Thank you for your excellent magazine, and especially the letters on babyism. Ever since I can remember I have wanted to dress and treat boys as babies, as I believe this is the only way of controlling these pests. Our next door neighbour has a son of 22, and since the age of 17 he has worn nappies and plastic baby panties. I'll never forget our first meeting.

I was 14 and coming home from school when I remembered I had to pop into the chemist for some makeup remover. As I was picking up the baby lotion I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Mrs Robinson, our neighbour. She was holding a box of nappy liners in one hand and her other hand was clenched around some baby reins attached to her son, Andrew. She introduced me to Andrew, who looked extremely embarrassed.

He was wearing a white pinafore style mini dress and thick red woollen tights. I couldn't help noticing his huge bottom when Mrs Robinson told me that he'd been made to wear nappies ever since he had started to wet the bed a few weeks ago. She decided that if he was going to act like a baby she would treat him like one, much to the misery of Andrew. As we walked home, Andrew was made to lead the way, whilst Mrs R. gave me his reins. It was great fun to control this big baby, and what a sight he looked waddling in front of me! He tried to walk quickly just to get home, but a few sharp jerks stopped that nonsense, and quietened him down.

Andrew’s unusual dress subjected him to stares and comments from passers-by, and now he had the added humiliation of a schoolgirl controlling him. When we arrived, I was invited in for a cup of tea. Andrew was put in a large high chair and a dummy stuffed into his mouth. Mrs R. explained that he would normally have some private tuition now, but as I was there she would ring up the teacher and cancel it. As she was on the phone I teased Andrew by asking him if his nappies were filled, and what colour panties did he have on?

Andrew spat out his dummy and started shouting at me. Mrs Robinson came rushing in and slapped Andrew across the face, saying she would get him ready for bed, there and then, in front of me. At this Andrew started crying like a real baby, and Mrs R. picked up his dummy and put it in his mouth, securing it with a ribbon tied at the back of his head.

Andrew was taken out of his high chair and was made to stand in front of me while his mother removed his short dress and tights. I couldn’t help noticing that his baby bloomers had a frill of lace around each leg. Andrew looked so embarrassed and I couldn’t stop laughing. ‘Would you like to change him?’ Andrew's mother asked.

I was spellbound, but as Andrew had been so rude to me I nodded my head with delight. Mrs R. gave me a rubber apron to protect my school uniform, and Andrew was ordered to lie across my lap. As I pulled his frilly pants down he started to sob again, and I cooed to him, saying all babies like to have nice clean nappies on.

I was left to it while Andrew’s mother prepared his supper. Pink nappy pins held his nappies together, which were wet. I took these off and wiped him clean. His mummy had tied a wide ribbon fairly tightly around his wee willie winkie, so that didn’t give me any trouble.

‘Where are baby’s clean nappies?’ I called out. Mrs R. walked in with them and asked me if I needed a hand. I was very happy to continue on my own, and by the time I had finished poor Andrew looked totally ridiculous. He had a very short baby nightie on with little puff sleeves, revealing his pretty baby pants over thick nappies. His mother gave him his supper after strapping him in his high chair, and finished off by allowing me to feed him a bottle of warm milk before his being strapped into his cot for the night.

This happened five years ago, but Andrew, who is now 22, is treated for most of the day like an 18 month old baby. He obviously doesn’t have a job, which means he is at the mercy of his mother. I am now 19, and regularly babysit for Mrs R, and I usually take some of my girlfriends with me. I think Andrew has grown used to his baby life now, and readily submits to having his nappies changed by me or my friends, and generally being babied. His ribbon prevents him from getting any silly ideas about us - the only starch his mummy allows him is in his petticoats.

He is still taken shopping in his reins. In summer he wears little shorts over his nappies and pants and the humiliation he has to suffer is quite incredible. They always start showing down his leg, and I have many a time heard people say, ‘He is a big boy to still be in nappies’. I love it, and usually reply back that boys are never too big for nappies.

Once again, thank you for an exciting magazine, and I look forward to reading lots more letters on baby discipline.

Yours Truly,

Cathy (Edinburgh)

It is indeed true, boys are never too big for nappies. Boys generally tend to be very conceited and condescending towards girls (or if younger, just make nuisances of themselves – see the first letter) but there is a permanent and very satisfactory cure for these annoying character traits, as the readers of this journal are well aware. Boys also, because they are more immature and babyish, tend to wet the bed more than girls. And furthermore, in adolescence they need to be controlled as Mrs Robinson has done, for other reasons.

My congratulations to Mrs Robinson and Cathy and her friends on their handling of young Andrew; I am sure he is a much nicer boy as a result.
Susan