by: lilbabyboy | Complete Story | Last updated Dec 29, 2008
A 23 year old man meets a strange young woman on Craigslist, who wants a baby. Him.
Chapter Description: A nameless man answers the Craigslist ad of his life.
I should’ve known.
I mean, it seemed too good to be true. She was in her early 20’s, busty, long brown hair, with sweet blue eyes and a caring smile. I answered her Casual Encounters Craigslist ad; she was looking for "someone to keep her company", whatever that meant.
I was a 23 year old, jobless, friendless man who lived at home with his parents. I would be lucky to get to even have the opportunity to pay for sex, let alone get it for free with a willing partner.
I hesitantly emailed her; this was probably fake. I had been burned too many times in the past by fakes and spammers... but this was real. She was a real, live woman looking for a guy on Craigslist, she lived near me, and apparently I fit the bill. We emailed back and forth for a few days and I agreed to meet her at her house, at her urging.
I walked up to the unassuming bungalow a bit nervous; I had a condom in my wallet and was dressed casually. I knocked twice, she opened the door and greeted me.
"You’re even handsomer than your picture!" She exclaimed, giving me a warm hug. Her name was Sheila and she exuded a maternal warmth. Truthfully, I just wanted to be held, but I was a bit embarrassed to admit that -- just didn’t seem manly. Men want to get fucked. Babies want to be held.
We walked over to her living room, sat down, and just talked for awhile. I spied a playpen in the corner and a pacifier on the coffee table. Sneaking a look down the hallway, I thought I saw the entrance to a baby’s nursery. Damn, she’s got kids.
"So, how was the drive? Sheila asked.
"Alright, I guess... its nice you live so close! How do you afford this place? Housing prices are crazy right now..."
I was bad at small talk, especially with women. Actually, I was bad at everything with women. I think she realized this and thought it was cute.
"Would you like a drink?" She asked.
"Sure".
"What can I get you..."
"Oh, whatever you’ve got."
"Okay!" She said warmly. I played with my toes while she busied herself in the kitchen. Yeah, I’m immature.
She returned with... a bottle of milk. As in, a baby bottle of milk.
"You seem like you’d enjoy this" she said as she handed the warmed bottle to me, but not before testing a few drops on her wrist. I then noticed the burp cloth on her shoulder.
I didn’t know whether or not to be offended, or to take it as a joke. It was all a bit weird, actually. I thought she was nuts.
"This... this is a baby’s bottle" I stammered.
"Indeed. I’d like you to drink it for me".
For some reason I couldn’t say no. I stuck the latex nipple in my mouth and sucked on the warm milk, feeling like an idiot. I suppose I wanted to make her happy.
The milk tasted a bit odd, like it had something "added" to it. Frankly, I didn’t want to ask any questions.
"Good boy!" she said, rubbing my tummy. Her touch was amazing; maternal, caring, and sweet. I noticed when she said that she said it in a sing-song voice, as women often do when speaking to infants. But I was still a man; physically, at least.
"Drink it all for mommy, little one" Sheila said as I nursed. I drained the bottle in probably a minute, what was, up to that point, the most awkward yet exhilarating minute of my life. The warm milk settled in my stomach and made me feel... good... all over.
"Now that you’ve finished your baba, I’ve got something to tell you. There was something in that bottle besides milk, something that’ll have a permanent effect on you".
Here it comes. This is how it always works in Age Regression stories... you’re fed some mysterious chemical that turns you into a baby. I had read lots of them and always thought they were so ridiculous.
"Its a chemical that’ll turn you into a baby."
Yeah. Bingo. Saw that one coming a mile away. I’m gonna be a baby again! Can’t even wrap my mind around that one. Beats my current life, anyway.
"How does that even work? How does a chemical de-age someone?" I asked incredulously, though not disbelieving that it would work.
"I’m a witch, and the government, in league with the CIA and the illuminati.... Also, vampires. Look, don’t ask questions. Enjoy your second babyhood, alright?" Sheila said.
"A lot of people fantasize about this, and you’re getting it practically handed to you". I couldn’t argue with that.
My new mommy stood over me, hands on her hips, with a motherly confidence. I suddenly realized what the playpen, the nursery, the bottles were for. She didn’t have a baby, she was just prepared for a baby. Some dupe off Craigslist. Me.
I felt my body begin to change. I began to get... smaller. I laid down, waiting for the inevitable to happen. My skin became softer. Baby fat began to accumulate. I felt weaker all over. The process of my 23 year old self turning into a 9 month old infant boy took only a few minutes. Whoever, or whatever, made that chemical knew what they were doing. Sheila sat cross legged next to me, holding my hand until it became a tiny, clenched fist. As I grew out of my clothes she removed them.
"It’ll be fixed at 9 months, and you’ll never get older. You’ll still have your adult mind, so you can truly enjoy this." She said.
"Thank you so much", she whispered, her eyes closed, a single tear escaping from the corner of one. She really wanted a baby, and she was confident I’d enjoy being hers.
As I lay there, I decided to try to put my toes in my mouth. I had always seen babies do this and couldn’t do it as an adult. With my new body, I actually was able to quite easily.
"Awww, my baby is sucking on his toes! Come on, lets get you diapered. Don’t want you making a mess on this carpet".
She scooped me up. I fit easily into her arms and felt nice nestled against her ample, soft bosom. I definitely felt small and very light.
She carried me down the hall into the nursery. Turns out it was a nursery after all. She put me onto the excessively babyish changing table and pulled out a diaper from the stack underneath the changing pad.
"These are mid-90’s, plastic covered pampers. Extra thick. You know they actually advertised Pampers as ’extra thick’ for a time? Not like nowadays when everything is cloth and thin as hell..." Great, she’s a diaper snob.
"I’m cold" I squeaked out. Talking was tough with this small mouth and jaw. A remnant of my adult sensibility remained: I didn’t like to be naked in front of strangers. This would have to change if I was to survive my new life.
"Oh, sorry baby" Sheila said. She covered my naked nether regions in powder and taped the Pamper around my waist.
"If you’re cold, I think a sleeper is would be perfect" she said, very mother-like. She pulled out one from a drawer, it was baby blue and white. She put that on me one leg and arm at a time, then put a pacifier in my mouth. Being dressed by someone else felt strange and wonderful.
It was very obvious: I really looked like a baby! I lay there on the changing table in my thick, crinkly diaper and babyish clothing, sucking on a pacifier and spastically clenching my fists while moving my limbs uncontrollably. I was just trying to take it all in. You wouldn’t have ever guessed just minutes ago I was a 23 year old guy, walking through the door, looking to get lucky.
"I could just eat you up!" Sheila exclaimed, blowing a raspberry on my sleeper-covered tummy. She picked me up and cuddled me for a second before depositing me in a soft, baby-blue crib.
"Take a nap, little one, you’ve had a long day. We’ve got a long life together".
The crib began to feel like a soft, plush, pastel prison, but I suppose it could’ve been worse. My life wasn’t really going anywhere anyways.
She tucked me in on my back and I looked up at my plush mobile. She leaned against the impossibly high, to me, rail of the crib, staring down at me. She sung a soft lullaby in a beautiful, angelic voice that I had not yet heard from her... I really, really felt like an infant at this point, which I guess is what she was going for. I bit down on the pacifier with my toothless gums as I felt a warmth spread in my diaper. A hint of a smile could be seen from the edges of the pacifier’s shield as I drifted off to her warm singing.
The gravity of what just happened -- that I would never be a man again, and would always be in this body -- hadn’t fully hit yet. When it did, I suppose I’d have a good cry. Fortunately, I’d have a good burp-cloth-covered shoulder to do it into. Sheila’s.
Getting Lucky
by: lilbabyboy | Complete Story | Last updated Dec 29, 2008
Stories of Age/Time Transformation