Back to the Cradle – Chapter Three
It seemed to be barely an instant. One moment I was strapped down to a couch in the lab as a wave of darkness overcame me, and the next, I was still lying on the couch. Or was I? I slowly opened my eyes and looked around me. What I saw was frightening to say the least. I was looking at me. Still dressed in my pyjamas, and strapped down to an examination couch about ten feet away. And I looked very unconscious.
But if that was me, who was I? Suddenly I looked up and saw my four companions looking down at me. Angela smiled. ‘Wonderful!’ she exclaimed, ‘It worked! How do you feel David?’ Now came my first shock. I tried to say ‘Lousy. What happened?’ But instead, what came out of my mouth was approximately ‘Mmmmflagagoogoo.’ There was a moment’s silence before Angela looked at me, grinned, and said ‘What was that you said David? I don’t think I understood you.’ Without thinking, I tried to say ‘What the hell’s going on?’ but all I could manage was a high pitched ‘Blubblemmfoobl!’ as a copious dribble came out of my mouth and onto my bib. Bib? Why on earth was I wearing a baby’s bib?
To the accompaniment of peals of laughter from Angela and Sue I moved my head and inspected my situation. What I saw took my breath away and I gave a tiny high pitched ‘Waaaaaaaaaaaagh!’ with gusto, and you couldn’t blame me. I was less than two feet long, and my short, pink dimpled arms stuck out from my small chubby little body, while my tiny fingers wiggled on my helpless and completely uncoordinated little hands. I tried to bring my widely spread chubby little legs together, but with a large terry towelling nappy pinned between them and a pair of plastic baby pants on top, that was simply impossible. A nappy? My journey of discovery was getting worse by the minute.
I suddenly began to recognise what I was wearing, and I didn’t like it one bit. Who would? On my feet was a pair of pink woollen booties, tied on securely with pink ribbon around the ankles. On top of my nappy and plastic pants I was wearing a pink baby dress. It had a peter pan collar, was buttoned up the back, and it had a sash belt to keep it tidy, tied in a bow at the back. It had short puffed sleeves, and was decorated across the front with a pretty smocking pattern across the front. A perfect little dress for a perfect little baby.
In my semi conscious state I still wasn’t completely aware of my predicament. What the hell was I doing wearing a baby dress? And how come it fitted me? Then the full horror of my situation began to sink in. Disbelievingly at first, I attempted to sit up, but after a couple of unsuccessful attempts I found that I simply didn’t have the co-ordination. It was almost as if I was extremely drunk, but my head was as clear as a bell. I tried to roll over on my side, but as I did so, Sue’s seemingly huge firm hands made me lie on my back again. I tried again, with the same result, and I soon realised that I was completely under her control.
The truth sank in and hit me like a hammer. I was Emily. Well, I wasn’t but I was. I was me, but I was trapped in her body, and the thought sent a chill through my mind. Knowing how babies aged six months are usually treated, I didn’t want to think about what might lie ahead, and I was in no position to do anything about it.
There must have been a look of comprehension in my eyes because suddenly Angela bent over me and said ‘Well well well, it seems that David’s taken up residence in a different body for a while. Well don’t worry my dear, Emily’s mind is safely asleep in the computer, and Sue and Alan have very kindly agreed to look after you just as you are.’ I put up my short little arms in protest as I yelled out ‘Plubbleumbllmpf!’ and more dribble fell onto my bib. I was crying with frustration by now, but Angie burst out laughing and said ‘Well David, I think you’ll have a bit of a job trying to tell anyone about us now, won’t you?’ and she chuckled before continuing in a more businesslike fashion.
‘Now then, I know you can understand everything we say, but Emily’s vocal chords haven’t fully developed yet, so you can’t speak properly, all you can do is babble like any other baby. Also, Dad’s made a few adjustments to your memory patterns so that when you try to speak, all that comes out is baby talk.’ She laughed and said ‘So you’re going to be stuck like that until we decide to put you back, and that won’t be until the project is complete, and I decide that you’ve learnt your lesson in humility. And that could well be up to a year.’
‘Now the lovely thing’ she continued, ‘Is that trapped as you are in Emily’s body, you will have to go through the normal lifestyle of a cute little six month old baby girl, and you don’t have the strength to stop Sue and Alan treating you as such. You’ll have to take your bottle, wet and do poo poos in your nappy, and in every respect put up with it until I decide you’ve suffered enough for your behaviour.’
‘And don’t worry about your own vacated body’ added her father, ‘We’re not going to put Emily’s mind into it, as for obvious reasons she couldn’t possibly handle the situation. We’ll look after it most carefully though. You’ll be drip fed directly into your stomach, and I can assure you that apart from a few weak muscles, you’ll find it in good condition if and when we allow you to reoccupy it. You seem to be pretty healthy, so I think we’ll soon restore you to full physical strength eventually. And with so little experience in her mind so far, Emily’s memory file will be easy to maintain in stasis almost indefinitely without any harmful effects, so she’ll be fine.’
Suddenly they started discussing the situation among themselves, and I began to realise how much babies are ignored as if they hardly exist when the adults have things to discuss. I just lay there helplessly on the couch while they talked, until they separated, and Sue said ‘OK then, I’ll just go and get Emily’s pram.’ Her pram? Oh boy, this was going to be humiliating. She went out of the room, and returned pushing the pram. She wheeled it alongside me, and Angela sat me up while Sue took a set of white leather baby reins out of the pram. Unable to resist, I had my arms thrust into the reins, and they were firmly buckled up behind me. It was becoming really embarrassing as I realised just how helpless I was.
Sue picked me up with ease, and laid me down on my back inside the pram. With a practised hand she took two leather straps fitted to the inside of the pram and clipped them onto my baby reins. She shortened them so that I was held securely down on the pram’s mattress, unable to sit up or even turn over. In frustration at this curb to my freedom I tried to undo the straps, but my tiny weak fingers were no match for the stiff buckles and clips, and I knew that I was imprisoned in the pram until such time as Sue chose to release me.
She arranged a small pillow under my head, and then took out a small soft bunny rug from under the pram, laid it over me and tucked it in around me. Suddenly I felt quite warm and comfortable, apart from the restriction of the pram’s baby harness. Satisfied that I was now well under control, the others busied themselves around the laboratory, leaving me to my own devices.
I lay there for about an hour trying to use my fingers, but soon found them to be totally inadequate enough to do anything useful, so eventually I simply shut my eyes and tried to sleep, as small babies do most of the time. Let’s face it, lying in a pram for hours on end with nothing else to do can be pretty boring, as I was about to find out. I dozed off, but was suddenly woken as the pram’s brake was released, and I was pushed up to the house and into the dining room. I could smell food cooking, and suddenly I felt hungry. Boy, was I in for a disappointment.
‘Right’ said Angela, ‘Sue, you’d better give Emily her feed first, and then we can have lunch.’
‘OK’ said Sue, ‘I’ll just use the kitchen for a minute.’
I lay there in the pram, unaware of the next approaching humiliation, but I didn’t have long to wait. Suddenly Sue came into the room with Angela. She had a tray in her hands, and set it down on the dining room table next to me. Then she leaned over me, and unclipping the pram restraining straps from my baby reins, she sat me up while Angela put some pillows around me to keep me upright. Sitting up, I looked across at the tea tray and saw a small bowl of infant cereal, a jar of apricot puree, and a baby bottle of milk. My heart sank as I realised that this was to be my meal.
Even in the form of a six month old baby, the expression on my face was correctly interpreted by my girlfriend, and she looked down at me and grinned. ‘That’s right David’ she chuckled, ‘This is the kind of food you’ll be eating from now on, so you’d better get used to it.’ She picked up a baby’s bib, and placing it on my chest, tied the fastening strings in a bow behind my neck. Now then’ she said, sitting down next to me and picking up the bowl of cereal, ‘Open wide, there’s a good girl.’ Horrified at the idea of being fed as a little baby, I indignantly tried to voice my protest, but predictably, the only sound that came out of my mouth was a high pitched ‘Blugmmpflmmmpf!’ They all fell about laughing, and Angela took the opportunity of quickly shoving the first spoonful of tasteless mush into my open mouth. Caught by surprise, I swallowed it, and wrinkled my tiny turned up nose with disgust. It wasn’t so much the taste as the lack of taste that was so awful, and the prospect of being fed the stuff regularly for the foreseeable future was something I didn’t want to dwell on.
Spoonful by spoonful, Angela made sure I ate every bit of the baby cereal except the generous amount that was left smeared around my face by my uncoordinated opening and closing mouth. At last she put the empty bowl down. ‘There’s a good girl Emily’ she smiled, ‘Now for your dessert.’ She removed the lid of the jar of apricot puree, and began to spoon it into my mouth. I was relieved to find that it actually didn’t taste too bad, and apart from the utter humiliation of being fed in such a manner, I didn’t find it too objectionable.
My dessert completed, Angela put the jar down and wiped my mouth with the corner of my bib. Then she untied the bib behind my neck and put it on the tray. Removing the pillows propping me up, she laid me down and reattached the pram restraining straps to my baby reins. Once more I was lying down helplessly immobilised. Leaving one small pillow under my head, Angela picked up the baby bottle, and grinning with obvious pleasure, she placed the teat against my closed lips and said ‘Come on Emily, take your bottle like a good little girl.’ Knowing that there was absolutely nothing I could do, and that this was the only way I was going to get anything to drink anyway, I meekly opened my mouth. Supporting the bottle, she pushed the teat in past my lips and almost toothless gums, and I began to suck obediently.
To an adult, a baby bottle or dummy teat doesn’t look very big, but they are specifically made to fill a baby’s mouth comfortably, and to me, the teat seemed to be enormous. I steadily sucked the warm sweet milk out of the bottle, and after what seemed an age, I finally drank the last drop. Satisfied, Angela drew the teat out of my mouth and put the bottle down. ‘There’s a good little girl’ she smiled, ‘Now here’s something to keep you quiet while we have our tea.’ She picked up a dummy from one corner of the pram, and pushed it into my mouth. I saw little point in spitting it out as a protest at such humiliation, and simply began to suck on it. Strangely enough, it soon began to come naturally, and I began to realise why dummies are also known as pacifiers.
Taking a pink soft woollen blanket from underneath the pram, Sue placed it over me and tucked it in around me. Then she raised the hood of the pram and said ‘Now you just lie there quietly while we have our tea. And no crying please. At least unlike the real Emily, we know you can understand everything we say, so I suggest that you do exactly as you’re told. I can think of some wonderful ways of punishing you if you don’t, so I really do suggest that you behave. Now you just lie there and keep quiet.’
She turned away to join the others, and I lay there gently sucking on my dummy and looking up at the white plastic lining of the pram hood. I sighed to myself as I realised where my derisive comments regarding Michael’s experiment had led me. I wondered how long they were going to keep me like this for, but in my present condition, I wasn’t even able to ask them. All I could do was helplessly await events.
The End of Back to the Cradle – Chapter Three.
The story originally came from: https://www.dailydiapers.com/content/stories.html
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index