You Belong To Me
By
Douglas Greene
cabby456@yahoo.com
“Is it really as bad as all of that?” Deloris chided. “It isn’t like I ask that much, you know.” She sprinkled tal***** on his back, and spread it all around with her palm, dusting every crease and body fold. Then she rolled him over, and did the same to his front, completing the task by taking his tiny manhood and giving it a playful, gently pinch.
“Stop it!” the baby squealed. “That’s just the kind of thing I’m talking about.” He kicked, and pushed at her hand with his arms and legs.
She grinned broadly at his comment; it still amazed her to hear a baby speak. “Don’t be that way. You used to beg me to touch you. Why should it be any different now?”
She was right, he used to crave her affections, but that was before. Before the virus. Before he dwindled in front of everyone. Before he weighed 18 pounds.
“What do you want to wear Timmy?” She asked brightly.
“I really don’t give a *****. And don’t call me Timmy; you know that my name is Tim.” He lay on the changing table with his knees in the air and his feet flat on the cold sticky plastic mat. He half-heartedly attempted to cover his groin with a tiny hand.
“Oh, I think you do,” she teased. She held up a little yellow dress with matching panties. “We have to go the grocery store this morning. I could give you some Contentamed, and put you in this before we go. How would you like that?”
Also known as Phexylhydronoxide, Contentamed was a drug designed specifically for AR Virus victims. Quite simply, it was a non-addicting drug that turned recalcitrant AR patients into cooperative, happy, little people. The chemical compound had absolutely no effect on an adult, but its effects on virus victims was nothing less than startling. Contentamed made them obedient and compliant, but most of all, it made them happy.
As the number of people infected with the virus grew, a daily dose of Contentamed became an acceptable, even compassionate thing to do; many ARV patients swear that they couldn’t live without it and took it quite willingly. Sometimes it was administered without consent.
“***** off Delores,” the baby chirped.
Delores sighed, and reached below the changing table, retrieving a small vial. “Now, that kind of language isn’t necessary Timmy.” She pinched his nose rather tightly, and squirted the bitter liquid into his mouth. He sputtered and swallowed. She repeated the process two more times.
“That should be enough to improve your mood,” Delores said smugly.
“God damn you, that was way too much and you know it!” He glared up at her angrily, before turning his head in a vain attempt at ignoring his tormentor.
“Sorry Timmy,” she soothed. “We have a big day today, and I don’t want you to be fussy.” She pulled the naked baby up onto her shoulder; squeezing his naked rear with one hand as she stroked his back with the other. She loved to hold him when the Contentamed took effect. She enjoyed the way his wiry tense little body slowly softened; it almost seemed as if he were melting.
His head slowly drifted down, eventually resting on her shoulder. She listened for the customary little sigh, the sound that told her Tim was gone, and her precious Timmy was back. As his warm little body molded to hers and every one of his muscles relaxed. He made the noise that she was waiting for: a sound somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” She lowered him back to the table. She was always amazed at the immediate change, not only in his demeanor, but also in his appearance. All of the anger was gone; the heavy lines on his face disappeared. He squirmed just a bit on the table, an enchanting, mischievous grin on his face.
“Do you mind the little dress? It would look so cute.” She held up the dress hopefully.
“Whatever you want,” he whispered agreeably, before pulling one of his feet into his mouth. He enthusiastically sucked his toes; a thin rivulet of drool ran down both chubby cheeks.
She bent down. Planting noisy, wet kisses on his stomach and chest, she tickled him under his arms as her hair fell down across his body. Baby Timmy squealed in delight. She lifted his legs and slid a diaper under his rump, fastening the cotton cloth with a single pin under his navel.
“I want you to be my baby girl today,” Natale giggled. “You know what that means.” She pulled the dress on over her head, and threaded his chubby arms through the openings.
Timmy removed his toes from his mouth just long enough to reply. “No talking?”
“You got it. Thanks honey, you’re such a dear. I have so much to do today, and I don’t want to be distracted. ” Natalie slid the matching panties up over his legs, completing the outfit with white anklet socks. “You look adorable.”
Timmy remained a docile, cooperative little baby for most of the day. No one suspected that the charming baby girl, cooing and babbling in the stroller, was actually a man, a forty-two year old victim of the Age Regression Virus.
Toward late afternoon however, the effects of the drug wore off, and by bedtime, Tim was once again an unhappy, willful middle-aged man trapped in the helpless body of a baby boy.
“Today wasn’t SO bad, was it Timmy?” Natalie asked hopefully as she dressed Tim for bed.
“Do you really want to know?” Tim hissed, watching as impossibly huge hands pulled at the zipper of his blue fleece sleeper.
“I suppose not,” she answered, effortlessly hoisting his tiny body up onto her shoulder. “We’ve had this conversation before.”
She moved to the living room, and put Tim in the corner of the couch, propping him upright with a couple of pillows. “There’s not really a whole lot that I can do to change things. How well you deal with this is all up to you.” She sighed and sank heavily in the opposite corner. Using the remote to turn on the television, she buried herself behind a newspaper, leaving Tim to stare at the program that his wife had selected.
“Beeper,” The baby squeaked.
“What do you want now?” Delores sighed, annoyed at the interruption.
“I want the beeper. Give me the remote so that I can change the ***** channel,” Tim shot back. He enjoyed holding the remote and changing the channels. It was one of the few things that he could still manage to do without help, and it gave him just a tiny bit of control over his environment.
“Timmy, in ten minutes we’re watching Wheel of Fortune. Just CHILL for a few minutes PLEASE?” Delores intoned, glaring angrily over the top of her paper. “And don’t take that tone with me little man. It sounds to me like someone should be put to bed early tonight.”
“Then take me upstairs and I’ll watch TV from the bedroom. I hate that show.”
“Timmy, Janice is going to be any minute, don’t be antisocial.”
Janice was Delores’ sister; they tended to spend a lot of time together since Tim bounced. If life with Delores was difficult, life with Janice was pure hell. She would insist on holding him the entire evening while they watched television. If he protested at all, they’d simply give him a squirt or two of Contentamed.
Tim was afraid that he might be reaching the point where he preferred being under the influence of Contentamed. The green, bitter liquid made the world a very special place, full of sensual, hedonistic pleasures, where his only real desire was to cooperate and comply. Under Contentamed, Tim could spend hours happily exploring various objects or body parts with his mouth, sucking away, quite oblivious to the world around him. Caresses were savored; being held and cuddled was appreciated and comforting. Falling asleep in someone’s arms was bliss.
Propped in the corner of the couch, staring at the television, Tim thought back on the events of the day. They spent part of the morning getting Delores’ hair cut and styled. Tim sat in his little plastic carrier, contentedly batting at a few plastic toys that his wife had thoughtfully hung from the handle overhead for his entertainment. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew he was being carried through the mall. The place was familiar to him; he’d been there many times when he was big. It was different now of course, everything was different. The sounds and the smells were the same, but the mall was now cavernous, filled with huge people and giant faces that smiled at him when they passed.
He remembered feeling wet, then soiled. Normally Tim would simply pat on the front of his diaper, a signal to his wife that he needed attention. Today, however, he was Delores’ baby girl. He whimpered, and then cried.
From his carrier, Tim could not see that the changing table in the ladies room was being used; a young mother was in the middle of removing her fussy baby boy’s sodden diaper. Another woman was waiting for her turn, a tiny infant across her shoulder.
Delores shrugged and returned to the mall’s atrium. He shivered as he recalled what happened next. His wife laid him on his back on one of the benches, slid the plastic panties off of his legs, and unfastened the pin that held the cloth diaper in place.
He didn’t care at the time, quite happily mouthing a little plastic duck that Deloris gave him to keep him occupied, but the memory of the humiliation was almost more than he could bear. Except for a group of teenage girls sitting just a few feet away, people walked past, paying no attention to the common ritual that was taking place in front of them. Surprised by spotting a tiny penis as Delores deftly cleaned his dirty bottom, one of them pointed and giggled in amusement.
If she wanted, Delores could keep her husband under the constant influence of Contentamed; long term, consistent use had no side effects, and many virus patients or their caregivers chose to go that route.
More soon…maybe…. who knows…