Goodnight, Baby

Summary: A modern day allegory for what happens to a naughty little boy 
who tries to resist infancy's firm grasp.



"I have a pizza for you guys in the fridge this weekend," my mother 
said to my babysitter and I as she slung her bag over her shoulder. 
"Have a good time, Christy, and don't let Danny eat too much junk!" Mom 
then bent down, kissed me, and scurried outside to where Dad was 
honking the horn. A whole weekend, trapped with Christy, which meant 
inevitably embarrassing torture. If I could just stand it from Friday 
afternoon to Sunday evening, I'd be alright.

Christy smiled at me, looking me in the eye. For such a wicked sixteen 
year old, she was beautiful, slender with small yet firm breasts and 
long blonde hair that ran to the middle of her back with a slight wave 
throughout it, and large, warm, dark eyes. "Danny, I'll make you a 
deal. If you can be a big boy and not wet your pants until 9 o'clock, 
no diapers this weekend! You're six. You can do it."

"Are you for real?" I asked, staring up at her. Every time Christy got 
the chance, she always put me in diapers. There must be a catch, I 
thought.

"Yep, no diapers. Want to play 'Cowboys and Indians'?" I happily 
agreed, as long as I was the cowboy. Eventually, Christy the "Indian" 
caught me and tied me up. We were laughing and having a great time. 
Then she began to tickle me. I laughed and tried to ball up so the 
feeling wasn't so intense on my tummy, but she began to chant, "Ohh, 
baby's going to go peepee in his pants," again and again. Eventually, 
my bladder caved in and urine ran down the legs of my jeans.

Christy pretended to be aghast. "Baby went peepee, so it's diapers for 
baby!" First she sent me to the bathroom, popping me on the bottom as I 
walked by. "You stay there until I clean this up," she said, pointing 
to the urine on the chair and floor.

I must have waited for an hour in my wet pants. The urine began to 
sting a little and I began to squirm. Then Christy walked in and 
stripped me. "Now, time for baby's spanking for being sooooo naughty!" 
she squealed. She always spanked me nude without washing me off first, 
as I leaned against the bathroom wall. This made it hurt more. Whipped 
into submission after 50 strokes, I lie crying on the bathroom floor as 
she administered a Fleet's enema and triple diapered me, at last, 
pulling on a crisp pair and translucent plastic pants. She put a tee-
shirt on me and informed me we were going to the local playground to 
show all my friends my new diapers. I dare not complain against it, for 
fear of more spankings.

In mere seconds it seemed I had to poop, but she told me to hold it. We 
managed to get out the front door, she in her tight-fitting Daisy Dukes 
and crop top, so apparently adult and diaper-free, and me, in my 3 
diapers and a tee-shirt that clearly displayed my diapered bottom. "I 
REALLY have to poop," I complained, as we began our journey down the 
sidewalk.

"Well go poop," Christy smiled. "Would baby like it if I held you so 
you could squat while you pooped?" I nodded with tears in my eyes and 
she grabbed either side of my chest while I bent my knees and let the 
liquid waste pour into my diaper like a gush of hot water with chunks 
of meat mixed in it. It smelled horrible, but Christy had brought no 
extra diapers and refused to go home, so down the street I walked with 
this obvious load in my diaper.

When we reached the playground, most of the kids laughed and pointed at 
me, and none would play with me, not even the three year olds. Plus, I 
hated feeling the squishy load when I sat on a swing or slid down a 
slide. Even adults stared, and Christy assured them I was just 
disabled. She picked me up as I wailed helplessly, rubbing my butt and 
rubbing the feces further in the cloth of a diaper. A woman she had 
been talking with asked Christy if she could play with me a minute, as 
I seemed so lonely. Christy said yes, but as she prepared to put me 
down, she said in a low whisper to me, "When that lady holds you, I 
want you to wet your pants. If you go poop, there'll be a treat for 
you." I knew I would get spanked if I didn't, so I toddled up to the 
lady who picked me up and smiled, and she began to talk to me. I 
immediately wet my pants, and this didn't alarm her as there was no 
leak, and the old poop didn't effect her, so I began to strain until my 
face was red, forcing more poop out of me.

"Oh my!" the lady exclaimed, smiling. "Are we okay?" She put me down 
and pointed me over to Christy. Christy assured her we were going home 
for a diaper change, but I knew different.

"Aren't you becoming the good baby? For your reward, we get pizza! 
Don't you like that, Danny?" She began to preheat the oven. "I don't 
have time to change you right now though... How about something to 
drink?" I sadly agreed, knowing it would be out of a baby bottle, but 
then, I heard a car pull up, and all of a sudden, my parents walked in! 
Perhaps they'd put an end to this torture I had been forced to keep as 
a secret! I cried out for them and ran to them, my diaper sagging.

"Please, Daddy, Mommy, I don't want to wear diapers! Make Christy go 
away!"

My father smiled at me. That's what we wanted to talk to you about. We 
know Christy has been diapering you for the past six months. We had the 
idea when you were born, we could rationalize with you, talk to you, 
but then you started kindergarten and you were a brat, a disruption. 
Your teacher, mother, and I lightly spanked you, but it was no good. 
You threw tantrums, picked on other kids. So we hired Christy. She 
isn't 16, but she's a 24 year old lady who specializes in disciplining 
naughty children. She does this throughout the state, and we pay her to 
show us how to make you a better boy through treating you like a baby. 
We put up nanny cams so we could watch how she treated you in the 
house, how many times she took you out, etc. We've decided with all 
your personal growth through regression, it's diapers fulltime."

I began to shake violently. "What does this mean?".

Mom looked at me with a little smile. "You're going to be a baby for 
the next year. This will make you a better boy! Your dad and I went out 
and bought new furniture for you! It's going to be fun!".

The first thing they set up was the highchair. It was a special 
highchair, with straps at the crotch and on the sides of the table for 
your wrists. I was seated in this and strapped it.

"Dinner time!" Mom chimed. "But no more adult food for baby, only baby 
food." Christy presented a jar of baby food meat, a jar of baby food 
vegetables, and a jar of baby food fruit. She popped open the fruit 
jar, mixed a little bit of powder in, and left as my dad handed her a 
check.

My mother forcefed me every bit, and as I finished the fruit, it was 
nearly 8 o'clock. Two hours of struggle. My bowels began to rumble, and 
as soon as I was taken out of my chair, I peed and pooped in my already 
wretched diapers. I was carried to my bedroom, now with a big crib and 
changing table.

My parents both grinned. "It's too late to change you now, sweetie. 
Time for bed." They put me in the crib, messy, wet, screaming, and tied 
my wrists and feet to the crib. Last of all, they put a force feeding 
bottle on my head, and flipped out the lights. As they left, I heard my 
mother sardonically utter, "Goodnight, baby."