I wrote to you a little time ago, telling you how I reduced my husband to babyhood, and, if you remember, I said that I was a little puzzled as to why he accepted nappies not only without any resistence, but willingly, and how he enjoyed his babyfied position. I have since discovered the reason, and I thought you would be interested to hear it. It took a little pressure (mainly applied by my hand on his bare bottom!)but he eventually confessed. It appears that it was all due to an adventure he had with some big girls in his youth. As a penance, I made him write out the story, but his handwriting was atrocious, and so I have typed it for you to see...Mommie to a Baby Husband. 

I dreamed and fantasised about her considerably, and and I thought that if I could only have something belonging to her, a hair ribbon or a handkerchief, it would be nice. Such a memento was not impossible to obtain because the school pavilion was right underneath my window. I waited for my opportunity and then, one afternoon, when Diane and her friends were on the hockey field some distance away, having left their belongings in the pavilion, I climbed the fence and went in. Then it all happened.

I must have lost track of time, for while I was still looking for Diane's things the girls came back and caught me red handed. I tried to run, but they caught me before I reached the door. I fought and struggled, but my puny strength was no match for four or five powerful, hefty wenches. Kicking and struggling, unavailingly, at Diane's command I was laid face downwards over a table and, while some of the girls held me, she spanked me on the bottom with a fives bat. After only a few blows I was yelling for mercy, and when at length she stopped and they dumped me unceremoniously on the floor I was crying like a little baby. Diane looked at me contemptuously as I knelt on the floor holding my smarting bottom with tears running down my face.

'Perhaps that'll teach you, you little squirt', she said. 'Oh, we've noticed you hanging around and watching us; see you don't do it again!'

One of the girls who had been holding me remarked with a sneer,, 'It's a cry baby as well as a thief. Look at him blubbering, the big baby!' The girls crowded around me, calling me 'Cry baby', and 'diddums den' and laughing and jeering until Diane told them to stop. 'Let's see him off the premises girls', she said, and they lifted me up and took me to the door. Before they finally let me go, Diane looked at me with whithering contemptand said, 'Go home now, baby, and ask your mummy to give you a dummy and a titty bottle!' Then, followed by the girls' catcalls and laughter, I ran home as fast as I could and hid my shame in my room.

Of course, the story was round their school the next day, and from then on I sufferred persecution. For some time I never went out of doors during the day, for if I did there was always some girl to enquire tenderly, but with a little giggle, if I had my bottle, and where was my dummy? Even some of the younger mistresses, who had probably seen me gazing out my bedroom window in the past, took part in baiting me. However, the persecution died down after a while, but by this time something rather strange had taken place. I worshipped Diane more than ever, and began to wish that I could be subjected to beating and humiliation at her hands.

Then, one afternoon, some weeks after these events, I went to the cinema. It was winter by this time, and when I left the picture house at about 5 o'clock it was quite dark. I had left the brightly lit High Street, and was walking down a quiet road, when suddenly some girls came out of a house and surrounded me. I recognized them as girls from the school, and turned to run.

'It's all right, nothing to worry about', said one of them. 'Diane's sorry for what she did a few months ago and wants to apologise. This is her house. We saw you pass by some time ago and we wanted to tell you. Come on in'. I followed them unconcernedly, feeling quite thrilled. We went through the garden gate, down the path by the side of the house, and through a door into a big kitchen. At once I saw that I had been tricked, for the room was full of girls who treated my arrival with cheers and derisive laughter. It was too late to do anything, for my escorts were holding me fast. Diane sat in a chair right oppposite the door through which I had come, and the girls pulled her in front of me.

She smiled at me. 'Hello, cry baby', she said. 'You look as if you've had a nasty shock. I expect you thought that the beating we gave you would be the end of it, didn't you? Well, we got to thinking about it, you see, and the girls and I decided that you need more than just a smacked bottom. We think you aren't getting the treatment a great big baby like you needs, so we're going to give it to you. Undress him girls!'

Girls closed in on every side and, in spite of my useless and unavailing struggles, picked me up bodily and carried me to the large kitchen table in the middle of the room, upon which they placed me and proceeded to undress me. In less time that it takes to tell, I was naked, and amid jeers and sniggers about my inadequate looking 'dickie', I was well and truly powdered and pinned into a large bulky nappy. Then I was pushed and pulled into a girls' frock, and a bib with 'Baby' on it was tied around my neck. Two of the girls then brought a blanket, into which they wrapped me so that my arms were pinned to my sides, and I was quite helpless. By this time I was crying with shame and humiliation.

Diane looked down on me. 'There, there', she cooed in the syrupy tones that women often use to address infants, 'Diddums baby want his bottle then?' Well, Nanny shall give it to him'. One of her friends, a big plump girl, put on a nurse's cap and apron and sat down in Diane's chair, while two more of them more or less picked me up, and placed me on her lap. It was then that I began to feel like a real baby, especially when she put her arm around me and held me to her aproned bosom.

She had a baby's feeding bottle in her other hand, and now she put the teat on my lips. 'Baby, baby, have your nice titty-bottle', she said. 'If you don't open your mouth, we'll just hold your nose until you do!' It was quite useless to resist, so I took the teat and sucked. At first the sweet, sugary baby food made me retch, but after that I began to like it. It was then, suddenly, that I had what can only be described as a 'baby experience'. I knew then that what I wanted more than anything else in the world was to be a baby, and I sucked vigorously, oblivious now to the teasing and jeers of the girls, and conscious only of the comfort of the lap, and the arm around me, and the warm sweet milk.

The bottle was finished sooner than I realised, and my nurse popped a big rubber dummy into my mouth.While I had been having the bottle, someone had brought in a big, old, and rather battered pram, and the girls crammed me into this and put a baby's bonnet on my head. My 'Nurse' wheeled me round the room while the other girls laughed and wagged their fingers at me, shook baby's rattles in front of my blushing face, and called me their 'titty baby'.

How long this went on I cannot say, for I lost count of time, but it must have been more than two hours. My mother was furious with me when I got home, and I had to think of some excuse. Finally they let me go. I was taken to another room and allowed to dress, and then pushed into the street to the accompaniment of their laughter.

I never saw any of them again, for I was careful never to go out of doors again during the day, and we left the district very shortly afterwards. But that experience had changed my life, and I would never be the same again. From that day on my only wish and desire has been to return to the nursery and live a baby's life. When we married, I was only too delighted to find myself in the hands of a bossy dominant woman, and glad to obey her absolutely. When you said you were going to treat me like a little baby, I was afraid that you would see how thrilled I was and change your mind. So now you know why I didn't even attempt to resist when you first put me into nappies.

I don't care much for boys who rummage through girls' things without permission, and so I think that the writer got what he deserved. Of course having a youthful crush on Diana - and doesn't he describe teenage puppy love well? - would have made the experience of being spanked and babied by her absolutely overwhelming, and it is no wonder that he ended with a life-long fascination with baby pulishment.

Many submissive males especially adore strong, plump girls and women, and so it may be that there was a powerful but unconscious tendency towards submissiveness even before the episode above took place. This letter was preceded by 'Babykins is Happy', which is here reproduced as letter 12.
Susan