After the Pandemic

Chapter 2
Support Group

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Chapter Description: Jeremy must decide whether a slow regression is a blessing or a curse.

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Support Group

The support group was recommended by my doctor after I was diagnosed with MEV Type 3c. It was a group for people suffering from the virus, but also had a sister group for caretakers. The idea was that we could all get support at once, tailored to our particular needs. The two groups met at the local community centre on Thursday nights. We were in different rooms so that we could all share openly. It was only natural that a lot of what we talked about was issues with our caregivers and no doubt they would be sharing about us.

My caregiver was my long-time girlfriend Emma. She had been a really career focussed thirty-year old at an insurance company. She worked in underwriting and had been on a track to become an executive before she stepped back her hours and gave up some of her positions of responsibility to look after me when I was diagnosed. I felt eternally grateful to her for the sacrifices she made. It couldn’t have been easy. Plenty of victims’ partners and even spouses couldn’t deal with it and just walked out, leaving parents to care for their adult children or for the foster care system to pick up the slack.

My career as a software designer was over too of course. At thirty-one I was facing the loss of everything I’d been working towards. That was something we all faced when diagnosed. That’s one reason a support group was so very important.

The type of virus we were all diagnosed with caused a particularly long regression process. That was what the ‘c’ meant. From diagnosis to complete mental regression was expected to take 10 to 12 months. It was a very short period of time in my opinion, but by the standards of the virus it was long. Type A strains caused total regression in a matter of days after all. But the troubling part was our type caused regression to the mental age of 3 to 4 years old. It could have been worse, but it was far from ideal. Some milder forms of the virus only took people back to age 8 to 10, which meant full recovery was possible in under 10 years. It would be much longer for us. We would need to grow up all over again.

Our group had eight members at the moment. That did change regularly though. As the members regressed they eventually reached the point where they could no longer contribute to the group and their awareness diminished enough that they no longer really needed support. They became happy little children, oblivious to their severe losses of independence and control. The decision on when they had reached that point was left to Brian, the group’s leader.

Brian didn’t have the virus, he was a normal adult trained to lead support groups like this. He guided our discussions, kept us to the rules, suggested ways we could better cope. When he decided a member had reached the point of blissful ignorance he moved them out of group and into a much larger group that met in a playroom next to our meeting room. The caregivers still often needed support of course, so they kept coming and their charges went to the playroom for the duration of the meeting. There were probably fifteen to twenty fully regressed boys and girls in that room during the meetings.

Tonight though there were only seven of us at the group. I was disappointed because one who was missing was Tony, one of the more mature of the group. I was only diagnosed two months ago, following a high fever and then a seizure at the dinner table. I was still early in the process. Tony was three months post-diagnosis and still had better control on his faculties than most of the others in our group. We shared similar experiences and I liked talking with him.

But it was still interesting to hear from the rest of the group. They gave me a look at what was in front of me and advice on how to cope with it, though much of the useful advice came from Brian.

A woman named Becky was speaking at the moment. She was in her late twenties and had been in real estate before her diagnosis seven months ago. Now she was sitting cross legged in her chair, cuddling a well worn teddy bear in her arms and intermittently chewing on its ears or fur. She was wearing a simple yellow t-shirt and short jean shorts, though noticeably lacking any shoes. I hadn’t seen her wear any since I joined the group.

“Mummy said I couldn’ hab my phone ‘nd that made me real angry. Is my phone!” she was complaining.

Other members of the group nodded, sharing her upset. But Brian pressed her with a question. “And why did Mummy say you couldn’t have your phone Becky?”

The young woman scowled and said, “Cuz it was nearly bedtime and she said it’d keep me awake.”

“Well it’s true that the blue light from screens can keep you awake,” Brian noted.

“But it was onwy eight o’clock. Bed time’s too earwy!” Becky responded.

“I getta stay up till ten,” Billy chimed in, wearing a proud smile. He was a thirty-five year old man, now sitting in his seat wearing a pair of bright orange board shorts but nothing else. Billy was shirtless as well as being barefoot.

The shirtlessness and the bare feet had begun suddenly a couple meetings ago and I now assumed it was simply his normal state of being. The first time he’d been noticeably pale with something of a farmer’s tan. Now he was golden skinned all over and the soles of his feet were visibly callused and dirty.

“That’s very nice for you Billy,” Brian told him. “But remember we’re listening to Becky right now. It will be your turn soon.”

Billy nodded seriously and put his fingers to his lips and mimed zipping them shut and throwing away the key.

“Good boy,” Brian praised him. Brian would never say that to me. He knew I would hate being called a boy, same as Tony. But Billy was six months post diagnosis and since last week he’d been calling his wife ‘Mummy’ instead of Jen. He’d reached the point where he clearly thought of himself as a boy, not a grown man.

“Not fair he c’n stay up late!” Becky declared, crossing her arms in a huff.

“Well Billy’s a bit bigger than you isn’t he Becky. Perhaps your Mummy knows you need more sleep so you can be happy and healthy,” Brian suggested.

Becky looked over at Billy and though she didn’t look happy, she did seem to accept Brian’s suggestion as true.

“Do you think Mummy wants to hurt you, or help you?” Brian followed up.

Becky seemed to think it over a bit before agreeing, “Help me.”

Brian nodded. “Exactly. So next time why don’t you hand Mummy your phone at eight and show her you’re a big girl.”

Becky cheered up a bit at this. “Yeah, I do it. I do it by myself,” she said proudly.

“I dun gotta phone no more,” Sarah announced at that moment. “Mummy gib me hers to pway with when I wanna.”

Sarah was nine months post-diagnosis now and the twenty-six year old was getting close to moving to the playroom, I thought. Tonight she was wearing blue jean bib shortalls over a white t-shirt. Her blonde hair was done up in pigtails with bright pink bows and she was regularly playing with them and chewing on her hair.

“That’s nice of her, isn’t it Sarah?” Brian followed up in a gentle sing-song tone.

Sarah nodded, not chewing her hair but instead sucking on two of her fingers now. “Mummy ids nithe,” she declared.

The only other girl in the group was an older woman, probably mid-thirties. She was only recently diagnosed and still in the shock stage as far as I could tell. She was still dressed completely in adult clothing, same as me and Tony always were. I thought her name was Melissa but I couldn’t be sure. As far as I knew, she’d never spoken at group.

Then there were two other men. One of them was Timmy and he was the furthest gone in the group. I expected he would be moved to the playroom next time. When I first came to group he had things to add, but the last couple times he said nothing. He would squirm in his chair, turn around and kneel on it with his back to us, then climb down to the floor and sit on his bottom playing with his toes or rolling a toy car or truck he always seemed to keep in his pocket to play with.

Today Timmy was wearing a t-shirt with a big cartoon dinosaur design under pin-striped engineer style overalls, cuffed at the ankles for his bare feet. He even had a fake policeman’s hat on today, perhaps from playing dress-up before group. The funny thing was Timmy, back when he was a thirty-year old named Tim, had been a lawyer. Now he was clearly obsessed with simple blue-collar professions like the police and train engineers.

It was obvious Timmy wasn’t going to contribute anything today. He was already down on the floor, pulling at his toes, inspecting them with actual curiosity. So Brian instead turned to the final man, Andrew, who was sitting across from me.

“So Andrew, we haven’t heard from you yet today. Is there anything you wanted to tell us. Anything happen in the last week at home?” Brian asked him.

Andrew was five months post-diagnosis. The twenty-nine year old had left his work as a university lecturer in biology and now spent his days at home playing with Lego blocks and a junior scientist kit his caregiver, his older sister, had given him. I felt particularly bad for Andrew because he’d been so clever before, an actual genius and he’d reached the point where that intellect was really being dimmed.

Andrew had been dressed normally since I’d been attending the meetings. If you didn’t know what was wrong with him you wouldn’t have guessed he was a virus victim. I was impressed by how well he’d been holding it together given that he was two months down the line from Tony. He usually spoke about how boring his days were now, about his fears of eventually being sent to a daycare or play centre for the days since that was his alternative to sitting at home alone.

“Eventually I know the day will come where I can’t be trusted to be home alone anymore,” he told the group a couple weeks ago. “It’s so frightening to even think about. That I’ll be a danger to myself just from being alone. Not being able to make my own lunch, not being able to tie my shoes even.”

That was why it was surprising how he was dressed for the meeting today. His polo shirt and khakis pants were normal enough. They were the kind of thing he generally wore. But today he was sitting there barefoot and his pants had elastic ankles, not like the normal dress casual style he generally wore. It had made me wonder when he walked in that way.

Andrew shuffled his feet back and forth on the carpeted floor and said, “Kate wants me to go barefoot now.”

Ah, now it made sense. It was his caregiver who dressed him like that.

“Barefoot to the group you mean?” Brian followed up.

“Nah. She says I don’t need shoes no more cuz little kids at daycare don’ have ‘em and my feet need to be tougher for that. She says they go on walks to the park ‘n stuff ‘nd they don’t bother puttin’ shoes on da kids. She says it’ll hurt too much if my feet are soft.”

“I got bare feet too!” Billy interrupted again, now lifting and extending his feet to show them off to everyone. “Mummy says they help people know I liddle.”

“Bawe feeties!” Timmy agreed, holding one of his feet up in the air as well and looking very happy to join in the conversation for once.

“And do you like having bare feet now Billy?” Brian asked, nodding to Timmy as well.

He gave a quick nod. “They much betterer den shoes.”

“What do you think Andrew?”

The former uni lecturer shrugged. “I dunno. Makes me feel kinda silly when we go out and Kate’s gots shoes on ‘nd the other grown-ups do. But I’m barefoot.”

“But are you a grown-up Andrew?” Brian followed up.

Slowly, unhappily with his eyes on the floor, Andrew shook his head.

“That’s right. And look at the rest of the group. Most of the others don’t have shoes on either. Isn’t it a good thing if people who see you outside, people who don’t know you, understand right away that you need some extra care and attention?”

Andrew scowled but nodded his head. “I s’pose.”

“And didn’t you tell us last time that you kind of like playing on the playground at the park and you wanted to play in the play place at McDonald’s when you went there?”

Andrew brightened up a bit at this memory and he agreed, “Uh-huh.”

“Well parents generally don’t like grown-ups playing with their little kids on the playground do they? So isn’t it good if they see you’re bare feet and know right away you’re a kid too and it’s okay for you to be playing?” Brian pointed out.

Andrew looked awed by this logic and after a moment he smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed.

“Exactly. You see your sister understands that. She probably saw that you’ve reached the stage where you want to join in with the other boys and girls and if you’re going to do that the time has come to make sure everyone can see you’re a boy too.”

Andrew was smiling and wiggling his bare toes against the carpet by now, clearly no longer nearly as embarrassed about being barefoot. I was pretty impressed with how Brian handled that, though I certainly wasn’t keen to be joining Andrew in bare feet. I wasn’t interested in playing in parks or going on the slide and swings while my caregiver pushed me.

Just then the door to the room opened and I recognised Melanie, Tony’s wife, as our newest arrival. She must have just arrived to drop him off before heading to her own caregiver support group. I was glad they were here as I had to catch up with Tony about a few things.

“Sorry we’re late,” Melanie said. “I hate to interrupt your group but we were at the park and just totally lost track of time.”

“No worries,” Brian assured. “Come right in.”

She did come into the room, but something was wrong. First of all she was leading Tony by his hand. That was not normal at all, it was how Timmy and Sarah usually arrived but not the rest of us. The next thing that was blatantly obvious was that Tony was not dressed in his normal adult clothes. He wasn’t even in a slightly juvenile outfit like Andrew. No he was wearing a blue t-shirt featuring Cookie Monster and a pair of white underoos with fire engine designs and bright red piping. He wasn’t wearing any pants or shorts at all and was barefoot like the other boys.

“Oh and I’m afraid Tony won’t be joining your group anymore,” Melanie told Brian. “He’ll need to be going to the playroom.”

My eyes widened. Tony was my closest mate here. Hell, he was the only mate I really had anymore. My other friends stopped coming by after I was diagnosed. And now he was standing there in his undies in front of us all and he didn’t seem bothered at all. No, his free hand held a fidget spinner and he was engrossed in playing with it, totally oblivious to us.

“That’s too bad,” Brian replied. “We’ll miss his inputs, but I can see he’s no longer in need of support.”

Melanie smiled. “No, he’s perfectly content now. We really should have done this right off the bat. He’d been so afraid at first but I finally convinced him this was for the best. A quick booster and it’s all over with in minutes. You just have to do it fast, like pulling off a plaster.”

A booster. So that was what happened. It wasn’t a quirk of the virus, a misdiagnosis of the type. He’d chosen to have the booster, to have his mind turned to mush in minutes. And now he would be at the young end of the mental range, a very slow three year old. No wonder he was happy to be paraded before us in his underoos.

“I’ll show you where to take him,” Brian volunteered. And with that Tony was led away, never even really looking up at us.

I couldn’t let it end that way. So when our session finished I did something I never had before. I headed for the playroom. The caregiver session always ran long so the place was still packed. Three adults did their best to supervise the giant little toddlers in here. I couldn’t help but notice one pretty young woman was playing topless, wearing just get frilly purple skirt as her free breasts bounced about. Many of the boys were either shirtless or missing their pants, their underoos on display.

I found Tony creeping along the carpet pushing a Thomas the Tank Engine toy train. His shirt had gone missing now too and he was playing before everyone in just his firetruck underoos. I knelt next to him on the carpet and he looked over at me without any recognition.

“Tony, it’s me, Jeremy. Remember me buddy? We went to the group together.”

Tony rested back on his haunches in front of me and then held out the toy train. “You pway,” he said.

I shook my head. “No, Tony, I don’t want to play.”

He shoved it at me harder. “Pway!” he insisted. “Twain!”

I took the toy and put it on the carpet. Pushing it along I began making the noises for it, going “Chugga-chugga-chugga-choo-choo!” as I drove it gently over Tony’s feet.

My friend grinned ear to ear in utter delight at this very simple game.

“Choo-choo!” he echoed loudly, clapping his hands.

Then he roughly grabbed the toy back from me and announced, “Mine!” before twisting around and presenting his bottom to me as he resumed his play without me.

My friend was completely gone. There was no doubt about it left. All around me young men and women were playing just as simple games. And while I was upset about it I also couldn’t help but notice how happy they all seemed. All around the room there were cheerful smiles, big happy grins and giggles. The topless woman was drooling onto her bare boobs with a huge open-mouthed smile as one of the carers wiggled her piggy toes. Another young woman was spinning in circles in a Snow White princess costume dress until she fell over from dizziness and giggled her head off. They were all so happy, so easily amused. Compared to the anger and sadness and confusion seen in my support group I had to wonder whether it was the right choice to refuse the booster.

**

As we rode home that evening I turned to Emma and asked, “How was your group?”

She smiled. “It was good. We had some really nice chats. How was yours?”

I shrugged. “It was okay. Becky was upset about her early bedtime and that her carer takes her phone away before bed.”

“From what I hear that Becky is a real handful. I don’t envy her carer at all,” Emma told me.

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah, she throws a total tantrum every time she has to eat veggies or take a bath or go to sleep on time. It sounds like she’s a real terror. If I was her carer I wouldn’t be putting up with that at all.”

“I hope I’m not like that,” I whispered.

“Oh, no honey, you’ve never thrown a tantrum…”

“No, no, I meant, when I get little, like Becky. I hope I’m not a pain,” I clarified.

Emma shook her head. “I can’t imagine you would be. You’re far too sweet. That Becky was probably a spoiled adult too.”

“I hope you’re right.”

She patted my knee. “I know I am. But just to be safe I’ll be careful who you play with when you become more impressionable. No playdates with that Becky.”

“No definitely not.”

“Maybe with that Andrew boy. He seems like a nice fellow.”

“Yeah, he’s nice. His sister is making him go barefoot now. She took his shoes away actually.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “She trying to make him like that other boy in your group. What’s his name? The one who doesn’t seem to have a shirt?”

“That’s Billy. But actually none of the further along ones seem to wear shoes. Brian thought it was a good thing for Andrew, that it would make sure people could tell he was little and not grown-up,” I explained.

“Oh, yes, I can understand that. When I see a grown man or woman without any shoes on in public I usually do assume they’re actually little.” Emma looked over at me and said, “Are you thinking we should pack your shoes away too Jeremy?”

I blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Well if all the other boys in your group are coming in bare feet you probably should be too. If you’re saying Brian thinks that’s a good idea, I’m happy to give it a try. I knew it was likely to happen down the line at some point honey. Little kids hate wearing shoes for some reason. If you’re ready to take that step, that’s fine…”

“No, no, Emma that isn’t what I meant,” I corrected.

“Oh, sorry…”

“No, it’s just I had other things on my mind.”

“Such as?”

“Tony… my friend, he…”

“Ohhh, yes his wife was in my group so I heard. She gave him the booster. I’m sorry honey, I knew you were really bonding with him.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. He was just so gone. He showed up holding her hand. He was wearing undies, Emma, just these little kid underoos with cartoons all over them and he didn’t even mind us seeing him like that.”

“Well, you knew it was going to happen eventually.”

“Yeah, it’s just that it was so fast,” I told her. “And I went to see him in the playroom after and he was… well, he seemed so happy. He was smiling and playing. In fact they all just looked so… content in there.”

Emma took this in and seemed to be thinking for a moment. Then she pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped before looking right at me.

“Jeremy, are you asking to have the booster?” she asked, looking dead serious.

My stomach was all butterflies and I sort of shrugged it off. “I dunno. I just thought… well everyone in my group is so confused and they’re angry a lot and the people in the playroom seemed… much happier. But they’re also all dumbed down. They don’t know any better now. I mean one girl was practically naked.”

“Practically naked but happier though, because she’s lost all her modesty you mean?”

Slowly I nodded.

“It would be easier if you didn’t have any modesty, wouldn’t it. It would be a real relief, for both of us I think…”

“What does that mean?” I asked, confused and feeling a bit weird about it all.

Emma looked embarrassed too. But then she explained, “One of the other women was talking in our group about it, about her boyfriend, her little one, losing all his modesty. He didn’t have a booster, but it just happened one day about seven months after his diagnosis, she said. He was just playing in their front yard as usual when she looked up and he’d taken all his clothes off, even his undies and was just playing as usual that way, like it was perfectly normal. She decided not to say anything, to see if he later got embarrassed about it. But he didn’t. He never even noticed the change and since then he’s buck naked most of the time he’s at home.

“She said it’s a relief because he was getting all his clothes messy from eating, from playing, from everything little boys get into. And now he just plays in his undies in public and naked at home and it’s just much easier for her. He takes a bath every night anyway.”

Emma stopped a moment and then gave me a funny smile. “And she also said that when he gets excited she can see it right away and help him with it. So, y’know it might not be that bad to have your modesty gone. I wouldn’t really mind and once you lost it, neither would you.”

I had to admit the very thought of that, of Emma giving me a handy whenever I got aroused, was pretty exciting.

“So, honey, if you were thinking about a booster…”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to do that to you Emma. You have a hard enough time now…”

She stopped me with a finger on my lips. “I’ve heard enough from that support group to know that the hardest parts of this are the transition. We haven’t reached those tough parts yet and I’m happy to go through them for you. I don’t want to push you into something you aren’t ready for. But if you want to just have it over with, that would actually be the easiest thing for me.”

I was really taken aback by this. I hadn’t thought of it that way at all. Maybe a booster really would be for the best. Maybe I should just be joining Tony next week.

“I… I think maybe we should do it,” I told her.

Emma pulled me into a big hug. “Only if you’re ready for it Jeremy.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I think I am.”

**

A week later we were sitting in the doctor’s office waiting room. Emma sat next to me, holding my hand. She knew that I was feeling nervous of course. How could I not be? This was really it. It was one thing to decide this was for the best, it was another to actually go through with it.

“You doing okay?” she asked me quietly.

I gave her a nervous smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“We don’t have to go back there if you aren’t feeling up to it,” she offered.

I shook my head. “No, I… I wouldn’t be able to get the nerve up for it again. Let’s just do it.”

We weren’t alone in the room. Across from us another woman was looking at her phone. Down on the floor at her feet was a twenty-something young woman, dressed in a short purple t-shirt and a thick nappy. The woman was playing with the simple blocks and rings left on the floor, currently jamming a bright red plastic ring in her mouth and chewing on it while drool dribbled from her chin.

“Oh Susie, that’s dirty, don’t put that in your mouth sweetie,” the woman chided her.

The grown woman on the floor let the ring drop back to the carpet and reached towards her carer with her open arms. “Baba! Baba mama!” she called out.

“Oh honey, you already had your juice-juice,” the carer replied.

The adult baby on the floor scowled and shook her head so her pigtails jiggled about. “Baba!” she insisted.

“I’m sorry honey. But we’ll get you more juice after we see the nice doctor.”

The baby woman wasn’t placated. She scrunched up her face and slapped the floor with her open palms before letting out a wail.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough of that. Someone needs their binkie,” the carer said, rummaging in her bag a moment and then producing a bright pink dummy which she popped into the woman’s open mouth.

The big baby blinked with surprise and stopped her crying instantly. A moment passed and she visibly relaxed as she suckled on the binkie.

“There we go. Sorry about that,” the woman told them.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Emma assured.

“She’s actually much easier to calm down now. Before her booster she’d get so frustrated at not being able to do things and giving her a baby toy to calm her down only made her angrier of course. Now all it takes is her binkie, or a raspberry on her bare tummy or a tickle on the soles of her feet and she forgets all about whatever made her upset,” the woman explained.

“Really?” Emma said, intrigued. “And when did she have the booster?”

“It’s been a month now,” the carer answered. “That’s why we’re in for a check-up.”

“And you don’t have any regrets about it?”

“None at all,” she assured.

While they talked my focus was on the baby woman. She was on the floor now because seats were for grown-ups, not babies. She didn’t have a phone to distract her. She was in public with no pants on, her nappy on full display. She didn’t have any say in that. No one would ask her what she wanted to wear anymore. But it clearly didn’t bother her either.

The door to the back room opened and a man in t-shirt, shorts and sandals emerged, leading another young man about the same age as him out into the waiting area.

“There we go, that wasn’t so bad after all, was it Liam?” he said in a sing-song tone to the other man.

The second fellow was clearly the dependent. He was a couple inches taller than his carer, skinny as a rail, pale skinned with messy brown hair. He wore nothing but a pair of simple underoos, white with green piping. And one thing that no one could miss was the absolutely huge erection the young man was currently sporting. His soft undies were stretched right out, tented in an unmistakable manner.

“Wiam wiked dat!” the young man agreed very happily.

He certainly seemed happy with whatever treatment he’d had. Aside from being very aroused he was also sporting a big goofy grin and squirming like a hyperactive tot while his carer went to the counter and signed forms.

“Lookit da toyth!” he urged his carer, yanking his hand and pointing to the pile of bright toys the big baby girl was sat in the midst of.

“I just need to sign these papers buddy. Just wait a moment,” the carer told him.

Emma leaned over and whispered to me, “He looks like he’s going to cream his undies any second if his daddy isn’t careful.”

I giggled and nodded.

A nurse came through the door with a bag, handing it to the carer. “Here’s the rest of his grown-up clothes in case you need them,” she said.

“Thanks. I guess maybe goodwill will take them. It doesn’t look like he’ll be needing much in the way of clothing beyond underoos and a few t-shirts from now on,” the carer replied.

“Probably not. A lot of boys are like this after their boosters,” the nurse explained. “It’s all very exciting for them, losing their grown-up worries, their modesty all at once.”

The carer nodded and led the nearly naked and aroused man across the waiting room to the entry. The smiling fellow looked at me with big innocent eyes and waved hello as they passed.

“Emma, did you bring me any change of clothes?” I asked her, suddenly wondering what I would be leaving here with. Were they going to take my grown-up clothes away? Was that a requirement?

Emma shrugged. “I hadn’t thought to bring anything else,” she told me.

“Jeremy!” the nurse called out.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, heading into the back along with Emma.

The doctor was a middle aged woman in scrubs. She smile kindly and had me sit on the examination table while Emma took a chair.

“So, Jeremy, I see you have MEV Type 3c and you’re in for your booster today. Is that all correct?” she asked me.

“Um, yes, that’s right,” I managed to say even as my whole body had begun to shiver.

“I hope you aren’t too cold,” the doctor said.

“Oh...No, no, just nervous I guess.”

“I understand, that’s quite normal. We will try to make this as quick and painless as possible,” she told me before turning to Emma. “Do you have arrangements in place for care?” she asked her.

“I’m sorry?”

“The booster works in a manner of minutes. After that Jeremy will need constant care. My understanding is he is only two months post-diagnosis so this will be a very significant change to his behaviour and needs. He will have the mentality of a three year old at best. Is your home properly toddler-proofed so that Jeremy won’t be able to get into cabinets and drink cleaning supplies or pull down heavy glasses onto himself. Have you covered the electrical outlets so he won’t be hurt if he licks them?” the doctor asked.

“Oh, yes, I read all the instructions and guidelines your office sent. The house is ready,” Emma assured.

“Good. And you have daycare lined up for him?”

Another nod. “Yes, the Big Smiles House, it’s quite near to our house.”

“Did you bring a change of clothes?”

Now Emma frowned. “I… I didn’t… Is that really necessary? Why can’t he just wear what he has on?”

“Well it isn’t a rule or anything but we find it best that dependent adults are immediately recognisable as such. If Jeremy was going back to primary school level we’d just suggest you take his shoes and socks off. That would be a simple way to identify him as a child and not an adult. But since he’s going back to toddler mentality we suggest you buy him more appropriate outfits. Until then it may be simplest to have him just wear his undies.”

Emma nodded but I wasn’t too happy to hear that. I mean I knew it was going to happen eventually, but not so quickly. I didn’t want to know about it while I could still feel ashamed.

“Okay, so let’s proceed then,” the doctor said, going into her cabinets and taking out a syringe.

“Is it a jab then?” I asked, feeling nervous.

“No, no, nothing to be afraid of,” she explained, taking the plastic tip off and revealing it was an inhalant. “We just slip this up your nostril, that’s all.”

Emma stood next to me and held my hand as the doctor slipped it up my left nostril and said, “Okay, nice deep breath for me,” as she depressed the plunger half way.

I felt the blast of spray up my nose and did as I was told, breathing in deeply with my mouth closed.

“Very good. One down, one to go,” she said, putting the syringe in my other nostril.

“And deep breath again,” she told me. Another spray went up my nose, deep into my sinuses as I inhaled for her.

“Excellent job Jeremy. All done!” she announced, disposing of the syringe.

It was over. I’d actually done it. My heart was absolutely pounding, I suddenly realised. Now there was no going back. I was going to be like the other young man in the waiting room, walking around with a big dumb smile, babbling toddler gibberish, no sense of privacy.

“How long until he feels it?” Emma asked.

“A minute or two probably,” the doctor answered. “You can get him undressed now if you want. There’s a bag you can put his clothes in right there.”

She was already talking to Emma about me like I wasn’t there. She didn’t ask if I wanted to get undressed, if I was ready. My opinion already didn’t count.

“I’m not ready for that,” I told them both.

“Of course not honey, I wasn’t going to,” Emma assured me.

I nodded. Emma was so good to me. I was so lucky to have her to take care of me. I hoped I could still be well behaved after this was done. That’s when the fuzzy feelings began. It started small, a sort of light-headed sensation. But it grew rapidly, spreading all around my head.

“Oh… I feel it,” I told Emma.

She pulled me into a hug. “That’s okay Jeremy, just let it happen honey. Let it all those grown-up thoughts go for me. I’m going to take care of all the worrying from now on sweetie,” she assured, rubbing my back.

I cuddled her back. Emma was so warm, so loving. I felt my brain dimming, memories of university, of high school slipping away. All the knowledge I’d gained was leaking from my brain and it all felt so… so peaceful. It was like parts of brain were just going to sleep, taking a nice long rest in a comfy bed. It didn’t hurt and it wasn’t as scary as I feared.

As it accelerated it wasn’t just big grown-up memories and abilities going away, it was very simple things like reading and writing. I was losing words, even small ones. I felt like the world was shrinking around me. There were things I knew before that I didn’t anymore. I knew I was losing stuff, but not really what. Even numbers and letter were going away. But I didn’t miss the stuff because it was for big boys and I felt more certain with every passing second that I wasn’t a big boy at all. I knew I was little. I was getting little and Emma was going to look after me.

The doctor lady tapped Emma’s shoulder. “It’s been ten minutes. I think he’ll be ready to get changed now. Then you can take him home.”

Emma nodded and pulled back from our cuddle, looking me in the eye, looking at me like she was looking for something inside of me.

“Jeremy, we need to get you changed to go home,” she told me.

I nodded. Emma was so smart. Emma knew what was good for me. But I wanted to know why. I wanted to know so much and it was all gone. It went bye-byes and I needed to ask Emma.

“Why change?” I asked her. I didn’t think that came out right. So many words were gone. And how to put them together, it was tricky now. My head just felt so empty, so slow.

“You’re still wearing grown-up clothes honey. They aren’t right for a little boy. So we’re going to take them off, okay?” Emma explained.

It was hard to follow Emma’s words because I didn’t know all of them. But I understood what she was saying. I was little now and I needed little boy clothes. That made perfect sense.

“Kay,” I told her.

Emma helped me get undressed. She did the buttons on my shirt. I wanted to help her but my fingers weren’t working right. I couldn’t get the buttons undone. There was a belt on my pants too. I recognised it as a belt. But I couldn’t recall how it worked. I wasn’t sure what it did. Emma undid it for me anyway.

She pulled my pants down and said, “Jeremy, lift your right foot for me honey.”

Lift my right foot. I know what a foot is. I have two feet. They have toes on them and I can wiggle them and touch them and they’re mine. But right and left? I don’t know those. I knew them before. But they’ve gone away now. I just look down at Emma, confused about what to do.

“Oh, honey, lift this foot,” she clarified, tapping one of them. That was better, now I could be a good boy and do as I was told. I lifted it and she slipped my pants off that foot, then the other. I sat on the table after that, so she could take off my socks too.

“There we go,” Emma declared. “All the grown-up clothes are gone.”

“Awll gone!” I agreed. I felt so excited about making the big boy things go away.

“Now we can go home,” Emma told me, taking my hand while I stood up.

We were going home! That made me feel good. I liked how the carpet felt under my feet too. It was nice having bare feet. I remembered the little boys and girls in my group. They had bare feet too because they were little. I looked down at my feet, wiggled my toes that I controlled. Silly toes. And my undies were all stretchy too. I grabbed the bulge in my undies. That felt really nice. I rubbed and it felt even better.

“Honey, I know your doodle is all happy, but please don’t touch it. Mummy will help you with that when we get home,” Emma told me, pulling my hand away from my undies.

Mummy would help me with my happy doodle. I don’t know what that means but it sounds fun! I let Emma, no not Emma, Mummy. I let Mummy take my hand and lead me back to the waiting room. I can hardly wait to get home and play with my happy doodle! I tell the nurse while Mummy filling out grown-up forms.

“Gonna pway wid my doodle when we home!”

The nurse smiled and giggles. “Well that does sound nice,” she tells me.

Mummy says, “Sorry about that,” to the nurse. I don’t know why she’s sorry, the nurse is happy for me.

“No worries at all. It’s a perfectly normal reaction to the booster,” she assured.

I’m not listening to the grown-ups. I want to play with the toys the baby girl has, on the floor. But Mummy takes my hand and says we need to go home now. I hope I have toys to play with there. I’m sure I will. And that makes me happy again. And it’s so nice walking down the footpath to the car. The pavement is so nice and warm under my feeties and the sun feels so nice on my skin. I’m such a lucky boy, out for a walk in my undies.

“Mummy, wanna do walks in undies!” I tell her.

Mummy giggles and stops by the car. She looks me in the eye and asks, “Are you really that comfy in your undies Jeremy? You want to walk around this way more?” she asks.

I nod right away. Who wouldn’t want to be in their undies? It’s so comfy! “Uh-huh, juft undies Mummy!” I tell her.

She nods. “Okay, if that’s how you’re comfy, it’s fine by me,” she agreed. And with that Mummy helped me into the back seat of the car and fastened my belt. Then she leant in close and slipped her hand down into my undies and I felt her warm fingers close around my doodle.

“I think my good little boy needs to make some creamies,” she cooed into my ear.

I don’t know what those are, but I want to do them. It feels so, sooo good as Mummy starts stroking my doodle up and down. I cuddle my arms around Mummy and moan as she strokes faster and faster. It feels so good. I don’t care that the door is open and anyone could walk past and see what’s happening. I wouldn’t mind if Mummy pulled my undies down and stroked my pee-pee right in the middle of the street. I just know it feels so good and I love Mummy for giving me these happy feelings.

It gets better and better until, ohhh, my toes clench and my body spasms and I cream my undies right there in the back seat.

“That’s it Jeremy, get all those creamies out for Mummy,” she urges me, still stroking, helping me get them all out. “You’ve been such a good boy for me and I love you so much,” she tells me. “I know it wasn’t easy getting all little for Mummy, getting it over with now. But I promise to make you as happy as I can from now on. Okay?”

Coming down from the orgasmic high I cuddled Mummy tight and gave her a big kiss on her cheek. “Yeth Mummy. Je-mee wove you,” I told her. And it was true. I’d never felt more pure love for someone in my life. I didn’t need those big boy smarts. Mummy was everything I needed.

 

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