Advanact's
Robert's Reformation
Robert's Reformation
Chapter 3
After scrambling into the now-too-high chair to await his breakfast, Rob looked across the table – which was now at eye-level – at the giant spoon and bowl he once easily used at mealtimes. Feeling a slight panic at the prospect of re-learning how to get along in the world, a quick glance to Mrs. Johnston put his mind at ease. Grinning as she looked over her shoulder from the kitchen counter, Martha Johnston blew a friendly kiss as she turned to deliver the boy’s breakfast. After removing the old (now giant) utensils and bowls from his setting, the matron placed a small bowl of oatmeal before the man-turned-boy and handed him a small rubber-handled spoon with which to eat.
“Yum yum!” cooed the matron, as she playfully ruffled the boy’s hair. “Eat up, sweetie. You do want to grow up to be a big, strong man someday, don’t you?” Giggling at Robert’s blush at this condescending reminder of his state, the woman turned to sit at the adjacent chair and begin her grown-up breakfast of pancakes and fruit.
Picking slowly at the sweetened paste, Robert’s gaze wandered aimlessly about the table until it again rested upon the cleavage of Mrs. Johnston’s ample bosom. As if to tease him still further, his caretaker had chosen to wear a snug fitting – some would say too tight – cherry-red velvet shirt, with the buttons held teasingly closed beneath her deep-plunging sweetheart neckline. Though hungry, tired and frightened, Rob found that the sight again brought back soothingly pleasant memories of childhood.
Snapping back from his reverie as the matron rose to clear the table, the young man noticed that he had hardly touched the meal which had been set before him. Reaching out to finish his food, the boy quickly found his bowl and spoon being removed by Mrs. Johnston’s efficient hands. “Uh, uh, uuuuh!” scolded the matron in her sing-song voice. Effortlessly pulling the childish utensil from the lad’s weakened grip, the now-giant woman cooed “Mealtime’s over, sweetie.”
“B-but...” began Robert, as the woman turned away. “I haven’t finished yet! I’m still hungry!!!”
Turning to deposit the bowl in the kitchen sink, Martha Johnston chuckled conspiratorially as she washed the breakfast dishes. “Oh, don’t you worry Robbie. You’ve not finished your breakfast yet.
“Mama won’t ever let her little boy go hungry.”
Disturbed by his babysitter’s evasive tone, yet relieved that he would at least leave the breakfast table sated, Robert sat back and waited patiently as Mrs. Johnston finished her work at the sink. Within a few minutes, the plump caretaker returned to sit beside the small man-turned-boy at the kitchen table – empty handed.
“W-where’s my breakfast?” asked Robert, now as confused as he was hungry.
“Oh! Silly me, it’s in the salon...” rising from her seat and extending a hand to the boy, Mrs. Johnston asked, “Won’t you join me for some num-nums, Robbie?” Suspiciously reaching forward, the young man placed his tiny hand in the matron’s palm and smiled at the reassurance felt as her giant fingers closed about it. Walking into the plushly furnished sitting area, the two headed towards a large, overstuffed easy chair, upon which the plump woman sat before lifting the boy up to her softly inviting lap. Laying an arm about Robert’s waist to hug him close, the boy couldn’t help but grin at the pleasant feelings brought about by Mrs. Johnston’s familiar, bosomy snuggle. Just as when he was a child, this simple, loving gesture seemed to dispel all worries from his mind and protect him from all harm.
Reminded of his hunger by the grumbling at his belly, Rob grinned up to his babysitter and asked, “So, Mrs. Johnston, where’s my breakfast?”
Giggling deeply as she hugged the boy to her breasts once more, the matron cooed, “Why, Robbie, I’m right here!” Reaching around the confused lad to begin unbuttoning her shirt, Martha Johnston smiled lovingly downwards and cooed, “I’m your breakfast...”
Understanding at last what was about to happen, Robert felt a shot of panic. “Oh, no... Oh, no! NO!!!” he squealed, as he tried to squirm from the witch’s softly imprisoning hug. “You can’t be serious!”
“Oh yes, silly boy,” said the woman, as she continued to casually unbutton her blouse. “All good little boys are nursed, and you do want to be a good little boy again, don’t you, Robbie?”
“NO!!!!” screamed the man-turned-child, as he pulled against the matron’s firm grip. “I don’t wanna be nursed!”
Helplessly pushing against the bulk of Mrs. Johnston’s jiggling breasts, it was clear to Rob that he was now securely trapped in the enveloping softness of the woman’s hug. After a wordless scream of frustration the boy looked upwards into the gently smiling face of his captor and yelled “I’ve had enough of this!
“I’ve been bad, I know it! I’ll serve my time in prison! But
“I’m an ADULT! I can make my own decisions! WEAR MY OWN CLOTHES! And Eat My OWN FOOD!”
Squirming against his captor’s frustratingly snug softness, the boy bellowed “I WON’T BE YOUR BABY!”
Murmuring soothing nonsense in response as she continued to slowly unbutton her shirt, Mrs. Johnston easily restrained the struggling man-child and muffled his hysterical complaints with a gentle hug from her velvet-covered breast. “Don’t be foolish, Robert. Of COURSE you’ll be my baby.
“You don’t think I haven’t done this before, do you?” giggling at the astonished reaction to this news, the matron continued. “Oh, you do! ... *giggle* ... Silly boy! I’ve been reforming naughty little ones for longer than you can imagine.
“Every one of them starts out like you – all gruff and full of their adulthood – but soon enough, they all become my loving little babies. Each and every one.
“Don’t you worry, my little wiggler. You’ll soon come running whenever Mummy calls you for num-nums...”
A protesting “Mmmmrph!” was the only response Rob could muster from beneath his muffle of flesh-bloated fabric.
“Now then, sweetie,” cooed the matron as her milk-filled breasts pushed over the last of the shirt’s restraining buttons. “Why don’t you be a good little boy and open wide for Mummy, hmm? I’ve lots of milk for my hungry little boy... ” Adjusting her hold upon the lad to push a milk-dappled nipple against his cheek, Rob knew that it was now or never.
“NNNNNNNNO!” screamed the lad, as he sprung up and away from Mrs. Johnston’s loving grip. With his cheek still wet from the milk of her nurturing nipple, the man-child hit the floor and began to run from the room, fleeing towards what he hoped would be a path to freedom from the inside of this giant, old house.
Left sitting somewhat surprised in her chair, Mrs. Johnston quietly tut-tutted to herself. “Oh well,” she muttered. “The boy’s going to be a difficult one, is he?”
“Well, there isn’t much point in waiting for him to come back, is there?” Brushing her rumpled dress and rising slowly from her seat, Martha Johnston left her jiggling breasts exposed at the front of her un-buttoned shirt and began to slowly stride after the fleeing boy.
Hearing his footsteps dart about the house, Mrs. Johnston couldn’t help but smile as she called out to her charge. “Oh, Ro-oooooobie!” she cooed. “Little ‘bitty Ro-oooobie!
“Naughty boy! You don’t think you can hide from Nana Martha now, do you? ... *giggle* ... Oh, no! Mummy’s gonna find you... and when she do-ooooooes... *giggle*...”
Hearing the taunts close behind, the boy ran faster still.