Not Quite an Accident

 

Chapter 20

 

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 eden dad!” He protested fervently. Mia knew she had other battles on the way, and though she disliked his speaking up and almost defying her in a big boy’s voice, she let it pass to allow some attempt at negotiation.

 

“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!