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STORY PAGE 3
TOM’S WEE ACCIDENT Tom woke with bright sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window. He had no idea of how long he had been asleep nor of the time - hours, days, weeks or could it even be months since he had regressed? Days and nights in nappies, baby harness and gagged with a pacifier had made him lose all track of time. He was conscious of the warm, wet bulk between his legs. Instinctively he wanted to reach down to feel the area but the cuffs holding his wrists to his harness prevented that and in any case his mitts meant that he could not tell much as a result of touch. He was just able to sit up but the side straps fitted to the harness prevented much other movement. He flopped back into the warm bed - but it wasn’t a bed -it was a cot complete with barred sides and as he moved he could hear the rustle of both his plastic pants and the rubber undersheets of the cot. He could move his legs and as he lifted his feet he saw the pink bootees held in place with satin ribbons which covered them. Leg movement increased his awareness of the wet nappy inside the plastic pants. He cried out a soft sobbing cry which seemed higher than he remembered his talking voice. He could hear footsteps approach. The click clack of high-heeled shoes on the wood floor of the hallway, then muffled in the carpet of his room. By turning his head towards the door he saw the approaching figure of a slim woman, but against the light he could not tell whether it was Sally or her Mother. His sob gave way to a pleasurable ‘‘coo’’ and deftly and quickly the side of the cot was lowered and the side straps of the harness unclipped. Instinctively he raised his bottom as Sally, for it was she, slipped a changing mat under his raised hips. She bent and slipped the plastic pants down from his waist. ‘‘Ooh you are wet’’ she said as she removed the pants over his ankles and feet. The two large pins were undone and the nappy unwrapped from his hips. Sally rolled the sodden towelling into a ball and dropped it into the plastic bucket which she kept behind the top of the cot. Tom enjoyed the fresh cleansing with the baby wipe as Sally cleaned around his groin. He no longer had to be told to open his legs so that each fold and crease could be carefully cleansed. The gentle touch was soothing and exciting at one and the same time. The next stage was for Sally to slip a fresh, fluffy towelling nappy under his hips, it was folded kite-style which meant that the central flap was thick in the area where thickness was most needed when the nappy was pinned in place. The bit that Tom enjoyed most was about to happen. He saw Sally lift the baby powder, twist the top and start to sprinkle the sweet-smelling powder over the area that she had just cleaned. Tom knew to lift his knees up towards his shoulders so that the powder reached his bottom. Sally smoothed it over that area, then it was between his legs and his wee-wee man then his tummy - oo-oh bliss! The centre flap of the nappy was brought up between his legs and smoothed over and each side was brought in towards the centre in turn and pinned securely in place. Clean, rustly plastic pants were put over first one foot and then the other and pulled up over the nappy to snap round his waist. Sally ran her fingers round each leg opening in turn to ensure that the nappy was securely inside the pants and so less likely to leak when Tom next wet himself. Clean and fresh, Tom felt the surging build-up of carefree security which was such a feature of his nappied state. As he was lying there he felt completely insulated from all the pressures of the world. He was clean, wrapped in loving softness and smelling sweetly of powder, fabric conditioned nappy and crisp plastic - aa-ah bliss. He had closed his eyes to enjoy these divine sensations and was quite surprised to feel the rubber teat of his feeding bottle against his lips as Sally gently wiggled it to make him open his mouth. He responded as expected and Sally slipped the teat between his parted lips. His response was automatic, his lips closed around the teat squeezing the warm fluid in to his mouth, he repeated the action and sucked greedily to get the warm sweet milk. The flow was not rapid and he found that it was really quite hard work to get the milk. Sally gently withdrew the empty bottle, clipped the harness to the side straps and replaced the side of the cot. Tom was nearly asleep and barely noticed that Sally had closed the curtains to keep out the sunlight. Sleep came easily and with it the dreams that Tom had great difficulty in separating from reality. Was he in his cot or in a pram? Did the voices he heard come from another room or from beside his bed? Was the running water that he heard from a river or from a tap? This latter he never could work out, but it had always the same impact, subconsciously it made his bladder empty and the familiar warm feeling returned as hi nappy soaked up his wet. The process was only marked by a slight stirring of Tom’s legs as he slept. The dreams moved on; was it Sally or her Mother who had given him a little kiss and then slid her hands into his pants to check his nappy? Had any of it happened? Could he still separate dreams from reality? Had he lost all control of his mind and body functions? Regression was the word that his mind kept hearing but he realised that his intellect could barely distinguish its meaning. He was in a mess. He was at work. He was wearing his business suit. He looked normal but as he sat at his desk he became aware of the wet nappy and was certain that if he moved his colleagues were bound to notice the bulging bottom of his trousers. He wasn’t wearing his suit but a smocked romper with pants cut to accommodate nappies and pants. His pretty secretary was bound to see that he was a baby - a wet baby at that. The nightmare continued. Tom was struggling to get away from the office, his colleagues and his secretary. His legs moved rapidly but he didn’t go anywhere. He called out but his voice made no sound. As he woke he found that he was in fact in his cot with his legs flailing the air as he lay on his back kicking quite ineffectually. Sally was back at his cot-side. ‘‘There, there did you have a bad dream?’’ She never gave him any opportunity to answer these days, he hadn’t spoken for so long that he didn’t know if he still could. ‘‘Were you having a bad dream then?’’ Tom wanted to tell her about his nightmare, but got no further than a couple of silly gurgles before he realised that he was being undressed for changing again. The routine was different this time. All his clothes were removed and he was bathed, dried and powdered before a new nappy and pants were put on. A romper suit in a pretty pale blue shade went over it all. The suit was made in on piece and after being slid over his head, his arms were fitted into the sleeves and the rest of the garment went down over his waist and hips like a dress. Then the tail from the back seemed to come between his legs and met the tail from the front to fasten with a line of poppers across his crotch. Then he was given a couple of soft toys to play with on the floor, but it wasn’t the floor. There were vertical bars around him. If he pulled himself up onto his feet his hands could just reach the top of the bars. Standing wasn’t easy, nappies appeared to have altered his centre of gravity and they certainly forced his legs apart. Tom flopped down onto the floor, it was painless, the nappy and pants protecting his bottom from the fall. Taking stock of his position he realised that he was in a playpen. He could crawl from one side to the other, he could lie down and if it had not been so uncomfortable he could have stood up. The soft toys were nice to cuddle, but did not keep his attention for long. He went to the side of the pen and tried to reach through the bars to a magazine that was lying just at the limit of his reach. His fingers caught the corner of one page. He pulled. When he realised that the sound was of the paper tearing it was too late. He had half a ripped sheet of the paper. What to do with it? Hide it? He was crumpling it up when Sally came towards him. He tried to stuff it out of sight. It was a pity that the teddy had no clothes into which it might have gone. Sally saw him and before he realised what was happening she had slapped his thighs quite firmly and told him that he was a very naughty boy. He wailed and watched in horror as the weals caused by her slap began to redden and swell. His wails increased, he was terrified because he could not understand either the stinging hurt or the swelling redness on his thighs. As we know from earlier chapters, fear usually makes Tom wet himself. This was no different. Sally cradled his head against her and rocked to soothe him. His wails subsided to sobs, he continued to wet his nappy and instinctively pushed his thumb between his lips and started to suck. Sally remonstrated gently with him. He had been naughty to tear her magazine but she was truly sorry that she had hit him quite so hard. As she continued to rock him she realised that he had fallen asleep, thumb in mouth, so she eased him down to lie on the floor of they playpen and covered her wet babyfied husband with a blanket so that he might sleep, hopefully without nightmares this time. Tom still didn’t know whether it was morning, noon or night. All his little mind could absorb was that he was warm, comfortable and lulled by Sally’s rocking he fell into a sound sleep. Sally left him while she went off to attend to the washing. With her ‘‘baby’’ wetting seven or eight nappies a day plus the bedding which frequently got wet too, her washing machine was seldom idle, nor her laundry complete. Eventually her regressed husband would have to be re-developed and brought back to reality. When this began it would be her ambition to make him appreciate her and in that appreciation have him forswear the philandering ways which had caused her Mother to advise the ‘‘babyfication’’ of Tom. There was time yet, he still had some way to go before she was prepared to consider his growing up. For the moment further humiliation which would lead to abject repentance and total submission was needed. How would Tom behave when one of his business colleagues came to see her? 
All books are copyright. ©Copyright H.B. Jones
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Back to Mummy Hazel's Home Page 3rd January 2006
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