Mother was furious. I was used to that. I smirked at her as the baby sitter stalked out of the house. Earlier that evening I’d locked her in the bathroom using pennies to jam the door tight so she couldn’t open it. I was fairly drunk by then anyway. The carefully hidden liquor had been easy to find.
I hated the way it made me feel, especially the next morning. I hated the taste of the stuff. But I drank it because I knew it infuriated my parents. Hating them came easy. Moving from the ranch in Wyoming to Chicago was why I hated them.
Small for my age, kids teased me at school. True, I was only in Kindergarten, but I hated it. “What are you, three years old?” That was the question the bigger kids always asked, especially the girls.
Mom and Dad were both tiny too, but their size didn’t seem to bother them. Mom was four foot four inches tall, and Dad was four foot nine inches tall. Both were flat race jockeys, and both were now involved with a company that bred horses internationally. Their job was shipping the horses from America to England or France, and making sure they came back whole and sound.
They were gone for long periods of time and so we lived in Chicago with my spinster aunt. She was tiny too, no taller than my mother.
“Our problems may be solved.” My father said, cuffing me hard on the side of the head as he passed. I fell over and then vomited on the floor. Mother sighed and went for rags to clean it up. My spinster aunt looked on with displeasure. She had just returned from a trip to Greece.
“How’s that?” My aunt asked.
“I’ve hired a Nanny. She’ll be here in the morning. I found her in England. An Earl’s son got out of hand, like this one, and she straightened him right up!” My father said. “You’ll like this one, son!” He said, laughing.
Mom carried me upstairs and put two diapers and a pair of baby pants on me. I was too drunk to care and would pee in them anyway from the liquor and stupor it brought.
It was late when I woke up the next morning. My head ached and I felt like retching again. I groaned and rolled over and came up against wooden bars. Opening my eyes I saw that I was no longer in my bed. I was in a crib! Sitting up only made my head hurt worse and I lay back down, groaning.
Looking out into my room I saw that it too had changed. It looked like a nursery! There was a playpen in the center of the room, and a changing table against one wall. In dismay I stared around and then saw someone new, sitting in a rocking chair in a corner. My sight was still a little blurry but I could tell she was incredibly beautiful.
“Who are you?” I rasped.
“You may call me Nanna.” She said, her British accent delightful in my ears. Her voice was as beautiful as she was!
“Don’t you have a name?” I asked, trying to sit up slowly so my head wouldn’t spin.
“Of course I have a name. It’s a perfectly good name. You, however, will only refer to me as Nanna.”
“Like hell I will!” I said with some heat.
She got up out of her chair, and I saw that she was very tall, probably over six feet, with a voluptuous figure accented by her prominent breasts. Her eyes were blue and sparkled as she walked over to the crib. From a shelf to the side she produced a brown glass bottle and a spoon, and poured something into the spoon.
I fought her, but she used a submission hold that had my mouth open for a yell when the horrid liquid poured into my mouth. Then she clamped my mouth shut and held my nose until I was forced to swallow it. It was awful and I immediately threw up everything in my stomach. I tried to hit her, but she was quick. She had my head in a bucket to catch it all.
Whatever she put in my mouth the taste was still there. For the next two hours I had the dry heaves. She was patient and kind during the whole ordeal. But her words still echoed in my head.
“Bad words and rude behavior will be punished with a spoon of this every time!” I knew she meant it. Hating her I suffered through the hours it took to erase the taste. Worse, while having the dry heaves I also had the runs and my diapers were full.
“Baby needs a change!” Nanna said lightly.
“I’m not a baby!” I said, remembering at the last instant to leave the expletive out.
“You’re wearing diapers and baby pants, your diapers are wet and messy. You are a baby until I say otherwise.” She said quietly.
“My mom put these on last night because I was drunk!” I said hotly.
“Really!” She said with a laugh. “A six year-old drunk! Quite a story, and I already know about it. Until I say different, you’re a baby!” She repeated.
She lifted me out of the crib and I tried to kick her. She caught my foot deftly and squeezed and I began to cry from the pain. She held it all the way to the changing table before she let go. When she put me down she was still smiling.
“That was rude behavior.” She said. I tried to fight her but I was heaving again and gagging in seconds. When I was finished heaving she put me on my back and took the diapers off, cleaned me, put lotion on, and then put three diapers under me, pulled them between my legs, and pinned them tightly. They were bigger than the diapers my mom used, softer, and much thicker. I looked with horror as she pulled a pair of baby blue rhumba pants from beneath the changing table and pulled them over the diapers.
She put a pale yellow T-shirt over my head and I saw with mounting embarrassment that it had a cute teddy bear waving on the front. Worse, it came down to the first ruffle in the rear and stopped.
“This will take the taste out of your mouth.” She said, handing me a baby bottle. “It’s apple juice and the acidity of the juice will desolve the residue in your mouth.”
I started to unscrew the nipple but she took it out of my hands and forced it into my mouth. Then she carried me over to the rocker and held me securely until I drained every drop from the bottle. The whole time she patted the thick diapers between my legs, the rhythm and sucking from the bottle calming me. I was nearly asleep when the bottle was empty.
Something else was happening too. I felt warm and relaxed, and could easily have drifted off to sleep. I fought it. She saw the anger in my eyes and smiled.
“Fighting it will only make it work faster.” She said quietly.
“What? What will work faster? What did you give to me?” My words sounded like the words I’d spoken last night when I was drunk. They weren’t coming out right. I struggled against her holding me until she saw what she was waiting for. My eyes dilated fully. With a smile she put me on the floor.
I sat down hard immediately. Angry I pushed myself to a half-standing position again quickly and sat back down just as quickly. My legs wouldn’t hold me! I reached up and grabbed the rim of the rocker but my hands wouldn’t stay gripped. I fell back down again.
She lifted me into her arms and held my head against her magnificent breast. I inhaled her skin lotion because my nose was right up against the bare skin above her blouse. Her hand was patting my rear again in that same stead rhythm. In minutes I was sound asleep.
Two hours later I woke up fully, realizing I held an empty baby bottle in my hands and was still sucking on it. I pulled it out of my mouth and it fell from my hands. I giggled and wondered where the giggle came from. I felt good. I felt like laughing out loud. I saw my feet kicking and giggled again.
Rolling over was a major effort but it felt so good I giggled again. My diapers were wet. I heaved myself up to my knees and crawled to the bars of the crib. It took a long time to reach the top bar and hold on. I had to use my mouth to help and drool dripped off my chin. Nanna walked up to the crib.
“Very cute.” She said. She lifted me out of the crib and I giggled some more. Why was I giggling so much? I didn’t know and didn’t care. Nanna put me in the playpen without changing me. Usually I hated wet diapers, but right now they felt just fine.
I had no intention of staying in the playpen so I crawled over to the side and hauled myself up only to discover that the bars were still at least a foot above my head. I could just reach them with my hands standing on the tips of my toes, but every time I did that my legs and hands gave way and I sat down.
Nanna watched with some amusement as I struggled, knowing that my struggles would only make the drug work faster. Soon I was content to sit on the pad in the playpen. I crawled to the center and sat down among some toys. They were all baby toys. None of them appealed to me. Did they? No!
Trying to talk was impossible. I ended up drooling all over myself when I tried and Nanna just sat there smiling at me. What was she waiting for? Then I felt my bowels give way. I still had the runs. I wanted her to change me but I couldn’t communicate it! Frustrated I finally held up both hands to show her I wanted to be picked up. Perhaps then she’d notice I was wet and messy.
She smiled then, such a beautiful smile, and came and lifted me from the playpen. This time she bathed me. Before toweling me dry she poured and rubbed baby oil all over me. Now I smelled like a baby! I tried to glare at her but her smile kept making me giggle.
Unable to walk or stand I was at her mercy. She carried me to the changing table and this time put four diapers under me. There was something comforting in all that thickness between my legs, with that softness caressing my body, holding me tightly in an embrace of warmth and wonder. I felt my feet kicking and was ashamed but giggled again!
She put a pair of milky white baby pants over the diapers and then a romper outfit. I knew it wouldn’t fit. It couldn’t! I was at least big enough to be beyond wearing something like that! It fit me like a glove. She snapped the onezie and then pulled up the romper, attached the straps and snapped the crotch of the shorts, patted her work, smiled at me, and kissed me.
Lifting me into her arms we went to the rocker where I drank another bottle. Without being able to control myself I giggled and cooed around the nipple, kicking my feet in delight. My body didn’t work right any more! How had she done that? The rhythmic patting on my bottom began to put me to sleep and this time I gave in.
I was still in her lap when I woke up. Not more than half an hour had passed. My body felt wonderful. Inside my head I knew what I was feeling wasn’t normal. Did I really care? Nanna put me in the playpen. Sitting there I looked around at the toys and began to play with the brightest of them. I was having fun!
Nanna fed me in a high chair at the table with everyone else. My aunt seemed pleased that I was acting so strangely. Mom and Dad laughed, and Dad even bounced me on his knee for a few minutes. I giggled and laughed in delight. After supper Nanna took me back to the nursery.
She held me in her lap and read to me from baby books, rocking me gently, patting my diapers. Then, when I was beginning to fall asleep, she opened her blouse and her nursing bra and breastfed me.
In the morning my mind was a little clearer, but I still couldn’t talk or stand up. Nanna was there to change me into four diapers and baby pants, a T-shirt, and socks to match the shirt. She fed me a bottle and my mind scattered to the winds. For six weeks she kept me drugged that way, then began slowly to wean me from whatever she’d been giving me.
That took six more weeks. During those twelve weeks I was loved as I had never been loved before. Especially Nanna, with her breastfeeding and beautiful voice constantly telling me what a sweet baby boy I was. Unaware of subliminal training during that entire time I woke up one morning content to be a baby. I think that’s when she began to wean me from the drug.
I began to toddle, and then to walk but was never out of diapers. I wore two nighttime thickness gauze diapers during the day, and three at night. Everyone in the house, including all the servants and dailies, picked me up and cuddled me. Nanna encouraged it. After twelve weeks, though my mind was now clear again, I never once thought of asking for the diapers to be removed.
I couldn’t really remember not wearing them! Nanna made pants to fit over the diapers, and more mature shirts were provided. In all that time I don’t think I was ever out of her sight. Her control over me was complete. Had I not been so conditioned I would have been terrified of her. Instead I loved her and clung to her.
I was going to learn about that control soon, for school would be starting in less than a fortnight. Though I remembered school I thought little about it. I played with my baby toys, drank from my bottles, and was fed in a high chair.
My mother spent more time with me each day, delighted in my giggles and laughter. My aunt took over caring for me on Nanna’s afternoon off, when mother was away, but mother tried to be there those afternoons. She loved changing me. Often she put three diapers on me in the afternoon, but I didn’t mind. I loved wearing them!
Nanna and my mother talked one afternoon about visiting the school and talking to the administration and my teacher. I didn’t really listen. What would I have done anyway?