Past Reflections of Future Visions



Co-authored by Fever and Jennifer Loriane

Chapter IV: Caring for an Old Boyfriend

"Mark!", Amanda said as her ex-boyfriend answered the phone, "How good to hear from you again! How is your relationship with that nice young woman working out? Good, I hope! I was just wondering if you wanted to come to a small party I’m throwing tomorrow night. Its nothing special and you don’t have to dress up. I’m preparing a ‘special’ meal for the get-together! You’ll love it! I guarantee that after you eat, you’ll feel at least ten years younger! You can bring your girlfriend if you wish; I want everyone to feel like a well-fed, contented baby after the meal. Can you come?"

"Uhhh," Mark hesitated; the girlfriend that he had dumped Amanda for had dumped him a month later when a series of love making attempts had gone sour. She was so beautiful that he had felt intimidated and the resulting anxiety had made him impotent. Mark had been so emotionally devastated by the experience that he was almost wholly unmanned, even in the privacy of his bathroom. He had become a recluse, only venturing out to go to work or the grocery store. Mark hadn’t been out with a woman for six months. The ensuing depression caused by his loneliness had made him subconsciously return to the sole source of pleasure he had known in his infancy, i.e., food.

Six months of non-stop snacking had caused the already overweight, beer-guzzling, junk-food addict to gain over one hundred and fifty pounds in half a year. His once svelte and muscular body had become a mere means to ungainly transport and maintain the huge amount of fat that pervaded the tissues of his torso and limbs. Mark’s blood pressure had skyrocketed, aggravating his sexual difficulties to the point of complete impotence. Rolls of fat from his beer-gut avalanched over his pubic area making his short penis almost unreachable with his hands. Because he could not reach his fat-obscured pubes, he couldn’t shake the pee from his penis and was forced to sit down like a woman when he peed. Consequently, the back-splash from the interior of the toilet bowl often left his pubes wet with pee causing further irritation of his pubes. He had purchased a black-enameled, steel-framed, long-handled device from a Swedish company to allow him to wipe him to remotely wipe his bottom, but it often cleansed his bottom less than perfectly.

His thighs had become as huge as one-hundred and thirty-year-old live oak trees, causing him to waddle like a toddler with a double-thickness of cloth diapers and the bulging bottom of a plastic-covered terry-cloth lined diaper cover between his legs. He suffered from almost constant case of friction-induced, prickly heat on the inside of his thighs next to his pubes and his inability to clean his over-large bottom adequately after he used the toilet often led to outbreaks of diaper rash. Mark was forced to use a humiliating treatment for his skin problems; he had to apply diaper rash cream meant for use on babies to the affected areas of his bottom and thighs every night. In addition to all of his other problems, his obesity made it impossible for him to pee standing up like a man. When Mark had to pee, he did it sitting down like a woman because he could no longer reach his tiny penis under the folds of fat that covered his pubis. For the same reason, he generally wet his underwear after sitting on the toilet because he couldn’t control the flow from his urethra. The subcutaneous fat which lay in rings around his body put pressure on his bladder as long as he was standing or sitting. As a consequence, he often found that he was wetting himself before he could run to the bathroom. The only solution he had found was to use over-the-counter incontinence shields for men while he was working or at home.

In addition, the excessively moist condition of his pubic area and armpits caused by heavy perspiration from his obesity had proved an excellent breeding ground for a rare type of fungus infection which caused all of his pubic hair and subaxial hair to fall out.

On the rare occasions that he looked at his naked body in the mirror, he beheld a reflection of an individual who looked like a grotesquely fat, superannuated baby. The fingers on his hands had become fat and pudgy and the subcutaneous fat in his cheeks made him look like he spent hours each day sucking on baby bottles. The constant friction of his tight clothes had rubbed all the hair off of his arms and legs, emphasizing the congenital lack of body hair on his chest and chin. If his head had been twice as large and he had been dressed in diapers, he would have looked every inch like a twelve-month-old infant. His short, baby-fine blonde hair completed the infantine image in the mirror, making him want to cry every time he looked at himself.

In an attempt to keep himself from getting even fatter, Mark began using products that contained Ostera, a synthetic oleo-ester product that the body can’t absorb rather than commercial corn, coconut, or safflower oils usually employed in manufactured snack foods. Unfortunately, Mark was one of those rare individuals whose body had difficulty tolerating the oleo-ester. Every time he ate a bag of chips, he suffered from embarrassing anal "leakage" which "dirtied" the back of the pseudo-diapers he wore and contributed to his diaper rash problems.

When he went to a psychiatrist about his deep depression after two months of feeling sorry for himself about his impotence, she had prescribed a course of Prozac as well as Cardazim CD to bring his blood pressure down. After a month of taking Prozac at the twenty milligram level proved to be inadequate to affect his mood, so his psychiatrist escalated the dosage over two months until he was taking sixty milligrams a day. Mark’s body reacted to the medication by exhibiting one of the more infrequent side effects of Prozac, i.e., he began having even more incidents of urinary incontinence. In addition, the high dosage of Prozac made his impotence worse. He asked for a prescription for Viagra, but his psychiatrist refused on the grounds that his medical condition of his heart and vascular system would have to be evaluated for medical safety before the vaso-dilating drug could be prescribed.

His psychiatrist sent him to a specialist in Internal medicine, who had discovered that his triglyceride and cholesterol levels were abnormally high. After he proved allergic to Loped, his physician advised him to take fifteen hundred milligrams of Niacin a day to drop his triglyceride and cholesterol. Almost immediately, the huge daily dosage of Niacin caused him to develop a painful case of Gout. Not wishing to lose the advantages with the lowering of his triglycerides and cholesterol that she had gained by putting him on a regimen of Niacin, his physician prescribed Allopurinol to alleviate his symptoms of Gout.

The Allopurinol had two side effects; the combination of Allopurinol and Prozac made his impotence become as complete as a newborn baby’s. Secondly, he began having problems with anal continence that were unrelated to his ingestion of Ostera. When he asked his doctor about getting a prescription for Viagra, the specialist in Internal Medicine declined; his blood pressure was too high, and he was too obese to be a candidate for Viagra. She had patted his hand maternally and told him that if he lost one hundred pounds, she might consider it if his triglyceride and cholesterol levels came down with his blood pressure. Until he had reached those goals, pharmaceutically-enhanced erections were simply to dangerous for her to consider.

Mark knew that he had lost control of his life and that somehow, in a strange way, that women had somehow become the arbiters of his daily life. If he hadn’t dumped Amanda for Alissa, then he wouldn’t have had the problems with impotence. When his personal fears about his masculinity had caused him to seek refuge in beer and snacks, he had become bloated with fat. When he sought treatment for his obesity and impotence, the only psychiatrist he had been able to find who was taking patients was a woman. The anti-depressants made his impotence worse while his blood pressure zoomed from over-weight. His psychiatrist sent him to a specialist who was also a woman, who prescribed medications for his blood pressure and his metabolism that made his impotence even worse. Mark wished with all of his heart that he had never seen or met Alissa. Dumping Amanda had sent him on a female-guided, downhill slide that threatened his very mortal existence.

Mark’s impotence, which had been caused at the beginning by a psychological fear of failure with a beautiful woman, had continued as a neurotic fear of inability to perform "like a man". What had begun as a simple psychological problem was exacerbated later by his high blood pressure due to his self-inflected obesity and had, as a consequence of medical treatment for his depression and obesity, become chemically induced and profound. Since neither of Mark’s physician’s would give him a prescription for Viagra, he gave up on sex entirely (even masturbation) and switched from the light incontinence shields to thicker and more absorbent plastic-covered disposable incontinence briefs made by an European company called Mollicare. At first the lightest form of briefs were necessary, but after a short time, he needed to wear Mollicare’s Super Ultra model, which held up to fifteen hundred milliliters of urine without leaking. Of course, to be sure that he didn’t make a wet spot on his pants, he continued to wear Gerber-style soft plastic pants over his diapers that he purchased by mail from Vinyl Incontinence Products in Michigan to contain any "accidents" that might leak through the disposable brief he wore. Although Mark liked the feel and soundlessness of his plastic pants, the tightness of the elastic combined with his sweat irritated his skin and made his legs bleed painfully if he left them on too long or didn’t change them regularly.

Mark’s anal and urinary incontinence as well as his complete impotence pushed him into a deep, clinical depression, despite the medications he was receiving. Understandably, the combination of his depression, loneliness, obesity and impotence as well as the unending itching and pain from his bottom and groin made him cry often in the silence of his apartment at night. He had given up on attracting a woman as a man and would have gladly accepted a mother-figure who loved him despite his obvious unattractiveness. Sex with a woman had become a dead issue for Mark.

Mark knew that he had become so unattractively obese that no woman would even look at him, much less go out on a date with him. Even if he had managed to convince some woman to go out with him, the tell-tale plastic "crinkling" noise from the adult diapers that he wore would have given him away and revealed that he was less than a man. He loved Amanda’s cooking, but was afraid of what she might say when she saw what he had become.

"You don’t have to bring your girlfriend you don’t want to!", Amanda encouraged, hearing the hesitation in his voice. Obviously, the buxom vixen that he had dumped her for had dumped him in turn. "I’ll serve a special veal dish just for you! You remember my ‘Veal Marsala’, don’t you?"

Mark’s mouth watered at the sound of eating Amanda’s Veal Marsala again. Her’s was a special recipe and unlike any he had ever tasted before or since. Amanda would start the dish by slicing up a pound of fresh mushrooms and tossing them in a cast-iron skillet with a stick of butter and thin-sliced shallots. Then she would slowly cook the mixture over the stove until the water in the mushrooms were driven out and contents of the skillet became a soupy mix. She would reduce the mixture by boiling, until all the water was gone and the shrunken mushrooms began to fry in the butter. Instead of removing the mushrooms when they were golden brown, as did most cooks did when they prepared Duxelles, she continued to brown them until they had blackened into a rich, mushroomy flavor sensation that exploded upon the palate when consumed. The effect of rendering a pound of mushrooms with this technique produced a half-cup of mushrooms with an intense mushroomy flavor that would delight any epicure of merit. Amanda’s blackened Duxelles formed the basis of her Veal Marsala. As far as Mark was concerned, the offer to sample Amanda’s Veal Marsala was an almost orgasmic experience which was not to be denied. Even though he was embarrassed to let Amanda see him in his present rotund condition, the lure of the sweet-wined, mushroomy savor of the dish he remembered so fondly would not let him refuse her invitation.

"Yes, Amanda! I remember your ‘Veal Marsala’ and wouldn’t miss it for the world," he fairly drooled into the microphone of the phone’s handset.

"And your girlfriend, will she be coming to?", Amanda inquired with the innocent slyness of a python who was planning to crush her victims within the coils of her new-found powers.

"Uhh, no. I don’t believe she will. Thank you for asking though," he replied slowly.

"Shall I call Alissa and invite her personally to show her that there are no hard feelings between us? I think I have her number here somewhere…," Amanda asked with mock sincerity.

"Uhhhh, Amanda? Alissa and I haven’t seen each other for some time. I don’t think it would be a good idea to call her. You know how it is! She and I just weren’t meant for each other," Mark said defensively.

"That sounds a lot like what you told me when you left me for her! Did you dump her, or was it the other way around? I can call her, you know, and get the story from her if you don’t want to talk about it," Amanda asked in a subtle but vicious undertone.

Mark sighed heavily and said with a defeated voice, "That won’t be necessary. She dumped me!" He was desperate to keep her from talking to the woman who dumped him because he was, as his last girlfriend had put it, "less than a man". Mark’s last shred of male dignity could not endure the thought that Amanda would discover that he had become permanently impotent.

"Are you happy now? I suppose you’re going to withdraw your invitation to dinner now that I’ve told you I’m not dating!", he whined in a high-pitched childish tone at his former lover’s success at discovering his secret failure.

"Not at all," Amanda reassured him in a maternal tone, "I’m most anxious for you to come to my little soiree. I’m even more happy since you’re unattached at the moment. I was sort of hoping that even if you didn’t want to be my lover, you’d consider becoming part of my ‘little’ family of friends. Since my daughter has gone off to live with her aunt in West Texas, I find myself bereft of adult conversation in the evenings. Your presence would be most welcome. You could meet my baby niece who I’m caring for temporarily while her aunt is sick. I think that the two of you would get along famously together. In many ways, I think the two of you are alike!"

"What does that mean?", Mark asked in puzzlement.

"Ohhh," Amanda said airily, "…It just means that I think you’ll have a lot in common. I know that both of you really like my cooking! Don’t worry about it. That’s the mother in me speaking. You don’t have to understand. Dinner will be at six. Will you come?"

"Absolutely," Mark said with a note of finality in his voice. He had no intention of missing Amanda’s Veal Marsala.

"Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow night!", Amanda agreed to seal the pact.

Kimmie was absentmindedly chewing on her pacifier when Amanda hung up the phone and redirected her attention to her daughter. Since Kimmie was on the downside of three years old, her brain was beginning to lose its ability to understand adult speech. Most of the words that her mother had said to Mark in her presence had been beyond her comprehension. Kimmie’s face had the blank look of uncomprehending contentment of toddlers everywhere. "Evidently," Amanda thought, "her brain has begun regressing along with her body. It doesn’t matter that she still has the personality of a teenager because her brain is losing all her acquired skills and knowledge. By tomorrow, she’ll be my baby girl again. This time, I won’t allow her to grow up to become a filthy-mouthed teenager! The only filth that will come from her in the future will be what she deposits in her diapers!"

Amanda changed Kimmie’s diapers again before she tucked her into her crib, Even though it made Kimmie squeal in discomfort, Amanda hiked up Kimmie’s diapers high above her pelvis and pulled them extremely tightly across her tummy. After she diapered her, she selected a pair of white plastic pants that were two sizes too small for Kimmie and forced them over Kimmie’s diapers. Kimmie moaned in pain at the extremely tight fit of the elastic undersized plastic panty at her thighs and waist, but fell asleep quickly even though her tight diapers made her extremely uncomfortable.

Amanda turned on the nightlight in the nursery and blew her little girl a kiss as she turned out the overhead light. From the soft snores coming from the crib, Amanda knew that her daughter was already asleep. She quietly took the unopened cardboard carton which contained the baby auto seat which she had purchased and went out to the garage to mount it on the passenger side of the backseat so the car would be ready for the shopping trip she planned the next day. After she had finished threading the seat belt through the safety loops of the baby seat, she returned to the nursery to get the carton containing the shopping stroller she had bought. Amanda discarded the box in the same place that she had discarded the auto seat and placed the new stroller in the back bed of her station wagon.

Amanda returned to the nursery and relocated Kimmie’s new pink, polyurethane plastic diaper bag to the polished oaken kitchen table where she packed it with disposable diapers, some disposable feeding bibs, a white rubber-coated feeding spoon, a small plastic container of baby wipes, a pacifier, a two pairs of plastic, "Care-Bear"-decorated diaper pins, a cloth diaper for bubbling her after she finished her bottle, a small pink stuffed bunny toy, a twelve-month-old sized onsie in case Kimmie made a mess of the outfit she’d be wearing and a clear plastic travel folder with a snap-down flap that was pre-populated with small containers of baby care items like baby powder, baby wash, etc. As an afterthought, she added a small jar of vaseline and a jar of baby food for Kimmie’s lunch. The only thing she left out was a baby bottle filled with formula and another bottle filled with water. Because either one might become contaminated with bacteria during the night, she decided that she’d pack the bottles just before she left the next morning.

December 6th 1998

The next morning, Amanda went into the nursery to find her baby girl had regressed into a one-year-old while she slept. The tight diapers and undersized plastic pants she had put on her daughter’s body the night before had become loose on Kimmie’s shrunken body. Amanda dropped the side of the crib and lovingly carried her still slumbering daughter to the changing table of the nursery. After she had replaced the soiled diaper and Amanda pulled up the fresh pair of plastic panties over her daughter’s bottom, Kimmie woke up. She sleepily whimpered a bit in an infantile demand that her mother give her something to drink. Although Kimmie tried to speak, all that came out of her mouth was consonantless gibberish. Kimmie thrashed around on the changing station in irritation, but nothing she could do would change her inability to communicate. Amanda bent down and put her mouth against her infant daughter’s belly and blew a loud labial fricative against her bellybutton to silence her baby girl’s cries for restoration to her former self. Despite her anger at having been reduced to infancy, the odd tickling sensation that her mother produced by blowing her lips wetly against the skin of her tummy made Kimmie chuckle in delight.

Once Kimmie’s newly infantized emotions were assuaged by her mother’s loving ministrations, Amanda picked her up from the changing station and laid her on her back in the crib. Amanda answered her daughter’s need for liquid by taking a baby bottle full of apple juice from her back pocket and handing it to Kimmie to drink. Amanda would give Kimmie her breakfast bottle of baby formula later that morning.

Kimmie sucked on the nipple thirstily and wet her diaper again as she descended once again into an infant’s deep slumber. While she slept, Amanda washed, sliced and began to simmer four pounds of mushrooms in a large, black, cast-iron skillet on the range with four sticks of butter crushed garlic and a cup of finely mined scallions. Soon the kitchen filled with the smell of cooking mushrooms, making her mouth water in anticipation of serving up the rich dish that she was preparing for her ex-boyfriend. Revenge had never smelled so pungent, sweet and earthy.

After Amanda finished making the Duxelles, she made a bottle of formula with goat’s milk and began to warm it in a pot of water on the stove. Then she woke up little Kimmie and carried her into the breakfast nook. In a few minutes she had the baby girl strapped into her high chair and had snapped a bib around her neck. Kimmie watched with large eyes as Amanda unscrewed the cap on the jar of baby cereal that she had brought from the cupboard. Kimmie opened her mouth wide and allowed her mother to feed her the jar of puréed rice cereal without interfering too much. True, her hands seemed to get in the way when she ate, but her infantile incoordination made it inevitable that Kimmie would get some of the food on her hands even when she was spoon-fed. Kimmie had regressed to the stage of development where she drooled incessantly and had problems controlling her lips. As a result, the baby food her mother fed her frequently spilled out of her mouth and dripped off her chin to land on the protective plastic bib below.

When Kimmie had finished the jar, Amanda wiped her daughter’s face and hands with a wet washcloth and gave her the warm bottle of formula to nurse. While Kimmie was noisily suckling the nipple on the bottle, Amanda went into her bedroom and got dressed to go shopping. Amanda heard the empty sucking noises as Kimmie finished her bottle and came out to bubble her. She unfastened the tray in front of her baby daughter, then unbuckled the strap that held her in the high chair before she hoisted her aloft to lay backwards against Amanda’s diaper-covered shoulder.

A few gentle pats on Kimmie’s back produced a satisfying belch without any spitup from Kimmie. Amanda then took little Kimmie to the playpen in the family room and gently laid her down to play and make her post-breakfast mess in her diaper while Amanda finished dressing and prepared Kimmie’s diaper bag for the shopping trip. Fifteen minutes later, Amanda returned, dropping off the diaper bag on the kitchen table before she carried her soggy, messy bottomed daughter back to her nursery to change her pee-drenched and poop-soiled diaper. She cleansed her daughter’s messy bottom with perfumed baby wipes and was careful to give Kimmie’s entire torso and legs a light dusting of baby powder to make her smell "vanilla" sweet before diapering her. Once Kimmie’s bottom was safely ensconced in a disposable "overnight" diaper, Amanda took out the boxed dress she had shown her when she had arrived home from her boyfriend’s house and took out the delicate white lace-rowed, plastic-lined rhumba panties. She efficiently slipped the panties over Kimmie’s feet and slid them up her legs to cover her diaper. It only took a moment to put a pair of white, bow-trimmed baby socks on Kimmie’s feet and buckle on a pair of matching white leather, baby-sized, mary-jane shoes over her daughter’s socks.

After Amanda had completed dressing her daughter below the waist, she unbuckled the safety strap on the changing station and sat Kimmie up on the white plastic-covered changing pad. Thunderclaps in the distance rumbled as she held Kimmie’s arms up one-by-one and worked them through the armholes of the dress before she pulled the dress down over Kimmie’s head. From the sound of the thunder, Amanda knew a storm was on its way and would shortly hit them. She wanted little Kimberly properly dressed so she wouldn’t get chilled from the rain and catch a cold.

When she had finished tugging the dress down around her daughter’s waist, Amanda reached into the box and withdrew the crowning touch to her little girl’s ensemble; a matching white baby bonnet with a frilly lace border. Amanda tied the bonnet on Kimmie’s head with a giant decorative bow under her chin to keep the bonnet in place and stepped back a pace to see total effect of the outfit. Kimmie tried to voice her objections to her mother about the demeaning infantine dress that ensconced her in layers of airily light white lace that were brightly bedecked and beribboned with bounteous bands of bantam baby bows, but Kimmie’s attempts to communicate her displeasure were futile; the only sounds that came out of her mouth were a meaningless sequence of pseudo-phonemes. Amanda smiled approvingly at the adorable picture of infantine innocence that her daughter exuded. No one would ever guess that the cute little babbling baby girl nestled in multiple layers of frilly, feminine lace decorated with hundreds of tiny white bows of ribbon had been a disloyal, foul-mouthed, lazy, class-cutting, boy-chasing, sixteen-year-old slut of a teenager two days before.

Amanda could sense that Kimmie’s teenaged personality was fully aware of her reduced position in life and was agonizing over the humiliation of being diapered, fed and treated like a baby girl. She had accepted being treated like a baby when she was half-awake, but once the obscuring spiderwebs of slumber had cleared from her mind, she realized what her mother had done to her. To maximize the demoralizing effect on Kimmie’s psyche, Amanda picked her up and put her right forearm under her daughter’s lace-festooned bottom to lift her from the changing station. She held Kimmie’s back close to her with her left hand as she carried her into the master bedroom so she could show her daughter what she looked like in her new outfit.

When Kimmie saw the reflection of the baby girl being held by her mother, she bowed her head to her mother’s shoulder and began to whimper in distress and defeat. Not only did she look like a baby, but she positively reeked of baby powder! Amanda smiled and nodded at Kimmie’s reaction and took her back to the nursery to add a forgotten accessory to her daughter’s outfit. Seating the still whimpering Kimmie on the changing station once again, Amanda took a pacifier with a pink shield from the clear acrylic apothecary jar sitting next to the baby powder at the rear of changing station. Amanda rummaged around the top shelf of the station beneath the changing pad until she found what she wanted and stood up again. It only took a few seconds to loop the velcro fastener of the white linen ribbon through the ring of the pacifier and secure the velcro to itself. Once the pacifier had been attached to the ribbon, Amanda reached for one of the diaper pins that was stuck in the bar of Johnson’s baby soap on the other side of the container of powder. She selected a diaper pin with a decorative plastic pink bunny "head" and pinned the other end of the linen ribbon to the left side of Kimmie’s chest. Kimmie was shocked when her mother took the pacifier that hung from her flat chest and popped the nipple between her lips without a word. Instantly, Kimmie’s revived infant reflexes caused her to begin sucking on the nipple and silence her mewling demands for maternal mercy.

Amanda smiled at how Kimmie looked sucking on her binkie as she picked her up and took her into the kitchen to get her purse and Kimmie’s diaper bag. Amanda locked the garage door behind her as she carried Kimmie in her arms to the backseat of the passenger side of the car. Once there, she strapped Kimmie into the baby seat that she had mounted the night before. Amanda carefully closed the door and went around to get in the driver’s seat. It wasn’t necessary to open the garage door; all Amanda had to do was press the button on the digitally-coded radio-control of other automatic garage door opener that she had affixed to the underside of the dashboard with self-adhesive velco patches. Once the door was open, she backed out into the driving rain and went to the baby store where she had shopped previously.

When the clerks at the Baby Store remembered Amanda when she made some additional purchases of baby furnishings, Amanda glibly lied and gushed about how her newly-divorced sister and baby nephew were coming to live with her in the next few days. Not wishing to disbelieve or offend such a free-spending and obviously wealthy customer, they accepted her airy lies completely as she pushed Kimmie’s rain-wet stroller down each aisle and told the fawning salesgirl which items she wanted added to her order. Behind them trailed a disheveled, brown-haired stockboy with poorly concealed cheap tattoos on his forearms who had been detailed to add each item to the industrial flatbed, low-slung cart as the salesgirl directed.

Before long, the bed of the low-hung, six-foot long, flat, steel-framed cart was piled high with baby furniture, clothes and accoutrements that would cover an infant boy’s needs up to the age of four. The salesgirl smiled to herself when as she perused the type and number of garments her wealthy customer had added to the order. It was evident that the child in question was still a baby by the number of baby outfits she had placed on the order. On the other hand, her customer must have wanted to see that her sister’s had at least a start on clothing and underwear until the baby boy was an older toddler. Since Amanda had made similar purchases for the adorable little baby girl in the stroller two days before, the salesgirl thought nothing of her customer’s largess. Her commission on Amanda’s purchases when she had been in their store had been substantial on her last visit and the salesgirl had no intention of looking a "gift-mare in the mouth" when she returned to spend more money. The fact that Amanda had paid in cash endeared her as well. There would be no possibility of the loss of her commission because her check or credit was bad.

When Amanda had completed her shopping and was led to a waiting area to have a freshly-made cup of coffee "on-the-house" while she waited for the total, the salesgirl checked on the special order Amanda had placed with her original order the day before. Fortunately for her wealthy patron’s desires, the factory reported that they had shipped the special order the next day and that it should arrive at the store within the hour. Considering the hefty shipping charges that Amanda had been asked to pay for Next Day delivery of a heavy item of furniture, the salesgirl was pleased to be able to report to Amanda that the company’s truck would deliver the item before five o’clock that day for no additional charge.

When the salesgirl presented her with the bill for her current order, Amanda reached into her wallet and produced enough hundred dollar bills to cover the cost of the order and then some. She handed her car keys to the salesgirl and asked her if she would see to it that her order was packed into the back of her station wagon in an organized manner, adding that the salesgirl should retain the overage of payment for herself as a tip. With a huge smile caused by the sudden financial windfall, the salesgirl did as she was instructed and personally oversaw the loading of Amanda’s station wagon. Amanda had just finished her cup of coffee when the salesgirl returned with her car keys to report that her order had been loaded. As Amanda took the keys from the girl’s hand, she thanked the girl and pushed the stroller out to her car, where she found that the rain had stopped and everything was in order. Then she drove to her next stop, the grocery store.

Rather than using the stroller since the Sun was shining again, Amanda carried baby Kimmie on her hip until she reached the grocery carts that were telescoped together in an orderly group of queues outside the store. She pulled one free and sat Kimmie down in the baby seat facing her, then proceeded to fasten the safety straps around her to secure her in the baby seat of the cart. Amanda pushed the cart to the wine section, where she selected a decent, but inexpensive bottle of Taylor vintnery’s Marsala to flavor their dinner. While she was in the wine section, she selected a bottle of inexpensive domestic Chianti to have with their dinner. Since she had the power to spend any amount of money she pleased, her choice of cheap wine was driven by her lack of respect for her dinner guest rather than expense.

Next, Amanda went to the meat section, where she picked up a package of somewhat expensive veal fillets before she pushed the cart over to the gourmet food cooler, where she found some fresh pasta in a hard clear plastic container as well as a small piece of the very best imported hard Parmesan cheese to grate over the salad. After that, she made a visit to the aisle where she picked up a bag of romaine lettuce for the Caesar Salad she had planned for dinner that evening, going directly from there to the salad dressing aisle were she put a box of Classic Caesar Salad Croutons in her basket. She went over to the frozen dessert section and discovered that the Mrs. Smith French Silk Chocolate pies were on sale and put one in the shopping cart. Since she had everything else at home for the dinner, all that was left was the baby aisle.

Kimmie cringed inwardly as Amanda pushed their cart down the aisle. The other mothers with babies in their carts smiled at Kimmie’s cute feminine ensemble and remarked to Amanda what an adorable little baby girl she had. Amanda smiled and thanked the women while she selected a number of dinners and entrees from the bin of jarred baby foods. When Amanda had finished getting baby food, she went over to the aisle which displayed the store’s line of disposable diapers. When she had first contemplated regressing her daughter into infancy, she had fantasized that she would keep Kimmie in cloth diapers like Kimmie had worn when Amanda mothered Kimmie’s first infancy. With a sigh of nostalgic regret, Amanda put aside the memory she had of her adorably baby girl who once crawled at her feet in white, fleecy, flannelette cloth diapers that used to slip off her baby-cubby buttocks and down her legs to expose her cute little bottom.

Once Amanda remembered what a chore it was to wash stacks of wet, reeking, dirty diapers every day, she had had second thoughts. Amanda didn’t want to leave any public records of Kimmie’s change by hiring a diaper service. That left disposable diapers as the sole solution. After a short time, Amanda rationalized her decision as the best way to raise her daughter again. She made herself believe that had made a number of wrong decisions in bringing up her daughter. Perhaps she had been too lenient with Kimmie when she was growing up. Certainly she had no desire to tie herself down with washing "tons" of cloth diapers every day just to cater to her daughter’s tender fanny or wishes. Amanda stocked up on enough disposable diapers to cover two babies’ needs for a one month period and went to the checkout stand.

When Amanda arrived home, she removed Kimmie from her baby seat first and made sure that she was safely in her playpen before she unloaded the station wagon. About half-way through the job, Kimmie began to cry as if her bottom had become irritated by a poopy she had made. Amanda ignored her wayward daughter’s inarticulate demands for attention as she finished her preparations for Mark’s visit. Frankly, Amanda didn’t care if Kimmie got a bad case of dydee rash; it would serve her right!

Amanda was pleasantly surprised a little later when the Baby Store’s delivery truck rolled up and the driver knocked on her door. Although the rain clouds were gathering again, she saw that they had a short respite in which to unload the furniture. She directed the store’s freight-men to bring the furniture into the nursery with instructions to assemble it. At first they demurred, but when she waved three crisp one-hundred dollar notes under the trio’s noses, they happily caved in to her request. Amanda chuckled at the freight-men’s readiness to forget their work schedule and do her will for mere money. Men were such children! Within thirty minutes, the delivery men had finished assembling the furniture in the nursery and were on their way. Amanda’s preparations for Mark’s visit were finished. All she had to do was make the special dish for her ex-boyfriend to complete her revenge on the man who had betrayed and abandoned her.

Amanda busied herself in the kitchen as she prepared for the dinner with Mark. Everything that could be done beforehand was accomplished; the vegetables were sliced, the Chianti chilled, the pie was defrosted, the veal had been seasoned and placed in the refrigerator in anticipation of the event. A large pot of water was ready on the range to be heated for boiling the pasta.

When she was finished in the kitchen, Amanda went to the family room and carried Kimmie to her nursery for another diaper change. This time, after cleaning her up, she merely diapered her without redressing her in a T-shirt or romper. Amanda planned that Mark should see Kimmie in her native condition in order to further humiliate her, i.e., as a nearly naked baby wearing nothing but a disposable diaper. Thunder rumbled again in the distance as the second front of rainstorms moved rapidly into the area.

At a quarter to six, Amanda put the veal into the pan to cook to fry on a thin layer of two preheated tablespoons of olive oil. Then she dumped the pasta into the already boiling salt water of the pasta pot. Mark, who had been sitting in his car down the street, decided that it was time to make his entry into his ex-girlfriend’s home. Through the windshield of his car, he saw the multiple lightning strikes of the thunderstorm as it moved into the area. Unless he moved quickly, he’d be drenched in the rainstorm that would hit shortly.

Despite his misgivings about a possible "accident", Mark had elected to wear four layers of regular cotton briefs rather than chance that Amanda would hear the "giveaway" characteristic sound of his adult diapers when he moved about the room. Mark moved his car to the curb in front of Amanda’s house and managed to arrive at the front door just as the meal was ready.

Amanda invited him in cordially and asked him to sit down while she finished making dinner for the both of them. He accepted and tried to find a seat if sofa that would accept his weight without sundering under the load. Just as he sat, the thunderstorm hit, dimming the lights momentarily as the sound of heavy rain hitting the roof echoed through the attic.

Amanda noted with high pleasure had Mark had let himself go physically since he had last seen her. By the look of his hugely obese figure, she knew that he was little better than an infant who pleasured himself with food to substitute for the adult love he wanted but could not have. Amanda thought to herself that what she planned for him that evening would be a maternal blessing rather than a curse. From his obsequious behavior as he obeyed her orders without qualm to seat himself, Amanda knew that he was no longer a man in a psychological sense, but an overgrown child in search of a mother to take care of him. Since she planned to pander to his innate infantilism and exploit his psychological weaknesses when she exacted her revenge, she was not at all displeased.

"So tell me, Mark, how have you been doing? I see that you’ve been eating well!", Amanda remarked viciously.

"Uhhh, well…Things are going pretty well for me at work," Mark replied defensively.

"I see that you’re not starving!", Amanda replied with another jibe.

Mark began to sense her hostility and said as he laboriously pushed himself to a standing position from her couch, "I can see that you don’t really want me to be here. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you by my presence. I’ll leave immediately!"

"Nonsense!", Amanda declared as she lithely got up from her seat and easily pushed him back to sit on the couch with a loud creaking noise of protest from the overstrained wooden frame, " I spent all day making a special dinner for you! Do you think I’m about to let you leave without eating? Sit down and relax!"

"A special dinner?", he asked hopefully in an infantile expectation that the girlfriend he had dumped six months before would be willing to cater to his whims like the ever- forgiving and caring/coddling mother-figure he had always needed in the women he loved.

Amanda responded to the childlike plea in Mark’s voice maternally, "Oh, Dear! Didn’t I tell you what was on the menu tonight? Of course there is the Veal Marsala that I promised you, plus a rather nice imported Italian mushroom risotto as a side dish. I thought we’d start with a Caesar salad and Italian bread. I bought some Focciacia bread to go with your dinner as well as virgin olive oil as a dip and an excellent Chianti to drink with your meal. Afterwards, I have a French Silk Chocolate pie for dessert. Are you really sure you want to leave? All this food I’ve made for you will go to waste! If you have to leave I’ll understand, but I hate to waste so much food when half the world goes to bed hungry every night!"

Amanda sighed heavily as if she was a mother dealing with a recalcitrant child, "Are you quite SURE that you don’t want to eat the meal that I’ve prepared for you? I’ve spent all day making this for you!"

Mark’s face was nonplussed, he was confused and didn’t know what to do.

"You know, I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make this meal especially for you! Can’t you at least taste a little bit of it before you leave?", Amanda said with her voice dripping maternal concern and love.

"Well…When you put it that way…of course I’ll stay! I’d love to have dinner with you. I just thought…well, you know,….that I’d become persona non grata around here!", he exclaimed defensively.

Amanda came over to him and kissed him on the forehead maternally as she said, "It’s quite alright, Sweetheart! Mama is going to fix you a meal that you’ll never forget! You just sit there while Mama gets it on the table."

Mark was a bit disturbed by the sudden shift in Amanda’s attitude toward him when she started treating him like a child. The line about half the world going hungry was the same one that his mother had used when he refused to eat his dinner when he was a small child. On the other hand, he decided that he had probably earned her condescending treatment when he began whining to her.

Nonetheless, he was extraordinarily pleased by the meal which Amanda set before him. He ate gluttonously, finishing everything on his plate as if he was starving. When, in European fashion, Amanda brought forth the Caesar salad at the end of the meal and broke a pair of soft-boiled eggs over the romaine lettuce previously tossed with a mixture of olive oil and balsamic red wine vinegar, he drooled in anticipation. After she tossed the half-done eggs into the salad, she followed her previous preparations with seasoned croutons, freshly grated parmesan cheese and black pepper as well as a pinch of Kosher salt. As Mark observed her preparations, his chin was wet with uninhibited salivation in anticipation of the gastronomic event. In the few minutes that he had been in her home, Mark had been emotionally transformed from a functionally crippled adult, to a slobbering child who eagerly awaited his adopted mother’s culinary creations.

After he finished his bowl of salad, Amanda served him dessert. Like a true chocoholic in need of a serotonin fix, he devoured every bit of the double-sized portion of creamy, chocolate-laden pie which she served him. When he was finished, he lay back on the couch with an expression of absolute repletion. As he relaxed, the sphincter of his bladder opened slightly under the pressure of the food and fluid that he had consumed, allowing a thin stream of pee to uncontrollably soak all four layers of his undies. Of course, the influence of the heavy fix of chocolate hadn’t been any help. The chocolate had relaxed his autonomic muscles and had contributed to the relaxation of his bladder sphincter.

When Amanda saw the darkening spot between the huge legs of the man who had once been her lover, she smiled in approval and thought, "Look at him! He looks like an enormous toddler sitting there in his wet pants. I don’t think he even knows that he’s wet himself. Since the last time I saw him, he’s become a big baby! I’d bet that if I checked the back of his underwear, I’d discover that he’s soiled them too! I wonder what I ever saw in him? No matter, what I’ll do to him will be a kindness as well as my personal revenge."

"Oh Dear, you seemed to have had an ‘accident’ Mark!", Amanda said in a maternal tone.

"Whaaaat?", Mark exclaimed in embarrassment, putting his hands down to his crotch to feel the wetness.

"Let Mama get you out of those wet clothes and into something dry," Amanda said soothingly.

Mark’s face turned beet-red as he said in a paroxysm of mortification, "No…no thank you...It was a wonderful dinner…I really must be going now…"

As mark made the last statement, his bowels unexpectedly cut loose and filled the back of his briefs with an embarrassingly long sequence of small stools. Simultaneously, thunder cracked with an expression of Heaven-messaged disapproval in a nearby strike negating his offer to retreat with the last shred of adult honor.

Amanda gave him a sly smile and replied in the soft unreproving tones of a loving mother, "Listen to the storm! You can’t leave now, it’s too dangerous! Besides, it ‘appears" that you’ve already ‘gone’ tonight! I can’t let my ‘little man’ go out of my house looking like this! If you drive your car with pants as wet as yours, you’ll ruin the upholstery! No, Dear! Stay a bit longer and I’ll wash your clothes while you wait. I wouldn’t THINK of letting you go out of the house in your present condition!"

"Well….Okay," Mark agreed reluctantly under the watchful gaze of the mother figure who insisted that he remain so she could care for him, "But I don’t want to impinge on your hospitality!"

"Nonsense!", Amanda exclaimed, taking control of the situation like a mother chiding an errant toddler, "Just look at you! Do you know that the stain has gotten bigger since we were talking? If you pee anymore in your pants, you’ll ruin my sofa! I refuse to take ‘no’ for an answer! You will stay here until the storm’s over and you’re ready to meet the world like a man. …And that’s final! Okay?"

"Okay…," Mark replied with his head held low. Amanda’s of character had overwhelmed him. He was ready to do anything that she demanded to allow him to escape the humiliating situation that he had placed himself in. "If only I had worn my diapers tonight," he told himself, "this would have never happened!"

"Good," Amanda said as she stood and motioned him to the bathroom, "Then let’s get you to the bathroom where you can disrobe and give me your clothes. While I’m washing your clothes, you can take a nice long bubble bath in the bathtub to wash the pee from yourself, okay?"

"Bubble bath!," Mark exclaimed, "What about a shower! I haven’t had a bubble bath since I was a little kid!"

"Then it’s high time that you took a real bath again!", Amanda said firmly with both hands on her hips, "The only way to get really clean is to have a long hot soak in the tub! Showers are for busy men who don’t have time to take proper care of themselves, but generally keep themselves clean. Little boys who wet themselves need hot baths, not desultory showers! Is that clear, Sweetheart?"

Mark’s head dropped lower in shame as he surrendered to Amanda’s will and said in same small voice he had used as a child when his mother gave him orders, "Yes…"

Pressing her advantage, Amanda demanded, "Yes, what?"

Mark lowered his head even further until it almost touched his chest and answered in the squeaky voice of childhood, "Yes, Mam?"

"Try again, Baby!", Amanda commanded with a fierce expression on her face, "How does a little boy who still wets his pants address the woman who takes care of him?"

"Yes, Mama?", Mark answered in a defeated tone.

"That’s better, Baby!", Amanda replied with a triumphant note in her voice, "Let ‘s get you to the bathroom so Mama can get you cleaned up!"

Shamefaced, Mark nodded silently and got up from the easy chair. As he did, the pressure of the heavy dinner on his bowels caused them to cut loose and force him to have a small movement in his pants. Amanda walked behind him, ushering him into the bathroom. When they arrived, Amanda closed the drain on the bathtub before twisting open both the hot and cold knobs at the front of the tub. When she was satisfied that the water that poured forth from the bathtub spigot was the correct temperature, she poured a dollop of bubble bath into the water before she turned to Mark and commanded, "Strip!"

Mark’s mouth fell open at the sound of her preemptory command, he couldn’t believe the way his ex-girlfriend was treating him! She sounded just like a mother who was dealing with a small, recalcitrant child! How dare she!

"If you don’t strip this instant, Markie, Mama is going to spank you!", Amanda declared forcefully.

"Spank me?", Mark asked in confusion, "You can’t spank me, I’m a grown man!"

"Grown men don’t pee and poop in their pants!", Amanda exclaimed with a visible sniff to let him know that the odor emanating from his behind had revealed his shameful secret to her, "Now get out of those dirty clothes this instant! Or are you such a baby that I have to undress you too?"

"But…but, I thought that I was going to hand you my clothes through the door after I had undressed. I don’t want you to see me naked!", Mark whined.

"Nonsense!", Amanda declared, "Mama’s seen you naked many times. Don’t you remember us making love together? You were proud of your body then and loved to show off your muscles to me!"

"I’ve changed," Mark admitted in a low, humble voice.

"I can’t disagree with that!", Amanda said with a superior smile, "You used to be able to control yourself! Well,…that part of your life and mine is over. Now you’ve peed and pooped in your pants and Mama wants you to undress yourself and give her your dirty clothes so she can wash them while you’re taking a bubble bath. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mama," Mark said as he dropped his pants and struggled his way out of his tent-like shirt.

"What about your shoes?", Amanda prompted, tapping her foot.

"Uhhhh, well…I’ve had problems reaching them lately…", Mark admitted in embarrassment.

"Never mind!", Amanda said with disgust, "Just sit down on top of the toilet seat and I’ll finish undressing you! Honestly! You acted like a big baby when we were dating, but you were never like this! Who takes care of you anyway? From the way that you’ve been acting tonight, you need a nanny!"

As Mark allowed her to unfasten the velcro strips that fastened the tops of his sneakers and pull the oversized shoes from his pudgy toes, he replied defensively in a last-ditch effort to protect the remaining vestiges of his masculinity and adulthood, "I can take care of myself! I don’t need anyone to take care of me!"

"Sure you can!", Amanda sneered as she pulled the pee-dampened trousers from his legs, "Now stand up so Mama can pull down your dirty undies!"

Mark stood up obediently to allow her to commit the final indignity upon his person. For some reason, he felt helpless in her power.

Amanda put her thumbs beneath all four layers of underwear and grasped the elastic between her first finger and thumb. Then, with a single motion, she slipped the multiple layers of cotton briefs down to his ankles. When she saw the she saw the small pile of excrement that lay in the back of his yellow-stained briefs, she drew up her nose in an expression of obvious maternal disgust. Her expression made Mark feel like he was three-years-old again and just been caught making a mess in his pants by his mother.

Amanda shook her head as if she was profoundly disappointed with his lack of self-control and said in a condescending voice, "Can you step out of your dirty dydees by yourself, Sweetheart? Or would you like to have Mommy help you?"

"I can do it myself," Mark mumbled inaudibly as he stepped out of the brown and yellow-stained pile of white cotton.

"Get into the tub, Sweetie!", Amanda said as she offered him her right hand to help him into the tub, "Don’t worry about washing yourself, Mommy will come back and scrub you just as soon as she gets your dirty clothes into the washer. Okay, Markie?"

Mark nodded silently up at the woman who had suddenly become his mother. Seeing her stand over him, he suddenly realized that her breasts had somehow become larger since the last time he had seen her. The observation made him feel incredibly horny in her presence, although he knew that his complete impotence made acting on his feelings impossible. The knowledge that he was impotent only reinforced the sense of helplessness he felt when he gazed up out of the lush, billowy, white blanket of sweet-smelling bubbles to see the woman he admired towering over him as if she was a slightly distorted image of the closely-harbored babyhood memory of his mother from the time-dimmed recollections of his early life.

To add to his embarrassment, Amanda added a number of plastic and rubber bath toys to the water around Mark before she left. There were little brightly-colored plastic boats as well as a yellow rubber duckie and white rubber swan. At first Mark looked up at her with an expression of betrayal, but after a few minutes, he got into the spirit of bathtime play and began maneuvering the toys around the bathtub in a perfect reproduction of his bath behavior when he was four years old. After a few minutes, he relaxed and began to play with the toys in the tub. Despite his embarrassment, the yellow rubber duckie that floated between his legs was strangely familiar and gave him a sense of serenity. Amanda picked up his soiled underwear gingerly and with the ultimate care of a mother who was emptying the feces from the diaper of her baby boy, she dumped the solid contents into the bowl of the towel and flushed it. She gathered up the rest of his clothes and took them to the utility room, emptied out his pockets and filled the washer before she set it’s controls.

Amanda had woven a spell about the bath toys that Mark couldn’t detect. Each of the bath toys; the bright yellow rubber duckie, toy white, styrene plastic tug boat with a broad, red stripe that ran just underneath its slim plastic gunwales and the white rubber swan made him remember the joy of playing with toys in the bathtub no matter what his age.

While Amanda was gone, Mark reacquainted himself with re-experiencing the feeling of having a baby’s bubble bath. He played with one toy, then another, forgetting the years that had gone by since he had been treated to a proper bath by his mommy. Before long, his thumb was in his mouth and he was splashing and playing like a two-year-old. Once she had Mark’s dirty laundry under control, she returned to help him bathe.

When she returned, she discovered Mark had regressed even further in her absence. She walked into the bathroom to find him splashing in the suds and happily playing with the bathtoys with his thumb firmly seated in his mouth. When he saw her, he jerked his thumb out of his mouth guiltily, but she only smiled at his regressive behavior. Instead of starting to bathing him as she had promised, Amanda began disrobing herself before his wide, staring eyes. When she removed her nursing bra and revealed her milk-swollen breasts, Mark’s eyes began to bulge in excitement.

"Does Mommy’s baby like the sight of her titties?", Amanda teased as she got a washcloth and began to bathe his back.

Mark nodded ‘yes’ emphatically as she washed every inch of his upper body.

Amanda chuckled at his enthusiasm and said as she pressed down with three fingers over the aureole of her left breast to cause a small stream of milk to flow.

Mark licked his lips unconsciously at the sight of the semi-translucent whitish remains of the trickle of Amanda’s milk down her breast while she shampooed and conditioned his hair with Johnson’s Baby shampoo and conditioner. Every time she moved closer to him while she was washing his hair on the back of his head, her breasts seemed to bounce against his face. If Mark hadn’t been previously chemically unmanned, he’d have had an erection from the moment she he laid eyes upon her breasts.

When Amanda was finished washing his hair, she told him to stand up in the tub so she could finish bathing him. Mark was mortified when she took a soapy washcloth and thoroughly cleansed his anal area with the cloth. She made him put his hands against the white tile wall under the shower spigot at the front of the bathtub as she scrubbed his anal region and cleaned the accumulated flakes of old brown feces that adhered to the skin of his perineum and anus.

Once Amanda was finished, she took the sprayer attached to the head of the shower spigot and rinsed Mark off thoroughly before allowing him out of the draining tub.

Amanda helped Mark out of the tub and began drying him off with a large beach towel. At that point, Mark lost all control of his life. During the bath, he had psychologically regressed into toddlerhood. In his mind, Amanda had become his mommy. He stared intently at the naked, bulging breasts that bumped against him as she buffed his body dry, feeling an intense desire to suck on his new Mommy’s titties!

When Amada finished drying him off, she put the two extra pair of oversized beach towels over her arm and led the compliant Mark back to the family room. She spread the towels down in two successive layers, before commanding Mark to lay his naked bottom on them.

As Mark looked up at the female figure that stood over his obese, naked body, he shivered in fear at how commanding she looked. A moment later, her body began to shimmer with a golden aura that caused him to pee on the towels beneath his bottom. The sheer physical pleasure of peeing without restraint or prior thought reminded him of the sexual orgasms he had had before he had become impotent. Lying on his back and peeing without restraint or embarrassment was heavenly! When he looked up, Amanda shimmered with the glow of a goddess, making Mark want to suck his thumb to reassure himself.

Oddly, Amanda seemed to divine his need for a maternal goddess in an omnipotent fashion because she immediately declared in a kindly, maternal tone, "That’s okay, Markie! If it makes you happy to suck your thumb then that’s okay. I see that you’ve peed on the towels I’ve provided! I saw how much you were attracted to my breasts while I was bathing you. You’d rather have a wet nurse than a nanny, wouldn’t you? Maybe I could help you! Would little Markie like to suckle at my titties? I wouldn’t mind, after what you did in your pants tonight you’re only a baby in my eyes! If you want to suck on Mommy’s titties, then put your thumb in your mouth and close your eyes."

Mark complied willingly and watched with wide eyes as Amanda’s aura grew to astonishing limits. Her golden aura suffused the room. In a thrice, she ‘adjusted" Mark’s pattern to turn him into a nine-month-old, toothless-mouthed infant who was still at the creeping stage of physical development.

Amanda gathered up the pee-soaked beachtowel around the still shrinking Mark and held him in her arms as he continued to regress in age. As he shrank within the folds of the terrycloth beach towel, Amanda made maternal cooing noises to the child was cradled in her arms. After a few minutes, all that was left of the former member of management at a major corporation was a babbling, incoherent, nine-month-old baby boy.

Amanda took her ex-boyfriend to the nursery where she diapered and clothed him for night. Once she had gotten Markie into a disposable nightime diaper and covered it with plastic pants, she had no trouble dressing him in a soft, cotton onsie.

Despite himelf, Mark loved the treatment he had been receiving at the hands of his ex-lover. He hadn’t been touched or cuddled by another human in months and he missed the warmth of having his skin touched and lovingly caressed by a woman. Amanda tenderly diapered him on the changing station in the nursery, then brought him out to be breastfed his just deserts.

Since Amanda hadn’t bothered to dress in infant clothes other than a simple disposable diaper since she had bathed him, she cradled the little baby boy’s diapered bottom under her palm and held his nearly naked body to her chest as she carried him back into the family room.

Amada sat down in the easy chair and lovingly held the nine-month-old baby in her arms. Mark, who had been left with all his adult facilities, squirmed in her arms in confusion. When she put her right hand beneath her left breast and presented her nipple to him, he turned his face away in adult disgust at her motherly offer. Undaunted, Amanda moved her breast next to the side of his face and began stroking the cheek nearest to her with her nipple. Like an overpowering enchantment, the stimulation of her tit caused Mark to reflexively turn his lips toward her nipple and begin to suckle. A few minutes later, Mark was contentedly nursing at Amanda’s breasts with both of his tiny infant-sized happily hands kneading her tit. Once he had emptied one breast, she switched him over to the other, until his regressed tummy was full of Amanda’s milk.

Within minutes, the autonomic physiological reflex of suckling Amanda’s breasts caused the regressed body of Mark to wet his diaper. As Amanda supported the small boy with her palm underneath his bottom, she felt the warmth of his pee as it crawled down his disposable diapers and between his legs. When the wetness reached his bottom and spread out warmly over the entire surface of his behind, Amanda was sure that little Markie had finished peeing in his diaper. She smiled down at him in celebratory and revengeful pleasure while he continued to suck and knead desperately at her breast with the weak, ineffective hand muscles of an infant. Instead of changing him immediately, she patted his wet bottom and bubbled him by gently patting his back. When he belched incontinently, Amanda chuckled maternally at his explosive sound of his eructation and switched him to her other nipple to feed. Amanda felt a sudden thrill up her spine as her Avatar became one with her. Her future had become her present. The surge of all-knowing power she felt was surprising and somewhat strangely to her…somewhat dehumanizing. After the final change she discovered that she was above ordinary human concerns and cares…

After the change in her intellect, Amanda began to see Mankind in a larger sense, as a living worm that grew and extended its individual tendrils of hands and feet throughout space and time. Individuals on the whole were unimportant when one took the long view. She lost sight of her daughter and former boyfriend in the larger picture of mankind as an immortal, multi-intellected, four-dimensional being. Unlike Amanda, who’s power and being threw a shadow against time itself, mundane individuals as a whole were doomed to a short and unhappy powerless life. They were like the cells of a great raving beast, each of them was working unknowingly to a single perfect resolution to the problems that presented themselves. Amanda’s ego swelled under the realization that she was infinitely better than the commoners who swilled their lives and died in their own mud. She was a near Goddess, immortal and powerful, so the rules under which the mortals existed couldn’t possibly apply to her!

Markie fell asleep while nursing and was changed into a clean diaper before his new Mommy placed his slumbering body of her new baby boy into the newly assembled crib opposite the crib of the Amanda’s daughter in their nursery.

December 7th 1998

He awoke nearly simultaneously with Amanda’s daughter and began to pule and whimper incoherently like a nine-month-old baby because he was thirsty. Like his "sister" across the room, he took the baby bottle of apple juice that Amanda brought them in both hands and began nursing at the nipple as if the latex substitute was no different from the warm, wet feel of having his mother’s engorged tit in his mouth as he gripped the side of his baby bottle, sucked the ultimate truth of life into his awaiting mouth and drew it deep into his love-starved body.

He whimpered a bit and then settled down into serious nursing as he filled his hungry belly with the sweet juice from the baby bottle before falling back into sleep again. Just before his mind became thick with the deep slumber of infancy again, he wondered idly how he had become a physical baby again. In many ways, his unconsciousness was pleased by the change by his change in status. The feeling of being protected by his thick, disposable overnight diaper as well as having the full attention and maternal love of his ex-girlfriend made him feel completely secure as he wet his diaper and drifted off to sleep. Mark had no intention of arguing with his good fortune in securing Amanda’s love again. If he had to become a baby again for her to love him, then so be it ! He was prepared to make almost any sacrifice to please a woman who was willing to love and care for him.

When he awoke, Amanda carried him into the family room and cuddled him in her arms as she unbuttoned her blouse. While Mark waited for Amanda to disrobe, he turned his head away from her and saw a diapered baby Kimmie in the playpen who was sucking her thumb with a look of ultimate boredom and ennui. When Amanda opened her blouse to reveal her milk engorged breasts to him once more, he eagerly seized her enlarged pap in his hands and began nursing.

After he was bubbled by gentle bouncing and bumps on the back, Amanda lay the baby boy down beside her on the couch and began playing with him. At first Markie was surprised by her attentions, but he rapidly became engrossed in her maternal-baby play. "Davy, Davy Dumpling," she said as she tickled his legs, "Boil him in a pot andSugar him," she said while she tapped his tummy gently. "Butter him," she cooed as stroked his belly lengthwise one way with her palm, taking her other hand and stroking the other way as she said, "And eat him while he’s hot!" Amanda puther mouth close to his tummy and made munching noises as she pretended to nibble onhis tummy.

Markie giggled extravagantly in pleasure! He couldn’t remember a woman ever playing with him like that!

"Oh! So mommy’s little baby likes that!," Amanda said with pleasure, would you like another game? Let’s see!"

Amanda pushed up his feet until his knees met his chest and began a new game while holding his tiny feet. "Cobbler, cobbler, mend my shoes," she said as she weaved his feet back and forth. "Have it done by half past two," Amanda said as she playfully tapped Markie’s heels together. "Stitch it up and stitch it down," she said as she made play motions of sewing the heels of his feet together. Then she lightly hammered the soles of his feet as she said, "Now nail the heel all around."

Markie was so delighted by her attentions that he peed himself in pure pleasure as he chuckled lovingly at his adopted mother. Amanda was so taken with the joyful appearance of her new babyboy, that she began playing a new baby game with him.

She turned Markie over on his tummy and began, "Criss-cross," she said as she traced an "X" on his back with her fingertips, "Applesauce," she continued while tapping his shoulders as she enunciated each syllable. Then she cupped her fingers like a large spider and made dancing motions up the diaper clad boy’s back, saying, "Spiders climbing up your back!" "Now then,’ she said, blowing gently upon his neck, "here’s a cool breeze for my baby!"

Markie shivered at the thought of spiders and the feel of the cool air on his neck. Amanda picked him up and hugged him, then began tickling him all over his body saying, "Now you’ve got the shiveries!"

Markie laughed and drooled in perfect appreciation for her loving attentions. When he had settled down, she put him into the playpen with Kimmie. Her teenaged mind looked at his drooling happy face in disgust, even though his slobbering infantile countenance looked much the same as hers.

After a few minutes, both of them wet and messed in their diapers, requiring them to be removed from the playpen one-by-one and have their bottoms cleaned before each of them was changed into a fresh disposable diaper.When Amanda changed Kimmie’s diaper, she looked at her daughter crookedly and said, "Kimmie, how would you like to have a twin brother your age? Of course, you wouldn’t have to be identical twins, fraternal twins would do. At twelve months old, though, you’re just a little too old to be his twin. But Mama can take care of that!"

A few seconds later, Kimmie was nine months old again and joined her "twin" in the playpen. Amanda left the room for a moment and returned a few minutes later bearing two pieces of paper. She displayed one of the papers in front of Kimmie while she crouched on all fours on the plastic pad of the playpen. Kimmie had gotten too young to walk or stand. Amanda looked at the diapered girl in front of her and said with a sneer, "Do you know what your birth certificate says now, baby? It says you’re only nine-months old! You’re exactly the same age as your twin brother! See, his birth certificate has the same date but lists him as exactly one minute older than you are! Now Mama can take both of you to Daycare when she’s busy.

Amanda gazed down at the baby boy who cowered in front of her and said, "I’m afraid, little Markie, that all the records of your existence are gone. You’ve never existed. Your apartment, your job, everything has been erased from the records. Aside from this little piece of paper which says that you’re my baby boy, you have no prior existence on Earth. I was very careful to take the time to change ALL of the government and hospital records in your case. According to the records, you were born to me nine months ago to me. I’ve modified the records of a very busy pediatrician to reflect the fact that both of you suffer from a genetic disease which keeps you from maturing beyond your present age. The two of you will be nine-months-old forever! Oh, yes, one other thing Kimmie. At nine months, you were only eating a little baby food. I’m afraid that you’ll have to start nursing at Mommy’s breast just like your ‘older’ brother. Won’t that be fun? I think I’m going to enjoy nursing the two of you at the same time on my lap!"

Kimmie whimpered a little, but there was nothing she could do to change what had been done to her. As the day wore on, Mark attempted to placate his playpen playmate by offering her some of his baby toys. These were uniformly rejected, but her angry opinion of the former man who shared her playpen with her softened substantially.It wasn’t his fault that Amanda had made them the same age. In truth, she had had a terrible crush on him when she was younger. At least he was trying to be nice to her, even though he obviously couldn’t have any sexual designs on her. When Amanda put them in their separate cribs to take their afternoon nap, Mark winked flirtatiously (in an effort to inspire a conspiracy between them) at his infantine prisonmate. Although he had enjoyed his transformation initially, within a few hours he had come to realize that he had fallen into a trap. With Kimmie’s help, perhaps they could escape their prison and become adults again.

The afternoon nap ended with a diaper change and their bath before dinner. Since Amanda already felt overworked by taking care of two babies, she decided to put the both of them in the same tub together. After all, it wasn’t like little Markie could do anything to her Kimmie! She believed it would do the both of them good to have a bath together so they could use each other as reference points to just how infantile they had become.

Markie played and splashed happily in the sudsy water while Kimmie looked on with the dour face of teenaged disgust at his infantile behavior. While he squealed and cooed in sensual pleasure, Kimmie stared at him with huge dark eyes that darted disapproving daggers at his innocent play. When they were dried, rediapered and placed back in their playpen, Kimmie turned to Markie and slugged him in the shoulder with all her muscle’s might. Markie began crying like a more out of surprise from her unexpected physical attack than from actual pain.

Amanda came over to the playpen, raising him up to comfort him by patting him on the back and making mothering murmurs at him before she placed him down in his prison again. Markie crawled to the opposite side of the playpen, in fear of his former playmate while Amada left the room.

When he had recovered his aplomb sufficiently so that Kimmie could communicate, she used primitive sign-language to tell him that she still had the mind of an adult and wanted to be free again. Although Markie’s emotions and subconsciousness were perfectly happy with his current surroundings, he imagined himself as Kimmie’s White Knight who would save her from an eternal fate of helpless infancy that was worse than mere death or crippling. Her needs for a male rescuer did much to revive his sense of masculinity and self-worth and thus, almost instantly, reversed his downward spiral into an infantile mindset. Still, after he had communicated his idea to escape, he immensely enjoyed wetting and pooping his diapers before his nap.

December 8th 1998

Tactical planning between two infants who lacked speech was difficult but not impossible. They began to watch Amanda’s schedule for them for any opening that they could find. The biggest problem was that they had no idea of how to force her into restoring them to their former selves. Amanda’s somewhat disordered housekeeping and lack of a newborn mother’s maternal paranoia for her babies provided the solution.

December 18th 1998

Amanda continued to play her role-playing game on a weekly basis, even though she had accepted complete responsibility for two babies. She had gotten one of the teenagers in the neighborhood to babysit them while she was gone every Monday night when she gamed.

On two occasions, Amanda left her gaming reference books out on the coffee table were the babies could reach them while leaving them in the care of a sixteen-year-old girl who was more interested in talking to her girlfriends about her dates or her boyfriend, then watching her diapered charges carefully. As far as she was concerned, since infants obviously couldn’t read or understand the meaning of any of the pictures from the books that they so carefully perused, and were being quiet, that was more than enough for their babysitter. If the babies wanted to leaf through the books on the coffee table harmlessly, then it was none of her concern!

The two babies were allowed to look at the "pretty pictures" in the gaming book by their babysitter as long as they were quiet and didn’t tear the pages. Wanda, their babysitter, couldn’t have cared less about the two tykes in disposable diapers crawling around the carpet at her feet who giggled quietly to themselves about the pictures and repeatedly pointed to the printed paragraphs on the page as if they could actually read and comprehend the printed word. They looked adorable playing with the books and Marsha couldn’t find it in her heart to take away a toy that they obviously respected and revered.

Strangely, even though both of them drooled and dribbled incontinently from their chins which kept their chests wet for every waking moment with the long lines of spittle, both of them were very careful with the book and never spotted the leaves of the book with their strings of spit. Both of them knew that if they didn’t change back into at least semi-adults soon, they would permanently lose their powers to control their bodies. If they didn’t change back soon, they would become incontinent, babbling, and diaper-dependent until the end of their days.

Wanda was surprised to discover that they gingerly turned each page of the book in a manner that would have made any librarian proud, i.e., by gently taking the rightmost corner of the page and turning it slowly and carefully as if the tome was the most precious document in the world.

As far as Wanda was concerned, they were very well behaved babies who never gave her any trouble; when one of them had messed or wet themselves, the affected baby crawled up to her and whimpered to alert her that he or she needed a diaper change. Aside from the feedings and diaper changes, Wanda was completely free to make popcorn for herself and spend long sessions on the phone with her boyfriend. Amanda even provided (somewhat to Wanda’s irritation about the restriction on her social life) a high-quality, single-portioned frozen pizza for every babysitting occasion. If there had been more, Wanda would have invited her boyfriend over for pizza, but Amanda had somehow divined that Wanda might think of the alternative evening for herself and had only left her with enough food and drink for herself and the babies.

What Mark had seized on and had shown Kim in the game book was a passage that discussed the effects of magickal mundane overload and it’s possible repercussions.

If Amanda could be forced to make too many magickal changes in too short of a period, then the whole framework of reality changes which she had invoked would collapse upon itself. Mark had agonized over using the tactic when he read the line that suggested that the most common "whiplash" effect of a bounced or magickal overload was death due to the practitioner’s unconscious need to flee a spell that had been reflected with three times the power of the original projection.

In effect, the practitioner usually killed themselves by committing psychic suicide in order to escape the consequences of their actions. Each death was mediated by the specific alignment and architecture of the personal powers of the magician involved. Since magic, by definition, must be able to cross temporal boundaries, a person could attempt to kill themselves at the precise moment when he or she acquired power. Unfortunately, the laws of the Universe dictate that there was/is a temporal restriction that blocked/s a magician from interfering with his or her own birth before the magician’s power became manifest. Conversely, if the evil that a magician was able to reverse the time-stream for an individual, they might themselves be affected by a "back-flow" of psychic energies from the particular spell. If this happened, the magician would have no psychic or psychological protection from the effects of rejuvenation or progression of age that he or she originally induced. The magician would either age or rejuvenate with triple effect that had been levied against his or her "target".

If the spell had caused the target to lose fifteen years of age, then the magician would lose forty-five years. If the spell necessitated that the magician lose more years than they had, then the magician would vanish into nothingness. On the other hand, if the target had been aged by fifty years, then the magician would be aged by one hundred and fifty years and die of complete and simultaneous failure of every internal organ.

In cases where two magickal techniques were employed simultaneously in the original spell casting, either or both directed outcomes could establish themselves at the moment of spell breakage. All outcomes from magickal overload, the tome implied, was Karmic Justice and could not be reversed in any way. Once the magician had caused their reality to be changed in response to the needs of the Universe, the verdict of the supra-Quantum Mechanical Cosmic Court was final and therefore could not be appealed. Magicians who brought their retributive fates upon themselves were "stuck" with the Karmic effects of their follies forever!

One more possibility remained that wasn’t covered in the gaming book; if the energies that had been originally released were strong enough, the backlash might rip open reality itself to expose the underlying formless abyss from which the Universe had formed. What happened then was anyone’s guess; as the structure of reality broke down, so would the laws and relationships that formed the pattern of existence. Much like the first picosecond of at the birth of the Universe, the energies that would be released could be so high that literally anything could happen. The Universe might be destroyed and a fresh Monoblock might be initialized that would begin the rebirth of the Universe. If the energies fell beneath a critical threshold, then it was very possible that a new and different local pattern might be formed that could maintain a steady state. The magickal overload of a magician with God-like powers could unleash a variety of unpleasant outcomes.

Fortunately for their collective sanity, neither Markie nor Kimmie were aware of the third possibility. They had no idea that they were gambling with the fate of the Universe itself.

All Kimmie and Markie could do was wait in their cribs and watch for the opportunity to enrage "their" mother during a time of tremendous stress where she could be counted upon to use her magickal abilities to "manage" the crisis. If they could add to her worries at the correct moment in time, then she might be impelled to expend the final, most dangerous reality change of all. Their hope was slim, but the alternative was a lifetime of baby bottles and dirty diapers. Sooner or later, Amanda would tire of them and they would find themselves remanded into the custody of a foster home, where all hopes for a return to their former lives would be lost forever!

Because Kimmie and Markie had been given the bodies of babies, they had the same muscular control that one might expect of infants their age, and were unable to communicate except with the simplest two-syllable words. It was impossible for them to form the consonants "l", "r" and "th". Moreover, the vowels "i" and "e" were difficult for them to enunciate. That left them with the easily formed consonants of "m", "n", "b", "d", "g" and "p" and the vowels "a", "o" and "u". In addition, they found themselves tongue-tied if they attempted words that had more than two syllables. They never "spoke" when Wanda was baby-sitting them, being frightened of what discovery of their plans might bring. Instead, they murmured quietly to each other as they sat facing each other in their cribs at night, using sign language, pantomime and Charade-like acting in addition to the few words that they could vocalize to communicate and plan their escape from their prison-nursery.

The plan was clear: silently, both Mark and Kim agreed to wail until the welkins rang when the right time came. They intended to drive her crazy by the cacophonous sound of two screeching babies who refused to be mollified in addition to whatever serious problem presented itself. They would, at a selected moment in time, become their adopted mother’s worst nightmare!

They would not allow Amanda to feed them nor would they allow a change of diapers to silence their high-pitched squalls of displeasure to cease until they had driven her to absolute parental distraction. The bad spot of weather got progressively worse; there were thunderstorms almost every day.

December 21st 1998

Over the next few days the plan became increasingly complex as they added tactical details that would be sure to drive their mother mad. When the correct time arrived, they would split up and go on an supposedly innocent rampage of infantile curiosity, destroying everything in sight. While Amanda was taking care of one baby’s mess, the other would make another. When the second baby’s rampage was discovered and being dealt with, the first baby would renew the attack and so on, until Amanda was driven half out of her mind with anger and frustration.

They decided that Kimmie would begin the assault by thoroughly messing and wetting her diapers until they began to leak onto the her crib sheet or her carpet. Then she would throw a wet-bottomed, screeching, screaming, lay-on-the-back, leg-kicking tantrum with every ear-piercing, nerve-jangling erg of sonic force pushed out from her infant lungs without let or hindrance. While Amanda’s attention was focused on Kimmie’s diversion as she rushed to Kimmie’s aid, Markie would pull the nipple from his bottle and pour his formula on the carpet. Next, he would get on the low slung coffee table and silently push the magazines and half-filled ashtray to the carpet to add to the mess. As his pièce de résistance for his first assault, he would crawl over to the side table next to the couch and tug on the power cord of the expensive ceramic Oriental lamp, pulling it off the table to smash on the floor.

By this time Amanda would have Kimmie on the changing table and would have just unfastened the tapes on her diapers as she heard the ceramic lamp shattering itself into a thousand pieces. Amanda would be left with two choices; if she had the presence of mind, she would strap baby Kimmie to the changing table while she rushed into the family room to see what had happened. Or she could foolishly leave Kimmie unrestrained and alone on the changing table in the nursery. Either way, Kimmie would begin her spree. The first thing she would do would be to pull her dirty diaper from beneath her bottom and drop it on the floor, then she would grab the bottle of baby oil at the rear of the changing station and open it. Holding the plastic bottle of baby oil upside-down, she would cover her hair, her body, the changing station and the floor with a heavy layer of oil. The open diaper pins stuck into the bar of Johnson’s baby soap next to the baby powder would be next. She would grasp a handful of the pins and throw them as far as her baby muscles allowed. Kimmie’s next target would be the open tub of baby wipes; she would pick up the lightweight plastic tub and dump the entire tub of wipes into the mess on the floor below.

If Kimmie was able, her next mission was to open the container of baby powder and scatter the perfumed dust everywhere. If Amanda had left her unrestrained, she would let herself down from the side of the changing station and drop to a soft landing on the pile of baby wipes and messy diaper. Once free of the table, she would attack whatever targets of opportunity presented themselves until Amanda’s return. If she was strapped down, she would begin to wail hideously.

The first thing Amanda would do when she arrived in the family room would be to imprison Markie in his playpen and toss in a few more toys to keep him quiet while she picked up the pieces of the lamp. Markie and Kimmie had decided that she would probably stop there and leave the mess on the carpet until after she had finished changing Kimmie. When she returned to discover the mess in the nursery, she would start to lose her temper. Kimmie would be such a mess that she would require an immediate bath. While Amanda was occupied with Kimmie’s bath, Markie would pile the stuffed animals against the corner of the playpen to make an escape ramp. Once free of the playpen, he would hit the mesh side of the playpen with his fists to cause the ramp to collapse. Having covered up his means of escape, he would go to the fireplace and strew the ashes on the carpet until there were none left. Then he would tug the cushions from the couch before attacking the other Oriental lamp.

The noise of the second lamp breaking would attract Amanda’s attention and cause her to rush out of the bathroom carrying a soapy wet Kimmie on her hip. At this point, they expected Amanda’s temper to explode. She would put Kimmie in the playpen and put Markie over her lap for a spanking.

Markie would begin screaming at the top of his lungs when she hauled Markie’s diapered bottom over her lap and began paddling his padded bottom. While Markie squealed in pain and anguish, he would flail and thrash about, in an attempt to wriggle himself free. To add to the fun, Kimmie would begin to wail in unison in an attempt to drive their mother to distraction. Markie would break down into realistic sobs of submission as his mother slapped his padded fanny until it was beet-red and then go utterly limp on her lap. At this point, Amanda would stop and place him back in the playpen so she could continue Kimmie’s bath. As Amanda left the room, he would crouch on the floor of the playpen while he ruefully palpated the damage to his tender, reddened bottom.

Once Amanda was gone from the room, Markie would make his second escape of the day, only this time, he would remove his diaper and leave a joyful trail of pee and poop behind him on the carpet as he sought new deviltries to further enrage his mother while she was occupied with Kimmie’s bath. Kimmie would do her part by happily splashing as much water and suds on the bathroom floor as possible while she was being bathed. They had planned that Amanda would be sopping wet by the end of Kimmie’s bath.

Markie would wreak a path of destruction wherever he went, maximizing the mess while remaining as quiet as possible until his sensitive baby ears picked up the sound of Kimmie being taken back to the nursery to be diapered. At that point, he would go to the kitchen and open the unsecured cabinet under the sink where Amanda stored the household chemicals and begin to dump them on the kitchen floor as quickly as possible, then he would proceed to the bottom cabinet where the pots and pans were kept and haul them out of the cabinet with a loud clatter to attract Amanda’s attention. Livid with anger, Amanda would place the still undiapered Kimmie in her crib to keep her under control while she stalked out of the nursery to see what new disaster had befallen her household.

While Amanda was occupied with Markie, Kimmie would throw all of her stuffed toys onto the nursery floor, then pee and poop on the sheets of her crib. Once she had made a sufficient mess of her crib, she would begin to scream again. When Markie saw the furious Amanda standing over him in the kitchen as he was innocently banging the pots together, he would begin to wail as loudly as he could. She would snatch the naked baby boy up in her arms and carry him back to the nursery for rediapering. When Amada returned to the nursery amidst the screams of the two infants and saw what Kimmie had done to her crib, then she would blow up and use her powers to punish the two babies for their rampage. This would be the moment that they were waiting for. From what they had read in the game manual, the bonds of reality had been stretched so tightly by Amanda’s previous magick that any further magickal attacks on them would backfire. At least that was their hope. With any luck, the spell would be broken and their bodies would return to their former ages.

End of Chapter IV

Copyright 1999 by Fever and Jennifer Loraine, All rights reserved.

No commercial use allowed without the express permission of the authors.