Jennie's Potty-Training chapter 42

Synopsis. David is punished for what he did to Baby Jennie. Bonnie insists on making it up to the the sissy baby, and Baby Jennie finds she has some decisions to make.

Chapter 42. Decision Time.

Ruth Smith took Mummy’s place in front of the wicker chair, watching in disgust as her embarrassed son guiltily tried to shove his shrivelling slimy cock inside his khaki shorts. “David, you’re a wicked, wicked boy!” she harshly rebuked him, but the cowering teenager had other things on his mind. As he raised his hands from his crotch, he noticed his fingers were smeared with Vaseline and faeces, and he moaned loudly in disgust. He desperately glanced around, searching for something to wipe clean his dirty hands, but my Aunty stridently intervened.

“Don’t touch anything!” Cath snarled at the frightened young man, grabbing his wrists and holding up his mucky fingers in front of his shame-tinged cheeks. “That shit on your cock and your hands will make great evidence for the police forensics department.” You should have seen the look on David’s face!

“Police?” Ruth shrieked in alarm, “We don’t need to involve the police!”
“I’m afraid we do,” Cath coldly assured her, glaring down at the terrified boy with callous disregard. “I’ll call them now, and tell them to come over and arrest your son on charges of sodomy and statutory rape.” She released his trembling wrists and turned to me on the floor, pointed and snickered. “Oh my! Look at those cum stains on baby’s dress and petticoats.” Everybody in the post-Clinton era knew what irrefutable evidence those uncontrollable drops of jism represented.
Now Ruth looked terrified. “No, wait!” She pleaded with my grim-faced Aunty, “Please? There must be some other way…?”

Cath let the distressed woman’s entreaty hang in the air for a few long moments, and then appeared to think deeply. “Hmm,” the tall brunette murmured thoughtfully, as if an alternative solution had just that moment occurred to her. “I suppose I could punish your disgusting rapist of a son myself - if you both agreed?”
“What?” The plump woman cried in confusion, tears filling her crinkled blue eyes. “No, no! I-”
“I’ll just go ahead and call the police then, shall I? I think your David will probably be confined to a juvenile detention centre for the next two or three years. I hear they’re pretty rough institutions, but-”
“Wait! What do you have in mind?” Ruth entreated, her sweaty face creased with terror and shame.

Cath took her time before replying, cruelly dragging out the moment. “I’ll tell you what. You hand your son over to me, to discipline as I see fit for the next four weeks until school starts, and I’ll forget about phoning the cops.”
“Discipline?” Ruth muttered in anguished confusion.
“Yes, discipline - something which I think your little rapist has sadly been lacking,” Cath tersely replied. When she saw the poor woman still looked confused, Cath went on to explain. “He can babysit Baby Jennie and some of her baby friends here and at my place for the next few weeks - without pay of course, and under constant adult supervision - so he can learn to be a responsible adult. Naturally he would have to wear a chastity device, to prevent him from interfering with the girls-”
What?” David and his mother cried in unison.

Cath chuckled at their aghast expressions. “Yes, a chastity device! They still make them for unruly males, you know? Your little rapist has already proved he can’t control himself, so it would be absolutely essential whenever he was around pretty little girls like our Baby Jennie. And I should warn you - I firmly believe in corporal punishment for bad behaviour.”
“No mum! You can’t let her beat me?” David shrilly protested, his handsome features puckering in fear.
“I’ll send for the police now then, shall I?” Cath brutally suggested, striding purposefully towards the doorway to the landing.

This time it was Ruth who leaned down and smartly struck her son across his unmarked cheek with her open left palm. The sharp smack was frighteningly loud in the otherwise silent room. Now both sides of his face bore a fiery red handprint. “Shut up, David!” she snarled at him in red-faced fury. “Would you rather be gang-raped in some juvenile prison?” The terrified boy clutched his bruised cheek with his mucky fingers and burst into tears, shaking his head in fearful denial.
“No, no, mum!” He wailed, “You can’t let her send me to prison.”

Ruth ignored her weeping son’s protestations and turned to face my towering buxom Aunty. “Four weeks, you say?” Cath nodded, smiling grimly in triumph. Ruth turned to Mummy, still cradling me in her arms on the floor. “And you agree to this, too?” When Mummy silently nodded, the plump woman’s shoulders drooped in resignation. “I guess we really don’t have much of a choice. Do we? When did you want to start?”
“I’ll take your little rapist with me to my place right now, and get him fitted with a chastity device,” Cath brightly suggested, but everyone knew it was an irrefusable order. “I’ll have a contract drawn up for all of us to sign tomorrow, so the arrangement will be all nice and legal - and if you decide to change your mind; I always have the recording of the rape on my hard drive, which I can show the police.”

Both Ruth and her son visibly cringed every time Cath said the words ‘rape’ or ‘rapist’. David looked even more horrified to learn that his criminal assault had been caught on disc, and he crumpled over sobbing in fear. No one thought to ask why Cath might have a male chastity device at her place. My Aunty pointed to the weeping boy with a disgusted sneer. “Isabell? Can you clean him up a little before I get him ready to take home in my car? I don’t want him touching anything of mine with those stinky hands of his.” My Mummy nodded agreement, although the look she gave the snivelling boy would have terrified him, had he seen it. “Come with me, Ruth,” Cath ordered our stunned neighbour, striding from the room with the absolute expectation that the mousy woman would meekly follow. She did.

“Will you be alright here for a few minutes, baby girl?” Mummy tenderly asked me. I nodded, sniffing back the tears. She released me and stood up, grabbed David by one meaty bicep and dragged him to his feet. She hauled the cringing boy into the en-suite bathroom where I could hear him blubbering in fear and shame.

“Please no,” he pleaded. “Please don’t-”
“Shut up!” Mummy harshly ordered him. I rolled onto my tummy and gently thrust my stiff clittie into the rustling papery folds of my warm disposable diaper, my plastic panties crinkling noisily and my frothy petticoats swishing femininely around the slippery seat of my pink pilchers. “I didn’t see you showing my baby girl any mercy when she was begging you not to rape her a few minutes ago,” Mummy brutally cut off his whining objections. “Shut up, you snivelling sissy! You’re only getting what you deserve.” He fell silent when she roughly washed his dirty face and hands with a cold soapy flannel, although his pitiful sobs grew louder when she made him pull out his shit-caked shrivelled penis. She viciously scoured clean his poopy tool, too, ignoring his tearful pleas for mercy.

Mummy dragged the humiliated, freshly-scrubbed boy back into the Nursery by one ear, just as Aunty Cath and Ruth returned from downstairs. I lay still on my tummy for a moment and watched them warily, hoping the women hadn’t noticed what I’d been doing. My throbbing clittie pulsated with frustration inside my warm puffy diaper, and I discretely wriggled about on the slick wet spot created by my pre-cum. Our neighbour was holding a collection of black leather straps in her trembling hands, and she wore an expression of stunned disbelief.

“It’s completely necessary,” Aunty Cath firmly assured the poor confused woman, as she practically shoved Ruth into the room. Mummy released her grip on David’s tortured earlobe and stood aside to let them pass, and then shuffled out of the Nursery. “If your little rapist was going to prison, he’d be wearing steel shackles and be locked to two other inmates - and sleeping in the same cell with them. I’m sure you agree this method is much more humane,” Cath smoothly added.
“But- But I-” Ruth tried to protest, but my domineering Aunty easily overrode her feeble objections.

“It is essential that you lock his restraints on, Ruth,” Cath ordered, steering the horrified woman towards her cowering red-cheeked son. “It assures David that you are in complete agreement with his punishment, and reminds our little rapist here that there is no backing out.” She guided the woman’s hands to drape the black leather harness over her mortified son’s bowed head, settling the wide leather straps over his drooping shoulders. Cath helpfully guided the stunned boy’s hands through the appropriate leather loops, and then she turned the snivelling teenager around so his mother could buckle the humiliating toddler harness tightly between his shoulder blades.

When his harness was safely secured about his muscular torso, Cath turned him around to face his mother once more. The shame-faced boy kept his teary blue eyes glued to the carpet, and didn’t see Cath passing his mother some floppy black leather baby mittens. I noticed David’s toddler harness had some large chromed letters mounted on a narrow band across his heaving chest, spelling out the simple message; ‘Bad Baby.’ Cath instructed Ruth as she slipped his mittens over his limp curled fingers, forcing his hands into tightly clenched fists. The befuddled woman buckled the attached thick black wrist cuffs around her son’s muscular forearms. Aunty Cath held the boy’s mittens against his chest, and showed his mother how to attach the dangling metal clips to the D-rings riveted either side of the broad leather chest strap.

When the bound boy stood before them cringing in shame, Cath gave one shackled mitten a hard tug to make sure it was safely secured. Then she reached up and carelessly slapped the trembling boy across one blazing red cheek with her hard hand, and he jerked back in fear, mittens flailing. “You wait here for me, you naughty child,” she warned the cringing teenager, and she gently took one of Ruth’s hands and led her from the Nursery. “I can take him from here, Ruth,” I heard Aunty Cath kindly explain. She led the poor distracted woman along the landing. I saw Mummy following in their wake. “I’ll take him over to my place to sort him out properly, and I’ll bring him back to your place by dinner time tonight.”

Aunty’s calm soothing voice trailed off as she led Ruth downstairs, and I couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation. I stared up at the bound, humiliated boy in interest, but he wouldn’t even glance in my direction. I deliberately rocked up and down on my stiff clittie, causing my thick plastic panties to rustle and my papery disposable to crinkle noisily, and making it obvious to him what I was doing. But snivelling David steadfastly ignored me, caught up in his own version of hell.

When Cath returned to the Nursery alone, she was carrying some familiar fur-lined ankle restraints. They were joined by a short steel chain inside a clear plastic tube, except these cuffs were fashioned from thick black leather to match David’s humiliating toddler harness and baby mittens. For some reason I found the black cuffs and harness more intimidating, and I delicately shuddered in fear for the woeful youth. Cath forced the shivering lad to his knees, bent his torso forwards, and heartlessly rammed his runny nose into the carpet. She brutally kicked his feet the desired distance apart with the toe of one thigh-high boot. My grim-faced Aunty buckled the black ankle cuffs below his thick muscular calves, making sure the straps were nice and tight. She locked them in place with two small brass padlocks, and settled the plastic tube encasing the hobble chain evenly between his spread ankles. Two strong black leather leashes were clipped to the rear chromed D-rings of his toddler harness, and Cath used the short leather reins to drag the snivelling child upright to his knees. “Open your mouth, boy,” she briskly commanded. She forcibly bent his head back as she slipped a black leather bonnet over his short blonde hair.

While this snug black bonnet lacked the feminine addition of a frilly lace brim, it still possessed a wide leather strap that covered his mouth. My cruel Aunty forced the semi-inflated black rubber gag between the boy’s writhing lips. He tried to protest and twist his head aside as she tightly buckled the bonnet under his chin, and his black mittened fists flailed uselessly from the front D-rings of his chest harness. A few quick pumps on the bulb soon silenced his whining objections. His head froze in place and air whistled noisily through his nostrils. His cobalt-blue eyes were wide with terror when he stared up at her, silently pleading for mercy. She kept pumping till his cheeks were bulging like a chipmunk’s and his wide blue eyes were round as saucers. I could see the whites all the way around, and knew he was terrified. With her unwitting subject now safely bound, hobbled, and gagged, she used the strong leather reins to haul her victim to his feet. “Let’s go, you naughty boy,” Cath urged him, with a sharp spank on his shivering behind. She smacked his bum to direct the hobbled boy shuffling out the doorway, and I heard her crisply spanking him along the landing, all the way to the top of the stairs.

I knew he would be clumsily bumping his way downstairs on his hairy bum like a terrified toddler, and I didn’t envy him the next few mortifying hours. My clittie was still hard and throbbing, and I rocked and rolled on my hot pulsating tool as I wondered what had happened to my Mummy. A few minutes later she returned to the Nursery carrying a fresh bottle of warm milk. “Come on, Baby Jennie,” Mummy gently urged me, as she helped me climb up on the change table. I noticed she had abandoned her exotic thigh-high boots for some sensible runners and let down her hair, and she seemed much steadier on her feet - and slightly less imposing. As soon as I was sitting up on the soft padded vinyl surface, Mummy unclipped my mittens from my toddler harness and then unlocked them. She tossed the locks on the shelf overhead, and I heard a ring of keys jingling up there, too.

Mummy removed my restrictive baby mittens and turned me side-on to unbuckle my harness. “Reach for the sky, my precious baby girl,” she softly cooed. When I obeyed and raised my arms, she swept the pink leather harness over my head and tossed it on the floor. She unclipped my bibbie and took off my satin frock, and then tossed the stained petticoat on top of the yellow dress on the floor. “Those will all need a good wash,” she grunted in annoyance. She clipped the ‘Princess Potty-pants’ bibbie back around my neck, and the soft white lace frills tickled my throat and bare tummy. “Lie back down, baby. Good girl!” She handed me my bottle, and I slipped the warm teat into my mouth and gratefully started sucking, suddenly aware of my thirst. She smoothed my frilly bibbie over my breast, smiling at the embroidered inscription. “Let’s get baby into a proper cloth nappy, shall we? Lift up that bot-bot for Mummy, Princess Potty-pants,” Mummy crooned in invitation, and she pulled down my punctured pink plastic panties. She examined the slash in the seat and the layer of dirty brown grease around the edges of the cut, and tossed the ruined pilchers in the bin with a growl of anger.

Mummy didn’t seem surprised to find my clittie mostly swollen and hard when she lowered the front of my almost-dry disposable. “Aww! Did that nasty brute get my little girl all worked up?” She gently teased me, but her indulgent smile assured me she wasn’t annoyed. “My poor little girl!” My diaper was a bit dirty in the back, especially around the poopy slit cut in the seat. Mummy carefully wrapped it up, taped it closed, and tossed it in a nappy sack. My swollen tool jumped when I heard Mummy slipping on a pair of latex gloves. She ignored my thickening clittie for the moment, and set to cleaning the sticky brown mess from my bumcheeks with a handful of baby wipes. The poopy Vaseline smeared all over my crack meant it took her ages to scrub me clean back there. I couldn’t stop my uncontrollable clittie from stiffening with arousal every time she poked and prodded my puffy anal lips.

I thought about David, and wondered if Aunty Cath was going to use her strap-on dildo on him like she did with Baby Pansy? Would she force him to take it up the arse, like he made me? Would she make him accept what I’d been forced to accept? With those bizarre thoughts raging through my mind; was it any wonder I couldn’t control my excitable little tool? By the time Mummy finally let my legs drop, the crimson head of my swollen clittie was poking me in the belly button, although she merely gave my throbbing stiffie a small forgiving smile. “Open your legs wide for Mummy, baby girl,” she sweetly crooned, and I compliantly bent my knees back and spread my slender thighs as far apart as I could.

Mummy poured a generous dusting of sweet-smelling talc over my bobbing hard tool and across my trembling tummy, but she didn’t bother rubbing it in. Instead she bent my knees back even further and spread my relaxed botty cheeks wide. She covered one gloved finger with a fresh coating of Vaseline from the open tub on the shelf above the change table, and tenderly smiled down at me when I began to wriggle my feet in excitement. I sucked harder on the teat of my bottle, gulping down the warm milk as Mummy gently probed between my swollen lips. Then she poked her greasy gloved fingertip a few thrilling millimetres inside my dilated opening, making me gasp. “How does it feel in there, baby?” She asked, the concern evident in her wide olive-green eyes. “Did David hurt you? Is your botty-hole - I mean, is your pussy sore?” She delicately inquired.

I slipped the nipple from my lips, ignoring the warm spurt of milk on my cheek when I softly replied, “No Mummy.”
“Tell Mummy if it hurts in here, darling.” I sighed in helpless pleasure when her probing finger crept a little further inside me, and thrust the dripping silicon teat back in my mouth. “Open up, darling. Open up for Mummy. That’s better. What a good baby girl!” I felt like such a baby, drinking from my bottle of warm milk while my Mummy lovingly tended to my every need. My insides had already been stretched wide by David’s huge monster, and the fresh Vaseline made the digital penetration painless and easy.
“Ooo Mama!” I burbled wetly in arousal, wriggling with excitement at the thought of Mummy fingering my pussy.

Mummy grinned down at my excited reaction, and slowly twirled her finger around in a full circle to check everywhere inside. “It doesn’t feel torn or sore,” she muttered in approval, before urging, “Let Mummy feel all the way inside, baby.” She released my ankles and I let my knees flop against my trembling chest. “Good girl! What a good baby girl you are! Open up wide for Mummy now, baby.” Mummy wrapped her other gloved hand all the way around my throbbing stiff clittie, and started sliding her curled fist up and down the slender length of my powder-coated shaft, using the silky talc as a fragrant lubricant. I clutched my half-empty bottle with my right hand and wrapped my free hand around my slender left thigh, dragging my knees back near my face and sluttishly opening myself wider for her thrilling advances.

“Oh Mama! That feelth tho good!” I babbled, spraying my bibbie with warm milk, staring up at my mother in wide-eyed wonder.
“Yes baby! I can see my little girl likes that! Open up, baby.” Mummy smiled down indulgently at me as I began to tremble and writhe in excitement. ‘Open wide for Mummy, Baby Jennie.” She slowly slid another slippery finger inside my puffy lips, and I gasped loudly in pleasure as I felt my naughty hole opening wider for her probing digits. “Ooo, good girl! But I don’t want you to let any more boys play with your pussy, baby girl,” Mummy cautioned me, as she slid two fingers all the way inside me to the last knuckle. I could only groan in response, my eyes almost rolling back in my head. “You’re too little. That’s naughty!” She spread her longest fingers as wide as she could, and swirled them around inside me until I moaned in delight.

“Ooo! Yeth Mama,” I submissively lisped in reply, my teeth clenched on the dripping silicon teat of my pink plastic baby bottle. “No more boyth,” I willingly agreed between slurps. I would have agreed to anything at that point. The powdery fist curled around my twitching shaft began to slide up and down, faster and faster. Her fingers tightened around my pulsating tool in a maddening, intoxicating rhythm until I squealed in passion. “Ooo Mama!”
But then Mummy unexpectedly added, “No, only Mummy and your Aunties can play with Baby Jennie’s pussy and her sweet little clittie, until she’s a bit more grown-up. Then if my pretty baby still wants to let boys touch her clittie or her pussy, Mummy will arrange a proper date one evening for her special little girl,” she assured me, her olive-green eyes twinkling at the prospect.

The thought of Mummy dressing me up like a beautiful grown-up girl and sending me out on a date with a boy to have sex, really blew my mind! My tiny sack tightened, preparing to unload its contents. “Ooo Mama! Mama!” I squealed. Bad baby juice began to surge up inside my twitching shaft. Mummy added a third finger to the ones already twisting and turning inside my gaping pussy, and I threw my feet in the air and drew my knees back towards my ears like a wanton little slut, crying, “Yeth Mama!”

“Yes Baby Jennie! Open that little hole right up for Mummy. Open right up, my naughty baby girl,” she encouraged me with a wicked leer, simultaneously pumping both ends with an expert touch. Her twirling fingers seemed to brush some magic spot deep inside me, and an electric jolt of excitement exploded from that special place. It surged through my body, making me bounce off the soft padded table like a cardiac patient having his heart jump-started. My heart was slamming against my ribs in a staccato rhythm. I was panting for breath, and suddenly the room lights began to strobe.

“Mama! Mama!” I cried on the brink of climax. “Oh Mama, I’m jutht a baby!” I thrust my bottle aside and squealed uncontrollably. Jolt after jolt of creamy jism exploded out of the tip of my swollen clittie. My feet thrashed in the air like an excited infant’s as I joyfully cried, “Mama!” Bad baby juice sprayed wetly over my tummy and splattered on my frilly bibbie, before Mummy curled her gloved fingers over the spurting eye. “I wanna be a bubba girl forever!” I shrieked in my high baby voice, before my trembling body collapsed back onto the change table. “Ga-ga! Goo-goo-goo-goo, goo-goo-ga!”

“Oh my baby. My poor little girl,” Mummy sadly commented before she could stop herself, frowning momentarily at my fixation on my babyfied state. She anxiously bit her plump bottom lip, but she wiped the sour expression from her face before I opened my eyes. She tried to smile encouragingly at me as she milked my clittie dry. I lay there twitching uncontrollably and moaning breathlessly as she carefully wiped my bottom clean again, before she removed her soiled gloves. Then she used a handful of moist baby wipes to clean up the sticky mess splattered over my shivering torso.

“Good girl. Good baby. What a precious baby girl,” Mummy lovingly crooned to me, babbling mindlessly as she wiped my tummy clean. “That’s my sweet baby girl. Let Mummy clean up all the bad baby juice.” She tut-tutted at the creamy mess I’d sprayed over my bibbie, and she unclipped it and tossed the soiled item in the nappy bucket beside the change table. “That’s better, isn’t it? Now upsy-daisy, sweetheart!” She gathered my ankles together with one hand and raised my feet high in the air, then bent my knees back so she could scrub my sensitive little hole again. This time it took her only a minute to wipe clean my swollen anal lips, and she kept my legs bent back as she dusted my botty cheeks and crack with powder.

I shivered and twitched with excitement when her fingers caressed the talc over my sensitive spots. She gently lowered my feet and coated my shrivelling clittie and trembling tummy in a fresh layer of talc, before rubbing the powder over my shivering loins with sure smooth hands. Mummy smiled down indulgently at me as she snugly pinned my thick cloth nappies around my slender hips. She covered them with some crackling yellow plastic panties, and they were so transparent, you could see every fold of my pink nappies underneath when she tucked in the tight elastic waist and leg bands.

I blissfully lay back with my eyes drifting closed in contentment while Mummy did everything for me, diapering me and dressing me like I was a completely helpless infant. I wallowed in infantile post-orgasmic bliss as she attended to my needs. She straightened the yellow lace frills on my sheer white anklet socks, and buckled my white patent Maryjanes on my feet. She sat me up, and I lazily slumped there with my eyes closed. She slipped a clean frock over my halo of blonde curls and fed my limp hands through the armholes. I didn’t see what I was wearing until I opened my eyes, when Mummy lifted me down from the change table. She stood me in front of the mirror behind the wardrobe door, and I staggered unsteadily as I examined my feminine reflection. I was wearing a sleeveless yellow gingham frock this time, with tiny yellow and white checks. It had two tiered, ruffled yellow layers bobbing above the too-short, lace-edged hemline. The crotch of my tightly-packed baby panties was clearly on display, even when I tried to stop wobbling and stand still.

Mummy stood behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders to steady me, watching my face in the mirror as she reminded me; “I know you won’t be able to control you bot-bot for the next few months, baby girl. Unfortunately, your wicked cousin Bonnie paralysed your poor little poo-poo hole at the salon. But there’s no reason you can’t learn to control your wee-wees like a big girl.” Even though she knew I was a teenager, she couldn’t stop herself from talking down to me like I was her sweet toddler girl. And gazing at my juvenile, feminine reflection in the mirror - who could blame her? I looked like a pretty six-year-old girl, except for the obvious nappies and baby panties bulging out from under the lace-edged hem of my cute yellow gingham frock.

She continued, “I intend keeping you in nappies until you are completely potty-trained - front and back - even if it takes months. I can’t have you wetting and pooping your panties like a hopeless toddler.” Then why was she talking to me like I was one? “But I want you to try and tell Mummy when you feel the need to go wee-wees or poo-poos. Alright, baby girl?” When I didn’t reply after a few moments, she gave my bare brown shoulders a quick shake to regather my attention. She finger-combed out my bobbing platinum curls while eyeing my blushing pink cheeks carefully. “Do you understand Mummy, Baby Jennie?” she demanded. My head drooped and I gazed at the floor. “I want you to tell me if you need to do number ones or number twos, and Mummy will sit you on the pot-pot.” She was talking down to me like I was a retarded pre-schooler, and I felt a surge of resentment well up inside me. “Okay, baby girl? Understand Mummy?”
“Yeth Mummy,” I grumpily responded, my bottom lip unconsciously poking out like a sulky toddler’s.

“Good girl. Mummy wants you to grow up and learn to use the toilet like a big girl. You can’t stay a baby forever.” I thought about Baby Pansy who was diapered 24/7, and I wondered if Mummy really knew what she was talking about. Maybe I could be a baby girl forever? “Don’t you want to grow up to be a big girl, Baby Jennie?” she insisted, watching my face intently.

I took so long to answer, I think she really started to worry. But I couldn’t help wondering if Mummy intended to cut off my clittie to turn me into a big girl? I had grown rather attached to it of late. Ever since I found it was useful for more than just warming my nappies, I really didn’t want to lose it! But instead of confessing my fears, I took the easy way out and childishly avoided a confrontation. “Yeth Mummy,” I finally agreed, “I wanna gwow up to be a big girl.” But I couldn’t hold her searching green-eyed gaze, and guiltily let my eyes drop to the carpet. “Can I have my dum-dumth, pweathe Mummy?” I timidly requested, to distract her from asking any more embarrassing questions. She shook her head in mild dismay, but gave me a thin-lipped smile and kindly licked the amber rubber teat to wet it for me before she popped it in my mouth. She clipped the dangling plastic chain to the round collar of my frock, and then took my hand to lead me downstairs.

I thought Mummy might relax the rules after my terrible ordeal, but when we reached the staircase she let go of my hand and glanced pointedly at the top step. Obedient to her will, I flopped down onto my puffy nappy bottom and slid my slippery plastic-sheathed rear down onto the next step. I bumped my way downstairs on my bot-bot like any normal toddler. Mummy didn’t offer me her hand when I reached the bottom, so I crawled after her towards the kitchen like a mindless nine-month-old. I didn’t realise how late it was until Mummy lifted me into my highchair and buckled me in. I glanced through the kitchen window and was surprised to see the sun already beginning to set. After she locked the steel tray in place, Mummy clipped a yellow bibbie around my neck bearing the embroidered script, ‘Mummy’s Little Nappy Messer.’ She couldn’t help smirking at the humiliating tell-tale message as she placed a plastic Barbie bowl full of warm brown paste on the pink tray in front of me.

“You start eating your din-dins by yourself like a big girl, sweetheart. Mummy is just going to pop next door and pick up your sister.” She slipped out through the back door and when the screen door slammed behind her, I searched the tray for a spoon. It was an exercise in futility. Of course there wasn’t one, and I resigned myself to awkwardly feeding myself with my fingers. I felt like such a baby, scraping the flavourless food into my mouth with my messy fingers. When I felt a hot spurt in my nappy, I instinctively relaxed and let my urine freely flow. I was trapped in my infantile highchair with no one to release me or put me on the potty. Instead I kept stuffing my face, perversely enjoying the thrilling heat rising around my hairless genitals.

I’d managed to scoop most of the tasteless concoction into my mouth by the time Mummy returned, clutching Angelica’s hand. My sister was babbling so fast her words were almost indecipherable. She bounced from foot to foot in excitement and her cornflower-blue eyes were wide from the effects of an intense sugar rush. Mummy led her straight past me in the highchair through the kitchen and into the sunroom. She set my hyperactive sister to changing her Barbie’s clothes with her tiny trembling fingers. My mother returned to the kitchen with her luscious red lips pursed in a disapproving thin line, shaking her head in dismay. “Angie won’t need anything to eat tonight. She’s filled up on sugar and soft drinks,” she noted with a snort of annoyance. She picked up the rubber-coated baby spoon she’d left lying on the bench and approached me in my pink steel highchair.

“Good baby!” Mummy praised me, when she saw I had already eaten most of my dinner. She smiled encouragingly and picked up the messy plastic Barbie bowl. She scraped out the remaining contents with the pink rubber-coated spoon, shovelling the last of the bland beige paste between my lips. “Eat up, baby girl. Almost finished.” She scooped up some of the bigger lumps from my bibbie, feeding them to me as well. “That’s right, baby. Eat it all up for Mummy. Mmm-mmm. Good girl! Yummy-scrummy!” She took away my empty bowl and returned with a folded paper serviette, and produced a fresh slice of birthday cake. It was cream-filled sponge cake with hot-pink icing. Mummy placed the slice on a flat plastic plate and slid it onto my highchair tray. “There you go, darling. Aunty Ellen sent over some of Daisy’s birthday cake for you, and she told me to tell you the girls apologised for laughing at you when you pooped your nappy. I explained to them that you really couldn’t help it, and Sally even offered to babysit you if I ever need to go out. Wasn’t that sweet of her?”

Sweet wasn’t the word I would have used! I couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than being babysat by my cute thirteen-year-old, next-door neighbour. I imagined the humiliation of having my poopy nappies changed by my best female friend, who was roughly the same age as me, and shuddered at the shameful prospect. I picked up the cake and took a bite, and suddenly understood why my sister was so hyper. It was overpoweringly sweet and the cream was mock-cream, made from egg whites and spun sugar. The taste of strawberry-flavoured pink icing overlayed everything else. It was like eating an artificial strawberry that had been soaked in sugar, but I gobbled it down regardless. I didn’t care, as it helped wash away the awful taste of the bland baby food.

Mummy took ages to scrub my face and filthy hands clean with a warm soapy washer afterwards, tut-tutting in disgust at my messy baby ways. She had to give my splattered highchair tray a wipe-over too, before she handed me a bottle of warm milk. “You have a suck on your bottle in your highchair, baby girl,” Mummy cooed to me, gently tousling my curls. “I need to keep an eye on your sister for a little while.” She strode into the sunroom and I vaguely heard her chatting with Angelica. I could hear my sister’s rapid-fire high-pitched replies, although her excited babble was indecipherable to my ears. As I gulped down my warm milk I felt another burst of delicious heat inside my nappy, and impulsively relaxed and enjoyed the soothing warm flow.

I had almost finished my bottle when our front doorbell rang. I watched Mummy walking down the hallway to answer the door with a frown of apprehension. I heard a low murmur of voices coming down the hallway and to my surprise, Bonnie waddled into the kitchen a few moments later instead of Mummy. My cousin was still wearing the same blue dress she wore to the party, but I could tell by the way she walked that she must have recently had her wet nappy changed. At least she wasn’t wearing her toddler harness, leather mittens, or her restrictive ‘bad baby bonnet’ any longer, and her make-up had been freshly applied.

Bonnie smiled indulgently at the sight I made sitting in my ‘Disney Princess’ highchair, sucking on my pink baby bottle, with my filthy bibbie clipped around my neck. When I shyly lowered my bottle to greet her, she took the vessel from my hands and gently thrust the nipple back between your puffy pink lips. She tilted the base up high so the remaining contents spurted into my mouth. “Drink up, sweetie,” Bonnie crooned to me with a kind smile. “Finish your bottle like a good little baby girl, and I’ll take you upstairs for a little feed from my titties before I put you down for the night.” My heart leapt at her exciting words and I eagerly sucked harder on the clear silicon teat. I swiftly emptied my bottle.

“Your Mummy has taken Angie upstairs to put her in the bath and give her a wash, but don’t worry. I’m looking after you tonight, baby girl.” Bonnie dropped my empty bottle in the sink and then unlocked and raised the hinged tray out of my way. She used my bibbie to wipe clean my milk-stained lips and chin, then unclipped it and tossed it on the kitchen bench. Bonnie stepped behind my highchair to unfasten the seat belt, and when she had pulled it through the crotch strap and out of the way, she slid me forward on the deep padded seat and lifted me down. She took my hand and led me waddling out of the kitchen towards the staircase. “Come on, Baby Jennie,” she kindly urged me. “Come upstairs and you can have a little nurse, and then we’ll get you out of that wet nappy.” How did she know I was wet? I didn’t realise that Bonnie simply assumed I was always wet or dirty - or both - these days. Like a real baby, my nappies always needed changing.

I glanced sideways at her as she led me upstairs and I hesitantly asked, “What happened to David?” She sighed heavily and shook her head before replying.
“After she dragged him into the house, Mum took him into a secret room concealed over our garage. I swear I never knew it existed! The bookcase in the hallway leading to the garage slides aside on these hidden rollers, and there is a narrow staircase behind it.” She shook her head in wonder when she recalled the strange sight in her own home. “It leads upstairs to this huge room above our three-car garage. It’s set up like a big baby Nursery, with an open tiled bathroom at the far end - except there wasn’t any toilet.”

She briefly pondered the possible explanations for this, then glanced down sympathetically at me. “It’s a bit like your Nursery, Baby Jennie - only much bigger. You know, with a huge playpen, and a big cot, and a proper big baby change table and everything. There’s even a baby bouncer and a rocking horse made to hold a small adult! Anyway, I had to help her lock David’s cock in this weird Perspex chastity device when we got him upstairs. Mummy has a drawer full of the things.”

Bonnie shuddered with distaste at the memory of handling David’s limp equipment. “He wasn’t happy about it, but with his ankles hobbled and those horrid black mittens shackled to his chest, there wasn’t much he could do to resist. He was screaming and crying when mum locked it on, but you could barely hear a thing because of his gag.” Bonnie shook her head and grimaced in revulsion. “Those pump-up gags are horrible!” She led me along the landing and added, “You’ll see for yourself tomorrow morning, anyway. Mum is going to make him come over here first thing Monday morning to help change you and potty you, and get you ready to visit the doctor.” Her expression turned remorseful when she added, “I have to be here to help, too. Well, mostly I’m supposed to keep an eye on David, and make sure he does everything Mum has instructed him to do.”

We waddled into the nursery and she grabbed a bottle of baby oil from the shelf above the change table when we walked past. She grinned at my expression of wide-eyed excitement and led me straight over to the white wicker chair near the far corner. “Come on, baby girl. You can sit on Mama’s lap and have a nurse while I rub your little clittie.” I didn’t need to be asked twice! As soon as she was seated in the wicker rocking chair, I threw myself across her broad lap. “Did David really fuck you, baby girl?” Bonnie softly inquired as she rearranged my body over her plump womanly thighs, her voice full of concern. I nodded and sucked harder on my dummy-teat, too embarrassed to admit the truth to her. “You poor baby,” she clucked sympathetically. Her hand rested on my nappy crotch and began to rhythmically pat the front my noisy plastic panties. She unexpectedly asked, “Did you cum?” I thought about the wonderful way Mummy fingered my swollen pussy and milked me dry afterwards, but I knew that wasn’t what my cousin was talking about. I shook my head in the negative. “Would you like to?” I nodded enthusiastically, not daring to speak.

“Perhaps I can help you with that, my special little girl,” she whispered enticingly. Our baby panties rustled and crackled noisily as we settled into the familiar feeding position. After comfortably arranging the cushion under my head, Bonnie unfastened the top three plastic buttons of her baby-blue frock. I watched in fascination as she released her massive bosoms from the lacy white cups, and the front-fastening bra sprang out of the way either side of her heavy swaying titties. Her nipples already looked a little red and swollen, but nothing was going to deter me from feasting like a starving babe on those beautiful crinkled, red-brown caps.

My voluptuous cousin gave a groan that was part pleasure, part pain, when I greedily latched on to her stiff sore left nipple. “My Mum saw the nannycam recording of me breastfeeding you last night, Baby Jennie,” she whispered in my ear. I sucked even harder, making her shudder and whimper, but she didn’t push me away or tell me to stop. Instead Bonnie rearranged the pink cushion under my platinum curls to more comfortably support my head, and then she reached inside my tightly-packed baby panties and unfastened the right side of my damp nappy. “Mum said that seeing as I didn’t mind letting you suckle on my titties, I had to do it every day - if you wanted - until you are fully potty-trained.”

If I wanted? Of course I wanted! My mind whirled in excitement. I wondered if like Justine, Bonnie would start producing milk if I regularly suckled from her enormous E-cup boobies. Did Aunty Cath know that was a possible by-product of nursing regularly over several months? My well-informed Aunty had to know! I twitched and moaned in arousal at the thrilling prospect of breastfeeding properly from my cousin’s bountiful bosoms. She left open the two pink-capped pins in the outer layer of my nappy, and then opened the bottle of baby oil. She poured a generous layer onto her cupped right palm, and then carefully reached under my warm wet swaddling to grasp my pulsating little tool in her slippery fist. I twitched violently at her electrifying touch. “Good girl,” she moaned softly in approval. I sucked even harder, encouraged by her murmured endearments. “Ooo! Good baby! Suck nice and hard, Baby Jennie. Suck out all the milkies from Mama’s titty. Ohh!”

Her oily clenched fist slid up and down my throbbing wet shaft, and I groaned in excitement and grabbed her massive breast with both hands. I began to pump the soft fleshy globe with my curled fingers, like I was trying to force out her milk. I drew harder on the stiff teat, sucking it halfway down my throat, moaning and whimpering in infantile ecstasy. The vengeful part of my mind wondered if Aunty Cath had contacted her doctor friend to arrange to pick up the botox injections. I remembered her threat to immobilize Bonnie’s anal muscles for the next few months, like she did with me, and I wondered how my buxom domineering cousin would react to losing control of this most basic adult function.

Then I lost myself in her lush bosoms, pressing my face into her soft cushiony mammary and drawing the firm nubbled teat halfway down my throat. I imagined sucking down mouthful after mouthful of Bonnie’s sweet breast milk, and my pulsating tool pounded with excitement in her loving grasp. “What a good baby,” she whispered tenderly in my ear, cuddling me tightly to her abundant fleshy mounds. I snuffled for air, inhaling the delicious combined odours of her sweat, her perfume, and fragrant baby powder. Under the pillow I could feel Bonnie pressing and rubbing her plump womanly thighs together, and she let out an occasional muffled moan of arousal. I felt a strange tension building in my abdomen, and I tightened my tummy muscles and squeezed hard. All at once I could feel a huge fat log of firm poo-poos stretching my little hole wide, and the intense babyish feelings became overwhelming. I groaned passionately as the wonderful infantile sensations consumed me.

“Such a good little baby girl for Mama! Oh there you go!” She deftly slid the squirting tip of my pulsating clittie under the fluffy folds of my absorbent nappies. I moaned around the swollen nipple in my mouth as I relaxed completely. I let the bad baby juice safely spurt into my comfy terrycloth nappies, where it belonged. Bonnie let me keep nursing long after I climaxed. She pushed my face away from her sweaty breast after I stopped shaking with reaction, and I whimpered in complaint. But then she generously let me latch on to the other tender teat. Although from her excited moans, I knew she was enjoying our nursing session almost as much as me! She shuddered and whimpered to a quiet climax while I frantically sucked her swollen sensitive right cap, before she finally pushed my face away from her tender teat with a sigh of gratitude. The nipple slipped from my suctioning lips with a loud wet ‘plop’ and I fell back gasping for breath. After she stopped trembling, she clumsily refastened my nappy pins. It was just as well, because I flooded my nappies with fresh warmth well before she could finish clasping her bra and buttoning the front of her babydoll frock.

I was almost asleep when she carried me to the change table and sat me on my messy wet bot-bot. She cooed encouragingly to me as she undressed me and eased me onto my back. She deftly removed my baby panties without any help from me. She unpinned my drooping wet nappies and kindly assured me I wasn’t too messy as she collected the soiled nappy liners in the disposable soaker pad. She gently cleaned my poopy bottom and my shrivelling clittie, and scrubbed the damp powder from my loins. Even though her perfectly made-up face creased in disgust when she had to scrub the sticky poop from my bumcrack, she kept up a soothing litany of reassuring baby-talk the whole time. Her hands were sure and gentle as she massaged in the pleasantly perfumed baby powder, and I closed my eyes in bliss and relaxed completely under her expert touch. When I was safely diapered and some fresh pink baby panties were tucked in all the way around, my cousin sat me up and slipped a sheer pink babydoll nightgown over my head. The narrow lace-trimmed hem barely covered the waistband of my packed plastic panties, and it softly settled around my wide padded hips like a floaty pink cloud.

Bonnie finger-brushed out my tousled curls as I sleepily slumped against her massive bosom, completely exhausted by my frantic day of sexual activity. I yawned loudly between her soft cushiony breasts, and she smiled down affectionately at me before she carried me to my open steel crib. She placed me on my back on the crackling plastic-covered mattress, and I wriggled around contentedly in my fluffy dry nappy. She licked my dummy-teat and popped it between my parted lips, and clipped the plastic chain to the collar of my nightie. She flipped up the fluffy pink blanket to cover my chest, and then raised and locked the crib side. “See you in the morning, baby girl,” Bonnie lovingly crooned to me, but my eyes were already drifting closed.

My breathing slowed and deepened as I fell into an exhausted dreamless sleep. I didn’t even wake when a half an hour later I drenched my nappies again. I didn’t know Mummy quietly crept into my Nursery to check on me later, after she put Angie to bed. Her nose wrinkled and she sighed in despair when she caught a whiff of fresh poo-poo coming from my cot, but the dank aroma wasn’t overpowering. She leaned on the high crib railing and gazed down in concern at me as I occasionally muttered something unintelligible in my sleep, before noisily sucking harder on my soothing dum-dums once more. She placed a full baby bottle of water resting against the wooden end of my crib and gently stroked my platinum curls. Mummy sighed heavily again before she left the Nursery.

It was already late when I came to the next morning. I sat up in confusion, wondering what woke me, when I heard feminine voices drifting up from downstairs. My sodden nappies sweetly cradled my throbbing little clittie in a bath of warm urine. When I wriggled about on my bot-bot, I could feel a small squishy lump resting moistly between my cheeks. I gently rocked and rolled from side to side to make sure, and felt the sticky mess move with me. Yep! I was a dirty baby girl again, without even waking to poop. There was a pink baby bottle full of water lying beside the crib bars, and I picked it up and thrust the teat in my mouth, trying to identify the voices I could faintly hear from below.

Angelica came barrelling into my Nursery, beaming with pleasure when she saw I was awake. “Look, Baby Jennie! Look!” she cried, as she boldly raised the front of her yellow gingham frock to show off her new underwear. My sister was wearing a pair of yellow training panties with a pretty picture of Barbie’s face on the front. Even though they were made from a double layer of absorbent terry cotton, with an extra layer sewn in the gusset, they were proper big-girl panties - not pull-ups or baby diapers. My sister was growing up - while I was condemned to spending the next few months as a hopeless diapered baby girl. Angie dropped her skirt and giggled gleefully at my envious expression before she danced out of the room. I heard her running downstairs and calling out for Mummy as she headed for the kitchen.

A short time later I recognised Bonnie’s voice drifting up from the bottom of the staircase. She called out, “I understand, Aunty Isy. We’ll go upstairs and get Baby Jennie out of bed, clean her up and pop her on the potty, then bring her down for breakfast.” Mummy added something I couldn’t quite make out, but then I heard the sound of heavy footsteps slowly climbing the stairs. My pigtailed cousin looked gorgeous when she waddled into the Nursery, despite the slightly haunted look in her wide golden eyes. She smiled bravely at me and fluttered her long black lashes, and I noticed she was wearing a full face of make-up as usual. She wore a brief lemon-yellow frock with a row of tiny pearl buttons running from the shirred waistline under her massive bosom, all the way up to the high round neckline. The cotton frock had a short flared hem, with a wide band of white lace that brushed the tops of her plump womanly thighs. Her juvenile outfit had puffy sleeves cuffed with elastic above the elbow, with a narrow band of frilly white lace edging the collar and cuffs. The lace trim around the brief hemline was wider and frillier, but I caught a glimpse of Bonnie’s yellow plastic panty crotch peeping through the sheer lace with her every long-legged stride.

I could tell by the way Bonnie waddled that my gorgeous cousin had been heavily diapered this morning, and I wondered if her shiny yellow baby panties were locked on, as usual. Her long chestnut hair had been styled into two high juvenile pigtails, secured in place with hair elastics and some wide yellow satin ribbon. The ribbons were tied in big floppy bows with the ends dangling halfway down her back. Even though they were set high on her head, the ends of her long fluffy pigtails flopped over the shoulders of her brushed cotton frock like the ears of a Cocker Spaniel, almost reaching her high proud bosoms. On her feet she wore white anklet socks with wide yellow lace trim, and a pair of gleaming black-patent Maryjanes. Despite her juvenile outfit, my buxom seventeen-year-old cousin couldn’t help looking like a sexy teenager dressed as a pretty young girl. My attention was suddenly drawn to the black leather reins she had clenched in one trailing fist.

“Come on, Daphne,” Bonnie sharply ordered, yanking hard on the slender black reins. Daphne? David stumbled into sight behind my voluptuous teenage cousin. The first thing I noticed was that his fearful blue eyes were red-rimmed from crying. The teat slipped from my lips as my jaw dropped in amazement, and I let my sloshing bottle fall abandoned to the mattress. The black ‘bad baby bonnet’ was strapped tightly under his chin, and the mouth-filling gag had obviously been inflated to keep him silent. The pump piece dangled from the mouth strap on a short rubber tube, bouncing distractingly below his chin as he awkwardly hobbled into the Nursery.

My fifteen-year-old neighbour was wearing an unattractive, well-worn, short black nylon smock dress. It looked like something a maid would wear, but it was his menacing black ‘Bad Baby’ toddler harness, mittens and ankle cuffs that really caught my eye. His bare legs were covered with a mass of wiry blonde hair, and they looked so untidy poking out under the brief hemline of his poorly-fitting, shapeless frock. I could feel the embarrassment radiating from him in palpable waves, and his cobalt-blue eyes darted everywhere around the room - except in my direction.

Once they were inside the Nursery, Bonnie dropped the reins and toddled over to the side of my crib with a warm smile of greeting. “Good morning, Baby Jennie! Did you have a good sleep, darling?” I moved my hand away from my nappy crotch where I had been unconsciously patting my swollen clittie beneath the clinging warm layers. I sleepily smiled up at her and nodded, and she unlocked the crib rail and lowered it with a loud metallic ‘clang!’ “Sniff-sniff! Hmm,” Bonnie commented with a thin-lipped smile for me, as she reached in to pat my sodden nappy front. Her cupped fingers made that familiar wet sound on my tautly-stretched plastic panties, and her smile widened when she felt the warmth of my sodden nappies underneath. “I think some special little girl has made a big poo-poo parcel in her panties this morning for her Aunties to clean up. Haven’t you, baby girl?” I nodded again and felt my cheeks turn pink with shame - but then I remembered. It wasn’t my fault. Bonnie had stolen my ability to control my anal sphincter. I couldn’t help messing my nappies like a helpless little baby. I had to smile at the realisation, and I popped my dummy teat into my mouth to cover my amusement.

“Come on, darling,” Bonnie cooed, leaning in to slip her hands under my armpits. She hoisted me into the air and carried me over to the white wicker rocking chair. My stiff clittie pulsated with excitement when she set me on my bare feet while she seated herself. I watched her as she sat, and she couldn’t prevent the brief lace-trimmed hem of her short toddler frock from sliding up over her slippery plastic panties. Her bulging yellow baby panties were completely transparent, and underneath I could see the crotch of her pink cloth nappies was already dark with urine. When Bonnie noticed the direction of my gaze, she smiled briefly. She shyly tugged her lacy hem down in a futile attempt to cover her embarrassing infantile underwear. When she realised her efforts were fruitless, she gave up and sat back, then flicked her long chestnut pigtails back over her shoulders.

My buxom cousin grabbed my wide padded hips to lift me onto her lap, and glanced at David skulking near the doorway. “Daphne!” she snapped at him, “Get over here next to me. You’re going to help with the next bit, remember?” What little I could see of David’s handsome face above the wide black leather mouthpiece was flushed red with shame, and he awkwardly stumbled over to the rocking chair in short hobbled steps, the chain between his ankle cuffs clinking quietly inside the plastic tube. He was wearing black sneakers and short black socks, too, but nothing feminine. I doubted my cousins had any shoes in their vast wardrobes capable of fitting his enormous feet.

Bonnie lifted me onto her bare thighs and settled me on my side facing her, so my curled legs rested on one wide wicker arm. She pulled the pink cushion from behind her back and moved it under my head. When she had everything arranged to her satisfaction, she turned to David standing beside the rocking chair near my feet. She curled her index finger at him, indicating he should step closer. “Bend down so I can reach your mittens, Daphne,” she brusquely commanded. When he obeyed, she unclipped his mittens from the harness D-rings first, then made him hold out his hands in front of her so she could unbuckle the black leather restraints. They hadn’t been locked on this morning.

I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was grateful to have the restrictive leather mittens removed, but I noticed a flash of agony when he tried to unclench his cramped fists. I winced in sympathy. He moaned in pain when he slowly uncurled his stiff fingers, but the sound was effectively muffled by the inflated gag in his mouth. Bonnie began unfastening the tiny pearl buttons down the front of her dress as she casually commanded, “Lift up your skirt, Daphne, and show Baby Jennie what you’re wearing underneath.” My eyes darted from where Bonnie was unbuttoning the top of her dress to David’s trembling fingers. He slowly reached down to clumsily grasp the lace-edged hem of his baggy black smock dress. Despite his obvious embarrassment, the musclebound youth couldn’t stop staring at my cousins bountiful bosom as she slowly unbuttoned the bodice of her dress.

“Do as you’re told, Daphne! Skirts up!” There was a sharp warning edge to Bonnie’s tone that cut him like a knife. David flinched like he’d been slashed. He gradually raised his slightly flared black smock up to his waist, and my eyes widened when I spied his feminine underwear. He was wearing a pair of well-worn cream lace panties. They were probably white originally, but had yellowed with age. They were completely sheer, and I could clearly see every one of David’s curly blonde pubes underneath. But my eyes were drawn to the chastity device locked onto his genitals. His shrivelled penis was trapped inside a strange clear plastic shell, and it looked like a squashed pink slug. It looked like part of it wrapped around the top of his ball sack, as well as confining the head of his tool between two flat Perspex plates. Everything looked awfully crushed in there, and I wondered how uncomfortable it was? I didn’t yet realise how quickly mere discomfort could be transformed into blinding pain.

“See, baby girl?” Bonnie lovingly crooned to me. “David’s nasty thingy is all safely locked away now. It can’t possibly hurt you,” she reassured me, as though I might have been frightened by the mere sight of his tool. She reached over and firmly swatted his trapped penis through his transparent nylon panties, making him whimper and fold at the waist and knees. “Stand up straight!” she barked at him. The poor boy struggled to remain upright, air whistling through his nostrils. “Get your hands away from it,” she sternly commanded, swatting his trembling paws away from where they had instinctively dropped to protectively covered his crotch. “David can’t stand up to pee any more, you know? He has to sit to pee now, like a girl. That’s why mum decided to re-name him ‘Daphne’.” She giggled in derision at his mortified expression. “Now turn around Daphne, and show baby the rear view,” she ordered, a hint of malicious satisfaction creeping into her voice.

David slowly turned his back to us, moving clumsily due to the restrictive hobble chain locked between his ankle cuffs. “Lift up your dress and bend over, you bad baby,” Bonnie sternly commanded him. I noticed David’s large hands were shaking when he reached back to flip up the rear of his frock, and he bent over slightly. His panties were completely transparent across the seat, except for the padded gusset between his slightly splayed thighs. There was a shiny round black disc about three inches in diameter stuck deeply in his bum crack, and my eyes widened in amazement.

“What’th that?” I asked, pointing at the strange latex object trapped between his pale hairy buttocks.
“That’s a butt-plug,” Bonnie replied, smiling broadly at my gasp of wonder. “After Ruth dropped David at our place early this morning, the first thing mum did was give him a clean-out in the bathtub. She shoved a rubber hose up his butt and filled him with hot water.” She shuddered delicately in disgust. “I’m glad I didn’t have to help with that bit. Yuck-spuck! Anyway, after mum figured he was completely empty, she cleaned him up, dried him off, and strapped him face-down on the change table in the Nursery. Then she called me in to assist her.”

She grinned in sadistic delight as she recounted the next bit. “I had to hold his bumcheeks apart while Mum shoved this weird dumbbell-shaped latex tool up his arse.” She saw my horrified expression and cooed reassuringly, “Of course mum greased him up first with some Vaseline. His butt-plug is only about four inches long, and the thin part is only as thick as your little clittie when it’s all hard and stiff.” She ignored my instantly mortified expression and turned to sneer at the muscular youth shamefully exposing his panty bottom to us. She snapped, “Pull your dress down and stand up straight. Now turn around towards me, Daphne.”

When David slowly shuffled around to face us, his cheeks were crimson with shame above the mouth strap. I wondered how painful it was to carry a firm rubber tool lodged between your buttcheeks for hours, especially one wedging your anal sphincter permanently open? “Does it hurt?” I asked, forgetting that the gagged boy was incapable of responding. Bonnie chuckled at my forgetfulness.

“Daphne can’t answer you, baby. She’s still wearing her bad baby bonnet. But I was going to take it off, anyway. Lean down closer to me, Daphne,” she ordered him. When he lowered his face close to hers, she released the valve and air gushed out of the gag. Then she tilted his chin up so she could unbuckle the snug black bonnet, and he sighed with relief when she removed the deflated rubber gag. He gratefully licked his dry lips and worked his jaw around, trying to loosen muscles that had been held in one position far too long. Bonnie tossed the bad baby bonnet on the floor and insisted, “Now answer Baby Jennie, Daphne. Does that thing up your arse hurt?”

His head drooped in shame as he softly replied, “Yes, Miss Bonnie. Not as much as when your mum- Mistress Cath - first shoved it inside me. But it’s still pretty sore,” he admitted with a wince. He couldn’t help rolling his narrow hips and wiggling his bottom as he made his complaint, and I smiled at his unconscious feminine movements.
“How come it doesn’t fall out?” I asked in wonder. Bonnie sniggered and David looked even more embarrassed, if that were possible.

“The end inside him is about twice as wide as the end poking out of his botty, baby girl,” Bonnie cheerfully replied. “From the degree of difficulty involved in shoving the fat end inside his tight little butt-hole, I doubt it will be coming out any time soon.” Even though David must have already been well aware of his fate, his burning face fell in humiliation when Bonnie informed me of the details of his punishment. She finished unbuttoning her dress and folded the lace-edged flaps out of the way either side of her entrancing cleavage. I admired the fleshy swell of her bountiful bosoms where they surged over the tops of her snug-fitting cream satin brassiere.

David’s wide blue eyes were glued to the sight of those massive mammaries, and smiling Bonnie seemed acutely aware of his hungry gaze. I watched entranced from my position over her lap as she reached up to where the shoulder strap joined the stiff satin cup. She unfastened a tiny white plastic clip first. As she folded the lightly padded cup down out of the way, I realised Bonnie was wearing a proper nursing bra, like Justine had worn at the church Nursery for me yesterday. Her huge left breast popped free, sagging heavily from her chest. David moaned again and bent slightly at the waist, but he managed to keet his hands away from his groin this time. Bonnie snickered at his growing discomfort as she cradled her heavy teat in one hand, and she slipped her other arm under my head. Her succulent russet nipple was already crinkling erect with excitement, and I instinctively cupped one hand over my stiff clittie. I pressed the warm soggy cloth harder against my pounding tool as Bonnie steered the stiffening bud towards my eagerly parted, puffy pink lips.

She cupped her left hand under my head and tilted my face towards her breast, steering my mouth closer to that tantalising morsel of sweet woman flesh. I gave a muffled cry of delight when I sucked her delectable firm bud deep into my mouth. Bonnie moaned too, as her nipples were still slightly tender from my enthusiastic breastfeeding session the night before. I heard another moan from beside the rocking chair, definitely the sound of someone in pain. I glanced past the quivering fleshy mound that mostly blocked my view, and saw David bending forward. He was clutching his groin with both hands and writhing in agony. He was growing excited watching me suckle from Bonnie’s bounteous bosoms, and every time his huge tool began to swell, the sensitive head was painfully crushed inside the hard Perspex casing of his chastity cage.

Bonnie ignored his quiet whimpers and moans, and cooed encouragingly to me. “Suck hard, baby girl. Suck hard on Mama’s nip-nip like a good little baby.” I snuffled against her warm soft flesh, and when she released her grip on her breast, I grabbed the massive mammary and began pumping it with my fingers. “Ooo, good girl! What a good baby girl,” Bonnie moaned, her golden eyes drifting closed as she relished the tantalising sensations of someone greedily feasting on her sensitive swollen nipple. I could feel her rubbing her plump thighs together under my head, and I wondered if she was enjoying the feel of her warm wet nappies moistly pressing against her sensitive baby-smooth vulva.

I tried to ignore David’s distressed whimpers and closed my eyes, concentrating on suckling properly from Mama’s titty like a good little baby girl. I felt a surge of excitement when Bonnie’s right hand came to rest on top of my crackling baby panties. She massaged the front of my warm wet nappy, pressing the soggy cloth against my pounding hard-on. I wondered if she was going to slip her hand inside my nappy and stroke me to another amazing climax. But she merely continued to stimulate me through my clinging wet cloth, which was almost as good anyway. I must have suckled for about ten minutes before Bonnie quietly ordered me to stop. She regrettably released her grip on my turgid tool to unfasten the other bra cup, and then she eased me down till my parted lips were in line with her right breast.

I didn’t wait for her to slip the nipple into my mouth this time. I impulsively grabbed the blue-veined fleshy mound and wrapped my greedy lips around her luscious stiff nipple, drawing the russet cap deep into my mouth in my eagerness. I moaned in excitement when Bonnie’s hand returned to cup my swollen clittie, massaging me through my pink plastic panties. She squeezed me gently through my drenched cloth nappies until I moaned in arousal around her slippery wet teat. When she was certain I was as hard as I’d ever been, she softly ordered, “Pull down her panties in front, Daphne.” Focused on her beautiful breast, I didn’t realise she was talking about my baby panties, until I felt him tug down the snug elastic waistband over my bulging wet crotch. “Keep sucking, baby girl,” she cautioned me, when I was momentarily distracted by David’s shaky hands. I tried to ignore his fumbling fingers when he removed the two pink-headed stainless-steel pins clasping the right side of my nappy. I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on tonguing Mama’s sweet succulent nipple harder against the roof of my mouth like an obedient little baby.

David drew the right flap of my dirty nappy aside and lowered the pee-damp front, until my stiff clittie sprang free from the comforting soggy warmth. His actions unintentionally released a cloud of aromatic gases from my soiled diaper, which slowly wafted up to my nose. I grunted carelessly at the familiar soothing scent of my wee-wees and poo-poos, and buried my face deeper into the warm feminine mound that filled my world. “Go on, Daphne,” Bonnie softly commanded, as if she didn’t want to disturb her busily feeding infant. “You know what you have to do.”
“But she’s dirty,” he whined in complaint.
“I don’t care!” Bonnie snapped. “You made her do it, and now it’s your turn. Get to work!” I shuddered in excitement when I felt David’s huge calloused fingers curl around my throbbing wet tool, but I was completely unprepared for what was to follow.

Suddenly the head of my swollen little clittie was engulfed in amazing wet warmth, and I gasped around the nipple in my mouth at the unbelievable sensations. “Keep sucking, Baby Jennie,” Bonnie softly urged me. Even as I obeyed, my startled eyes flew open as I tried to peer down at what was happening around my groin. David was leaning over me with his face near my smelly nappy crotch, and his lips were wrapped around the head of my swollen little rod! When he sucked my throbbing clittie into his hot wet mouth, I almost swooned at the thrilling sensations.

“Good girl, Daphne,” Bonnie encouraged him, and I could feel her pressing her thighs together with more urgency. She reached out her right hand and gently yet firmly pushed down on the back of his head. David swallowed the length of my tiny tool until his nose was touching my hairless pee-damp tummy. I briefly wondered how bad it smelled down there. But then he licked the underside of my sensitive swollen head and I didn’t care any more. I gasped and gurgled wetly around Bonnie’s huge stiff nipple, wriggling and writhing in excitement. It was the most astounding feeling I had ever experienced!

Bonnie curled her fingers in David’s short red-blonde hair, and his head began to bob up and down. Then his tongue started tickling the sensitive underside of my clittie, just below the head. The sensations of his tongue rasping across my frenulum as his lips tightened around my shaft were absolutely mind-blowing! I never imagined it was possible to reach such heights of pleasure, and abruptly realised why boys loved having their cocks sucked. The feeling was sensational! “Keep sucking on Mama’s titty, Baby Jennie,” Bonnie gently reminded me. I grasped her teat tighter between my clutching kneading fingers, and drew harder on her swollen erect bud. “Mmm, good girl. That’s it, baby. You keep feeding from Mama while Daphne sucks all the bad baby juices out of your little clittie. Ooo, good girl! What a good baby girl!” Her voluptuous hips began to rock and roll on the seat, and under my head I could feel her thrusting her pussy into the warm wet folds of her nappy.

This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me in my short life. My attention was divided between the swollen teat in my mouth and the hot wet mouth wrapped around my throbbing stiff clittie. Bonnie clutched my head tighter to her bosom with her left hand, ramming my face into that wonderfully soft cushiony flesh as she began to passionately grunt and groan. Her approaching climax seemed to trigger my own. I whimpered and snuffled against her luscious warm breast, overcome with emotion. There was hardly any warning when the bad baby juice exploded out of my clittie. One second I was revelling in the unbelievably erotic sensations; the next moment it was like a bomb went off somewhere inside my body.

“Oh baby! Baby! Ohhhh!” Bonnie groaned, and then her whole body stiffened and tensed as her orgasm swept her away. I heard a crackle of bowel gas emanating from her plastic panties underneath my head, and then she shuddered and relaxed completely, moaning quietly in relief. Did Bonnie just poop her nappies? Jolt after jolt of creamy jism erupted from the tip of my pounding tool, but I didn’t have to worry about making a mess this time. David moaned in alarm when he felt me spurting across his tongue and down his throat, but Bonnie’s hand on the back of his head prevented him from pulling away. He accepted the inevitable and bravely kept his lips locked around the pulsating crown, and he kept on sucking. He swallowed every drop of my bad baby juice and by the time I regained my breath, I had to rip my swollen pink lips from Bonnie’s sweaty breast and beg him to stop.

“No more! Pweathe David? Pweathe thtop!” I begged, panting for breath. I grunted with relief when she relaxed her grip on David’s hair and his face drew back. My shrinking clittie popped free of his suctioning mouth. “Ahhh!” I lay over Bonnie’s lap like a freshly-landed mullet, twitching and writhing uncontrollably in her grasp. She inhaled a deep shuddering breath, sighed with relief, and then giggled breathlessly at my expression of stunned amazement. David stepped back, his mouth writhing in horror, but he wouldn’t look at Bonnie or me. He suddenly seemed fascinated by the pattern on the Nursery carpet. My flushed-face cousin carefully tucked my shrinking clittie under the cooling front of my wet nappies, pulled up my pink plastic panties, and then gathered me into her arms.

“Let’s get you out of that dirty wet nappy. Shall we, baby girl?” She ignored David for the moment and climbed to her feet with me in her arms, grunting with effort, and carried me over to the change table. I could detect a hint of poo-poo coming from Bonnie’s crotch now, and the musty-fruit scent of her fresh faeces was different to the dank aroma coming from my dirty nappy. She acted as though nothing untoward had happened, so I certainly didn’t make any comment. I wondered if David could tell that we were both messy big babies? “Daphne can change your poopy nappy this morning,” she suggested, with a pointed glance at the embarrassed boy in the shapeless black frock.

David shuffled over to the foot of the change table, wiping his cum-stained lips with the back of one hand and screwing up his handsome face in disgust. I popped my dummy teat back in my mouth and sucked hard, watching him warily as he flipped up the front of my sheer pink cotton nightie. He pulled down my glistening pink plastic panties, tossed them in the nappy bucket, and unpinned my dirty wet nappy. When he lowered the front flap, the stench of my recent soiling escaped to fill the room. David screwed up his nose and moaned in revulsion. From a few feet away Bonnie sternly cautioned him, “Not one word of complaint, Daphne! Or that bad baby bonnet goes straight back on!” His eyes widened in fear and he instantly clamped his mouth shut, pressing his generous lips into a hard thin line.

Bonnie instructed him from a distance as he removed the sodden disposable soaker pad, collected the poopy liners and rolled them up inside. He slid my soiled nappies down between my legs and wiped my dirty crack again and again until he was certain I was clean back there, and then he tended to my front. He was unusually gentle when he wiped clean my shrivelled clittie and wrinkled sack, and he tossed the dirty wipes into the used soaker pad, too. Then he taped it closed and tied the heavy wet bundle in a scented nappy sack, as instructed, and tossed everything in the bin. He dumped my sodden poopy nappies in my diaper pail, and then sat me up on my bare bot-bot.

David removed my floaty pink nightie and then carried me naked into the en-suite bathroom, where my pink potty-chair sat waiting for me in the middle of the white tiled floor. He leaned down and slid my bare bum into the low seat, tucked my limp clittie under the front scoop, then threaded the waist belt around me and buckled it in place. Bonnie watched him with eagle eyes as he performed the necessary ritual, and she gave him the barest nod of approval when he stood and faced her. “Alright Daphne, come with me. You can take the baby’s nappy bucket downstairs and empty it in the washing machine while Baby Jennie has a little sit on her potty.”

As he meekly shuffled past her back into the Nursery, Bonnie cooed to me, “Will you be okay here for a few minutes by yourself, Baby Jennie? I just have to pop downstairs and find out what your mother wants you to wear to your doctor’s appointment. Okay, sweetie?” I simply sucked harder on my dum-dums and nodded by way of reply, and Bonnie tossed me a smile of approval before she disappeared from the room.

Because I had only recently wet and soiled my nappies, there was nothing left inside me to push out into my potty. I patiently sat there for about ten or fifteen minutes before Bonnie came back to release me. She shook her head n disappointment at my empty potty, but didn’t say a word as she scrubbed my bottom and clittie with a warm soapy washer. When she crouched down beside me the smell of her soiling grew stronger, but she gave no indication that it troubled her. Maybe she was getting used to messing her nappies - just like me. She dried me off and took my hand to lead me back to the change table. Bonnie was the most efficient babysitter I’d ever had! Within minutes I was powdered, diapered, and dressed in some fresh pink plastic panties. I noticed there were two outfits hanging from the railing of my crib. There was the sleeveless yellow gingham frock I’d been wearing before bedtime last night, and a new pair of baby-blue satin shortie overalls I’d never seen before.

When Bonnie sat me up on my puffy padded bottom, she pointed to the clothes hanging from the cot side. “Which outfit would you like to wear today, baby girl? Your Mummy said you could choose.” I looked at the satin overalls with a doubtful expression. They were shorter than my pink drill shortalls, and the leg holes had elasticised ruffles that would cling tightly to my bare thighs. The high bib front had a little pocket - I assumed to hold my dum-dums - and had a cartoon drawing of a crawling baby embroidered on the front. The elasticised shoulder straps were shirred with feminine ruffles, and there were several frothy rows of white lace across the seat, too. I knew the juvenile baby-blue outfit would show off every bulge of my bulky cloth nappies, and so I pointed to the yellow gingham frock I’d been wearing yesterday. ‘Alright, darling,” Bonnie crooned in approval, “let’s put you in the pretty yellow dress.”

She slid my white anklet socks with the wide yellow lace frills on my feet, and buckled my black-patent Maryjanes in place before she lifted me down from the change table. “Come on, baby girl,” she cooed, taking my hand. “Come downstairs and I’ll fix you a yummy breakfast.” I was pleased when she kept hold of my hand, letting me walk downstairs like a big girl, and she escorted me waddling happily into the kitchen. Mummy was sitting at the kitchen bench eating a bowl of cereal, and Angie was in her booster seat beside her finishing off a bowl of porridge. Both of them turned to smile at me when Bonnie grabbed me around the waist and slid me into my highchair.

“Good morning, Baby Jennie,” Mummy brightly greeted me, but her smile didn’t reach her calculating olive-green eyes. “Didn’t she want to wear those new stretch-satin shortalls your mother made for her?” she asked Bonnie.
“No, your little baby girl would rather go to the doctor’s in a pretty dress, it seems,” my smirking cousin informed my mother as she buckled me in. She returned to the front and lowered and locked the steel tray in place.
“That’s a shame. Cath spent most of last weekend making them for her. Oh well, she can wear them another time. Did she use her potty this morning like a big girl?” Mummy hopefully asked. She sighed heavily in disappointment when Bonnie shook her head in the negative.

I sniffed in annoyance, thinking, ‘Why didn’t Mummy ask me?’ But then I remembered. Oh that’s right. Because I’m just a baby. I could see Daphne - David - through the kitchen window. He was in our back yard hanging up my freshly laundered nappies and baby panties on the line to dry. Then I thought, ‘Aunty Cath made the shortie overalls for me last weekend? I hadn’t even started potty-training last weekend.’ That was my first hint that my Aunty and my mother suspected I would fail all along. I sat there with my mind whirling in confusion as Bonnie clipped a clean bibbie around my neck and then spooned some warm porridge between my slack parted lips. My yellow bibbie bore the humiliating inscription, ‘I’m a Sissy Pissy Cry-baby.’ I chewed and swallowed mindlessly, oblivious to my babysitter’s crooned words of encouragement.

When Angie drained her purple sippy-cup of juice, Mummy lifted her out of her booster seat and told her to go out in the backyard and play. “And tell Daphne when she’s finished hanging everything on the line, she’s to come back inside, put the basket away, and see me for further instructions. Alright, honey?”
“Yes Mummy,” Angie chirped in reply, before she danced outside to tease the embarrassed youth.
“I’m going upstairs to shower and change, Bonnie. When baby has finished her bottle, take her upstairs and put her on the potty again, will you? I don’t want her soiling her nappies at the doctor’s office if we can avoid it.”
“Yes Aunty Isy,” Bonnie dutifully replied, as she pressed the teat of my bottle to my lips.
“Oh, and dress her in some yellow plastic panties or her yellow rumba panties, will you? Those pink baby panties don’t really go with her outfit.
“Yes Ma’am.”

When we were alone in the kitchen, I hesitantly asked, “Bonnie? Did you poop your nappy?”
She blushed furiously before replying. “Yes,” she softly responded, and her golden eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment.
“Did it happen while you were cumming?”
She nodded, her cheeks scarlet with shame. “I can’t control myself any more. Mum had a doctor friend of hers come to visit last night - with a bunch of Botox injections.” She didn’t tell me her mother had shoved a frozen popsicle up her arse for ten minutes first, to numb and relax her anal sphincter, but she bitterly complained, “She used about ten injections on my arsehole - not four, like I used with you. I won’t be able to stop shitting myself for months.” I thought a tad unkindly, ‘Welcome to the club, sweetheart!’

After I finished my bottle of watered-down orange juice, Bonnie carefully scrubbed my lips and hands with a warm soapy washer, and then released me from the highchair restraints. She unclipped my grubby bibbie and tossed it on the bench, reattached my dummy chain to the lacy collar of my frock, then lifted me down. I felt grateful when she clutched my hand and let me waddle into the hallway towards the staircase, and she didn’t make me crawl upstairs, either. We walked straight through the Nursery into the bathroom, and Bonnie made me stand in front of my potty-chair and hold up my yellow gingham frock while she unpinned my nappies and tugged them down, along with my crackling pink baby panties.

“Oh Baby Jennie! Did you wet your nappy already?” Bonnie cried, as the warm wet bundle slid down between my legs. There was no use denying it. The evidence was there for all to see. Once again my bladder had unleashed without my being aware of it. I really was as helpless as a baby. She shook her head in dismay as she sat me in the low pink seat and threaded my limp clittie under the pink plastic scoop in front. ‘I’ll have to get a fresh nappy ready for you after you finish sitting on the potty. We can’t send you to the doctor’s in a wet nappy, baby girl.” She slid the seatbelt around my tummy and buckled me in, and then left me to my own devices while she returned to the Nursery. I’d almost forgotten - Mummy was taking me to the doctor this morning to be checked for any sexual diseases. I’d have to tell more people what happened to me. And they would see my in my nappies and toddler frock, too.

I sat there alone for a few minutes, staring down at the humiliating wet nappies bunched between my ankles, recalling how I got myself into this bizarre situation. It all seemed to start only two weeks ago, when I made fun of Angie’s first attempts at potty-training. Now I was the one who needed toilet-training. I wondered if I would ever be properly potty-trained, and contemplated my future. Daddy had told me he would get in contact with me, and I could go and live with him. He told me I could grow up to be a man, if I wanted. Did I? I didn’t think so! I wanted to be a girl! But what kind of girl did I want to be? Mummy wanted me to grow up to be a big girl, but was that what I wanted? I didn’t want her to cut off my clittie! She said I couldn’t remain a baby forever - but Baby Pansy could.

Baby Pansy - my real father - had offered to let me stay at her place, with her Nanny. Maybe I could ask her about that, when she takes me to meet her sisters at the family law firm. Maybe I could be a sweet baby girl forever, just like her. So many choices! It was all so confusing! I shuffled my feet, my thick pink plastic panties crackling distractingly around my ankles. Decisions, decisions! ‘I’m too young to be making such serious, life-altering decisions,’ I thought a tad resentfully, shoving my soothing dummy-teat back between my puffy pink lips. I sucked hard on the amber rubber teat, seeking the comfort it usually brought ‘After all, I’m just a little baby. I’m a sweet little baby girl named Baby Jennie. Aren’t I?’

The End

That's all folks! I hope you enjoyed this epic, erotic, sissy-baby story. Please leave any comments here. I love to know what my readers think.
Hugs from Baby Jennie

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