Synopsis; Mummy Isabell takes Angelica and Baby Jennie to the Fairy Princess party.
Chapter 36. The Fairy Princess Party.
“Oh my God!” Aunty Cath squealed as Bonnie led Angie and me traipsing down the stairs in a frothy cloud of pink and white tulle. Cath had the camcorder eyepiece pressed to her face and the red light was glowing to indicate she was recording this historic moment. “I can’t believe how beautiful they look! What a gorgeous pair of Fairy Princesses!” Angie of course, was beaming in delight at our grinning Aunt’s effusive praise. I had to admit - I couldn’t wipe the delighted smile from my pretty painted face either. I knew I looked like a perfect little six or seven-year-old girl, and with my feminised features enhanced by Bonnie’s fabulous make-up job, I felt sure no one would ever suspect I was a sissified teenage boy dressed as a sweet little Fairy Princess.
When Bonnie released my hand at the bottom of the steps, I skipped towards my grinning Aunty Cath, my frothy tulle skirts swishing noisily about my hips. I stopped a few feet in front of her, beaming with happiness as I plucked the edges of my bouncing skirt and performed a dainty curtsey for the video camera, like a perfect little ballerina. My giggling sister dashed over beside me and tried to imitate me, and we gave Mummy and Bonnie a spectacular view of the frilly lace ruffles decorating our little padded bottoms while we sweetly curtsied for Aunty Cath. “You both look adorable!” Aunty praised us with a delighted smile when she lowered the camcorder from her face, but I noticed she kept the lens pointed at me and it was still recording.
“You can hardly tell she’s diapered,” Bonnie commented to Mummy, who inspected my bobbing ruffled bot-bot and nodded in agreement.
“You certainly can’t tell Angie is wearing a pull-up,” Mummy rejoined. “My little girls look so grown-up in their pretty ballet dresses.” She sighed heavily, as if she regretted the fact that her time enjoying her toddlers was fast slipping away. Mummy seemed to gather herself and she loudly clapped her hands to attract our attention. “Girls! Come out to the kitchen and I’ll give you the presents I bought for Daisy.”
Cath kept recording as Angie and I gaily skipped ahead of the adults, but Mummy tapped her sister on the shoulder when she went to walk past. “I think your big baby girl needs a change of nappy,” she mentioned to Cath, who turned to look back at the blushing teenager in astonishment. I paused in the doorway to the kitchen and glanced back at the assembled women.
“What? Is she wet through already?” Cath demanded in surprise. She stepped closer to her embarrassed daughter and indicated that Bonnie should raise the front of her frock.
“Pretty much,” Mummy carefully replied, “although that isn’t the main problem. No, your big baby has done-”
“-a nasty big poo-poo in her nap-nap!” Aunty Cath condescendingly completed the sentence for her concerned sister, when she caught a whiff of Bonnie’s messy condition. Cath shook her head in contempt at her daughter’s smelly wet state and grimaced in disgust. “What a dirty baby girl!” She released the waistband of Bonnie’s chained baby panties and pointed upstairs. “Leave the baby’s change bag there on the bottom step, then up to the Nursery, Baby Bonnie,” she barked at her humiliated pink-cheeked daughter. “Mummy needs to change her dirty baby girl out of that nasty stinky nappy right away.”
Bonnie left my pink-checked diaper bag on the step and slowly slunk upstairs in a shuffling, wide-legged waddle, her bulging bottom poking out prominently. I thought the red-faced girl was blushing with embarrassment and trying to avoid spreading the nasty mess in her nappy all over the place. I didn’t realise she was actually straining to push out more poo-poos as she waddled along, trying to completely empty her bowels. She figured she was already dirty, and she wanted to avoid another humiliating messy nappy change anytime soon. After Aunty Cath collected the other pink vinyl change bag from the dining room table, she swiftly followed Bonnie upstairs, loudly smacking the drooping seat of her slowly waddling daughter’s pink plastic panties to encourage her on her way.
Mummy strode down the hallway towards us and I hurried to stand beside the kitchen bench, clutching the yellow formica top for support and trying to act like I hadn’t been spying on my poopy wet cousin. There were two wrapped presents sitting on the bench, and I admired the pretty pink wrapping paper with the pattern of little ballerinas and ballet shoes all over. There was a small gift and a larger one, both tied with hot-pink ribbon, with big fancy curly bows on top. A colourful ballerina birthday card lay open on the bench top, with a pen lying atop it, all ready for us to sign. Mummy stepped closer to the yellow bench in her click-clacking pink heels and started writing in the card. When she finished, she pushed it towards my sister and handed her the pen. “Angie darling? Can you try and write your name here for Mummy, like we practiced?”
My sister nodded enthusiastically, and her little tongue poked out to one side of her mouth when she concentrated on clumsily forming the letters of her name. “Good girl!” Mummy praised her, as she took the pen from Angie’s hand. “What a clever big girl you are for Mummy.”
Angie turned to glance at me with that superior smirk twisting her pretty pink-painted lips. “Are you going to let the baby try and write her name too, Mummy? I think she might be too little,” my sister haughtily informed her.
“No darling, that’s alright,” Mummy assured her with a tight smile for me. “I already signed it for Baby Jennie.” Sure enough, when she held up the open card to show to us, I saw she had written ‘Baby Jennie’ for me beside Angelica’s barely-legible scrawl, and my cheeks turned pink with fresh shame. Seeing my femme name written on something that someone else would keep, kind of made my name-change seem somehow more ‘official.’ Mummy eased the brightly-coloured birthday card into a hot-pink envelope, and handed the bigger present and the card to my smug-faced sister. It was as though our mother saw Angelica as the more responsible one, and I tried not to frown in disappointment when Mummy handed me the smaller, gaily-wrapped package to carry.
Aunty Cath and Bonnie joined us a few minutes later. From the way my hang-dog, shame-faced cousin slowly waddled towards us, I assumed her messy nappy change had been an incredibly mortifying experience. I didn’t learn until much later that our vindictive Aunty had set the camcorder on my dresser and aimed the lens at the change table. She left it recording while she was changing Bonnie’s soiled nappy, scolding her humiliated daughter like a naughty toddler the entire time. Pink-cheeked Bonnie carried my packed pink-checked diaper bag over one shoulder, and my stern-faced Aunty whispered instructions to her all the way down the hallway. When she strode into the kitchen ahead of her daughter, Aunty Cath aimed the camcorder at us and cried, “Are you ready for the party, Princesses?”
Angie and I squealed assent like two excited little girls, bouncing up and down on the spot and twisting our hips to make our bobbing tulle skirts noisily swish and sway. When we settled down, Aunty Cath turned to Mummy and clutched her arm. “Bonnie will go with you to the party, and she’ll stay and take care of the girls when you come back.” Mummy nodded in understanding and our Aunty continued, “I’ll meet you back here around three-thirty. But you’ll have to leave the party a little earlier than that, to change into that leather outfit I gave you first, remember?
Mummy looked confused. “But why, Cath? Why do you want me to change into that fancy-dress outfit? I don’t understand?”
Aunty Cath tossed her younger sister a salacious smile. “Well, apart from the fact that you look sexy as hell in that outfit… I’ll never forget how good you looked when you modelled it for me, before that ‘B&D’ fancy-dress party you and Brett attended… what was it? Four years ago?” Mummy looked shocked that Cath would bring up such a delicate subject in front of the children, and she gave her grinning sister a sharp warning shake of the head. “Don’t worry, sis,” Aunty Cath scoffed, waving away her fears. “Just make sure you’re dressed in that black outfit I gave you, and put on a full face before I come back at three-thirty.” When Mummy looked ready to object, Cath held up her palm to silence her. “Ah-ah-ah! Remember what I told you? I promise,” she grinned, repeating for emphasis, “I promise to make it worth your while!”
Cath handed Mummy the camcorder and stepped closer to her silently cringing daughter, and then chucked Bonnie under the chin in a deliberately condescending gesture. “As for you, Baby Bonnie? Make sure you keep an eye on your cousins, little girl, and behave yourself. If I hear one word about you misbehaving, I’ll make sure you regret it for a long, long time.” Bonnie actually quaked in fright at her mother’s heartless warning. “Don’t forget. You’re to stay at the party with your little cousins until either I or your Aunt Isabell come to collect you. Got it, Baby Bonnie?” The humbled teen timidly nodded in mute understanding.
“Come on girls,” Mummy brightly cried, trying to break the suddenly-oppressive mood. “Let’s go to the party!” She tucked her pink clutch purse under her arm and took Angie’s hand, and motioned for Bonnie to do the same with me. I clutched my gaily-wrapped present in one hand and Bonnie’s large sweaty paw in the other. “See you later, Cath.” Mummy led us through the back door and we headed for the oleander bushes separating our property from the Green’s back yard. I think I would have been happier if I hadn’t noticed Mummy carrying Cath’s camcorder in her other hand.
I could hear the shrill sound of happy feminine voices as we approached the bushes. When we squeezed through the widest gap between the spiky oleanders, there were about a dozen squealing little girls running around the green plastic garden furniture laid out in the spacious back yard. There was only one mother visible outside the house, and I didn’t recognise the mid-thirties brunette standing on the lawn. She was clutching the hand of a diapered toddler girl who looked about two years old, whose little face looked overawed by the whirling mass of femininity surrounding her. Most of the girls twirling around in their tutus looked at least seven or eight years old, and I soon learned that Daisy had invited only a couple of friends from her class at school.
Most of the bigger girls were from Daisy and Sally’s ballet school, and some of the ballerinas from Daisy’s dance class were several years older than her. My little fingers anxiously scrabbled across the slippery satiny bodice of my gleaming lycra tutu, unconsciously searching for my missing dum-dums. I was so nervous, my stiff clittie gradually shrank away to nothing in terrified anticipation, unaware that more drops of pre-cum were seeping out to moisten the slick front of my crinkling diaper. What if everyone knew I was just a sissy boy dressed like a beautiful ballerina? Would they tease me unmercifully? And what if they knew I was wearing a diaper! I shuddered at the potential humiliation, and instinctively clutched Bonnie’s hand even tighter.
The first person I recognised was my best friend Sally. Our next-door neighbour was dressed in a gleaming baby-blue tutu with darker blue tulle skirts sticking out stiffly at right angles from her hips. It reminded me of the tutu the brunette ten-year-old in the dance wear shop had been trying on yesterday - except Sally’s stretchy pale-blue bodice clung like a shiny sheath to her tiny waist and developing feminine curves. She had a pair of huge blue and white fairy wings strapped to her shoulders, too, decorated with gold glitter. Instead of a tiara, she wore a bejewelled golden crown littered with sparkling diamantes. Sally looked like a gorgeous Fairy Queen, not a little Princess. From this distance, her face looked beautiful painted with a layer of thick theatrical make-up, enhanced by her delighted smile as she gazed around at the frothy squealing fairies scampering around the garden. There were bright balloons tied to every available hanging point, and their clothes line was festooned with colourful streamers.
When Sally spied us threading our way through the bushes, she trotted over to greet us in a pair of gleaming white ballet flats. They had wide silk laces which were tied around her slender tanned calves in an attractive crisscross pattern. “Hello Mrs Ryan! Hello girls,” she cried in greeting, smiling in delight at my beautified feminine appearance and batting her long false eyelashes. Sally crouched down in front of me, grinning gleefully. “Baby Jennie! Wow! Don’t you look beautiful! Who did your make-up, baby girl?”
I turned and glanced up at my cousin as Bonnie softly replied, “I did.”
“It’s Bonnie, isn’t it?” Sally asked as she stood upright. When my tall cousin shyly nodded, she continued enthusiastically, “I’m Sally. Gosh, you’re talented! I’ve never seen her look so gorgeous! Either of them,” she added, thoughtfully including my beaming sister.
Bonnie’s mood lifted and she actually managed a small smile when Sally asked, “Do you think you could show me how to do my face like that? I don’t mean now,” she hurried to explain, turning to glance pointedly at the screaming rabble behind her. “But later? When the girls have settled down a little bit?”
“Sure, Sally,” Bonnie replied with an easy smile, but I noticed her painted cheeks turned pink with pleasure. “I’ll have to get my toolbox from the house though,” she amended with a nod towards our house.
“Go and get it now, Bonnie,” Mummy sharply advised her. “We don’t want you coming back to the house until it’s time to fetch you, remember?” Bonnie nodded with a sheepish smile, and released my hand to clumsily turn back towards the oleander bushes. I wondered what Mummy and Aunty Cath needed to discuss without any of us kids present?
“Cool!” Sally responded, her ice-blue eyes sparkling. Bonnie paused and turned back, shrugging my diaper bag from her shoulder and glancing inquiringly at Sally. “I’ll take the baby’s diaper bag,” the grinning thirteen-year-old kindly offered, holding out her hand. She slipped my loaded change bag over her shoulder, and Bonnie gave her a grateful smile. Sally turned to Mummy and suggested, “Why don’t you let me take your girls over to the birthday girl, and you can go and have a drink with the grown-ups?” She reached out and took my hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Mum’s opened a couple of icy-cold bottles of French champagne in the kitchen,” Sally added temptingly.
Mummy’s polite smile instantly brightened, and she released Angie’s hand and took a half-step towards the house. She wobbled unsteadily when her narrow high heels sank into the grass, and she deftly shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet. “Really? That sounds like a lovely idea, Sally! Thank you. Alright girls, I’ll see you in a little bit. Anyway Sally, Bonnie can help you keep an eye on the girls. Right Bonnie?” Our departing cousin meekly nodded assent, and with a wave goodbye to us, Mummy carefully threaded her way through the fluffy throng of pastel-tinted tulle, billowing silk and frilly lace.
Sally wrapped her arms around my shoulders and gave me a reassuring cuddle, although it was a little awkward because of the vinyl-covered bag over her shoulder and the huge silk wings strapped to both our backs. She leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Don’t worry, Baby Jennie. You look absolutely adorable! No one would ever guess that there’s a dirty little boy hiding inside all that gorgeous frothy tulle and lace. You look like a beautiful little ballerina, sweetie! A perfect Fairy Princess!” I blushed from a combination of pleasure and embarrassment, but I think pleasure won the battle to colour my cheeks pink.
When Sally leaned back to examine my pretty painted face again, I smiled up at her gratefully. Then my smile faltered. “You didn’t tell anyone I wath coming dwethed like thith, did you?” I nervously asked.
“What?” Sally demanded with a teasing smile. “Me tell someone that the sissy baby boy from next door was coming to Daisy’s Fairy Princess party, dressed up like a beautiful ballerina?” I nodded fearfully and anxiously bit my puffy painted bottom lip, momentarily distracted by the pleasant taste of my lightly-perfumed lipstick. Sally laughed away my fears. “No Princess, I don’t think so. I haven’t mentioned a word of it. Not only that,” she hastened to reassure me, “I told Daisy not to tell anyone either, Baby Jennie. She promised she wouldn’t.” I gratefully beamed up at her, although I was less certain of Daisy’s ability to keep her word.
I didn’t know that during the many months we spent playing ballerina dress-ups in Sally’s garage last year, the girls had told all their friends at ballet school everything about me. They knew my (real) name and where I lived, and most of the girls in their dance classes had spent hours gossiping about my love of feminine clothes, my slight physical characteristics, my unfortunate wetting accidents, and my potential talent as a pretty ballerina. In the privacy of the change rooms, Sally and her closest friends had even discussed my suspected sexual proclivities. Their friends might not have known I was attending Daisy’s birthday party today, but almost everyone at the party knew about the effeminate little sissy boy who lived behind the girls’ place. But thankfully at that moment, I was totally unaware of my best girlfriend and her kid sister’s earlier betrayal.
“Thally?” I plaintively asked, “Can you pweathe not call me ‘Baby Jennie’ - at leatht not for thith afternoon?” I begged her, and she smiled and nodded in agreement. ‘Jutht call me Jennie, pweathe?
“Sure! Alright, darling,” Sally sweetly promised me, but then she had to giggle. “Today it will be plain old ‘Jennie’ - although there is nothing plain about you today, Princess! You really do make a gorgeous little girl!” My cheeks turned red with pleasure, and I had to shyly look away from her frank admiring stare.
Even though every girl within sight was prettily dressed in a gorgeous frothy tutu and billowing silk fairy wings, it appeared only Sally and I were wearing proper ballet slippers. A handful of the luckier girls wore beautiful diamante-studded tiaras, although Sally was the only fairy I could see wearing a gorgeous full crown on her flowing tawny locks. I loved the way our brilliant jewels flashed and sparkled in the bright afternoon sunshine. Most of the other little girls were wearing pretty white or pink-patent Maryjane sandals on their feet, and like Angie’s, their shoes had little heels - mostly two to three inches high. That meant apart from Angelica and the toddler with her mummy, almost every little girl at the party was taller than me, making me feel even more babyish by comparison.
Sally squeezed my hand and tilted her golden crown in regal indication. “Come on, girls. I’ll take you over to the birthday girl, and you can give her your presents.” She led us over to her sister Daisy, who was standing near the rear of the garage surrounded by a pastel-coloured throng of loudly chattering little girls. Their painted silk wings fluttered and swayed with their every movement, and they looked like a bunch of enormous butterflies clustered around Daisy, like a swarm of colourful insects squirming for space around a tropical flower dripping with sweet nectar. Most of the girls were wearing pink - of course - but in a variety of shades to stagger the eye. I saw ice-pink, pastel-pink and Barbie-pink tutus, including one dark-pink ballet outfit the colour of musk-stick lollies.
“Excuse me, girls?” Sally politely asked, even as she gently pushed a couple of frowning little Princesses out of the way. “Excuse me just for a minute,” she crisply commanded, like a queen speaking to her overattentive attendants. “Daisy? Angelica and Ba- and Jennie are here to wish you happy birthday.” Daisy looked gorgeous this afternoon in her brand-new, shiny white lycra tutu, with her iridescent silver and white fairy wings billowing behind her. She was wearing gleaming white-patent, single-strap Maryjanes on her dainty feet, with an impressive four-inch, chunky stacked heel. Her short blonde hair was teased up and out in a glamorous showgirl style, crowned by a sparkling silver tiara embedded with brilliant diamantes. Her mother had obviously done her make-up. As with Sally, she had laid it on a little thick, I thought a tad spitefully, unconsciously preening my swishing skirts as the gathered little girls turned to examine us.
“Hi Angie, hello… Jennie.” Daisy paused so long, everyone must have assumed she had momentarily forgotten my name - I hoped! “Don’t you both look gorgeous!”
“Tho do you,” I politely replied, smiling bravely back at her. “Happy birthday, Daithy.”
“Happy birthday Daisy,” my sister parroted beside me.
“Thanks. Girls, this is Ba- this is Jennie, and Angie. They’re my neighbours from next door. They live in the house behind ours,” she explained, pointing to our house. You could see our back veranda through the oleander bushes bordering our back yards, but fortunately, not my playpen. “Jennie and Angie, this is Gemma and Karen, and Mary and Mandy and Ella, and Susie and Joan and-”
I’m afraid I barely caught two of the pretty ballerinas’ names when Daisy introduced them with machine-gun rapidity. A couple of girls exchanged startled glances after they looked back from my house, and their polite smiles swiftly returned, despite the mischievous gleam in their wide innocent eyes. Mandy was the prettiest girl in the group of fairies, and although she was around the same height as Daisy, she looked a little older. Her pretty heart-shaped face, big brown eyes and full pink lips looked vaguely familiar, especially when she smiled down at me in that superior knowing manner. She was wearing a beautiful lavender tutu with stiff, dark-purple tulle skirts, flesh-coloured tights, and a pair of white patent-leather Maryjanes with a three-inch heel. When Daisy caught sight of my pink gingham change bag looped over Sally’s shoulder, her smile became a wicked grin. But the other girls’ smiles seemed completely open and welcoming, and when everyone nodded in greeting to us and politely said hello, I began to feel confident my feminine disguise had successfully passed the first hurdle.
I held out my present and nodded for Angie to do the same, and Daisy greedily snatched the card and gaily-wrapped parcels from our hands. She towered over me in her grown-up four-inch heels, and I shrank away from her lest she comment on the humiliating height difference. She opened the birthday card and barely glanced at it, although I saw her smile with cruel amusement when she noted whom it was from. “Oh goody! More presents!” The delighted seven-year-old squealed, and naturally Daisy ripped open the larger gift first. I didn’t notice the intrigued expression on pretty Mandy’s face, and after politely breaking away from our group of fairies, the cute little blonde scampered inside the Green’s house in a spray of purple tulle.
“Oh. Another tiara,” Daisy mumbled ungraciously, and from the bored expression on her thin angular face, she was obviously less than impressed. “And it’s silver.” She ignored Angie’s quick frown of displeasure and carelessly handed the jewel-encrusted tiara to one of her girlfriends to hold before she tore open the other smaller present. “I prefer gold these days,” she haughtily explained to her eagerly watching friends. “Most of my jewellery is gold nowadays,” she boasted, touching the fine gold chain around her neck with the tiny gold ballet shoes dangling at the hollow of her slender throat.
Daisy showily brushed back her hair, twisting her head from side to side so everyone could admire her gold stud earrings. I had a moment of spiteful superiority when I deliberately shook back my bouncing platinum curls to better display my own gold-wrapped, sparkling diamond studs. Apart from which - everyone knew wearing silver and gold together made you look cheap and slutty. Aunty Cath said so. After Daisy tore open the ballerina wrapping paper, she exclaimed in apparent delight. “Oh! A diamante bracelet! Cool!” she cried enthusiastically. She wrapped the twinkling bracelet around her slender right wrist and imperiously held out her forearm for her girlfriend to fasten the clasp.
Daisy held up her arm and twisted her wrist so that the multi-faceted jewels caught the sunlight. Colourful rainbows refracted in all directions, flashing brilliantly in our eyes. Several of her sycophantic offsiders cooed in admiration, and one older girl with black hair enviously commented, “It’s gorgeous, Daisy! Like a real diamond bracelet. Very ‘Marilyn Monroe’,” she added, although I doubt if any of the little girls clustered around us understood the old movie reference.
“Yeah, it’s okay. Thanks Jennie,” Daisy said to me in a much friendlier tone, and she actually deigned to look at my face. “I have to say; you look really pretty this afternoon. Who did your make-up? It looks fantastic!”
My cheeks turned pink with pleasure, and I felt sure my wide blue eyes must have been sparkling in delight when all her girlfriends leaned closer to examine my beautiful painted face. “Thank you, Daithy.” I batted my long black lashes and ignored their chorus of giggles at my uncontrollable childish lisp, and turned to look over my shoulder towards the rear of their garden. ‘My couthin Bonnie did my make-up,” I informed her, nodding to where the buxom teenager in the short blue babydoll frock was staggering through the oleander bushes carrying her heavy hot-pink plastic toolbox. “Thally athked her to do her make-up again later, tho Bonnie went and got her make-up boxth.”
“Cool!” Daisy replied, glancing past my billowing silk fairy wings to check out the tall busty girl with the long chestnut pigtails walking through the back yard towards her house. She turned away from me as though I had ceased to exist and addressed her friends. “Mary and Karen? Ella? Why don’t you come inside to my bedroom, and I’ll show you all the stuff I got so far?” Daisy suggested. Her chosen subjects danced after her in a mass of swishing frothy tulle when she scampered towards the house.
“I’ll put this inside, in my bedroom,” Sally quietly mentioned to me, discretely patting the bulging side of my pink gingham baby bag. I smiled sheepishly and silently nodded my thanks, and Angie abandoned me to skip over to the brunette mother holding the toddler’s hand. She stopped to proudly twirl in front of the visibly-impressed two-year-old girl, and then started chatting with her and her parent.
As Daisy and her best friends disappeared inside the house, the other girls turned away from me and headed into the garage. “Daisy said they live in that house behind hers,” Susie muttered to her friends when they were out of my earshot. “Do you know what that means?” One of the Princesses dressed in pink turned back to stare at me, and when she saw me looking in her direction, she smiled innocently and gave me a friendly farewell wave.
“I though Daisy told us that sissy boy Jeremy lived behind her place. You know? The scrawny one who always wets his pants,” one of her friends added for clarification. The girls huddled together for a few minutes discussing the hideous possibility that one of the prettiest little girls at the party could actually be a pants-wetting teenage boy.
A handful of girls walked out of the house and I noticed the fluffy mane of honey-blonde hair before I recognised the welcoming smile underneath. It was Bonnie’s gorgeous girlfriend Tammy, and she looked so tall and slender today. She was holding the hand of the grinning little blonde named Mandy, who was dragging her away from the others in my direction. As soon as you saw them together, you knew at once they were sisters. They had the same wide-spaced soft brown eyes and full pink lips, and their pert little noses were almost identical.
Tammy was wearing a ballet dress too, but it wasn’t a tulle tutu. Her outfit consisted of a shiny pale-green leotard which tightly hugged her proudly upthrust, (obviously padded) bosom and her tiny waist, with a bouncy mid-thigh skirt below made from dangly thin strips of sheer yellow and green chiffon. Even though they fluffed out around her slender hips like a cheerleader’s pom-pom, when she took a long stride you could see her muscular bare thighs all the way up to the shiny lycra crotch piece of her leotard. Her huge silk fairy wings were green too, decorated with yellow whorls and gold glitter, and she wore a tiny gold ‘Miss America’ crown on her fluffed-out honey-blonde mane. She waved to me and then smiled welcomingly at Bonnie, and we all met up near the end of the narrow concrete path running half-way down the back yard.
Tammy looked stunning this afternoon with bold green and yellow eye shadow angled to cat-like points either side of her eyes, giving her face an elongated pixie-like appearance. Her eyes looked huge framed by her fluttering black mascara-lengthened lashes and dark pencilled arched eyebrows, and she was wearing bright scarlet lipstick on her perfect pouting lips. Tammy’s luscious mouth gleamed wetly with gloss, too, and those lips looked so moist and kissable! She looked abnormally tall and when I glanced at her feet, I saw the gorgeous seventeen-year-old was wearing a pair of bright yellow court shoes with two-inch platform soles and chunky six-inch heels. Her red painted toenails peeped out from the peekaboo cut-out toes, and I thought her toe cleavage looked very attractive too. She had no trouble stepping across the lawn in her chunky-heeled platform shoes, and the slender beauty towered over me when she stopped in front of me.
Mandy released her big sister’s hand and stood beside us, stroking her bobbing, purple tulle skirts into stillness and grinning down at me from the height advantage of her three-inch heels. “Hi, Bonnie. Hello Baby Jennie,” Tammy brightly greeted us, and her grinning little sister echoed her greeting. I blushed pinkly, hoping no one apart from her sister Mandy overheard Tammy addressing me by that humiliating honorific. I didn’t notice Mandy’s quick glance at my crotch, but fortunately my stiff tulle underskirts protected my shameful infantile undergarments from casual prying eyes.
“Hi Tammy, hi Mandy,” Bonnie grunted, before she lowered her hot-pink tool box onto the lawn with a grateful sigh. She completed the fourth side of our conversational square. “So your mum decided to make you come too?” she asked Tammy with a sneer of disdain.
“No,” the gorgeous teenager replied uncertainly, looking slightly confused by both the question and Bonnie’s disgruntled attitude. “I wanted to come with Mandy.” Tammy added, “I love dress-up parties! Anyway, it’s only for a couple of hours-”
“Three hours,” Bonnie resentfully interjected, looking gloomy at the prospect.
“-and I knew you’d be here. Are you…?” The gorgeous petite blonde nodded meaningfully in the direction of Bonnie’s groin. Mandy’s eyes drifted down to Bonnie’s brief hemline too, before returning to rest on my face. I felt myself blushing under the grinning eight-year-old’s intense scrutiny.
My cousin sighed heavily and nodded. “You too?” Bonnie asked.
After a quick glance around to check no one was watching, Tammy boldly gathered the colourful chiffon strips covering her groin and raised them over her flat tummy. Mandy was the only one who wasn’t staring at Tammy’s crotch. Obviously, she already knew what kind of underwear her big sister was wearing to the party. Mandy kept grinning in my direction, as if she only had eyes for me. It wasn’t grossly obvious but you could tell Tammy was wearing a puffy disposable diaper and a pair of plastic panties under the snug-fitting panty of her pale-green leotard. When the gorgeous grinning teen released the chiffon strips to cover her infantile underwear, she giggled cheekily and looked expectantly in the direction of Bonnie’s crotch with searching brown eyes. My buxom cousin sighed in resignation and briefly raised the hem of her juvenile blue frock in front, giving Tammy and her bemused kid sister a quick flash of her transparent pink plastic panties and the fluffy pink nappies they struggled to contain. I have to say; Mandy didn’t look at all surprised to see Bonnie was diapered like a big baby.
“Oh!” Tammy breathed in astonishment. “Your mum wouldn’t let you wear a disposable diaper today?” Bonnie sadly shook her head in reply but then Tammy’s expression brightened. “I’ve got my diaper bag inside and I think my mum packed some extra disposables for me, just in case. They might be a little small for you but I’m sure we can manage-”
“No Tammy,” Bonnie mournfully responded. She glanced around again and made sure she remained unobserved before she turned around, bent over slightly, and briefly flicked up the back of her pleated baby-blue frock. Even though it was quick, everyone saw the glittering ends of the shiny brass waist chain dangling from the little padlock in the small of her back.
“Holy mackerel!” Tammy cried in disbelief. “Are your baby pants locked on?”
“Shhh!” Bonnie snarled in a loud whisper. Even Mandy covered her pretty painted mouth in shock.
Tammy glanced at me and Mandy before suggesting to her dispirited friend, “Come inside and you can dump your toolbox, Bonnie, and we can get a drink and have a chat.” My glum-faced cousin nodded and followed the gorgeous blonde towards the house, leaving me in the care of Mandy.
“Do you want a drink, Baby Jennie?” the pretty girl in the purple tutu politely asked me. “They have lots of different soft drinks on the table at the side of the house.”
“Thure! Um, Mandy?” I tried to appear unconcerned when I asked, “Can you pweathe jutht call me Jennie, not Baby Jennie?” I followed the pretty girl in purple around to the side of the house and onto the grey concrete driveway.
“Huh? Oh, sure!” She shot me a secretive smile. “I just thought Baby Jennie was your name, that’s all.”
“Not weally,” I explained, and I could feel my cheeks turning redder. “Thort of more wike a nickname. Do you know if they have cweaming thoda?” The sweet red soda was my favourite!
Mandy giggled at my feminine lisp before she replied, “I think so, Jennie. Let’s go look.”
There was a long wooden trestle table set up in the shade of the house in the driveway, covered with a plastic table cloth with drawings of ballerina Barbies all over it. The table was laden with food and drink, including covered trays of mini-meat pies, tiny sausage rolls, cocktail frankfurts, chocolate crackles and fairy bread. There was a leaking tub full of ice and bottles of soft drink sitting on the concrete drive at one end, too. Fortunately for me, they did have creaming soda, and I nodded enthusiastically when Mandy asked me if I wanted a cup. “Yeth pweathe, Mandy!” It was fantastic drinking out of a normal cup like a big girl, although I found myself wrapping both hands around the fragile plastic vessel and sipping very carefully, so I didn’t spill anything on my pretty ballerina outfit. The cup was tiny compared to my normal baby bottles and I drained it in no time at all.
“You’re Bonnie’s cousin, right?” I nodded sheepishly and Mandy grinned and kindly asked, “Want another cup?” When I nodded enthusiastically again she took my pink plastic cup and refilled it. Without her shoes, she would have been only an inch or two taller than me. But with her three-inch heeled, white patent Maryjanes strapped on her dainty feet, I had to look up see to her pretty smiling face. I drained my cup more slowly this time and while I was swallowing, Mandy asked conversationally, “Are you really a boy?”
I was caught completely off-guard and almost coughed up my bubbly soft drink. I felt a quick wet squirt in the front of my diaper and struggled to contain myself. My watering blue eyes darted around to make sure no one else heard Mandy’s embarrassing question. I batted my long black lashes furiously to clear my vision. We were alone at the side of the house, thank goodness! I slowly nodded, watching her pretty face carefully to gauge her reaction. I was pleased when Mandy’s smile broadened and she nodded in satisfaction. “Tammy told me you like to dress up like a little girl and play babies. Is that true?”
There was a pregnant pause while I slowly drained my cup and considered her question. I thought about the last two weeks - especially the last couple of days - and I found myself nodding once more. “Yeth,” I hesitantly admitted, smiling shyly. “I wove dwething wike a pwetty wittle girl, and I do wike pwaying babieth thometimeth.” Like it? Sometimes I loved it! I was thrilled when Mandy’s inquiring smile became a broad grin and she nodded in apparent understanding.
“That’s good,” she responded, “because you certainly make a beautiful little girl. You’re gorgeous!” Her praise was so forthright and honest, it brought the pink hue back to my cheeks.
“Tho are you,” I replied with disarming honesty.
Mandy’s cheeks turned pink with pleasure and she smiled down at me in obvious delight. “Tammy did my make-up for me but she isn’t as good at it as your cousin Bonnie. I think you look seriously gorgeous!” She pointed to my crotch. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’re wearing nappies. Or your cousin Bonnie. Tammy made me promise I wouldn’t. Oh, and by the way? I love playing ‘Mummies and Babies’,” she added with a cheeky grin that made my limp clittie twitch into ready wakefulness. I wondered if she ever played babies with her sister Tammy? My filthy little mind reeled at the erotic images which instantly sprang to mind.
“Do you weally?” I inquired before I could stop myself. When she nodded enthusiastically my tentative smile grew wider. I grabbed a cocktail frankfurter, dipped it a bowl of tomato sauce and munched down on it to give me time to think. “Mandy?” I hesitantly asked, “Can you pweathe not tell anyone at the party I’m weally a boy?”
“Why not?” the eight-year-old demanded in apparent confusion. I guess she was too young to understand. I dunked another mini-frank in the bowl of sauce, careful not to spill any on my beautiful tulle skirts.
“Thome of the other girlth might - you know, they might pick on me,” I clumsily explained, then delicately shoved the dripping cocktail frankfurter between my parted pink lips. Fortunately, she seemed to accept my hastily thrown-together explanation.
Mandy smiled and nodded. “Oh, okay. I knew who you were as soon as Daisy told us you lived in the house behind theirs. And when I heard your name, I thought you might be Bonnie’s cousin - but you looked so gorgeous, I really didn’t believe you could be a boy.” My pink cheeks warmed with pleasure until they were almost burning, and for some weird reason my sensitive clittie swelled even more inside my slippery moist diaper. I didn’t think to ask how she had been able to identify me from where I lived. I was too preoccupied having my ego stroked. “I had to go get Tammy and ask her to be sure,” Mandy admitted with a congratulatory grin for me.
When I reached for a third cocktail frankfurter, Mandy laughed. “Golly! You really like little boys, don’t you?” she teased me, pointing at the bowl of little frankfurters. For a moment I thought she was talking about my fascination with David, and I blushed furiously. Then I realised she was teasing me about the cocktail franks, and I gave her a wry smile for the old joke. The pretty eight-year-old grabbed a piece of Fairy bread covered in hundreds and thousands, folded it in half and stuffed most of it in her mouth. “Come on, let’s go see what the other girls are doing,” she suggested from around a mouthful of buttered bread and multi-coloured sugar.
I grabbed a piece of Fairy bread too, and trotted after her towards the rear of the Green’s garage, still munching. When we skipped inside the back door, there were a half-dozen girls dancing about on the raised wooden platform in front of the long wall of mirrors. Mandy twirled over to join a couple of her friends standing near the old mahogany wardrobe, and I slowly fell behind as I finished my sugary treat and licked my fingers clean. I went to wipe my fingers on my bibbie as usual, and barely caught myself before I ran my hands over the bodice of my shiny pink leotard. I daintily brushed my fingers together instead. My thickening clittie grew even stiffer when I skipped onto the dance floor - the scene of many past private masturbatory activities. I watched my feminine reflection in the mirror and I really did look like a beautiful little ballerina. My heart soared with joy when I pirouetted perfectly on my points, my silk wings fluttering realistically. My frothy pink and white tulle skirts swished noisily around my hips as more pre-cum leaked out of my excitable thickening clittie.
There were two girls holding onto the balance beam at the far end practising their plies, and I skipped over next to them. I grabbed the bar and joined them in the warm-up exercises. Even though I hadn’t practised for about a year, the familiar oft-rehearsed movements quickly came back to me. One of the girls was dressed in a lemon-yellow leotard with dark-yellow tulle skirts, and she turned around to compliment me. “You’re pretty good. Do you take classes, too? I haven’t seen you at our ballet school.” I shook my head and daintily completed the series of movements.
“No, I jutht uthed to pwactithe with Daithy and Thally thometimeth,” I replied with a friendly smile.
The older girl in the pastel-pink tutu turned to me with wide eyes. She looked at least nine or ten years old, and even though her pink-patent Maryjanes only had a two-inch heel, she was easily the tallest girl on the dance floor. Her black hair was tied up in a bun so tight, it stretched her dark arched eyebrows painfully far up and out to her temples. I wondered if it might give her a migraine? Her bun was covered with a ballerina’s pink net snood, which told me she must be one of Daisy’s fellow students from the dance academy. “You’re Jennie, right? You’re the b- the girl who lives behind Daisy’s place. Right?”
I nodded, unaware that I was anxiously gnawing my plump pink bottom lip and eating off my lipstick. Fortunately, the permanent pink stain kept them looking pretty. I nervously plucked at the edges of my bobbing tulle skirts either side to prevent my thumb accidentally creeping into my mouth. I so wanted my dum-dums at that moment! The girl asked, “You used to practice here in the garage with Sally and Daisy last year?” I silently nodded again, unsure where this line of questioning was taking me. I was relieved when the tall, raven-haired girl merely smiled broadly and nodded in sudden understanding. “I’m Gemma and this is Susie,” she said, introducing her smaller blonde friend in the yellow tutu.
“Hi Gemma, hi Thuthie,” I politely responded, and I threw in a little curtsey that made them giggle. “I’m Jennie.”
“Gosh you look pretty, Jennie,” Susie commented with a touch of envy in her voice. “I love your make-up. It’s gorgeous! You’re so lucky! My mum never lets me wear any. You must be the prettiest Fairy Princess at the party!”
“Don’t be thilly,” I weakly protested, although her kind compliments thrilled me to bits! Despite my vanity, I thought Mandy looked every bit as pretty as me. She was beautiful! I shyly glanced down at the polished wooden floor and scuffed the toe of my ballet slipper, blushing with embarrassment, so I missed the exchange of face-pulling between Susie and Gemma. My stiff clittie throbbed thrillingly inside my comfy moist diaper and the tight crotch of my leotard panties kept the hot head pressed erotically against my slick baby-smooth tummy. For some reason, every time I dipped and twisted my hips, the slippery front of my dampening diaper would sensuously caress the sensitive spot on the underside of my pulsating little tool, driving me wild with excitement.
“She certainly is a beautiful little fairy,” Gemma agreed. I missed the hint of irony in her tone. “I love your pink and white tutu, Jennie, and your beautiful matching wings,” the older girl gushed. “That white fur trim on your wings and over your bust and shoulder straps is gorgeous! Where did you get them?”
“Mummy bought them for me yethterday at Bloch’th, in the mall,” I proudly informed them, beaming with pleasure as I rose on my points and daintily pirouetted for them.
“Oh! Look at those fabulous ruffles across your bottom!” Gemma cried in admiration. “Are they pink and white too? They look so sweet!” I paused with my back to them and glanced over my shoulder, smiling vainly and nodding in assent. “Bend over all the way and show us,” the tall raven-haired girl firmly commanded. I instinctively obeyed, delicately drooping over like a wilting flower to let my baby-pink fingernails brush the dusky-pink toes of my gleaming ballet slippers. Mandy and her grinning friends turned to glance appraisingly at me before the pretty little blonde skipped out of the garage. It was just as well I didn’t see the sly condescending smirks on her friend’s little faces.
“Look at her frilly bottom Susie,” Gemma insisted, as she stepped closer to stroke the soft lace ruffles covering my rounded little rear. “Aren’t they adorable?”
“They sure are!” Her giggling blonde friend agreed, as my glittery silk wings limply fluttered across my bent back.
Gemma patted my out-thrust padded bottom more firmly as she commented, “They feel lovely and soft, too. Have a feel, Susie.”
I obediently remained bent over touching my toes, poking out my plastic-wrapped padded botty like a brazen hussy while the grinning blonde in the yellow tutu stroked and patted my sweetly ruffled seat. I don’t know why I obeyed her. It felt natural to submit to the dominant female in the room, and I didn’t question my actions. My stiff clittie swelled even more under her firm caresses, the slippery hot head pressing moistly against my tummy. Gemma bunched my frothy tutu skirts up over my back and held my shoulder with her other hand to support me. I didn’t realise the girls could feel my puffy disposable diaper and plastic panties crackling beneath the sweet lace ruffles. When Susie finished caressing my bottom, she cheekily slid her fingertips under the leg bands of my leotard panties either side of my crotch, and lifted the stretchy ruffle-covered lycra seat up and inwards.
“Let me just straighten your pretty panties, Jennie,” Susie suggested in a kind caring voice. She cruelly rearranged them so the leg bands of my pink plastic panties obviously poked out the sides. You could even see a hint of my puffy disposable diaper through the transparent pink plastic, but I was blissfully unaware of the fact. “Open your legs a bit wider, honey,” Susie crooned invitingly. Behind me Gemma smiled wolfishly when I unthinkingly obeyed the smoothly uttered commands. “I just want to straighten the front, too,” Susie glibly explained.
I thought it would have been more sensible to let me stand upright to adjust the front of my panties. But I stupidly submitted and remained in position, bending right over touching the dusky-pink toes of my ballet slippers with my bum facing the mirror, showing of my pretty ruffled panty bottom to the other girls like a vain little tramp. I was shocked when Susie’s tiny hand boldly slid between my spread thighs and pressed upwards, cupping my padded pants against my throbbing little tool. “Ooo, and her panties feel so lovely and silky-smooth at the front, too!” Susie gushed. “Have a feel, Gemma.” Susie stepped out of the way and Gemma immediately pushed her hand between my thighs, palm upwards.
“Open your legs wider, Jennie,” she briskly commanded. I didn’t even think of disobeying. I gasped in muted pleasure when Gemma’s larger cupped palm pressed upwards. Her searching fingers firmly stroked the slippery lycra crotch of my pink leotard, right over my pounding stiff clittie. “Oh yes!” Gemma enthusiastically agreed, with a conspiratorial grin and a wink for her wicked little friend. “Come over here girls, and feel the front of Jennie’s panties,” she forcefully suggested to the girls near the wardrobe. Another group of giggling Fairy Princesses danced into the garage and Susie signalled them to come over too. “Stay bent over like that, Jennie,” Gemma warned me. She placed one hand behind the back of my neck and gripped me tightly to resolutely hold me in place. “Alice? Margie? Come over here and have a feel, girls.”
The next thing I knew, several giggling girls were lined up behind me, possessively patting my ruffled panty bottom and sticking their hands between my trembling bare thighs. Even though their voices were brimming with compliments, I thought I detected an undercurrent of sarcasm. Many of them rudely stroked the slick lycra crotch piece of my pretty pink leotard, pressing my stiff clittie up against my tummy. Within three minutes, every girl in the garage had confirmed for herself that not only was I diapered like a hopeless little baby and wearing baby panties, but I was a naughty boy obviously thrilled to be dressed like a beautiful little ballerina!
When Gemma finally released my neck, I jerked upright, gazing about fearfully at the dozen smirking Fairy Princesses gathered around me. Their cold eyes and their condescending expressions seemed cruel to me, and I couldn’t read their strange bemused smiles. Instead I backed away from them, cringing in shame, defensively clutching my frothy tulle skirts against my tenting padded crotch. I turned and scampered out of the garage, as fast as my little legs would carry me.
To be continued in chapter 37.
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