"Mommy!" I called from my playpen, but it was not for my mother. Lynette was really my sister, only five years older than I. When I volunteered to go from a college student to a baby, she had agreed to take care of me. Our own mother had been furious that we had dabbled with the occult, and as punishment, she had Lynette doing total baby care, right down to the diaper changing and the bottle feeding. The sorceress who had brought me the youth serum was Louise Brackman, but she had been difficult to locate when I wanted to return to normal.
When Louise finally showed up at our home in June, it was to test out another magic concoction, a "suggestion mist" that cleared the way for us to believe anything. Since then, we had all been living a lie, one in which I behaved like a real baby and thought Lynette was my mother. Deep down, I knew that it wasn't true, but the force of the suggestion was nearly irresistible. For now, I was a baby both mentally and physically.
"Mommy!" I called again. I was hungry, and I was wet and getting colder. Lynette came over to the playpen and picked me up, and I was overjoyed to see her. I wanted her to pick me up, feed me, and change me into dry clothes. "Mommy's here," she said, as she lifted me out. "Oh, somebody has wet pants. Hold still, Charlie, and we'll change that diaper." Until recently, I had gone by the name Chip, but as part of the hypnosis, my mother and sister thought of me instead as "Charlie". I sucked on a pacifier as she cleaned me up and redressed me, and I started to cry. I couldn't explain it at the time, but I was crying out of frustration, from the realization that I couldn't think clearly, and that something was wrong. Diaper changes were a regular part of my day, and they seemed to be repeated over and over. Each time, I kept thinking, it's not supposed to be this way.
All of us have had the experience of struggling to recall the details of a dream, finding the particulars slipping away as the morning's observations flooded in. How do I describe it? It was as if the real world, the one where Chip Bellring was a 20 year old business school major, was the vague dream, while being a helpless baby was the norm. Like any baby, I didn't use much of a vocabulary. I understood a lot, but trying to express myself was comparable to that frustration you feel when someone's name is "on the tip of your tongue". Say, for instance, someone asks if you remember the guy who was Vice- President for the first President Bush, "the one who couldn't spell potato". You start thinking, "Dave? Dan? Dan Quentin? San Quentin? No, that's a jail..."
Imagine that struggle with nearly every word you used to know. I simply could not talk, but to myself, I knew that something was clouding my judgment.
Being unable to talk, I spent a lot of time crying. I cried if I was hungry, or frightened, or if something hurt. If I was sleepy, or if I worried that Mommy was gone, or if I was uncomfortably wet or dirty, I whined until it advanced to crying. On the other hand, there were times when I was happy, particularly when the routine was varied with a new experience, a hug, a discovery, a new toy. There was little sense of time passing. It was either light outside, or it was dark, and I had no way to gauge the march of time.
Lynette would tell me later that she had the occasional feeling that she had lived another life. In her mind, and that of our Mom, she had no little brother. She had conjured up a false memory of a one-night stand, pregnancy and childbirth, but the details were fuzzy. There were pictures of somebody not identified, except, sometimes, as "Chip". Lynette didn't struggle as I did with trying to hold on to reality, and offered no resistance to the nearly irresistible force that worked on our minds. She really wanted to believe that she was the young mother of a one year old baby boy, and she was quite content. As for our own mother, she was unaware that she had been exposed to some type of thought control, so she had no trouble believing that she had a baby grandson instead of a 20 year old son. I learned later that she had been conditioned, if someone asked about a person named "Chip", to respond "He's working at Cedar Point for the summer. Chip was history, because I-- Charles Bellring Jr. --- was now baby Charlie. The suggestion mist was truly an evil creation.
Though I had only the vaguest perceptions at the time, I remember a lot of details now, as one might recall a night of heavy drinking. If you've ever imbibed, you know how it goes. You recall ordering your first and second drink, hearing the approval as you go for a third, fourth and fifth. Background conversation sounds like a loud radio with bad speakers, and you recall your own witticisms and stumbles far better than anything you might witness. You're aware of your lack of self-control, moments after an incredibly obnoxious statement leaves your lips, or after you bump into the sharp corner of a table. While you're in it, you want to continue your drunken state. There's that suspicion, as you take a piss, that you are sobering up, so you hasten to get another drink. Finally, there's that letdown as you decide against more alcohol, and you resign yourself to tomorrow morning's hangover. Being a baby during that time of hypnosis was like a never-ending drunken binge. While I was in the middle of it, I messed a lot of diapers without an ounce of regret. Lynette changed them all with not a bit of resentment. It finally had to end.
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I remember when the hypnosis "wore off". I was sitting in my crib when I took notice of the Today Show theme playing on a TV in another room. Then, I realized that my sleeper was soaked. I glanced about my bedroom and saw the colorful decorations that had transformed it into a nursery. Thinking more clearly than I had in a long time, I started recalling memories of the life of Chip Bellring quickly, and Lynette's spraying of the suggestion mist into the air one summer evening. "Nuhnette!" I called. I still had trouble with L's.
My sister came in. "Were you trying to say Mommy's name?" she asked. Perhaps because of metabolism, my delusions faded first. My liberation from the suggestion mist was complete, and I knew that I was a 20 year old student at OSU... laying on a changing table. My sister was talking in a sing-song voice during the diapering, and it was clear that she still was under the notion that she was my mommy. "Run along and play," she said, lowering me to the floor, adding, "Mommy has to work on her thesis." At home, at least, she was still dressing me efficiently, with only a shirt and a diaper. The difference was that I was wearing a more expensive brand, having been moved from Luvs to deluxe Pampers, as one might go from a Chevy to a Cadillac. I toddled over to the kitchen table, and pulled the newspaper down to where I could see it.
"Holy shit!" I exclaimed. It was August the 3rd! The last time I'd checked, it was early June. And now it was two months later? Two months wasted! My outburst drew a reaction from our mother. "Did Charlie just say what I think he said?" she asked. Babies were not supposed to use such words, particularly not around zealots like my Mom. Had I been a bit older, it would have merited a spanking, but not today. "Oh gosh, he must have picked that up from me. Sorry, Mom," said my sister, taking the newspaper away from me. "Charlie, you mustn't use that word, even if you heard Mommy say it. It's a bad word." I was tempted to ask, "What word is that, Mommy?" to see how she might resolve that paradox, but I held back.
My mother and sister were not expecting me to string together sentences, and if I upset their faux perception of reality, it could mean trouble. If they checked into a psych ward, I might end up in a foster home. Until they could remove the wool from their eyes, I had to play along. What a summer it had been! In May, I had been a 20 year old guy with no friends and a dull summer job. Late that month, I had been transformed into a baby with a grownup mind, and my sister had been bullied into taking care of me 24/7, a charade we both came to resent. Then, in June, came the exposure of our whole household to a "mist of suggestion", and our acted roles became a reality. During that time, I and Lynette behaved just like baby and Mommy, and I have no doubt that we were both happy during that time.
And now? Now, I had an adult mind once more, but my sister still thought I was a real baby. Until her delusion wore off, the good news was that there would be no resentment on her part of the baby care, and that I would not be a prop for her inane practical jokes. Though I was actually the youngest of Sally Bellring's offspring, Lynette showered me with all of the adoration that a new mother reserves for her firstborn. She loved baby Charlie.
The bad news was that Lynette also thought that I was capable of doing nothing without the aid of Mommy, and spent a great deal of time fussing over me. I adapted, learning to keep quiet while she spoke to me in "baby talk", that cutesy way of talking that a loving caretaker employs when addressing an infant child. She wouldn't have ever said things like "ah goo" when we were in our right minds, and I obviously wasn't aware of it when we were under delusions, but as an adult being talked down to, I found it really annoying now. She couldn't just give me a bottle. She had to add "Drink your ba-ba all gone now, sweetheart!" On a stroller ride, she made it her mission to instruct me in the words for everything around me, or at least what she wanted to hear a baby call things, like a doggy, or -- not a car, but a "carvroomvroom". I'm glad we didn't live out in the country. But all of this saccharine speech paled next to the high-sucrose monologue reserved for diaper changing. "Oh, him's all wet!" or "Uh oh, we need some wipes to clean baby Charlie. Mommy doesn't want him to get diaper rash!" I endured a play-by-play on every step of the process, ending with "Let's fasten the tapes snug for my little Charliebug!" That HAD to be the dumbest nickname ever bestowed on a kid named Charles. Charliebug! Gag me with a teething ring when I think about it now.
It took until Monday the 9th for the spell to fade from Lynette. She was in the middle of singing to me: "Down came the rain and...." she suddenly stopped and paused in confusion. Perhaps the word "washed" triggered a feeling that she had been brainwashed, or maybe the "eensy weensy spider" made her thing of webs, and cobwebs in her mind. "What happened to me?" Lynette said out loud.
"You're finally back!" I said.
"Chip? Was I dreaming, or have I been calling you Charlie?"
"It was no dream. You've said that, and worse. And you won't believe how long you've been in a haze."
"I haven't kept track, but it seems like days."
"Try more than 60 days. It's August the 9th."
"Holy shit!" she cried.
"That was my reaction. What's the last thing you remember?"
"A perfume bottle... Louise was here..."
"You sprayed it in the air, and that damn Louise has let us stay in this trance."
"I've wasted two entire months. I dreamed I was working on my masters thesis," she said. "Was I?"
"You have the most boring dreams. Yes, you worked on it while you were taking care of me."
"I hope I didn't write a bunch of garbage while I was out of it."
"If you find the words 'my Charliebug' in there, you probably did. Lynette, we're both going back to university classes in a three weeks. We need to find Louise and end this. I don't want to have to be pushed to my 10:30 class in a stroller."
"I agree. I'll call her now." Lynette dialed Louise's number, and actually got through to a roommate.
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"We're going to the Stampede Steakhouse," said Lynette.
"I'm not hungry."
"Stupid. Louise is there with her friends, and we're going to have it out with her. We've lost an entire summer that we'll never get back."
"I got back the summer of '85," I said. "She's pretty powerful. I wouldn't mess with her."
"You're afraid of her. I'm too angry to be afraid. We're going."
There was no thought of leaving me home. Lynette still treated me like a baby, and in no time, I was strapped into the car seat. As usual, I was in only a T-shirt and diapers, although given the events that followed, it's well that I wasn't dressed in more. "She seemed like such a good friend in grad school classes this spring," said my sister as she drove. "I thought her unshakable belief, that she could do witchcraft, made her an interesting comparison to our Mom's faith. They're both zealots. Turns out she was studying me."
"I'll have to admit, I thought she was a flake," I said. "Then, after she showed us those spells, I thought she was amazing, and I wanted to learn from her. And now, after this experience, I've concluded that she and her friends are pure evil. Can you imagine that type of hypnosis on a mass scale?"
"Yeah, I'm thinking President Ralph Nader," said Lynette. "She didn't care about us except as test subjects for her spells. Well, the test is over."
We arrived at the parking lot, filled with cars. "The lights are off inside," I said, "Candlelight dinner at the Stampede?"
"Hello?! They're witches and warlocks. Let's go in anyway," she said, unbuckling me from the carseat and carrying me to the door.
When we got inside, a man dressed as a security guard, and with a glazed look in his eyes that indicated hypnosis, stopped us. "Sorry. Private party."
"Then go get Louise Brackman, right now!" my sister demanded. Louise came over to us when she heard her name. "Look who we have here," sneered our former friend, "Mommy Lynette and baby Chip. Guinea pigs 502 and 503."
"How could you have left us in a trance for two months, Louise?" my sister shouted. "I thought you were my friend. I mean..."
"You were both willing volunteers. I gave you what you wanted, and made your fantasies come true, didn't I? Lynette, you got the baby you always wanted. Chip, I put you back in diapers. In return, you helped us master several of the greatest occult discoveries ever. During the two months you've been away, our abilities have increased exponentially. And you ain't seen nothing yet."
"What about an antidote?" I said, "Before you go back to your Rotary Club meeting, or whatever you devil worshippers are doing?"
Louise laughed. She didn't "cackle", but it wasn't a giggle either. "Worship the devil? Chip, we're way ahead of any deities out there. We're masters of forces that you can't even begin to understand, and we become stronger with each passing day. You'll see. Goodbye, mommy and baby. Your services are no longer required." With that, she left, and the security guard escorted us outside, closing the door and standing in front of it with arms crossed.
As Lynette carried me back to the car, I suggested, "Maybe the Sizzler is still open."
"We'll wait in the car for her to get done. She can't stay there forever."
The wind was picking up, and I couldn't help wondering if they could control the weather. As we got to the car, Lynette prepared to set me in the back seat. "Wait a second!" I said. "Don't buckle me up while we wait. Do me a favor."
"What's that."
"Let me stand behind the steering wheel," I said. "I saw a picture of me doing that once." She rolled her eyes while I grabbed the wheel as if to pilot a ship. "Voom! Voom!" I said, jumping up and down. "I've always wanted to try that," I said. "Now you can put me in the car seat."
As we waited, we noticed that the candle glow in the steakhouse had gotten brighter, and soon, it was so bright that it looked like the Welders' Club production of A Chorus Line. Lynette turned her head from the blinding light. "What the hell are they doing?".
"I smell smoke," I said. Then, we heard shouting and screaming.
"Oh my God!" said Lynette. "The restaurant's on fire!" She dialed 911 on her cell and gave directions to the steakhouse, but this was like no fire we had ever seen. The flames rose skyward, and seemed to consume the building in a few minutes, then swirled back downward. I suddenly felt myself choking. "I-- I can't breathe!!" I shouted. The last thing I remembered was my sister jumping from her seat, running around to my side where I sat in my carseat....
"What happened?" I asked as I came to. I was wrapped in a blanket. Out the window, I could see fire crews at the scene, but the fire was out. Only the smoke remained. "I'm naked," I realized, and pulled the blanket tighter. "Where are my clothes?"
"You outgrew them," said Lynette, "rather quickly. You really were choking, first, when you got too big for the car seat, and later when your neck got bigger than your collar. Good thing the rest of your clothes were taped on."
For the first time, I looked at my surroundings. I was big again, after nearly three months. "The spell must have been broken when the restaurant caught fire. Any survivors?"
"No," said Lynette. "Look at the ambulances. They didn't teleport out of this one, I don't think. I hate to say it, but they got what they deserved. I have a feeling that Louise and company intended no mercy for us. Can you believe that there were 500 other test subjects before us?"
"It's over now," I said. "Kind of ironic end for Louise. You remember she loved puns and plays on words, so this was fitting."
"What's ironic?" my sister asked.
"They used to burn witches at the stake. A fire at a steakhouse killed these guys. Weird, huh?"
"You're sick. Let's go home, big guy."
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And so ended the strangest summer vacation I had ever spent. When we got home, I dressed in clothes that I hadn't worn in months, and enjoyed getting reacquainted with things I hadn't been allowed to do in a long time. I stayed up late that night--- really, really late-- and had the chance to think about the experience of the last several months. Don't get me wrong. I don't regret it, and I wouldn't trade those months for anything, but I'm never going to change my age again. When I start my junior year in a few weeks, I'm going to live my life to the fullest, academically and socially. Never again will I let the fear of rejection deter me from asking someone out. There was one thing I had missed the most about being an adult, and as I thought about it, I got that pit in my stomach. I brought out a cotton T-shirt I use for this purpose, and set about to master my domain once more. How I had missed the contradictions that go with this! That feeling of hot blood and chills down the spine, being alert and relaxed, being rock-hard yet sensitively-soft, all simultaneously.... and the buildup, all to that "point of no return" and the electrifying fussilade of pleasure. How I had missed this. Armed with memories that the average person has long forgotten, and with the bravado that few ever attain, I was going to repeat this often, alone or with my choice of women. I enjoyed my second chance to be a kid, but there's nothing like being a man.