Andrew watched the movie through the infant’s eyes that were once his own and drooled both figuratively and literally. Watching Brad put his hand next to Amber’s crotch nearly drove Andrew’s mind mad with desire. Every time he saw Brad drop his hand to the bowl which she held in her lap between her legs he had visions of Brad manipulating her naked body. If he had had full control of his body, he’d have quivered in lust. Strangely, the smell of popcorn brought back fresh memories of adult fare that he had eaten only weeks before and intermixed with his sexual desires, nearly driving him to the brink of utter madness. He couldn’t decided which he wanted most, the opportunity to sit beside Amber in his adult body or to gorge himself on the luscious smelling popcorn that Amber held so enticingly in her lap. The saliva that dripped incontinently from his chin wasn’t the result of any desire of his own, rather it was caused by his infant body’s inability to control his lips and tongue. Drool poured from his slack jawed mouth in an unending fountain to run over his lower face in rivulets and drip from his chin in long strings to pool on the waterproof plastic pad of the playpen beneath his hands. From time-to-time, his subconscious’s mind was attracted by the sounds from the TV, causing him to flicker eyes momentarily towards the TV set. Other than those moments, the infantile part of his mind was enchanted by Amber. He watched her every movement, allowing Andrew to observe almost every instant of the scene that was playing itself out before his innocent baby blue eyes.
About halfway through the movie, Brad’s hand “accidentally” strayed and met the soft mound of flesh above Amber’s pubic region. Amber didn’t blink an eye as she picked up his hand without looking and redirected it to the almost empty bowl of popcorn. Brad made a moue of disappointment at his rejected advance, but decided to finish the bowl of popcorn and get “down to business” later. After a few more minutes, Brad said, “I’ve seen this movie before, why don’t we listen to some music instead?”
Amber agreed and turned off the movie, then went through Krystyn’s CDs for something appropriate. She didn’t want anything that might upset the baby, but on the other hand she didn’t want anything to excite Brad further. It was almost time for him to leave anyhow. The baby needed to be fed and she didn’t think he’d be very tolerant of the idea that she had other responsibilities other than satisfying Brad’s urges. She chose “Eine Kleine Nacht” from Krystyn’s collection CD and put it in tray of the player, then excused herself so she could go to the kitchen and warm the baby’s bottle.
Amber returned a few minutes later and picked up baby Jimmy from the playpen to carry him into the kitchen for his dinner. Brad followed both out of curiosity and a desire to be omnipresent in the mind of the girl who he intended to seduce before the night was over. Brad stood at the doorway and watched as Amber performed her babysitting duties with her charge for the night.
Once she had Jimmy securely strapped into his high chair, she looked into the refrigerator to find the putrescent green-colored jar of baby food that Krystyn had promised would be present. She put the jar on the kitchen table and found a white rubber-coated feeding spoon in the silverware drawer and laid it beside the jar. It only took a few minutes to locate the plastic feeding bibs in the maple breadbox where Krystyn stored her kitchen towels in one stack and feeding bibs and washcloths in another stack. She stepped behind Jimmy and quickly snapped the feeding bib in place, tossing the washcloth she had selected on the table beside the jar of baby food. Then she pulled out a chair and began to fed the infant before her.
Brad stood at the entrance to the kitchen, looking at the jar of strained carrots she was feeding him and said, “How can he eat that gunk?”
“Don’t be silly, babies love this,” Amber responded in a happy, musical tone, “I know the idea of eating mashed peas seems horrible to you, but you don’t have a baby’s taste buds. They like it, besides, he doesn’t have any teeth to eat real food with.”
Andrew had always hated the taste of the carrots, however, his infantilized sense of taste made the sensation of eating the soft paste that passed for a solid meal seem pleasing. Despite his adult opinion of strained peas, he opened its mouth hungrily and accepted every spoonful that Amber was willing to feed him. Unfortunately for Andrew wishes, his uncoordinated tongue seemed to get in the way of each spoonful, causing the puréed mass to squeeze out of his mouth uncontrollably and spill great green-colored gobs of semi-solid food down his chin and into the catch-pocket of the feeding bib.
“Jesus Christ, that’s gross!”, exclaimed Brad.
“Nonsense!”, said Amber with perfect aplomb, “How well do you think you’d do if someone was spoon-feeding you? Give little Jimmy a break, he’s only a baby! Do you think you acted any better when you were his age?
“Look at him! He’s sticking his tongue out at you!”, Brad said in astonishment, “He must hate baby food!”
“Silly!”, Amber derided playfully, “It doesn’t mean anything of the kind! That’s the way that babies tell people they’ve had enough and don’t want anymore. They’ll stick out their tongues like that when they’re presented with baby bottles and breasts too! They have to have someway to tell you they’re full! After all, it’s not as if they could speak!”
“Are you sure about that?”, Brad questioned skeptically.
“Of course I’m sure! I’ve seen it hundreds of times!”, Amber replied with confidence, “In any case, it doesn’t matter now, he’s finished. He’s had enough solid foods for dinner. Let me wash his face and then he can finish his bottle of formula in the family room while we sit together. Besides, I want to make sure he doesn’t spit up his dinner before I bring him into the family room. If he does, then I’ll have a mess to clean up and have to feed him again.”
“Do you mean that he’s going to hurl what he just ate?”, Brad asked incredulously.
“Maybe,” Amber answered honestly, “If little babies get too much food or too much air in their stomachs, then they spit up. It’s best to give them a little time before moving them after a meal, that is, if you don’t mind?”
“No, no, not at all! The last thing I want to see is him tossing his cookies in front of me! Never mind, I’ll wait in the other room until he gets finished,” Brad replied queasily as he quickly retreated from the travails of normal infant behavior.
“Good idea!, Amber answered, “While you’re in there, I’ll burp him. He needs to release the air that he swallowed while he ate, before I bring him out. Once I relieve the pressure in his little tummy from the trapped air, he should be much less likely to spit up. Afterwards, you and I can talk,”
“Okay,” Brad replied, retreating to the family room in masculine revulsion at seeing another male in such a helpless condition.
Amber winded little Jimmy without incident and washed his face clean after running the washcloth she had gotten out under warm water in the kitchen sink. Then she carried him back to the family room with his baby bottle in her back pocket of her jeans and set him down in his playpen.
