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Jennie's Potty-Training Chaps 1-5 By Baby Jennie


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#1 babyjennie

babyjennie

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Posted 04 October 2007 - 07:04 AM

Due to repeated requests - as some readers seem to have difficulty locating the first chapters - I've decided to re-post them in one block. Of course, they've been edited again (and again and again) and altered slightly, often as a result of the helpful criticism I have received from some of my wonderful readers on this site. Thank you all so much, and I hope you like the changes. (Plus I had to re-post the first 5 chapters again in July 2009, when they changed to format to include html codes.) Here lies the first part of the 'dominated, diapered and feminised' tale of poor, poor Jeremy.

Jennie's Potty-training
by Baby Jennie

Please note: this story is very loosely adapted from an old tale called 'Potty Training' by Mo, which I first read over a decade ago (probably on Bytemine BBS.) Although I loved the concepts introduced by the original author, I feel he regrettably skipped over some of the most exciting and dramatic parts of the 'victim's' enforced sissification and infantilisation. I have re-written what was a 14-page short story into a novel of over 650 pages, altered to suit my own twisted 'dominated, diapered and petticoated' fantasies. Thank you for making this one of the most-read stories on the ' Daily Diapers' site.

Warning! This is an extreme adult-baby FANTASY, containing graphic descriptions of teen play, female domination, bondage and discipline, sadomasochism, forced babying and cross-dressing, lesbian/gay interaction, corporal punishment, mild incest, urolagnia, coprophilia, and explicit nappy contents. If those sorts of thing offend, please don't read any further. If any of those things float your boat too, I hope this makes you wet your nappy again and again and again!
Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia


Chapter 1. The Beginning

I can't believe I’m sitting strapped to a potty-chair in the middle of the bathroom! Sitting right next to me is an empty yellow potty-chair belonging to my little sister Angelica, who is just over three years old. I've been perched on my pink potty for almost fifteen minutes, waiting for Mummy to return and release me. There is a tight pink leather restraining strap around my waist, so I can't stand up until she unfastens the buckle. It fastens behind the back of the chair, well out of my limited reach. My wet pink terry nappies and pink vinyl panties are bunched in a humiliating pile around my ankles, the familiar scent of urine from my most recent accident wafting up to my nose. I should mention that my name is Jeremy and I am thirteen years old! I don't know how long I will take to be potty-trained this time. Angie - which is what everybody calls Angelica - and I have been 'potty-training' for three days now.

This whole mess started on Friday just over two weeks ago, when Mum and Dad decided that Angie was old enough to begin potty-training. My sister is a very independent-minded little girl and she really didn't want to give up the comfort and security of her nappies. After much persuasion and some tears, Mum finally talked Angie into sitting on her new bright-yellow potty-chair. In minutes she was ready to hop up and play, since she had no real idea what she was supposed to be doing there. Because she was strapped into her potty-chair she couldn't stand up, so she started whining and snivelling. With some cajoling and soothing talk, Mum was just starting to quieten my sister down again, patiently trying to explain to Angie that she should 'make tinkles' in her potty.


I’d been outside in the back yard playing with my second-best friend, Michael from next door. It was the start of our summer vacation and almost everybody had disappeared. My best friend Sally is only six months older than me, and lived in the house behind ours with her much younger sister - but their family was away on vacation for two weeks. Sally and I attended junior school together and we’d been in the same class since first grade. At the beginning of this year we started at different high schools, but we remained best friends. Even though my skinny mate Michael is three years younger than me, he was a good few inches taller. We've always been close friends, too. We were tossing a ball in the back yard when I realised my bladder was full. I belatedly grabbed the head of my peenie through my cotton shorts and ran for the toilet. Michael started laughing at the tell-tale grip I had on my crotch. His cobalt-blue eyes sparkled with mischief when he yelled after me; "Run! Don't wet your pants again, Jeremy!"

I sprinted inside the house, desperately trying to hold my wee. I dashed into the downstairs bathroom where I found Mum hovering over a disconsolate Angie, bound on her tiny potty-chair and complaining fitfully. The scene caught me by surprise and I started giggling uncontrollably as I struggled to pull my dribbling peenie out of my tight shorts and undies. With a start I realised a few drops of wee-wee had already leaked out to dampen my pants. There was a tell-tale dark spot on the front of my khaki shorts and I turned my back on Mum, hopefully before she noticed. I finally managed to free my trickling tool and with a sigh of relief, relaxed my bladder to let my stream splash noisily into the toilet. To distract Mum from the obvious wet spot on my shorts, I called my sister a stupid baby, telling her she was a "Potty Princess" and some other silly names. Needless to say that set Angie to screaming and crying again, and there was nothing Mum could do to make her stop.

Finally exasperated with both of us, Mum gave up with a loud sigh of despair. She unbuckled Angie from her hated potty-chair while I finished peeing in the toilet. She taped a clean disposable diaper safely back in place around Angie's bum and carried my pouting baby sister out of the bathroom, sending her toddling towards the lounge room with a crisp swat to the rear. In a cross voice Mum ordered me to wait in the kitchen for her when I finished washing my hands. Minutes later she stormed into the kitchen, her olive-green eyes blazing. "Well, my little lad! You’ve really done it this time! I had the devil of a time convincing Angie to try out her new potty-chair! Now you've made it damn-nigh impossible! I'm sure she will never willingly try again. You wait until your father gets home tonight. You are going to be one sorry little boy, I can promise you that!"

I saw her eyes drop to the front of my khaki shorts and her delicate arched eyebrows rose another notch. "Have you wet your pants again?" She snarled and shook her head in annoyance, her long blonde ponytail flicking like the tail of a fractious horse. "Really, Jeremy! Sometimes I think you're the one who needs potty-training, not your baby sister!" She pointed her finger in the direction of the hallway and snapped, "Go upstairs to your room right now and change! Get out of those wet pants immediately. Dump your dirty shorts in the laundry hamper." She looked thoughtful for a moment and then wagged her finger at me in warning. "And don't shove your stinky wet underpants under the bed this time," she cautioned me. "Last time I didn't find them for days, and your bedroom reeked of stale urine all week."

I knew I was in big trouble. I hadn't seen Mum this furious in ages. I wasn't looking forward to Dad coming home, since I was pretty sure I could anticipate the belting of a lifetime. I hadn't been spanked in months but when it happened, it was really painful. After I stripped off my damp pants and underwear in my bedroom, I put on my thickest cotton undies and a pair of heavy denim shorts I hoped might help protect my bottom. I tossed my damp clothes in the dirty clothes hamper with a sigh of despair. The rest of the afternoon dragged slowly by. Mum and Angie barely spoke a word to me.

Around six that evening Dad returned home as usual. Before he wandered in to say hello, Mum drew him aside to inform him of my misdeeds. They remained in the kitchen talking in muted voices for ages. On my way to the toilet, I tried to linger within earshot in the hallway. I worried, 'How long does it take to explain what happened?' When I felt the first hot trickle leaking out of me, I grabbed the end of my peenie through my bulky shorts and undies. I squeezed the head painfully hard, belatedly cutting off the flow. I realised I couldn't hold it any longer and sprinted as quietly as I could to the downstairs bathroom, actually whimpering with the need to let go. After I emptied my bladder into the toilet, I flicked my long blonde hair back over my shoulders and carefully checked my pants for pee stains. The wet patch on my thick white undies wasn't too bad, and the dark damp spot on the front of my denim shorts was miniscule. I hoped my minor accident would pass unnoticed. I skulked silently back to the lounge room where I’d been watching TV. I was expecting Dad to storm in, snap off the blaring television and start yelling at me, and then drag me over his lap. I was really surprised when he walked into the lounge room rather calmly and quietly instructed me to turn off the TV, announcing, "Jeremy? We need to have a serious talk."

It was obvious he was extremely annoyed, but his grim controlled demeanour frightened me much more than his normal yelling. He started to carefully explain; "You should know how difficult it is to potty-train toddlers, Jeremy. You weren't fully potty-trained till you were six or seven. Even now your mother has her doubts about how successful we were.” I stared at the carpet, my cheeks flushed red with shame. “You remember how difficult life was for you, those times you wet your pants in junior school?” I nodded, biting my lip. “Your mother and I feel Angie is already passing the right age to start toilet-training. But instead of helping us, you have made this task really difficult; what with your laughing at Angie and mocking her efforts. You've had your fun, and now you are going to help us with her potty-training. We feel the best way for you to help is by setting an example. Therefore beginning tonight - like Angelica - you will start wearing nappies and using them!”

He ignored my open-mouthed look of horror and continued, “Like any toddler, the bathroom will be off-limits to you except for bath times - which your Mother will be giving you, by the way. After two weeks of wearing and using nappies full-time, we will once again try to start potty-training Angie - and you! We hope that when Angie sees you being potty-trained, she will try to copy you and more easily accept it herself.” I tried to protest but he simply steamrollered over my objections. “You will be kept in nappies until Angie is fully toilet-trained. You just better hope that your sister is safely out of nappies before school starts in February." I couldn't believe my ears! A hard spanking would’ve been preferable to this. But what could I do? I could end up wearing nappies all summer - or even longer!

After a rather subdued dinner, the whole family climbed into Dad's silver Ford Fairlane and we headed for the nearby shopping centre. We entered a huge store at the far end of the mall called 'Johnson & Johnson Medical Supplies.' Mum dragged me along by the hand towards a pretty female clerk standing behind the counter. “Good evening, Madam,” she said, “my name is Melanie. Can I help you with anything?”
"I hope so, Melanie.” While pointing at me, Mum asked the smiling buxom woman in a loud clear voice, “Do you stock nappies and plastic panties that would fit my teenage son Jeremy?" I wished I could have melted into the floor. I was so embarrassed! I'm sure my cheeks turned bright red as the woman's placid professional smile froze in place.

The sales clerk, an attractive mid-twenties brunette, eyed me up and down speculatively. She smiled up at my statuesque blonde mother before replying, "No problem! We have a variety of nappies and other diaper supplies for incontinent youths. Is your little boy a bed-wetter?" I couldn't believe it. This was going from bad to worse!
Mum shook her head. "Not recently, although he does have a problem keeping his pants dry sometimes. No, my little Jeremy here has just 'volunteered' to help us potty-train our diapered youngest, Angie, by setting a good example. That's Angie with her father over by the entrance."

The shop assistant's full rosy cheeks stretched tautly as her smile widened, her dark eyes flashing merrily. "Which would you prefer for your little Jeremy? Cloth nappies or disposable diapers?" Melanie inquired.
Mum considered her choices for a second before replying firmly, "Cloth nappies!"

We were led to the aisle where the cloth nappies were stacked, most in big bundles of twelve wrapped in clear plastic. After an experienced calculating glance at my hips, the clerk picked up two large packages with a dozen contoured white terry towelling nappies in each, along with some packets of large stainless-steel safety pins. Mum took the chosen pins from her hand and frowned, shaking her head as she rejected them. Unseen by me, she swapped them for some packets of extra-large, 'baby-proof safety-lock,' pink-headed nappy pins!
The saleswoman smiled broadly at my mother's choice and nodded in sudden understanding. With a sly smile Melanie suggested; "Your big baby should try on his new nappies at once, just to make sure they fit." Mum instantly agreed, much to my dismay.

"No way!" I objected indignantly. Dad marched over carrying Angie in his arms and gave me 'the look.' I knew I was dead meat if I protested any further. I reluctantly followed Mum and the grinning clerk into a rear 'changing-room' while Dad remained outside with my sister. The spacious change room was unlike any I remembered from other clothing stores. Instead of a seat to sit on, there was a high wooden bench supporting a thin brown, vinyl-covered mattress. The bemused clerk crisply ordered me to take off all my clothes and hop up onto the baby change table!

I looked up at Mum with pleading eyes but found no sympathy in her cool dispassionate gaze. Slowly I stripped off my t-shirt and ratty old sandshoes and handed them to my mother, my cheeks flushing warmly. I pulled down my heavy denim shorts and removed my socks, standing there in my pee-stained white underpants. Again I hoped for a reprieve from Mum but she was holding out her hand waiting impatiently for me to finish undressing, her frown deepening when she spied the fresh damp spots on the front of my old white underpants. Slowly and unwillingly I removed my undies and Mum snatched the garment from my hands. “Give me those! Look, Melanie.” She disdainfully pointed out to the saleswoman the shameful still-wet yellow spots, in addition to the many overlapping old pee stains.

The attractive brunette snorted in disgust and agreed, "Clearly nappies are the best option for a hopeless pants-wetter like him." She turned to glare at me. “Up on the change table, you naughty child!” Naked and acutely embarrassed, I jumped up onto the vinyl-covered mattress, defensively covering my crotch with my cupped hands. The bench was fairly high but I clambered up pretty easily, and I sat there watching the women with suspicious eyes. The clerk instructed me to lie down on my back, which I did with mounting reluctance.

The smirking saleslady opened one of the packages of white terrycloth nappies and turned to Mum. "I’ll be glad to show you how we recommend diapering bigger children. I am sure you're used to doing it for babies and toddlers, but older wetters require some special techniques." She held up one of the thick hourglass-shaped nappies to display it to my mother. "These are the best, cheapest, plain cotton contoured nappies we stock for older wetters. They are made from two layers of fluffy double-sided terry towelling sewn together and are very absorbent. How many nappies do you want to use at a time?"

"It's important that our Angie can readily see that our Jeremy is actually wearing nappies, so they should be very thick! How about two nappies to start with?"
The smirking clerk selected two of the huge cloth nappies and arranged them together. She sang to me, “Lift that botty high in the air.” She slid the bunched nappies together under my elevated rear. “And down.” I was surprised by the mound of cushiony softness under my bum. Melanie shot me an odd questioning look and turned to my mother to ask, "Will little Jeremy be making poopies in his nappies too?" Her toothy smile seemed suddenly shark-like.
"Since he will be wearing them all the time, I would say most definitely!" Mum tartly responded. My mind reeled and my jaw dropped in horror at this unexpected revelation.
"In that case I have a great product for you." The grinning saleswoman slipped out of the changing room leaving me lying beside my mother, naked and shame-faced on top of the pile of soft fluffy nappies. They felt at least two inches thick under my trembling bottom.

I hadn't even thought of messing in the nappies! I shook my head in useless denial, silently mouthing the words, ‘No, no…’ My blushes intensified when I realised this added a whole new humiliating dimension to my already-embarrassing predicament. Mum gripped my shoulder tightly, nodding and smiling resolutely down at me as if to remind me I had no say in the matter. She was in complete control.

The sales clerk returned in a few moments with a plastic package she held out for Mum's inspection, saying, "These are flushable, disposable nappy-liners. They will prevent most of your child's faeces from coming in contact with the cloth nappies, but still let baby's urine pass through. In addition to being safe to flush down the toilet, they also have a moisture barrier so they help prevent nappy rash. We wouldn't want your little Jeremy here to suffer from a nasty diaper rash, would we?" She grinned down at me in malicious satisfaction as though she enjoyed my writhing discomfort. It was almost like she was deliberately trying to embarrass me. "When your big baby messes in his nappies, not only will cleaning him up be simpler, but washing his soiled nappies will be easier too."

"That sounds wonderful! We'll take a package of the disposable liners as well," Mum insisted, nodding in agreement. The smug self-satisfied clerk slit open the plastic package and pulled out some of the disposable blue fabric liners. She instructed me to lift my botty again, and she positioned two rectangular liners in the centre on top of the pile of nappies. She reached for a bottle of baby oil and smoothed it all over my hairless crotch and bottom. This was followed by a generous amount of talcum powder sprinkled liberally about, covering my bottom, stomach, groin and thighs. When she rubbed it in, all of a sudden I really smelled like a baby!

The front flap was then pulled up snugly between my legs, and the saleslady showed my Mum how to pull the bottom edges right up into the crease of my groin. She pinned one side closed with one pink-capped pin, then drew the other rear flap over my tummy as far around as possible. Once again she demonstrated how she pushed the crotch of the bulky nappy right into the junction of my legs, and then she pinned the second flap tightly in place with two of the big pink pins. She then unfastened the pin in the first flap and drew that side even tighter. She pinned the first flap around my waist with another two pink pins, explaining; "These large cloth diapers have to be double-pinned extra-tight on bigger babies like your Jeremy, otherwise they might loosen and slip down when your bigger wetter saturates his nappy." I couldn't believe how thick the crotch section felt bunched between my thighs.

"There, all diapered! See how easy it is?" My mother nodded in understanding, smiling in contempt at the infantile picture I presented. She tugged on the front of my snug nappy to check for herself how tightly it was pinned, nodding in approval. Melanie cooed, "Now you wait here, Jeremy, and your Mummy and I will find you some lovely wetproof baby panties to wear over your new nappies. Okay baby?" I glared at her in reply but she merely sniggered. Chatting brightly to each other like old friends, Mum and Melanie left me alone in the changing room in a state of shock. Here I was lying on a baby changing table pinned into some thick cloth nappies, knowing that this was only the beginning! A few minutes later the smiling women returned, both clutching handfuls of plastic panties, all in feminine colours and styles it seemed to me.

For one awful moment I wondered if Mum knew I had been secretly trying on her sexy nylon panties and silky slips over the past year or so. There was also that terrible occasion a month or two ago when my buxom older teen cousin caught me trying on her recently-discarded cheerleader panties. But I knew Bonnie hadn't seen Mum since then to tell her what I'd done, so I felt sure my secret was safe for the time being. And the occasions I'd dressed up in a tutu at my girlfriend-next-door Sally's house to play ballerinas with her and her kid sister were all in plain fun. That was ages ago, anyway. Although over the past months I’d been regularly borrowing Mum's silkiest, recently-worn panties from the laundry hamper to secretly wear in bed at night under my pyjamas. I loved the way the smooth material caressed my hard swollen peenie when I pulled her silky knickers high over my slender hips.

Mum's smallest panties were way too large on me of course, although some of her stretchy satin ones felt quite snug around my little bottom cheeks. At least they didn’t slide down when I modelled them in front of the mirror. Her heavy nylon half-slips fell almost to the floor from my narrow shoulders, almost like gorgeous full-length satin evening dresses. They looked and felt so glamorous. I dressed in Mum’s underwear at bedtime some nights too, whenever I thought I could get away with it. I would occasionally turn on my tummy in bed and rub my panty-clad stiffie against the mattress. The thrilling sensations of her slick nylon panties rubbing against my stiff little peenie were amazing! I would lie there quietly grunting and thrusting my groin into the sheets for what must have been hours. When I awoke in the morning, sometimes there were sticky wet spots in the front of the borrowed knickers. I always stuffed the balled-up stained panties in the bottom of the laundry hamper the next morning. I felt certain Mum hadn't noticed - at least until I saw the bundles of frilly baby panties she carried in her hands.

"Here we are! Let's try these lovely pull-up plastic panties on you first, little one," suggested the broadly smiling clerk, speaking down to me like she was talking to a shy toddler. Melanie instructed me, “Lift your footsies and point your widdle toesies,” and she fed my feet through the lace-trimmed leg holes of some stiff transparent pink vinyl panties decorated with cartoon farm animals. My mind went blank and I numbly followed the instructions she crooned to me in saccharine baby tones. “Footsies down and lift that botty. That‘s right. Good baby.” The saleswoman slid the noisily crackling pilchers up my legs and when I raised my bottom, she tugged the tight elastic waistband up over the bulk of my new swaddling.

The baby pants fitted over the nappies well enough, but the wide white, elasticised leg bands with the lace-trim felt too tight around my upper thighs when she tucked them in under my nappy crotch. I plucked at one lacy leg band and dared to complain. “I can’t wear these. They’re too tight!”
The pushy clerk smacked my hand away and interrupted my whining, stating firmly; "But that's excellent! That means these baby panties are less likely to leak!” She tucked the wayward leg band back under my crotch where it belonged. “And being transparent, your Mummy can easily see when her big baby's nappy is wet and needs changing."

To my dismay, my mother agreed with each observation with mounting enthusiasm. I was ordered to hop off the table so they could check how well they fitted me while standing. Mum and the clerk prodded and poked my bulging nappies through the tight panties and pulled at the frilly elastic leg and waist bands experimentally, tugging me this way and that like a rag doll. After commenting at unbelievable length on the style and coverage of the snug-fitting baby panties, finally they both agreed they were "a perfect fit!"

Mum grabbed the inch-wide band of white lace around the waistband and pulled them down my legs, yanking the crackling panties free of my feet so that I stumbled like an unsteady toddler. I was then forced to try on about a dozen different styles of vinyl or plastic, snap-on and pull-up baby panties. Some pairs had two layers; an inner wetproof PVC lining with a swishy outer layer of brightly coloured nylon, with rows of lacy frills across the seat. In my humble opinion, most of the baby pants looked extremely feminine in both colour and design, but I didn’t dare complain. Part of me was secretly thrilled at the thought of wearing such feminine apparel. Mum decided to keep most of the pull-up panties. Some of the frillier nylon-covered plastic panties even had matching bibsand Mum declared; "I love these bibs! My new baby definitely must have some of these!" They too were added to the huge packages of nappies in the trolley, along with the nappy liners and several bundles of my new wet-proof 'underwear.'

Mindful of a good sales opportunity, the helpful saleswoman suggested; "I recommend buying a package of suitable disposable diapers too, for your new big baby. They’re much more convenient when you’re away from home for longer periods, if your big baby needs a quick diaper change." Mum realised that her advice made sense, and the willing clerk fetched a large plastic parcel of disposable diapers she assured Mum were in my correct size. I noticed the pastel-pink package was clearly labelled 'Extra-extra-large, junior size 6, girl's super-thick night-time variety.'

Mum briskly ordered me to put back on the first pair of pink vinyl panties I'd tried. She handed them to me and when I appeared reluctant, she snatched them back. “Lift your foot,” she brusquely snapped. She threaded my trembling toes into the lace-trimmed elasticised leg hole. “That’s it. Good baby. Now the other one.” As soon as she helped me tug the tight lacy waistband of the stiff crackling panties up over my bulky nappy, Mum grabbed my hand and hauled me out towards the main shopping area.
I was wearing nothing but nappies and frilly pink plastic panties! “No Mum! No, wait!” I ineffectually tried to wrench my hand away, protesting, “I can't leave the changing rooms dressed like this! Please don't make me go out there!" I begged my stony-faced mother, writhing in embarrassment.

"You might as well get used to being seen in your nappies and plastic panties, Jeremy. You'll be wearing nappies for quite a while I suspect, and lots of people will be seeing you in them! Don't make any more problems for me or you will be even more sorry!" Mum threatened darkly.

I frankly didn't know how I could be sorrier than I already was. My bottom lip began to droop as I realised I had no choice but to obey, and I reluctantly let my cranky mother drag me outside. As I started to walk - or maybe I should say waddlealong behind her, the crinkling and crackling of the new stiff plastic panties announced my entrance like a deafening fanfare - or at least it sounded that way to my sensitive ears. When we emerged hand-in-hand from the changing rooms, Dad and Angie were standing nearby and spotted us immediately. Dad couldn't help but smile broadly at my humble downcast appearance. What really hurt was when Angie joyfully asked; "Is Jeremy going to start wearing nappies like me now?" Dad smiled tightly and nodded in reply. When he told my sister that I was going to be a baby just like her for some time, I wanted to weep - just like the sissy baby I was being turned into!

In addition to the nappies and baby panties, the overly-helpful sales clerk suggested to Mum, “We also stock onesies and footed baby sleepers that would probably fit a child his size. Would you like me to show you?” Mum gripped my hand tightly as we followed the woman over to the 'alternative clothing' section of the store. The clerk opened a box containing a white stretchy cotton onesie and informed Mum. "This style and size should probably fit him, although it is a size six to eight! Didn't I hear you mention that little Jeremy here is in his teens?"
Mum's polite smile turned sardonic and her tone frosty when she replied; "Yes Melanie, I'm afraid he is. He turned thirteen two months ago! But he's very small for his age and often acts like a six-year-old - or even younger!" I was scowling fiercely by the time Mum released my hand to inspect the short-sleeved cotton onesie. It was basically white but had a babyish print of six pink teddies dancing across the breast. After stretching it out experimentally across my slender chest, she asked the bemused clerk, “Would it be okay for him to try it on here?” When the pretty brunette smiled and nodded enthusiastically, my mother instructed me to raise my hands and threaded the juvenile garment over my arms and bowed head. She tugged it down over my bulky nappy, and stretched the tail hanging over my padded bum to check the size.

"Spread your legs more, Jeremy," Mum curtly commanded. She knelt in front of me and reached between my splayed thighs, pulling the dangling crotch pieces together. She deftly clipped closed the five chromed snap fasteners under my groin. It felt strangely arousing when Mum pushed up hard against my genitals, even protected as they were by the thick nappies. It was kind of like when I massaged my sensitive swollen peenie through my shorts sometimes. She stood up and admired my new 'underwear,' pulling it higher at the shoulders till the crotch band tugged my snug nappy even harder against my groin. She twirled me around and rearranged the onesie's sides down over my bulging rear until my pink plastic panties were completely enclosed, the stretchy material taut across my huge bottom and clearly outlining the thick nappy pinned beneath.

Mum trickled her fingertips along the frilly bands of white lace peeping out attractively all the way around each leg hole, smiling and nodding in approval. "This one fits just fine! I want six more, please Melanie. I’d like a variety of colours and patterns if they're available." Naturally they were. I morosely huddled next to my father and sister, studiously ignoring Mum as she chose the colours and patterns she liked best. Mindful of her preference in baby panties and nappy pins, the clerk only showed my mother the most feminine pastel colours and prints. When the sales clerk helpfully pointed to the bargain box of winter footed pyjamas on sale, Mum declared, "Since it's still summer, my new baby can sleep in just a onesie. We don't need footed sleepers for my little one - not yet." I felt relieved she didn't buy any of the babyish footed sleepers for me. Mum handed me my shoes and held up the plastic bag containing the rest of my normal clothes. She asked the assistant, “Do you sell any outer wear here, Melanie? His old shorts won’t fit over his nappy.”

Melanie shook her head. “Unfortunately we don’t sell ordinary clothes in this store.” While I was tying one of the broken laces on my sandshoes, the grinning sales clerk assured us, "The department store at the other end of the mall stocks some rather suitable clothing for pre-teen wetters like your little Jeremy." She turned her back to me and whispered instructions to my sniggering mother, who laughed loudly at one suggestion.
“Thank you, Melanie. You’ve been a great help,” Mum assured the smiling saleswoman, who waved away her thanks before walking off.

Dad paid for all my new stuff at the check-out. After Mum removed a couple of items and placed them in a smaller pink plastic bag she kept with her, he wheeled the loaded trolley out to the car, along with the bag containing my original clothes. When he returned empty-handed a few minutes later, we walked over to the department store at the other end of the crowded mall. I was dragged along by one hand wearing only my baby pants and thick nappies, the infantile white onesie and my tatty old sandshoes. I let my head hang down so that my long blonde hair fell forward, trying to hide my burning red face. I was terrified someone would recognise me. I can only imagine what people must have thought when they saw me waddle by, my Mum pulling me along by one hand like a shy toddler.

Mum insisted we visit the girl's clothing department first, and she handed the small pink plastic bag she was holding to Dad. I had no idea why she wanted to go to the girl's section until we reached a rack full of little girls' cotton drill shortalls. They looked exactly the same as cut-down shortie bibbed overalls for toddlers, only bigger. Mum sorted through the sizes and colours on the long rack and she pulled out a pair of pink shortalls obviously designed for a chubbier girl. She held them up in front of me with a pleased smile. "I think these will do," she stated firmly. "Let's try them on you, honey." From her tone I knew it wasn’t a suggestion.

I couldn't decide what was better. To remain clad only in a revealing infantile onesie? Or let her dress me in an effeminate pair of pink shortalls - which at least might conceal my humiliating nappies. In my confusion, I didn't offer much resistance when Mum sharply ordered me to try them on, holding the pink overalls down and open in front of me in blunt invitation. I instinctively grabbed Mum's shoulders for support as I awkwardly stepped into the gaping leg holes. The thick wad of cloth bunched between my thighs made every movement clumsy. She pulled them up my legs and with difficulty tugged the shirred elastic waistband over my big diapered bottom, almost lifting me off my feet in the process.

Mum grumbled that the fit was too tight and yanked them down. I stumbled badly as I stepped out of them, almost falling on my face. She ignored my clumsy stagger and she selected another pair of pink shortalls in the next larger size, announcing loudly; "Try these bigger ones, Jeremy. We have to make sure there is plenty of room for your thick nappies, sweetheart!" My cheeks turned pink with embarrassment and my eyes anxiously darted about, checking to see if any of the customers or staff wandering about had heard my mother's humiliating admonishment. She helped me into the larger outfit and pulled the bib front high over my chest. Apparently she was satisfied with the roomier fit around my bulky hips and protruding bottom. The dangling pink shoulder straps at the rear were brought over my narrow shoulders and connected to the high bib front, and she adjusted them for a even snugger fit at the crotch.

When I tried to assist her, Mum simply batted my hands away and did it herself. She was deliberately making me feel more and more like a useless toddler with every passing moment, especially when she man-handled me like an incompetent pre-schooler. "I can pick up some snap fasteners at the fabric store tonight and sew them in the crotch for you," she commented. Her tight smile never reached her cool olive-green eyes. "It will make for easier nappy changes later. Then your pretty pink shortalls will be just like a real baby's!"

Mum noted with a snort of annoyance that I was still wearing my shabby old sneakers. She pointed at my feet and exclaimed in disgust, "Those old things will never do!" She dragged me over to the nearby girls' shoe section where she picked out some pink sneakers for me to try on. When the young female assistant explained I wouldn't be allowed to try on any shoes unless I was wearing socks or stockings, Mummy strode over to the girls' sock display and opened a new packet of white cotton socks for me. She made me sit in a chair on my big padded bottom and then knelt in front of me, tugging the almost-sheer white socks over my obediently-pointed toes. When she turned the sock tops down, I saw there were two elaborate rows of wide pink lace frills flaring out around my ankles. Mum had dressed me in little girl's frilly anklet socks!

After the pretty smiling assistant took Mum's place at my femininely-clad feet, she couldn't stop stealing glances at my obviously padded crotch. Although the question was clearly written in her wide blue eyes, she didn't say a word about my babyish outfit while she tied the fluffy lolly-pink laces on the new sandshoes for me. When she grinned and stepped out of the way, I was finally allowed to stand and view my appearance in a full-length mirror. I could hardly believe what had happened to me in less than half an hour! As Mum selected a few more pairs of frilly socks for me from the rack she told me, "I want you to wear your new socks and pink sneakers home, baby. They really complete your 'new look'!"

In the mirror I caught sight of Dad returning with my sister. My eyes widened when I saw Angie was also dressed in a new outfit. She too, wore a new pair of pink cotton drill shortalls over her white terry onesie, and she was wearing her usual pink sneakers with pink-frilled white anklet socks. With a start I realised Angie and I were dressed like twin sisters! With a brief smile of contempt, Dad grimly informed me, "I don't know if I mentioned it before, but you and Angie will be dressed alike from now on. We thought that your sister would be more anxious to copy you and follow your example on the potty if you two looked more alike."
Needless to say Angie was thrilled when she saw her big brother dressed in exactly the same fashion as herself, right down to the bulging nappies. She already adored buying new clothes - girls seem to love shopping for clothes even at an early age - and was proud as Punch to be dressed just like her big brother. She didn't understand that it was really the other way around; I was dressed just like her!

While paying for my new outfit, Mum suggested to Dad, "Brett, why don't you take our 'girls' to the ice-cream store while I finish my shopping." She smiled down at me with a knowing glint in her cool olive-green eyes. "It's going to be so much fun buying pretty new clothes for my new baby girl, now that I know her proper girl's size!" My mind reeled. I didn’t know what to think. Dad took Angie and me by the hand and walked us out of the store, leading us over to the ice-cream parlour in the centre of the mall. I stayed close to Dad and ducked my head in embarrassment, but tried to keep a wary eye out in case any of my friends might be wandering about.

"Aren't your toddler girls adorable!" some confused old woman gushed at Dad while we were walking along hand-in-hand. I knew I looked like an oversized toddler, but it didn't occur to me that strangers would think I was a girl toddler! Though it should have been obvious. There I was wearing pink shoes and pink shortalls, frilly socks, and I had shoulder-length blonde hair. Dad politely thanked the elderly woman for the compliment without correcting her mistake, much to my puzzlement. It usually annoyed him when someone mistook me for a girl.

I’d started growing my hair again over a year ago, after the girl-next-door's mum told me it would look really pretty if I grew it longer. My dad used to make me cut it real short, almost like a crew-cut, telling me he was sick and tired of me being mistaken for a girl all the time. But last Christmas I timidly stood up for myself, and told Mum I didn't want to look like a concentration-camp victim any more. I wanted to grow my hair longer, like most of the other kids. She convinced Dad to let me have my own way. Except for having the ends trimmed a couple of times - at Mum's firm insistence - my hair had grown untouched for most of the year.

When we arrived at the ice-cream store, Dad bought us all small vanilla cones and led us to a booth to sit down. Before I could start on my ice-cream, he emptied the small pink plastic bag on the table and two plastic-backed cotton bibs fell out. He clipped one of the childish bibs around my neck so I wouldn't mess my new clothes, and I started to frown and sulk - till I realised at least Angie had to wear a bib, too. The only bearable thing about this whole evening was that I hadn't yet been spotted by any of my friends, either at the department store or in the ice-cream parlour. I knew it was only a matter of time and I was dreading the excruciating moment of discovery. I tried to forget about my embarrassing predicament and gobbled my yummy ice-cream with relish.

We later met Mum at the entrance to the department store, where she was waiting with a couple of huge, suspiciously-full shopping bags. She grinned at my appearance and after handing one of the bags of shopping to Dad, she flicked up the ice-cream-stained bib covering my chest. I blanched when I realised I had unwittingly worn the humiliating baby item during our entire stroll back through the mall. I ineffectually plucked at the bottom of my dirty bib and glanced warily at the overflowing bags of shopping. I could only imagine what the bulging plastic bags contained. Mum told me to leave my bib alone while we walked slowly to the car, and thankfully Dad then drove us home. Angie was still excited about our new matching clothes, and twittered on about "how cool" it was for us to be dressed alike. She chattered endlessly about it all the way home. I wished I could share her enthusiasm.

Since it was already after eight in the evening and past Angie's bedtime, I was told it was also time for me to be 'put down for the night.' After brushing my teeth, Mum helped me take off my bib, my new pink shortalls and my girly shoes and socks. She ordered me to climb straight into bed. Before she pulled the covers over me, Mum reached under my onesie and inside one of the tight leg holes of my crackling pink plastic panties. She fingered the crotch of my bulky cloth nappies and I gazed up at her in astonished confusion. "Still dry, my baby?" She smiled in anticipation. "I'll bring you some milk after I put Angie down."
A few minutes later Mum returned with a sippy-cup full of warm milk. She handed it to me and instructed me to drink it all down. After I drained it, she took the plastic toddler cup from my shaky hands and turned out the light. She whispered; "Sweet dreams, Baby Jeremy." It took me forever to fall asleep. I twisted and turned from side to side, unaccustomed to the bulky nappies and the noisy crackling plastic panties. The thick padding between my legs prevented me from lying comfortably on my side as I usually did. My thighs were forced so far apart, they were really uncomfortable. I rolled on my back, my little legs flopping uncontrollably wide apart, the bedcovers tenting over my hugely padded loins. I lay awake for some time, scared of what the morrow might bring.

To be continued...

#2 babyjennie

babyjennie

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Posted 04 October 2007 - 07:08 AM

Chapter 2. Baby's First Accident

Since I’d been put to bed so early, I awoke rather early the following morning. I lay there listening to the silent household gradually stirring to life. Even though it was Saturday, a day I usually enjoyed sleeping late, I needed to do a wee-wee really badly! I knew that the toilet was off-limits to me. I debated with myself whether I could sneak into the Nursery en-suite bathroom down the hall. I couldn’t use the main bathroom opposite Mum and Dad’s bedroom. They’d surely hear me. I wondered if I could pull down my nappy and use the Nursery loo without getting caught. While I was still mentally arguing, Mum strode into my bedroom wearing a huge smile. She yanked down my top sheet and crooned, "Good morning Babycakes! How are we today? Are we wet?" Without waiting for an answer, she slipped two fingers beneath my onesie crotch and reached inside the tight leg band of my frilly plastic panties. She expertly probed my nappy around the crotch. "Still dry, I see!" She exclaimed in astonishment. She shook her head and chuckled. "Well, you can't hold out forever. Let Mummy dress you first baby, and then you can help me dress Angie for the day."

I pouted up at her in misery and whined; "Oh Mum! Do I really have to wear nappies? I learned my lesson yesterday. I promise I won't ever tease Angie about her potty-training again. I'll be good, really!"

"Oh I know you'll be good - really! And yes, you do have to wear your nappies! Don't think of this as a punishment, but rather your small contribution towards helping us successfully potty-train your little sister. Besides, I think it might be fun! Oh and by the way; as part of your new status, I've decided it would be more appropriate if you called us Mummy and Daddy from now on. Hop out of bed now baby, and Mummy will dress you for the day."

I slowly climbed out of bed and Mum - I mean Mummy - took me firmly by the hand and led me waddling into Angie's spacious bedroom. My attention was focused on trying to retain my aching bladder and I stumbled after her like a clumsy infant. She unsnapped and removed my snug white onesie, then reached into a dresser drawer and pulled out a new lemon-yellow folded garment. She shook it out and I could see it was some kind of stretchy terry cotton, sleeveless girl's snap-crotch romper suit. It had a bib front and slender straps going over the shoulders, both adorned with white lace frills. "Okay, let's put this on you, honey. It will be good for playing in." The snug elasticised waist and leg bands and the full-cut bubble bottom seemed to emphasise my bulky nappies underneath even more when I tried it on. Mummy turned me around to button closed the crossed shoulder straps at the back, and then she ran her fingers through my lustrous long blonde hair. "I think it's time to fix your hair in a more suitable style, sweetheart," she murmured. "Sit down on the stool here in front of the dressing table while I comb you out, baby."

Mummy made a part down the middle of my head, drawing my long locks to either side. She then combed my hair down in the front over my forehead. With a pair of sharp scissors she created a neat, even set of bangs, a fraction of an inch above my eyebrows. The hair on each side of my head was brushed straight, gathered, and then braided into neat six-inch blonde pigtails bound with hair elastics. A little yellow satin ribbon was tied into a pretty bow at the end of each pigtail, matching my romper perfectly. When I saw myself in the mirror I was truly shocked, and let out a small yelp. I’d always wanted to look like a girl, but I looked like an overgrown toddler girl.

My grinning Mummy tried to reassure me, telling me that I looked like a really cute little girl! "Stop worrying! No one will recognise you. Nobody would suspect you're really a boy - unless they know you really well." Her assurances didn't make me feel any better. We then walked over to Angie's bed and woke my sleeping sister. While rousing from her sound sleep, she groggily asked us, "Who’s the girl standing next to you, Mummy?" She then recognised ‘the girl’ was her new 'baby sister,' Jeremy. She was so thrilled to see me dressed in my rompers and pigtails, her cute little face lit up in delight and she giggled sleepily.

"Time for you to hop out of bed and be dressed just like Jeremy, sweetie-pie. But let's check your diaper first." Just as she did for me, Mummy checked Angie's night nappy and gaily announced, “My goodness, honey! You are soaked! You need to be changed right away!“. Turning to me, Mummy declared, "Now you can be Mummy's little helper, sweetie." Angie's cloth nappy was saturated and I helped Mummy change her on the padded change table. I had to dump the soggy nappy and damp pink baby panties in the white nappy bucket under the table, while Mummy spread a papery pink disposable under my sister's raised rear.

Mummy thoroughly cleaned my sister’s pink bottom and thighs, then used a fresh baby wipe to carefully swipe along her puffy little slit in front several times, until Angie began giggling uncontrollably. I poured on the talc and my smiling Mummy rubbed it in, then she brought the front flap over my chortling sister's powdery tummy. During the day Mummy usually only tapes a disposable diaper around my baby sister's hips, and it was no surprise that Angie also ended up wearing a yellow terry romper over her crackling disposable. We were dressed like twins girls again.

Mummy shepherded Angie and me downstairs and into the kitchen for breakfast. Dad was reading his newspaper at the kitchen table and he looked up at us and grinned broadly. "My goodness! Don't my 'girls' look pretty today!" I blushed, but couldn't think of a clever comeback. That's when I noticed that in addition to Angie's usual booster seat, her old pink highchair was standing beside the breakfast table. Dad explained to Mum, "I'm afraid since we don't have another booster seat, Jeremy will have to sit in Angie's old highchair for his meals. I'm sure glad we didn't give it away."

"Why can't I just sit in a regular chair, Dad…dy? I am NOTsitting in a stupid highchair!" That was a mistake! Before I could react, Daddy leapt out of his chair and snatched me up, and smacked my thickly padded rear hard enough to hurt. SMACK! I almost wet myself in shock!

He dumped me heavily on the wooden highchair's pink padded vinyl seat, tightly strapped me in with the attached worn white leather crotch and waist belts, and then angrily snapped the tray table in place. "This is where you will be sitting for all your meals, little one - and no arguments! Do you hear me?" I was smart enough not to say anything to further enrage him. I meekly sat there and silently nodded, my lower lip trembling uncontrollably. The smack hadn't hurt that much, but it was so humiliating when he spoke to me and treated me like a naughty two-year-old.

Tears of shame welled up in my eyes, making me blink rapidly. I willed myself to stop crying like a sissy baby and managed to hold them back. Mummy ignored my protruding bottom lip and trembling chin as she clipped a pink terry bib around my neck, before smoothing it out over my chest in a comforting maternal gesture. A plastic bowl of milky cereal and a spoon were placed on the wide pink wooden tray in front of me, and everyone seemed to ignore me for the moment. While eating my breakfast in sulky silence, I could no longer retain the contents of my aching bladder. I gave in with a barely repressed shudder and froze as I flooded my nappies with urine. The surprisingly hot stream jetted out of me, splashing against the front of my nappy and rebounding violently against my groin. I experienced the strangest feeling of combined relief and embarrassment, in addition to a weirdly pleasant sensation of creeping heat around my loins. I’d been holding it for so long that the comforting warm stream seemed to last forever. After the initial explosive rush it tricked slowly out my twitching peenie, eventually seeping into the absorbent fluffy terrycloth layers under my bum. I tried not to let it show that I was saturating my nappies while I quietly finished eating my breakfast. I have no idea when my bladder finally finished emptying.
When everyone else had finished eating, I asked Mummy the most difficult question I ever had to ask in recent memory. While still trapped in the humiliating pink highchair, in a low voice I muttered; "Can you change my nappy, Mum?"

"What did you say, Baby Jeremy?" She snapped in obvious annoyance. She frowned in warning as she handed me a pink sippy-cup full of watered-down orange juice.

"Mummy, would you please change my nappy?" I asked in a slightly louder voice, ducking my head in shame as I corrected my mistake.

"Why baby? Are you wet?” My cheeks were blazing with guilty embarrassment as I meekly nodded in reply. Mummy pursed her lips and nodded too. “Alright then. Certainly, baby! After you finish your juice I would be happy to oblige. Angelica, then you can be Mummy's little helper and help me change your baby sister's wet nappy." To my dismay, Angie seemed thrilled by the prospect of helping Mummy change my diaper.

When my sippy-cup was empty, Mummy took it from me and then unlocked and removed the tray, and then released me from the highchair restraints. After she lifted me down, we all walked - I waddled heavily - up the stairs and into Angie's bedroom. I was instructed to climb up on the padded vinyl-covered changing table and lie down on my back. Mummy unsnapped the crotch piece of my stretchy yellow rompers and let the front flap flip up over my chest. My stiff pink plastic panties were pulled down and off, and the heavy wet nappies unpinned and removed as well. They were thoroughly soaked in the crotch and smelled strongly of fresh urine. Mummy wrinkled her nose in distaste as she dumped the stinky cloth nappies in the big white diaper pail that was already partially filled with Angie's soiled cloth nappies.

"I think we should buy you your own diaper pail, Jeremy," Mummy brightly suggested. "Wouldn't that be lovely? We could even print your name on it!" It was hard to appear excited about owning my own nappy bucket. "Angie darling, can you hand me two of Jeremy's cloth nappies, please?" While Angie slowly counted out the fluffy white cloth nappies for me from the stack underneath the changing table, Mummy was busy cleaning, oiling and powdering my bare bottom and groin.

"Here are Jeremy's nappies," Angie offered helpfully.
"Why thank you, sweetheart! Can you fetch me some clean baby panties from that open dresser drawer, please?" Mummy placed the nappies between my splayed thighs along with two disposable nappy liners, slid them under my raised bottom, and then pinned them on me just as tightly as the clerk did at the store, using two of the pink plastic-headed pins to secure each side. Angie returned with some bright yellow plastic panties that snapped up the sides at the front, and patiently waited beside the change table while my fresh nappy was tightly pinned in place. Mummy again profusely thanked Angie for her help before she slid the opened fresh panties under my obligingly-raised rear. Positioning the front on top of my tightly pinned nappies, she snapped the sides together and then checked that any stray bits of cloth were completely sealed inside the layer of wetproof plastic. Satisfied, Mummy pulled down the ends of my stretchy yellow romper and snapped the front to the back under my bulging crotch.

"Okay, you're all done! Thank you Angelica, for helping Mummy change the baby. Do you want to go outside and play in the backyard, sweetie?"

"Yes please, Mummy!" Angie agreed with bouncing enthusiasm. We slowly headed downstairs and shuffled down the hallway towards the back door. By now my sister understood that whenever she was playing outside in our yard, she had to wear her toddler harness and a leash, so she couldn't accidentally wander off. Our spacious backyard was not completely fenced, only lined with low oleander bushes for most of the perimeter.

Angie waited impatiently while Mummy took down her old white leather toddler harness, before fastening the straps around her chest and waist. I idly wondered why Mummy was using her worn old harness, but not for long. She grabbed Angie's new, larger, pink leather toddler harness from the hook behind the back door, and threaded the straps over my head and arms before I could back away. She swiftly spun me around and buckled the chest strap in the rear between my shoulder blades before I had a chance to react.

"I don't need a toddler harness!" I wailed in dismay, tugging ineffectually at the strong leather chest strap, while she tightly buckled the waist belt behind me as well. The pink toddler harness was a little larger than Angie's old white one, and could easily be made to fit me by altering the adjustable chest and shoulder straps, which Daddy had done already. In addition, the new pink harness even had a wide lockable crotch strap, which made it impossible for the wearer to remove. Mummy slapped my bare thighs wider apart and kneeling behind me, reached between my spread legs. She plucked the pink leather crotch strap dangling from the front and pulled it back between my thighs, threading the end through a buckle attached to rear waistband.

Mummy stood and tugged the crotch strap tighter at the back. I felt my soft fluffy nappy being squeezed even more snugly against my genitals as I was involuntarily lifted onto my tippy-toes. She released her grip and when I dropped back on my heels, my thick nappy remained tightly pressed between my bowed legs. To my ears, the small 'click' of the rear lock closing sounded like a prison door slamming. She tugged on the big brass ring riveted near the rear buckle of the chest strap and explained; "Honey, even though you don't really need a toddler harness, your Daddy and I feel that it's important that you and Angie are treated exactly alike while you're both wearing nappies."

With my bottom lip practically dragging on the ground, we were led outside into our sunny backyard. I could see two fine chain leashes attached to the clothesline pole in the centre of the recently mowed lawn. One long leash was securely clipped onto the ring riveted to the rear of the chest strap of Angie's harness, out of her reach behind her back. The other slender length of chain was padlocked to my harness. My range was limited to about twenty feet from the pole. I couldn't leave the backyard even if I'd wanted. I felt like a naughty puppy being restrained on a leash!
I played listlessly with Angie in our sandpit at first, although she thoroughly enjoyed having someone - anyone - to play with. She now thought of me not only as her sister but as her friend and equal, dressed and treated exactly like her. We made castles and tunnels in the sand for almost an hour before it suddenly hit me. I needed to go to the toilet. I hadn’t done a poo since yesterday morning, as usual. I tried to ignore the painful cramping feeling in my lower gut for a while but before long, the initial urge became an overpowering need. The thought of messing my nappies was repugnant to me, but eventually I couldn't stand the sharp cramping pain in my bowels any longer.

I struggled upright onto my knees and when I thought Angie wasn't watching, I took a deep breath and held it. It felt strange to be kneeling outside in the bright morning sunshine, fully-dressed while trying to do a poo. But I slid my knees further apart and pushed down with my tummy muscles, and out surged a large solid log of poo-poo into my tightly pinned nappy. It hit the rear of my snug cloth diaper and stopped for a second, holding my sensitive anus wide open as I quietly grunted to force out the rest. The crotch strap of my toddler harness was buckled so tightly, there was no room for my emerging poo to escape. The firm turd began to bend and then spread slowly in all directions, so hot against my delicate anal ring and tender botty crack. There was another hotter gush from my bowels, and a softer stream of sloppy poop filled the rear of my nappy. My guts felt considerably better after relieving some of the pressure, but my bottom felt hot and mushy inside the messy diaper. Despite the uncomfortable icky squishy feeling I pushed some more, and slowly filled the seat of my snug nappy to what I suspected was the limit. For good measure, I let loose a flood of pee into my hot poopy nappy at the same time.

Talk about being a baby! I think this was as close as I could come: wearing a baby romper, toddler harness and a leash, while kneeling in the sandpit in my wet and messy nappies.
I was just about to call out to Mummy to ask for a diaper change when I heard our front doorbell ring. I froze in terror and listened intently, and distantly heard Mummy talking to someone at the front door. About thirty seconds later, our neighbour Michael came strolling around the corner of our house and into the backyard. At first my ten-year-old friend looked puzzled when he stared at us kneeling in the sandpit, obviously wondering where I was - until he finally recognised me, despite my beribboned pigtails, bulging hips, and effeminate toddler clothes. His mouth dropped open and his big blue eyes flew wide. All he could manage to gasp was; "Holy Cow! What happened to you, Jeremy?"

I wished I could have died! Because I was locked in the toddler harness and tethered to the clothesline pole, I couldn't even run away to hide my shameful state. And of all times, here I was on my knees with wet and messy nappies, just like a real baby! "H-h-hi Michael," I weakly greeted him, completely embarrassed by my irremovable toddler restraints and my feminised infantile appearance.

He hesitantly asked, “What are you wearing? Are you wearing nappies? Why is your hair in pigtails? And why are you dressed like a little girl?” I haltingly tried to explain that Mummy and Daddy had asked me to help potty-train Angie, as if this justified my humiliating situation and feminine outfit.

Michael stepped closer to the sandpit where Angie and I were still kneeling. He instantly detected the tell-tale earthy odour of a freshly-filled nappy. He sniffed the air loudly, wrinkling his nose in disgust and frowning in confusion. "It smells like someone pooped their nappies. That's not you, Jeremy - is it?" What could I say? Obviously it was me! I shrugged my shoulders in embarrassed resignation and grimaced as if to say; 'What else could I do?' Michael stepped closer to where I knelt and surprised me when he reached behind me to pat my bum. He squeezed and pressed my bulging diaper bottom through my tight yellow romper suit, and gasped in shock at the size of the distinct poo-poo parcel in my pants. If there was any doubt before, there was none now! "Omigod! You did poop your nappies!” He reached between my helplessly-splayed thighs and grabbed the front of my nappy to squeeze the crotch. “And you're wet, too! Are you a total baby?" He snatched away his hand and backed away from me in disgust,

I tried to make Michael understand that I had been forced to wear nappies since yesterday evening and finally, I’d had no choice. "I had to go!" I finally wailed in humiliated distress, tears of shame welling in my eyes. My sinking pride hit rock-bottom when I had to miserably ask my astonished young friend, "Can you please go and tell my Mummy that I need my nappy changed?"

Michael laughed scornfully at my humiliating request and my cheeks flamed anew with fresh embarrassment. "Your Mummy? Okay, baby! I'll go fetch your Mummy!" He slowly turned around, walked up to the porch and knocked on the back door, watching me the whole time with an expression of stunned disbelief marring his handsome boyish features. I couldn't meet his unwavering gaze and ducked away from his confused cobalt-blue eyes. I don't know what he said to Mummy, but she strolled out a few minutes later wearing a bright smile. She carried some of my clean cloth nappies in one hand and a big vinyl-covered, pink gingham bag full of diaper supplies over her shoulder.

I gazed up at Mummy in horror and fearfully asked what she intended doing? "Well, you asked to have your nappies changed, sweetie. I came as quickly as I could," she replied airily, as she unlocked the chain and then the crotch strap. She sniffed the fetid air surrounding me and commented, "My, my! It certainly smells like you've made a mess in that nappy, sweetheart!" She unbuckled and removed the shameful pink leather toddler harness.

"You're not going to change me out here, Mummy, are you?" I pleaded in embarrassed confusion.
"Of course I am, honey! Why ever not?" Mummy blithely demanded, and she chuckled at my apparent apprehension. She unfolded a vinyl-backed pink cotton changing mat flat on the grass, and instructed me to lie down. With Michael and Angie watching closely, she insisted on changing my poopy nappies right there in the middle of the back yard!
"But Mummy-" I groaned, my cheeks red and burning with shame. She grabbed me and simply forced me to lie on my back on the crackling pink change mat. I winced as I felt the sticky mess spread further around my rear.

"Shhh, baby! Everything's okay. Shhh. Just relax. Mummy will take care of everything. That’s right, good baby," Mummy crooned reassuringly, exactly as though she was coaxing a shy little girl to behave. She unsnapped the yellow playsuit and the front crotch piece of the stretchy terry romper flew up over my tummy, almost striking my flushed red face. "Oops! Careful, sweetie." Mummy unsnapped the side clasps of my yellow plastic panties and ordered me to lift my bottom. "That's it. Just a little higher, baby." She tucked the back of my romper safely out of the way and carefully slid the yellow panties from under my raised rear, commenting freely on the thick brown smears around the leg bands. I saw Michael shake his head in stunned disbelief, his handsome face creased in revulsion.
"Ooo, what a messy baby!” Mummy cried. “And down, baby. Lift those leggies and point your widdle toesies. Oops! Oh dear! These pilchers will have to be soaked in Napisan! Oh yuck-spuck! You really did have to go poopies, didn't you sweetheart?” The held the pants close to my face so I could see the mess I’d made. “Look at those nasty brown stains on your new baby panties," she insisted. I closed my eyes and turned my face away, my nose wrinkling in self-disgust. She clucked her tongue in mild reproval before continuing needlessly, "They won't wash out, you know. These brown poo-poo stains will fade to a nasty orange-yellow colour, unmistakable to any mother. Anyone who sees your stained pilchers will know my little Jeremy is not only a nappy-wetter, but a panty-pooper, too!" I shuddered at that fresh titbit of humiliating information. She wiped the dirty panties down with some baby wipes, and then carefully rolled the soiled yellow plastic pants into a ball. I cringed under the wide staring eyes of my horrified young friend and my fascinated little sister.


"Angie? Will you fetch me some clean baby panties from Jeremy's dresser drawer in the Nursery, please darling? These ones are too stained to use again. Thank you sweetie." Angelica happily dashed off to do her bidding while Mummy unpinned my soiled wet nappy. My cheeks turned crimson with shame when she pulled the sodden nappy front down with a sticky wet 'squelch!' "Oh baby! What a big mess you made in your nappy! Oh well. Big babies make big messes, I suppose. My, my, look at all that poo-poos! It's everywhere! Yuck-spuck! Lift your knees up to your chest, honey. That's right… Good baby. Now spread those little legs wide for Mummy. Wider, baby... That's it. Gosh those nappy-liners do a good job!" She carefully dropped the heavily soiled pieces of lint in a scented orange plastic nappy sack, and then used the relatively clean but wet front of my nappy to scrape away the worst of the mess. The filthy cloth nappies were carefully slid from under my elevated rear and rolled up, then dumped in a used plastic shopping bag lying open beside her knees. She placed the offensive item aside with a grimace of distaste, and then turned her attention to my poop-stained bottom once more.

It took Mummy several humiliating minutes to wipe my heavily-soiled botty cheeks and mucky crease clean of sticky smelly excrement, and fresh tears of shame leaked from the corners of my eyes when she disdainfully took hold of the head of my shrivelled peenie. She used it as a handle to shift my genitals from side to side as she cleaned me with a handful of cool moist baby wipes from the slim white plastic tub, till she was sure my little sack and stalk were totally free of sticky smelly faeces. The orange nappy sack was almost full of brown-stained baby wipes by the time she was satisfied I was clean, and then she massaged the baby oil and then some powder into my crotch and bottom. She placed two of the thick terry nappies together and quietly commanded, "Lift that bot-bot, baby." She slid the fresh nappies underneath me, positioned them correctly, and spread some new blue nappy liners in place. "And down - good baby." By the time Angie returned clutching a huge pair of transparent pink plastic panties, Mummy had me tightly pinned in the soft fluffy nappies.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Mummy beamed at Angie. "You're such a good little helper for Mummy!" She slipped the pink pull-up pilchers over my compliantly raised feet and drew them up to my knees, then helped me to stand so she could tug them up over my bulky diapered rear. When I was snugly dressed again in my tight yellow romper, Mummy cooed to me; "Okay Pumpkin, you're all set. Michael, if you want to stay and play with Baby Jerry and Angie until lunchtime, that would be fine." After locking my toddler harness in place and reattaching the restrictive chain leash, she checked Angie's disposable diaper. Finding her only a little damp, Mummy decided my sister's diaper change could wait until after lunch. She collected the remaining things in the pink vinyl bag, and carrying the full orange sack and the plastic bag containing my heavy stinky nappy slightly away from her body, she strolled back inside the house.

I haltingly tried to explain what had happened to me since yesterday evening to Michael but he kept interrupting. He couldn't get over how much I looked like a pretty toddler girl with my new clothes, nappies and hairdo. His big blue eyes clearly reflected his disbelief at my explanation for soiling myself, but he didn't seem so disgusted any more. “I just can’t get over how much you look like a girl,” he said for the tenth time. I told him I couldn't believe my amazing transformation, either. I begged him not to tell anyone else about my being diapered and all, and he grudgingly agreed. We played together in the sandbox for the remainder of the morning, and I actually had a pretty good time - considering how I was dressed.

At lunchtime Mummy walked out and unleashed us, then she removed our harnesses and instructed us to toddle inside to eat. She asked Michael if he would like to eat lunch with the babies, and to my dismay, my grinning friend readily agreed. After ringing his Mum for permission, he followed us into the kitchen. He was stunned into silence when I was lifted into the pink highchair. Mummy belted me into the padded seat with the attached crotch and waist straps, buckling me securely in place like I was a helpless infant in danger of toppling out. I risked one quick glance at my friend, then ducked my head in embarrassment. He stared in open-mouthed wonder when Mummy clipped a big yellow terry bib around my neck, but he still didn't utter a sound. After the pink highchair tray was solidly locked in place, I was given a typical toddler's lunch on a flat pink plastic Barbie plate. Mummy cut my ham and lettuce sandwich into bite-size chunks and my milk was served in a pink sippy-cup like Angie's. Michael had a regular whole sandwich cut in halves, and a proper glass of milk. There wasn't much conversation during lunch, but I was acutely aware of Michael's astonished blue eyes watching me in the highchair the entire time.

After lunch, Mummy told Michael that it was time for Angie and me to take our afternoon naps. But she suggested, “If you want to come back and play with the babies after their nap time, honey, you’re more than welcome.” Michael chuckled at my downcast expression, as Mummy was briskly scrubbing my grubby face and hands with a warm soapy washcloth. He made his good-byes and departed with a wave, still chortling quietly to himself. After my restraints were removed and Mummy lifted me down from the highchair, I waddled upstairs and started heading for my bedroom. But she told me I should follow her into Angie's Nursery instead. I shuffled into my sister's room and found that in addition to Angie's youth bed, Daddy had erected her old pink wooden baby crib that morning!

"Daddy and I feel it would be best if you spent as much time as possible with Angie during this 'pre-potty-training' period. Unfortunately, Angie's Nursery isn't large enough to fit your regular bed in here with hers. So your father took Angie's crib out of storage and set that up for you, Jeremy. This is where you will be sleeping from now on. I know it's a fraction small for you, but you will just have to curl up a little while you sleep."

"But Mum- unh, Mummy! I can't fit in there! I don't want to sleep in a pink baby crib! It's not fair! Why can't Angie use the stupid old crib?" I couldn't keep the childish whine of disappointment out of my voice.
"Because we're trying to help Angie learn to behave like a big girl, silly!" Mummy replied in a cool, condescending tone.
It seemed that now I was even more of a baby than Angie, what with eating in a highchair and sleeping in the pink painted baby crib. How come she got to sit in a booster sleep and sleep in a proper bed? Mummy stepped on the metal release lever near the foot of the right hand leg of the crib, and deftly caught the heavy wooden side rail as it started to drop. She lowered the high barred railing with a loud clatter and ordered me to climb in. I obeyed with grumbling reluctance. She then raised the barred crib railing, until the two inbuilt steel bolts automatically slid into the metal slots set in the wooden side posts near the top, locking it securely in place. I felt like I was in prison, and I flopped onto my back in sulky silence.

Mummy asked, "Angie, would it be okay if we give a couple of your stuffed animals to your baby sister for her to share while she sleeps in her crib?" She was more than willing to loan me her stuffed Barney and a huge pink teddy bear. Mummy brought them over to my cot and placed the stuffed toys next to me. "What do you say to your sister, Jeremy?" she demanded crisply.

"Thank you, Angie," I grunted ungraciously in reply.
After tucking Angie into her bed, Mummy closed the drapes and wished us; "Sweet dreams, my pretty babies!" I gazed out through the wooden bars at the darkened room in despair, thinking that nothing could be more degrading than this. Now I was supposed to sleep in a crib in my sister's Nursery! When Angie's breathing indicated she had fallen asleep, I wriggled over to the side of the cot near the foot end, and squeezed my hand through the narrow gap between the pink wooden bars. I tried to stretch down as far as I could, to see if I could reach the release lever. The stiff bars were made from thick inflexible hardwood, with almost no give. My straining fingers could barely reach the dull steel lever near the floor, let alone have the strength to depress it sufficiently. I was trapped like an animal in a cage. I withdrew my throbbing arm with a sigh, absent-mindedly rubbing my sore bicep with the soft plush pink teddy.


I listened carefully to make sure I couldn't hear Mummy moving around anywhere upstairs, and then quietly stood up in the cot. The sides of the cot were quite high, and I could barely poke my chin over the top rail. There were two horizontal rails at the top, though only the bottom rail was connected to the vertical wooden bars. The very top rail was made up of a system of tubes over the wooden rail inside. There was an unattached metal tube that spins around freely, and over that, another larger loose plastic tube made of a soft chewable material. A 'teething rail,' I think Mummy called it. Anyway, I stood up and hung onto the lower rail, and realised there was just enough room to slip my fingers between the two rails. When I tried to grab the top rail, the plastic tube simply rolled around in my hand, preventing me from gaining any purchase. I sighed with disappointment when I realised there was no way I could climb over the rails. Tired and dejected, I lay down and soon drifted off to sleep, which surprised me. I hadn't taken an afternoon nap in years. I awoke to find Mummy's fingers probing inside my nappy, which of course was still dry.

I thrust aside the soft pink teddy that inadvertently ended up in my arms while I slept. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes when Mummy unlocked and lowered the crib side. Angie's diaper was wet through, and I helped Mummy change her first. Then she was dressed in her yellow romper suit again, just like me. Mummy gave us a sippy-cup of sweet orange cordial to drink in the kitchen, and we each carried another full cup of cordial when we waddled outside. The rest of the afternoon was spent just like normal for Angie - and now for me. We played mostly in the sandpit, harnessed and chained in the backyard all afternoon. We hadn't been outside for more than half an hour before I felt the need to me. I let the first hot stream gush out of my peenie, drenching my thirsty nappy in front. I didn't bother to stop playing, and just enjoyed the pleasant wet warmth that swiftly surrounded my sensitive little genitals. To my surprise, Michael came back later and played with us in the sandpit for a few hours. When it began to get dark, he left us with a cheery wave. "See you babies tomorrow, maybe," he said with a cheeky departing grin, ignoring my quick frown of annoyance.

Mummy checked our nappies when she came out to unleash us, and I had to help change Angelica first because her sagging pink disposable diaper was wet and messy. While I was helping Mummy clean her poopy little bottom with baby wipes, I wet my nappies again without a second thought, and I was drenched by the time Mummy changed me. We then ate dinner with me secured in my highchair again, and immediately afterwards, Angie and I shared a bubble bath. I was surprised to find my nappy was already wet when Mummy took it off at bath time, and I was puzzled. I didn't remember wetting it. Promptly at seven we were put down for the night, and Mummy even read us a Dr Seuss bedtime story. I found that if I stuffed the plush pink teddy between my knees when I lay on my side, my thighs didn't feel too uncomfortable because of the bulky nappy between them. I slept in Angie's - and now my bedroom, curled up on my side in the pink crib. It wasn't really too cramped, and I managed to sleep all right - if I didn't stretch out my legs all the way. Luckily for me I was very small for a thirteen-year-old, and slept through the night relatively undisturbed by my odd surroundings.





To be continued...

#3 babyjennie

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Posted 04 October 2007 - 07:12 AM

Chapter 3. Justine the Babysitter

When I awoke Sunday morning and focused on the pink-painted bars surrounding me, I didn't even bother trying to hold in my wee-wees. I lay on my back in the crib and relaxed with a sigh of mixed relief and resignation, letting the hot stream freely gush into my warm diaper. I didn’t even notice that my nappy was already drenched. I figured it would be better to have Mummy change me when she let me out of the crib first thing, rather than sit in a soggy cooling nappy while eating breakfast locked in the highchair. I began to enjoy the familiar warmth as my wee-wees flowed across my tummy and trickled in rivulets around my peenie and sack, and then giggled in spite of my odd situation. The hot stream tickled as it ran down between my sensitive botty cheeks, eventually soaking into the thirsty terry nappies pinned snugly around me. The clinging wet warmth was somehow comforting around my crotch and bottom, and as the sweet ammonia smell crept up to my nostrils, I must have drifted back to sleep. Some time later Mummy waltzed into our Nursery and woke up Angie, then lowered the side rail of my crib with a clatter that brought me groggily awake. Mummy loudly announced that today we would dress Angie first. She patted my warm wet crotch and lifted me down from the cot.

Since it was Sunday, the whole family would be attending church as usual. I again had the honour of being 'Mummy's little helper.' I assisted Mummy while she changed Angie's wet and slightly poop-stained cloth night nappy. Mummy expertly cleaned up my messy sister's dirty bottom and crotch while I held the nappy sack open for her to dump the smelly wipes inside. I was surprised when I felt another hot stream suddenly fill my cooling wet nappy with fresh warmth, as I hadn't even realised I had any more inside me. But I tried not to let Mummy know I was soaking myself like a baby as I quietly stood beside her. I discretely spread my thighs a little wider, giving the thick crotch of my droopy warm nappy more room to absorb my hot fresh wetties.

After I helped spread the pleasantly-perfumed talcum powder over Angie's front and back creases, Mummy taped her into a fresh pink disposable diaper. This was covered with some tight pearlescent-pink plastic panties, followed by her white, ruffle-bottomed ribbed tights. Mummy then dressed Angie in a cute white layered petticoat, and then a long-sleeved, lavender cotton, Empire-line dress - both of which barely covered her protruding, frill-laden bottom. Finally my sister wore a pair of shiny, black patent leather, T-strap shoes, which Mummy fastened with tiny gold buckles. If past experience of our matching outfits was any indication, I didn't like the look of this! When she finished dressing Angie, Mummy ordered me to hop up on the changing table so I could have my wet nappies changed. How did she know I was wet this morning? She hadn't performed her usual wetness-check.

Mummy pulled down my glistening plastic panties, unpinned my drenched nappies, and tossed them in the bucket at the foot of the change table. After a thorough wipe-down, followed by oil and powder, I was pinned into the usual two thick cloth nappies. Mummy pulled some shiny pearlescent-pink vinyl panties - like Angie's - over the top, and tucked in the leg bands around the crotch of my bulky swaddling. I looked down at the huge fluffy nappies pinned tightly over my hips and whined in annoyance, daring to ask; "Aw Mummy? Why can't I wear a disposable diaper today, like Angie?"

It occurred to me what I was requesting as Mummy helped me sit up; like I would really be happier wearing disposable diapers instead of cloth nappies. I really wanted to wear my own panties - I mean, underpants. Mummy condescendingly explained that a bigger baby like me normally needed the extra protection offered by the thicker, more absorbent cloth nappies, and added; "I also want to make it very evident to Angie that her new baby sister always has her nappies on, even under her pretty dresses." Mummy selected another larger pair of white ribbed tights from a plastic bag on top of the dresser, and started sliding them over my feet and lower legs. After she fitted them on my feet and smoothed them up to my knees, she helped me to hop down from the table. She pulled the stretchy hose up the rest of the way with great difficulty over my thickly-diapered rear. Sewn across the seat of my tights rippled layer upon layer of elaborate frilly white lace ruffles.

Seeing where this was headed, I hesitantly asked her: "Mummy? You aren't going to make me wear a dress to Church like Angie, are you?" Silence. "You can't make me!" I muttered almost defiantly.
Calmly Mummy responded, "You have a choice, dear. You can either wear a pretty dress like your sister, or we can take you to Church dressed like that! In those frilly tights, nappies, and pink baby panties. Which is it to be, baby?" Talk about a choice! With my bottom lip protruding again, I reluctantly agreed that I would wear a dress. She disappeared into the Nursery walk-in closet and produced a new, snow-white nylon petticoat in my size, with three layers of stiff white tulle underskirts edged with lavish lace trim.

For one electrifying moment I thought she was bringing out one of the ballerina tutus I had worn at my neighbour Sally's house. Sally lives in the house behind ours with her kid sister Daisy, and they have a huge closet full of dress-up play clothes, including several old ballet tutus. It was Sally's Mummy who convinced me start growing my hair again, telling me how beautiful my hair was, and that I would easily pass for a pretty girl if my hair was long like her daughters. But I felt certain Mummy didn't know about the pretend 'ballet lessons' at the girls' place last year. They only lasted a few months, anyway. Then I realised the new frothy petticoat was just the same as Angelica's, and the knot of tension in my stomach gradually unwound.

"Hold your arms up honey, so I can slip this over your head first," Mummy ordered with a calming smile. When the silky bodice of the petticoat had slithered liquidly into place, she returned to the closet and produced a brand-new, little girl's lavender cotton dress in my size. It had a wide white Peter Pan collar and wrist-length puffy sleeves trimmed with white lace. Once again with my arms compliantly raised in the air, Mummy gently lowered the dress over my head, guiding my hands through the tight elastic-cuffed sleeves. The flounced hemline barely fell to my mid-thighs, and flared out in all directions because of the stiff petties underneath. When the full skirts had settled into place over my bouncing frothy petticoats, she fastened what seemed like a dozen tiny buttons up the back of the dress, all the way to the nape of my neck.

There was a wide dark purple satin sash sewn under the breast, with long pieces dangling down either side. Mummy collected the shiny purple ends, drew them tightly together, and tied them in a large floppy bow behind my back, making my short dress ride up even higher. She then tied some long purple satin ribbons around my freshly braided pigtails, matching the shiny waist sash. Finally a brand-new pair of classic little girl's, glossy black patent shoes were fitted on my stockinged feet, and the thin straps buckled across my insteps to secure them. It didn't surprise me to discover the gleaming Maryjanes fitted my petite feet perfectly. Somehow the shiny shoes made my footsies look even smaller and daintier than usual.

Standing back, Mummy then critically inspected me. She looked unmistakably pleased with my feminised juvenile appearance. "Oh baby, you really do make the prettiest little girl!" Mummy exclaimed with a delighted smile. "You and Angie look just darling together in your matching lavender frocks. I'm going to dress for church now, so you 'girls' go wait in the living room. Don't muss your hair, and mind you keep those pretty dresses clean!" Despite the secret thrill I felt when Mummy called me a girl, I frowned peevishly but let it slide. I took Angie's hand and we obediently toddled downstairs into the living room hand-in-hand. When Daddy spied us he gave us an appreciative wolf whistle and told us how gorgeous we both looked. Of course Angie enjoyed all the attention immensely, and her happy smile was very infectious.

About twenty minutes later Mummy waltzed into the room wearing a lavender dress similar to ours, but much more mature in design. Now I was part of a mother-daughter-'daughter' look-alike set! We walked out to the car and Daddy drove us to church, with me feverishly worrying every minute of the short journey. I only knew a few families at our church, and fervently prayed I wouldn't meet any of them at today's service as Daddy parked his silver Ford. I was so nervous, I started wetting my nappy as soon as I was lifted out of the back seat, the scalding hot wee-wees pouring uncontrollably out of my peenie as Mummy dragged me along by one hand. As it turned out, I needn't have worried so much. Mummy took Angie's hand too, and escorted us around the back to the rectory, to a huge carved oak door with 'Kindergarten Nursery' written on a sheet of paper pinned to the front.

Mummy spoke quietly for a short time with one of the two old women who were apparently in charge, and then came back and informed us that she would return when the service was over. That's when I found out that I was supposed to remain with the 'five-year-olds and under,' in the Church Kindergarten Nursery! Considering my current state of dress, it was probably preferable to attending normal Sunday school with kids my own age. There were already about a dozen small children scattered about the spacious sunny room, most of whom appeared to be wearing nappies like Angie and me.

I quickly sat down on the carpeted floor with Angie and a couple of two to three-year-old girls she knew, and started listlessly playing with some dolls. There was nothing much else to do, and I was trying to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. I didn't realise that when I crawled around on the floor like the other little girls, the back of my short dress rode up over my stiff petties, so everyone could easily see my big diapered bottom bulging distinctly beneath the clinging stretchy ruffled tights. One little girl whose name I think was Tracy, asked me why I was so big and still wearing nappies? I felt my cheeks blush warmly with embarrassment. I mumbled that I was only four years old and she looked momentarily confused. When Ideterminedlyignored her and continued playing with my dolly, she toddled away. It helped that kids her age are not so bright.

While I was still kneeling on the floor, a beautiful slender girl who appeared to be around fifteen or sixteen walked into the Nursery like she owned the place. I later found out Justine was a regular volunteer assistant at the church, but when the striking teenager first spotted me, her delicate arched eyebrows rose abruptly. She disdainfully tossed back her waist-length mane of dark red hair. She strode over to me at once and quietly demanded to know what a big girl like me was doing here in the Nursery with the pre-schoolers and toddlers. Her big brown eyes sparkled attractively and her full bosom heaved distractingly beneath the silky white chemise she wore under her prim pink jacket. How was I going to explain to a girl maybe only two or three years older than myself, that I was really a teenage boy dressed like a toddler girl and wearing wet nappies? Could I hide the fact that I was a boy? Maybe she would just think I was retarded, or something.

"I… I… I'm with my sister, Angie. That's Angie over there," I squeaked in stuttering terror, pointing to my little sister sitting nearby cradling a dolly. I saw her examine Angie’s clothing and realise we were wearing matching outfits. I was surprised when the attractive girl turned back and smiled warmly down at me, her gorgeous face lighting up like a Christmas tree. I remained on my hands and knees and stared up at her in silence, entranced by her beauty. Her eyes were like two huge chocolate pools fringed by impossibly-long black lashes, her smiling pink-painted mouth full and inviting.

"How cute! You girls look like twins. What's your name, darling?" She asked me, squatting beside my kneeling form so I could almost see up her short pink skirt. With effort I dragged my eyes away from that fascinating sight to look her in the face, even as I felt my peenie stiffen within the warm wet folds of my diaper. I hadn't even thought about answering that question!
"Je- Jer- Jennie," I stammered softly. I certainly couldn't tell her my name was Jeremy!
"Jennie? That's a pretty name. But I see you are still diapered, and at your age! Let me check your nappy to see if you need changing, sweetie." Before I had a chance to react, the beautiful young woman reached behind me and expertly flipped up the back of my dress and petties. She swiftly tugged down the rear of my lace-lavished tights to my mid-thighs before I could crawl away, exposing my shiny pearlescent-pink baby panties to the entire room. She slid her fingers through one of the lace-trimmed leg holes to probe the crotch of my drooping diaper. Not only did she feel my wet nappy, but she accidentally discovered my balls! Her big brown eyes flew wide and her lush pink mouth fell open in shock before she quickly withdrew her hand.

"You're a boy!" she declared in a stunned hushed voice, before she automatically raised her hand to her face. She sniffed the unmistakable aroma of fresh urine on her fingertips. "And you're wet, too!" She dragged me awkwardly to my feet and ordered me to hold up my dress and petties while she pulled up my tights, and then she shepherded me away from the little girls staring at me. She led me waddling wetly off to an empty tea-room to explain myself. She walked me past a worn bare kitchen bench and then turned, casually leaning her plump pink-clad derriere against the back of an old grey three-seater lounge.

When she was certain we were alone, she made me tell her my name was really Jeremy, and that I was actually thirteen years old. I explained how I was being forced by my cruel parents to help potty-train my little sister Angelica. The gorgeous teenager told me her name was Justine, and after hearing my terrible story she laughed; but she promised she would keep my shameful secret from the other children.

Her dark brown eyes glittered with merriment and her normally pale cheeks flushed prettily as I concluded my tale of woe, but she hastened to assure me afterwards, "You make quite a convincing little girl, Jeremy - or should I say, Jennie? You really do make a pretty cute little girl, you know? I initially assumed you were around six or seven years old - but that's still way too old to be playing with the other toddlers in the Nursery." Justine grinned when she asked me about how it felt to be wearing and wetting nappies, and I mumbled that I didn't like it. But then she wanted to know how I felt about wearing girl's clothes, and I didn't know how to reply. She was extremely curious about my feminised 'situation' and strangely, asked me more than once if I secretly enjoyed wearing such pretty dresses. I blushed and hesitated to answer, as I didn't want to admit my true feelings.

Instead we chatted about other things; her mother who worked full-time as a hairdresser, her mostly-absent truck-driving stepfather, and the difficulty role of being the eldest of three girls. She mentioned, “I hope you’ll be coming back next week to the Church Nursery?”
I replied, "I think that's probably likely." She smiled at me when I suddenly fell silent and went still.

I think she knew I was wetting my nappy because before I finished peeing, she grinned knowingly and boldly lifted the front of my brief lavender frock and frothy petticoats up over my tummy. She noisily patted the droopy front of my sagging nappies through my tights and baby panties and commented, “Oh baby! I can feel your nappy getting warmer!” She squeezed the warm soggy crotch of my nappy, smiling at my embarrassed confusion, then patted me right over my sensitive little tool. My little peenie started to grow harder under her firm hand, snaking erotically into the warm wet cloth as she crisply swatted my nappy front, her cupped fingers on my damp plastic panties repeatedly making that distinctive wet smacking sound.

"Ooo! You're so wet, Jennie! What a wet little baby girl you are! I think we'd better tell your Mummy to send a change of nappies for you on your next visit, Baby Jennie!" She dimpled attractively as my red face grew even hotter, but she continued to caress my growing hardness through my baby panties and warm wet nappies with quick, crisp, affectionate loud slaps. I remained frozen in place, too excited to move away from her thrilling hand while I gazed up at this smiling beauty in open-mouthed wonder. She dropped the front of my dress back in place with a start when Angie skipped in and found us, and straightened my hem and petticoats with a guilty expression. My sister sweetly begged us to join her doll's tea-party, and Justine immediately agreed we would, casting a sly smile in my direction. "Come along, Baby Jennie," she sang as she took my hand, and my sister looked askance at me.

My cheeks flushed warmly under Angelica's frank inquisitive stare. Thankfully she made no comment on my new name, before turning and hurrying ahead of us into the main room. Justine led me toddling slowly outside to join my sister and her new friends, and I was grateful my billowing lavender dress and frothy petties were long enough to conceal the tenting front of my tights. Justine was grinning like stoned Cheshire cat as she introduced me as 'Baby Jennie' to the three little girls gathered around the low white plastic table, set with doll-sized hot-pink plastic cups and saucers. My pleased sister smiled contentedly when I didn't object to my new name. I shyly murmured my greetings to the pretty little girls named Susie, Stephanie and Mary, although I could feel my cheeks were still flushed pink with embarrassment. Justine handed me the infant doll I'd been playing with earlier, and I tried to talk and behave exactly like Angie and the other little girls, so no one would think I was too weird.

When the church service finally concluded, Mummy thankfully returned to collect her two babies. I blushed rosily and dropped my gaze when the beautiful Justine told Mummy she suspected her bigger baby girl had absolutely soaked her nappies. Mummy didn't seem at all surprised by the astute teen's keen observation, and simply reached under my dress and petties and pressed her cupped palm against the drooping crotch of my tights. Mummy pushed up with her hand and assessed the warm wet weight of my nappy, and while my cheeks burned with humiliation, she judged that I didn't need changing yet. She fortunately seemed non-committal when the forward young redhead boldly suggested our mother might like to bring a change of nappies for her big baby next time.

As we departed, I shyly waved goodbye to Justine and some of the little girls with whom I had enjoyed playing. Mummy glanced oddly at me when some of the friendlier little girls waved back at us and yelled, "Goodbye, Angie! Goodbye, Baby Jennie!" Thankfully she made no comment when I ducked away from her appraising stare. Things hadn't turned out as badly as I feared, thank goodness!
I frowned in concern when Mummy asked, “Baby? Are you going to take that dolly home with you?” I was stunned to realise I had been clutching a small diapered infant doll to my breast, completely unaware she was still cradled in my arms.

Mummy chuckled at my crestfallen expression as she gently prised the doll from my hands. "It's all right, baby girl," she crooned in saccharine baby talk as though to calm me. "Mummy will buy you a baby dolly all of your very own, if you really want one that badly." I blushed furiously and bit my lip to stifle a retort. I kept my humiliated gaze on the shiny black shoes peeping out from under my swaying skirt and petties. Mummy laughed and told Daddy to buckle us into our seats while she dashed back into the Nursery with the accidentally-kidnapped doll. When she eventually returned she was all smiles, and soon we were on our way.

Daddy drove us to the local family restaurant where we usually partook of our Sunday breakfast. First Daddy had a quiet word with the grey-haired manager at the front counter, and after a few minutes delay, the broadly-smiling old man led us to a table off to one side with two tall dark wooden highchairs standing nearby. Angie and I were both promptly seated in the big wooden highchairs and the attached hinged trays lowered, and our parents wheeled us closer to the table set for two. After belting us in securely and fastening bibs around our necks, Mummy and Daddy sat down and each slowly spoon-fed us our meals between bites of their own breakfast. I kept nervously glancing around like a frightened baby bird, terrified someone we knew might be seated nearby. As a result, there was food smeared all over my face and bib by the time Mummy finished feeding me.

It seemed to take forever for Mummy to scrub my face and hands clean with my bib, and she gently scolded me when I dared complain she was being too rough. On the way home, Daddy suggested that since it was such a hot sunny day, how would we like to go to Narrabeen lakes? Angie and I immediately replied in unison; "Yes please, Daddy!" I love to visit Narrabeen lakes too, and was thrilled that the location was far enough from home that we were unlikely to run into anyone we knew. "Do I have to wear nappies if I go swimming?" I asked Mummy in a hopeful voice as we turned into our driveway.

She turned around to smile down indulgently at me, before replying with an amused shake of her head; "Of course you do, you silly baby! But don't you worry, honey. Mummy bought two precious new swimsuits especially for her gorgeous little toddler girls. I'm sure you'll both love them!" She informed me somewhat gleefully. I was rather doubtful about that, and while I waited for Mummy to come and change me, I stood in the Nursery distractedly patting the warm wet bulk between my legs for reassurance.
Since I was Mummy's little helper today, I was ordered to help Angie undress first and then assist with changing her diaper.

Fortunately my sister was only wet under her tight pearlescent-pink pilchers, and we soon had her scrubbed clean, freshly powdered and taped into a clean pink disposable diaper. Mummy had already changed out of her dress into her brief pink-on-white polka-dot bikini, which she wore under some tiny white flared shorts. You could see the pink polka-dots through the thin cotton material. She had tied on a revealing pink halter-top that accentuated her buxom figure and slender waist, and she looked beautiful with her long blonde hair brushed tightly back and bound in a bouncing high ponytail. She took Angie's new stretchy nylon swimsuit out of the dresser drawer and helped her put it on. It was a pale-pink one-piece bathing costume, with a short black gathered skirt attached below the snug elasticised waist. When she was dressed, Angie skipped joyfully out the door to show Daddy her pretty new cossie.

I realised with a sudden sense of shame that I was the only one left still wearing a dress and petticoats. I felt mortified until Mummy helped me disrobe, undressing me like a useless toddler and carefully removing each frothy feminine item without any assistance from me. She then helped me to climb up on the changing table so I could have my wet nappies changed, and she pulled down my pearlescent pink baby panties. The warm clinging nappies beneath were completely drenched, and I wasn't even sure if or when I had wet again. That was a scary thought! After commenting at length on my saturated state, Mummy carefully cleaned all traces of damp powder from my crotch with baby wipes, then oiled and powdered me afresh. I was surprised when she reached for the package of 'junior size six' disposable diapers beside the change table. She ripped open the top and removed one from the pink plastic wrapping, and unfolded it. "Since we’re going to be at the beach all afternoon, I think this would be a good time for you to wear a disposable diaper," she informed me.

I lay still as she tightly taped the crinkling pastel-pink disposable diaper around my loins, secretly thrilled by this turn of events. Even though it was a thick disposable, it actually felt like regular underwear compared to the bulky cloth nappies I’d been forced to wear for the last two days. She went to the dresser and took another pink bathing suit out of the drawer, then shook it out in front of her to show me, smiling happily. "Isn't this the cutest little bathing suit you've ever seen?" Mummy gushed, holding the feminine one-piece swimsuit stretched out against my small body. It was primarily musk-pink, consisting of a stretchy puckered top half with a rear zip, and under the frilly baby-pink gathered skirt drooped a big ballooning bottom with tight elasticised leg holes. There was a line of cute yellow cartoon duckies printed around the middle, which made it look even more juvenile. I worried that the short flared skirt would barely cover my padded bottom and crotch. Mummy knelt on the floor, and unzipped and then rolled the pink bathing suit up in her hands.

"Hop down, honey, and let's try it on you." I started to sulk and whine, realising the bathing suit I was supposed to wear was more babyish-looking than any I'd ever seen. Even Angie's cossie looked more grown-up than mine. "Come on, my sweet baby! Hurry up, darling. We don't have all day." She started coaxing me like I was a difficult toddler, and I realised I had no choice but to obey. Scowling darkly, I slithered off the changing table in my crackling plastic-wrapped padding. I slowly waddled towards Mummy who was holding the effeminate cossie down and in position for me to step into. I tentatively placed one foot into the suit and through the opened leg hole at the bottom, then the other. Mummy started to swiftly slide it up my legs, and I had to grab her shoulders to keep from stumbling. She instructed me to bend forward and then fed my hands through the stretchy pink shoulder straps, drawing them up my slender arms and over my narrow shoulders.

When it was all the way on me, she zipped it up in back, made a few adjustments to the short ruffled skirt, and then proudly pronounced, “Oh good! It’s a fabulous fit!" I had to admit that Mummy was right. It fitted me perfectly, like all the feminine clothes she’d purchased for me so far. She made me stand in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the Nursery closet door and stretched out the seat of my suit to conceal my pastel-pink diaper. She rearranged the flounced skirt frills around my lightly padded hips to sit more attractively, smiling in approval "Gosh, darling. This suit looks just perfect on you! You look so pretty in pink," Mummy gushed, and I blushed rosily under her sincere flattery.

I was gratified to see from my reflection that I could hardly tell I was wearing a diaper underneath the cute little swimsuit skirt. When I experimentally twirled my hips back and forth, the ruffled skirt flew out so prettily, and a tentative shy smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Mummy smiled too, as she closely observed my innocent feminine behaviour. "Run along now, baby. I just have to pack the diaper bag for you and Angie, and then we're ready to go." She gave my padded bottom a crisp smack to encourage me on my way. As I waddled out the door, the plastic shell of the disposable diaper crinkled and rustled distractingly with my every step.

Five minutes later Mummy buckled both Angie and me into the back seat of the car, and soon Daddy was driving our family to the lakes. The hot sun blasted through the windscreen and despite winding all the windows down, the car was like an oven. Angie and I almost looked like twins sitting in the back seat, wearing only our matching pink swimsuits, diapers, and pink sneakers. It took about an hour to drive to the lakeside, and I was almost glad I was wearing a diaper when I felt my bladder signalling it was full. I simply relaxed and let my hot wee-wees soak into the thick pink disposable. Unlike my cloth nappies, the gel lining rapidly absorbed the wetness and drew the moisture away from my body. For some strange reason, I felt oddly disappointed. I had come to enjoy the warm wet feeling of a soggy terry nappy wrapped snugly around my genitals, although the absorbent padding slowly grew soft and mushy between my legs and around my wriggling bottom.

There were already thousands of people ahead of us at the lakeside, judging by the number of cars in the parking lot. It took ages to find a place to park, and Angie and I were almost melting by the time Mummy and Daddy opened the doors and released us from our seatbelts. Daddy unpacked the stroller from the trunk and set it up, and then plopped Angie into the low seat. He took out the blanket, towels and cooler, and arranged them on the stroller's bottom tray so they wouldn't have to be carried. Daddy started pushing the stroller, and Mummy ordered me to come to her. "It's a pity we don't have a stroller big enough to fit you, baby," she wryly commented, but I didn't think she really meant anything by it. She then picked me up and carried me on her hip with my legs around her waist, holding me easily with one hand under my damp padded bottom like I was a big toddler. In her free hand she carried Angie's and my packed pink diaper bag. We headed for the crowded beach and we had to walk for about five minutes, but finally found a more secluded spot to spread our rubber-backed tartan rug.

Mummy and Daddy took off their outer clothing so they only had their bathing suits on, too. "Do you girls want to go swimming straight away?" Mummy asked, as she helped us untie and remove our sneakers.
Naturally we both loudly chorused, "Yes please, Mummy!"
"Before you go in the water, I have to put on your swimming caps," Mummy primly insisted, kneeling on the red tartan picnic blanket. She opened the voluminous diaper bag and took out a small pastel-pink cap for Angie, and fastened it snugly on her head. She reached into the change bag again and pulled out a musk-pink rubber swim cap for me. "Come here, sweetie. Let Mummy put this pretty cap on your head. We don't you want you to get your hair tangled when it's wet. Really, you should have worn a swim cap last season, darling, with those gorgeous long locks of yours."

After taking out my dangly purple hair ribbons, Mummy stretched the tight pink cap over my head, thankfully concealing my feminine braided pigtails. The strap hanging down from the right side was pulled under my chin and snapped securely closed beside my left ear. It felt really weird to have my head encased in tight clinging rubber. Things sounded different too, since my ears were completely covered. Mummy smeared sunscreen first on Angelica, covering every inch of exposed flesh with the thick white cream. She then did the same for me, treating me exactly like my toddler sister and not permitting me to help in any way. I was growing tired of being treated like a useless infant all the time, and was muttering under my breath and scowling in annoyance by the time Mummy finished spreading the viscous white goo on my arms and legs. Mummy's smile slowly faded and her olive-green eyes had grown hard while she stood and wiped the excess cream from her hands onto her thighs.

"Okay girls, you can go play in the water, but don't go in too deep. I am counting on you, Jennie, to keep a close eye on your sister." She smiled at my shocked expression and continued scathingly, "That is what you told that lovely girl Justine your name was, didn't you, darling? And I hear all your little playmates in the Church Nursery call you 'Baby Jennie'? How sweet!" She arched a single knowing eyebrow as my cheeks blazed with humiliation, holding my gaze until my crimson face fell in subjugation. In a mortified haze I sullenly promised Mummy that I would be careful, and we headed for the shallow water. Angie held my hand tightly and squeezed it reassuringly, and she told me she preferred the name Jennie for me while I absent-mindedly dug my toes into the cold wet sand. When I bit my bottom lip in embarrassment and didn't respond, she said she was going to call me that all the time from now on.

We played and splashed in the cool waist-deep water for about half an hour, and then returned to where Mummy and Daddy were sunning themselves. My disposable must have soaked up about two litres of lake, but my tight one-piece swimsuit helped hold the hefty load in place. When I sat down on the dry sand off to one side of the picnic blanket, there was an audible 'squish' as the excess water was forced out of my bulging diaper. Angie followed suit and squished down beside me, and we giggled and started making castles and tunnels in the damp sand we'd created with our overflowing diapers. It wasn't long before two other pretty little girls came strolling along the water's edge. They approached us and politely asked if they could join us and help decorate our sandcastles with shells and stuff.

Angie nodded eagerly and I hesitantly agreed. The friendly girls told us their names and ages, and pointed to where their parents were sunning themselves nearby. Becky said she was aged seven, and Jessica was six and a half, although both girls were a shade taller than me. Looking closely at Angie to check her reaction, I haltingly introduced us as Jennie and Angie. My sister only smiled sunnily when I told the girls my new feminine name, and I gave an inward sigh of relief. They asked about us, and I told them I was six years old and Angie three, and indicated our parents lying on the nearby rug. I didn't think they were dumb enough to think I was four, and the beautiful Justine from our Church Nursery had assured me she could have easily mistaken me for a six or seven-year-old girl.

After playing happily together for about half an hour, I could tell that Becky was dying to question me about something. Finally she gathered the nerve to ask; "Jennie, are you wearing a diaper under your cossie?" I had no choice but to admit the truth, since the sagging saturated disposable was fairly obvious beneath my snug swimming costume.
My cheeks turned pink with embarrassment as I explained, "Of course, I don't really need diapers - I'm just wearing one to make Angie feel better, since she still has to wear them." I hoped my blushing red cheeks didn't give away that I was lying, and ducked my head in shame.

Becky fell silent for a long moment, but then told me, "That's really sweet of you, to be so kind and thoughtful towards your little sister." After smiling in approval, she suggested I dig a tunnel to join the two castles she had directed the other girls to decorate. Keen to avoid any more embarrassing questions, I knelt to obey her directions.

About five minutes later I felt a sharp cramp in my tummy, and realised my regular morning bowel movement must soon be inevitable. I gave a shudder as I barely repressed the instinctive urge to just let go in my cold saturated diaper, squeezing my botty-hole shut in silent desperation. I didn't want to soil myself like a total baby in front of these two cute little girls! I held off for as long as I could, but then I realised that I couldn't hold back the poo-poos any longer. Glancing around in anguish at my preoccupied sister and the busily playing girls, I stood and discretely waddled a few feet off to one side. The first firm fat log was already forcing my poo-poo hole open, the tip of it sliding out a little further with my every tentative step. I knew there was no stopping it. I kept my back to the gaily chattering girls and squatted slightly. My cheeks turned pink with shame while I helplessly soiled my diaper, the first huge solid turd relentlessly sliding out of me inch by inch. I tried not to make it too obvious to the others what I was doing, when I needed to squat a little lower to completely relax my anal sphincter.

I took a deep breath and held it until my pink cheeks turned red, and then grunted quietly as I began to bear down. After an embarrassing muffled fart, poop seemed to actually explode from my straining botty-hole in a semi-solid rush. There was a muted gurgling rumble from inside my swimsuit bottom, and suddenly the rear of my cold wet diaper was full of hot squishy poo-poos. Slippery mess forced its way between my spread legs and up my back, surrounding my chilled shrivelled sack with soft clinging warmth. The seat of my snug swimsuit was soon stretched taut by the heavy load in the rear, but no one appeared to notice my humiliating infantile predicament. The rich, fruity-herb smell of a fresh bowel movement wafted around me like a sickly-sweet cloud, but it didn't smell too bad after the first few moments.

I tentatively straightened my bowed knees and the warm thick mud settling between my thighs clung moistly to my sensitive areas, so lovely and hot compared to the rest of my cold wet diaper. The familiar aroma of my fresh poop was somehow comforting, too, so while the girls were there, I decided to delay asking Mummy for a nappy change, and crouched down to continue playing in the sand. I tried to ignore the delightful warm muddy layer that squished and settled comfortingly around my groin, and more hot poop squirted up my back when I knelt lower to finish digging my tunnel.

Within minutes, Becky and Jessica must have smelled that someone had pooped in their panties. Unnoticed by me, Becky walked over behind Angie and firmly patted the rear of her swimsuit, at once discovering my sister's soggy diaper was clearly empty. Angie stood and then watched in silence while the bossy bigger girl stepped over behind me while I was distracted and digging deep in the sand, my huge diapered bottom sticking up as though begging for her attention.

Becky quietly knelt behind me and inquisitively probed my mushy rear end. She shrieked, "Gosh, Jennie! You pooped in your diaper! I thought you said you didn't really need to wear nappies?" She ran her hand around over my bulging swimsuit bottom and started describing to the others the size of the mess I'd accidentally made in my diaper. "Oh my! There's a huge lump in the back of your diaper!" she exclaimed. "You've filled your diaper with poop! Look everyone! Look at Jennie’s poo-poo parcel!" She gave the obvious bulge a hefty swat. I could contain myself no longer. I actually started weeping from shame and embarrassment. Mummy heard my distressed sobs and jumped to her feet. She snatched off her sunglasses, hurrying over to ask us what was wrong.

My tactless sister then loudly informed everyone within earshot, "Mummy, Baby Jennie had another messy accident! She did a poo-poo in her nappy again!" While I knelt before them sniffling and cringing in shame, Mummy crouched down behind me. She probed my rear to confirm that I had soiled myself, patting my bulging bottom firmly to assess the size of my hefty load. Clucking soothingly to me to calm my tears, Mummy took me by the hand and helped me to my feet. She led me waddling slowly over to the red tartan blanket where my parents had been sunbathing.

Reaching into the diaper bag, she brought out the familiar pink vinyl-backed changing mat, and spread it out flat on the dry sand beside the blanket. "There, there, Baby Jennie! It's alright! Dry those tears, sweetie. Let's take your bathing suit off first, baby, and we'll have your messy bot-bot cleaned up in a jiffy." Angie and the other two girls were standing beside us, closely observing Mummy's familiar actions as she laid out the powder, sacks and wipes beside her on the picnic rug, in preparation for my diaper change.

"Please don't change my diaper in the middle of the beach? Not here in front of everyone, please Mummy!" I begged her in a fierce whisper, knuckling away the embarrassing tears that sprang unbidden from my eyes. But apparently she wasn't listening, or she just didn't care about my feelings.
“Shh baby girl, shh! It’s alright honey. Mummy will change your messy nappy and have you cleaned up and playing with your little girlfriends in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Stand still for Mummy Baby Jennie.”

She unzipped the back of my cossie, slid the shoulder straps aside, and started pulling my bathing suit down to my knees, then she took it all the way off. My sodden pink disposable diaper was sagging badly between my splayed thighs, and there were yucky brown smears on the puffy elastic leg gathers around the crotch. I was ordered to lie down on the changing mat, which I slowly did. Mummy proceeded to rip away the tapes, and used the front half of the soggy yellowed diaper to scrape away most of the sticky brown mess from my bottom and groin. I was so embarrassed, my tiny penis shrank away to almost nothing. Becky and Jessica were wide-eyed in astonishment when they spied my limp little organ dangling between my brown-stained thighs.

Mummy used several handfuls of baby wipes to clean my messy bottom, powdered me all over, and then securely taped a fresh pink diaper around my loins. "It sure is lucky we brought your disposable diapers for you today, Baby Jennie. This would certainly have been more difficult with your normal cloth nappies." I was told to stand up and Mummy helped me put my bathing suit back on, and then zipped it closed up the back. "There you are, Baby Jennie! There! That wasn't so bad, was it sweetie?" Mummy cooed maternally, watching my tear-filled eyes calculatingly as she fluffed out my swimsuit skirt over my puffy padded rear. How could I tell her that I had never been so humiliated in my life? She took two sippy-cups of icy-cold watered-down apple juice from the blue cooler, and handed them to Angie and me, telling us to drink them and then return the cups to her.

Becky approached me after my embarrassing diaper change, and kindly assured me it was okay if I was really a little boy who still needed to wear nappies. Not knowing what to do, I simply sucked on the spout of my pink sippy-cup and kept swallowing, my cheeks still rosy with shame. She said, "I like the name Baby Jennie for you. It's cute! You make a very pretty little girl, you know, and we will still play with you - if you want us to." For some strange reason her generous offer and kind comments comforted me greatly, and I managed to sniff back my tears. She took my hand and led me back to the sandcastles, helping me to my knees at the spot where my digging had been interrupted by her humiliating discovery. We played in relative silence for a short while, each of us lost in our own thoughts, although the other girls were soon chattering brightly to each other again. But I was surprised a little later when Jessica discretely asked me, "Baby Jennie? Does Angelica only wear diapers to make you feel better, and not the other way around?"
Pouting a little, I resentfully explained to her; "Angie still needs to wear her nappies, too!" I gratefully waddled away when Mummy called me over to refill my sippy-cup.

We continued to play quietly together for another hour or so, until Daddy announced it was time for us to leave. Angie and I had both saturated our diapers by the time Mummy next checked us, and she decided to change us before we packed up to return home. She undressed Angie and removed her wet diaper on the change mat first, and I felt relieved when Becky and Jessica waved us goodbye, and they wandered off to join their parents nearby before it was my turn. Luckily I didn't see the girls telling their parents about me and pointing to where I was lying down being changed. Their parents sat up and watched with unconcealed interest while Mummy removed my soggy wet diaper, cleaned my damp loins with baby wipes, and powdered me afresh. I barely noticed the grown-ups watching until Mummy stood me up to tug my tight swimsuit over my fluffy clean diaper, and then I saw them all staring at me. My cheeks flamed red again with humiliation, but no-one laughed or pointed at me, to my relief.

I had to admit that other than my embarrassing 'pooping incident' and the humiliating diaper changes in front of the girls, I had a fine time playing with Angie and the other little girls at the beach. I could never tell Michael or my other male friends that, of course. Daddy bought everyone some barbequed chicken and fried chips as soon as we left the car park, and Angie and I ate our lunch on the way home while strapped in the back seat of the car. I thirstily guzzled down my can of soft drink, and then greedily finished Angie's lemonade as well.

Angelica and I fell asleep soon after we finished eating, and we didn't wake until Mummy and Daddy were lifting us out of the car and carrying us inside. Mummy decided to change me first, since I was the wettest. After a relaxing hot bath, she pinned me into some clean cloth nappies, dressed me in my pink baby panties and a stretchy pink onesie, and then lowered me into the cot. I was already locked in my crib, wet and asleep before Mummy finished drying Angie. I didn't even wake when she diapered and dressed my little sister in her pyjamas on the change table a few feet from my cot, before tucking her into bed as well for our afternoon nap.

To be continued...

Edited by babyjennie, 26 December 2011 - 02:44 AM.


#4 babyjennie

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Posted 04 October 2007 - 07:14 AM

Chapter 4. Caught In The Act

When I woke up on my back, my nappy was a warm wet weight on my tummy. I realised with a start that I was still wetting and relaxed and enjoyed the spreading warmth. As my hot flow trickled to a halt I rolled onto my front, enjoying the way the drenched cloth clung to the curves of my behind like a warm moist hand, making me realise I had saturated my nappy front-to-back. A faint smell of urine escaped the tight elastic waistband of my baby panties when I rolled over, wafting up to my nostrils like a familiar sweet perfume. Without any conscious thought I felt my peenie starting to stiffen inside my delightful warm swaddling. I gently rocked back and forth on the front of my bulky wet nappy. The saturated cloth seemed to fold itself around me and as my sensitive little stiffie grew, it slid into a warm soggy groove that seemed ideal for it. The noisy vinyl panties crinkled softly and the plastic protective mattress cover crackled lightly as I thrust my hips up and down, enjoying the thrilling sensations coming from inside my humid diaper. I had no idea that Mummy had been silently watching my tell-tale movements from the Nursery doorway for several long minutes.

I froze still as a statue when Mummy loudly snapped on the Nursery ceiling light and strode into the room. She noisily threw back the curtains to let in the bright afternoon sunshine, making me blink furiously. When she decided to check Angie's nappy first I gave a muted sigh of thanks. Lying on my side in my crib, I watched through the wooden bars in pink-cheeked silence while Mummy removed Angelica's wet diaper on the change table. She cleaned her up with a handful of wipes and then dusted her crotch and bottom with the pleasantly-perfumed baby powder. She dressed my sister in a long-sleeved white t-shirt as it had turned a little cool, and then a pastel-pink sleeveless corduroy smock dress that fell almost to her knees. A pair of frilly white anklet socks were tugged onto her tiny feet and with her pink sneakers tied in place, Angelica was lifted down from the change table all ready to play.

By the time my blank-faced Mummy stepped on the release lever and lowered the crib rail to lift me out, my embarrassing erection had thankfully dwindled into insignificance. I meekly lay on my back on the change table, and avoided my mother's cool calculating stare as she silently unclipped my onesie crotch and removed my glistening pink plastic panties. She remained cold and aloof while she unpinned my drenched nappy and dumped it the nappy bucket. I was pleased that my stiffie didn't return when she wiped me down with some cold baby wipes and massaged the cool baby oil into my sensitive crotch and bottom. But I felt strangely grateful to be safely pinned into my thick fluffy nappies again, as they did help conceal the unwanted erections that kept unexpectedly recurring.

Mummy wordlessly dressed me in one of my normal white, long sleeved t-shirts. For the first time I realised that even before my diaper punishment, my sister and I often wore similar clothes. But the identical pink corduroy smock dress she slipped over my obediently raised arms and submissively bowed head was brand-new. Angie attentively watched our mother's every move with a small smile etched on her pretty face, and I sulked quietly when my mother slipped some frilly white anklet socks on my feet and tied my pink sandshoes in place for me like I was incapable of doing it myself.
Angie and I decided we were too tired to play outside that afternoon, but I grumbled resentfully when my sister told Mummy she wanted us to play with her Barbie dolls in the sunroom instead. Mummy shot me a brief admonishing look and swiftly assured Angie, "Your sister Baby Jennie would love to play dolls with you, sweetheart!" She sent my delighted sister off to gather her doll collection and while she was absent, Mummy bent down and grabbed my shoulders and gave me a quick warning shake. She cautioned me to play nicely with Angie, no matter what silly games my dumb little sister wanted to play. "This is all your own fault, little one. Remember? So you play Barbies with your little sister like a good little girl, Baby Jennie. Or maybe you would rather Mummy took you for a stroll down to the local park, while pushing one of Angelica's baby dollies in a toy pram?"

I shook my head in fearful denial and felt my nappy unexpectedly grow warm again around my crotch, but tried to not let it show as I freely emptied my bladder. It amazed me that Mummy couldn't hear the loud hissing noises emanating from inside my baby panties, despite the fact that she was standing right beside me while I thoroughly soaked my nappy. I played with Angelica and her dumb dolls for the rest of the afternoon, and although I was a bit cranky at first, my sister kept making up these crazy situations for Barbie and Skipper (she was my doll) to get out of. By the time it grew dark outside, I had to admit I'd been having fun.

Mummy wandered into the sunroom to check on us occasionally, and each time she would lift our dresses and slip a searching finger inside our plastic panties to check for wetness. She gave us sippy-cups full of watered-down juice to drink; a pink one for me, and a purple cup for Angie. I didn't realise that Mummy had refilled our cups several times until I saw her walk into the kitchen with our half-drained vessels, and discretely return with them freshly-filled a few moments later. She never once asked us if we wanted or needed more to drink. It just seemed that there was always a full sippy-cup nearby to slake our ever-present thirst. I was already wet the first time Mummy checked my nappy, but she confidently murmured that I could last another hour or two before I needed changing. Similarly Angie's disposable was wet each time Mummy checked her, but she was usually only changed after every second or third diaper-check, anyway.

We ate fish and chips and salad for dinner, with me locked in my highchair as usual, but at least I was allowed to feed myself with my fingers like everybody else. As soon as we had finished eating and drained our sippy-cups, Angie and I had our faces and hands scrubbed clean, and then our bibs removed. I was exhausted that night, and barely raised a protest when Mummy took me upstairs to the Nursery. She led me by the hand like a useless pre-schooler, practically dragging me into the bathroom. She removed my drenched diaper in the en-suite and plopped me in the hot tub alongside my giggling little sister. After scrubbing Angie clean, she washed me all over like I was a helpless infant too, and Mummy dried me as Daddy towelled Angie dry. Mummy led us both trudging naked into the Nursery where we were to be put down for the night, and my toes dragged along the ground every shuffled step of the way. I whined irritably that I was too tired to help Mummy prepare Angie for bed, and flopped face-down on my sister's bed like a cranky toddler, until it was my turn to be diapered for the night. I couldn't even muster a protest when Mummy tucked the pink bear and my doll Skipper in bed beside me, and I was sound asleep in my cot before I knew it.

The first week of my new 'diaper-hood' passed more swiftly than I would have expected. I no longer bothered to protest about wearing toddler girl clothes, frilly baby panties and the thick cloth nappies. I figured my objections were futile, anyway. During the first few days my friend Michael came over most mornings and played with us in our backyard, even though I was a diapered little girl now to all outward appearances, including my new name. At first he snickered and grimaced every time he called me 'Baby Jennie.' But as each day passed, he seemed to forget I was ever called anything else. As far as I know he hadn't told anyone else about my awful shameful predicament, and for that I was truly grateful. We haven't seen as much of him lately, though. Maybe he was getting bored playing with just us girls.

Every morning when I awoke my diaper was already soaked, and I usually started peeing immediately - if my bladder wasn't already emptying of it's own volition. As my soggy wet nappy grew warmer around me, I would reach down between my legs and press the thick wad of drenched cloth more firmly against my sensitive groin. I could feel the delicious warmth of my saturated nappy with my palm, even through my thick vinyl baby panties and the cotton onesie. As soon as the wonderfully warm wee-wees trickled to a halt, I would enjoy the exciting sensation of my peenie swelling and growing harder. After a few minutes of patting and rubbing my cupped palm over the dripping front of my warm nappy, and sliding the tight terry onesie over the slippery crackling baby panties, my thickening tool would gradually creep up my slippery damp tummy. Soon it would be hard and stiff, and throbbing pleasurably. Then I would collect the fluffy pink teddy from between my legs and roll face-down, and start rocking on the bulky front of my warm soggy nappy, enjoying the thrilling sensations for several joyful minutes. But soon the rocking and the clinging moist swaddling would soothe me back to sleep. That was usually how Mummy found me each morning - warm, wet, and asleep on my tummy in my baby crib, with my pink teddy tightly cuddled in my arms.

Because I no longer had to worry about needing to run to the bathroom to use the toilet, I gradually stopped thinking about it. Without intending to, I began to successfully repress the normal warning signals from my bladder by simply ignoring them. During the first few days, there would be a momentary twinge from the tip of my peenie just before the hot stream began to squirt out of me, but by the end of the week there wasn't even that. Sometimes the first inclination I had that I needed to pee was the belated realisation that my fluffy nappy crotch was already growing delightfully warm around my balls again. Similarly the acquired habit of keeping my anal sphincter tightly closed - achieved only after continuous years of rigorous potty-training - was gradually fading away. I was totally unaware that these vital muscles - like all muscles in the human body - only strengthen through continual usage. By ignoring the toilet-training habits I had at best only poorly mastered over the last few years, I was unwittingly allowing my sphincter muscle tone to slacken to dangerous levels.

But none of that concerned me when Mummy removed my warm drenched nappies each morning and lovingly cleaned and powdered my smelly pee-stained loins. I soon became accustomed to the huge fluffy wad of cloth bunched comfortingly between my thighs. Over the ensuing days my natural gait assumed a distinctly babyish rolling waddle, even when I was naked. Mummy changed me first one morning, then Angelica the next. Whosever turn it was to be Mummy's little helper first was allowed to choose our attire for the day. I was always dressed in almost identical clothes to my baby sister and after a few days, I found I preferred wearing my heavily-flounced toddler frocks to the effeminate pink shorts and t-shirts Angie liked best. Wide-flared dresses are so much better for hiding bulky nappies, even if you do have to be careful how you sit.

In addition to becoming 'sisters', I think Angie has now become my best friend. We seemed to get along so well whenever we were together these days. And that was all the time, since we ate, slept, and played together constantly. Angie was totally ecstatic about our new full-time relationship. She absolutely loved having a ‘sister’ who was dressed just like her and adored being with me all the time. Even Mummy appeared somewhat appreciative of my new toddler role, since Angie was kept mostly occupied and seemed deliriously happy most of the time. My clever baby sister was also learning to help Mummy dress and undress me and change my nappies, and I in turn helped Mummy dress Angie and change her wet and poopy diapers.

During the week our mother spent a few afternoons in her sewing room, usually while we were busy playing with Angie's Barbies. There Mummy made for my sister and me some gorgeous matching pastel-pink, sheer cotton sundress and bloomer outfits. She also sewed a matching sundress for herself - but no bloomers, as her dress was longer and more mature in design. They were completed by Saturday morning, and when Mummy lifted me down from the highchair after breakfast, she led us into the sewing room to try on our new outfits. I was pleased to see in the room's full-length mirror that the lace-edged hem of my new sundress fell just past the crotch of my drooping baby panties. When she pulled the baggy matching bloomers over my swaddled hips and tucked the frilly elastic leg bands high up on my thighs, you could scarcely tell I was heavily diapered underneath.

While Mummy was occupied cutting some loose threads from Angie's white lace-lavished hemline with the good scissors, I stared at my attractive feminine appearance in the mirror in amazement. With my long blonde hair in fluffy pigtails and the flounced pink dress billowing around the bottom of my bloomers, I really looked like a little girl! For some unknown reason my peenie started to grow hard inside my warm wet nappy, swelling to exciting fullness. Without thinking I reached down under the lacy hemline of my filmy pink dress and frothy petticoats and absent-mindedly caressed the moist cushiony front of my bulky damp nappies. The soft cotton bloomers slithered erotically over the slippery rustling plastic panties underneath, and I briskly rubbed my open palm up and down, as I marvelled at the wonderful heat radiating from my saturated nappy front.

My thrilling reverie was interrupted when Mummy sharply demanded; "Why are you touching yourself down there, Baby Jennie? Is your nappy wet again, little girl? Do you need a diaper change already?" I blushed hotly when I caught sight of Mummy's frowning face in the mirror, and realised she and Angelica had been closely observing my reflection the whole time. "Come over here, little girl. Mummy wants to check your nappy," she brusquely commanded, summoning me with an imperious flick of her fingers. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I turned away from my fascinating feminine reflection and waddled over to my stern-faced mother. "Lift up the front of your dress, little girl," she ordered sharply. She watched my guilt-ridden face carefully as she pulled the elasticised front of my bloomers and my baby panties away from my tummy, and our nostrils were immediately assaulted by the ammonia odour of a heavily saturated nappy. "Pooh! I don't need to feel that nappy to know that it's drenched." My blush intensified when she heartlessly continued, "Gosh, Baby Jennie, your wee-wee really smells strongly today! I don't think you're drinking enough water, little girl."

Before she took me upstairs to the Nursery to be changed, Mummy firmly grasped my hand and led me stumbling into the kitchen. I was made to swiftly drain two sippy-cups full of ice-cold water, and my little tummy was practically sloshing when she lifted me onto the change table. The only good thing was, my embarrassing erection had time to shrink to almost normal size by the time Mummy unpinned my stinky wet nappy and cleaned me down. But when she started to rub the baby oil into my little sack and between my spread legs, I was horrified to see my peenie uncontrollably thickening again. I tried in vain to will it away, and my cheeks blushed rosily as it continued to grow harder under Mummy's soft caressing hands. Her pretty face was impassive as stone while she poured the faintly perfumed powder over my embarrassing erection. I gasped in shock when she disdainfully gripped the sensitive swollen head between the tips of her thumb and forefinger, to lift my stiffie aside so she could massage the talc into my trembling tummy.

Her top lip curled in a sneer of disapproval as she raised my ankles and powdered around my bottom. I turned my flushed face away in shame from her harsh unwavering glare, and actually felt thankful when she finally pinned my thick fluffy nappies in place over my swollen erection. I compliantly lifted my legs and pointed my toes so it was easier for her to thread the crackling baby panties over my feet, and helpfully raised my rear without being ordered, so she could tug them up over my snugly-pinned nappy. She then slipped the frilly pink bloomers up my legs, and I automatically raised my bottom without being asked again, so she could more easily slide them over my slippery plastic panties.

As soon as I let my puffy padded rear drop onto the change table, my cranky Mummy leaned over me and pressed her open palm over the tenting front of my bulky nappy. I was certain she could feel the swollen hardness beneath, even covered as it was by the many layers of thick terrycloth, my crackling plastic panties and cotton bloomers. Her olive-green eyes glittered dangerously as she informed me, "Since you seem to love wearing your pretty baby frock and lacy bloomers so much, Mummy has decided to take her beautiful little girls to the park this morning, to show off their gorgeous new outfits."

“Oh no, Mummy! Please no?” I begged her. “I don’t want to!” My erection immediately started to wilt in fright, and it continued to shrivel as I pleaded with her not to take me to our local park dressed like a diapered little girl. To my horror, I started uncontrollably urinating as soon as my peenie softened, the scalding-hot stream splashing over my tummy and soaking my nappy front.

Mummy shot me a cruel smile and shook her head in bemused wonder when she felt the sudden blossoming of warmth through my bloomers and plastic panties. "Why Baby Jennie! Are you wetting your nappy again already? What a big baby you really are!" Her careless disappointed tone indicated she expected nothing more of me, and she wrinkled her nose in revulsion and shook her head in in dismay when she lifted me down from the change table.

"It's a good thing those nappies are so thick, isn't it, little girl?" she demanded sarcastically, as she pulled the lace-lavished bloomers higher around my waist. The warm wet cloth was pressed more firmly between my legs as I was lifted onto my tippy-toes by the force of her brutal tugging. "Mummy won't need to change Baby Jennie's wet nappy for hours yet." She removed my hair elastics and savagely brushed out my hair, making me wince and cry out in pain a few times. But I didn't dare raise a hand to try and stop her. She gathered my long blonde locks in two bunches on either side of my head, and gave me two high fluffy pigtails that she bound first with the tight pink hair elastics. She covered the plain elastics with frilly decorative elastic bands that had little strips of sheer pink chiffon sticking out attractively in all directions.

She slipped the white cotton socks with little pink lace frills back on my feet, followed by my pink sneakers, and then dressed Angie to match. When Mummy led us waddling out to the kitchen, Daddy complimented us on our beautiful matching outfits and pretty hair ribbons. Despite my awful situation, I couldn't prevent a tremulous smile as he threw Angie and me into the air in turn and caught us, telling us all the while how stunning his little girls both looked. Mummy brusquely informed him of her decision to take us for a walk in the park. Although Daddy seemed nonplussed by her cranky manner and sour expression, he silently nodded agreement before disappearing to collect his camera and film.

With the camera strap safely looped around his neck, Daddy made us wait by the front door for a minute. When Mummy returned clutching both our leather toddler harnesses, my bottom lip started to droop and tremble again. Daddy ignored my sulky face and buckled Angie's white toddler harness in place, while my grim-faced Mummy fastened the humiliating pink harness straps behind my back. I stood there sulking as Mummy clipped a pair of pink leather reins to the front D-rings of my harness. Angie had her white reins clipped on too, before our parents marched us out the front door. I kept my blushing face downcast and my eyes glued to the paved footpath in front of my pink sandshoes all the way down our street, but fortunately there weren't any neighbours wandering about to see my embarrassing babyfied state.

I actually started to relax when we reached the leafy local park, as I didn't recognise any of the children running around on the grass nearby. I fervently hoped they didn't intend taking us to the fenced-in toddlers' section, all the way at the other end of the park. That would have been too humiliating to bear! Adults strolling past us simply smiled down indulgently at the two attractive little girls in their matching pink toddler frocks and bloomers, each waddling along at the end of a pair of leather baby reins and buckled securely in their toddler harnesses. When my nappy warmed delightfully around my crotch again, I almost started to enjoy our family stroll in the bright morning sunshine.

Daddy insisted on taking several photographs of his 'gorgeous toddler girls' posing on the grass in front of some bushes in full flower, in our billowing sweet pink sundresses. Several people stopped to watch us as we posed and smiled prettily for the camera under his direction, and some of those watching loudly complimented our parents on having two such beautiful little girls. My cheeks started to warm with a strange combination of humiliation and pleasure at their many kind compliments. Angie was beaming in delight, and I found it hard to stop smiling happily, too. I toyed with one of my fluffy pigtails, wondering, 'Do they really think I make a pretty little girl?'

Daddy removed our harnesses for some of the photographs, and I blushed bright pink with pleasure when he whispered in my ear, "You're being a very good little girl for Daddy today, Baby Jennie. Both my little girls look simply stunning!" When he told me to hold still afterwards so he could buckle my toddler harness back in place, I realised Daddy had started addressing me as Baby Jennie all the time, too. Without realising it, I always responded immediately when he called me by my feminine name. It was funny, I didn't even particularly notice when people included me with 'the girls' now. Once in a while I even thought of myself as a girl these days, now that I was dressed and acting like one all the time.

During the walk home from the park I began to wetly fart, and I started to soil my saturated nappy without even realising I wanted to go number twos. It was weird, as I hadn't been aware that I needed to do a poo-poo. Along with a muted flutter of gas, a hot wet lump simply oozed out of my slackened anus without any warning, and more soft poop continued to seep out as I slowly waddled along. The tight crotch strap of my humiliating pink leather toddler harness didn't leave much room between my legs, so the hot squishy poo-poos was forced to spread all over my bottom, eventually creeping moistly up my bumcrack towards the small of my back. I tried to toddle faster to hurry home, but Mummy kept a steady dragging pull on the reins that slowed my impatient pace to a crawling, wide-legged baby waddle.

The warm poo-poos squished and mashed between my thighs, and slowly crept around to the soggy front of my nappy, where it began to surround my thickening peenie with soft faecal lubricant. I could smell it now, the distinct tangy aroma of my recent bowel movent becoming more obvious with my every tortured step. I tried to keep as far away from Angie as my baby reins allowed, so that she couldn't smell that I had pooped in my nappy. I knew the little tattle-tale would immediately tell the whole world if she caught a whiff of what I’d done. Despite my feelings of shame and humiliation, my arousal grew harder with every waddling step in the cramped wet conditions, my thickening erection slithering erotically in the hot slimy muck settling moistly between my legs. I glanced over my shoulder and realising no one was watching, I discretely began to rub the front of my bloomer panties, pressing my drenched diaper against my throbbing stiffie. My attention was entirely focused on the pleasurable sensations coming from inside my filthy hot wet nappy. I was barely aware of my surroundings as our parents slowly walked us the endless two blocks home.

To my distant relief we didn't meet anyone we knew on the way home either. I waited impatiently by the front door while Daddy inserted the key and unlocked it. The longer we stood out here, the greater the risk my infantile humiliation would be discovered by our nosy neighbours. When Mummy knelt to unbuckle the crotch strap of my toddler harness, she caught a whiff of the fetid air around my messy bottom. She immediately realised I had soiled myself. In a voice rich with sarcasm she loudly declared; "My, my, Baby Jennie! That nappy smells very dirty, little girl. Having you been busy making some special mud pies in your nappies for Mummy, baby?"

When she unbuckled the pink harness, she held me in place by pressing her palm against the front of my clinging messy nappy. Her delicate plucked eyebrows shot up her forehead and then she scowled darkly at me in displeasure. I think she could tell I was hard and excited again inside my filthy smelly swaddling, and I ducked away from her piercing olive-green eyes. My cheeks were burning with shame as she wordlessly handed my pink toddler harness to Daddy to hang up. Then she firmly gripped my hand and dragged me upstairs, and escorted me waddling slowly into the Nursery.

Despite her forbidding expression, she seemed pleased my new bloomers were unstained when she removed them. She undressed me and made me hang up my clean dress and petticoat in the walk-in wardrobe, ready for tomorrow. But when she lifted me onto the change table and removed my translucent pink plastic baby panties, there were nasty brown stains around the insides of both leg bands. Even worse, there was a sticky brown puddle in the saggy crotch. She had to carefully dump my baby panties in the nappy bucket under the change table, and then she unpinned my disgusting poopy nappy, and lowered the heavy front with a flourish. "Pooh, Baby Jennie! What a smelly, dirty, wet baby girl you are today!" Mummy cried, as the full extent of my soiling was revealed. The pungent aroma of my recent bowel movement filled the air around us.

My cheeks turned crimson with shame when I realised I was still hard and throbbing under the thick layer of stinky brown poo-poo. Mummy's silence was deafening. I turned my blushing red face away from her cruel unblinking glare, cringing abjectly in humiliation. I was so overcome with embarrassment, I felt certain my unwanted hard-on would wilt from sheer mortification - but no such luck! Mummy remained coldly silent as she viewed the bobbing little stiffie covered with smelly fresh excrement. Her face was black as a thundercloud while she disdainfully wiped my hard-on clean with the warm saturated front of my dirty nappy. Her hands were rough and uncaring as she scraped most of the bigger lumps into the yellowed terry towelling, and my erection slowly diminished under her savage assault.

After she cleaned most of the stinky mess from me with a handful of cool moist baby wipes, Mummy ordered me to lie still on the change table while she noisily sluiced out the badly-soiled nappy in the Nursery en-suite toilet. She repeatedly rinsed them in the bathtub, then dumped the disgusting wrung-out beige nappies in the bucket under the change table. I was grateful when she immediately replaced the lid to help contain the awful stench. She insisted on hosing me down in the bathtub with the hand-held shower spray. Her hands were hard and callous when she scrubbed at my tender soiled bottom and shrinking peenie with a warm soapy washer. By the time she finished towelling me dry, I was sniffling in misery from her rough handling, and my unwelcome erection had dwindled completely.

I thankfully remained soft and shrivelled as Mummy oiled and powdered me. I actually felt grateful when my misbehaving peenie was safely pinned inside a thick comfy nappy where it belonged. As soon as she tugged my crackling wetproof baby panties into place, I felt my tiny tool begin to dribble uncontrollably. I was strangely soothed by the familiar comforting warmth. She stretched a pink cotton onesie over my bowed head and fed my limp hands through the sleeves without letting me assist her in any way My bladder continued to slowly empty as she snapped the crotch pieces together between my helplessly spread thighs. I was then dressed in the pair of hot-pink shortalls she'd recently bought for me. Mummy demonstrated the new snap clips she had sewn into the crotch, to make changing my nappies easier. "Just like proper baby shortalls," she commented, with a smile that never reached her cold olive-green eyes.

My nappy felt lovely and warm and wet again by the time Mummy buckled me into my highchair for lunch that afternoon. I had come to enjoy the feeling of humid warmth surrounding my sensitive loins, and my peenie started to uncontrollably thicken as she tightened the leather waist belt around me. Mummy's face was a mask of disapproval when she locked the tray in place and placed a bowl of mush in front of me. Unconsciously I rocked backward and forward on the wonderfully warm wet cloth bunched under me, and then made another delightful discovery. Underneath the highchair tray was a wide wooden centre strut, which bolted in place into the seat between my wide-splayed thighs.

As I rocked forward, I discovered that my little stiffie pressed into the soggy warm cloth trapped between the wooden strut, the leather crotch strap, and my tummy. Mummy didn't seem to notice, so I continued to contentedly rock my hips backwards and forwards. I pressed my throbbing, wet nappy-wrapped hard-on against the wooden strut, while she fastened a bib around my neck and started spooning baby food into my mouth. I dreamily gazed into the distance, lost in my own pleasurable thoughts as she crisply ordered, "Open your mouth wide, Baby Jennie. That's it. Good baby. Now eat up for Mummy like a good little girl. That's right. Open wide. Good baby. Chew... Good girl, Baby Jennie. Open up..."

Totally preoccupied with amazing feelings coming from inside my hot wet nappy, my mouth automatically opened and closed according to Mummy's humiliating instructions. Before I knew it, she had shovelled two large jars of tasteless pureed toddler food between my smeared lips while I distractedly rocked in my highchair. I didn't even notice that Angie wasn't wearing a bib today. She had been allowed to feed herself a cut-up sandwich while she silently watched Mummy spoon-feed me my infantile lunch. Mummy insisted on wiping my messy face down with my bib before I could have a drink of juice from my pink sippy-cup. While I was sucking on the pink spout, I continued to gently thrust my excited stiffie against the wooden strut between my splayed thighs.

As soon as my sippy-cup was empty, Mummy snatched it from my grasp. She callously scrubbed my face with a warm soapy washcloth until I whimpered and blubbered in discomfort. "Baby Jennie is such a messy eater," she disdainfully scolded me, easily defeating my half-hearted efforts to avoid her ruthless grasp. I didn't realise the discomfort had made my thrilling erection dwindle until I felt the familiar soothing rush of urine warming my loins when Mummy lifted me down.

Angie's diaper smelled terrible when Mummy led us both by the hand upstairs to the Nursery for our afternoon naps. Angie was lifted onto the change table first, and as soon as her shoes, socks, and pink shortalls were removed, Mummy made me take over changing her poopy nappy. My little sister lay back watching me with a critical eye as I gingerly released the tapes. I let the heavy front of the dirty wet diaper flop down between her splayed thighs. "Ew, yuck!" I cried in disgust at the smelly brown mess smeared all over her bottom and crotch.

"Yes, Baby Jennie!" Mummy heartily agreed, and then continued in a voice that could have frozen water. "It is yucky having to clean a dirty baby's messy bottom. Poo-poo is disgusting and smelly, not something exciting. But you seem to enjoy your wet and poopy nappies, don't you, little girl? You shameful creature! So from now on, you'll be changing and cleaning Angie's messy nappies every day! Now use the wet front of that diaper to scrape off the worst lumps, and then you will have to carefully fold it into itself. That's right, good girl. Now roll it up carefully and tape it closed, Baby Jennie, and then drop it in this nappy sack."

She coached me through the whole disgusting procedure, making me clean between my sister's spread thighs again and again until she was satisfied. Angelica's yucky brown poo-poo seemed to be smeared everywhere, and it stuck to everything it touched - including me. I squealed in dismay when a big brown lump dropped on the back of my left hand, and it stuck to me like glue when I snatched my contaminated paw away. After furiously wiping the horrible filth from my hand with a baby wipe, I was grateful when Mummy sent me to the en-suite to wash before continuing. I dashed into the bathroom, and anxiously scrubbed my stinky stained hands with a soapy washer under the hot tap for several minutes. I had to go and wash my soiled hands twice more before I could oil and powder Angie down, and Mummy watched with a solemn face while I sullenly taped my silently watching sister into a fresh pastel-pink disposable.

When Angie was safely tucked into bed, Mummy removed my shoes and socks and my pink shortalls, then lifted me onto the change table and unsnapped my pink onesie. She didn't bother to check to see if I was wet. She seemed to simply assume I was always wet these days. But thankfully my peenie was tiny and shrivelled when she unpinned my wet cloth nappy and lifted the heavy front flap away from my groin. Obviously having to clean my little sister's horribly messy bottom had achieved the desired effect, and Mummy appeared pleased that I remained limp and soft while she cleaned, oiled, and powdered me front and back.
As soon as I was safely locked in my crib, I thought Mummy would leave, but she decided to read my sister a story. I lay there nonchalantly wetting myself as she selected a story book with my sister's advice, and then I rolled onto my tummy to conceal my thickening pee-drenched erection. Mummy sat on the end of Angie's bed and began reading the story of Peter Rabbit, and I had to content myself with discretely pressing my throbbing peenie into my warm wet nappy against the mattress, while I impatiently waited for her to finish. But I fell asleep first, lulled into dreamland by my Mummy's soothing voice and lilting tones as she quietly read to my sister about the silly bunnies.

Mummy went shopping with her big sister Cathy while we were taking our afternoon naps, but she returned before we awoke. I was roused out of a deep slumber by the wooden crib rail rattling down and my sister's excited squeals. Mummy had bought us each an identical life-size infant doll, and they were exactly the same - except Angie's wore a pale yellow toddler frock, while the pretty dolly she thrust into my hands was wearing a brief hot-pink dress, with matching frilly pink panties underneath. Angie was jumping up and down and squealing with excitement when she realised we both had matching new baby dolls to play with. After checking my sister's diaper and finding her dry, Mummy clipped her pink onesie back together, and sent her to show off her new dolly to Daddy. Angie dashed out of the room so fast, I thought she had disappeared. Mummy lifted me onto the change table with the doll still cradled in my arms. She unsnapped my onesie, and she removed my damp baby panties while she explained the reason behind her peculiar purchase. "From now on, little girl, you must carry your baby dolly with you wherever you go. And I mean everywhere at all times! Looking after babies in nappies is hard work, Baby Jennie - as I am sure you are about to discover for yourself."

My nappy was absolutely soaked with wee-wee after my afternoon nap, and Mummy dumped the saturated cloth nappies in the nappy bucket with a grimace of distaste. With nothing to do while she cleaned and diapered me, I examined the life-like infant doll I clutched in my hands. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and bright blue eyes just like me, and her body was made out of soft, flesh-coloured latex rubber that felt incredibly realistic. Her pretty painted-on mouth was a tiny pink pursed Cupid's bow, and there was a small hole in the centre. I realised the doll was wearing a disposable infant diaper and crackling plastic panties under her frilly pink rumba pants, just like a real baby. I knew my purse-lipped mother was carefully watching my face the whole time, so I tried to keep my expression neutral, even though I was secretly amazed at the heavy, realistic doll.

After I was clean and smelling sweetly of baby powder, Mummy pinned me into a fresh fluffy nappy, and simply clipped the pink onesie back in place between my legs over the same damp baby panties. She slipped my socks and pink sneakers back on my feet, and turned down the lace frills around my ankles and arranged them to sit more attractively. "That's all my little girl needs to wear while she does the laundry," was Mummy's odd comment as she set me on my feet. "Now you keep a close hold of your new baby, Baby Jennie," she sternly warned me. I was ordered to pick up the heavy nappy bucket full of my soiled wet diapers, and carry it as well as my doll. I stuck the life-size doll awkwardly under one arm, and waddled with great difficulty downstairs and out to the laundry while carrying the sloshing bucket. There I had the unpleasant task of emptying my stinky wet nappies into our top-loading washing machine, and ensuring they were evenly distributed around the stainless-steel drum. Yuck-spuck! Mummy taught me how much powder and fabric softener I had to use, and where it had to be poured. The whole time my dolly was lying on the laundry floor beside me, on a clean towel Mummy made me lay down first.

I realised the doll's eyelids closed when she was tilted onto her back, and was momentarily distracted by her amazingly realistic appearance. I felt miserable when I was forced to pick up a particularly vile poopy nappy that slipped wetly to the floor, even though the fresh nappies pinned tightly around me were already wonderfully warm and wet, clinging comfortingly to my genitals. I wasn't allowed to wash my smelly hands; not until after the machine had been turned on, and I had cleaned the floor properly where the soiled nappy had fallen. As soon as my hands were scrubbed clean and dried, Mummy dressed me in my pink shortalls again. She ordered me to pick up my dolly and drop the towel in the laundry hamper, and carry her into the lounge room. Angie was babbling to Daddy that her new baby's name was Sophie, and I blushed with shame when Mummy unexpectedly turned to me and demanded, "And what is your new baby's name, Baby Jennie?"

When I hesitantly tried to explain my doll didn't have a name, my sister and Mummy turned on me at once. The two females sternly lectured me in stereo about how good Mummies always name their babies immediately, so I gave them the first feminine name I could think of. "Justine," I sputtered over their spirited tirade. "Her name is Justine." I didn't know why my Mummy was grinning so broadly, but even Daddy had a big smile on his face as he examined my new doll's life-like appearance.

"Hello Baby Justine," he greeted the dolly cradled in my arms, squeezing one of her tiny hands like she was a real person, before he turned to me. "Now you take good care of your pretty baby, Baby Jennie. Understand Daddy?" His jocular tone carried more than a hint of warning, and I anxiously bit my plump bottom lip. I nodded obediently as I clutched the dumb doll tighter to my breast. I had to change Angie's wet nappy that afternoon, and at first I was thankful for the momentary relief when we paused from our endless role-playing game of 'Mummies and babies' with our new dolls. But after I removed Angie's wet diaper, Mummy made me place it lying open and smelly on the closed lid of the nappy bucket, instead of folding it up, taping it shut, and dumping it in a nappy sack as usual. After I had cleaned her, powdered her crotch and bottom, and diapered my little sister, I helped Angie to dress in her pink shortalls again. Mummy lifted her down so she could run back to her baby Sophie, then she turned to me, her olive-green eyes narrowed and her high forehead crinkling in a forbidding frown.

"Now Baby Jennie, I want you to remove your baby's rumba panties, plastic panties and diaper, up here on the change table." I felt confused as I compliantly lay my dolly Justine on the padded change table and undressed her. But as soon as the doll was naked under her pretty dress, Mummy handed me my sister's soggy used diaper from under the table. "Move her dress out of the way front and back first, then put this diaper on your baby, little girl," she commanded sternly, and I clumsily taped the too-large, smelly wet toddler disposable in place around my infant doll's hips with the resealable tabs. It was difficult covering the bulky diaper with the plastic panties that came with the doll, and then I awkwardly replaced the frilly pink panties. When I held Baby Justine in my arms, the faint aroma of my sister's stale urine drifted up to my nostrils, and I began to understand my mother's crafty purchase. I had to carry the smelly wet doll around with me all afternoon, except when I was attending to the laundry or buckled in my highchair to be fed.

When Mummy raised the crib railing and locked it in place for the night, I could hardly wait to be left alone. Next to my pink teddy, Baby Justine was lying beside me with her eyes closed, wearing a smelly wet diaper. I stared at her closed eyes and squeezed the soft little hand that felt so life-like. I saturated my fresh nappies without even thinking about it, and as soon as the deliciously warm wet feeling surrounded me, I started to grow hard again. I rolled onto my side facing the wall, with the plush pink teddy resting comfortably between my knees, and contented myself with discretely caressing my erection through the tight onesie Mummy made me wear to bed, pressing my warm wet nappy against my excitable little stiffie for awhile.

Mummy quietly read to us until I heard my sister finally fall asleep. I pretended to be asleep too, when Mummy softly padded over and checked me. She leaned over the raised cot side, making my crib rattle slightly, and gently patted my damp padded bottom. She gave a quiet sigh of resignation at the tell-tale wet sound her hand made on my baby panties, but didn't bother commenting. The repeated patting felt extremely soothing and I struggled to stay awake. Eventually Mummy's hand slowed to a halt, before she quietly wandered out of the Nursery. Then I eagerly rolled onto my wet nappy front and rocked on my exciting erection, marvelling at the wonderful sensations before I gradually drifted off to sleep.


To be continued.

#5 babyjennie

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Posted 04 October 2007 - 07:19 AM

Chapter 5. Bad Baby Jennie

I awoke in the same position the next morning, but this time the nappies clinging to my loins were heavily drenched. I could feel the delicious warm wet weight of them pressing on my bottom, and the delightful soggy thickness forced my thighs wonderfully wide apart. My dolly Justine was tucked under the blanket beside me and I could smell that her nappy was wet, too. It was only when I rolled onto my side that I realised a firm little log of poo-poo must have slipped out of my slackened anal sphincter during the night without disturbing my heavy slumber. The musty fruity-herb smell of a recently-soiled nappy clouded the air around me as I sensuously wriggled onto my back. When my peenie started to thicken, I had a wicked thought. Seeing that I had already dirtied my nappy slightly, I decided to make a thorough job of it.

I pushed teddy out of the way and rolled onto my front again. I raised my messy bottom, sliding my knees under my tummy so my big diapered rear was prominently raised. My tight plastic panties were stretched to the limit as I poked my dirty wet bum right out. My stretchy pink onesie pulled snugly between my thighs, pressing the solid excreted turd delightfully hard against the sensitive place between my poo-poo hole and my ball sack. I spread my little knees as wide as I could, took a deep breath and held it, and thrust my glowing face into the crackling plastic-covered crib mattress. I grunted, pushing down hard with my tummy muscles, my cheeks turning red and bulging with the effort. I was rewarded with a sudden rush of hot poop from my dilated botty hole. I spread my damp thighs wider as I forcibly soiled my nappy, and then a stream of hot wee-wees unexpectedly burst from my thickening peenie, making me gasp in pleasure.

I grunted with effort into the pink ballerina sheets bunched around my face, struggling to completely empty my bowels in this unfamiliar infantile position - on my knees, face-down with my bum up high. The heavy mush gradually oozed out of my straining botty hole. Semi-soft crap slowly slid down between my spread bumcheeks, where it gathered in the sagging front of my warm wet nappy. The thick creamy poo-poo surrounding my sack and peenie was much hotter than my wee-wees, and as soon as the flow of urine trickled to a halt, I started to swell with arousal. By the time I straightened my knees and let myself slide down onto my tummy again, my throbbing erection was cocooned in a hot brown slurry that acted as a smelly lubricant for my twisted self-gratification. I closed my eyes and wantonly thrust myself into the exciting hot mess inside my soiled wet nappies, revelling in the fantastic erotic sensations. As I slid and rocked about, the rich scent of my own fresh excrement mixed in with the smell of my wee-wees. The heady aroma escaped the tight elastic waistband of my baby panties, wafting about my face like a sickly-sweet perfume. The plastic mattress protector and my thick vinyl panties crackled and crinkled loudly, adding a wonderful auditory element to the overwhelming feelings of pleasure that engulfed me.

I don't know how long I rocked and grunted and thrust away into my wonderfully hot, saturated, poop-filled nappy. I was totally unaware that my little sister had been awakened by my noisy masturbatory antics. Angie was sitting up in her bed rubbing her eyes with her tiny fists and peering at me through sleepy lids, when Mummy's hard hand came crashing down on my bobbing rear end. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! "Bad girl! Bad baby girl! Naughty Baby Jennie!" Mummy stormed angrily at me as she repeatedly spanked my dirty diapered bottom. I squealed in fright as she grabbed my writhing hips and unceremoniously rolled me onto my back. She gripped my shoulders painfully hard and violently shook me for a few seconds, until my terrified eyes lost focus. She thrust me onto my back again and pressed my dolly Justine into my arms. "You lie still and hold your dolly, you dirty bad baby! Pooh! What a stinky little girl! What a dirty, disgusting little creature you are! Whatever am I going to do with you, Baby Jennie?" She snarled in fury. Mummy wagged an admonishing finger at me before moving off to attend to Angie.

My cheeks blazed with embarrassment when I realised my curious little sister had been watching me the whole time through the wooden bars. I covered my eyes with my forearm as I cowered in shame. Mummy left me lying on my back in the crib while she removed Angie's wet night nappy. As soon as my sister was freshly diapered and dressed in her new pink sunfrock and matching bloomers, Mummy sent her on her way with a gentle encouraging swat on her puffy bottom. Then she turned her attention on me, and I cringed at the anger glinting in her olive-green eyes. I could actually feel the temperature in the room drop and goosebumps stood out on my bare arms and legs. Mummy stamped on the release lever to unlock the crib side and let it drop with a frightening loud crash, making me jump and cry out in terror. She painfully hauled me out of the cot by one ear, dragging me over to the hard wooden chair waiting in the corner.

I only realised her intent when she sat down and forcibly turned me over her broad lap, arranging my body so my stinky wet bottom was perched high in the air. I kicked my feet in protest, my blushing red face almost touching the floor. She unsnapped my onesie crotch, then her hand came crashing down on my diapered rear end. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! The clinging damp plastic panties seeming to amplify the sound of each hard spank. "Bad Baby Jennie! Bad little girl! You're a dirty, disgusting baby!" Mummy harshly reprimanded me as she soundly spanked my well-presented botty. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Despite the many layers of padding, my dirty wet nappies seemed to mould to the curves of my out-thrust seat. Each hard spank was readily transmitted to my bouncing rear end. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! "What a disgusting, dirty, bad little baby girl!" WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! The thick layer of aromatic crap became smeared all over my battered bumcheeks by her vicious onslaught, but there was nothing exciting about my situation right now.

Mummy spanked my poor dirty botty long and hard, and I was sobbing uncontrollably by the time she paused to catch her breath. I was bawling like an inconsolable infant when she dumped me onto the change table and ripped the onesie from my body. She tore down my dripping baby panties with a snarl of annoyance. My stinky wet nappies were swiftly unpinned and stripped away, and I heard her dump them in the nappy bucket. Her harsh words rained down on me unendingly as she cleaned my icky bottom and filthy shrivelled peenie with cool moist baby wipes. In the bathtub I was hosed down with freezing-cold water that morning, and Mummy's hands were none-too-gentle as she scrubbed the smelly brown muck away from me front and back with a cold soapy washcloth. I was barely aware of my surroundings when Mummy oiled, powdered, and diapered me afresh on the change table. I remained limp and unresisting while she dressed me from head to toe like I really was a completely useless toddler.

After my black patent Maryjanes were buckled over my frilly white anklet socks, she made me lift my baby Justine onto the change table. I had to undress my dolly, clean her smooth rubber crotch with a baby wipe, and then powder her lightly and rub it in. Under Mummy's stern directions, I folded the used wipe inside the smelly old diaper and taped it tightly closed, then sealed it in a scented plastic nappy sack. My scowling mother collected Angie's saved wet evening diaper from under the change table and silently handed it to me. I had to tape the soggy used disposable diaper around my baby dolly's hips and then replace her pilchers and panties. When Justine was fully dressed, I sullenly gathered her into my arms and miserably hugged my wet baby to my breast without being ordered.

It was only when my nappies warmed comfortingly around me while Mummy buckled me into the back seat of the car that I remembered it was Sunday. We were on our way to Church! Angie and I were wearing the matching pink dresses and bloomers Mummy had sewn for us and carrying our identical baby dolls. Mummy was wearing her new matching pink dress too, but she wasn't smiling this morning. I wondered what would happen to me when we arrived at the Church Nursery, then thought about meeting Justine again. I absent-mindedly rubbed the warm front of damp nappies through my bloomers and in spite of my embarrassing situation, my peenie started to thicken inside my soothing wet nappy. I was oblivious to the gusting wind and the dark grey clouds gathering in the distance, the forerunners to a major storm.

I made sure Angelica wasn't watching when I surreptitiously stroked the bloomers over the slippery rustling front of my baby panties. I privately revelled in the thrilling sensations coming from my excited thickening peenie. Before I knew it we were pulling up in the Church car park. After Mummy opened my door and unbuckled my seatbelt, she unexpectedly reached inside the waistband of my bloomers and plastic panties. She discovered I was already wet - and hard! Mummy was livid! She snarled at me as she hauled me bodily out of the car; "You make sure you keep hold of that dolly all day, my naughty, wet little baby girl!" Mummy urged Angie to walk ahead of us and open the Nursery door, and then she grabbed my left wrist and clenched it painfully hard in her left fist. WHACK! Her other hand swooped down to spank my wet padded bottom, and I almost dropped my dolly in shock. I squealed in alarm and tried to jump away, but Mummy kept a tight hold of my wrist and smacked my tender bottom all the way up the path to the door of the Nursery. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Because my thick nappy was barely damp in the rear, it was much louder than it was painful. I shrieked like a frightened little girl just the same, and ineffectually tried to dance out of reach of Mummy's punishing hand. The brisk wind blew my dress and frothy petties up around my flushed face. When I heard a quiet ripple of adult laughter behind me, my cheeks burned with shame. It was mortifying being spanked by Mummy and humiliated like a naughty toddler in front of all the bemused grown-ups heading past us on their way to Church service. I was sobbing pitifully by the time Mummy finally relaxed her vise-like grip on my wrist and smacked me away from her in disgust. "Get in the Nursery where you belong, you disgusting child!" I stumbled into the huge room clutching Baby Justine to my breast, unaware all the children had turned to look at me. My vision was blurred by tears and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "I only changed my little cry-baby's dirty nappy fifteen minutes ago, and she's already wet herself," she cruelly informed the alarmed elderly woman hobbling to the door to greet us. "I think my naughty Baby Jennie enjoys the feel of her stinky wet diapers," Mummy growled, casting a withering glance at me.

"Oh dear!" the doddering old woman muttered in concern, holding a wrinkled blue-veined hand to her red-painted slash of a mouth. "Do you want me to change your... err... your baby daughter's nappy?"
"Don't bother," my mother disdainfully replied. "My bad Baby Jennie seems to like it so much, let her sit in her own waste until I return from service. What a dirty disgusting baby girl I've got!" Mummy muttered to herself before she turned away and departed. The befuddled elderly woman shook her head in confusion at my mother's callous decision. I gave a muted cry of thanks when I spotted Justine, the teenage Nursery attendant, approaching.

The gorgeous buxom redhead was a blurry vision in soft pink that morning. Her scoop-necked, pastel-pink knitted dress clung like a second skin to every delicious bump and curve. Her bare legs were long and lightly tanned under the brief hemline, and she wore a pair of white strappy espadrilles on her dainty feet. I don't know why it struck me, but I also noticed her tiny pink toenails were painted the exact pastel shade as her dress. I clutched my baby doll tighter while I waddled as quickly as I could towards the delectable smiling teenager. When she knelt and opened her arms wide in acceptance, I fell into her welcoming embrace with a sob of relief. Her big brown eyes were like two dark chocolate pools radiating warmth and concern, and her hands were soft and gentle on my tear-streaked face.

"Oh you poor baby! Aww, don't cry! Don't worry, Mrs O'Sullivan. You look after Angelica and I'll take care of our little Baby Jennie here," Justine assured the distracted old lady. She gathered me and my doll in her arms and swept me away. "That's a very pretty dolly you have there, Baby Jennie. Is she yours?" She smiled kindly down at me when I tearfully nodded, still incapable of speech. I held my baby doll cradled in one arm and clutched Justine's hand tightly. I let the grinning young woman lead me along like a distraught toddler. I hoped she wouldn't ask me for my doll's name!

Once we were in the deserted tea-room, Justine lifted me off my feet and sat on the long lounge, perching me on her warm bare knees. She tried heroically to stop me crying but I was temporarily inconsolable. She cooed and clucked in wordless mothering tones as she made me lie across the old lounge with my head resting in her soft inviting lap. She tenderly dried my tears with her perfumed lace-edged handkerchief. I clutched my wet doll tighter in my arms as I cried like a sissy baby in front of this beautiful teenager, fat tears of shame rolling down my hot red cheeks.

"There there, Baby Jennie,” she soothed me. “Aww, my poor little baby girl! Oh, it's alright, precious! It's okay, baby; Aunty Justine has you now. You're safe, and everything's going to be all right." She cuddled me closer to her generous bosom and rocked me in her loving embrace. Gradually my hiccupping sobs began to subside. "I know what you need," she softly whispered in my ear as she maternally cradled my head. "I know what my poor little baby girl needs to help stop her crying," she cooed in tender loving tones. I had my weeping eyes closed so I couldn't see what she was doing, but my nostrils filled with the fragrance of her musky perfume. I vaguely felt her fumbling near my chin for a minute, and then something warm and wonderfully soft was pressed against my cheek, then to my pouting wet lips. "Open up, baby," she softly encouraged me, as she teased the stiffening nipple of her right breast into my open mouth. "You have a little suck on Aunty Justine's titty. That always calms my little babies down." My parted lips automatically closed around her thickening warm teat, and I opened my blurry eyes in shock even as I instinctively started to suck.

Justine had stretched her scoop-necked knit dress down in front and slipped one creamy breast free from the confines of her shiny pink satin bra cup. She was cradling the soft mound of warm flesh in one hand, and the fat russet nipple poking between her splayed fingers pressed deeply into my mouth. I wanted to draw back and stare in awe at her full naked breast, but there was no way I was going to let that delectable hard nipple out of my mouth even for a second. I gazed up at her beautiful face instead and sucked for all I was worth. The gorgeous red-head pressed her hand against the back of my head, almost mashing my face against her plump creamy bosom in excitement as I drew more of her luscious teat into my greedy mouth.

"Suck, baby. That's a good girl. Ooo, you do that so well!” Justine moaned. “Suck harder, Baby Jennie.” I obediently drew harder on her swollen nipple and she groaned in response. “Ohhh! Mmmm, like that. Oh yes! Ohh, mmm, that's my good baby girl," she muttered throatily. For some reason I seemed to instantly calm down and my eyelids fluttered closed. As I reflexively tongued her luscious teat against the roof of my mouth, my tears vanished like magic. I suddenly felt warm and loved and content. Justine softly stroked my cheek and patted my hair, crooning to me in nonsense baby-talk as I continued to suckle like a hungry babe from her firm heavy breast. "Oh that feels good, doesn't it, honey? Mmmm. Yum-yums! That's right, baby, keep sucking, just like that. Oh yes! Mmmm! Good girl. Ooo! Aunty Justine loves it when you suck her titties hard like that. Mmmm, good girl. Good Baby Jennie! Ooo!" I slitted my eyelids to shyly peek up at her beautiful face, but from the glazed look in her big brown eyes, she didn't appear to notice. Her sweet voice seemed to grow thicker with each passing moment and her eyelids suddenly squeezed tightly shut. I could feel her pressing and rubbing her thighs together under my head and she started to tremble.

"Oohh! Oh yes! Oh yes, baby! Suck my nipple harder, Baby Jennie. Don't stop! Mmmm! Good girl! Good baby girl!" Justine groaned and threw back her head, carelessly tossing her mane of thick red hair over her shoulders. She began to twitch and moan incoherently, giving in to the pleasurable sensations building in her groin. I thought she was going to crush my head for a few seconds, she squeezed me so tightly against her sweaty heaving bosom. The swollen nipple in my mouth went hard as a pebble, and her warm heavy breast seemed to swell and grow suddenly firmer against my cheek. "Oh baby! Oh! Oh! Oooo!" she quietly groaned, her pink lips pulled back in the rictus of a smile. After another minute of shuddering, her painfully tight grip on my head thankfully relaxed. I continued to dutifully suckle on her hard nipple for a few more seconds, but then she pried me away by slipping the tip of her index finger into the corner of my mouth, breaking my suction grip. For a moment all I could taste was her nail polish, and I opened my eyes wide in surprised disappointment.

Justine tenderly gazed down at me lying across her lap for a few moments, a faraway languid look in her lustrous brown eyes. "That's enough for now, little girl," she crooned softly to me. She tucked her beautiful heavy breast inside the shiny hammock of her pink satin bra. "They always get really sensitive after I cum," she explained, as she demurely rearranged the front of her knit dress. She giggled when I pouted up at her in disappointed confusion. "How old are you again, Baby Jennie?" Justine demanded with a throaty laugh. I blushed mightily when I again confessed to her that I was really thirteen years old. "Oh well," she continued, in that condescending tone adults always use when they're discussing sexual matters with small children. "Don't worry about it, my pretty little girl. I'm sure you'll find out what Aunty Justine means soon enough."

Her cryptic remarks did little to satisfy my curiosity. I was distracted when she reached down and patted the tenting front of my panties again, grabbing my hard stiffie right through my wet nappies and bloomers. She continued in a playful voice, "I'm sure my naughty little girl has already been experimenting with her hands inside her wet nappies. Haven't you, Baby Jennie? Tell Aunty Justine the truth now." She pouted sexily and her eyelids drooped seductively, her tone coy and secretive. When I shook my head in confused denial, she merely threw back her head and laughed loudly in disbelief. I was thrilled she didn’t stop caressing my protruding erection through the clinging layers of my deliciously warm wet nappies.

She rubbed the baggy cotton bloomers up and down over the prominent bulge with her palm, and the sheer pink material slithered sensuously over the slippery smooth pink plastic panties underneath. Her big brown eyes watched my face calculatingly as she squeezed and rubbed me, teasing the throbbing hardness trapped beneath to greater fullness. Suddenly I wanted Justine to touch me down there - to touch me inside my diaper! My nappies were a warm wet prison for me now, and I was desperate to be free of their humid confines. My beautiful babysitter obviously had other plans, because she released her thrilling grip on my nappy front and sat me up. She helped me unsteadily to my feet, with a smile and a bemused shake of her head at the obvious bulge tenting out the front of my bloomer panties. She straightened the front of my dress and petties and then took my hand. “Come on, baby. Come with Aunty Justine.” She led me waddling outside to play with the other toddlers in the Nursery. I knew my bloomers were tenting out in front, but my floaty pink sundress and frothy petticoats were thankfully long enough to conceal my embarrassing state of arousal.

I found my eyes locked on the fascinating curves of Justine's bosom for the remainder of the morning. I marvelled at the entrancing glimpses of cleavage she slyly offered me now and then. My throbbing stiffie wouldn't go down, even when I became desperate to do another wee-wee. I had to slink off by myself for a while and will away my pee-hard erection before I could thankfully empty my straining bladder. But as soon as the hot stream dwindled to a halt, I started growing stiff again inside my deliciously warm wet nappy. I would secretly rub the front of my panties whenever I thought no one was watching, fondling my sensitive stiffie through the delicious wet warmth. I spent the remainder of the hour in a state of constant arousal, and I was almost a shivering wreck by the time Mummy came to collect us after Church service.

As soon as Mummy spied me kneeling on the floor clutching the front of my panties, she frowned and motioned me to come to her with a summoning wave of her hand. I guiltily snatched my naughty paw away from my warm wet crotch and awkwardly clambered to my feet. I slowly waddled towards her with my dolly cradled in my arms. I was so frightened that my stiffie started wilting immediately, thank goodness! Mummy coldly ordered, "Lift up your dress, Baby Jennie. Let Mummy check that droopy nappy to see how wet you are." Of course I was saturated by this time.

Mummy pulled the waistband of my bloomers and my plastic panties away from my tummy before sniffing loudly in contempt. "Oh dear! What a smelly, wet little girl you are, Baby Jennie!" She made sure her voice was loud enough so everyone in the Nursery could hear her cruel admonition, then announced; "That diaper is too drenched to last my helpless little wetter through breakfast. I think we'd better change your saturated nappy right away, little girl." She produced the pink-checked vinyl change bag from behind her back and grabbed my wrist, turning her attention to Justine standing behind me. "Would you like to help me change Baby Jennie's wet nappy, Justine?" I turned to gaze up at the beautiful smiling teenager in horror, shaking my head in denial. She ignored my pleading eyes to look only at my stern-faced Mummy.

"Why certainly, Mrs. R!" Justine agreed with an amused smirk, her rich chocolate eyes lighting up with poorly concealed glee. "Let me escort you to the tea-room out back, where we can have a little more privacy." The gorgeous red-head walked ahead of us, and I stared in fascination at the beautiful big bottom under her tight clinging pink dress as it swayed and danced hypnotically before my eyes. "By the way, I love your matching pink outfits," she tossed over her shoulder to Mummy, who only smiled thinly in response. Mummy kept my slender wrist in her iron grip and before I knew it, my pink vinyl-backed change mat was being spread out on the old grey sofa by the smiling buxom teenager. I was then lifted onto my back on the lounge Justine had recently used to breastfeed me. I knew I was still mostly hard inside my wonderfully warm wet nappy, and I desperately tried to will away my shameful erection while Mummy pulled down my frilly bloomers and plastic panties.

"She's very wet today," Justine commented with certainty when she spied the yellow saturated crotch of my formerly-white nappy. She smiled down at me and cooed, "What a wet little baby girl! Aren't you, Baby Jennie?" I meekly nodded, too embarrassed to respond.
Mummy paused to order me to lift my bottom so she could make sure the protective change mat was spread out properly beneath me. "Baby Jennie is always wet. I think she enjoys sitting in her smelly wet nappies. And down, baby," Mummy coldly directed me. When my damp bottom obediently dropped, she unfastened the big pink pins and lowered the drenched front of my clinging wet nappy.

"Oh yes, Baby Jennie certainly seems to love her warm wet nappies, all right," Justine wryly observed when my embarrassing erection was finally revealed. "Here, let me clean her up?" She asked my grim-faced mother. Mummy nodded curtly and stood beside us, watching carefully as the gorgeous teenager began wiping my hard red stiffie and glistening urine-stained crotch with some cool baby wipes. Justine towered over me and leaned forward between my splayed legs while she cleaned my tummy, till her bountiful breasts almost spilled free from her plunging neckline. With each tantalising swipe of the soothing wipes her enticing cleavage deepened then opened again, and my stiffie only seemed to swell harder in response.

"Lots of my little charges get so excited when Aunty Justine has to clean up their messy bottoms," she commented airily. She disposed of the used wipe in a handy bin, and then she expertly collected and raised my ankles with one hand. She grabbed another couple of wipes and tilted me further back onto my shoulders, so my damp bottom was shamefully exposed. Justine carefully cleaned between my spread cheeks with a dismissive laugh. "Sometimes it's almost impossible to pin them into their clean nappies afterwards. Let me show you what I usually do with the over-excited ones," she suggested to my mother with a twinkling smile. As she finished wiping my crack, she poked a wipe-covered finger right inside my delicate wrinkled rosebud. I squealed piteously at the unwarranted intrusion and vainly tried to wriggle away. She ignored my shrill cries of distress and carelessly let my ankles drop. After showing it to Mummy, she discarded the brown-stained baby wipe in the nearby trash can, accompanied by a significant glance to my unsmiling parent. Justine washed her hands at the sink, and then stepped over to the old bar fridge under the bench against the wall.

I didn't see Justine remove the big steel spoon from the freezer, but I squealed in alarm when she used it to cup my sensitive ball sack and then cover my hard peenie. The frozen spoon had the instantaneous desired effect, and my throbbing stiffie quickly wilted under this unfair assault. I shrieked and bucked, and I tried to clamp my legs together and wriggle away from the freezing steel she viciously pressed against my shrinking genitals. Mummy grabbed hold of my knees and simply forced them wider apart. She harshly commanded, “Be quiet, Baby Jennie! Behave and lie still!”

I started to sniffle and then cry real tears of pain and humiliation, and my face grew hotter when Justine loudly observed, "I normally give my teary little ones their dummies when I do this to them. It seems to help calm their tears. Does Baby Jennie have a dummy she can suck?" She asked my sneering mother, who shook her head disdainfully.

"No, Baby Jennie doesn't have a dummy. Not yet," was Mummy's yelled reply. She pressed my shoulders back before she grabbed my knees again, relentlessly holding me in place until my shrivelling peenie and scrotum had almost disappeared inside my body. I shrieked and wailed in discomfort, trembling violently all over. The pain was starting to lessen, but the humiliation was overwhelming. I gazed up uncomprehendingly at my cruel red-headed tormentress through tear-blurred eyes. Her beautiful face was impassive and her dark brown eyes unreadable, but I'm sure mine expressed my sense of confusion and betrayal. "I must remember that trick," my Mummy noted in a thoughtful tone. I shuddered at the frightening portent of that comment.

As soon as Mummy released my knees, she grabbed my ankles and forced them high over my head. Justine slipped two prepared clean nappies underneath my folded frame, and Mummy lowered my shivering botty onto the waiting pile of soft fluffy terrycloth. My mother handed her the nappy liners, and watched the pretty teenager with almost professional interest as she correctly placed them in position. Mummy nodded in grim approval as Justine thoroughly powdered my miniscule pale scrotum and shivering bottom, and then she swiftly pinned the fresh nappies tightly over my hips with two big pink pins each side.

"She's certainly a very heavy wetter, your Baby Jennie," Justine commented knowingly, as she closed the second pin on the last side. "Two pins each side will certainly help stop her nappies from sliding down when they're saturated. Plus they make it harder for this inquisitive little miss to slip her naughty little paws inside her tight wet nappies." Mummy only compressed her lips into a thin bloodless line at that prophetic comment. Justine replaced my damp plastic panties before pulling my bloomers up my compliantly raised legs. "There you go, Baby Jennie!" Justine brightly exclaimed, as she lifted me to my feet and handed me my doll. She urged me towards my Poe-faced mother with an encouraging crisp smack on my heavily padded rear. "A fresh, clean-smelling baby girl - for the moment."

"Yes - for the moment," my Mummy agreed with an exaggerated sigh of long suffering as I waddled towards her clutching my baby doll Justine. "Certainly she won't stay dry for very long. My wicked Baby Jennie seems to love weeing and pooing in her nappies like a naughty little baby, making lots of yucky stinky messes for her poor Mummy to clean up." I ducked my head and felt my cheeks grow hotter with shame at Mummy's embarrassing revelations, which only seemed to inspire my mother to further humiliate me. "Oh and by the way, did Baby Jennie tell you what she named her new baby dolly? This one, which I purchased for her yesterday?"

"Why no, she didn't," replied the teenager with a cheeky grin, as she glanced at the doll I nervously clutched in my arms. "I was admiring Baby Jennie's dolly earlier. She certainly is a lucky baby girl." She turned to me and asked in honeyed tones, "What is your pretty baby's name, Baby Jennie?" She spoke to me exactly as though she was addressing a shy little toddler and my mother's cruel smile only grew broader.

I shrank away from Justine's searching dark brown eyes and felt my cheeks grow hotter at her condescending tone. Mummy's harsh expression warned me I'd better tell the truth, so I haltingly admitted; "Her name- My baby- Her name is Baby Justine," I finally blurted in an embarrassed rush. I felt absolutely mortified, but the bemused teenager seemed to take pity on me.

After briefly laughing, the stunning young woman knelt down in front of me. My eyes locked on her entrancing cleavage without conscious thought. "I think that's a lovely compliment, Baby Jennie," she kindly informed me. She raised my drooping chin with one perfectly manicured pink fingernail, making me lift my humiliated gaze to her beautiful face till I could see she was beaming in delight. "What a precious little baby girl you are!" I began to feel better - until Mummy thoughtlessly interrupted.

"Oh, my Baby Jennie certainly seems to have a crush on you, Justine. As you probably know, little girls develop crushes on their pretty babysitters so easily. But I'm glad to see you know how to treat naughty little babies like mine, especially when changing their wet nappies."
"As I said before, Mrs R," Justine replied evenly, standing beside my mother and taking my small hand possessively in hers. "If you want to leave a change of nappies with me for this pretty little baby girl, I'd be happy to change her for you when she's wet or dirty."
"I'll certainly think about it now," Mummy promised, and after collecting Angie and her doll Baby Sophie, she led us out to the car. The morning sun had disappeared behind a wall of dark grey clouds, and the sombre weather seemed to match my gloomy circumstances.

As soon as my mother and Angelica walked a few paces ahead of us, Justine leaned closer to me and whispered conspiratorially in my ear. "Sorry about the frozen spoon trick. But I wanted your Mummy to feel confident about leaving you with me in the future, and letting me change your wet nappies. I'll make it up to you next time I babysit you, Baby Jennie. I promise." The chill wind almost whipped her quietly-spoken words away and lifted my dress and petticoats distractingly. With both hands occupied, I struggled to keep my flying hemline in place with my dolly. Justine fell silent when she handed me over to Mummy to buckle into the car's back seat, and she smiled and waved to us as we drove off, trying to hold her windblown red hair down with her free hand.

I was sullen and miserable when Daddy secured me in the highchair at our usual Sunday restaurant for breakfast, but Angie sitting in her highchair opposite was so bubbly and excited, she chattered enough for all of us. She insisted Mummy place our dolls carefully together in another highchair the elderly manager kindly brought to our table. An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of my mouth when I saw how cute our pretty twin babies looked sitting side-by-side. After Angie's and my bibs were clipped around our necks by a helpful grinning young waitress, Mummy proceeded to feed me my breakfast while Daddy fed Angie, and my parents openly discussed me as though I wasn't even there. When I realised there wasn't even a strut in front of the highchair to rub my wet crotch against, I slumped dispiritedly in my infantile restraints.

Over breakfast, Mummy mentioned the embarrassing subject of my apparently diminishing bladder and bowel control. After a careful glance at my baby sister, busily chewing away and preoccupied watching the table of little girls next to ours, in a hushed voice Mummy informed Daddy that she suspected their naughty Baby Jennie was unfortunately starting to enjoy her wet and dirty nappies! They frankly discussed my disgusting newfound fascination while Mummy spoon-fed me scrambled eggs for breakfast. They acted as though I couldn't understand a single word they were saying. Then it occurred to me. They didn't appear to be acting.

I felt a chill of premonition when I realised they actually had started to view me as another toddler who needed potty-training; nothing but a small child who had unfortunately acquired some unsavoury bad habits. My cheeks grew hotter and my ears buzzed with humiliation. I tried to blot out their shameful conversation by thinking about something - anything else. When I felt my nappy grow warmer around my bottom, the familiar soothing heat comforted me, and I relaxed completely and let my lovely hot wee-wees flow freely into my thick and thirsty swaddling. I fixated on the memory of Justine's beautiful firm teat in my mouth earlier that morning, simply opening my mouth whenever the loaded spoon approached, chewing and then swallowing with difficulty through a throat thick and tight with shame.

When Mummy handed me my pink sippy-cup full of juice from the baby bag, she informed Daddy that her big sister Cathy was coming to visit for the afternoon, to meet their new big baby girl. After they both glanced meaningfully at me, she didn't seem surprised when he immediately decided to drive to his golf club and play golf or cards with the boys for the rest of the day. My beautiful Aunty Cath is a real bossy-boots, and the whole family normally tries to stay out of her way - except Mummy, of course; but sometimes Aunty Cath even bosses her around unmercifully.

The black clouds had rolled over and the first fat drops of rain were falling while we drove home, my nappies growing wetter in sympathy as Daddy switched on the swishing windscreen wipers. When he pulled up in our driveway, Mummy unbuckled us and quickly ushered us inside before the torrential downpour really started. Daddy drove away alone while I had to follow Mummy upstairs, leading Angelica by the hand for her diaper change. She undressed my sister down to her disposable and baby panties, and lifted her onto the change table.

My sister had done a big smelly poo-poo in her wet diaper during breakfast, and after I had carefully removed the saggy soiled disposable from under her raised bottom, Mummy took the unfolded item from me without a word. I was made to clean Angie's dirty bot-bot and puffy brown-stained slit thoroughly with baby wipes, and I thankfully managed not to smear any yucky excrement on me this time. I had to massage in the scented pink baby lotion front and back, and powder my little sister all over, before taping a fresh diaper around her loins, and then Mummy lifted her down from the change table. She dressed Angie in a white Barbie onesie and some red snap-crotch shorts, tied her pink sneakers over the same frilly socks, and then urged her to go and play with her baby doll in the sunroom.

As soon as my bubbling baby sister vanished from sight, Mummy took my doll from Angie's bed and placed her on her back on the change table. I was expecting her to lift me up onto the padded table for a nappy change, and glanced up at her in surprise. "It's time to change your baby Justine's diaper too, don't you think, Baby Jennie?" From her icy condescending tone, I knew she didn't expect a reply. I simply undressed my baby, untaping the smelly stale wet diaper with a sigh of relief. I folded it and carefully taped it closed, before placing it in the pleasantly scented nappy sack my stony-faced mother held open and waiting for me. I had to scrub my baby down with a wipe from the plastic tub, and then powder her bottom and crotch and gently rub it in like she was a real baby. As soon as the full nappy sack had been discarded in the bin beside the change table, Mummy turned to me and her olive-green eyes were cold and unforgiving. She took my sister's yucky poopy diaper from under the change table where she’d placed it, and carefully handed the foul-smelling item to me.

"Tape this dirty diaper on your baby, Baby Jennie," she disdainfully ordered. My face fell when she snapped, "and be careful about it!" My bottom lip stuck out despondently when I lifted my baby doll's clean rubber bottom into the air and delicately slid the awful poopy diaper under her. Stinky brown poo-poo stuck to Justine as soon as I lowered her pink rubber flesh into the soft pile of excrement. I grimaced in distaste as I gingerly taped the re-sealable tabs in place. I replaced my doll's plastic panties as carefully as I could, and was relieved when no poop leaked out. I slid Justine's frilly pink satin rumba panties back in place when ordered, and almost gagged when Mummy made me clutch my dirty smelly baby to my breast. My nappies were lovely and warm and wet around my sensitive groin, and I was confused when Mummy led me out to the laundry without even bothering to check me.

I had to take the load of freshly-washed nappies out of the machine and pop them in the dryer before I was allowed to go and play 'Mummies and babies' with Angie. After a few minutes of playing together my sister frowned in revulsion and pushed me away. "Pee-yew! Your baby stinks!" Angie complained bitterly, screwing up her petite snub nose and shaking her head in disgust. "You're not a very good Mummy, Baby Jennie." Her frown deepened as she concentrated but then she smiled forgivingly, her pretty features lighting up. "But maybe that's 'cause you're still just a baby too!" My curt retort was cut short by the loud ringing of our front doorbell. I was so startled, a hot little lump of poop slipped out of my undisciplined botty hole before I could squeeze my slackened sphincter shut. Oh no! Aunty Cath was here and I was wet and dirty again!

To be continued...

Okay? What did you think? Please leave a post and let me know, as it encourages me to keep writing - and posting! The rest of this naughty tale is continued in 'Jennie's Potty-training' chapters 6 & 7 (& 8 & 9 & 10) elsewhere in this forum. Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia.

Link to the rest of this story; http://www.dailydiap...topic=6154&st=0

Edited by babyjennie, 26 December 2011 - 08:15 AM.


#6 babyjennie

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Posted 09 March 2008 - 05:14 AM

Dear everybody, I can't tell you how disappointed I am that over one thousand people have read the first five chapters, and not one member felt like commenting. I know I've posted these chapters before, but the newer version is about ten pages longer, with added detail and adjusted scenarios in response to some kind readers' comments. Even so, there must be some sissy babies that read this for the first time, and none of them bothered to post a response either. Too sad!

Disappointed Baby Jennie in Australia


#7 wetnappy

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Posted 14 March 2008 - 02:19 AM

i thought this was a really good story ive read it loads

#8 Antonia

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Posted 14 March 2008 - 08:56 AM

This was such a good story the first time round that I saved it on my computer for continued delectation and delight (probabloy broke the law but it was only me that reads it)! I am saving the re-write for a quiet read over the weekend, but a quick glance shows it to be even better than before. Now there is the problem - keep this version and discard the original? No I will keep them both.

Great writing - I was away all week hence no comments, but I know how you feel!

LOL Antonia

#9 mblues

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Posted 10 April 2008 - 06:59 PM

QUOTE (babyjennie @ Mar 9 2008, 07:14 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>
Dear everybody, I can't tell you how disappointed I am that over one thousand people have read the first five chapters, and not one member felt like commenting. I know I've posted these chapters before, but the newer version is about ten pages longer, with added detail and adjusted scenarios in response to some kind readers' comments. Even so, there must be some sissy babies that read this for the first time, and none of them bothered to post a response either. Too sad!

Disappointed Baby Jennie in Australia


I really like this story, especially Justine. I love your description of the soft clinging dress. I am so glad Justine is breastfeeding him. I cannot wait to see how see makes it up to him for the spoon. I also like how is always helplessly excited.

#10 Alice-chan

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Posted 11 December 2008 - 01:36 PM

Bump so that i can find it easier to read later. Good story so far.

#11 Pollyanna Fleshman

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Posted 17 December 2008 - 02:56 AM

HI there,

i first want to tell you that I really liked your story. I read the first five chapters all the way through. I know that there is more in another thread, but I had to read the first five. I'm not really into petticoating, however, this story is great. The mother is kinda strange, especially when she made Jeremy put the wet used diaper on his doll. i got a laugh out of that, as I clutched my inflatable doll in my lap. i have a true love for dolls. I always have, as they provide security for me. I could not imagine putting one of my used diapers on her. I'm still laughing about that.

Oh, I'm not surprised that Angelica did not want to be potty trained. And I'm not surprised that Jeremy did not really do it well until six or seven, especially since their parents potty traines with such brutality. I do know that for a a fact that sadly some parents take brual measures to potty train, even tying kids to potty chairs. It is horrifying and makes things dreadful.

I'm a mother of two children--both age eight. Neither of them are potty trained at their request. Many of you probably wish you were my kids. The reason this is is because I'm incontinent, and they saw me in diapers. When trying to potty train them, they refused and put up such a fight. They'd scream and everything else. When asked if they'd like to use the potty and not wear diapers anymore, they said no because I wore diapers. They said they wanted to be like me. So, I thought, why in the world should i push it? We started trying to train them after their third birthday. They were very vocal and expressed their wishes clearly. I just tell people they have an overactive bladder to avoid scorning towards me or my children. It works out well in school also because I just informed the nurse about the children. At first, there was some trouble, as they said I'd need a doctor's note since children were not normlly allowed in school unpotty trained. That was no problem, as I informed my doctor about it I put o a good act all the years up til school age telling my doctor that it was impractical to potty learn my kids. I told him that they urinate arount twelve to fifteen times a day--my usual amount. He said that we should do the blader capacity test, which involved using a catheter, but I objected saying that i did not want to put my children through that pain. Thankfully, he went along with it for all those years. So, obtaining the note for the kids upon entering school was no difficulty at all.

I made this decision five years ago, well before i know about infantilism or these sites. NOw that I've seen Daily Diapers and things like that, I feel better about my decision since i'm allowing my children to be what they want--like me. I've learned an important lesson from you guys. Live and let live. I've always been that way for most things, but the lesson was reinforced even more so when coming here. My allowing my children to skip potty learning is not hurting anyone, and they were not forced into an uncomfortable old. No, they are not treated like babies. They do everything else normally. It's just that they wear diapers and used me an excuse to stay in them. HOw coudl I argue with them? I did not feel right making them potty learn if I was never taught myself and had to stay in diapers. I know my diaper wearing is due to a medical problem--my urinary tract did not develop past one years of age--the kids woudl not understand at three. All they knew was that mommy was wearing a diaper, so they should be allowed to wear one also. I am a fan of parenting by example, not the do as I say not as I do philosophy. Because of this, I could not and did not say no. I just thought that children like to copy their parents, so why not. Not to mention, if they were going to put up such a miserable fight during potty learning--and I did not believe in berating children for accidents or not progressing good enough unlike some parents--I just let it go and just could give a crap less.

I'm curious to know what some of you thought about that. I was very reluctant to share this, but since i know what kind of people you are, I grew comfortable enough to share this with you.

Good story. I will read the rest tomorrow. I'm going to bed soon.
I am pro-gay, <a href="http://www.naturalch...nky_mckay.html" target="_blank">against letting babies cry themselves to sleep</a>, <a href="http://www.vaclib.org" target="_blank">anti-vaccinations</a>, <a href="http://www.neverhitachild.org/" target="_blank">against physical punishment of children</a>, <a href="http://www.christian...ioniswrong.htm" target="_blank">anti-abortion</a>, open minded, a liberal Christian, <a href="http://www.fresnofam.../ap/gentle.htm" target="_blank">for gentle discipline of children</a>, <a href="http://www.askdrsear...10/T130300.asp" target="_blank">an attachment parent</a>, <a href="http://www.kellymom....-benefits.html" target="_blank">for extended breast feeding</a>, <a href="http://www.svcc.cc.i...0/wetnurse.htm" target="_blank">for wet nursing</a>, <a href="http://www.umm.edu/m...what_is_ms.htm" target="_blank">a fighter for MS</a>, and inquisitive.

I'm a mommy to my ten year old twins, Sebastian and Sydelle, as well as my triplets Edward, Pollyanna, and James, my newest addition Rex, and to my angel who earned her wings.

Multiple sclerosis may ravage my body, but it wont ravage my spirit. It could take everything away from me, but it won't take away my love and my joy.

Im tired of the lies and am so tired of hiding my true self from others on the count of stigma. I dont care what people think about incontinence and wearing diapers. Im not ashamed of incontinence and diapers. Im ashamed of being ashamed!

#12 babyjennie

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Posted 17 December 2008 - 07:01 AM

Dear Pollyanna, what a lovely long letter! It was interesting to read what you've done with your kids and their refusal to potty-train. I was successfully toilet-trained from the age of two or three, and thought nothing of it. Unfortunately I have no point of comparison, because for me, wearing and wetting nappies has sexually aroused me even from the tender age of seven or eight. I had no choice in the matter. rolleyes.gif My fetish was established very early, thank you Dr Freud! Who knows how your kids will end up? As long as you give them lots of love and respect, (and not too much pocket money) I'm sure they'll turn out fine. My beautiful boys (aged 11 and 15) are aware daddy has a 'bladder problem,' and needs to wear 'protection.' They also know I like to play dress-ups and frequently go to 'fancy-dress' (read as B&D) parties, often in full female regalia. But as a divorced dad, I only have them every second weekend, so I try to keep my little-girl dress-up weekends out of their sight. If they want to develop a fetish... let 'em find their own! biggrin.gif

As a final comment, just let me remind you that this is a total fantasy tale! I would never condone such bizarre treatment of children in real life, but as my own (perverse) sexual awakening took place at around age thirteen, that's where I've set the age for my chief protagonist, Jeremy. This is a naughty, dirty little story, displaying the deep mire of my twisted imagination. wub.gif But because I've found similar work tittilating to the point of climax, I decided to try my hand at writing my own perverted version. Fortunately, quite a few others seem to be enjoying my filthy tale, so I'll continue to post new chapters.... as long as my readers keep posting their comments - good or bad. Don't be shy, little one! blush.gif Feel free to leave a comment or criticism. All will be gratefully accepted, and if detailed enough, sometimes acted upon.

Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia
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#13 Pollyanna Fleshman

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Posted 17 December 2008 - 02:37 PM

Hi there,

Oh, no, I'd never suggest at all that you condone such treatment. I was just saying that I've heard horror stories of babies being tied to potty seats to be forced into training and left there for over an hour or so. It is sad because I don't know what goes through those parents' heads. Come on, they obviously have no compassion for their children and fail to realize that potty learning can be very traumatizing depending on how it is handled. It is already hard from the beginning because they are so used to their diapers. It is like asking a shy child to give a speech. The children are really scared. I know my sister was. She screamed every time she was put on the toilet. When asked what was wrong, she said that a monster would get her and suck her in. Kids are also afraid of the flushing sound. It is all new and frightening. But if done with lots of love, it can be done right.

My choice not to do it was based on listening to my children. No, they do not get away with murder I'll assure you on that. It is just they saw me in diapers, heck, they've been present when my husband changed them on numerous occasions. So, I felt like a big hypocrite making them potty learn if they did not want to. Because I knew it woudl not be socially acceptable--hell, incontinence is still taboo but not as bad as not potty training children--I went to the doctor, faked a bladder diary for my kids, and even went as far as consulting with a urologist. When asked if I'd like to put my kids on meds, I staunchly refused. Heck, I don't even believe in vaccinations. Not to mention, they did not really have overactive bladder, anyhow, and I did not want them taking anything for something they did not have. I used my refusal to vaccinate as a leverage for my refusal--and you will have to have many forms filled out if you want to refuse vaccinations and never ever sign any forms that docs give you on that matter because they are just setting you up, and I got a lawyer for the whole process to make sure our parental rights woudl stay in tact for choosing not to vaccinate. My decision was respected, and our plan worked. I'm amazed, when reading [That site].com, that there was another mother who did the same thing. This boy James, at the age of puberty, expressed he'd like to be treated like a baby. His mother made his wish come true by giving him a secret room in the house for a nursery and told the people in school that he had a problem with his prostate. I believe, if I'm not mistaken, that she knew a doctor and got the note written somehow. I'm not sure of the details. I can't remember too well now because I read it over a month ago. But, I don't feel too strange after all.

As far as pocket money goes, my kids have to work for it. We seldom buy them anything because we want to show them responsibility and budgeting. Most things they want, they buy on their own. We give them things once in awhile, but usually, they work for them. They are pretty good kids. They work hard in school and are respectful. My husband and I've been blessed. Nobody knows about our dirty little secret with our kids accept the two of us and you guys here.

Though I'm not into the sexual stuff and petticoating too much, I do like your story. I sat and read the first five chapters all the way through well after the kids had gone to bed. I already started reading chapter six now, but I had to take a break. Wow, Jeremy's auntie is too much. He's really getting some treatment now... Keep writing because I'll keep reading.
I am pro-gay, <a href="http://www.naturalch...nky_mckay.html" target="_blank">against letting babies cry themselves to sleep</a>, <a href="http://www.vaclib.org" target="_blank">anti-vaccinations</a>, <a href="http://www.neverhitachild.org/" target="_blank">against physical punishment of children</a>, <a href="http://www.christian...ioniswrong.htm" target="_blank">anti-abortion</a>, open minded, a liberal Christian, <a href="http://www.fresnofam.../ap/gentle.htm" target="_blank">for gentle discipline of children</a>, <a href="http://www.askdrsear...10/T130300.asp" target="_blank">an attachment parent</a>, <a href="http://www.kellymom....-benefits.html" target="_blank">for extended breast feeding</a>, <a href="http://www.svcc.cc.i...0/wetnurse.htm" target="_blank">for wet nursing</a>, <a href="http://www.umm.edu/m...what_is_ms.htm" target="_blank">a fighter for MS</a>, and inquisitive.

I'm a mommy to my ten year old twins, Sebastian and Sydelle, as well as my triplets Edward, Pollyanna, and James, my newest addition Rex, and to my angel who earned her wings.

Multiple sclerosis may ravage my body, but it wont ravage my spirit. It could take everything away from me, but it won't take away my love and my joy.

Im tired of the lies and am so tired of hiding my true self from others on the count of stigma. I dont care what people think about incontinence and wearing diapers. Im not ashamed of incontinence and diapers. Im ashamed of being ashamed!

#14 Baby Johnny

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Posted 18 December 2008 - 01:41 AM

I'm surprised you could get your kids into school without vaccinations. In MA and NH, my kids have been suspended from school because they turned a certain age and didn't have the required vaccinations.
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#15 Pollyanna Fleshman

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Posted 18 December 2008 - 03:44 AM

QUOTE (Baby Johnny @ Dec 18 2008, 02:41 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}>
I'm surprised you could get your kids into school without vaccinations. In MA and NH, my kids have been suspended from school because they turned a certain age and didn't have the required vaccinations.



There is definitely a way around it. You have to stand your ground. I've been there. I've been down that road. They try to scare you with the law and everything. They try to tell you it is manditory, but you do have informed consent and you do have a choice. There are forms that you can fill out that will protect you and your children. There are so many risks with vaccinations. I have slight autism. Yes, it is a pain, but with intervention, I'm doing okay. I blame vaccinations for having Autism, especiailly after reading all the info. Thankfully, my mother just went along with my special and strange interests growing up. She never thought I was strange. She just did whatever made me content. But, now we know why I was not quite right per say.

No, I'm not mentally retarded, as that is so very obvious, but I have to say that because when people hear the word Autism, they automatically think mental retardation, which is not always true. I have some social challenges and boundaries issues. I also have sensory problems. I can't tollerate certain food textures. If certain foods mix causing the texture to change slightly, I will not eat it. If a certain spice is used in the food causing it to even look or feel different in my mouth--like grainy or something--I'll spit out without hesitation. I also can't tollerate too much visual stimulation. I also have an extreme sensitivity to certain lighting. I can't have it too bright, or I freak out. On sunny days, if i'm going to be outside, i have to wear dark shades. I even hate certain baby wipes. Because of my heighten sensitivities, I can tell if one is more rough than the other. I hate Huggies brand in particular due to the way it feels rough on my skin. I like Pampers the best. I can't stand jean material. It agrivates me. I also can't wear silk. I really only like cotton. That's pretty much what I wear. I get upset over certain shoes. I won't wear dress types at all. I personally only prefer the canvas shoes all year round. I don't like thong sandals or flip flops. They are hard to walk in anyhow since I already have slight trouble walking due to lack of sure footing. For some of you who had not had the chance to read my introduction, I can walk short distances only sort of normally, then my legs get tired. I can walk down the block and stuff like that. On certain days, my good days, I go longer. On bad days, I can't. It depends on my MS and how it acts that day. It's kind of unpredictable in that way. Certain noises are intollerable, as well. If I become too overloaded, I melt down. It is challenging, but I make it. Sometimes, though, I wish I was normal I just wish I did not have to live with this. It sucks so bad. I'd love to be normal. Stupid vaccinations. Nobody else has to go through this in my family. All my siblings are normal. Just not me..

For more information as to how you can free yourself from the vaccine madness, visit http://www.vaclib.org This is the Vaccination Liberation Organization. They will help you fight for your childrens' right not to have crap injected into their bodies. They even have forms you can print out, sign, and give to your doctors and school. If you are in trouble with the courts for a decision not to vaccinate, they will help you fight. Thankfully, I've never had to go down that road, but I do know parents who have. Oh, and one more thing, they are giving vaccinations, and they do not know enough about it's effectiveness or the risks. Just read up on things and see.
I am pro-gay, <a href="http://www.naturalch...nky_mckay.html" target="_blank">against letting babies cry themselves to sleep</a>, <a href="http://www.vaclib.org" target="_blank">anti-vaccinations</a>, <a href="http://www.neverhitachild.org/" target="_blank">against physical punishment of children</a>, <a href="http://www.christian...ioniswrong.htm" target="_blank">anti-abortion</a>, open minded, a liberal Christian, <a href="http://www.fresnofam.../ap/gentle.htm" target="_blank">for gentle discipline of children</a>, <a href="http://www.askdrsear...10/T130300.asp" target="_blank">an attachment parent</a>, <a href="http://www.kellymom....-benefits.html" target="_blank">for extended breast feeding</a>, <a href="http://www.svcc.cc.i...0/wetnurse.htm" target="_blank">for wet nursing</a>, <a href="http://www.umm.edu/m...what_is_ms.htm" target="_blank">a fighter for MS</a>, and inquisitive.

I'm a mommy to my ten year old twins, Sebastian and Sydelle, as well as my triplets Edward, Pollyanna, and James, my newest addition Rex, and to my angel who earned her wings.

Multiple sclerosis may ravage my body, but it wont ravage my spirit. It could take everything away from me, but it won't take away my love and my joy.

Im tired of the lies and am so tired of hiding my true self from others on the count of stigma. I dont care what people think about incontinence and wearing diapers. Im not ashamed of incontinence and diapers. Im ashamed of being ashamed!

#16 BabyGrizzy

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Posted 04 January 2009 - 01:28 AM

Well, this is certainly what I would call high quality. It is much better than a lot of stories I have read. I enjoy the fact that you have the right amount of detail. By the right amount of detail, I mean that you don't spend a chapter talking about how the poop felt coming out and in the diaper. I didn't see any notable spelling mistakes, and I am a freaking grammar Nazi. You cut off the paragraphs at the right moment, so it was easy to read. All around, 10/10, because of the lack of spelling/grammar mistakes, and the fact that your story contains several different fetishes.

#17 Spokane Girl

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Posted 14 June 2009 - 06:58 PM

I thought it was disgusting how the mother made Jennie put a used diaper on his doll. Bleh.

Titanic is a good diaper movie, lots of flooding.

 

It's easier to use a toilet than a diaper.... Those things are high maintenance. Gotta change, take care of th skin, insure proper hydration so you don't stink

Nope. Those who go 24/7 aren't lazy at all. It's lazier to be a toilet slave! Hah!!

 

 

 

My stories:

 

http://my-stories.freeforums.net/

 

http://www.network54.com/Forum/263384/

 


#18 babyjennie

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Posted 22 July 2009 - 10:18 AM

Seeing as I just spent HOURS re-posting the first five chapters to remove the stupid 'html' directions, I thought I'd post a reply, too, to bump my hard work to the top of the list again. So there!

Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia


#19 babyjennie

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Posted 07 March 2010 - 09:14 AM

With over 10,000 hits on the first five chapters, and over 62,000 hits on chapters 5-42, you readers have made this the most popular story on Daily Diapers. For that, I thank you. I thought I'd post this update to bump the first few chapters near the top of the list, in case some of you want to go back and start at the beginning (now that the ending has finally been written.) This labour of love took over 5 years - and a large chunk of my life - so don't expect anything new for quite a while. I hope you enjoy this highly-pornographic, sissy-AB tale, and I would love you to post a response/comment here or after the final chapter to let me know what you think. Okay?

Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia


#20 Antonia

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Posted 08 March 2010 - 06:51 AM

I liked the orginal five chapters, I like the new amended five chapters and I have enjoyed all the other chapters. Bravo. I have saved them all on my PC for future delectation and to savour. Thank you again.

As for how did I get into all this, seeing as we are all owning up? I had a younger sister, was jealous of the attention she was getting and found solace in her nappies. I was 8 at the time. My nmother found out, embarrassed me in front of neighbours and friends by asking why I did it. She sent me to the doctor, had my step-father talk to me but all these ideas failed and I became more determined to keep it a secret. There were weekly inspections to search for forbidden goods, but nobody thought to look in the attic!

It probably was the reason for my first marriage breaking up but my second wife knows about the desires, even buys me things as special presents but will not be a part of the games. She will allow a dummy in bed and even a nappy and shawl, but definitely no plastic pants! I know the boundaries and try to keep within them. The whole baby thing has been a curse!




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