The next morning I woke to find her standingover me in my sleep. At least that’s what I thought. When I opened my eyes I saw that she was checking the diaper to see if I had wet it during the night. I had. When she pulled down the diaper in front to change me, she got a funny smile on her face. Then it hit me, I had pooped in my sleep! She was never going to let me wear training pants after this! I started crying and she finished changing me and picked me up to comfort me. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening to me!”, I cried as she patted my back and told me how much she loved me.
Then I realized how I sounded. I was carrying on as if I really was a baby. My wails had made my speech unintelligible and I sounded like a real baby. I screamed again in frustration. After a while I calmed down and she took me to the kitchen to feed me breakfast. Within two hours I had pooped again in my diaper requiring another diaper change. I knew if she didn’t change me back soon, I would become psychologically dependent on diapers and would be forced to wear diapers even if she did succeed in changing me back.
I finally managed to convince her to try the machine again this morning. It was a humiliating experience to have to kneel before her on my hands and knees and beg for her to try to change me back into an adult. She told me that she’d wanted to find some old clothes of mine for me to wear after the change. I told her to use any of my clothes, but she just gave me that funny look again and said since she would be the one who had to wash my pants if I pooped in them, it was her choice to make. She went into the bedroom and went through my clothes while I watched tv. There was nothing on but soaps and cartoons, so I selected the later. I had become quite addicted to cartoons in the last twenty-four hours, they seemed so bright and entertaining since my change.
Pauline came out of the bedroom with an angry expression on her face and said, “Okay baby, It’s time for your treatment. I’m going to make a phone call first and then we’ll go.”
She packed the diaper bag and left me for a few minutes then returned. Something was wrong I decided, but I couldn’t figure out just what it was. All of a sudden she seemed to be extremely distant and angry with me. It must be my imagination I thought. I’m just misinterpreting her reaction to the stress of subjecting me to another treatment. She sat me in my office chair while she prepared the machine for my treatment. She rolled the chair under the projector and said casually, “Okay, I’m ready to start the machine. Do you have any last words for me?”
I laughed and said, “You make it sound like my execution!”
“It is,” she replied and threw the main breaker switch.
I blacked out and when I came to, I was sitting in another chair swaddled in a baby blanket. I tried to talk to her but all that came out were baby noises. What had happened to me? Suddenly Gina rushed in and said breathlessly, “You said there was an accident and something happened to your husband. Where is he? Is he okay?”