Dear Miss Candida,

Readers who are interested in babyism and the petticoat and nappy training of the male sex may be interested to hear how this was achieved in the case of my husband.

In the early days of our marriage, he was a heavy smoker, and  one day I told him that a grown man sucking a cigarette just like a baby sucking a dummy. 'I'm going to buy you a dummy', I said, 'and when you want a cigarette you can suck your dummy instead. It will be cheaper, and much better for you!' And from then on, as soon he had finished tea each evening, his dummy was pushed into his mouth and stayed there till bedtime. At week-ends, he was made to use it all the time, and, from the start, I insisted that he should not be allowed to handle it at all which of course meant that I had to give it to him, and he was not permitted to remove it.

Naturally, he was terribly ashamed, but I soon found that constant use of a dummy made him much more docile and easy to control and I decided that he was ready for the next stage of his nursery training. I complained that he was far to messy at the table,  always spilling things on his clothes, and that the only answer was for him to be treated like a baby and wear a bib at mealtimes. He hated the idea, but again I was quite firm about it, and so before every meal he had to bring me his pretty little lace-frilled bib, which I would then tie securely round his neck. He was told that under no circumstances was he to remove it himself, and every evening and throughout the weekend he had to wear his humiliating little bib and sit sucking his dummy teat.

I now began training him to use a baby´s nursing bottle. I bought supply of baby-milk powder, and at supper time he would be taken onto my lap and given three or four bottles of milk to drink. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing his face as he layed cradled in my arms with his pretty frilly big around his neck, sucking  dutifully  away at the teat of his bottle – but there was more to it than just that. Drinking so much just before going to bed meant that he had to get up in the night, and after this had happened a number of times,  I told him that I was tired of having my rest disturbed, and that since he obviously had no control of his bladder, he would have to be dealt with as babies are and wear nappies and rubber baby pants in bed!

This really upset him, and he argued fiercely, but I had now reached such a state of mastery over him that I was able to disregard his protests, and each night he was fastened, protesting and pleading and almost in tears, into his nappies and  a pair of pink rubber pants. As he could not wear  pyjamas over them, I bought him a delightful little baby doll shortie nightdress, and done up like this and with his dummy in his mouth, he really began to look like a ridiculous big baby. On Saturdays and Sundays, when he did  not have to go to work, I used to bring him down to breakfast in his nightdress and nappies and he had to stay in them all day – absolutely terrified every minute that someone would come in and see him.

Unknown to him, of course, this was exactly what I had planned! I had told my next-door neighbour of the situation, which she found vastly amusing, and so in the middle of one Saturday morning she suddenly came in, without warning, Not having a high chair suitable for my husband, I always strapped him into a heavy kitchen chair for meals, tying his hands down to the sides so that he could not interfere whilst being fed or given his bottle and he was in this helpless state, still in his nappies and nightie, with a bib round his neck and a dummy in his mouth, when she walked in. Even worse, she had with her 19 year old daughter, and as the two of them stood there roaring with laughter at the sight of my ridiculous great baby, he squirmed and wriggled helplessly with the tears streaming down his poor scarlet cheeks!

From then on, of course, full babyfication was easy. My neighbour´s  daughter actually made his first proper baby frock and petticoat, - and he is now put into baby dress, and treated accordingly, whenever I feel in the mood to amuse myself with him, or for the benefit of my many woman friends.

Mrs. A.

The writer was very shrewd in always having a good reason for each step of her husband's reduction to full babyhood. I think that the first step is especially apposite - smoking is an unhealthy and unattractive habit which is justly treated and punished by making the smoker suck a dummy instead. And it works too - a baby's dummy is quite harmless, and often the male who is made to use it as a substitute finds that he cannot do without it - which really identifies him as a big cissy baby, and enables his wife to fully petticoat and baby him at her whim, without hubby being in a position to raise any protest at all.

Of course 'Baby' should not just sit on his bunny blanket playing with his dollies all day - he should make himself useful about the house, as any petticoated husband should. Mrs A. does not mention the domestic duties of her hubby, but I am sure the little lamb has plenty to keep him occupied !
Susan