by: BackToBabyHood | Complete Story | Last updated Jun 16, 2022
(Silverstone Household,
Morning of June 18th, 1994)
Amanda’s mother slowly
opened her eyes as the morning sun danced across her face. As her vision came into focus, she realized
that she had fallen asleep on the rocking chair in Amanda’s nursery. She looked down at the bundle of blankets in
her arms, realizing she was no longer holding her daughter. Her heartrate quickened as she looked around
her, wondering where she was. Then, she looked
up at Amanda’s crib and saw her laying inside, her chest rhythmically rising
and falling as she slept. She then had a
vague recollection of placing her daughter in the crib while she was
half-asleep. She rose from the rocking
chair, then walked over to the crib. She
peered over the railing and saw her little girl, who was by now two years
old. This was Amanda’s final stop on her
trip backwards. From this day on, Amanda
would begin to grow up again.
She spent a few minutes
staring down at her daughter, her heart melted by how innocent and peaceful she
looked. She wanted to let her sleep, but
then noticed that her diaper was very wet.
It was also loose, as Amanda had gotten slightly smaller in her sleep. She placed her fingers on her chest and
gently rubbed it.
“Amandaaaaa…..time to
wake uppppppp…..” she sang in a half-whisper.
Amanda slowly opened her
eyes, looking around the room and then at her mother. A smile broke out across her face when she
recognized the figure standing over her crib.
“Momma……..Hi Momma……” she
said in a sweetly groggy voice.
Rachel reached down into
the crib, picking her daughter up and holding her close to her chest. She kissed her cheek and walked her around
the nursery as her sleepiness wore off.
“Diapuh wet mommah” she
said, looking down at her Pamper and touching the front, which had gone from a
light pink to a dull yellow.
“Mommy knows, honey. She’s going to change your diaper right now
and then feed you your breakfast, ok?” she said, taking Amanda to the changing
table and sitting her on top of it. She
removed the little girl’s t-shirt, then laid her on her back. She began to change Amanda’s wet diaper,
wiping her clean and then powdering her and taping her into a fresh one that
fit her new size.
Unlike the first time
she’d been diapered, Amanda watched everything her mother did. The embarrassment and shame she had felt
during her first changing was now replaced by curiosity and even slight
enjoyment at the attention her mother was giving her. Feeling her mother clean her and caress her
skin made her feel loved and cared for as her mother smiled and cooed at her
throughout the changing.
Now that Amanda was in a
clean diaper, her mother decided it was time to dress her. She helped her daughter into a light pink
diaper cover, then put her hair in pigtails.
She then slid on an eggshell white t-shirt with pink bands on the collar
and sleeves. The t-shirt rode above
Amanda’s diaper, hovering slightly above her bellybutton. After admiring how adorable her daughter
looked, she picked her up and carried her downstairs.
Amanda sat on the floor
as her mother laid out a blanket with her toys and turned the TV on to Saturday
morning cartoons. Amanda sat on the
floor, clutching Belle as DuckTales came on.
Her mother raised one of the baby gates she had purchased in front of
the stairs, then went to the kitchen to begin making Amanda’s breakfast. When she was finished, she quickly slipped
into the garage and then returned with the highchair she had been hiding
there.
She walked to Amanda,
picked her up and strapped her into the highchair, placing her breakfast in
front of her. Amanda looked down at the
selection before her: oatmeal, chopped strawberries and sippy cup filled with orange
juice. Her stomach grumbled upon seeing
the food, making her realize for the first time how hungry she was. She began to eat with her fingers as her
mother sat nearby, monitoring her as she sipped her morning coffee.
As Amanda scooped another
spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth, she began to feel pressure in her lower
abdomen. She leaned forward in her high
chair, then passed gas loudly. Her
mother began to giggle and Amanda did too, amused by the funny noise she had
made. She continued to eat her
breakfast, occasionally attempting to close her legs together as she explored
what it felt like to be back in diapers.
She noticed how noisy her diapers were compared to her Pull-Ups. It seemed that every time she moved, they
would crinkle loudly. Amanda soon found
herself fidgeting just to hear the sound they made. There was something reassuring about the
noise, something that made her feel secure and safe.
When she was done with
her breakfast, her mother wiped her face and lifted her out of the highchair,
placing her on the ground. Amanda
toddled back over to her toys, sitting down and playing with Belle and the
dollhouse that she had grown to love while her mother sat at the kitchen table
and began to eat her breakfast.
About thirty minutes
later, Amanda’s mother noticed her daughter had squatted in front of the TV,
her knees bent and her hands resting on the floor. She realized what her daughter was doing and
had in fact expected it: Amanda had always filled her diaper shortly after
breakfast the first time she was a toddler.
Amanda’s face reddened as
she did her business. Wetting was one
thing, but pooping in her diaper while her mother watched once again caused
feelings of embarrassment and vulnerability to well to the surface of her
formerly placid emotional pool. She felt
the urge to cry as a foul, ripe odor began to swirl around her, causing her to
immediately want to be changed. As she
finished pooping, she felt the front of her diaper grow warm. The faint hissing sound indicated that she
had started to wet herself. Amanda stood
up and began to walk towards her mother, her diaper sagging slightly between
her legs as she continued to wet herself uncontrollably.
Her mother set down the
table knife she was using to butter her toast and held her arms out towards her
daughter. Amanda began to suck her
thumb, not wanting to admit what she had done but also wanting to be changed. Her mother pulled her diaper cover down to
her ankles, then pulled the rear of her diaper away to check it. Even though she knew (and smelled) what had
just happened, she wanted to condition Amanda to the idea of having her diaper
checked. She also recognized the
opportunity to get her used to being changed in places other than her nursery,
so she decided to perform the task on the living room floor.
She walked into the nearby
closet, retrieving the diaper bag she had packed a few days prior and led
Amanda by the hand back to the living room.
She laid out a changing pad, then placed Amanda onto it. Amanda felt her mess spread around her bottom
as she was laid backwards, causing her to whimper in discomfort. The feeling was much less pleasant than being
in a wet diaper, which caused her to fuss.
Her mother began to coo sweetly at her, reassuring her that everything
was ok and that what she had done was nothing to be embarrassed about. Her soothing voice helped mollify Amanda, who
turned her head to watch cartoons as her mother unfastened the tapes of her
diaper and began to change her. Amanda sucked
her thumb as her mother began to wipe her soiled bottom, occasionally turning
her head to check on her mother’s progress.
After a few minutes, Amanda was in a clean diaper and back to playing
with her toys. Her mother took her
soiled diaper to the nearby bathroom and emptied as much of the contents as she
could into the toilet, flushing it away.
“Gosh, I forgot how much work changing diapers could be!” she thought as
she rolled the diaper up, depositing it in a plastic bag and tossing it into
the garbage.
For the rest of the day,
Amanda’s mother allowed her daughter to play and become acclimated to her
second babyhood. She watched her
attentively, observing her moods and relearning how to recognize her daughter’s
needs by paying attention to her body language.
Throughout the day, she felt a growing heaviness in her breasts that had
begun a few days prior. When she touched
them, she noticed they felt slightly swollen.
She knew what it meant. She had been
producing milk.
After feeding Amanda her
lunch, she decided to put her down for her afternoon nap. She took Amanda up to her nursery, then sat
in the rocking chair with her, holding her in her arms and telling her the
story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
As she did so, she noticed her daughter staring at her bosom, her diaper
crinkling as she attempted to get closer to her breasts. She unfastened her blouse and guided Amanda’s
head towards her right nipple. Amanda
latched on and her mother soon began to feel the suction of her daughter’s
mouth on her tit.
Amanda rhythmically
suckled at her mother’s teat, slowly draining her swollen mammary and causing
her to feel relief. When it no longer
produced milk, she switched Amanda to her other breast, whispering to her
softly and encouraging her to continue to take her fill of the nourishment her
body had produced for her.
Being breastfed made
Amanda feel a wonderful sense of contentment and security that she found highly
pleasing. Her mother’s warm, sweet milk
relaxed and calmed her, causing her to become sleepy as she finished suckling. When Amanda finally fell asleep, her mother
placed her in her crib, turned on her baby monitor and slowly closed the
door.
After Amanda’s nap, she
was taken out of her crib, changed and given a new toy to play with while her
mother went over the questionnaires that had been delivered to her for her next
doctor’s visit. She noticed that this
time, Amanda’s psychiatry session would consist of observing her play with
another child her age. When her mother
saw the name of the child Amanda would be playing with, she smiled. She wondered whether or not to tell her
daughter, but ultimately decided not to.
Amanda was getting used to a lot of change at once. Her mother decided not to overwhelm her and
let it be a surprise.
The rest of the day
consisted of more playing, more diaper changes and more mother and daughter
time. That night, as Amanda lay in her
mother’s arms, she looked up at her and spoke to her.
“Momma? No more small?” she asked, looking down at
her body and touching her feet.
Her mother put her hand
on top of Amanda’s head, brushing her hair out of her face. “No, honey.
No more getting smaller. From now
on, Amanda is only going to get bigger” she answered, feeling a sense of relief
that she was finally able to give her daughter good news. Then, a pang of curiosity struck her.
“Honey, can Mommy ask you
something?” she asked, hiking her daughter up closer to her. Amanda nodded her head.
“Do you remember? Do you remember what things used to be like?”
she asked, suddenly feeling as if she may have asked a question that would
upset her daughter. Amanda stared up at
her, seemingly deep in thought. Finally,
she answered.
“’Member” she said, pointing
to her head. Then, her eyebrows raised,
as if she had just figured something out.
“Wike dweam….” she added,
reaching up towards the sky. Her mother understood
what she meant. Amanda still remembered
everything. She hadn’t lost her memories
of her former self or any of the past events that had resulted in her becoming
a baby again. The answer made her
somewhat uneasy. While she didn’t want
her daughter’s mind becoming a blank slate, she also didn’t want her to
constantly be aware of what she had lost.
It was an uncertainty that had been eating at her since Amanda’s
treatment had started.
“Do…….do you wish you
could go back? Back to the way things
were?” she asked, unable to keep herself from knowing what her daughter truly
felt. Amanda paused again, then looked
away from her and around her nursery.
After a few seconds, she returned her focus to her.
“No back. Momma here now….” she answered, her eyes
growing heavy. Her mother began to
softly stroke her hair, bringing her closer to her. Amanda buried her face in her mother’s neck
as she slowly fell asleep. When she did,
her mother placed her in her crib, turned her nightlight on and then silently
exited the nursery. She walked to her
bedroom, put on her pajamas and practically fell into her bed. Even at twenty-four, raising a toddler was
hard work. Despite her fatigue, she
smiled as she thought about how excited she was for what tomorrow would bring. For the first time in a long, long time, she
felt like everything was going to be alright.
Another Way, Another Day
by: BackToBabyHood | Complete Story | Last updated Jun 16, 2022
Stories of Age/Time Transformation