RE-ADOPTION


I remember the moment. It was during an Edwardian fancy dress party.
The date was November 1st. There were a "salvation army officer",
the "King", several "suffragettes", some "police officers", a "maid",
a "butler" and other figures from the early years of the century.

My head was in my "nanny's" lap. I was assured that my clothes were
those of a toddler BOY from those days. The frock was blue.

I had put it off for long enough. I had been having fun, even though
feeling very silly. The whole situation was strange. Now I was much
more uncomfortable. I knew I had to leave the room. I put it off for
a few more minutes. I then knew it would soon be too late. I got up.

I was in for a BIG surprise.

"Nanny" grabbed my hand. She was gentle, but firm. I whispered to her.

"I need the bathroom."

She whispered to me:

"BABIES do wee in their nappies.."

"Nanny" remembered that I was brought up in America.

"..er diapers."

She kept hold of my arm. I pulled away, but not too hard. I could
easily have escaped. I did not. Then I relaxed other muscles. I
started flooding my diapers. These were partly hidden by my rubber
panties. (Clear plastic ones would not have been available 90 years
earlier.) On the other hand the frock was very short. All that terry
toweling made a big bulge under my panties.


I had spent that evening acting in a fairly convincingly infantile
manner. I crawled around. My meal had been spoon fed to me. I had
also been bottle fed- with a boat shaped bottle without a rubber teat.

I had not PLANNED to take the role as far as I did.

* * *

My parents- the people I called my parents- told me about my earlier
childhood. They took me to their American home town. They claimed
that I had been toilet trained, by day, at 16 months. I was "dry"
during the night at two years. They were proud about that. I
understand such pride.

Also, it was claimed, I crawled, walked, spoke and wrote much
earlier than most children. Fair enough. On the other hand they
were proud that ALL my toys were educational. I never had a teddy
bear. Not only that but they were also proud that my LAST toys were
bought by the time I was 6.

I remembered a few things too. I must have been about three. I could
tell different kinds of ducks, geese and swans. The other children
were just feeding the birds on the river. They were having fun. I
remember my "mother" telling me how clever I was because one of the
other children- a girl obviously older than me- was still in diapers:

"She's still a baby. All she can do is throw bread and wet
herself. But Jack's a big boy, he's clever and he knows all the
names of the ducks and geese."

Don't get me wrong. My "parents" did love me. I do not think that
I would have been treated me differently, had I been their biological
child. But I was never really allowed to be a child.


* * *

I decided to spend those two weeks getting to know Eleanor It is
very strange to meet your real mother after twenty five years.

The school she taught in was basically an ordinary Catholic girls'
school. But the headmistress took caring the poor seriously. There
were a couple of houses where some girls who could not stay at home
lived. Some had babies. Some were fleeing abusive parents. Two had
parents who were living in filthy and dangerous "hotels". The parents
agreed that the school houses were better places for study.


The fancy dress party was to take place on All Saints day. It was
not a coincidence that it was so close to Halloween. As a Christian
school in England they felt they could not, openly, celebrate such
a pagan festival, but...

Eleanor had already decided that she would be a nanny. I imagined
that she would ask one of the young mothers if she bring their
baby. But she said:

"Dressing a baby as a baby wouldn't be real fancy dress-
would it?"

I supposed not. It made a kind of sense. I was, after all,
Eleanor's baby. Still, it was an odd idea. Later one of the
other teachers told me that Eleanor had spent very many hours making
my outfit. She spent much more time than on the nanny uniform.


The diapers and the rubber panties came first. I could have put
the diapers on myself. Eleanor said it would be easier for another
person to do it. Then my real mother added:

"You know I gave you away on the day of your birth. I
never actually put you into nappies."

I undressed. I suppose I felt a little odd. Even if I had lived
with her all my life, it would have felt a bit strange- having
a fifty year old woman seeing my naked body.

Eleanor carefully folded two napkins ready for me. Whilst she
was in the "nanny" role she usually used the correct English
word. Until quite recently, the word "nappy" was described as
"nursery slang" slang, in dictionaries.

I lay my butt onto the diapers. Eleanor firmly fastened the
safety pins on either side. Then "nanny" slipped the panties
over my feet and pulled them right up to the diapers.


Then I got a surprise. Eleanor produced a petticoat. I was shocked.

"I've never worn a dress in my life."

She explained:

"But this is an Edwardian evening. Baby boys always
used to were dresses and petticoats. Anyway it will help people
see that you ARE a baby. They will see the rubber panties and nappies."

I sat on the floor and put my hands into the air. Eleanor
slipped my petticoat over my head. Then I sat on the bed. She
put my hands through the sleeves of the short blue dress. Then
she buttoned me up at the back. There seemed to be a very large
number of buttons.

* * *

"Now Jack, I want you to know why Father Francis and I did what we did.
The first thing is that we really did love each other. I think I probably
seduced him, rather than the other way around. He was- is- a good man,
a kind man, and a handsome man.

You certainly were not planned, but I felt great joy when I knew
that I carried new life. The father would have given up everything
and married me. I would not let him. How could I? He was so good
at being a priest. Besides if I allowed him to give up his vows
he would have felt shame forevermore.

So I stayed where I was. He went abroad. I do not think that
he has ever broken his vows again.

You still wonder why I gave you up. So do I. I wish I had
more courage. Maybe I could have. If there was a Catholic
school in England that would have allowed it, St Agatha's was
that school.

But in 1970 agreeing to keep me on, provided I kept you a
secret, was all they could do. I suppose it was handy that you
were born in late August. For year after year I cried every night."

* * *

So I walked, or rather crawled, into the school hall where the
fancy dress party was in full swing. I think there were two
male teachers there. Otherwise it was a completely female
affair. Except me.

Many of the other fancy dress costumes were male. As I mentioned
we had King Edward the 7th present. There were several girls
and women in old fashioned police uniforms. There were "toffs"-
affluent men, and butlers.

This added to my odd feelings. Strictly speaking I WAS
dressed as a little BOY. The trouble was that none of us had
been brought up in a time when little boys wore petticoats.
It felt very much like I was dressed as a little GIRL.


Josie was a very clever 17 year old girl. She made one
mistake. She had a baby ten years too soon. Still, she studied
hard. The school was very supportive. Her mistake would not
wreck her life. Nor yet that of the baby.

Her little girl had not liked the teddy bear she had bought.
After she saw me in my diapers and short dress she went back
to her room. She brought me the huge soft bear. It was much
more nearly my size than a real infant's. I sat on the floor
cuddling the cuddly creature. Someone took some photos. Everyone
thought I looked very cute.

* * *

"I became a teacher because I have always liked children. In
a sense, all those clever girls I saw go on to take degrees,
were my children. So too were those other girls- who would never
be brilliant but who went to remedial classes and learned
reading and arithmetic at fifteen or sixteen.

I was glad when the school decided to stop automatically
expelling girls who got pregnant. I was really very pleased
when we started actually helping them.

I felt privileged when the kids allowed me to hold their
babies. I liked having someone so dependent on me, so loving me.

Then too, it felt wonderful watching toddlers play. It
still felt like everything was new for them. In a sense I
envy them. They have the whole new World to learn about.


All in all, the life of "Aunt Eleanor" was not bad. At the
same time I always knew that none of these adolescents and
none of these toddlers was truly "mine". Sister Sarah- in
many ways a very good and noble nun- told me when I talked
to her about it:

"You should not be so selfish. Children are not
your property."

But she did not understand. How could a nun? Carrying you
for forty weeks and then giving you away was the hardest
thing I ever did. But please, understand. Everyone told me
that this was the best thing for you. I tried to believe it.
A nasty voice in me said I was selfish for wanting you all
for myself."

* * *

Well all the teachers had drunk a bit. It was a party. I
fear some of the girls had as well. Everyone was giggling.
The time came.

My diapers were very soggy. What did an English nanny do
when her charge has wet himself? Well she changed his
napkins. Eleanor did just that for me.

I was laid down in the middle of the floor. My dress and
petticoats were pulled clear. I too had a couple of
drinks- I don't usually. I was a bit groggy.

I could hear and see about a hundred giggling girls.
The "nanny" unpinned my napkins. These came off one
by one. Finally she washed round my delicate area.

There were many amusing and crude remarks about my
"little man", especially about how little he indeed
was. There was a certain amount of crudity. But there
was no cruelty. It was a party game. I enjoyed it too.


All too soon it was eleven o'clock. It was a school
night. The party had to stop. Eleanor put a coat over
my baby clothes and I went to her house. I went to
the spare bedroom.

I was surprised when she joined me. She lay on the
bed and unbuttoned her dress. It felt "right" for me
to crawl to my "nanny" and "feed" from her breast.
She held me tightly, lovingly and protectively.

I did not change into my pajamas when she went to bed.
She had taken my dress and petticoat off but left my
diapers and rubber panties on. I took a nightie from
the wardrobe.

It also felt natural, when I woke up at four in the
morning desperate for a pee, not to leave my warm
bed but to use the diapers.

* * *

My adoptive parents were very ambitious for me. I did
well at school. I got a "good" job. I was well paid.
I was good at what I did.

I gave the insurance company 80 hours a week of my
time. They gave me $200 000 a year. The basic task
was finding ways of minimizing what we paid out- or
better still paying out nothing.

I worried a bit about one poor, young, widow. She had
been wholly dependent on her husband because she had not
worked for ten years. They had 7 children. I found a
loophole. Legally the company owed her nothing-in spite
of all the premiums her late husband had paid.

I wondered what the point was. At 23 I was a man who
earned a fortune and still lived with his parents-
they still had not told me the truth.

So I bought, outright, a luxury apartment. It cost
me œ150 000. I filled it with everything I could
want: an expensive sound system, high quality cable
tv, all mod cons. I had a woman come in and do my
cleaning, washing and ironing.

But I never had time to enjoy this luxury.

* * *

The fancy dress party was on a Thursday. The following
week was half term. The school was closed. I spent Friday
during the day in regular clothes just relaxing and doing
nothing. I was not used to doing nothing.

When Eleanor, my real mother, came home that night she
surprised me. She spoke to me very firmly:

"I think my BABY should be properly dressed, don't you?"

I said nothing and stayed sitting next to her on the sofa.
She reached over and started to unbutton my shirt. I did
not resist. It was wonderful.

I had spent so much of my life being expected to be
responsible for things, and to take charge. Now I could
just relax. Someone else was seeing to everything.

Eleanor took her time in undressing me. Each button on
the shirt was unfastened separately. Then she gently
removed it from me. Next she sat on the floor and removed
my shoes and socks.

I put one hand in the way when she started unzipping
my pants. But I did not resist when she removed my right
hand with her left and then proceeded to undo the zip
and unfasten the belt.

I allowed my ass to be lifted off so that she could
pull off my pants. Then my underpants.

I watched whilst she lay a plastic sheet on the floor.
Then she folded two large diapers onto it. She pointed
and I lay where she indicated.

My butt was covered first with talcum powder and then
with oil. I was embarrassed by the erection I got when
she applied the latter. So, I am sure, was she. It was
time to imprison my thing in diapers.

She fastened the soft terry toweling very tightly
around my nether regions. Then she slipped a pair of
clear plastic panties over my feet and up to my knees.
I lifted myself for a second and soon the diapers were
covered.

I was surprised when she brought out the dress and
petticoat I had worn the previous night. I protested:

"Listen Elle, er mummy, I'm not a girl."

Eleanor's tone was firm:

"Mummies decide what babies wear. These are the
only baby things I have in your size. Anyway they looked
so cute on you, Jackie."

I surrendered. As soon as I was dressed my real mother
unbuttoned the top of her dress. She adjusted her bra.
I crawled up. She pulled my mouth to her nipple and s
mothered my face in her femininity. It was amazing.

* * *

Actually I had enjoyed very little intimate contact
with anyone for a very long time until I met my proper
mother. My other "parents" did not want to "baby" me-
and they did use that word.

Then too, my job allowed very little time for getting
to know anyone very well. I just concentrated on winning
the rat race. I did not think about whether I really
wanted the prizes on offer in that particular race.

It was female colleague who helped me. Suzy was a 50
year old admin worker. She checked over what leave
staff was owed. Mine was quite phenomenal.

I earned six times what she did. Yet somehow she was
able to be very authoritative with me. I looked at her
round friendly face. I was sitting down and she was
standing up. She was well endowed but at her age this
looked maternal rather than erotic.

"Now Jack you are GOING to take a vacation. If
you do NOT some day people upstairs will say that you
are getting stale and they'll get rid of you- no matter
how many millions you saved the company before. Remember
you get no money as gratitude."

Suzy nagged me for three months. Eventually I agreed.
I remembered years earlier I had been interested in
English history. I would visit places like the Tower
of London. But to go to England I needed a passport.
To get a passport I needed my birth certificate.

I got my birth certificate. I was shocked, angry and
hurt. I decided to spend my leave finding my birth
mother. This, in fact, proved much easier than I expected.

* * *

"Jack you don't know what this last week has been. I
always wanted to know what had happened. I was so glad
that you were alive and healthy. I suppose I was glad
that you were successful, but I wondered whether you were
happy.

I did not know I would want my baby to be a "baby", but
I have loved it. I have been able to give you all the
intimate care that circumstances did not allow all
those years ago.

It is so wonderful that you still trust your mother
so much. You allow yourself to be helpless. I know
you like sucking at my breasts. It is a pity I could
not actually give you milk that way.

But even with your head in my lap and a bottle in your
mouth I was still happy to be giving you nourishment.


Diapers are important too. I mean I know you feel
embarrassed about it. But then you like it when I wash
all that special area. And they, more than anything,
show that you really wanted to be MY baby.

I could tell you were in need of some relaxation. What
better relaxation than having seven days of total
irresponsibility and helplessness.

You had no job to do; no journey to work; no cooking
to do; no decisions to make; you didn't even need to
get up to go to the bathroom.

All you had to do was to relax and let me love you and
care for you. And the truth is that, although that other
woman did what she thought was best for you, probably until
that week you had NEVER BEEN MOTHERED. And if the way
we did it was a bit extreme so was the lifestyle you
had before."

* * *

Well after that week I felt relaxed in a way I never
had been before. Then I got to thinking. Then I made
more drastic changes in my life. I did NOT really like
working 80 hours a week. Nor did I like what I had been doing.

I moved to England I changed the kind of job I did. I
now work 30 hours a week as a consultant helping people
to get all they legally can out of insurance companies.

This leaves time for games and relaxing. One of the ways
I relax is by reliving my childhood as it might have been
with my true mother.


Sometimes it is not at all obvious to outsiders. I supposed
a middle aged woman and a youngish man feeding the ducks
seems a bit strange.

Sometimes I play on the swing that I have installed in
the huge apartment I bought. Mummy pushes me just as
she might have liked to when I was five or six.

Quite often I play at being baby. Usually it is mummy
who wants me to but I always enjoy it. Life in the 1990s
is very stressful. It is good to escape from it.

Mummy found a hypno-therapist who has improved our
games. I almost think that I am a real baby. I forget
about work. I forget about worries.

I did need to work on getting rid of inhibitions. Letting
mummy dress me and control me feels natural. Baby talk
is easier than grown up words. So too is the hardest
part of acting as a baby.

Before the hypnotist came, I really had to concentrate
hard to actually USE my diapers. Since then, every
weekend Mummy wants me to be a baby, I find I actually NEED diapers.

I love the way mummy hugs me. I love the way she pretend feeds
me. I feel so important when I have her nipple in my mouth.

I like too, when she really feeds me. She is so careful with
my baby bottles. She always cooks my favorite meals. She
spends ages spoon feeding me so I taste every mouthful.

More surprisingly, I have found I like the feel of wet
diapers. We enjoy it when I crawl and mummy chases me. I
like it when she catches me and "smacks" the soggy, sagging
terry toweling under the plastic panties.

Change time is good too. Being washed around that area is
objectively pleasurable. Also having a person who so loves
you that they will do EVERYTHING is a unique kind of love.
And after a while dry diapers are a nice change. CLEAN diapers
are always better than dirty ones.



I have not told my other "parents" about everything. They would
not understand. I have told them that I know they loved me
in their way but that I did need to live my way. I also
explained that I needed more contact with my natural mother.

Mind you, I kind of wonder whether they might find my
liking diapers easier to understand than taking such a
huge pay cut.


Last year I got a special birthday present. Mummy had
taken a course of medication. As usual when playing
baby I had my head in her lap. Mummy lifted me to her
breasts. And I got actual milk. It was real. It was wonderful.
* * *

So I can live reasonably without spending every minute
of my life at work. I have a nice home and a lovely
mother. And when I need to I can play the best most
relaxing game in the World. We both lived happily, or
perhaps NAPPILY ever after.