The Day's of his Lives

A Sequence of Strange Reflections

by Jennifer Loraine



Disclaimer: This is an adult fantasy story about physical age regression.

The characters portrayed within are neither children nor actual people.

Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

If you are offended by material like this, please stop reading this

message now. Otherwise continue, and share in this fantasy.





Chapter Zero



Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child  has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child has to work for a living,

But a child that's been born on the Sabbath day

Is fair and wise and good and gay.



"Monday's Child is Fair of Face", Nursery Rhyme



In the Beginning.....

The infinite sea of probability states popped another virtual particle out 

of non-existence into one of the possible universes. It swam in the space 

until it's life was expended and it was called back into non-reality. After 

a span of time, another particle took its place. In another possible 

universe, it had survived for a shorter duration before being called back 

into the Tao. This is/was/will be Maya, the illusion of existence that 

replicates itself infinitely and then disappears. It is life and non-life, 

death and non-death. It is all and nothing simultaneously. Creatures were 

born within it, grew old and died. Each creature's life was reflected 

multiply across the manifold of possible existences. Every choice that was 

made opened a new sheaf of probability paths for the creature to follow. 

Some paths lead to greatness and some to sorrow. All paths come to the same 

end in the Tao; what emerges from the sea must return to the sea. In some 

universes time runs sidewise, in others it runs backwards. In others, time 

doesn't exist. Only the eternal now exists in those universes. Past and 

future cannot even be dreamt of in those universes.

In an infinite sheaf of universes, all things are possible. This is the 

story of a man who's life ran backwards in seven different universes. It 

was not what he wanted or what he had been looking for, but he found the 

way back to an earlier time in his life nonetheless. His story needs no 

explanation, for the Tao cannot be explained, it must be experienced like 

poetry..........



Chapter One



Wednesday's Child

by Jennifer Loraine



All those who try to go it sole alone,

Too proud to be beholden for relief,

Are absolutely sure to come to grief.

Robert Frost, Haec Fabula Docet





As a scientist, I knew that this was possible. My associate in the lab had 

spent the last ten years perfecting a device that altered reality. At first 

the device took the probability function for a defined space and altered it 

randomly. As he modified the device and increased it's complexity, it 

caused the objects placed within it's field to change by varying the 

twenty-four dimensional settings on the machine. He discovered that the 

device's behavior was governed by a set of arcane tensor equations that 

took him most of the ten years to interpret.

With the advent of high speed microprocessors, he was able to gang them 

together to form a massively parallel processing array to predict which 

changes the device would incur on the objects within the field's area. The 

effects of the device became reproducible and we began to seriously 

experiment with the device. We started out small placing pens or pencils 

within the field and changing them into sticks of wood, quill pens, and 

other objects whose purpose we could never fathom. When we placed living 

creatures, such as lab mice, within the field we were surprised by the 

results. Although we could cause massive changes in the creature's 

appearance such as hair and eye color, weight, size and age, the form of 

the creatures remained relatively constant. Each time we could change the 

creature and we would test it extensively for biochemical changes before 

changing them back. We experimented with rats, then pigs and finally 

monkeys before we decided we needed a human subject.

I looked in the full length mirror in Paul's bedroom and wasn't entirely 

displeased with what I saw. It wasn't that I minded being like this 

temporarily, I've had fantasies since early adolescence of having this 

happen to me. It was just the idea of being like this permanently that 

frightened me. I wasn't sure I wanted to live the rest of my life in the 

body whose image was being reflected back at me. I gazed into the mirror at 

the figure of the same toddler I saw the day before; a clumsy, tottering, 

two year old in white underpants and a T-shirt. The underpants were 

padded...training pants.

For the past three days I've been trapped in the body of a baby. The world 

around me is a huge place that is strangely familiar, but terribly 

frightening. I was sorry I volunteered to be the guinea pig. We'd had such 

success with the lab animals that my confidence level was high, and neither 

of us had anticipated any problems. The first changes he had made were 

subtle. The color of my hair, the shape of my nose; always changing my 

features back as quickly as he altered them. Gradually, we started making 

dramatic changes; manipulating the probability field to give me a younger 

body. Last week, I was a teenager, then he changed me back again without 

any difficulty. I should have expected something to go wrong. Everything 

had been too perfect. The machine's calibration was dead on the first time 

we powered it up. Not a single component had failed in testing. We were 

ahead of schedule because the delays we had allowed for had not 

materialized.

The latest change went off exactly as planned. When we tried to change me 

back, nothing happened. Paul was frantic, he sweated profusely as he 

reprogrammed the computer trying to restore me to my body. For some reason 

I couldn't return to my former probability state. My associate Paul wrapped 

me the lab's emergency fire blanket and took me home Wednesday night. He 

asked his wife Gina to take care of me until he could find a way to change 

me back. Gina agreed readily, saying she had always wanted a baby and her 

inability to have one had been the greatest disappointment of her adult 

life. She went out shopping for clothes for me immediately, while Paul 

stayed with me at the house. When she returned, she dressed me in the only 

clothes she had been able to find that would fit me; a toddler's t-shirt 

and training pants!

Gina put me in their spare bedroom after putting a waterproof sheet on the 

bed. I tried to tell her I didn't need it, but she was adamant, little boys 

had accidents she said and she didn't want me ruining the mattress.

The next morning I discovered that I had wet my training pants in my sleep. 

I tried to hide them in the bathroom, but Gina caught me trying to stuff 

them under the bathroom sink. She asked me what I had been doing and I was 

forced to explain what had happened. It was the most humiliating experience 

of my adult life. She laughed and told me it was alright, that's why she 

had bought training pants for me. Then she filled the tub with lukewarm 

water and insisted on bathing me like I was a little boy. When she finished 

washing me, she helped me out of the tub and dried me off. She insisted on 

dressing me in a clean pair of training pants before she would let me go to 

breakfast.

She led me by the hand to her kitchen where she helped me up on a kitchen 

chair. When I saw what she had prepared for my breakfast, I was horrified. 

Unsweetened oatmeal and milk for breakfast? Where was my coffee? Where were 

the bacon and eggs? Paul didn't strike me as some kind of health nut. I had 

seen him eating hamburgers plenty of times at the lab. I was grateful to 

Gina for taking me in, but was this the kind of meal you served a guest? I 

asked her courteously for a cup of coffee and some butter and sugar for the 

oatmeal and she positively blanched. You'd have thought I was asking for a 

ham steak in a Kosher kitchen! I asked her what was the matter and she 

said, "Honeybunch, I can't give you coffee, you're too young! Why don't you 

drink the milk instead?"

I shook my head in disgust and said, "How about some butter and sugar for 

the oatmeal then?"

She looked sadly at me and replied, "Butter and sugar aren't good for 

little boys, Honey. It'll taste fine once you get used to it. If you 

absolutely have to sweeten it, I have some applesauce in the refrigerator I 

can put in the oatmeal. Would you like that? No? Okay then, dig in! Come 

on, Honey! Eat some oatmeal for Aunt Gina! If you make a happy bowl, Aunt 

Gina will give you a banana for desert!"

I hung my head low and began to eat the mush slowly. "I thought childhood 

was supposed to be happy, carefree time. I don't remember it being anything 

like this!", I muttered to myself around the spoon.

When I finished, she wiped my face with a damp washcloth and led me into 

the living room. I sat in front of the tv and she turned it on. Instead of 

the morning news, she tuned it to Nickelodeon. A cartoon called the Rugrats 

was on. Apparently she thought cartoons were the appropriate fare for 

someone my age. Rather than argue with her, I sat and watched the show 

quietly. At least it took my mind off of my grumbling stomach.

The morning passed slowly as I watched cartoon after cartoon on the tv. I 

almost welcomed it when she told me it was time for my nap. She tucked me 

into my bed and kissed me on the forehead before she drew the curtains and 

closed the door. Within minutes I was fast asleep. Two hours later I awoke 

to find Gina beside me. Gina had come in the room, pulled the covers down 

from my head and sat down beside me. She smiled as I opened my eyes and 

asked me how I was feeling. I moaned and said I didn't feel like getting 

up. Gina put her hand on my forehead and told me I didn't have a fever. She 

patted me on the head and said, "Come on, sleepyhead. Aunt Gina's made a 

wonderful lunch for you. Aren't you hungry?"

She pulled the covers down to my waist and put her hand beneath the front 

of my pants before I could object. She smiled and said, "Honeybunch, I 

think I should get you into some dry pants. Come on, get up, Honey and Aunt 

Gina will help you to the bathroom."

I blushed and reluctantly let her lead me into the bathroom and undress me. 

When she pulled off my pants her smile became a broad grin as she saw their 

condition. She helped me up on the toilet and left me to do my business. 

When she passed by the doorway, I saw her carrying a plastic bag into the 

guest room. She returned shortly with a box of babywipes in her hand. She 

stood me up and wiped my behind before leading me back into the bedroom. 

The coldness of the wipe surprised me, I guess I had expected them to be 

room temperature, but the evaporation of the alcohol made them much colder 

than the surrounding air. I told her that in the future, I'd rather she 

used toilet paper to wipe me, but she only smiled and said she'd see what 

she could do about the cold.

Gina boosted me up onto the bed and laid me on my back. I started to ask 

her what she was doing, but she silenced me by putting a finger on my lips. 

She started tickling me and I began laughing uncontrollably. Suddenly, she 

lifted my legs in the air and put a pad underneath my bottom. She sprinkled 

baby powder over my crotch and rubbed it carefully into every fold and 

crevice of my skin. I writhed in embarrassment and arousal. She had no 

right to do this to me! She was a married woman! She pulled my legs apart 

and I licked my lips in anticipation. She tickled me again and in the mirth 

I never even noticed that she had pulled the pad up between my legs and was 

taping one side together.

She was diapering me! I screamed in anger as she fastened the other side 

and sat me up on the bed. I demanded to know why she had diapered me and 

she took the wet training pants down from the top of the dresser where she 

had laid them. She told me to look inside and I complied angrily. I was 

shocked when I saw the back of the pants. I had shat in my pants while I 

was sleeping!! I was mortified! The shame and humiliation were too much for 

me; I started crying. She picked me up, sat me on her lap and began 

cuddling me. I leaned against her and wept like a baby.

When I quieted, she carried me to the kitchen and settled me in a chair. I 

never even looked at the room around me until she sat me down. I just kept 

my head buried in her bosom and hid my face in shame. When I finally opened 

my eyes, I saw that I was actually higher than the kitchen table. My chair 

had a tray in front that went around me and the arms and back were heavily 

padded with plastic. She had put me in a high chair!

She stepped around behind me and put something in front of my neck. I 

looked down and saw she was tying a bib around my neck. I kicked my legs in 

frustration as she sat down in front of me and began spooning food into my 

mouth. I tried to tell her I was perfectly capable of feeding myself, but 

could not talk with all the food in my mouth. She was treating me like a 

twelve month old baby! She finished spooning the jar's contents into my 

mouth and wiped my face with the bib.

Then she got up and made herself a bowl of soup and a sandwich. I looked at 

her meal enviously and wished she was in the high chair instead of me. My 

tears had made my nose run and I coughed. She looked at me in surprise as 

if she had forgotten something important.

The next thing I knew she had stuck the nipple of a baby bottle in my 

mouth. I wanted to spit it out, but my  thirst betrayed me. I had to have 

something to drink! I sucked on the bottle until it was half finished and 

then slowed. I felt like I wanted to throw up! I wasn't nauseated, but it 

felt like I had eaten too much. Gina saw the expression in my eyes and 

immediately got up and stood behind me. She started patting me gently on 

the back and I belched loudly. I sighed in relief and sat back in the high 

chair.

It slowly dawned on me what I had just done! I had drunk nearly 

three-quarters of a bottle of infant formula without making a fuss! Would 

Gina notice? Had they somehow discovered my secret? I looked at Gina for 

some sign that she was pleased with my reaction to her treatment of me. 

Nothing. A coincidence, nothing more. I sighed again in repletion. Oh well, 

if she was bound and determined to treat me like a baby, I was going to sit 

back and enjoy it. Paul would find the solution quickly enough and I'd 

never get a better chance to actually live out my secret fantasies. I 

waited patiently while Gina finished her lunch and nursed occasionally on 

my bottle.

When Paul came home that night, he was surprised to see me crawling around 

the floor in diapers. After Gina explained to him the mess I had made in my 

pants, he nodded and agreed it was the only thing she could have done. 

Besides, he told her, it didn't look like it had made me unhappy. By eight 

o'clock my eyelids were drooping and I was falling asleep in Gina's lap. 

She carried me to bed and tucked me in with a kiss. What a wonderful mother 

she's going to make some child, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

The days became weeks and still Paul was no closer to reaching a solution 

than when he started. Everything had become routine under Gina's care; 

first my diaper change in the morning followed by my bottle of water and 

back to sleep. Then Gina would wake me and take me to the kitchen for my 

breakfast, followed by cartoons until it was time for my nap. After my nap, 

Gina would change my diaper again and then it was time for lunch. A few 

more hours of play and then time for my afternoon nap. Then a diaper 

change, dinner, play and my evening bottle and back to sleep for the night. 

I was in heaven. Gina mothered me and coddled me unceasingly. Paul went to 

check on my apartment on a Saturday and was surprised by the number of 

bills that had accumulated in my mailbox. He came home and talked with Gina 

in private before coming to me. Paul told me that I had to appoint someone 

to take care of my affairs while I was in this condition and suggested they 

ask my attorney. I told him that I didn't trust my attorney that far and 

asked if Paul couldn't do it for me. Paul said that he'd be happy to do it, 

but he'd need a power-of-attorney to be able to handle my affairs. I agreed 

and we contacted my attorney to arrange a meeting.

Three days later, my attorney was sitting on the couch and having coffee 

with Paul and Gina while I sat on the floor with my bottle. My lawyer kept 

looking at me and shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what had 

happened to me. He arranged for someone to come over and take my 

fingerprints to use in the event that the judge required proof of my 

identity. He told us that he couldn't have sworn in court that the person 

sitting on the floor at his feet was his client and with the exception of 

Paul, he didn't think anyone else could either. He recommended that I grant 

Paul a full power of attorney and I agreed. I signed some papers granting 

him limited power of attorney to handle my affairs until we had a final 

ruling from the court.

Two weeks later, Paul had been empowered with my full power of attorney by 

the court. (My attorney had pulled some strings and had gotten it moved up 

on the docket.) Paul went to my apartment to box my things and put them in 

storage. Paul came home looking stunned and said he had to talk to Gina in 

private. When they came out they were looking at me strangely. I asked them 

what was the matter and Paul said that he didn't know how to tell me, 

perhaps it would be best if he showed me. He went to his car and returned 

with a large cardboard shipping carton and set it on the floor.

I crawled over to the carton and sat down in front, curious about what he 

had to show me. Paul reached in a pulled out a large cloth diaper. An adult 

diaper! He looked at me as if he expected me to say something and then 

reached in and pulled out a pair of adult-sized, blue-pastel plastic pants. 

I blushed in embarrassment as I recognized my property. He had discovered 

my secret! He reached in again an pulled out my favorite pair of 

 "onesies". I was mortified! How could I explain my secret desires to them? 

I wanted to run away and hide. Gina looked at me with an odd smile on her 

face as if she was secretly enjoying my discomfiture.

I tried to explain and found myself breaking into sobs. Gina knelt beside 

me and put her arms around my shoulders and told me it was alright. She 

didn't mind if I wanted to be a baby. I tried to tell her that I wasn't a 

pedophile, I just like to dress up and pretend that someone loved me and 

cared for me. I told her about how different I had felt growing up and how 

lonely I'd been. I told her about how all I had wanted in life was a place 

I could feel warm and secure and where everyone loved me. My sobs became 

loud cries and she gathered me up in her arms and held me to her breasts to 

comfort me. She patted my back and made mothering noises to calm me in 

front of her astonished husband. Paul shook his head silently and took the 

box out to his car. I never saw it again.

A month later, Paul called home and said he had some great news for us. He 

rushed home and told Gina to get me dressed, he had discovered the 

solution. Gina looked oddly sad at the news and took her time getting me 

ready. When I was dressed, Paul drove the two of us to the lab and asked 

Gina to strip me and put me within the machine's field. He made some final 

adjustments to the control panel and turned it on.

The whine of the charging capacitors filled my ears as the machine began 

it's startup sequence. I heard the main relay kick in and the hum of the 

coils as the current passing through them caused them to oscillate. Then 

the automatic timer kicked off and I asked how I looked.

...Or thought I asked how I looked!? "What's the matter?", I demanded.

Paul and Gina stood frozen with surprised looks on their faces. Something 

was wrong! I looked down at my hands and saw that the fingers were still 

short and pudgy like a small child's. I tried to ask Paul what had gone 

wrong and all that came out was a baby's babbling! I drummed my feet 

against the floor in frustration crying to know what had gone wrong. Paul 

recovered slightly, then rushed to his desktop computer, shouting, "His 

psyche! My God, I forgot to include his psychic field in the equations!" He 

worked furiously, forgetting all about the presence of his wife and infant 

associate.

Gina knelt at my side and picked me up in her arms. She turned to Paul and 

said softly, "Paul can you explain what's happened to him? I thought you 

said you could cure him! He's even younger than he was before! Instead of a 

two year old toddler, he's been turned into an eleven or twelve-month-old 

baby! What happened?" Paul turned to her and said, "Gina, it's him! His 

need to be a baby again is what happened! His psyche interacts with the 

probability field! The machine works by altering the order within this 

manifold of Hilbert space. His psyche is also an ordering function. It's 

interacting with the machine's changes and introduced chaos into the 

equation. His intense desires have formed a mathematical strange attractor 

and are causing the field to produce uncontrollable changes! Don't you 

understand? He subconsciously wants to stay a baby! There's nothing I can 

do about it! I'm scared to put him back under the field's influence, I 

don't know how young he'll become!"

He turned off his computer in disgust and went over to the control panel to 

shut down the machine as well. He turned to Gina and said, "Let's go home 

Gina. It been a long day."

That was the day I returned to full babyhood. I can still think, but my 

body and reflexes are those of an eleven-month-old baby. Paul used his 

power-of-attorney to have me declared mentally incompetent and was made my 

guardian. It wasn't difficult; once they proved my identity to the judge, 

my diapers and pacifier made all their arguments for them. The judge said 

it was a clear case of "res ipsa locutor", or "the thing speaks for 

itself". I only wished I could have spoken for myself as well.

They took some of my money and bought a complete set of baby clothes and 

outfitted a nursery for me. Gina "adopted" me as her baby and I've come to 

love her as my mommy. I've accepted my new role as her baby and spend my 

days playing happily in my playpen or crawling on the rug. I'm living in an 

infantilist's paradise. My previous life as a scientist is fading into a 

dim memory as time passes. It's hard to believe that only a few months ago, 

I was a respected scientist running a laboratory. Paul dismantled the 

machine and has gone on to fame and fortune in his researches. Everyone 

seems to be happy with the final outcome of our experiments, but I find 

myself wondering, what would have happened if I wasn't an infantilist? Was 

Paul's theory too pat? What if everyone had a secret desire buried deeply 

in their subconscious to become a baby again? Would they be affected the 

same way I was? I'll never know. But then, it's not a baby's place to know 

anything. A baby's purpose is to love his mommy and to have his mommy love 

and care for him. And she does!



Chapter Two



Thursday's Child

by Jennifer Loraine



The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

 But I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening st. 4



As a working scientist, I should have known that the risks of employing the 

unknown  effect of a temporal field on a human subject were high. My wife 

is a researcher who had spent the last ten years perfecting a device that 

altered local entropic states. It changed the direction of the arrow of 

time within the field's area. Objects placed under the field's influence 

became younger with respect to the rest of the universe. When we conducted 

tests with living animals, however, the results were not what we expected 

them to be. The animals regressed as we expected, but their consciousness 

seemed to be unaffected. We subjected them to every psychological test we 

could think of, but there was no degradation of mental function. As nearly 

as we could tell, consciousness was independent of the material state of 

matter. It was this curious result that led to my volunteering as a test 

subject. My wife was hesitant at first, but the animal trials had gone so 

well that I was able to persuade her to make the attempt. I was convinced 

that with a little more research we could crack the secret of 

consciousness.

I gazed in the mirror while waiting for my wife to get dressed and saw the 

toddler I had become in only a few minutes under her projector; a 

fat-legged two year old in white underpants and a T-shirt.  The underpants 

were padded...training pants.

I've been trapped in the body of a baby since early this morning. I 

considered the sequence of events that had led to my predicament. It 

started with me volunteering to be the test subject. My lust for knowledge 

had caused us to make a terrible mistake. There seemed to be some sort of 

limit to the reversibility of the effect we hadn't encountered with the lab 

animals. My wife thought it had to do with the magnitude of the change that 

was induced. The lifespans of lab animals being so short, we were only able 

to regress them a few years. It simply never occurred to us that a time 

change of over twenty years might be dangerous. She'd had such success with 

animals that my confidence level had been high, and neither one of us had 

anticipated any problems.

The first changes she made were subtle. The early graying of my hair was 

changed into the chestnut brown of my youth. The crowsfeet at the corners 

of my eyes I had gotten by spending too much time squinting through the 

optics of instruments vanished in a minute under the projector. She always 

changed my features back at the end of each session. Gradually, we started 

making dramatic changes; reversing my entropic state for longer and longer 

periods to give me an increasingly younger body. Last week, I was an 

adolescent, then I was back in my old body again without a problem. A 

series of small mishaps caused us to delay the final tests until Thursday. 

The project seemed to be cursed by gremlins; every time we turned around 

something else had failed. First it we had a galloping glitch in the 

digital to analog converter boards for the power driver unit. Then the 

calibration on the coils started drifting for no apparent reason. After 

that a filter capacitor in the fifteen volt power supply started to go and 

put a three volt ripple on the fifteen volt line. Finally we tore down the 

entire unit and checked everything before continuing the test series. If I 

had had any idea of what was going to happen to me I would have smashed the 

circuit boards and hauled the broken shards to the dumpster myself.

When we tried to change me back we discovered that this metamorphosis was 

different. For some reason I couldn't return to my former state. I became 

more and more frantic as my wife tried various combinations of settings to 

restore me. The banks of computer equipment and field generators that 

surrounded me seemed simultaneously familiar and ominous as we toiled to 

return me to my original body.

When my wife turned off the machine and walked over to the test stage to 

sit down and talk with me, I knew we were beaten. She told me that she had 

tried everything she could think of, but nothing had worked. I put my face 

in my hands and wept bitterly in anguished frustration over the news. 

Pauline patted my back and told me it would be okay, she would take care of 

everything. She wrapped me in a blanket and carried me out to our car in 

her arms. I cried like a small child on the ride home, fearing the 

consequences of our experiments with nature. What if she couldn't change me 

back? Would I be forced to grow up all over again? The thought sent shivers 

down my spine. Surly she'd find the means to restore me to my proper 

entropic state. I just couldn't bear the thought of being a toddler again.

When we got home, my wife put me to bed while she went shopping. I awoke 

later in the afternoon and discovered I had wet the bed. I was in a panic. 

What was Pauline going to say when she saw what I had done? I stripped the 

bed as quickly as my diminished body would allow and dragged the dripping 

mess into the laundry room. I had set up the stepstool in front of the 

washer and was stuffing the sheets into the top when I felt something was 

amiss. I turned around to see my wife standing there watching me.

"And just what do you think YOU'RE doing?", she inquired imperiously.

I sputtered in embarrassment as she walked up to the washer to examine the 

load. She looked at the sheet, pulling the folds over to reveal the wet 

spot I had made. "And just what is this?"

Pauline fixed me with an icy stare as she said, "Did you wet the bed?"

I nodded silently, too embarrassed to talk. "I see," she said. "...I guess 

we'll have to do something about that, won't we?"

She finished loading the washer in a jiffy and took me by the hand into the 

living room. Pauline picked me up and sat me down on the couch before 

sitting down herself. She turned to me and said, "Honey, I know you didn't 

mean to wet the bed, but I want you to understand that I can't have you 

ruining the mattress by peeing on it. We're going to have to take some 

steps to protect it and the bed linens too. Do you understand? I stopped by 

Wal-mart on the way home and bought you some new clothes to wear until I 

can change you back. I was afraid that you'd be angry with what I found for 

you to wear, but now I understand that I did the right thing. You 

understand that it's very difficult to find clothes for someone your size, 

about all they had was toddler's clothes."

She pulled a shopping bag close to her feet and continued, "These are the 

only clothes that I could find that came even close to what you normally 

wear."

She pulled a set of bulky toddler's overalls from the bag and held them up 

to me to check the fit. "I think these are about the right size. If the 

cuffs are too long I can take them up, but it shouldn't matter that much. I 

don't think you'll be wearing them for too long anyway. I found a shirt 

too, let me check the size. She took a pullover knit shirt from the bag and 

said, "Put these on, Honey. I can take them back if they don't fit. I can't 

take them up like I can the overalls."

I put out my arms and she helped me put on the shirt. She looked at it a 

few minutes and said, "Okay, you can take them off now. I just wanted to 

see if they'd fit."

I struggled with the shirt for a few moments and found myself being 

undressed by my wife like a small child. She reached in the bag again and 

took out a plastic wrapped package of underclothes. Pauline tore off the 

wrapper and shook one out for me to see. It was a white t-shirt in a 

toddler size and style. She gathered the shirt up in her hands and worked 

my head through the neck before pulling down the bottom of the shirt and 

smoothing it against my body. "There you go, a perfect fit," she said, 

putting her hand back into the bag and taking out another package.

She said, "Why don't you wear these tonight, Honey? I've got some briefs to 

match so you won't have to run around the house half-naked. Here, let me 

help you put them on."

I looked at her hands and saw them holding a pair of briefs down low for me 

to step into them. I steadied myself on her arm as I put one foot then the 

other into the brief and she pulled them up my legs and over my bottom. She 

looked at me and smiled while saying, "They're exactly the right size! I 

was so afraid they'd be too small for you. I guess I keep thinking of you 

as bigger than you really are."

I grimaced at the implied thought and thought to myself, "They do feel like 

they fit well, even if they are toddler's underwear."

I looked down to see how they fit in front and I was horrified to see they 

didn't have a fly! What I had originally mistaken for a fly was only a 

layer of padding in front. "Padding! These are training pants!", I groaned. 

No wonder she had helped me on with them. If I had known what they were, 

I'd have never put them on. I put my hands to the top of the pants to push 

them off and I found my arms imprisoned in her hands. She shook her head 

'no' and said, "Honey, you have to wear something! This is all I could 

find. I know it's embarrassing to have to wear training pants, but no one 

will see them except me. Besides, remember what happened in the bed this 

morning? These will keep the bed dry if you have another 'accident'. You 

won't have to wear them for very long, I promise. These are only temporary 

until I find something else for you to wear. Come on, be a good boy and 

wear them for me, please?"

"Boy?", I thought to myself with affronted dignity, "...just who the hell 

is she calling boy? I may have the body of a child, but that doesn't mean 

she can treat me like one. She's my wife, not my mother!"

I started to push down the pants despite my wife's entreaties and she said, 

"Honey, I'm afraid I must insist! I'm the one who has to wash the sheets if 

you wet the bed. If you don't let go of those pants this instant, I'm going 

to get angry."

She pulled my hands away from the pants and looked me in the eye. "Be good 

and leave the pants alone or I'm going to spank!", she said playfully.

I began to push down the pants immediately in a demonstration of my 

independence. She pulled my hands away again and lightly swatted me in fun 

on my bottom.

I exploded in anger. I reached up with my hand and struck her across the 

face as hard as I could. She looked at me with a frozen expression of shock 

upon her face before that realization of what I had just done sunk in. I 

had never hit her in my life! An angry snarl escaped her lips as she 

grabbed me by the arms and hauled me to the easy chair and over her lap. 

She was livid! She pulled my pants down to my knees and began hitting me 

over and over on my bottom. What had started out as a game had turned into 

a full fledged spanking!

I yelled and screamed my rage, but she was unfazed by my protestations. She 

was determined to teach me a lesson! The skin on my bottom became red and 

inflamed with the repeated blows on my behind. I struggled in an effort to 

break free, but she held me too tightly for me to get away. As the sensory 

nerves in my skin were stimulated into continuous firing, the pain became 

more intense. I wailed in torment at the hideous pain. My sensorium 

overloaded and all I could see, hear and feel was the pain raining down on 

me. The world turned blood red before my eyes. My wails became pleas for 

mercy. I begged her to set me free. She beat on, heedless of my blubbered 

apologies. The blood roared in my ears and I could feel my bottom throb 

with every heartbeat. I whimpered in an agony of shame and humiliation.

As suddenly as she had started she stopped and demanded, "Are you going to 

be a good boy? Are you going to wear those pants like I told you to?"

I sobbed in defeat and she repeated, "Did you hear me? Are you going to 

wear those pants?"

I nodded my head vigorously. She picked me up by the armpits and set me 

down on my feet, then pulled the training pants up over my scarlet bottom. 

She took me by the hand and said, "Come on, Honey. Mommy's going to put a 

cold washcloth on your face and do something about those puffy eyes of 

yours. Then we're going to get dinner."

I looked up at the dominant giant who had been my wife and said, "Mommy?! 

Pauline you're my wife, not my Mommy!"

As she dragged me to the bathroom, she replied grimly between her teeth, 

"Not anymore! I'm not about to play wife to a bed-wetting, 

tantrum-throwing, little boy. If you're going to act like a child, then 

fine, I'll treat you like a child. From now on, I'm your mommy. Do you 

understand me?"

I remained silent, hoping that no answer was sufficient to make my point. 

She stopped and knelt in front of me and demanded, "I SAID, DO YOU 

UNDERSTAND ME, BABY?!"

 I nodded meekly in the presence of the towering female claiming to be my 

mommy. She said, "Good!  Then you won't mind if I carry you to the 

bathroom, you're too small to keep up with me!"

She picked me up in her arms and carried me to the bathroom on her hip. I 

winced as she scrubbed my face clean of tears with the washcloth and 

roughly dried it with a towel. When she finished I asked, "What are we 

having for dinner?"

She gave my face a last brush with  the towel and said mildly, "I think you 

meant to say, 'What are we having for dinner, Mommy?', didn't you?"

I hung my head and said in a barely audible voice, "mommy".

She looked at me with fire in her eyes and said, "What did you say, baby? I 

didn't hear you."

I stared down at the floor and said at a slightly higher volume, "What are 

we having for dinner, Mommy?"

She smiled in triumph and said, "Hamburgers. You like hamburgers. Don't 

you, Baby? Well? Don't you?"

I nodded my agreement. "Good," she said, "You can sit on the bed while 

Mommy gets dressed."

"Get dressed?", I said in panic, "I can't go out like this! Look at me! 

Everyone will think I'm a baby!"

Pauline grinned evilly and said, "But that IS the point. You are a baby! 

And you'll do exactly as Mommy says or you're going to get another 

spanking. Is that clear?"

I hung my head to my chest and said, "Yes, Mommy."

She got dressed, took me out to our car and drove into town. I was 

mortified. I made myself as small as possible so the people in the cars 

beside us wouldn't see me sitting in the passenger seat dressed in a 

t-shirt and training pants. I couldn't see outside the window, but I didn't 

care. Presently she stopped the car and said, "Okay, Baby. We're here. Just 

stay where you are. I'm coming to the other side of the car to open the 

door."

She came over to my side of the car and opened the door, then unbuckled my 

seat belt for me. She picked me up and settled me on her hip to carry me 

into the restaurant. I looked up and saw the golden arches and whimpered, 

"Please Mommy. Not here, don't make me go in there."

She looked at me with determination and said, "Hush, baby. Of course we're 

going in there. We're having dinner, don't you remember? Mommy will buy you 

a nice happy meal just like all the other two year olds in there. Now put 

your thumb in your mouth and suck it."

I put my thumb in my mouth and she grinned broadly, saying, "See, Baby? 

That wasn't so hard, was it?" She laughed as she bent down to pick me up 

saying, "Just suck on your thumb, Honey, and nobody will think you're 

anything but another baby. If you stick your fingers out while your thumb 

is in your mouth, nobody will be able to see your face."

 I did as I was told, panicked at the thought that someone would recognize 

me.

Pauline put her hands under my armpits and hauled me out of the car seat 

before settling me on her hip to carry me into the restaurant. She went to 

the counter and ordered a quarter-pounder combo for herself and a happy 

meal for me while I sat on her hip in embarrassed silence sucking my thumb. 

All around us were mothers with small children and infants. Pauline paid 

for the burgers and carried me to a booth and sat me down. The table 

reached halfway up my chest! She told me to sit still and that she'd be 

back in a few minutes. She returned pushing a high chair mounted on wheels. 

Surely she didn't expect me to eat in a high chair!

She bent over me and I found myself whisked into the high chair. I was 

seated in the high chair in full view of everyone! I looked around 

anxiously and discovered that no one was paying me the slightest attention. 

Everyone DID think I was a baby! She put the happy meal on the tray in 

front of me and I began to eat. When I finished I belched extravagantly, 

earning me a dirty look from Pauline. I looked around the table for my 

drink and discovered that she hadn't ordered me one. In a quiet voice I 

asked Pauline if she would let me have a drink of her soda. She grinned and 

said that I was too small to be drinking sodas. She told me to be patient 

and she would get me something to drink. Pauline reached into her purse and 

took out a baby bottle full of formula. She said, "Here's your ba-ba, 

Honey. Drink up!"

I put the nipple of the formula between my lips and began to suck on the 

bottle. Pauline nodded and went back to eating her dinner. I looked around 

the restaurant at the patrons, there was the usual assortment of workmen 

and teenagers, but the rest of the room was filled with mothers with their 

squalling brats. I looked at some of the small children and saw that 

Pauline had been right, they were eating happy meals! The front door opened 

and in walked Gina, my mistress!! I almost dropped the baby bottle in 

surprise. She breezed past us and went to the counter to order. I hid 

behind my bottle and hoped she would get her order and leave immediately. 

What evil fate had made her decide to have dinner here? She picked up her 

order and walked into the main dining area to find a table.

She saw Pauline and came over to the table. I panicked! She knew it was me! 

What was I going to say to her? She stood at the side of our table and 

said, "Pauline, what a pleasant surprise! Would you mind terribly if I sat 

at your table? All the others seemed to be filled."

Pauline put down her burger and said, "Why of course! Have a seat. There's 

plenty of room."

Gina sat down opposite Pauline and laid down her food. She looked at me, 

cocked her head and smiled sweetly. "She knows who I am! Oh sweet Lord, 

help me!", I thought in an utter panic.

I peed my pants in a rush. I held the bottle in front of my face and sipped 

on the nipple slowly, hoping that it would disguise my appearance enough to 

keep Gina from recognizing me.

Gina said to Pauline in a conversational tone," He has the prettiest blue 

eyes. Is he yours? I didn't know you had a baby."

Pauline swallowed her bite and replied, "Oh he's not mine, he's my 

sister's. I just taking care of him until she gets out of the hospital. She 

should be home in the next week or two."

Gina looked politely concerned and said, "I hope it's nothing serious. It's 

a shame that such a cute baby can't be with his mother."

Pauline agreed and they went on with their meal.

I was desperate. After eating the meal, I suddenly discovered I had an 

intense need to use the toilet. My gut ached as the contractions rolled 

across my abdomen. I knew my bowels would move soon, whether I wanted them 

to or not. I wanted to ask Pauline to take me to the bathroom, but Gina's 

presence effectively precluded that option. The minute Pauline lifted me 

from the high chair, my wet training pants would be obvious to everyone. I 

groaned inwardly in an agony of fear and physical discomfort. The last 

thing I wanted was to attract attention. If Gina discovered who I was she'd 

make a scene and Pauline would discover our illicit love affair. I couldn't 

afford to have that happen to me while I was still in a toddler's body. I 

had planned to leave Pauline in three weeks, but this incident had upset my 

timetable. I still hadn't converted the stocks and bonds although I had 

managed to buy the tickets for the plane to Buenas Aires. If she found out, 

my finances would be tied up for years in court.

Pauline and Gina were chatting amicably when the inevitable happened. I 

started to mess in my pants! I tried to look innocent, but the smell 

betrayed me. I stuck the nipple deep into my mouth and sucked 

industriously, trying to look like the toddler I had become. Gina and 

Pauline swiveled their heads toward me simultaneously and smiled in that 

curiously condescending way women have with babies.

Gina said, "I think your nephew smells a little poopy, Pauline."

Pauline smiled back at her and said, "He's just going to have to sit in 

dirty training pants until we get home.  I don't have any pants with me to 

change him into."

Gina nodded and commiserated, "Isn't it always the way! I think babies must 

sense when you're down to your last diaper and make a 'special' effort. 

From the way they act, sometimes I think they enjoy sitting in poop! Oh 

dear, look at the time! I've got to run. Tell your husband, 

"what's-his-name", hi for me. Maybe you should stop at the grocery store 

and pick up some diapers on the way home. You can potty-train him when he's 

at home and put him in diapers when the two of you go shopping. Surly your 

sister won't object to that. Bye!"

Pauline watched Gina leave and leaned over to me and whispered, "Sooooo, 

you couldn't hold it until we got back to the house! Why didn't you ask to 

be taken to the bathroom? I think I'll do what Gina suggests and get you 

some diapers."

Pauline finished her meal and threw out the trash, then found a newspaper 

vending machine and bought a newspaper. She took him out of the high chair 

and took him to the car. Before she sat me down on the car seat however, 

she spread the newspaper down for me to sit on. "There you go, Honey," she 

said as she buckled his seatbelt, "I didn't want you making the upholstery 

wet. The newspaper will take care of any 'leaks' you have."

She got into the car and began driving to a nearby grocery store. On the 

way there, she was stopped by a cop who gave her a ticket for not having a 

baby seat in the car. Pauline didn't argue with the police officer, she 

knew it was hopeless to explain that I was her husband, not her baby. She 

told me she knew of a second hand children's store nearby and stopped there 

before going to the grocery store. Pauline said she had no intention of 

getting another ticket.

Pauline took him into the children's store and inquired whether they had 

any baby seats.  The saleswoman showed her several and Pauline picked out a 

seat in reasonably good condition. She saw some diaper bags and purchased 

one of those too. The more she thought about it the more sensible Gina's 

idea sounded she told me when we got to the car. If I was going to behave 

like a baby, then "By God", she said, she'd treat me like a baby!

She installed the baby seat into the rear of our car and strapped me in. 

Pauline stopped at the grocery store as promised and took me inside with 

her. The thought of being arrested for 'parental negligence' for leaving me 

in the car left a bad taste in her mouth. She said she could picture 

herself handcuffed in the back of a police car as her husband was whisked 

off to a foster home. She'd never be able to explain to the court what had 

happened to him. Pauline said that she suspected that the longer she waited 

the less likely she was to able to return me to my former state. A day or 

two didn't matter, but a month would be disastrous!

When we got to the grocery store I saw what she meant by treating me like a 

baby! She sat me in the cart facing her and proceeded immediately to the 

baby aisle. I watched in horror as she filled the cart with diapers, baby 

food and baby care items. She really meant it! I hung my head in shame as 

several mothers looked at me and grinned, the stain forming on the front of 

my training pants must be obvious to everyone!

When we went out to the car, Pauline left me in the cart while she put the 

groceries behind the driver's seat. She bent over to take something from 

one of the bags and then lifted me out of the cart. To my surprise she 

didn't take me over to the baby seat, but instead laid me down on the back 

seat next to the grocery bags! What was she doing? She lifted my legs to 

raise my bottom from the seat and slid something underneath my bottom. She 

lowered me to the seat again and grinned before putting a pacifier in my 

mouth. A pacifier! I was mortified! She tugged on the pants and with a 

single movement, pulled the pants off me. I looked around in humiliation to 

see if there were any witnesses to my shame as she pushed my feet back 

until my knees were in my chest and my dirty bottom was fully exposed to 

her. Tears of embarrassment rolled off my cheeks as she wiped my bottom 

clean with a baby wipe and then released me. The next thing I knew she was 

pulling the diaper up between my legs and fastening the tapes. A minute 

later, I found myself sitting in a baby seat with a pacifier in my mouth 

and wearing diapers.

When we came home she left me strapped into the baby seat of the car while 

she unloaded the groceries. She came back out and carried me into the house 

on her hip as if I was a baby. I guess I am, but I still have an adult mind 

and deserve to be treated like an adult.

That afternoon was pure hell. She refused to let me use the toilet and 

forced me to pee in my diapers instead. I screamed and cried, but my tears 

had no effect of her whatsoever. She was determined to punish me for my 

infantile fit of rage. She made me eat baby food and drink formula from 

baby bottles until I thought my stomach was going to pop! Then she made me 

crawl around on the floor to work off the effects of the food. All the 

pureed vegetables and formula had a profound effect on my metabolism; 

before I went to sleep I found myself pooping helplessly in my diaper! I 

wept miserably as she changed me. Then she wrapped me in an old blanket and 

laid down with me to go to sleep. I had to convince her to make another 

attempt to change me back into an adult again, I thought as I fell asleep.

The next morning I woke to find her groping my crotch in my sleep. At least 

that's what I thought. When I opened my eyes I saw that she was checking 

the diaper to see if I had wet it during the night. I had. When she pulled 

down the diaper in front to change me, she got a funny smile on her face. 

Then it hit me, I had pooped in my sleep! She was never going to let me 

wear training pants after this! I started crying and she finished changing 

me and picked me up to comfort me. "No, no, no! This can't be happening to 

me!", I cried as she patted my back and told me how much she loved me.

Then I realized how I sounded. I was carrying on as if I really was a baby. 

My wails had made my speech unintelligible and I sounded like a real baby. 

I screamed again in frustration. After a while I calmed down and she took 

me to the kitchen to feed me breakfast. Within two hours I had pooped again 

in my diaper requiring another diaper change. I knew if she didn't change 

me back soon, I would become psychologically dependent on diapers and would 

be forced to wear diapers even if she did succeed in changing me back.

I finally managed to convince her to try the machine again this morning. It 

was a humiliating experience to have to kneel before her on my hands and 

knees and beg for her to try to change me back into an adult. She told me 

that she'd wanted to find some old clothes of mine for me to wear after the 

change. I told her to use any of my clothes, but she just gave me that 

funny look again and said since she would be the one who had to wash my 

pants if I pooped in them, it was her choice to make. She went into the 

bedroom and went through my clothes while I watched tv. There was nothing 

on but soaps and cartoons, so I selected the later. I had become quite 

addicted to cartoons in the last twenty-four hours, they seemed so bright 

and entertaining since my change.

Pauline came out of the bedroom with an angry expression on her face and 

said, "Okay baby, It's time for your treatment. I'm going to make a phone 

call first and then we'll go."

She packed the diaper bag and left me for a few minutes then returned. 

Something was wrong I decided, but I couldn't figure out just what it was. 

All of a sudden she seemed to be extremely distant and angry with me. It 

must be my imagination I thought. I'm just misinterpreting her reaction to 

the stress of subjecting me to another treatment. She sat me in my office 

chair while she prepared the machine for my treatment. She rolled the chair 

under the projector and said casually, "Okay, I'm ready to start the 

machine. Do you have any last words for me?"

I laughed and said, "You make it sound like my execution!"

"It is," she replied and threw the main breaker switch.

I blacked out and when I came to, I was sitting in another chair swaddled 

in a baby blanket. I tried to talk to her but all that came out were baby 

noises. What had happened to me? Suddenly Gina rushed in and said 

breathlessly, "You said there was an accident and something happened to 

your husband. Where is he? Is he okay?"

Pauline said I was okay but it might take a few minutes to explain what was 

going on. She told her to sit in my office chair and wait until she got 

finished securing the machine. Gina complied and waited patiently while 

Pauline busied herself with the machine settings. All at once I heard the 

main breaker contact on the machine. Pauline had turned it on with Gina 

under the projector! I tried to get down out of the chair and see what had 

happened, but discovered that I was tied into the chair. All I could see 

was Pauline's rear as she bent down over Gina's slumped form.

A few minutes later Pauline returned carrying an infant Gina. She placed 

her on the chair beside me and said, "Well, well, well. I see the both of 

you finally got together. I found the airline tickets to Buenos Aires in 

both your names. It really wasn't very smart to hide them under your old 

clothes, Honey. You were planning to leave me, weren't you? I hope you 

enjoy your trip together, it's going to be a long one. Instead of going to 

Buenos Aires, though, the two of you will be journeying back into babyhood. 

I hope the two of you will be very happy together. I'm going to make sure 

that the two of you are never separated. You'll bathe together, sleep 

together, eat together until you're sick of the sight of each other. 

Unfortunately for you, you won't be making whoopy any more together. You'll 

just have to be satisfied with each other's company. You see, I've turned 

Gina into a baby just like you, Honey! This way she can see you as you 

really are; a spoiled, immature, self-centered brat! And you Gina! He'll be 

able to see you parading around the house wearing nothing but a skimpy 

diaper! Of course you'll be crawling on the floor on your hands and knees 

when you do it! Won't that be fun?

I'm going to adopt the two of you as my babies. That way I'll be able to 

see the expressions on your faces when you realize how helpless you've 

become. I'm going to enjoy hearing the two of you cry for me to change your 

dirty dydees! And you'll have to cry too, I've made the two of you too 

young to talk! You'll spend the rest of your lives in diapers being treated 

like the infants you really are. If one of you is really, really good, I 

may turn you back into a diapered five year old so you can help me take 

care of your lover for an afternoon, but after I'm tired of looking at you, 

I'll change you into a baby again."

The two lovers turned to face each other to see what the other had become. 

A look of sick horror crossed their faces simultaneously as they realized 

that Pauline wasn't joking, she would keep them as babies for the rest of 

their lives. A howl of despair rose up from the two babies as they realized 

how hopeless their position was. Pauline reached into her pocket and 

chuckled saying, "Hush children. Mommy's going to take good care of you. 

She wants you to live a long, long time. I want you to enjoy every minute 

of your return to babyhood. I'm going to."

She popped a pacifier in each of their mouths and laughed as their 

infantile reflexes took over and they began to suck on the artificial 

nipples. She grinned and said, "Now I want the two of you to relax on the 

way home. I don't want you to get overtired and excited. When we get home 

I'm going to put you in your crib for a nap." They looked at her in horror 

as she continued, "I think I'm going to see my gynecologist about getting 

some medications to allow me to nurse. You're going to be mommy's little 

wet titty babies forever!"

She laughed again as she saw that they had wet their diapers in terror 

while sucking on their binkies. They were going to be adorable little 

babies once she had them trained, she thought to herself as she picked them 

up and settled them on her hips. She was sure they'd learn to like her 

titties once she got her milk flowing. Pauline laughed again as she 

strapped them into the car; her researches had allowed her to come so far 

and this pair of lovers had so far to go. Of course, since they were forced 

to crawl there on their hands and knees, they'd never make it! They'd spend 

the rest of their lives crawling aimlessly around their mommy's feet, just 

waiting for her forgiveness and their restoration to adulthood. It would 

never come.



Chapter Three



Friday's Child

by Jennifer Loraine





Whose purpose was it? His or Hers or Its?

Let's leave that to the scientific wits.

Grant me intention, purpose, and design-

That's near enough for me to the Divine.

Robert Frost, Accidentally On Purpose st. 17





As a scientist, I knew that this was possible, but my id did not want to 

accept it. My partner in the lab had spent the last ten years with me 

perfecting a device that scrambled cells; taking patterns from existing 

human beings and altering them with a computer, enabling the user to change 

the physical characteristics of individuals into whatever human form he 

chose. It worked by analyzing the energy state of the subject, calculating 

it's cellular structure and mapping the original state onto the desired 

pattern. That took one of the world's most complex number crunchers; a 

supercomputer built from 65, 536 individual 64bit processors ganged 

together in a parallel array. It had taken us years of work to amass the 

resources to build it and it's associated peripherals. We precalculated 

most of the computations to ease the load and sold time on the computer to 

the research departments of various overfunded Universities and 

deep-pocketed MegaCorps. It paid the salaries of the beast's keepers and 

took care of the utility bills. The utility bills were staggering in size, 

enough to break the treasuries of most third world countries. Fortunately, 

so were our fees. It takes a hellacious amount of energy to dismantle a 

human into subatomic parts and rebuild a body from elementary particles. 

It's official name was "Biocellular Analyzer, Binder and  Integrator", we 

called it the "Mixmaster" Years of prototyping, testing and redesigning had 

led to where I stood now. We had finally completed our testing with lab 

animals and moved onto the final phase of development. A human subject was 

required to complete our work. Paul wrote our names on slips of paper and 

put them in a coffee cup. He held the cup high as I drew the name of the 

lucky subject. It was mine. Then the testing began. Weeks later I found 

myself gazing at my reflection in a mirror and shaking my head at the 

results. I still couldn't believe it.

I looked in the mirror as I waited for my wife for my wife to finish 

dressing and saw the same toddler I saw the day before; a plump, lovable, 

two year old in white underpants and a T-shirt. The underpants were 

padded...training pants.

I've been trapped in the body of a baby since Friday. The old familiar 

world of last week has become alien and terrifying. I dreaded the thought 

of accompanying my wife to do her shopping, but I had no choice. She 

insisted that she couldn't leave me alone to take care of myself in my 

present condition and she's right. I can't even get a glass of water from 

the faucet by myself.

I wondered how long I would have to remain like this before my partner 

could restore me to my normal body. It was humiliating to have to dress in 

toddler's clothes. What was worse, I fully looked the part; I had the 

rounded chubby features of a tot. My stomach protruded over the top of my 

training pants and my spine had the characteristic curvature of early 

childhood. Even the proportions of my body had been changed. My head was 

proportionally bigger than it had been and my limbs were shorter. Nothing 

about my looks suggested I had ever been anything but an infant. I was 

sorry I volunteered to be the guinea pig. He'd had such success with 

animals that my confidence level was high, and neither one of us anticip  

ated any problems.

The first changes he made were subtle. The color of my hair, the shape of 

my nose; always changing my features back as quickly as he altered them. 

Gradually, we started making dramatic changes; scrambling my cells to give 

me a younger body. Last week, I was a teenager, then a quick treatment in 

the machine and I was back in my old body again without a hitch.

Everything had been going so well that we were days ahead of schedule. We 

decided to take a break from testing for a couple of days and relax before 

we started the final test sequence. On Friday morning we turned on the main 

breaker and began warming the power supplies. We went through the entire 

pre-test inspection without any problems. I stepped on the testing stage 

and became what I am now. It was only when we tried to change me back that 

we realized that something had gone wrong. Paul hit the execute button on 

the main console and the machine cycled and appeared to operate, but when 

the Mixmaster field went down, I was still in a baby's body. For some 

reason, the Mixmaster has been unable to return me to my normal appearance.

My colleague called my wife after repeated attempts to change me back 

failed. She rushed over in her car to see me. Paul had locked the office 

door and wouldn't let her in until she had established her identify. I 

firmly believe in keeping my professional life and personal life separate 

and had never introduced them. It was an awkward meeting at best. Paul 

opened the door and pointed to where he had sat me in my office chair. The 

sight of me regressed into a tot must have stunned her, because she stood 

motionless with a funny half-smile on her face for a full five minutes 

before she said a word. Then she came over and picked me up and sat down on 

my office chair with me on her lap. She sat there for the better part of an 

hour, holding my sadly reduced body and rocking me. She kept calling me her 

darling, her honeybunch, her baby. It was not until later that I was to 

realize how prophetic her endearments would be.

Finally she got up and took me home after bundling me in the lab's 

emergency fire blanket. She stopped at a twenty-four hour grocery store and 

bought me some clothes to wear on the way home. Everyone stared at the 

woman with a toddler wrapped up in a blanket, but no one said anything. I 

guess they thought I was sick or something. She couldn't find anything for 

me to wear except infant underwear and diapers. I quailed and hid my face 

in the blanket when she leaned over the shopping cart and whispered that 

she was thinking of buying me diapers, so she bought me the only other 

thing that would fit; training pants!

Paul calls my wife every day to see how I am doing and tell me what 

progress he's making on my problem. I'm beginning to lose hope. My wife has 

suggested that she take me shopping for a new wardrobe before the end of 

the week. I've been able to put her off so far, but I don't think I'll be 

able to do it much longer. It's just that I don't want to be seen like 

this. Also, since the only clothes that really fit me are baby clothes, I'm 

sure she'll take me to a baby boutique. The thought of parading around a 

baby store in training pants with my wife holding my hand while she shops 

is too much to bear. What if I can't keep up with her? Would she pick me up 

and carry me? The idea of being toted on her hip like a small child sends 

shivers up my spine. I can picture the condescending smiles of the women in 

the store as they see me hide my head against her shoulder in shame. What 

if I had to go to the bathroom? Would she take me into the women's toilet 

to use the kiddie potty? I'd never live it down.

I've spent hours considering the problem of why the process won't reverse. 

I'll have to come up with something soon, though, my reflexes are going and 

I keep spilling my drinks on my undershirts. I can't seem to control my 

hands anymore and even if I hold a glass with both hands, I still spill it. 

I'm wearing the last clean undershirt she bought me.

Over the past two days I've noticed a change in my wife's attitude toward 

me. At first she was solicitous of my well-being, checking on me every few 

hours, but gradually she's become more dictatorial, telling me what I 

should do and when. She's started making me take naps in the afternoons and 

she won't let me even get close to the bar. She's begun serving vegetables 

at every meal (which I despise!) and insisting I finish everything on my 

plate. I've let her have her way so far, but I'm sure things are going to 

come to a head soon. Just because I have the body of a toddler doesn't mean 

I should be treated like one.

That evening my wife and I got into a row. She discovered me making a drink 

from the bar and took it away from me. I lost my temper and told her that I 

was a man and had a right to do as I please. She replied that I didn't look 

like a man and she was only concerned for my welfare, then she smiled and 

told me it was mommy's orders. I told her that I didn't take orders from 

anyone, much less my so-called mommy. I said that once a man is out of 

diapers he doesn't have to take orders from a woman and I wasn't about to 

start taking orders from her. She told me that I might be taking orders 

from her sooner that I thought and stopped speaking to me. She stalked off 

angrily and the two of us went to bed mad.

The next morning my wife seemed to have gotten over the fight and made me 

breakfast as usual. I had to be helped onto the kitchen chair and 

discovered to my horror that I could barely reach the table. My wife saw my 

difficulties and helped me off the chair, then stacked phone books on the 

chair before reseating me. She plopped a plate of oatmeal in front of me 

followed by a large glass of milk. I asked her to pass the honey and she 

refused! She told me that it was dangerous for me to have honey at my age. 

When I asked her why, she told me that children under the age of five 

shouldn't have honey. It might be contaminated with botulism and I could 

die. I pointed out to her that I was forty one years old and immune from 

the effects of the contamination. She replied that maybe I had been forty 

one years old at the beginning of the week, but not now and passed me the 

sugar bowl instead. When I asked her where my cup of coffee was, she told 

me that we had run out yesterday and she had been too busy to stop by the 

grocery store to buy any. I asked her why she had given me milk instead, 

she knows how much I hate milk. My father always said that milk was only 

fit for babies and cooking. Real men drink beer or if they're sick, soft 

drinks. She told me it was all we had in the refrigerator and if I wanted 

to have some water, there was plenty in the kitchen faucet. She knew I 

couldn't reach the sink at my present height! I grumbled under my breath as 

I drank the vile stuff.

My wife took me clothes shopping today after getting a ticket for not 

having me in a baby seat in the car. She tried to explain to the police 

officer that I was forty-one years old and the law didn't apply to me, but 

the cop just grinned as if he didn't believe her and told her to tell it to 

the judge. As expected, she took me to a baby boutique. It was a 

humiliating experience. At first she was considerate of my feelings and 

tried to get smaller sizes made for older toddlers. As she continued to 

shop, she became enthralled with the cute clothes designed for younger 

children. She seemed to forget I was her adult husband and began shopping 

for me like I was two years old. She towed me from one display to another, 

holding my hand tightly in her grip. I resisted and tried to dig my heels 

into the carpet, but she was too strong for my baby muscles. She hauled me 

protesting down the aisle with my feet dragging behind me. When I got mad 

at her and called her a bitch, she took me into the dressing room, pulled 

down my training pants and gave me a spanking! Then she pulled up my pants, 

put me in the baby seat of a shopping cart with the tears from my spanking 

still running down my face and went directly to the sales counter where she 

immediately bought a pacifier. She unwrapped it at the sales counter and 

laughed as she turned to me and put the pacifier into my mouth in front of 

everyone in the store. Everyone applauded her mastery of my tantrum and 

made approving comments on what an effective mother she was. She smiled 

warmly down at my condition, basking in the approval of her peers. I 

blushed hotly as she patted my head and told me to be a good boy and suck 

on my binkie. I was completely under my wife's control and she knew it. 

Then she went on a shopping spree just to piss me off. My wife must have 

spent over five hundred dollars at the boutique. She bought everything from 

clothes to furniture there. What she couldn't carry in the car she arranged 

to have delivered.

I rode home in the back of my own car, strapped into a baby seat. On the 

way home I had an 'accident' in my pants. Not a big one, but humiliating 

nonetheless. She saw the growing yellow stain in the rear view mirror and 

stopped at a convenience store to buy me some diapers. I wept and whimpered 

as she took me out of the baby seat and diapered me on the back seat of my 

car, but my tears didn't faze her at all. I writhed on the seat trying to 

get away from her and in the scuffle the mess from the back of my training 

pants got all over my wife's clothes and on my shirt. My wife pulled it off 

of me in disgust and within minutes I was back in the baby seat wearing 

nothing but a disposable diaper.

That was the beginning of my return to babyhood. She drove back to the 

boutique and returned the children's style clothes she had bought me and 

replaced them with infant and younger toddlers clothes. She bought an 

entire nursery suite, effectively doubling her order of furniture. I hung 

my head in shame when I saw that she was buying baby bottles and nipples 

for me to use to drink. Her next stop was the grocery store, where she 

bought a cart full of disposable diapers, baby food and formula. I sat in 

the cart facing her with silent tears running down my face as she compared 

various brands of disposables and talked with the mothers shopping there.

When we arrived home my wife left me strapped into the baby seat in the car 

while she unloaded the groceries and the packages from the baby boutique. I 

grew bored and fell asleep waiting for her to come get me. When I awoke she 

was carrying me into the house on her hip like my mother used to do when I 

was little. She put me into the playpen which she had purchased at the 

boutique and had set up in the middle of the family room. I was thirsty and 

asked my wife for something to drink. She returned a few minutes later with 

a baby bottle full of formula. When I protested to her that I wasn't about 

to drink from a nipple, she told me that I was a baby now and that was all 

I was going to get to drink from. She told me she was going to call Paul 

and see if there wasn't something he could do about my age.

Paul came over to visit me an hour later and smiled when he saw me standing 

in the playpen. My wife went into the kitchen to get him a cup of coffee 

and left us to our conversation. He asked me how I felt and nodded sagely 

when I told him how my wife had reacted to my rejuvenation. I demanded he 

call the police to arrest my wife for assault and unlawful incarceration. 

He shook his head 'no' and said I should be patient, he would take care of 

everything. When my wife came in, she handed him the cup of coffee and 

kissed him on the lips. I was shocked! I had no idea the my wife even knew 

Paul, much less was having an affair with him. They sat down on the sofa in 

front of me and began kissing and groping each other in full view of me.

When they finished, Paul told me that what had happened to me hadn't been 

an 'accident' at all, that he and my wife had planned the whole thing from 

the beginning. He said he had switched his name for another copy of mine 

before he put them in the coffee cup. Paul laughed as he described how he 

had 'forced' me to be the test subject to further their plans. He explained 

that he had met my wife at a singles bar and it had been a month before 

they knew who each other was in relation to me. When Gina rushed to the lab 

after my change, Paul had pretended that he didn't know her. Paul told me 

that my wife had concocted a plan to regress me to a six-month-old baby so 

I wouldn't be in the way, but he had talked her into turning me into a 

two-year-old. He told me that he now believed it had been a mistake to turn 

me into a toddler and he intended to fix the problem immediately. I heaved 

a sigh of relief as they put me into the car and drove directly to the lab.



****************



I'm still a baby. Paul put me in the machine last night and gave me another 

treatment, but nothing seems to have changed. I blacked out and when I woke 

up I was back in my crib. I feel horribly thirsty, so thirsty in fact, that 

I'd happily drink formula from the bottle if my wife brought me one. I try 

to call her name but nothing comes out but foolish baby noises. What's 

happened to me? At least yesterday I could talk! I stand at the side of my 

crib and scream for her to come. The door opens and there stands my wife 

and Paul together in the doorway, naked! Paul's arms are full of what looks 

like a stereo system. I see that my wife has a baby bottle in hand as she 

walks up to the crib. I grab the bottle from her hands and put the nipple 

in my mouth eagerly. I begin to desperately suck the precious fluid from 

the bottle as I watch Paul set up the stereo on top of the dresser and turn 

it on. The sound of flute music gently fills the room as he walks over to 

my crib.

Paul stands at the side of the crib and shakes his head with a knowing 

smile, then he begins to explain what's going on. He's turned me into a 

eleven month old baby! He had no intention of reinstating me to my former 

size and age, he decided to regress me until I'm too young to talk! He told 

me that he moved into our house last night and he's going to be my daddy! 

He says that by tomorrow I'll be a baby again in both body and mind! The 

stereo system has an endless tape cartridge with subliminal/hypnotic 

messages buried in the flute music. He's put a hypnotic drug in my formula 

to speed up the process and by tomorrow I'll have forgotten that I had ever 

been a man. Tears begin to course down my face as he explains that he's 

never going to let me grow up. I'm going to be a baby forever! Suddenly I 

feel a strange urge from my behind. I'm pooping in my diaper! The sound of 

a big wet fart escapes my bottom and the two lovers turn to each other 

smile and kiss in triumph. I feel the front of my diaper growing warm and 

wet as my bladder cuts loose and I begin to pee. I sink to my knees in 

defeat as they close the door behind them and leave me alone in my nursery.

mommy and daddy came into my nursery this morning to wake me. i giggled 

when mommy changed my dirty dydee and daddy laughed too. he kissed mommy on 

the neck and told her how much he loved her. mommy told him she loved him 

too and I began to squall. mommy finished diapering me and picked me up to 

hug and tell me she loved her baby boy too. I cooed happily back at her and 

then mommy and daddy took me into the kitchen to feed me breakfast. mommy 

fed me oatmeal with applesauce and i made a mess all over my face and  high 

chair. daddy wiped my face with a wet washcloth and told me what a good 

baby i was. i chortled and put my thumb in my mouth to suck it. mommy gave 

me my ba-ba and i nursed my formula while mommy and daddy had breakfast. 

when they were finished they took me into the family room and put me in my 

playpen. mommy and daddy sat on the sofa and kissed for a long, long time. 

then daddy started taking mommy's clothes off and took off his own too. 

daddy lay down on top of mommy and made funny noises. mommy started making 

funny noises too and i got worried. i started crying and mommy looked over 

at me and smiled and told me it was alright, mommy was okay. daddy smiled 

at me and told me to be a good baby and be quiet. they went back to making 

funny noises and after a while they got quiet. mommy told daddy she loved 

him and he said he loved mommy. daddy got off mommy and they sat up on the 

sofa. mommy came over and took me out of my playpen and sat on the sofa 

with me on her lap. she told me what a good baby i had been and that she 

loved me very much. mommy told me i was going to be her adorable baby boy 

forever. i chuckled happily and daddy smiled at me and tousled my hair. 

daddy told me that he'd use his machine thing to keep us all the same age 

forever. he'd always be there to take care of mommy and mommy would always 

be there to take care of me. i love my mommy and daddy!



Chapter Four



Saturday's Child

by Jennifer Loraine





I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken st. 4



My training as a scientist hadn't prepared me for this. On a Saturday I was 

in my lab recalibrating the device I had been working on for the last ten 

years and two weeks later I was sitting in a playpen, idly playing with my 

toes. I gazed at the room around me stupidly as I tried to understand how 

my device had malfunctioned. I had been trying to understand what had gone 

wrong since the accident. The device itself was simple in concept and 

incredibly complex in design. In a nutshell, the concept entailed the 

creation of a temporary "pocket universe" whose temporal coordinate system 

was disconnected from the originating universe. What I had been trying to 

produce was a static temporal field for long term storage of objects. What 

I had produced was something altogether different. All I had been able to 

deduce was that the field's arrow of time was oriented oppositely from the 

direction it took in this universe. Instead of being static, the field 

reversed the aging process for the objects enclosed within its boundaries. 

The rate of change was astonishing. I had only been under its influence for 

a few moments before the coils had overheated and melted down. When I 

emerged from the field's influence, my body had rejuvenated into that of a 

toddler. Strangely, my mind seemed to be unaffected by the transformation 

that had befallen the rest of my body. I was stunned at first, but after I 

regained consciousness my memories seemed to be unaffected. I was as if my 

memories were encoded in a way that was disconnected with the overall state 

of my body.

I conjectured after the accident that memory was encoded in the tissues of 

the brain in some type of holographic format where the information for each 

event was stored at every location in the brain. From the way that my total 

sum of memories had deteriorated over the last week, I was sure that my 

original thesis had been wrong. They acted more like a three dimensional 

wave where every element was being constantly reconstructed by the brain. 

My youthened brain apparently did not have the ability to fully recreate 

the original wave of my consciousness. As a consequence, every minute that 

passed left me a little less than I had been a moment before. In the 

parlance of my undergraduate students, I was losing it! The intricate 

mathematics I had devoured so easily years before was gone now, as was my 

understanding of temporal field structures. Since advanced theories of 

Physics are little more than a specialized application of mathematics of 

tensors and groups, I was not particularly surprised when the loss of one 

was tied to the loss of the other. Unfortunately, their loss meant that I 

didn't have the mental tools to find the solution to my problem before my 

consciousness returned to whatever ground state from which it had sprung. 

My only hope was that there would be some sort of intrinsic limit on the 

deterioration that was occurring. I reasoned that the opinions of the 

mothers I had heard in the past when discussing their child's development 

were right and that infants had well developed personalities. If that was 

true, then my brain could support my consciousness, albeit at a reduced 

level of functioning. My only escape from my fate seemed to be the 

possibility that my body would start growing again so that it could fully 

support the wave phenomena that had been my former self. Otherwise, I was 

doomed to spend the rest of my life in this playpen. I thought back to the 

instant of transformation and wondered if I had missed something that I 

could communicate to the team of researchers that working on the problem 

now. It had all seemed so mundane, just another ephemeral moment in the 

stream of events that had formed my existence as a Physicist.

The first test of the field had passed and we were ecstatic. It looked like 

I was going to be able to present my head of department with the fiat 

accompli that he had desired before the annual review of research projects. 

The extra effort we had expended by coming in on the last Saturday before 

the review was going to pay of royally. I had managed to keep the field 

stable for four milliseconds before it collapsed. I had been recharging the 

capacitors for another shot when I noticed that one of the coils seemed to 

be out of alignment. I left the generator on so the capacitors could 

continue charging while I made the minute adjustment that was required. The 

timer section would act as a switch to keep the field from being turned on 

while I was in the target area. At least that's what I thought as I stepped 

up on the target stage. My graduate student Paul had just finished 

calibrating the miniature atomic clock that we would enclose within the 

field when we resumed testing. He stood beside the control panel and 

watched as I tightened the non-magnetic stainless steel screws that held 

the coils to their heavy wooden frame. I grinned at him in success and 

tossed the screwdriver to him as I prepared to step down from the target 

stage. I watched in horror as the screwdriver bounced out of his hands and 

landed on top of the control panel. Then my universe went black as the 

handle on the screwdriver hit the firing button and the field went up.

I was alone. The universe I had created was empty, without stars or light. 

The sole object in the tiny pocket universe was my body. I gazed into the 

blackness for a moment before the enormity of what I had done overcame me. 

I was blind, surrounded by the nothingness of the universe my invention had 

created. My consciousness faded and I knew no more......

When I awoke, I was lying on the floor of my lab. The reek of burning 

insulation and fried electronics surrounded me. I looked over at my 

experiment and saw it was a blackened ruin. A heavy pall of smoke hung in 

the air from the coils that had self destructed. I looked up and saw Paul 

talking on the telephone. Apparently he was calling for help. Good! I 

wasn't sure what the field had done to me, but it was better to be safe 

than sorry. I looked down at my chest and discovered that my clothes had 

vanished. I glanced around to see if Paul had undressed me and had left 

them lying close by. I had the idea that my clothes had caught on fire and 

Paul had undressed me to quench the flames. I realized later how silly that 

sounded, but in my dazed condition it seemed to make sense. Then a wave of 

dizziness overcame me and I passed out again.

The next time I awoke I was in an ambulance. I was laying in a gurney while 

Paul and a EMT sat next to me. I looked down at the blanket that covered me 

and saw that a strap had been fastened over the top to keep me from falling 

out while I was being transported to the University Clinic. I kicked my 

feet to see if I could still move my legs and was surprised to see the 

blanket pop up about midway down the gurney. Somehow I had gotten shorter! 

I looked up into Paul's face, hoping that he could provide an explanation 

of what had happened to me. He glanced over at the EMT tech questioningly 

and then smiled down at me as if to comfort me. Then I passed out again.

When I awoke again I was on an examination table at the University Clinic 

lying flat on my back. The sharp odor of a hospital filled my nostrils. 

Emergency room doctors and nurses surrounded me, bustling about as they 

tried to discover what had happened to my poor body. A technician came in 

the room and wheeled a massive portable x-ray machine over to the 

examination table. He took a film cartridge out of a storage box mounted on 

the back of the machine and put it under me. The doctors and nurses left 

the room temporarily while he prepared to x-ray me. Then he spun up the 

anode and fired the unit to take a picture. Then he put another cartridge 

under me and took a second shot. I remember him joking with the ER doctor 

saying that I was so small that it only took three x-rays to get pictures 

of my whole body. He said he was done and began wheeling the unit out of 

the room as the doctors and nurses rushed back in to take his place. One of 

the doctors told a nurse to get me gowned before they moved me to my room 

and she told him they were out of pediatric gowns. "Pediatric gowns?", I 

thought in amazement, "Just how small have I gotten?" She told the doctor 

that she had called up to Pediatrics and they were sending a runner down 

with a gown for me. Then I swooned again and blackness closed in on me.

I awoke in a crib smelling the strong scent of baby powder. I was startled 

by the change and started screaming wordlessly in panic. A young nurse ran 

into the room and dropped the metal side of the steel barred crib I was 

laying in to take me out. She bent over me with a concerned look on her 

face and took me in her arms to lift me up. I felt myself being hugged to 

her chest as she patted my back comfortingly and made mothering noises at 

me to quiet my screams. After a moment, I regained my composure and 

realized where I must be. I looked over the nurse's shoulder and saw that 

the tiny room had large picture windows on three of its four sides. As she 

paced back and forth holding me to her chest, I saw that the room itself 

was virtually empty. All it contained was a crib, a chair, a large yellow 

plastic garbage can with a biohazard label and a bedside table with a stack 

of white disposable diapers.

"Diapers!", I thought to myself when I saw them, "Surely those can't be for 

me!"

Then I heard a soft rustling come from my behind as the nurse patted my 

bottom. The plastic crinkling noise she was making could only mean one 

thing. I was already in diapers!

I began talking rapidly, trying to explain to the nurse that I wasn't an 

infant. The nurse did a double take and said in shock, "You can talk!"

"Of course I can talk, nurse!", I said reasonably, "I'm forty-one years 

old. Did you think I was a baby? Could you do me a favor and get something 

else for me to wear? I'm a little old to be wearing diapers!"

She looked stunned and said, "Well.....I don't know. It's the policy in 

Pediatrics that all patients four years old and younger must wear diapers 

at all times. I don't know if I'm allowed to change policy on my own. I've 

only just started working here...."

I interrupted her, saying, "I just told you I'm over forty years old! Now 

get me out of these diapers!"

She looked nonplused and said, "I'll see what I can do" and lifted up the 

front of my gown. Then her lips pursed and she said, "You're right about 

one thing. These diapers are going to have to come off you right now! 

They're sopping wet!"

"WET! Oh God, no!", I moaned as she laid me back down on the bed. She 

pulled my gown up to my chest and began to unfasten the tapes that held the 

diaper around my waist. I was mortified. Then she lifted my legs with one 

hand while she deftly slid the soggy diaper out from under my raised bottom 

and replaced it with another. I wanted to cry. There I was in the Pediatric 

unit of the University Clinic being diapered as if I was a little baby. 

Words cannot express the depth of despair I felt at that moment. I had 

reached the nadir of my existence. My invention had turned me into a baby. 

Tears of humiliation and frustration began dripping out of the corners of 

my eyes. I watched her as she efficiently taped the new diaper up and said, 

"I'll call your doctor and you can talk to him about the diapers. He left 

orders that he wanted to see you the minute you woke up. Why don't you just 

lie here and relax while I see about getting him up here, okay?"

Then she tossed the drenched diaper in the yellow pail in the corner of the 

room and turned away to leave. She took about two steps and realized that 

she had forgotten something in the confusion of my awakening. She came back 

and smiled at me in an embarrassed way as she lifted the side of the crib 

to lock it in place. A moment later she was gone.

About half an hour later the lab-coated doctor arrived and came into the 

room accompanied by an older nurse with an air of authority. It was obvious 

that she was either the charge nurse for that shift or the head nurse for 

the Pediatric Unit. She put the metal clipboard she was carrying on the 

chair and began to drop the side of the crib so the doctor could examine 

me.  The doctor lifted my gown and began listening to my chest with his 

stethoscope, saying, "How are you feeling, Professor Hawkins?"

"I'm not very happy about being treated like an infant," I replied tartly, 

"Can't we do something about these diapers?"

"We'll see," he said judiciously as he lowered my gown, "You know you wet 

the last pair of diapers you were wearing pretty thoroughly. Why don't we 

see how you do with these before we make any decision, okay?"

He helped me sit up on the mattress and said conversationally, "Now, how do 

you feel? Any aches or pains? Do you have a headache? Is there any nausea? 

Are you having any trouble seeing?"

I shook my head no to his questions and he put one finger in the air in 

front of my face and said, "Follow my finger with your eyes." He began 

moving his finger back and forth in front of me while I tracked its 

position with my eyes. "Good, good," he said, taking a small white plastic 

penlight out of the breast pocket of his lab coat, "Now look up into the 

corner of the room and try not to blink."

He shined the light in each of my pupils and then said to the nurse, "May I 

have his chart, please?"

He took the proffered clipboard from her and began to flip though the 

pages. I was amazed at how thick my chart had become in only a few hours, 

it looked like it was almost a half an inch thick. "Hmmm," he said as he 

paged through the nurse's notes and lab reports, "Everything looks okay. 

Can you tell me what happened to you?"

"It was an experiment," I said simply. I wasn't sure I could explain how 

the field worked to a non-physicist. I wasn't even sure I could explain 

what had happened to a physicist for that matter.

"What kind of experiment?", he probed.

"I was creating a localized field in the lab," I hedged.

He raised his eyebrows and said, "And?"

"I had an accident," I replied.

"So I see," he said with an air that told me he knew I was being evasive, 

"Would you care to expand upon that?"

"Not really," I said honestly, "I had just finished working on one of the 

coils when there was an accident and the field was turned on. I was caught 

in the field and when I awoke I was like this. Frankly, doctor, I don't 

know what happened. The field was not supposed to do anything like this. It 

was designed to be a temporal stasis field."

"I see," he said nodding wisely as if he understood completely. I knew he 

was as baffled as I was, only his personae as a doctor wouldn't permit him 

to appear ignorant. He was bluffing.

"Would you like to try walking for me?", he asked, "I'd like to check your 

locomotor coordination."

I nodded and he told the nurse, "Would you give Professor Hawkins a hand 

getting out of bed? Put his feet down on the floor next to the bed so I can 

see how he walks."

She lifted me out of the crib and stood me next to the lowered bars on the 

side of the crib. I took a tentative step forward and lurched to the side 

as my knees threatened to buckle under me. I grabbed the bars of the crib, 

holding myself upright while he looked on with a concerned expression. He 

backed off a few steps and said, "Professor, let go of the bars and try to 

walk towards me without holding on to anything."

I released the bar I was holding and started to totter towards him. I felt 

like an infant learning how to walk. The thick disposable diaper between my 

had bunched up at the bottom and were forcing my legs apart. I had to 

waddle to swing my legs around the padding at my crotch. As a grew nearer 

to him, he backed off a step, forcing me to continue. I swayed once or 

twice as I uncertainly wobbled my way to the doctor. I looked up into his 

eyes and saw him towering over my reduced body. He looked so tall standing 

there. I kept getting the strongest feeling that I had done it all before. 

Then I realized who the doctor reminded me of, he looked like my father had 

when I was young! I took two more steps and then I fell backwards to land 

on my diaper-covered bottom. It was a painless fall, but no less 

humiliating for the lack of physical injury. Only my pride was wounded. I 

could not even walk across the room without falling on my bottom.  I 

dropped my chin to my chest and closed my eyes in shame.  I felt helpless. 

He had given me a chance to prove that I was an adult and I had fallen on 

my rump like a baby. I had flubbed my chance.  I felt myself being lifted 

by hands from the rear and put back in the crib. The doctor made some notes 

on the chart and handed it back to the nurse, then said, "Professor 

Hawkins, we'd like to keep you here for a few days of observation. In 

general, you health appears to be unaffected by your transformation. You 

apparently have some difficulty with locomotor coordination, but that may 

be the result of unfamiliarity with your new body. Your incontinence 

disturbs me somewhat but that may be a transitory effect of the changes 

your body has undergone."

"Can I get transferred to another room? There must be another room open 

somewhere else in the hospital. The care in this department hasn't been 

bad, it's just that being in Pediatrics is so......unseemly!", I said.

"I'm sorry, Professor Hawkins," the doctor said with a look of real regret 

on his face, "Your privacy is a prime concern here. I'm sure that you 

appreciate that the University wants to minimize publicity about your 

accident. In Pediatrics your appearance doesn't raise any eyebrows the way 

it would in another department. That's the reason we've put you in the 

Pediatric Intensive Care room. You won't have to share the room with anyone 

else during your stay here. There are other considerations too. Your size 

makes it difficult to treat you somewhere else in the hospital. At least in 

Pediatrics they have gowns and furniture that fits your body size. There 

are other.....items here in Pediatrics that are appropriate to your size."

"Such as baby diapers?", I said ironically.

"Exactly," the doctor said, looking relieved that I had named the subject 

he had been skirting around.

"If you're so concerned about my privacy, then why are the curtains by the 

windows open? I'd have thought that you'd have closed them if you were 

worried about people seeing me," I said. I hadn't thought about my privacy 

until he had brought the issue up, but once he had, I realized how 

potentially embarrassing it could be to have someone I knew observe the 

nurse changing my diaper.

The doctor looked at the nurse and said curtly, "Nurse, close those 

curtains immediately!"

The doctor looked at me apologetically and said in an obvious attempt to 

save face, "You've been slipping in and out of consciousness since you were 

brought in the hospital. This is the first time we've been able to talk to 

you and determine how lucid you were. We were concerned that you might have 

an episode which might require immediate intervention by one of the nurses. 

Now that I've talked to you and had a chance to examine you while you're 

awake, I doubt that close observation will be necessary. You don't have any 

history of epilepsy or other convulsive disorders, do you?"

I assured the doctor that I didn't and he continued, "Any history of heart 

problems? No? Do you sleep walk or have a problem falling out of bed? No? 

Well, then I think we can get rid of the crib and put a regular hospital 

bed in this room."

The nurse looked surprised by the doctor's decision and whispered in the 

doctor's ear urgently. The doctor looked embarrassed and said to the nurse, 

"Is this true? I can't? Why isn't this room bigger?"

The nurse looked at the doctor unhappily and said, "This was a storeroom 

that we converted last year when we remodeled. It was never designed as 

regular hospital room. After all, this IS a Pedi unit! We needed a room 

that could be easily seen from the nurse's station and had room enough for 

a crib and chair. We knew it was tight at the time, but there was no other 

choice."

The doctor gave the nurse a disgusted look and said, "I'll take this up at 

the next board meeting. For now, we'll have to make do with what we've got. 

Are there any more rooms open in this unit?"

The nurse shook her head sadly at the doctor and said, "We're full. He took 

the last bed we had. This is a very small unit, doctor. We don't need that 

many pediatric beds because we're a University Clinic. We have plenty of 

open beds in the other units. If he could be transferred to another unit 

I'm sure he could be accommodated."

The doctor ignored her attempt to get her "problem child" transferred to 

another unit in the hospital. He had been embarrassed once when she had 

contradicted his decision about the hospital bed, he had no intention of 

letting himself be embarrassed again by having me transferred after he had 

just given me reasons why they couldn't put me in another unit. He turned 

to me and said, "The nurse tells me that a regular hospital bed won't fit 

in this room. I'm afraid that you'll have to sleep in a crib for the 

balance of the time you are here. With luck, that will only be a few days."

"Can I have the sides down on the crib then?", I asked, "Sleeping in a baby 

crib is bad enough, but having the sides raised so I can't get out of bed 

to go to the bathroom makes me feel so.......immature!"

The doctor looked uncomfortable and said, "I'm sorry, but hospital 

regulations don't permit patients to sleep in beds without the sides of the 

beds being raised to keep them from falling out of bed. It's for your own 

protection. The drop to the floor from the mattress is your full body 

height. I'm not sure that you could get out of the bed unassisted without 

hurting yourself. I know its inconvenient, but you would have to call the 

nurse to lower the sides in any case. I'll have the nurse put a call button 

in your bed so that you can call for help when you need it. I don't know if 

you've noticed, but there's no bathroom in this room. It looks like there 

might be enough room in here to put a potty chair."

He turned to the nurse and said pointedly, "What do you think?"

The nurse looked decidedly unhappy at having to shoot down another one of 

the doctor's plans and said hesitantly, "Well......It would be a squeeze, 

but I think we could do it. But, doctor.....Have you considered his body 

size? He's really too small to put on an adult potty. The opening on the 

seat is too big for his bottom, he'd fall in. He wouldn't be able to hold 

onto the handrails because they'd be too high for him. If he sat on the 

chair the safety rails would be at shoulder height."

The doctor looked irritated and said, "Then put a children's potty in here! 

Do I have to think of everything?"

The nurse dropped her head and said in a quiet voice, "We don't have one, 

doctor. That's why there's the rule about diapers for children under the 

age of four. Once they're bigger than that, we can use a regular potty 

chair."

"I see," said the doctor, "You and I can discuss this later. I think we're 

going to need some changes in policy around here."

"It's a matter of the budget, doctor. The board has said repeatedly that we 

don't need a Pediatric Unit and has kept our budget as small as they can. 

We simply don't have the money to buy anything but the most necessary 

equipment. You remember how they acted when I asked for a pediatric cardiac 

monitor. They told us to use the pediatric defibrillator we bought last 

year. It will work, but if I have more than one patient with cardiac 

problems......."

"I know, I know!," the doctor said tiredly, "I'll take it up at the next 

meeting of the board, I promise."

The doctor turned back to me and said, "It's too early to discuss potty 

chairs anyway. We need to have you wear diapers until your continence is 

established."

He turned to the head nurse and said, "Do you think there'll be any problem 

with him using a bedpan?"

"None whatsoever, doctor," the head nurse said primly, "I'll call Central 

Supply and have one sent down immediately. He can use the nurse call to ask 

his nurse to bring him the bedpan whenever he needs it."

"Excellent!", the doctor said with a smile as he put his stamp of approval 

on the idea, "I'll write it into my orders." The doctor was tired of having 

his orders contradicted by a nurse. Even if she was right, it was unseemly 

to have his authority over the patient's care questioned. The entire case 

was proving more difficult than he liked and he was in a hurry to get to 

his other patients. Then he could get back to the safety of his office 

where his rule was law.

The doctor turned to me and said as took the chart from the nurse's hands 

and made the entry about the bedpan, "I'll be back to see you later today. 

If you need anything, just call your nurse. We'll try to have you out of 

here in a few days."

The head nurse took my chart from the doctor and put it on the chair so she 

could raise the side of the crib. He decamped the room while her back was 

turned and retreated to look in on his other patients. I didn't see him 

until two days later. When I asked my nurse later about when he was coming 

to see me, she told me that he had come in while I had been sleeping and I 

would see him when he made his rounds. I suspected he was deliberately 

coming in when he was sure I was asleep. I think he had been embarrassed 

and was avoiding me.

The nurse left the room and the young nurse that had change my diaper 

returned with a remote control switch and plugged it into an intercom unit 

mounted into the wall. She fed the cable over the head of the crib and 

clipped it to the sheet on the outside of the mattress. After demonstrating 

the use of the call button, she canceled the call by depressing the cancel 

button on the intercom panel and said, "Your lunch will be here in about 

two hours. Why don't you try and take a nap until then?"

I looked at the bare mattress I had been sleeping on the night before and 

said, "Could I have a blanket and pillow to sleep with? I'm not used to 

sleeping on a bare sheet without a comforter. I doubt that I'll be able to 

get any sleep without one."

"Certainly," the nurse said, "I'll get them, right now. Just wait here and 

I'll be back in a jiffy!"

She left the room to go get a blanket and pillow, leaving me wondering how 

she expected me to get out of the crib with the side rails up. It was just 

a figure of speech, but the idea of getting out of bed without her help 

made me smile. If she came back and found me out of the crib, she'd 

probably panic. The thought of her running to the nurse's station, yelling 

that she had lost her patient gave me a perverse sense of satisfaction. 

Maybe I'd try it later, I thought with a grin. Right then I was sleepy and 

a nap sounded like a good idea.

She returned a few minutes later with a small pillow and blanket. It was 

obvious that the Pediatric Unit had purchased them solely for use in a 

crib. The blanket was a gender neutral aqua-green and the pillow was too 

small to be used by anyone but an occupant of a baby crib. She put the 

pillow on the mattress at the head of the crib and had me lie down so she 

could cover me with the blanket. I was amused by her ministrations; she 

tucked the blanket around my body as if I was a small child who could not 

handle a blanket by himself. The maternal look she gave me as she hovered 

over me to tuck me in reminded me of how my mother looked when I was a 

child. In a few minutes I was snug under the blanket and began to fall 

asleep, secure in the knowledge that she wouldn't let me miss lunch. I 

smiled drowsily when the thought hit me that she would probably want to fed 

me like I was a toddler. They were having difficulties with having a 

baby-sized adult patient in the hospital. I had no intention of making 

their lives any easier by being agreeable. I'd do everything in my power to 

thwart their policies and make sure they treated me like an adult. It was 

too much fun to be a pain and I was bored. I looked forward to making 

everyone's lives miserable by demanding my rights. I closed my eyes and 

drifted off to the sound of a small child crying in distress somewhere in 

Pediatrics. They hadn't heard the last from me!

 I awoke about an hour later needing to go to the bathroom. I hit the nurse 

call button buttons several times to no avail. It was apparent that my 

nurse was busy with another patient. If I didn't do something about getting 

myself to a toilet quick, I was going to wet my diapers again. I stood up 

in the crib and looked through the bars at the floor. It wasn't that far, 

true, it the distance was greater than my body height, but if I was careful 

I ought to be able to get down without too much trouble. I took my pillow 

and stuffed it in the corner of the crib between the side rail and the 

headboard, then I scrambled on top of the pillow and tried to climb over 

the railing. The pillow was too short to let allow me to swing my leg over 

the railing, so I jumped down and quickly folded the blanket they had given 

me into a thick packet and placed it on top of the pillow. I mounted my 

makeshift stepstool again and was able to get my leg over the rail. Then I 

let myself down the side by holding on to the bars with my hands and 

letting myself slide down. A minute later I was at the door to my room 

looking for a public bathroom. I didn't see anyone at the nurse's station 

so I emerged from my room to see if one of the patient's rooms was empty. I 

wasn't too worried about getting back into the crib before they discovered 

me. All I had to do was push the chair up to the side of the crib and climb 

on top the seat. From the outside it should be an easy matter to trigger 

the release and let the side down on the crib. Then all I had to do was 

climb from the crib to the mattress. It was foolproof. I peeked quietly 

through an open door into a patient's room and saw that the TV was turned 

off. I knew I had a likely candidate in that room, it was unlikely that a 

child wouldn't be watching TV in the middle of the day if he or she was 

awake. If the patient was asleep, the door would have been closed. I 

tiptoed further into the room and peeked around the corner to look at the 

bed and confirm my suspicions. The room was empty. Then I turned around and 

went back to the bathroom. I was a bit surprised to find that the door to 

the bathroom had a knob instead of a lever. Apparently the University 

Clinic had not made the mandated changes to the rooms to allow full access 

to the handicapped. Considering the conversation I had overheard between 

the doctor and nurse I shouldn't have been, but I was. The doorknob turned 

out to be tough. I had to reach over my head and turn it between my hands. 

I quickly found out that I wasn't able to turn it enough to open the door. 

I decided that if I could get a little higher, I would be able to get a 

better purchase on the handle. So I went back into the room and got the 

chair sitting underneath the TV mounted on the wall. I pushed it in front 

of me, making horrible scraping noises until I got to the bathroom door. 

Then I clambered on top of the seat and gripped the knob between both 

hands. I almost had the bolt draw back into the door when I heard a voice 

behind me say, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE? Get down from there this 

instant!"

I turned to see the head nurse standing behind me with an ugly glower on 

her face. I lost my balance on the chair and fell face down to the floor, 

striking my nose. I was stunned for a moment and lay there while the head 

nurse dropped to one knee and picked me up in her arms. She sat down on the 

chair with me in her lap and examined me closely. I looked down at my chest 

and saw that I was dripping blood all over my gown. After a quick check she 

decided I wasn't badly injured and carried me to the examination room next 

to the nurse's station. One of the doctor's who was making late rounds came 

in the examination room and looked at my nose. Apparently the bone wasn't 

broken, I had just bloodied it. After a few minutes it stopped bleeding and 

the head nurse asked me, "And just what were you doing in there?"

"I had to go to the bathroom," I replied sheepishly.

"Why didn't you call your nurse?", she asked.

"I did, but nobody answered. I had to go immediately so I got out of bed," 

I told her.

"By yourself?  You could have been badly hurt!", she told me.

"I see," she said, "Let's get you back to bed."

"But the bathroom! I still need to go!", I exclaimed.

"Do you? From the looks of it, I wouldn't think so," she said grimly, 

"Let's get you back to bed so we can change your wet diaper!"

"Huh?", I said stupidly, then looked down at the infantile garment I was 

wearing. She had stripped off my gown when we had gotten to the examination 

room and bundled the bloody garment into the trash. The diaper hung low on 

my hips and drooped dangerously. I must have wet it when I fell and not 

even known it. My nurse came in the room and said, "How is he? I just got 

back from the pharmacy and the unit clerk told me he was hurt in a fall. Is 

he okay?"

"Take him back to his room and change his diaper. Then I'd like to talk to 

you in my office," I need to call maintenance.

My nurse took me back to my room and changed my diaper for the second time 

that day. I was miserable; my nose hurt and my ego had been badly bruised 

when they discovered that I had peed in my diaper like a baby. Worse, my 

nurse hadn't taken the time to replace my gown and left me sitting on the 

crib mattress garbed in nothing but my diaper. It was humiliating. She saw 

the blanket and pillow in the corner of the crib and quickly deduced how I 

escaped my confinement. She took them out of the crib and made me lie on my 

back while she went to talk to the head nurse. A few minutes later she 

returned followed by two of the hospital maintenance men carrying what 

looked like part of a crib. My nurse lowered the side of the crib and took 

me out, standing me on the chair to put a new gown on me while the maint  

enance men raised the object they were carrying and set it in place on top 

of the crib. When she picked me up in her arms to put me back in the crib, 

I saw what they had done to the crib. They had put a steel top on the crib 

to turn it into a cage!

My nurse shook her head as she put me back in the crib and said, "That 

wasn't very bright! The head nurse is very upset with you. I'd have thought 

that you had better sense than to climb out the crib on your own. I'm lucky 

she had sent me down to the pharmacy to pick up some medications or she 

would have blamed me for what you did. Falling from the chair clenched it 

for her, she told me you're as irresponsible as an infant and had to be 

treated that way. Do you know how it looks when a patient gets injured at 

the hospital? Your doctor is going to be very upset with everyone. She 

added special orders to your chart that you're to be kept in a crib with a 

top until you're released from the hospital. She's calling your doctor r  

ight now to tell him what happened and what she's ordered to prevent you 

from hurting yourself again."

The nurse slammed the side shut and said, "She told me to take the nurse 

call out of your crib so you don't get into any mischief with it. She told 

me to tell you that we're not going to worry about you using a bedpan while 

you're here. She said that you've had no problems using a diaper so far and 

she sees no reason why you shouldn't continue to use one. I'd be careful if 

I were you. If you cause her any more problems she's going to get nasty."

I apologized humbly for my behavior and sat in my crib while I waited for 

lunch to come. About thirty minutes later I saw a food service worker push 

a steel-sided cart to the nurse's station and hand the unit clerk a 

clipboard to sign. Minutes later my  nurse arrived with my lunch tray. 

I have to give her credit, she did try to serve me a meal like an adult. 

She borrowed an overbed table from one of the other nursing departments and 

dropped the side of the crib to allow it to be rolled in over the mattress. 

After spilling the glass of low fat milk they had given me for lunch, my 

nurse had to change the sheets of the crib. Then I had problems cutting the 

minuscule serving of meat the dietitian had permitted me and knocked the 

food all over the clean sheet she had just put on the crib.

My nurse was fed up, she picked me up out of the crib and sat me in the 

chair while she went to get clean bedding and reorder lunch for me. When 

she returned, she was carrying a high chair along with the bedding. She set 

the high chair up next to the crib and put me in the chair while she 

changed the linens. About the same time she finished, an employee from food 

service arrived with another tray. The nurse took the tray from the dietary 

aide and set the tray in front of me, then began cutting up my meat so I 

wouldn't have any more accidents.  I forked up some of the meat and put it 

into my mouth before I realized something was wrong. All is took was one 

chew to realize everything was not as it should be.

I had no teeth. Actually, I wasn't exactly toothless, but the full set of 

teeth I had had before the accident had huge gaps. I felt around my mouth 

with my tongue to see how many teeth were missing. I had a few molars, but 

my incisors were gone. The meat fit neatly around the few teeth I did have 

and I found it impossible to chew it up. I spit the meat out on the tray 

and looked up at my nurse helplessly. She looked at me as if she was about 

to scream and said testily, "Well? What is it this time?"

"My teeth," I muttered, swallowing whole the remaining meat in my mouth.

"Your what?", she asked not understanding my muffled mumble.

"My teeth!", I shouted, pulling back my lip to reveal the naked gums, 

"They're gone! See?"

"Oh God! Why me?", the nurse exclaimed, rolling her eyes heavenward, "Hang 

on! I'll be right back with a meal you can eat!"

She took the tray from in front of me and left the room to return a few 

minutes later with several small jars in her hand. With her free hand, the 

nurse pulled the chair around in front of the high chair and sat herself 

down.  She arranged the jars on the tray of the high chair with the labels 

facing her. She twisted the lid from one of them, took a small 

rubber-coated spoon from her pocket and ladled out a spoonful to feed me. I 

was appalled. There was no other word for it. My nurse intended to spoon 

feed me from a jar like an infant.  I opened my mouth to object and she 

popped the laden spoon in before I could utter a word. When I closed my 

mouth I discovered it was filled with the most ghastly substance it has 

ever been my misfortune to endure. As an epicure, I pride myself on my 

ability to name the ingredients in a dish and be able to approximate the 

recipe with a single taste. This was some form of overcooked 

vegetable-chicken puree made from third rate meat approved for 

institutional use. It had a grainy texture that coated my tongue in the 

most disgusting way, leaving me with the intense desire to wash my mouth 

out with soap and swear off vegetables forever. I swallowed the vile 

concoction and found my mouth filled again. The muscles of my abdomen 

contracted violently as the muck hit my stomach and caused it to rebel 

against such maltreatment. It was horrible! I tried to tell her to stop but 

all I accomplished was to force a mouthful of the revolting stuff to 

dribble down my chin and fall into my lap. She merely smiled in a sickly 

sweet way and shoveled another spoonful of the sludge into me. I pointed at 

the mess she was making on the front of my gown and she said as she heaped 

more abuse upon my tastebuds, "Don't worry about the gown, it's disposable. 

We don't use feeding bibs here, when the patient finishes eating, we change 

his gown. It's much easier that way."

When I put my arms up to indicate I had had enough, my nurse said calmly, 

"I'd  put my arms down if I were you. The head nurse is the one who told me 

to spoon feed you. She saw me getting the baby food out of the cupboard in 

the nurse's station and asked me who I was getting it for and I had to tell 

her what happened. She agreed to your change in diet and told me to feed 

you as if you were an infant. She told me that if you gave me any trouble, 

I was to tie your wrists to the arms of the high chair with gause strips. 

The head nurse gave me some other orders for your lunch which you'll see 

after you finish these jars. If you refuse to eat, we'll sedate you with a 

tranquilizer and feed you anyway. It's your choice, you can do it the easy 

way or you can make it hard on yourself. One way or the other, this is what 

you'll be eating. Now are you going to cooperate, or do I call the head 

nurse and have her get the tranquilizer ready?"

I opened my mouth in surrender and closed my eyes, gripping the arms of the 

high chair in anticipation of the wretched puree. I could not see the 

expression on my nurse's face, but I heard the coo in her voice as she 

said, "That's a GOOD baby! Open wide!"

When I had finished all the food, she wiped my face with a wash cloth and 

got a chance to see what she had been feeding me. The labels of the jars 

had gotten turned around and I saw that the foul textured mixture was baby 

food! No wonder it had tasted so revolting! The very thought of eating that 

infantile mess made me feel nauseous! She removed the filthy gown from me 

and reached into the large pocket on the front of her apron to show me what 

was next on the agenda. It didn't matter to me by that time what it was. 

All I wanted was something to drink and rid my mouth of the horrid taste of 

baby food.

At first the object in her hand looked like another jar, but when she 

removed the covering, I saw to my  horror what they had planned for me to 

drink with my meal; baby formula!

"No! Please no! Anything but that!", I whispered.

The nurse smiled encouragingly and said, "Oh, come on. It's not as bad as 

all that! Here, let me get you out of the high chair and I'll show you."

She recapped the short baby bottle and put it back in her pocket before 

throwing the empty jars in the trash. Then she removed the tray from the 

high chair and lifted me out of the humiliating feeding station to put me 

on her lap. I looked up at her with an expression of pleading in my eyes as 

she withdrew the baby bottle from her pocket and removed the cover. Then 

she laid me back against her arm and proceeded to put the nipple into my 

mouth. I struggled briefly against my fate and then surrendered without a 

word being said. A few minutes later, I lay in her lap nursing at the 

bottle as if I had been an infant all my life and had never learned to 

drink from a glass.

I suppose it wasn't all that bad, but I couldn't tell. The taste of the 

baby food I had eaten earlier had destroyed my sense of taste and all I 

could feel was the cool wetness as I sucked minuscule sips of formula from 

the artificial teat and swallowed. After a minute or two, I found the 

correct rhythm to maximize the flow and I lay there on her lap with my eyes 

closed, determined to get enough of the milky fluid to wash the taste of 

the baby food out of my mouth.

I heard the head nurse's voice say as she dropped by to see if my nurse was 

having any trouble feeding me, "How's it going in here? Any problems? I see 

he's taken to the bottle easily enough."

I opened my eyes wide and looked up into the face of the author of my 

torment. She was looking down at me with a broad grin plastered on her 

face; she had won. I realized that the meal had been a punishment for 

escaping the crib and getting hurt while I was technically under her care. 

I had behaved foolishly and she was determined to make me suffer for my 

mistake. I kicked my legs helplessly at the thought of what else she might 

have planned for me.

Kicking my legs was the wrong thing to do under the circumstances. With a 

baby bottle in my mouth and my loins lovingly wrapped in a diaper, kicking 

my legs only made me look more like an infant. She smiled down at my 

infantile appearance and said, "When he finishes his bottle, put him down 

for a nap. You can give him his blankee and pillow back to sleep with, I 

don't think he's going anywhere with the cover on his crib. Remember, if he 

gives you any trouble, call me and I'll come in and sedate him. Once the 

tranquilizer takes hold, we won't hear a peep out of him for the rest of 

the afternoon."

My nurse agreed and I lay there on her lap suckling like an infant until I 

had finished the formula. Then she put the empty bottle on the floor beside 

her and lifted me up to lay against her chest. With her left hand cradling 

my diapered bottom, she began patting my back gently with her right hand to 

wind me. I was about to tell her how ridiculous it was to burp an adult 

when a huge belch escaped me. I blushed in embarrassment as my nurse said, 

"Ooooo....What a BIG burp that was!  Does baby have any more bubbles? Let's 

see if I can get any more air out of you!"

I was glad that my head was looking over her shoulder and my nurse couldn't 

see the color filling my cheeks as they burned in shame. She got three more 

small belches from me before she quit and put me in my crib. Then she 

fluffed my pillow and carefully tucked the blanket around my legs and torso 

before she pulled up the side of my crib and locked it in place. I was 

mortified. Nothing could have made me feel more dependent than the way I 

had been diapered, spoon fed and forced to nurse from a baby bottle before 

she had tucked me into the crib like a little baby. I closed my eyes to 

escape the sight of the bars above me and fell fast asleep in minutes.

When I awoke, my crotch felt cold and clammy. In my half-awake state I 

didn't remember where I was and what had happened to me. I put my hand down 

to see if I could feel why my crotch felt so strange. My fingertips touched 

the plastic covering on my diapers and it all came back to me in a rush. I 

was in a hospital and they had forced me to wear diapers!

Then the smell hit me and I  knew why I felt so cold and clammy. I had shit 

in my diapers!

It was too much! I had been fed and nursed like a baby and then I had 

pooped in my diapers like an infant. I moved my legs experimentally and 

felt the cold soggy diaper squish wetly between legs. Tears began to flow 

from the corners of my eyes and I started to cry. A few minutes later the 

 head nurse came in to see why I was sobbing. It only took one sniff of the 

fetid atmosphere for her to ascertain my problem. She turned and yelled out 

the door, "He's okay, he's only got a dirty diaper! You finish what you 

were doing and I'll take care of him!"

The next thing I knew she had dropped the side of the crib and was removing 

my dirty diaper. The fact that it was my nemesis who had discovered me with 

a soiled diaper didn't help me regain my composure. I sobbed disconsolately 

as she lifted my legs and wiped the filth from my behind. Then she put a 

clean diaper beneath me and pulled it up between my legs, taping it tightly 

in place around my waist. I screamed from the depths of my torment, 

bewailing the horrible fate which had made me so helpless.

The head nurse looked down at the screaming infant which had been a full 

grown man only two days before and came to a rapid decision about her 

charge. She dipped into her pocket with her hand and withdrew the object 

she kept for soothing a babies' jangled nerves. Her hand passed over my 

mouth like a stage magician's and with a twisting sleight of hand, the 

object popped into my mouth.

She had silenced my bawls instantly. The object muffled my cries 

completely, allowing only soft whimpers of anguish to escape. I closed my 

lips around the thing in my mouth and explored its surface with my tongue. 

When I realized what she had put in my mouth to quiet me; a pacifier!

I began sobbing again, quietly this time. My chest heaved with emotion as 

waves of despair rolled over me. The nurse picked me up out of the crib and 

held me close to her chest while patting my back and saying, "There, there 

little one. It'll be alright. Your dydee is clean now and you can go back 

to sleep. When you wake up again, there'll be a nice bottle of formula 

waiting for you."

I moaned inwardly and lay my head against her in defeat. I shouldn't have 

tried to been a smart-ass and ignore my doctor's orders. The head nurse had 

probably had years of experience dealing with recalcitrant children and had 

no intention of letting me buffalo her into having my way. All my childish 

behavior had gotten me was to be treated as I deserved. I was lucky she 

hadn't put me over her knee and given me a sound spanking. She kept petting 

me and making motherly cooing noises at me until I calmed down and was 

ready to go to sleep again. I felt completely enervated and demoralized as 

she lay me back down on the mattress and tucked me back under the fleecy 

blanket. I knew with certainty that when I woke, it would be with a wet 

diaper. She had found the truth of my being under the urbane exterior I had 

so carefully cultivated over the years. I was only a helpless infant who 

had to be cuddled and coddled to keep me from throwing tantrums to get my 

way.

The next time I awoke, it was with a wet diaper as I had known I would. I 

lay in my crib quietly, resolving to wait patiently for my nurse to check 

my diaper rather than sink further into infantile behavior. I realized that 

my howls of displeasure hadn't done me any good, they had only served to 

make me look immature and justify treating me like a baby. If I had behaved 

myself, I could have had the use of a bedpan and maintained a little 

dignity. But since I had shown them I was incapable of deporting myself in 

an adult fashion, they had diapered me for the duration of my stay and 

confined me to a baby crib.

By the end of the week, my toilet training was almost gone. They had 

continued to feed me baby food and formula throughout my stay. The doctor 

came in a talked to me for a little while on the day before I was released. 

He told me that I would have to have assistance until I learned how to take 

care of myself and suggested that I should either go to live with a 

relative who could take care of me, or I should hire a live-in caretaker. 

One way or the other, he pointed out, I was unfit to take car