Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Sissy Story Archives (older stories) => Pre-2011 Sissy Stories => Topic started by: sissycaroline on February 27, 2007, 06:48:06 PM
-
Stephen yawned as he lay on his bed, the afternoon sun peeking through the window blinds. He was contemplating the just begun summer vacation. Two months of no school! Stephen was thrilled at the thought but also a little skeptical. How would he occupy his time and keep from getting bored, like he already was? He would soon turn thirteen and would be entering 8th grade in the Fall. He was a bit of a loner and didn't have a lot of friends to hang around with. He was small and slight for his age and due to that, was not good at, nor had little interest in, sports.
Stephen's family, as it was, would be of little help in making for an enjoyable and fun summer. Dad had left last week for various cities in Europe on business and would be gone the entire summer. He ran an import/export business. That left him stuck with his step mother (his real mom had died in a car accident two years prior) and his eight year old step sister, Laura; neither of whom he cared particularly for. And they felt the same way about him.
"Stephen Crandall, come downstairs please. I have something to tell you." his step mom called. He winced and headed downstairs to the kitchen where she and Laura were busy baking some cookies.
"What?" he growled as he entered the kitchen.
"Oh don't be such a grouch Stephen, I've got good news for you. I've made arrangements for you to spend the summer at a camp for boys about an hours drive from here. Swimming, horseback riding, hiking, crafts, archery, sports---all that sort of stuff. You'll have a lot of fun!" she gushed. "We'll take you there tomorrow morning."
"What's the name of the camp?" I asked, wondering if I might have heard of it.
"Camp SC", she replied, "and before you ask, I'm not exactly sure what SC stands for. I think it has something to do with a nickname of its founder and owner. But I know you'll have a lot of fun there." She gave me a slightly devious smile as Laura chuckled in the background.
"I think SC stands for SUPER COOL or maybe STEPHEN CRANDALL!" Laura bubbled with a mischievious smirk on her face.
Minutes later, as I lay on my bed again, I thought "Well, at least, I'll not have to spend the summer with them!"
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part 2
Early the next morning, my stepmother and stepsister and I made the hour drive to camp. As we drove, I thought about how lightly my stepmother had had me pack for camp. "You don't need to pack a lot of clothes Stephen. I've set up an account with the camp and when you need more clothes, they can be purchased at the camp store or in the nearby town." she'd said. It seemed a bit odd to me but I was glad for the opportunity to buy new clothes.
When we arrived at and headed into the camp, I was struck by the fact that there seemed to be a lot of girls around and not a lot of boys. We pulled up to the administration building, got out and were immediately met by a very pretty girl, probably about 16 years old. Long blond hair tied in a perky ponytail at the top of her head, shorty shorts with legs that went on forever and a gorgeous figure. A real "Babe" I thought.
"Hi, you must be Stephen. Welcome to the camp. My name's Lisa," she gushed.
"Are we in the right place? Is this the boys camp becuase I see so many girls around." I asked.
She smiled, "Oh, definitely. You see, there's a girls camp just next door over that meadow, Camp Sunnyvale, and there's a lot of interaction between the two camps. In fact, I'm from Camp Sunnyvale but I'm also an administrative intern here at the boys camp. It pays for my stay at camp. Come on, grab your bag, say goodbye to your mom and sister and come with me."
My stepmother told me they'd be up to visit next weekend probably. "Enjoy yourself Stephen. You'll be a whole new person by the end of the summer."
What did she mean by that, I thought. Lisa then took my hand, almost as if I were a small child, and walked me into the building. Strange as holding my hand seemed, I was glad to have any kind of physical contact with this cute girl.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part3
Lisa walked me into a small office, went to a shelf and took a T-shirt from it. "Here, it's a size small which looks about right for you. It's the official camp T-shirt. You can take it into the next room and put it on."
It appeared to be a simple white shirt with some kind of lettering across the front. I took it into the next room, removed my shirt, and just as I was starting to pull it over my head, in walked Lisa.
"You all set there sport?" she asked.
It was then that I noticed that across the front of it, it said in large pink letters---CAMP SISSY CURLS.
"What the hell is this?" I gasped. "What is CAMP SISSY CURLS? I can't wear this."
"Oh silly boy, that's the name of this camp. It's what SC stands for. It was the nickname of the founder of this camp, who when he was a boy, had long, curly hair. And the kids teased him and called him Sissy Curls. And, of course, the fact that his mother often tied ribbons in his hair didn't help his situation either. All the campers wear it. Please put it on for me!" she said coquettishly with a smile.
It all sounded so very odd but I did as I was asked, not wanting to displease this extremely cute girl that I already had a crush on.
Lisa continued, "Just what do you know about this camp? What did your stepmother tell you about it?"
"That it's a boys camp---swimming, hiking, canoeing, archery, crafts, sports---the usual, regular stuff."
"Well, yeah, it's all that but there's a lot more to it. But you'll learn all that very soon enough. Come with me please. We have to do something with your hair." She took my hand again and walked me into another room.
The room appeared to be a small hair salon, not a barber shop like I would expect, but really a beauty parlor. My hair was long and straight and reached just down past my shoulders. I hadn't had it cut in a long, long time and fiqured I was gonna be given a buzz cut for the summer, which would be okay with me.
A matronly, middle aged woman greeted me from behind a styling chair. "Hi Stephen, I'm Miss Baldwin, the camp beautician. My but you have a lovely, long, full head of hair. Come have a seat please."
Beautician, I thought----that's weird. I sat down and she placed a large, pink plastic cape around me. She combed hair down across my forehead and began to cut deep, straight bangs across it.
"What are you doing?" I gasped.
"Oh, relax Sweetie, just want to give you some cute bangs before you get your permanent."
"PERMANENT-----are you crazy!!!" I cried.
"Stephen, all new campers are given a permanent, if they are lucky enough to have long hair like you. If not, they have to wear a wig." And she pointed to a shelf of wigs that looked like something out of a Shirley Temple movie. "Now sit still," she admonished, "you'll soon have a cute head full of pretty, little girlish ringlets and sausge curls!"
She turned away from me to get a comb. I have to get out off this insane place I thought. I immediately ripped off the cape and bolted for the door only to have it blocked by Lisa, who grabbed me and held me until Miss Baldwin could take control of me. Being small for my age, the two of them had little trouble in dragging me to a chair, where Miss Baldwin seated herself and put me over her knee. She pulled down my blue jeans and underpants and my bare behind was exposed, which was especially humiliating with Lisa watching.
"My, but what a cute little girlie bum you have Stephen!" she laughed. "You're gonna learn an important lesson in obeying here at camp now." She asked Lisa for a hairbrush which she gladly gave her with a devilish smile. "Your little girlie bum will be even cuter when it's nice and cherry red," Miss Bladwin added as she proceeded to spank the "living daylights" out of me. I was crying uncontrollably.
After what had to have been at least 20 hard whacks, she stopped and asked if I was ready now for my permanent.
"Yes," I sobbed.
"Yes what!!!," she yelled as she gave my fanny another whack.
"Yes please???" I said.
"Yes please what!!!" as another whack crossed my bottom.
"Please give me a pretty, little girl permanent so I can have nice, pretty ringlets and sausage curls." I had really embellished this last answer in the hopes it would satisfy her and end my spanking. And it worked. She stopped.
I was stood up and my underpants and blue jeans were pulled up, but not before Lisa got a good look at my stiff, little "thing".
"Boy, he sure is small down there!" she commented. And I groaned with humiliation.
As I was walked back to the styling chair, Lisa taunted, "Stephen had a little stiffy!" And with that said, she gave my behind a very hard, biting pinch. It surprised me and hurt a lot and combined with all I had just gone through, it actually caused me to wet my pants.
"Well, well, well, it looks like we have a little Miss Puddle Pants here. Take him to the nursery Lisa and I'll be there in a moment to take care of him before he gets his permanent." Miss Baldwin exclaimed.
I sobbed with shame and embarrassment.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part4
Lisa held my hand and walked me to the nursery. Upon entering, the first thing that caught my attention was the awful smell of what had to be wet and poopy diapers. We were met immediately by another girl, probably about the same age as Lisa and equally as pretty.
"Hi Lisa, looks like someone had an accident," she said as I stared at the floor in absolute humiliation.
"Yup, this in Stephen, a brand new camper, and he has a lot to learn about behaving at camp. Miss Baldwin said she'd come in and sort him out in a minute so you don't have to perform your apprentice Nanny duties on him. You get a bit of a break Sarah!" Lisa told her.
"Great, I have my hands full with all these other sissy babies." smiled Sarah.
"Sarah's a friend of mine from Camp Sunnyvale and interns here as a Nanny." Lisa explained to me. "Look around and see what happens to boys who don't behave at camp and what's in store for you if you don't tow the line."
I looked around the room in sheer horror. It was filled with oversized baby furnishings---cribs, playpens, high chairs, bassinettes, changing tables and even strollers. Even more horrifying was that a lot of this baby furniture held oversized little baby girls who I now reallized had to really be boys. Each "baby girl" was dressed in a lavishly frilled short baby dress with voluminous petticoats underneath. Their dresses were so short that their bulbous, lacy underpants (which I was later to learn were called "rhumba panties") was easily seen. I assumed their underpants were so thick due to having diapers underneath them. Each baby girl's head was adorned with a frilly baby bonnet (bouncy ringlets and sausage curls peeking out from underneath), their feet in lace trimmed socks, and each suc-ked away on a pacifier or baby bottle or their thumb--well, except for the one who was seated in a high chair being spoon fed baby food. Another poor soul was being placed on a changing table and soon his soiled, wet diapers were removed to recive a changing.
My horror at all this was quickly interrupted by the sound of Miss Baldwin's voice. "Come along Little Miss Puddle Pants and we'll get you squared away."
I was made to take ALL my clothes off in front of everyone and told to throw them, except for my camp T-shirt, in a garbage bin nearby. "Won't need those anymore Stephen!" Miss Baldwin chided.
I was crying profusely as I was led to a bubble filled bath tub to get "squeaky clean and smelling pretty" as Miss Baldwin said. Miss Baldwin, with Lisa's help, gave me a good scrubbing and also washed my hair in preperation for my permanent. After being bathed and dried, I was led naked to a changing table and made to lie face up on it. Despite my degradtion, my little "Willy" was saluting mightily and caused a lot of giggling from Lisa and Sarah. I wanted to die from the embarrassment. I considered bolting for the door again but knew it would be fruitless. I'd only wind up like the "baby girls" around me.
"As long as we have him here and clean and naked, we might as well take care of the little bit of body hair he has." suggested Miss Baldwin.
Lisa and Miss Baldwin meticulously applied some kind of creamy, stinging lotion to every, and I do mean EVERY, knook and cranny of my body. It was awful to have every private part of my body so invaded. After a short while, when the lotion had done its job, they used towels to wipe it off leaving my entire body, except for my head, totally and completely hairless.
"Perfect. Just like a newborn baby! We'll pluck and shape his eyebrows later while his permanent is setting. Will you finish him up and bring him back to the salon when you're done Lisa?" Miss Baldwin said.
Oh God, I thought, what did "finish him up" involve and, of course, I soon found out.
Lisa took some baby powder and sprinkled me all over and placed an extremely thick, many layered cloth diaper under my bum and pinned it tightly in place with pink capped diaper pins.
"Please, noooooooo, please." I begged but to no avail.
"Hey, you wet your pants so, obviously you need diapers!" she scolded as she pulled pink, transparent plastic diaper pants over my diaper.
My camp T-shirt was placed back on me. Lisa took my hand and led me, waddling from the thickness encasing my groin, back to the salon for my permanent.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part5
Miss Baldwin was eagerly waiting for me back at the salon.
"I trust you're now ready for your permanent Stephen!" she said.
"Yes," I groaned.
"Yes what?" she snarled.
I knew what she meant. "Yes-- please will you give me a permanent so I can have nice, pretty ringlets and sausage curls?"
"Very good sissy boy," and she set to work on my hair. The pink plastic cape was fastened and she finished cutting deep, straight girlish bangs across my forehead. She then wet my hair thoroughly and proceeded to tightly wind pink curling rods and papers into my hair. Lisa assisted. The tightly wound rods hurt very much and I winced as each one was attached to my head. After what seemed to be an eternity, my head was completely covered in rods. I guessed close to a hundred of them. A bottle of setting lotion was opened, its offensive "rotten eggs" smell filling the room. They carefully applied the lotion to each rod. In the mirror I could see all that was being done.
When the last rod was saturated with the fowl lotion, I saw in the mirror how the curling rods glistened from it. I cried. I looked like such a sissy and surely felt like one too--an almost thirteen year old boy in diapers and pink plastic diaper pants getting an old fashioned little girl permanent. It was unbearable.
"We'll leave the lotion on for 45 minutes to give him nice and tight and bouncy curls and then apply the neutralizer," she told Lisa, "and in the meantime, we'll pluck and tweeze his eyebrows."
As they worked on my eyebrows, Lisa told me, "Don't be so sad Stephen. Like Miss Baldwin told you earlier, you're lucky to have hair long enough for a permanent. Otherwise you'd have to wear a wig and they're not nearly so pretty as your real curls will be. Besides, wigs are a nuisance and are hot and itchy to wear, especially in the summer. I'll teach you how to set your hair in rollers because your curls will need to be set each night before bedtime to maintain their bounce and shape. That's really the only downside to it."
Oh dear God I thought. Now I'm going to have to set my hair each night and sleep in rollers. Could I be more girlish?
Forty five minutes later, my eyebrows were done----arched into thin girlish curves. The neutalizer was applied and I was placed under a hairdryer and spent the next half hour eating the tuna sandwich and sipping the Coke they'd given me and reading "American Girl" magazines, as Miss Baldwin had told me to do.
When my perm was dry, they took me to a hair washing station and gently shampooed it with a mild shampoo meant for permed hair. Then I was taken back to the chair where I had been permed and they gently used a hand dryer to redry and style my "tresses" (their word). My hair still smelled of the perm lotion. I was told it would take a few days for the smell to totally go away. They had turned me away from the mirror though, so I couldn't see what was going on. With styling done, Miss Baldwin produced two pink hair barrettes which she clipped just behind my bangs on each side of my head. As a final humiliation, I saw her take a large piece of pink satin ribbon and I shuddered as I felt her tying in a large bow at the crown of my head.
"Are you ready Sweetie to see your pretty new look?" Miss Baldwin chimed.
With that, she turned me toward the mirror. I was looking at the face of a very prissy little girl with a head full of gleaming and beautifully curled ringlets and sausage curls crowned with a huge floppy pink ribbon bow on top and matching pink barrettes. Tears streamed down my face and I prayed the ground would open and swallow me up. The curls bounced and bobbed with the slightest movement of my head. Now I looked like I belonged at a camp called "Camp Sissy Curls".
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part6
"Okay Lisa, pretty boy is all yours now," laughed Miss Baldwin as she removed the pink cape from me.
"Come on Stephen, the director of the camp is expecting you in her office. Let's go." And Lisa took my hand.
As we left, I noticed the time on a clock on the wall. It was a little after 5 PM. I'd only been here since early morning yet it seemed like I'd been here for an eternity. As we entered the director's office, I felt so incredibly ashamed and humiliated to be standing there in ribbons and curls and diapers. I shamefully hung my ringletted head as the middle aged woman spoke.
"Hello Stephen, my name is Ms. Roberts and I'm the director of this special camp for boys. My late father founded this camp some years back. It's my pleasure to welcome you here. Please sit down."
I seated myself in the chair in front of her desk, not raising my shamefully hung head, and said nothing.
"I understand your stepmother has told you little about the purpose of this camp but that will become quite evident to you very soon, if it hasn't already. I can only assume that you must be a very ill-behaved young man to be sent here. But we'll correct that."
I really wasn't a bad kid I thought. My stepmother just never really liked me or liked having me around and I felt the same way about her.
Ms. Roberts continued, "Now Lisa is going to take you into town to purchase something."
I gasped at the thought of being seen in public in my current state. Afterall, I was wearing only a diaper, pink plastic diaper pants, the camp T-shirt and, of course, my ribbons and curls.
"The purpose of this trip is to teach you two very important lessons and when you return, I'll see if you can tell me what they are. But you can't go into town looking like that."
Thank God, I thought as she went to a closet and produced the small suitcase of clothes I had brought to camp. She sorted through it and took out a tan pair of slacks of mine, brown socks, a belt and my brown loafers.
"Here, put them on over your diaper and tuck your T-shirt in."
I had hoped to be relieved of the diaper and "Camp Sissy Curls" T-shirt but that was not about to happen. But at least my shameful diaper would be hidden. As I pulled up my pants and fastened the belt, I was horrified to discover that the thick diaper created a huge bulge in my pants that was quite noticeable. And, of course, nothing would hide my "Shirley Templed" head.
"Please Ms. Roberts, the pants don't hide my diaper." I sobbed.
"Then you can take them off and just wear your diaper and pretty pink diapers pants to town if you prefer." she scoffed.
She had me caught between a rock and a hard place. I put my socks and loafers on and Lisa took me out to the waiting camp shuttle bus for the ride into town. Sarah was there to make the trip with us. The driver chuckled as we boarded.
"Headed for the Mall GIRLS?" he sniggered.
"Yes please. Stephen here needs to buy something." Lisa replied.
We seated ourselves and I was glad that we were the only ones on the bus.
Lisa handed me a twenty dollar bill and said, "There's a Rite-Aid at the end of the Mall. You're to go in there and buy a package of Depends Adult diapers--size small should fit you nicely."
"Oh God no," I pleaded, "How long am I gonna be kept in diapers?"
Sarah answered, "Well, I guess that 'DEPENDS' on you and how well you behave and how long you stay dry Stephen."
I was shaking in fear at the humiliation and embarrassment I was about to experience. As we neared the Mall, Lisa told the driver to drop us off at the far end of it.
"Please pick us up here in an hour." she told the driver as we exited the bus.
Lisa took my hand and Sarah took the other and walked me into the packed Mall. I kept my head hung low, my ringlets and sausage curls dangling about my face.
"Rite Aid's at the other end of the Mall." she chuckled. "But I'm thirsty. Let's get a soda somewhere. We have plenty of time."
I kept my eyes closed as much as I could as we walked (well--me waddling from the thick diaper) to the Food Court for a drink. All around me I heard laughing and giggling and tormenting, biting comments about the "sissy boy" in diapers and ribbons and curls. The "Camp Sissy Curls" T-shirt said it all.
We got our drinks and I suc-ked the straw as I was paraded through the Mall toward the other end where Rite-Aid was. I continued to keep my eyes closed and wished I could plug my ears so I wouldn't hear the bombardment of taunting and teasing and jeering and laughter as shoppers beheld me. I also received many compliments, though meant sarcastically, about how pretty my hair-do was.
It was all so awful and I was so scared that, without even reallizing it, I found myself wetting my diaper. I tried to stop the flow but I couldn't. I prayed the diaper and plastic pants would contain all the wetness. But before long, to my absolute horrror, a large wet spot started to appear on the front of my slacks. Now everyone could see that I had a wet diaper. I was bawling my eyes out.
Passers-by were even more shocked now at the sight of the be-curled, be-ribboned sissy boy who had now wet his diaper.
By the time we reached Rite-Aid, the front of my pants were soaked. Sarah and Lisa let go of my hands.
Lisa told me, "You're to go in and purchase your Depends by yourself."
I had to open my eyes and pleaded, "Please don't make me do this!" But it fell on deaf ears. I pathetically trudged inside and searched the aisles for adult diapers. Thankfully, I spotted what I needed quickly and took the package of Depends size small to the counter to pay for them. All around me, shoppers gasped and laughed at the sight of me.
The clerk behind the check-out giggled as I paid and remarked, "I can sure see why you need these sissy boy!"
She handed me the change and receipt. I asked her if she could put my purchase in a bag.
"Sorry Sweetie Pie but we're outta bags big enough to put them in."
My hopes to at least have the dignity of having my purchase concealed were dashed.
With my very visible and obviously much needed Depends in hand, I left the store and was escorted by Sarah and Lisa back through the Mall toward the other end where the bus was to be waiting. Lisa and Sarah didn't hold my hands this time. They had reallized that if they didn't, I'd have to keep my eyes open to see where I was going and would have to take in all the "visual" horror of my humiliation.
My shame was unbearable, my humilation unrelenting and my tears were unstoppable.
As we reached the Mall exit where the bus was indeed waiting, I was given one last crushing comment from a very pretty little girl who was entering with her mother.
"Look mommy! Why does that boy have pretty curls and ribbons like me? And he's wet himself!"
"Hurry along Jenny and mind your own business," was the mother's quick reply.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part7
I gladly boarded the waiting shuttle bus. The driver just giggled at the sight of my wet pants and upon eyeing my Depends, he remarked, "A wise purchase."
Lisa and Sarah seated me by myself, wanting to avoid the smell of my pee soaked diaper and pants. They sat on the opposite side of the aisle across from me.
Lisa was the first to speak. "Stephen, Ms. Roberts will want to meet with you when we get back to camp. You'll recall that she told you that the purpose of this trip was to teach you two important lessons. You're best to think of what those two lessons are that, hopefully, you've learned." And with that, they left me to my thoughts and they just talked between themselves.
I was too upset and in shock from my awful trip to the Mall to figure out what two lessons I had learned. All I knew was that this day had been the most embarrassing experience that I could ever imagine. And how much I hated my stepmother for sending me to Camp Sissy Curls.
Half an hour later found me seated in the chair in Ms. Roberts' office again--still wet and holding my Depends.
"Well Stephen, what two important things did you learn from your shopping trip?"
I sobbed, holding my pretty head in my hands, "I don't know. All I know is it was awful!"
"Well, I guess that's a start sissy boy. But I suppose I have to give you a little help.----Do you enjoy wearing and using a diaper?"
"No, of course not," I cried.
"Very good. That's lesson number one---you want to do your best to avoid wearing and using diapers. Now lesson number two is a little more involved. I gave you your slacks and belt and socks and shoes to wear to the Mall. Do you think those clothes caused you any problem?"
"Well, the slacks showed the bulge of my diapers." It seemed the logical answer to me.
"True---but suppose you hadn't been wearing diapers and hadn't wet yourself and your slacks were dry and bulge free. Do you think wearing your pants, socks and shoes could have caused any other problems?" she probbed.
I was clueless. "I'm not sure what you mean Ms. Roberts."
"Okay, I'll put it this way. If I got you all cleaned up, put your regular underwear on you, another pair of your slacks, and your socks and shoes, and even one of your own shirts and sent you back to the Mall....."
"NOOOOO, please NO!!!!!" I blubbered.
"Relax, I don't think that will be necessary, but if I did all that---do you think your trip would still be very embarrassing for you?"
I just gave her a perplexed look.
She continued, "Just think about this Sweetie. Even if I sent you to the Mall without diapers and wearing all your own clothes, how do you think people would perceive you?"
Now I was really lost because I didn't know what "perceive" meant.
Ms. Roberts sensed this. "Given your head full of pretty curls and your barrettes and your pretty pink hair bow and plucked eyebrows, would people think you were a girl or a boy?"
"A boy," I answered.
"That's right. And a very sissy boy at that. Very good Stephen," she beamed. "So what's the second lesson you've learned?"
I could begin to see where all this was going, as abhorrent as it was to me. But I couldn't bring myself to give the humiliating answer.
"Well Stephen?"
I wouldn't shame myself by answering.
"Come on Stephen, or maybe a trip across my lap with a hair brush will loosen your tongue!"
I so did not want another spanking and knew my answer had to be given.
Finally I muttered through tears "I should wear girl's clothes."
"What? I can't hear you sissy boy!" she scolded.
"It would be better for me if I wore girl's clothes." I said in absolute defeat and misery.
"Bingo Stephen! Exactly! With a pretty dress and a little make-up and nail polish, you could be perceived as a girl and not a sissified boy---a lot less embarrassing for you in public."
Dear God, I thought. Things had become so twisted that I could now see how the logic of being dressed in girl's clothes, though sickening to me, would cause LESS humiliation for me in public. And it seemed that displaying me in public a lot was in my future. It was a real conflict in terms for me.
"Now head back to the nursey Stephen for a cleanup and diaper change and you are to report back here at 9:00 tomorrow morning. I'll expect you to ask me something then. Think about that in the meantime." And she bid me good night.
"But I thought I wouldn't have to wear diapers," I pleaded.
"You'll have to prove that you don't need them first Sweetie Pie. Now off you go."
The nanny on duty gave me a bubble bath, powdered and diapered me in three of my Depends and pulled very elaborately frilled and ruffled plastic lined rhumba diaper panties over the diapers. Ruffles around the leg openings, ruffles across the bum, ruffles everywhere on them. Extremely "little baby girlish". With a lacy, white nitey pulled on to me, she proceeded to remove my barrettes and ribbon bow started setting my hair in pink plastic clip-on rollers.
"Pay attention sissy boy because you'll have to do this for yourself soon."
It took a long time to have all my curls set. While she set my hair, I drank juice from a Sippy cup and ate cookies that she had given me. By 9:00 she was done. She placed a pink hair net over the curlers and took my hand.
"Campers who wear diapers have to sleep here in the nursery." she said as she led me to an open crib in a darkened area of the nursery where the over-sized baby cribs were. I could hear and smell other diapered sissy boys in nearby cribs.
"If you haven't messed your diapers by morning sissy boy, Ms. Roberts may let you go without them," she whispered as she stuck a pink pacifier in my mouth, slipped a Teddy Bear under my arm to cuddle and pulled a large white baby blanket over me. "Sleep tight, Snookums."
It took like what seemed to be hours to fall asleep. Not a surprise, given the fact that all the day's horrific events were replaying over and over again in my mind. As well as thoughts about what the rest of the summer had in store for me. And thoughts about how much I hated my stepmother for bringing me here. The thick diapers and prickly rollers contributed much to my insomnia too.
My last thought before finally falling asleep was "What did Ms. Roberts expect me to ask her in the morning?"
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part8
6AM, the dawn of my second day at Camp Sissy Hell, as far as I was concerned. I had woken up early, on my own, from my fitful sleep due to the uncomfortable and foreign feeling of my tightly wound curlers and bulging diapers.
No hope of it all being a dream, I thought. This was for real. Other "babies" around me were stirring but they all still seemed to be asleep. I was relieved that I had not REILIEVED myself at all in my diapers. They were still clean. I wondered when the official "wakeup" time was.
As I dozed in my crib, I thought about what Ms. Roberts expected me to ask her this morning. I knew it all had to be some devious ploy on her part to get me to ask her something very degrading to me. An hour passed and I still hadn't figured out what I was expected to ask of her.
But more disturbing than that was---I was beginning to feel pressure and rumblings in my stomach area, not of hunger but of a need to poop. And I also was getting the urge to pee. If I could have a clean diaper at wakeup, I'd be allowed to go without diapers.
By 7:30, I was squirming and fidgeting, trying to keep the inevitable from happening. I so wanted a clean diaper for whenever wakeup time was.
At 7:45, Mother Nature won the battle. I cried as I could hold it no longer and pooped out a huge load into the seat of my diapers, followed by a forceful stream of pee. It was horrible, to say the very least. The smell and feel and squish of my poo was awful. But just as bad and extremely repugnant was the act itself of having to poop one's own diapers. For a one or two year old, no problem. But for an almost thirteen year old boy, this babyish experience was a very humiliating and degrading thing to do. But that seemed to be the goal of this camp, to humiliate and degrade boys AND to force them to humiliate and degrade THEMSELVES.
I laid in my crib crying. I was fidgeting and squirming, but this time, in a fruitless effort to try to ease the feeling of the very wet and very poopy diapers I was encased in.
At 8:00, lights began to slowly come on and Nannys started moving about. I had missed staying clean by about fifteen minutes only and faced more time in diapers. How much more time I could only wonder.
"Well, looks like we have a 'Little Miss Poopy Pants' here!" was the morning greeting I received from a dowdy, heavy set woman.
Down went the crib bars, "Waddle over to the changing table and I'll get you squared away Sweet Pea."
Ten minutes later, I was clean and freshly diapered in three Depends covered with lavishly frilled rhumbas like last night's, only in baby pink.
I was wearing a Camp Sissy Curls T-shirt, but it too was baby pink, as was the pacifier now protruding from my mouth. Pink Jellies were my foot gear.
Seated at a vanity table, the nanny removed my rollers and started combing and primping my curls.
"Oh my goodness," she gushed, "you have such beautiful hair! Far too pretty to be wasted on a boy." I said nothing in response.
She finished off my hair with pink barrettes and a pink bow tied to each side of my head this time. The ends of the ribbons dangled over my ears.
"There you go sissy, as pretty as a picture." she chimed. "Now let's get those teeth brushed and then I'll take you to Ms. Roberts' office. It's almost nine."
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part9
At nine on the dot, I knocked on Ms. Roberts' door. "Come in Stephen, I'm expecting you," she called.
I stood in front of her, eyes glued to the floor. "Well Sweetie, it appears you haven't taken to heart the first lesson about keeping out of diapers. I do hope you're not planning to spend the entire summer in wet, poopy, stinky diapers!" There seemed to be little sincerity in her words--me in diapers all summer was probably exactly what she wanted.
"I couldn't help it," I moaned.
"Of course Babykins," she jeered, "have a seat Pumpkin."
Boy, I was getting sick of all these "cutsie" names. I sat and she began.
"Now what do you want to ask me Stephen?"
"I don't know."
"Come, come you don't appear to be a stupid boy----what do you want to ask me? Think about what we talked about last night." she said.
"I just don't know!" I stressed.
She frowned, "Okay..........have you had breakfast yet?"
"No." I replied, surprised by her sudden change of gears.
"In an hour, I'm going into town to the post office to mail some packages. There's a Perkins across the street from it. I'm going to take you with me and we'll both get some breakfast there after the post office. In the meantime, you can just sit on the bench outside my office and try to keep your diapers clean."
"NO--PLEASE NOT THAT---PLEASE DON'T----PLEASE NO, NO, NOOOOOOOO!" I begged and sobbed and stomped my feet on the floor.
"Oh, you're definitely going to town with me!!! Now then, what do you want to ask me?" She was unrelenting.
Then it hit me, though I think that deep down inside I knew all along.
"Ummm, can I wear a dress?" I said in almost a whisper.
"Speak up, I can't hear you sissy boy!"
"CAN I WEAR A DRESS?" and I held my hands to my face in utter defeat and shame.
But she wasn't satisfied yet. "What kind of DRESS?"
She threw a curve to me on that one.
"A very pretty dress--PLEASE," was all I could come up with. I was mortified.
"Good GIRL!!! Very good GIRL!!! Of course you can wear a pretty dress. And some makeup and lipstick and nail polish too. Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" she grinned.
I, of course, didn't answer her. But it was sooooo very bad. It was so bad that I almost thought I was going to throw up.
"Go back to the nursery and they'll fix you up with something nice and pretty. Report back here in an hour Sweetie Pie."
At 10:20, with tears streaming down my face, I again knocked on Ms. Roberts' door.
"Come in!" she called, in a very sing songy voice.
I stood in front of her tugging nervously at the hem the most frilliest pink satin party dress imaginable. The kind a little girl might wear in a Beauty Pageant or to a fancy birthday party. Ribbons and lace and ruffles lavishly covered almost every square inch of it. Puffed sleeves, Peter Pan collar, a wide sash tied in back with a huge bow. The skirt of the dress was very short and extremely full due to the multiple white organza petticoats it floated on. I couldn't even see my feet, which were adorned in lacy pink anklets and pink patent leather Mary Janes. My lacy gloved hands clutched a small matching pink purse. I had light makeup on, pink lip gloss and matching pink nail polish. I was shocked and certainly wasn't expecting to be dressed in such a sissy, little girl way. This didn't seem really much better than the way I was dressed before.
"You look absolutely adorable! Very, very pretty." Ms. Roberts gushed as she approached me and took a small spray bottle from her purse. "Just one more thing Sweetie." And she sprayed perfume behind my ears and on my wrists.
She wiped my tears with her handkerchief and admonished me to not cry and ruin my makeup.
"Time's growing short. Let's get going STEPHANIE!" she said. Sensing my surprise at the name, she added, "Well, don't you think that name is more appropriate for you now?"
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part10
As we walked toward her mini-van, I reallized how difficult my dress and petticoats were to control. They seemed to have a life of their own. The slightest breeze lifted them up, almost like a kite on the end of a string. They bounced and swished with every step and movement. If I bent over even just a little, I knew my diapers and rhumba panties would be fully displayed to anyone nearby. All these feelings and sensations were very unfamiliar to me and absolutely awful.
Upon reaching her mini-van, I experienced another problem---how to sit down in my ocean of frills.
"Normally Stephanie, a girl smoothes her skirt or dress behind her when she sits. But with your dress being so full and on the short side (short side was an understatement I thought), it probably would be best for you to just lift it up and sit down on your bum."
I did so and buckled my seatbelt. As we drove toward town, I complained.
"Ms. Roberts, I thought my dress would be simpler and more like what a girl my age would wear. This is so frilly and sissy. I look like a 5 year old on her way to some fancy party!"
"You're absolutely right Stephanie. You look like a 5 year old little girl because THAT'S what you are now. You should be thankful for that. I could have started you off as a 1 year old baby girl, like those boys in the nursery. If you behave and accept your situation like a good little girl, in time, you'll be allowed to dress more age appropriately. If not, you'll be dressed as a full fledged little baby girl. It's up to you Sweet Pea."
I sobbed and sniffled into tissues Ms. Roberts gave me as she continued.
"I admit that your outfit is a little over the top, should we say, and it is designed to be worn for very special occasions. But this IS a very special occasion. It's your first outing as a complete girl and I want you to experience your new femininity to the fullest. I want you to be fully immersed in little girlhood. You may even grow to like it Stephanie!"
"Never." I replied.
"There's the post office, come on, let's go." she said, pulling into a parking spot.
As we entered, everyone seemed to stop at once to gape at me. Many giggled or laughed but nothing was said until we reached the counter where Ms. Roberts placed her packages to be mailed.
"Good morning Ms. Roberts." said the post office clerk, with a cheery smile. "Looks like you have a new camper!"
And looking at me, she remarked "You look very pretty in your dress young MAN. What's your name Honey?"
She knew I was a boy, as probably everyone else did. In my shock, I accidently dropped my purse. When I bent to pick it up, I heard an uproar of laughter and realized I had just given everyone a full view of my diapers and rhumba panties.
A lady behind us in line giggled to Ms. Roberts, "He still needs diapers, I see."
"Hopefully in time, little Stephanie here will grow out of them." was her reply to the lady.
"I would certainly think he'll be eager to." quipped the lady.
We left the post office with me struggling to control my dress and petticoats in the slight breeze that was blowing. My eyes were fixed to the pavement, not wanting to see anyone.
My experience at the restaurant was very similar to the post office. People laughed and giggled at the sight of me but didn't say a lot.
With much difficulty, I managed to seat myself in the booth we were ushered to----my dress and petticoats billowing all around me.
"Hi Ms. Roberts, new camper I see! What can I get for you?" said the pretty, young waitress standing at our booth.
Ms. Roberts ordered her breakfast and the waitress turned to me. "And what would you like young MAN?" She said with a giggle.
Everyone knew I was a boy! Ms. Roberts had tricked me and lied to me. Dressing in girl's clothes seemed to do nothing to conceal the fact that I was a boy. This outing was no less humiliating than yesterday's trip to the Mall.
When our breakfasts came, I ate quickly wanting to get out of there as soon as possible and back to the relative security of the van. Mercifully, we were out of the restaurant in less than an hour.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part11
Riding back to camp, with crocodile tears streaming down my face, I confronted Ms. Roberts. "You tricked me, you lied! You said if I wore a dress and makeup and all that stuff, people would think I was a girl. But everyone knew I'm a boy."
"I didn't lie Stephanie. But there are two factors involved that caused them to know you were a boy. For one, the town is small and everybody knows me and knows about the special boys camp I run. So naturally, they knew you were a boy. Secondly, and this is another good lesson for you to learn--- you walk, talk, sit, eat and carry yourself like a boy. Your mannerisms are not at all girlish."
"Yeah, cuz I'm a boy!" I said.
Ms. Roberts paused for a moment to think and then continued.
"Let me put it to you this way. If I took you to the Mall right now and you spoke in a higher voice and acted and walked more femininely and all, people would think you were a girl--though a very sissyish one--but a girl at least. The Mall is outside of town. Near the Interstate exit ramp. Packed with people who are just passing through the area. People who don't know me or Camp Sissy Curls. THEY'D think you were a girl. Care to test my theory? We can head for the Mall."
"No Ms. Roberts." I quickly answered.
"Then stop your blubbering and quit complaining and think about what I just told you Stephanie. When we get back to camp, Lisa's agreed to come by and take you on a tour of our camp. You've seen nothing really of it except for the inside of the administration building. And she'll take you to dinner at the camp cafeteria and you'll meet lots of the other happy campers!"
"Happy campers" I thought, yeah right.
-
Camp Sissy Curl--part12
Back at camp, Lisa was indeed waiting for me outside Ms. Roberts' office.
"Oh my God, you look sooooo precious Stephen!" she cried.
"It's Stephanie now." corrected Ms. Roberts.
"So frilly and prissy, I could just eat you up! And Stephanie is a perfect name for you," continued Lisa, "well, let's get going Stephie. Got a lot to see."
She took my hand like before. While I knew she took my hand as a means of control like a mother would take her little girl's hand, maybe even as a symbol of domination, I still enjoyed having some physical contact with this gorgeous girl. I also knew that would be as far as I would ever get with her. No pretty, 16 year old girl would ever have anything to do with a pansy in diapers and ribbons and curls and petticoats like me.
Outside the building, she primped my curls and adjusted my hair bows and smoothed my dress over my petticoats. She even retied the bow of my sash. "I want you looking like a perfect little miss!" she giggled.
We spent over an hour walking around the campgrounds, me constantly battling with my dress and petticoats for control.
"Don't you just love the feeling of your petties Stephie? The way they swish and bob and bounce around you as you walk."
"Aaaaah-NO, it's horrible." I said, thinking she was crazy.
"Well I so adored fussy, frilly, pouffie dresses when I was a little girl like you."
Her words really stabbed me in the heart, even though she was right. I was a little girl now and it was so awful.
The afternoon was a sunny, bright and warm one. I could feel beads of sweat dripping under the sausage curls dangling over my neck and shoulders. I was overdressed for a warm day, or for that matter any day, I thought.
All around, girls (who I knew were really boys of course) were busy playing volleyball, tennis, archery, soccer, kickball--all the typical sports things of a normal camp. Some were just reading under the shade of a tree. They were all pretty much dressed in the same way---the Camp Sissy Curls T-shirt over a short pleated tan skirt. They wore white socks and girls sneakers. I could see, as they ran or jumped, that they wore lacy white panties underneath their skirts. I could also detect bra straps under their T-shirts. All the boys had their hair, or wigs in some cases, tied up with scrunchies or ribbons in a ponytail or pigtails or braids or some fashion to keep the hair out of their eyes and off their necks.
"How come no one wears shorts?" I asked Lisa.
"Absolutely NO pants of ANY kind are EVER worn for ANY reason by ANY camper! Well except for" and she giggled, "panties. But that's different."
"Okay, okay--I get the message!" I replied sarcastically.
With that, she slapped me across the face. "Don't you speak to me like that SISSY BOY."
I said no more. I had gotten that message too.
As we walked around, many of the "Nancyboys", as Lisa called them, would stop what they were doing and gawk and giggle a little at me. But none taunted or teased me at all. I figured for fear of finding themselves in dresses and petticoats and diapers like me. I did envy them their clothes though, as perverse as it seemed.
With dinner time approaching, Lisa led me to the dining hall and we got in line for dinner. We got our food and carried our trays toward a vacant table. I felt so out of place in my ridiculous outfit but no one verbally teased me. Just gawking and giggles. Not even taunts when my napkin fell off my tray and I bent over to pick it up, again fully displaying my diapers and rhumba panties. But that did cause a fairly raucous laughter, as did my battle to sit down in my very full dress.
"You gotta learn how to be more Ladylike Stephie!" Lisa scolded.
I wasn't especially hungry and ate slowly, which was not my normal habit. Lisa finished before me and excused herself.
"I gotta call Ms. Roberts and ask her something." And with cell phone in hand, she got up and returnd her tray to the dishwashing area and made her call nearby it. I just picked at my food until she returned.
"Guess what, Little Miss Priss! Ms. Roberts has gave me permission to take you back with me to my camp for a slumber party with the girls in my cabin. We'll have such girly fun with you tonight!"
I cringed at the idea of it. But, at least I wouldn't have to sleep in a crib in the nursery I thought.
"Finish up Stephie. We gotta head back to the nursery first. They'll pack a diaper bag of things you'll need for your stay with us. Ohhhh, I can't wait to show you off to the girls. We'll have ever so much fun with you tonight!" She anxiously squealed.
A little too anxious to suit me.
-
Camp Sissy Curls (The Movie)--part13
Carrying my diaper bag in one hand and holding Lisa's with the other, we walked a well worn path over the meadow to the girls camp--Camp Sunnyvale. The sun was low in the sky and would soon be setting. I wondered what this night held in store for me and shuddered, as I wrestled with my dress and petticoats for control.
As we approached "Hummingbird Cabin", which was Lisa's and situated in the middle of a long row of cabins, Lisa gave me a warning.
"Now Pumpkin, I expect you to be a very good little girl tonight and to do as you're told. Understand Sweetie Pie?"
"Yes Lisa." I moaned.
We stepped through a screen door and into a screened in porch and stood before the entrance door to the cabin itself.
"Give me your diaper bag and I'm gonna go in first and tell my girlfriends you're here. Then, I'll open the door and you'll come in with a big smile on your face and say--HI--MY NAME'S STEPHANIE. Then you'll curtsey to everyone. Got it?"
"I'm not gonna curtsey!" I rebelled.
An immediate hard slap crossed my face for the second time this day and made tears well up in my eyes.
"If you don't do as you're told Stephie, you'll get a lot more slaps only they'll be across your bare girlie fanny with a hairbrush. Understand?"
She went inside and closed the door behind her. Moments later, she reopened it and with much fear, I ventured in.
"Hi, my name's Stephanie." And I curtsied as best as I could, not really knowing how to perform that embarrassing, girlish gesture.
About a dozen or so girls swormed around me, like bees to honey, gushing over me. They played with my ringlets and sausage curls, fingered my hair ribbons, fluffed my petticoats. One bent me over to show off my diapers and rhumba panties. Comments about me abounded.
"He's absolutely adorable Lisa." said one girl.
"Precious! And recently permed. I can still smell it in his curls." another.
"Such a pretty dress!" still another.
"Need your diaper changed?" and so on and so on.
I was placed on a high stool with my butt on the seat, my dress and petticoats encircling me and the stool. Being short, my legs didn't quite reach the floor and dangled awkwardly. I managed to rest them on the front rung of the stool and someone giggled and said. "Girls keep their legs together when they sit sissy boy. But you'll learn." And I closed my legs.
Most of the girls seemed ready for bedtime, dressed in nities or pajamas or nitegowns or Teddies and such. Some had there hair set in curlers. All were quite cute actually.
One girl approached me and handed me a Sippy cup full of soda, which I nervously drank from. It tasted a little strange but I was thirsty. I would later find out that was due to a laxative that had been put in it.
The girls, innocently seeming, started asking me questions like how I liked being a little girl now or how I liked wearing frilly dresses and petticoats or I liked having my hair in ribbons and curls or what it felt like to wear wet, poopy diapers.
I responded with brief answers like "not at all" or "awful" or "horrible".
The final question came from a shy girl who had not yet spoken.
"Where are you from and where do you go to school?"
I hesitated and Lisa scolded, "Answer her Stephie."
I told here where I was from and the school I attended.
"Wow!" chimed the girl who had asked. "What a coincidence! Do you know Sally Jo Reynolds? She's my cousin."
I replied, "I really don't know her but I know who she is. She was in a couple of my classes this year."
Lisa then hushed the girls and looked at me and spook.
"You're gonna have such a fun time tonight with us Stephie and I'm sure we'll have a VERY fun time with you. Are you gonna be a good little girl for us?"
I nodded "yes".
"That-a-girl." she said with a devilish grin on her face.
Lisa contnued. "Now we're gonna make a little movie Nancyboy and you'll be the star of it. And I'll play your Mommy in it--well, in voice only, off camera."
One of the girls walked to a closet and took out a video camera on a tall tripod and Lisa explained further.
"And in the process of making our movie, you'll learn a much needed lesson in girlish deportment."
No way, I thought and jumped toward the door only to quickly be wrestled into submission by the girls.
"You just made a huge mistake Stephie!" Lisa said. "Hold him tight and bend him over girls."
I knew what was coming and started crying loudly.
"Turn on the camera Becky." Lisa ordered, as she pulled my diapers and rhumba panties down to my ankles and grabbed a hairbrush.
The girls gasped and then laughed at the sight of my bare bum.
"I know you're only 4 or 5 years old and still in diapers Sweetie, but do you think you can count all the way up to twenty like a big girl?"
I gave no answer and none was expected.
"Count off aloud each spankie you're given Stephie." And she whacked my fanny.
"Ahh--one!" I screamed in pain. "Ahhh---two!" "Ahhhh----three!" and so on until twenty was finally reached.
I was gasping for breath and couldn't stop crying from the pain--the pain from my burning, sore and, I'm sure, very red bottom. And from the pain of having such a humiliating thing done to me.
I was led to a corner with my diapers and rhumbas still around my ankles and made to stand facing it while holding the back of my dress and petticoats up to give a good view of my reddened behind to the girls and the rolling camera.
"Just stand there awhile Stephie and try to calm down and compose yourself." Lisa said, as she gave my butt a hard pinch to add more pain and insult.
"I hope we didn't em-BARR-ASS him too much!" joked a girl, and the others roared in laughter at her pun. But I certainly found none of it funny.
After what was probably only about 15 minutes, but seemed a lifetime to me, my diapers and rhumba panties were pulled back up and I was reseated on the stool.
Lisa asked, "Well, you little pantywaist, are you ready to become a movie star now?"
I was broken now and nodded "yes".
-
Camp Sissy Curls (The Movie)--part 14
"Before we make our movie Stephie, you need to learn a few things about acting like a proper little girl." said Lisa.
Lisa spent the next half hour teaching me how to curtsey and sit correctly. How to daintily lift up the front and back of my dress and petticoats to expose my frilly panties. How to tilt my head at an angle while twisting a finger in the corner of my mouth. How to twirl my dress and toss my curls and blows kisses. An array of incredibly girlish gestures designed to make me appear as a prim and proper but precocious little girl, and to cause great humiliation for me.
While all this was going on, girls were busy setting things up for the movie. A few were busy scripting something with black markers on sheets of posterboard that sat on an easel. A couple worked on hooking up a Karaoke machine to a TV. Sarah fussed with the video camera for the perfect angle. The rest just watched me practicing my sissy moves and roared with laughter.
When I had reasonably mastered the art of little girlish behavior, I was seated back on the stool.
Lisa continued, "Now Stephie, our little movie is gonna be more of a music video. Isn't that exciting!"
I just sighed.
"If you try to fight us over it, you'll be very soundly spanked. Have no doubt that you are going to do this."
I wiped tears from my face with a tissue I'd been given as she went on.
"If you don't perform to your very best ability, like a sweet, precious happy little girl; we'll make sure that this video is seen by everyone at Camp Sissy Curls and here at our camp. AND we'll make certain that a copy finds its way to your school through Monica's cousin, Sally Jo."
Oh crap, they really had me over a barrel.
"If you do it well, then what happens in Hummingbird Cabin stays in Hummingbird Cabin. But if you do it poorly, then a ton of people will see it."
I wanted to run for the door but knew I couldn't.
"Time to rehearse the song your gonna sing with the Karaoke machine in the movie Steph."
She told me that the song I was going to sing was a rather obscure one from the mid 1960's by a group called "The Who". The group was vaguely familiar to me, remembering something about a boy and a pinball machine.
"The song is perfectly suited for a sissy boy like you." Lisa taunted.
The song was called "I'm a Boy" and it wasn't familiar to me. I was made to rehearse it with the Karaoke machine until I finally got it right, after many tries. I could see from the lyrics why the song had been chosen. I guessed it was better than singing "On the Good Ship Lollipop" or "I'm a Little Teapot"--though only slightly better.
Next task was to become familiar with the lines I'd have to recite.
"Look at the cue cards on the easel Stephie. You'll read your parts from them, like Leno or Letterman does. I want you to just read through them silently to yourself three or four times to become familiar with them. Note the stage directions in the parentheses and the "mommy" parts I'll say off camera."
Many more tissues were needed as I silently read several times the excruciatingly embarrassing lines I was to speak.
"Okay Sweetie, let's roll the camera! And do your very best or a whole lotta people that you don't want to see this--WILL!" And Lisa sat herself off camera, but in view of the cue cards, to deliver her part as "mommy".
Two girls dried my face and freshened up my makeup and lipstick and primped my curls and adjusted my ribbons and poised my dress and petties around me and the stool.
"Don't cry and spoil your look Babydoll." Warned one of the makeup girls.
"Okay Stephie, legs together at an angle. Head up with a little tilt. Your finger to your mouth and------Oh!!! I almost forgot."
She placed a Raggedy Ann doll in my free arm and said "Open up and stick out your tongue."
She gently attached a small paper clip to the tip of my tongue. I wondered why on earth she did this. To my horror, I'd soon find out its purpose.
"If you flub up a part Steph, we'll rewind and edit and retape it. But don't make us have to do that too much or you'll be sorry. Now big smile, my pretty little sissy."
"Quiet on the set." Lisa called. "Ready Sarah. And lights, camera annnnddd ACTION!"
-
Camp Sissy Curls (The Movie)--part 15
The camera was turned on and Lisa pointed her finger at me and silently mouthed the word "Go". I braced myself, smiled and felt a little pee trickle into my diapers from fear.
"Hi everybody, my name's Stephanie and I'm five years old." And I held my free hand out and spread my five fingers wide, as the stage direction on the cue card directed.
"I used to be Stephen but I was a weally bad boy, so now I'm a pwetty widdle girwl. I wove wearing pwetty dwesses and petticoats and panties and having my hair done up in wibbons and curwls."
"Would you like to show us your pretty panties Stephanie?" Lisa said, right on cue.
"Oh Mommy nooo!!" I coquettishly feigned.
"Come on now. Little girls love to show off their pretty panties Sweet Pea!"
"Well," and I batted my eyelashes, "if you weally want to see them---okay."
I carefully got off my stool, placed my doll on it, and dropped a deep curtsey to the camera. All around, off camera, the girls struggled to keep from laughing out loud. As I'd been taught, I lifted the front of my dress and petticoats up high while twisting a little from side to side. I held that position until Lisa spoke after five or six seconds.
"Oh my Stephanie--very pretty. Can we see the back?"
"Yeth Mommy." And I turned around, bent over and exposed the seat of my rhumba panties and wiggled my bum a little.
"I hope my little sweetpie hasn't messed her didees!"
"No Mommy." I called over my shoulder.
"Oh my Gawd." laughed a girl who had lost her battle to stifle herself.
"Cut! And hold that pose Stephanie." cried Lisa. "Girls, you have to keep totally silent!" She scolded. "Rewind back to just after Stephanie's last line and we'll take it from there."
With the camera rolling again, Lisa spoke. "Don't you have a little song you'd like to sing for everybody Stephie?"
"Yes pwease Mommy." I gushed and I stood up, turned back to face the camera and smoothed my dress and petties. I curtsied again and directed my eyes to the TV screen to follow the Karaoke lyrics and cues. I girlishly played with the skirt of my dress and twisted a little from side to side.
As the music began, again out of embarrassment and fear, I felt a little pee make its way into my diapers. I hoped I wouldn't be drenched by the end of the video.
On cue I began to sing.
"Cuuuttt!" snarled Lisa again, unhappy with something.
(In truth, it took several takes to get the song right and satisfy Lisa. The fourth one was, finally, good enough for her.)
"Song take four. Annnnnd GO!" called Lisa, pointing at me.
I lisped my rendition as little girlishly as I could in a sing songy, high pitched voice.
"One girwl wasth called Jean Mawie"
"Another widdle girwl wasth Felwicity"
"Another widdle girwl wasth Sallwy Joy"
"The other one wasth me and I'm a BOY!"
For the second verse, as the cue card indicated, I moved one hand to my head and began to play with my sausage curls and ribbons.
"My name is Bill, and I'm a headcase"
"They pwactice making up on my face"
"Yeah, I feel wucky if I get twousers to wear"
"Spend evenings taking hairpins fwom my hair"
For the chorus, I had to twirl as I sang.
"I"m a boy, I'm a boy"
"But my ma won't admit it"
"I'm a boy, I'm a boy"
"But if I say I am, I get it"
By verse three, burning with shame, tears poured out of my eyes.
"Put your fwock on, Jean Mawie"
"Plait your hair, Felwicity"
"Paint your nails, widdle Sallwy Joy"
"Put this wig on, widdle boy"
The song ended with me twirling again as I sang the chorus.
Lisa clapped loudly and gushed "That was adorable! Just perfect Stephanie. I'm so proud of my little girl!"
I gave a broad smile, tilted my head and answered, "Thank you Mommy."
I gave a deep curtsey and then blew a kiss to the camera.
"Cut--good job sissy boy. Take four was the charm." Lisa said.
To my great surprise, she walked to me and gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. It did give me some comfort after the girlie torture I had just gone through. And I did so like to be close to her, even dressed as a little girl.
Author's note: Thanks and credit to Peter Townsend and "The Who", of whom I've been a huge fan for years. If I recall correctly, this song was actually discussed in the discussion forum here some time back.
-
Camp Sissy Curls (The Movie)--part16
I was exhausted from the video and Lisa and the other girls could see that.
"You did pretty well Steph, " Lisa said, "and you earned a break. We'll get you outta your dress and petticoats and into something more comfortable."
She got my diaper bag and fished out the fairly plain pink nitegown that had been packed for me.
She held it up and frowned, "This won't do, it's much too boring."
Looking toward the gaggle of girls, she asked "Does anyone have anything a little more interesting for our little sissy to wear at her first slumber party? Preferably in pink, to match her rhumba panties."
A girl named Dana immediately replied, "I have a pink teddy that would be perfect. I'll go get it."
While Dana was gone, Lisa asked me, "Do you need a diaper change babycakes?"
I had wet myself a little during the taping. But definitely not noticeably and not to an extreme. And I so did not want to be changed in front of all these girls.
"No Lisa." I answered.
Dana soon returned, the teddy in her hands.
The girls "oohhed" and "aahhed" when Dana presented it for their approval.
"Perfect Dana, thanks." Lisa said.
The teddy was a very short and very sheer pink, lacy confection. It had a matching bra and I cringed at the thought of being put into one for the first time. I was made to strip down to nothing but my diapers and rhumba panties, as the girls laughed mercilessly.
Standing naked, save the diapers and panties, a couple of girls started dressing me. The bra was first and very humiliating to have on me. The teddy was then slipped over my head. It reached to about the half way point of my panties. The sheerness of it left my bra in full view. The only "saving grace" of it was that, at least, it was more comfortable and easier to manage than my huge dress and petticoats.
One girl mussed, "You know, he looks so convincing that one might think that he really WAS a girl."
Another replied, "Yeah, you're right. Do you suppose people might think he's a real girl in the video?"
Still another, "Yeah, like we were faking the whole scenario with a real girl and pulled a fast one!"
Lisa spoke, "Well you girls could be right. But you know, I've got an idea to make sure that doesn't happen. Let's add another part to the video. We've got plenty of tape."
I couldn't bear to think of what she had in mind and hung my head low.
Minutes later, I found myself standing in front of the camera again, sobbing and gasping for breath.
"Now Stephanie, when we turn on the camera and I point to you, I want you to pull your diapers and rhumba panties down, just in the front, and tuck them under your--ah--well--how can I say it--well--under your little sack. And then play with yourself until your little girlie weiner gets nice and hard and you--aahh--well--SQUIRT YOUR STICKY STUFF!"
The girls screamed with laughter and disbelief.
"That'll prove he's really a boy--well, a sissy boy at least." cried a girl.
"NOOOO, please no. Please don't make me do that." And I even got down on my knees and begged and pleaded. But to no avail. The girls were intent that I suffer this degrading act.
"You're gonna do this one way or another. You know that pansy. Give us a hard time and you know a lot of people will see this." Lisa reminded.
I thought of the "barrel" again and got up from my knees in agony.
"Oh, and one more thing Stephie. While you're--ah--pleasuring yourself, so to speak, you're to repeat over and over---I WANNA BE A GIRL---I WANNA BE A GIRL."
Lisa called for silence from the girls again. Sarah got the command to start rolling. And the finger was pointed.
Crying buckets of tears, I slowly pulled the front of my diapers and panties down and tucked them under my "thing". It was small and limp. The girls tittered.
I started to perform the horrifying act and repeated over and over, "I wanna be a girl---I wanna be a girl."
After about maybe a minute, or maybe a lifetime, Lisa shouted "Cut!"
"Is your girlie weiner broken Stephanie?" She asked, not expecting an answer. "It's going nowhere. Limp as a noodle. Now get it up sissy boy!"
The one milligram of dignity that was left in me was now gone.
The tape rolled again and I performed again, but with no success. My little soldier wouldn't "salute".
The girls laughed and teased and I bawled (yes-pun intended).
"Cut!" Lisa shouted. "I guess the Nancyboy needs a little motivation."
"No, he needs a Viagra!!!" Someone shouted and the laughter was deafening.
I feared the motivation would be another spanking but I was wrong. In fact, what Lisa did was very surprising and astonishing. She removed her top and bra, exposing her gorgeous self, and stood as close as she could to me, without being seen on camera. She was well endowed for a sixteen year old.
"Show us there's some speck of manliness in you STEPHEN!"
The camera rolled.
"I wanna be a girl. I wanna be a girl. I wanna be a girl!" I said continually as I played with myself.
And before long, I became erect.
Someone just couldn't contain herself and shouted, "Look, Stephie's got a stiffie!"
That caused a lot of laughter but Lisa didn't stop the filming.
Finally, I "shot my wad" to the sound of loud applause.
Lisa yelled "Cut!" and put her bra and top back on.
Her little striptease had worked and it was wonderful to see her topless. But it wasn't worth the price I had to pay for it.
-
Camp Sissy Curls (The Movie)--part 17
I stood there totally exhausted, wet from tears and sweat and the little bit of pee I'd done in my diapers during the video.
"Someone run a nice bubble bath for the sissy boy--need to get him squeaky clean for beddie bye." Said Lisa.
Minutes later, I was relaxing in a tub full of bubbles, with a shower cap over my curls to protect them. Two girls named Jenny and Melissa were gently bathing me all over, taking care to remove all of my makeup too.
It was actually quite soothing, especially after the performance I had just endured.
Bathed and dried, I was back in the main part of the cabin being powdered and diapered and pantied and redressed in my Teddie.
Jenny had tittered about the smallness of my "willy" when she diapered me.
"No wonder he wheres dresses and diapers!"
But that actually was the last snide remark I received for a long time.
By now, all the girls seemed calmed down and much less excited. They were all just sort of sitting around and chatting and doing all the "girl things" that girls did at a slumber party. They were setting each other's hair, painting each other's nails, talking about boys--normal stuff like that.
"Hi Stephie, I'm Sandy." Said a cute, short haired blondie as she approached me. She was holding my hairnet filled with my rollers.
"I know your hair needs to be set each night to keep your lovely curls fresh. Would you like me to set it for you?"
I nodded yes, thinking it would be a lot less work for me.
We sat on the floor, Sandy behind me, and she began winding the pink rollers into my hair.
"I'll touch up his fingernails and his toenails need polish to match." Volunteered another girl.
Under normal circ-umstances, having your hair set in rollers and your finger and toenails painted would be an awful experience for a boy. But no one was taunting or teasing me and they were treating me in a gentle way. Just like each other. I got the feeling that they even felt a little sorry for me and remorseful about what they'd put me through. I appreciated the TLC.
But unfortunately, it didn't last for long.
By the time my hair was set and hairnet in place and finger and toenails almost done, I started to feel The all too familiar "rumbling" inside me that meant that I needed to make use of my diapers, and soon.
I wiggled and squirmed and fidgeted as my fingernails dried and my toenails received their last coat of pink polish.
Lisa noticed and asked, "Stephie, do you need to use your diapers?"
The girls laughed and I just stared staight ahead and made no reply. Lisa knew I'd soon be using them.
"Let's get this on camera too!" Called Lisa.
Five minutes later, I was standing in front of the rolling camera again, suc-king on a pacifier and dancing about trying not to mess myself.
"Stephie, do you need to poop your diapers?" Lisa asked off camera.
My only reply was "sobbing.
"Well don't hold back Sweetie. That's why little girls like you wear diapers!. That's what they're for honey."
I so did not want to poop my diapers in front of everyone and have it caught on tape too. I struggled to contain myself. But I could tell I was losing the "Battle of the Diaper Bulge".
"Go on Babycakes, let it all out." Lisa coaxed.
I fought for a few more moments to keep from pooping, but I lost the battle.
With a very audible "grunt", I filled the seat of my diapers with a large stinky load and wet them thoroughly.
Lisa called, "Good girl, Little Miss Stinky Pants." And Lisa signaled and mouthed "Cut."
The great laughter of the girls was soon stifled by the smell and replaced with cries of "Phew!" and "Oooh, he stinks!" And they pinched their noses.
I stood in front of them in shock again from the shameful thing I'd done in my diapers. Nobody was willing to change my wet, poopy mess, and who could really blame them. I'd have to wait until morning to be changed back at the camp nursery.
"I'm sorry Steph," said Lisa, "but we can't have you sleeping here in the cabin and stinking up the place all night."
A cot was set up out in the screened-in porch. It was a warm night and coldness wouldn't be a factor. I was led to it by several, nose pinched, girls and placed on it, with a blanket over me and my Raggedy Ann tucked under my arm. A girl proceeded to fix a long length of light chain securely around one of my ankles and locked it with a small padlock. She did the same with the other end around a wall beam.
"Can't have you running off in the night." She quipped.
Yeah, I thought, like I'd run away in wet, poopy diapers and curlers and a Teddy. It was a very long, uncomfortable wet stinky night for me.
The next morning, sun up and shining, Lisa came out to the porch holding her nose and yawning.
"C'mon Poopy Pants, I'll walk you back to your camp. A nanny can change your horrid diapers." And she unlocked the chain and tossed me some flip flops for the trek.
As we walked over the meadow to camp, she had me walk four or five paces behind her, wanting to stay "upwind" of me. She carried my dress on a hanger and I, my diaper bag.
My pee soaked diapers were leaking down my legs. I couldn't tell if my other "diaper deposit" was doing the same.
Not many, but some "boys" at camp were already out and about. As before, they gave hushed giggles at the sight of me, but said nothing--lest they might wind up like pitiful me.
In the nursery, a nanny fanned her nose and laughed. "Well Stephie, did you have fun at your first slumber party?"
Her sarcastic question required no answer and I just hung my head in shame and "stink" as Lisa bade "Good Bye!"
The nanny took my diaper bag and dress and hung it up. To my surprise and shock, she removed only my nitegown; leaving me just as I was in my bra, rollers, stinky soggy diapers, rhumba panties and flip flops.
"Ms Roberts' expecting you in her office stinky boy. March!"
Standing in front of Ms Roberts, she held her nose like everyone else and spoke.
"Since you can't seem to control your, shall I say, bodily functions Missy, I'm going to make an example out of you."
"But nobody lets me use a toilet!' I replied in great frustration.
She was stymied by my reply and hesitated for a moment. "Don't you dare talk back to me--you stinky little sissy!"
And I didn't dare to say any more.
She regrouped herself and continued.
"You're going to be left like that until bedtime. You'll spend your day on the playground. A little fresh air will do you some good and everyone else too. You can play with the other campers, though I doubt they'll oblige you in your current state. You'll be seated outdoors for your lunch and dinner so you won't stink up the cafeteria. And that's the only time I'll expect to see you sitting. You're to wander the camp so everyone gets a good look at you."
With that said, she took from her desk a fairly large piece of cardboard and punched two holes in the top corners. With a red, felt tip marker, she printed something on it. She attached a long piece of of pink yarn to the holes, creating a big loop. Holding her breath, she hung it around my neck in front, just under my bra.
I spent the rest of the day, almost in a trance, wandering around the camp in my wet, sticky mess.
My sign read: "Caution--wet, poopy diapers!"
I realized my humiliation had no bounds!
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part18
Except for a half hour each for a bagged lunch and dinner under the shade of a tree, I spent the next eight or more hours walking aimlessly, well more "waddling" I suppose, around the camp.
I was totally wet from the waste down and stunk beyond belief. My diapers sagged and drooped greatly and the sag increased as the day went on and I had to wet and poop more.
I certainly didn't engage any of my fellow campers, in the condition I was in. And likewise, they kept away, and up wind of me. They only just pointed to me and giggled girlishly and then went about their games or activities. I so envied them in their pink pleated skirts and panties and camp T-shirts. They were dressed in simple age appropriate, for a real girl at least, outfits. And they were clean.
While the "boys" at my camp pretty much left me alone, any visiting girls from Camp Sunnyvale who happened to see me teased me mercilously--from afar though to avoid my "scent". Several made me pose as they took my picture with their digital cameras and made wisecracks about my smelly diapers and the sign I wore around my neck.
It was probably after 6PM when I heard over the camp loudspeaker system, "Stephanie Crandall please report to the camp nursery."
Reprieve I thought and gladly made my way there as quickly as I could waddle, being careful though to assure that the horrid "brown" contents of my diapers remained within them and my rhumba panties.
A nanny met me at the door holding a bar of soap, a towel and a black plastic trash bag. She held her nose and said, "Stop right there Missy! You're not stepping foot in here like that."
She directed my around to back of the building where a faucet and hose were. Not getting too near, she tossed me the soap and the bag. She told me to open the large bag, remove my flip flops and step into it. And I did.
"Now carefully take off your bra and pull off your rhumba panties Stephanie and toss them on the grass." That done, she continued. "Now pull those awful diapers down to your ankles and off, keeping them in the bag." And I did.
She then had me step out of the bag and told me to tie it with the drawstrings and had me throw it into a nearby dumpster.
"We're gonna do a little prewash before taking you inside for a thorough cleaning." But then she remembered something. "Oops, I forgot your shower cap." She left me naked there and hurried back inside and returned a minute later.
"Now take the soap. I'll spray some water your way and you wash your poopy hands completely." With my hands clean from pulling off my diapers, she tossed me the shower cap to put over my hairnet and curlers.
"While I spray you, you srub yourself thoroughly. Every knook and cranny of your body."
The water was cold but it was still quite warm outside and I didn't care. I was naked and this was all very humiliating, but I didn't care. I was just so glad to be clean and out of those horrible, stinky diapers. It took a long time you get clean but eventually I was done. As I dried myself with the towel, the nanny hosed off my rhumba panties and placed them in a small plastic bag to go into the wash later. And she threw the bar of soap in the dumpster. She gathered my things and we headed inside. I wore the towel around me.
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in a tub full of very pretty smelling bubbles for a final cleaning. It felt wonderful and I wished I could sit there for hours. But I had to be made ready for bedtime. My hair would not have to be set though, as I still had it in rollers from the night before.
Diapered, teeth brushed and dressed for bed; I was glad to be put into my crib early. I was exhausted and slept like a baby, literally.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part19
8:00AM, I was awakened by the flash of lights being turned on and the sound of nannies moving about and the now familiar smell of soggy, stinky diapers. As I counted in my head to determine that this was only the start of my fourth day at this hellish camp, I was very pleased to realize that the diaper smell wasn't coming from me. My diapers were still clean and dry and I felt no urgent need to use them either. I was thrilled.
A nanny stood over me and stuck a few fingers into the front of my diapers. "Wow! Good girl Stephanie. You didn't mess your didees. I'm very proud of you sweetie."
And I actually was proud of me too.
"Well," she continued, "you've earned yourself a reward Stephie."
I cynically wondered if that "reward" would really be something I'd like. And I was soon to discover that it truly was a reward for me.
I was taken from the crib and totally stripped of everything I had on, including my still clean diapers. The nanny then took a pair of panties (bloomers, she called them) and had me step into them. They were yellow gingham cotton and had white lace around the waste and leg openings. Certainly little girlish, but not as frilly and prissy as the rhumba panties I had been wearing. And best of all, they weren't covering diapers. They weren't even designed for that purpose. I was diaper free and it felt so good. I even smiled as I looked down at them. To be happy about such a thing seemed incredulous I knew, but it was a big improvement in my situation.
Next came a training bra, white anklets with lace cuffs that matched my panties, and white sandals.
The final garment also matched my panties. It was a yellow gingham cotton dress with a white Peter Pan collar and white trim on the cuffs of the short puffed sleeves. It had a sewn in, fairly full, white petticoat. But, at least, it wasn't as voluminous as the petticoats I'd worn before. The dress reached down to just above the white lace trim on the leg openings of my bloomers. My outfit was still very little girlish, but not nearly as frilly and prissy and "busy" as the pink satin party dress. And it was a lot more comfortable to have on.
It wasn't the simple pleated skirt and top that most boys wore, but it was a step up for me. No diapers was the best though.
The nanny removed my curlers and did my hair. She tied a large yellow gingham bow to the top of my head. It matched my dress perfectly.
"Ms Roberts wants"
"I know." I said interrupting the nanny (though not rudely), "She wants to meet me in her office."
I was so happy to be out of diapers and more simply dressed, that I found myself almost skipping to her office. Realizing this, I slowed to a normal walk and chastised myself for doing such a girlish thing.
Standing in front of her desk, Ms Roberts complimented me.
"Your new outfit looks good on you Stephanie." And she paused for a moment.
Expecting her to continue, I offered no reply. But she was indeed expecting a reply.
"A thank you and a curtsey would be in order now Stephanie."
And I did so, almost genuinely too.
She continued, "I thought about what you said yesterday about not being allowed to use the toilet, which by the way, we refer to as the 'potty' here at camp. And since you didn't mess your diapers over night, I've decided to give you the chance to prove you don't need them."
She paused and I picked up on her cue.
"Thank you Ms Roberts." And I curtsied again.
"Furthermore, I'm going to put you into the general population of the camp."
She sounded like a prison warden I thought. But then--this place was like a prison--a sissy prison.
"You'll be bunking in Sugar Plum cabin. It's just out the main door and to your left, about a hundred yards down the path. You'll find it on your right, just past Tinkerbell cabin. The counselor there is waiting for you. You can leave now and stay dry."
"Yes Ms Roberts. Thank you." And I gave a final curtsey.
I headed for Sugar Plum cabin. Many boys, in their regulation pleated skirts and camp T-shirts, passed by me in the opposite direction. I figured they were headed for breakfast. I noticed that their skirts were navy blue. I'd seen khaki tan, and pink and now, navy blue skirts. I wondered if there was a different color for each day of the week.
I could tell they all recognized me from my venture around the camp in poopy diapers yesterday. They giggled a little at me in my little girl dress but some, for the first time, actually spoke to me in passing. And not unkindly.
"Congratulations." Said one.
"Big improvement." Said another.
"You must be so glad to be out of diapers." Said yet another.
One even stopped and asked me what cabin I was headed for. And he pointed it out and said, but not in mocking, "Be sure to keep your panties dry."
I reached my cabin and standing on the steps of the entrance was a tall, long haired brunette girl, 15 or 16 maybe, in short shorts and a tank top that covered her ample cleavage. Her hair was braided into two long pigtails that reached to her bosom. She was breathtaking, even more gorgeous than Lisa and the girls at Hummingbird cabin.
"You must be little Stephanie!" She said. And she walked down the steps and knelt in front of me, busily fingering my dress and fondling my curls like a mother would her little daughter. I was struck by how much these girls from Sunnyvale liked to dote on (and torment too) little girlie boys like me.
"You look absolutely adorable and smell so sweet!" She gushed. "A huge improvement from yesterday."
She took my hands in hers and continued. "My name's Christine but everyone calls me Chrissy. We sort of met yesterday. I took a picture of you in your---well---you know. But you probably don't remember me."
I didn't remember her specifically, as I was in a daze most of yesterday.
"I'm the intern counselor for Sugar Plum cabin. I'm from Sunnyvale and I'm a friend of Lisa and Sarah."
She then stood up and put her hands on her hips and said, "Welcome to the camp, I guess you all know why we're here!"
Her statement seemed a bit odd and was lost on me.
That said, she took my hand and walked me up the stairs and inside.
Things were "looking up" I thought---and so was my little "Tommy" inside my panties.
Author's note: Sorry, I couldn't resist. Ardent fans of "The Who" will understand and oblige me yet another song reference.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part20
The inside of the cabin was a rectangle, with rows of single beds and small dressers and closet shelves on either side of the center aisle.
Each cabin, Chrisssy told me, housed twelve campers.
"Your bunk mates are all at breakfast now. We'll get you situated and then I'll take you there."
She led me to a vacant bed.
"Here's your bed Stephanie and your dresser and shelf to hang things on. We'll get the few things you have from the nursery later on. But you'll need more . The showers and potties are over there." And she pointed to a back corner of the cabin.
Then she took me by the hand and walked me over to the cafeteria for breakfast.
With a tray of scrambled eggs, toast, cereal and juice in my hand, Chrissy directed me over to a table that was designated for Sugar Plum cabin. She introduced me to the group and I sat and ate.
I felt out of place, being new and being dressed as I was. I consoled myself with the fact that what I had on was a whole lot better than what I'd worn the previous three days. But I so did envy them their simple skirts and tops. And simpler hairdos---ponytails and pigtails and braids and some even had curls like mine. But none wore ribbons or barrettes in their hair like I did.
Chrissy sat down next to me, sipping a cup of coffee. The other boys largely ignored me and just chattted as they ate.
"When you're done with breakfast," Chrissy said, "we need to get you a few more things." And she fondled one of my sausage curls.
I finished, returned my tray, and Chrissy took my hand.
"C'mon sweetie, gotta catch the camp shuttle bus!"
I pulled back from her grip in fear and started to tear up.
"Relax Stephie. It'll be okay. Trust me."
As we rode the shuttle, Chrissy explained, "Ms Roberts wants you to have a few more dresses like you're wearing now--only in pink and blue gingham. We're going to a clothing shop that carries them. They also carry a line of uniforms--school, scouting---that sort of thing. The camp shops there a lot. The boys skirts and camp T-shirts come from there. It's in the Mall."
"Nooo, please not the Mall. Please---not the Mall again!" I pleaded and started to cry.
"Now calm down Stephie, and listen to me." And she wiped my face with a tissue.
"You know that if you walk and talk and act and behave like a little girl, no one will know you're really a boy. We'll pretend that you're my little sister."
I seriously doubted what she said but I knew I had no choice.
"You can do this sweetie." And she gave me a little hug. And she smelled wonderful. That did give me some comfort.
I took a big gulp of air as we entered the Mall, holding Chrissy's hand. I did my very best to be as little girlish as I could. I walked, almost skipped, with a slight wiggle. I played with the skirt of my dress and petties. I fondled and tossed my curls. I stuck a finger in the corner of my mouth. I did everything I could muster to appear as a real little girl.
As we walked the Mall, all I could think of was the humiliating experience I had there just days before. I avoided eye contact as much as I could. But to my surprise, and relief, people pretty much paid no attention to me. A few women did give a smile as they passed by us and I tensed and squeezed Chrissy's hand very tightly.
"Relax Stephanie, " she whispered in my ear, "they're just smiling at the sight of a very cute little girl walking through the Mall with her big sister."
And it seemed that she was right and I felt a bit more confident.
We reached the shop we were headed for, walked in and were greeted by a sales lady. "Can I help you two?"
"Yes please. Stephanie here needs two dresses just like she's wearing, only one in pink gingham and one in blue gingham. I'm sure you have them here." And Chrissy handed her a credit card and added, "It'll go on this account."
The sales lady looked at the credit card and said, "Yes, we have them. Follow me please."
We walked past several customers, all apparently non the wiser about me. When we reached the rack of dresses like mine, the sales lady looked at Chrissy and asked, "What size does HE take?"
I gasped and held my hands to my face. She knew I was a boy!
Chrissy lifted the curls at the back of my neck and looked at the tag on my dress collar and told her "Size 12 please."
Then Chrissy whispered again in my ear. "Don't fret Precious. The credit card I showed her is for the Camp Sissy Curls account that we have here.
When she saw it, she realized the situation. Calm down, they're used to us bringing our special little 'boys' here for dresses and such."
It was little consolation to me but at least being "outed" as a boy wasn't my fault. But it still made me very anxious and uncomfortable.
With a pink and a blue size 12 in her hands, the sales lady escorted us to the dressing rooms. "These are HIS size, but HE should still try them on just to make sure they fit HIM properly." She told Chrissy.
"His" and "He" and "Him", I thought, wishing she wouldn't use those words.
Two girls, probably about my own "real" age, were looking at skirts on a nearby rack. "He can't really be a boy, could he?" Said one to the other. And they both giggled. They had heard the sales lady.
We reached the dressing room only to discover that it was quite crowded. All the changing booths were occupied.
The sales lady made a suggestion. "He", and realizing her mistake from moments before, "Ah, I mean SHE can just try them on out here. It's not unusual for little girls to try things on out here with their mothers or big sisters around. Happens all the time."
Then she knelt down in front of me and squeezed my now tear streaked cheeks in her hands and said, "Besides, we're all girls here. Right Stephanie?"
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part21
Sensing my apprehension, Chrissy said to the sales lady, "Let me try. She's just a little shy."
Chrissy then knelt in front of me and gently kissed me on the cheek. "It's okay to try them on out here Stephie. You heard the nice lady, it's done all the time. Besides, Chrissy's here, you'll be fine!"
I pouted like a little girl, and I wasn't acting. I shook my head and squeaked, "No."
"Please do this for your big sister. I know you can. And besides, there's not a lot of time before we have to catch the bus back. Waiting for an open dressing booth will take forever. C'mon Sweetie Pie, do it for Chrissy."
And before I even realized it, she had my dress up over my head and off.
Standing there in just my bloomers and training bra was very embarrassing and I was relieved when the pink dress was quickly put on me.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it pumpkin." Chimed the sales lady as she inspected the dress.
Satisfied with how it fit, she lifted it off me and put it back on its hanger.
"Now for the blue." She said.
As she took it from the hanger, she noticed a little snag in the hem of it and pointed it out to Chrissy and said, "It's the only blue size 12 that we have. Let me just run it to the back and I'll take care of it. I promise I won't be long!" And off she ran with it before I could even protest.
While I stood there, totally embarrassed, I became aware of a sensation in my bloomers. And it wasn't the "rumblings" of a need to pee or even to poop.
As seconds turned into a minute, I heard a shopper nearby gasp and she cried, "Oh my gosh!"
Chrissy and I both looked down at the front of my panties at the same time.
Chrissy squealed, "Oh jeez!" And quickly stepped in front of me.
The front of my bloomers was sticking out like a tent. And my "willy" was the tent pole. It was very noticeably erect.
"For God's sake Stephie, get your little "thing" under control. It's a dead giveaway!" Chrissy said in almost a whisper, not wanting to draw even more attention.
But I had no way to control it. The best I could do was to hold my hands in front of my bulging bloomers.
The sales lady returned with the dress just a minute later, though it felt like an hour. But in just that short time, my "woody" was even bigger and a small wet "prec-um" stain had appeared on the front of my panties.
"Arms up honey. Let's try this one now." And she gasped as I lifted them up.
"Oh dear God!" she cried and quickly put the dress on me. But not quick enough to prevent a lot of shoppers from seeing my "tented" panites and wet mark.
To the sound of much giggling, and scorn too, from the shoppers around me; I heard the one girl who wondered earlier about me say to the other, "I don't believe it. She really IS a boy!"
The sales lady and Chrissy did their best to get me back into my original dress and out of the shop with my new ones as quickly as possible.
"Bye bye sissy boy!" called the girls. "You're very pretty!"
"Pervert!" growled a lady.
Out in the Mall, Chrissy took me to a bench and wiped my tears and tried to console me. But I couldn't stop crying. I was so embarrassed and humiliated.
"I'm so sorry Stephie. But there's no way I could have known that your little "thing" would do that. I know it was awful for you. But at least, back out here no one will know you're a boy." And she added in jest and to brighten my mood, "Unless your "stiffie" is big enough to poke through your dress and petticoats!"
I didn't find it funny and it didn't brighten my mood.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part22
When I was finally calmed down and composed, Chrissy stood up and took my hand and fondled my curls and kissed me on the forehead.
"C'mon Stephie, you seem fine now. Let's head for the exit. The shuttle bus should be waiting for us." And she tugged on my arm. "Just remember sweetie, act like my cute little sister and that's how people will perceive you."
And fortunately, like when we entered the Mall, nobody seemed to think I was anything other than a pretty little girl. As before, the only real attention I got was smiles from a few women. And they were genuinely kind ones. Smiles at the sight of a big sister walking her sweet little sister along.
If those ladies had seen me earlier at the clothing shop, they'd certainly not be fondly smiling at us I thought.
As we neared the Mall exit, I realized I had to pee. There were restrooms just before it and I figured it would be wise for me to use them. And I was even a little eager to use a toilet again for the first time in four days.
I stopped and looked up at Chrissy. "Please, I need to use the toilet Chrissy. I need to pee."
"Potty sweetie. Remember, we call it the potty."
"Potty," I corrected, "I need to use the potty." And I pulled my hand from hers and started heading for the Men's Room.
"Hold on there Steph! Just where on earth do you think you're going?" She asked, as she quickly took back my hand.
A man who was just exiting the Mens Room heard Chrissy and looked down at me and smiled. "Wrong room honey."
"Sorry Mister, she's not old enough to read yet." Chrissy told him.
"No problem girls." And he went on his way, non the wiser.
"Sweetie Pie," Chrissy scolded, though not in a harsh way, "You gotta use the Ladies Room now."
She was right of course. And I felt a little foolish but said softly, almost in a whisper, "But I can't use the Ladies Room, I'm not really a girl."
"True," She whispered back to me, "but you can't use the Mens Room looking like you do. You have no choice, other than to pee your panties."
She was right again, of course. With her arm around my shoulder, she guided me into the Ladies Room.
"Don't worry Steph. It'll be fine. Chrissy's with you." She said, referring to herself in the third person, which seemed to be becoming a habit of hers.
A lady just washing up looked at us and beamed. We both just smiled back. She left, leaving us alone thankfully. It felt so strange, and a bit scary, being in a Ladies Room. Dumb as it sounds, I was struck by the fact that there were no urinals on the wall. Chrissy walked me to a Handicapped stall.
"I know a Handicapped stall isn't meant for us Stephie, but I try to use them whenever I can." And she opened the stall door. "They're always much cleaner because they don't get used a lot. And there's more room in them too."
Right again. It was clean and spacious. I thought only a girl would think of that. I walked in and lifted the toilet seat up and expected her to close the stall door behind her as she left.
"Put that back down Stephanie. Girls pee sitting down."
I groaned and put the lid back down.
"Okay, I can handle it from here now Chrissy." I said sarcastically, expecting her to leave.
"Oh really? Is that so?" She said with some anger in her tone. "So you think you can manage and control your poufie dress and petticoats and get your bloomers down and get seated by yourself without getting dirty and messed up, huh! I think not, little sis."
She bolted the door behind us.
"But you can't expect me to pee in front of you!" I gasped, even though I had suffered even worse indignities in front of girls as of late.
"Well I'm just glad you don't have to POOP!" She snarled. "Now lift your dress and petties up all around you and hold them there."
I begrudgingly did and she pulled my panties down to my ankles and said "Sit."
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part23
I started to sit down, holding my dress and petties about me with my arms.
"Don't let go of them Stephie." Chrissy warned.
My little "girlie weiner" was still very hard and when I sat, it just protruded up above the toilet seat.
"God Stephie!" She said, as she took hold of it and tucked it under the lid. "We gotta do something about that "woody" of yours." And I noticed a slight smile on her face and was happy that she seemed less angry.
"Now pee Sweetie and keep your outfit up. Don't let go of it."
I was very embarrassed to do it with her watching me, but I was glad she had called me "Sweetie". It meant she wasn't really angry with me anymore.
When the sound of "tinkling" ended, she smiled and said, "All done honeybunch?"
I smiled back and nodded, "yes".
"Good girl. Now stand up and keep your dress and petties up around you."
I did and she reached for some toilet paper and dried off the tip of my "woody". And it still was, to my surprise and maybe hers too, a "woody". She tossed the toilet paper into the bowl, flushed it and then reached into her purse and pulled out small foil packet and tore it open. It was a baby wipe.
"Girls need to be nice and clean in their private areas." She said, gently wiping my entire "thing" with it.
She smiled as she cleaned it and I smiled too. I'd be a liar if I said I didn't enjoy her caressing my weiner. And it got even stiffer.
She finished cleaning me and said, "Don't let your dress down. I want to get some paper towels." I could only figure that she must want them to dry my "thing" with. And she left the stall and quickly returned with a small stack of towels.
Before she bolted the stall door again, she took a last look out it and said, to herself really, "Good, the coast is still clear."
All this seemed very curious to me now. And even more so when she unfolded the paper towels and placed them on the floor in front of me, creating almost a floor mat.
But the most curious thing was what she said and did next. She knelt on the paper towels and put her face right smack in front of my swollen "willy".
She smiled and said, "I have to confess sweetie that I have a great, shall I say, passion for pretty little "girlie boys" like you. And it's time to take care of that stiff girlie weiner of yours Stephie!" And she opened her mouth and then closed it around my weiner.
"No!" I gasped.
And I quickly, but gently, pushed her head back. I was very, very naive and I couldn't begin to fathom why a girl would want to do such a seemingly gross thing to a boy.
Chrissy looked up at me and smiled and said softly, "Hush Stephanie. Don't be afraid. I promise you, you're going to really enjoy this!"
I moaned and closed my eyes as she put it into her mouth again. She went "at it" like it was a Popsicle on a hot summer's day. I was so very confused, but I did indeed find it quite enjoyable.
I was panting and I moaned and sighed with great pleasure. After probably only a minute or so, my weiner was to the point where it was going to erupt . Chrissy sensed this and, with perfect timing, removed her mouth and pulled up my bloomers just as I squirted my c-um, for all I was worth, into them.
Chrissy smiled at me and sighed and took a deep breath. She whispered. "See, I told you you'd enjoy it Stephie."
And as strange as it all was to me, she certainly was right.
Both of us were sweaty and exhausted but we quickly cleaned and straightened ourselves up to get out of there as fast as we could. I don't know, and maybe Chrissy didn't either, if anyone had come in while we were so "busily engaged". But it was empty when we left. Chrissy carried my dresses.
As we boarded the shuttle bus, the driver growled, "You're late."
"I'm very sorry." Chrissy replied "But something unexpectedly came UP!" And she grinned at me and said, "And I had to take care of it."
We sat alone in the bus, at the very back. I held her hand and whispered, "Thank you, it was wonderful." And I added, "And thanks for pulling your mouth off when I started to--ah--well--you know. That would have been awfully gross for you."
She giggled and whispered sweetly, "Oh, my precious naive little sissy boy. I knew you'd feel that way about it. But you'll soon learn."
She smiled and kissed my cheek as she twirled a ringlet on my forehead.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part24
We arrived back at camp about twenty minutes before dinner. I was hungry, as we hadn't eaten lunch at the Mall.
"We'll head back to the cabin," Chrissy said as we got off the bus, "and hang up your new dresses and freshen up a bit before dinner."
Nobody was around in the cabin.
"Good, everyone's left for dinner. They like to get there early to get a good place in the cafeteria line." Chrissy said. "Now take off your knickers Stephie and give them to me."
"Take off my what???" I asked.
"Panties--bloomers--knickers, they're all the same thing. I'll use a little soap and water and clean off the sticky "little girl juice" stain."
"But I can't wear wet panties to dinner." I said.
"Don't worry Steph, I'm just gonna use a little water and soap in the front to get them clean. We'll dry them with my blow dryer and they'll be good as new."
I removed my "knickers" and handed them to her.
"Come on to the bathroom, you can wash up while I clean these."
I washed my face and hands while she washed my sticky panties.
She finished and said, "I'll get my blow dryer and you can dry them and put them back on while I get cleaned up."
Tens minute later, we were headed for the cafeteria. As we stood in line, Chrissy primped my curls and adjusted my hairbow. Then she took a lipstick from her purse and said, "Look at me Stephie and purse your lips. Let's give 'em a little color."
"Purse??? You want me to stick my lips into your PURSE???" I replied.
She laughed. "Oh man Stephie! You got a lot to learn---PUCKER your lips."
And she demonstrated and then applied the pink lipstick to my "pursed" lips.
Like at breakfast, I felt out of place, looking like a five year old little girl while everybody else was dressed like teenaged girls. But then I thought about the one year old baby girls in the nursery. They'd feel out of place around me. I promised myself that I'd get "promoted" to being a teenage girl.
Chrissy sat next to me at the Sugar Plum cabin table again. And again, the "boys" didn't really say anything to me. But one boy across the table from me did.
"What's your name Sport? And how old are you?"
"I'm Stephanie. I'm five years old."
Everyone who heard me, including Chrissy, laughed loudly.
"No Sport." He chuckled, "I mean your real name and age."
Now feeling really out of place and very silly, I answered "Oh, my name's Stephen. I'm thirteen." I had told a bit of a white lie, being technically still twelve. But my birthday was actually in just a few days and "thirteen" was close enough. And some birthday it would be I thought.
Chrissy giggled and whispered in my ear, "You DO have a lot to learn sweetie. But don't fret. You will." And she kissed me on the cheek.
"Ooooooooooh!" I heard from the boys around me who saw it.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part25
With dinner ended, all of us were to report to a large, open-spaced building called the "aud' to watch a DVD movie on a large screen projection system. The movie was "Anne of Green Gables", a film adaptation of the novel. Definitely a "girls" flick.
I seated myself alone and way in the back to be as inconspicuous as possible. Chrissy didn't attend and didn't have to like we did.
"Seen it many times. Got better things to do." She had said.
I paid very little attention to the movie. It certainly wasn't anything that interested me.
Instead, I watched the audience. I found that there seemed to be two "camps" within it. One "camp" that just sat there with mind numbing looks on their faces. And a second "camp" that was quite engrossed with the movie. They tittered and "ooohhed" and "aaahed" and girlishly giggled at the parts of the movie that seemed to particularly catch their fancy. In short, they were really into it.
After the movie, we were sent back to our cabins for a little free time and to get ready for bed. This was the first real opportunity to spend time with my new bunk mates and I was pretty nervous and shy about it. I sat quietly on my bed and just did more observing.
Sure enough, within the cabin there seemed to be two camps--some boys who gabbed about hairstyles and cosmetics and pretty clothes and such. And others, who talked about sports and action movies and NASCAR and stuff like that. The "NASCAR circuit" suited me more.
As I sat watching, the boy whose bed was to my right sat down on it.
"Hi Stephie! I'm Felicity." He gushed as he set his "American Girl" magazine on his bed cover. "Welcome to Sugar Plum cabin honey." And he daintily held out his hand and I shook it. "Your dresses are absolutely scrumptious Stephanie. I almost envy you."
And he picked up his magazine and started to thumb through it. "There's one just like the one you're wearing in here I think."
"That's okay Felicity. Ah--excuse me but I gotta pee."
"You mean use the potty." He corrected.
"Ah yeah--potty." I said and I quickly headed for the bathroom with no real need to use it. It was sure obvious what camp he was in.
I just washed up a little in the lav and returned to my bed about five minutes later. Felicity, fortunately, had left his bed for the company of other "girls".
But now, to the left of me sat another boy on his bed. He laughed at me. "That hair and outfit of yours is really something kid. It must be awful."
He held out his hand. "I'm Jean Marie--well "James" really. How long you think your gonna be kept as a little girl?"
"I hope not long." I said as I shook his hand.
"Yeah, sure can't blame you." And he got up and took a towel from his dresser. "Gotta shower. Catch you later maybe."
I smiled. His camp was obvious too. As I sat there thinking I should probably start setting my hair, which I so did not want to do, it dawned on me---"One girl was called Jean Marie. Another little girl was Felicity." I was actually awe struck by the coincidence.
I groaned and got up to fetch my curlers and a nitey from my dresser for bedtime. A lot of boys were busy with their hair too, undoing their pigtails or ponytails or braids. Two boys, with sausage curls and ringlets like me, simply removed their. They wore wigs, as their real hair was too short to do anything with. I sighed thinking how conspicuous I'd be as the only one in rollers and a hairnet.
I quickly undressed and slipped into my frilly nitey and matching panties and hung up my dress. I sat on my bed and perched the handle of a hand mirror between my bent up knees and started winding the horrid pink curlers into my hair.
"Want some help with that Stephie?" Someone called merrily from across the cabin.
"No thanks Felicity. I can manage."
It took forever but I finished just before lights out.
At 10PM, Chrissy emerged form her bedroom and turned out the lights.
"Nighty night girls. Sleep tight and don't let the hair curlers bite!--Well, at least you Stephie."
The cabin had one last laugh at my expense before bedtime.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part26
The next morning, day five actually, I got up and showered, brushed my teeth and took out my rollers. I dressed myself exactly as I had been dressed the day before, only it was the pink gingham dress today.
Chrissy had told me, "Just follow the pattern of yellow--pink--blue, yellow--pink--blue everyday. That'll be your camp outfit until you graduate to what most of the other boys wear." And I so hoped that would be soon.
After breakfast, where surprisingly and pleasantly, some boys had talked to me; it was out to the playing fields for recreation.
I didn't engage in any sports/games. I couldn't. I wasn't dressed to play a game of kickball or soccer or the like. I just sat nearby and watched. Once more, I was struck by the two "camps" that existed within the one.
There were the boys who, despite their pigtails and ponytails and panties and bras and skirts, played games of kickball or soccer or softball like normals boys.
And then there were the boys who played other games like Hopscotch or Jumprope or a sissy little version of tag. Or they just sat under shady trees reading girl books or magazines. Some even colored with crayons in coloring books.
There was a group of girl "Wannabees" and a group of girl "Don't Wannabees" and they largely just ignored each other.
Over the next few days, some significant things happened. For one, I turned thirteen. No one knew of my birthday and that was the way I wanted it. There was no reason to celebrate it here at this horrible place. But one evening I found a UPS package sitting on my bed. The return address was mine. It contained a birthday gift wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a pink envelope taped to it from my stepmother. The front of the card read "Birthday Wishes for My Precious Little Girl". Inside, my stepmother wrote: "Hope you're having fun at camp, Sweetheart. Laura and I look forward to visitng you soon! I hope you like your birthday gift."
It was a pink, very frilly panites and bra set from Victoria's Secret. The apparent appalling unappreciated apparel appealed to me in no way. (sorry--I know it's stupid but I couldn't resist)
A second significant thing was that I made a real effort to associate myself with the "Don't Wannabees". And I had some success with it. I didn't really join in their games, again due to my clothes and the fact that I was small and scrawny and poor at sports. But they allowed me to keep score, be a waterboy, run errands for them, stuff like that. I was actually bonding with them. They even talked to me at meals or during free time in the cabin before bed. I sat with them during the mind numbing "girl" movies.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part27
A couple of days into my second week, I saw Lisa, whom I hadn't seen since the day after the excruciating slumber party. She was watching, from a distance, the softball game I was involved with.
After about fifteen minutes of watching the game, and more specifically me; she walked over and called, "Stephie, c'mon over here please. I haven't seen you in a long time!"
I really wasn't very eager to see her but she was an administrative intern here and I had to obey her. I put down the score card I was keeping and walked to her.
"Hi Stephie. Long time no see!" She gushed.
"Hi Lisa." Was all I replied.
She took my hand and said, "C'mon, let's go for a walk and catch up."
As we walked in the direction of the cabins, she quizzed me on how things were going and what I'd been up to and about the friends I'd made.
Before I knew it, we were standing in front of Sugar Plum cabin.
"Take me in Steph and show me where you sleep."
No one was around. As we stood in front of my bed, she eyed the clothes rack where my gingham dresses and pink satin party dress and its very full petticoat hung. She walked to the clothes rack and fondled the party dress and oohhed, "So pretty, but I guess not very practical for day to day use."
Then she took the hanger with the very huge poufie petticoat off the rack and laid it on my bed and looked at me in a very sinister way.
"I bet you miss this pettie! Slip off your sandals sissy boy and lift up your dress nice and high."
I started to cry, having a pretty good idea of what was coming next.
"Nooo, please don't Lisa, please don't!" I sobbed and begged.
She slapped my face. "It'll be your rear end next if you don't stop arguing with me."
She removed the hanger and set the massive petticoat in front of me.
"Now lift up your dress and step into it."
"No, I won't. And besides, my dress already has a petticoat sewn into it." I defiantly said. "I won't wear it, not even if you spank me."
I'd grown bolder from my association with my new friends.
"Well actually Steph," she replied in a calmer tone, "although it would be fun, I don't really need to spank your little girlie fanny. Or have you forgotten about the multiple copies of your VIDEO that I have?"
I said nothing. I only cried and groaned as I lifted up my dress and stepped into the petticoat.
Just minutes later, I was walking back toward the playing field holding Lisa's hand. In my other hand I was carrying a box of crayons and a "My Little Pony" coloring book.
My already full gingham dress was now more than twice as full. The skirt of it was almost parallel to the ground. The mountain of poufie organza petticoating that supported it was in clear view, as was most of my bloomers.
As I "swished and swayed" my way back toward the playing field and fought with my petticoats for control once again, Lisa warned me. "Now you do as I say, sissy boy, and don't argue with me. And don't forget your video!"
I was crying uncontrolably as we reached the field.
"Please don't do this to me Lisa." I begged. Though I had yet to find out exactly what she had in mind, I knew it would be awful.
"Go set your coloring book and crayons under that tree," and she pointed, "where those girlie boys are coloring and curtsey to them and say hello."
She pointed again. "Then go over to those sissy boys playing Hopscotch and curtsey and introduce yourself and ask if you can join in their game."
"Please, pleassssse no." I pleaded.
She devilishly smiled, "The video Steph. The video."
And she wiped my tears with a tissue from her purse and said, with a pat on the back of my dress, "Off you go Sweetie. You need to make some NEW friends."
I had no choice. I had to do this or the world would see my video. I started toward the tree, only to be called back by Lisa.
"I forgot one other thing Stephie. You're not to tell anyone that I forced you to do this. If you tell anyone, believe me--I'll find out. And believe me--you'll live to regret it. Now go play Hopscotch with your NEW friends until they tire of it. Then you can sit down and color in your coloring book. Maybe after lunch, they'll let you jump rope with them. Remember, I'll be watching!"
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part28
I walked over to the boys playing Hopscoth and curtseyed.
"Hi, I'm Stephanie. I wonder if I could--ah--well--maybe--ah--play Hopscotch with you."
"Hi Stephie! Silly girl, we know who you are. I'm Danielle and this is Roberta." Pointing to her playmate. "Of course you can join us to play." And Danielle put her arms around me and gave me a hug.
As she embraced me, I cringed at the thought of the words "join us" that she had used.
"Your dress is even prettier with the extra petties Stephanie." Smiled Roberta, as she too gave me a hug.
"Find yourself a stone and join in the game." Said Danielle.
As we played the game, I knew I was making an incredible spectacle of myself and I couldn't help it. With every hop and jump and turn, my dress and petticoats bounced up and down wildly. Of course, bending over to pick up or throw the stone put my panties on full display. Even my sausage curls and ringlets seemed to dance with extra vigor.
Even Danielle and Roberta and the other "Wannabees" giggled and blushed at the embarrassing sight I was making. And I didn't want to contemplate what the "Don't Wannabees" were thinking.
Finally, I think out of pity for me, Danielle said, "Let's take a break."
As we walked to the shade of the tree, I could see Lisa in the distance smiling and the softball players with awe struck looks of disbelief on their faces.
"Wow Stephie!" Said Roberta. "That was quite a display you made. But I do love how prissy you look! I almost envy you."
"Let's relax and do some coloring." Suggested Danielle.
I sat down and everything I was wearing ballooned up around me. Other girlie boys joined us to "oogle" and gush over me.
"Don't you just adore the feel of tons of petticoats under a dress?" Said one, as she introduced herself to me with a curtsey. Then she kind of corrected herself. "Well, obviously you do Sweetie. And good for you!"
I picked up my crayons and started to color, in an effort to distract myself from the horror of my situation. I talked as little as I could.
After two pages were colored, the camp bell rang signaling lunch. I "sashayed" to the cafeteria in misery. I received lots of smiles and compliments from the "Wannabees" and an equal amount of scorn from the "Don't Wannabees". They couldn't really express their scorn overtly. But I did hear hushed remarks like "pansy" and "pantywaist" and "Nancy boy".
At the lunch table, Jean Marie (James from the next bed) did just come right out and ask, "Are you nuts? Why on Earth did you put on more petticoats?"
I fumbled for an answer. I couldn't tell them I'd been forced to. "I..I...I, well--ah-- I just felt like it." And no sooner did I say it than I realized my answer had sealed my fate.
Chrissy came to lunch and when she saw me sitting in my huge pouf of petties she asked, "What ever possessed you Steph?"
I said nothing. But she leaned down and whispered in my ear. "I think it's sweet Stephie. I have such a passion for prissy little sissy boys."
That certainly wasn't news to me.
With lunch over, I again sashayed back to the playing field to jump rope with my NEW friends as my old friends watched.
As I jumped up and down to the swinging rope held by two girlie boys, I could see Lisa in the distance and clearly make out the huge grin on her face.
Everything about me bounced up and down mercilously. Perhaps even more so than playing Hopscotch. A sissy spectacle for all to see.
My relationship with the "Don't Wannabees" was over. And I was branded a "Wannabee".
Lisa had succeeded in her goal to have me ostracized from them.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part29
That night after dinner, where I was treated much the same as at lunch, I again sat alone in the back of the aud for the movie. I was ostracized by one "camp" and I had self-ostracized myself from the other. My spirits were very low and the movie didn't help. It was the first night of a Shirley Temple Film Festival. There'd be a dozen or so nights of that awful "mop topped" little girl dancing and prancing about. And what made it even worse was the fact that she reminded me of someone---ME!
Halfway through the movie, Chrissy appeared and sat down on the floor next to me. Like always, she twirled a curl. And she whispered in my ear. "Hi my sweet sissy."
She smelled great and having her next to me picked up my spirits a bit.
She whispered in my ear again. "I know you're feeling really low and I'm gonna help "perk you up". Tonight after lights out, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes after, very quietly get up to use the bathroom. Then slip into my room. We'll celebrate your recent birthday. And be sure to wear the birthday present you got from home under your nitey."
"How did you know all that?"
"Shhh." And she put her finger across my lips. "Just be there Sweetie."
Later that night, showered and teeth brushed and wearing my new panties and bra set under my nitey, I sat on my bed winding the last of my rollers in my hair. And I smiled a little as I thought of how Chrissy would "perk me up."
The lights went out and about fifteen minutes later, I was standing in front of Chrissy. She was wearing a very sheer white Teddy and she looked incredibly hot. She sat me on her bed beside her.
Finger to her lips, she whispered, "Shhh! We have to be very, very quiet. The walls are awfully thin."
I felt myself "perking up" in my panties as she continued to whisper.
"You look so precious Stephie in your new panties and bra that you.."
"How did you know about that and my birthday?" I interupted.
"Shh!!!! Your birthdate is on your camp registration form and I was the one who took delivery of your package and put it on your bed. And I do have to admit that I peeked into your dresser when you weren't around and saw them."
Then she kissed me on the lips, long and hard, and stuck her tongue into my mouth. When our lips unlocked, she gave me a loving smile.
"First kiss, right Steph?"
My blushing face was her answer.
"Well, we can't take a lot of time Sweetie. And I want to give you a birthday present that will make you feel a lot better after all that mean old Lisa did to you today."
"But how did..."
"Shhh," She cooed, "I have my ways."
And she stood me up. She smiled at the great "tent" in my panties and she pulled them down to my ankles.
"And Stephie," She whispered, "It's okay to leave it in my mouth when you--you know."
Again it seemed like it would be gross for her. But whatever "paddled her canoe" was okay with me. And the birthday present she gave me that night was REALLY okay with me.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part30
The next morning as I sat on my bed thinking about Chrissy's birthday present and taking out my rollers, I noticed beads of sweat running down my forehead. It was 8:30AM and it was already quite warm out. By afternoon, it would be a "scorcher". I knew my heavily petticoated dress would make it even hotter for me. I groaned. I so envied the other boys their light and simple skirts and tops.
As I started to dress, I looked at the extra petticoat hanging on my clothes rack that Lisa had put on me yesterday. She had said nothing about me wearing it every day. I'd be a little cooler and a much happier camper without it. But no, I thought. She'd have a fit if she saw not wearing it. And I was determined to mind my "P's and Q's" around camp in the hopes that I would soon be promoted to the clothes that most of the other boys wore.
It was "pink gingham" for me today. I sighed as I smoothed and arranged the skirt of my dress over the mountain of bouncy petticoats. I hated having my dress almost parallel to the ground and having my underthings so exposed. But I had no choice.
I sashayed (a word unknown to me before yesterday--but one that I knew aptly described my walk) to breakfast. There were lots of giggles and titters as I made my way to the cafeteria. But I was getting used to it.
My voluminous outfit actually was a bit of an advantage standing in the breakfast line. My poufie dress created a very large circ-umference or perimeter around me, like a fence of lace. So I had to be given a lot of space and I didn't have boys pushing and shoving up against me. But I did have my dress lifted up a few times for a "look see".
At the table, I ignored the others as best I could and talked as little as possible. It was even warmer in the cafeteria and I wiped the sweat from my forehead with a napkin. It was then that a light bulb went on in my head. Swimming--I should go swimming this afternoon. I hadn't tried it yet. It would be a perfect way to keep cool and I'd be able to spend time out of my sissy dress and petties.. Perfect idea I thought.
Now there was one good thing about the camp. It didn't have a lot of structured time. Not a lot of scheduling. Occassionally, there'd be scheduled programs or activities or demonstrations that all campers had to attend. But, for the most part, campers were allowed to pick and choose what they wanted to do. So I was free to swim if I wanted.
After breakfast, to keep cool and to try and avoid others, I spent the remainder of the morning under a shady tree coloring in my coloring book. I had nothing else to do and it occupied time until lunch.
As soon as lunch was over and sweating heavily, I made a beeline for the pool.
Seated at a desk in front of the pool locker room was a cute girl in pigtails wearing a Camp Sunnyvale top.
"Hi, I'd like to go swimming please." I said.
"Sign in here then sweetie." And she pointed to a clipboard.
"Ah--my real name or my new name?" I asked.
She laughed. "The name you go by here at camp."
It would be the first time writing my "new" name and that posed a little bit of a problem for me.
"Umm--how do you spell Stephanie?" And I really didn't have a clue.
She giggled, "S-T-E-P-H-A-N-I-E!"
And I wrote as she spelled.
"You can spell your last name, right?" She added to tease, but not in a mean way.
She looked at the clipboard. "Well Stephanie Crandall, this must be your first time swimming."
I shook my head up and down.
"Joanne," she called to another Sunnyvale girl, "will you take over the desk while I get him squared away?"
Then she took my hand. "Well follow me Stephanie Crandall." And she led me to a vaccant locker in the locker room.
"What size are you Stephanie?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"What size bathing suit do you wear?" She replied.
"I--ah--don't know." And I was feeling pretty stupid by now.
But she seemed kindly enough and she giggled again. "Well do you know what size your pretty dress is babydoll?"
That I knew. "Size 12," I said proudly.
"Okay, that'll work. Take off all your clothes while I get a suit and things for you."
"All!!" I asked.
"Yes-ALL!" And she smiled. "You've got nothing I haven't seen many times Stephanie. Put your underthings and sandals in the locker and hang up your dress and petticoat on the rack over there. We can't muss up such a pretty outfit."
A few minutes later, she returned with an armful of stuff for my swim. I was naked but at least my little soldier wasn't saluting. It was still limp from Chrissy's birthday present the night before.
She held out in front of me a garment that seemed awfully strange. It kind of looked like a Jockstrap but it wasn't one.
Sensing my curiousity about it, she said, "This is called a gaff. It'll make you nice and flat and smooth down there." And she pointed to my crotch. "Girls don't have a bulge in their bathing suits down there."
She giggled a little. "But it shouldn't be too much of a problem to take care of."
I blushed.
She pulled the elastic waistband of it open and said, "By the way, I'm Bonnie."
"Hi Bonnie." I replied.
"Now tuck your little weiner and sack down and back between your legs and hold it there while you step into this."
This was all quite embarrassing but I did as she said without an argument. She pulled it up around my waist and my little "thing" was completely hidden. The front of my crotch had a flat, smooth "V" shape to it.
Next was the suit.
"How old are you Stephanie?"
I was a little surprised by the question. "I just turned thirteen a few days ago."
She chuckled, "I mean here at camp, Sweetiepie."
"Oh, sorry. I'm five."
She grinned. "That's what I figured so I got the perfect suit for you."
It was a two piece suit of pink with white polka dots. Very much suited for a little girl. It had two or three rows of white ruffles across the seat and a large white ruffle around the waistband that almost looked like a short skirt. And the top was equally frilly. Pink flip-flops were next.
With the bathing suit on, I was beginning to think that maybe my idea to go swimming was a bad one.
"Now we have to protect your pretty curls honey." Bonnie said as she pulled out the next item of my swimming gear. "There's a lot of chlorine in the pool and it'll wreak havoc on your perm and Ms Roberts will have a fit."
Bonnie held up what seemed to be a "heavy duty" pink shower cap. "A regular bathing cap would crush your curls."
As she placed it over my hair, making sure that all my curls were tucked inside, she warned, ""Don't you dare go under the water or get your hair wet at all or you'll be in a heap of trouble Babycakes."
I nodded "yes" and figured I was ready. I headed for the door.
"Hold up there Stephanie. Not quite ready yet."
As if all this wasn't bad enough, Bonnie next produced two "Littlest Mermaid" floaties and snaked them up and around my arms. Then she hung a "Littlest Mermaid" beach towel on my left arm and put a plastic pail and shovel in my right hand.
"There's a big sandbox next to the pool that you can play in if you want."
Then she gently gave me a little swat on my ruffled fanny and said, "Off you go Sweetie. Have fun! But remember--don't get your hair wet."
As I walked to the pool area, I REALLY began to think this idea was a bad one. I didn't expect to be so "little girlishly" outfitted for my swim. I knew I'd stick out like a sore thumb among all the other boys who'd be wearing teenage girls bathing suits.
The bright sunlight blinded me briefly as I stepped from the locker room to the pool area. I held a hand over my eyes and closed them for a moment.
When I opened them, I saw that the pool was pretty crowded. And I saw, of course, that I was the only five year old little girl there. A real "sore thumb".
I headed toward the shallow end. I was hot. And I was sweating a lot. But more from embarrassment than the temperature.
As I walked, the swimmers stopped and gawked at me and giggled and laughed quietly. They really didn't say much though. They couldn't. Teasing and taunting would get them in trouble.
But I did hear one boy say, "Do you want some help little girl?"
I couldn't tell if his question was genuine or not and I ignored it.
I found an open beach chair, removed my flip-flops, and set my towel and bucket on it.
The cool water felt very good as I stepped into the shallow end. I waded about thinking that everything was so unfair here at camp. Unfair in the sense that, I was a boy swimming in a pool with dozens of other boys who had pigtails and ponytails and braids and were wearing girls bathing suits. But I was the only embarrassed one! But then, I was the only one decked out like a five tear old little girl. To them, I was a freak--a sore thumb.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part31
I continued to wade in the shallow end. I didn't dare to actually swim, for fear of getting my hair wet and suffering the wrath of Ms Roberts. I closed my eyes in an effort to blot out all the others around me and to just enjoy the coolness of the water.
When I opened them, I saw two boys who were paying particular attention to me. They almost seemed to be circling me, like two sharks around a man lost at sea. I sensed trouble and tried to move away from them. But they kept at me.
One called to me. "Need some help little girl?"
When I turned toward him, the other quickly got behind me and pulled the shower cap off my curls.
"Give it back!" I yelled to him.
"Come and get it little girl!" He shouted back.
I moved toward him and he tossed it to the other boy, who also shouted, "Come and get it little girl!"
This went on for three or four "rotations" until one of them didn't throw it hard enough and it landed nearby me and I was able to grab it. I shook it and wrung it, to get as much water out as I could. But this distracted me enough to allow one of them get behind me. He quickly put his hands on my shoulders and pushed my head under the water. He managed to hold me under for a few moments with one hand and he used the other to totally muss up my curls.
When I emerged from underneath the water, one of them called to me. "Oh, sorry that we ruined your pretty curls little girl. But another permanent will fix that."
All I could think to do was run. I got out of the pool as quickly as I could and I ran to the chair that held my stuff and grabbed it and ran into the locker room.
"Whoa Sweetheart!" Bonnie said as she put her arms up to stop me. "What happened to you? I told you not to get your hair wet and just look at you! Your curls are ruined."
I was too upset to say anything. I just cried like the little girl I appeared to be.
She took my towel from my hands and started to dry my hair and tried to console me. "Did some nasty boys do this to you sweetie?"
I gasped and sniffled and nodded my head up and down. I felt just like a little girl being comforted by her mommy. And it didn't feel right.
Then she dried my face with the towel and wiped my nose with a tissue from her pocket. I shuddered at how "little girlish" I felt . And I shuddered at the thought of what Ms Roberts would do when she found out that my perm had been ruined.
"Calm down honey." Bonnie whispered in my ear. "I'll help get you dressed and you can head back to your cabin. A new perm tomorrow will fix you up like new."
The thought of another horrid permanent didn't console me at all.
Redressed and settled down somewhat, I made my way back to Sugar Plum cabin in tears. Nobody was there, not even Chrissy--though I wouldn't have minded having her there to comfort me.
I looked in a mirror in the bathroom. My hair was a total mess. I got my curlers and tried to remedy the situation with them but soon found it was hopeless. So I just laid on my bed and thought about what Ms Roberts would do and cried myself to sleep.
I awoke to the sound of boys coming into the cabin. The clock on my dresser said 7:46PM. I'd slept through dinner, though I didn't care. I had no appetite.
When they saw me, they gasped at the sight of my hair.
"Whoa!" Said one. "Somebody's gonna be in big trouble tomorrow."
Before long, Chrissy came in. She sat on my bed and ran her hand across my cheek. "I heard what happened Sweetie and I know it wasn't your fault. But you'll need to see Ms Roberts tomorrow morning and you'll certainly need another permanent."
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part32
The next morning, I woke up a little before "rise and shine" time. I just laid there, running my hands through my very tangled, fallen curls. I hadn't set my hair the night before, there was no reason to. I wondered what the day would hold for me. Another permanent, I knew for sure.
When the wakeup call came, I dressed in my "uniform" of the day--yellow gingham with the extra pettie. I did absolutely nothing with my hair. Not even the matching bow to my dress. That would be pointless.
I headed for breakfast. The morning was sunny and bright and a little cooler than yesterday. I was glad for that, at least.
As I passed the administration building, Chrissy was just leaving it. She was carrying a cardboard box of something in her hands. She just gave me a forlorn little smile and waved.
As I approached the cafeteria hall, I saw a large, over-sized playpen under the shade of a maple tree near the entrance. And it held two occupants. Getting closer, I realized that the two occupants were one year old, little baby girl campers. I wondered why they weren't in the nursery.
A small crowd of boys was gathered around the playpen and the crowd was totally silent. Not a word. The babies suc-ked away in misery on their pacifiers. Their red, swollen tear filled eyes stared downward under their frilly baby bonnets. Their lavish white baby dresses and petticoats ballooned about their very bulbous rhumba panties. I caught the scent of pee soaked, poopy diapers in the air. At almost the same time, they both glanced up just for a moment. They were the boys who had dunked me in the pool. They were there to serve as an example to others.
As I waited in the breakfast line, I smiled. There was "justice in the jungle". Though I did feel a little pity for them.
During breakfast, not a word was spoken about me and my hair. And nobody spoke at all about the two boys, lest they might find themselves in similar circ-umstances.
Leaving the cafeteria, an announcement came over the camp loudspeaker system. "Stephanie Crandall, please report to Ms Roberts' office."
Here it comes, I thought. But then thinking again, Ms Roberts obviously knew that the two boys were responsible for ruining my hair.
Standing in front of her, I curtsied and she bid me to be seated on a stool in front of her desk.
She began.
"Stephanie, I'm going to be brief and to the point. You're to only listen carefully and NOT speak. Understand?"
I nodded my head up and down.
"You know that I am aware of what happened at the pool. And you know that the two boys who dunked you are being severely punished. They'll be kept as little baby girls for two weeks, longer if they don't cooperate. They are responsible for your ruined hair. But you are not guiltless. You are responsible for the circ-umstances that led to your dunking."
I started to tear up as she continued.
"Why on earth you decided to go swimming on your own---well, I just cannot understand."
"But, but...I"
"Be silent Stephanie. You're only to listen!" She admonished.
She continued. "It was a very foolish thing to do. Though it doesn't excuse the two boys, you set yourself up for something like that to happen. And you deserve to be punished too."
I gulped and I just totally cried.
"Now go back to your cabin. Chrissy is there waiting for you. She'll get you ready for your permanent."
I stood up, curtsied, and said only, "Yes Mam."
Walking back to the cabin, I wondered what Ms Roberts meant when she said "she'll get you ready for your permanent". And I tried NOT to wonder about what my punishment would be.
Back at the cabin, Chrissy sat waiting for me on my bed. No one else was there. The box I'd seen her carrying earlier was next to her.
"I'm so sorry to do this to you Steph," she sighed, "but I need to get you dressed for your perm."
"But why can't I just get it like this?" And I held my arms about my dress.
"Ms Roberts' orders. Now please don't make this any harder. Strip down to nothing."
I started to undress while she began removing the contents of the box.
"Oh God no Chrissy." I cried as I saw them.
"Hush sweetie. It'll be alright. It'll all be over by tonight."
What exactly "it'll all be over by tonight" meant was unclear to me. And the garish clothes that now laid on the bed made no sense either. All I knew for sure was that it would be awful for me.
Less than an hour later, I was standing in front of Ms Roberts in her office again. I was crying uncontrollablely.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part33
My unruly hair was stuffed under a large, wide brimmed white hat that was tied under my chin in a big bow. No makeup of any kind, except for just a hint of red lipstick.
I was wearing a puffed long sleeve blouse of shiny, light blue velvet. It had a large, very embellished frilly white collar and cuffs to match. The blouse fed into fairly tight fitting, zipperless, blue velvet short pants which were cuffed in white lace. They reached to just above my knees.
Below my knees were white silk stockings with bows at the top. My shoes were black patent leather Mary Jane style pumps with a slight heel. Gold buckles adorned them. They had little metal cleats on the heels and toes.
A large white sash, tied in a garish bow at one side, served as a belt.
"You look perfect Stephen. You're all set to get your permanent." Ms Roberts said as she stepped from behind her desk and approached to get a closer look at me.
I still couldn't fathom why I'd been dressed like this just to get a perm. How could it matter what I wore? And why did she call me Stephen?
Standing in front of me, Ms Roberts continued. "You, young MAN, are very fortunate to be wearing what is called a "Little Lord Fauntleroy" suit. They were very popular in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Loving, doting mothers often dressed their weiner curled sons in them. My own Grandmother regularly dressed my late Father, who founded this camp, in one. They were quite the rage back then. And I even broke my own rule of no pants for boys ever, just so you could wear one."
Yeah--great, I thought. I'm so lucky to be wearing these pants.
"Well, it's time for your perm." And she took my hand.
As we left her office, we didn't head for the small salon here in the building where I'd been given my first permanent. Instead, we walked toward the exit. I started to panic. And I really began to panic when we headed for her van in the parking lot. And I started to pull away from her.
"Don't fight me." She warned. "Or do you want me to put you across my knee?"
As we reached her van I cried, "But where are we going?"
"Be quiet Stephen and accept your punishment. Or I'll make it even worse. Now get in the van!"
We got in the van, buckled up and she locked the doors and started it up--leaving in in park though.
And she explained. "The nanny who runs the salon here, the one who gave you your first perm, sadly had a death in her family. And she's gone and won't return for several days. So I made an appointment for your perm at a beauty salon in the Mall.
"No!!! I won't go." And I unbuckled my seatbelt and grabbed the door latch. But the child proof locks stopped me from getting out.
Then she slapped my face hard and yelled. "Don't you dare cross me sissy boy! Now buckle up and SHUT UP!" And she put the van in gear.
I now fully understood my awful punishment. I was to be permed in public as a very "sissified" boy. And I couldn't bear the thought of what was about to happen to me.
As we drove, all I could do was whimper.
Ms Roberts handed me a tissue and in a softer, gentler tone said, "Now listen to me. I know you very much want to be dressed like the other boys. And that's very admirable. I also know you've been trying very hard to behave and to do as your told."
And she paused for a moment and giggled slightly and chuckled. "And you've even kept your panties dry and clean."
That was the first sign of any emotion, other than anger, that I'd seen from her. And she continued.
"Before the pool incident of yesterday, I was considering promoting you, before long, to the status of a teenage girl. Just like most of the other boys. And despite the pool incident, I'm still willing to consider it. But only if you take your punishment like a MAN--well, a young man at least. If you don't fight me and argue and carry on, you could find yourself, not immediately but before too long, in simple skirts and tops and thirteen years old instead of five."
"Really!" I simpered.
"Yes, REALLY. I truly mean it."
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part34
I tried, as best I could as we drove along, to blot out in my mind the impending extreme humiliation I'd soon be facing. It would not be unlike my first trip to the Mall with Lisa. I'd be an obviously very sissified boy. No hiding behind the guise of a little girl. It would be absolutely clear to all that I was a boy in a very sissy outfit getting his hair permed. Of course, that was the intent of my punishment. I focused on taking my punishment "like a man" so Ms Roberts would consider letting me dress like the other boys at camp. And, after all, I was very experienced in being put in very embarrassing and humiliating situations. This would be no better and, hopefully, no worse.
I grit my teeth and looked down to the floor as we entered the Mall. I was horrified to discover that my cleated shoes made a very loud "clickety clack" sound with each step I took on the stone tile flooring. If anyone, by chance, happened to not notice me, my noisy shoes would certainly announce my presence. Ms Roberts knew all the tricks.
As she held my hand and walked me along to the beauty salon, I was surprised to not hear a lot of taunting remarks. Instead, for the most part, only gasps of surprise and disbelief at the spectacle of me. People, understandably, seemed to be very caught off guard by the sight and sound of "Little Boy Blue" prancing down the Mall.
It was different though at the salon.
Standing at the counter, Ms Roberts very matter of factly said, "Hello, I have an 11 o'clock appointment under the name of "Roberts" for a permanent for this young man here." And she put her arm on my shoulder.
The beautician just stared in awe at me, her mouth wide open but saying nothing. After a moment, she managed to speak.
"You want a PERMANENT for this---ah--boy?" And she outright laughed, as did all the others in the salon.
Ms Roberts untied and removed my white hat as she replied, "Yes please. As you can see, he's made a mess of the perm he received just a few weeks ago."
The place exploded in laughter. I was crying, but determined to get through this "like a man", so to speak.
"Well, um---follow me ladies---ah---um---Just come with me please."
"What a sissyboy!" and "Look at the pansie!" and "A real pantywaist!" and "Nice outfit Nancyboy!" and "How could he let himself be dressed like that!" and "Pervert!" These were the things I heard as I was taken to the styling chair.
Ms Roberts seemed to take it all in stride. "Pay no attention to them Stephen. It's okay to be a pretty boy." And that caused even more jeering and laughter.
I was seated in the styling chair. A pink cape was put around me.
Ms Roberts told the stylist, "I think his hair is long enough now to have nice long wiener curls cascading down to his shoulders."
The stylist gulped. "You want him in long wiener curls???"
"Well, it's really what he wants. Right my pretty boy?" Ms Roberts said.
I just sobbed and said nothing, as the salon just roared again in laughter and disbelief.
The stylist giggled and said, "Okay, then wiener curls it is for your pretty boy!"
A little over an hour later, I sat under a hairdryer near the front window of the salon in my long perm rods. Passers by gawked and laughed at the sight of the "pretty boy" getting a permanent. At least, I couldn't hear them.
About forty five minutes later, my white hat was carefully placed atop my head. Twenty or so long, thick wiener curls dangled down from under my hat to just passed my shoulders.
I "clickety clacked" my way out the salon and down the Mall to outrageous laughter and taunting.
About half way out, I stopped and whispered to Ms Roberts, "I need to use the potty please."
I really did need to pee badly. I certainly didn't want to have an accident and suffer the consequences of that.
Ms Roberts led me to the restrooms. I really was not eager to go into the Mens Room looking like I did. But the Ladies Room wasn't an option for me now and I didn't want to wet my pants and end up in diapers again.
"Take your time Stephen." Ms Roberts said as she let go of my hand.
That was the LAST thing I wanted to do though. In and out as quickly as possible was my goal.
The Mens Room was pretty busy and exploded into laughter and teasing as I entered.
Only one urinal was open, between two boys about my age.
"Nice outfit and pretty wiener curls sissyboy." Laughed one. "Are they supposed to match the wiener between your legs?"
As I reached into my blue velvet pants to do my business, the other boy said, "He probably doesn't even have one anymore!"
I was so embarrassed. I peed and got out of there quickly.
"Next time, I think you should use the Ladies Room you little Fairy!" I heard from someone as I left.
As we headed out the Mall, Ms Roberts told me. "That was wise of you to use the restroom Stephen."
It was awful, but she was right. It was a wise thing for me to do.
In the van, as we drove, she took out a small bag from the tote she'd been carrying. "These are extra long rollers for your lovely wiener curls. I got them at the salon. Every night, just tightly roll each separate wiener curl in one before bedtime and put on your hairnet. That'll keep them in shape."
Back at camp, I again stood in front of Ms Roberts in her office. My "Little Lord Fauntleroy" suit and hat had been replaced with my gingham dress and petties and matching hairbow.
"You did well this morning Stephanie. I trust you've learned to take good care of your pretty hair! Here's your rollers."
I curtsied. "Yes Ms Roberts."
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part35
A few days later, just before lights out, Chrissy announced to the cabin that tomorrow would be a good time to start thinking about and begin working on letters to home inviting parents and families to an upcoming parents weekend.
"Make your letters happy, cheerful and positive girls! And I have to screen them before they're mailed." She said.
When the lights went out, she walked to my bed and whispered, "Ms Roberts will want to read yours Stephie."
I drifted off to sleep thinking that I would have to make my letter VERY "happy, cheerful and positive" to score points with Ms Roberts.
After breakfast the next day, I grabbed paper, pencil and a clipboard and headed for a shady tree on the recreation field. It was sunny and warm and it would be a good opportunity for me to start my letter.
As I sat there thinking about what to write, Felicity, the "Wannabee" whose bed was next to mine, sat down beside me.
"Working on your letter Stephie?" He asked.
"Yeah. Gotta make it good so I can score some points with Ms Roberts and, hopefully, get outta these silly dresses and petticoats soon."
"I understand, but I almost wish I was wearing them!" He said.
"Well not me!" I replied.
"You know," Felicity continued, "if you want to score even more points with Ms Roberts---tomorrow, all day in the recreation center, girls from Sunnyvale will be teaching classes on makeup and hair styling and manicures and girlish deportment and stuff like that. And it's all stuff you should know anyways, if you ever get to be a teenage girl. I'm going."
I thought briefly, "Yeah, thanks Felicity. I'll see you there."
She left me to my letter. Just as I started to write, I heard in the distance, "Hi Stephie!"
I looked up. At the edge of the recreation field I saw Lisa and Sarah. I'd not seen them for awhile.
They were close enough that I could see an evil grin on Lisa's face. She said nothing more. She simply raised a hand and pointed her finger to a group of "Wannabees" who were busy playing Hopscotch and jumping rope. Her intent was clear.
I spent the next hour, until Lisa and Sarah were gone, jumping rope and playing Hopscotch and again making a spectacle of myself in my dress and petticoats.
With them gone, I got back to work on my letter. I started a rough draft and managed to finish it by lunchtime. I could make the good copy after lunch.
Walking back to the tree after lunch, I thought. "I'll use my very best penmanship. Make it very fussy and neat, like a girl would. I'll even dot my i's with hearts like girls often do. Maybe I'll even draw and color a picture at the of myself here at camp at the bottom. That'll impress Ms Roberts!"
The finished letter purposely read like something written by a seven or eight year old. And, of course, it was full of lies. But I had to make it sound glowing and positive. It read:
Dear Stepmother and Laura,
How are you? I am fine. I'm having a wonderful time here at Camp Sissy Curls and I'm making lots of new girlfriends. There's lots to do here but probably the thing I like to do most is playing Hopscotch and jumping rope with the other girls. And coloring in my coloring books too. Tomorrow, I'm going to take classes on how to do makeup, hair styling and putting on pretty nailpolish. Stuff like that. Really awesome. Just like a big girl. I can't wait.
I so love being a girl now. Boys are "yucky"! The best part is I get to wear pretty dresses and petticoats, but they're hard to control. But I'm learning. All my dresses even have matching hair bows.
I've even been given a permanent. That wasn't fun, but now I have nice, long pretty wiener curls.
I hope you can come to the parent and family weekend. It's the first weekend in August. It will be ever so much fun.
Your daughter,
Stephanie
xoxoxoxo
P.S.---I hope you like the picture of me I colored below in my pink gingham dress!
With all my i's dotted with hearts, I turned in my damning but necessary letter to Chrissy for review by Ms Roberts.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part36
The next morning after breakfast, I made my way to the recreation center for my "girlie" classes. Lots of boys and girls were there. Girls from Camp Sunnyvale, including Lisa and Sarah and many from Hummingbird cabin, and lots of sissy boys like me. Except, as always, I was the only five year old and stuck out greatly among all the others.
The girls from Sunnyvale were the instructors. The first class I went to was in girlish deportment. That was an easy one for me. I had a lot of experience in curtseying and sashaying about and sitting in a ladylike manner and handling and controlling very full dresses with petticoats. Unfortunately, I was too adept at it. The girls used me to demonstrate various girlish mannerisms and movements.
The second class was about manicures and pedicures. A pretty girl from Sunnyvale named Amanda, who I did not know, volunteered to be my instructor for the rest of the classes. She taught me by giving me a complete manicure and pedicure that finished off with glossy, hot pink nailpolish. Then I practiced what I learned by doing the same thing to her. I was very relieved that I wasn't doing it to another sissy boy like me. I had no desire to get "up close and personal" with another boy.
Working away on Amanda was quite erotic actually, especially when I moved to her feet for the pedicure. She was gorgeous. Painting her toenails and just being so close and intimate with her really made my little girlie wiener very "happy".
After lunch, which was a bag lunch provided by the cafeteria, it was time for makeup lessons. Amanda applied foundation to my face, then blush and powder and pink eye shadow. She curled my eyelashes and applied mascara and eyeliner. She finished me off with pink lip gloss and a dab of perfume behind my ears and on my wrists. And I was really getting turned on by all her efforts with my makeup. Then she let me try making up her face, though just a little because I was pretty awkward with it all.
"God, she smelled good." I thought.
By the time it came to hair styling, my bloomers were very "tented" in the front. I was actually glad, for once, to have my very full dress. It concealed the large bulge in the front of my panties.
"I'm not gonna show you how to set your hair in rollers Stephanie." Amanda said. "I know you have a lot of experience with that from your lovely wiener curls and permanent."
That was a break for me.
"And I'm not gonna demonstrate on your hair. Don't wanna ruin your pretty hairdo."
"Damn." I thought.
"Instead, I'll show you some styling techniques with my own hair and then let you try it on me."
"Fantastic!" I thought.
She had beautiful, long straight auburn hair that reached almost to her waist and I couldn't wait to get my hands into it.
She brushed it and put it into a perky ponytail atop her head with a scrunchie. Then she removed it and had me do it.
It was simple enough and God, I was getting aroused.
Next, she parted her hair down the middle of her head and put it into two long pigtails with rubber bands. Then she undid them and it was my turn.
Her hair felt and smelled wonderful. As I parted it and fixed it into two long pigtails, I thought my wiener was going to explode.
She didn't remove the pigtails though. Instead, she demonstrated how to braid them. When done, she undid the braids and it was my turn to try braiding.
Standing next to her, working on her second braid, she sensed my tension. "Is something wrong Stephanie?"
"No, I'm fine." I replied.
"Well your face is flushed and there's sweat on your forehead."
And with that said and before I knew it, she reached her hand up under my dress and petties and felt the front of my panties.
"Oh my God, you're stiff as a board!" She giggled loudly. "You sure are enjoying all this girlie stuff, sissy boy."
"No, no, it's not that." I said. "It's just that you're--well--um--so...."
"Well, what?"
I was too embarrassed to tell her that she was really turning me on and was the cause of the bulge in my panties.
"Well try and control your little "woody" you little pantywaist." She said. "And finish my braids."
The final straw was when I was practicing doing her hair in a pretty French braid down her back. I could feel a small, creamy "little girl juice" stain on the front of my panties and more beads of sweat were running down my forehead.
With the French braid done, she stood me in front of her.
"Lift up the front of your dress and petties Stephanie." She ordered.
"No, please don't make me do that!" I cried.
"Sissy boys do as they're told. NOW DO IT!"
I slowly lifted them up revealing my extremely "tented" and slightly semen stained panties.
"God, you little sissy pervert. You sure do get off on being a little girl!" She scorned.
"No, really, it's not that!" I cired.
"Sure, that's what all the "Wannabees" say."
And to my horror, she reached into her purse and pulled out two large safety pins.
"Well, I think you should let everyone see how much you really love being a little girl and how much you love all this girlie stuff!"
And she pinned up the front of my dress and petticoats to my shoulders and tucked my panties down under my ball sack.
"You can spend the rest of the time here like that, you little perverted pansie."
With the last class of hair styling over and about an hour until dinner time, we boys were told to walk around the rec center and check out the many displays of hair care products and perfumes and bathing needs and makeup and nailpolish and the like that were set up on tables.
Of course, I caused a lot of commotion and laughter and teasing from the Sunnyvale girls.
I just wandered aimlessly around with my very visible and stiff little wiener bobbing up and down and back and forth. My head was hung very low and I was sobbing greatly from the humiliation.
"Well, well, well,---looks like we have a real happy camper here!"
I looked up to see Lisa grinning at me.
"And you know, I'm gonna make you an even happier camper Stephie. I'm gonna let you have an all new girlie experience." She chuckled.
I knew it would be horrible. She reached into her purse and pulled out a long, flesh colored tube-like device. It resembled my own erect "willy".
"This is called a dil-do Stephie. And it's battery powered. See, it vibrates!" And she flicked on a little switch causing it to hum and pulsate.
"We girls just love having something long and hard and throbbing deep inside us. Now bend over for the ultimate girl experience."
"No, please no!" I pleaded.
"Then perhaps you'd like a nice, sore red bottom first sissy boy?" She snarled.
"No, no." And I bent over.
Lisa licked it for lubrication before inserting the dil-do deep into my butt. She turned it on and secured it in place with the seat of my panties.
I spent the remainder of the time there wandering about displaying my "saluting soldier" and listening to the sounds of laughter and teasing and the hum of the dil-do vibrating mercilously inside me.
Just a few minutes before my ordeal would be over, Felicity approached me. He looked almost like he was in a daze. A little saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.
"Ah, hi Steph." He said. "I was wondering if we could--ah--step into the bathroom and--ahhh--maybe you'd let me suc-k...."
"Faggot!" Yelled Amanda, as she slapped his face. "Get outta here pervert!"
She'd been, thankfully, nearby and overheard Felicity's request of me.
"I figured he'd hit on you. He looks the type." She said, as Felicity quickly moved off. "And I didn't figure you were the type. Are you?"
"No, definitely not! And thanks Amanda." I said.
"Well, I figured you'd been through enough today. You can go into the bathroom and remove the dil-do and wash it off and upin your dress. Give Lisa back her little toy."
"Yes Amanda." I replied.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part37
The next morning, I stood in front of a full length mirror in my cabin adjusting and fitting my yellow gingham dress over my mountain of petticoats. I attached the matching hairbow to the top of my long, dangling wiener curls. I looked at the five year old little girl reflected in the mirror and hoped that soon I'd see a teenage girl there.
I headed for breakfast and was glad to find a seat next to Chrissy.
"Sorry about yesterday Steph." She said. "I heard you had a rough go of it."
"Yeah, I sure did." And that was all I wanted to say about it.
Leaving breakfast, over the camp PA system came, "Stephanie Crandall, please report to Ms Roberts' office."
As I headed there, I thought that maybe this could be "good" news for a change.
I knocked on her door and she bid me to enter.
"You may sit down Stephanie." She smiled.
"Well, if you don't mind Ms Roberts, I'd prefer to just stand. It's easier that way in my outfit." I said as I curtsied.
"As you wish. This won't be long."
She seemed to be in an amicable mood. Maybe I'd get "good" news.
"Stephanie," she began, "your letter home for Parents' Weekend was very well done. The picture of yourself and the heart dotted i's was a nice touch too. I also know you spent yesterday attending the classes on important girl matters. And I know you had a tough time there. I have to commend you. You've tried very hard in the last days and weeks. And you've also kept your panties clean and dry."
I smiled and actually probably blushed a little.
She continued. "I've decided that your efforts should be rewarded. Starting tomorrow, I'm promoting you to a teenage girl, so long as you follow the straight and narrow and keep your panties dry."
"Oh Ms Roberts, thank you, thank you ever so much!" I gushed as I gave another deep, genuine curtsey. "I promise I'll be a perfect teenage girl. Oh, thank you so much!"
"You're welcome Stephanie. Now come with me."
And she took me to a small room across from her office that stored camp clothing and outfits.
Fifteen minutes later, as I headed toward the building exit, I heard Ms Roberts, over my shoulder, call "Remember Stephanie, follow the straight and narrow and keep your panties clean!"
"Yes Ms Roberts. And thank you again." I called back.
I walked to Sugar Plum cabin carrying a large box of short, pleated skirts in various colors with matching panties and an equal number of different camp T-shirts; a few extra white training bras, simple white low cut socks, and a pair of girls white tennis sneakers. "Keds" she had called them.
I smiled broadly as I made my way to the cabin. "I'd done it. Tomorrow I'd be a teenage girl like all the other boys." I thought.
Then I thought again---"a teenage girl like all the other boys". What a conflict in terms. But then, this whole camp was nothing but a huge "conflict in terms". But I wasn't going to let that squelch my joy at getting out of my silly, sissy dresses and petticoats and being a teenager instead of a five year old little girl.
I set the box on my bed and happily began hanging and putting away my new clothes. I wished I could change into them now, but tomorrow would come soon enough.
As I hung up my last skirt, I heard foot steps behind me and turned around to see Chrissy.
"Oh my goodness Stephie." She said as she eyed my new clothes.
"Chrissy! I've been promoted! Starting tomorrow, I get to be a teenage girl!" I was so excited that I was almost shouting.
"Ahhhh, so I see." She responded, in a much more reserved fashion than me. "I--um--guess congratulations are in order."
"Yeah, I can't wait to get out of these silly dresses and petticoats!" I said, but I could see we didn't share the same enthusiasm.
"Well--um--I guess I can understand how you would feel that way." She whistfully said, as a single tear formed in the corner of one eye.
"Chrissy, what's wrong? You should be happy for me. This is great!" I said.
Tears were forming in both her eyes now. "You're right, of course, Stephie. It's great for you. But not for me!"
She started to fondle my curls and flounce my dress and petticoats. And I really didn't know what to say.
"You see Steph, I'm gonna really miss my precious, pretty little girl." She sighed.
"Well--ah--I--ah--can't help that Chrissy. I want out of these dresses and things." But I did actually feel badly for her.
"I know. Of course you do. But can I, at least, give you a going away present?"
I was puzzled. "But I'm not goin' anywhere Chrissy."
"YOU'RE not going anywhere Steph, but my pretty little five year old girl is!"
"Oh!" And I understood her now.
"Nobody's around and won't be for a long while." She said as she took my hand and led me, like her precious little girl, into her bedroom.
Seated on her bed, she cleared a space between my wiener curls to my neck. She started heavily kissing under my curls and all around my neck. Before long, she moved to my face, covering it all over with wet kisses. Finally, she reached my lips and gave me a long, hard kiss while sticking her tongue down my throat.
This was all new to me. Before, she had just gone immediately for "down under". I'd never "necked" with a girl before. It was very stimulating, to say the least.
As I started to respond to her in the same fashion, she placed my hand under her shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra and her breasts felt so warm and wonderful. Then she reached her hand into my panties and began to stroke my wiener, which needed little "coaxing".
"God, she felt and tasted and smelled so good!" I thought.
After several minutes of this "necking and petting" foreplay, her head made its way "down under". And before long, my throbbing "willy" exploded.
A muffled "sigh" came from underneath my dress and petties.
"I hope my little girl enjoyed her going away present."
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part38
The next day couldn't come soon enough for me, but it finally did. I stood in front of the mirror, before breakfast, and reflected back was a thirteen year old girl in a short, pleated navy blue skirt and matching panties, a training bra and camp T-shirt, short white socks and Keds.
I smiled broadly as I took the sum of my wiener curls into my hands and put them into a large, curly ponytail at the top of my head with a blue scrunchie.
As I practically skipped with joy to breakfast, I thought about how strange my situation was. If just a month ago, someone had told me that I'd be ecstatic about what I was now wearing, I'd have said they were crazy.
But my new clothes felt so much better. And they were cooler and gave me a sense of freedom. And having my hair off my neck and shoulders felt wonderful, especially in the heat of the morning.
At breakfast, I was thrilled to receive many congratulations from my cabin mates, well, at least the "Don't Wannabees".
Chrissy walked to the cabin table carrying her breakfast tray. There was an open seat next to me. But she opted for another vacant seat down the table, obviously ignoring me.
After breakfast, I felt like just roaming around the camp enjoying the new found freedom and simplicity of my new outfit. And to show it off a little bit too.
The next couple of days went by without a hitch. They were the most pleasant ones I'd had at camp so far.
Being like the other boys made me feel free to indulge in a lot more camp activities like horseback riding and archery and the "Don't Wannabees" even let me go back to keeping score and being the water boy during softball and kickball games. I did keep out of the pool though. It felt, almost, like a normal camp.
But I couldn't help but notice that Chrissy very much ignored me and kept her distance as best she could.
One evening, during the free time just before lights out, Jean Marie said from his bed next to mine. "Well sport, you gotta be glad to be outta those silly dresses, especially with Parent's Weekend coming soon."
"You sure got that right!" I said, happy for his comradeship.
"Well don't screw up and wind up back as a five year old or even worse!" He warned.
"Believe me, I won't."
Spurred on by his overture to me, I thought I'd take a chance and said, "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure sport, what?"
"Well, since I got outta my dresses and things, Chrissy has been ignoring me." I said.
He laughed. "Yeah, well we know about your little rendezvous's with Chrissy sport."
I was shocked. "You know about that?"
"Sure, you're not the first and you won't be the last for Chrissy." He chuckled.
"But why doesn't she give me the time of day now?" I asked.
"Cuz he," and he very quickly corrected himself, "I mean, she only likes very sissy little girly boys. So Chrissy's gotta wait 'til the next one comes around."
Feeling bold, I replied, "You said HE."
"No sport, I said SHE." He countered.
"No, you said HE and then quickly corrected yourself." And I persisted. "Why?"
Jean Marie took a deep breath and then laughed. "Well sport, you sure are the naive one."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, let me put it to you this way. Chrissy's name should really be Lola."
I was really confused and he sensed that.
"You know sport." And he sang the lyrics to a song. "Lola L-O-L-A Lola, lo lo lo Lola."
I knew that song and gasped and almost gagged and put my hand to my mouth in horror.
"You really didn't have a clue, did you sport." He said.
I shook my head no. "She, I mean he said he was from Sunnyvale. And he sure doesn't look or feel like a guy."
"Well, he lied about Sunnyvale. And he's had a lot of treatments--hormone injections, hair electrolysis, breast enhancement--stuff like that in preperation for a sex change operation he's having this Fall. But for now, he's still a guy between his legs, just like you and me."
"I had no idea!" And I got up quickly and cupped my hands under my mouth and ran for the bathroom.
A short time later, I laid in the darkness in bed, my teeth thoroughly brushed after throwing up. The song was singing over and over in my head.
"Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls. It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world, except for Lola. Lo lo lo Lola. Lo lo lo Lola."
Author's note: credit to Ray Davies and "The Kinks" of whom I'm also a long time fan.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part 39
I woke up the next morning with that awful song about "Lola" still playing over and over in my mind.
It was Wednesday and that meant the khaki skirt and matching top was the outfit for the day. It also meant that the week was half over and before very long, it would be the weekend. I wasn't looking forward to the weekend. It was Parent's Weekend and I dreaded it. I hoped that my stepmother and stepsister wouldn't come or even better, have a car accident on the way here. But no, I thought again, I can't wish for that, even though they deserved it. But I could pray they wouldn't come.
I bunched my hair to the top with a scrunchie and headed for the showers. It was nice to be "roller" free and to not have to worry so much about my hair, though I didn't want to get it too wet.
After my shower, I started to dress for the day. With my panties and socks on, I grabbed a bra. Only the ones I'd received with my new outfits from Ms Roberts were clean. As I put one on, I noticed it seemed to be less of a training bra and more like a regular bra that a teenage girl would wear. And the cups were padded.
When I finished dressing, I realized I had more pronounced, perky "mounds" under my T-shirt. I wasn't thrilled with the extra cleavage but it didn't matter. It was no different than the other boys.
I took out my scrunchie and redid my hair more carefully into a high ponytail again, to keep it off my neck and shoulders. I thought I'd probably need to wash it tomorrow. And that would be a good thing. It would help to loosen my permed curls.
I walked to breakfast hoping that Chrissy would still be avoiding and ignoring me. And even if HE surprised me and didn't, it wouldn't matter. It was my intention to avoid HIM like the plague. He sickened me and what he lured me into doing sickened me. I hated and resented him very much for that. But he did ignore me.
I spent the day, much like the day before, enjoying the novelty of my new clothes and their freedom and enjoying the camp, like any camper would--well--like any "girl" camper would, I guess.
After dinner, I went back to the cabin to wash up a bit before heading for the rec center for the evening.
A letter was waiting for me on my bed. The return address was from home. I opened it. The "gushing" letter read:
Hi Sweetheart,
I hope all is well with you Stephie. Thanks for your letter. I loved it. I'm so glad you're having such fun at camp and making lots of new girlfriends. And I just knew you'd love being a girl and adore wearing pretty dresses and petticoats and all the girly things. You look absolutely adorable and very pretty in the picture you drew of yourself in the letter. Laura and I can't wait to see you in person on Saturday!
Love,
Mommy
xoxoxo
P.S.--I hope you'll wear a pretty dress and petticoats for us on Saturday!
"Oh crap!" I thought.
Maybe I'd rethink about praying for a car accident. But, at least, they wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing me in a "pretty dress and petticoats".
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part40
Thursday rolled around and was again, a pretty uneventful day. It was rainy and cool and I spent most of the day in the rec center helping to decorate it for Parent's Weekend, which I so did not look forward to. And Chrissy, thankfully, ignored me.
Friday was bright, warm and sunny though. I was, unpleasantly, surprised to find Lisa waiting for me outside the cafeteria after breakfast.
"Stephie, c'mon over here Sweetie. I've been waiting for you." She called.
I gulped and walked to her.
"My, my, my Steph! You've sure grown up a lot in just a few days. And "boobies" too!" She chuckled.
"Hi Lisa." I said with little enthusiasm.
"You must be thrilled to be out of those sissy dresses and petticoats. Though pink for a pleated skirt is a bit weird looking."
She was right about that. "It's the color for today." I replied.
"Yeah, I know Steph." And she put her arm in mine and said, "Let's go for a walk and catch up. I've got the whole day open."
"Do I have a choice?" I said rather sarcastically.
"Oh, now don't be like that sweetie pie!" She said with a smile that quickly turned sour. "And NO. You DON'T have a choice."
I gulped again, as we walked arm in arm. At least, she wasn't holding my hand like I was a little girl.
"Let's go on a hike!" She said. "I know a nice trail through the woods that leads to a small waterfall in the creek. It's really pretty there and it'll be cool in the woods and at the Falls."
"Oh God, what does she have in mind?" I thought.
It turned out to be quite a long hike. Lisa insisted on making several stops along the way for water. She had a small backpack on her back with bottled water in it.
"We mustn't get dehydrated Stephie. Drink up!"
I figured it took about an hour, with all the stops for water, to reach the Falls.
It was a nice spot and was cool and the mist was refreshing. We spent about half an hour taking it all in and chatting and resting.
"Well," She finally said, "we better get going Stephie or we'll miss lunch. And we can have lunch together at your cafeteria."
"Oh God." I moaned.
"What did you say?" She snapped.
"Oh good--I said--oh good."
"That's better Stephie." She said.
It took about another hour, with stops along the way for water which Lisa insisted upon, to get back to camp.
"We're just in time for last call for lunch. I'm starved. How about you Steph?"
"Yeah--well--I guess." I said, but I sure wasn't thirsty.
We got our lunches and found a table to ourselves. Midway through lunch, Lisa excused herself. "I gotta use the Lady's Room. All that water, you know."
I did know. I'd soon need the bathroom too. And to do more than just pee.
I finished my lunch just as Lisa returned.
I figured I'd hit the head while she finished her lunch.
I politely said, "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the potty too."
Force of habit had caused me to use the word "potty" and I felt a bit foolish.
"Hold on a minute Steph. I want to ask you to do something for me."
"Well, can't you ask me when I come back from the bathroom Lisa?" I asked.
"Actually, no Sweetie. I need to ask you now. Right now!" She said.
"Do I have a choice about doing what you want me to do?" I asked, knowing she'd say "no".
Her answer surprised me. "Of course Stephanie. You do have a choice. You don't have to do it, if you don't want to."
I was leery but intrigued by her reply. And I could wait a few minutes before heading for the can.
"Okay Lisa, what is it?"
"Well Sweetie Pie, I have to admit that I miss having my pretty little girl in diapers around. And I'm sure Chrissy does too. I want my little girl in diapers back!"
"No!" I cried. "Never!" And I felt tears beginning to well up in my eyes.
"Let me finish Stephie. You might regret not hearing me out." And she took my hand in hers.
"But I won't be a little girl in diapers again!" I sobbed.
"You don't have to be, if you don't want to be. Now--please--let me finish."
I just hung my head and cried and listened.
"Instead of using the potty to do your business, I want you to use your panties." She said, in a very matter of fact way.
I was horrified. "You're crazy. No way! No way I'm gonna do that!"
"Okay, okay Sweetie. It's your choice." She said. "But while you're using the potty, just remember your little video and the folks back home and at school. And I'm sure they'd be interested in hearing about your boyfirend Chrissy too."
"Oh please Lisa. Please, please," I begged, "please don't make me do that."
"I'm not making you do it. It's your choice Stephie."
"Yeah right," I snapped, "some choice you're giving me!"
I began to beg some more. "Please don't make me mess my panties. I gotta do more than just pee."
She just sat there and looked at me coldly and said nothing.
"Can't you at least wait until after Parent's Weekend to make me do this?" I desparately pleaded. "I promise I'll do it then. Honest!"
A cold stare and silence was her reply again.
I put my head down into my arms on the table and sobbed. But only for a minute because I really had to badly "go" now. I had to make a choice, though I knew I really didn't have one. She'd set me up for all of this. And I was beaten.
I looked up into her cold, vacant, silent face.
"Do I have to do it in here?" I asked pleadingly.
"No Stephanie. You can go out by the tree near the entrance and do it there." And she giggled. "The janitor will be glad. You'll save him the job of cleaning up you mess!"
I got up, totally defeated, and trudged for the door.
I stood near the tree, as inconspicuously as possible, and closed my eyes and let it go.
Moments later, a large stinky load of poop tugged downward on the seat of my panties. The front of my panties, as well as my skirt, was soaked. Pee streamed down my bare legs.
All I heard were gasps from the boys nearby me.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part41
I just stood there, numb, with my hands covering my face and crying my eyes out. I was too upset to even think about what to do next.
Then I heard. "Good work, Little Miss Poopie Pants!"
I peeked through my fingers to see Lisa standing in front of me with her nose pinched.
"Just hold tight. I'm gonna call Ms Roberts and see what she wants me to do with stinky, little you." And she took her cell phone from her purse.
"Hi Ms Roberts. It's Lisa. I'm--ah--afraid Stephanie Crandall's had a little accident." She paused for a moment. "No, no, not that kind of accident. He's not hurt. But, he just wet and pooped his panties. He's a real mess."
Lisa grinned slyly at me, as she listened to Ms Roberts on the other end.
"Okay. Will do. Bye." And she closed up her cell phone.
"Okay Puddle Pants. We're off to the nursery. They'll be expecting you." And she held out her arm in the direction of the nursery.
I kept my hands to my tear stained face in shame. I wanted to blot out my surroundings as much as I could.
As I started for the nursery, I realized I'd need to walk very slowly and gingerly. The poop in the seat of my loose fitting panties would easily fall out and go down my legs and I didn't want that added embarrassment.
Lisa walked a few paces behind me. The gentle breeze was to my back, so she was upwind of me.
I carefully minced along, peeking periodically through my fingers to see the way. I felt like a gymnast walking a balance beam. It occured to me that Ms Roberts had warned me to "keep on the straight and narrow". But this certainly wasn't what she meant.
At my slow and steady pace, what would normally be a two to three minute walk, probably took close to ten minutes. But it seemed much longer.
I focused on nothing but the path in front of me through my fingers. The only sounds I heard were again, the gasps of my fellow campers as our pathes crossed.
As we neared the nursery, Lisa called from behind me. "Hold up a moment Stinky Boy."
Her nose was pinched, as she whispered over my shoulder. "Don't you dare tell anyone that I made you do this or.....well, you certainly know what OR means."
And she pushed me, on my back, toward the nursey; causing a large hunk of poop to fall from my panties. It ricocheted off my leg and plopped to the ground.
"Yes!!!!!!!" Lisa giggled.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part42
Two nannies were waiting outside for me. I recognized neither one. They were both new to me.
"We'll take "poopy boy" from here Lisa." Said one.
Inside the nursery, in a shower stall, they started to undress me. They didn't pinch their noses. They were quite used to the smell of wet, stinky messes.
They threw away my pink, pleated skirt and panties. They were too messy to be salvable. But my socks, Keds, bra and top went into a dirty laundry bin.
"As long as we're cleaning him up, " said the other, "we might as well use the hair removal stuff on him. Looks like it's not been done since he first got here. And Ms Roberts will want him nice and baby smooth for Parent's Weekend."
"Yeah, you're right." Replied the first one. "But we don't need to worry about his hair. That'll be taken care of tomorrow morning before parents start arriving in the afternoon."
About an hour later, I laid naked on a changing table as a snow storm of baby powder was sprinkled all over from my waist down. My bum received a heavy coating of diaper rash ointment.
"We should double diaper him in cloth diapers with an extra insert in the front so he can get a lot of mileage out of them." Said the first one to the other.
Except for simple directions, they spoke very little to me, almost as if I wasn't there or like I was a little baby who wouldn't understand anyways.
"Okay, bum up baby." The first one said and I lifted it up.
When the last pink safety capped diaper pin was in place, it was time for my diaper pants.
"I've got the perfect diapers pants for him. But he probably won't appreciate them." The second one said.
They were transparent vinyl plastic with a slight pink tint to them. White ruffles ringed the waist and leg openings. And she was right, I didn't appreciate them. The clear, pink plastic would allow any yellow stains in the front or brown stains in the back of my diapers to be clearly visible.
I was sat up on the edge of the changing table for white ruffled anklets and white, strapped sandals. A baby T-shirt of white, with pink lace ruffles around the neck and arm and waist openings was pulled over my head. It sported very babyish iron on appliques across the front and reached down to a few inches above my belly button. A pink ribbon was pinned to it with a pink binkie on the other end.
For my hair, they parted it down the middle and tied it up into two curly pigtails, each one just above and behind the ear. With a large pink ribbon tied in each pigtail, I was done.
"He's still got a lot of curl left in his hair." Said one to the other, as she helped me to the floor. Then she patted me on the butt, "You know who wants to see you in her office Babykins. And get that binkie in your mouth and keep it there!"
I waddled, and I really mean WADDLED to Ms Roberts' office. I was greatly bow legged from the massive diapers.
I cried and suc-ked on my binkie, as I stood in front of Ms Roberts. She shook her head back and forth.
"Well Stephanie, you've come full circle now, though not in quite the correct chronological order." And she giggled. "You've been a five year old little girl, a thirteen year old teenage girl, and now, a one year old baby girl. I warned you." And she stood up from behind her desk and walked to me.
I felt so incredibly defeated. And the fact that I couldn't tell her it was all Lisa's doing made it even worse.
Standing in front of me, she continued. "I haven't decided if you're going to be kept like you are now, as a baby girl, or if you'll be kept as a five year old little girl. But you certainly won't be a teenager again. And you certainly won't be without diapers again."
I already knew that I wouldn't be a teenager again, but it sounded like there was a glimmer of hope that maybe I wouldn't be a full fledged baby for the rest of the summer. But no hope for getting out of diapers though.
"I'll discuss it with your stepmother tomorrow and she what she thinks is best for you---a little girl or a baby girl. Now off you go. Go about your normal routines for now, except report to the nursery for bedtime. Campers in diapers, as you know, sleep there."
I headed for the door, only to be called back again by Ms Roberts. "Oh, one more thing Stephanie. I almost forgot. The temperature's ninety one degrees now and it's supposed to be a very warm evening. But if you find yourself getting chilly, just go to the nursery and they'll give you a baby blanket to cuddle and keep you warm."
I hoped I wouldn't need that.
As I waddled out the door, I heard her sarcastically say, "And remember Stephanie---DON'T keep dry! It's no longer possible for you."
It was late afternoon now. Dinnertime was about half an hour away and I spent the time just wandering about aimlessly around the camp, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
At dinner, "Wannabees" giggled and tittered girlishly at the sight of me. "Don't Wannabees" just outright laughed. But little was said.
After dinner, Lisa was waiting for me again outside the cafeteria. I recalled that she had said earlier that she had the "whole day open". And, unfortunately, she had meant it.
"Hi baby Stephie!" She said as she approached me. "Your baby outfit is absolutely precious!"
I said absolutely nothing.
"Stephie, I want you to do one more thing for me today." She said as she tweaked one of my pigtails.
I just groaned. "Please no more. Please just leave me be!"
"Oh, don't be such a spoil sport, baby." She giggled in reply. "Now, I want you to wet yourself."
"But I don't need to pee!" I lied, in a vain attempt to placate her. I really did have a bit of an urge to go.
She snarled, "Oh yes you DO need to pee or...."
I hesitated briefly, but then let loose with the waterworks. Before long, a very visible yellow stain on the front of my diapers could be clearly seen through my transparent vinyl diaper pants.
"Good baby! Enjoy the rest of your night Stephie. I'll hope to catch you tomorrow." Lisa laughed and left me alone in misery.
I waddled to the solitude of a nearby Maple tree and just sat under it sobbing. At least, I consoled myself, I didn't have a "brown" stain in my diapers.
I just sat there until it was time for the movie in the rec center. I'd find some anonymity in the darkness of the movie I hoped.
I waddled into the rec center to the sound of giggles. I sat in the back for privacy and to not offend anyone with the smell of my pee soaked diapers.
The movie ended early. There was still over an hour until lights out, but I decided to head for the nursery anyways. I was pooped, though thankfully not literally. I just wanted the comfort and security of a crib to fall asleep in.
At the nursery, one of the nannies from earlier laughed as I entered. "I'm glad you're here early, Little Miss Waterworks! You gotta get up earlier than normal tomorrow morning to get all prettied up for Parent's Weekend. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up and into dry diapers and into your crib."
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part43
The next morning, I was woken up by the nanny from last night about an hour before normal. I was surprised and relieved that I hadn't relieved myself at all in my diapers during the night.
She was surprised too, as she sniffed the air and reached her hand into the front of my diapers. "Ahhh! Good baby Stephie. Still clean and dry."
Although, none of it really mattered. I'd be wet and poopy sometime this day!
"Got a lot to do and only a little time to get you ready to meet your family this afternoon Stephie. Ms Roberts left special instructions to get you "all prettied up" for Parent's Weekend. So let's get moving." She happily said.
It didn't fall "happily" on my ears though. I dreaded having my stepmother and Laura see me "all prettied up".
I was undressed and put into a tub of very fragrant bubble bath, with a shower cap over my hair.
"I've got things to get ready for you Stephie. I think you're a big enough girl to wash yourself. But don't touch your hair. We'll take care of that later. Wash thoroughly and I'll be back for you in ten minutes." And she left me to bathe.
There was a clock on the wall and I noted the time--7:14AM. I did wash thoroughly and was done in under five minutes, so I just sat and soaked. But soon I felt the urge to pee.
"Perfect!!!" I thought, very pleased with myself.
At exactly 7:22, I stood up, looked all around to be sure the coast was clear, and peed as quickly and as hard as I could into the bath water. I hopped out of the tub before the pee could reach my feet and legs. And I pulled the tub drain.
At 7:24, the nanny returned right on cue to find me busy drying myself with a towel. "Good girl Stephie!"
"Clever girl Stephie!" I thought was more appropriate. I'd saved myself, at least, one less wet diaper today.
On the changing table, I was diapered heavily in cloth, just like yesterday, which meant "bowed legs" and "waddling" for me. But instead of the pink tinted, clear vinyl panties of yesterday, she tugged up my very gaudy and ruffled and prissy pink rhumba diaper panties. When she put the matching training bra on me, I knew I'd probably be a five year old today. Well, at least, that was better than being a full fledged little baby girl. Though only slightly better.
Next stop, in just my diapers and rhumba panties and bra, was the small camp beauty salon. Miss Baldwin, who was in charge of it, had long since returned from her absence. I remembered her well. She had given me my first permanent. She'd also given me my first sound spanking.
She washed and conditioned my hair. Then she lightly towel dried it and worked some setting gel into damp my curls.
She quickly but efficiently set it in rollers. As she blow dried my set, the nanny worked away on my finger and toe nails, restoring them to a candy pink polished gloss and shine.
When my hair and nails were finally dried, Miss Baldwin took a curling iron to my hair to create the nice, thick long wiener curls I'd had before. The nanny put pink anklets and pink, patent leather Mary Janes on my feet.
Miss Baldwin then combed out the bangs on my forehead and, using pink barrettes, fixed my wiener curls back a little, just behind my ears. That was a slight change in my "wiener curl" hairdo. And I'd soon find out, to my horror, that there was a specific purpose for it. She lightly sprayed hairspray all over my "coif" to hold it in place for the day.
Then she looked at her watch. "A little after ten, we're making good time." She said to the nanny, and then added, "Would you go get the special present for Stephie now and the things we'll need for it please?"
I cringed at the thought of a "special present".
Miss Baldwin explained. "When your stepmother sent your birthday present last month, she included a special gift for her special little girl. She put a note on it to save if for today."
I gulped as the nanny quickly returned carrying some sort of corded, almost gun-like, needle device in one hand and a small bag of ice in the other. She set them down on the counter in front of the mirror. Then she reached into a pocket in her apron and pulled out a small, rectangular black jewelry box. She opened it up for me to see.
"No, no---please---no!!!" I squealed.
I recognized what the contents of the box was. It held a pair of gold heart earrings and a matching neck pendant with a single gold heart. My ears would need to be pierced to wear them.
"You can't do this to me!!! I won't let you!!! I'll be permanently marked for life!!!" And I started to bolt from the styling chair, only to be pulled back securely by Miss Baldwin.
"It's what your stepmother wants and so it's what you'll get Stephanie. And you never know, sweetie pie, it may be only the first of other permanent changes for you!" She said.
"My God, what does THAT mean???" I cried. And I struggled again to free myself.
She slapped my face hard and warned, "The next slaps will be across your bare girly bum, just like the last time, if you don't stop!"
A little before noon, I waddled toward the rec center where the parents were to meet their "boys".
Again, my ultra frilly, pink satin party dress danced atop the mountain of white organza petticoats. And my beribboned wiener curls also danced about the gold heart earrings prominently attached to my freshly pierced ears. The gold heart pendant dangled around my neck. A tear made its way down my lightly made up face to the corner of my pink glossed lips.
Ms Roberts was waiting for me at the entrance.
"Oh my goodness Stephanie!" She gushed as I approached. "You look positively adorable. Just like a little beauty pageant princess ready to walk on stage. Your stepmother and stepsister probably won't even recognize you!"
Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a small spray perfume and spritzed behind my ears and on my wrists.
She took my hand and said, "C'mon Precious! And don't forget to curtsey when you meet them."
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part44
The center was packed with campers and parents and siblings and a fair amount of Sunnyvale girls, as well.
All the campers, except for me and about half a dozen others, wore red plaid pleated skirts; which must have been the color of the day. And they each had a matching red plaid bow or ribbon placed somewhere in their hair. That was the first time I'd seen teenage campers in ribbons or bows. I figured it was probably because of the occasion. They almost looked like Catholic school girls.
The half dozen other campers looked "scary". Scary to me at least, in the sense that I might soon be one of them for the rest of my time at camp.
They all sat; strapped into large, over-sized baby strollers miserably suc-king away on pacifiers or baby bottles. They were dressed in really, very "over the top", elaborate baby outfits with bonnets and booties to match. They were obviously very heavily diapered. Most were crying, probably from messy diapers or extreme humiliation or both. Even their parents and siblings, who were pushing them around, seemed embarrassed. It was the first time I'd seen the one year olds outside of the nursery.
Still clutching Ms Roberts' hand, we walked around in search of my stepmother and Laura. As we walked, I noticed that there were very few, if any, men around. Boys to be certain. Brothers of the campers. But no fathers that I could see.
But that actually made sense to me. What father, in his right mind, would allow his boy to attend this "sissy" camp. My own father, I was sure, knew I was at camp for the summer. But I was certain he didn't know what kind of camp this was.
We continued, in vain, to try to locate my stepmother and Laura. I thought about, with little guilt, the "car accident" that I'd wished for not very long ago.
Our search was interupted several times by many mothers and sisters of my fellow campers. They "oohed" and "ahhhed" and "gushed" and "oogled" over me. They all just couldn't seem to resist the urge to pinch my cheeks or fondle my curls or adjust with my dress and petticoats or straighten my hairbow. Some even made me bend over to get an even better look at my diaper packed rhumba panties. Stuff like that. Stuff that, in the real world, any woman or girl might do when presented with a five year old little girl so prissily dressed.
It was quite embarrassing, though not as much as it would be in the "real world" at least.
We continued our search, until at one point, I hesitated and pulled back slightly from Ms Roberts.
"You see them, don't you Stephanie." She said.
My hung head and lack of an answer was all the answer she needed.
"Where are they?"
No sooner said, she glanced toward the entrance and saw a mother and daughter just walking in, hand in hand.
"Ah, that must be them. Right Stephanie?"
And again, my lack of an answer was the answer. As we walked toward them, I purposely hung back a little and to the side of Ms Roberts, much like a shy little girl would do with her mother.
"Remember to curtsey Stephanie. And call her "mommy" like you did in your letter." She added.
"Hello, I'm Ms Roberts." She beamed. " Are you Mrs. Crandall?"
"Why yes I am. And this is my daughter Laura."
Laura just smiled as Ms Roberts and my stepmother shook hands.
"I know we've sort of met on the phone," Ms Roberts said, "but it's so nice to meet you in person. And your lovely daughter."
"Why thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you too!" My stepmother replied.
"You must be thrilled to see your son!" Ms Roberts said next.
"Well--ah--yes. I'm sure I will be." Stepmother answered. "Where is he?"
Ms Roberts then realized the "shy routine" I was pulling and let go of my hand and stepped a little away from me.
"Chin up sweetie!" She said to me.
Tears ran down my face as I looked up.
My stepmother looked down at me over the top of her glasses and squinted. Then she removed them and looked at me, very wide eyed in amazement.
"Oh my goodness. I didn't know who this was. Is that you Stephen--ah--I mean Stephanie? Is that REALLY you?"
I took the cue and with little enthusiasm, I curtseyed. "Hello mommy. Hello Laura."
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part45
Stepmother cupped my face in her hands, then moved them about my hair, gently fondling my wiener curls. As she moved down to feel the fullness of my petticoated dress, she continued. "Oh Ms Roberts, he looks so much like a real little girl that I didn't even recognize him. I can't believe this precious little "cherub" is Stephen. You've done wonders with him!"
"Thank you Mrs. Crandall." Ms Roberts replied.
"Laura honey, what do you think of your stepbrother--ah--I guess I should say sister?"
Laura had just been standing there, covering her wide opened mouth with her hand, staring in disbelief.
"He looks very pretty!" She giggled. "I wish I had a pretty dress like his. Can I get a dress like Stephen's mommy? Please! Pretty please!"
Stepmother laughed. "Sure honey, but not today. And remember, he's a she now Laura. She's Stephanie now, not Stephen."
"Oh, right." Laura tittered and added. "I've always wanted a little sister to play with!"
I groaned at the thought of that.
My stepmother then turned me around to get a better look. She knelt down and lifted up the back of my dress and petticoats.
"Oh my, what precious panties!" She said and she felt the back of them. "Is she in diapers???"
"Yes, I'm afraid so." Ms Roberts answered. "Stephanie's had a number of accidents since she's been here and, unfortunately, needs to wear them all the time."
"Diapers!!!" Laura laughed. "Stephanie's a baby! Stephanie's a baby!" She mocked.
"I'm not a baby!!!" I cried in protest.
"Hush up Laura. Don't make fun of your baby sister." Stepmother scolded.
I cried even more at the realization that I was now considered to be Laura's baby sister.
Ms Roberts quickly averted the situation and said to my stepmother, "Perhaps you and Laura would like something to eat. I know Stephanie's probably hungry. She missed breakfast this morning getting all prettied up for your visit. There's a nice brunch set up over there." And she pointed to the buffet set up near the stage.
"Yes, thank you Ms Roberts. That'd be nice." Stepmother said. "And, by the way, thank you for doing the earrings and necklace. They look very lovely on him."
"My pleasure Mrs. Crandall. Enjoy the brunch. We'll talk later." And she left us.
"Take your little sister's hand Laura." And my stepmother took the other. We headed for the buffet table.
"Mommy, why is Stephen walking so funny?" Laura asked referring to my pronounced waddle.
"It's Stephanie now Laura! And don't you worry about that."
"Mommy, everything about him bounces. Even his hair!" She was unrelenting.
"It's HER, not HIM Laura. And for God's sake, mind your own business!" She scolded.
As we reached the buffet line, Laura asked me in naive but genuine sincerity, "Don't you just love being a girl now Stephen and getting to wear pretty dresses and things?"
"NO!!!"
"Isn't having your hair done up in ribbons and curls fun?" She asked next.
"NO!!!!!"
"Do you really wet and poop your diapers?"
"Stop it right now Laura!" My stepmother warned. "Or you might well find yourself in diapers!"
Thankfully, that shut her up.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part46
We stood in line for the brunch buffet with my stepmother in front, then me, and Laura bringing up the rear--which is literally what she did as we waited.
She just couldn't seem to keep her hands off me, or more specifically, off my dress and petticoats. Despite my best efforts to stop her, she fiddled and played with my dress and petties with little restraint.
At the point where she had lifted them up in the back to get a better peek at my diapered and ruffled bum, I cried, "Mommy!"
My stepmother turned around. "Laura, leave Stephanie's dress and things alone."
Laura giggled, "But mommy, he's better than any of my best dollies!"
"Yeah--great." I thought. "How lucky for me to be her favorite dolly!"
With brunch on our trays, we found a table and started to eat. I was hungry and thirsty and eagerly ate away at the huge breakfast I had gathered on my tray.
I was chewing on a piece of bacon when I looked up to see Chrissy standing before us, carrying a tray.
I frowned as she spoke. "Hi, you must be Stephanie's family. I'm Chrissy. I'm from Sunnyvale and I'm the counselor for Sugar Plum cabin---Stephie's former cabin."
"Hello, I'm Mrs. Crandall and this is my daughter Laura. Won't you join us?"
"Sure, thanks." And Chrissy sat in the open chair next to me.
I said nothing as Chrissy and my stepmother and Laura bantered away about God only knows what. I was too angry at the intrusion of Chrissy to pay much attention to them.
But at one point, Laura managed to spill her orange juice on herself, making a mess on the front of her T-shirt.
"Oh Laura---geez!" Stepmother groaned and stood up. "Where's the Ladies Room Chrissy? I gotta get Little Miss Piggy here cleaned up."
Chrissy pointed the way as my stepmother took Laura's hand. "We'll be back in a little while."
"Oh crap!" I thought. I had no desire to be alone with HIM. And I figured he had a rekindled desire to be alone with me, now that I was a prissy little five year old girl again.
And I was right, of course.
Chrissy immediately slipped one hand into mine and placed her other hand on the front of my dress and petties.
"I'm so glad you're a pretty little girl again Stephie. I've really missed my precious little Sweetie Pie!"
I pushed her hands away. "Leave me alone!"
"Oh, c'mon Pumpkin, don't be like that!" She pleaded and she started to fondle my curls.
I pushed her hands away again. "I said--LEAVE ME ALONE!!"
But she wouldn't relent. "Maybe we could get together again later today somewhere? You know I'll make your "little camper" a very happy one!"
"No way! LOLA!!!" I snarled.
"Oh Stephie, don't let that stop you. And besides, I won't be a LOLA for long. After this Fall, I'll be "Chrissy" in EVERY way." She cooed and put her hand atop the front of my dress again.
"I don't care! You fooled me!!" I was furious. I'd had enough. And I lost it.
I stood up. I picked up my plate full of scrambled eggs and dumped on the top of Chrissy's head and quickly followed it with the remainder of the orange juice left in my cup.
"Oh God!!" Chrissy squealed as she stood up. "You're gonna get it now sissy boy!!!"
"I don't care!" I shouted as I saw my stepmother and Laura returning from the Ladies Room.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part 47
Twenty minutes later, I stood in front of Ms Roberts' desk in her office. Laura and my stepmother sat in chairs to the side of me.
"Would you care to explain yourself Stephanie?" Ms Roberts asked.
"Chrissy said some things that just really made me mad. And she wouldn't stop." And that was all I offered.
"Like what Stephanie?" Ms Roberts asked.
"I really don't want to say Ms Roberts."
I didn't want to explain the nature of the overtures Chrissy had made to me, in front of my stepmother and Laura. And I certainly didn't want them to find out about the relationship we'd had before I found out she was a boy.
"Well, be that as it may, you know you'll need to be punished Stephanie." Ms Roberts said, and then added. "With your stepmother's permission, of course." And she looked to my stepmother.
"Whatever you think is best Ms Roberts." She replied, obviously very embarrassed by what I had done.
"Well, I think a good sound spanking and some corner time is in order." Ms Roberts said as she stood from behind her desk.
I started to cry as Ms Roberts looked to my stepmother and Laura and said. "If you and your daughter wish to wait outside, there's a bench out there. We won't be too long."
"No thanks Ms Roberts. I'd like to see how to properly punish him. And I think it'd be good for Laura to see how he's to be punished too." And she looked down at Laura. "Are you okay with that Laura?"
"Oh yes mommy! Definitely!" She chimed.
Being spanked was bad enough, I thought. But having it done in front of my stepmother and little stepsister was ten times worse.
Ms Roberts reached into a desk drawer and took out a large hairbrush and walked toward a couch under the window of her office. She closed the blinds and sat down, motioning for me to come to her.
She patted her lap and I laid across it.
"Please, at least not in front of them." I begged.
But Ms Roberts said nothing. I could almost feel my face turning crimson red as she carefully lifted the back of my dress and petticoats up to rest on my back. I continued to sob, knowing my bum would soon be as equally red as my face. But the embarrassment of all this being done in front of stepmother and Laura would be the worst part of the punishment.
As Ms Roberts tugged my diapers and rhumba panties to my ankles, Laura giggled. "I see Stephanie's bare little bummy!"
"Be quiet Laura!" Stepmother scolded.
"How many spanks do you think you deserve Stephanie?" Ms Roberts asked me.
"None." I mumbled.
"Tons, did you say?" And she laughed at her own little joke. "Well, I think that would be a bit harsh Stephanie. I think ten will suffice to teach you the error of your ways."
I grit my teeth in preparation for my "whacks". As they started to land across my bare butt, I struggled to cry as little as possible, wanting to show no sign of weakness.
But by the seventh whack, I was bawling like a baby from the pain and mostly, from the humiliation.
With the tenth whack finally over, I was placed nose into a corner of the office with my diapers and rhumba panties around my ankles. As Ms Roberts instructed, I held the back of my dress and petties up high to expose my bright red, painful fanny.
With the sound of much giggling from Laura, I heard Ms Roberts say. "Now that that's taken care of, I wonder if I might talk to you about something Mrs. Crandall?"
"Certainly Ms Roberts." Stepmother said and then she warned Laura to stop her giggling.
I knew it was my place to remain a silent, bare bottomed participant in the conversation.
"I need your input about what to do with Stephanie for the remaining three weeks of camp." Ms Roberts said. "No matter what, she'll remain in diapers 24/7. She really has little control over her, shall I say, bodily functions."
"I understand." Said my stepmother.
"But I'm wondering, " Ms Roberts continued, "if it would be best for her to stay like she is today, a five year old little girl. Or if it would be better for her to experience being a little baby girl for the rest of camp. She did actually have that experience, briefly, yesterday. I'd be fine with either way. I guess I'd like to leave it up to you."
"Baby--oh--baby, baby, baby!!!" Laura bubbled.
"That's it Laura!" And stepmother stood up and took Laura by the hand. "Please excuse me for a moment Ms Roberts. Laura can wait outside."
Stepmother took her to the bench outside the door. "Now sit there and behave, young lady." We heard her say.
"I'm sorry Ms Roberts. " She said, as she closed the door behind her.
"Not a problem Mrs. Crandall." And Ms Roberts regrouped. "As I was saying, I'd be fine with either way, baby girl or little girl. What do you think?"
I couldn't remain silent any longer and I pleaded, "Please, please, not a baby girl mommy!"
Although I couldn't see it with my nose in the corner, my stepmother stood up and said to Ms Roberts, who still held the hairbrush in her hand, "May I?"
"Certainly." Ms Roberts replied.
The next sound heard in the room was the "crack" of the hairbrush across my already blistered bare bottom and an even louder "yelp" from me.
"Little babies don't know how to talk!" My stepmother scolded.
"Very well then, baby girl it is." I heard Ms Roberts say over the sound of my wailing.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part48
With that decision made, my stepmother said, "Can I ask one thing of you Ms Roberts?"
"Of course Mrs. Crandall. What?"
"Can I bring him home in three weeks just as he is now--a five year old little girl?"
"Sure! Whatever you wish Mrs. Crandall." Ms Roberts replied.
Despite knowing better, I spoke out again. "How about going back home as I came here, a boy in my own clothes!!!!"
Another "whack" across my fanny from my stepmother and another "yelp" from me settled that.
As Ms Roberts pulled up my diapers and rhumba panties and refitted my dress over my petticoats, my stepmother explained to her.
"I think it is very fitting for him to experience being a helpless, totally dependent little baby girl for the remainder of camp. And there's definitely a part of me that would love to take him home like that."
And she paused for a moment and took a breath. "But even though he's quite small for his age, he's not small enough to pass for a real baby girl in public. No thirteen year old would be."
"You're quite right Mrs. Crandall." Said Ms Roberts.
"But he is small enough to pass for a little girl in public. I mean, he even fooled me!"
"Definitely Mrs. Crandall. He's already done that at the Mall outside of town." She reassured.
I really started to wail now. This "girlish" torture was obviously not going to be over with the end of camp.
Ms Roberts took some tissues from her purse and handed them to me. "Let me take Baby Stephanie here to the nursery and get her properly outfiited as a pretty little baby girl. It's just down the hall. You could meet us back here in, say an hour or so."
"Splendid! And thank you Ms Roberts." Stepmother replied.
"In the meantime, may I suggest that you and Laura take a little tour of Camp Sunnyvale. It's just across the meadow from here. It's a great girl's camp." And she giggled and added. " And I mean--real girl's camp. I could get Lisa to escort you. You might have met her."
"That would be great Ms Roberts. I was actually thinking about camp for Laura for next summer! Thank you."
"Very good. You can wait with your lovely daughter on the bench and I'll have Lisa meet you there in just a few minutes.
And Ms Roberts put her hand on my stepmother's shoulder. "And I'll take your other lovely DAUGHTER to the nursery now. See you in an hour or so!"
A little over an hour later, strapped into one of those large, over-sized baby strollers, a nanny and Ms Roberts pushed me out the nursery and down the hall to Ms Roberts' office, where my stepmother and Laura waited on the bench outside it.
I wore the same, still dry and clean, massive diapers and frilly pink rhumba panties. But my pink satin dress was replaced by a very short hemmed white baby dress with sewn in petticoats. It was trimmed with lots of pink lacy ruffles and a binkie tied to a pink ribbon was pinned to the front of it. My feet and hands were in baby booties and mittens. My wiener curls dangled below a very frilly white baby bonnet trimmed with the same pink lacy ruffles as my dress. A huge bow tied under my chin secured it in place. I was crying as I suc-ked away on a baby bottle filled with sweet, but awful tasting formula.
My stepmother knelt on one knee and "oogled" and "gushed" over me like any mother would do to her precious little baby girl. Laura stood to my side and giggled as she fussed with my bonnet.
"She's absolutely perfect Ms Roberts! Sooooo precious!!!" Stepmother exclaimed.
"Yes she is!" Replied Ms Roberts and she looked to the nanny. "Great work Bernice!"
"Thanks Ms Roberts." Bernice said and then looked to my stepmother. "She's been fed but she still needs to finish her bottle."
"Will do, thank you." She replied.
"If she messes her diapers, just bring her back here for a change." Said the nanny. "But otherwise, would you please have her back here by nine so we can get her into her crib for the night. Our little ones need lots of sleep."
"Certainly." Said my stepmother.
Ms Roberts looked at her watch. "It's just after six. Might I suggest something for you and your lovely daughters to do tonight Mrs. Crandall?"
"Yes please Ms Roberts."
"Well, at seven o'clock in our rec center, our "Shirley Temple Wannabee" contest is being held. We do it each summer on Parent's Weekend. Lots of little moppets singing and dancing and prancing about on stage doing their best impressions of Shirley Temple. It's really quite cute and very funny. You'll be amazed at how much most of them resemble her."
"Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world Ms Roberts." Said stepmother. "And thank you again!"
And off we went for the rec center.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part49
We got to the rec center early enough for my stepmother and Laura to get seats in the front row. Of course, I rode in my seat. They were very pleased to get so close to the stage. I could have cared less. I had no interest in watching pansies prancing about like Shirley Temple.
Being so close, I could see the "goings on" back stage before the start of the show. Mothers were anxiously busy primping their Shirley Templed sons, fussing with their heavily petticoated sissy dresses and fixing their blonde, sausage curled hair and adjusting their hairbows. And the boys seemed just as anxious about the whole process as their mothers. I counted ten participants. A few appeared to be wearing wigs, but most had their own hair done up.
The whole thing was bizarre. But then again, this whole camp was downright bizarre. If it weren't happening here at camp, one would have thought it was a real little girls' beauty pageant of some sort.
The house lights went down and the show began. One "Shirley" after another pranced and danced about on stage, lip-synching to songs from Shirley Temple movies. Of course, the ever popular "On the Good Ship Lollipop" was heard many times.
I watched in awe and amazement. I was amazed at how much they looked and acted like the real thing. But what amazed me most was that these boys were really into it. They wanted desparately to be just like Shirley Temple. And their mothers off stage just beamed with pride over their girly, pansy sons humiliating themselves on stage. But then, I guessed, it wasn't humiliating for them. They were "Wannabees".
As the show wound down, I felt rumblings inside me. I was still wearing the same clean diapers from early in the morning and knew I'd soon be making use of them. I hoped I could hold off until I was back in the nursery for the night. Wetting and pooping in diapers was, of course, nothing new to me. But doing that degrading act in front of my stepmother and Laura would be new to me. And I so did not want to mess myself with them around.
As the last of the "Shirleys" did their bit on stage, stepmother leaned down to me and whispered, "Maybe you can enter in this next year Stephie."
The binkie in my mouth prevented me from clearly expressing myself. But I whimpered and mumbled back as best I could, "I'm never coming back here."
"Never say never Stephie!" Was her reply. And I started to cry softly at the thought of returning to this camp again.
The final "Shirley" contestant turned out to be Felicity. She was the "Wannabee" from Sugar Plum cabin whose bed was next to mine. I wasn't really surprised to see him. He turned out to be the best of the lot and won the competition. He beamed and gushed as he gratefully accepted the trophy. Such a Priss!!!
With the house lights up again, stepmother allowed Laura to push my stroller. She was glad to play the part of a "mommy". But I wasn't glad to play the part of her "baby". And soon, despite my best efforts, I really played the part of her baby.
I couldn't hold out any longer. I pooped a huge load into my diapers and then wet them. Wetting and pooping my diapers was always a very shameful thing for me to do. But it was especially embarrassing in front of them.
"Oooh, yuck!!!" Laura moaned. "I think Baby Stephie just pooped her diapers."
Sniffing out the situation, stepmother replied, "Well, of course Laura, that's what little babies do!"
"Well it's gross! Stinky, stinky, stinky!" And she pinched her nose and she turned the stroller over to my stepmother.
"It's almost time to get Stephie back to the nursery for beddie bye anyways. We'll let them sort her out." Stepmother said to Laura.
As they left me to the care of a nanny, stepmother kissed my forehead and said, "See you tomorrow, my precious little baby."
I looked up at her in surprise and mumbled through my pacifier, "What?"
She realized I thought they were leaving for back home tonight.
"Stephie, this is Parent's---WEEKEND. So we'll be back to spend most of the day with you tomorrow. And then head home in the early evening. Laura and I are staying at a Holiday Inn just off the interstate exit. Isn't that GREAT!" Stepmother chimed.
I just groaned.
Bathed and rediapered, I clung to my Raggedy Ann doll and suc-ked on my pacifier in my crib. I cried myself to sleep thinking about having to spend another day with my stepmother and Laura as a little baby girl.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part50
Sunday morning, 8AM, I was woken up by the flash of the nursery lights coming on and the sounds of nannies moving about and the smell of wet, messy diapers. Fortunately, though I guess it didn't really matter, the smell wasn't coming from me.
Bernice, the nanny, soon appeared over my crib and smiled, "Good morning princess!"
And she sniffed the air around me and put her hand in the front of my diapers. "Good girl Stephie! Dry and clean."
Minutes later, I sat strapped into an over-sized high chair wearing a bib as Bernice spooned baby cereal into my mouth.
"Gotta eat up and then I'll get you all prettied up and ready for your day. I'm sure your stepmother and stepsister will be by soon to spend the last day of Parent's Weekend with you." She said.
By a little after 8:30, I was fed and being dressed by the nanny. I didn't need my diapers changed but, for added protection, the nanny pinned one more large cloth diaper on me.
"I'm sure you'll have a busy day Stephie and we don't want any leaks." She laughed.
She struggled a bit to pull very frilled pink and white, vinyl lined rhumba panties over my bulbous diapers.
With an equally frilled and petticoated matching baby dress in place, she fussed with my wiener curls as she tied a matching bonnet over them. She was working on my mittens and anklets and booties when my stepmother and Laura walked in.
"Good morning Bernice!"
"Good morning Mrs. Crandall. Laura." Bernice replied. "He's just about ready for the day."
"Wonderful." Stepmother said.
The nanny strapped me into a stroller and placed a baby bottle into my hands. "He's had his breakfast but still needs his bottle."
As I suc-ked away on the awful tasting formula, my stepmother asked Bernice a question. "I wonder if it's possible to take him off campus, so to speak, for a little while?"
"Certainly Mrs. Crandall. What did you have in mind?" Bernice asked.
"Well, I don't really know. Maybe into town or to the Mall. I just think I'd be fun to take him out and about for a little while. Do you have any suggestions Bernice?" She asked.
I groaned at the thought and the nanny replied. "Well, funny you should ask because there's actually a group--well, an organization really--called M.O.M.M.Y" And she spelled it out. "M-O-M-M-Y. It stands for Mothers of Misbehaved Male Youngsters. It meets every Sunday morning in the main atrium of the Mall. The mothers gather there to walk and parade their ill-behaved sons around. It's almost like a promenade. But it's really a form of punishment for their errant sons."
I started sobbing, knowing my stepmother would certainly latch on to this suggestion.
"The boys are made to wear all manner of, I guess you could say, "punishment outfits". And they have to suffer the embarrassment of being seen in public in them." And Bernice added. "They'd certainly welcome you and Baby Stephie."
"Wow!" Stepmother gasped.
"Can we go, can we go---please???" Laura begged.
"Well," and stepmother thought for a moment, "it sounds like a good idea. Let's do it!"
"I'll give you a diaper bag in case Stephie needs a change and some baby reins to use if you want to walk him about." Bernice said.
"Perfect. Thank you Bernice."
As we drove for the Mall, I cried and begged and pleaded with my stepmother to not do this to me.
"Get used to it Stephie!" Was her only response.
I suc-ked away in fear on my bottle, as stepmother held the Mall entrance door open while Laura pushed my stroller.
The Mall was fairly empty. Most stores weren't open yet for a Sunday morning. As we approached the main atrium, I was amazed and abhorred by what I saw.
Probably about a dozen or so mothers stood about chatting with each other, their red faced sons in tow. The boys all seemed to be about my age, well, my real age I mean.
Some wore short, pleated skirts and tops. Some were dressed in what looked like square dance dresses with billowing petticoats. One was decked out in a Little Lord Fauntleroy suit similar to what I had worn earlier in the summer. One had on a pink Princess gown probably from a Disney Fashion store. And yet another was in pink tights and a tu-tu and ballet slippers. All of these boys had some kind of bow or ribbon attached to the top of their short cut hair. Absolutely no effort had been made to disguise the fact that they were boys wearing shameful, humiliating girls clothes.
Two boys were dressed as babies, with obvious diapers under their outfits. But they were dressed, at least, as baby boys in blue, bibbed overalls and striped shirts.
All had looks of horror and shame on their red, tear stained faces.
But I was the only frilly, prissy baby girl!
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part51
Laura and my stepmother pushed my stroller toward the assembled group of chatting mothers and very forlorn sons. Immediately, a hush came over the mothers and sons as they gaped at the sight of me.
But the awestruck looks, at least of the mothers, were quickly replaced by warm, welcoming smiles as they gathered around us.
"Hello ladies." Stepmother began. "I'm Joan Crandall and this is my daughter Laura and this little Sweetie Pie", and she gently placed her hand on the back of my bonnet, "is my stepson Stephen, though he prefers to be called Stephanie now."
Brief pleasantries of "hello" and "nice to meet you" were exchanged as many mothers knelt down next to me to fawn over me and examine me more closely.
Stepmother continued. "Stephanie here is one of the many happy campers from Camp Sissy Curls."
Stepmother knew that would explain everything to these locals in a nutshell. And, of course, it did.
In fact, the mother of the boy in the pink Disney Princess gown immediately replied. "Oh, I'm thinking of sending my son there next summer!"
I heard "Princess" moan. "Oh please mother, no!"
When some other mothers chimed in with "me too" and "I'm thinking of that", more gasps of horror were heard from their petticoated sons.
Stepmother continued. "It's Parent's Weekend at the camp and my daughter and I are just here until later tonight. We live about an hour's drive from here. I was wondering if we might join your lovely gathering for the morning?" Stepmother asked and then added. "The nanny at the camp told me about your group."
"Well of course Joan. The more the merrier. And your Stephanie here sure seems to be a merry little baby!" Said the mother of the "ballet" boy as she tweaked one of my wiener curls.
"Well thank you. We certainly appreciate it." Said my stepmother.
"Awesome!" Giggled Laura.
The boys, in their various "punishment outfits", just stood around gawking at me. I supposed that many of them were probably thinking that at least, they weren't dressed as frilly and prissy and babyish as me.
But from experience, I knew that I could never really pass for a baby as even I was too big for that, but I knew (or hoped) I could pass for really being a girl at least.
But for the "petticoated sons", there was no doubt about the fact that they were "boys in dresses" and such. And that was a large factor in their punishment.
Stepmother unstrapped and removed me from my stroller and placed the diaper bag on the seat of it. I stood quite bow legged as she put the baby reins onto me and handed the leash of it to Laura.
I'd not worn baby reins before and I felt like a dog on a leash. A French Poodle actually, to be exact. And I could see that Laura was thrilled to have control of me.
"Let's go for a stroll around the Mall ladies!" Said one of the mothers. The suggestion was met with great enthusiasm from the mothers and great horror from their sons.
As I waddled along in front of Laura at the end of my leash, I noticed that stores were starting to open and people were starting to fill the Mall.
This kind of extremely humiliating display was nothing new to me but it was new, it seemed, for many of the boys. They buried their heads in their faces and cried without control as they pranced along.
Passersby were totally merciless in their teasing and jeering and taunting as they beheld our group. And that, of course, was the intent of this "petticoat punishment".
I pretty much took it all in stride. I'd "been there and done that" many times by now.
But for most of the other boys, it was a horrific experience that they just couldn't seem to bear. A few even started to bolt from the group, only to be pulled back by their mothers and given a swat on their behinds. We were a "parade of pansies" to be ridiculed and taunted and teased by all who encountered us.
I felt bad for the other boys. This was easier for me to endure because I was pretty used to it.
Well, it was easier for me until we reached one end of the Mall, where we stopped for a breather. I stood there, being able to pay little attention to the humiliating comments and remarks and taunts, until I heard a familiar voice call out.
"Hi Mrs. Crandall! Hi Stephie, Laura!"
I looked up to see a smiling Lisa approaching us. And she had Chrissy with her.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part52
"Wow, fancy meeting you guys here!" Lisa said. "And what--ah--well--an interesting group you're with."
"Yeah, right---fancy that." I thought. I knew it was no coincidense that Lisa and Chrissy ran into us here. They had to have been tipped off as to where we were going. And I was sure they had some kind of ulterior motive for being here.
"Hello girls." Stepmother replied. "And Chrissy, I want to apologize for the awful thing Stephanie did to you yesterday. I hope you'll forgive him."
I said nothing but Chrissy spoke up immediately.
"Oh, he'll earn my forgiveness soon enough." She grinned with a gleam in her eye.
My stepmother seemed a bit caught off guard by Chrissy's strange response but replied. "Well yes, thank you."
I cringed. I knew what Chrissy meant. It meant I'd soon pay for my actions of yesterday. And probably right here at this little "outing".
"Can we walk with you and the group for a little while Mrs. Crandall?" Lisa asked.
"Well---sure." Stepmother answered.
"Here it comes." I said under my breath.
As the hideous sissy parade began again, Lisa walked along side of me with stepmother and Laura and Chrissy behind us at the other end of my baby reins.
She spent a minute or two whispering into my ear so as to not be heard by anyone else.
As she whispered, tears started trickling down my face and I moaned and whispered back. "Please no Lisa! Please no more! Please don't make me! Please, please!!!" I softly begged.
Her last whisper was. "You know better than to disobey me Stephanie!" And she added in another whisper. "And be sure to do it with a lot of enthusiasm!"
I waddled along in silence for a minute contemplating my circ-umstances. Then I bit my lip and stopped and turned around to face stepmother and Laura and Chrissy.
As gleefully as I could muster, I loudly (as per Lisa's instructions) announced. "Mommy, I need to go potty! Can I please wet and poop my diapers?"
My stepmother was shocked and surprised by my unexpected announcement. She even seemed a little embarrassed by it.
"Well---of course Stephie. I mean, that's why you're wearing diapers. But you don't need to announce it to the whole world Sweetie Pie!"
Everyone who heard all of this, from mothers and their petticoated sons to shoppers walking through the Mall, roared with great laughter.
"Well," and this wasn't true but was again, as per Lisa's instructions, "at camp, I'm supposed to ask permission if anyone's around before I wet and poop them."
"Okay, okay Stephie. Do your business." Stepmother replied. And even more laughter erupted.
I just stood there and covered my red, tear soaked face with my hands and thoroughly peed my diapers, while all around me watched and laughed.
Then I bent forward slightly and deposited a huge stinky load into the seat of my diapers.
Now the crowd really roared, while fanning their faces or pinching their noses.
Everyone, particularly those nearby me, was "agassed"--well, aghast at the spectacle of me.
One mother quickly offered. "There aren't restrooms very near here Joan. The closest is at the other end of the Mall." And she pointed. "I suggest we all make our way there as quickly as possible so he can be changed."
"Yes, thank you." Stepmother said.
People kept a wide berth around me as we headed for the restrooms. I didn't smell especially inviting. Laura walked behind me, still holding the leash of my baby reins in one hand, but she used her other to pinch her nose. And she was out of control with laughter, as was most everyone else.
Lisa and Chrissy walked ahead of me talking with my stepmother. I couldn't make out what they were saying.
We stopped when we reached the restrooms and I heard my stepmother say. "Thank you girls, I appreciate it. But are you sure it's okay for him to go into the Ladies Room?"
"Sure Mrs. Crandall. He's been in there before." Lisa assured. "But why don't you and Laura go on with the rest of the group now. We'll catch up with you. It's gonna take awhile to get Stephie cleaned up and sorted out."
"Okay then, thanks again girls. See you in a bit." And stepmother and Laura left with the parade of punished pansies, leaving me in the clutches of Lisa and Chrissy.
Each took my hand, while pinching their noses with their other. They yanked me into the Ladies Room, which wasn't empty but had only a few users. And I knew I wasn't through paying for my "scrambled eggs" incident of yesterday.
They pulled me to the open handicapped stall. Lisa reached into the diaper bag and pulled out a large, full plastic container of baby wipes. She gagged from the smell of my stinky diapers as she tucked the petticoats and skirt of my baby dress up into the front and back of it and out of the way of my messy diapers.
"We're not gonna deal with cleaning up a wet, poopy, stinky little baby like you!!!" She said, almost shouting.
The few people who were using the Ladies Room sensed the tension and exited as quickly as they could.
Pointing to the stall, Lisa handed me the baby wipes and ordered. "Get in there Stinky Pants. Take off your booties and slide down your rhumba panties and put 'em in this bag and seal them." And she handed me two large food storage bags.
"Then take off those awful diapers as carefully as you can to contain the mess and put them in the other bag and seal it. And it'll go in the garbage. Were not gonna haul crappy diapers back to camp!"
I listened carefully as she continued her commands. And I was actually relieved that I was going to clean myself up and not them.
Lisa continued. "Now I don't care if you have to use the entire container of baby wipes. You get every square inch of yourself TOTALLY, SQUEAKY CLEAN from your waist to your toes. You better be as fresh as a baby just outta the tub. Do you understand me sissy boy?"
I just nodded my head up and down and waddled into the stall and bolted the door.
Lisa called from outside the door. "You take your time to get good and clean Stephie. Chrissy and I are going out the Mall exit just across the way for a smoke. Come get us when you're clean and we'll rediaper you and sort you out."
"But, but....." I called as I heard the restroom door close behind them.
I did take my time to meticulously clean myself. Everything about my world was embarrassing, but one of the most embarrassing things was smelling poopy.
After about fifteen minutes or so, I was squeaky clean. I'd used almost all the baby wipes. I tugged my petticoats and dress down around me as far as I could, as I was totally naked underneath.
I peeked out the stall door and saw only a mother and her little girl washing up. I waited until they were gone and stepped out barefooted. I quickly stuffed the bag of stinky diapers and the baby wipes container into the trash. I clutched the other bag of my booties and rhumba panties and made my way for the restroom exit.
I exited just as two teenaged boys were entering the Mens Room next door. They whistled at me and called to me. "Nice butt Babycakes. Thanks for the peep show!" They'd seen up the back of my very short baby dress.
In my bare feet, and probably very exposed bare bum, I scampered to the Mall exit across the way and pushed open the door and called, "I'm ready Lisa and Chrissy."
Shoppers just entering the Mall looked at me with much confusion and then giggled.
I made my way back to the Ladies Room as quickly as possible, holding down the back of my dress and petticoats with my left hand and the front with my right.
I bolted myself in the handicapped stall and waited for Lisa and Chrissy. And they soon arrived.
"Good, the coast is clear Lisa." Chrissy said.
With a bang on the stall door, I heard Lisa order. "Front and center you little pantywaist!"
I stepped out, now wishing we weren't the only ones there.
"Lift up sissy boy." Lisa ordered. And I pulled my dress and petties up for inspection.
"Oh my God, you sick, little pervert. This really turns you on!" Lisa laughed.
Chrissy seemed to salivate a little. And I couldn't imagine why my soldier was saluting. I certainly wasn't turned on by all of this, but still it stood erect.
"Well, you did a good job Stephie. Nice and squeaky clean." And Lisa looked around again to see that the coast was clear. Then she reached into a tote she carried on her shoulder and pulled out a ping pong paddle, probably taken from the rec center.
"Well, you should do the honors Chrissy. You're the one he dumped eggs all over." And she handed him the paddle and said. "I'll wait outside the exit and warn you if someone's coming."
Chrissy gave me an evil grin and said. "Bend over Stephie and lift up!"
I took the binkie attached to my dress and clenched down hard on it with my teeth. I was about to learn the literal meaning of the phrase "bite the bullet". And I bent over and exposed my bare butt.
After twenty very hard whacks with the paddle, which she made me count off, I was bawling my eyes out in pain and shame. My bonnet had even come untied and sat on the floor in front of me from the assault.
As I sobbed, Lisa rushed in. "Someone's coming. Grab a stall and close the door and sit down and wait."
We each sat in a stall and waited for the coast to be clear again. It did, at least, afford me some time to recover from my spanking.
When we were again alone, Lisa said. "Okay, let's get his red little bum diapered."
But before she reached into my diaper bag, she went into her tote again. She pulled out a large, pink butt plug.
"Please not that!" I moaned. My butt was sore enough as it was.
"Shut up sissy boy. Don't argue with me!" Lisa scolded.
As she moistened it with tap water, she laughed. "Sorry Stephie, but I wore out the batteries on the vibrating dil-do!"
"Yeah, I'm sure she did." I thought.
I moaned and groaned as it was slipped up and into my butt hole.
With it in place, Lisa and Chrissy quickly diapered me in three Depends from my diaper bag and pulled up clean rhumba panties and put new booties on my feet. They primped my wiener curls and refitted my baby bonnet and washed my face.
I was relieved to be done with this ordeal.
But my relief was short lived.
"Okay Stephie." Lisa said. "There's one more thing left to do to pay the piper."
"No, please no more! I can't take any more!" I sobbed.
Then I actually got down on my knees in front of Chrissy and begged his forgiveness. "I'm sorry Chrissy. I'm so sorry I dumped my eggs and juice on you. Please, no more. Please, please forgive me!!!"
"Well, how perceptive of you Stephie!" Chrissy interjected with a smile. "That's the perfect position. Hold that pose."
And to my great horror, he lifted up the front of his skirt. He had nothing on underneath it. His "willie" was now in my face and was quite erect.
"Watch the door Lisa." He said and he looked down at me. "Now you can pay the piper by taking care of my "pipe". Do unto others as you'd have them do unto you. Service me, like I serviced you!"
"NO WAY!!!" I shouted.
And I knocked him to the floor and bolted for the door, pushing Lisa aside.
I was panicked trying to find my stepmother and Laura and the group.
Lisa and Chrissy quickly caught up with me and each took one of my arms in theirs to secure me.
"This way sissy boy!" Lisa said as she pointed.
I just cried in misery as we made our way back to the group. I wasn't even aware of the taunting and teasing from passersby.
"You do realize Stephie, you've just sealed your fate!" Lisa devilishly said as we approached the group.
"I don't care! Nothing in the world could make me do THAT!!!"
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part53
When we caught up with the group, stepmother said. "I was beginning to get worried about you girls!"
"Oh, there was no problem. He was just awfully messy and it took a long time to clean him up. But he's all squared away now!" Lisa gleefully explained.
"Well, thanks girls."
"Our pleasure Mrs. Crandall." Chrissy replied with a grin.
Thankfully, our sissy parade soon came to an end. Stepmother graciously thanked the mothers for letting us participate. I certainly wasn't thankful though.
As we drove back to camp, I thought about the almost three remaining weeks of camp that I'd be spending as a total and complete little baby girl.
And I also thought about facing my father when I got home, as a five year old little girl still in diapers.
And the most frightening thought was whether Lisa would really go through with letting the kids at my school get a copy of my video.
I just sobbed. It was all too horrible to think about.
At the nursery back at camp, I was turned over to one of the nannies. My stepmother and Laura had to head back for home.
Stepmother kissed my cheek. "Enjoy the rest of camp Sweet Pea. Be a good little baby! See you in about three weeks Stephie."
Laura's departing words were, with a giggle, "Try not to poop your diapers too much Stephie!"
"Yeah right!" I thought. "Like I'm gonna enjoy the next three weeks and, like I have any control over pooping my diapers. What birdbrains!"
The next two of the three remaining weeks were actually quite boring. I mean, a baby's life, at least as experienced by a thirteen year old boy, is pretty monotonous. My world centered around, basically, four things---eating, sleeping, wetting and pooping. That's about all babies do.
Sure, there was the occasional walk in the stroller and playpen time and "Barney" videos and baby books to thumb through. Boring stuff like that.
And the food, of course, was awful. A diet of nothing but baby food and formula and juice, eaten in an over-sized high chair. It was exactly the life of a real baby.
I had little contact with the half dozen other little baby girls in the nursery, except for maybe playing blocks with them in the playpen. Speaking wasn't allowed, as babies don't talk.
Probably the worst part of the monotony was it allowed me to dwell on what the future held for me after camp. And it seemed quite bleak to me.
At the beginning of the third and final week at camp, my humdrum lifestyle was to take a change. And not for the better.
I was given, by a nanny, a handout, photocopied on pink paper, advertising the annual summer "Diaper Derby". It was for the girls at Camp Sunnyvale but it involved us babies at Camp Sissy Curls. It was a contest to be held this final week of camp.
The handout explained the goal and rules of this annual summer event. And it certainly wasn't designed for the pleasure of us babies.
It explained that seven cabins at Sunnyvale, who wished to participate, would be given one of us babies to be diapered by them as thoroughly and completely as possible to prevent "leaking".
The goal of the contest was to see which cabin could come up with a diapering system that would last the longest, meaning go the longest before leaking anything. The record time, set two summers before, was two and a half days.
And I knew Hummingbird cabin would certainly want to participate and would CERTAINLY choose me.
And, no surprise, they did.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part54
The next morning was Tuesday of the final week at camp. The following Saturday would be D-Day, departure day. The day campers would head for home.
At wakeup, a nanny peered over my crib with news, that sadly, wasn't news to me.
"Hummingbird Cabin at Sunnyvale has picked you to be their entry in the Diaper Derby this week Stephie." She said. "Lisa will be here at 10:30 to take you back there to be prepared for the contest."
I groaned, having a pretty good idea of what "prepared" meant.
"Before Lisa comes to get you, she's asked me to do a little "preparation" on you first. Something to clean out your plumbing, so to speak, before her cabin sets to work on you for the contest." And she giggled. "You might have had one of these before."
I was clueless as to what she meant about cleaning out my "plumbing".
She stripped me naked and directed me to lie, face down, on the changing table nearest to the bathroom. She wheeled a tall, stainless steel, hospital stand next to the changing table. It held a large, red rubber bladder type thing with a long, rubber tube coming from the bottom of it. At the end of the tube was attached a long nozzle.
"Please no." I whimpered. I knew what it was.
"Quiet Stephie! Little babies can't talk." She scolded and swatted my behind.
As she applied Vaseline to the long nozzle, she explained. "I'm gonna give you an enema. It'll empty out your bowels completely. That way you'll be able to start the Diaper Derby today totally cleaned out. You'll be able to last longer in your diapers and, hopefully, win the contest."
I groaned and started to cry.
"Relax Stephie. It won't hurt. You probably were given enemas when you were a baby." And she laughed. "I mean, a real baby!"
She inserted the nozzle into my bum. It was, at least, a whole lot less obtrusive than the butt plugs and dil-does I had experienced.
She released the tube clamp, allowing the warm enema liquid to flow into my butt.
"When the enema bag is emptied, I'll take you to the toilet and you can move your bowels." And she grinned. "And your plumbing will be squeaky clean. Then I'll give you a bath."
Twenty minutes later, the bag was empty. Just before the nanny removed the nozzle, she warned, "When I take it out, be sure to hold it all in until you're seated on the potty. I promise you a good spanking if you don't. Understand Sweetie Pie?"
I nodded "yes".
"Okay, let's go." And she pulled it out.
I made it to the toilet with only seconds to spare.
"Good girl!!!" She giggled. "Get it all out and then I'll bathe you." And she started to leave the bathroom but then remembered. "Oh, and be sure to have a good pee. Get your bladder totally emptied out too."
At 10:15, I sat in my stroller waiting for Lisa to pick me up. I was very simply dressed. I wore only one disposable diaper with a very simple, light yellow sundress over me. A matching yellow hairbow atop my curls and a binkie in my mouth were the only adornments.
Lisa arrived at precisely 10:30.
"She's all set!" The nanny chimed.
"Thanks so much. I appreciate it." Lisa replied.
As we headed out, the nanny called. "Good luck! Hope you win the Diaper Derby Stephie!"
I cringed and whimpered as Lisa pushed my stroller toward Sunnyvale. I knew I faced several days of wearing the same, ever increasing in contents; wet, poopy and stinky diapers."
Neither of us spoke, as we crossed the meadow to Sunnyvale and Hummingbird Cabin. And that was just fine with me.
When we reached Lisa's cabin, I clenched down on my pacifier in anticipation of the horrors to come.
Removed from my stroller, I walked in with Lisa behind me. Several "Hummingbird" girls were eagerly waiting for me. The feeling wasn't mutual.
Surprisingly, no one spoke to me. And I was certainly okay with that.
Lisa, like always, immediately took charge. "Okay girls. We got three hours to get our little Diaper Derby contestant ready. And we're gonna win AND set a record. Three days, at least, until he springs a leak. That's the goal!"
With that said, I decided on a "goal" of my own---to get the hell out of there! What did I have to lose at this point? And I leaped for the door.
But less than a minute later, I was across Lisa's knee. Twenty whacks from the ping pong paddle later, I was blubbering on the floor. There'd be no escaping this fate for me.
Lisa laughed and said to the girls. "That'll soften up the little pansie's butt for his diapering. Get the stuff girls!"
As I was stripped naked, save my hairbow and binkie, the girls placed a large bag of Depends disposables, several clear vinyl diaper pants and a large roll of white duct tape along side of me.
"The only real rules are," Lisa said to the girls, "nothing can extend to more than two inches above the waist opening or below the leg openings of the diapers---meaning the duct tape. And only clear vinyl diaper pants can be used, so the contents of his diapers are easily seen as he increasingly wets them. But, so long as we keep within the boundaries, we can use as much duct tape and as many diapers and diaper pants as we can fit onto him. We're gonna break the old record girls!"
As they started to outfit me in my "toilet prison", one of the girls held up a tube of diaper rash ointment. "Should we start with this?" She asked.
"Nah!" Said Lisa. "It won't last long enough to do any good. And besides, this little sissy boy deserves to have a huge diaper rash when it's all over."
They set about working on me with again, nothing said directly to me. I was simply a "thing" or a "model" they were building for a competition.
About an hour and a half later, I was "complete". I struggled just to stand in front of them. I'd been bowlegged before from diapers, but this was a whole new level. I really couldn't walk or even waddle.
They had managed to encase me in a full twenty Depends and were able to pull five large, clear vinyl plastic diapers pants over them. Countless feet of white duct tape circled where the waist and leg openings of the multiple diapers and vinyl pants met my skin. And the tape pinched and pulled on those sensitive areas when I moved even slightly.
"Okay girls. Let's get him back to Camp Sissy Curls and get him entered into the Diaper Derby." Lisa ordered. "There's a two o'clock deadline for entries and we've got enough time."
I was so bowlegged, I required the help of two girls to just get outside. I felt like an invalid.
And I was so heavily diapered, I couldn't even fit into my over-sized baby stroller.
"It'll take him forever to waddle back to his camp." Said one of the girls. "What'll we do?"
"Not to worry, I'll be right back." Lisa replied.
A minute later, she came from behind the cabin pulling a red, "Radio Flyer" wagon.
"You're brilliant Lisa!" Said one of the girls, and the rest heartily agreed.
With a fair amount of difficulty, I was placed into the wagon.
A simple, but ruffled, white baby T- shirt was carefully pulled over my curls and hairbow. It reached to maybe three or four inches above my waist. Then booties and mittens were put on me.
"We better get going Lisa!" One of the girls called.
"Yup! But just one more thing. It'll be the crowning touch!" And she ran back into the cabin.
Less than a minute later, she returned carrying what seemed to be, a large, white oval shaped thing behind her back.
With a devilish grin on her face, she brought it into full view. "Maybe this will earn some extra points, some how, with the judges!" She laughed. "I bought it yesterday at the hardware store in town."
I cried in horror. "Please don't! Please no Lisa!"
It was a toilet seat. The top lid had been removed. And she placed the "collar of shame" over my head.
"You should be thankful it's new and not used Stephanie!" Lisa scolded as the girls just about keeled over with laughter.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part55
Almost like a wagon train crossing the prairie, the Hummingbird girls pulled me across the meadow to camp to officially enter me in the Diaper Derby.
When we reached camp, the boys just outright laughed and snickered with little abandon at the spectacle of me. They could afford to be much less reserved with their laughter because camp was almost over. And the toilet seat collar I was wearing, I'm sure, really set them off.
Outside the administration building, a card table was set up with a sign taped to the front of it---"Diaper Derby Registration".
The nanny seated behind it just couldn't contain her laughter either. She chuckled loudly as she said. "Well girls, you're just in time. I was worried that you weren't gonna make it. All the other babies have been registered."
"Well," Lisa replied, "we had some last minute adjustments to make."
"So I see!" The nanny giggled. "The--ah--toilet seat is a nice--ummm--I guess, even appropriate, touch." And she giggled even more. "But I'm not sure that Ms Roberts will allow it."
I was glad to hear that.
"I understand." Lisa replied.
"Well anyways, let's get Baby Stephie here entered." The nanny said as she got up from behind the table.
She picked up a small, pocket sized, spiral notebook. It had a large piece of pink yarn running through the coil of it. A small, ball point pen was also stuck into the coil. She wrote on the cover of it with a marker "Baby Stephie--entry #7".
Then she tied it around my neck, over my shameful toilet seat "collar".
Looking at me, she explained. "Now Stephie, I know little baby girls like you aren't supposed to be able to read or write, but this is gonna be an exception to that rule."
She opened the spiral notebook and drew a line down the center of the first page. At the top of the left half, she printed "WETTING" and she printed "POOPING" on the right side.
"It's your responsibility to tally mark every time you wet or poop your diapers." And she repeated. "EVERY TIME! Can you be a big girl and do that?"
I just stared downward at the toilet seat I was wearing and sobbed.
"Answer me!" She scolded.
"Yes." And I nodded my head up and down.
Looking to the Hummingbird girls, tha nanny said. "Okay girls, we'll take him from here." And she laughed and added. "And good work girls. It looks like he'll stay leak proof for a long time."
I started bawling without control. I so hoped she was wrong.
-
Sat Apr 28, 2007 5:46 pm Post subject:
-----------------------------------------------------------
Camp Sissy Curls--part56
About a half an hour later, six precious, heavily diapered little baby girls sat in their strollers in Ms Roberts' office; su-king away on their pacifiers with very frightened looks on their red, tear stained faces.
A seventh one was there also of course, but seated in a red Radio Flyer wagon and wearing a toilet seat around his neck.
Ms Roberts spoke to the assembled group of miserable, horrified bawling babies.
"Now then babies, I want to remind you that every time you wet or poop your diapers, you are to record it in the little notebooks around your neck. The Diaper Derby winner is the one who goes the longest without leaking." And she stood up from behind her desk. "But the amount of usage, shall I say, that your diapers get is also a factor in determining the winner."
She walked around to the front of her desk and grinned down at me. "And some of you, I think, will last an especially long time before leaking anything."
I feared she was quite right.
"You'll go about your days and nights like normal. But the nannies will try to keep you outdoors as much as possible, because before too long, you'll be very, I guess I could say---RIPE!" And she giggled at her own quip.
"And believe me, you and anyone around you will need A LOT of fresh air. Fortunately, the extended weather forecast calls for dry and warm and sunny days for the rest of the week."
Then Ms Roberts spoke directly to me. "Now Baby Stephie, the toilet seat you're wearing around your neck is actually very clever and fitting, but I don't think it's really appropriate."
I looked up at her and actually smiled in gratitude.
"But you know," She said as she carefully took it off me, "this might come in handy later on, when the Diaper Derby winner is determined."
I didn't care to wonder too much about what she meant by that.
She picked up her phone and summoned for nannies to come and take us away. As we waited for them, a poopy smell filled the air. I looked to see a baby, a few strollers down from me, crying as he marked in his little spiral notebook.
"Well!" Laughed Ms Roberts. "Looks like someone's eager to get started!"
As we were pushed, or in my case pulled, from the office, Ms Roberts called. "Good luck girls! May the best man, I mean baby, win!"
Sat Apr 28, 2007 8:42 pm Post subject:
-----------------------------------------------------------
Camp Sissy Curls--part57
The remainder of Tuesday was fairly normal, except for the fact that I had to be carted around in a wagon. I even had to be fed sitting in it. I couldn't fit into a highchair.
But nightime was very difficult. The huge bulge around my mid-section prevented me from lying flat in my crib. I had to sleep upright, leaning against the back of the crib.
Wednesday morning, I woke up not very well rested. But I was still dry and clean. But after breakfast, I tallied a mark in each column of my little notebook. I groaned thinking that I'd have this wet, stinky mess, and probably many more, in my diapers for who knew how long.
After lunch, again eaten in my wagon, I was put into one of seven playpens that had been placed under the shade of a maple tree outside of the Administration building. It was quite difficult to climb into and out of. My diapering really incapacitated me. But I was glad we Diaper Derby contestants each had our own playpen at least. None of us would want want to be in close proximity with each other, especially as hours would turn into days.
I spent the afternoon catnapping as best I could, between the taunting and teasing of passersby. Whenever Lisa and/or Chrissy "happened" by, they saw to it that I was the brunt of the humiliating remarks of course.
After dinner was more of the same. I watched as my fellow babies tallied in their notebooks. I was still at one and one.
At bedtime, overhead exhaust fans were turned up full notch and windows were cranked open as far as they could be. The fans were noisy but would certainly be worthwhile.
I woke up Thursday morning, a little before wakeup time. I had managed to sleep just slightly better than Tuesday night. But I was still tired. As the lights came on, I recorded a second tally in each column of my notebook. And I, like my poopy cohorts, was getting pretty "ripe" by now.
After breakfast, two playpens were missing outside. Two of us had leaked. "Lucky for them!" I thought.
By lunch time, we remaining five were busy swatting flies off ourselves as we listened to ever increasing amounts of teasing and humiliating remarks.
After lunch, thankfully, two camping screen houses had been erected outside and our playpens were placed in them. It meant being in closer proximity with each other, but the increased smell was better than the flies.
It was then that, as perverse as it might sound, I resolved to wet and poop my diapers as much as I possibly could from now on. I wanted desparately to spring a leak and be relieved from my "toilet prison". I stood up in the playpen for better and easier "toiletting". I easily peed but really had to grunt and push to poop. As I finally manage to push a load into my diapers, I heard a familiar voice call out. "Good girl Stephie!"
I looked out to see Lisa with the video camera. "Smile for the camera, Little Miss Poopy Pants!" And the gathered crowd roared.
I sat down in my mess in tears and tallied a third mark in each column of my little notebook. And I didn't leak. And I was ever more resolved to wet and poop as much as I could.
By the end of dinner, three playpens remained, including, sadly, mine. I knew I wouldn't be able to poop until tomorrow morning, but I could easily manage a good pee by bedtime. We were, after all, given lots of baby bottles of formula and juice. And sure enough, at lights out, I thoroughly wet my diapers. I tallied a fourth mark in the "wetting" column by the light of a nearby nightlight. I was three and four and stunk like a latrine. But I'd be worth it. I was confident that by morning, my bedding would be wet from a leak.
Sat Apr 28, 2007 10:36 pm Post subject:
-----------------------------------------------------------
Camp Sissy Curls--part58
I awoke Friday morning, a full hour before wakeup time, from the stench of my diapers and the sting of what had to be a huge diaper rash. But what stung even more was the fact that I still hadn't sprung a leak. I couldn't believe it. Lisa and the girls had really succeeded in their diapering of me. I was so frustrated. I couldn't make the damn diapers leak.
I really didn't have a great urge to pee, but knew that my morning BM was close at hand. Hopefully, that would put me over the top.
By now--well, actually yesterday morning, the nannies kept as far away from me and the other two babies as they could. I couldn't really blame them. When they approached us, they wore hospital masks to help fend off the smell of us.
As I sat in my crib eating a bowl of baby cereal (of course, no one would dare to feed me or the other two) I pushed my morning BM into the seat of my diapers. Surely this would do it. I agonised as I tallied four and four now into my notebook. I still hadn't leaked. It was just so totally frustrating and inconceivable. The Titanic mess in my diapers held steady.
I gulped down my morning bottle of juice quickly and started to cry and waved the empty bottle about, signaling for more.
A masked nanny gave me another, and helped me into my Radio Flyer. I downed it even more quickly than the first, as she pulled me out to the screen house and my playpen. But only two playpens were there. It was now down to me and one other hapless baby.
I was helped into my playpen by the gasping nanny. I sat down and started to bounce up and down on my bum. The sticky, squishy, stinky mess felt awful but I was desperate to leak.
"Stop that right now Stephie! That's cheating." She yelled.
I reluctantly did.
By now, it was more than just wanting to get out of this "diaper hell". I so did not want to give Lisa and the Hummingbird girls the satisfaction of me winning the Diaper Derby.
I sat there and cried my eyes out and peed my diapers for the fifth time, with no immediately noticeable success. And I was absolutely exhausted. And I, mercifully, soon dozed off.
I awoke, bleary eyed, after how long I don't really know; to the sound of applause. I looked to the side of my playpen and saw that the other playpen was now gone. I felt a large puddle on the floor of my playpen. I looked out of the screen house and saw Lisa and probably the whole of Hummingbird cabin. They continued to applaud until Lisa signaled to stop.
"Congratulations Stephie!" Lisa cheered. "You've done it. You've won!!! And you made it three full days until you leaked. A new camp record!!!"
It was an honor that I took absolutely no joy in.
Mon Apr 30, 2007 11:17 pm Post subject:
-----------------------------------------------------------
Camp Sissy Curls--part59
"Time to get our stinky little derby winner back to the nursery to get cleaned up girls." I heard Lisa call at one point.
"Thank God!" I thought. I so wanted to be spanking clean again. "Poor choice of words though." I rethought.
The Radio Flyer was brought out and I got in, creating a large, poopy puddle in it. The Hummingbird girls had wisely tied a length of rope to the handle of the wagon and pulled me along with it, several feet in front of me to avoid my stink.
I was so exhausted from my ordeal that I really was oblivious to everything around me as they towed me to the nursery. All I could focus on was getting clean and sweet smelling again.
Bernice, the nanny, was waiting outside for us as we approached the nursery.
"Take him 'round back of the building for a prewash girls." She called. "He can't be brought inside like that!"
Like earlier in the summer after my night at Hummingbird cabin, a hose, a large trash bag, a bar of soap and a towel waited for me.
"You know the routine Stephie. Just like the last time Sweetie." She said.
Then, to my astonishment, Bernice said to the girls. "Okay girls, be on your way. Leave him alone and give him some privacy. Go on!! He deserves some peace!" And thankfully, they left.
With just me and Bernice (at a safe distance) remaining, she said. "The hose is hooked up to a tap in the laundry room Sweet Pea." And she pointed to the open window where the hose hung from. "I thought you'd appreciate some warm water for your prewash."
I appreciated her kind gesture as much as the warm water and smiled at her.
"Like before Stephie, throw everything you're wearing away in the trash bag and then into the dumpster. Even your binkie and hairbow."
She headed back inside. As I climbed into the large trash bag, Bernice called from the open window. "Don't worry about your hair Stephie. I'll wash it when you're in here. But do try to get as clean as you can out there first please!"
I nodded my head up and down as I smiled back at her again.
Standing inside the bag, I removed my hairbow, binkie, baby outfit and booties; leaving them in the bottom of the bag. Then I set to work on getting out of my horrible diapers and plastic pants. And it wasn't easy.
I'd won the Diaper Derby because the girls had so zealously secured me in the multiple diapers and plastic pants with yard upon yard of duct tape. And it really hurt the already very tender areas of my waist and upper legs when I pulled the tape from them.
I won't even begin to describe my "condition" when I finally, after a lot of effort and pain, got out of the incredibly messy diapers and plastic pants. It honestly is just too gross for words.
Probably about half an hour later, I was clean--well, not totally of course, but greatly improved.
"All done Honey Pie?" Bernice called from the window.
I nodded "yes".
"Then wrap yourself in the towel and c'mon in. I got a nice tub waiting for you Stephie!"
It felt soooo good, luxurious actually, sitting in the tub. Bernice must have poured a whole bottle of highly scented bubble bath oil into it, I thought. The bath oil and bubbles were extremely soothing and the rose petal scent was intoxicating. Normally, I'd have been abhored by it. But now, it was heavenly! I'd have gladly soaked in it for hours.
Bernice very gently and gingerly washed me all over, except for my hair.
"I'll wash your hair in the salon Sweetheart, after we're done here and you're into a soft clean diaper." She cooed to me.
I sighed, but in a positive way. It was obvious that Bernice felt very sorry for me, unlike times before. Why? I didn't know, but was glad for it. She was treating me as gently and lovingly as any mother would treat her precious little baby girl. And I hate to admit it, but it felt wonderful. I was in dire need of a lot of TLC now and she was providing it.
When she was done washing me, she asked, "Would you like to soak for a while Precious? And smell extra pretty!"
My warm smile was her answer.
Maybe twenty minutes later, naked but dry, I laid face down on a soft, fluffy towel on one of the changing tables. Bernice gently rubbed baby oil all over the back of me from my neck to the tips of my toes. Then she turned me over and did the same to the front of me. And I was very glad that my little soldier remained "at ease", befitting the little baby girl I felt so much like now.
Turned over yet again, bum up, Bernice began applying diaper rash ointment to my very sore bottom.
"You've got an awfully nasty diaper rash Stephie." She said. "But this will help a lot."
Without even realizing it, I stuck my thumb in my mouth as she covered my bum with the ointment.
She giggled. "Here Sweetheart!" And she took a pacifier from a pocket of her apron and put it to my mouth. And I gratefully accepted it.
The ointment really helped to put out the fire on my bum.
Done with it, she started to cap the tube.
Despite the fact that I wasn't supposed to speak, I dared to whimper through my binkie. "More please?"
She giggled again. "Sure Stephie." And she covered my bum with an extra layer of it.
"Okay, let's get you diapered Babykins." And she took out a large, thick fleecy diaper. "You're gonna like this one. It's extra soft and comfy!"
As she pinned it on me, I realized she was right. It felt like a cloud against my very sore botttom. A band-aid for my blistered behind.
"Thank you." I again whimpered through my binkie.
"Shhh! Remember, babies don't speak." She gently reminded me.
I just beamed up at her and shook my head up and down.
"I think we can save your rhumba panties 'til later Stephie." Then she added. "You can't have anything left inside you to come out for awhile."
She was right and I was grateful.
Then she sprinkled a ton of baby powder all over me from the neck down. I felt and smelled delicious.
She put just a simple baby T-shirt over me and held out her arms and leaned down to me.
"C'mon, my sweet smelling little girl. Let's take care of your hair."
I sat up and put my arms around her neck and she placed her's under my bum and picked me up. My legs straddled her waist. I suc-ked on my pacifier and hugged her tightly.
It was such a genuinely girlish and babyish thing to do. But I didn't care. It just felt so wonderful and comforting. In fact, I think it felt a little too "wonderful and comforting". My little girl wiener started to stiffen in the folds of my soft diaper. And Bernice felt it against her bosom as she carried me toward the salon.
She giggled and whispered in my ear. "My goodness, it seems you're feeling a lot better now Sweet Pea!"
I was embarrassed but snuggled her even more tightly.
In the salon, she sat me down at the shampooing station and put a pink apron over me and gently washed and conditioned my hair. And that felt great too! She blow dried my hair, though not completely. It needed to be damp for setting.
Then she removed the apron and picked me up again, just like before. And she giggled again, but said nothing, as she carried me over to the styling chair for my hair rollers.
Seated in the chair, she didn't bother with the apron for just setting my hair. She rubbed setting gel throughout it and started rolling it.
And even that felt good! Being ministered to in this "little baby girl" manner was becoming quite enjoyable. I admonished myself that I shouldn't get too comfortable with this "baby girl" lifestyle. But I rationalized it as just being because of all I had just gone through in the Diaper Derby.
But as she wound more and more rollers in my hair, I was shocked to find my wiener becoming more and more stiff. And there was no apron to cover it.
By the time the last roller was wound, the front of my diaper was very noticeably "tented".
Bernice just plain laughed now, though not in a mean way.
"I bet it's been a long time since you last did a number three in your diapers Sweetheart!"
I was embarrassed but gave a nod up and down.
She picked me up to take me to the chair with the large, pull down hair dryer behind it. And my "tent pole" jabbed her in the chest as she carried me. And I was really afraid now that I'd be in trouble.
But she giggled again and set me in the chair and pulled the hair dryer over my rollers. But she didn't turn it on.
Instead, she walked to the salon door and closed and locked it. Then she knelt in front of me and put her hand on the front of my tented diaper.
"You deserve a treat, a reward for all you've been through these last several days. Would you like to do a number three in your diaper Stephie?" And she moved her hand up and down on the front of my diaper. And she turned on the hair dryer.
I know I was red with embarrassment, but I nodded my head "yes" and smiled like the coquettish little girl I now was.
My moaning and girlish squeals would certainly have been heard if not for the hum of the hair dryer. She didn't have to rub the front of my diaper for long. And I squirted a large number three into it. And I beamed up at her in gratitude.
Wed May 02, 2007 11:20 pm Post subject:
-----------------------------------------------------------
Camp Sissy Curls--part60
As I sat under the hairdryer, I found it increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open. I was even more drained now, though delightfully so, from doing a number three into my diaper.
I must have napped for a half hour or more because the next thing I knew, Bernice was lifting me from the chair and my set was dry.
With my legs straddled around her waist, I hugged her tightly like before as she carried me to a changing table in the nursery.
She softly kissed my neck and whispered. "Let's get you cleaned up from your number three and into a clean didee."
On the changing table, she used a few baby wipes to clean the sticky "goo" from my now relaxed "little girl" wiener.
"Another coat of diaper rash ointment Stephie?" She asked.
I smiled and she turned me over and coated my bum yet again and pinned me into a new diaper just like the last one. Then she covered it with extremely frilly pink and white rhumba panties.
"Okay Sweetheart, let's get you ready for the party tonight." And she sat me up.
I gave her a very puzzled look and she realized I didn't know what she was talking about.
"Oh, you don't know about the party! I guess you were so busy with the Diaper Derby that you weren't aware of it."
I didn't like the sound of this.
"The night before the last day of camp, there's a combined "going home" party with Sunnyvale and our camp in the rec center." She explained. "And there's also an Awards Assembly. It's lots of fun!"
It didn't sound like fun to me.
"You're to be dressed in your very best baby finery for tonight's festivities Stephie." She said.
And before long, I found myself in the prettiest "baby finery" imaginable. And it was very heavily petticoated.
Then Bernice took my hand and walked me back to the salon and lifted me into the styling chair to remove my rollers and do my hair.
When she was done, she gushed. "Your wiener curls are just way too pretty to cover with a baby bonnet!" And instead, she attached a large pink and white hairbow to the top of them that matched my baby dress perfectly.
"Okay, into your stroller. The girls from Hummingbird Cabin will be here shortly to take you to the party."
I frowned and started to tear up.
She took a tissue and gently wiped my tears. "Oh Stephie. It'll be okay!"
But I cried even more and shook my head "no".
She looked down at me and frowned and sighed. "Oh Little Miss Priss! Whatever am I gonna do with you?"
And I gave her the very best "little girl" pout I possibly could. I so didn't want to be taken to the party by Lisa and the other girls.
"Ohhh!" And she sighed again. "Alright, would you like me to take you?"
"Yes pwease!" I cooed.
"Okay then. But remember, babies don't talk!"
I replied with a very broad and thankful smile.
At the rec center, three play pens were set up in front, just below the stage. As Bernice started to take me from my stroller for one of them, I began to whimper and cry again. And I again gave my very best, little girl pouty face, as I shook my head back and forth.
"Oh, c'mon Stephie." She gently scolded. "You certainly are the shy, clingy little Sweetie."
But like most babies, I got my way.
"I suppose you want to sit on my lap now!" She said.
I eagerly nodded "yes" and thought "mission accomplished".
The party began with the Awards Assembly. Sitting on Bernice's lap, I couldn't possibly been more babyish. But I didn't care. I delighted in the safe and secure feeling it gave me. Maybe there were some "perks" to being a little baby girl!
I cuddled with her and suc-ked on my pacifier, as seemingly endless camp related awards and presentations were made by Ms Roberts, who emceed the program.
"And now campers, for our final presentation!" Ms Roberts announced. "The annual summer Diaper Derby award to Baby Stephie and Hummingbird Cabin. And a new record of three days was set!"
Great applause and cheering filled the rec center and I trembled and started to cry. Why I don't know, but this award caught me by surprise.
"Hummingbird cabin, come to the stage!" Ms Roberts called into the microphone. "And Bernice, please bring our little "diaper champion" up here."
"It's okay Pumpkin. Bernice is with you." She whispered into my ear as she carried me onto the stage.
The crowd roared with cheers and laughter.
Bernice put me down besibe her and held my hand, which I clung to tightly.
The Hummingbird girls gathered around me with Lisa to the other side of me. She tried to hold my other hand but I rejected it. And Lisa actually looked a little sad and dejected by my action. Maybe she was just embarrassed by my slight.
But either way I thought, "Good!"
Camera flashes flashed and video cameras rolled.
I grasped Bernice's hand even tighter as a "tiara" type crown was placed atop my curls and a bouquet of flowers was put into my free arm. I felt like I was the winner of some little girls' beauty pageant. And I cried.
Ms Roberts spoke into the microphone. "Normally, a Diaper Derby winner's sash would be placed on the winner now. But something Hummingbird Cabin and Lisa did inspired me to come up with something different. And more appropriate I think." And Ms Roberts giggled.
Then she reached behind the curtain and produced the toilet seat and I gasped and the crowd roared with laughter and applause.
Bold printing in red spelled out the inscription painted around the toilet seat. And Ms Roberts read it aloud.
"WITH GREAT DI-STINK-TION, THIS AWARD IS PRESENTED TO BABY STEPHIE. SUMMER, 2006 DIAPER DERBY WINNER."
Ms Roberts was obviously well pleased with her play on words as she lowered it over my head and onto my shoulders.
And the audience exploded with laughter.
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part61 (with special thanks to Parisser)
I spent the remainder of the evening's festivities, almost two hours, on my own. Bernice had to leave me in my stroller to attend to duties back at the nursery.
Well, I actually wasn't alone for long. Lisa, who was soon joined by Chrissy, commandeered me and my stroller and proudly paraded me all around the rec center in my tiara crown, holding my bouquet of flowers and wearing my "toilet seat victory collar".
They were quite pleased with themselves and me for winning the Diaper Derby and were eager to display me to everyone they could. I felt like the winning horse at the Kentucky Derby. And I received a great deal of attention and, of course, teasing.
After about an hour or so of doing my "victory laps" around the rec center, Lisa and Chrissy pushed me over to a corner near the lavatories where there wasn't a lot of people. They stood in front of me in my stroller and looked down.
"Stephie, I'm gonna give you one last chance to keep your video from finding its way back home and to your school via Monica's cousin, Sally Jo." Lisa said.
I gulped as Lisa continued.
"Go into the bathroom with Chrissy and service him like he serviced you and I won't give the video to Monica for her cousin." And Lisa glared at me as Chrissy raised the front of his skirt up just enough to reveal his very erect wiener.
Without hesitation, I cried, "NO!" And I begged. "Please Lisa, I'll do anything you ask but not that! I'll wet and poop myself. I'll crawl around the rec center on my hands and knees like a baby. Hell--I'll even stand on my head if you want me too. But I won't do THAT!"
"Sorry Stephie, not good enough!" Lisa replied.
And Chrissy, with a very disappointed look on his face, lowered his skirt and they started pushing me for the exit of the rec center.
"Let's get this pathetic pantywaist back to the nursery Chrissy." Lisa said. "The party will be ending soon anyways."
As we neared the exit, Monica approached us.
"Goodbye Stephie!" And she bent over and kissed me on my forehead. "I hope we see you here again next summer!"
She started to walk away but then stopped and turned back around and giggled. "Oh, and Stephie, please give my best to my cousin Sally Jo when you see her at school. And I know you'll DEFINITELY be running into her!" And she gave me an evil grin as she waved goodbye.
Lisa and Chrissy said nothing to neither me nor each other as they pushed me back to the nursery.
But as they left me into the care of Bernice, Lisa gave me a devilish grin and said, "We'll see you next summer Stephie. And have a good year back at school!!!" And she and Chrissy giggled.
Just minutes later, I was glad to find myself in the sanctuary of my crib for the night.
"Good night Sweetie." Bernice whispered as I beamed up at her.
But it took a long time for me to fall asleep. So many thoughts were racing through my mind. I was very eager to be leaving this "sissy camp from hell" but I certainly was not eager to be going home as a little six year old girl in ribbons and curls and diapers and a dress. Was I "jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire"? What would the folks back home think if they see me? Would I be kept in diapers and dresses for long? What would happen when I went back to school in a little over a week?
And, what would my father say when he sees that his thirteen year old son is now a very prissy, six year old little girl who's still dependent on diapers!!!
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part62
Saturday morning, the last day of camp, thank God. I woke up on my own about half an hour before wake-up time. My first thought was a pleasant one. I was leaving this awful sissy camp, though I wondered if it was forever. I sure hoped so.
My second thought wasn't a pleasant one. I had wet and pooped my diapers during the night. Messing myself at night certainly wasn't an uncommon thing for me. But what disturbed me was I'd done it in my sleep, without realizing it. It worried me that I was becoming too dependent on my "Depends" like a real baby.
The rest of my thoughts were the same worries that ran through my mind the night before. But the most pressing and immediate worry was, again, what my father would think about the pretty little girl in diapers that would soon be standing in front of him. I knew I'd feel very ashamed, despite the fact that I had no say in the matter.
About ten past eight, Bernice's face peered over my crib. She sniffed and giggled. "Well, it seems that someone did a poopie in her diaoers last night!"
I stuck out my lower lip and pouted up at her. But then, I thought."Oh geez--I'm acting too babyish. It's becoming too natural to me."
"C'mon Stephie. Time to get you all clean and prettied up to go home!" She said.
I reached up my arms for her to pick me up, but instead, she just lowered the side of the crib and said, "Okay, hop out and head for the tub and I'll get you all spanking clean." And she laughed and added. "But don't fret. There's no spanking in store for you Sweet Pea."
I knew that, of course. Bernice was the only one who had shown me any genuine kindness or concern. Though it was very babyish again, I would have welcomed her carrying me.
A minute later, I found myself in the warm tub of luxurious scented bubbles.
As Bernice gently washed me, she said, "Why so quiet Stephie?"
I just pouted again with my lower lip and said nothing back.
She laughed. "Oh Stephie, It's okay to talk. You're not a little baby anymore. Remember, your stepmom is taking you home as the pretty little girl she first met on Parent's Weekend. You're five or six now again. Though you're still to be in diapers."
I had forgotten that I could now talk.
Bathed and dried and powdered and face down on the changing table for my diapers, I asked, "May I please have a lot of diaper rash ointment? My bum still hurts."
"Of course, sweetie pie."
An hour or so later, I sat on the bench outside Ms Roberts' office waiting for my stepmother to take me home. Bernice sat beside me, holding my hand, to keep me company.
"You look pretty as a picture Stephie." She gushed. "Just perfect!!!"
But she was wrong. Unfortunately, I think I looked even "prettier than a picture".
But I WAS perfect--I was a perfect, precious little six year old girl in every way. My wiener curls and ribbons were perfect. My lightly madeup face and hint of pink lipstick was perfect. My dash of perfume was perfect. My ultra frilly pink satin party dress bobbed perfectly on my mountain of petticoats. My frilly diaper rhumba panties and anklets and pink patent leather Mary Janes accented my dress perfectly. And the earrings and matching necklace that my stepmother had given me on my birthday completed the "perfection of little girlhood" that I was.
"Yup--just perfect!" I mumbled. "Except underneath all this is a thirteen year old boy."
"Oh sweetie, you should certainly be used to all this by now." Bernice replied. "Try to enjoy it."
I didn't respond. I just hoped that I wouldn't have to be used to it or try to enjoy it for much longer.
And I smiled and thought to myself. "Dad! He'll surely put an end to this little girly horror!"
My stepmother finally arrived. She and Bernice exchanged greetings and then she looked down at me and gushed. "You're even prettier than I remembered Stephie! And I love those earrings and necklace."
Ms Roberts had heard us and she stepped from her office to greet my stepmother.
"She's just perfect Ms Roberts. Thank you so much!" She said as she shook Ms Roberts' hand.
"You're very welcome Mrs. Crandall. I invite you to bring Stephanie back again next summer." And Ms Roberts smiled.
"Well thank you, Ms Roberts, for your very gracious invitation." Stepmother replied. And then she looked to me. "Stephie, please thank Ms Roberts and Bernice for all they've done for you this summer."
I very begrudgingly curtsied to Ms Roberts and said. "Thank you Ms Roberts."
But in a much more genuine way, I curtsied to Bernice and said. "Thank you!"
And she hugged me and whispered in my ear. "Try to make the best of it Stephie."
With Bernice carrying one suitcase full of my girl's clothes and my stepmother another, we made our way to the van. I expected to see Laura waiting in it for us. But she wasn't.
"No Laura?" I asked, though I was glad for her absence.
"She's at home with your father Stephie. He just got home two nights ago from abroad."
As we left the camp, I prayed I'd never see it again.
(This is NOT quite yet the end. One or two more parts will end it.)
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part63
We drove through the town and past the Mall and up the entrance ramp of the Interstate for the hour's ride home. And I thought about all the humiliating girlish horrors I'd faced in each of those places. But at least I was leaving them behind me and, hopefully, forever.
But what lay ahead for me? What did my future hold? And most immediately, what would my father think?
As we drove, my stepmother tried to engage me in conversation. More like chit-chat actually, with questions about camp and the things I did and how the weather was and if I made new friends. Innocuous questions like that. And I responded simply with "yes" and "no" or one or two word answers.
Finally, about halfway down the Interstate to home, stepmother said. "Why so quiet Stephie?"
I seized the opportunity. "How long am I gonna have to be like this and what are people gonna say when they see me like this?"
"Oh Stephie, don't worry your pretty little head about that!" She answered.
"Don't worry my pretty little head is exactly the problem!" I said. "A thirteen year old boy shouldn't have a pretty little head or a pretty little dress or a pretty little ANYTHING else."
"Oh, don't fret sweetie. You'll be fine." She said, in a failing effort to comfort me.
"But what will dad think when he sees me?" I continued.
"Okay." And stepmother took a deep breath. "Look Stephie, I promise you that your father will be fine with Stephanie instead of Stephen. I really mean it! You don't need to feel embarrassed at all in front of him."
"But that can't be." I argued. "It's not possible."
"Listen Stephie, I need to go to the bathroom. There's a rest stop a few miles ahead. We'll stop there and I'll use the Ladies Room and then I'll explain how it is, indeed, possible." And she left it at that.
Just minutes later, we exited the van in the parking lot of the rest area. Stepmother held my hand and we walked toward the large, crowded building of restaurants, shops and bathrooms. And I walked along side her as little girlishly as I could. I wanted to "pass".
As we approached the entrance, I stopped and looked up at her. "I need to go to the bathroom too!" And I truly did.
"Well Stephie, That's not a problem. That's what your diapers are for silly." She answered.
I started to cry. "Please, I don't want dad to meet me in wet, poopy stinky diapers! Please, can I use a toilet?"
My tears worked. "Okay Stephie, I understand. You can come with me into the Ladies Room this time and use the potty. But I'll need to help you with all you're wearing."
I stopped crying and was grateful to, at least, be spared the indignity of meeting my father in messy, smelly diapers.
As we made our way to the Ladies Room, I got a good share of attention. But I could tell that it was from being so fancily dressed or maybe because I probably looked a little big or a little too old to be dressed as I was. But the attention didn't seem to be because anyone thought I was a boy.
The Ladies Room was busy and I got lots of looks and smiles. But, for the most part, they were looks of really almost admiration and pleasure at the sight of me. And the comments I received weren't taunts.
"Oh my!" Said one middle aged woman to my stepmother. "It's such a shame more girls aren't dressed like your daughter." And she fondled my curls. "You look pretty as a picture sweetheart."
Stepmother took me into a stall and closed the door and had me hold up my dress and petticoats while she snaked my diapers and rhumbas down to my ankles. Then she helped me onto the toilet seat.
"Be sure to wipe yourself thoroughly when you're done Stephie." She said, as she left the stall and closed the door behind her.
I heard her situate herself in the stall next to me. It was really freaky to be doing my "business" right next to my stepmother who was doing her "business". But I was glad that I wasn't doing my "business" into my diapers at least.
I flushed. Stepmother flushed. And moments later, she was back in my stall refitting me into my diapers and rhumba panties.
As we left the building, she stopped at a small shop and bought a large round, flat lollipop. She unwrapped it and handed it to me.
"That'll help sooth you for the rest of the ride home Stephie."
I took it and began licking it, despite knowing that the lollipop would make me appear even more "little girly".
Back in the van and buckled up, the ignition still off though, stepmother said. "Okay Stephie, there's something I want to show you before we get back on the Interstate."
She reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph and held it up. It was wrinkled a bit and dog earred and worn and the color was slightly faded. It was obviously an old photo.
She put it into my hand and said, "I want you to look at this picture and tell me what you see."
I glanced at it and replied. "It's a picture of a little girl standing in front of a row of what looks like evergreen trees."
"Yes, but look more closely and tell me more about what you see!" She prodded.
It pained me greatly to say it, but I did. "Well, she's dressed a lot like me. And her hair's a lot like mine. And it looks like it's summertime in the picture."
"Good Stephie, very good. Do you think she looks kind of like you?" She asked.
Again, I hated to admit it, but I did. "I suppose so."
"Now Stephie, take one last very careful look at the picture. Does that girl look familiar?"
I looked very carefully at the little girl's face. And my jaw almost dropped to my lap.
"No!!! It can't be!" And I repeated. "It can't be. This just can't be real."
"Yes, it is real Stephie. And it's why you don't have to worry about your father seeing you like you are now." And she caressed my cheek with her hand.
"Almost thirty years ago, your father was in one of the first groups of campers at Camp Sissy Curls."
-
Camp Sissy Curls--part64
Not a single word more was spoken by either of us for the rest of the ride home. I just sat stunned with disbelief. "Like father, like son." I thought as I glanced out the window.
My father's name was Stephen too. I was his namesake. I wondered if my new name--Stephanie--was his also.
I could clearly understand now why I needn't be embarrassed in front of him. But I also realized that I probably couldn't expect to be reprieved by him from my "little girl" hell.
It wasn't until we were in the driveway and the van turned off, that stepmother spoke again. "Let's have a pretty smile to greet your father with Stephie! And curtsey when you greet him."
I couldn't muster a smile as we headed, hand in hand, for the front door.
The neighborhood was busy with people going about their yard work and kids, friends of mine actually, playing about in their yards. I knew they all probably saw me but I hoped they didn't realize that the pretty little girl was really me.
Inside stood dad, with Laura next to him giggling.
I hung my head in shame and curtsied. "Hello father."
He picked me up with his arms underneath my dress and rhumba panties and kissed me on the forehead. "Oh Stephanie! You're as pretty as a picture!"
"Yeah." I thought to myself. "As pretty as YOUR picture!"
THE END