The Regression Sentence - Part 1

A businesswoman is given a regression sentence by the court after her fraud and embezzling are discovered. Hannah is used to a high-powered, high-status lifestyle, but after her sentencing she’ll have no choice but to adjust to her new life as an adult toddler.

***

“Listen, the judge is probably going to give you a regression sentence. You need to be prepared for that.”

“What are you talking about?” Hannah asked her lawyer impatiently. “What the fuck is a regression sentence?” Then she frowned. “Wait a minute… I think I’ve heard of that. But isn’t… Isn’t that when…” Her eyes widened.

Her lawyer avoided her gaze, busying himself with the papers on the desk in front of him. The rest of the courtroom bustled around them, all waiting for the judge to finish deliberating.

“What the fuck, Eric?!” Hannah demanded. Her heart was beating very fast in her chest. “What am I paying you God-knows-how-much an hour for?! Do something!”

“I’ve done all I can, Hannah,” he said flatly. “But to be honest, this is an open and shut case. You should count yourself lucky you’re not getting ten years in prison. I’m pretty sure I’ve got you out of that. Besides,” he continued, still not meeting her eyes, “regression sentences aren’t so bad. You’ll be much more, uh, comfortable than you would be in a prison cell.”

“Comfortable?!” Hannah spat. She remembered hearing about a woman from a rival company who’d been given a regression sentence. Apparently she’d been brought along to a social function by her mother and paraded around in front of all her former coworkers dressed like a toddler. Now that Hannah thought about it, she had a feeling that woman had been convinced of some kind of financial crime as well. She remembered having a good laugh at the time, imagining one of her competitors swapping business suits for baby rompers, but there was nothing funny about it now. She felt as though her heart had dropped into her stomach. That couldn’t happen to her!

She wanted to get more information out of Eric, but at that moment a loud, deep voice carried across the hall. “Attention everyone!” the judge shouted, banging his gavel down on his desk to bring order to the room. “I’ve reached my verdict! Will the accused please stand!”

The courtroom was suddenly quiet, and Hannah got to her feet nervously. Please let the sentence be lenient.

“Miss Whitehouse,” the judge addressed her, “I’ve had some time to consider what kind of sentence would best suit someone of your position. You’re clearly a powerful figure in the corporate world.”

A fine, Hannah prayed. Community service. Anything!

“And I think a little demotion is in order,” he said, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve decided that you would benefit most from a regression sentence.”

“No!” Hannah shrieked.

“Oh yes,” the judge went on, clearly enjoying himself. “Miss Whitehouse, for the crime of fraud and embezzlement, I sentence you to spend the next five years living as a two-year-old.”

Hannah could only stare at him in silent horror, her mouth hanging open. Five years as a two-year-old?! This couldn’t be happening!

“You appear to have no remorse for your crime whatsoever,” the judge went on, “but you’re still young, and it’s my belief that little girls like yourself deserve a softer alternative to the prison system. Maybe half a decade of nappies and bottles will sort you out, young lady. You’ll be released into the custody of your mother forthwith, and will live under her care and supervision for the duration of your sentence – although she reserves the right to deliver you into the hands of a state-run adult discipline nursery, or alternatively have your sentence converted to ten years in prison should you prove unruly. That is all.” He banged his gavel three times, and got up to leave.

The courtroom started buzzing with noise, and Hannah turned on her lawyer with panic in her eyes. “You have to stop this! Call a mistrial or something! This can’t happen!”

“It doesn’t work like that, Hannah,” Eric said resignedly, packing his notes away into his briefcase. “There’s nothing we can do now. You’ll just have to take your sentence and count yourself fortunate it wasn’t worse.”

“I’m not going to let myself be treated like a baby for the next five fucking years!” Hannah screamed. There were some titters from the rows of seats behind her, and she gritted her teeth in anger. “What did he mean by… by nappies and bottles?” she asked. “Surely they don’t… they can’t actually expect me to…”

“I’m sure it will all be explained to you soon, Hannah,” said her lawyer. He finished packing away his things and straightened up. “Good luck.” His eyes flicked upwards to a point just behind her, and Hannah turned to see the policeman who’d escorted her earlier that day smiling at her.

“Time to get going, sweetie,” he said, and she bristled at his condescending tone.

“Don’t call me sweetie,” she hissed, but the officer just chuckled, grabbed her arm, and started dragging her out of the courtroom through a side door. “Hey!” she squealed, trying to wriggle free. “Stop! You can’t manhandle me like this!” But it was no use. He was much bigger and stronger than she was. Hannah looked around for her lawyer, intending to shout for help, but all she could see of Eric was the back of his head disappearing into the crowd exiting via the main doors.

“Don’t be fussy, darling,” said the policeman. “I’m just taking you to your Mummy.”

Hannah blushed furiously and writhed in his grip, but he easily pulled her out of the courtroom and into the room beyond, where her mother was waiting with a wide smile.

“Hi, baby!” she cooed. “Aren’t you a lucky girl, avoiding prison time? Are you looking forward to five years back with Mummy? I certainly am! I can’t believe I get to have my baby girl back!”

“Mum!” Hannah squealed. “This is ridiculous! I’m twenty-nine years old! You can’t let them do this to me! I don’t care if the law says you’re my legal guardian again or whatever, but there is no way I’m letting… OWWIE! What the FUCK?!”

Her mother had strode up to her, yanked down her smart suit pants along with her thong, and delivered a sharp smack to each of her bum cheeks.

“Language, young lady!” she scolded, taking her daughter from the smiling policeman and holding onto her arm just as tightly. “Naughty words like that are a no-no! And this underwear is absolutely unacceptable! Thankfully the court’s provided me with something muchmore appropriate.”

She reached into a bulky pink bag that Hannah only just noticed she had slung over her shoulder, and pulled out an enormous disposable diaper, pure white but for the little teddy bears, rattles, blocks, and safety pins that decorated the outside.

“I’m not wearing that!” Hannah screeched. “I’m not!” but her mother delivered several more stinging swats to her bare bottom, making her yelp in pain.

“Settle down, little lady,” she said sternly. “Or I’ll pull you over my knee and give you something to really scream about.”

Hannah whimpered. Had her mother gone mad? She was an adult woman, not a little girl, no matter what the stupid judge said!

Mrs Whitehouse led her daughter over to a large changing mat on the floor and lowered her down onto it. Hannah sniffled and rubbed her bottom where her mother had smacked her, still not quite believing what was happening. Her mother pulled her pants and underwear all the way off, along with her plain socks and stylish black heels. She patted her daughter’s bum lightly, and Hannah instinctively lifted it up, allowing her mother to slip the giant nappy beneath her bottom.

“Please, Mum!” Hannah begged, as her haughty façade began giving way to genuine terror. “You don’t have to do this! We can just pretend you did and I can live a normal life!”

But her mother ignored her, humming merrily to herself as she sprinkled baby powder over Hannah’s nether regions. “This will keep your nappies smelling nice and sweet!” she said cheerfully. “Until you make a big, smelly mess in them of course!” she tittered, leaning forwards to plant a kiss on her adult daughter’s nose.

Hannah cringed. Wearing nappies was bad enough, but she would certainly not be using them!

“And there we go!” her mother announced happily, doing up the tapes of the giant diaper and patting the front in a satisfied way. “All ready for your wees and poos!”

Hannah felt sick as she looked down at the infantile thing bulging between her legs, so thick that she didn’t have a hope of properly closing her legs. Her mother helped her to her feet, and she stood there bow-legged, the bulk of her diaper pressing her thighs so far apart that she felt unsteady on her feet. But the horrors weren’t over yet. Her mother quickly stripped her of her jacket and shirt, and her bra followed soon after, leaving Hannah totally naked but for her nappy. But when she saw what her mother had in mind for her to wear, she almost wished she could stay topless.

Out of the pink bag, Mrs Whitehouse pulled an incredibly short pink frock, the skirt of which was so frilly that it looked more like a tutu than anything else. The sleeves were puffy and stupid-looking, and when her mother pulled it over her head, Hannah’s lower lip trembled as she realised the dress left at least three inches of her nappy peeking out of the bottom. She felt an icy fear spreading through her body. She couldn’t be stuck looking like this! Not for five whole years!

Her luscious dark hair was pulled out of its sensible bun and tied into a ponytail, frilly white socks were slipped onto her feet, and after them a pair of light-up trainers, just her size. Once she was done, her mother stood back to take in the sight of her adult daughter dressed up like a nursery schooler on her way to visit granny.

“You look perfect, baby!” she gushed. “Now, I think it’s about time we took you home! I can’t wait to show you your new bedroom!”