Lola`s Chapter (5)

Chapter 3
the last few months

Chapter Description: Part 3 of 3.

The last few months have been quite peaceful. Baby Jonny has adapted to his new life with surprising willingness. And, though the work is physically strenuous, my heart enjoys the vacation from worrying about what (or whom) my boyfriend is doing. I’d much rather concern myself with ensuring that household poisons are kept out of his reach, seeing to it that his television privileges are limited to educational fare like Bob the Builder (he loves “twuckies”), and making sure he gets most of his nutrition from Mommy.

It was only a couple of weeks ago that I realized Jonny was enjoying his new state a little too much. I concluded that the formula, fed to him nightly in his bottle with his lanky, adult form sprawled across my lap, had worked its magic in atrophying Jonny’s mental and emotional processes to the respective capacities of a toddler. All of his book-learning - years and years, thousands of dollars in education - had vanished into the ether, replaced with a beautifully clean slate ready for filling. He knew he was still 24, of course, and he knew I was, ostensibly, his girlfriend, and he knew he had made a terrible, terrible mistake in bringing himself to this point. But he didn’t know his A-B-Cs very well. He’s getting better; last night, I taught him “G.”

“Guh-guh-guh,” he sputtered. “Guuuhhh... guh...geeeuuuhhh... gee! G!!” Jonny squealed and clapped his tiny hands.

Oh, my, did I get ahead of myself? I did!

Alright, please understand: When I realized Jonny’s mind had regressed to that of a baby, it had become far too much of a struggle for me to handle his constant, adult-sized “needs.” He would howl a loud, ear-piercing squeal whenever he was hungry... it would rattle the doorknobs and piss off the neighbors. He’d slap aside any food or toys he didn’t like; after his years of diligent visits to the local gym, the strength in his arms had left my walls and floors a complete disaster. And the loads he would proudly push into his diaper as he grinned up at Mommy, knowing this was his one and only infantile incarnation of evening the score, were huge and totally disgusting.

I hadn’t planned on using the last few doses of the formula I had gotten from the school... the formula that kept on giving, the formula that had treated my girlfriends so well in the past, as you’ve read in my stories.

But if Jonny was going to act like a baby, he was going to be a baby. For real.

I gave him the fateful dose the very afternoon I tendered Jonny’s resignation from his place of work. There he was, as he was every night, laying across my lap, clothed in only a very wet disposable diaper. His eyes were shut as he nursed from his bottle with the serenity of an angel. Jonny didn’t notice himself begin to regress physically until the tone he had built up at the gym over the past few years faded to limpness.

“Wha...whazz goin on, Mommy?” he mumbled around the nipple, biting it between words, his eyes glazing over in confusion and tempered with tranquility.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” I replied. “Mommy’s just making you her little champion forever.”

“Fowever...” he sighed, almost thankfully, his body loosing itself from adolescence, the whiskers on his face and the hair underneath his arms retracting into the follicles beneath his baby-soft skin. “...And evew.”

Jonny continued to nurse, squirming around to get more comfortable as his frame grew smaller and smaller. He left puberty for the second time, his Adam’s apple disappearing, his shoulders becoming more rounded and yielding. He was as he appeared when he was eleven years old, then ten, then nine.

My boyfriend opened his eyes again and looked up with me. All I could see was love. Love and gratitude.

“Me... me thowwy me made Mommy thad...” he whined around the nipple of the bottle.

I smiled down at him and brushed a lock of baby-blonde hair away from his eyes as he re-entered his sixth year. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy has forgiven you. Mommy loves you.”

Jonny giggled and blinked brightly as he became a toddler. Made gleeful by my acceptance of his apology, he kicked off his ridiculously oversized diaper and stared down at himself in unabashed awe. The years continued to peel away...he was three, then two. Baby fat began to roll out of his frame, filling up his skin in pudgy pockets. His teeth drew back up into his gums one by one, causing a tickling sensation that made him laugh out loud. Jonny flopped playfully around my lap as the regression slowed to months, then weeks, then days, until his body reflected what his mind truly was...the mind of an adorable little baby, smiling, giggling, dreaming of his first steps, and anxiously awaiting every possible moment at which he could make Mommy Lola proud.

These days, I take care of Baby Jonny whenever I can. I’m usually at home, working on novels for my publisher or, when I get the chance, whimsical little anecdotes for the AR Archive. I check my e-mail a couple of times a day and reply to those of you who have expressed your gratitude and support. A working mother appreciates it. I especially enjoy popping into the chat room now and again to speak with some of you personally; it makes me feel like I have friends, fellow caretakers, and yes...even babies-at-heart who truly understand what we do here.

If I could leave you with any thought, it would be this: Never underestimate the boundaries of reality. Art and life are two dancers caught in a tango immemorial. You never know what is fact and what is fiction. And you never know whether the next girl you meet is going to give you the love you think you want... or the love she knows you need.

Regards,

lola trechlyn

lolatrec at hotmail dot com