Jam.

Chapter III: Rules

What did he mean rules? I suppose there were rules for everything... He picked me up, setting me on his hip, and i started to squirm, saying as loud as I could manage right then, "I'm not a baby! I can walk with my own two feet, thank you very much!"
He only mumbled something under his breath that I couldn't make out, and continued to carry me. I was really getting frustrated, but my throat hurt too much to throw another tantrum, so I just sulked.
We arrived in the kitchen, and I knew something was off right away. There was a highchair in the adjacent dining room. A highchair that was probably made for someone my size. My eyes widened as I studied it, but thankfully he didn't put me in it. Instead, he grabbed something, a cup I assumed, and started to fill it up with something. I wasn't paying attention. I was thinking about the highchair thing. And the crib thing. Why.... I suddenly felt him start to walk again, and my thoughts were shaken away. He sat on the couch, and I started to try to crawl off of him, but he grabbed me, laid me on my back, holding my head in the crook of his arm, and held something to my lips. A bottle.
I turned my head, closing my lips tight, as he tried and tried to get me to use it. I wasn't a baby! I explained that to him earlier! I could take care of myself!
"You have to eat! You could do this the easy way, or the hard way!" After a minute went by, he grumbled something, grabbed my nose, and held it tight. I tried to hold my breath as long as I could, but I had to open my mouth once I started seeing spots. He took the chance to put the bottle in my mouth, and I wanted to spit it out. No way! He squeezed the bottle, and I felt the disgusting taste of warm milk in my mouth. I hated it completely and utterly. I tried to spit it out, but he just kept forcing me to drink it. I opened my mouth, hoping that I could let it fall to the floor, but he quickly forced it closed, and I was forced to drink or choke. I chose to drink. God that stuff was horrid. He began talking.
"I mentioned before that there were rules. As you have probably guessed, you are mine now. You gave your word, and to me, your word is more than a promise. It's a contract. You stay here and live under my rules until I say you may leave. You will be my baby girl. Got that?" I nodded carefully, scared. "Ok. We'll start with the rules. Number one. Daddy knows best. You are to listen to me, and do as I say, when I say it. Number two, no kicking, punching, biting, or screaming. That's a big no no. Number three, no playing with yourself, though I already know you won't do that. You're too innocent to get that in its entirety." He was right. I felt that it was sexual, but not sure what it meant exactly. (A/n. I do, but Joan is a smol bean and was kinda blocked off from the world, so she doesn't get a lot of sexual jokes or innuendos)
"Number four, you are not to walk or run. You may crawl after a while, but until then, I will make it so you can't. I guess we should do that now." He touched my forehead with one finger, and I felt a shock run through my body, I screamed out in pain, and went limp. I tried to move my arms, but they were really heavy now. I could make then go back and forth, but that was about it. The same for my legs. My head was completely motionless. He continued. "Number five. You are to use your diapers. No exceptions." What the heck! Diapers! No! She wouldn't do that! "Number six, don't use big words. Use baby talk." Ugh... This was going to be fun.
"Got all that baby?" I tried to nod, but couldn't. He seemed to get that. "Ok! Time for baby's bath!" Shoot- I couldn't move... How was I supposed to.... Oh no.... Oh hell no. I started to cry and wave my arms around, and I got a soft smack to my hand. "You need a bath, and no amount of crying is going to change it."
We got to the bathroom, and he set me on the ground, on my back while he went and grabbed some stuff. I used this time to try to figure out how to move. At least try to control my body. He came back to see me trying to pick my hand up off of my face, and he immediately cooed. He started to take my clothes off, and I did not make it easy for him. I didn't care how many times I was smacked, he would not see me naked. That didn't last too long. He picked me up by my armpits, setting me in the oversized bathtub. It was to my upper waist if I were standing. It was weird. Everything in this place was oversized. Like everything had changed so that it would fit me. A baby sized me. I knew I hadn't shrunk. It just didn't look that way.
He put a couple baby toys in the tub, and tried to get me to play with them, which I did not. I sulked, not working with him when he was cleaning me. He first scrubbed me down gently, not slowing at any parts, which I was more than thankful for. Next, he washed my hair, and I really liked that. The firm pressure on my scalp seemed to relax me for some reason, and I tried to push into it, and he just laughed.
He quickly took me out after rinsing out my ginger hair, and wrapped me in a red ladybug towel. It was warm, like it was right out of the dryer. I felt myself curl into it the best I could as he carried me to the nursery. He set me on a changing table and I was all but happy to have the towel taken away. It was so comfy! He lifted my legs by the ankles, slid something under my butt, and put them back down before fixing up the sides and bottom. A diaper. Ugh. He ended up putting me in a red-peach colored onsie with the words 'daddy's little demon' on it. He also put these little mitten like things on my hands that matched, but they didn't have thumb holes. Baby mittens. What age was I being forced into! Newborn! I guess so...