I still couldn't believe it had happened. I was a baby, laying in a crib. Last night, Louise Brackman had brought us the youth serum, and I had taken it, knowing that I would become this age. Louise's friends loaned us equipment and furniture, and, with my money, bought most of the products needed for baby care. When they left, the reality of the new arrangement set in. My sister Lynette had volunteered to take care of me, and her first act of business was to make me go to bed-- so here I was.
It was bittersweet. On one hand, I had fantasized since adolescence about this, and now I was living it. On the other hand, the thrill wasn't quite the same. I no longer had the hormone levels that had come with puberty, and getting "turned on" wasn't really an option. It was ironic that I had gotten here, and couldn't fully appreciate it. The most I could hope for was to store up plenty of memories of this unique experience.
"Oh good, you're awake," said Lynette."Mom wants to talk to both of us, and she's pretty angry." She lifted me out of the crib. "You're soaking wet!" she said. "Chip, have you forgotten how to hold it in?"
"You're the one who put me in here," I said. "I'm not sure when it happened."
"You know, if you're going to wet your pants, you ought to change your clothes yourself," she said. "We don't have time for that, though. Besides, Mom told me to dress you myself, so lay down." She cleaned me up, fastened on a dry diaper, and then added a matching shirt and sweatpants, shoes and socks.
"Walk with me, now, okay?" she said, setting me to the floore. She held my hand and we went into the kitchen, where Mom was smoking a cigarette. Mom's eyes met mine, and then she looked away. "And you expect me to believe this?" she said to Lynette.
"It's me, Mom. Chip. Only I'm a baby."
"See, Mom? Chip's okay," said Lynette.
"It talked," Mom said, coldly. "Well I'm NOT okay. You and your brother were working on college, and now look! He's been turned into a troll, and you're reduced to being his nanny. And that's not the worst of it..."
"Mom, it isn't permanent," Lynette began.
"Really? Where you'll spend eternity is permanent."
Uh-oh. We were going to get a sermon. Mom had already made it clear that Louise's presence in this house offended her religious beliefs. "You know, I told you that your friend was trouble. That it was dangerous to have someone with you who was studying the occult. You not only befriended her, you made a bargain with her to do this!"
"Mom, you don't really believe there's such a thing as witchcraft, do you...?" Lynette didn't say anything further, realizing, perhaps, that it wasn't the smartest thing to say under the circumstances.
"Isn't it odd," Mom said, "that you felt I was being silly when I warned you about the occult. You thought I was a religious nut, didn't you? I've seen enough of this over the years to tell you how real and dangerous the occult is. In the Bible, sorcerors are ranked right up there with murderes and prostitutes."
We remained silent. Mom turned her attention to me, and I started to hide behind my sister.
"Charles, come out from there!" Mom ordered, pointing to a spot a foot in front of her. When I was a child, she had called me Charles only when I was in trouble. Now I was a child again, and I was definitely in trouble. I walked over to her, trying a half-smile that didin't work.
"Up here, young man. On my lap. Now." I turned to Lynette, who motioned me to do as our Mom said, and I climbed up.
"Charles, I have been told that you drank that witch's brew of your own free will. Is that true?"
Lynette did not return eye contact, and who knew what she had told Mom?
"Uh, she agweed too!" I said pointing ot my sister. "Louise wouldn't give me it until Nuhnette said she would take care of me."
"I'll deal with Lynette in a moment, Charles." My mother paused, and looked me in the eye. "You wanted to be a baby. You'll have to live with that. Pacifier, Lynette."
I looked over to my sister, then followed the object as it was passed over to Mom. "Open your mouth, Charles," Mom said, and inserted the pacifier. This was confusing. I thought Mom was against all this.
"From this point forward," said my mother, "I don't want to hear you talk. You can nod or shake your head, but now that you're a baby, I certainly don't want to hear complete sentences. If you attempt to speak, you'll keep that pacifier most of the time. Nod your head if you understand me." I nodded, and Mom continued. "Now, off with your shoes and socks," she said, pulling them off. "You won't leave the house unless someone carries you outside." She checked the waistband of my sweat pants. "I see that Lynette has you in diapers. What brand are these?" she asked. I stayed quiet. "Luvs," my sister replied.
"Very good. You'll need them. You don't actually need to wear pants, however, so let's get those off of you." In short order, she removed the sweats from me. "Since you chose to be a baby, there is to be no hiding of your dependency on diapers. Lynette, you are not to dress Chip in 'big boy' clothes."
I angrily pulled the pacifier out. "Mom, you're just doing this to humili..."
She didn't allow me to finish. "I warned you about talking. Here's your first lesson about smarting off at your new age." I tried to jump off her lap, but in one quick motion, she had me turned across her knee, holding me down with her left hand and spanking with her right. Even through a diaper, I could feel the sting. I cried and cried, and she set me down. "Welcome to your new life," she said. "You may as well listen to what I have to tell Lynette, since it affects you." I ran over to my sister, who picked me up without a word from me.
"Lynette, you had a motive for agreeing to this. You thought it would be so romantic to have a little one to take care of, even without a husband. Just as little Chip is going to learn what it's like to be helpless, you'll get a lesson in what it's really like to be a single parent. Until further notice, you're going to give up graduate school. Chip is your full time job."
"But Mom..." Lynette protested, as the focus shifted to her. Our mother had apparently given this a lot of thought, looking for a punishment to fit a crime of blasphemy.
"I'm going to supervise you, and make sure you do the dirty work. Every bit of it is now you're responsibility. Like Chip, you're not going to be leaving the house either. I'm going to make sure you change his diapers every time he needs it, no matter what. I'll make sure you feed him when he's hungry, take care of him when he's sick, and a lot more things than you ever imagined."
"All right, Mom. You win," said Lynette. "I'm sorry-- we're both really sorry-- that we did this, especially knowing how you feel. We'll never do anything like that again."
I wiped my tears and nodded my head. "Is it okay if I talk? We'll never do it again."
"Chip, let's get you back to normal," said Lynette, reaching in her purse for the antidote. She searched and searched.
"Are you looking for this?" said our mother, holding up the vial of brown liquid that would change me back.
"You went through my purse?" Lynette sputtered.
"You brought this occult object into my home, Lynette. I will not allow more black magic to be practiced here. You will not counter evil with more evil." Mom took the lid off of the vial.
"What are you doing?" Lynette demanded.
My first thought was that Mom was going to pour the antidote down my throat. Instead, Mom poured it into the sink. "NO!!!" Lynette and I shouted at the same time.
"You won't desecrate my home again," Mom said.
"Mom, without that, Chip can't change back to normal. Not for awhile."
"Lucky for you, then, that it 'wears off'."
"But that could take six months, because Chip was so young to begin with!"
"Six months, eh?" Mom asked. "Well, then, I guess you'll have plenty of time to regret this."
Lynette went from scared to furious. "Damn you Chip! Why did I ever agree to this? What are we going to do now?"
"Don't expect him to answer you," said Mom. "As for what you will do, you'll take care of him. I've written up a schedule for you to follow. Start with breakfast. Naturally, you'll want to keep him in the high chair while you work on cooking his oatmeal."
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As soon as Lynette had me locked in securely behind the tray, she and our mother proceeded to ignore me. All I could do was sit and watch as my sister followed one instruction after another. She mixed a bottle, warmed it, pushed the air out of it, tested it, handed it to me, then worked on hot cereal. I was hungry, but this was no treat. I hesitated, but Mom insisted. "You'll need to get reacquainted with formula," she said. "Breastfeeding is obviously out of the question." That was a disgusting thought.
Soon came the oatmeal. My sister set it on the tray, with a spoon. "There you go," she said. I reached out, and accidentally knocked the bowl to the floor. "Chip!!" my sister yelled.
"Don't shout at him," Mom said. "You wanted a baby, and that's what you have. Make another bowl for him, and this time, you feed him." Soon, Lynette was feeding me one spoonful at a time, some of which I actually got to eat. Most of it, however, was dribbling down my chin, or sticking to my hands, or smeared on my face and shirt. The more I tried to wipe my mouth, the worse it spread. "Try talking now, baby," Mom said. The oatmeal was thick, and when I tried to say "Lynette" it came out as "nuh-Neh". This time, I drank from the bottle just to get some liquid.
"Looks like he'll need a bath," said Mom.
"Bathe him? But he's not really..."
"Of course he is. He can't bathe himself."
Soon, my sister was running a bath under Mom's direction. "Believe it or not, Chip, this will be one of the few highlights of your day," said Mom. It wasn't much of a highlight. The water was only lukewarm, and it was horrifying to be washed. Lynette was getting annoyed, especially after being splashed by my sudden moves, and she was unhappy at how long it took after the bath was over. I got powder and lotion, plus q-tips in my ears, before getting dressed again. "When do I get a break from this?" my sister complained.
"When he's old enough for school, if you're lucky," our mother said, laughing. "You're not putting him in daycare. Don't worry, dear, you can sit down while you keep your eye on him."
"And do what?"
"There's plenty to do when you're a new mother."
When Lynette flipped the channels around on TV, Mom intervened, again. "Children's shows, dear. Something educational, preferably. I want Chip to learn about the world as a baby would." Mom settled on PBS. "Sesame Street is still on, all these years later. Chip, you enjoyed Big Bird and the gang the first time you were a baby. I'm sure this will bring back some happy memories." I looked at her, hoping she was kidding. "Here's your bottle," she added.
So I drank the bottle, hoping that I might find a way to enjoy this, but it wasn't happening. After awhile, I realized that I had to take a whiz, and as I stood up, the feeling got more urgent. As I reached the bathroom door, however, Mom blocked my way. I was holding the front of my diaper, so she knew what was happening.
"Just where do you think you're going?" she asked, daring me to talk. I tried again to walk forward, and she put her finger under my chin, raising my gaze to meet hers. "Chip, honey, you're the one who wanted to be back in diapers. Now that you made yourself little, you'll have to get used to your new age. The bathroom is off limits to you." She smiled as my body shook. "Don't try to hold it. You're a baby now." As she talked, my bladder emptied and the diaper sagged from the weight. "Are you done? Go find Lynette and get her to change you." It was hard to walk under these circumstance.
"Lynette! Chip's diaper is wet. Bring a dry one."
My sister came in to the hall and picked me up. "Okay, little fella, over here," she said, laying me on the sofa. This was the first time I had heard her call me "little fella", or any other cute nickname.
"It's been awhile since we had a baby in the house," I heard Mom say.
"This isn't as bad as I expected," said Lynette. "It brings back memories of the 80s, when Chip was little." Of course, she was little then, too, but she didn't say that.
"You haven't had to deal with a poopy diaper yet," said Mom, "but you will. I think Chip is behaving very well, don't you?"
Lynette fastened the new diaper and set me back down. "Yes he is. Chip, go run along and play," she said, emphasizing my responsibilities at this new size.
"Not a good idea," said Mom. "Keep him in sight, or keep him in there," she said, pointing out to a playpen that had been set up. I walked over to inspect it. The entire thing appeared to be made of vinyl, and it was so huge. I didn't mind that Lynette lifted me up, over, and down into the play yard. I inspected the smooth floor and the mesh sides.
"See? Baby Chip can stay in there while you do other things," Mom said. "He'll be fine."
"Be a good boy," said Lynette. As I sat there, I realized how far I had fallen. My job now was not to flip burgers, but to "behave" while others planned my day. It was clear what the routine was going to be-- feedings, diaper changes, playtime and sleep. If I was lucky, I might get a stroller ride. I'd had enough of being a baby, but it seemed that my sister was just getting used to it.
That evening, Lynette made me go to bed early, again. Being a baby had meant more rules than I had imagined. I had naively thought that I would have no rules to abide by at this age-- after all, you don't expect an infant to follow instructions. I didn't factor in that limits would be placed on me by everyone else. My sister was a control freak at heart, and she now had more control over me than ever. What I wore, what I ate, where I would be, when I slept; indeed, every minute of my day was now under her direction. What was a drawback to me was, for her, what made this enjoyable.
As I lay in that crib, I heard the phone ring, and from the conversation, I could tell that Lynette was talking to Louise Brackman, who had called to check on how the first day went.
"Yeah, Mom was pretty mad. She even took the antidote away.... No, not just yet. It hasn't even been 24 hours, you know. I'm kind of having fun. Chip loves it, of course.... No, he's not allowed to talk on the phone, another one of Mom's orders... Hmmm, that sounds interesting. Sure, when I think you'll have the chance, bring it over....yeah, thanks. Bye."
As Lynette hung up the phone, I realized that she had no intention of sharing the conversation with me. Our relationship had changed, just as Louise had worn, to one of mother and child. Lynette enjoyed being a mother more than I enjoyed being a child, and I had a feeling that this was going to last awhile.