Not Quite an Accident
Dr. Walsh arrived in due time
and came towards the house with a bag and yet another plastic framed object
with a cloth seat. Brad was actually excited to see her now, and the nap his
mother had promised had failed to materialize despite sitting in his crib.. Though he knew he was in trouble, he also knew the doctor
had presents for him, and the present she was carrying looked similar to the
baby bouncer which he had been enjoying.
She walked in, heading
directly for the kitchen and beginning to speak with his mother in rather
hurried, hushed tones.
“I can’t see that being a
problem, we have him pretty well used to the pacifier. How do I adjust the
walker for him?” Mia asked from within that strange forbidden zone beyond the
safety gates.
“Oh yes I have his last
measurements here, I’ll leave them for you.
The legs on it can be
adjusted to fit his height, and they have numbers on them to help you with
that. I’m sure you’ve done that before.” The doctor said smilingly, looking
over towards something Brad couldn’t see, but he expected it was the new baby
bouncer.
“Just so his feet are barely
hitting the floor, right?” Mia asked, recalling how she had done it the first
time he was a baby.
“That’s right! He won’t be
able to put his full weight on his legs and that will put an end to him
climbing over your gates at all. We’ll start him on a course of gentle muscle relaxers so he’ll be more susceptible to the treatment,
here’s the bottle. Dosage is on the other sheet. I think that’s everything. I
think I can safely go tell him about this last bit now, it’ll give him a reason
to take an interest in the new pacifier at least.” The doctor no longer enjoyed
being mean to Brad, he was her patient now, boy or
not, and he was awfully cute sometimes. But she was much happier being the bad
guy and letting the boy remain affectionate and better behaved with his mother.
Mia had other ideas.
“No, I was the one that
didn’t listen about this part of the therapy in the first place, I should tell
him. Maybe I wasn’t firm enough with him. Will you go get the pacifier ready
while I go talk to him?” Mia looked to the doctor with a frown, and was met by
a nod. Dr. Walsh moved to get the pacifier and then into the refrigerator to
get out a bottle, while Mia went to have a chat with her baby boy.
“Hello little baby, are you
done with your nap? Mommy needs to talk to you.” Mia announced. The question
was more a definitive statement than a query. Brad looked up at her attentively
and she frowned. She wanted to hold him, to comfort him considering that this
might not be a fun event for him, but she also wanted him to know how very
angry she was.
It was going to be difficult
being stern with him while he snuggled into her bosom.
Dr. Walsh, as usual, had the
solution. She had the pacifier in her hand and came right over to pick Brad up
from the crib carrying him over to the rocking chair and settling him down in
her own lap. It was a somewhat odd position for him, but he was glad for her
affection, and more so still when she offered him the pacifier. He was worried
his mom was mad at him, but having the pacifier in his mouth, even if it was a
little cold and tasted funny, seemed to make those fears go away. He looked up
at the doctor with a smile showing around the plastic rim of the soother and
she returned it before looking to his mother, a gesture that he should do
likewise. She stood with her hands on her hips, the sternest pose in all motherdom.
“Baby, mommy is very mad that
you told someone about your special treatment. The nice doctor might get in a
lot of trouble because of you. Hopefully no one is silly enough to believe what
a little diaper boy says. That’s what your cousin told them, you know how
little boys fib and all… But we can’t have you fibbing anymore. I wanted to be
nice and let you potty train after a week or two, but I’ve talked with the
doctor and we think it would be best if we finished your therapy,” she said
somewhat grimly, as though pronouncing a sentence.
“Buh
uh aweady uh dipos” Brad
murmured through the pacifier. His tongue felt odd, sluggish, but he attributed
this to having the rubber protrusion from the soother in his mouth. He wasn’t
about to spit it out though. He felt better with the reassuring substitute
nipple in his mouth, and he was already suckling vigorously on it between his
fumbled attempts at speech. Besides, even he knew that this wasn’t a
conversation that would require much input from him.
“Mommy knows that, little
one. But you’re not a baby yet, either. Babies don’t walk or talk, do they?”
She asked pointedly. Brad shook his head in the negative and she continued.
“Mommy wasn’t going to make you a proper infant, but since you kept being bad,
we’re going to finish your baby training now. Dr. Walsh brought you over a baby
walker and some new medication, and your new pacifier. You’re going to get to
use your binkie whenever you want now, and it’ll help
you stop fibbing to people, and you’ll be in the baby walker so you won’t run
around as much. Soon you’ll start crawling and babbling like a baby too.” Mia
announced, already picturing how cute he’d look.
“Buh wuduhbut poddy
twain?” He asked looking to her
with a whimper.
Not be able to talk anymore?
Not being allowed to walk? His already tiny world was being shrunk all the
more, as though it would soon retreat all the way back into the protective
walls of his mother’s womb.
“Silly boy. Babies can’t even try to potty train since they can’t
walk or talk to tell their mommies when they need to go.” The doctor chimed in,
tickling him a little. “And see, your pacifier will help you do that. I put a
special medicine on it to make your tongue numb, and your mommy is going to
give you a medication to make you weaker so you wont have so much naughty
little boy energy to run around.” Brad looked between the two of them stunned.
His beloved pacifier was now being used to make him more of a baby? He looked
down at the pale blue ring of plastic that hugged his lips and cheeks and spit
it out, trailing lines of saliva along his shirt as he did so.
“Bad baby!” His mother scolded. She seemed to have forgotten his
name, and had started to call him by his role, much as someone in a restaurant
would call the person bringing them their food “waiter” and nothing else.
“Don’t be so hard on him,
Mia. It’s not good for him to have it in all the time. Here I got this cute pin
for it so the baby won’t lose his pacifier when this happens.” The doctor
smiled and turned Brad around, making his diaper crinkle as she did so. The
wiggling apart of his legs led to a wetting, and the doctor gave him a
playfully reproving look.
“My, you’re wet. I bet you’re
in a hurry for mommy to change you. Just sit still for a moment and we’ll get a
new fresh diaper on you post haste!” She smiled. Brad complied grudgingly,
sniffling at this new stage of his ignominious punishment that had already cost
him so much.
It seemed he’d be a baby
forever now, but the presence of the warm wetness around his crotch told him
that this state of affairs had already largely come to pass, and it didn’t seem
that bad….
He could sure use that
pacifier though. He looked down to see the doctor threading a pretty blue
ribbon through the ring on it, and then tying it to a diaper pin with a little
plastic teddy bear on the end.
She grasped his shirt
expertly and pinned it on, and he giggled slightly as he saw that the pacifier
was now dangling from his shirt.
He reached down for it before
remembering what the doctor had said about the thing. “Treacherous binky!”, he cursed inwardly. His mother
and the doctor just exchanged knowing glances. Dr. Walsh handed him over to Mia
and said goodbye as they walked to the living room, but his mother had one last
trick in store for him. If he was (eventually) going to grow up again the right
way, she would instill good values in him while he was still in diapers.
“Brad, thank the doctor for
your new presents.” She instructed. Brad was rather compliant considering he
was already in trouble, and the doctor had been nice to him for once.
“Fangoo dogdoo!” He said, then looked down, and, with more
concentration, determined to keep being a big boy, he gave it another go.
“Thank woo… doctoor!” He managed to say, sounding
closer to his age group’s proper speech, but still finding it difficult. He was
very leery of the pacifier now, and looked down at it once more with a mixture
of need and dislike. He looked on his mother in the same way sometimes, but he
knew in the end both were good for him.
The doctor smiled and stood
patiently while he tried to get his sentence right, finally heading out and
calling back “Woo wocome, widdle
baby” In her most cutesy voice. The baby talk from her caught him somewhat off
guard and he couldn’t help but giggle as his mother took him to get his diaper
changed. He took comfort in the trip to the changing table, it was a familiar
routine now and he knew what would happen, which was more than he could say for
the rest of the day.
Mia settled him on the
changing table and went about undoing the snaps on his onesie.
She figured she could largely dispense with the clothes at home soon, leaving
his diaper more visible. He had to get used to seeing it as a part of him, and
part of that was seeing it. With the muscle relaxants starting he wouldn’t be
as inclined to take it off and run around the house any longer either, not like
last time. Brad looked up at her trying to sit stock still, because, perhaps,
if he did so she would rethink his punishment and it would end. Instead she
simply smiled at how easy he made his diaper change.
“There we go baby all
finished, put your hands waaay up for mommy, see if you can touch the ceiling!” She instructed with a
smile. Brad did so, wanting very much to behave for her. He looked confused as
she unpinned the pacifier and took off the onesie
entirely.
“Baff?” He
asked, his tongue feeling tingly now, but more under control.
“No no,
mommy just decided you might like a tee shirt better. Pick one baby, duckie or teddy?” She smiled, holding up a yellow shirt
with a teddy on it and a blue one with a duck. Brad chose the latter, and
pouted as it seemed just slightly too short. In fact Mia had had it altered
just for him. This way if he squirted out of the diaper or had a messy, squirmy
time on the changing table it wouldn’t risk ruining the shirt. The fact that it showed his diaper off and left his belly button
open to raspberries was an added plus.
“There, all better!” Mia
announced, smiling as she pinned on the pacifier. “Come on mommy needs to go
make lunch and get your medicine ready so you can sit in your baby bouncer for
a while.”
Brad did so, bouncing
happily. He caught himself looking down at his pacifier once again but was
distracted by a noise from the driveway.
He saw a car pull up and drop
Patricia off and he waved to her as she came in from her outing, thankfully
without one of her friends.
Perhaps because there was no
one to embarrass him in front of, or simply because she was in a hurry,
Patricia set her things down and waved to him in a babyish manner, seeing by
the angelic look he wore that Mia had dealt with his transgressions.
“Hey Aunt Mia I’m home!”
Patricia called out, striding into the kitchen where she could hear her aunt
moving about.
“Oh great! Can you stir the noodles while I run to the bathroom?
I made a serving of spaghetti for you incase you hadn’t eaten while you were
out.” Mia held out the slotted spoon to her niece.
“Of course. Brad sure is being good, what’d you do?” Patricia
asked, ever curious about her cousin’s treatment.
“I’ll tell you about it
later. I hope you had fun while you were out,” Mia smiled.
“Oh lots. Go on ahead though
we can talk over dinner, I’ve got that covered.” Patricia added airily as Mia
headed for the bathroom. She was barely done washing her hands when she heard a
rather worried voice from downstairs.
“Aunt Mia!” Patricia cried in
a tone that said something had happened.
Mia’s thoughts turned to Brad
immediately. Something was terribly wrong, it had to be. She raced for the
stairs, where she heard Patricia’s voice again.
“It’s the lady from the park!
She says she needs to talk to Brad’s mother!
Mia was slightly out of
breath from bounding down the stairs, and she hesitated for just a moment,
trying to compose herself and calm down before she finally reached for the
phone.
Brad was sure something was
wrong and, knowing how these things went, he started to whimper, thinking this
meant more trouble for him. He grabbed up his pacifier and poked it right back
into his mouth, the hard plastic rim pressing against his lips as he suckled on
the nipple. He could never quite get it all the way into his mouth no matter
how he tried, and he was trying vigorously just now, wanting to drain all the
comfort out of the dark yellow soft rubber. Patricia noticed the slight squeaky
hisses of his suckling and went over to comfort him, tickling his belly and
generally distracting him, so that he heard only parts of the conversation. He
didn't need to hear too much though, he could see that
his mother was ghost white. She nodded often to no one and simply replied with
"oh" and "yes" and so forth.
Finally she let out a
relieved "oh yes!" And seemed much more congenial
all of a sudden. By the time she put the phone down five minutes later
Brad was sucking on a bottle provided by Patricia and his mother looked more
like her usual self, laughing a bit as she came over.
"Is everything okay, aunt Mia? Brad didn't make too much trouble did he?"
She inquired with concern.
"No dear of course not,
the baby didn't cause that much bother, how could he, look at him?" Mia
bent down and made silly faces at Brad, kissing his cheek once she saw a smile
form behind his bottle.
"Hudawiddobabeh!" She garbled, making him let out a giggle that splashed milk down his
front.
"Hmmm... well we don't
need to worry about the lady at the park, she just
wanted to ask where I bought Brad's diapers because she has a daughter that
wets the bed.... Now a bib on the other hand, that IS something we need to
consider!"
Patricia laughed and Brad saw
no reason not to join in, forgetting his half full bottle. Everything seemed
just fine and his mother had forgotten all about him being bad. The world was a
nice place and best of all, he had a full tummy and he could bounce to his
heart's content.
The next morning Mia and
Patricia sat around the kitchen, preparing breakfast and discussing their plans
for the day. Patricia was going out again, and Mia would be fine looking after
Brad. Patricia didn’t like the idea of leaving Brad with just one adult to
supervise him and the medicine for his pacifier so near at hand. “I’d feel odd
leaving that medicine there in the fridge considering how he seems to get into
everything sometimes, but I guess you’re going to fix that huh?”
Patricia chuckled, recalling
her aunt’s plans.
“Oh yes I should start him on
that muscle relaxer, shouldn’t I? We’ll see how he
likes his new walker, go ahead and put him in it, its
about time he got up anyhow.
Brad woke up as he was being
jostled around and felt his legs being maneuvered. He whined a bit as his
diaper was changed and he slowly woke up. For a moment he thought he was being
put into his bouncer and his eyes fluttered. Instead he felt his feet slightly
touch the ground.
“Whas
is?” He asked, his speech having improved while he was separated from the
pacifier.
“This is your new walker
baby. Whenever you’re not in the play pen or bouncer you’ll be in this so you
can still get around without walking.
Mommy does not want to see
you walking around baby boy, and if you stand up you’ll get a punishment!” She
said ominously as she set a rattle and some other infantile bric-a-brac on the
tray of his little conveyance.
“Whuh no walkin?” Brad asked, still slightly befuddled from his nap,
and not likely to have gone without questioning such a mandate even if he
wasn’t sleepy.
“Because you could fall down
and hurt your bum, baby. Its safer if you crawl. The
medicine mommy is going to give you will make it hard for you to stand up
anyhow so this is better for everyone.
“Medigin?”
he asked, not liking the sound of that very well.
“Come on into the kitchen,
you can take today’s dosage before breakie!” his
cousin cooed as she and Mia went on ahead to get their meal prepared, and to
get a makeshift baby breakfast prepared ‘til they could go to the store. Brad
was left to figure out the workings of the baby walker on his own, which he did
rather easily. Stretch one leg down, pad forward, then the other. It moved in a
somewhat awkward zigzag pattern, but it did move forward. His mother praised
him and clapped when he reached the kitchen, and he was deposited from the
walker directly into his high chair. Brad whined when he saw a plate of apple
sauce, mushy oatmeal, and a bottle in front of him and looked to his mother as
if to ask if she was serious.
“Mommuh
im not
“If you take your medicine
like a big boy mommy wont feed you this.”
She said, holding up a random
unopened jar, which he figured was baby food.
“Izit yuckie?” He asked suspiciously.
“No baby its
just some medicine you need to take for mommy. I even have a special spoon for
you!” She cooed, sweetening the deal with this added revelation of the airplane
themed spoon she held in her hand. The spoon was rubberized so it wouldn’t hurt
him if he wiggled around while she gave him his dosage.
“Oki…” He agreed amicably. He
knew from experience that he would get his medicine one way or another.
Brad opened wide as Mia slid
the spoon in with the muscle relaxer and rubbed his
throat til he gulped it down. She put the jar she’d
had away and then began to feed him the breakfast that was already set out,
which turned into a fight that made her glad for the high chair’s ability to
keep him mostly in one place.
“Patricia
can you clean the baby up?” Mia
asked while she cleared the table.
Brad was getting terribly
annoyed by this baby talk. His mother was going out of her way to point out his
infantile helplessness, but it wasn’t just being called a baby that bothered
him. It sounded as though everyone were addressing him now more as an object
than a person. The shoe, the television, the baby. Not
Brad. “Im nod da babeh!” Brad whined, only to have his pacifier poked into
his mouth by his mother, who had had more than enough of his fussing like a
baby in the voice of a big kid.
“Sure Aunt Mia! Wow look at
you Brad, your shirt is as messy as your diaper was! We need to get you a bib
fast.” She chuckled as she cleaned his face with baby wipes. Mia announced it
was time to go the store for the aforementioned bib and he was whisked off to
the nursery and stripped to his diaper where he felt the now familiar probing
of a finger into the waistband.
“Mom the baby’s wet, do I
have time to change him before we go to the store?”
“Go ahead,
I’ll be out in the car!” Mia called back as she gathered her purse and the ever
present diaper bag.
Patricia looked down at her
cousin who was now without his pacifier again. “Whuhbuhgoee?” He gibbered, trying to ask where they
were going. Was it the boring mom stuff store? More than likely, but she hadn’t
specified so it could be the store exclusively for big boys, stocked with toys
and candy and absolutely no diapers. That would be a nice store to go to! His
query was mistranslated though. Patricia wasn’t as well versed in his
particular baby language as his mother was, though she was much amused at his
babyish speech.
His sentences were growing
ever shorter as a necessary defense mechanism. He was starting to discover that
the more he tried to talk the less he could be understood, so he would stick to
the necessary nouns and verbs, and a few adjectives that applied well to his
new status. His mother didn't have to teach him to talk like a baby, the simple need to not spew out an incomprehensible
jumble was guiding him to simplistic, toddler like sentences. And Patricia was
even having trouble with those!
“Of course baby, duppee gooey, that’s why I’m changing you. Now hush so we
can get to the store.” Brad settled on the changing table and wiggled about
while she got his diaper off and wiped him over quickly.
Patricia wasn’t about to make
a big deal of it, they had to get to the store, and Brad would just wet more in
an hour or less, so it wasn’t like getting him cleaned up would matter. She
sprinkled powder over him quickly and taped him into a new diaper, rolling him
from side to side to keep it straight and tight while she taped each
separately. He was dressed in a tee shirt and some overalls and then carried
out to his waiting mother with a few grunts on Patricia’s part.
Brad sat in the basket of the
cart as they walked through the supermarket and generally behaved well. Mia
knew when she was going through the high risk aisles, and before she passed
through the aisle where the candy was she made sure he had his pacifier in.
Brad wanted to ask for some of the candy but the soft supple rubber in his
mouth seemed to be all he needed for the moment.
Mia and Patricia stopped to
hold a few bibs up to his chest, as if seeing how they looked on him. He looked
down at the infantile cloths and pouted, his
displeasure visible even around the rim of the soother. His mother simply
ignored his disapproval and tossed a white bib and a yellow on with a train on
it into the cart.
“Baby will need a bib so we
can feed him properly.” Mia said as she headed down the aisle. That didn’t seem
to make sense. He’d always been fine eating without a bib until now… Then he
saw the reason for this change in policy. A squat round glass jar found its way
into the cart, followed by another, and then several more. The colors ranged
from pale green to white to beige, but not a one of them looked like something
that had any place whatsoever in his mouth. Brad started to cry, but ended up
sucking at the pacifier harder.
“Hush now baby, if you’re wet
mommy will change you when we get home.”
Mia cooed.
“I told you he liked the blue
bib better.” Patricia said, though she knew full well what his whining was
about. They checked out and the young clerk looked to Brad. “Wow he’s getting big, this must be some good baby food!” The boy at the
counter chuckled.
“Oh yes, he loves it.” Mia
returned as she slid her card through the credit machine. Brad gave her a
rather sour look as they went on their way home and spit out his pacifier which
flopped onto his chest.
“BuhmeghuhNAH”
He blurted, a bit of spittle trailing down his chin.
Mia reached around the basket
and swatted his bottom through the cart’s mesh with a slight crinkle while they
loaded the groceries into the car. Brad couldn’t started to cry and began
trying to speak more comprehensibly and register his dissatisfaction in the
preferred, adult manner, but the more he failed at speaking, the less able he
was to concentrate on forming his words. He really just wanted his pacifier,
which his mother was inclined to give him to stop the baby talk tantrum.
Brad fell asleep on the way
home Mia unclipped his pacifier from his shirt, taking the opportunity to show
Patricia how to dip it into the medication just enough to let it soak in a
little, so that it would slowly release for hours whenever he sucked on it.
Dinner time soon came, and it
was a fight for Mia to get Brad fitted in his bib. She knew the real hard part
would be the baby food. She started him out with the banana mush, which he
didn’t seem to mind too much, giving him the impression that the jarred stuff
wasn’t all awful… Her experimentation with the strained carrots ended up
largely on his bib. Mia scooped it off dutifully and returned it to his mouth,
figuring it would eventually reach his tummy, via his shirt or his throat,
preferably the latter! Brad screamed and fussed, trying to say that he didn’t
like the new food. Mia paused and let him tire himself out before returning
with another jar of beige paste and tickling him ‘til he opened up to eat it.
If he had any ability to hold his stool left, the new diet would take care of it, Mia thought with a grin… and maybe it would make his
messy diapers smell less horrid!
That night before he was to
be put down to sleep, Brad looked down at the pacifier attached to his pajamas
and wanted to pick it up and move it into his mouth. The tingly sensation from
his last sucking fit had left… He wondered if that meant he could talk properly
again. He gave it a try, and his mother smiled accommodatingly as he babbled to
himself. She could still discern the basics of what he was trying to say, but
she doubted anyone else could. That connection between mother and son was
amplifying in ways she hadn’t expected.
Brad looked up at her as he
tried to say his sentence again. “Ah buh took goo!” He said enthusiastically… That still didn’t sound
right.
“Of course baby you can talk
very good!” She cooed patronizingly. Brad smiled at what he perceived to be
encouragement and looked down… Well, if he could still talk ok, it didn’t seem
like the pacifier was hurting him… and though he didn’t necessarily need it
just now he did want to have it in his mouth, his lips always felt a bit empty
without the plastic bulb between them, and he often found his mouth hanging
open when the pacifier wasn’t in it, sending drool down his chin. His mother
thought that with the lack of oral control he had, and the dislike he had for
his baby food, the bibs were getting a lot of use.
His speech was getting worse
every day, he knew, but what could he do?
He looked down at the
pacifier again and up at his mother who nodded encouragingly… She still
understood him, even if he was talking more babyish and garbled… and in the
end, wasn’t she the one who saw to his needs anyhow? If she could understand
him, his speech couldn’t be that bad. His mother would look after him and
translate his gibbering if need be…
Brad moved to take hold of
the ring on the back of the binky and Mia grinned
broadly as he slid it into his mouth. He was asleep before long and being
carried to his crib. His mother didn’t anticipate too much trouble with his
speech training, though as he grew to like the pacifier more she decided she’d
need to reduce the amount of medicine on it, and make sure the daycare workers
knew he was not to have it in all the time. Just whenever he talked back or
when he happened to need it. If he sucked at it once an hour it would be enough
to keep his tongue numb and weakened so he wouldn’t be able to speak for some
time.
Mia hung about for a bit to
chat with the manager in charge of the day care. Brad had now been regressed to
the point where confinement was necessary to keep him out of trouble. Previously
he had the run of the house, then he wasn’t allowed on the furniture anymore to
avoid pee stains from his sometimes leaky trainers, then had come the
unfortunate business with the child safety gates, and finally, he could no
longer be trusted to stay on an old blanket on the floor, or to not scamper
around too fast and fall over.
Falling over would be a
significant risk with the new medicine, and so it was both for the completion
of his therapy and for his own safety that she would keep him confined to the
infant walker and the padded play pen. The daycare attendants couldn’t risk
having him tumble over, so when he wasn’t being held or exploring in his walker
there, he would be in a crib. If he stood up and fussed he got a bottle of
formula and soon fell asleep after drinking it.
Some of the other boys
occasionally tried to talk to him, but they were generally too impatient to
figure out his infantile mode of speech, and moved on. Some of the boys looked
at him with a sort of morbid curiosity, knowing that they could end up like him
and wondering if he liked it. They noticed he seemed to cry often but their
queries were answered by the daycare workers. “leave
the baby alone, he needs his nap time” they’d scold.
Brad would try to stand up
sometimes, to show the other boys that he was still one of them, able to stand,
walk around, play with army men… but his attempts at asserting his independence
were usually met by the lady watching him talking and helping him to sit back
down. He faired little better at home, where his mother would find him toddling
around the play pen, his legs bowed by the diaper, and deliver a good swat to
his padded bottom and a firm “No, babies do not walk!”
He cried often, chafing under
these new rules, which he was slowly becoming bound to by his own regressing
body. The attendants at least understood his needs for diaper changes, that
much he could communicate with a simple motion, but beyond that, his
preferences for food and entertainment were often misconstrued, or ignored. He
cried often when he failed to communicate with the daycare attendants, or with
his mother, when he felt his world slipping away all the more.
Crying was the one sure way
he could get attention, and though the attention of the women around him often wasn’t
his first thought, it often seemed to be enough to make him feel better, since
it was often combined with his pacifier being poked into his mouth. He
considered the fact that he was no longer required to wear clothes at home to
be a small consolation. His mother knew that he couldn’t run around, so on the
rare occasion that he did get his diaper off, she had no trouble catching,
swatting, and swiftly rediapering her son before any
mess could be made.
She checked his progress
occasionally in the most belittling ways, but Brad was glad for the opportunity
to walk about again. Mia would intermittently take him out of his walker and
set him on the floor, then walk away and hold out her arms instructing him to
come to mommy.
The first few times he
wobbled unsurely to her. By the second week of the training he would make it
some of the way and fall. Mia would clap enthusiastically regardless of the
outcome. Keeping him off his feet and idle was taking its toll on his strength,
and soon he gave up walking to her entirely and just crawled. Mia gushed praise to him seemingly without end, and decided to
reduce the amount of his medications, which she went to dole out then and
there, depositing him in his play pen on the way. Brad whined when his mother
left him, feeling abandoned and helpless in a way he hadn’t experienced since
he was 1. He began to wail and barely noticed the door open and Patricia and
Sybil enter.
“What’s wrong?” Sybil asked,
not so used to the sounds of a cranky infant.
“Hmmm? Oh that’s just the baby. Don’t mind him, he’s fussing a little because my aunt started him on a
new medicine.” Patricia said rather carelessly as she and her friend passed by
the living room. His mother and cousin were referring to him simply as “the
baby” instead of by his name. When his mother’s friends had come over during
the previous week they had always asked where the baby was and if he was well.
It was as though his identity had been completely trivialized and folded into
the soft padded embrace of infancy where no individuality could be possible. He
wasn’t Brad who had had more of the green Lego knights than anyone, or Brad who
thought Digimon really was a lot better than Pokémon, he was a baby like any other, special only through
his relation to his mommy.
Patricia and her friend went
to her room and disappeared. Brad could do little except sit in the play pen
and sulk. Perhaps, he thought, if he was good his
mommy might settle him in front of the TV to watch some toddler’s shows. They
were bland and formulaic even to his young mind, but at least there were colors
moving about and something going on to distract him from his infantile state.
Or he could do it himself. He had once been allowed to operate the TV, and it
wasn’t far away. He tried to stand up and get out of the play pen, but his legs
wobbled. He could only stand properly by grabbing the top rail of it.
Unfortunately even that
didn’t last long, ending with the sound of his mother’s hand on crinkly
plastic.
“Bad baby! We do not stand up! Babies crawl!” She looked at him
with an angry gaze and he whimpered. He gave her no trouble over the dose of
medicine she offered, and then began to suck his pacifier furiously.
He could have resisted, but
by now he saw little point. If he didn’t take the medicine, a suppository would
be a worse way of getting it, and he didn’t want to risk making his mother
angry as much as he now depended on her. It was better to just go along,
especially as by now he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter.
“Patricia, I need you to
watch the baby for a while, I need to meet with Dr. Walsh.
Brad peeked out of the play
pen where he lay on his tummy trying to get the medicine taste out of his
mouth. The conversations of the adults, among whom he now counted his cousin,
seemed impenetrable to him, even though he knew exactly what they were saying,
there was a barrier there, for he could have no say in it, and therefore why
should he worry over it unless it directly involved him. This, of course, did,
but not in a particularly interesting way.
Patricia called back as she
hung out of the door of her room. “Me and Sybil are
going to the mall, I told you about it two days ago remember?” She complained,
worried that her and her friend would now be stuck changing poopie
diapers instead of talking about shoes and boys, and what would enlarge their
butts the most at the food court.
“I can give you some extra
money if you’ll stay home Tricia, I really don’t want to inconvenience you but
I only heard about this today,” Mia said coaxingly.
“Sybil’s dad is already
coming by to give us a ride!” Patricia added, giving her denial an air of
finality since the plans were endorsed by another parent.
“I don’t know where I could
find a sitter at this hour, maybe I can take him along..”
Mia thought to herself.
“You could try out that
stroller you were looking at in the baby store.” Patricia added with a chuckle
as her and Sybil got ready to go.
“The baby
store! Oh of
course!” Mia exclaimed. Mia dug in her purse to find a piece of paper
with the number of a clerk she had met at the baby store. Tiffany was the
girl’s name, and she had been terribly nice and even offered to babysit. Brad had been in trainers when they had last met,
but considering the state of his pants then, Mia didn’t expect Tiffany to wonder
much why he was now diapered. It was only twenty minutes before Tiffany arrived
with a bright smile, asking where her cute little buddy was. Mia spent a good
few minutes talking to her new sitter about boring grown up stuff and then led
her over to the play pen. Brad looked up at her, scarcely remembering her after
all he’d been through, but he liked her bubbly demeanor.
“Wow, I see potty training
didn’t go so well!” Tiffany chuckled, walking over to the play pen. Acting
purely on instinct she poked a finger into his diaper, but he didn’t even blink
an eyelid, just sucked at his pacifier.
“Oh no,
unfortunately not, but I like having him in diapers and it fits his state. He doesn’t talk very well anymore, and the doctor
says it could be months before he regains his big boy capacities. It really was
great of you to come sit on such short notice!” Mia
smiled and Tiffany just nodded. “He’s in good hands, go have fun!
“Bye bye
baby boy!” His mother cooed, kissing him on the forehead. He tried to stand up and
cling to her, but Tiffany folded his knees under him to force him to sit down,
breaking his unsteady hold on the rail of the play pen.
“None of that baby, your
mommy says you might fall over and hurt yourself if you run around a lot or try
to stand on your own… But don’t worry, we can still have fun!” Brad was glad to
hear this, and spent the next hour crawling around playing various games
involving a bright red ball that Tiffany had brought with her. He occasionally
tried to suggest rules to her, and she would nod her head appeasingly
as he made his infantile attempts to communicate how his version of baseball
should be played.
Tiffany couldn’t help but be
glad how well he’d adjusted to his new place in life. He had been so bashful
and self conscious when she first met him, now he scampered around happily in
nothing but a diaper, babbling baby talk as he wet or pooped himself. She
wasn’t so impressed with the mess he made for her though.
“Baby you’re far too big for poopie messes, you should go on
the potty.” She scolded as she changed him. Brad simply began to cry and she
knew she had gone too far, cooing and consoling him until he passed into sleep.
She was relieved by Mia later in the night without event, but offered to babysit again any time. Mia was sure she’d need the help
after Patricia headed home.
Brad was now completely
trained as a proper infant. The daycare workers would often cart him along into
the adults only parts of the building, as he probably
didn’t care to understand their grown up talk, and couldn’t repeat it even if
he did. On one such day he was being held by one of his caretakers just before
nap time.
The daycare lady chatted
amicably with a nurse as she bounced Brad on her hip. Brad suddenly spotted a
medicine dropper in the nurse’s hand and at first he was worried it was meant
for him and began to squirm, sucking furiously at his pacifier. The pacifier
immediately made him feel tingly and warm, and secure. The nurse looked to him
kindly and smoothed his hair back.
“There, there baby, this
isn’t for you. You’re already trained and don’t need as much medicine.” She
cooed. Brad wanted to ask what it was in the dropper, but he could feel his
tongue was numb after suckling at his paci and he
only gibbered a few vowels that might or might not
have had a place in the sentence he had wanted to construct.
“This is to help Curtis wet
during his nap.” The nurse stated, seeing the question in the boy’s eyes. “He’s
the only one of our boys that isn’t a full time bedwetter yet. Isn’t that awful?”
She asked, as though it were quite a terrible thing. Brad remembered Curtis
teasing him and could now see why that had happened, because Curtis was the
only one who could do so without any hypocrisy. Now it seemed he was a
minority. Served him right! Brad nodded softly to the nurse’s question.
The daycare lady brought out
the tray of drinks she’d made up and Brad watched the nurse drop a few drops
into one of the cups. Brad stared at her, drooling slightly as she did this.
“It’ll just make him sleep
easier and need to wet. We only started him on it this week because his mother
wasn’t sure of the treatment but now she’s definitely onboard after all the
mean things he’s said to you and some of our other diaper boys. We had them
trained to wet at nap time much more easily. And you as well.” The nurse
grinned. Brad remembered her from Dr. Walsh’s office and began to fuss and
squirm at the recollections that brought up.
“Are you cranky that all the
other boys will be wearing diapers like you soon?” The daycare lady asked,
tickling him to try to draw out a smile, and rather misunderstanding the source
of his disquiet. But of course when all she had to go by were his whines,
gibbering and facial expressions, she could be forgiven for misconstruing such
potentially vague signs.
“Don’t worry, they’ll all be
much happier after they’re diaper trained, and Dr. Walsh plans to start pilot
programs for her therapy in other areas too, won’t that be nice?” She asked,
smiling brightly.
“I bet you’d like to tell the
other boys what’s in the drinks they get before nap time, but you cant, can you baby?” She teased. “Come on, say “no I cant’ for nanny Claire.” She grinned and listened as he
popped the pacifier out of his mouth. He wanted to be good for her now, to do
as she said, so he gave it a try for her.
“Nuhuh-cahh”
He managed to get out the sort of words, along with a rivulet of drool that
slipped on to his bib. The nurse giggled at his attempt at big boy talk. Brad
was taken out to the main room of the nursery. The other boys always kept their
distance from him, seeing in his predicament the depths to which any of them
could fall, a fact their mothers made sure to stress when they were
misbehaving.
Brad watched Curtis as he was
handed his drink by the attendant and he had a moment of conscience, wishing he
could tell the bigger boy what was happening. Claire watched him squirm and try
to point at Curtis; cup. Curtis gave him a puzzled and disapproving look as he
sipped at the drink. “What’s wrong baby is he being mean?” Claire asked
innocently as she saw Brad’s gestures grow more furious.
“Stupid baby probably wishes
he could drink from a cup too!” The boy said proudly, making a show of drinking
out of his more adult vessel.
“Go get a bottle baby.” He
grinned and went off to play for the remaining time before they all went for
their naps. Brad whimpered and looked up at Claire who just gave him a knowing
nod. “Come on baby, you should know better than to try that. Now take your
pacifier and let’s put you down for your nap early since you were fussing.
Brad saw her holding the
pacifier in front of his lips even as he tried to voice his protests… He knew
he’d failed to do anything to prevent the treatment being used on other boys,
and he knew that the more he suckled at the pacifier the more regressed his
speech would become. Normally he didn’t think of it, but with Claire holding it
to him with that smug superior look he couldn’t help but know what it was for,
what it symbolized… but right now he wanted the comfort that he was being
offered, right now he needed his pacifier.
---
Over the next year Brad
slowly earned his big boy privileges back through good behavior and a small bit
of begging. He was eventually allowed to toilet train again, though he spent a
great deal of time in the training pants before finally graduating to his
treasured underwear, though he stayed firmly in diapers at night. His mother of
course made sure that the underwear, and his night diapers, always had the
cutest possible prints on them for her little boy.
He was generally well behaved
as well, especially because he knew the punishment for transgressions. No
matter how well he did behave he spent a few days out of the year in diapers
regardless. He went for check ups with Dr. Walsh often where she asked if he
was being good, and how he was feeling, and so forth, and he would often just
talk to her about things that had little baring on his medical status, which
she seemed to put up with, if not always enjoy the conversations.
The doctor was generally
quite busy, working as a consultant for a large company called Lornian, but she always made time to thoroughly look over
her first and favorite boy patient. On his visits she’d go about making sure he
was pooping often enough (she never did use medical terms with him) and of
course ensuring that he would be able to provide a urine sample for her. Brad
had pointed out once or twice that he could pee without her aid, but she always
preferred to make sure, so much like the lollipop she placed in his mouth when
he left, it was also a tradition that when he entered her office she’d make
sure he drank a liquid diuretic syrup washed down with a glass of water.
Then, depending partly on the
tests she wanted to run, and partly on how she was feeling that day, the doctor
would either catheterize him to get her sample without having to wait or fuss,
or coax him into peeing in a cup for her while she held both it and his penis,
to avoid splashing, of course.
Brad would be diapered after
this, the doctor explaining that the diuretic would make it hard to keep from
wetting, and that she liked hearing him scamper around in the rustling diapers
anyhow. He never did like the catheter as peeing stung a bit after it came out,
but diapers, for him, were just a fact of life. The doctor didn’t even ask
about his bedwetting, indeed she would have only been concerned if he had
showed signs of stopping his nightly habits, which he never did.
Something he did do, however
infrequently, was get in to mischief. Dr.
Walsh put this down to a
chronic condition called “being a boy” and his mother concurred. Most of the
time he didn’t mean to, so Mia didn’t get on him too bad. But once in a while,
such as the day he came home from his special baby school with an F in science
after barely passing with a C minus the previous course, she had to set an
example. Brad knew anything that happened at school would get back to his
mother nigh immediately, so he had begged to be given extra credit assignments,
make up any work he’d missed, anything. Nothing brought his grade above the
needed threshold.
His mother patted the couch
as soon as he came in and he knew he was in for it as he sat down.
“Brad, I know you tried your
best, your teacher told me so… Maybe it’s just not a good subject for you. But
we need to help you out, and I told you I was going to have to punish you if
you messed up your grades much worse than last semester.” Brad gave a meek nod
and she sighed a bit. “Do you know what mommy has to do?” She asked. Another nod. He was suddenly fascinated by his feet.
“I’m not going to make you be
an infant because I know you really tried…. But you’re going to have to be a
diapered toddler for a day, and then you can wear your trainers while we work
out some tutoring for you for the next week or two. Do you think that’s fair?”
Mia asked, this time expecting an answer.
“Yes mommy…” Brad said
softly, relieved that he would at least still have some of his big boy
privileges. Being treated as an infant was the worst punishment he could get
and he very almost never incurred it. As a toddler he could at least walk and
not have to suck the pacifier, and eat normal food… all good things.
“Ok then. Go get the changing
table set up.” Mia said softly, sending him on his way with a swat on his
bottom. Brad hated this part worst of all and lamented at his task as he walked
out of the living room past the play pen his mother kept there as an ever
present threat for misbehavior (he told his friends it was because she
sometimes babysat, but they all knew, since they endured such treatment at
times as well). For the rest of his punishment his mom would handle getting his
diapers on, and sometimes his trainers, and of course she’d clean him up for a
while, but the first time he was diapered at the start of the punishment he
always had to get things set up so he’d know what was coming.
Brad walked to his room and
opened the drawer that he only ever opened once in a blue moon, when he
deserved what was inside. He took out an arm full of things and then cleared off
his dresser of batman throw blanket he had over it, revealing the railings and
pad. He put the baby powder and Vaseline up, as well as the oil and baby wipes.
Everything was in its place
in the drawer, and his mother expected it to be in its place on the changing
table. He groaned as he set the thermometer down, more toward the rear, hoping
it would be missed.
He set out the diaper rash
cream as well, he might need it. Brad didn’t ever try to hold his messes when
he was diapered, he knew too well that his mother was capable of making sure he
used the diapers properly, and it would only make her mad if she had to. Oh, and there were the diapers… He checked once to make sure
everything was organized, and then went back to the chest of drawers.
He slipped the crinkly white
thing off of the top of the stack that had been beside the baby wipes, the
shorter stack, not the thick one meant for night time. He whimpered as he saw
it and shuffled his feet, wishing she’d just let him go straight to the
dinosaur print training pants that were so easily within his reach. Even the
thin diapers were so much thicker! As he walked over to set up the last part of
his punishment and unfolded the diaper, Brad caught the distinctive soft,
plastic and sweet smell of it and for a moment he couldn’t help but smile,
something about it was just comforting. His mother watched from the door way,
proud of how quickly he’d done as he was told. He turned to look at her with a
slight pout and she couldn’t help but kiss it away from his face even as she
lifted him to sit him on the changing table, remarking on how big her little
boy was getting.
The End.
Addendum: Thanks to all my friends and fans who helped get me to keep at this and encouraged me. Like
any baby boy, a lot of coaxing is required to get me to do anything, and I like
to please people lol.
Special thanks to Stefan for his help! and, hey, if there are any mommies reading this... I do
happen to be available for play dates lol. for statistics sake, final word count is 101000, and this is
214 pages long. yay!