Those who would dismiss the works of Jennifer Loraine as simple erotic fiction are likely to be the same people who would trivialize the concepts of age regression and infantilism as mere sexual fetishes. While the subject matter of Loraine’s stories would no doubt titillate members of the infantilist subculture, the fact of the matter is that these creations possess an inherent value as delicate and well-crafted examples of accomplished contemporary literature.
The general theme of Loraine’s stories, with some notable exceptions, is artistically simple: An immature or sociopathic adult is regressed to the status of an infant, a state within which his or her iniquities are incapable of negatively impacting the lives of those around them. This thematic element is enough to strike fear and horror into some readers, while others would relish the opportunity to be the recipient of such treatment. The vast difference between these opposing interpretations is an immediate testament to the complicated literary sensibilities of Loraine’s work.
Loraine’s foremost talent is the gift of description. Readers are a party to a cacophony of emotion throughout the course of each of these stories as a result of Loraine’s grasp of the intricacies of the literary machine and her poetic mastery of the wordsmith’s artistry. The horror our protagonist (or antagonist) experiences as he realizes his years of adulthood and experience are slipping through his fingers; the humiliation as a thick, emasculating diaper is fastened securely around his crotch and the nipple of a baby bottle filled with warm milk is forced into his relenting mouth; the infantile feelings of satisfaction he feels as his warm urine uncontrollably flows over his tightly-wrapped genitals into the waiting fabric of his sagging diaper. And all the while, he is entirely cogniscient of his lost manhood and his acquisition of the embarrassingly infantile lifestyle, until his mind is finally reduced to the unknowing, unreasoning consciousness of a helpless baby boy.
The antithetical – though equally important – element of most of these stories is the dominating female. Whether functioning as the savior or antagonist of the man, she is consistently and remarkably intent on enjoying the regression and humiliation of her male quarry. One common occurrence sees the female describing, in detail, the impending babyish treatment of the male. She extensively illustrates matters such as diaper changes, bottle feedings, and public exhibitions as the once virile man or teenage boy impotently kicks his weak legs along his soaked and crinkling diaper, sucking resignedly on the breast of his lover-turned-caretaker. Feminism, as common a literary device as it may be, is rarely exercised to this satisfying degree.
Some would rightly criticize that character development in Loraine’s stories is a low priority. The dominating female stereotype from Story X could be easily interchanged with the female from Story Y, just as the male from Story Y – regressed and diapered for his transgressions – is identical to Story X’s spotlight baby. This shortcoming is easily forgiven, however, upon the realization that each story offers something significantly unique; the reasons, extents, and ramifications of the character’s regression.
In “The Alchemist”, for example, an overzealous scientist’s cavalier nature leads to his second infancy, and he proceeds to remain blissfully unaware of his plight, acknowledging only that he is – not has become – a baby who requires love and care. “The Baby Game” sees an infantilist regressed into babyhood, but his mind remains intact long enough to realize that his successful, adult self has been transformed into a helpless infant left in the care of his wife. Still another tale, “Peace, Quiet and an Early Bedtime” features an unjustly accused teenager diapered and humiliated prior to his regression, and his mind inadvertently goes first… leading to the uncommon image of an eighteen-year-old boy parading happily outside his house wearing soaked and messy diapers, sucking his thumb with one hand and waving obliviously to his stunned high school friends with the other.
A more common plotline among Loraine’s works is that of the vice-ridden man reduced to infancy by a disgusted girlfriend, wife, or mother. In “The Prodigal Son”, an abusive pornography tycoon is gradually regressed from a sociopathic young sex-addict, to a diapered, waddling toddler, to a helpless, screaming baby. A similar treatment is reserved for his promiscuous girlfriend in the story’s sequel, “The Tale of the Wayward Daughter”. An adulterous husband is the victim of the events in “The Conscience of the King”, only the regression is more sudden as he wakes up as a babbling infant swaddled in soaking wet diapers.
In spite of these marked differences, one prevalent theme characterizes the entirety of Jennifer Loraine’s admirable repertoire: the regression of characters nearly conquered by vice, saved through a return to innocence. Truly a refreshing twist in a literary world where the most common plotline is this very theme’s inverse.