Subject: Revised Story
Date: Thu, 08 Oct 1998 08:08:09 -0700
From: "Cissy T" <cissy.t@mailexcite.com>
Organization: MailExcite (http://www.mailexcite.com:80)
To: daveedl@usa.net

Dear Dave,

I saw you had the story "The Punishment" posted. Some time ago I had read this 
story and my imagination went rampant. Attached is my own version/revision of 
the original story. Please feel free to post as my contribution. Thanks for you 
story page.

Hope you enjoy,
Cissy

Free web-based email, Forever, From anywhere!
http://www.mailexcite.com

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The Punishment

A Baby Story

By (Name withheld), Revised and Expanded by Cissy T

INTRODUCTION

It didn't seem like all that bad a thing; I got a little horny so I began 
masturbating. It was a natural thing to do. I never thought my mother would walk 
in and catch me, but she did. Oh, for sure, I had not been especially good. I 
had gotten into the "punk" look with multiple earrings in each ear, jet-black 
hair that I wore straight and stringy. I wore nothing but black, T-shirts, 
pants, and a leather jacket. I had even recently gotten a stud in my tongue. I 
didn't speak too much to mom so she didn't really notice at first. That was sort 
of a compromise so I wouldn't have to take a lot of yelling, say, if I had 
gotten an eyebrow hoop or something like that that she could see all the time. I 
had been considering a tattoo on one shoulder, hinting to my mom that it was 
something I was going to do very soon. I'd always feel satisfied when I knew I 
had made her frustrated with me.

My name is Cris, at least that's what I answer to. My full name is Cristine and 
I only hear that from my mom when's she's mad at me; I never let my friends call 
me that. I've always been small for my age, at just past my sixteenth birthday I 
was just under 5 foot tall and fairly thin. I think I got the small size from my 
granny on my father's side of the family, she was a tiny woman. I always had 
trouble finding clothes to fit me like those my friends wore. I am extremely 
nearsighted and wear rather thick glasses. I have a style of frame that I don't 
mind too much but hate having to wear glasses, period.

I hated my life, me, and the way I looked, I guess you could call it an "ugly 
duckling syndrome"; besides just growing up and being a teenager, I guess that's 
why I had been so moody. I tried to show to the world that I was mature and big 
by having the grungy punk look all the time with the serious black mood. If 
someone hated my grunge look then all the better.

So finding me in bed that night, with the bedroom dark and dreary like I had set 
it up, my knees bent and legs spread wide, was the apparently the last straw for 
my mom; I'd pushed too far. This is what happened, it was supposed to be a 
punishment, and to this day my mother doesn't know she fulfilled my fantasy. It 
was a summer I will never forget.

PART ONE
THE CRIME

There I was alone in my room, watching a videotape; not a normal tape, but one I 
had gotten from a friend. It was a porno movie and I had never seen one. I was 
very curious and watching it was making me hotter than I had ever been before. I 
held out as long as I could, but finally had to stroke myself, the excitement 
was just too much. I didn't have any covers over me and had one hand buried 
inside my panties with my knees spread. I was fantasizing about getting it on 
with a guy like on the tape. Unfortunately, my mother chose just that moment to 
walk in to say goodnight. I had thought she had gone to bed already since it was 
late. She normally always knocked but apparently had assumed I would be doing 
something normal like watching TV and, needless to say, was shocked at the 
position I was in.

"What the...,Holy..., YOUNG LADY!!! Cristine! Just what is going on here?"

I slammed my knees together and tried reaching for the remote, but she had beat 
me to it. "A little too late for that. I can see what you're watching, and what 
you were obviously doing. That is not how I raised you, was it? That's not what 
I taught you about relationships and sex, about love."

I said nothing, and just sat there scared of what was going to happen to me now. 
"You're a sixteen-year-old girl, and not old enough to be watching this filth, 
you know that. This stuff is not about love. And I don't care how mature you 
think you are, my little girl does not play with herself."

"BUT MOM!!!! Really, I was..."

"SHUT IT. There is no escaping this, I tried my best to raise you right, and I 
have failed. I've thought you would try the punk thing out and then realize how 
awful it was. I thought you would get tired of wearing the same types of thing 
everyday. I thought you would come around to being my daughter again. Lately 
I've been thinking about this a lot. The only thing I can think of to do is try 
again. Now go to bed, and I will deal with you in the morning.

I wasn't sure what she meant by "TRY AGAIN"? After a while, I gave up worrying 
about it, still unsure of what was going to happen in the morning, and drifted 
off to sleep.

PART TWO
THE NURSERY

My mother awakened me early the next morning. She pulled the heavy curtains back 
to allow tons of sunlight into my dark room; the first time they'd been opened 
in months. I thought she was going to blind me. I thought, "Okay, so getting up 
early and blinding me is her form of punishment. I can deal with it."

However, immediately she instructed me to get up and take off my panties and 
T-shirt and to wait for her to return. I wasn't about to go naked in front of my 
mom after all these years, at least not since I was probably 7 or 8. From past 
punishments I was expecting a spanking, and, assuming that she was going to get 
a belt rather than use her hand, panties weren't going to make much difference 
on or off. I noticed that it was only 9:00! Since it was just the beginning of 
summer I thought I would sleep in everyday until 11:00 or 12:00. This wasn't 
right.

She returned moments later with a paddle; I had never seen it before, but the 
tag on the handle told me it must be new. She sat on my bed and told me to come 
to her. I walked slowly to her, and when I got close enough she grabbed my arms 
pulling me down and over her knee. She wasted no time in pulling my panties down 
off my rump and started to paddle me. She struck fast and hard; I screamed in 
pain. This was the worst spanking I had ever gotten, and never before with a 
paddle. I think she whacked me 20 or 30 times. When she was done, I was crying, 
blubbering really, and my butt felt like it was on fire. She had covered every 
inch of my bottom and some of my legs as well. She released me, and I stood in 
front of her. I had tears streaming down my cheeks, nose running, my hair was 
all tangled from sleep and stuck to my wet face.

She looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I thought I told you to take off 
your clothes? Do you want me to start over?" Within a second I was naked and 
shaking, T-shirt and panties on the floor, trying to stop my tears and 
sniffling. I held my hands in front of me trying to cover my little bush.

She told me that I had been very bad for a very long time, and the only thing 
she could do is start over. She told me that this person in black with the black 
mood to match was not her daughter.

"Over the years, you have gotten worse and worse. I don't know what I did wrong, 
but somewhere I messed up. But I am going to try again. Understand?"

"No, I don't," I said meekly, and I meant it. I was clueless as to what she had 
in store for me.

"Well let me explain, as of today you are no longer sixteen, you are 
two-years-old. You are to be a two-year-old. You can walk and talk, but still 
have to rely on your mommy to take care of you. I will be taking care of your 
every need.

"I figure during your TERRIBLE TWO's must be where I went wrong, that's where 
the foundation of knowing right and wrong begins. Knowing how to act and behave 
and communicate with others. I think that's where life's development begins so 
we're going to do it all over again, and I will make sure you, rather we, do it 
right this time. This paddle will also make sure you do it right. Now come with 
me to your room. And don't be concerned with covering yourself up with your 
hands, babies don't know any better."

Well, at that moment I didn't care and didn't want anyone else seeing me naked, 
even if it was my own mother. I was already becoming belligerent and regaining 
my composure from the swatting, and all too quickly responded, "But mom, I'm old 
enough to take care of myself, I'm not going to be a little girl again, and 
besides, we ARE in my room." Mom moved so quickly that I didn't even react 
before she grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the bed and over her knees 
again. She renewed the paddling and it didn't take many swats for me to want it 
to stop. I couldn't fight her and surrendered.

"Now, you speak to me nicely, you always call me 'Mommy', and you never doubt my 
words or commands. Understood? Do you understand, Crissie?"

I caught my breath between sobs, "Please don't call me that, I hate that."

"That is you name and it's perfect for your age. Crissie, you are to always call 
me mommy, understand?" talking to my back across her lap and then she whacked me 
again. "What do you say?"

I nodded and said "Yes, Mommy."

"Good, I am your mommy and you will obey me. Kneel on the floor in front of me." 
I got off her knees and kneeled in front of her while she continued to sit on 
the bed. Looking up at her made me feel smaller. I knew this is why she had me 
get on the floor in the first place and I tried not to let it bother me.

"No, this is not your room anymore. This is the room of a sixteen year old, or a 
punk, or a I-don't-know-what. This is not a two-year-olds room. I'm going to 
take you to your bedroom. This one here I think I'll remodel to go more with the 
rest of the house. This will be our new guest room." She took my hand and led me 
to what was once the guestroom, next to the master bedroom. She showed me a room 
outfitted for a baby girl. The walls were a pale pink, the curtains had frilly 
ruffled edges, the furniture was all gloss white.

"This is your room, Crissie, and that's your crib, I had a good carpenter friend 
of mine put bars around the bed, so my little girl won't fall out and hurt 
herself." The bars were four feet high, and I knew they were designed to keep me 
in my crib at night. Next she showed me a large stuffed chair in the corner. 
"This is mommy's chair, I need a place to sit with together you or place for 
when I put you over my knee."

The next item on my tour was another creation by her friend, a playpen five feet 
by five feet wide and four feet high. It had a small gate in the middle of one 
side. Finally she led me over to the dresser on the wall at the other end of the 
room. "This is your new changing table."

"MY CHANGING TABLE!!!! I am not wearing diapers, mother!" using the formal term 
to show my resolve. Again my mouth reacted before my brain. Before I knew it, I 
was over her knees again on the chair receiving additional whacks. It hurt so 
much but I couldn't cry anymore. She put me down on the floor in front of her 
again.

"You're not listening to me, Crissie." Again with that name. "You are only two. 
You are a baby. Two-year-olds do and will wear diapers. You are a two-year-old 
baby and you will wear diapers. That is your changing table, yours. This is your 
room. You need a changing table because all babies need to have a place where 
mommy can change their wet and messy diapers. The crib is for you to sleep in 
because babies like you can accidentally fall out of big girl's beds. The play 
pen is for you to play in so mommy can do her house work without you getting 
into trouble."

Ever so slowly, I bowed my head in humiliation, "Mom, please, I'm am not two 
years old. I'm too old for all of this; for being a baby again." Although, at 
that moment I didn't feel all that old, being led naked around this baby room 
with mom holding my hand and having been paddled. Mom reached down and swatted 
the side of my butt hard. I tried to block it with my hand but she got it in 
anyway.

"I will not tell you again. You are two-years-old, you are my baby, and you will 
act like a two-year-old until you learn to behave properly. You will wear 
diapers and call me mommy." I knew I was beaten both literally (butt-wise) and 
emotionally, I knew there was no fighting her anymore. "Yes, mommy," I agreed 
reluctantly.

This brought a smile to her face, and she ordered me to lie on the changing 
table. I did as told, hopped up on the table and laid down. Oh boy did it hurt 
when I got up there. I could feel a plastic pad under the soft terry cover. Mom 
clipped a strap across my waist and then went into the top drawer of the 
dresser/changing table. She pulled out a large disposable diaper, I raised my 
hips, and she pulled it under me, up through my legs, and tightly taped it on 
me. It felt a lot like the pads I wear, especially on heavy days. I could hear 
the plastic covering the disposable but didn't think too much about it as my 
butt was hurting and I was still resentful to mom.

"These are only temporary. Mommy doesn't believe in disposable diapers for all 
the time, so I will get some cloth diapers from the medical supply store when 
you take your nap." And, thinking out loud, she added, "We'll need some plastic 
panties and other stuff too."

She ordered me to get off the table, and into my crib; I did as I was told. She 
closed the side, and, as she left the room, she gave me instructions "Oh Yeah, 
just to be safe I have to lock you in here until I'm sure you are going to do as 
you're told, If you have to go potty, use your diapers. You won't be potty 
trained again for a long while. In fact, when I get back, I am going to undo 
your potty training so it will be natural for you to use diapers again. I want 
you pooping and peeing yourself, just like a baby. Since we're starting over, 
we'll do it from the beginning and do it right. We'll un-learn everything." As 
she left the room, I could hear her lock the door behind her.

I lay in the crib sobbing gently for about an hour. It was only mid-morning and 
there was too much light for me to be tired. After a while, once I stopped 
crying and hurting, I got bored. I decided to climb out of the crib and 
considered sneaking out of the window. I soon decided that was not a good idea. 
I was wearing only a diaper and no top, and a quick search of the room found 
that the closet was locked and there were no clothes anywhere for me to wear. I 
sat in the chair for awhile and considered my predicament. I am sixteen; I have 
had my period for years already. I can be good for mom just by being nice. I 
could compromise and lose some of the earrings. I decided I wasn't going to 
become the baby she wanted me to be. Although I'm not very tall, I am old enough 
to make most of my own decisions about how I live and dress.

Mom was gone a long time. I never heard the car return. I was lost in thought 
when I heard mom turning the lock on the door, and tried to get back in my crib, 
but I didn't make it before she was in. Now I was in big trouble and I knew it.

PART THREE
UNPOTTY TRAINING

 A spanking more severe than the last ones was my punishment for being out of my 
crib. Mom removed my diaper, took me to the chair, and started vigorously laying 
the paddle to my painful red butt. All I could think about was my butt and the 
pain. When she finally stopped, I resigned myself to just do just what I was 
told, to go along with this expecting that it would never last long. She would 
make her point with me, get tired of her "project" and then let me be my grownup 
self again.

 Following her instructions I laid on the changing table on my tummy. After she 
pulled my diaper off she shoved something in my butt with a finger. She applied 
ointment all over the raw skin of my bottom and then turned me over. She laid 
two cloth diapers together and accordion folded them. I raised my hips again, 
she slid them under me, pulled them up between my legs and pinned them on with 
pink baby diaper safety pins. The diapers were a thicker bulk between my legs. 
She followed that with a pair of pink plastic pants, pulling them over both feet 
and wiggling them up and over the diaper. She let them snap in place around my 
waist and I felt both trapped and resentful at the same time. I felt as if the 
plastic pants represented my whole confinement and the reduction of status in my 
life. The cloth did feel warm and soft against my sore body, but I didn't like 
the sound the plastic pants made. It was pure humiliation to let her put me in 
these. She sat me up and I swung my legs over the side of the table. As I did so 
the plastic pants billowed out in front like a balloon as all of the air was 
pushed up and out by my movements. She gave me two pills, and made me take them 
with water from a baby's tippy cup. As I tried put my legs together I could feel 
the bulk of the diaper between my legs. I couldn't quite touch my knees 
together. She got a hair brush and spent a long time untangling my mass of hair 
and getting it off of my face. She finished by putting it into a ponytail. When 
she got me down from the changing table I could feel the inside of my thighs 
squeezing the diaper bulk together. The elastic on the legs of the plastic pants 
were very tight around my inner thighs.

"We're going to step back a little further in your training at first, since you 
still don't understand who you are yet. Get down on your hands and knees, 
Crissie."

I got down gingerly as it hurt to move around, the diapers pressing against my 
raw bottom. She opened the gate to the playpen and told me to crawl in. She shut 
the gate and clipped some type of lock on it. There was carpeting on the floor 
so it felt warm, but when I tried to sit it hurt too much. I rolled on my side.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. Be good." She then left but this time didn't 
close the door. I stood up for a while, the tops of my shoulders just even with 
the top edge of the crib. I could rest my head on the edge without having to 
lean forward very much.

She returned after awhile, unlatched the gate, then went and sat on the chair. 
She said "Crawl over here to mommy." I almost screamed thinking I might be 
getting another round of spanking, but I crawled over somewhat obediently. She 
had me sit in her lap, rather than lay across. That gave me a sigh of relief. I 
lay back in her arm and she pulled me close to her body. She then gave me a pink 
baby bottle with some weird dandelion tea in it. It took me a little while to 
get the rhythm of sucking and swallowing. I felt really silly in her arms 
sucking on a bottle with her slowly rocking me. It felt good to be against her 
warm body since I still had only a diaper on. My nipples had been hard for some 
time, and even though I don't have any breasts to speak of, the nipples are 
still very sensitive. When I was finished she put me back in the crib, took my 
glasses off, left the room, and locked the door behind her.

I laid there awhile trying to make out my room, but it was just a complete blur. 
Not even an hour later I had to poop really bad, I wanted to use the toilet but 
knew I was locked in the room. I also didn't want to chance being caught out of 
the crib again. I held it in as long as I could but soon I had strong cramps 
followed by several squirts that filled my diaper. The feeling of pooping myself 
was disgusting to me, and I started to cry. I hated the sticky glob in my 
crotch. My mother must have heard my crying, because she came in the room. She 
reached through the bars of the crib and put her hand on the back of my diapers 
to check them. I told her I needed to be changed, but she refused. She pushed 
her hand against the back crotch area to smoosh it in. It really felt awful.

"No, I want you to get used to the feeling of a full and wet diaper. And you 
will, remember those pills I gave you?"

"Yes, mommy."

"Well, one of those was a strong laxative, and the other a diuretic which makes 
you pee, and the dandelion tea is also a diuretic. I want my baby wetting and 
pooping herself as much as possible until I'm sure you're thinking and acting 
like a baby. You'll stay in only a diaper for right now, maybe later we'll get 
you dressed."

I realized I was in for a bad experience, and started to cry again. She had me 
sit up (I could feel the poop oozing around my cheeks and in my crack) and take 
some more pills, this time three. Mom hugged me, and kissed me on the forehead.

"This time you got a laxative, a diuretic, and the last one was a sleeping pill. 
It will help you sleep this afternoon just like a baby. You'll have a little 
something to eat when you wake up." She then closed the crib, turned away and 
left the room, locking the door once again.

It took awhile before I feel asleep, but once I did I went out cold. I didn't 
wake up on my own. Mom came in as the afternoon sunshine was fading and woke me. 
She got me to the chair again and started to give me a bottle of milk (or so I 
thought at first). My first taste told me it was most likely formula. It tasted 
warm, thick, and blah. I started to push it away.

"Now, now. Babies must have lots of good formula filled with vitamins. You need 
to have good things to eat and drink to make you strong and healthy." She pushed 
in firmly between my lips. "Drink up, sweetie."

After a few swallows I begin to get a little used to it. I could feel my diaper 
oozing between my legs and over my bottom; it was cool and sticky. As I got near 
the middle of the bottle I begin to fall asleep again. The sleeping pill was way 
too much for my small frame. Mom had to keep shaking me gently and coaxing me to 
finish the bottle. When I got through I thought she'd let me sleep again; I was 
so tired still. However, she pushed another warm wet nipple between my lips. She 
fed me a second bottle of formula all the while shaking me and patting my bottom 
to keep me awake until I finished.

Finally, with her support, she had me walk over and get on the changing table. 
She pulled off the plastic pants and the smell from my diapers overwhelmed the 
room. I felt like it was finally over and she would clean me up and put my real 
clothes back on. She unpinned the diapers, wash me thoroughly in front, all 
between my legs, and my entire bottom. She had me pull my legs up and apart so 
she could clean everything on my backside. The baby wipes smelt good and masked 
some of the poop smell, although they were a little cold and clammy feeling on 
my skin. Once mom was satisfied she brought out 2 new diapers and stacked them 
together. I noticeably groaned at the sight of them.

"Ohhh, is baby Crissie still having tummy cramps, hmmm, sweetie?" she said.

"No, mommy. I just thought I could wear my underwear again."

She smiled at me like any adult smiles at a two-year-old. "Oh, sweetie. You 
aren't old enough for girl panties. The diapers are just right for you so you 
don't make messes. I told you, you will get used to these, because you will not 
use the potty until you're old enough for it."

Being so tired and worn out for the day's ordeal, I begin to whimper again. She 
began to coo at me while continuing to pull the diaper under me. The more she 
cooed the more I cried. I couldn't help it, I felt like I was falling in to a 
deep hole and wasn't going to be able to ever climb out. She poked another 
suppository in my butt, pinned the diapers tightly, pulled on the plastic pants 
(imprisoned again), and leaned over and hugged me tightly.

"There, there. You'll be all right, Mommy's here. I'll take good care of you. 
You look so pretty in your nice clean diapers and pretty pink pants." She was so 
soothing and calm I begin to slowly settle down. I felt the plastic pants with 
my hands, rubbing the diapers underneath and feeling the bulk around my body, 
down between my legs. It was like wearing a super giganto pad, only I didn't 
have my period.

She fed me two more bottles of formula while I lay in her lap on the chair 
again. I got a few more pills, then back in the crib. I vaguely remember her 
coming in later and going through the whole routine again. She had wanted me 
pooping and I was now a pooping machine.

I did not see my mother again that night. I was left alone in my crib, to wet 
and mess myself throughout the night. I slept very deeply until my tummy would 
cramp and wake me up. I would poop or pee some more and go right back to sleep. 
By morning I had filled my diaper beyond the limit, and the pee was leaking on 
my crib, The room smelled of my poop. When my mother finally came in, she had to 
open all of the windows. I was very groggy. I didn't say a word, after what had 
happened the day before, I decided to be a good baby and get this over with as 
soon as possible. I wanted to be a teenager again, not a baby. I wished I had 
never gotten that damned video and had never played with myself. At that moment 
I couldn't even imagine playing with myself, reaching inside the messy diaper. 
Yecchh!

"How's my little one today, huh? My gosh, you're very red," my mother said a 
little surprised as she unpinned my diaper and cleaned me up. It took her a long 
time get me all wiped down; my poop was all over my back and front.

"I guess my baby has a diaper rash as well as a very raw bottom. Mommy will take 
care of that for you." She got a tube of Desitin from one of the drawers of the 
dresser, and spread it over my backside, between my legs, and front.

Then I was powdered for the first time. The powder smelled so good after the 
stink. She powdered my chest and underarms, smoothing it in with her warm hands. 
It felt wonderful having my chest rubbed; not sexually, but just physically. I 
was diapered and covered in plastic pants, confined yet again. She got me down 
from the table, had me face her and put one leg up at a time around her waist as 
she hooked her arms under them. I put my arms around her neck, lay my head on 
her shoulder, and she carried me out of the nursery while patting my plastic 
covered bottom. "You were very good and cooperative today, so you may watch TV 
this morning, but only the tapes I got you, and if you're bad it's back to the 
nursery, understood?"

"Yes, mommy." She put my glasses on me and I was soon sitting on the living room 
carpet in front of the TV watching a Barney tape. I was so worn out from 
yesterday and I was still drowsy from the sleeping pills; my mind was numb and 
Barney just melted into my subconscious.

Mommy finally came for me and had me crawl into the kitchen. Sitting next to the 
dining table was a high chair. I winced at the sight of it; she had thought of 
everything. This was going to be more difficult to get out of than I had 
thought. She helped me up into the chair.

"Put your hands on your legs, sweetie," she requested. As I did she put the tray 
over my arms and locked in place, snug against my body. "Just keep your arms 
under there for right now." Not that I had much choice, I would have to squirm 
quite a bit to get them free.

She then tied a pink bib around my neck. It had baby bears in diapers on the 
front; at least it covered my bare chest. She went to the counter and brought 
back 2 bowls and set them on the table. She sat in a chair in front of me and 
took a spoonful from one with oatmeal. "Open up wide," she smiled. She had used 
a larger serving-type spoon. It wouldn't go completely into my mouth and as I 
tried to close around it to get the oatmeal I could feel some dripping off. I 
quickly realized that she had done this on purpose as after a few spoonfuls I 
knew I was covered with oatmeal all around my mouth. It didn't matter to me at 
that moment, it tasted so good since I hadn't had any solid food the day before.

She then alternated the oatmeal with warm applesauce. She would scoop the 
dribbles down my chin with the spoon and push it back in my mouth. I really felt 
stupid with food all over my face. When she had finally given me the last of the 
food ("All gone!" she said, like to a baby), she got a warm wet wash cloth and 
wiped my face down. She then warmed up a bottle of formula in the microwave, 
came back, sat down and held it to my mouth for me to suck.

"I like taking care of you, Crissie. I like having a baby again," she told me. I 
tried to reply and turned my head to get the nipple out of my mouth but she 
wouldn't let me. "No, finish your bottle. Be good now, ok?"

So there I was, I had to pee and began to let it flow, sitting in a babies high 
chair with a bib around my neck, being fed a bottle by my crazy mother. And yet, 
as much as I hated it and how she was treating me, I couldn't help but feel 
different inside. I couldn't put my finger on that feeling. I could feel the 
warm pee soaking my diaper. I could feel the warmth through the plastic pants 
with my hands under the tray.

She got me down and had me crawl back to the bedroom and into the playpen. I 
spent the rest of the morning there while mom went back and forth past my door 
and down the hall doing odd chores. She would check on me every few minutes. She 
had left a small teddy bear and some teething rings in the playpen. I held them 
a bit and even chewed on one just for something to do. I drifted in and out of 
sleep as the sleeping pills continued work on me.

The rest of that day went pretty much the same: napping, peeing, pooping, 
suppositories, several pills after a gooey baby lunch, afternoon naps, a gooey 
dinner, bottles, more pills, sleeping all night.

A VISITOR

The next morning mom came in, opened the curtains as usual, and then changed me. 
I was wet and a little poopy from the night. She carried me down the hall and 
into the living room, my legs around her waist as before.

"Look who's come to see you sweetie," she turned her body so I could see over 
her shoulder. Standing there was my Aunt Wendy. She's the one person I was 
always happy to see and my favorite relative. But, dressed and treated as I was, 
embarrassment washed over me and I hid my face in my mom's neck and shoulder.

"Ohhhh, she's being a little shy today," said my mom. "It's ok, Wendy came to 
visit us," as she tried to pass me over to Wendy. I wouldn't let go of her neck 
and didn't want Wendy to see me in this condition. Mom pulled harder and I 
started to cry a bit.

Wendy came over and started patting my back, "Come here. I want to hold you, 
kiddo," a name she always used on me.

"I don't want you to see me like this, Wendy," I explained into mom's neck.

"Oh, nonsense. I want to hold you. I know all about two-year-olds and babies," 
she said. That really didn't make me feel better but I decided I still wanted to 
see her. I put my legs down on the floor turned and climbed up onto my aunt, put 
my legs around her waist, and buried my face in her neck. She partly staggered 
to our large chair and sat down, I adjusted my position so I was sitting in her 
lap, my face still buried in her neck.

"I feel so foolish like this, Wendy," I sobbed in her ear. "I don't want to be a 
baby."

"Oh, kiddo, but you need this so bad. We want our little Crissie back." Aughh! 
She used my baby name too! "You need to be our baby for awhile, we love you 
bunches and really care for you." She gently rocked me and I soon relaxed.

Mom started to say, "I'll get her bottle ready."

Wendy said, "No, I want to give her mine." She had a four-year-old and a 
ten-month-old. She had been nursing her baby as Wendy believed in natural 
methods and living.

"Scoot down a little," she asked me. I hadn't thought about what she meant and 
before I knew it she pulled up her blouse in front of my face exposing her 
breast to me. She put her free hand on the back of my head and pushed my mouth 
onto her nipple. I tried resisting, this was really gross. "Come on, kiddo, this 
is better for you than any bottle. I didn't bring Timmy this morning and my 
breast is beginning to hurt because it's so full. Please, drink up for me, ok?"

What could I do? I put my lips to her nipple but pulled back again. She coaxed 
me with her hand on my head, pushing me in to her breast. I took a tentative 
suckle at her nipple and found the taste a little better than the formula, a 
little sweeter. I closed my eyes and cuddled up tighter in her arms, and began 
to drink from her.

"I thought you might like that," she whispered in my ear. She rocked me gently 
and patted my bottom just like mom did when she fed me. All too soon I couldn't 
get anymore of her milk and she pulled me off.

Looking down at me in her arms, she said, "Now, wasn't that good. Breast milk is 
so much better for a baby. You're such a pretty little girl. I wish I could take 
you home with me. As a matter of fact, when mommy needs to go out she'll bring 
you to my house so I can baby-sit, ok kiddo?"

"But Wendy..." I started to explain.

"Shh, shh. I know you don't like this right now. But this is really best for 
you. I hope I can help your mommy and you be good together again. I think you're 
absolutely adorable and I love holding you like this and cuddling with you."

I had to admit I enjoyed being this close to her. I had never really hugged her 
or anything before, and now I was in her lap, being held by her, and drinking 
from her boob. I nodded and said, "Thanks, Wendy."

"From now on, call me Aunt Wendy, ok?"

I nodded again, "Yes, Aunt Wendy."

"Oh, I got you a present Crissie," Wendy said. "Get down on the floor." I obeyed 
and kneeled in front of her. She handed me a package. I ripped it open and found 
a romper. A big pink cotton baby romper with puffed short sleeves, elastic legs, 
and wide collar. It buttoned up the back. I was horrified, here was yet another 
decent into babyhood. Wendy noticed my reaction and gave me a frown, "You can't 
go around in just diapers all the time, I thought you'd a least like to get 
covered up somewhat."

I looked at my mom who was sitting there smiling. I said "I just want a T-shirt 
and some pants, I'll wear the diapers but not this too." Mom grabbed me by the 
arm and I was soon over her knee in the bedroom again getting some more 
paddling. It hurt every smack she gave me. When she finished and turned me over 
Wendy was standing in the doorway. Wendy gave her the romper and mom grabbed my 
legs, pulled my feet through, had me stand up, put my arms through and buttoned 
up the back.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Wendy," I blubbered through my tears.

"You should be, you naughty little baby. Crissie, your Aunt Wendy made this for 
you because she cares so much for you. When she heard I didn't have any clothes 
for you she made this right away. You should be thankful she cares about you so 
much! Look at at cute you look," she scolded.

"I am sorry. Thank you," I said. Then quickly added, "Aunt Wendy." I couldn't 
decide whether to hate her, despise her, or love her even more.

"Now, stand back and let's look at you," said mom. The elastic legs were right 
at the crotch with my legs fully exposed and above that the bottom ballooned out 
around my diapers. From the waist up it tapered fitting tighter around the 
chest. Across the seat were three rows of ruffles. I felt them with my hand, 
rubbing across the lacey material, my bulky diaper underneath.

Wendy was watching me and smiled, "I couldn't resist the ruffles since I don't 
have any girls yet. Boy clothes are so plain compared to what you can do with 
little baby girl clothes." Oh boy, I winced again. I can see it now, lots of 
ruffles for me.

Wendy spent the rest of the morning with us with me sitting in her lap most of 
the time, either on the sofa or at the dining table while mom had coffee and 
Wendy sipped some special tea (caffeine makes breast taste bad to babies). She 
fed me again from her other breast and helped lay me down for my nap. As I was 
drifting off I told her again how sorry I was and thanked her for the new 
romper. She patted my head and told me not to worry.

When I woke later mom came in, changed me, and put the romper back on again. She 
had me crawl out to the kitchen and got me in the high chair again, hands on my 
knees. She put the bib around my neck, and started feeding me my goo again. It 
was rice or something mushy with creamed peas and creamed carrots as yummy side 
dishes. During the middle of my lunch the doorbell rang. Mom went to answer it 
leaving me in the chair with food all over my face. I heard her talking for a 
minute and then shut the door. She came back to the kitchen and right behind was 
my best friend Beth. I was shocked and embarrassed once again. I just sat there 
staring at her, for one thing she wasn't in all black like she also normally 
wore. She actually had on a light yellow sleeveless cotton top and a pair of 
blue jean cutoffs. Beth just smiled and said hi.

"Mom," I whined. "Don't let Beth see me, pleeeaassee?" almost begging.

"Beth has been calling everyday to come see you. I know I couldn't keep her away 
forever, so I told her about you being a baby again. I made a deal with her that 
she could come see you if she changed herself too. I told her that she had to 
get rid of the black grunge look and start dressing like a normal regular girl. 
She agreed and came to see you today."

Beth looked at me "I'm still your friend. Your mom said I could see you every 
day if I wanted. I missed you, you're my best friend, no one else wants anything 
to do with me. As least dressed and acting like we were doing."

"Thanks," I mumbled. Mom finished giving me my lunch with Beth watching. I had 
to pee but couldn't do it in front of Beth, even if she wouldn't really know. 
Once I was cleaned up mom had me get down and crawl to the living room. Back on 
the couch she gave me my lunch bottle. Beth watched in fascination. She asked 
questions of my mom about hold to hold me, hold the bottle, what kind of food 
did I eat and so on. She talked to mom like I wasn't there. I finished the 
bottle and Beth went to the kitchen and came back with another bottle. At first 
she began to hand it to mom but mom asked if Beth would mind giving it to me. 
They switched places and I laid in Beth's arms.

"I feel stupid like this," I said to them.

"Forget about it, Crissie. I've got to clean up the kitchen and Beth can help me 
with you. She can be a big help helping with everything around here. She gets to 
see you and I'm giving her a little money for helping out."

"But mom," I begin and stopped immediately. I could see mom's hand as she patted 
it against the top of her thigh. I knew what she meant and I didn't want to be 
paddled in front of Beth. I shut up and waited for Beth to give me the bottle. 
Mom helped show her how to hold it correctly and how to hold me still while I 
was fed. I begin sucking and mom left for her chores. Beth began to coo at me a 
little and giggling some and I couldn't help smiling up at her since it was so 
ridiculous. She smiled back and we were soon hugging each other. She told me how 
she was worried when my mom wouldn't let her see me at first and then how 
surprised she was when mom told her about me. She knew she wanted to be near me 
and made the deal with mom. She began to tell me about some of the people we 
hung out with but before she got very far she stopped.

I asked her why she stopped, talking around the nipple. She said that they 
didn't matter any more and she promised my mom to talk about toddler stuff to 
me, about growing up and about being loved. Oh, boy, this didn't like fun 
either. Even though Beth is a few inches taller than me I was always kind of the 
leader between the two of us. Now she was going to look after me!

I finally couldn't hold it anymore and started peeing. Beth notice me fidgeting 
and asked what was wrong. I told her I was peeing and she put her hand on my 
crotch to see if it was warm (which it was). It felt funny everyone putting 
their hand in my crotch. Beth told my mom that my diapers were wet and mom had 
me crawl to the bedroom. Beth stood by watching and asking questions again as 
mom diapered me. As she finished she told Beth "There, next time you can change 
her and I'll watch." I began shaking my head no but my mom ignored me and got me 
back into my romper.

"Mom, can't Beth just visit me. It's weird if she changes me too."

"Crissie, Beth is here to help out with me. I'll need her help with anything. 
So, get used to it, she already knows what a baby girl looks like, she used to 
change her baby sister a few years ago, remember?" I nodded but wasn't 
satisfied.

"But I'm not her baby sister."

"Yes, but she has babysat before and it's no different. If you're wet or messy 
you've got to be changed. It's part of being a baby. We'll take care of you for 
now." And that was the end of that. Beth came over everyday, changed and fed me 
bottles while chatting with me about Barney, Sesame Street, Mickey Mouse, teddy 
bears, and things like that. I was just happy to have someone to talk to besides 
my mom.

One morning my crotch begin to itch a lot and mommy noticed me squirming. She 
took me into the changing table and removed my diaper, wet of course. She 
examined me closely. She pulled the safety straps across my waist and fastened 
it. "I'll be right back," she said.

She came back with some things and place them at the other end of the changing 
table. She then sprayed some foam on my crotch. "Bend you knees a little," she 
asked me. I did and she directed my legs and knees so my legs were spread wide 
open. "Hold still", and she began shaving my crotch.

"No, mommy. Please," I blubbered.

"You have a bad rash which comes from you not being smooth. I'm just helping you 
so we don't have to fight this nasty diaper rash. You'll be clean and smooth 
like any baby." That was why I was whimpering, this was my maturity being taken 
away, my womanhood. When she finished she took out some ointment. I could feel 
how smooth my crotch was as she passed her hand over it while rubbing in the 
ointment. I was now bare-assed and completely infantile in all appearances. I 
had no breasts, no pubic hair, I was small, and I was her baby. This was getting 
worse every day.

She pinned fresh diapers on me and pulled a clean pair of plastic pants over 
them. Trapped again. I rolled on my side towards the wall and began crying. I 
was devastated. She wasn't ever going to let me grow up again.

Mom put her hands on my back and shoulders. She rubbed a bit, keeping silent. 
She leaned down and gave me a big hug. All she said was "I love you." She let me 
cry while she tidied the room and helped me down once I had stopped.

"Mom, can't we talk about all of this. About me, about wearing diapers and 
things."

"Crissie, you aren't old enough to discuss this. Now let's go into the living 
room," she replied.

But I was determined to end this, "Mom, please. I need to talk about this, I 
don't want to wear diapers."

"Crissie, no more now," she warned.

I kept up my pleas, "Mom, I'll be a good girl for you."

"That's enough," and she grabbed something from one of the drawers. It was a 
large pacifier and she pushed into my mouth. I begin to try talking around it 
but there were straps on each side that she pulled behind my head, turned me 
around, fastened them and pulled them tight. Now I couldn't talk.

"Crissie, we're beyond giving you paddles every time you're bad. You'll wear 
this all day today except to eat. I'll take it out tomorrow morning. If you talk 
back any more you'll get it again."

She could think up more ways to defeat me. I pulled at it with my fingers and 
she quickly slapped my hand. "No playing with your binky. Leave it alone and 
crawl to the living room."

I was depressed the rest of the day. Beth came over and ended up talking with my 
mother most of the day since I couldn't talk. They talked around me like I 
couldn't understand anything. They talked about how I was doing and what I liked 
and didn't like. I felt like I was eavesdropping listening to people talk about 
me.

The Punishment Part Four
REBELLION

That night after being put to bed in just diapers again, I waited until I heard 
mom go to bed. I then undid the pacifier straps, pulled off the plastic pants, 
threw them on the floor, unpinned the diapers and threw all of that on the floor 
too. I pulled the blanket up over my shoulders and slept soundly. It felt good 
to be free again, even if I was still in the crib.

Mom was standing over me when I woke up. I rolled onto my back and looked up at 
her. She was smiling at. Yet, I knew I didn't have the diapers on. I could feel 
the cold wet sheet under me. I had peed in my sleep. I might have to sleep on 
wet sheets for a few nights but I was going to give up diapers.

Pulling the covers back mom shook her head. "See Crissie, you need your diapers. 
You don't know when you're wetting yourself." She got me out of bed and into the 
high chair she had brought into the bedroom. She locked the tray in place and 
before I could protest she put the big pacifier in my mouth again and secured 
the straps. She left the room and came back with some things in her hands.

One thing was a pair of white cotton gloves. She tried to slip them on my hands 
but I made both hands into hard fists, I wasn't going to let her do this. She 
laid everything on the tray in front of me, turned and left again. When she came 
back she had a piece of ice in one hand. She rubbed the ice over one of my 
nipples, as it hardened and extended she then clipped a clothespin on that 
nipple. The pain was excruciating, I screamed around the pacifier. Within a few 
seconds I had to give in and opened my hands. She removed the clothespin and 
slipped the gloves on my hands underneath the tray. I could not move my fingers 
apart. Even though there were separate fingers she must have sewn them together. 
Over those she slipped a pair of light pink cotton mittens. The insides were 
lined with some padding and something stiff so I couldn't bend my fingers. She 
secured these with tight straps that clipped together. Once she was done she 
took the tray off the chair and helped me to the changing table.

I was now helpless. She pinned new diapers on me and pulled home a pair of 
plastic pants, once again imprisoned and now helpless to boot. I couldn't talk, 
couldn't use a bathroom, couldn't do anything for myself.

The Punishment Part Five
THE MALL
Stroller

A week later, I was still in diapers, and had begun to get used to them, both 
the routine of changing and the wearing of them. It got so that I was pissing 
myself, and not even noticing. I still hated messing myself, and had to force 
myself to do it, not really having any other choice. But wetting was easy; I 
even started wetting during the night without waking up.

My mother came in my nursery, and talked to me while changing my diaper. "You 
have been a very good girl this week. When she was done changing me she said, 
"Okay, I'll get you dressed. We have to go to the mall because we need to get 
you some more clothes and things so you look decent." She put me in my romper 
and some sandals. Aunt Wendy hadn't made anymore outfits for me yet.

A little later Aunt Wendy arrived and we all went out to the car. I waddled a 
bit, not used to actually walking anywhere for over a week and especially not in 
diapers. Mom opened the rear car door and had me get in. She then pulled then 
seat beat over me and had me secured for the trip.

When we arrived at the mall mom and Wendy got out and went to the back of the 
car and opened the trunk. They were there for a little while and I was beginning 
to think they had forgotten about me. Mom finally came and opened my door, 
removed the seatbelt and helped me out. Wendy was standing by the trunk with a 
pink umbrella stroller! It was a large one, the type for four- or 
five-year-olds. When I got in mom pulled a strap up between my legs, threaded it 
through the waist belt and snapped it together on the other side. Not only was I 
sitting in the stroller, but confined as well since I was still wearing the 
mittens. My feet fit comfortably on a bar. I was hoping no one would really 
notice me or think anything about that I might really be a sixteen-year-old 
girl.

Once inside the mall we were going down one wing when I could see some kids from 
school that I had classes with coming the other way. I started to panic and 
started to twist in my stroller to have mom turn me away so they wouldn't see me 
but she was talking with Wendy. Before I knew they were walking right passed us. 
None of them even looked down at me. Once we got to the next wing we made a 
beeline for a hair salon. At first I thought my mom or aunt were going to get 
their hair done, but as soon as we got inside my mom told the receptionist, 
"This is my little girl I called about."

Uh-oh, I thought, now what. They wheeled me back to one of the chairs and then 
got me out. The stylist, Sharon, started in by saying, "Ohhh, isn't she a pretty 
little thing. She's adorable."

I got into the chair and mom said, "You know what to do."

First, the removed the last of the earrings that mom had not already removed. 
Then they changed my hair-color from black to light brown. While that was going 
on they removed the mittens, then took off my dark nail polish, cut the nails 
very short, and repainted them very pale pink. They even did my toenails, which 
I had never done before at all. After my hair color was changed Sharon then gave 
me a full perm with small tight curlers. She wound them so tightly I thought she 
was pulling my hair out by the roots. After the set time she took the curlers 
out and of course my hair was extremely curly, Shirley Temple style but longer, 
even in front which became bangs. They placed one set of simple pink pearls in 
my ears. When my nails were dry mom put the mittens back on me.

They had me turned away from the mirror the entire time. Once Sharon stood back 
and announced I was finished, mom helped me down, took my mittened hand and 
walked me over to the full-length mirror. I was shocked to say the least. 
Horrified a bit, flabbergasted, speechless (even if I hadn't had the pacifier in 
my mouth). In the mirror was a toddler little baby girl, full brown curly hair 
with a big pink bow on top of her head. She had a fat little diapered bottom 
with her bare little legs exposed below the pink frilly romper. I still didn't 
feel like one but for all intents and purposes I was a baby girl in appearance. 
All of the ladies in the shop ohhed and ahhed me. Mom stood by beaming like any 
proud momma.

We spent the rest of the morning going in and out of department stores and 
children's stores. It turns out I was a girls size of which there was an 
abundance of dresses with bows, ruffles, and lace. At first I was happy that 
they were a least older looking than baby dresses but soon overheard mom and 
Wendy discusses how the could shorten the various dresses to "baby" length so my 
bottom would be exposed. They were only able to find a few pairs of rumba 
panties for me but Wendy promised mom she would make several more pairs. Mom 
picked out tights, petticoats, frilly socks, and "Mary Jane" shoes in white and 
black. She also got me some white and pink sandals. In one store they found 
lightweight sleepers that would fit me. They buttoned up the back and, 
naturally, had ruffles on the seat.

We stopped for lunch and mom put me in one of the high chairs provided in the 
food court. Wendy went off to get some hamburgers and mom got out some baby food 
jars for me. That group of kids I had seen eariler were seated several tables 
away from us. One of the girls pointed me out to one of the others but rather 
than recognizing me I could hear them say how cute that baby was (meaning me). I 
wished I could've melted. They smiled at me off and on throughout our lunches. 
As I was finishing my spoon-feeding by mom I asked her if she would buy me a 
coke or something since I could drink from a straw.

"No silly, coke is not good for my baby Crissie," and promptly brought out a 
bottle and handed it to me. I could hold a bottle between my mittened hands but 
sitting up I had to tilt my head back to drink. It took a long time to drink it 
that way as I could hold my head back for so long before getting tired of 
holding up both arms. Meanwhile, the kids from school had moved off and they 
never recognized me, especially since I looked so radically different that the 
last time any of them had seen me.

GROCERY STORE

Wendy altered the dresses and brought them over the next day. Mom was so excited 
she got me dressed in one right away. It was pink bridal satin with a chiffon 
covering. The edges were all trimmed in wide ruffled lace including the short 
puff sleeves. It had matching rumba panties that Aunt Wendy had made. She had 5 
rows of ruffles across the bottom with matching leg ruffles. It was topped off 
with a matching bonnet with long satin ribbons to tie in a big bow under my 
chin. Mom decided we needed to go out then and there. She decided she needed 
some things from the grocery store. Wendy didn't have time to go with us and 
went home.

When we got there, Mom got out the car, came around to the back door, unlocked 
my seat belt and helped me out of the car. Placing my pacifier in my mouth, she 
said, "Keep this in your mouth, sweetie. I want everyone to understand that you 
are just a baby."

I could feel the cool morning air on my legs since my dress only came to just 
below my waist. I really couldn't imagine what I looked like exactly until Mommy 
took my hand and we walked up to the front door of the store. As we got right to 
the window I could see my reflection in the glass door for a second and couldn't 
believe that toddle baby girl was really me. That little girl did look so small 
and precious. That tiny girl was me. At that moment I felt like I was behind a 
mask and just playing a role. Unfortunately, it was really me and it was who I 
really was, a baby girl.

As we got into the store, Mommy released my hand to pull out a shopping cart. 
She then put her hands under my armpits. "Jump for me sweetie," she said. 
Without even thinking I hopped upward and with that she lifted me up to the 
child seat of the cart. I brought my legs up so my feet could clear the push 
handle and then quickly fit them through the leg holes. Mommy straightened my 
dress behind my back, then brought the safety straps around and clipped them 
across my waist. With the mittens on I was locked into the seat and wouldn't be 
able to get out until she let me.

At first I felt very foolish and thought everyone would simply point and laugh 
at the girl dressed as a baby sitting in the cart. Luckily, I could only clearly 
see my mom in front of me pushing the cart. It was hard to make out anyone else, 
though I could tell people were moving around. Before long however, most of the 
people we passed, all being women at that time of day, gave me a big smile and 
some would comment to mommy at what a pretty baby she had. A few tickled my nose 
and said baby talk to me. I begin to relax and enjoy the view from high up. 
Mommy would play with me, tickle me, and even play nose kisses with me. I 
started enjoying myself and forgot about my pacifier, it just was part of me 
now. We went up and down the aisles, one by one. I would swing my feet when 
mommy stopped to pick out something. I could see my patent leather shoes and 
frilly ankle socks swing in an out of view. I loved looking at my feet with 
those shoes and socks on.

Punishment Part Six
SO LONG CRIS

A few days later I noticed mom in my old bedroom. I had been playing with blocks 
and teddy bears on the floor in the living room and noticed her going in and out 
of my old bedroom down the hall. I crawled down to the door to see what she was 
doing, more from a curious standpoint that anything else. She had an armful of 
my old black T-shirts and black jeans.

"What are you doing, Mommy?" I asked.

"I'm throwing away all these old clothes. They don't belong in this house any 
more and this person will not be coming back," she told me. It surprised me and 
gave me a little shock. My old self was being discarded. This baby thing is who 
I was for now, I was not longer to be a teenager. If I didn't have any of my old 
clothes then that meant I only had baby clothes to wear. It hit me kind of deep 
and I began to cry softly, tears just running down my cheeks. Mom stopped on her 
next pass through with another armload and noticed my tears.

"Oh, what's a matter, my poor baby?"

"Mommy, I need grown up clothes too, don't I?" I whimpered.

"No, no, silly. My baby will only wear nice new baby clothes for a while. You'll 
get to wear big girl clothes when you get bigger. You're too small for big girl 
clothes." This hurt me a little because she emphasized the "small" and I am 
sensitive about my size since I am always being teased.

"Mommy, please don't call me small," I pleaded.

"Now, don't worry about those things. You'll understand when you grow up. Now 
stay back a bit so mommy can finish clearing out this room." And that was it, my 
former life ended up in bags on either the curb for trash or in the trunk of the 
car for Goodwill. I had a hopeless feeling of no return. I was trapped living my 
life as an infant.

It dawned on me that these clothes, these baby clothes, were really "my" 
clothes. These were the things that I wore and were hanging in my closet. Up to 
now I just thought of them as simply "baby clothes", not really belonging to 
anything or anyone. But, they were for me, they were what I got dressed in to 
got out with Mommy.

"My" clothes were defined as baby rompers, frilly short dresses, diapers, rumba 
panties, tights, bows in my hair and so on. I realized that even I considered 
these as mine now, not the things that mom made me wear but they were "my" 
clothes. It was a big distinction and a hard realization. My room was the one 
with the crib and the changing table. I began to cry and mom tried to picked me 
up.

To this day I don't know why I reacted at that moment, but I suddenly decided to 
protest the entire treatment of me once again. For some reason I wanted to 
resist the feelings that had started forming right then. I pushed away from her 
and said in my most mature voice, "Mom, I don't want to do this anymore. I am 
not a baby and I don't want to be treated like one."

I knew I had shocked her, I could see it in her eyes. She didn't say anything at 
that moment. She called Wendy on the phone and asked her to come over to watch 
me. When Wendy arrived my mom told her she'd be back in a little while. I was 
afraid she was going to start all over again with the paddling and the laxative 
treatment. I was scared that maybe I had been too vocal and had screwed things 
up.

Mom was gone for a long time. Wendy read to me a bit and gave me lunch. She then 
laid me down for my nap with a bottle. I drifted off to sleep still worried that 
I had upset mom a little too much.

I was awaken by mom as she was stroking my hair. I looked up and said, "I'm 
sorry mommy. I didn't really mean it. I don't want you to be mad."

"I'm not mad sweetie," she offered. "I just need you to do something for me. 
Hold out your tongue, please." As I did she said, "I don't mind your tongue stud 
but I got you a new one. I hope you like it." Wendy stood at the end of the crib 
and watched. With her there I wanted to be as good as possible.

She took out the old stud and then put in a new one. As I started to retract my 
tongue into my mouth I realized the stud was very wide. The edges of it were 
caught on the corners of my mouth. Mom helped me get the stud inside my mouth 
and I could then tell that instead of a small round stud in the middle of my 
tongue this was a "T" bar. It went across the top of my tongue towards both 
sides of my mouth. I quickly realized that I could not close my teeth together. 
As I bit down either one side of the bar or both would be between my teeth.

I tried to explain the problem to my mother, "Momwa, I cawn't bit down with 
thith in my mowth." She just smiled at me.

"Now I tawk funny, Momwa," I tried telling her. As I said it the purpose hit 
home. "I cawn onwee tawk like a babwy now, huh?" I asked her.

"Yes sweetie, now you can't use those big girl words. You are just a baby, ok?"

Moving the bar around in my mouth, I tried to find a spot where I would be able 
to talk around it but it was too wide to get it out of the way. Further more, I 
realized that I wouldn't be able to chew; I was going to have to only eat baby 
food.

"Momwa, why are you dowing thith to me? I'm sowwy momwa, I'wwl be gwood for you 
frwom now on," I bawled. Tears just burst forth and I begin sobbing 
uncontrollably.

Mom got me out of the crib and took me to our chair, held me tightly in her arms 
and gently rocked me. It was at that moment that I began to feel what this was 
all about. Even though I was upset with her with my eyes squeezed tightly shut 
and face buried on her shoulder, it was laying in her arms and being together 
was why she had made me a baby again, about her wanting to hold me close; to be 
close to me again. I realized how much I had to begin to want it too, how much I 
needed her comfort. I needed her, not because she had made me helpless, but 
because I loved her and really needed her. I could feel the security and joy of 
being with her emotionally.

At that moment it all hit me. It was like all of the past few weeks became 
condensed into that moment, all those episodes came together at once, and I 
could clearly see that I loved my mom more than anything. I loved that she had 
fought to bring me back into her life, to bring us back together as a family. I 
finally succumbed and let myself fold into complete regression and be a baby 
with baby needs and thoughts, to be her baby. With tears running down my face, I 
hugged mom as hard as I could and said, "Oh mommwy, I wuv you so much. I'm so 
sowwy for evweething. Twank you for hewlping me. I'm gwad I'm your babwy."

Mom began crying, "I always just wanted my girl back! The real Cristine."

The Punishment Part Seven
I AM A BABY, AND PROUD OF IT

I now continue to wear diapers and my baby things when I'm at home and on 
weekends. Over the next month my mother re-trained me and allowed me to grow up 
again when I go out and for school. Still from time to time, when I am bad, she 
makes me start over again, in fact I still to this day wear training pants, as 
she says "It's a constant reminder to be good."

As the summer ended mom tried to get me ready to go back to school, but she 
couldn't get me potty trained again in time. She started setting me on a potty 
seat 2 weeks before school but I couldn't get the hang of it. Mom had to buy 
disposables for me to wear to school for the first couple of weeks and then 
training pants while at school, diapers again when I got home. I wear skirts in 
order to hide the bulk of the diapers. I am no longer punk, but a dainty little 
petite girl in a skirt with a big secret underneath.

The End