Spring Eternal

Chapter 9
A Little Redecorating

Chapter Description: Iris makes some big changes to the house despite Cal's displeasure.

It was well past the middle of the afternoon and Cal was sitting in the middle of the playpen, his arms crossed and fuming. He was sitting in his t-shirt and a damp diaper. He had found that when he had awoken that Iris had not replaced his pants after a diaper change in the car at the garage sale. It was one more indignity heaped upon many as far as he considered. He had spent the last hour calling out at the top of his lungs to be released to no avail and then trying to escape from the playpen.

Iris had made an appearance to check on him. Seeing that he was well, she just as suddenly disappeared. His mouth was puckered with rage as he rocked on his bottom as he tried to ignore the multitude of complaints coming from this contused appendages. He cupped his sore and reddened palms under his armpits to shelter them from their recent ordeal. He could not see his abused feet under the toddler’s thin white cotton socks but he could tell they were not in better shape. If he could have used his hands to pull the socks off, he known he would have seen the scrapes and pinch marks on his pudgy pale feet. He had tried to scale the side of the wooden playpen wedging his feet in between the slats, but could gain no purchase. Any headway he could get by wedging his sock covered feet in between the slats was soon lost as the slick surface allowed him to slide back down. His arms did not possess the strength to pull his body even close enough to hoist his body over the edge.

Finally, accepting that his current physical limitations would not allow him to remove himself from the playpen on his own, he collapsed in an unhappy pile on the floor of the playpen. His throat was dry and scratchy from the yelling he had been doing, but he made one more attempt to call to Iris.

After a few moments, Iris appeared at the doorway. She was flush in the face, as it appeared that she had been doing some physical labor as she came forward brushing her hands of dust. She carried the air of accomplishment about her as she approached the playpen with a smile

“Hello, sweetie.” She gently stated as she rubbed her hand on the top of his head as she bent down. “I am almost done in there. Are you thirsty?”

Cal jerked his head away from Iris’ presumptuously maternal hand and scowled. He did not look at her as he croaked in a thin voice behind tight lips as he looked up, barely able to keep a reign on his temper. “Ged me oudda dis ding!”

Cal’s words did not even pierce Iris’ radar. She continued smoothed his mused hair down on his scalp. Her hand suddenly left the top of his head and Cal felt Iris’ hand under his chin holding it in place. He was so surprised by the gesture; he stared up at her puzzled.

Iris wrinkled her brow before pronouncing “Uh, oh….somebody’s got a runny nose.” She stood and smoothed her pants as she added. “I hope you’re not getting sick. I’ll be right back with your bottle and a tissue.”

Perplexed, Cal watched Iris leave the room. A runny nose? His eyes wandered as his attention went to his upper lip. He shifted his lower lip out to feel the strange coolness come to rest on it. He could feel the cool substance dampening the line between his lips. He stuck the tip of his tongue out between his lips where the thin fluid stung the tip. In reaction, he pulled his tongue back in his mouth as the salty taste of the mucus brought back half forgotten memories of preschool days. What was the other thing she said…a bottle? Has she completely lost her mind? As he sat there mulling over the current situation, Iris reappeared, looming over him.

Before he could react, she swept down on him like a bird of prey, acting quickly and decisively before he could escape. Bracing him against one hand, she used her other hand with a tissue suspended in between her index finger and thumb. She captured his nose, pinching it slightly and raising it up toward her. Staring up into her face, Cal felt the tissue that was being dragged across his face. He automatically recoiled, trying to pull his face away from the onslaught of her massive hand. Once he was able to withdraw away, he began to twist his head from side to side but Iris and her tissue were determined in their objective. Iris soon recaptured his face and pinched his nose to extrude any remaining mucus. Finally, once she was convinced his nose was clear, she followed up with a few short dabs to clean his face. She bundled the tissue into a little wad before moving her hand to Cal’s forehead. With a satisfied nod, Iris pulled back but before she did so, she placed a slightly warm bottle in Cal’s lap.

“You don’t feel warm….Here’s your bottle. I want you to drink it while I finish up.” Iris maternally commanded as she took a few steps back from the playpen. “Then, I’ll show you your big surprise.”

Cal slowly looked down at the bottle lying propped in between his folded legs. The bottle was large and bulk compared to his small size with the faintly iridescent rubber nipple. He looked at is stunned for a moment. He wrapped both his hands just under the plastic collar below the nipple and thrust it away from him. It bounced against the wooden slats on the far side of the pen. How dare Iris give him a bottle? This really had gone on too far. The old bat! What did she think she was doing? Imprisoning him in here and giving him a bottle just like any cranky overly impulsive infant was insulting. He was an adult. It was time that he let her know that he was not going to put up with this anymore.

He struggled to his feet back again to the barrier of the playpen, balancing on the tender soles that still had not recovered. He called out Iris’ name at the top of his lungs or at least tried to; his abused throat only issued a croak. He waited as he hung onto the railing. There was no response from her. He could hear her low noise of her happy humming. Again, he called her but now his voice totally failed him and the scratchy tickle once again grasped his throat in a vice like grip. He knew that she was intentionally ignoring him which infuriated him. He would not stand for it. His breathing became ragged with emotion. He kicked and pulled at the bars as the frustration began to build within him. He throwing every bit of his energy he flung himself toward the top of the playpen. For an instant, he believed that he could make it over until he felt gravity inevitably pull his unwilling body back down. As it did, one of his sore hands lost the grip on the molded edging at the top of the playpen. He floundered as he felt himself falling, the momentum not only let him land on his butt but over to his back. The back of his head thumped against the thin quilted surface. The jolt of the fall reverberated through his prone body, allowing the defeat to sink into the center of his bones.

For a few moments, he lay there flat on the bottom of the playpen, staring up at the ceiling. All the effort that he had thrown into physically and vocally disputing his internment had drained him. It was too much! It grated on him that he had made every effort to be reasonable; but this was going too far.

It was a matter of days when his friends returning; but it seemed like an eternity. He was fed up with Iris and her domineering ways. This was his house and he was being treated as so much infantile baggage. He was an adult. It wasn’t fair! He had made such careful plans and now he was trapped like any recalcitrant toddler. His face became flushed and reddened as he brought up the heel of his fist to wipe at a traitorous watery eye. A watery trail soon appeared coming from his other eye as he fell victim to the submissive emotions overwhelming him.

He lay there, feeling the impact of his defeat as the dry tickle in the back of throat came forward as an angry monster, making his throat demand attention. Looking around him, his eye caught the glimmer of the bottle over by the wall of the playpen. The fluid would calm the ache in his throat. He quickly dismissed the bottle as a weakness; it would simply reinforce Iris’ perception of him as an infant. But Iris wasn’t in the room, so how did that prove a point? Was it really worth it to lay there in pain because a little pride wouldn’t allow him a few swallows from a baby bottle? He was already rolling over to reach the bottle before the argument was settled in his mind. He stared at the bottle in his hand, feeling the weight of the bottle, the liquid splashed within the bottle. He drew the bottle toward his mouth, fully intending to take a few small mouthfuls. His mouth wrapped around the nipple, it filling his mouth in a most natural way. Automatically, his tongue undulated against the nipple allowing a small amount of milk to enter his mouth. The angle of the bottle was easily adjusted by his small hands and soon the angle was just right to allow maximum flow. The milk was delightfully cool and satisfying in an organic way. It cooled the heat flushing his face and extinguished the fire that was located in his raw throat. He laid his head back to the quilted surface as his left hand kept the bottle in contact with his mouth. Just a few more swallows…he thought as he closed his eyes in relief.

Iris appeared at the edge of the playpen and easily bent over the railing to hover over Cal. He ignored her as he was focusing all his attention on drawing the cooling succor from the bottle. She smiled at the precious scene he presented as she proceeded to investigate the state of his diaper. He idly kicked his legs when Iris reached over with a sure hand developed by years of practice, stuck two fingers inside the leg of his diaper to ascertain the state of his diaper. His attention was firmly set the sensation of the milk cooling the fire in his throat.

It was just then that he felt Iris’ hands slide under his armpits, plucking him from the pen. She put her arm underneath his bottom as she leaned his side against her shoulder. Her hand reached over and supported the bottle in his grasp as he continued to swallow the cooling milk. Cal twisted so he was o face with her. He stared into her eyes as he dared to search for any recognition his situation. He found none although he was not expecting anything else, but his hope flared when suddenly, Iris’ mouth pulled into a pucker. Cal was flooded with wishful expectancy that she would begin treating him like an adult in a moment. He was surprised when Iris’s hand approached his face. He froze when he felt the pad of Iris’ thumb and forefinger began pulling at his nostrils. Iris had noticed that Cal had a runny nose that had left a crusty residue around the edge of his nose. With the pad of her thumb she began to flake off the crust from Cal’s small nose. Cal reared back, pulling his face away from Iris’ impertinent hand. Iris’ hand followed him to his extreme displeasure. He attempted to pull his face away from her demeaning treatment, but her finger simply followed his face, again feeling the pinch as the crust left his skin as they left the living room.

Cal didn’t realize they had reached his room until Iris suddenly stopped her progression down the hallway. They stood in the door way of his room, she simply said “Ta Da!”.

Cal slowly turned his head to see where his room, his quiet retreat had been turned into a nursery. He could not believe his eyes; Iris had purchased an entire suite of nursery furniture. It was his worst nightmare. Everything that had been in his room that suggested an adult lived there had been removed. It seemed that the entire nursery had been done in a particular theme. Innocuous drawing that seemed vaguely familiar populated the room. Staring at the images, it came to Cal that it was from Beatrix Potter story: Peter Rabbit. Given the gentle nature of the artwork, the nursery seemed to glow with a benevolence that projected soft and comforting thoughts.

Cal continued to take in his newly redecorated room, the bottle dropping from his mouth. His bookcase that held his novels and awards from his career had disappeared. All the framed items on the walls had been taken down, his diplomas, his pictures from his life previous to the infection, and vintage lithographs were now replaced by decals of assorted Beatrix Potter characters. Where his small but simply adorned bed and bedside table that held his reading lamp and magazines had been, there now stood an ivory colored crib with a lightly fuzzy picture of bunny rabbit wearing a light blue jacket with a carrot in his paws on the end. Pastel sheets and a crib bumper were already installed with a soft looking fluffy teddy bear awaiting use. Above the crib, a mobile was suspended with what seemed to be the characters from the story of the wayward young bunny. The figures of Mrs. Rabbit and his better behaved brothers would be constantly warning as Peter recklessly pursued a stuffed carrot ahead of him in an endless circle. Cal imagined himself staring up at the never ending cycle going on over his head as the tinkling music would played on and on.

A few feet away, perpendicular to the bed was a chest of drawers, also in the same color. On top of it was a nursery lamp with a pastel rocking horse in the center. It was quite a departure from the sedate green office lamp that he had used to read at night. There would be no way that this lamp would be used for reading. It would only put out a gentle light, so babies could sleep on unaware of being checked on.

On the opposite wall from the crib, there stood a changing table. Something that Cal had resisted from the moment of his diagnosis. He understood that he had to use one when they were out in public, but here in the house….the idea was obscene to him. He saw that Iris had already stocked the lower shelves with disposable diapers and wipes.

As they entered the room, he could see in the back corner, Iris had also purchased a rocking chair. Iris had placed a woven pastel blue throw on the arm. There, beside the chair, stood a child’s bouncy horse. If Iris believed that he would willingly ride that thing, she had another thing coming. Next to the horse, leaning against the wall, Cal could see a baby gate ready for use to pen him in this room.

Iris slowly turned around the room, so Cal could take in what had been done.

“See! What a nice room!” Iris prattled with an artificially high voice to convey excitement to the very young. She cooed to him as she pointed at one of the decals on the wall. “Look! See the bunny!” Her happy face looked into his to watch his reaction as she bounced him on her arm.

“I..No….Stup bunnee! I wan…. wha mm stuf?” Cal sputtered as he asked incredulously, wildly looking around for a trace of his things. His mind was preoccupied with the sudden loss of his material possessions that he didn’t notice his loss of verbal skills.

“That’s right. That’s a bunny! Let’s get you out of that wet diaper.” Iris stated while patting him on the rear, as she approached the changing table. She took the bottle from his hands and set it on the chest before laying him on the table in one smooth move.

Now, Cal had been on a lot of changing tables when the situation demanded it out in public; however, it was a different case at home. As soon as his back hit the surface of the changing table, Cal began to squirm. He wanted to be dressed in training pants that he normally wore when he was at home. He did not want to be subjected to diapers unless it was absolutely necessary. His patience was at an end and he was not going to go along with this anymore. He fumed that Iris had better get a grasp on the situation and stop treating him like an infant. However, Cal had not counted on the years of maternal experience that Iris wielded. It was a mere second after he lay on the table before she was securing a belt around his waist, pinning him to the table and subject to her actions.

His face clouded as he reached for the latch on the belt to free himself. Seeing what he was up to, Iris easily brushed his hands aside and slid the latch out of his reach. He clinched his fists as he banged the table and kicked his legs to get free. He yelled his arguments up at her benignly smiling face, but to little effect. She calmly released the tapes on the sides of the diaper and slid it out from under him. The next thing he knew, her hand with a baby wipe was wiping down his crotch and inner thighs. The moist wipe felt cool on the tender skin that had been subject to the heated and humid environment of the diaper. The moisture left behind on the wipe, tickled as it dried in the air, causing goose bumps to rise on his skin. In the next instant, Iris had grabbed his ankles and a new diaper was slid under him. Iris picked up a container of baby powder and covered his butt cheeks with a heavy coating before lowering his legs. Iris pulled the diaper up between his legs, fitted it tightly over his lower stomach and fastened the tapes.

Immobile with defeat, Cal grimly stared up at the ceiling. At least, it was over! All he wanted now was to be let off this table and away from Iris and her misguided actions. He thought if he was still, she would release him from the belt and off this damn table. He then felt Iris’ hand resting across his belly. He happened to glance at her. She was looking at him thoughtfully. He was perplexed at what was going on in her mind. Why wasn’t she releasing him? He saw her face bend down toward his.

Both her hands were now at his waist. They moved in congress together before he realized that she was rolling up his shirt. Her wrinkled fingers danced across his soft pudgy tummy. The sensation was intense, his body convulsed in reaction.

“Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!” Iris prattled in his face

Instinctively, Cal squealed in delight as Iris created tantalizing sensations with her fingers on his sensitized belly. He giggled and squirmed as he looked up at Iris. There was no way he could stem the sounds of vocal delight coming out of him. No one had tickled him since he had become infected with the virus. His renewed and reinvigorated nerve endings were sending such overpowering signals to his brain that he could not resist. His laughter rang around the room, informing anyone that he was as susceptible to tickling as any young child.