"Uh-oh!" I cooed in a lilting, sing-song voice, smiling at the sight of the discoloured padding between my wife’s legs. "Did little La-La have an accident in her diapee?"
Alana gazed at me blankly for a few moments, blinking stupidly, then stared down at her drooping diaper. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, only now aware of the heavy wetness between her legs. "Oop-shee..." she lisped from behind her pacifier. "Oop-shee, Dada! Wet-wet!”
Dressed in nothing but her t-shirt and nappy, Alana was already attracting a lot of attention from the other beach-goers. Despite her long and slender legs, she toddled about as unsteadily as a two-year-old, her shapely bottom clashing absurdly with the babyish bulk it was wrapped in. Her generous breasts wobbled braless beneath her top while she splashed in the shallows or sat building sandcastles with clumsy hands. Now her soaked Pampers were drawing even more stares and snickers.
I grinned. "Such a silly baby! You couldn't even tell you'd tinkled until Daddy told you, could you? Who’s a silly girl? Who’s a silly little soggy-pants baby?”
Alana giggled, enjoying the sweet tone of my voice. “Siwwy!” she squealed loudly, pulling a few more gazes in our direction as she bounced up and down on the spot, pigtails flapping about her face. “I a siwwy, soggy-panths bay-bee, Dada!”
I chuckled and stroked her hair. “You certainly are. Daddy likes you so much better like this, sweetheart. No more snarky comments, no more nagging. And I happen to think soggy diapers suit you much better than those boring business suits you used to wear.” I cupped her face in my hands, looking into her blank, innocent eyes. "Grown-up time for good girls," I said softly.
Something shifted in her expression, a look of mild confusion that turned to mounting horror as her adult mind came back, and she realised where she was, what she was wearing, how many people were watching...
All her memories of the past few days suddenly clarified. How I’d promised to help her unwind after a difficult day at work, and shown her that strange, spiralling video with the pretty colours that had made her feel so relaxed and sleepy and small. How I’d taken her into her office and paraded her around in front of all her former subordinates dressed like a one-year-old, even letting that intern she always yelled at tickle her tummy and pat her thickly diapered bottom! How I’d brought her to her favourite fancy restaurant, strapped a bib around her neck, and fed her a meal off the kid’s menu while she babbled happily and received pitying looks from the other diners. And now here, at a public beach, where she'd been making an infantile spectacle of herself in front of hundreds of people...
Her body tensed, her hands balled into fists, and she opened her mouth to unleash a furious tirade, pacifier falling from her lips.
"Baby time for bad girls," I said quickly, before she could get a word out, and at once her shoulders relaxed again. All the anger and humiliation drained out of her eyes in a second, replaced by a vacant contentment. I tickled her under the chin and elicited a gurgling giggle. "That's better," I crooned, cuddling her close and kissing her forehead. "It’ll be fun to bring big girl Alana back every now and then, to show her how she’s spending her life, but I think a few seconds is all I can stand. I much prefer my little La-La.”
Alana's expression changed again, gaze tightening and lips pursing together, as if she was thinking hard, and for a moment I feared the hypnosis was failing, that my ruthless, intelligent wife was fighting the mental conditioning. But then she let out a soft grunt and bent her knees.
“Oopsie-daisy!” I chuckled. "Is baby La-La going poo-poo in her pants?"
Alana cocked her head, mouth hanging open, and after a moment she frowned and reached behind her to press a hand to the back of her Pampers. Then she grinned proudly and nodded. “Poopy, Dada!”
"Who's a messy girl?" I cooed, reaching out with tickling fingers to illicit more delighted squeals from my big baby girl. "Is it you, La-La? Are you a messy-bum baby at the beach?"
"Methy giwl, Dada!" Alana shouted for all to hear. "I a methy-bum bay-bee at da beach!"