Start-Over Program

So there I was, lying down in a giant crib with its bars looking so confining to me. I couldn’t really move because my wrists and ankles were tied down to the crib. And even if I wanted to talk, the damn pacifier that was strapped around my head and stuck in my mouth kept me from doing it.

I looked around the room through the bars of my crib, but there wasn’t much to see; except for the moonlight coming in from the window, the room was completely dark. I could only make out the shapes of all of the other cribs in the room just like mine. Not like it mattered that I couldn’t see them; I knew that just like mine, each one of them contained a pre-teen or teenage boy who like me, were wearing thick diapers, some cloth, some disposable, in addition to some other type of baby clothing.

Unlike me, those poor bastards weren’t tied down. There was no need; they were perfectly happy in their baby-like state, and most were sucking pacifiers because they wanted to, not because they were strapped to their heads.

I was too uncomfortable to sleep. It was this damn cloth diaper; as much as I hated the feel of the disposables, the cloth ones were much thicker, and I hadn’t gotten used to that. When I thought about it, though, I didn’t see how I had gotten even a wink of sleep considering all the crap I had been through.

I tried to spot Johnny, knowing that he was the only one with any sense in this entire hell-hole. But from what I could see, he was happily dozing away just like the rest of those idiots. I guess I really can’t call them idiots, though; they were once just like me, and it’s not really their fault that they loved those stupid diapers and would rather have a teddy bear to help them to sleep than a good shot of NyQuil…



But I guess I’m not making much sense, am I? I should probably back up a bit and explain how I ended up in this horrible situation. Let me see, where should I begin…

I suppose it’s best to start with an introduction. The name’s Luke Cody Stephens. All of my bros called me Luke, but my wussy middle name would be my new label once I entered that hellish place. But that’s jumping ahead a bit.

I wasn’t what you would call your typical kid growing up, unless by typical you mean wretched. What could I say, I was an inner city kid exposed to a lot of rough individuals, and considering how much I hated school, I found joy in the various illegal and immoral activities we did…I even thrived on them.

By age eight I was shoplifting regularly. I picked up smoking at age nine. Ten…vandalism. You know, graffiti, throwing rocks through people’s windows for fun, defacing public property, the usual. By eleven fist fights were the norm for me, and I would get a black eye or bloody nose every week (although I dished out a lot more than I took…I’ve still got scars on my knuckles). I was getting drunk every weekend by the time I was twelve, and getting high was a preferred hobby. I lost my virginity by banging this gorgeous broad when I turned thirteen…I think she was around 20.

School sucked and I only used it as an opportunity to get more acquainted with my fellow thugs. I constantly insulted teachers and even took a swing at an assistant principle…I never did like that stupid chump. Eventually I ended up going to many different schools, and not only did I get kicked outta all of them, I did it with style. I think my favorite was the military school…they don’t seem to like their property being set on fire.

Now, at age fourteen, my parents had damn near given up on me. I had become a typical delinquent that no parent would be proud of. Even though my boyishly pale face and straight black hair might make some think I was a goody two-shoes, the scars on my face, untidy street clothes and decently sized muscles gave another impression.

I suppose part of the problem was their lack of discipline for me, but I don’t know if all the whuppin’s in the world woulda changed the way I was. Anyway, they didn’t know what to do; they didn’t want to see me go to juvi hall, and their lawyers had always made sure I got off…money does strange things to people, even juries and judges.

But my folks were at their wits’ end; they had tried everything else to straighten me out. If they yelled at me, I yelled back and just went back to the streets. If they cried, I didn’t give a fuck, claiming I was just having fun and they should calm down. One time they asked me what happened to the cute little Cody that I had once been. This pissed me off so badly that I yelled, “I hate that fucking name! And don’t ever call me ‘cute’. Damn I hate you sometimes!”

No matter how you look at it, I could tell they had gotten desperate. So when they told me they had enrolled me in a new “school”, I just smiled and said, “Bring it on!” After all, nothing could be as rough as military school had been. Or so I thought…

My adventure basically started with a bus ride. It was weird as hell; there were no other kids on the bus, and all the stuff I was taking with me was taken and I didn’t see where it had been stored. I didn’t really care; these private schools always had weird-ass ways of doing things.

As I got off of the bus, I had to admit I was impressed with the school building; it was fucking enormous. I didn’t think I had ever seen a structure that had covered so much ground space, even though the roof wasn’t all that high.

My welcome wasn’t exactly heart-warming; the rainy weather combined with the dark uniforms that my two escorts were wearing made me feel like I was going off to the hot seat or something. These two guys each grabbed one of my arms tightly and began to lead me off to the entrance, all without saying a word.

Normally I would have raised my fists and given each of them a swift jab to the face, but I stopped myself; I was curious about this strange building, and decided that I’d bide my time and strike at a more appropriate time.

After we went through the door, they led me through this gigantic hall. The lights were bright and the floor was covered with these pale blue tiles. The walls were the same color. Despite the bright lights, the place had an eerie feel to it; I still felt like I was being led to my doom. However, we soon ran up to another person, a man in this tight leather outfit. He was skinny and had this thin black mustache and sleek black hair. As we approached, he gave me this sly grin and said in a shrill voice,

“Ah, Mr. Stephens. I’ve taken a look at your past record, and I must say that it is quite extensive.”

“Impressive, eh?” I asked with a sarcastic smile.

“Quite,” he replied. “And because of this, I do think you’ll find your time in our little program to be quite helpful.

“But first things first. We must get you properly situated.”

As he said this, he pulled out this metal collar thingy from one of his pockets. It was just big enough to fit around my neck, and it had a shiny glare to it.

He moved forward and began to attempt to put it around my neck. I say attempt because I used my feet to kick it out of his hand. That collar looked pretty fucked up to me, and there was no way this prick would put it on me. I would have used my arms, but those two stupid fucks were still holding on to me tightly, not moving. But they were hella strong and I couldn’t move my arms at all.

“I’m not wearing that fucking thing, so you had better give up right now!” I said angrily.

The skinny guy bent over to pick up the collar, although he still has a smile on his face. “Ah, a feisty one, aren’t you Mr. Stephens? No matter; gentlemen, please suppress Mr. Stephens here.”

Before I knew it, the two guards had pinned me to the floor, and no matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t move.

I felt a metal object click into place around my neck. It wasn’t tight enough to choke me; in fact, I couldn’t feel it at all, really. There was definitely something pretty weird about it.

As soon as it was clicked on, the skinny guy said, “All right, men, you can let go of him now.” As they did so, I quickly got to my feet and felt the collar. It was definitely there, even though I couldn’t feel it on my neck.

“And considering how much of a fight you’ve already put up, I will now show you why these little devices are so useful in keeping loathsome boys like yourself in line.”

Not knowing what else to do, I tried to yank off the collar, but it wouldn’t budge. I then decided to try and make a break for the doors. As I turned, however, I felt a surge of pain shoot through my entire body.

I collapsed to the floor, screaming in pain. It was worse than anything I had ever felt before, and I had been sliced with knives and had teeth punched out. I felt like my whole body was on fire, and every single inch of my body was in agony. The immense pain continued for about one full minute, and when it finally stopped, my body was too weak from the pain to move.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Stephens, or should I say, Luke,” I heard the skinny guy say. “You’ll be fine in a few more minutes. But let this remind you of what happens when you don’t cooperate…any one of our trained officials can make you experience it again at any time.”

I listened to these words as I felt myself being dragged across the floor. I guess the two guards were doing it, but I still didn’t really feel like moving; I didn’t really care where they were dragging me, I was just glad the pain was over.

As the skinny guy faded from view, I noticed that I was taken into a small room with white lights, white walls and white floor tile. They hoisted me up onto this soft table. From there, they stripped me naked. This was completely embarrassing and degrading, and I tried my damdest to resist, but my body was still too weak. After I was naked, I felt them take my arms and strap them down to the table. With that, the two guys left.

Nothing happened for the next few minutes. I did regain my strength, but my arms were so securely pinned to the table that all I was able to do was move my head and my legs around a little. This really sucked, and I let out a yell to express my rage as I violently tried to struggle out of my bonds.

For the first time in many years, I began to feel actually scared; I couldn’t do anything, and I had no idea what these freaks were going to do to me. I knew it had to be illegal, and I swore that I would make my parents sue this place and have all of these creepy fuckers arrested once I got out.

Before I could think about much else, a new person entered the room. I looked up and saw that it was this extremely hot woman in a nurse’s outfit (which I found very sexy). She had a beautiful face, a tight body, and really nice blonde hair.

She began to speak to me. “So you’re the newest member in our wonderful program! Welcome!”

“Funny way to welcome a guest,” I said. “Shocking him and strapping him to a table.”

“Oh, but it’s the only way to handle naughty little boys like yourself,” she said in a sexy, but condescending voice.

“Wait one second,” I said. “I may be ‘naughty’, but I ain’t no little boy. I’m a fucking man…OUCH!”

All of a sudden I got another horrible shock from the collar I was still wearing. Thankfully, this one only lasted about five seconds, and even though I still hurt, my body wasn’t weakened like it had been from the longer shock earlier.

“You better watch that potty-mouth of yours,” she told me. “Every time you say a naughty word, you will receive a shock for five seconds. After 200 curses, it will become ten seconds, and every 200 curses it becomes five seconds longer. We have found this to be a very effective way of cleaning up filthy little mouths.”

Being very frustrated at what she told me, I decided I would shut up for the moment; those shocks were so painful that I wanted to avoid them at all costs.

She then continued. “Hmm…I’m told your name is Luke. But that doesn’t seem to fit a cute little boy like you. I think I like your middle name, Cody, much better. So that’s what we’ll call you while you’re here.”

Forgetting the collar, I yelled, “I hate that fucking name!” I then received another horrible shock.

“You’ll learn shortly, Cody,” she responded. “Anyway, let me inform you about our program. It was developed for bad little boys such as yourself in order to fix what is wrong with you. The basic idea is that you were raised wrong, and that is why you are the unpleasant thorn in society’s side that you are. Therefore, we will have to start over, and retrain you in your ways.”

“What in the…heck are you talking about? Start over?”

“Oh you’ll find out soon enough. For now, I think we had better get you dressed.”
I of course wouldn’t have any of this fucking shit. I yelled, “No fucking way, bitch!” I got another nasty shock, but after the initial pain, this one had no effect on me; I was too angry. I continued to thrash my body wildly about; there was no way in hell I would be wearing a diaper.

Unfortunately, the nurse lady was prepared. “Tut tut,” she said. “Let’s teach our new baby a lesson.” With that, she pressed a button on her sleeve, and I felt another horrible shock. This one, however, didn’t go away for a full two minutes. It was pure agony; I wished that I could die rather than for the pain to continue any longer.

When it was finally over, I yet again did not have the strength to move. Although my head was positioned in a way to see my crotch and the nurse, I couldn’t move it.

A smile spread across her face as she stepped towards me. As I lay there limply, she opened up the container and began to sprinkle a white powder on my crotch. The smell of it was sickeningly sweet…it reminded me of the smell of babies. This led me to realize that it was baby powder that she was putting on my crotch. Too weak to express any anger, I could only manage to say in a tiny voice, “Wait, what are you doing, don’t put that on me!”

But she only continued to smile and say in a babyish voice, “Oh come now, baby Cody has to smell nice and baby fresh like the baby he is. Besides, we don’t want him to get a diaper rash!”

These words were so horribly embarrassing that I actually began to cry. And I never, I mean, never, cry.

The nurse continued to do her work, humming as she grabbed my ankles, lifted up my legs (how in the hell did she do that? it took her no effort at all!), and then put some of the baby powder on my ass, which she referred to as my “baby bottom” (which I hated). She then unfolded the diaper and placed it underneath me.

At this point I was bursting in tears, and just pleaded with her in a bitchy, whiny little voice. “Please,” I cried. “Don’t do this! Don’t put me in a fucking diaper!”

The shock I received from my cursing just reminded me of how helpless I was. I still didn’t have the strength to resist, and before I knew it, the nurse had pulled the diaper through my legs and tightly fastened around my waist with the tapes on the side.

The feel of it was horrible. It was extremely thick, almost as if I had a pillow under my butt. Plus it was so soft, making me feel like the biggest pansy in the world. These two things were so cuddly that I almost felt like physically vomiting. I felt the soft plastic up against my thighs, butt, and whole crotch. To make matters worse, I looked down and saw these little cartoon characters dancing around gleefully on the strip along my waist. But there was nothing I could do; I was trapped in this soft plastic prison, and I honestly began to feel like a helpless little fucking baby. The whole feeling made me continue to loudly cry and whine, no matter how hard I tried to keep it in. I felt the tears stream down my face and my cheeks were red hot from humiliation.

But this wasn’t enough torture for the nurse. She had to keep on mocking me and degrading me by talking to me like I was an actual baby.

“Aww, yes, my sweet wittle Cody looks so adorable in his dydee! But don’t cry, wittle baby, you’ll have many other nice things to play with! Toys, rattles, pacifiers, teddy bears, blankies, and many other delights that will surely make baby Cody stop crying!”

This only added to my grief as I continued to sob and take in the fact that I would be helplessly treated like a baby. Not only was my body still physically weak, but I knew that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. If I ever began to step out of line in the slightest bit, I would have to face that ungodly pain again, and my body would become too weak to do anything for another period of time.

As the horror of my whole situation hit me, I didn’t even have the energy to resist. I was in a state of complete apathy and defeat, so I just gave up. I just helplessly watched as the nurse began to dress me in pajamas for babies…I would later learn it was called a footed sleeper. It was this disgustingly cute baby blue, and it had Mickey Mouse designs on it. To my utmost horror I realized that sewn into it on the chest it said “Baby Cody”, which made me cry even more. Not to mention the fact that the warm, soft material covered my whole body.

I then saw her take out one of those things babies suck on, in other words, a pacifier. I saw her take a piece of ribbon and tie it around the pacifier, and then she pinned the ribbon to my sleeper.

“Well, since my wittle Cody can’t seem to stop crying, maybe this will quiet him down. And if he doesn’t want his paci, maybe he would rather have another shock!”

Utterly terrified at the prospect of being shocked again, I continued to cry as she inserted the rubber nipple of the pacifier into my mouth. It muffled my crying, and it actually sounded just like it does when a baby is crying and a mother gives it a pacifier to calm it down. My sobs continued, but the pacifier muffled the sounds, making it sound like a mere whimper. All of my pride had now been run into the ground as I sucked on the pacifier like a sissy little one year old. I reminded myself of all of those stupid ass TV shows where the baby won’t shut up until it gets its pacifier.As she went over to open a drawer, I said, “Good, I want to put my clothes back on anyway.” I had assumed that they had only made me naked to perform a physical on me or something.

“Oh, you’ll have no need of those rugged things anymore,” she said as she rummaged around in the drawer. “We have brand new clothes for you. I think we’ll start off with disposable…they’re easier to deal with, anyway.”

Not having a clue what she was talking about, I just watched her for a second. As she turned toward me, I noticed she had something in each hand. In one hand was a small container. In the other, a soft white material that had this little cartoon pattern along the edge of it.

Suddenly, to my great horror, I began to piece together what was happening. The words “start over”, “disposable”, and “little boy” all combined together with the material she was holding to make me realize what it was. It was a…DIAPER.

As I made the connection, the nurse woman spoke again. “You see, Cody, in order to retrain you, we must start from the beginning. This means you will have to become like you were at the beginning, in other words, a baby. And as you probably know, babies must wear diapers, so let’s get you ready.”

The nurse then un-strapped me from the table. I didn’t even attempt to fight back because I was so scared of getting another shock. She then lifted me up and carried me in her arms (again, I was dumbfounded by her total strength). I continued to cry as she smiled down at me and made baby noises to try to cheer me up. She then laughed and remarked that it was fitting that I was crying since I would have to get used to my new life as a baby. She then cooed me once more and pinched my cheek, which I completely loathed.

Still sobbing around my pacifier, I looked at the walls as the nurse carried me through the hall. Eventually we came to this huge door with a sign over it. The sign read “THE NURSERY”. Upon reading it I cried into my pacifier even more.

As the nurse carried me into “The Nursery”, I experienced a new feeling: just pure awe. Firstly, the size of the room was amazing; it was easily half the size of a football field. The walls were a combination of pale colors; a light “baby” blue, pink and yellow, and the carpeted floor white. What made this even more awkward was the fact that the walls were covered with all kinds of babyish designs, from smiling bunny rabbits to cartoon characters to paintings of teenage boys crawling around in diapers. The pure cuteness of it all truly sickened my stomach, especially because it reminded me of my current condition. It almost felt like the designs were pointing fingers at me and laughing at my baby treatment.

Even more shocking than the room itself was what was contained in it. Almost every kind of item or furniture you think about when you think about babies was in here. There was a row of baby cribs up against one wall, but these were not normal cribs; a full grown adult could fit in one. I saw big high chairs up against tables. I saw bookshelves filled with little kids’ books. I saw rocking chairs and rocking horses. I saw all kinds of baby toys and blocks scattered across the floor. And worst of all, I saw a huge line of those horrid diaper changing tables, each covered with sickening baby designs.

But what truly made this room shocking and horrifying was not the room itself, nor the objects contained in it; no, the worst part was the fact that there were about 100 boys in the room, and each one was wearing baby clothes. They looked to range from about eight years old to about twenty years old. Some were wearing sleepers like me, others were wearing overalls, some were wearing what I later learned were onesies, and some were just there in their diapers with nothing covering them up. And even if you could not plainly see their diapers, that telltale bulge made certain that each boy was wearing a thick diaper, whether it was disposable or cloth.

In addition to the boys, there were many grown women in the room as well. But they were not dressed as babies; they wore adult clothes, and even though they did not have the same appearance as the nurse who was holding me, it was clear that they were there to watch over the boys and enforce the rules.

As if that in itself wasn’t bad enough, I could tell these boys were not in the same mindset as me. As I watched, I realized they were not merely dressed as babies and resisting the idea. They weren’t even acting like they were aware of it. Instead, each was acting like a real baby. I was sickened by these sights but at the same time I felt sorry for these pathetic kids.

I saw one kid that looked about 15 who was playing with some of the blocks strewn across the floor. I saw a 12 year old shaking a rattle and staring blankly at it. I saw a 9 year old trying to suck his toes. I saw a whole group of boys being read a story by one of the women, and the boys were all listening intently to every word. I saw an 18 year old asleep on the floor, a smile across his face as he sucked his thumb and clutched a baby blanket that was big enough for him. I saw a 16 year old being rocked in a rocking chair and being fed a baby bottle by one of the women. I saw a group of boys peacefully sleeping in some of the cribs. I saw a 13 year old being spoon fed in a high chair. I saw an 8 year old rolling around on the floor making baby noises. And worst of all, I saw a whole group of boys laying down on the changing tables with women standing over them, and I shuddered to think that they were getting their diapers changed.

As I took all this in, my previous feelings of anger, sadness, and humiliation were all multiplied by ten. The fear of the shock collar was still in my mind, so all I could make myself do was softly whine around my pacifier.

The nurse carried me over to the middle of the whole area and just set me down on my ass. The carpet felt soft, and it felt weird to have so much padding between my ass and the ground. After told me to “Have fun with your little friends, baby Cody,” the nurse left the room.

As I sat there dumbstruck by what I was seeing, I began to calm down and stop my foolish crying. I spit out the pacifier but didn’t bother to unpin it from my sleeper. As I tried to think straight, I became more and more appalled at what I saw.

First of all, I hate babies anyway. They make these really annoying crying sounds, they’re always spitting up, and they always smell because they shit their diapers. But it was ten times worse seeing these boys, not babies, but boys, acting like babies. In addition to the dumb giggling and gurgling noises that were everywhere, every now and then you’d hear one just burst out into crying. And I’m not talking about soft crying like mine; they were screaming at the top of lungs. As I watched, one of the women would rush over to comfort the screaming pre-teen or teenager. She would then often do things like play a game to calm him down, bounce him up and down, give him a pacifier, put him down for a nap, feed him a bottle, or, if need be, take him over to a changing table to change his diaper.

The sight of this began to really upset me and it started to drive me crazy. Deciding that the only option I had was to escape this evil nursery, I immediately rose to my feet and tried to run.

But to my dismay, as soon as I got to my feet, another tortuous shock from my collar made by body collapse again. This completely terrified me. I realized that the collar not only had a built in shock for swearing, but also for standing. I then realized that most of the boys would not walk; instead, they would crawl. I panicked, feeling a new sense of confinement. Feeling stupid, I attempted to try crawling. Thankfully, it worked, and I could move about with pretty much freedom. But I couldn’t go nearly as fast as I could running, and surely one of the women would catch me and I’d be in for a huge shock if I tried to escape.

My last resort was trying to remove the collar. But this hope was destroyed when I realized that as soon as I pulled on it, I got another shock. With my last idea being useless, I felt a complete sense of defeat. I simply just sat back down on my butt and began crying again.

I must have not been crying really hard, because thankfully, none of the stupid bitches tried to come over and make me stop. Instead, a boy who looked to be about 10 started to crawl over to me. He was only wearing a red T-shirt and a cloth diaper, and he was holding a teddy bear, and even though he only spoke gibberish, he offered me the bear.

I was still really upset and pouting, so I grabbed the stupid bear and threw it across the room. This immediately caused the boy to howl out very loudly, and immediately one of the women came and picked him up. As she patted his back and tried to calm him down with her soft words, he slowly stopped crying. She put him back down and he crawled over to play with some of those baby ring things on the floor.

I didn’t understand why she hadn’t punished me or even taken any notice of me. But I was just glad that I didn’t receive another shock. Still though, I was stuck, and not knowing what else to do, I pouted and went back to thinking about how completely bad this situation was. I didn’t see how this whole place was legal at all. I thought about how if my parents knew what went on in here how they would sue the living hell out of it.

Then another truly horrible thought struck me; maybe they knew exactly what was going on here, and that they supported it! If so, that meant that no one who would think this place was awful knew that I was here!

But it’s not like it mattered. Even if my parents didn’t know about all this, there was no way that I could escape it and let anyone know what was going on.

As I began to ponder what I had done to deserve this, another boy crawled over toward me. Well, I say boy; he actually looked like he was in his mid twenties. He had blondish brown hair that was neatly parted, light brown eyes, and a face that looked like he belonged in one of those fucking boy bands. Like me, he had a footed sleeper on, but his was yellow. He also had a pacifier attached to it by a ribbon, and he was gladly sucking on the pacifier. I noticed that across his chest read the name “Baby Johnny”.

I was totally expecting another baby-like encounter like I had had with the previous boy, so you can imagine my total shock when he spit out his pacifier, held out his right hand towards me and said “Put ‘er there pal!” in a completely normal (and surprisingly low) voice.
Completely taken aback by this phrase, I basically just continued to stare at the guy in disbelief. After a few seconds, he pulled his hand back.

“Fine, be rude,” he said. “It makes no difference to me anymore, I’ve come to expect it from another punk kid like you.”

Still in shock, the only thing I managed to say was, “You…you can talk!”

“Apparently so can you,” he responded with a sarcastic smile. “Genius communication skill, ain’t it?”

“Wait, now I’m really confused,” I said as I put my face in the palm of my hand.

The guy just laughed and said, “Well, let me break it down for ya. I’ll start off by introducing myself. I’m John Wyatt, although I’m now simply known as ‘Baby Johnny’, as you’ve probably been able to tell by the lovely sewn in label.” As he made this comment, he motioned his hand towards the label across his chest.

He continued by saying, “You are now the newest recruit to this ‘illustrious’ program. They call it ‘Reconstruction’, and this place is known as ‘The Reconstruction Center for Troubled Youths’, although it’s earned the nickname ‘The Baby Start Over Program’. I’m assuming they’ve told you what the program does, no?”

It was kind of hard to tell when “Johnny” was being sarcastic and when he was serious. Still sort of lost, I said, “All that nurse lady told me was that I’m going to ‘start over’ because I wasn’t raised right, or something like that.”

“Well, that’s the basic idea, my friend,” he said. “You, just like we all once were, are a burden to society. Don’t try to deny it,” he added when I was about to object. “I know that you’ve already committed God knows how many crimes. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.

“You see, this place is sort of a last resort for parents who don’t know what to do with their delinquent children. Everyone here once had problems that no school, no court, no correctional program could fix. Their parents had given up, and upon hearing about the program, decided to enroll their troubled youth. And that is why you’re here, am I right?”

He had basically hit the nail on the head. But as I looked around, I couldn’t believe it. There was no way these wussy kids had once broken the law. They were just like babies, for crying out loud!

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here, I guess,” I said. “But wait, you’re tryin’ to tell me these fucking…OWW!” I said as I received another shock.

Johnny just laughed and said, “Oh, you’ll learn eventually. It only takes so many shocks to purge you of your profanity. Although I will say that I myself still occasionally utter a filthy word and get a nasty shock,”

After recovering from my shock, I got back on track. “Anyway, you’re tellin’ me these…pansies were once violent, disrespectful lawbreakers?”

“Indeed, my friend,” he replied. “As you look around this room, you will see a whole tandem of kids, ranging from age 8 to age 20 that were once young hoodlums in their respective neighborhoods. Let’s take a look at a few examples.

“Take a look at Joey over there,” Johnny said as he pointed to a kid that looked 13 and who was currently building a structure out of blocks. “Before he came here, he was a gang member who specialized in knife fights. He hospitalized a few other random kids, and his parents couldn’t stand to see him be punished, using their money to save him from legal punishment. But now that he’s made his way here and started going through the program, he’s as harmless as a one year old.

“How ‘bout ol’ Simon over there?” he said motioning towards a 15 year old that was being bottle fed by one of the women. “By age twelve he was stealing cars every other week. Now, he won’t even touch another kid’s toy without asking for it.

“I think Calvin was one of the roughest kids that’s come here,” he said, pointing at a 17 year old who…I shuddered…was getting his diaper changed. “He specialized in arson, God knows how many buildings lay in ashes because of his work. He even claimed that he killed a kid but was proven ‘not guilty’ in court. I have to admit even I was surprised when I would watch him peacefully doze off in his crib snuggling with his teddy bear.

“Some are younger, of course. Matt over there is still physically only age 8, although like all the others he has the mind of a baby. He would get into fights every single day at school, and he eventually hit his principle and broke his nose (‘strong kid,’ I thought). Now he bawls non-stop until he gets his pacifier and is rocked back and forth to soothe his nerves.

“Then there’s Tommy. That 10 year old over there, the one trying to get his toes in his mouth, was once a drug dealer. How he managed to get into all that by the tender age of 10, I’ll never know. But now he’s an adorable fellow that would make any common girl say ‘Awww’.

“And then of course there’re your rapists. Billy over there,” he said pointing to a 16 year old. “He raped countless girls at weekly parties. But I’ll never forget the look of pain and humiliation in his face when he was bent over one of these women’s knees and spanked until the cows came home. Sometimes that happens to the more resistant blokes.”

“Perhaps you’re wondering why there ain’t no girls here. I have heard that there are institutions such as this one for girls, although I’ve never seen it with my own two eyes. The creators apparently only think the program works if the genders are separated. Besides, as you can imagine, there are plenty more hoodlum boys than girls.”

After this whole speech, I’m still not sure if I believed Johnny. It seemed like there was no way that these harmless little babies were at one time horrible criminals. It just couldn’t be. Curious as to how these kids could have been possibly transformed, I decided to ask Johnny how the program worked.

“Ok, wait a second,” I said. “If what you’re saying is indeed true, then how in the…heck, did they go from such bad kids to the little wussies they are now?”

Johnny smiled and said, “Well, it’s a bit of a complicated process, but I’ll still try to explain how it works, considering I doubt either of us are going anywhere anytime soon. Uh, well,” he said as he looked up over my head. “After your feeding, that is…Enjoy!”

Puzzled by what he was talking about, I just looked at him funny. I then felt a shadow go over me, then I felt someone lift me up from my armpits, and before I knew it, one of the women in the room was holding me in her arms and carrying me (like a baby, I might add) over to a rocking chair.

As she walked (how in the hell was she so strong?), she smiled at me and said, “Ok, wittle Cody, time for you to get your ba-ba!”

Once I realized that she was talking about giving me a baby-bottle, I at once yelled “NO WAY!” and I began to struggle and try to escape from her arms. But she seemed to have the same strength as the two guards that had carried me in, and no matter how much I resisted, she held me firmly in her arms.

“No no no, baby Cody,” she said. “It is time for your bottle, and you WILL be a good boy and drink the whole thing!”

As she sat down in the rocking chair, still holding me tightly with one arm, she reached over and retrieved a baby bottle that was full of milk. As she began to press it towards my mouth, I shot out a hand and grabbed it, trying to hold it back. But she was just too strong; the nipple inched closer and closer to my mouth. But even though I couldn’t hold her hand back, I could at least prevent it from going into my mouth. As it approached my mouth I tightly closed my lips, and she was unable to get it through.

“Well, if baby Cody is going to be a bad little boy, then we will just have to punish him!” she said. With that, she reached over and touched her wrist, and I immediately experienced that same torturous shock throughout my entire body. After it went on for a full minute, my body collapsed again and I could put up no more resistance.

Satisfied, the woman then took the bottle again, and this time it went into my mouth without resistance. As tears filled my eyes again, she forcefully squeezed the milk into my mouth, and I was simply too weak to prevent myself from swallowing it. As I continued to nurse from the bottle, she rocked me back and forth, patted my butt with her hand and said “Now you’re being a good baby, Cody. Drink your whole bottle for mommy!”

As I finished off the stupid thing, she took it out of my mouth and said, “There, now was that so bad? Babies need their milk, after all.” I didn’t even resolve to object to the whole idea. With the ordeal now over, the woman carried me back over to where Johnny was.

“Now you can go back to playing with your new friend, Johnny,” she said as she put me down and left. To make matters even worse, Johnny was sitting there with a smirk across his face.

“Have a good time?” he asked. “Milk, it truly does do a body good.”

As I wiped the tears from my eyes, I muttered, “Fuck you,” and received another five second shock.

“Oh come on,” he said. “Honestly, the kids here always make such a big deal about all this stuff when they first get here. Is it really that bad to be fed a bottle? Honestly…”

“Yes, it is that bad,” I remarked, my pride still hurting badly.

“Oh, just forget about it,” he said. “Well, where were we? I do believe you were asking me about how all these kids went from horrible monsters to the harmless babies you see before you. Are you still interested in pursuing the topic?”

I wasn’t really that interested, but I wanted to have something to think about other than the horrible experience of being bottle-fed, so I said, “Yeah, go ahead.”

“All right,” Johnny began. “Well, as you know, the whole idea behind this program is that you were raised wrong, and that is why you have committed the immoral acts that you have. In order to change who you are, they must start over and retrain you. However, the first step in the reconstruction process is called ‘decoding’.”

“What is that?” I asked.

“Well, before they attempt to re-teach you everything about growing up, they must first prepare your mind and body to take in this information again. You see, when kids first get here, their minds have already been damaged…it is impossible for you, for example, to change your ways in your current state of mind.

“Now whether you want to admit it or not, at one point in your life, you were a helpless, innocent baby. Your mommy had to bottle-feed you, put in your crib for naps, and change your messy diapers, among other things. And all you did was cry when you were upset…there was no evil thought in you.

“Well, basically, what this program must first do is return your body and your mind to that state; that is the only way anything can be changed. You have to become malleable, if you will.

“So what in the hell…Ouch!” I said as I received another shock. I would really have to get used to this shock thing.

“I mean, heck, are they going to do to me first?”

“Well, it’s already in effect,” Johnny explained. “You see, most of the fine male specimens you see before you have already been decoded, hence their baby behavior. I do believe there are about five kids, other than you, that are still in the decoding process. You probably wouldn’t enjoy conversing with them, however. They can still talk, but their interests are nothing like they once were; they would probably only want to talk to you about how much they love their pacifiers and how much they like having their diapers changed.

“Anyway, the first things to go in the decoding process are your physical abilities. As you have found out, you are currently unable to stand without receiving a shock. The purpose of this is that they want to condition your body so that the only physical mobility you will be capable of is crawling. Eventually, your legs muscles will ‘forget’ how to walk, and when you attempt to walk, you will lack balance and the proper strength, and you will therefore collapse and fall over. Even if they wanted to and didn’t get shocked, no decoded kid here would be able to walk unless they have been re-taught how.

“Also, if you’ve noticed, the women here, who we refer to as ‘nannies’, can pick you up and control you very easily. This is not because they are very strong; they’re just average women. It’s your collar; not only does it have shocking capabilities, but it weakens your muscles and makes you light as, well, a baby.

“The purpose of this is to reduce the strength of your muscles. They will not become as weak as a baby’s, but they will become considerably weaker than what they currently are. Even without collars on, most kids here couldn’t put up much resistance if they chose to. This makes it much easier for the nannies to keep them in line.”

As I listened, I became horrified to realize what would happen to my body. “That’s so fucked up…Oww!” I began to say before another shock.

“That’s so messed up,” I tried again. “Does that really happen?”

“I speak the truth to you, my friend. It will happen. And then of course there are your bladder and bowels. I’ll give you about four weeks before you become incontinent.”

“And how does that happen?” I asked.

“Well think about it. Whether you want to or not, you WILL piss and shit…”

But he was cut off from his collar shocking him. To my great surprise, Johnny got shocked for about five minutes. It went on for so long that I thought the pain would actually knock him out.

But to my great surprise, once it ended, he acted like it hadn’t happened at all.

“I really do know better than to curse like that,” he remarked.

“How in the world are you so unaffected by it, though?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m conditioned to it by now. The shock doesn’t affect me any more than a pin prick. But if YOU get conditioned to it, they’ll find other ways to keep you line, if need be,” he said as he saw the look of hope in my eyes.

“Back to what I was saying, you WILL…’go pee pee’ or ‘poo poo’ in your diaper, whether you like it or not. If you haven’t noticed, there are no bathrooms in here, and you have no way to escape this room considering you can only crawl. And if you try to remove your diaper, or even your sleeper, a nanny will soon notice you and you will receive a five minute shock. So, eventually you’ll have no choice but to go in your diaper. And after you do it long enough, you’ll find you won’t be able to control it any more and it will come out without you even noticing. Like I said, I give you about four weeks, tops. But don’t worry if you’re wet or messy…you simply have to just cry for a bit and a nanny will rush over and change you…they’re pretty good at noticing wet and dirty diapers.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said. “There’s no way I’m gonna…do that, in my, my…”

“I’ve heard many say the same,” Johnny remarked. “And look at them now,” he added, pointing over to some boys getting their diapers changed by the nannies.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Your physical attributes will go first, but your mind will still be the same. However, eventually, and it varies from person to person, but given enough time, your mind will begin to return to the way it was when you were a baby. It’s usually a slow process, and because of this, it will probably happen without you even noticing it.

“Typically, it starts small. Kids generally start by finding an interest in the toys here or having stories read to them. Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re saying ‘There’s no way I would ever play with blocks or like these stories.’ But remember, my friend, you have no other form of entertainment. There is no one here who will talk to you normally, save me. The nannies just treat you like a baby, and the kids, well, they’re babies themselves. And it’s not like you have anything else to do. Eventually, you’ll get bored, and your only source of amusement will be these things. Over time, you’ll begin to love them. You’ll be able to pass hours by playing with the toys you see before you, and you’ll become sad, happy, or scared when you here stories like ‘Goldie-locks and the Three Bears’ or ‘Cinderella’. And your reactions will become increasingly babyish because those around you are that way. It will become natural for you to clap with glee when something makes you happy in a story, and simple parts in fairy tales will bring you to tears.

“On that same note, emotionally you will become more and more baby-like. Just look at your current emotions…you have already experienced extreme defeat and grief. And my friend, the only comfort you will receive will be from the nannies and various baby paraphernalia. When faced with complete sadness and defeat and when you have nowhere else to turn, you’ll find pleasure when a nanny holds you in her arms, rocks you and tells you that you’re a good baby. You’ll begin to enjoy the way she plays with you and gives you attention when she changes your diaper. And you’ll begin to get a warm feeling in your stomach and chest when you hug a soft teddy bear, cuddly blankie, or when you suck a pacifier or your thumb. Like it or not, you’ll grow to love these things.

“And your sleep is affected too. They force you to take naps in addition to all of the sleep you get every night. After all, babies do sleep a lot. You will eventually find cribs not to be confining, but they will give you security. And given enough time, you will be unable to sleep without a pacifier, teddy, or other such items. But with these items, you will experience the most peaceful sleep in your life, and your body will have the physical need of getting up to sixteen hours of sleep a day.

“Of course other aspects of your mind will go too. With no one speaking real English to you, you will lose your ability to speak anything but babyish gurgles and crying. Although if you are stubborn and continue to speak English properly, they will resort to shocking you whenever you speak real words. In addition, your perception will be weakened, and you will start viewing yourself as a tiny baby who is in complete control of the nannies. It will become completely natural for you to cry when you are upset about something, whether you’re scared, hungry, or wet.

“You may be wondering how all of this is accomplished. Well, some of it is forced, such as your motor skills and bladder control. In addition, when you sleep, you will at first be tied in your crib, and a pacifier will be strapped into your mouth to force dependence. Likewise, even though they start off by forcing you to be spoon-fed or bottle-fed like you just experienced, soon they will force you to cry when it is feeding time or when you need to be changed. If you refuse, they resort to more shocking, and they will continue to shock you until you cry. They will then proceed to feed you or change you. After time, you will find yourself automatically crying whenever you feel hunger or realize that you need a diaper change, among other things.

“Other aspects just happen naturally, such as your interest in toys and stories, lack of speech (unless they decide to force you), and emotional security. The environment you’re in will have its way with you and without you even realizing what’s happening, these parts of you will become more and more baby-like.

“Given enough time, the process of decoding will be complete. Other than your body size, you will be in all ways exactly like the baby you once were. Once this is achieved, the reconstruction process can continue.”

This was a whole lot for me to take in, and even though as Johnny talked I became more and more horrified, I had a hard time believing him. I mean, there was no way that I would enjoy holding a stupid teddy bear or wet my diaper…I’d sooner die.

I voiced this concern. “Come on, now,” I said. “You can’t be for real. There’s no way that’ll happen to me.”

“My friend,” he responded. “That’s what they all have said. And look at them now…they’re just as much babies now as when they were physical babies, except for their physical size, of course.”

This hit me very hard and I was greatly frightened by it. Nonetheless, I continued to prod away at Johnny.

“Wait a sec,” I said. “There have got to be a few kids on whom the process didn’t work. I mean, some kids must have resisted and refused so much that the nannies and other people in this program just gave up, right? And the kids got kicked out and were still delinquents, right?”

But Johnny just laughed. “My friend, I wish I could tell you that this was the case. But there has not been one person that I’ve seen come through here that have resisted the program so much that the decoding process failed. Every single kid has been regressed completely back to babyhood, no matter how bad they were. Well, except me, of course.”

I began to ask Johnny why he was different than all of the others, but as I asked the question he said, “That’s a very good question, and because not everyone who comes through here has the sense to ask it, I’ll tell you. But not today…you’re not ready to know yet.”

Not knowing what he meant, I said nothing and he continued to talk.

“I will admit some of the kids give in before others do. It’s amazing how fast some of the kids turn. They are so distraught by their initial baby treatment that they immediately give in to the love, comfort and pleasures of their baby treatment. It may just be that they are weak minded individuals, but whatever the reason, they quickly transform from rough and tough kids to cute, harmless little babies.

“Others tend to put up more of a fight. Other than me, I think the record for the decoding process to complete is around five years. Old Danny holds that record,” he said, pointing to a 17 year old gleefully listening to one of the nanny’s reading a story. “He had such a fire in him, and other than me, I don’t think anyone has received more of the punishments.”

“Punishments?” I asked. “Isn’t the shock treatment enough to make anybody give in?”

“You’d think so,” he said. “But as you’ve seen with me, your body eventually gets conditioned to it. Although at this point it is probably more painful than anything else you’ve ever experienced, that’s just because you’re new. Many kids have been able to actively resist the shock treatment for long enough that it doesn’t affect them much more, and the nannies and other workers have to resort to other methods of getting kids to cooperate.

“It’s actually a step process. Once they realize the shocking isn’t having the desired effect, they resort to the first type of punishment. After a while, if you still resist, they move on to the next, and so on. Each one becomes more and more horrible, and in the end, all kids eventually crack, and no matter how much they resist, they too become decoded.”

Even though I was a bit frightened to hear what these other punishments were, I pursued the topic. “What are the different types of punishment?”

“Well, the first step is…” he began, but I didn’t find out what the first step was just yet, because Johnny then stopped, looked down at his crotch and said, “Uh-oh, mate, looks like I’ve got a wet diaper. You’ll have to excuse me for a bit.”

Then without warning and to my surprise, Johnny began to bawl at the top of his lungs, just like a real baby. There were even tears in his eyes! Within seconds, a nanny rushed over, picked him up, realized that his diaper was wet, and carried him over to a changing table.

I didn’t really want to watch, but my curiosity got the best of me. I crawled after the nanny over to the changing table that she had laid him down on. He was still crying as she began to unfasten his sleeper at the waist, but I heard her begin to comfort him.

“There there, wittle Johnny,” she said as she began to rub his stomach. “It’s ok, mommy is hear to change you.”

Once the bottom of his sleeper was opened, she then unfastened what I would later learn are called “plastic pants”, and then un-pinned the safety pins holding his wet cloth diaper to his body. She took it off, and disposed of the diaper in one pail, the pair of plastic pants in another, where they would both later be washed. Johnny was naked, but neither he nor the nanny thought it was weird at all. It was just as if Johnny was an actual baby having his diaper changed.

He began to calm down as the nanny took a baby wipe and began to clean his dick, his thighs, his waist, and his butt, and his crying was reduced to a whimper. After he was clean, the nanny took some baby powder and powdered his ass (she had grabbed his ankles and lifted his legs so that she could easily get to his butt, and I was reminded about how his collar had affected his weight). Afterwards, she unfolded and slid another cloth diaper under his butt, shook some more baby powder onto his dick and hips, and pulled his diaper up over his waist. She then refastened his diaper using two more “diaper pins” on each side. Afterwards, she put another pair of plastic pants on him. He had considerably calmed down by now, and he was even smiling. The nanny then put her mouth on his belly button and blew some bubbles into it, making a snorting type sound. This resulted in Johnny letting out a babyish giggle, and the nanny just smiled back down at him as she refastened his sleeper.

She then picked him back up, said, “There, all done!”, gave him a good pat on his diapered ass, and placed him back down on the floor. After she left, he simply smiled at me and said, “Ah, there really is little better in life than the feeling of a nice, fresh diaper! I’m tellin’ you kid, drugs and alcohol have got nothing on this feeling”

Still shocked by what I had just seen, I said to him, “But wait…have YOU been decoded, too?”

He laughed again and said, “Well, sort of…it’s a long story, and at some point I’ll tell you. But what you just witnessed is what I like to call ‘playing the system’. That was all an act; I was fully aware of the fact I was being changed, and even though it’s nice to have your wet diaper taken off and getting a new one, my crying was completely under my control. I could have stopped anytime I wanted, I just wanted to make the nanny think she was doing her job.”

“But why did you fake it?” I asked. “What’s the point?”

“I’ll explain it to you later, kid,” he said. “I think we’ve talked quite a bit today. I’ll let you brew over everything I’ve told you…you’ll need some time to take it all in. Plus, I don’t want the nannies getting too suspicious of us, since we’ve been talking for so long. Besides,” he said with a yawn. “I think I need to get some shut-eye, I’m well past the time for my daily nap.”

“Wait, one more question,” I said. “Why are you telling ME all of this?”

Johnny simply smiled at me and said, “Well, kid, to be honest, I don’t tell all of this to every kid that passes through here. They think I’m a baby just like the rest of them. I have found it to be a waste of my time and energy to tell every single kid, and many of them are much better off without ever hearing about how they will be decoded. The ones I talk to tend to be more resistant to the idea, too; it makes sense considering that once they are aware of what’s going on, they will more actively refuse to accept it.

“I typically watch every new kid’s actions for a few days to study them. If they’re the more resistant type, I typically speak to them. If they begin to show signs of giving in, I’ve found that they’re much better off being ignorant of what’s going on; they quickly become happy with their baby treatment, and me telling them what’s happening to them would just ruin it.”

“So why did you tell me on my first day?”

“Ha ha, well kid, let me put it this way,” he said. “I have seen countless hoodlums come through this program, but you’re one of the only few who actually cried in your first few minutes. Maybe it was my own personal desire to comfort you in your defeat, or maybe it was just pity, but even though I knew that since you were crying you’d probably be of a weaker will and be more apt to give in to the decoding, I just couldn’t let you sit there and be miserable. And who knows, maybe now that I’ve told you, you might be able to break Danny’s record and fight the decoding process for more than five years. I think you’ll be an entertaining one to watch, Cody.”

“My name’s not Cody, it’s Luke!” I retorted.

“Well, that ain’t what it says on your sleeper, Cody,” he said as he turned and crawled away.

As I sat there and tried to ponder what I had just heard, I felt an irritation towards Johnny. I was bothered by the fact that he had said that I would be more likely to give in to the decoding because I had cried, but when I stopped to think about it, I was even more bothered by the fact that he said I was one of the very few in the large number that he had seen who had actually cried on the first day I was here.
With Johnny gone, I had no one to talk to, so I just took a deep breathe and lay down on the floor. As soon as I did, I realized that I had to take a piss. As I remembered what Johnny had told me about this, I decided I didn’t want to deal with it, so I ignored the pressure in my bladder. To get my mind on something else, I began to contemplate everything Johnny had told me.

As much as I didn’t want to believe it, what Johnny had described logically made sense…given enough time in a place like this, anybody would start to forget all of the necessary skills to live. I was greatly frightened by the idea of my mind and body returning to a baby-like state, so I decided not to worry about it at the moment. I simply resolved to make sure that I kept my mind sharp and focus on keeping it normal.

The more I thought about it, the more this program sickened me. I still didn’t understand how this program was legal, but I assumed it was because I doubted my parents would get involved with an illegal organization. But this had to be cruel and unusual punishment. I still had the distant hope that my parents, the government, and whoever else would have a problem with this place really didn’t know what went down in here. With that hope, I tried to convince myself that they would find out about it before I had to spend much more time here.

As I continued to think about all of this, the pressure on my bladder got worse and worse. I had never had to go this bad, and I crossed my legs tightly to prevent it from happening. But I didn’t know how much more of this I could take.

It was like a crazy war going on between my pride of not pissing myself and the physical pressure of my bladder wanting me to do so. It got so bad that I even felt pain. I tightened my face and rolled back and forth to hold it in.

But eventually, it got so unbearable that I had no physical choice but to just let it go. Feeling another sense of defeat, I relaxed my muscles. It took a few seconds for my piss to start flowing, but once it did, it was like the Hoover Dam busting. I was thoroughly disgusted as I felt my diaper soak up my warm urine as it flowed out. It was so warm and moist, and not only did I feel it up against my dick and my balls, it was all over my waist and thighs too. As I finished, the horrible squishy feeling of my diaper was an all time low of my time spent here so far.

As the warm moist feeling turned to a cold, damp feeling, I felt like crying again because for the first time in about 11 years, I had pissed myself. And worst of all, there was no way for me to get rid of the damp feeling of my pee up against myself.

Well, other than getting my diaper changed, that is. But there was no way that was going to happen because A, I was not going to shriek like a baby to get the nannies’ attention, and B, the image of Johnny getting changed was still fresh in my mind and I definitely did not want to go through with the process.

This idea worked in theory; unfortunately, a few minutes later one of the nannies came over, and as she picked me up, she said “Ok wittle Cody, it’s time for your nap!”

But as she put me over her shoulder, she sensed what was wrong and said, “Uh-oh, looks like someone went pee pee in his diapy! Next time the baby should cry and let mommy know so that she can change him into a nice clean diaper!”

As she turned around to carry me over to the changing tables, I once again struggled in vain. As she lay me down, I tried to kick her. You’d think I woulda learned by this point, but she immediately gave me another long shock. With my body limp once again, she used a strap to tightly tie my upper body to the table, and then unfastened the bottom of my sleeper. The only resistance I could offer was weakly saying, “But, but...I don’t wanna be changed!”

“Shh…be quiet little one, mommy will fi