4 - Seeing Is Believing...
From the moment that Ma-ma collected me at Dr. Louder's office that day, and began treating me like a toddler, I found myself totally unable to behave like my real age, and compelled to act like a toddler would. She'd led me into the house with Kelly, and took both of us back to Kelly's nursery.
"You and Kelly can play in here until lunch time, Roxie," Ma-ma said, chuckling softly as she eased me down to sit on the play mat beside Kelly's toy box.
"Show Roxie your dollies and toys, Kelly," Ma-ma said, opening the toy box, "I'm sure Roxie would love to play with all your pretty dollies, and other toys, too. Now, you two girls have fun."
Inwardly, I was seething with anger at being treated like this by Marcia, but outwardly I kept acting like a small child. I sat on the play mat with my legs splayed, and sucked the thumb that kept returning to my mouth. As long as Marcia played Ma-ma to me, I seemed to have no choice but to play baby for her. That thought seemed ironic in light of what Kelly said next.
Kelly crossed the nursery to stand over me, "We can play 'house', Woxie. I'll be da Mommy an you gots to be da baby 'cause you wear dipees. Here. Mommy will get a bottie for you."
Kelly tossed out doll clothes and stuffed animals, until her pudgy hand emerged holding a toy baby bottle. She knelt on the play mat, patting it before her, "You lays down here, an I'll feeds you, Woxie."
Now that she had claimed the role of 'Mommy', I also had to play 'baby' for her. Kelly WAS bigger than me, and older, too. I felt certain of that, though some part of me insisted it was logically impossible. The fact that she was bigger and older was undeniable to me, and I couldn't begin to question it. I laid on the play mat on my back before her, as she'd instructed.
I looked up at my big sister. She was four. She used the potty and wore big-girl panties. I wore dipees, and couldn't use the potty, I knew. That was OK, though, 'cause Ma-ma says all babies have to wear dipees. I was only one and still a baby, after all.
There was a set of mirrored doors that covered the nursery closet. Turning my head to face the mirrors, I saw myself - a blonde baby girl, lying on the floor before my older, and larger sister.
It was much easier to accept what I saw, and believe it was real. It made my head hurt to try to think like a grown-up, and it was much easier not to think grown-up thoughts. I tried to think baby thoughts, and felt much better immediately.
It felt so much better to just think baby thoughts, and be the baby Ma-ma said I was. When my dipee began to feel scratchy, as well as wet, I knew that I had to cry to get my dipee changed. Crying came as naturally as wetting my dipees, and soon produced the desired result.
Ma-ma came to the nursery, and knelt beside me to check my dipee. I kept crying until Ma-ma had removed my wet dipee, and was washing me with baby wipes. Finally, I was able to stop crying, and put my thumb in my mouth. That relaxed me instantly, and I sucked it contentedly while Ma-ma finished putting me in a dry dipee and plastic panties.
"Baby Roxie has had a hard morning, Kelly," Ma-ma said, "I think we'd better put her down for an early nap. You can play more later. OK?"
"OK, Mommy," Kelly replied, and began to dig into her toy box again.
Ma-ma helped me to stand, and held my hand to steady me. I wobbled unsteadily, and continued to suck my thumb. For a moment, I had the adult thought that I was just allowing her to make me act like a baby, and could stop if I really wanted.
I tried once again to object to this infantile treatment, but found I was still unable to act or talk like an adult. Instead, I found myself toddling obediently beside her to my "nursery", just as she directed. She tucked me into the youth bed, and drew the curtains to darken the room. When she produced a pacifier from her apron, my mouth opened eagerly. I began to suck contentedly on the rubber nipple, and let myself drift into sleep.
I dreamt the most vivid and intense baby dreams yet, feeling my tiny baby girl's body experiencing each dream sensation as reality. Each dream seemed more real than the last, and in each, I saw and felt myself becoming smaller and younger. As each dream ended, felt myself become smaller and younger than before, feeling a wave of contented fulfillment.
I awoke in the sunlit nursery, lying on my back. Above me, a mobile of brightly colored butterflies, turned and played lullaby music softly. My tongue seemed to almost fill my mouth, and it rubbed along the smooth contours of my toothless gums. I tried to sit upright, but found myself unable to do it. I had to roll onto my stomach, and push myself up to my hands and knees.
As I moved inside my crib, I was intensely aware of the warm wet bulk of my soaked diaper moving with me. The way the wet bulk of my diaper pressed between my legs felt strange. I could no longer sense the presence of my penis or balls, and had a sickening feeling that I no longer possessed either. I felt very weak, and had to grip two of the crib's bars to draw myself to a standing position. Upright, I needed both hands holding the bars to remain standing. My knees kept buckling under me.
I stood unsteadily inside the crib, and looked around the nursery. Everything seemed so enormous, even though I understood that was due to how small I had become. It was almost the same nursery I recalled from my dreams, and it took me several moments to realize why I'd thought I recognized it. I realized after a few moments that my new nursery was furnished with the baby furniture from Kelly's nursery. With a shudder, I was absolutely certain that I was not dreaming any of this. This was real, impossibly real.
The white Jenny Lynn crib was the same one I recalled from my dreams, and the pink walls of my nursery were decorated with the same pastel murals of Mother Goose Tales. The white dresser and changing table were in the same places, and there was a playpen in the far corner. A set of mirrored doors covered the closet opposite the crib. This was Kelly's nursery furniture in the guest room redone as my own nursery, but I'd never recognized that fact until I awoke inside her crib.
I stared at my reflection in the mirrored door of the closet. The baby girl I saw in the mirror could not have been more than a year old. This HAD to be a dream, I insisted to the reflection. It was simply not possible for me to really become a baby girl from my past-life. I told my reflection she could not be real, but she just stared back at me silently. Desperately, I tried to convince myself that this HAD to be another dream.
But, it wasn't. My nightmares and dreams had been intensely and vividly realistic, but never REAL. There was a qualitative difference that was undeniable, no matter how impossible this reality seemed to me. I knew with the same absolute certainty that I really had become the baby girl I saw reflected in the mirrored closet door.
I heard footsteps approaching, and looked over to see Marcia standing in the doorway. She was gigantic, looming above me as she approached the crib. She grinned down at me, "So, how's Mommy's pretty baby girl this morning? Got a wet dipee that needs changing, I'll bet."
She bent closer to grip me under my tiny arms, and lift me from the crib. I felt a bit dizzy being lifted so quickly into her arms. Looking down at the floor so far below only made the vertigo worse. Nothing could have demonstrated the reality of the changes more effectively than being handled like as a small baby by Marcia. This was no dream. Still, I could not imagine how she had done this to me.
Marcia carried me across the room to the changing table, and placed me on the changing pad. Drawing off the soft, pink onesie I wore, she laid me back on the pad to remove my plastic panties. After she'd removed the diaper pins from my wet diaper, Marcia gripped both of my tiny ankles in one of her huge hands, and lifted me from the wet diaper to remove it. I stared at the pink slit between my plump thighs, sighing as my eyes confirmed what I'd felt earlier. I really was a baby girl!
Marcia slipped a dry diaper under me, and lowered me onto it, before taking a baby wipe to clean my diaper area carefully. I was acutely aware of every touch of the soft baby wipe as Marcia cleaned each crease and fold of my infantile female genitals. She grinned down at me, and winked, "I bet you're wondering like the Dickens how Mommy made you into a real baby girl, aren't you? Well, let Mommy finish putting my little baby girl in her dry dipee, and I'll tell you all about it, sweetie."
Her big hands were gentle as she rubbed my smooth skin with baby lotion. The sweet, slightly pungent scent of the baby lotion reminded me of vanilla, and baby nurseries, naturally. Somehow, the scent also made me feel better, and I felt my tiny body relaxing.
Marcia drew the diaper between my plump thighs, tucking and folding the fabric. The soft cotton pressed lightly against my sensitive skin, and the bulky caress of the diaper seemed to make me feel better still, tension flowing out of me. I hated the way I was reacting to being treated as a baby, but seemed to have no more control over it than over my bladder and bowels. She quickly secured each side of my diaper with a diaper pin. Being enfolded in the warm, cottony bulk of the cloth diaper made me comforted and loved. Though I tried to tell myself that my reactions were programmed by Dr. Louder, and not genuine, they FELT completely genuine. Being diapered DID make me feel much better, even happy.
"Baby powder shouldn't be used for diapering. It can clump in the folds of baby's diaper area, and irritate baby's tender skin," Marcia informed me, grinning as she dusted my torso and underarms with the fine powder. The aroma of vanilla was even more intense in the dusty cloud of baby powder, and evoked an intense feeling of happiness and contentment in me. Though I wanted to deny the emotions, I could not resist their effect. I was absolutely delighted to be diapered. Though I hated feeling that way, there was no denying the deeply felt fulfillment I got from being diapered.
Marcia then slid my feet into the leg holes of a pair of plastic panties, and drew them over my diaper. Even the plastic panties seemed to have a special scent, once more evoking deeply felt rushes of contentment at being in diapers. Pulling me to a seated position, she placed a cotton slip over my head, and drew my arms through the armholes.
"You're always going to be dressed in the frilliest, laciest. most feminine baby outfits that Mommy can find. You're going to be Mommy's adorable little baby doll, and people will always be telling you what a pretty baby girl you are. No pants or overalls for you. Mommy doesn't want anyone to ever think you're a boy," She chuckled softly again, as she drew a pink and white baby dress over my head then, and tugged my arms through the puffy, lace-trimmed sleeves.
"When you crawl around, people will see these pretty rumba panties, and think it's just so cute and sweet, " She placed me on my back again to draw the pair of rumba panties over my diaper and plastic panties. Last, she slipped a pair of lacy anklet stockings over my tiny feet, and slipped them into a pair of white ankle-high baby shoes. As she tied the laces securely, she smiled down at me, "See how your pretty little socks match your pretty panties? It's little details like that we girls have to watch to be sure our outfits are perfect. Now, you really look like Mommy's little princess."
5 - One for You, One for Me...
Lifting me from the changing table, Marcia turned to face the mirrors on the closet doors. She held me up to face our reflection, "It's really your own fault you ended up like this, you know. You were the one who kept insisting that we should have another baby. When you suggested that I see someone to have my tubal ligation reversed, I knew I had to do something to put an end to that foolishness. This is my body, and you don't get to decide what I do with it.
"You shouldn't have gotten pushy about the issue, Rocky. You forced me to find another solution for the problem. Since I certainly was not giving birth to any more babies, I thought of another way to make a baby, and solve the problem of what to do about you at the same time."
"I decided we needed a plan that would give us both what we wanted," Marcia said, bouncing me gently before the mirror, and patting the crotch of my silky rumba panties, "Of course, since it IS my plan, I naturally get more of what I want than you do. You wanted another baby, so you got the first desire fulfilled. I wanted to have another baby without having to go through pregnancy and childbirth again, so I got the second condition fulfilled.
"You wanted to have a child who would keep your family name, meaning a boy by your preconceptions, of course. I decided that I would grant that desire, but not in the way you quite intended it. I wanted a girl if we were having a second baby, so I just needed to ensure that this baby girl would never get married and change her name. Since you're never going to get any older or larger than you are right now, sweetie, you'll be keeping your family name until you die, Roxanne Marie Dulong. I took some liberty in interpretation, of course, but I felt it was the best way to compromise on our competing desires. Like I said, it's my plan, and I get more of what I want.
"You expected to be the father of our second child, of course. Unfortunately, that expectation was based on the assumption that you've been a good father to Kelly. I didn't share that foolish assumption, naturally. I decided that was a desire you had to sacrifice, considering how poor a job you've done as a father for Kelly. I wanted a father for my children who would be a full partner in parenting, and would give our family the time and attention we deserved. It takes more than a sperm donation to make a father, and you were never around to do your part in parenting.
"I want you to know that when I met Mark, I really wasn't looking for a replacement for you. I just wanted an effective way to deal with my anger and stress from your immaturity, and being married to you. I hoped he would be able to suggest some way to get you to make time for family counseling, and save our marriage. I tried to get you to go with me, but you just made one excuse after another. You were always too busy for our family.
"Neither of us intended to fall in love, but I bared my soul to him in therapy, and it just happened. There was nothing physical - at least, not then. I told Mark that I believed in my marriage vows, even if you didn't. I wouldn't file for a divorce, and I certainly wasn't going to consider murder to get rid of you. Mark said there was another way that wouldn't violate my vows, or result in you death. He's always been interested in alternative therapies, and non-Western traditions of treatments. When he suggested there was a way for me to have another baby - and by making you that baby - a way to solve my marriage problem at the same time, I had to admit it was a perfect solution. If you were changed into a baby girl, that would effectively annul our marriage, as far as I was concerned. I couldn't be married to a baby, or another female. Of course, I didn't actually believe he could really change you into a baby girl at that point.
"But, I was willing to trust Mark, and suspend my disbelief if he said it was possible. The key to changing you was in getting you into Mark's office the first time to hypnotize you. The drug he gave me to add to your morning coffee made you very suggestible, so you were very cooperative. With another shot at Mark's office, it was easy for him to condition you to begin imagining yourself as a toddler girl. It took quite a few more sessions with Mark to create each of those 'nightmares' you began having soon after that. Once you began to imagine that you really had been a toddler girl in a 'past-life', Mark used that new perception to encourage you replace your former adult male self-image with a self-image of being that toddler girl.
"The African potion Mark gave you isn't actually a youth potion. Its transformative qualities work with a person's self-image to help her become a perfect embodiment of her own ideal self. Mark has used it for a number of his patients, and helped them to reconcile body-image problems. Usually, he makes the weight losses, and other overall changes gradual enough to be accepted as natural. When he makes changes to a patient's facial features, or other more noticeable changes, he uses hypnosis to implant memories of surgical procedures vaguely recalled. Patients are always thrilled with the results, and delighted to know the surgery was covered in Mark's fees.
So, by gradually getting you to change your ideal self-image to see yourself as a toddler girl, Mark programmed you to transform yourself into that toddler girl. I have to tell you it was simply hilarious that morning at Mark's office to see you as an adult-sized toddler girl, before you began to make yourself become smaller. You looked like a giant's baby.
"After that, of course, I just had to get Mark to see just how young and small he could get you to imagine you were. I wanted a baby girl, and Mark said he thought we could program you to become much smaller. You can see for yourself the result of your imagination right in front of you. It turned out that you had a lot more imagination than I expected. Mark says that you're about the normal size and developmental stage for an average nine-month-old. You're twenty-six inches tall, and you weigh nineteen pounds. The only thing missing is your teeth. Most nine-month-olds have incisor teeth, sweetie, but I guess you didn't know that. You certainly didn't recall the teething pain and crying Kelly went through getting her first teeth at seven months. Mark says you must have imagined that nine-month-old babies are toothless, so you are, too. Personally, I think you're just about the perfect age for a baby now. And , the best part is that you'll always be my baby."
"No bay bay," I said angrily, sounding ridiculous in my high-pitched baby voice. For a moment, I felt a surge of uncontrollable anger at what Ma-ma had done to me. Though I knew that there was no way I could really hurt her, I swung my tiny fist as hard as I could at Ma-ma's chin.
The impact hurt my little knuckles, but had no effect on her, of course. Ma-ma simply laughed, and held me out before her, "Bad baby! If you don't want Mommy to spank that baby tushie of yours, better not do that again."
Ma-ma carried me into the kitchen, and lowered me into the highchair beside the breakfast table, "Kelly's already had her breakfast, so I just need to feed you before we can get going. We have to go to Daddy's office first. He says he needs one last session with you. Then, we need to do some shopping for baby things for you. I have a lot of Kelly's things that will fit you, but there's still a lot of things we'll need for a small baby like you. Besides, most of her clothes are too simple and practical for Mommy's little princess. We need more frilly, girly clothes like you're wearing now."
She warmed a baby bottle of formula, and opened it to pour some of the formula into a small bowl of baby cereal. After mixing the cereal and formula, Ma-ma sat beside me and tied the strings of a large bib around my neck. The cereal mush certainly didn't look very appealing as Ma-ma raised the baby spoon to my mouth. But, I found myself feeling very hungry, and took the mush eagerly. I was surprised to find the cereal tasted wonderful, and more complex than I had imagined. Despite myself, I made happy cooing noises after tasting the mush.
"I'm glad you're enjoying this," Ma-ma said, smiling as she spooned another load of the cereal mush into me, "Since you imagined yourself as toothless, I'm afraid you're going limited to be eating strained baby foods from now on. Hope you like your veggies this much, but some of them can be a bit disgusting, and those meat mixtures are really nasty. Mommy had to taste all of them when she was raising Kelly all by herself. Now you'll get a chance to find out for yourself, won't you?"
When Ma-ma finished feeding me, she cleaned my face slowly, holding my face lightly with her left hand. Even in the lightest grip of her hand, I was helpless to move. Ma-ma untied and removed the bib. Lifting me from the highchair, she took the baby bottle, and carried me to the rocking chair by the windows.
Settling into the chair, she shifted me to cradle me in her left arm, and gently pushed the nipple into my mouth, "Since Mommy can't tell how immature your digestive system is now, we'll have to play it safe and keep you on infant formula. Let's see if you have the suckling reflex of a real baby."
She brushed rubber nipple against my cheek, and I was surprised to feel my mouth opening. The nipple nearly filled my entire mouth as Ma-ma pushed it between my toothless gums, and formula began to seep from it. I had to swallow the formula, or choke on it. The warm baby formula was very sweet, and had a strong iron taste as it rolled over my tongue. I tried to push the nipple out of my mouth, but was helpless as Ma-ma held the nurser firmly. I swallowed it reluctantly. As my tiny stomach filled with formula, I felt totally stuffed.
A moment later, I felt the fullness in my belly moving lower, and grunted softly as a mass of poop slid out of me. Ma-ma shifted me in her arm, and I felt the soft mass spreading over my cheeks inside my diaper. It felt awful, and I wanted to cry. The odor became obvious a moment later, and Ma-ma wrinkled her nose, "Pee-ew! Smells like someone has a stinky mess in her dipee. Guess Mommy better get you changed before we go to Daddy's office."
Being carried back to the nursery only emphasized how helpless, and totally dependent on Ma-ma I had become. I needed her to feed me, and change my wet, messy diapers, no matter how much I might hate it. I couldn't even stand without help, much less care for myself in any significant way.
After placing me on the changing table, she lifted my baby dress to remove my rumba panties and plastic panties. Taking the diaper pins from my diaper, she used the front of it to clean most of the soft mess from my cheeks. Setting aside the nasty diaper, she used a couple of baby wipes to gently and thoroughly clean my diaper area again. It felt so good to be clean again, I couldn't suppress a soft happy cooing in response.
Ma-ma slid a dry diaper under me, and tenderly rubbed me with baby lotion once more. The soothing lotion felt wonderful on my sensitive cheeks, and I burbled happily again. I hated myself for reacting like I was really a baby, but I couldn't seem to control my own responses. As she secured the second diaper pin again, and I was once more enfolded in the comforting protection of a soft, dry diaper, I could not restrain my contented cooing noises.
Ma-ma chuckled as she replaced my plastic panties and rumba panties, "I guess Mommy's princess likes having her diapers changed, doesn't she? You want to be sure you remember how yucky that messy diaper feels, and be a very good baby for Mommy. Otherwise, I might let you sit and stew in your stinky mess next time. You won't like having diaper rash, believe me."
Ma-ma had left Kelly watching television in her new bedroom. Kelly had inherited the guest bedroom and the youth bed, when Ma-ma had moved me into Kelly's old nursery. She looked up, smiling as Ma-ma carried me into the room, "Baby Woxie gots really small, huh, Mommy? Is she weally Daddy?"
"Not any more, Kelly," Ma-ma said, sitting on the bed with me, and holding me at Kelly's level, "Roxie used to be a Daddy, but he was a very bad Daddy. Mommy had to punish him, and she didn't want to spank or hurt him. So, Mommy had to make him a baby again. Now she's Baby Roxie, and she's your very own baby sister. Together, you and Mommy have to take care of our baby girl, OK?"
"OK, Mommy," Kelly nodded, and grinned at me, "You was bad Daddy, but now you be good baby, Woxie. I helps Mommy takes care ofs you."
"That's Mommy's big girl," Ma-ma said, kissing Kelly tenderly on her cheek, "You can carry Roxie's diaper bag for Mommy. We're going to go see your new Daddy at his office, and then Mommy is going to take her two beautiful little girls shopping."
She had to sling my diaper bag over one shoulder, and hold me cradled in one arm, while she led Kelly to the minivan. Kelly helpfully climbed into her toddler car seat while Ma-ma stowed the diaper bag, and placed me into an infant car seat beside Kelly's. Ma-ma secured Kelly's safety harness snugly, after fastening the harness that held me securely in the rear-facing infant seat. As she started the minivan, and backed into the street, she said, "It's a good thing you made me save most of Kelly's baby things to use with our second baby, sweetie. Mommy didn't have to get a new one, thanks to you."
Reclining in the infant safety seat and facing the rear, all I could see through the minivan's windows were treetops, and utility lines on power poles as we passed. Though I knew where we were going, it seemed to take much longer than I recalled as an adult. I knew we were almost there as the minivan bumped over the railroad tracks on the crossing a couple of blocks from Mark Louder's office. The jostling triggered my bladder to empty again, and I squirmed as my warm pee spread through the soft bulk of my diaper. Anxiously, I sucked my thumb, and wondered what else Ma-ma and her lover planned to do to me.
6 - Doctor Daddy Can Fix That...
Ma-ma had to sling my diaper bag over her shoulder again, and carry me in one arm while leading Kelly by the hand to Dr. Louder's office. Opening the door to the waiting room, Ma-ma said, "Kelly, you can play with the toys. Go ahead, honey. Mommy and Roxie won't be gone long."
Karen Crowley, the receptionist, came around her desk, smiling as Ma-ma carried me into the waiting room, "Oh, Marcia, she's just adorable! If I hadn't seen her leave here the other day, I'd never believe this was really Rocky. Can I hold her?"
"Sure, but watch yourself," Ma-ma said, chuckling, "She's still mad about being tricked into making herself a baby. She hits."
"I guess I'll take the chance," Karen said, chuckling in return, as she lifted me from Ma-ma's arms. Karen held me up before her, meeting my eyes directly, "Aw, what's the matter, Rocky? Not such a big, strong man anymore, huh? Well, that's all right. I like you much better this way, anyway. Now you can ogle my tits all you like, and it won't bother me a bit.
"You never thought I noticed your leering, did you? Well, I did. The only reason I never complained was that Mark told me what he and Ma-ma had planned for you. Every time you snuck a peek at my cleavage, I pictured you looking a lot like you do now, and just kept quiet. It was worth putting up with that just to see you now."
"Mark's waiting for you in his office, Marcia," Karen said to Ma-ma, passing me back to her. She patted my silky blonde curls, "Any time you need a babysitter for Kelly and this little one, you let me know. I think I'd actually enjoy changing this one's diapers."
"Really? Well, Mark and I were hoping to go out for a celebration dinner tomorrow night, Karen," Ma-ma said, "I can get the girl I usually have sit with Kelly, but if you're serious, I'd much rather have you take care of Kelly, and my little princess here."
"I'd be happy to do it," Karen said, "What time do I need to be there?"
"A little before seven should be fine," Ma-ma answered, "I'll have them fed, and ready for their bedtimes by then."
Ma-ma carried me along the short hallway to Mark Louder's private office. I'd walked down this hallway many times, but now it seemed darker, and foreboding. The would be no light at the end of this tunnel.
The door opened before us, and Mark Louder stepped back to let Ma-ma enter carrying me. She crossed the office to place me on the seat of the armchair I had always used during therapy sessions. My tiny legs did not even reach the end of the seat cushion, and I could barely see over the arms of the chair.
"Welcome back, Rocky," Mark Louder said, smiling down at me as he slid into the chair opposite mine, "We just need one more session, and your regression therapy will be completed, and quite successfully, I should add. I don't think you could regress any more than you have, and you're not having anymore of those nasty nightmares, so I think you're cured. We just need to add a bit of programming to restrict your speech to what's appropriate for a nine-month-old, and to ensure you always behave like the sweet baby girl you wanted to become."
"No wan be bay bay dirl," I spoke as clearly as I could, glaring up at him.
"You wouldn't be a baby girl if you really didn't want to be one. After all, I just suggested that you would like to be one. You're the one who turned yourself into one, and it IS what you want to be," he responded. He lifted a long silver chain from the pocket of his suit jacket. A diaper pin with the plastic cap in the shape of a pink teddy bear's head swung at the end of the chain.
My eyes were drawn to the swinging motion of the diaper pin, and focused on the pink teddy bear. I could not seem to look away, and heard Dr. Louder say softly, "You feel very relaxed. Teddy is taking you to sleepyland ..."
I awoke still seated in the huge armchair in front of Da-da. Something about identifying him as my Da-da seemed wrong, but I couldn't think what was wrong about it. He pointed to himself, and said, "Roxie, who's this?"
"Da-da," I responded, making a happy squeal. I knew him, and he was my Da-da, "Da-da nah baba"
"That's my baby princess," he said, smiling as he lifted me from the armchair. He held me facing Mommy, "She won't be trying to have any more conversations now. She only knows nine words - Ma-ma, Da-da, ba-ba for her baby bottle, bye-bye, no, binkie for her pacifier, weh for wet, ca-ca for her stools, and dipee for her diaper. Any other words she tries to say will just come out as baby babbling."
Da-da tapped the side of my head gently with a finger, "In here, she's still Rocky, and can still understand everything we say and do. But, whatever she may be thinking, she can only use those nine words to say anything."
"No bagoo Da-da dagah," I babbled happily, though I was trying desperately to form the words of a lewd curse. In frustration, I began sucking my thumb.
"She already has imagined herself into a nine-month-old's body, but just to be sure, I've implanted conditioning that restricts her abilities to those of the average baby her age," Da-da explained to Ma-ma.
"She'll have the same sleeping schedule as a normal nine-month-old; 10 to 12 hours per night, and 20 minutes to 2 hours for daytime naps. She'll need about a quart of baby formula a day in four feedings, and small servings of cereal, fruits, vegetables, and other strained foods at normal mealtimes.
"Roxie can sit up strongly without support, and creep along on her hands and knees easily. She can pull herself up to a standing position if she has something to hold for support. If she tries to walk, however, she'll find she doesn't have the balance or motor skills to manage anything that complex.
"She can grasp and manipulate small objects, and like most babies, the first thing she'll do with those objects is put them in her mouth. At her age, she has developed the pincer grasp between thumb and forefinger. So, we need to remember she can grasp objects small enough to choke if she swallows them. She'll need to be watched like any other baby for such mistakes, Darling.
"You need to recall that old saying, 'If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's a duck.' What I mean is, that you have to stop thinking of her as Rocky now, and remember she really is Roxie. She'll act like a baby, and you must always treat her as one. She'll need her Ma-ma every bit as much as Kelly did at her age, Marce.
"So, while Roxie will remain Rocky in here," Da-da tapped the side of my head lightly, smiling down at me, "She won't be able to behave any way except as the baby she is now. You can talk to Rocky all you want, Marce, but always treat Roxie like the baby she is now."
"I never considered doing anything else, Mark," Ma-ma said, grinning and kissing him briefly, "Having a baby again has rekindled my maternal instincts. I'm remembering some of the things I truly enjoyed about having a real little one. Babies have a special smell, and Roxie smells exactly the same as Kelly did. I didn't realize I missed it until I held her closely. Babies lose it by eighteen months or so, when they really start to become toddlers.
Ma-ma chuckled, and rubbed my silky hair, "Maybe I should call the Carter people. You know they have that ad campaign, where mothers say, 'I wish they could stay little long enough to wear out their Carters.'? Our little Roxie would be the perfect baby model for them, always staying little enough to keep wearing her Carters layette."
"Not the kind of advertising I want, Darling, but keep thinking," Da-da said cheerfully, and kissed Ma-ma deeply, "Sorry to rush, but I have a patient in three minutes."
7 - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun...
On our drive to the mall, I saw the same basic mixture of trees, power lines and poles, and the upper parts of buildings that I'd seen on our drive to Da-da's office. It maddens me that, even mentally, I must use the terms he has imposed on me when I think of him or Ma-ma. The same is true for the rest of the limited vocabulary Da-da has permitted me. I realized this when I tried to think a curse at him, and thought of him as a fucking ca-ca-head. Although I could easily think the more adult and offensive f-word, the only term for ca-ca I can use is ca-ca. I can't think of the adult word for the garment I wear for my ca-ca or weh, either, except to know it isn't 'dipee'.
Ma-ma loaded me into the infant carrier again, carrying my dipee bag, and leading Kelly by the hand. I could see the top of Kelly's head bouncing beside us as Ma-ma walked. Inside the store entrance, Ma-ma lifted me into the padded infant seat of a shopping cart, and snugly tightened the harness around me.
"I saw the perfect baby carriage in the sale flier for this week," Ma-ma said, "C'mon, Kelly, we're gonna buy Roxie a pretty baby carriage."
"Can I pushes her in da carraige, Ma-ma?," Kelly asked, as she trailed us into the huge department store.
"Of course you can, honey. You can help Mommy take Roxie for walks in her baby carriage in the park," Ma-ma replied, grinning down at me, "We'll dress her up like a little angel, and all the other Mommies and big sisters will tell us what a pretty baby we have."
It didn't take Ma-ma long to find the baby carriage she wanted. She paid the salesclerk a fee to have it assembled and delivered the next day to our house. Lifting Kelly into the empty front section of our shopping cart, Ma-ma took us to the entrance into the mall.
As we paused while Mama removed my dipee bag from the cart, one of our neighbors, Sarah Cohen, entered the store. She stopped beside us, "Marcia, how are you? Hi, Kelly. And, who's this little angel? Is she yours, Marcia?"
"Hi. Missus Cowen," Kelly chirped, "Dat's my baby sister, Woxie."
"I didn't know you'd had another baby, Marcia," Sarah said, turning to Ma-ma, smiling, "How old is she?"
"Well, Sarah, the reason you didn't know I'd had another baby is that I didn't. Roxie is Rocky's baby, but she's not mine," Ma-ma said, looking obviously embarrassed.
"Oh, Marcia, you poor dear," Sarah Cohen said, "You must be just devastated. Why don't you let me buy you a cup of coffee, and you can tell me everything."
"That sounds lovely, Sarah," Ma-ma replied, leading the way through the mall to the Starbucks store. After they'd gotten their coffee, Ma-ma and Sarah sat with us at a corner table. Kelly sat sipping a fruit drink, while Ma-ma removed me from the carrier to hold me on her lap.
"Marcia, how did you end up with the baby if Rocky fathered her with someone else?" Sarah asked directly, not a bit embarrassed by her nosiness.
"They left her in Kelly's nursery with a note, just before Rocky and his girlfriend left town. When I woke up, she was crying like a lost soul, and I thought I was going nuts hearing a little baby crying. The note said that since I wanted another baby, and his girlfriend didn't, they had decided to leave Roxie with me. I don't even know who Roxie's mother is, and Rocky isn't around to ask.
"I thought about calling Social Services to take her, but I just couldn't do it. You've read the stories about state foster care, and how horrible it is for children, I'm sure. I couldn't abandon her the way Rocky and her mother did. As fas as I'm concerned, she's Rocky's baby and that makes her mine, too. Anyway, if the girl has any brains at all, she'll see through Rocky's act someday, and she'll want her little girl back again. If she doesn't, well, Rocky was right about me wanting another baby girl. I'll raise her as my own."
"I don't know many other women who would be that generous, Marcia," Sarah said, placing her hand on Ma-ma's wrist, "What about Rocky's business? I can't believe he'd just walk away from it."
"Oh, no, he didn't," Ma-ma said, looking down, "He sold it to one of his competitors secretly almost a month ago. He made them keep the sale secret while he transferred everything to them, and deposited the money where I'll never be able to find it. I suppose I should be grateful that he left a small portion of the money in our joint account for Kelly and Roxie's support. It should last until I can decide how I'm going to support myself and the girls. At least our house is paid for, and I don't have to worry about that."
I was furious, sitting on Ma-ma's lap, and listening to her lies about my abandoning her with my "girlfriend's" baby. However, I had no way to do anything to vent my mounting fury. I had to suckle on my ba-ba for as long as Ma-ma held it in my mouth. When she removed my ba-ba, I was lifted to her shoulder, and my back was patted lightly until I burped, and spit up a little soured formula on the dipee draped over Ma-ma's shoulder. The sour taste of the formula was nasty, and made me drool even more than usual.
Sarah made an excuse to leave, and Ma-ma chuckled softly as she loaded me back into the baby carrier, "I knew we'd find Sarah, or another one of those nosy gossips here today. Before the day is over, half the town will hear the story about you abandoning me to sell your business, and run off with your girlfriend. Of course, I did embellish it a little, but just to make the story believable. You did, in fact, sell the business two weeks ago to Carson Brothers. You probably don't remember, since Daddy had to hypnotise you to make you cooperate, but you were very helpful to the buyers, and bragged about how you and your girlfriend would be living like royalty on the money you got from them. Between them, and the salesmen at the car dealer where you and your young girlfriend traded your SUV to buy a sports car, there are plenty of witnesses who will verify Mommy's story."
"Personally, I doubt that anyone will ever check," Ma-ma said, speaking softly into my ear, "Someone would have to miss you in order to ask anyone to check, sweetie. And so far as I can tell, no one at all seems to miss old Rocky one bit."