How Do You Spell Baby? (Version 2) by Baby Rox

[b]How Do You Spell Baby? (Version 2.0)

By Roxanne Deon[/b]

If nothing else, my experience made a believer out of me. I’ll never again scoff - much less laugh - when someone tells me there really is magic in the world. If witches are real - and I can testify they, are, then why not other forms of magic, too?

In November, Elyssa told me we needed to return to her home in northern Maine, and get her mother’s blessing before we announced our engagement. She told me that her mother was part of a group of “wise women” and Elyssa would not marry me without her mother’s and the group’s - the Coven’s - permission. I was an amused, rational skeptic, when Elyssa sincerely informed me that the group practiced “white magic” ceremonies.

I didn’t mean to laugh out loud, but I did. Elyssa fixed me with that intense stare that meant she was definitely not amused, “I’d advise you to keep that attitude to yourself, Dennis. Having the Coven’s blessing is very important to me. I can’t marry you if the Coven foresees a bad ending to our union, or a barren marriage. Children are very important to me, Dennis. You know that, and it’s not a laughing matter.”

“Hey, I want kids, too,” I said, with more enthusiasm than I really felt, “But, putting our whole future in the hands of some group of modern-day witches, just doesn’t seem all that ‘wise’ to me, Elyssa. I mean, if any one of these wise women takes a personal dislike to me, for whatever reason, you’re really going to give her a veto over our marriage?”

“It won’t be like that, Dennis, you’ll see,” Elyssa said firmly.

In mid-December, we packed for a three-week visit to Maine, planning to stay for most of the winter semester break. We flew into Bangor, arriving as the sun was setting in mid-afternoon, and a cutting northern wind whipped through and under our clothes.

Lilith Merrin was a slender woman, though it was hard to tell under the layers of clothing she wore. After feeling the wind, I wished for a few more layers, myself. I knew she was forty- one from Elyssa’s description, but she appeared no more than ten years older than Elyssa’s age of nineteen. Tiny laugh lines and a small “v” crease at mid-brow were the only age lines I noticed. She wore only eye make-up, and not much of that. The family resemblance was very strong; Elyssa seemed more like a younger twin than Lilith’s adult daughter.

Elyssa’s mother drove us north on the interstate for nearly two hours. There was no real town - just a couple of convenience store / gas stations near the exit. We took several turns, on roads that were crowned, potholed, and rippled with years of frosts setting and heaving the roadway. Finally, we turned onto a gravel road that was barely two lanes wide, and wound through the thick pine and spruce woods. We drove a mile or more through the dark forest to the clearing that held the house, and several small outbuildings.

The house and its outbuildings were modern, stained cedar shingle structures in a “shed” style architecture. All of them had steeply pitched rooflines, and lots of south-facing energy efficient glass. Lilith led us to a second-story bedroom. She placed her hands together, and said “Be welcome to enter.”

I stepped inside, wondering at her odd doorway ritual. From the decor, and souvenirs, I guessed the room was Elyssa’s bedroom when she’d lived at home.

Gesturing to the bedroom at the opposite end of the bedroom loft, Lilith said, “And, that’s where you will be sleeping for the duration of your visit with us, Dennis.”

“Elyssa, didn’t you tell your mother we’d be sharing a room?” I asked, winking at Lilith to show I was just joking.

“Not funny, Dennis,” Elyssa said sharply.

“Only married couples, and mothers with young babies share a bedroom under my roof, young man,” Lilith’s tone held no humor. Her unwavering stare was even more grim, “Since I know my daughter would not marry you without my blessing, Dennis, are you telling me you want to sleep in the crib we keep in Elyssa’s room?”

I peeked at the antique wooden crib in one corner of the bedroom. A somewhat more modern changing table with drawers stood beside the crib. For some reason, I noted that the shelves above the changing table were well stocked with piles of diapers, diaper changing supplies, and infant clothing. Lilith was certainly prepared to have a baby staying in the room.

“I don’t think I’d fit in the crib, Mrs. Merrin,” I said, as seriously as I could manage, “Besides, it’s been years since I needed to sleep in diapers.”

“Just because you’ve mastered potty-training, Dennis, doesn’t mean you’re mature enough to marry my daughter,” Lilith responded, still showing no sign of amusement, “Her room has been warded by protective spells, young man. Anyone who trespasses into places they don’t belong would pay a high price for such abuse of my hospitality. I strongly advise you to stay out of here unless I invite you to enter, or you may find you’re not too big, or too old, for cribs and diapers, after all. Any trespasser in this room will find himself in diapers and in that crib awaiting my return.”

“Dennis knows the house rules, Momma. Really,” Elyssa said, quickly, and pinched me on the leg to keep me quiet, “He won’t be anywhere he shouldn’t be. He wants your blessing and the coven’s as much as I do. Don’t you, sweetie?”

“Of course I do, Mrs. Merrin,” I said with all the sincerity I could muster, “I know how much this means to Elyssa, and I’ll do whatever I can to convince you and your friends that I’ll be a very good husband to her. I’m sorry if my sense of humor has upset you”

“I’m sure you’re being as sincere as you can be, young man,” Lilith responded coldly, “But, the Testing will prove whether or not your love for Elyssa is true, and mature enough to last. When the coven gathers on Saturday, we’ll decide whether your union with Elyssa will happen, or not.”

She left us alone in the hall, and I spoke softly to Elyssa, “I’m just guessing, but your mother isn’t a ‘fun’ person, is she? So, what time do you want me to sneak into your room tonight?”

“Dennis! Don’t joke about that anymore - especially around my Momma,” Elyssa said sharply, "She wasn’t kidding about those warding spells, you know. I’m not marrying you if I have to change your diapers, instead of our baby’s.

“Oh, right, like I’d really turn into a baby,” I chuckled, looking carefully to see that Elyssa really was serious.

“Don’t scoff at things you know nothing about, Dennis,” Elyssa warned earnestly, “And, don’t be breaking my mother’s house rules, even if you don’t believe in the consequence to be paid for being foolish.”

“All right, Elyssa,” I said, giving her quick kiss, “I’ll be a good boy, and stay in my room. I promise.”

I slept poorly, twice being jolted out of dreams in which Elyssa seemed to have become gigantic, or I had been reduced in size to that of an infant, and she was chasing me through the house.

At breakfast, I tried to exorcise those nightmares by telling Elyssa about them. When I’d finished what I thought was a comic description of gigantic Elyssa chasing me through a haunted house, she gave me a frightened stare in reply. She placed her hand over mine on the table, and said, “The room you’re using is warded against bad dreams, Dennis. If you had this dream in that room, it means this is a ‘true’ dream. In one way, or another, your dream will come true.”

“What?” I looked at her in surprise, “Elyssa, you can’t really believe I’m going to be magically changed into a baby, and chased all over this house by you?”

“Just be sure you stay out of my room, Dennis,” Elyssa replied seriously, “if you do that, maybe your dream will only have a figurative meaning for us.”

“Whatever you say, Elyssa,” I answered, humoring her.

Later that morning, I was alone in the house, reading in my room. Elyssa and her mother had gone to visit an elderly aunt, and would not be back until lunchtime. I thought I heard noises coming from Elyssa’s room. Rising, I went out to the hall to investigate.

From the hall, I could clearly see the corner of her room that was furnished as a nursery. Nothing stirred that I could see in that corner, or the other areas I could see. I stopped at the doorway.

I chided myself for believing that Elyssa’s room might really be protected by a magic spell. No matter how much I pretended to take Elyssa’s beliefs seriously, there was no way I would believe them to be true.

There was no one else here, I told myself. If you really don’t believe in spells and magic, why not do a little snooping into Elyssa’s past while you have the chance? Stopping again, I reminded myself of my promise to Elyssa. Even if I didn’t credit magic spells protecting the room, shouldn’t I keep my promise to her anyway?

She would never know I hadn’t, I told myself. Besides, I rationalized, she’d surely want me to maker sure a mouse - or some other intruder - hadn’t invaded her room.

I stepped across the threshold into Elyssa’s room, knowing I probably shouldn’t do it. But, I truly, really never expected that a genuine magic spell protected that room. How could I when I was so certain there was no real magic?

I was almost immediately surrounded by a swirling whirlwind of dark streaks, and intense colors, mixing wildly. I felt like Dorothy inside the tornado carrying her to Oz, except I wasn’t inside a house, or moving. I reached out a hand to touch the seeming whirlwind, and it collapsed around me. I felt myself spinning wildly, and felt intense sensations - touch, sight, hearing, taste, - all blended together or crossed impossibly, so that I “tasted” sounds, and “heard” images.

When these bizarre sensations finally stopped, it took me a few moments to recover my senses. When I opened my eyes, I found myself looking at Elyssa’s room through a set of bars - the barred side rail of the antique crib was only a few inches in front of me.

As I reached out tentatively to touch one of the wooden bars, I stared in disbelief at the stubby fingers and the plump, pink, hairless hand at the end of my plump arm. A large mirror had been mounted on the wall opposite the one occupied by the antique crib. In the reflection, I saw a baby girl of no more than one year old, staring directly back at me in the glass. Staring sadly at my infantile reflection, I became an immediate believer in the very real power of magic.

I raised the pudgy hand that gripped the crib rail, watching the baby girl’s reflection do the same. Reluctantly dropping my eyes to look down at myself, I saw two plump legs emerging under the skirt of the ruffled pink baby dress I was wearing. I looked again at my reflection, having to accept - however reluctant I might be - that I was that adorable blonde baby girl in the mirror.

I had a brief feeling of fullness from my bladder, and suddenly, realized that warm pee was streaming out between my legs. I could feel the soft, bulky cloth of the diaper I wore growing wet between my legs, and under my buttocks. I was surprised to find the warm wet diaper did not feel uncomfortable, and then became distracted by the physical sensation of peeing as a girl for the first time. It felt so strange to have pee come out there, but I had no doubts anymore that I really was a girl. Peeing as a man, or boy, never felt like that.

I had the ridiculous thought that I needed to get out of Elyssa’s bedroom, or she was going to know I’d violated her privacy, in spite of her warnings. Then, I looked at my reflection, and realized how silly the thought was. One look at me would tell everything, of course.

After a moment, however, I wondered if my first thought might have some sense, after all. Maybe, if I could get out of this crib, and out of Elyssa’s room, the spell wouldn’t affect me after I was out of there. Maybe. It was some hope, however, and I pulled myself to a standing position inside the crib.

I had trouble just holding myself in an upright position, even with the crib side to steady me. My knees wanted to buckle, and I had to pull each leg into a locked position again. It was obvious that I was pretty small. My head didn’t even reach the level of the upper railing of the crib side.

I decided to see if I could get the side lowered, and dropped to my knees. Reaching through the lower portion of the side, I felt about for the spring release mechanism. After several attempts, I realized my arm was too short to reach the release bar. Despite all my attempts and no matter what position I tried, the crib side stubbornly remained locked in its position.

It wouldn’t be a very good crib if babies could let themselves out that easily, I reflected, in frustrated despair. Of course it was designed so the baby couldn’t let herself out of the crib. How much longer did I have until Elyssa and Lilith returned to find me like this?

The answer to that came much sooner than I’d hoped. I heard a car pull into the yard, and doors shutting loudly in the cold, crisp winter afternoon. I tired desperately to pull myself over the crib rail again, but my arms just weren’t strong enough for the task. With a loud “thump”, I fell back into the crib, and struck my head against the crib bumper on the other side. Though the bumper pad had protected me from major damage, I had landed against a crib bar, and it hurt. Hardly aware what I was doing, I found myself crying as loudly as my baby voice and lungs could manage.

Footsteps sounded loudly from the hallway as someone hurried upstairs. Lilith Merrin’s eyes widened, and her face broke into a wide smile when she looked down on me, crying on my back inside the crib. She easily released the crib side, and bent over to lift me into her arms. She patted my back gently until my sobbing began to subside, then called loudly downstairs, “Elyssa, you’d better come see this. Looks like someone has been trespassing, and SHE got caught by the Baby Spell.”

Elyssa gave me a intensely disappointed look as she saw me being held in her mother’s arms. Reaching out to take me into her own arms, Elyssa said softly, “Oh, Dennis, why couldn’t you just listen to me for once? Even if you didn’t believe this could happen to you, you promised me that you wouldn’t go into my room.”

“Gaga badoo babee daboo dadee,” or similar nonsense sounds, was all I could say in reply to Elyssa’s questions. I had only four teeth, and my tongue seemed much too large. I couldn’t get my lips or tongue to obey my efforts to form intelligible words.

“Well, it hardly matters why HE disobeyed, now, does it, dear?” Lilith observed reasonably, "Right now, SHE probably needs a dry diaper, and a warm bottle of formula more than anything else. Why don’t you see to changing her, and I’ll go warm a bottle of nice formula for her? "

Elyssa carried me across her bedroom to the changing table, and placed me on the padded top. Lifting the skirt of my pink baby dress, she drew off the plastic-lined “rumba” panties covering my wet diaper. Removing the diaper pins, Elyssa put the wet diaper into a pink diaper pail beside the changing table. I squirmed at the chilly touch of the baby wipes she used to clean me. When she held my tiny ankles in one hand to lift me from the table, and clean my buttocks, I got a good view of the infantile slit between my legs. When she carefully cleaned around, and between the lips of my new sex, I could not contain a high-pitched squeal of pleasure at the sensations I felt from the area.

“Feels good, does it?” Elyssa asked, teasingly, "If you like it so much, I can arrange for you to stay like this, you know.

"Nanana, " I said, shaking my head. It did feel good, but I didn’t want to remain a baby girl.

“Well, I may not have anything to say about whether you stay like this, or not, sweetie. Now that you’ve violated a warding spell, it becomes a matter for the whole coven. There are thirteen wise women who will have to agree to restoring you to the man you were,” Elyssa said doubtfully, dusting me with silky baby powder, and gently rubbing it over my smooth skin.

Lifting me off the padded top again by holding both of my ankles in one hand, she slid a dry diaper under me. She lowered me back onto the thick diaper, and drew the front between my plump thighs. Tugging the corners snugly together, Elyssa secured them with diaper pins. Slipping my tiny feet through the leg openings of a new pair of the 'rumba, panties, she pulled them back in place over my thick diaper.

The bulky, soft diaper seemed to me the most comfortable item of clothing I had ever worm. Swaddled in the soft, cottony caress of the diaper, I felt a wonderfully security and comfort in wearing it. Even wearing a wet diaper had felt better than anything else I could recall wearing had, I realized. Was this why it was so hard to toilet-train toddlers? Because wearing diapers felt so good, none of us wanted to give them up?

Elyssa’s mother returned carrying an infant nurser filled with baby formula. Elyssa took the nurser, and sat with me in the rocking chair before the window. I was not happy about having to drink formula from a baby nurser, but I was ravenously hungry, as well as thirsty. I took the rubber nipple eagerly, as Elyssa pressed it between my lips.

The warm formula was delicious! As I suckled eagerly I found the taste satisfying in a way I could not recall from anything else. I swallowed the formula happily. I could not seem to get enough of it, and soon emptied the nurser. Elyssa then lifted me to her shoulder, and patted my back gently until I belched out the air swallowed while nursing. As I burped, I felt a small squirt of pee spurt between my legs and dampen my diaper there.

“Can you call Aunt Helen, Momma, and ask if Jenny has a highchair and a playpen we might borrow for a while?” Elyssa asked, rising from the rocking chair, holding me firmly, “I’m going to drive over to Millinocket and stock up on formula, baby food, and a few other things we’re going to need for little Miss Denise.”

“Let me call Aunt Helen first, and see if Jenny also has an infant car seat you can use, dear. The police will give you a ticket these days if you don’t have your baby in an infant seat,” Lilith answered. She smiled at me, and gave my smooth cheek a soft caress, "I must tell you, dear, I really prefer Denise here to Dennis. You’re going to have to do a lot of convincing if you want my vote to reverse the warding spell. Right now, I have to say being a baby seems to suit Denise far more than being a man suited your Dennis.

Elyssa’s cousin, Jennie, was a short, slightly chubby young woman. She arrived in a mud spattered Volvo I glimpsed as Elyssa carried me past the kitchen window. Jennie soon mounted the front steps with her three-year-old daughter, Sara, in tow, and a well-padded infant’s car safety seat on her hip.

“So, this is the curious former boyfriend, huh?” Jenny asked, grinning as she gave my tiny foot a shake.

“Oooh, a baby” Sara said, seeing me in Elyssa’s arms, “Can I play wif the baby, Mommy?”

“Sure you can, Sara. But, play nice. This is Denise, and she’s just a little baby, you know,” Elyssa said, crouching beside Sara, and holding me to face the little girl, “You two can play in the living room while your Mommy shows me how to put the seat in my car.”

Elyssa carried me into the living room, and placed me on the carpet in front of the television. Turning it on, she switched stations to the local public television outlet. Sesame Street was playing, and Jennie clapped her hands excitedly on seeing Big Bird. Elyssa patted the carpet beside her, “Here, Sara, you can tell Denise all about Sesame Street. Keep an eye on her, so she doesn’t crawl away. OK?”

“Otay, Aunnie 'Lytha,” Sara lisped happily, sitting beside me on the carpet. She was only three years old, but Sara was far larger than I was. She loomed over me, “I’m big girl. You’re just a baby, Denithe. You gots to do what I thay, cauth I the big girl.”

I sat watching the children’s show, and trying to ignore Sara. I could not even get up to walk away from her childish prattling, and Sara had been charged with preventing me from crawling away. The last thing I wanted was to be wrestled to the floor by an excited three-year-old.

Jenny returned carrying a highchair, and took it into the kitchen. Elyssa entered the living room with a folded mesh playpen. She set it up quickly to one side of the central seating arrangement. Bending down, she lifted me into the playpen, “C’mon, Sara, you can help me bring in some of the baby toys your Mommy picked for baby Denise to play with.”

I was as effectively caged in the playpen, as Dennis would have been in a jail cell. Getting to my hands and knees took a concentrated effort. Pulling myself to a standing position took all the strength and coordination I could find in my tiny body. I clung to the top rail of the playpen, and watched big Sara, and the gigantic adults carry in boxes of baby toys, and clothes.

Sara dumped a small box of brightly colored infant toys into the playpen with me, “Here, Denithe, you can pway wif dese toys. Otay?”

“She’ll play with them later, Sara. OK?” Elyssa said, lifting me out of the playpen, “Right now, I need to put Denise into her snowsuit, so we can go shopping. Want to help me change her?”

I was carried back upstairs to Elyssa’s room. She put me on the changing table to remove my pink baby dress and white cotton slip. Sara stood by the changing table, watching intently as Elyssa laid me on the padded table to remove my damp diaper, and rumba panties. Sara fetched the clothes that Elyssa requested, while she washed my diaper area.

“Denithe gots a wittle nonnie wikes mine,” Sara observed, pointing proudly at the line of my infantile vaginal lips.

“Yes, Sara, that’s because Denise is a little girl, just like you. Little girls have nonnies down there,” Elyssa grinned down at me, and winked. I had never felt so completely exposed and helpless as I did looking up at this toddler staring at my nakedness. She was only three, but even she seemed huge to me now.

Elyssa slowly adjusted the folds of the diaper between my legs, and carefully secured the corners with diaper pins. Taking another pair of plastic panties from the shelf above, Elyssa adjusted their fit to cover my bulky diaper, being sure the panties covered and enclosed my thick diaper.

She placed me in a seated position, and pushed my arms and head into a short-sleeve undershirt, and a pastel green jersey. She dressed me in a pair of pale yellow bib-front overalls. After putting two pairs of stockings on my tiny feet, she put me into a pink and gray one-piece snowsuit, and added tiny plastic boots for my feet. I could hardly move, much less walk, and had to be carried by Elyssa out to the car.

They’d decided to do the shopping together, and had put the infant seat on the rear seat of Jenny’s Volvo wagon beside Sara’s toddler safety seat. Jennie fastened Sara’s harness around her, while Elyssa was placing me in the infant seat. The infant seat faced the rear of the car. All I could see was the upper half of the window beside me, and Sara looking down on me from her seat beside mine.

“You have a diaper bag for her?” Jennie asked, when she was done securing Sara, “I didn’t think so. Here, use this old one of Sara’s. Little babies need lots of diapers, and bottles wherever you take them. Your Mom still has some of Sara’s old nursers here, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, I fed her with one of them earlier,” Elyssa said, “Let me go get some diapers and a nurser. Shouldn’t take me too long.”

Sara spent the time as we waited by playing with me. She had a set of brightly colored plastic keys, which she jiggled above my face while she cooed to me. I tried to reach the keys, and giggled each time Sara pulled them away. I told myself I had to pretend to be a real baby, but there was more to it. I felt happier, and more comfortable with my tiny baby girl’s body the more I acted like I rally was a baby girl.

Elyssa finally returned, and we set off for the shopping mall. It was a fairly long trip, nearly an hour. With my tummy full of warm formula, and the gentle rhythmic motion of the van, I fell asleep.

I awoke as Elyssa was releasing the safety harness, and lifting me out of the infant seat. From the dampness between my legs, and the heaviness of my diaper, I knew I must have wet several times while I was sleeping. Enough of the cold had penetrated my clothing to make my diapers feel chilly and uncomfortable by then. I began to make fussy noises, and to squirm uncomfortably as Elyssa tried to put me into a stroller. Finally, I had to start really crying to get her to stop, and see what was wrong with me.

“What’s the matter, sweetie,” Elyssa asked softly, “You hungry again? Need those dydees changed again?”

I managed to stop crying for a few moments, and nodded my head as well as I could manage. Elyssa finished securing the stroller harness around me, "Ok, then. C’mon, we need to get to the women’s rest room. They have a nice changing station there we can use.

Elyssa pushed me through the mall, as Jennie and Sara walked along beside us. I stared around at the enormous space of the mall, and all the gigantic adults moving quickly through it. I was happy to ride safely inside the stroller. Elyssa pushed the stroller into the women’s restroom, and quickly removed me from the stroller.

Elyssa had to remove my snowsuit and boots before laying me on the diaper changing station. She unfastened the snaps lining the inner seams and crotch of my yellow overalls, and pushed them up around my chest. Pulling my plastic panties down to my ankles, she quickly removed my wet diaper, and dropped it into a plastic bag.

It was chilly lying on the changing station with my lower body exposed, while Elyssa gave my diaper area a thorough cleaning with baby wipes. It had been embarrassing enough to have a three-year- old girl watching my last diaper change, but this was much worse. Women and children entered the women’s room constantly while Elyssa was changing me. It was humiliating to realize that no one thought their presence might embarrass the little baby girl having her diapers changed in front of them. Why would they or any baby be embarrassed by it? Finally, Elyssa had the dry diaper on me, and quickly put my plastic panties and overalls back in place, too.

“You’ll be more comfortable without this heavy snowsuit, while we’re shopping, Denise,” Elyssa said, placing me back in the stroller. She grinned at me, and gave me a quick kiss, “You look just adorable in that outfit, sweetie. I may decide to just keep dressing you like this. It suits you much better than the sloppy way you dressed as Dennis most of the time.”

Jennie and Elyssa took us into one of the big department stores at the end of the mall. Finding the infants clothing section, Elyssa took me out of the stroller, “I want to find Denise some pretty little dresses, and diaper sets. I’ve always wanted my own baby girl to dress in pretty, feminine clothes, and now I have her. I’m going to dress her like a little doll. Oooh, let’s see how you look in this one.”

She dressed me in a fancy pink and white dress. It had white lace at the hem, sleeves, and neck, and a big, pink bow, which tied in the back. I really did look adorably cute in that fancy dress, I admitted to myself grudgingly. She set that dress aside, and dressed me in a couple of diaper sets. These were short dresses, with matching diaper covers. Sara was eager to help Elyssa dress and undress me to try on the various outfits, and articles they selected. I really had become a living baby doll, a toy for the women and Sara to dress and pose any way they wanted.

After selecting several dresses, and diaper sets, Elyssa also chose an assortment of diapers, plastic panties, under clothing, stockings, and nighties for me, as well. She also got a new set of infant nursers, a couple of sectioned baby dishes, bibs, diaper pins, and an assortment of diaper changing supplies. I wanted to ask why she was getting so much new baby stuff, if I was really going to be transformed back into Dennis by the coven. However, such questions were far beyond my very limited communications skills at that moment.

Jenny bought a couple of dresses and some other items for Sara. She obviously enjoyed trying on new clothes, and all the attention she received from Elyssa and her mother.

After we went through the department store’s checkout, Jennie noticed that a photographer was set up taking child and family portraits near the store entrance. She insisted that Elyssa needed to get a whole set of pictures of me, Sara, and the two of them with us, adding, “I’m sure that your fiancé, Dennis, will want pictures of little Denise in some of those adorable little outfits.”

Elyssa and Jennie had a grand time, dressing Sara and me in several of our new outfits, and having the photographer take a series of group and single poses for each outfit. I tried once to cut short the session by crying, but Elyssa lifted me into her arms, and whispered in my ear, “You will do anything and everything I ask of you, unless you want to guarantee yourself several more years as baby Denise. Now, stop your fussing.”

When we finally arrived back at the house, I was feeling genuinely cranky, and doing my best not to show it. I was hungry and tired. My diaper was both wet and messy, and I began to whimper softly when Elyssa removed my snowsuit. Her sensitive nose caught the odor immediately, “Phew! Smells like someone needs a diaper change. Let’s get you changed, and then you can have a bottle before your nap.”

I nodded my head repeatedly in reply. I could barely keep my head upright, I felt so tired. Elyssa got Sara to help carry the bags of baby purchases to her room. Once again, I was completely undressed. I’d never realized how many clothing changes a baby went through in a day. Not even counting the gratuitous “costume” changes I’d endured for the photographer, this was my third clothing change since I’d awakened as Denise this morning.

I was beginning to really enjoy the regular ritual of my diaper changes. Every step was done in a predictable order, and I found the whole process immensely relaxing.

First came the cleansing, with extra attention and wipes if I’d had a BM. Second was the lifting of my lower body from the changing table, both of my tiny ankles gripped easily by Elyssa’s huge hand, to slide the dry diaper or diapers under me. For my nap, Elyssa apparently planned to double-diaper me again. Third was the gentle rubbing of Elyssa’s soft hands all over my diaper area with soothing, sweetly scented baby lotion; sometimes including another massaging of a diaper rash ointment. Fourth was the baby powder, which felt like silky dust being tenderly rubbed across my smooth, sensitive skin. I’d had no idea skin could be so sensitive. Fifth was the drawing of the bulky diapers between my legs, tucking the folds of the soft cotton to fit neatly between my plump thighs. Sixth was the securing of my diapers with plastic-capped diaper pins; she had purchased, and was now using a set of pins with pink “bunny” shaped caps. Seventh, and finally, the changing was finished when she placed a pair of plastic panties over my diapers, and carefully adjusted the fit of the leg openings and the waist to be sure the panties completely enclosed and covered my diapers.

After the diaper change, Elyssa dressed me for my nap in a pastel pink one-piece, footed sleeper. It was chilly in her bedroom, and the sleeper was wonderfully warm. I felt a last shiver from the chill and a small spurt of pee dampened my dry diaper. Even that felt wonderfully relaxing. Wearing diapers was like being naked and protected at the same time; it gave me a delightful sense of freedom and reassurance.

Sara returned from the kitchen with my nurser of warm baby formula, and Elyssa carried me to the rocker beside the window. She began to hum a soft lullaby, as she placed the nipple between my lips, and started the chair gently rocking. The delicious warm formula, the rocking motion, and Elyssa’s soft humming combined to quickly send me deeply asleep.

I was wetting my diapers as I awoke in that crib for the second time that day. The warm wet bulk of my diapers felt marvelously comforting and comfortable. When I’d finished wetting, I rolled languidly onto my stomach, and pushed up to my hands and knees.

I was getting used to crawling, and preferred it to trying to walk. I was much more stable, and moved faster on all fours. Sitting in one corner of the crib, I studied my reflection in the wall mirror. I was already beginning to accept internally that the baby girl I saw in the reflection was actually me. When I thought about myself, the image I pictured in my mind was no longer Dennis, the young man.

Now, I found I was seeing my self-image, my “self”, as the baby girl, Denise. I was now actually resisting the image of my former “self” as being me any longer.

I sat contentedly in my crib, holding a plush, pink teddy bear, and sucking on the pacifier I’d found. The remnants of my “Dennis self” told me I was crazy to welcome the comfort and dependency of being a baby over being my own adult. No matter how much that remnant tried to convince me that being an adult was better than being a baby, the wondrous feelings of actually being a baby refuted every argument. There was no logic to it for me; I simply knew that being a baby again, (and a baby girl, especially) was much better than anything about being a grown man had ever been.

Elyssa entered the room, smiling widely at finding me awake, and sucking happily on my pacifier. Taking me from my crib, we repeated the comforting rituals of undressing, and the diaper changing. My fourth outfit of the day was one of my new, pastel blue diaper sets. This one had flounces around the leg openings of the diaper cover that matched the flounced hem of the long-sleeve top. A matching bonnet and booties completed the adorably feminine outfit.

Jennie and Sara had gone home, and I was alone with Elyssa and Lilith in the big house. As Elyssa carried me into the warm kitchen, Lilith was spooning strained baby food into a sectioned plastic dish. Elyssa placed me in the borrowed highchair, fastening the seat belt, and sliding the tray in place before me. She tied the strings of a big plastic bib around my neck. It provided full coverage of my front.

I’d had only two bottles of formula all day, and found I was very hungry. I swallowed the creamy strained baby foods eagerly, though spurts of the gooey stuff escaped from my gap-toothed mouth and ran down my chin to fall upon my bib. I didn’t care how I looked, and blithely rubbed my hands and face with a mixture of the strained foods as Elyssa fed me steadily. Finally, I felt full, and pushed her hand away as she directed another spoonful at my mouth. She ignored my effort, and ladled in the last spoonful. Taking the sectioned dish to the sink, she returned with a washcloth to clean my face and hands.

“Now that you’ve had your supper, you can have your nurser in your playpen while Momma and I have our supper,” Elyssa told me, removing my messy bib, and lifting me into her strong arms. I was comfortably full of food, and felt so secure in Elyssa’s arms. I almost wanted to cry in anxiety as she lowered me into the mesh playpen. She handed me the plastic nurser, and added, “Be a good baby, and drink all your formula.”

I spent most of that evening in the playpen, while Elyssa and her mother talked softly before the living room fireplace. I seemed to have trouble following a conversation of more than two sentences, and found it easier to amuse myself playing with the brightly colored toys, and the soft stuffed animals in my playpen.

I tried for a while to spell words with the alphabet blocks, but soon found myself confused and unable to recall which symbols represented which sounds. I soon gave up spelling efforts altogether when I couldn’t tell the difference between an “A” and a “V”. Then I realized I couldn’t recall the word I’d been trying to spell. The more I tired to focus on the letters, the less I could seem to recall about letters, words, and the whole concept of language.

The same thing occurred, when I tried to concentrate on time, and numbers. An antique clock chimed the hours and half-hours in the living room. When its sound attracted my attention, I tried to determine what time it was. Though the concept that clocks “told” time was fairly clear to me, I found myself unable to tell the “6” from the “9”, or the “8” from either of them. I couldn’t recall how to read the numbers, the proper order, or how exactly to “tell” time from the numbers.

Again, the more I tried to focus on these concepts, the less I remembered or understood about anything relating to mathematics and numbers. Soon, I was unable to count the fingers on one hand, since I no longer recalled the proper sequence even to five.

It was much more satisfying to play with my toys, and these presented concepts my newly infantile mind could grasp. The set of brightly colored rings, which fit over a conical-shaped post, made it easier to understand “bigger” and “smaller”. The bigger rings went on the post first, fitting the bigger diameter of the lowest part. The smaller rings went on last, fitting the smaller diameter.

I understood “bigger” and “smaller” pretty well - Elyssa was now much bigger, and I was now much smaller. This also seemed right and proper to me now.

Three more days passed between that of my transformation into baby Denise, and the meeting of the coven. Three days of the comforting rituals and regular schedule of an infant’s life, and I was finding it difficult to even recall being an adult. Being a baby was much easier if I didn’t try to think; just feeling and reacting like a baby became more natural with each passing hour.

I had little understanding of the purpose of being before all these strange women, or what was at stake, until incredibly, I found myself restored to being Dennis. It took me a moment longer to realize I hadn’t been quite completely restored. I was still wearing diapers. I was still unable to control my bladder or bowels any better than I had as an infant. I was still female.

Kathleen Donally, the coven’s senior member, spoke for the circle of wise women. Solemnly, she intoned, "Dennis Conners, you have been adjudged guilty for breech of promise, and violating the protective wards of your fiancé’s room. The coven has agreed, one and all, to the sentence we will impose. For the sin of breaching your promises to Elyssa and Lilith, you will keep the sex and the diapers you acquired in that breech for a period of at least one year from this date. You will remain a baby girl in this respect until both Elyssa and Lilith decide you have earned the privilege of having your manhood restored.

"For the crime of trespassing on the wards of a coven member, you are sentenced to face a testing by each coven member. Each of us will devise and impose a test upon you, which presents you with a choice between one wise, mature choice, and one foolish, immature choice.

"For each test you fail, you will become smaller and younger. You will also regain one physical aspect, and one infantile behavior of the baby girl you have been these last four days. That physical aspect and infantile behavior will remain imposed upon you for the duration of the year, or more, during which Elyssa and Lilith will determine how long you need to remain a baby in diapers.

“If you can manage to pass all thirteen of the coven’s testings, your sentence for trespassing will be only that already imposed upon you for your breech of promises. Do you have anything to say before this sentence is imposed?”

I had a dozen stupid things I wanted to say, but wisely decided to shake my head silently as a reply. A year having a baby girl’s genitals, and diaper dependency seemed a drastic over-punishment to me, but I didn’t dare say that. I felt myself suddenly tingling all over with an odd “pin-and-needles” sensation, as the members of the coven each cast an individual spell upon me.

How Do You Spell Baby? (Version 2) by Baby Rox

[b]Part II

1st Testing[/b]

I was subdued, and a little depressed as I rode home in the rear of Elyssa’s car. Seated beside the infant safety seat I had occupied on the trip to the meeting, I was vividly aware that I still remained a baby girl in some ways. I was also pessimistically certain I was probably going to fit inside that infant seat again when I failed my testings.

Back at Lilith’s house, Elyssa kindly inquired whether I needed my diapers changed. I started to proudly decline, but found myself nodding instead. I let her lead me by the hand to her bedroom.

Elyssa smiled down at me as we entered the room, "Now that you’re no longer a boy, you won’t be setting off the wards in here again. But, you still need to be careful because of all the spells binding you, Dennis.

“To make caring for you easier, we’ve added one spell that will cause any baby article used on you to become large enough to fit you, or be in the proper scale to your size. But, to make using the baby furniture easier, you will become temporarily baby size when you are in contact with those furnishings.”

She demonstrated these spells by holding a baby dress up to me, and having it enlarge until it was easily big enough to fit my adult size. Then, she pushed me gently in contact with the changing table, and held me closely as I became once more the size of a nine-month-old baby, fitting easily atop the padded table.

Keeping me on the table, Elyssa quickly undressed me, and began the ritual of my diaper change. It felt as reassuring and comfortable to be diapered again as it had when I was baby Denise.

Elyssa dressed me in one of the feminine diaper sets, and easily lifted me down from the table. She steadied me as I grew swiftly back to adult size, and my baby clothing grew with me.

“I know I still have to wear diapers and plastic panties, Elyssa,” I said hesitantly, “But, do I really have to wear baby clothes, as well as diapers?”

“Yes, sweetie, you do,” Elyssa answered firmly, “Adult clothing isn’t made to accommodate those bulky diapers you need to wear now, sweetie. Adult clothing doesn’t have snap closures in the crotch or along the inseams to make diaper changes convenient. Baby clothes are made to fit over baby’s diapers, and have snaps to make your diaper changes easier for me, baby. So, tell me, baby, what kind of clothing should a so-called ‘man’, who has a baby girl’s nonnie, and wears diapers, wear?”

“Um, baby clothes, I guess,” I answered softly, looking down at the bulging outlines of my thick diapers through the soft cotton of my pink diaper set, and the matching pink booties on my feet.

“That’s right, baby. Good answer,” Elyssa said, patting the front of my bulky diaper’s bulge, “Besides, if I decide to take you for a ride in the stroller, or put you in your baby seat in the car, I want you to be dressed like a normal baby girl. Understand?”

“Yes, Elyssa,” I replied, nodding my head. I understood that she was reminding me that she could turn me back into an infant, or at least back to infant size, anytime she chose to do so.

“All right then, sweetie. No more arguments about how I choose to dress you,” Elyssa said, smiling in satisfaction at my meekness, “Now let’s go downstairs, and have some lunch with Momma.”

Lilith was setting the table as we returned to the kitchen. She held up a toddler’s “sippy” cup, its top having a spout to drink from without spilling the contents, “Denise, do you want to use this sippy cup, or can you drink your milk without spilling it.”

“I can drink without spilling,” I said, sharply. I felt resentful of Lilith for using the toddler cup to remind me of my status once again. I sat heavily on one of the kitchen chairs, and lifted the glass to my lips. In spite of my efforts to use extra care, milk ran out around my mouth, and onto the front of my clean diaper set top. I looked down at the wet spot guiltily.

“Wrong Choice”, a melodic woman’s voice seemed to speak out of thin air beside me.

A swirling whirlwind, like the one that had surrounded me on entering Elyssa’s warded room, enveloped me suddenly. I shivered and tingled with intense sensations, finding myself still seated at the kitchen table when it cleared.

“A wise and mature person would have known she might still be a little unsteady. She would have used the sippy-cup, just in case,” Lilith said quietly, sitting in the chair opposite me at the table, “That was my testing, and I thought it would be an easy one for you to see the wiser choice. I chose the least price I could impose for your first failing. I liked your appearance much better with baby Denise’s lovely blue eyes, and silky blonde curls. Now, they are yours once again. As for the behavior I will impose on you, that’s also the mildest I felt appropriate. You will feel a baby’s natural bond and dependency for Elyssa. You will regard her as your real mother for the duration of any penalties imposed on you by the members of the coven.”

Rising as quickly as I could from the table, I waddled down the hall to the bathroom to see how I now appeared. Even though I remained at adult size - or only a little smaller than full adult size, my large blue eyes, and silky blonde curls looked much the same as they had when I wore them as a baby. My facial features were now slightly feminized, and I could see only traces of the man I had been in my reflection.

2nd Testing

Of course, I reflected sadly, I wasn’t any kind of man or boy now. I was intensely aware that I was female, the soft brushing of my diaper against my sensitive labia never let me forget my new sex for a moment. I waddled back to the kitchen, and sat down heavily at the table again.

Mama had placed the sippy cup beside a plate of food already cut into small pieces for me. When she asked if I wanted a bib, I quickly agreed to her suggestion.

Though she smiled when she tied the bib’s strings, Mama said, “Not every choice will be a testing, sweetie, though that was the right choice for you to make. You won’t know any choice is a testing until you hear a voice tell you that you made the right or wrong choice. So, if you want to pass your testings, treat every choice just like you did that one.”

“I’m taking Denise over to visit Jennie and Sara,” Mama announced, after we’d finished eating lunch, “C’mon, sweetie, let’s go use the playpen to get you dressed. It’s a lot easier to dress you in your snowsuit when you’re little.”

As soon as my hand touched the top railing of the playpen, I found myself shrinking rapidly to baby size again. Mama bent over the side of the playpen to dress me in the snowsuit, and plastic boots. When she’d finished dressing me, she lifted me easily out of the playpen, and held me steady as I spurted back to adult size.

The shrinking and growing experience left me feeling a bit dizzy and weak. I leaned on the arm Mama offered as she walked me out to her car. She opened the rear door, and said, "Get on your safety seat. I’ll feel much better knowing my little baby is safe in her baby seat while I drive.

My head was spinning again, as I recovered from my second shrinking to baby size in the last few minutes. Mama’s big hands maneuvered me into the seat facing the rear of the car, and quickly fastened the harness around me.

After a brief ride, she pulled into the driveway of Jenny’s house, and, parked. Opening the rear door, Mama released the seatbelt holding the infant seat in place. The crossbar served as a handle when the safety seat was used as an infant carrier.

I remained baby size, as Mama carried me easily into Jennie’s large Victorian house.

Sara came to greet us, opening the door for Mama to carry me into the warm house. We followed her through the house to the kitchen, where Jennie was making preparations for a late lunch.

Mama placed me on a kitchen counter. She removed my boots, and the snowsuit, but left me sitting in the infant seat. Jennie smiled down at me, and spoke softly to me, “Sara wants to play Mommy for baby Denise. Shall I take you out of your carrier, so she can play with you, sweetie?”

I realized I would become an adult size baby if I let Jennie take me out of the infant seat, but I nodded a positive answer, anyway. I was tired of being treated like a doll by Sara.

“Wrong Choice” the melodic voice spoke from thin air again. For the second time that afternoon, the swirling whirlwind of sensation surrounded me, and set my head spinning. I returned to normal awareness fairly quickly, since I found myself still reclining in the infant carrier.

“The mature and wise choice would have been to delay satisfaction of your own desires, and think first of the child in this matter. Sara is too young to see real magic, and understand an explanation of it. We protect our children from knowledge they’re not ready to handle yet,” Jennie’s voice spoke clearly and softly by my ear.

“The mature choice would have been to volunteer to remain in your carrier, to remain the baby Denise that Sara knows, and already loves. Perhaps if you speak in a child’s voice, you will be reminded to be less childish in the rest of your testings. When you revert to your ‘adult’ state, you will retain the sweet baby’s voice you have now. As for the behavior, you will now have an infant’s fascination with bright colors and baby toys, and the attention span of a six-month-old.”

“This is just a temporary spell,” Jennie said, gesturing rapidly over me, and speaking softly in that arcane language these witches used. Jennie lifted me into her arms, but I didn’t become adult sized again, “Now, for as long as you are in my house, the coven’s spell recognizes this place as being the equivalent of a large playpen. You remain the baby you seem to want to become permanently, and Sara has no reason to think you’re anything else.”

Jennie carried me into Sara’s room, where the three-year-old was busy arranging a toy tea set on her play table. She held up her plastic teapot, “Wook, Mommy, I made tea for Denithe an’ me.”

“That’s very nice of you, Sara,” Mama spoke from behind us, “But, Denithe is still too little to be able to sit up in a chair, even little chairs like yours. Your Mommy says she has a box of your old baby toys in your closet. Since you’re such a big girl now, maybe you’d like to give some of them to Denise? You can go through the box with Denise, and help her pick good toys for a little baby like her, can’t you, Sara?”

“Otay, Aunnie 'Lytha,” Sara replied, nodding vigorously. She helped Mama locate the storage box of outgrown toys, and they pulled it onto the area rug beside Sara’s overflowing toy box.

Jennie placed me in a seated position on the soft rug. She winked as she extended and shook a rattle in the shape of a large diaper pin, “Here you go, Denise. Play with the pretty rattle?”

I wanted that rattle intensely, and took it eagerly from Jennie’s hand. It was fascinating to feel the beads inside rattling against the plastic. I took the big plastic rattle, waved it back and forth, and put it into my mouth. Oddly, that felt wonderful!

“Well, she likes that one, Sara,” Mama observed, grinning, “Let’s see what else you have that a little baby would like.”

There were push toys that made noises and bounced blocks inside their casings as they were pushed over the floor. There was an activity mat, with panels to open, spinners and dials to turn that made sounds, a section of colored squares that sounded the notes of the musical scale, mirrors to peer into, and rings to pull that sounded chimes.

There was a similar activity board, which was designed to be mounted on the side rail of a crib, and keep baby occupied in her crib. There was a twelve-sided ball with cutout shapes in each face, through which baby could insert the plastic blocks of the same shape.

I played delightedly with each of the toys Jennie or Mama selected for me, going from one to another every few minutes as some bright part of the next toy caught my eye. I couldn’t stop playing with all the wonderful toys. I was determined to be a “good baby”.

After I’d played with my hand-me-down toys, and Sara for some time, Mama announced, “We’re going to have to pack up these toys, and get moving. Denise and I still have a couple more visits we have to make before dinner time.”

Jennie carried me back to the kitchen while Mama brought the box of baby toys. Before she began dressing me in my snowsuit, she checked my diaper, “Feels like Denise could use a dry diaper before you go, Elyssa. Let me do it. I haven’t changed a diaper in ages.”

“Be my guest,” Mama replied, passing the diaper bag to Jennie. Sara insisted on helping her mother change the baby, of course.

Jennie allowed Sara to help clean me with a baby wipe (after Jennie had already washed the area), and to sprinkle baby powder on me, while Jennie rubbed me with the powder. I endured the changing silently, helped by the presence of a pacifier filling my mouth.

Back in the car, Mama said, "We have a couple more members of the coven to visit this afternoon. I’m not sure either of them will be testing you, but I suspect they both will. Try to think like a grown-up, even if you don’t feel like one, or look like one.

The first place we stopped was a small, rustic, brown house on the edge of a dark forest of pine and spruce trees. Mama removed me in the infant carrier, and carried me inside the cozy, warm house.

3rd Testing

Grace Haley was a small, slender woman in her middle forties. She wore her brunette hair braided into a long braid that reached nearly to her buttocks.

Grace led us into her kitchen at the rear of the house, and suggested to Mama, “Why don’t you take her out of the carrier. I’d like to see how big she remains now, before I decide on her next testing, dear.”

Mama set me on my feet beside her, and steadied me as I went through the whirlwind process, and grew larger. As I stood beside Mama, it was obvious that I was already considerably smaller than my original six-foot, three-inch height. Mama was only five feet eight inches tall, and she was at least six inches taller than I now was.

Grace came closer, and smiled slightly as she gave me a quick examination, nodding, “Well, I see you’ve already failed your first two testings, Dennis. Have you learned anything from those two failures, dearie?”

“I learned I should have kept my mouth shut,” I answered, the words sounding oddly sweet in my baby’s voice, despite my intention to sound sarcastic. I knew it was a mistake before I finished speaking.

“Wrong Choice” spoke the response in the now familiar voice. The swirling sensations spun me around again, and I found myself shivering with the potency of the spell changing me once again. I recovered to find I was now several inches shorter, and smaller than before. Now, I needed to look up even more to meet Mama’s disappointed gaze.

“If you were learning from your mistakes, you’d have said you had learned to think before you opened your mouth,” Grace said, shaking her head gently, “You can’t pass your testings by not answering our questions, Dennis. The price of your third failing will be your ability to talk like an adult, except for your replies during testing by other coven members. You will be unable to say anything that a nine-month-old baby cannot say. Except during your answers in the rest of your testings, you will have the vocabulary, and speech patterns of a six-month-old baby. To ensure this, except during your testings, you will also have the same oversized tongue and dentition as an average six-month-old”

"Mama badoo baybee , " I heard myself say when I tried to talk to Mama, and explain my foolish, but unavoidable, choice. My suddenly enlarged tongue touched the two top and two bottom front teeth that were all that remained in my gums.

Mama ignored my infantile babbling, and touched me with the infant carrier to make me shrink back to baby size again. She nodded to Grace, “I approve of the penalty you chose, however. At least, now, I won’t have to listen to him lying anymore.”

Fastening the seat’s harness around me again, she said, “One more stop to go, Denise. Grace and Frances promised me an easy testing, but it doesn’t seem to be helping you pass them. C’mon, sweetie, we may as well get this done as quickly as we can.”

She carried me back to the car, and secured my infant seat through the seatbelt of the rear seat. We drove for about fifteen minutes, further away from town. She turned into the drive of another large Victorian-style house, and parked in the rear. Carrying me inside in my infant seat, Mama and I entered the house through the kitchen door.

4th Testing

Frances Garlen was an older woman with snow-white hair hanging well down her back. She was as tall as Mama, but much larger. She smiled down at me, as she took the carrier from Mama, and set it on the floor before the huge cast-iron antique kitchen stove. Taking me from the carrier, Frances placed me on the floor. She knelt beside me as I quickly grew to my much-reduced “adult” size.

“The potion simmering on the rear of my stove will restore you to the man you were, Dennis,” Frances said, indicating a small cast-iron pot. I could only see its top edge from my seated position.

She smiled again, “I offer you the chance to drink this potion. But, the price you will pay is the loss of your love for Elyssa, and hers for you. You must speak truthfully in reply to this question. Will you give up love to have your precious manhood restored?”

I almost cried, as I tried to say “no”. I knew that was the right choice, the choice I should want to make. The spell she used to make me answer truthfully would not allow me to lie to her, however. Already I was afraid that I wouldn’t even want to be a man again if I spent a year or more as a girl. How could I love a woman who allowed me to be tormented like this? Tears ran down my cheeks, as I sobbed softly, and said, “Yes. Yes, please let me be myself again. I want to be a man again.”

“Wrong Choice” the musical voice told me what I already knew. For the fourth time that day, the spinning whirlwind of sensations swallow me into its vortex, and I tingled with the transformation imposed by her spell.

“You knew your choice was wrong even before you chose it,” Frances said, shaking her head gently, "I am tasked with imposing a greater price for choosing wrong by intention, and it must be more substantial than those already imposed for your lesser wrong choices.

“Until your penance is paid, you will henceforth be unable to walk, or even to stand upright. You will retain the baby plump legs and arms, and all the other physical characteristics of a six-month-old baby regardless of your size. Your only method of locomotion will be to crawl on your hands and knees.”

Even as Frances finished speaking her pronouncement of my penalty for failing her testing, my knees buckled. I had to drop to my hands and knees immediately. My legs and knees would not support me standing. Mama knelt beside me to touch me with the baby carrier, and I felt myself shrinking to baby size again.

Securing the harness around me, she stood, and spoke to Frances, “Thank you, Frances. I can’t say I’m glad to know that Dennis loves his precious penis more than he loves me, but I guess it’s better to know the truth now, than to learn the hard way later.”

She carried me back to the car, and once again secured the infant seat with the seat belt. Driving back to her mother’s house, Mama spoke angrily over her shoulder at me, "I arranged the four easiest testings for you to face first. You couldn’t pass even one of them. Well, I’m through trying to help you. If you had one iota of wisdom and maturity, you’d have known that I was your best bet to get your precious manhood restored - even if you had to wait a year for it. If, you’d passed the first four testings, you’d have been in a good position to pass the rest, too. These things are cumulative; pass the first, and the second pass is easier.

“However, if you fail the first, then failing the next is more likely. After failing the first four in a row, I don’t think there’s much hope you’re likely to pass any of the rest, either. If that’s the case, we may as well get it over with as soon as possible. Tomorrow, I’m taking you to see the other nine members of the coven for their testings. By tomorrow night, I think it’s pretty much guaranteed that you’ll be spending at least the next year as a baby girl.”

Mama parked her car beside her mother’s house, and opened the rear door to release the infant carrier. Lifting me closer, she said, "Actually, since it’s going to be up to Momma and I to decide whether it’s just a year, or much longer than that, I wouldn’t be too hopeful about getting to grow up again any time soon, Denise.

I didn’t bother trying to say anything in reply. What was the use, when I couldn’t say even the simplest of words? Instead, I began to cry softly to let her know I had a wet, messy diaper, and wanted to be changed.

Inside, Mama opened my snowsuit, and reached inside my plastic panties to feel my diaper, “Well, I guess I can’t complain about you fussing for a diaper change, can I? You have to let me know these things just the way other babies do. Let’s get you upstairs, and change those diapers, then.”

She carried me up to her room. She put the seat on the changing table. Moving me from the seat to the changing table, I remained baby size.

Mama removed my snowsuit, and set it aside on the infant carrier. She hummed that lullaby again as she began to change my diapers. If I had to stay a baby, I reflected, I might as well act like one. It was rationalization enough to comfort me, just as sucking my thumb comforted me physically.

Mama noticed what I was doing, and smiled, “Here, sweetie, if you need to suck something, suck a pacifier. We wouldn’t want to make your baby teeth crooked.”

She completed the quick version of my diaper changing ritual, and pulled the diaper cover over my plastic panties again. Leaving me strapped to the changing table, she performed a dance above me with her hands, as she chanted softly in that strange language.

"Jennie was right about keeping you a baby. Until the other sisters can do their testing, I’ve placed the same sort of spell on my mother’s house. Your primary enchantment now recognizes the whole house as baby furniture, and you’ll stay baby Denise all the time you’re in it.

Mama lifted me from the changing table, and held me facing her, “You may as well get used to it, sweetie. At the rate you’re failing the testings, you’re probably going to stay like this for quite a while.”

Fifth Testing

It was still dark outside when I awoke inside the crib in Mama’s room. My diaper was damp, and grew wetter as my bladder emptied moments after I woke. Unable to speak, I did what any baby would to get attention; I began crying.

Mama mumbled sleepily as she arose, and came to my crib. She reached down, and lifted me to her shoulder to carry me to the changing table. Once again, I had begun to really enjoy the regular ritual of my diaper changes. Each step in its predictable sequence still made the whole process immensely relaxing.

First came the cleansing. Next, the lifting of my lower body from the changing table, both of my tiny ankles gripped easily by Mama’s huge hand, to slide the dry diaper or diapers under me. Then, there was the caress of Mama’s soft hands all over my diaper area with soothing, sweetly scented baby lotion. Next came the drawing of the bulky diapers between my legs, tucking the folds of the soft cotton to fit neatly between my plump thighs. Then, Mama secured my diapers with plastic-capped diaper pins. Finally, the changing was finished when Mama put a pair of plastic panties over my diapers, and carefully adjusted the fit.

My adult mind - or what remained of it in my baby skull - tried to resist the easy slide back into infancy again. But, when you are physically six months old again, it’s very hard NOT to act infantile. The diaper ritual was my favorite, but there were a dozen more routines that reinforced the fact that I had little choice in the matter.

I was again Mama’s baby girl, and beginning to feel it was likely I would remain one permanently. When such thoughts filled my little head, I had to fight to hold onto the remnants of my adult mind. I told myself that there had to be a way out of this nightmare. Surely, one of the testings would give me a chance to become a man again.

After breakfast, and my morning bath, Mama dressed me in warm clothes, and placed me into the infant seat / carrier once again. As she placed me in the carrier, Mama spoke softly, “I’ve arranged to have the remaining members of the coven meet us at Sally Anne Timmons’ place. It’s a huge old farmhouse, with plenty of rooms. There’s no sense dragging this out any longer than necessary. You’ll be taking the remaining nine testings today.”

I blinked once for “yes” to show her I understood what she’d said. Mama carried me to the car, and fastened my infant seat into the safety harness in the back seat. I watched the tops of the bleak Maine forest as Mama drove us deep into the country south of her mother’s house.

The house sat alone in the middle of the farmland, perched atop a long ridge. Mama parked the car, and came around to remove my carrier. The wind seemed to cut through all my layers of clothing, and I whimpered at the way it chilled my damp diaper.

We entered the kitchen, and heat enveloped us as soon as we closed the door. Mama placed my carrier on a kitchen counter, and released the harness to remove my outer clothes.

As she placed me on my feet, I clutched her hand for support as I grew dizzyingly. I was noticeably smaller than the last time I was restored to my “adult” size. Mama was at least a foot taller than I was. I could stand only with Mama’s help, and she eased me onto the seat of a kitchen chair.

I could see myself reflected in the kitchen windows. With my plump limbs, blonde curls, and big blue eyes, I certainly didn’t appear to be any sort of adult. I appeared to be a girl of ten or twelve years, at most. In truth, I looked like the oversized baby that I was. The sudden emptying of my bladder reminded me that an oversized baby was exactly what I remained.

Sally Anne Timmons was a mature, ash blond woman in her mid-thirties. She smiled as she entered her kitchen, “Elyssa, I’m sorry his testings have gone so poorly. I’d really hoped you were right about his having some potential.”

“I appreciate that Sally, really,” Mama replied, smiling back, “And, I really appreciate your hosting the rest of his testings today. At least, we can get it completed by sundown, and be done with it.”

“It’s my pleasure, Elyssa,” Sally said. Turning to me, she smiled again, “So, little one, do you have a nice smile for me?”

This request I didn’t need words to answer, I thought smugly. I kept my lips closed tightly, and refused to show my teeth at all. I stared back silently.

“Wrong Choice.”

For the fifth time, the swirling tornado of sensations sucked me into its vortex, and I quivered with the new transformation imposed by her spell.

“You’ve been warned that any question, no matter how minor it seems, can be a testing,” Sally Anne spoke sharply. In spite of that, you continue to act as if the minor pleasantries and courtesies we show each other do not matter to you. Smiling pleasantly, even when you do not feel like smiling, is an important social grace, little one.

“Your penance for this failed testing is to keep the silky fine blonde baby curls you have now, and to feel that being female is perfectly normal and natural. That will be suspended until the rest of your testing is done.”

Silky tendrils of blonde curls covered my head as I saw their tips growing at the edges of my vision. Feeling enraged because I’d been fooled again by an “innocent” question, I tried to say to Mama that this was unfair, “Daboo babee wawa.”

My baby voice sounded sweet even to me, as it failed to be able to express even the idea of rage. I wanted to cry, and quickly found myself shuddering with deep sobs.

Mama touched my leg with the carrier, and I felt that amazing sensation of telescoping into myself as I rapidly shrank back to baby size. She carefully guided me into the carrier, and fastened the harness again. Glaring down at me, Mama scolded me angrily, “No one’s given you the brain of an infant, Dennis. Know why? You already have the brain of an infant. It’d be redundant.”

She turned to Sally Anne, “Thank you so much for trying to give Dennis an easy one, Sally Anne. Too bad it was a wasted effort. I’m afraid my formerly strong, virile man actually likes being a baby girl. He just seems determined to be made to stay that way permanently. I thought it was just bad luck, but when he blows the easiest testing so badly, what else can I think. Baby Denise just loves being a baby girl, I guess.”

I was blinking twice rapidly at Mama to show her my strongest denial of her suggestion. I liked being a baby girl? That was ridiculous. OK, I had adjusted as well as I could to a condition I couldn’t change. And, yes, there were some parts of the infantile experience that I had come to actually enjoy. That didn’t mean I liked it, did it?

Oh God, I realized, staring at my reflection in the window. Yes. It did mean exactly that, didn’t it?

Mama carried me out of the kitchen, along the central hallway, “I saw your blinking, Dennis. Deny it all you want, but if you want to prove me wrong you just have to pass a testing. Pass just one, and I might believe you don’t really want to remain my baby girl.”

She carried me into a small library. There were two ample armchairs placed to either side, facing a warming fire in the small fireplace. The woman seated in the right side chair was as unlikely a witch as any of them were. Barely five feet tall, with mousy brown hair drawn into a tight bun, she looked more like a librarian than a witch. She could have been forty, but probably wasn’t yet fifty, I guessed.

“Dennis, this is Claire Van Reems. She’s our coven’s historian, and guardian of the Wisdom Written. Claire will be giving you your next testing. Is that plain enough warning to you, sweetie?”

The 6th Testing

“Remove him from the carrier, please, Elyssa,” Claire directed, and smiled at me, “I have a story to tell your young man, and mayhap he’ll do better in the next testing if he divines its meaning.”

Lifted easily from the harness of the carrier, I carefully returned the slender woman’s smile as soon as I was standing (with Mama’s help, of course).

Even as Mama eased me into a seated position on the second armchair, I could not help realizing I’d lost several more inches in my “adult” size. How many more testings until there was no longer a difference?

Mama took a position behind my chair. I would get no clues from her when it came time to answer. A few moments later, I felt her hands slide something under my chin, and the tightening as it was tied behind my neck.

Looking down, I realized that drool was running from the corner of my mouth, and onto a bib Mama had just placed over my chest. With my infantile teeth and tongue, I couldn’t seem to control the drooling anymore than any other baby could.

“Maybe you’d be more comfortable with a pacifier?” Claire asked me, smiling as she suggested it.

“Yef” I managed to say, praying that this might be a correct response. There was no Voice, no pronouncement of my latest failure. I relaxed, realizing that hadn’t been my testing.

I was indeed more comfortable with the pacifier Mama inserted between my lips. Suckling was a reflex for me now, and it stopped my drooling. It also provided me with a tiny measure of infantile reassurance. I needed that, as I realized, I still had not been tested by this woman.

“Be calm, child. You will know this test when it comes. However, that will not help you with your answer,” Claire nodded, and sat back in her chair. She took a small book from the table beside her chair, and opened it carefully, “This is the story of Serena the Brave, and the first witch burning.”

"In medieval Italy, when it was still a collection of city-states, and principalities, there was a young woman who was unusually talented in her training in the Wisdom and the Mysteries. She lived in a small village ruled by the rich men who controlled the city of Venice.

"In all of her training in the Way of Wisdom, Serena had listened respectfully to the oldest voices in her coven, and rarely spoke, other than to ask another concise, and useful question. The elder members spoke warmly to each other about Serena’s emerging talents, and careful completion of each stage of her training. This girl would be an elder herself one day in the future, they agreed.

"Serena would not move on to another mentor in the Ways, until the elder told the girl she had no more to learn there. Patient and persistent, she had exhausted each of them in turn. Each, secretly thrilled at how completely the young woman mastered her specialty, was sure the girl meant to follow in their footsteps. She would be a Mistress of Herbs. She would become the most adept of Seers. Surely, she meant to become the most talented of conjurers? No, Serena would move on to the next fount of Wisdom.

"No other woman in memory had completed training in all of the Ways, much less at such a young age. The coven was proud of their youngest sister, and certain she would add much new Wisdom in her time.

"When she had completed all the training the elder sisters could give her in the Ways, Serena decided the time had come for her to meet a husband, and start her own family. This task she pursued as diligently and wisely as she had each of the Ways.

"Serena carefully evaluated the possibilities among the unattached males in her village, but soon realized none had the requisite qualities she desired in a husband. Deciding she needed to cast a wider net, she imposed on a sister to have her husband take Serena to Venice for Market Day. She would help the kind farmer with his vegetable stand, and be able to weigh the merits of many more candidates.

"Serena was very adept at the reading of auras, and their reflection of their owner’s qualities. No man whose aura did not contain the soft golden glow of kindness, and the bright blue flashes of intellect rated a second glance from Serena’s roving eyes. Naturally, these qualities and other aspects she demanded to find in a man soon winnowed the hundreds of possible candidates to just two.

"Serena studied each of them carefully from a distance, being sure neither of them noticed her attention. One was a young farmer from a village nearer to Venice than hers. His aura fairly shown with its golden glow, and shifted into warmer red-brown shafts that revealed his passion for the good earth he tilled. The blue flashes showed he had more intellect than most suspected. Being truly intelligent, he spoke little, and listened much.

"The second was a somewhat older man, a silversmith who owned his own small shop. His aura also glowed golden, and flashed with blues. But, a deep violet shade suffusing his aura also revealed the depth of his sadness. His wife had died giving birth to their second child. Now the smith must be strong and provide for both children, but his heart was heavy with the longing for the love he had lost.

"The younger farmer was a handsome, tall man. The smith already had a few gray hairs at his temples, and a bad scar on his cheek from a scalding splash of molten metal. For once, Serena listened to her heart, and not her wisdom. She chose to visit the young farmer’s well-provisioned market stall.

"She didn’t need even the mildest of love spells to enchant the young farmer. He was in love with her before she reached the counter between them. After a few moments discussing the obvious merits of his fertile fields, he found himself daring to invite her to the dance in the plaza that evening. He was astonished that she accepted, and more smitten than ever.

"Serena was mildly surprised to find she was also falling in love. Young Giovanni was the very soul of respect and kindness. The day after the dance, Giovanni appeared in her village, asking after her father to ask for Serena’s hand in marriage. Serena’s father was delighted in her choice, a solid young man with his own fields, and a large olive grove. Of course, he gave his consent to the match.

"Serena and Giovanni were very happy for many years. She bore him two sons, and then a daughter. Their fields and grove grew rich with Serena’s careful use of the Ways to enhance their abundance. They were generous to their families, and neighbors with the bounty they had to share.

"Serafina, Serena’s daughter, was just eleven when she had the misfortune to be tending the trees of the olive grove as a troop of knights passed the village. The knights dismounted, and had their servants set up camp in the grove. At the leader’s command, Serafina was dragged before him at the entrance to his tent. Smiling wickedly, Don Victorio took her wrist, and took her into the tent. She screamed when she was penetrated the first time. This only made Victorio laugh more loudly, and thrust into the small girl even more fiercely.

"Her daughter’s scream brought Serena running to the grove. Casting a minor spell of misdirection, none of the men could see her as she ran to the tent. If their eyes came close to perceiving her, they found themselves looking elsewhere. Serena burst into the tent as the large knight was wiping the remains of his discharge on Serafina’s torn dress.

"She lost focus to maintain the misdirection spell. Almost every male eye in the camp was on Serena as she spoke the dire cold words of the strongest curse she knew. The knight began to yell loudly with pain as his male member writhed like a snake, and tied itself into a knot! His yelling grew louder, but shifted to higher and higher notes as his voice changed along with his knotted member. It shrank in painful spurts of contraction, and slowly assumed the exact same characteristics as the clitoris and vagina between Serafina’s legs. Literally unmanned, the knight collapsed in soprano sobs.

"Serena was arrested for witchcraft immediately, and dragged before the priests of her own village church. The female genitalia of the cursed knight were shown to the priests in private, and they were unanimous in their sentence. The witch must be burned at the stake.

"None of the Wise could intervene to save Serena without revealing their own “taint” as witches, but they were still able to devise a plan. One sister maintained a spell of invisibility around Serena, while another placed a spell of seeming upon the evil knight. There was an uproar in the camp as ‘the witch’ was found again in their leader’s tent. His shrieking soprano denials of this identification did the knight no good, of course. Enraged by the disappearance of their leader, and the materialization of the witch inside his tent, they decided to carry out the sentence immediately.

"In the uproar surrounding their building a pyre around the pole they’d planted for a stake, no one noticed the clouds of smoke screening the departure of Serena from her prison.

"Her sisters had saved Serena, and substituted the rapist for her at the stake, but they could not reclaim her old life. Serena was now dead to her beloved husband, and children. The sisters contacted another coven a few days later, and asked if they might find Serena a safe haven.

"When Serena arrived in Venice, her appearance was much changed, and none would be likely to recognize her. She was escorted in the night to the shop of a merchant whose wife had died many years before. She had also been a talented young woman in the Ways, Serena was told.

"When the man who had offered her sanctuary came back to the rear of his shop, Serena was stunned to find he was the silversmith she had rejected so many years before. Serena, and the members of this coven, were more stunned by what happened next.

"A radiant gold and green glow enveloped the room, and all within suddenly. Clearly, yet without any definable source, all heard the Voice of the Goddess.

"'A circle has been closed, and a moment on the wheel of time hangs above two different paths. When you made your choice of husbands so long ago, you might have chosen this good smith as well as your young farmer. If you choose again in this moment, you may walk that other path.

"‘Choose the smith, and you may avoid the path that led to your daughter’s defilement, and the first burning of a witch. Many more sisters will suffer in the flames if this dreadful punishment is inflicted on that evil man. The evil of this act will follow your sisters for ages.’

"‘But, Mother,’ Serena objected, ‘the rape will not happen because I will have no daughter to be raped. My children’s lives will vanish into non-existence, and they will live only in my memories. Mother, you ask a mother to doom her own children to non-being, a state worse than death. Their immortal souls will survive death, but nothing survives non-existence.’

"‘Three lives against generations of pain and suffering to be visited on your sisters. Are you so selfish, my child, that you will sacrifice thousands for your three children?’

"‘Yes, Mother, I am,’ Serena replied fiercely, ‘Their immortal souls weigh as much as any sister’s, and their lives are all I can give to the future. I will not go back to choose the smith.’

"The glow of Her presence vanished, and all there felt a deep sadness at the Goddess’ departure. The sisters of Serena’s adopted coven stared at her with a mixture of disbelief, and anger. Imagine a sister who refused a Gift from the Goddess Herself, and valued her own flesh above the suffering She had forecast as their lot?

"Serena’s welcome in Venice had suddenly vanished, and the only people who could protect her no longer would. She was forced to flee to the countryside again. She became a reclusive presence in the forests, and the wild marshes of the seaside. Rarely, she would sneak back to the farm and the grove to watch her children’s lives from afar.

“Serafina never recovered from the trauma of the rape. She was always with her father or one of her brothers. Later, her sisters-in-law would keep her clean and occupied in their households. But, the sisters-in-law were as barren as Serafina seemed. Serena was an ancient, and bitter crone when she realized her sons would sire no grandchildren, nor would her daughter ever be able to be a mother. The lives that were ‘all I can give to the future’ would be the end of her gift. The Goddess had merely rewarded Serena in kind for her last choice.”

As Claire finished her tale, she quietly watched me for several moments. I was amazed that I had managed to stay awake and absorbed for the entire time. Well, this time I would not be able to claim that I did not know it was coming. I waited nervously for her to ask the question for my next Testing.

She smiled warmly, and said, "This is the Choice with which I Test you, Little One. One tome in this room will restore you to the man you were. A spell in that tome will open a path across another Circle in Time, just as the Choice Serena was offered by our Goddess would have.

"It will take you back to a time before you met Elyssa, and put you one a different path. That path will lead you to another woman. She does not walk the Ways as Elyssa and we do. Will you give up your love for Elyssa, and the future you might have together, to be a man again?

I found my mouth suddenly able once again to pronounce words fairly clearly. I winced as I heard the piping sweet notes of my voice answering.

“Yes, I guess I have to if I understand your story. It’d be selfish of me to put our love ahead of what’s best for all,” I reply, softly to Claire, praying this time I might be right.

Then, looking at Mama, I added, “tole you I don’t wanna stay a baby girl.”

“Wrong Choice”

I was stunned as the spiral swirls of warped sensations swept around me again. This was a set-up. They were never going to let me be right. I was sure I had understood the point of the story.

As the swirling stopped slowly, and I gradually found I could see again, I stared up at the two huge adults. I was baby-size again.

“You DID understand the point, little one, and then you still made the wrong choice. What’s selfish is for you to value the immediate return of your precious penis above the love you have (until recently) professed so strongly for our Elyssa. So, since you insist on seeing the world from a selfishly infantile perspective that is how you will see the world until your penance is finished. You will remain the size you are now, and will see everything from the perspective of a six-month-old. That seems about right for your maturity level. And, of course, with an infant’s perspective, I’m afraid you also lose the ability to comprehend written language or numbers, or symbols of any kind, I’m afraid.”

Her huge head turned away from me. Claire spoke to Mama, “I’m very sorry it turned out this way, little sister. But, you can’t be surprised after five straight failings. I’ve taken too much time for this result. Better hurry up to see Simone. She’s waiting for you in the nursery. I suspect your little one needs a diaper change after this last failure.”

How Do You Spell Baby? (Version 2) by Baby Rox

[b]Part III

The 7th Testing[/b]

Claire Van Reems was certainly correct about the state of my diaper following her testing. As Mama carried me up a long flight of stairs, I felt the mushy mass shifting in the rear of my diaper, and the weight of the diaper’s soaked mass.

The nursery we entered was larger than I expected. It had been made from converting two of the farmhouse’s bedrooms. It needed the size to contain the cribs, playpens, changing tables, and other furnishings to care for a dozen babies and toddlers. I stared around in wonder at the amazing walls. Each wall was a moving watercolor painting of a different Mother Goose story. As soon as a story ended, the colors swirled, and a new tale began to paint itself. The mobiles over the cribs had brightly colored shapes that danced to the music each played, or flying ponies that really flew in a magical carousel. I could barely see the amazing toys the babies in the playpens had, before Mama lowered me to a changing table.

She placed a hand on me, and carefully secured me with a strap around my plump tummy. As she removed my shoes, Jenny entered the room, and spoke to Mama, “Your mother and Claire want to ask you something about…”

“Sorry, Denise, no previews,” Jenny said, making a brief motion with her left fingers. I could still hear them, but the words made no sense to me at all. Kind of like being a kid in the Peanuts cartoons, except I could hear the real sounds of the words. I just couldn’t understand what any of them meant.

Another woman, an older plump grandmotherly type, came to talk with Mama and Jenny. Suddenly, they were gone, and I was left alone with the old woman.

I wanted to scream. Mama knew I had a wet, poopy diaper, and she had left me! I was furious with her. I was so upset, it took several words from the old lady before I realized I could understand what she was saying, “…had to go for just a little while. But, I’ve had lots and lots of practice at changing diapers, Sweetie. Would you like me to change those messy diapers for you? My name is Simone, but everyone just calls me Granny.”

“Tan oo unnertan meef?” I spoke hesitantly, amazed that my baby mouth could speak at all.

“Oh, yes, Sweetie. That’s part of Granny’s magic. A good Granny can always understand what her babies need to tell her,” she smiled warmly, and her hazel eyes actually twinkled. Her hand rested lightly on my diaper, “Of course, I only need my nose to tell me what you need. Now, do you want me to change you, little one? You’ll feel much better in a clean, dry diaper, you know.”

I didn’t answer her immediately. What I really wanted was for Mama to come back, and take care of me like she should have in the first place. I was still angry at her, and about to refuse, when I finally realized this might be another Testing.

I could speak to this old woman, and the only time I’d been able to speak lately was to reply to a Testing. For the first time since arriving, I had a tiny ray of hope. Maybe I could finally pass one, and show Mama that I didn’t really want to remain a baby girl.

“Yeff, pweathe. Tange meef pweathe,” I managed to be polite, too, I thought happily.

“Right Choice”

I was right! Yes! I had finally passed a Testing! This would show Mama that I didn’t want to be this baby girl her mother and the others had tricked me into becoming.

The swirling sensation flowed in the opposite direction from all the others that I’d ridden within before. When the dizzying sensations ebbed away, I wondered what I’d been given back for finally passing a Testing.

“Let’s take care of the mundane first,” Granny said, removing my tights, “You still need that nasty diaper changed, sweetie. When you’re clean and dry, we’ll tell you your Boon for passing my Testing.”

Granny was certainly speaking the truth about being very good at diaper changes. She performed the same basic steps in the ritual, of course. There is a logical progression to it, after all. But, the minor differences of how her hands touched my most sensitive areas were indeed magical. Her mere touch banished the itching irritation of a beginning diaper rash, and her cleansing was the most thorough I’d ever had. Granny was even better at the ritual than Mama I realized happily, as she finished tucking the fit of my clean plastic panties around the soft bulk of my dry diaper.

"If you had failed this Testing, Sweetie, you would have received the sensitive skin of the baby you are now as a reminder to be more sensitive to others.

“Elyssa made a request of all of us to grant you a specific Boon should you pass any of the Testings. If you pass others, of course, there will be more Boons granted. She merely wanted to ensure this would be the Boon you got, even if you win no others,” Granny smiled down at me, as she released me from the changing table’s strap.

“Your Boon is that you will always be able to remember who you are, even if your adult abilities are taken from you. Your basic identity as Dennis will stay intact. You will remember being an adult and being able to read even if you are presently denied that ability,” Granny said, lifting me into her arms, and cradling me in the crook of one arm.

“Some of us felt this might be more a Curse than a Boon to you, should you fail all the Testings but this one,” Granny spoke softly, holding me to her ample bosom.

“You might be better not to recall being a man, if you are doomed to never be one again.”

I refused to believe that Mama had requested this “boon” for me only to punish me more than the others had. I had to believe that she had a good reason, and it might help me pass the other Testings.

“Darling!” Mama’s voice rang out only a few feet away. She took me from Granny’s arms, and grinned down at me cradled in her own arms, “I’m so proud of you, Dennis. You finally managed to show something of what I saw in you in the first place.”

Testing the Eighth

The next room we entered seemed more a museum set piece than any one’s living quarters. A huge Victorian Era canopy bed took only a third of the large room. The other end of the room was a formal seating area in beautiful period furnishings. The layers of laces, and velvets in the room’s draperies were reflected in the upholstery of the furniture. The arms of the sofa, and the chairs were all covered by elaborate lace doilies. The woman awaiting us in the seating area seemed almost to be part of this museum exhibit.

Cynthia Wyeth was dressed as elaborately and in the same period as the decor of the Victorian room. Through the gauzy fabric of her blouse, a lace and silk chemise, and a lace and cotton overslip, I could detect the lines of the whalebone stays of her severely laced corset. Oddly, she wasn’t an old woman, who might recall such times. She was no more than thirty, I guessed.

“Ah, Elyssa, you’re a bit early. Does that mean?” she paused, smiling at us expectantly.

“Yes, Cynthia, my little Sweetie managed to pass a Testing, and has been given the Boon I asked of you all,” Mama replied, turning me to face Cynthia, “Dennis, this is Cynthia Wyeth.”

“Welcome, little one,” Cynthia said cheerfully, tenderly shaking my tiny hand between two of her slender fingers. She gestured to an armchair. “I was about to have tea. Would you like to join me?”

I nodded my agreement, and didn’t expect that being polite was likely to be my Testing again. It wasn’t. Mama sat in the chair beside Cynthia, after she had me seated in the small wooden highchair before them.

I was given a small bottle of apple juice, and a couple of teething biscuits on the tray on the highchair. With just four teeth, it wasn’t easy eating the biscuits. I was so involved in the task, and holding the little bottle to drink juice that I lost track of Mama and Cynthia’s conversation. Finishing, I realized that I had juice and biscuit mush all over my face, hands, and clothing.

“Looks like Sweetie needs a good cleaning, and a new outfit,” Cynthia observed, smiling down at me. She rose from her chair, “If you’d like, Elyssa, I have a perfectly darling Christening dress and bonnet that should fit her. If she’s going to be one of us for at least the next year, she ought to get used to dressing like a girl.”

Mama lifted the tray away, and used several baby wipes to clean my face and hands. Taking me from the highchair, she nodded to Cynthia, “That’s true, Cynthia. She needs to start learning how much work is involved in feminine dress, even for baby girls.”

Mama stripped me to my diaper and plastic panties, placing me on the changing mat spread on the sofa. Checking my diaper to be sure I hadn’t wet again (I hadn’t.), she began dressing me in the Christening outfit.

First, was a gauze cotton under vest, trimmed with delicate lace. Second, a silk underslip, with slightly more elaborate lace trimming. Third, a taffeta petticoat with dozens of sheer layers edged by scalloped lace. Fourth, a satin and lace overslip edged by somewhat larger scalloped lace. Fifth, a pair of panties covered across the rear with rows of delicate lace ruffles. Sixth, the satin and silk Christening dress itself, with its own double layer of lace overskirts. Seventh, the matching baby bonnet edged with the largest version of scalloped lace. Eighth, a pair of anklet stockings with lace ruffles revealed as Mama turned down their tops. Ninth, and finally, a pair of white Mary Jane shoes that fit my tiny feet perfectly completed my dressing.

Mama passed me to Cynthia, who carried me to stand before the mirror of her vanity table. In the glass, I saw myself, transformed into the perfect picture of a Victorian baby girl. In my cocoon of silk, satin, and lace, I was the epitome of feminine infancy.

Suddenly, the image before me swirled. For a moment, I was terrified that I failed a Testing again. What was the question? But, then I realized that I was unchanged. It was my mirror image that was changing.

I watched with a mix of fascination and dread as I saw my image aging and growing in the mirror. I became a toddler, and swiftly grew to kindergarten age. My pre-teen years rolled by, and I saw my body developing the curves, and attributes of a young woman. Finally, the aging ceased as I found myself looking in the eyes of a beautiful, and very feminine woman. At every age, I had seen myself wearing skirts and dresses. My clothing was always elaborately and obviously feminine, nothing “man-tailored” for this girl.

Lifting my gaze, I found Cynthia’s face reflected above the shoulder of “my” reflection. She smiled, "If you fail the rest of your Testings, Denise, you will become the woman you see before you. After years as a girl, you will not want to return to being male, and will choose to remain female, and a very feminine female, at that. You will bury your male past by becoming as feminine as you can.

“I can save you the time, and the heartache you will know before you accept yourself as female. Just consent to become the woman you will probably become anyway, and you will be the Denise you see now. You will have the memories and knowledge of all those years, and will be happy as the woman you have become.”

I shook my tiny, bonnet-covered head, “No. Don’ want grow up to be woman. Gonna wait to be a man again and marry 'Lyssa.”

“Right choice.”

For the second time, the swirling sensation flowed in the opposite direction from all the others that I’d ridden within before. When the dizzying sensations ebbed away, I wondered what Boon I had gained in the passing.

This is your Boon Mama’s voice seemed to be speaking inside my mind, and her mouth had not moved.

Cynthia has created a telepathic link between us, my love. You may not use it to ask my help in the rest of the Testings, but we will always be able to understand each other’s minds.

I think you were always pretty good at understanding my mind, darling. Maybe now I’ll get the chance to understand yours a bit better.

After the rest of the tests. For now, I have to block the link. You will be able to feel my presence, but we will not be able to communicate through it until the tests are completed.

I felt an odd sensation, similar to my ears being plugged with earplugs, but it was within my head, inside my mind. I could still hear physical sounds clearly, but the new sense of telepathic “hearing” was totally muffled.

Still dressed in the elaborately feminine baby outfit, I was carried by Mama along the hall to the next coven member’s room.

The Ninth Testing

If Cynthia’s room had been the epitome of lavishly feminine decor, this bedroom was the epitome of minimalist feminine style. It was obviously a woman’s bedroom, but needed no elaborate lace or ruffles to prove that. The bed linens and window treatments were in light green and yellow pastels. A single landscape watercolor opposite the bed was the room’s sole decorative element.

“Denise, this is Jessica,” Mama said, holding me to face the slender brunette, who stood as we entered her bedroom.

Jessica’s long dark tresses framed her attractive face simply. She smiled warmly at me, “Welcome, Denise. I bet you’d love to get out of that dolly costume, and into something a bit more comfortable. Here, let Auntie Jessica dress you in something practical.”

She took me from Mama, and carried me to a changing table, which appeared suddenly in one corner of the room. Placing me on the table’s padded top, Jessica began removing the multiple layers of my Victorian baby costume.

When I had once again been undressed to just my diaper and plastic panties, Jessica dressed me in a simple pink onesie, and a pair of denim overalls with snap fastenings along the legs and the crotch.

“There we go,” Jessica said, patting me on the head and lifting me into her arms. The changing table vanished, to be replaced by a rocking chair, “I’ll bet that’s a lot more comfortable, and familiar. Hmm?”

I smiled up at her, and nodded. Though these clothes were certainly infants’ apparel, a baby boy might wear the very same items. They were certainly more familiar and comfortable than the feminine finery I’d been wearing.

"I believe in the simple approach to most things, Denise, and that includes my Testing of you. I will present your test to you, and you will make your choice.

“We both know the relief you felt at escaping that frilly baby outfit, and how much better you feel dressed as a boy. I can grant you that relief permanently. If you consent, I can restore your male gender. You will remain bound to the rest of your penalties imposed by the prior failing of tests, but you will be a boy again, and will grow up as any normal boy might. So, want to be a boy baby?”

I looked over at Mama, but she was pretending to examine the watercolor, and ignoring me. I had rejected being a woman because I had to stay male to marry Mama. If I had to remain a baby, I’d much prefer to be a boy, and choosing to be my natural sex seemed the right choice here, “Yes, I wanna be a boy again.”

“Wrong Choice.”

I wanted to scream with frustration as I was twisted and spun among the swirling spirals of another spell transforming me once more.

"You still place too much value on having a penis, and believing that makes you somehow superior to females. Changing you into a boy would only confuse little Sara, and remaining a girl would give you the chance to understand your future wife in ways no ‘normal’ man ever could. A mature person can delay gratification of his own needs in favor of others not being harmed, and wouldn’t see being a girl as a punishment. A mature man might have seen this time as a female as your opportunity to truly understand what being female is like. You persist in feeling that having to be a girl is part of your punishment.

“For failing my testing, you will get even more of this ‘punishment’. You will keep your immature vagina, and your baby smooth hairless skin for a year beyond whatever period Elyssa and Lilith decide you need to remain a baby girl. You will also continue to wet and mess yourself like a six-month-old baby for the same period. This penalty of added time will extend the first one imposed for your original trespass into Elyssa’s room. Perhaps you’ll learn one day that girls – even baby girls – are human beings every bit as good as any man.”

I objected in my piping voice, “You no can add punishments more than year me already gotta be a baby girl. Me NOT a girl! Not fair she wants me to pick being a girl. You test just a lousy girl trick, you bad woman. You meanie witch!”

“If you think saying things like that will help you, sweetie, you’re sadly mistaken,” Elyssa said firmly, lifting me into her arms again, "All you had to do was to think it through, but you DO think being a man makes you better than a woman. If you don’t want to and up becoming female permanently, you’d better start showing a bit more respect for your new gender than you have so far.

“I’m sorry about that outburst, Jessica,” Elyssa said, turning to open the door, “I might have guessed he’d start getting his macho attitude going after making two right choices in a row. I’m going to add a piece to your spell, I think. Dennis won’t get his precious little dickie back until Denise here can sincerely thank you for letting her spend more time as a girl. Maybe that will help her learn to respect being female. If not, she’ll be a girl the rest of her life.”

The Tenth Testing

Mama carried me cradled in one arm, and carried me back into the hall. She lowered her face to mine to speak sharply, “I’ve already added to one curse, Denise, and I can extend the rest of them as well if this is how you’re going to behave.”

“Sowwy, Mama,” I said sadly, truly ashamed of my outburst, and terrified that I was never going to allowed to be a man again, “Me mad and got upset.”

“Well, I hope you know now that getting mad will only mean the punishment gets longer for you, and think before you answer.”

We entered the next bedroom along the hall. This bedroom’s decor was somewhere between the frilly Victorian femininity of Cynthia’s room, and the elegant simplicity of Auntie Jessica’s room. The drapes and the bed were floral prints of coordinated pinks, yellows, and greens. The furniture was a simple Shaker style in maple and cherry woods.

The room’s occupant was another older member of the coven. Her hair was a salt-and-pepper mix of grays, and its formerly black color, worn in a short style. She wore no makeup, and was dressed in a simple floral dress.

“Denise, this is Anne Marie,” Mama said, holding me to face the older woman.

As Mama held me forward, I felt a gusher spurting into my diaper, and squirmed uncomfortably. Anne Marie smiled down at me, and lifted me out of Mama’s arms, “All this stress is very hard on a baby’s body, isn’t it, Denise? Looks like you need another diaper change.”

“Yeth, pwease,” I answered quickly. I couldn’t control my baby body’s reactions, and had realized finally that I had to surrender to its needs and demands.

Anne Marie removed my overalls before laying me onto the changing table in the corner of her room beside the white crib. Releasing the snaps of my onesie, she pushed it above my plump tummy, and drew off my plastic panties. Removing the diaper pins, she lifted me by my ankles to slide the diaper away, and dropped it into a diaper pail.

The air was cold on my damp skin, and I shivered as Anne Marie gently washed my diaper area with baby wipes. She put a small amount of lotion in her palm, warming it before she spread it tenderly over my bottom, between my legs, and over the front. I squirmed at the sensation of her huge fingers caressing the sensitive area between my legs. Though I found the ritual of diaper changes very comforting, this most direct reminder of my female gender could still make me squirm with unease. I reminded myself that I had just declined the chance to get back my boy bits, but it didn’t help much.

Anne Marie completed my changing, and I felt the tension leaving my tiny body as she drew a fresh pair of plastic panties over my diaper, and fastened the plastic snaps of my onesie. Suddenly, I found myself yawning with exhaustion as the tension ebbed away.

Anne Marie lifted me from the changing table, “You’re just worn to a frazzle, aren’t you, Denise. Maybe you should have a nice little nap before you face any more tests. Would you like to have a nap, sweetie?”

I wanted to get the testing done, and didn’t see any point in prolonging it with a nap. Exhausted as I felt, I was sure I couldn’t sleep anyway. I looked up at Anne Marie, and said, “No. Me OK. Rather get this testing done.”

“Wrong Choice.”

For the eighth time, the swirling, spiraling sensation came over me, and I waited to learn what my curse would be for failing this testing.

“Even when Mama has just told you to think before you answer, you just can’t seem to do it. Can you, Denise?” Anne Marie asked, as she placed me inside the crib on my back, “Your Doom for failed my testing is that you will have the biorhythms and sleep needs of a small baby, needing two naps a day, and twelve hours sleep every night. Like most young babies, you will feel very tired if you don’t get your regular amounts of sleep, and will then fall asleep in your stroller, car seat, Mama’s arms, or wherever you may be. Bedtime will be very early for you for quite a while, I think.”

The Eleventh Testing

This bedroom was warm, the air heated by a small fire burning low in the fireplace. I felt the chill that I’d had from my last changing fade quickly. I understood now why Mama had not dressed me more warmly.

The blonde woman by the bed was a few years older than Mama, and slightly less slender.

She smiled at Mama, ignoring me, “You can put her in the playpen with Marie Jean. I’m sure no one’s thought to offer you much comforting this evening. Her testing can wait until you’ve had a cup of herb tea, and a little rest of your own.”

“Umm, that sounds lovely, Carrie” Mama replied, taking me around the canopy bed to a playpen in the far corner of the room. It had been hidden from view by the bed’s draperies.

Another baby girl, larger than I was, was playing with a set of brightly colored rings in the playpen.

“Denise, this is Marie Jean.” Mama said, lowering me into the old fashioned wooden playpen. Setting me on my padded bottom, she said, “Play nice while I have a cup of tea with her Mommy.”

Mama vanished behind the drapes of the canopy bed, and I was left alone with another baby. A larger, and older baby, I guessed, trying to gauge how much older she might be. Marie Jean smiled over at me, revealing that she had more teeth than I, and dropped another ring over the conical post. She held a ring out to me, “Nugoo nana baboo”

With some effort, I managed to shift myself onto my hands and knees to crawl closer to Marie Jean. Getting myself seated again was another major effort, and I was gasping as I finally sat beside her. I was constantly surprised how weak my baby body was, and how much effort it took to do something as simple as crawling.

Getting my wind finally, I reached for the blue ring Marie Jean still held, and spoke my best baby babble, “Gaanee baboo ganoo?”

Marie Jean released the ring, letting it fall onto the playpen floor between us. I grinned at her, and leaned forward to grasp it with my pudgy digits. This was much more difficult than it should have been. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice Marie Jean digging her fingers into a solid grip on my hair. She gave a sudden yank, dragging my head up, and generating a pained screech of glass-shattering volume from me.

I tried to slap her as I saw Marie Jean’s plump little face screwed into a wide smile of delight at my pain. As my plump little fingers reached Marie Jean’s cheek, she shimmered and vanished.

“Wrong Choice”

I looked up in confusion, feeling the now familiar spiral swirling of another Doom being imposed upon me for choosing incorrectly. I didn’t understand, however. What had been the question?

“Not all questions are asked in words, Denise,” Mama said, appearing around the canopy bed, and lifting me out of the playpen.

The playpen, like Marie Jean, vanished completely. I looked at Mama with added confusion.

“She was never there. We would never place a real child in the way of harm from a wrong choosing,” Carrie said, Frowning down at me as Mama held me close, “She existed only for you, and only to ask her question with her hands. Would you harm another baby to protect yourself? Unfortunately, you answered the test as immaturely as most of your previous testings.”

“Since you have failed, you will be cursed with an infant’s sense of time, and a contented acceptance of being unable to tell one day from the next,” Carrie informed me, reaching out to touch my cheek and pinch it lightly, “You may spend two years as a baby, or twenty, but your days will be measured by sleep, feedings, and diaper changes.”

" 'Lyssa knows me not wanted hit her," I told Carrie, puffing to speak as loudly as I could, “Me just not able to stop. Me tried, really.”

The Twelfth Testing

We had nearly reached the other end of the long hallway. Only two doors remained, one on either side. Mama opened the door on our left, and carried me inside.

This bedroom reflected the personality of its mistress as clearly as all the other before it had. A mature, and large woman in her mid forties, Helena Giddings liked simple country styles. She wore a simple gingham housedress, and a plain cotton apron.

“Welcome, Denise. I’m Helena Giddings,” she said, smiling down at me as she took me from Mama.

“Sit, my dear,” Helena spoke to Mama, gesturing at two chairs before the room’s window, “This won’t take very long.”

Helena sat in the other armchair, and placed me upon her lap, facing up at her. She winked at me, “You’re nearly to the end, and no sense in delaying the process. I’ll be asking you to make a choice in a moment, and you’ll soon know if you’ve received Curse or Boon from me. Before I do, however, I had to feel the weight of your soul in my hand. It’s such a young soul, little one. It doesn’t know how guide you.”

I had a “young soul”? What did that mean? I stared up at her in confusion.

“Sorry, Elyssa, you must see by now that he’s not suited for you,” Helena said, bluntly.

“I can restore you to full adulthood immediately. You will remain female, becoming a copy of Elyssa, while she will be transformed into the baby girl you are now doomed to be for at least two years. The catch is that you must stay and live Elyssa’s life as a woman while taking care of that baby for the same period. This is your choice.”

It would serve her right to have to spend the next two years in diapers instead of me, I thought angrily, but that couldn’t be the right choice. I looked at Mama’s breasts, imagining them on my own chest, and a baby nursing at my nipple. A shudder went through me at the image. I’d never taken care of a baby, and didn’t know anything about what I’d need to do. Having lived a baby’s life for the last few days, I realized how little I’d known about babies. Taking care of them was a lot of work, too. Wouldn’t the “mature” thing be to accept being a baby, since I really didn’t want to know how to be a woman or mother?

“No. Me not know how to be Mama,” I said, “Mama knows how to be Mama.”

“Wrong Choice”

The swirling sensations spun through me as I sat on Helena’s lap, gripped tightly by her strong hands. She held me up, facing her, as the sensations faded away, "You made the right selection, but for all the wrong reasons. Elyssa read your thoughts with me, and we felt your revulsion at the idea of nursing a baby. You’d rather be a baby yourself than face the work of learning how to care for a baby, tending all her needs as she has cared for you since you trespassed in her room. You wanted us to think your choice was mature, but it was just selfish and infantile.

“For failing my testing, you will lose your ability to speak and understand language like an adult. This will not affect your abilities until testing is completed. Once the final testing is done, you will no longer comprehend or be able to speak languages any better than any other six-month-old baby. This will also affect the second boon, granted to you and Elyssa for your second correct choice. The telepathic link will remain, but you will not be able to use adult language to communicate with Elyssa. She will be able to understand what you are feeling emotionally and physically, but you will not be able to comprehend anything she ‘says’ telepathically.”

Thirteen is My Lucky Number

Mama carried me across the hall, and into the last bedroom. Looking around, I saw only a simple double bed in light linens, and a rocking chair before the room’s window. There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room.

Mama sat in the rocking chair, turning me to place me on her lap, facing her. Smiling at me, she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the inner curves of her breasts. Pushing the blouse aside, Mama deftly released the fabric of the brassiere’s cup, and lowered it.

Her breast was swollen with milk, drops of it were forming around her nipple, and running down the curve of her breast. I could smell the sweet aroma of the milk, and my mouth began to water for the wonderful taste of it.

“Want Mama’s titty, sweetie?” Mama asked me, grinning as she squeezed more milk from the nipple.

Drool ran from the corner of my mouth, and I wanted that nipple more than anything I could recall wanting. The warm sensation of Mama’s full breast near my face made me realize how much I’d loved nursing at her teat, and forget altogether that there was one more Test to pass.

Gulping and opening my mouth, I tried to take the thick nipple between my lips. Getting it into my mouth, I gazed up raptly at Mama, not caring that I’d failed again. I was going to be a baby for at least two more years. Since it wasn’t likely I’d ever see or touch Mama’s titties again after that, I decided to take whatever added curse this required.

“Wrong Choice”

For the last time, I was swept into the swirling spiral of sensation, and left exactly where I was before. Mama drew me to her breast, and tenderly guided my mouth to her nipple.

For intentionally choosing immaturely again, I must add the last Doom to your curse, Sweetie. You will need to nurse from me for the time you must still remain a baby, and I see no need for you to have any teeth for that. You will neither mature nor grow as a baby for the entire two year period, and my milk will be the only food you need for as long as I decide to keep you a baby. With this Doom, the Testings are completed, and all the other curses are now in effect.


Those were the last “words” that I understood for a very long time. I passed into a timeless state of perpetual infancy, and one day seemed pretty much the same as another to me. Some days were cold, others hot, but I made no associations with seasons any more than the other markers of time I no longer comprehended.

For two years, I remained frozen in time as a six-month-old baby girl. I was able to clearly remember being an adult man named Dennis, and all the things I had been able to do as an adult. I could remember that letters and numbers were symbols with meaning for adults, but I remained totally unable to decipher or comprehend those symbols. I could remember walking and running, but the only locomotion I could manage was a poorly coordinated crawl on my hands and knees. I could remember having a penis and erections, but nothing about what that really felt like firsthand. I could recall having teeth and eating real food, but all my feedings now were Mama’s milk which I suckled as eagerly as the first time with my still toothless gums.

Thanks to the limited telepathic contact I retained with Mama, she always knew when my wet diapers began to chafe, or when I had a mess requiring an immediate change. She sensed my hunger, cold, or overheated feelings as soon as I did, and always corrected my problems as soon as she could. I probably did far less crying than a normal baby, since Elyssa didn’t need that as a signal for my distress.

I lived much more like a real baby when I was left with Nana, or one of my aunties. Elyssa had returned to work. Though I had no comprehension of that or why Mama was not with me, I quickly learned that I had to let my caretakers know about my distress the same way any other baby did. With them, I cried as much as any other baby did when she needs a diaper change or a nurser of Mama’s milk.

My gums also provided the first sign of change, that I was finally beginning to grow older, even if only at the normal one-day-at-a-time pace of an ordinary baby. My gums became sore, and the tips of my first teeth began to push through. Teething can be very painful, but all of my aunties and Nana had salves that quickly soothed my gums. Though I began to age like a normal baby, I still was limited to the same abilities of a baby at that age. Thus limited, I had no comprehension that I had begun to grow up, or what that might mean. I accepted my slowly increasing size and abilities like any baby would, and struggled just as hard to gain them.

I found my tongue and lips more responsive, and gradually began to master pronouncing the simplest of words. My legs and arms grew stronger and easier to control, allowing me to learn how to pull myself to a standing position, and then take my first tottering steps. I fell as much as any baby did in learning to walk, and mispronounced many of my simple words while learning to speak. The only advantage I had was that Mama’s link with me meant that she understood exactly what my simple words meant before I spoke, and she helped me learn to say them clearly.

As I slowly grew older and larger, I watched Mama, Nana, and my aunties closely as I learned to be a “good girl”. Though I easily learned to walk, and quickly added new words to my toddler vocabulary, I remained in diapers fulltime until I was almost three, and slept in them until I was nearly five.

Mama kept me dressed in the most feminine styles for baby girls and toddlers. I learned early to love the attention I got when wearing the lacy ruffled dresses Mama preferred, and hated to wear anything as boyish as overalls or pants of any kind. I wanted earrings in my tiny ears as soon as Mama would allow it, and loved going with Nana to the salon to get my pretty blonde hair cut and styled.

By the time my fifth “birthday” neared, my former life as Dennis had dimmed to a few seldom recalled memories. Though my memories of being Dennis were as clear as the first day I became a baby girl, I very seldom thought about that time. Old enough now to understand some of the differences between girls and boys, the thought of actually having a “peenie” and wearing those dull, stupid boy clothes repelled me. I knew Dennis had liked being a boy, but I couldn’t imagine why he had. I dealt with it by not thinking about my “Dennis days” any more than I could avoid.

About a week before my fifth birthday would be celebrated, Mama asked me to sit on the couch beside her, “It’s time we dealt with the question of your futures. You have someone you must consider thanking for her favor to you, and then a choice to be made.”

I frowned at her in confusion, not understanding what she meant. She placed her palm on my forehead, using her right hand to weave a pattern in the air over my head, “I release all your former adult abilities and education to you again. In addition to giving you full recall of your former life, I am also imprinting a completely accurate recall of every minute you have spent as a girl from the moment you awoke in the crib after trespassing in my room. You have the ability to recall clearly any and all moments of your lives as Dennis and as Denise. Now you should understand my reference to owing thanks to someone more clearly.”

I did. I had said mean and rude things to Auntie Jessica, and Mama had said I would have to remain a girl until I could sincerely thank Auntie for letting me spend a longer time as a girl than the year I expected. It had been nearly six and a half years since I’d failed most of my Aunties Tests. Thanks to Mama’s magic, I recalled virtually every aware moment I’d spent as a girl during that time, and how deeply feminine I had come to feel as Denise. Even with all of my former memories clearly comprehended with my restored adult mental faculties, I no longer felt much sympathy or empathy for Dennis. Though I could remember vividly my foolish sense of male superiority as Dennis, I could no longer feel any agreement with my prior assessment of being female.

“I owe a Thank You to Auntie Jessica, Mama,” I said firmly, meeting her gaze, “I’m very grateful she made me stay a girl, and I don’t think I’d ever want to be a boy again.”

“Auntie Jessica will be visiting for dinner this evening, Denise. You can tell her how grateful you are when she comes this afternoon,” Mama said. She placed her hand over my small knee, “As far as choosing to stay a girl that is your choice, of course. But, you’ve forgotten what being Dennis was really like, and I don’t want you regretting this choice later. You have a week before your birthday party, and I don’t want you to make a final decision until the day before the party. I want you to think about your life before you became a baby girl, and after considering your choice carefully, you can tell me what you’ve decided next Friday morning. All right?”

“Yes, Mama,” I answered smiling up at her, “Though I’m really pretty sure I never want to be a boy again, and it’s hard to understand why Dennis thought it was so much better than being a girl.”

I was right about that of course. I had come to regard my small feminine body as my proper form, and it was my new perspective that shaped my choice. Unless I was made to forget my infancy and life as a young girl (something I refused to even consider), I could never be happy returning to life as a man. In the years since my transformation into a baby girl, I felt I had already lived a better life than the one I’d known as Dennis. I would remain Denise, and five years old. I had a lot to learn about being a girl, and later about becoming a woman, and I would take the time now to grow up properly along the way into the woman Denise could become.

Thanks for the Back Up

Thanks for posting this. I lost it, as well as Version 1.0 (and a couple dozen unpublished drafts) to a fried back-up drive. Guess I should have posted more of the incomplete ones, huh? Does anyone have a copy of an older story I did called “Hypno-Sized”? Thanks again - Roxanne Deon