Fresh Start

Chapter 26
Secret Cabin

Rowan Belton nodded and smiled as he listened to the speaker on the other end of the line. “Yes, thanks, that’s excellent news. Sorry again about all the fuss,” he said into the receiver before nodding once more and hanging up.

The little escapee had been caught and needed no further treatment. It was too good to be true. It never looked good when a camper escaped. He’d had to double the guards at the start of the programme because of past attempts. But at least this boy had been found already fully regressed to his pre-school years. The police said he’d been more interested in hearing their siren than in where he was going. That saved the camp director a lot of time and paperwork. The boy had been given the standard cognitive work-up to assure he wasn’t faking and the results of brain scans and interviews proved his mentality was at the level of an average 4.2 year old boy. That meant he could be sent straight home rather than back to camp. It was the best possible outcome given the situation.

Leaning back in his chair Rowan considered the measures he’d need to take to ensure no further escapes were made. The government was always very unhappy with such escapades as they undermined their propaganda campaign by making the process look undesirable. He’d just have to bite the bullet and upgrade the security yet again. He sighed, thinking about his tiny budget. How did they expect him to work miracles on that? After all, what job was more important than this? Nothing, that was the answer, in his opinion. But he couldn’t complain too much, couldn’t risk government auditors showing up here. The last thing he needed was snoops.

Deciding he’d done enough worrying for the day, Rowan left his office and headed back across the camp grounds, humming to himself and enjoying the quiet of the end of the week. All the campers had been picked up by their overjoyed mums and dads. The next group wouldn’t arrive for a couple days so there was time to clean up and take stock of things. It wasn’t a proper weekend, but it was all he got.

Rather than go to the cabin he slept in most week nights Rowan headed towards the far side of the camp, past the storage trailers and down a lonely path through the woods. Not far along it he emerged into a clearing. There stood a solitary cabin, hidden from the rest of the camp. It had a pleasant grassy yard around it, a small inflatable pool sitting in it, a slide and swing set to the side. A light was lit on the porch, providing illumination in the dying sunlight. A few bugs already buzzed about the light, adding to the rustic ambiance of the place. Rowan climbed the wooden steps and opened the unlocked front door, luxuriating in the sweet smells emanating from the inside.

“Hello there Millie, how are they today?” he called in greeting as he entered.

A middle-aged woman in a counsellor’s uniform turned and smiled at him. Millie had a kind look to her face. She wore little make-up and kept her brown hair in a tight bun. She seemed pleased to see her employer, to show off the good job she was doing with his most important charges. After all only she had been entrusted with their care all these years. She knew she was the best he had and he paid her accordingly.

“They’ve been just darlings as usual Mr Belton. Harry made you a lovely drawing,” she gushed, handing him a piece of pale yellow construction paper on which someone had scribbled meaningless shapes and symbols in various colours of crayon. A much more controlled adult hand had written the boy’s name, Harry, in the upper right-hand corner.

Rowan beamed as he looked over the juvenile scribbles, welling up with a feeling of both fulfilment and envy. The child who drew this was clearly so perfectly free of worry, free of adult stress. He was so happy for the little one and at the same time jealous of his innocence.

“He’s quite the little artist,” he said with pride.

Millie nodded, understanding that Belton was overjoyed each time he saw Harry’s complete inability to draw a real shape or animal or letter. Each time it reaffirmed the boy’s total return to his earliest years.

Rowan walked past Millie, entering the main room of the cabin. It was in many ways a copy of Buzzy Bee cabin, with a few exceptions. One of the main ones being that it housed only three children, and that they were its permanent residents. Otherwise it held the same types of toys, used the same bright soft carpeting and the same pleasant, eye-catching hues for the walls.

Proceeding into the room Rowan immediately saw what he was looking for. Right in the middle of the room was a young man who appeared to be somewhere in his twenties. His blonde hair was short and light, his body thin, lacking muscle. He was clearly older than any of the other campers, a man well into adulthood. Yet at that moment the fully-grown man was squatting atop a large plastic potty seat. He was also completely in the nude, no underwear around his ankles as he did his business, no items of clothing discarded nearby at all. No, it appeared that nudity was simply his natural state, the way he spent his whole day. Furthermore the man didn’t seem at all troubled at this older man seeing him squatting there in all his glory, holding his crayon scribbles. No, instead he absolutely lit up at the sight of Rowan, a big smile spreading across his lips. He hopped up off the potty chair, revealing his fully adult sized, but hairless, penis and balls hanging unhindered between his skinny legs.

“Da-dee ‘ome!” he yelled at full volume, toddling quickly forward with his arms spread wide.

“Yep, here I am little guy. Come give daddy a big cuddle!” Rowan encouraged, opening his arms wide too.

Harry toddled right up to his dad and embraced him in a tight bear-hug. Rowan embraced the boy right back, lightly patting the man’s bare back and shoulders, feeling overwhelmed with happiness at his son’s pure, innocent love for his daddy.

“Maked pee-pee potty,” the man announced with pride.

“I know buddy, I saw. And you made me a pretty drawing today too,” Rowan responded, still cuddling his adult son.

“Spefal fow da-dee,” the man mumbled.

Rowan released the man before he got too squirmy, letting his drop back to his haunches, resting in his favourite squatting position and resuming his favourite activity of wiggling his toes.

“Daddy!” a high-pitched voice screeched.

Rowan looked up to see his daughter Lucy dropping her well-worn armless Barbie doll and getting to her feet to come for her own snuggle. As she rose it was clear she’d once been a beautiful young woman. Now though her flowing golden hair had been cut quite short save for her pig-tails and her days of wearing make-up and eyeliner were long gone. So were here pants suits, lingerie and low-cut dresses. Now she wore a short red t-shirt which came to her belly-button and a thick Barbie-pink pull-up. She still had the lithe, curvy figure of the twenty-something she appeared to be, but it was hard to see it in that outfit.

Lucy toddled rapidly over and was soon enveloped in a cuddle of her own while Harry gazed blankly up at them from his squat and nibbled at the tips of his fingers while picking his nose.

“How’s my sweetie-pie?” Rowan crooned to her.

“Hawwy doned poopy in da pwants,” she announced, totally uninhibited by adult etiquette, completely uncomprehending of daddy’s question.

Rowan laughed out loud at her declaration and Harry didn’t seem upset at being told on, didn’t seem aware he’d done anything worthy of being upset about. The crouching man just smiled and agreed, “Hawwy poopy.”

“That’s okay Harry,” Millie crooned in assurance. “I’m afraid he did make a bit of a mess in the flowers this afternoon while playing outside. You know how he is about keeping a diaper on.”

Rowan brushed aside any worry she had with a dismissive wave. “You don’t have to apologise for it Millie. You know it’s just a part of the programming he received, to be a jaybird. I wanted my little guy totally free of adult inhibitions, of shame. He can’t help that he’s a little nudist now, it’s just who he is, who I helped him to become and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

At their feet Harry picked his nose, oblivious to the conversation about him. Meanwhile Lucy played with Rowan’s nose, putting her fingers to his nostrils and craning her neck to look up them curiously. Her daddy had to pull back and set her back to playing with her dollies to stop the intrusions.

It hadn’t always been this way of course. Rowan’s wife, Patricia, had been dead-set against their kids having the procedure done of them. It had ended their marriage and, being the mother, she’d won full custody of the kids. He’d been powerless to stop it as they turned into adults. Harold, as he had insisted on being called, had gone to university, then earned a law degree and taken up a lucrative position at a private firm. He dated, made a good deal of money, travelled and even considered moving permanently overseas to make more money. It was Rowan’s worst nightmare.

Lucy had, in his opinion, grown into a vain, shallow woman. She was always immaculately dressed and dated only the wealthiest men. He thought her job as a clothing designer was just a way to meet powerful men to marry. She was headed down the wrong path and there seemed no way to stop it.

As his kids neared thirty though, things changed. He employed a man name Gregory Howe as his camp doctor. He did so because he’d read a couple radical articles the doctor had published. They indicated he might be of the same mind as Rowan himself. However they scared other employers and left Howe few options. Knowing that he had the job to use as leverage he approached Howe with his scheme to return his kids to their lost innocence. Naturally he’d been sceptical. The physical regression treatment was dangerous when used on anyone past their early twenties. Past the age of thirty it was nearly impossible. Howe had convinced him that given his kids ages it would be too dangerous to try it on them. But he had agreed that mentally changing them was possible. Rowan knew that idea was exactly what Howe had got in trouble for before, but he was desperate.

It had been difficult, morally, to carry the scheme out. The actual doing of the deed was simple, but it hurt. Rowan had had to slip his son tranquilisers and muscle relaxants in a cup of tea. It had really been painful to stand by and do nothing as Harold grew disoriented and numb. The young man had panicked and begged his father to call an ambulance because he was sure he was having a stroke. Rowan couldn’t forget the look of confusion and betrayal in the man’s eyes when his dad simply stood by and watched as he slumped to the floor and passed out. He’d learned from his error and used more powerful doses to put Lucy out much more quickly the next day.

It had been much easier to take the next step. Harold, stripped to his undershirt and boxers was groggy and suggestible as he and Howe loaded him into the special chair at the camp. He slurred a few questions about where he was and what was going on, but then the needle bit into his back and he’d relaxed into the chair and stopped speaking at all, his eyes glazing over. Howe had turned on the normal programming given to Buzzy-Bee kids with a few alterations. Rowan wanted his son totally innocent. He wanted him messier, more playful, more uninhibited and fearless than he had been as a boy the first time. He also didn’t want him growing up. He stayed for the first twenty minutes of the programming, making sure the drugged man’s eyes stayed open, watching the flickering images.

With Millie’s help they’d set up the secret cabin at the edge of the camp property. After a double-dose of Howe’s special programme they brought Harold there. As he slept with subliminal commands whispering into his ears on an endless loop Rowan and Millie carefully shaved away all his body hair and dressed him in a pull-up. Rowan almost cried when he looked at his boy all smooth and dressed like a tot, peacefully asleep in a toddler bed.

Rowan had hoped that his son would give in easily thanks to the double dose of treatment and drugs. He stayed by his side through the night, waiting for him to open his eyes. It was mid-morning when that finally happened and he knew instantly that Harold was still there. The young man’s eyes focussed on Rowan and he looked confused and angry. Then his eyes fell down his body to what he was wearing.

“What the fuck dad?” he’d demanded, pulling off his earphones and sitting up. “What is this? What am I wearing?”

“It’s a pull-up buddy, big boy pants,” Rowan had explained.

The betrayal, the disgust in his boy’s expression was clear. “Jesus Christ dad! I’m not one of your damned campers! I’m not a kid anymore, I’m an adult. You can’t do this shit, it doesn’t work on grown-ups.”

Rowan had just nodded in agreement. “You’re right buddy. There’s no way I can physically regress you.” He’d waited to let that sink in, then added, “But I’m afraid the mental process is perfectly effective on adults, and it’s already been done to you.”

Harold had looked scandalised and very afraid. “I’m out of here dad. If you care about me at all, you’ll get me my real clothes!” he’d bellowed, getting up out of the bed to stand at his full height facing his dad.

Rowan had taken one last look at his grown son, standing proudly with squared shoulders, his toned muscular arms threatening him with physical force if he stood in the way. He had looked at the man’s burning, intelligent, dangerous eyes. Then he’d shaken his head and said, “But you don’t want any clothes Harry. You’re my little jaybird now. You just want to run around and show everyone what a silly little nakie boy you are.”

And the intense look had faltered. The man’s shoulders sagged, his mouth opening in confusion. He’d blinked and glanced around, looking for something to hold onto, to keep his train of thought. His lips had started to quiver. He had finally reached out and grabbed Rowan’s arm. “Dad… daddy…I… what’s happening?” he’d stammered.

And Rowan had just shushed him gently. “Shh, it’s okay Harry, everything is fine. You just realised you aren’t a big boy after all. It’s okay, it was just a silly game, a silly game a silly little boy wanted to play. Now it’s time to stop pretending, time to be my good little boy.”

Harold had shaken his head, as though trying not to hear what had to be lies, but were beginning to feel like the truth. “No! Me… not…I am big…I…me…”

“Don’t be scared Harry,” Rowan had crooned. “You just need to play a new game don’t you. And that will be much easier once you accept you’re my little jaybird.”

It had been a pivotal moment is his life. Rowan would never forget that look in his son’s eyes as the lights went out. He had actually seen the change happen, as he’d repeated his trigger phrase. Even though he was a grown man, a lawyer, an educated person, he couldn’t resist Howe’s programming. So Rowan had watched Harold disappear, leaving only sweet little Harry. He’d watched in awe as his own son had done what he’d seen so many campers do. He watched his boy smile a silly, mischievous grin and yank his pull-ups down to his ankles, kicking them away announcing in a suddenly higher-pitched and much louder uncontrolled voice, “Hawwy nakie boy! Wan’ pway!”

With Lucy it had been even easier. She’d gone straight under from the tea and when she awoke in the morning she put her thumb straight into her mouth and cuddled her dolly close. With both his kids transformed there remained only a single road-block to their happiness and removing that one had been much easier on his conscience.

As Harry crept on his hands and knees back to the potty seat and Lucy chewed on her Barbie’s head Rowan was distracted by the sound of plastic being batted at. He looked up at the large crib sat at the centre of the room. A hand reached up out of it and smacked the mobile toys dangling above it then disappeared back within.

“Has she been any trouble today?” he asked Millie, heading for the crib.

“No, she’s been an angel as usual. Took her bottle an hour ago and had a nice afternoon nap.”

Nodding Rowan leant over the side of the crib and gazed down at the grown woman lying in it. His wife Patricia had lost much of her beauty as she aged, but there was still something adorable about her present situation. She wore only a thick white disposable diaper, showing off her impressive assets. Her head had been shaved and had a pink ribbon tied around it with a bow right over her forehead. She didn’t mind any of that though, she didn’t really mind anything at all.

After slipping his bitch of an ex-wife the same drugged tea as the kids he’d asked Howe to design a brand new programme just for her. It was designed to leave her with the mentality of a 5 to 6 month old infant. She was still limp as a ragdoll when they’d placed her in the chair. They hadn’t stayed for any part of her show. Howe was concerned by its power even without the mind-bending drugs. She then received a triple dose of it. After it was done she was placed in her new crib, where he had assumed she’d awake with her mind blanked. But of course it couldn’t be that easy.

Instead Patricia had woken up to find herself diapered but otherwise nude, her head shaved, as well as the rest of her body, lying in a giant crib in a foreign room. Naturally she was terrified. But that terror was raised to a whole new magnitude by what she saw when she sat up. She had the misfortune to still have her full adult sentience as she saw her grown son sitting buck naked at a kiddie table crudely colouring with a thick crayon gripped in a fist and her beautiful daughter wearing a ballerina skirt and painting her bared breasts in finger paint which she’d already covered her arms, and bare feet in.

Naturally her reaction had been to scream bloody murder, thoroughly frightening the poor innocent kids. Millie had managed to rush them outside while Rowan hurried to the side of the crib she was trying to climb out of to set things straight. Though he hadn’t looked it he was just as panicked as her. The programming was untested of course and she was apparently unfazed by triple exposure. He wasn’t sure if it would work at all, but he had to try. So as he reached her side he placed his hands on her shoulders to hold her down and before she could bite him or scream in his ear he whispered to hers, “Pretty baby girl, calm down pretty baby girl.”

He had been as shocked as her when he felt her struggle instantly stop. Patricia had heard the words and felt an incredible feeling. She’d understood them for an instant but then their meaning had been gone. In fact all her words were gone, along with everything else, every memory, every cognizant thought. All that was left was a feeling of pure peace and contentedness. Rowan had watched as Patricia dropped to her bottom and then slumped to her back, staring up at him with wide eyes. For several long seconds they just stared at each other as Rowan wondered what was going through her head. Then she gave him a clear answer: nothing, nothing was going through her head at all. She pursed her lips and blew a long series of spit bubbles, the drool coating her chin and cheeks. And Rowan knew his vindictive ex-wife had been replaced by sweet baby Patty.

Now his pretty ex-wife was lying in the same crib, chewing on her knuckles and waving her legs about aimlessly. “Baaa…boo.daa..eeeh,” she jabbered.

“Yes honey, daddy is happy to see you too,” he cooed down to her. It was the perfect end to the week and he couldn’t imagine how anything could ruin his perfect life.