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by Les Lea
voices. Low, whispering voices but the sound was
definitely getting closer.
I looked from my
bed to the door, it was open. This was strange because I
always slept with my door closed but with the window
open a crack to allow air to circulate. However, the
noise wasn’t from outside the house.
It must have
been early because it was still relatively dark but
those voices were so loud now I knew they were just
beyond my bedroom door.
Three figures in
white coats stood in the doorway and peered in. They
looked like doctors and were holding charts and
stethoscopes so I guess that’s what they were... but
what were they doing in my room?
One of the lab-coated people said. “Don’t worry we’ll
soon have you sorted.”
I was paralysed
with fear; who were they, what were they doing here and
more importantly... what were they going to sort?”
approached my bed but I was too afraid to say anything.
They were all smiles and business-like as one of them
produced a needle and stuck it in my arm.
“Try and count
backwards...” I saw two men in blue scrubs come in and
start pushing my bed from the room.
felt woozy and drifted off.
I woke up and
mum was there smiling. I noticed my aunts and uncles
were also standing around and grinning all carrying
balloons and presents.
such a good girl... yes she is...”
“Good girl?” I
thought. “What are they talking about? I’m a ten
year-old boy not a girl. I’m a b....”
But I was
sitting in a pushchair. I could see my short, frilly
pink dress and the enormous padded knickers I was
I saw my pink
room now stacked with baby clothes and... was that...
What the hell
was going on?
such a good girl... yes she is... and look, bless her,
she’s filling her nappy.”
I could feel the
warmth spreading around but I had no idea how anyone
else knew what was happening.
what a clever little girl you are.”
speak; there was a dummy in my mouth so gurgles and
dribble seemed to be my only language.
“That’s it baby,
you fill that nappy and mummy will change you soon.”
“Oh-ho, I think
our pretty little Miss is doing more than wetting her
lovely little panties... yes she is.”
There was a
general sound of approval coming from the surrounding
“She loves her
soft nappy and lovely shiny pink plastic pants doesn’t
she? What a sweet baby girl...”
As if on cue I
could feel the seat of my nappy filling up but I was
grinning because all those around me were smiles and
eager faces encouraging me to do so... I was making
I filled my
nappy but the adult celebrations carried on around me.
The wet warmth
began to cool and the mess began to irritate yet from
behind my dummy I couldn’t get anyone to take any notice
of me as they were all too busy cooing and flapping
around, holding up cute little girlie outfits and saying
how ‘precious’ I would look wearing them. The fact that
I was sitting in a full nappy was just taken for granted
and that’s what a baby had to simply put up with until a
grown-up could get around to changing her.
What was I
thinking? I didn’t need changing. I wasn’t a baby. I
wasn’t a girl... I was a boy. I, I, I...
I woke up and I
heard myself screaming “I’m a boy”
at the top of my lungs.
Mum came rushing
in to my room looking somewhat concerned about what I
was creating about.
“What is it
Jack, are you OK?”
I think we
noticed at the same time that nothing was OK because
every inch of my bed appeared sopping wet and the smell
meant I was lying on more than a nice comfy bedding.
Mum made a
bee-line for my blankets and pulled them back to reveal
my boxer shorts and t-shirt (my pyjamas) looking less
than pristine. Everything was just covered in pee and
poo and she stood there shaking her head deciding what
needed doing first.
“Stay where you
are for the moment poppet...”
She went to open
the window wider.
“OK, now slowly
get up and let’s see the damage.”
I was finding it
difficult to do anything but cry... I was too old for
this but I felt like a silly little kid and I didn’t
know what to do about it.
dragged myself from the smelly pit I’d caused and stood
aghast at what I left behind.
“Get yourself to
the bathroom and take a nice long shower... leave your
stuff in the plastic bin... I’ll sort out the bedroom.”
I staggered the
few feet from my room to the shower desperate to leave
no drips, splashes or any other evidence of what had
taken place. I pulled the sticky, smelly clothing from
my body and almost threw up. I gagged as I shoved the
t-shirt and boxers into the empty plastic bin we usually
use for bits of paper and empty toilet rolls... I
desperately needed to cover it as the smell was just too
overpowering. It didn’t seem right so I pulled them back
out and threw them onto the shower floor, they’d need
more than a simple rinse through before they could go to
laundry. Thankfully, once I was under the spray things
began to improve as I watched the debris of my scary
dream slip down the plughole.
With the window
wide open my room was cold as a surprisingly stiff
breeze cleared the fetid air. Mum had cleared the bed so
all that was left was my mattress, for some reason the
scene looked pretty sad. I stood shivering wrapped in a
thin towel not too sure what my next move was. As it was
still a weekday I got myself dressed and ready for
another day in fifth grade.
We had breakfast
and I told mum about my peculiar nightmare. She seemed
astonished at my weird dream so nodded and sympathised
in equal amounts. I had no idea where such a strange
nightmare had come from and it appeared mum couldn’t
give me an answer either.
“Well dear, I’m
not sure what you ate to produce such a flight of fancy
but we’d better check tonight so we don’t get a repeat.”
She smiled as if
she was making a bit of a joke but I spent the entire
day worrying about going to sleep again... and I had
every good reason as that night I had the same dream and
the same messy outcome.
I must have been
lying in the stuff a lot longer because it had soaked
through and ruined the mattress, and as it turned out, a
second load of bed linen.
Mum stripped the
bed and decided that the sheets and duvet were not in a
fit state to be salvaged. So, despite them being in my
favourite team colours and begging to keep them, they,
like the increasingly messed in and smelly mattress,
were thrown out.
I was very
unhappy about what had taken place. The embarrassment of
crapping myself and destroying so much bedding and
losing my cherished duvet cover meant I was in a funk.
Despite us not having loads of money since dad died (we
were okay but didn’t have much to spare) mum said that
we might as well change my entire bedroom from a kids to
that of a growing boy - that made me feel a bit better.
night as I couldn’t sleep in my own bed, I had to sleep
on a plastic inflatable we used if we had guests. Mum
also insisted that I wear some protection as she didn’t
want to lose any further sheets or blankets.
“But mum, I’m
ten, I’m not a baby, you can’t make me...”
sweetheart, we don’t know what’s happening and we
certainly don’t know if it will happen again so, until
we do, you’ll be wearing a nice thick nappy to sleep
“But that’s not
fair.” I argued. “I can’t help it... I... I...”
point, this isn’t a punishment sweetie, it’s a simple
precaution and I’m sure, in a couple of days’ time and
when your new mattress arrives... everything will be
back as it should be.”
It was an
argument I couldn’t win but I wasn’t happy, especially
when it came to bedtime and saw mum upstairs to get me
ready. There, waiting on the newly expanded inflatable
bed, was a thick triangle of fabric. Mum told me to
strip, which I did fairly nervously, and told me to lie
out. I was surprised to actually find that there were
two nappies folded together so it was very thick once
pinned into place. Thick pink rubber pants were then
guided up my legs and snapped in to place before I
realised what was happening (I was so embarrassed I’d
kept my eyes tightly closed so I didn’t have to watch
what mum was doing).
They’re just to keep you from leaking so what’s the
“But they’re er,
um, you know... pink.”
The thought of
all that pink in my dreams and of me being a baby girl
emphasised it was not a colour for a boy.
maybe... you know...?”
“Oh for crying
out loud and stop being silly. It’s just protection. No
one’s going to see and it’s only for tonight as I’m sure
you’ll be fine in the morning.”
It was no good
arguing so I crawled under the thin cotton sheet and
thick fuzzy blanket and tried to sleep. With each turn I
bounced around on the plastic surface, which was taking
some getting used to, as well was the thick padding and
my equally slippery plastic pants. I was convinced I’d
never get to sleep.
For a few weeks
now I’d had trouble sleeping and mum had leant me her
iPad so I could listen to soft relaxing music to help me
drift off. I was surprised at how effective it had been
when I first started. So I wouldn’t
get bored she changed the download so I’d get a nice
selection of peaceful tunes in my head to aid rest.
However, for the last few nights, the same nightmare had
made my sleep patterns go all over the place so was
exceptionally tired all the time. However, when mum
suggested what I needed was perhaps a completely
different piece of soothing music, I thought it might be
a good opportunity to finally get a good night’s sleep.
To a certain
extent it worked and I didn’t wake up screaming,
however, I did wake up to a soaked and messy nappy. Mum
had been right to make sure I was protected and, as I’d
slept so well in my surprisingly comfy padding, there
was no one to clean up but me. With the bedding saved,
the nappy went straight into the wash and I went
straight under the shower, all this without any drama
whatsoever because I’d actually slept well.
However, what I
realised was that my night time now came with nappy
Mum had simply
said that until we were sure I was over this ‘trauma’ or
whatever it was, she insisted, for the sake of our
laundry bill and replacement bedding, that I would
be protected every night.
occurred to me to ask how or why she had all this stuff
available for me, I just accepted that’s what mums have
in their ‘mother repertoire’ of equipment to tackle any
complain. My new mattress had been ordered but for some
reason was proving difficult to get delivered. However,
mum was getting my Uncle James in to redecorate my room
whilst we waited. He was a decorator by profession so we
were in capable hands. I sat with him one night and
discussed what colour I wanted things, which was strange
because I was wearing a particularly thick nappy and
crinkly plastic pants under my boxers, but he never let
on. We chose a design that I thought
was quite grown-up and hoped would last for a few years
said that she’d read that pastel shades helped induce
sleep, so I should opt for that. I tried to mix my ideas
(my team colours) with hers but I soon found that she
had a much stronger say in things and I was persuaded
to take her ‘advice’.
mum had got me to do, which happened without realising
it, was that I was changed into my night time nappy when
I changed out of my school uniform. So, I was wearing a
nappy from around 5pm through to 8am, which is the
reason my uncle saw me wearing one. I thought I’d be
very anxious about such a situation but I wasn’t. I was
praised by mum for being very sensible about it all and
strangely, I’d found myself not worrying about the bulk
for such a length of time.
mum was a Supermum, or just knew how these things
worked, I was glad because I began accidently wetting
before bed (only a little) but I was still glad of the
protection rather than a tell-tale stain on my boxers. I
didn’t let on to her about these little spurts so often
climbed into bed already slightly wet.
anxious that the night time music wasn’t helping so
found some other, more intense programmes that she hoped
would do the trick. However, though I was sleeping
heavily but more importantly without nasty nightmares,
my full morning nappy continued.
seem to worry I was waking up so wet (and sometime
messy) she was just glad that I’d taken to wearing a
nappy to cover such an eventuality. She often smiled
when I was wearing just my protection around the house
and quite positive that I was a good boy for
understanding the need for them.
I liked it when
mummy praised me even if I was wearing a huge bulky
She’d moved me
into the small box-room whilst my bedroom was being
stripped and prepared for the new decoration.
She wanted to keep it as a surprise so I would
only see it for the ‘grand re-opening’ when my
new mattress and special bedding she’d ordered arrived.
Mummy said that
being in the spare room and sleeping on the inflatable
was like being on an expedition... she moved all my
stuffed toys in to keep me company... and it did feel
like I was living somewhere special. In fact, she got me
so animated about how exciting it was that I peed my
nappy. I didn’t care much because I just wriggled
contentedly in the warm flush that I’d begun to look
I suppose I
wasn’t acting like a ten year-old much, in fact I liked
wearing a nappy and was happy hugging my soft childhood
stuffed giraffe when I went to bed. It was nice having
him back keeping me company.
I was getting
quite enthusiastic by all these new plans but was waking
up on my inflatable bed, hot, wet and flustered every
morning, whether I’d had a nightmare or not.
convinced me that I needed my protection all the time
and my mornings now involved a change out of wet stuff
only to be put straight back into another nappy. I know
being ten I should have cringed at such treatment but I
quite liked the attention she was lavishing on me. The
lotions and powder were a treat and, perhaps oddly
enough, I was more grateful to be in a clean and dry
nappy than I was upset about having to wear one 24/7.
Over the past
few weeks I’d gotten less and less stressed, I think
mummy’s relaxing music was working. Also, I was happy
that she’d taken charge and was treating me as her best
boy... well that’s what she kept calling me and, when
she patted my soft padding as she said it, it made me
feel loved, safe and comfortable.
believe it when he told me about the weird dream that
led him to mess the bed that first time.
It’s true that
I’d been playing my ten year-old son relaxing music to
help him over a touch of insomnia. However, it became
apparent that the later downloads I began using weren’t
the same I’d used to help sleep when I was having
sounds and music for the young was what I thought I was
downloading. Instead, I noticed too late that the option
I’d pressed was for a different types of downloads and
that the soothing vibe contains subtle, hypnotic
instructions to wet the bed. I hadn’t read that
this particular relaxation (and subliminal) track linked
to an ABDL site, which was aimed specifically at a
certain type of user. However, such a terrifying dream
surely couldn’t have been down to a few subliminal
words... could it?
I’d been going
through a bit of a bad patch. My husband was no longer
around (dead for three years), I’d found making new
friends fairly difficult although my family had been
quite supportive. The trouble, I was weighed down in a
pit of depression myself (thus the relaxation music) but
all I could see was my anchor, my sweet and loving ten
year-old son Jack, getting older and would, before too
long, be drifting away. The thought terrified me.
I was possessed
with the idea of keeping him just as he was.... then I
thought I needed it the way things used to be when he
was a toddler and completely dependent on me. I liked
that idea better. This night time ritual of using music
to help him sleep had given me a way of extending his
dependence on me for a little while longer.
unashamedly, I was pleased he needed nappies again.
I questioned him
further about screaming “I’m a boy. I’m a boy”
when I found him so messy and disturbed but he didn’t
want to say. Eventually, and because my boy loves his
mum, I was able to drag the details about him being
dressed and treated like a baby girl.
He looked at me
through weepy eyes and my heart went out to him. It was
obvious that despite his full boxers and dirty bed the
extra embarrassment had been difficult for him to take.
However, I couldn’t see how the night time music, even
with subliminal directions could have brought about such
a strange and gender-confusing dream. As far as I knew
none of those I’d played to him already would have sent
him off in that direction... none were gender specific.
I hugged him tightly to my bosom but his dream had
planted a seed which I found difficult to not let take
I searched the
net and found a few interesting hypnotic ‘programmes’
and ‘apps’ that could possibly help and I tried them
out, though not really believing in their efficacy.
The main idea
was to get him back into, and dependent on, nappies and
then I could insist I change him and thus he’d be back
to being reliant on me. A simple notion that I thought
would hurt no one and I’d have my lovely boy enjoying
his mother fussing over him. I quickly assembled the
protection I’d need to keep him dry and safe at night.
I didn’t realise
how distressing those dreams would be, or the fact that
he continued to wake up to an absolute mess each day. He
said he was still having nightmares and when I enquired
if they were about the same subject he timidly nodded
assent. However, as result of these disgusting
occurrences to his bedding and pjs it was fairly easy to
convince him he had to wear protection.
He bleated about
it for a short while but Jack has always been a mummy’s
boy and I knew he’d comply with enough persuasion.
Because it meant more work for me I simply made him feel
guilty if he didn’t act in accordance with my wishes.
Since his father
died he’d never been a moment’s trouble. He seemed to
know, despite the trauma of it all, that now it was just
the two of us, we should stick together. Since he was
seven he’d been an absolute rock and I’m not sure I
could have coped without him.
However, once in
a nappy I was able to get him to leave his bedroom,
which I said I thought could do with a redesign. I told
him we’d make it special and perfect for a ‘growing boy’
but I had a different idea which I thought I’d try
although time I knew would be against me.
brother the decorator was suddenly swamped with ‘proper’
work (he was doing me a freebie) so it took more time to
get it done. Meanwhile, I postponed the delivery of the
mattress and told Jack it would be all the more exciting
if we waited and saw the entire project completed and in
all its glory before he returned to his bedroom.
I inflated the
plastic mattress and set it up in the spare room and
pretended he was on some special mission. The real
reason; I liked the idea of him sleeping on a waterproof
cover just in case his protection leaked and so he
couldn’t do any further damage. It worked because I made
a huge thing about how much fun it was to sleep on a
bouncy castle. Despite the thick nappies and the plastic
pants I made him wear we laughed a lot before I put the
music on and settled him down for the night. I like to
think he was actually enjoying me fussing so much.
I was surprised
at how quickly the auto-suggestion behind the music was
working. At home he wore nappies and especially at night
used them but, when he went to school he wore his normal
underwear and had no problem... well to begin with
I loved changing
him first thing in a morning. He was so upset that he’d
wet again but I said to be grateful for the protections
as it did just that, protected the bed so it was only a
strip of material that needed laundering. I have to
admit that I liked the fact the everyday I’d be hanging
out his recently washed nappy and pants. I was sending
out a message, which Jack didn’t cotton on to at all, as
I saw a couple of sympathetic nods from the neighbours
as if to say “Oh you poor thing... your boy’s wetting
the bed again”.
Almost a week
after I got him permanently in night time nappies he
started having accidents in class. It horrified him but
I quickly saw the solution... permanent nappies during
the day as well. I think an echo of the subliminal music
had made him forget he wasn’t wearing a nappy. The fact
he seemed resigned to be in a nappy at night (well he’d
stopped complaining) made it less of a problem to get
him into one for the full day. I was very pleased at the
speed my little boy was accepting his toddler status,
even if he wasn’t quite yet aware of it.
By chance, all
this coincided with the upcoming summer break so he only
had to wear a nappy at school for a short time. The
teachers said he’d become quite a deal more reserved
since he had to wear one and looked scared and miserable
when bigger boys were around and mocking him.
However, as far
as I was concerned, once in a nappy he was much more
loving and spent a lot of time hugging and holding me.
Of course, I just couldn’t get enough of my little boy
as he regressed further thanks to those subliminal
whispered words and relaxing tones.
Another thing I
noticed after I changed the download on the iPad was
that he started calling me ‘mummy’ instead of ‘mum’. I
could have cried when he said the word... just like I
had when he was a baby and first uttered it. Damn I was
getting carried away with my own sentimentality.
Even his voice
was getting softer and more childish. With him now in
nappies all the time it was easy to bring his bedtime a
little earlier each night. Just a few minutes at a time
but, because I had him ready for bed as soon as he got
in from school, well in his thicker night time nappy at
least, he didn’t protest much at all.
music and words were having quite an impact on my boy
and I could see him anxiously checking I was still
around if I stepped out of the room even for just a few
When he got home
his school uniform was hung up and put out of the way,
then I’d check just how wet he was. I loved the slow
reveal as I gently pulled off his plastic pants. My mind
would be happily dragged back to when I used to do this
for him when a baby... I’d really missed this intimacy.
His eyes would
fill up slightly in embarrassment but I’d be offering
reassurance and telling him all was okay and he was
“mummy’s sweetest boy”. I’d remove the soaked material
and tenderly wipe him clean, checking there was no rash
to worry about before slathering him in lotion to make
sure that didn’t happen.
He would close
his eyes and let out a low contented moan as I lightly
rubbed in the talcum powder before pinning him into a
nicely tight, thick, pre-prepared nappy. His sweet, shy,
almost infantile voice thanked his mummy for making him
all clean and dry again as I’d pull up the plastic pants
that held the bulky softness in place.
A couple of
times I’d see him look down as if wondering how or why
he was back in such heavy protection but I’d just
emphasise that “Jack is a good boy” and needed to wear a
nappy for mummy. I could see a doubt
hanging there for the briefest of moments before his
mind would lock back on to what he’d been secretly told
night after night – nappies were good and should be used
by baby Jack.
That had been
the secret; changing the message so he slowly regressed
and accepted his place. Nappies, plastic pants, soft
toys, mummy’s hugs, the words were there to help him
into his new position. The ABDL site I downloaded these
from certainly knew their business and my boy was
Cuddling up on
the sofa to watch television together was a delight. I’d
stroke his hair, whisper what a lovely boy he was and
patted his thick padding... offering continued
confirmation that all was well and fine to be “mummy’s
If we were going
out he wanted to hold my hand all the time, which was an
unexpected bonus but quite wonderful. He’d toddle and
waddle each step, the plastic pants slipping and
caressing his thighs, whilst the thick fabric would rub
against his boyish genitals, I’m sure made him
constantly aware of his juvenile standing. There’d be
times when he’d look at me with saddened eyes and
whisper that he was sorry but he’d wet again.
I would smile
and tell him he must not worry as mummy would sort him a
dry nappy very soon. However, I liked the fact that he
would be in his soaked nappy for a little while, the
heavy wet material making him walk with a little more
deliberation and a rather sweet sway.
I’d also found some very childish baby print plastic
pants, which I began to put him in and they just made
the entire scene so much sweeter.
My big boy was
kept as a little boy with the daily music and verbal
affirmation, both from me and the subliminal recordings.
Toys for a ten year old were changed for those more
appropriate to a toddler and I just adored reading him a
fairy story every night. However, I wanted more.
I was waking
up wet every morning on my plastic inflatable bed. I
thought I was sleeping well, mummy’s music definitely
helping me to drop off – I loved the relaxing sound as I
snuggled under the lovely soft blankets, but my soaked
wasn’t angry, which was a relief she just said I needed
to wear a nappy all the time because I’d had a few silly
accidents at school. I was quite embarrassed to find
myself filling my underpants without realising it and
then having to deal with wet pants. I didn’t like any of
that because bullies would gang up to mock and poke me.
Mummy said it was better to be in a nice fluffy nappy
that was wet than a pee-stained pair of shorts... and I
couldn’t disagree... mummy was right about everything.
The new designed
bedroom seemed to be taking an age. Mummy and I had
already stripped the old wallpaper but Uncle James was
finding it a bit difficult to commit because he was a
bit overwhelmed with work himself. However, mummy said
there was no rush and that it would make it so much more
exciting when I eventually did get my bedroom completely
Mummy had made
the spare room into a nice little place to be. She’d set
out all my stuffed animals which surrounded me as I
slept, “...to keep a protective eye on their
favourite little chap” she said. She’d made a play
area and a box for all my toys, mind you, there were
also piles and piles of fresh nappies, plastic pants and
various lotions and powder also on view. Mummy said it
was good to see them to remind me “that’s what a good
boy gets to wear if he wets himself”. I didn’t know
what a bad boy got to wear if he wet himself.
about the different materials the nappies came in and
kept buying new and more colourful or fun-patterned
plastic pants, “...better than boring old plain ones”
she’d beam. Mummy liked me to change out of my school
uniform as soon as I got home when she’d put me straight
into my night time protection. Always encouraging me to
walk around wearing nothing but these items... she said
I looked amazing.
I like it when
mummy praises me.
pleased with the new relaxation downloads I’d been
listening to, as she pointed out, I appeared a lot more
at ease and relaxed, which she thought was wonderful but
suggested I try something different. I asked what she
had in mind and suggested a hypnotism app she’d found on
the computer. It said in the write-up that it was best
used to alter the deep sleep state and set the listener
on “... a road to spiritual and personal healing”.
I thought it sounded stupid but mummy convinced me it
was worth a try.
So, she set it
up and pressed play.
Now I had my
sweet boy wrapped in a nappy all the time I couldn’t get
over how quickly all this had happened. The music, the
words, the ease in which he’d taken to this more
juvenile state had stunned me but of course I was
Now the school’s
summer break was upon us I wanted to experiment further.
It was nice to have him playing with his toys wearing
only his shiny protection and he didn’t seem to mind if
we had visitors, which were few and far between I must
say. The sad thing was, some of his friends were shocked
at seeing him this way and even when I put him in a pair
of shorts, his demeanour was still that of a toddler and
even though his bulging nappy was on view... he didn’t
seem to care. However, his friends did so they came
round less and less.
We’d play silly
games, or he’d set out all his toys and be immersed in
some adventure that would take off into a world of its
own; all the time he’d wriggle around wearing just his
slippery plastic pants and bulging nappy. Sometimes we’d
go to the park and I’d watch as he had a fun time on all
the kiddie equipment. The slides, swings, roundabout and
horses on springs kept him amused for ages – he giggled
nonstop eventually returning to my loving arms when he’d
worn himself out or wet his padding.
couldn’t shake off his description of that first
nightmare where he’d been treated as a baby girl. I
wondered if I could make my sweet baby boy think he was
a sweet baby girl, I began to obsess about this idea.
What would I do? What could I do? Would I be
taking things too far? If it worked, would I ever get my
boy back? Would I want Jack back or...?
My mind was a
whirl of questions and ideas. Soon it didn’t seem like a
stupid undertaking but one that would be interesting. I
began to think of it as an experiment, research into the
human psyche... I began to justify the entire concept to
myself it would be fantastic for both of us to push the
limits and see where we ended up.
I searched the
various ABDL sites and others to see if I could find
something, anything that had been similarly attempted; I
was surprised at the range of programmes on offer. I
checked their success ratings and comments sections.
Some you could tell were written by the designers and
friends of the designers themselves and therefore I
dismissed them but I did find a hypnosis strategy that
seemed to cover, in part at least, what I wanted to do.
I wasn’t sure it
would work because I’d have to use the programme whilst
Jack was awake and I didn’t have a great deal of faith
that hypnosis was a simple thing to induce in someone...
or how susceptible they were to the subliminal.
I bought it and
downloaded it onto my laptop – it was all about swirling
visuals and subtle suggestion that would filter into the
brain of the recipient.
The idea that
words alone could make a boy think he was a girl I found
a little preposterous but, after everything else that
Jack now did and was, I thought if it would affect
anyone it might just be him.
He loved the
colourful whirling images. He thought they were just a
bunch of crayons making nice pictures. He said he could
see nappies... panties... dresses... dollies...
princesses and little girls all inviting him to join
them. There were loads of other girlie things he said he
saw but I couldn’t see any of it. I could hear the soft
soothing words as the voice took him under and wondered
if he wore headphones it would make the programme more
His eyes stared
at the screen unblinking. There was a strange grin on
his face as occasionally his body would shake as if an
electric current was being passed through it. He was
also wetting his nappy but appeared unconcerned or even
aware what was happening.
was all smiles and even speaking back to the voice as he
slipped deeper and deeper. The hypnosis programme seemed
to interact with the replies it received so seemed far
more sophisticated than I’d first thought. The images
changed, the words were specific to Jack.
I was asked to
type into the programme the name I wanted Jack to go by.
From that moment
on the voice referred to Jack as Jill and made him
repeat that name after each part of the procedure.
“I am Jill.”
It was so
wonderful to hear those sweet words being said with such
love and sincerity I hugged my baby boy and for the
first time... called him Jill.
colourful images slowly faded and the voice encouraged
Jill to go ‘sleepy-time’ and in the morning mummy would
be waiting to take her sweet baby daughter for a walk in
I hadn’t planned
on that. I was only thinking as far as just staying in
the house. I’d bought a few silky, satiny things that I
hoped s/he would like but my plan was, after I’d changed
him... her... from the soaked morning nappy it would be
down to her what she choose what to wear.
lit up with black and white swirls that slipped slowly
into colourful patterns that held me spellbound.
The music was a
different sort of pulsating rhythm but not unpleasant
and I could feel myself being drawn further and further
into the images. A voice gently invited me to relax, to
concentrate on the swirling/twirling designs and let
Mummy wasn’t far
away and I wanted to reach out to hold her whilst the
voice increasingly attracted my attention. She kept
telling me to just let go just like the voice did and I
felt myself slipping away as I filled the front of my
nappy with a warm comforting flood. Mummy covered my
ears with her headphones so there were no distractions
only the voice and the images.
My mind was
finding it difficult to focus on anything around me but
I was cosy and warm so all was well. I didn’t remember
being put to bed, in fact, I couldn’t remember much
about last night except... erm... ummm...
I slowly woke up
in my bed sucking on a dummy, whilst crooked under my
arm was a dolly I didn’t recognise.
Her eyes were closed but she wore a pretty pink satin
dress and matching nappy, she looked very pretty so we
I was lovely and
comfy but began to realise that my nappy was once again
quite full. I slipped my hand down and felt the
comforting slipperiness of my protection but there was
no doubt it all seemed wrong and I didn’t know what to
do about it.
sprang to my eyes and I heard a wailing I wasn’t
expecting. I was crying for mummy.
I was half
asleep when I heard the cry for “mummy”. Jack hadn’t
cried out since he’d screamed “I’m a boy”, but this
didn’t sound like a panic cry... more an ‘attention’
cry. There was a difference, which took me a second or
two to realise and then to respond.
night, after the few hours of absorbing the hypnotic
programme I’d put Jack to bed. To be honest I was a
little worried as he didn’t seem to know who I was,
where he was or be aware of anything around him. I hoped
I’d not turned him into some kind of Zombie.
It was a warm
night so I changed him into dry protection and left him
zonked out under a fleecy spread. However, he began to
mutter stuff to himself so I inserted a dummy, which
thankfully settled him down. I also had a new toy doll
for him and thought I’d simply give him that to hold
during the night instead of his usual stuffed animal. He
appeared to like the choice because he smiled (I think
it was a smile) from behind the plastic guard and
sure it was a smile because up until that moment his
eyes hadn’t focused on me or anything. However, they
seemed to brighten up considerably when he saw the dolly
and hugged her so tenderly.
Whilst he was
asleep I got out an array of clothes so that come the
morning he could choose what he wanted to wear. The info
I’d received regarding the hypnosis suggested that there
be some girl’s clothes ready. I went with that idea,
though thought was quite presumptive of them, but
nonetheless I’d chosen an outfit like the one the doll
was wearing to ‘encourage’ Jill’s choice in the matter.
A short pink
satin dress, with matching knickers and assorted ribbons
were my starting point but I also laid out his normal
shorts and t-shirts plus rather nice pale blue denim
dungaree style shorts (that I have to say he had
previously looked wonderful in) as well as a couple of
onesies. I wasn’t sure if he’d be in any frame of mind
to select what he wanted but I thought, as per
instructions, to give my little sweetheart the choice.
That night I sat
in the chair in his room watching him sleep. I was
worried that after all that huge ‘information dump’ he
might be a bit fidgety, or disorientated, or something I
didn’t know what... so, I just sat and kept an eye on
He slept like a
log - hugging his dolly and sucking on his dummy.
I have to admit
that my eyes filled up on more than one occasion – he
looked so damn cute. My ten year old son just looked so
sweet and adorable gently suckling and at peace. I’m
surprised at just how emotional I felt and wanted to
just lift him from his snuggly warm bed, into my arms,
and for him to nurse as I rocked and kissed his head.
I slid my hand
under the fleecy blanket and inside his slippery plastic
pants checking to see just how wet he was this morning.
That was something I’d have to remember its Jill from
now on not Jack... and she was soaked.
Oh God could
this image in front of me get any more appealing as she
slowly struggled herself awake. Still sucking and with a
slight dribble down her chin she forced herself to focus
and I saw her eyes as they lit up with recognition.
The dummy got in
the way but I knew she was excitedly calling to me.
sweetheart,” She thrust her hands out for me to lift her
up, “and a good morning to my prettiest baby girl.”
Jack had been a
typical physical boy. He liked his sport and was fairly
strong and it was strange holding and hugging this soft,
pliable body. It seemed that his strength had diminished
with age regression and his femininity.
As I held him in my arms supporting his squishy
padded bottom, he... sorry... she rested her head
on my boob and nudged in as close as she could to
love. Let’s get this wet nappy off and all cleaned up
and as a special treat... mummy’s going to let you
decide what to wear today.”
Of course, once
stripped there was absolutely no doubt she was a boy.
His little balls and penis lying quietly as they were
wiped and cleaned, lotioned and powdered before applying
a nice double thick pink disposable and taping it into
that I just wanted to spend the entire day cuddling and
hugging his adorable little cushiony frame. I slipped a
pair of frilly pink plastic pants over it all and then
led him to the bench where I’d laid out a selection of
stuff for him to choose. Like I suspected, he was
carrying his dolly with the pink dress so opted for the
nice pink satin number I hoped he would.
I know a pink
satin dress is a bit of a cliché but I remembered when I
was a little girl I had a similar party dress I loved
so much that I cried when I had to take it off. I
thought I looked really pretty, in fact, everyone who
saw me said how pretty I looked... I just didn’t want to
take it off. Every opportunity I got I’d ask mummy to
let me wear my ‘special’ dress.
Sliding it over
Jill’s head she giggled at the soft material as it
tickled her skin. It came down to just above her knees
so the thick nappy and frilly pants couldn’t be seen
unless she bent over or sat down. However, Jill looked
gorgeous. I know I’d never have got Jack into anything
so girlie but she looked very pretty.
her short hair Jill looked like a very good-looking
effeminate boy or a boyish looking girl but the effect
as far as I was concerned... he was stunning. I put a
pair of lacy topped stockings on his legs and a pair of
pink plastic sandals and asked if he fancied going to
the park to play.
squealed in girlish delight.
Jill looked like
she was more ready for a tea party than a trip outside
but her enthusiasm was catching and, although I might
have had doubts, the fact that she was open to it made
me feel more confident about the entire project.
ridiculous, yet I couldn’t stop feeling proud of my new
daughter because she looked wonderful; young, eager and
confident. I thought how lucky I would have been to have
a toddler like her.
score had certainly been well made because it had
altered even her speech patterns to that of a more
childish, girlish timbre. She looked like a ten year old
but her actions and voice were that of a three year old.
We went to a
park not in our neighbourhood so that if we met anyone
we knew I could avoid complicated explanations. Once
there she ran, jumped and played on every bit of
equipment the playground had to offer. Even as Jack, I’d
never seen such uncontrolled excitement for what was
available. The party dress was no inhibition to her
delight and, as she swung, the breeze would lift it up
and expose her thick silky protection, she squealed even
more with delight.
Her satin dress
glistened in the sunlight and when she bent down or
crouched to pick up a toy or examine a flower or stroke
a passing dog... her shiny plastic frilly panties told
anyone that noticed... my little girl still had a
The pleasure my
little daughter gave was at times unbearable. My head
flooded with memories of Jack and the pleasure he gave
me and the almost unbelievable loyalty he had to his
Jesus... what had I done?
I felt guilty.
I’d changed my ten year old boy into a toddler... a
toddler girl and I’m not sure why. It’d all seemed so
logical to begin with, Jack himself had told me of his
dream, it was as if both our psyches were working on a
plan that neither of us knew about. Well to begin with
Why should I
have taken it to such an extreme?
Why didn’t I
just stop at him wearing nappies?
How do I get him
Will he want to
Yes of course
he would... I never gave him the option... but he looks
so happy... no night terrors... no worries... and she...
I mean he, looks so cute in his thick padding. I’m sure
it was nothing I did that made him dream of being a baby
girl and although he kept saying he was a boy, the
dreams continued... surely that points to him wanting to
be a... at least I think it did...
time for us to be heading home... are you wet?”
slowly back from the slide looking a little sheepish, I
hadn’t really needed to ask if she was wet, her waddle
gave the game away.
“Oh love, don’t
let it worry you, lots of little bo... girls have
accidents... look I have a change in my bag so let’s do
that now so you’ll have a nice dry nappy to go home in.”
Despite it all
being a bit of a rush to get to the park in the first
place, I had come prepared for just such an occasion.
I’d bought a nappy bag and filled it with all the things
I knew I’d need to keep my nappy wearing son clean and
It was easy to
change Jack when I could get him to wear nothing but
protection leaving his shorts or jeans as a thing of the
past but it became a bit of a faff when he was dressed
as a boy. Being Jill, and wearing a dress, made access
far easier and the change superfast.
Yes a dress for
my bo... little girl was a bonus when it came to
changing a soaked nappy.
Mummy had got me
a dwess just like my dowwy wore... it’s shiny and
And then we went
to the park... and then I went on swings and a
roundabout and... umm, a slide... and mummy was fun and
we pwayed for ages...
Jill, even out in the open where anyone might see, was
an absolute delight... she never stopped giggling all
the way through. Apart from his penis and little balls,
Jack had all but disappeared from the way my new found
daughter was reacting.
being wrapped in a fresh, thick nappy. She gushed in
giggly fun at wearing a new dress or playing with a new
doll. It was all exciting and fresh to her and she
seemed such an enthusiastic little toddler. She hugged
and kissed all the time, running to inform me of some
latest thing she’d seen, or a new experience she’d
enjoyed. When she slipped and grazed her knee, her sad
little face was immediately lifted when I planted
hundreds of tiny little ‘making it bet-bet’ kisses all
over her ticklish knee. These were things that Jack had
grown out of but Jill was sentimentally restoring to my
I am full of
guilt and euphoria at the same time. The guilt comes
when I change her nappy and see his little penis and I
think of Jack as an occasionally naughty boy growing up
and away from his mother. The euphoria comes as soon as
his little penis is tucked away under a fresh layer of
padding and the loving, heartfelt cuddles that follow.
Jill is a very, very loving child, even more so than I
remember Jack being at her ‘age’. Sometimes I forget and
call her Jack but she simply doesn’t respond to that
name but when I call “Jill” it’s all smiles and wanting
hugs as she waddles her way towards me.
At the moment
she, like Jack did, just sleeps in just a t-shirt and
protection, although in truth, I have added plenty more
padding to Jill’s nappy. I just love to see her with
that juvenile waddle. It also gives me the chance to
take more time with her morning change. She doesn’t have
the bladder of a small child but that of a much bigger
boy so she wakes up to an absolutely sodden nappy. I
tell her what a good girl she is for using her nappy and
can’t wait to get her changed and dressed wondering what
the day ahead holds.
Some boys in the
park who would have been around Jack’s age, maybe a year
or two older, started calling Jill a sissy. I’m not sure
how they knew Jill was a boy but somehow they’d sussed
it out and to be honest, I can’t think why it hadn’t
occurred to me before. My boy was, to all intents and
purposes, a big sissy... and my sissy was crying because
of the things these boys were saying.
Of course Jill
had no idea she was a boy, that her nice flowery dress
and thick nappy and shiny plastic pants were all an
illusion I’d created for... I wasn’t sure why. I mean...
Jack had this dream about being made into a girl and...
well... a baby girl and... well... I just went with it.
Jack seemed happier once he was back wearing a nappy I
thought he might be even happier if I gave him what he
wanted, well, dreamed he was... a baby girl.
the summer holidays are over and school beckons, I can
see I might have problems. That’s when the guilt returns
and I wonder what exactly it is that I’ve done to my
once loving son.
Would Jack ever
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