Jennie's Potty-Training chapter 30

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Synopsis; After Isabell and Cath return home with their children, Isabell prepares to punish Baby Bonnie for lying to her and tricking Baby Jennie into wetting her pants and wetting the bed.

Chapter 30. Bad Baby Bonnie

When we returned home, Mummy helped me out of my toddler car seat while Aunty Cath unbuckled Bonnie's seat belt. I noticed April's old red Volvo parked on the street outside our house and assumed my older cousin had to be babysitting Angelica. Cath took my hand as well as Bonnie's, and she led us toddling up the path towards the front door while Mummy loaded our purchases into the pink stroller she removed from the open boot.

April must have heard her mum's BMW coming up the driveway, because she opened the front door when we were still climbing the front steps. "Hi mum, hi girls," she greeted us, smiling broadly at her little sister's awkward waddling gait and her surly embarrassed expression.
After greeting her older daughter, Cath turned to sharply snap at Bonnie; "Put that dummy back in your mouth, little girl! Mummy didn't say you could spit it out yet." She admonished her humiliated daughter like a naughty toddler. “Bad baby! Bad Baby Bonnie!”

A grinning April skipped lightly down the porch steps as we slowly waddled up, and she went to give Mummy a hand with the packages. She looked slim and beautiful as always in a white polo shirt and her favourite navy stretch jeans. Her jet-black hair cascaded past her shoulders in a thick silken wave. April informed my mother, "Angie and I have already eaten our lunch, and I just put her down for her afternoon nap, Aunt Isy."
"Oh thank you, darling. Here, take these, will you?" Mummy handed her the stuffed plastic bags containing our new tutus. The raven-haired beauty's face lit up when she recognised the frothy dance outfits.
“My goodness! Ballet dresses! Your little girls are going to look adorable wearing these!”

Aunty Cath led us straight down the hallway into the kitchen, and I was surprised to see two highchairs sitting beside the bench. After dropping her handbag and Bonnie's change bag on the kitchen bench, Aunty turned me around and then lifted me into my old pink wooden highchair. She smiled down wolfishly at me as she fed the worn white leather waist strap through the crotch piece, and then she stepped behind the chair to buckle me in place. After she made sure I was securely bound, she strode over to where Bonnie stood smirking down at me. I noticed that although Aunty had removed the baby reins, Bonnie was still wearing the gleaming white leather toddler harness with her name emblazoned on the chest strap. "Come on, Baby Bonnie," Aunty Cath sang. "It's time for Mummy to put you in your highchair, too." That remark certainly wiped the smirk from my buxom cousin's perfectly made-up face.

I thought Bonnie would object, but the diapered beauty simply scowled at her mother before stepping over to the larger steel highchair and opening the hinged tray. Even though the pink padded seat was wide enough for a small adult, my voluptuous cousin had difficulty squeezing her heavily-padded hips into the space between the moulded steel arms. As soon as Bonnie settled back in the humiliating highchair, her mother used the pink nylon webbing straps to secure her in place and then lowered the hinged tray. The buxom teen had to press her big boobies flat with her palms to allow the pink-painted tray to drop into position. When it locked in place, her tummy rested hard against the tubular steel rail.

"There we go!" Cath sang in sadistic satisfaction, before she plucked the huge pink dummy from the mortified teen's lips. She unclipped and removed my dummy too, and then opened the kitchen bottom drawer and took out two of my embroidered lace-lavished bibbies. The pink 'Princess Potty-Pants' bibbie was clipped around my neck, while Bonnie had to wear the white one that read, 'Little Miss Poo-poo Pants'. Both terry bibs had elaborate pink lace trimmings around the collar and outside edges. I wondered if the frilly lace framing my face made me look as pretty as my scowling pig-tailed cousin.

I noticed Bonnie's legs were so long, the soles of her gleaming black Maryjanes were resting flat on the floor. I let my pink sneakers swing freely under my highchair seat, enjoying the childish freedom of swinging my legs. Mummy and April returned from upstairs, where they had been unpacking our purchases and laying out our ballet outfits on Mummy's bed for later.

April's smile turned to a broad grin when she spotted her sister bound like a helpless toddler in the pink-painted steel highchair. "I made sandwiches for lunch," she informed the adults. She stepped over to the fridge and removed a covered serving platter. "Chicken, lettuce, avocado and mayonnaise - the girls' favourite."
"Mine too! Thank you so much, April," Mummy responded, smiling in appreciation at her tall raven-haired niece. Even in her platform boots, Mummy was only an inch or two taller than my willowy teenage cousin in her sneakers.

"Good girl, April," Aunty Cath concurred, beaming in approval at her elder child. In her black platform boots with the six-inch heels, she towered over her normally taller daughter. Cath took the china serving plate from April's hands while Mummy produced some colourful flat plastic plates for the babies - 'Barbie' plates, of course. Cath took one sandwich which had been cut into quarters, and arranged the pieces on one brightly-coloured plastic plate as she asked, "April, did anything arrive at home for me this morning?"
"As a mater of fact, a courier turned up with a package for you, just before I left. I had to sign for it, you know? I left it on the stand in the foyer at home, mum."
"Oh good," replied Cath, and her shark-like smile worried me for some reason. She made no further mention of the mysterious package, however. "Here you go, Baby Bonnie," Cath sang, as she placed the full plastic plate on her humiliated daughter's highchair tray. "You can eat your sandwich all by yourself today, just like a big girl."
"Thank you Mummy," Bonnie glumly replied, struggling to sound grateful.

My Mummy placed a cut-up sandwich on a Barbie plate on my tray, too, and straightened my bibbie as she sang, "Eat up, baby girl. My 'Princess Potty-pants' must be starving by now." I was, and I tucked in gratefully. The grown-ups sat at the kitchen bench and munched their sandwiches while April made them fresh cups of tea. "Baby Jennie's bottles are in the cupboard over the fridge, April." Mummy asked, "Could you make up a fresh bottle for my baby? Half-juice, half-water, please honey."
"Baby Bonnie has a new baby bottle in her diaper bag too, April. Make up a bottle for your baby sister as well, will you darling?"
"Sure thing, mum," the tall young woman replied, unsuccessfully trying to conceal her grin.

I had just finished my yummy sandwich when April plonked my full baby bottle on the wide wooden tray and removed my plastic plate. I gratefully thrust the clear silicon nipple between my puffy pink lips and tilted the bottle up. I began to thirstily suck, greedily gulping down the watered-down apple juice. I watched over the bottom of my clear plastic bottle as April approached her sister holding another full pink baby bottle. "Here you go, sweetie," crooned April, as she placed the oversized plastic bottle on the steel highchair tray. "I widened the nipple for you to make it easier to suck out some juice."

"Say thank you to your big sister, Baby Bonnie," Cath cautioned her scowling younger daughter. We could all hear the clear warning tone in Aunty Cath's voice.
"Thank you, April," the surly teenager responded, although she poked at the shameful baby bottle with one fingertip like it was full of poisonous liquid.
“That’s alright, Baby Bonnie,” April replied with a malicious smirk, and she gave her embarrassed little sister a condescending pat on the head before she walked away.

A short time later, I had almost drained my bottle. The women had finished their cups of tea, but Bonnie's full bottle still sat on her highchair tray untouched. I knew she was too embarrassed to suckle like a useless toddler from the teat of a baby bottle while everybody was watching, but I also knew that resistance was useless. My ruthless Aunty Cath always got her way. When Cath realised her disobedient daughter was yet to swallow a drop, she sighed heavily and stood up. She stepped over to where her black leather handbag sat on the bench, and rummaged about inside for a minute. My Aunty took out some pastel-pink, thumbless leather mittens, and my eyes widened when I saw the attached white leather wrist straps used to bind them in place.

Bonnie's huge golden eyes widened in fear when she spotted the humiliating baby mittens. She snatched up her full bottle and wrapped her luscious pink lips around the fat rubber teat, urgently sucking down mouthful after mouthful of watered-down apple juice. "Too late, Baby Bonnie," Aunty Cath cooed mock-sadly, like she was talking to a recalcitrant toddler. "You should have drunk your juice like a big girl when you had the chance. Put down your bottle, baby girl."

The beautiful teenager looked shattered when she carefully placed her almost-full bottle on the steel highchair tray. Her cheeks were flushed red, and she couldn't look at anyone when her mother ordered her; "Hold out those naughty paws, little girl." She slipped the first mitten over Bonnie's right hand, ordering, "Curl up your fingers for mummy, sweetie. That's right, in a fist. Good girl." Cath made sure her daughter's clenched fist was inserted all the way inside the snug leather mitten, before tightly buckling the white strap around her wrist. Moments later the second pink leather mitten had been buckled in place, and then my cruel Aunty produced two small brass padlocks from her handbag. She gave her horrified daughter a thin-lipped smile of satisfaction as she locked the mittens in place, and then she picked up the pink baby bottle full of juice.

"Here you go, baby," Cath crooned, as she deftly inserted the nipple between Bonnie's pouting pink lips. "Let mummy help. Drink up your bottle for mummy like a good little baby girl." Cath raised the base of the pink plastic bottle high in the air and held it there, so her humiliated daughter was forced to tilt her head right back and lift her mortified gaze. Bonnie’s cheeks were blazing and there were tears of shame glistening in her huge golden eyes. I wondered how difficult it was for her to swallow through so much humiliation. Her useless bound fists rested on the highchair tray, her snug leather mittens looking like tiny pink boxing gloves.

As soon as I drained my bottle, a grinning April took the empty plastic vessel from my hands, and Mummy removed the wooden highchair tray. She wiped my face and hands with a warm soapy washer, and I was too tired to complain when I thought she was being too rough. "Come on, Baby Jennie," Mummy urged me, as she popped my dummy in my mouth. "Let's take you upstairs and sit you on the potty before nap time." She unbuckled the retraining strap and helped me climb down, and I wearily clutched her hand as she led me waddling slowly towards the staircase.

"I'm heading home now," announced April, as she collected her keys and her handbag from the kitchen bench. “Goodbye, baby girl. Try and be good.” She leaned down to kiss my freshly-scrubbed cheek, and then she gave my Mummy a parting peck on the cheek, too. "I'll see you later, Aunt Isy."
"Bye, darling," Mummy replied. "And thank you again for babysitting Angelica."
"It was my pleasure. Bye-bye, Baby Bonnie. See you at home, mum - with my new baby sister," April added with a cheeky grin, giving her mother and her surly suckling sister a farewell wave before heading for the front door.

"I'll see you upstairs shortly, Cath," Mummy called over her shoulder to her sister.
"Okay," agreed Aunty Cath. "We'll come up as soon as my naughty baby girl has finished her bottle." A crimson-faced Bonnie continued to noisily slurp from the teat of the titty-bottle her mother held to her writhing lips, swallowing slowly through a throat that had tightened in shame.

There was another surprise waiting for me when I shuffled into the Nursery. Lying on the change table was another pair of pink leather mittens. Mummy lifted me onto my back on the padded vinyl surface and picked up the floppy restraints. "Look, Baby Jennie! Your Aunty Cath bought some pretty pink mittens for you, too. Aren't you a lucky baby girl?” I knew her question was rhetorical, and didn’t bother responding. “Now curl up your fingers for Mummy, sweetie. That's right, good girl," she sang, as she fitted the first soft leather mitten over my clenched fist.

When she had inserted my hand all the way to the end, she tightly cinched the white leather strap around my slender wrist, then gave my bound fist an approving pat. I experimentally tried to uncurl my fist, but the mitten was so snug, I couldn't even open my fingers part way. My other hand was similarly bound a few seconds later, and then Mummy leaned across me to the shelf the over table top. She produced two shiny new brass padlocks, and I watched in stunned horror when she inserted each tiny steel loop through one of the holes in the leather straps around my wrists. There was a shiny metal ring sewn into the side of each mitten, and Mummy locked the wrist strap to the chromed ring, making it impossible for me - or anyone else -to remove the mittens.

Mummy chuckled, "That will keep my naughty baby girl's little handy-pandies safely out of the way, won't it?" I lay back examining my childish new restraints in stunned confusion, while Mummy unclipped the crotch of my shortalls and unfastened the tapes of my soggy disposable diaper. She shook her head and clucked her tongue in dismay as she folded my sodden diaper into a scented nappy sack. She took off my pink sandshoes and frilly socks, sat me up, and stripped me down to my t-shirt. Mummy lifted me down and then ordered, "On your hands and knees, baby girl, and crawl into the bathroom. It's time to sit Baby Jennie on her pot-pot."

At least the mittens protected my hands from the cold tiles, but my bare knees weren't so lucky. As soon as I was kneeling in front of my pink potty-chair, Mummy lifted me up and sat me on the humiliating infant commode. She buckled me in with the waist belt while I waved my mittened paws in front of my face in child-like wonder. There was no way I would be able to play with my clittie with these stupid things locked on my hands. I frowned in frustration.

When Mummy returned to stand in front of me, she folded her arms under her generous bosom and frowned down at me. "I taped that disposable diaper on you only an hour ago, little girl, and it was saturated! Why didn't you tell Mummy you needed to use the potty?"
"I dunno," I softly replied from around the bobbing guard of my dum-dums. Her frown deepened, and I ducked my head in disgrace. "I'm sowwy, Mummy. I gueth I got a bit exthited when we were shopping for my tutu," I tried to explain. "I didn't weally notithe when I wet my nappy."
"Uh-huh," she responded, sounding like she didn't believe a word I said. Mummy sat on the bench seat facing me, primly tugging down the hem of her brown leather miniskirt in a fruitless effort to cover the shiny crotch of her baby-blue nylon panties. "I guess you must like being treated like a helpless little baby girl - because that's how I'm going to keep treating you if you keep behaving like a silly infant."

Before I could reply, we both were distracted by the sound of someone entering the Nursery. "Come on, little girl," we heard Aunty Cath sing to her daughter in that condescending saccharine tone. "Crawl into the bathroom, and you can watch Baby Jennie doing her business on the potty like a big girl." Mummy and I both turned towards the doorway when Bonnie appeared there on her hands and knees. Her face was so red, she looked like she was about to have an aneurysm on the spot.

My buxom cousin was still wearing her pastel-pink mittens, and Aunty Cath had attached the slender leather reins to the rear of her white toddler harness, leading Bonnie around on all fours like a puppy on a leash. She stood behind her kneeling daughter holding the baby reins curled in one fist, smiling down at me sitting on the potty wearing my matching pink leather mittens. "Oh good," Cath cried in delight. "Baby Jennie is wearing her new baby mittens, too!" She addressed my mother when she asked, "Do they fit her alright?"
"A perfect fit," confirmed Mummy, with a shark-like smile that was frightening reminiscent of her domineering big sister's.

"Now you watch Baby Jennie carefully, Baby Bonnie," Cath urged her crimson-cheeked daughter in cloying baby-talk. "Next month - provided you learn to behave - mummy will buy you a special big potty all of your very own, and we can potty-train my naughty big baby girl all over again. Won't that be fun?" Bonnie's horrified expression told me she would rather gargle razor blades, but she didn't bother replying and simply sucked harder on the teat of her dum-dums. Everyone's eyes turned in my direction when they all heard the sound of my wee-wees noisily splashing against the bottom of my pink plastic potty.

"Good girl!" Mummy exclaimed, her face lighting up when she beamed down at me.
"Ooo! Is Baby Jennie doing a wee-wee in her pot-pot?" Aunty Cath inquired in that nauseating sing-song tone, with a broad condescending smile for me. I didn't bother replying. I didn't think she expected me to respond, anyway. Who holds a conversation with a baby? But my eyes remained glued on the spot where Bonnie was kneeling on all fours in the doorway.

My humiliated cousin still had the embarrassing 'Little Miss Poo-poo Pants' bibbie hanging around her neck, and the huge pink dummy was clamped between her pouting lips. She kept her blushing face tilted down and her tear-filled eyes fixed on the white tiles between her pink leather mittens. I watched her as she discretely spread her knees a little wider. She arched her back slightly, waggled her big padded bum, and then went still as a statue. I instinctively knew she was wetting her nappy while I was doing my wetties in my potty. I remembered my almost-uncontrollable desire to wet whenever I heard the sound of someone else going pee-pee.

"Try and do a poo-poos on the potty for Mummy too, baby girl," Mummy sang to me in encouragement, as the sound of my stream gradually dwindled to a halt. "Try hard for Mummy, Baby Jennie." She watched as I obediently held my breath and pushed down with my tummy muscles, but I couldn't feel anything happening down there. I must have farted though, because a noxious smell soon drifted up from between my splayed thighs.
"Come on, Baby Bonnie," Cath urged her pink-cheeked daughter, giving the baby reins a firm tug away from the bathroom. "Crawl over to the change table and climb up so mummy can check your nap-nap, sweetie." Even though I was sure Bonnie hadn't finished wetting, she obediently turned around and crawled out of sight towards the change table.

Mummy waited patiently beside me for a few more minutes, and then she climbed to her feet and stepped over to the toilet. I marvelled at how tall she looked in her brown platform boots, before she leaned down to unroll a handful of toilet tissue to wipe my bits. "Lean back, baby, so Mummy can wipe your clittie," she sang to me with a pleased smile. She crouched in front of me and loudly sniffed the rank air as she gently wiped the end of my dripping clittie. "Did you do a poo-poo, too, baby girl?" I was about to deny it when she spread my thighs wider and peered between my legs, and she squealed in excitement. "You did, too! You did another poo-poo in your pot-pot! Oh good girl, Baby Jennie! That's the second time today! What a clever little potty-princess! Mummy might just be able to potty-train you, after all!"

She made me stand up and crouch forward so she could wipe my dirty back door, and I gazed down between my splayed thighs into my pink potty. Sure enough, there were two small mud-brown turds sitting in the middle of a shallow amber pool of urine. I couldn't remember feeling anything come out of my poo-poo hole, but I was pleased that Mummy seemed so thrilled by my successful bowel movement. After carefully wiping my messy freckle clean, she soaped up a washcloth under a running stream of warm water from the vanity faucet, and she showered me with praise as she thoroughly cleaned my clittie, ball sack and botty-hole.

After towelling dry my bottom and bits, Mummy insisted with a pleased smile, "Come on, Baby Jennie," while holding out her hand for mine. I willingly clutched her large hand and let her lead me toddling out to the Nursery, just as Aunty Cath was helping Bonnie clamber down from the change table. "Oh good," Mummy said with a twinkling smile. "Perfect timing!" I barely heard a word she said. My seventeen-year-old cousin was still wearing her candy-striped shortalls, but she was naked from the waist down. Her mother had tucked the dangling flaps of Bonnie's shortalls under the front and rear straps of her white toddler harness, exposing her crotch to our view. Even though Bonnie always sunbaked topless, it was obvious she was more modest when it came to removing her bikini bottom, even beside her family’s backyard pool.

I couldn't help staring at the dark crease of her feminine opening formed by the baby-smooth folds of her delicate pink nether lips. Her pale pubic mound was completely hairless, just like my baby sister's, except her puffy slit was so much longer. My voluptuous teenage cousin noticed the direction of my avid gaze and her glistening golden eyes dropped to the floor in shame. Bonnie pressed her plump womanly thighs together and used her pink mittens to clumsily cover her baby-smooth sex. I noticed she was still wearing her pretty anklet socks, but her mummy had removed her black patent Maryjanes.

When my Mummy lifted me onto the recently-vacated change table, the pink vinyl top was still warm from Bonnie’s lush body. Aunty Cath used the white leather baby reins to steer her cowed daughter into the far corner of the Nursery. "This is where naughty little girls belong,” Cath stated firmly. “Stick your nose in that corner, Baby Bonnie," my strict Aunty sternly ordered, and my tall cousin actually looked grateful to hide her blushing red face from our view. When she pressed her nose into the juncture of the walls, her big round white botty poked out temptingly at us, and I noticed there was already a circular purple bruise in the centre of each plump wobbling cheek - evidence of her prior discipline session with Aunty Cath.

In minutes my Mummy had me powdered all over and pinned into a comfy clean nappy. Fresh pink plastic pilchers were drawn over the top, but then Mummy produced another pair of crackling baby panties from the shelf under the change table. They were very similar to Bonnie's puffy Strawberry Shortcake panties, except these ones had bright cartoon drawings of 'Sesame Street' characters all over them. They were very colourful and looked really cute, but I heard an odd metallic rattling sound when Mummy opened wide the elasticised waistband.

"Lift those little footsies and ballerina toesies," cooed Mummy, and she worked the puffy plastic panties over my pointed pink-painted toes. "Now footsies down and lift that little bot-bot for Mummy." She tugged the new baby panties over my huge diaper package, and then urged, “Turn over onto your tummy, little girl.” I obediently rolled onto my front, and Mummy tugged at the waistband of my thick baby panties in the rear. When I heard that dull metallic rattle again, I realised these puffy PVC panties had a chain looped through the waistband, like Bonnie's. Mummy pulled the links tight and when I heard that distinct 'snick' of a padlock closing, I knew I had been locked into my humiliating plastic panties, too.

“There,” Mummy grunted in satisfaction, and she gave the snug waistband a tug to make sure the chain was tightly secured. There was no way I could get my hands inside my baby panties, even if she hadn't locked the mittens on me. After tucking the tight elasticised leg bands safely under the bulky crotch of my fluffy nappy, Mummy dressed me in one of my filmy pink cotton nighties. This one had a lace-edged V-neck, with a tiny white satin bow in the middle, and she clipped the pink plastic chain of my pacifier beside the bow. She lifted me into her arms and carried me over to my crib, and as soon as she had me settled on my back with my pink teddy, she raised the high side rail until it locked into place.

I clumsily clutched Teddy with my pink mittens and rolled onto my side, and I peered through the wide-spaced steel bars as Mummy placed the high-backed wooden chair facing the centre of the room. From the way she sat, I don't think Mummy cared that she was exposing the shiny crotch of her pretty blue panties. I admired the way the tight nylon material cupped her proud pudenda. She patted her muscular brown thighs with both palms in invitation, and gave Cath a nod to indicate she was ready. Aunty Cath turned her daughter around, and Bonnie kept her eyes on the floor while her mummy unlocked her left mitten. I thought she was going to free her daughter's hands - and I think for one moment, so did Bonnie - but Cath then locked the ring sewn into the side of the mitten to the D-ring at the front of her white toddler harness. The left wrist was shackled to the left D-ring on one side of her humiliating bibbie, and then her right arm was locked to the right D-ring. An alarmed Bonnie waved her bound pink mittens in front of her wobbling bosom in useless protest.

Aunty Cath took her distracted daughter by the shoulders and steered her over to where Mummy sat waiting. I watched her every hesitant step, my eyes glued to the exposed hairless kitten that she had no hope of concealing now. The buxom, long-legged teen found herself face-down over her Aunt Isabell's broad lap before she knew it, and the women rearranged the wriggling teen until her long chestnut pigtails were brushing the floor and her curvaceous white derriere was perched high in the air.

From my position in my crib, I could see right between my jiggling cousin's meaty brown thighs, and I realised she was completely fur-free everywhere down there! Her beautiful round buttocks clenched and relaxed every few seconds, unintentionally granting me momentary glimpses of her hairless pinky-brown freckle, too. Mummy used her left hand to stabilise her niece's right hip, preventing the writhing girl from rolling off her lap. Aunty Cath unclipped the baby reins from the rear of Bonnie's white leather toddler harness, and after rolling them up, she dropped them in my cousin's new pink diaper bag. Then Cath stepped over to the change table and collected the familiar wooden punishment paddle from the shelf above.

"Baby Bonnie?" Mummy inquired, giving the girl's creamy plump left cheek a quick, hard, bare-handed slap to gain her attention. SMACK! "Do you know why you're being punished, little girl?"
My cousin's voice sounded close to tears when she tremulously replied, "Yes, Aunt Isy."
"Tell me. Tell your mummy and me what you did that was so naughty," Mummy prompted, gently patting Bonnie’s other curvaceous cheek with her right hand, and watching the red handprint forming on the left cheek.
"I- I tricked Baby Jennie into w-wetting the bed and w-w-wetting her panties," Bonnie stammered in response, and then she sniffled loudly. I couldn't see my cousin's face, but it sounded like she was already beginning to cry.

SMACK! I think everyone in the room jumped when Mummy's hard hand loudly spanked Bonnie's right bum cheek, and my cousin cried out in shock. Now both big white buttocks bore a fresh red imprint of Mummy's broad palm. I could even see the distinct impression of the individual fingermarks forming. "That's right," Mummy sang approvingly. "What a clever little girl for remembering." SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Her broad palm landed with an astonishingly loud noise again and again, alternating from cheek to cheek. To my surprise Bonnie immediately started to whimper and moan. Her huge round buttocks jiggled and danced before my eyes with each blow, and her long legs lashed out in useless protest. Every time her feet thrashed about, her plump thighs parted, but I don't think my cousin cared that I could see right into the steamy pink core of her naked womanhood. Her shoulders began to shake and I heard her begin to sob. A few moments later my seventeen-year-old cousin started bawling like a battered baby.

"Waah! Waaah! Waaahhh!" Bonnie wailed, thrashing her legs and trying to rip her bound hands free of the humiliating mittens and her sturdy leather toddler harness. Her bonds were unbreakable and the blows continued to rain down. Mummy must have hand-spanked her squirming niece’s jiggling buttocks about twenty or thirty times before she halted. The normally white expanse of feminine flesh was now fiery-red all over, from the crease below her shivering buttocks all the way to the top of her delectable crack. Bonnie continued to ineffectually thrash about over her Aunt's lap for a few seconds after the spanking ceased, but when the crying teen realised the blows had stopped falling, her whole body went limp. Her white sock toes brushed the floor closest to me, while her long chestnut pigtails drooped onto the tear-dampened carpet on the other side of Mummy's lap. "I'm sorry Aunty Isy, I'm sorry," she fervently apologised between rasping gasps for air, and then she broke down into heartfelt sobbing once more.

"I'm sure you are," muttered Mummy, her face flushed with a combination of effort and anger. She shifted in the upright wooden chair, rearranging the sniffling girl over her lap so that her glowing red derriere was poised high in the air again. "What you did to my poor little baby was very bad. Wasn't it, Bonnie?"
"Yes Aunty Isy," Bonnie snivelled in reply. “I was bad,” she tearfully confessed. She swiped at the tears streaming down her forehead with one of her soft leather mittens, and used the back of the other mitten to wipe her snotty nose.
"I trusted you to look after my sissy baby like a big girl, but you couldn't do it. Could you?"
"No Aunty Isy," Bonnie dismally replied, gulping back another sob.
"No, you're not a big girl. You're still just a baby yourself. Aren't you, Baby Bonnie?"
"Yes Aunty Isy, I'm still just a baby," she admitted, her tiny voice thick with shame. I saw my Aunty Cath nodding in grim-faced agreement.

"Yes, that's right. You're still just a baby. And were you a good baby for Aunty Isy?" Mummy prompted, and she held out her right hand to Cath. Without a word, my Aunty handed her sister the cruel wooden punishment paddle, passing it to her handle-first like a theatre nurse handing medical instruments to a waiting surgeon.
"No Aunty Isy," Bonnie shakily confessed, and I could hear her tears beginning to fall again. At the same time, I think Bonnie and I realised that Mummy was directing her responses - the same way that my sadistic cousin steered my replies when she was punishing me over her lap. I think we both simultaneously realised where this was heading, as Bonnie drew in a deep shuddering breath and wailed in remorse, "I was a bad baby, Aunty Isy!" WHACK! "Aieee! Waaaahhhh!" Bonnie screamed in anguish when the hard paddle came slamming down across both trembling red buttocks, and her head bucked into the air as her shackled fists scrabbled for release. But she was bound too securely in her infantile restraints, and she was powerless in the face of the grown-ups' anger.

"That's right. You're a bad little baby girl. Aren't you?" Mummy forcefully insisted. WHACK!
"Ow! Waaah! Yes Aunty! Waaahhh! I'm a bad little baby girl!"
"Yes you are! I like my bad little babies to know exactly why they are being punished, before we continue." WHACK! "What are you?"
"Oww! Waaah! I'm a bad little baby girl!" WHACK! "Oww! Waaah! I'm sorry, Aunty Isy!" WHACK! "Aieee! Waah! I'm sorry!" WHACK! "Waaahh! No, no!" WHACK! WHACK! "Waaahhh! P-p-please- Waaahhhh!" WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Bonnie squealed and bucked and begged for mercy - to no avail. The harsh wooden paddle slammed down on her bobbing bottom again and again, until her crimson cheeks began to turn purple. I didn't realise Mummy was simply trying to match the force and tempo of the blows she had observed on the tape the girls made, when Bonnie had been punishing me in the bathroom last week. All I knew was that Mummy was beating my poor cousin with unparalleled savagery, and I was horrified by the spectacle of such violence. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Suddenly I found myself on my feet, my soft leather mittens scrabbling at the pink-painted cot bars as I forced my face between the cold steel rails. "Thtop it! Thtop it, pweathe Mummy?" I screamed around the teat of my dum-dums, before spitting it out in agitation. "Mummy, pweathe thtop hitting her?" The adults stared at me in confusion when they heard my heartrending pleas for clemency, and then I burst into loud sobs as well. Aunty Cath sniggered and her full red lips twisted in a callous sneer, but the paddle clenched in Mummy's fist thankfully stopped crashing down on Bonnie's bouncing rear end. My battered cousin continued to cry and wail, although her voluptuous body now lay limp across Mummy's broad lap.

"What's wrong, Baby Jennie?" Mummy breathlessly demanded over my cousin's wracking sobs, her flushed red face looking confused.
"Pweathe, Mummy? Pweathe don't punish her any more?" I begged, the tears rolling down my cheeks.
"But baby? Your wicked cousin Bonnie is one of the main reasons that you ended up wearing nappies and being treated like a baby again," Mummy tried to explain.
"I don't care!" I shrieked. "Jutht don't hit her any more, pweathe Mummy? Pweathe?" I realised I was wetting my nappy, but this didn't seem the right time to announce the fact.

Aunty Cath looked like she was about to tell my mother to ignore my tearful protestations. Before she could speak, Mummy rolled Bonnie off her lap onto the Nursery carpet. My sobbing cousin lay on her side facing away from me and curled into a shivering ball, trying to cover her teary red face with her pink leather mittens. Her plump quivering bottom was facing me, and I imagined I could feel the heat emanating from those blazing crimson cheeks from where I was standing in my crib. Mummy tossed the wooden paddle on the change table, and then walked over to the side of my steel crib to wipe away my tears with the ball of her thumb. "What's wrong, precious?" Mummy softly demanded. "Don't you want to see Bonnie being punished for what she did to you?"
"No Mummy," I tearfully replied. "Anyway, it'th not all her fault."
"What do you mean, baby?" Mummy inquired, and she wiped my face dry with a handy terry bibbie.

I sniffled heavily and couldn't look at her beautiful flushed face when I replied, "You know I've alwayth been a thithy panty-wetter, Mummy. I alwayth wanted to be a wittle girl, deep down. I jutht never had the couwage to tell you."
"But Mummy knew all along, didn't she sweetie?" I nodded and gave her a grateful smile when she pushed my dummy teat back between my trembling lips. "Suck your dum-dums, baby girl," she cooed. "You know that always makes you feel better." She reached behind me and clipped the bib around my neck, then straightened it over my heaving bosom.

"Mummy?" I hesitantly ventured, as I peeped down at the embroidery. This one read, ‘Mummy’s Little Nappy Wetter.’
"Yes, Baby Jennie?"
"Mummy, I think I wet my nappy a wittle when I got all upthet," I timidly confessed, and her olive-green eyes widened. My heart began to race, but then she gave me a forgiving smile.

"That's okay, baby girl. You’re a good girl for telling Mummy. Even big girls sometimes wet their pants a little when they get really upset," Mummy kindly informed me, fondly patting my cheek. “Don’t worry. Your nappy is thick enough to keep you safe until I get you up after your nap.”
"You may have finished spanking my wicked baby girl," Aunty Cath interrupted, with a sour expression on her harsh but beautiful face, "but her punishment is far from over! Not by a long way! Bonnie is still going to spend the next four weeks in nappies and baby clothes, being treated like a naughty two-year-old. Just you wait and see."

Mummy ignored her cruel sister's heartless pronouncement as she unlocked and lowered the heavy steel side rail. As soon as the crib side dropped out of the way, she reached in, gathered me into her arms and hugged me warmly. "I love you, baby girl," Mummy whispered in my ear, and my heart soared inside my heaving breast. "Of all your feminine qualities, I think I love your compassion the most.” She patted my warm wet bottom affectionately, her palm making that reassuring ‘thwack-thwack-thwack’ sound on my thick baby panties. “You really do make a wonderful, caring little girl." Mummy made sure I had stopped crying and wiped my face with my bibbie again, and I managed a tentative smile when she gently tweaked my nose. "Lie down, baby," she urged me, smiling warmly at me in return. "I'm sure you're a little bit over-emotional because you're all tuckered out after your busy morning at the hairdressing salon, and our shopping trip. Lie down and close your eyes, sweetie. Suck your dum-dums like a good baby girl. You'll find the world always looks a better place after a good nap."

I settled back on the crackling crib mattress, sucking noisily on my dum-dums and hugging the teddy Mummy lovingly placed in my arms. She raised the steel side rail and locked it in place once more. Even with my eyes drifting closed, I could hear Aunty Cath as she helped her sniffling daughter to clumsily clamber up onto the change table. "I want you face-down first, baby girl," Cath crisply ordered her well-chastised child. My Aunty had brought Bonnie's change bag upstairs, and she rummaged about inside the huge vinyl-covered bag for a minute, while her bound daughter awkwardly struggled to roll over.

When I heard the noise of a hand being inserted into a latex glove, my eyes popped open and I turned my face towards the familiar menacing sound. Aunty Cath placed a waxy bullet-shaped object the size of her little finger on the shelf above the change table, and took down the tub of Vaseline. She smeared a little of the greasy gel on her gloved middle finger, and then commented; "I notice you haven't had a bowel motion since I put you in nappies yesterday afternoon, baby girl. Maybe my special baby girl is a little bit constipated? Hmm?"

Bonnie squeaked in consternation when Cath spread her bruised red botty cheeks apart with the fingers of her free hand, but she squealed in alarm when her mother's thick lubricated finger forced entrance to her puckered rectum. "Oh no, Mummy! Please no? Not that?"
"Shhh, baby, shhh," Cath calmly soothed her distraught daughter. She wiggled her greasy gloved finger in and out of the protesting teenager’s clenching botty-hole. "Mummy needs to lubricate your poo-poo hole a bit first," she explained, as if it made any difference. “Ooo! I can feel lots of poo-poos up there, little girl!”

She withdrew her brown-stained diddling digit, picked up the suppository from the shelf, and smoothly forced the waxy bullet inside her wriggling child's slippery anus. Bonnie gave another shriek when Cath then inserted her longest finger all the way inside her bottom again, pushing the glycerine suppository as far inside the humiliated girl's packed bowel as possible. By the time my Aunty removed her finger and disposed of the dirty latex glove, Bonnie was a shivering, snivelling wreck once more.

Cath gave her daughter’s trembling red buttocks a crisp smack and then briskly ordered, "Roll over, Baby Bonnie. Mummy needs to pin you into a nappy before my little girl has a nasty accident." My teary cousin glanced my way when she clumsily turned over, her face flaming with embarrassment. I gave her a quick sympathetic smile before rolling onto my back and looking the other way. I knew Bonnie didn't want me watching while her mummy diapered her, so I turned my face away. I heard Aunty Cath’s quietly muttered instructions to "lift that bottom," and "down, baby," and I could smell the pleasantly-perfumed talc when Aunty generously powdered her big baby girl’s front and back bottoms. There was the familiar loud 'snick' of the stainless-steel nappy pins being clasped - two each side this time, just like mine - and the noisy rustling of the thick plastic panties when Aunty Cath fed them over her daughter's legs and up over her huge diaper.

Finally Bonnie had to be helped down from the change table, clumsy because her mittens were still buckled around her wrists and her arms locked to the front of her toddler harness. The rattling waist chain in her baby panties was drawn tight, and I heard the tiny brass padlock close with sharp finality. I recognised the familiar sound of the crotch pieces of Bonnie's pink-and-white striped shortalls being fastened, and the metallic 'clink' of the baby rein clips being attached to her toddler harness, too.

By the time Aunty Cath led my humiliated cousin waddling slowly out of the Nursery I was already starting to drift. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy and I could hardly keep my eyes open. Mummy softly bid me, “Sleep tight, sweetie,” before she disappeared carrying my full nappy bucket. My dreams that afternoon were filled with images of me wearing my gorgeous pink tutu, dancing before a crowd of adoring fans, before being led off the stage by my beautiful assistants to have my drenched diaper changed before my next performance.

To be continued in chapter 31.
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Baby Jennie

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