange smile on her face. It had begun to hit home just how close she was to the culmination of her efforts and to realizing her—um, Tim’s—fantasy. The intimate bond of mother and child as she changes her baby, or when he’s nuzzled close to her chest as she feeds him. A sudden urge to lactate and feed her husband from her breast entered her mind and she felt that tingle again, but she would ask Gina about that another time. 

            “Anything else I should know?” she asked instead.

            “Just a few details,” Gina responded. “Don’t worry that there’s something wrong if the smell is strong the first time you make a bottle for him. I’ve intensified the taste of the formula to account for the fact that as an adult we don’t have as many taste buds as we do when we’re young, and we want Tim to experience the full flavor of infant formula that babies experience. Be prepared for him to try to spit it out at first. In fact, you’ll need to start dealing with drool, spit up, regurgitated food, and all sorts of messes beyond what you find in his diapers. And even though he’ll still have the appearance of an adult due to his size, if not what he’s wearing and smelling like, never forget that he’s as helpless as any other infant and you need to treat him accordingly. 

         “Don’t leave him alone in the bathtub, or alone at any time unless he’s caged in his playpen or crib and remember that he won’t be able to communicate with you with words. You’ll need to interpret his grunts and babbles to decide if he’s hungry, in pain, or just needs a change. And if you find you need to run an errand outside the home, you’ll either need to take him with you or hire a babysitter. He can’t be trusted on his own.”

         Amy almost creamed her pants as she listened to Gina describe how dependent Tim would be on her. Forgotten memories of how he would insist on dictating what she wore when they attended corporate events floated back into her brain, how he would throw her a look of disapproval when she’d order a cheeseburger instead of a salad when they went out for dinner, or even criticizing the color of her lipstick. Now she’d be in complete charge of not only herself but of him. She’d be the one deciding if he’d eat creamed peas or carrots, or whether he’d wear the duckie onesie or the lamb playsuit, and she’d make sure to comment on how he had pureed chicken all over his face at dinner. She almost missed the fact that Gina was still talking.

          “I’d appreciate it if you would let me come by around the third or fourth day to spend a couple of hours just to make sure that there aren’t any negative side effects,” Gina said. She was certain that there wouldn’t be and it probably wasn’t necessary to visit, but she wanted to see Tim in his regressed state, maybe even take a picture or two, and if the timing was right, be there when he gets his diaper changed. He’ll be horrified, of course, but it might be useful in the future if they ever work together again and she wants to ask for a raise.

          “Well, of course,” Amy replied. “I was going to suggest it myself. After all of the work you’ve put in, I’m sure you’ll want to see how your formula is working out. We could have a glass of wine while he stacks blocks in his playpen. Maybe you’d like to give him his bottle.”

           Now it was Gina’s turn to be flooded with a pleasurable anticipation. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Did you reach out to that AV guy I recommended?”

          “I did. He was here for several hours putting miniature speakers inside the bars of the crib and playpen as well as almost everywhere that Tim will be spending time. You never did tell me why you wanted me to do that.”

         “This is why,” Gina told her, handing Amy an external USB drive. “Download this into the music system the guy installed, which allows you to choose where the music will play. It contains lullabies and other music aimed at babies with subliminal messages that’ll help Tim relax and accept his role as an infant. Play it in his crib while he sleeps, and in the playpen while he plays. You get the idea. Just make sure you don’t expose yourself to its contents unless you have desires to join him in la la land.”

          Amy accepted the USB with a broad grin. What Gina didn’t tell her was that the hidden, hypnotic voice also contained messages intended to confuse Tim when he tried to do the most simple tasks, like feed himself or stack blocks. It would reinforce his knowledge that he’s an adult and should know how to do this, therefore causing him extreme humiliation when he was unable to figure out tasks that most toddlers perform easily. Amy might find herself with a cranky baby at playtime. Worse, at least for Tim, are the messages intended to remove all knowledge of how to use a toilet. He’ll know its purpose and want to perform, but once seated will forget and be unable to go. Within thirty seconds of being removed from the potty, he’ll release his bladder and bowels. It would take much longer than a week of the music to take effect, but extended play over a number of regressive sessions and Amy might have a difficult stretch of potty training ahead of her.

            “I can’t thank you enough,” Amy told Gina as they headed to the door. “I can’t wait to give such a wonderful gift to Tim.”

            “He’ll never forget it, that’s for sure,” Gina said smiling, humming to herself as she walked to her car.

[sc7738]

LOve where this is going, please keep it going. and thank you

[aldl4811]

I am so excited just anticipating what is about to come  

[tammie2]

6.

            Amy rolled out of bed when she heard Tim get into the shower and hurried downstairs to start the coffee maker. It was early, not yet 6:00 a.m., and on any other day she would have buried herself under the covers while he got ready for work. Not today. Today was a special day. It was Wednesday, two days before the sale of his business closed, and the first day for the special medicine to be added to his drink. She placed the vial out of sight behind the coffee maker and waited.

            “You’re up?” Tim asked as he entered the kitchen, still adjusting his tie.

            “Of course,” Amy replied as pleasantly as she could despite still being half asleep. “You’ve been working such long hours this week that I thought the least I could do was to have your coffee and toast ready for you.” As she spoke Amy turned her back to him, poured Tim’s mug full, and slipped the vial out from its hiding place. She quickly squeezed four drops of the liquid in, hesitated, then added two more. It couldn’t hurt to make certain it worked, she thought. 

            “Thanks,” Tim mumbled as she placed his breakfast in front of him, his mind already focused on the million tasks he needed to accomplish that day. He absentmindedly sipped his coffee, oblivious to the mirthful stares of his wife, perched on a stool on the other side of the kitchen island. He began to stand, leaving his drink unfinished.

            “Not so fast, young man,” Amy chirped. “You need to finish all of it so that you’ll grow up big and strong.” She picked up the mug, moved over to her husband, and held it to his lips.

            Tim was in a hurry to get to the office, so rather than question Amy’s odd behavior he placed his hand over hers, tipped the cup back, and drained the remainder of the coffee before hustling out the door without so much as a thank you.

            Amy didn’t mind his cold behavior. A week ago she would have been offended at being virtually ignored, but that was then. Today, those six little drops were the beginning of something wonderful. In just two days, his journey to infancy would come to fruition and over the following week they’d bond again. He’d find the peace that he’s been seeking for years by allowing her to take total responsibility over his life, and when he emerged on the other side he’d be the old Tim again, fun and stress-free. Amy giggled. Even if it takes numerous smelly diapers and feedings from a baby bottle, she’d make a new man out of him.

            

            Tim was annoyed. It was only mid-afternoon and he needed to pee for what, the sixth or seventh time today? Now was no time for a bladder infection. He had tons of work to do before he left the office and the constant interruptions were hindering his efficiency. Fortunately one of the perks of being the boss is a private bathroom adjacent to his office. As he walked to the toilet, he had a brief episode of vertigo, feeling disoriented and dizzy to the point he had to steady himself against the wall for a minute. He shrugged it off. He’d been pushing himself to his limit and beyond this week and his body was rebelling. Just two more days, he told himself, then he could sleep the entire weekend away.

            Only then did he remember something Amy had said a few days ago. Or was it last week? Something about a vacation she’d planned for them. He frowned. The only vacation he wanted was some rest, a cold case of beer, and sports on tv. He’d wait until this deal closed and he got home on Friday, then cancel whatever plans she had. She’d be upset at first, but would eventually come around, especially when she saw the money he’d just made. He’d take her out to dinner, buy her a dress or something, and remind her who made the decisions in the household.

            Stumbling into the bathroom, Tim thought better of trying to do his business standing up and pulled his pants and underwear down in one swift motion before plopping his bottom on the toilet seat. He started off into space, unfocused, as he seemed to pee a gallon before his bladder was empty. Reaching down to pull up his underwear, he gasped. The front of his briefs had a large damp circle that trailed into the crotch. Worse, a smear of odorous brown muck sat in the rear. Tim sat in shock. How could that have happened? When did it happen? Could anyone have noticed?

            Now that he was aware of the state of his undies, Tim couldn’t get the noxious smell out of his nose. He hesitantly checked his pants and found them slightly damp but not enough to show, at least he hoped so. Carefully stepping out of his soiled underpants, he buried them deep in the trash. Unrolling reams of toilet paper, he tried to clean himself up as best he could. For the first time, he regretted his decision not to install a shower in his office.

            Satisfied he’d done enough, Tim returned to his desk. With every movement, though, he felt his privates move untethered. He had a meeting in ninety minutes. Could he pass going commando? It’s a risk he couldn’t afford to take. He reached for his intercom.

            “Jenny, would you please come in for a minute?” 

            Seconds later, his secretary entered the office, a quizzical look on her face. Tim hadn’t politely asked her for anything in months; it had been all commands. Do this, do that. At only twenty-three years of age, she knew that she hadn’t been hired for her secretarial skills, which at that time were limited at best. Her buxom top, tight behind, and fresh face were the only assets Tim had considered. He hadn’t gotten up her skirt yet, but not for lack of trying.

            “Yes, sir?” she asked timidly. 

            “I need you to go down the block to that clothing store and pick up some men’s briefs, waist size 32. Better get two packs. Be back here in thirty minutes.”

            Jenny stood frozen. She hadn’t been sure what he needed her for this time, but this certainly wasn’t it. Her mind wildly conjured up a dozen different scenarios for the request, none of them flattering for her boss. 

            “Didn’t you hear me? Now go!” Tim yelled frantically, rising to hand her cash for the purchase. Jenny reached across the desk to accept the money, surreptitiously glancing down at Tim’s crotch as she did so. Was that a wet spot or her imagination? She quietly sniffed the air, again not sure if she was imagining a telltale fragrance.

            “Yes, Mr. Stevens, I’ll be right back.” As she headed toward the elevator, Jenny’s temper began to rise. Tim had been an absolute terror for a while, and now he was asking her to run a highly personal errand for him. She suddenly recoiled. Would he ask her to put the new undies on him, or ask how they looked? Based on past experience, there wasn’t a line he wouldn’t cross to get sexual in her presence. An idea formed that had her smiling by the time she left the building.

 

            “What do you mean, this is all they had?” Tim’s face had turned a deep reddish-purple and was ready to explode.

            “There was apparently a sale on men’s and boy’s underthings,” Jenny replied sweetly, “and there was nothing left except a few pair of Spiderman underpants that were way too small.” She put on a pout. “I didn’t want to return with nothing and thought you’d appreciate my initiative.”

            Tim looked at the two packs of women’s panties sitting on his desk. One contained three pink pairs, the other assorted floral prints. He counted to ten slowly, breathing in and out to try to bring himself under control. 

            “Fine. Just leave,” he finally said, admiring the view as Jenny turned and left. He had no choice and went into the bathroom to change. As he pulled his pants down, he was dismayed to see a thin trail of urine down the inside of one leg of his pants. He tore open one package of the panties, and quickly donned all three pair.

            Outside the office, Jenny smiled. When Tim left for his meeting, she would sneak into his bathroom and look in the wastebasket to see what she could find.

 

[tammie2]

7.

            It took all of Amy’s resolve to pull herself out of bed early once more. Tim had been surly since he got back from work late last night, keeping to himself and barely acknowledging her presence. He added to her misery by getting out of bed seemingly every half hour during the night, disrupting her sleep. She turned over in bed, throwing her arm across Tim’s side in an effort to find a comfortable position. As soon as her hand landed, though, she sat up. His side of the sheets were damp. Excited now, Amy moved over and put her nose close to the wet spot. No question about that smell. No wonder he kept getting up.

            That was all the motivation she needed to throw on a bathrobe and hurry to the kitchen to start brewing the coffee. This time, she resisted temptation and added only the recommended four drops. If Tim was already having troubles staying dry, she didn’t want to push things too far too fast.

            While Amy was in the kitchen, Tim was struggling to get ready in the bathroom. He had never felt so fatigued. Even holding his razor during his morning shave was a chore, both because his arm felt so heavy and his hand had small tremors that risked cutting himself. Once done, he peeked into the bedroom and was relieved to see that Amy wasn’t there. Moving as quickly as his tired body allowed, he pulled three pair of his underwear out of the drawer and slipped them on, one on top of another, then grabbed the remaining two to put in his briefcase. Would that be enough to make it through the day? He stood perfectly still until he could hear Amy humming in the kitchen downstairs. Returning to the bathroom, he rummaged under the sink until he found the menstrual pads she used for her heavy-flow days. Pulling the strip off two of them, he positioned them in his crotch and put pressure on them until he was sure the adhesive was sticking. To be safe, he took two more out of the pack and added them to his spare briefs.

            The extra padding made it difficult to walk without a slight waddle, which made Tim wonder whether the bulk around his middle was noticeable. On his way to the kitchen, he put his overcoat on to cover any telltale signs. Amy greeted him with an odd expression.

            “Are they calling for rain today?” she asked sweetly as she placed Tim’s breakfast and coffee on the island.

            Tim merely grunted and looked askance at the steaming mug. Coffee’s diuretic effect was the last thing he needed today, but then he barely slept and needed to be alert and at his best mentally as the takeover neared its conclusion. In the end, he drained the cup and even asked for half a mug more, puzzled at the joy Amy seemed to express as she turned to meet his request. Without another word, Tim left for the office.

            The door had barely shut behind her husband before Amy opened up her laptop. From all appearances, Gina’s formula was far more effective than she had imagined. It may even be increasing the amount of urine Tim was producing. Combined with the number of bottles of both formula and juice she intended to feed her new baby each day, his diapers may reach capacity much too fast. She didn’t want to spend every waking moment changing him. She found what she was looking for, placed a rush order for thick booster pads, and headed back to bed.

 

            Tim arrived at the office, all too aware that he had already dribbled. So far, though, the pads were up to the task. If he was careful to use the bathroom on a regular basis and checked the pads and underpants each time he went, he should be fine. He mumbled a gruff good morning as he passed Jenny’s desk, oblivious to her broad smile. He hung up his coat then moved around his desk. Just the effort of walking in from the parking lot exhausted him and he was impatient to nestle into the comfort of his chair. Doing so would also enable his desk to hide any bulges or, god forbid, wet spots.

            As he pulled out his chair, he was startled to see a brightly colored plastic package sitting where his rear end was meant to go. He picked it up while in the same motion lowered himself to a seated position, feeling instant relief. Tim now examined the package, and a chill went down his spine. It was a 15-pack of pull-ups for teenagers. On the front of the package were smiling faces of both boys and girls and the phrase “They’re never too old for Wimpers.” Tim looked at the size and immediately confirmed that with his slim frame, he could fit in them. Underneath the waist size was the notation “Style D, for heavy wetters.”

            Recovering from his initial bout of surprise, he now had to get to the bottom, so to speak, of who left these here. A quick trip to the bathroom showed that the trash can and his soiled underwear had been emptied. Still, he couldn’t imagine that the cleaning crew would be presumptuous enough to leave such an embarrassing gift, or that given what they got paid that they would spend their money on him. That left one option, which Tim realized he knew from the moment he saw the package on his chair. He pressed the button on his intercom. 

        “Jenny, would you come in here for a moment?” His secretary was there in a flash. “Please close the door.”

        Tim placed the package of pull-ups on the desk between them. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

       Jenny’s cheeked flushed red. “Not at all, Mr. Stevens,” she replied firmly. “You’re always preaching to me that I need to take more initiative. Well, I couldn’t help but notice yesterday that you were, um, having some potty issues. I’m sorry, I mean problems with your toileting. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, sir, you’re under a lot of stress. My sister’s a preschool teacher, and she said it’s not unusual for students who are potty trained to wet themselves due to nerves at the beginning of the term. So she stocks training pants for the little ones to use after an accident and until they can prove to her that they can stay dry. She even takes them to the potty on a timed basis to minimize the chances of puddling. I figured what works for them would be just what you need until you get things under control.”

       Tim stared at Jenny unhappily. “You intend to take me to the toilet?” he asked sarcastically.

       Jenny laughed. “Oh no, well, not unless you need me to. I thought I would just set an alarm on my watch for every hour or so and remind you to go when it buzzes. We could see how that works and adjust the timing if it turns out to be too long. And if you do have any pee pee or poopy accidents, these panties should prevent anyone from knowing. Although if you make stinkies, you’ll need to change right away of course. I put baby wipes in the bathroom and borrowed a diaper pail from my sister so that you can hide away any odors. And if you need any help cleaning up, or need me to run out and get a fresh pair of pants, you know where to find me.”

       Tim stared silently at Jenny for several moments. There was no sign that she was anything but sincere, but inside he felt a deep humiliation anyway. His initial reaction was to give her the package to take away, but the fact that she noticed his problem yesterday meant that he wasn’t able to hide it as well as he thought. He thought ahead to his series of meetings. He couldn’t show any sign of weakness, such as rushing out to the bathroom multiple times. For now, though, he’d see how the pads held up.

       “Thank you, Jenny. I appreciate your thoughtfulness but doubt that these will be necessary. You can return to your desk now.”

       With Jenny gone, Tim turned his attention to the stacks of paper on his desk. He was so caught up that he jumped when his intercom buzzed. 

       “Mr. Stevens, it’s been an hour,” Jenny’s voice said gently. “Time to go potty.”

       Tim glared at the annoying device on his desk and decided to ignore her. He turned to go back to his work but had second thoughts. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to use the bathroom and to check his pads. He waddled to the bathroom, surprised that his underwear felt so much heavier than earlier this morning. Sitting on the toilet, Tim let out a loud sigh. The pads were saturated and had leaked into the first two layers of his underpants. He was still debating what to do when his office door opened and Jenny came into the room.

       “There you are! I’m sorry, but when you didn’t acknowledge me I became concerned. Would you like me to check how you’re doing?” Without waiting for an answer, Jenny approached Tim, who sat mortified as she closed in. “Tsk, tsk, this won’t do at all,” she told him sternly. “You know that Kotex aren’t designed for incontinence. Don’t move, I’ll go grab one of your pull-ups.”

      Tim found himself frozen to the spot, unable to think of how to extricate himself from the situation. All too soon, Jenny returned and stood towering over him. In her hand was a thick, floral disposable undergarment that looked all too similar to a toddler’s training pants.

       “Stand up now, and step out of those nasty panties,” Jenny instructed, lifting Tim by the elbow. “Oh my, there’s pee everywhere. Let me grab a couple of wipes. There, now these might be a little cold.” Jenny proceeded to grab Tim’s penis, wrapping a wipe around it and rubbing slightly. The wipe was in fact cold, and Tim’s parts reacted accordingly, shrinking in size. He swore he heard a slight snicker.

       Thankfully Jenny moved on quickly, ending by running a wipe down his butt crack and sticking a wipe-covered finger inside of him. Again, he heard her sigh. She straightened up to hold a brown-streaked wipe inches from his eyes. “Looks like someone needs lessons in wiping,” she said. “We’ll work on that later. Now step in.”

      By this stage Tim was no better than a robot, following her commands without question. He just wanted this to be over. He watched as Jenny pulled up the panties and felt the thick fabric as it nestled between his legs. Jenny patted him both front and rear then ran her fingers around the waistband before wrapping the saturated pads in his underwear and stuffing the bundle into the diaper pail.

       “Just the right size, I think,” she said with pride. “May I make a suggestion? It might be a good idea to work without pants until you have to go to your meetings. That way if you leak, they won’t get wet. Easier to clean up the seat of your chair than run out for a new pair. And if anyone drops by the office, they won’t see you below the waist.”

       Tim stared to object; there was no way he would go without his pants. Before a word left his mouth, though, Jenny was already grabbing a hanger from his coat closet and placing the pants on it. With a cursory check of her watch, Jenny left the office.

      Tim sat down, disconsolate. He wasn’t used to allowing things to spin out of control like this. His mind seemed muddled somewhat and might explain his passive reaction to Jenny’s ministrations. He took a deep breath. One more day after today before Jenny and his issues with his bladder were a thing of the past.

 

 

[tammie2]

8.

     The rest of the day was mostly a blur. By lunchtime Jenny had stopped using the intercom and every hour simply entered the office unannounced, checked his pull-ups, then lead him to the toilet and stood over him until he performed. As intrusive and inappropriate as this was, Tim had to admit that it was effective. By the time of this last meeting of the day, the meeting in which the final details would be hashed out, he had only had to change his underpants twice, and his pants stayed dry. 

     This final meeting, though, went on forever. He found his mind wandering, and had trouble comprehending some of what the parties were discussing. He decided early on to just let his legal team take the lead and they were happy to do it. It was after 7:00 when the meeting finally adjourned, everyone thrilled that they’d made it to the finish line. Tomorrow morning was a mere formality with Tim and the head of the other company signing the agreement in an elaborate staged ceremony. 

     Members of his negotiating team were in a celebratory mood and decided to all go out for drinks. Tim thought that sounded good, but as he slid back in his chair to stand up he felt his butt land in a puddle. He made his excuses and was offended that no one expressed any disappointment at his absence or tried to convince him to come. He has been pushing people hard, he knew. They’ll probably appreciate some time out of his company.

     He sat there, waiting for the office to clear, and finally started to rise when the main lights went out. Suddenly a shadow appeared on the table. Tim looked up in a panic, relieved when he saw Jenny standing in the door.

     “You didn’t have to wait around,” Tim told her. “I had things under control.”

     “I see that,” she answered. “All top executives go pee pee in their pants during high-level meetings. It’s partly my fault, I should have lined the pull-ups with a booster pad, although given the size of that puddle even that might now have been enough.” Jenny wrinkled her nose. “And you smell like a soggy baby. Come on, little one, let’s go back to your office and get you in some clean undies.”

     Jenny reached out her hand to her boss and without thinking, he took it and let her lead him back to his office. He had never felt so small and hated that he had become reliant on his secretary for such an intimate function. He had to keep telling himself that tomorrow at this time, all of this would be behind him.

     “Go stand in the bathroom and let me assess the damage,” Jenny instructed him. Tim obeyed without protest. He started to shiver as the urine cooled. “Bad news,” she told him. There’s no way you can go out in public in these pants. No matter which side I look at, there are large wet spots. People a block away would be able to see your accident. Step out.”

     He was subject once more to the humiliation of this young woman pulling off his pants and underwear as if her were a toddler. To her credit, she was all business, although he thought he did hear her mutter “gross” as she handled his pull-ups. Jenny placed the soiled underpants in the diaper pail, then opened it up, pulling the bag containing all of the evidence of his toileting issues out before tying it at the open end. “We need to make sure the cleaners dispose of these,” she explained. Your office stinks.”

     Jenny retrieved another pair of pull-ups, these decorated with cartoon characters he didn’t recognize, but before she had him step in, she stood back up. “I didn’t see this before,” she said with an air of sadness, “but the bottom of your shirt is soaked as well. You can’t wear that.” She proceeded to unbutton his shirt then grabbed each cuff in turn to allow him to pull his arms out. She left the office for a moment and returned with a plastic bag, dumping his jeans, shirt, and underpants he arrived at the office in inside.

     Jenny smirked. “You can’t exactly leave the office in just your trainers,” she said. “Hold on, I may have a solution.” She left the office and came back a few minutes later holding an armful of garments. “I keep these here in case I want to go to the gym after work,” she told him. “They’ll be small on you but at least you’ll be mostly covered.”

     Tim reached for the clothing only to have Jenny slap his hand away. “Let mommy do it,” she said. He stepped into the sweat pants, thankful they were gray, but as Jenny pulled them up to his waist he saw pink and neon green stripes down the length of each leg. The bottom of the legs ended several inches above his ankles. Before he could say anything Jenny was holding an arm hole of the matching top out to him. “I’m guessing we don’t need the sports bra,” she commented.

     With her help, he slipped on the sweatshirt. Again, the hem ended well above his waist. Jenny circled Tim as he stood there, clucking her tongue now and then. 

     “Well, it’s not perfect but it’ll have to do. The bottoms are so tight that the outline of your pull-up shows, but I don’t think anyone who isn’t aware of what you have on underneath would know. On the other hand, the top of the pull-up sticks out and that’s pretty obvious since the top doesn’t fall far enough down to cover it. I’m sorry, boss, but the stores are closed now so this is the best I can do.

     “If I were you I’d hustle to your car. After that you should be okay, although you may have some explaining to do to Amy. You can return my sweats tomorrow, but no matter how short a time you wear them for, I expect them to be washed. I don’t want to smell like urine or worse the next time I work out. Do you understand?”

     Tim nodded. Satisfied, Jenny patted his bottom, returned to her desk to grab her purse, then she was gone. Tim waited five more minutes, then followed her path to the exit.

 

     “Oh you poor dear,” Amy gushed as Tim stripped off Amy’s sweats and grabbed a pair of his own jeans. “Let me get everything in the washer then you can tell me all about it.”

     As she gathered Tim’s pee-soaked clothes, Amy couldn’t help but feel elated. Gina had clearly known what she was doing. As upset as Tim was now, when he’s diapered it’ll be a different story. His diapers will be much more absorbent than his pull-ups, and she or some other caregiver will be around to change him when necessary. And his fantasy is to be babied, not to be a panty-wetting toddler. He’ll be so excited.

     The wash started, she returned to the kitchen and started heating up Tim’s dinner. Tim had barely spoken other than to explain why he was in woman’s sweats. He was upset about his accidents, but seems to have had no issues wearing his secretary’s clothes. Amy was hopeful that this would make putting baby in his first dress a piece of cake.

     Tim started to eat, but seemed troubled. “Amy,” he started hesitantly, “about the vacation...”

     “Don’t you worry your little head about that,” Amy jumped in. “I’ve taken care of every little detail. You will just love it, and at the end of the week all of your stress will be forgotten.”

     “But...” Tim began again, “I’m not sure that these issues with... with holding my bladder will be resolved by then.”

     “That won’t be a problem, not in the least,” Amy replied. “You just have to trust me.”

     Tim didn’t look convinced but was tired and didn’t want to argue. He’d get a good night’s sleep, take care of the signing at work, then raise the subject again. Amy meant well, but he would get his way in the end.

[tammie2]

9.

 

     Through bleary eyes, Amy watched her husband walk to the bathroom to get ready for his final day at the company. In truth he was waddling more than walking, she thought, observing how low his pull-up was hanging. Last night he still got up several times to pee, but eventually gave in to his need for sleep and ended up soaking himself. Amy was looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep tonight when she’d have the bed to herself while Tim was pissing his diapers in his crib.

     As she sat up and prepared to go to the kitchen, she sniffed the air. She wasn’t entirely sure, but it smelled like Tim may have done more than just wet. In just the last few days, their bedroom was already smelling like a baby’s nursery. She’d air out the room once Tim left today, and from here on the diaper odors would be confined to the rest of the house. She took a perverse pleasure in thinking that any guest who walked in the front door would know that a baby lived there even before seeing the playpen and baby toys scattered around the living room.

     She was just putting the fourth drop into Tim’s coffee when he entered the kitchen.

     “Just half a cup today,” he told her, although his words were slurred and a little hard to understand. If he was only going to drink half a cup, Amy thought, she still wanted to make sure he got the full effect of four drops. She quickly added another four to the mug, figuring that in drinking half he’d still get the requisite amount of medicine.

     When she turned to give Tim his coffee, she was shocked at his appearance. He had missed buttoning up most of his dress shirt, his belt remained unbuckled, and his tie was a mess. When he went to pick up his coffee, he had to use two hands to bring it to his lips, and even then not all of it made it into his mouth. Any gently helped tip the cup for him, inadvertently assisting until the whole cup was drained. It then occurred to her that in doing so Tim had received a double dose of Gina’s formula. Well, he only had to make it through the morning, she thought.

     “There’s something wrong with this shirt,” Tim mumbled as he fiddled with one of the buttons. Amy watched for a few moments, gauging how much his motor skills had already deteriorated. She then moved around the island to help.

     “It’s okay, baby,” she said gently. “Mommy’s so proud of you trying to get dressed all by yourself like a big boy, but let me do that for you.” She ignored Tim’s glare as she buttoned him up and tied his tie. She smiled as she saw his pull-up when she buckled his belt. She then noticed that Tim’s shoes were untied, and kneeled down to get that job done as well.

     “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to drive to work today, dear,” she told him. “Let me call you an Uber.” Minutes later, as soon as Tim had crawled into the car, she hurried to get dressed. There was so much to do before he returned.

 

     Amy struggled to carry the heavy wooden playpen downstairs, but eventually was able to move it into the living room. The bars were high enough that they would rise above Tim’s head while he was sitting in it and the latch for its door required pushing a button at the same time as squeezing a trigger, which would be beyond her baby’s ability to perform. Once he was ensconced inside, he’d have to wait for an adult to get him out. The waterproof mat that served as the bottom of the playpen was cushy and soft, and she adored the pattern of baby blocks with numbers and letters on them, accented by pink and blue diaper pins.

     Amy returned upstairs to grab more supplies. She knew she wouldn’t want to have to bring Tim upstairs every time he needed changing, so she had cleared a space on the first-floor bookshelf for diapers, a changing pad, wipes, and baby powder. She brought two containers of baby formula laced with Gina’s concoction into the kitchen and placed them in a cabinet next to two extra large baby bottles. She’d had the foresight to purchase half a dozen pacifiers, which she scattered strategically in various rooms of the house. One additional binky set into locking straps she kept in nursery for now. It would only be used if Tim was a bad boy and needed to be quieted with a pacifier he couldn’t spit out.

     Amy looked at the clock. Still plenty of time to start in on some baby food. She put pots on all six burners of her stove and began steaming or boiling carrots, peas, potatoes, beets, and more. As soon as one vegetable or fruit was done, she replaced it with another. When she’d made it through the produce, she moved on to beef and chicken. Within ninety minutes, she had a large stockpile of softened foods covering nearly every inch of the island and counters. At last, it was time to start blending.

     By the time she was done, Amy had close to twenty food storage containers of pureed foods in the refrigerator. She made no effort to clean out the blender between foods since she’d end up combining them before feeding Tim anyway. A couple of times she gagged at the sight or smell of the baby food and was glad she wouldn’t be the one to eat it. Well, this is what Tim wanted so she was happy to do it for him.

     With meals set, she dragged the highchair down from the nursery and set it up in the kitchen. She placed a wide selection of bibs, both cloth and plastic, into a drawer. If breakfast this morning was any indication, none of the cloth bibs would be clean enough for more than one use without washing them, but she preferred them anyway as she pictured using one corner of the bib to wipe mush off of her baby’s face.

     What next, she wondered. Ah, yes. Back upstairs to stock the guest bathroom with baby shampoo and body wash, bath bubbles, and some rubber duckies and toy boats. Mommy would have the main bathroom for herself, a true luxury. Amy even moved Tim’s razor and shaving cream into the guest bath, thinking that she didn’t want her baby to have stubble when they cuddled. Then she paused. Babies don’t have hair anywhere but on their heads. Would Tim be upset if she shaved him down there? Maybe it shouldn’t matter what he thinks. It would be more hygienic, make diaper changes easier, and it’s up to Mommy to make these kinds of decisions anyway.

     Finally, Amy put the stroller in the garage and fastened the oversized car seat into the back of her car. She didn’t anticipate taking him out anywhere but didn’t want to exclude the possibility and should be prepared. In fact, maybe they could go to the park or Chuck E. Cheese’s! Why should they confine themselves to the house for the whole week? She giggled as images of feeding Tim a bottle in the sandbox alongside the other mommies or taking him to the ladies’ room to change a stinky diaper flooded her mind. The more she thought about it, the more pleasurable the feelings became at taking complete control and caring for her baby as she wanted to, not being restricted by concerns about what Tim would want. Yes, this was his idea and her gift to him. But if he wanted to live the life of a true baby, he’d need to be subject to his mommy’s whims. After all, she’d be in charge now.

 

[diaper24/7]

Tim in for for big surprise when he get home from work.

[dyperaby]

♥

[aldl4811]

Love this!

[tammie2]

10.

     Amy must have dozed off on the couch, because it took her a minute to realize that the noise she was hearing was someone frantically pounding on her front door. She hurried to go see who it was and was surprised upon opening the door to see Tim, framed on either side by Gina and his secretary, whose name escaped her at the moment. He had been through so many. They were essentially holding him up. A quick glance downward showed a wide wet trail all the way down both pant legs.

     “Come in, please! Is everything all right? Is Tim okay?” Amy asked.

     “He’s fine,” Gina answered as the two women lowered him to the floor. “Just very, very weak. Either you were overly generous with those drops or I miscalculated how fast and to what extent they would work.” She noticed Amy glance in Jenny’s direction with a worried look. “I told her, or at least the basics. With all she’s gone through this week she had a right to know.”

     “I’m the one who bought him his training pants,” Jenny put in. “And the one who made sure he made it through his big moment today without revealing the condition he was in. I doubt anyone at the signing ceremony knew that he had piddled his panties moments before. It’s lucky that his signature is an illegible scribble. No one could tell the difference.”

     Jenny’s eyes scanned the living room. “Ooh, nice playpen. Very large. Is that...?”

     “Yes, it’s for him. You might as well help me get him upstairs and see the rest,” Amy replied. “Darling, do you think you can crawl up the stairs for me? I’ll explain everything up there.”

     For a moment, Tim thought about resisting, but his main goal at this point in time was to get out of his nasty pull-up and into some regular underwear. Besides, as embarrassing as it was to crawl up the stairs like a child, it would be worse to argue back and be accused of having an infantile temper tantrum. He got onto his hands and knees and slowly started up the stairs, ignoring the giggles and comments from the three women behind him.

     When he finally arrived at the top, he was exhausted. He sat down, squishing as his butt hit the floor, then when he got a second wind started toward the master bedroom.

     “No dear, for the next week that’s mommy’s room,” Amy chided. “This will be your room.” As she spoke she unlocked and opened the door to the nursery. Crawling in with his eyes aimed at the floor, Tim didn’t see the rest of the room until he was well inside and stopped to sit once more. His mouth dropped open, completely confused and momentarily speechless.

     The reactions of Gina and Jenny were much more effusive. Oohing and ahhing over every detail, with a few “oh my gods” thrown in, they wandered from one part of the room to the other.

     “This is beyond anything I could have imagined,” Gina finally said.

     “It’s like every mother’s dream nursery,” Jenny added. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”

     Amy beamed with pride, basking in the glory of a job well done. She glanced at Tim, who had a befuddled and not entirely appreciative look on his face. She was disappointed and later on would remind him that this was what he wanted. In the meantime, he wasn’t going to ruin her moment in the sun, she told herself. She grabbed a pacifier and pushed it into his mouth. “If you want out of those saggy panties,” she whispered, “you’ll stay quiet and go along.”

     “Please help me get him up on the changing table,” she told the two women, who were admiring Tim’s new wardrobe, laughing out loud when they got to the dresses.

     “You’ll have to help too,” she told Tim sternly. Gina and Jenny guided his arms as he stood, letting go as Amy rolled him onto the table on his back. “Whew,” she said. “That’ll take some practice.” She positioned Tim’s arms at his side, pulling the wide Velcro strap across his chest, immobilizing his upper half.

     She gazed at her husband until he made eye contact. “Dear, I want you to know that I did all of this for you,” she began. “I remember that night you confessed your fantasy to be treated like a baby, free of all cares and stress, with a loving woman to make all of the decisions for you. If I remember, you even mentioned the freedom babies have to go to the bathroom whenever and wherever the urge hit, and someone else would come and change them and make everything better. Now your dreams will come true. This is the vacation I planned. For the next week, you’ll be a helpless infant and I’ll be your mommy, tending to all of your needs, including cleaning and changing you after you foul your diapers.”

     Tim’s eyes grew wide. He didn’t remember the conversation Amy was referring to, and even if he did say that he wasn’t meant to be taken literally. He needed to put a stop to this right now, although in his present situation inside these strong straps with his mouth gagged, he wasn’t exactly in a strong negotiating position. Once he was off the table and the other two women left, he’d sort this out. No sooner had that thought entered his mind than his eyes opened in surprise as he felt his crotch grow warm and even wetter than it had been.

     “Oopsie,” Jenny said. “It looks like the baby has baptized the changing table. Would you like me to change him?”

     “Thank you,” Amy responded, “but I think the honor of putting him into his first diaper falls to his mommy. If you’d like to help, though, you can get these ridiculous grown-up clothes off of him. And Gina, would you mind going to the bathroom down the hall on the left and getting a razor and shaving cream and a bowl of warm water from the kitchen?”

     Gina dashed off enthusiastically on her errand while Amy unbuttoned Tim’s shirt and Jenny pulled off his pants and socks. By the time Gina returned, Tim was completely naked save for his heavily-yellowed pull-up.

     “I think we’d better keep this handy in case his little fire hose squirts again,” Amy told the crew as she tore open the sides. “Gina, would you like the honors?”

     I’d like nothing better, Gina thought. She steadied the razor in the bowl of hot water then liberally applied shaving cream over Tim’s entire frontal diaper area. Cautiously, she began her task, moving his penis aside as necessary and holding his scrotum tight while she attended to the few hairs there. For his part, Tim focused what little energy he had to not responding to her touch.

     “Okay, flip,” Gina said. Amy undid the strap and the women turned Tim onto his stomach, positioning the sodden pull-up beneath him. A few minutes later, his entire crotch and rear end were free of any hair.

     “I’ll do his legs and chest hair during his bath,” Amy decided. “Not that there’s much there. He was never very hairy like most men.”

     Once more the women turned him over, after which Amy pulled the pull-up out from under Tim and slid a diaper underneath. She took several wipes and carefully and thoroughly cleaned every crack and crevice under the careful watch of the other two women. 

     “Would one of you apply the lotion and the other the powder?” Amy asked. “I need to wash my hands before I tape him up.”

     Jenny grabbed the bottle of baby lotion before Gina could get to it, mischievously using it to stroke Tim’s member until she started to get a reaction, then stopping when she heard Amy returning. She winked at the horrified man on the table. Gina sprinkled liberal amounts of powder on both front and rear. A small cloud hung above the table.

     “Now, baby boy, your first of many diapers,” Amy said in a babyish voice. She tickled Tim under the chin and blew raspberries on his stomach before pulling the diaper up between his legs and fastening the tapes. She looked down on him with pride and the love of a new mother.

     “Those are adorable,” Gina said, admiring the jungle animal and balloon print on the diaper. It’s too bad that every one of those cute diapers that goes on him will eventually come off smelly and disgusting.”

     “It’s okay, that’s what babies do,” Amy said. “But unfortunately we also need to cover this cute diaper up before baby gets cold.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a Cookie Monster onesie, earning more praise from the other women. Sitting Tim up, she pulled it on him before gently pushing him back into a prone position in order to snap up the crotch.

     “There,” she said with a sigh. “As much as I’m anxious to give the little one his first bottle, I think he’s overdue for a nap.” She took Tim by the elbow and guided him to the floor, giving a push to his padded behind in the direction of the crib. He reluctantly crawled in, thinking back over the past hour to consider if he had missed an opportunity to put a stop to this nonsense. Before he knew it the side of the crib was raised, trapping him.

     “Thank you ladies,” Amy said. “Let’s leave him to sleep, we’ll be able to hear when he wakes up over the baby monitor. What do you say to a glass of wine?”

 

[diaperuser]

Looking forward to next chapter. Seeing what his special baby formula bottles do to Tim.

[tammie2]

11.

     Tim awoke with a start. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. The last he remembered was listening to muffled laughter and the clinking of glasses from far off in the house. Maybe the soft music playing from somewhere nearby lulled him to sleep. He needed to take stock of his situation and quickly come up with a plan to get the hierarchy of the house back to normal. Just because he was no longer the boss of a company didn’t mean that he wasn’t still the boss of this house. And he couldn’t exactly reign supreme in his current state.

     It was then that he noticed the awful odor. It took him a second to recognize what it was and where it was coming from. He grimaced. Having bladder control issues was one thing, but soiling his diaper was something on a completely different level. No, not his diaper. A diaper. He didn’t want to even think in terms of any of this infantile garb or equipment as being his. He was determined not to let Amy or anyone else see him in this condition. He’d clean himself up, get dressed, and march downstairs to give Amy a piece of his mind.

     With great effort, he managed to bring himself to his knees and hold onto the crib rail. The bars still rose above him, but from his vantage point he could see the latch that held up the side of the crib. He reached up to undo it but lost his balance and fell onto his bottom, spreading his fetid mess up between his legs and into the front of his diaper. He felt miserable but all the more determined to escape. He moved to raise himself back up but lacked the energy to do so. Why was he so tired? With great resolve, he grabbed the bars and used his hands to pull him back upright inch by inch.

     Once he came within reach of the latch, Tim knew what he had to do. Simply unhook it and slide the side rail down. Staring at the mechanism, though, he couldn’t get his mind to focus on how it worked. It just looked so complicated, so impossible to understand. Tim shook his head. He’d solved complex engineering problems in seconds. Why was this so hard?

     Tim was so distracted that he didn’t hear the nursery door open and was therefore startled when he heard Amy’s voice from close range. He once more lost his grip and fell back onto his rear, sliding down onto his back. He looked up at Amy with rage in his eyes.

     “Who’s my widdle baby? Who’s my widdle baby boy?” Amy cooed as she peered down at him over the rail. “Is my little one hungry? I’ll bet you are! Look what Mommy has for you!” Amy held out a large baby bottle that must have held sixteen ounces or more of fluid where Tim could see it. Inside it was filled to the brim with a milky substance.

     She lowered the side and helped Tim slide onto the floor. “C’mon, baby, crawl over to the big comfy chair where I can feed you.”

     Instead, Tim sat immobile, refusing to move. This was the time to take a stand. “Hmmph, gmrefhth,” he said.

     “Aw, is baby trying to make big words with his binky still in his mouth?” Amy teased.

     Tim recoiled. Had he been sucking on this pacifier the whole time without realizing it? He tried to use his tongue to spit it out but couldn’t manage it. He was raising one arm to pluck it out and throw it across the room when Amy’s face appeared inches from his own.

     “Is Baby Timmy trying to resist being my little baby?” she asked sternly. “It’s no use, dear, this is your life for the next week. Before you try to reestablish your grownup identity, remember that two of your former coworkers have seen you like this and were kind enough to take a number of pictures that have made it into your baby book. For now, those photos are just for Mommy’s eyes. But that could change depending on your attitude.”

     Amy lowered herself to a sitting position and put her arms around her babified husband, her tone now gentle and sympathetic. “I know this isn’t as easy adjustment, even if it is what you’ve always wanted. It’s hard to turn off all of the responsibility and to shed adulthood even for a little while, but give it a chance. I went to a lot of trouble to help you realize your dream, and if you just give in to it you’ll discover the joy of a simpler, more stress-free life, a transition of sorts to life without the company. But I’ll make you a deal. Give it several days, say through the weekend. If by Monday night you’ve found you don’t want to be my baby anymore and tell me that in a big boy voice, and show me that you can keep your diaper dry and clean for more than two hours at a time, we can cut this short and your baby pictures stay hidden in my album. Is that okay?”

     Tim didn’t get to where he was in business by pursuing lost causes. He nodded in agreement, but it was only his way of buying time. At the moment, with his body weakened and the poopy diaper filling his nostrils with its stench, it wasn’t the time to make his move. Maybe later tonight, or tomorrow at the latest, he’d renegotiate the terms of this peace pact. In the meantime, he didn’t have much choice but to play along.

     Amy was escstatic. “Good boy. Now I want you to crawl over to the chair and let’s get some yummy formula in your little tummy.”

     As he crawled, Tim felt every inch of the mess shift and slide up and down his butt crack and over his balls. Couldn’t Amy tell that he needed to be changed? Should he tell her, as embarrassing as that would be? Before he could think it through, he felt her press his bottom and guide him up onto her lap. Moments later, his pacifier was removed. Tim was surprised to feel a sudden loss, a desire to have something in his mouth to suck on. His desire was instantly met when another nipple entered his mouth.

     His immediate reaction was one of revulsion. The taste and smell of formula was overwhelmingly sour and unpleasant, something out of horror fiction. He tried using his tongue to push the fluid out of his mouth before it hit his throat, but only felt a little dribble make its way down his chin as his reflexive sucking brought more into his mouth, forcing him to swallow to make room. It was horrible but his only option was to finish the bottle as soon as possible. He eventually learned how to position his tongue to most efficiently get the milk out of the bottle.

     He opened his eyes and found Amy looking directly at him, love in her own eyes. It was a look he hadn’t seen from her in a long time. Some part of him instinctively wanted to please her, to see more of that look. She cuddled him closer, in the process pushing her hand against his bottom, pressing his mess harder against his skin.

     “Oh my,” she exclaimed in mock surprise. “Did someone make a present for Mommy? Did my little baby make a stinky? It’s a good thing we have you in diapers, now, isn’t it? Little babies are much too young to use the potty. We’ll get you all cleaned up, little one, but first let’s see if you can make a burpie for me.”

     Tim felt himself being guided over Amy’s shoulder followed shortly by her rubbing and patting his back. He didn’t understand why she was doing that until a big, wet belch erupted from his mouth. Small bits of regurgitated formula fell onto his chin.

     “Good boy,” Amy said softly as she wiped his mouth. “Now let’s get you into the tub.”

     Tim once more followed his wife on hands and knees, arriving into the guest bathroom as she was starting to fill the bathtub. A changing pad had been laid onto the floor. In anticipation of finally getting this disgusting diaper off, Tim positioned himself in its center.

     “Oh goodness, what a stinky boy,” Amy said smiling, pinching her nose and waving her hand in front of her face. “I guess I’d better to used to it. They’ll be plenty more to come.”

     Not if I can help it, Tim thought as Amy used wipe after wipe to clean his bottom. Even when she moved to his private parts, Tim failed to feel any sexual urges. He just wanted to be clean. Amy noticed his lack or reaction and mentioned his “tiny soft little baby wee wee.” After several minutes she reached over him to turn off the water then balled up the soiled diaper and placed it on the floor next to the toilet. The stench filled the air.

     “I’ll put that where it belongs in a bit,” she said as if talking to herself. “Now climb in.” 

     Tim pulled himself over the side of the tub and into what turned out to be only about four or five inches of water. He saw Amy pull a razor off of the counter and was about to protest when she brought a pacifier to his lips. He felt a force inside of him draw it in and begin sucking even though part of his mind told him not to. An immediate sense of comfort and calm relaxed him as Amy began spreading shaving cream on his legs.

     Before long she was soaping up a washcloth and moving it across every inch of his body. Tim had never been bathed before and against his better judgment found it to be pleasurable. He relaxed even further and made no protest as his mommy...as Amy tipped his head back and poured water over his hair. The bath ended all too soon. Amy dried him off and retrieved the soiled diaper as she told him to quickly scoot to the changing table. 

     It still took some effort, but with Amy’s help Tim was able to get up and strapped onto the table. Amy took another colorful diaper and placed it beneath him, loosely pulling it up between his legs. He noticed her looking back in the direction they had come from, frown, then grab some wipes and disappear. 

     “Baby left a little trail behind him,” she said when she reappeared. “Next bath time we’ll need to put your diaper on in the bathroom.” She took her time with the rediapering, giggling a little when she rubbed lotion over his nonresponsive penis, then rubbed the excess lotion on her hands all over his chest before fastening the tapes. She pulled a yellow and green diaper cover over up his legs then sat him up.

     “Cookie Monster got a bit smelly,” she explained as she pulled a matching top over his head. “Now what do you say we go downstairs for some playtime?”

     As Tim worked his way to the floor, his pacifier slipped from his mouth and bounded a few feet away. He instantly felt a feeling of panic and had to suppress the instinct to cry. Amy noticed the cause of his distress and, after cleaning it off by placing it in her own mouth, placed it back between his lips. Tim immediately felt better and didn’t even wonder about his reaction as he crawled in the direction of the stairs.

 

[tammie2]

12.

     A wave of doubt about his ability to navigate a trip down the stairs led Tim to easily accept Amy’s suggestion that he bump down each step on his rear. Even that method had its perils, so he was happy that Amy stayed close by in front of him to make sure he didn’t fall. Once he was at the bottom the colorful toys on the floor of the playpen seemed to be calling to him and he crawled over to it and moved inside without being told. Only after Amy joined him and closed the gate behind her did a moment of clarity make him question why it seemed so natural to be drawn to the confines of the playpen.

     His wife sat down cross-legged next to him and picked up a bag, spilling blocks out where he could reach them. They were in a wide variety of colors and each of the eight sides had a picture of an animal, or a number, or a letter. Tim stared at the blocks for several minutes, wondering what he was supposed to do with them. Amy came to the rescue.

     “Would you like to help me make a tower?” she asked as she placed a red block in his right hand. “Like this.” She cleared a space, placed a blue block in the center, then guided Tim’s hand to it, helping him put it right on top.

     “Good job, baby!” she gushed. “Let’s see how high we can make it. This time you try.”

     Tim picked up another red block and for a few seconds was mesmerized by the picture of the bird on one of its sides. Refocusing, he thought to himself that this activity was just plain stupid. Nevertheless, he stacked the block on the top of the other two. Amy praised him again, then put a yellow one on. Tim reached over the grab a green one because he wanted to get a closer look at the turtle. When he placed it on top of Amy’s yellow block, the tower toppled to the ground.

     “It’s okay, Timmie. It isn’t easy to line them up just right. Let’s try again.”

     They tried making three more towers, each one falling when Tim tried to put a block on the top. His frustration grew with each failure. He wasn’t a real baby, he was an adult dressed like one, and this shouldn’t be that difficult. After the latest hit the deck, he shoved them all away in a fit of anger.

     “Now, baby,” Amy told him. “You can’t expect to get it right unless you keep trying. But if you’re going to pout, I think you could spend some time by yourself.” Amy returned all of the blocks to the bag and placed it inside a plastic bin, but left some trucks and an assortment of small plastic toys with spinners, buttons that squeaked, and tiny balls inside. Before she left, she leaned over and wiped Tim’s mouth and chin with a soft cloth then pulled the back of his diaper back and peeked inside.

     Great, Tim thought, now what am I going to do? I’m certainly not going to fall into her trap of playing with these things. Eventually, though, boredom overtook him. He glanced over at Amy, who seemed engrossed in a book. Maybe I’ll see what I can do with the trucks, he said to himself, but in a grown-up way. He started pushing one around, then another, them made up elaborate scenarios for them that he knew no child would ever imagine. Soon he had them crashing into each other, then racing, then parking in different patterns. He tried to get some of the spinning toys to balance on the backs of the trucks in an Olympic-style competition to see which one could handle more.

     He lost track of time and forgot Amy was there until he happened to look up and see her smiling at him. He immediately stopped what he was doing in shame, not wanting her to know that he was enjoying himself. 

     “It’s okay, dear, you can go back to playing. It’s almost 5:00 so I need to think about getting you some dinner soon. But first...” Amy stepped into the playpen and knelt down, pushing her hand up against his crotch. “As I thought. You need a fresh diaper, baby. I’ll be right back.”

     Tim was sure she was fibbing. He was changed just a few hours ago and would have known if he was peeing. Tentatively he reached his hand down where Amy’s had been just a moment before and was shocked to feel how full and warm the diaper was. A little pee had even leaked onto his shorts. His mind was still reeling trying to find a way to blame this on Amy when she returned, changing supplies in hand. 

     “Lay back, baby, we’ll change you right here,” she said. As she pulled off his shorts he heard mutter “oh dear” before hanging them over the top of the playpen. She smiled at him and began humming to herself as she went about her task. As soon as she pulled the diaper open she reflexively leaned back with a “pee-yew” followed by an “goodness, Gina,” whatever that meant.

     The odor then hit him. The smell of his urine was strong. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe he had but he was getting used to it as normal? The thought terrified him.

       “Okay, Timmie, all done,” Amy said with a sigh of relief. “I think we’ll leave your diaper uncovered for now.” She took the damp shorts and soiled diaper away, put them on the bottom of the stairway, then moved into the kitchen.

        With nothing better to do, Tim resumed playing with his trucks. He began to appreciate the simplicity of playing. After a career of dealing with the complexities of running a business, where any wrong move could have disastrous consequences, there was a certain pleasure in participating in a task solely for fun. Maybe Amy wasn’t entirely wrong in what motivated her to force him to regress for a short time, but that’s not something he’d admit to her. Still, tomorrow if he was up to it he’d be back in pants. If not, Monday, when Amy would give him the option whether to continue or not. She’d mentioned some conditions but he didn’t remember what they were and wasn’t worried about them.

          As if just by thinking of her, Amy reappeared, unlatched the gate, and bade him to crawl after her. “Time for din din, baby boy,” she sang.

          Tim was hungry and was looking forward to eating. It shouldn’t have surprised him that there was a large highchair sitting in his usual spot. Rather than allow himself to get angry, he calmly allowed Amy to assist him in crawling up into it and didn’t resist as she buckled the strap and slid the tray up snug against his chest. Now that he’s committed to his plan to leave infancy behind within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, it was less stressful just to go with the flow.

          That is, until Amy placed a plastic cartoon-animal plate in front of him. He stared at it as she moved behind him to tie a bib and tuck the end behind the edge of the tray. There were three compartments of the plate, each one overflowing with a different color mush. Yellow, green, and what could generously be described as industrial gray. His wife produced a miniature spoon with a handle matching the theme of the plate. She pulled the pacifier out of Tim’s mouth. He had again forgotten it was there.

          “Let mommy enjoy feeding you your first bites,” she said happily, “then we’ll see if you can finish on your own.” Amy dipped the spoon into the green mixture first and brought it to his lips. Tim thought about refusing but at that moment his stomach growled, overruling any resistance. He reluctantly opened his mouth.

          “Zoom, zoom, here it comes,” Amy sang. Tim made a face, but in reality it wasn’t that bad. Some sort of mixture of vegetables. Before he could take a breath, the spoon reappeared piled high with the yellow glop. More vegetables but maybe sweetened with a little fruit. Not terrible. A moment later Amy pushed the gray stuff into his mouth. Tim blanched. This one was awful, and he pushed it out with his tongue. Amy was right there with the spoon to scrape his chin and put it right back in.

          “You need your protein, baby,” she said. So it was some sort of meat, he guessed. He allowed her to feed him a couple more rounds before taking the spoon in his hand. She relented and stepped back to see how he would do. He took his time, entertaining himself by trying to guess which foods were in each compartment. He found the gray one more palatable if he mixed in some of the green or yellow one first. He thought he had done pretty well until Amy took his bib off when he had finished. Somewhere beneath all of the colorful palate of stains was the phrase, “Look mommy I fed myself.”

          Amy wiped his face and hands off with a wet cloth then used a sponge to clean off the tray. “Hold still for a few minutes while I warm your bottle” she told him.

         Eventually he was released and crawled after Amy into the living room, where she had him lay across the couch with his head nestled in her lap. He was thirsty and eagerly took the nipple in his mouth, having forgotten how horrible the formula tasted. He drank slowly as Amy stroked his hair and hummed a song, smiling down at him from time to time. 

         Once done, he repeated his burping ritual before being escorted back to the playpen. Amy allowed him to play with the blocks by himself, although his frustration continued when trying to build a tower. She eventually joined him, asking him to identify various animals, and teaching him the numbers, together putting them in a long line in order. He only made one mistake and she said she was very proud. 

         “All right dear, it’s Mommy’s turn to eat,” she said. “Let’s see what cartoons we can find for you.” She turned the television to face the playpen and turned it on. Immediately the bright blue figure of a cartoon dog filled the screen and she left the room.

         Tim unexpectedly became engrossed in the show, watching one after the other. He’d never realized that writers of children’s shows also made them fun for adults. He was disappointed when Amy turned the tv off, another bottle in her hand.

         “8:30 baby. Time to get ready for bed. Come after me.” Tim found that his limbs seemed heavy and yawned several times as he made his way upstairs. It must be sleep deprivation from so many long nights, he thought. He struggled to get up on the changing table, once more surprised at the condition of his diaper but grateful to get it off. Amy spread a heavy cream on him then placed a thick booster pad in the diaper before taping it on. Tim could feel the difference as he crawled toward the crib. His legs were spread apart unnaturally wide.

         Amy joined him in the crib, bringing several picture books with her. As she fed him his bottle she started reading one about a blue cat and a red dog setting off on an adventure together. Somewhere between their finding their dinner in a dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant and meeting up with a gray mouse, Tim started to lose track of the story. Moments later, bottle drained, all went dark. Five minutes more and a soft, barely perceptible music began to play.

 

[tammie2]

13.

            Tim was disoriented when he woke up and it took him a moment to remember where he was. Multiple senses then reminded him: his eyes took in the tall bars surrounding where he lay and the slowly rotating bunnies on the mobile; his ears recognized the quiet melody of lullabies; he felt the heavy wetness and a slight sensitivity around his middle; he tasted the remnants of last night’s formula in his saliva before it left his mouth and dripped down his chin; and most obvious, he smelled the distinctive odor of a diaper badly in need of changing. At least he was only wet, he thought, which was progress. Enough improvement that he would thank Amy for her little experiment but tell her that he had had enough.

            As if on cue, the music stopped and seconds later she walked in the door, one of the dreaded baby bottles in hand. Tim tried to sit up to make his announcement but found his body uncooperative, so he remained lying down as she approached the crib. 

            “Good morning, baby, did you sleep well?” she asked sweetly. 

            Now was his chance. “Mmphm, grrmpp plvb,” he answered. Wait, that didn’t come out right. He tried again to no avail. Something wasn’t right.

            “How cute, trying to talk like a big boy,” Amy said, ruffling his hair. “Now, let’s change out that pacifier for a nice bottle of warm milk.” She lowered the rail then wiped the drool away from his mouth with the white cloth that seemed to have a permanent place on her shoulder. Tim crawled after her to the nursing chair, working his mouth as he went testing his speech. The results weren’t encouraging.

            “Here you go,” Amy whispered as she placed the nipple between his lips. Tim found that despite his best intentions, his body betrayed him as his mouth automatically began sucking. Eww, he thought, will he ever get used to this horrific taste? Wait, he told himself, he won’t give himself a chance to get used to it. He just needs to find a way to communicate his desire to get out of baby mode.

         No sooner did Amy remove the bottle from his mouth than she pushed the pacifier back in, making his mutterings sound even more like infantile gibberish. Amy seemed to ignore him as she led him over to the changing table. Tim used his hands to try to get her attention and indicate that he’d had enough.

       “Yes, I know you need to get out of that smelly thing. Mommy will help.” Amy responded to his dismay. Can’t she understand what he’s trying to say? “We’re going to try something new today. It’ll be like a cloud on your bottom.” As she spoke Amy brought out a large cotton diaper that to Tim’s eyes looked like a tent and spread it beneath him, adding a thick cotton booster and three folded baby diapers as soakers.

       “Oh dear, it looks like you’re starting to develop a rash,” she told Tim. Amy dipped her fingers in a jar of diaper rash cream and spread a thick layer on the inside of each thigh, wiping off the excess on his bottom. 

      Diaper rash? Could things get any worse? Adults don’t get diaper rash, Tim told himself, yet here I am. Adults also don’t pee and poop themselves, drink from a bottle, eat meals from a highchair, or drool uncontrollably. Things were spinning out of control and he appeared helpless to stop it. If not today, though, didn’t Amy say he could quit on Monday? Was that day coming up soon? He was losing track of the days.

       Amy finished pinning Tim’s diaper then pulled up a voluminous pair of yellow plastic pants covered with drawings of ducks and geese holding umbrellas as they played in the rain over his legs. She pulled a yellow t-shirt over his head then blue denim shortalls and a pair of animal socks. 

       “You look good enough to eat,” Amy said as she kissed him on his cheek. “And speaking of eating, let’s go get you some breakfast.”

       Tim couldn’t believe how bulky the diaper was. His crawling was more like a waddle on hands and knees, if that was possible. Bumping down the stairs was perilous, as his bottom was so wide that it slid from one step down to the next. He was both relieved and exhausted by the time he settled into the highchair.

        A few minutes later Amy set a bowl of what appeared to be oatmeal but of a much thinner consistency. He watched as she mushed a banana and stirred it into the bowl. Her expression suddenly darkened.

       “Really, Timmy?” she asked with a frown, moving to the side of the highchair, leaning down, and sniffing. “I just put you in a clean diaper. You can wait a bit for a change. Now, why don’t you eat your breakfast while Mommy gets hers ready.”

        Tim wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he was glad for the chance to show her that he could feed himself just like any other grownup. He picked up the spoon and began to eat, pausing only when he watched with sadness as Amy toasted a bagel and spread it with cream cheese and jam.

         Once Amy finished eating and cleared the table, she approached the front of Tim’s tray, wrinkling her nose as she got close. “What a mess,” she said. “Did you get any in your mouth? Let Mommy help.” Amy picked the spoon up and proceeded to fill it from his bib and multiple piles on the tray, as well as from what remained in the bowl. When she was satisfied that she got as much food as possible into Tim’s mouth, she ran a washcloth under some warm water and washed his face.

       “All right, Mr. Stinky Pants, it’s into the playpen for you.” Tim laboriously crawled into the living room. As he watched Amy scatter toys around him, he wished she would find what was causing the foul odor and do something about it. She didn’t join him this time, sitting as far away from the playpen as possible as she opened a magazine. Tim ignored the toys for awhile, finally picking them up as a way to alleviate his boredom. 

       He wasn’t sure how much time had passed and was engrossed in pushing his trucks through a tunnel of blocks when Amy opened the gate and leaned over to pushed her hand against his bottom.

        “I think you’ve added to the pile back there, mister,” she said. “We’ll need to go upstairs for this change.”

        Tim wasn’t sure what she was referring to until he was on the changing table and she pulled down his plastic pants. A wave of stink filled the room and Amy backed away from the table, her hand over her nose. A few seconds later she came back, standing as far away as she could as she scraped away most of the mess with the saturated baby diaper liners, eventually coming in closer to use what must have been half a container of baby wipes.

        The process took time. Finally, Amy folded up the diaper and dropped it into a metal pail. “It’s not sealed like the diaper pail is for your disposables,” she told Tim, “but it’ll add to the genuineness of the nursery to allow some of that scent to permeate the air. That way you can also have a constant reminder as to who the baby of the house is.”

        The rest of the day continued much as the day before. Too many wet and dirty diapers, disgusting mush for meals, bottle after bottle, and trying to entertain himself with blocks and other baby toys. He had to confess it was in an odd way relaxing, but also tedious. He was able to make it through by piecing the timeline together and realizing that tomorrow was, in fact, Monday, and he could get back to his normal life.

 

[dyperaby]

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