Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Menu => Active Sissy Stories => Topic started by: antonia on November 30, 2022, 06:25:33 AM
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Author's note: I am somewhat underwhelmed by the total lack of any feedback, so please don't be surprised if I give up on my latest story because there is absolutely no motivation to write it, let alone complete it!
Tommy’s Story
Chapter 1
I am writing this down on the instructions of my psychologist who believes that committing the event to paper will help me come to terms with my trauma. It is hard to know where to start but the doctor said to try at the first memory.
The first thing to tell is that my mother never intended to have a child, she was happy to have a lively life partying and going to masonic dinners with my father who was a provincial solicitor. He liked to have fancy cars and be seen about town in the clubs and hotel bars where he would trawl for new clients. Despite owning what could best be described as a motorised rowing boat, he managed to get himself into a prestigious yacht club.
I arrived unexpectedly and was not really wanted, they tried to carry on their lifestyle, but being taken to late night parties wrapped in a blanket and sleeping most weekends under a pile of coats, wraps, stoles, shawls and blankets was not the recommended sleeping habit for young children.
My first memory is wetting myself as I was taken out of my warm bed to be bundled into the back seat of his old Daimler. I remember the cool sweetness of the cold night air and then the warmth spreading through the front of what was inside my flannel pyjamas. I recall the smell of leather of the back seat and the stale smell of cigarettes that clung to the fabric of the car. The perfume of my mother, the hushed tones as they got in, the smell of Ronson’s lighter fluid as he lit his cigarette with his Zippo and that characteristic clack as he slammed down the lid. The flash ended there, memory turned itself off. I have no idea how old I was, less than five more than three perhaps.
The next memory was haunting. My room was cold, it had a linoleum floor and a draughty window. I always slept with my baby shawl for comfort wrapped round me like a nappy because that gave me the most pleasure. I was never reliable, my bed wetting continued up until I was about seven years old. On this night, for reasons that escape me, I had the feeling that I needed to do a poo. The toilet was a walk along the hall and I just did not want to get out of my bed. I lay there in a daze, and as I did so I felt the log push out of my bottom and into my pyjamas. I was horrified and let out a call for my mother, who rushed in to see what could be so terrible. It must have been middle of the evening because she was not in her night clothes. My father came to see what was happening but luckily my mother shooed him away.
She cleaned me up and spirited away my accident so that nobody would be any the wiser. She asked me if I should be put back in nappies because only babies would dirty themselves like I had done. I said that she hadn’t got any nappies to put me in and to my amazement she opened the door of the airing cupboard in the hall, which was visible from my bed, and there on the bottom shelf was a huge stack of fluffy white Harrington nappies. How I wanted to say yes, for god’s sake yes, I would love to be back in nappies without any cares in the world.
The world took a turn for the worse after that. The moved from the flat into a house and the rows started, endless rows that went on and on. Relentless bickering, where I cowered in my bedroom waiting for it all to stop. He was playing the field, sleeping with his clients, sleeping with the bar maid, in fact he seemed to sleep with anybody who would fall for his cheap charms. However, the reason for his infidelity was blamed on me. I took up too much time, I was a wimp, I was dim. My mother spent more time pandering to me than fawning all over him. She was always too tired, what did she expect him to do?
My mother started to look upon me in a different light, her wonderful lifestyle had been reduced to washing ironing and being incarcerated in the new house where she had few friends nearby. The worse her world became to more she took it out on me and the worse my bedwetting became. I was now wetting the bed every night and despite my mattress being covered with a red sheet of rubber it smelled of a urinal.
She told me she had had enough and returned with two bulging pillow cases (full of my nappies) and something else I could not see. She told me that it was time to put me back in nappies at night time. She took three and folded two together into a kite shape puled off all my clothes and, in a trice, had me fully nappied with another nappy as a soaker. She pulled up the rubber pants and pushed, poked and fiddled about to ensure all the cloth was completely covered. My nappies were so thick and bulging that I could barely walk, but it mattered not because I was going to bed early.
My father came back from work at that moment and took one look at me, lashed out at my mother saying she should not treat me like a sissy baby and then left. We never saw him again and my wonderful caring mother seemed to leave with him. Potentially, we were now going to be homeless as the house would have to be sold, but life had a surprise in store for us. As my father gunned his car towards one hundred miles an hour, having just consumed many gin and tonics, the off-side tyre got a sudden and fatal puncture that took my father and his car up a very large tree. The insurance money came at a very opportune time and we no longer needed to move or for that matter be poor.
Sadly, the hatred that was building in my mother towards me did not seem to abate, if anything she was becoming more resentful each day. Each day she became more spiteful and harsher with her humiliating punishments. I was five years old.
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Please continue!
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Excellent first start wow it feels like a horror novel. Looks like Mommy's out for him.
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Please continue Antonia, I for one love your stories, oh dear I hate to think how Tommy ends up when and if he ever gets a wife,but I know that must be jumping the gun a bit.
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Please continue, Antonia. I adore your stories.
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Chapter 2
Being put in nappies every night was now a permanent addition to my life. My mother was cold and practical as she dressed me for bed. There was very little emotion and even less love as she tugged and pinned up the thick nappies between my legs. All the while, she would call me a pissy little baby, as she pulled the waterproof baby pants over my protection. One night she came up with a new surprise, her continual taunts left me tearful and upset, as I looked away trying to hide my sad little tears, she gave my leg a slap to get me to look at her. As I swung my head round in surprise, she forced the large teat of a pink dummy into my mouth. I don’t remember ever having had a dummy as a baby, but the large latex nipple in my mouth almost made me choke.
How she lambasted me for my new symbol of infantile behaviour. “Look at the little baby suc-king his binkie. Look at piddle pants in his big baby’s nappy. Is baby crying? What a booby.”
She flapped open a pink nightie covered in lacy frills and threaded it over my head and arms. “Now you look like a proper little baby girl, don’t you?” she asked scornfully. “Mummy is fed up with you and wants to go back to work and have a proper job. Mummy is fed up with looking after a sissy, bed wetting baby.” She said smoothing down the sleepwear that came to the waistband of my rubber pants. “If that dummy comes out, I will spank you. I don’t want to hear you anymore and this will stop your whining and moaning once and for all.”
I was ushered into my bed and she pulled the blankets over me. There were no sheets, only the rubber sheet beneath me and the somewhat soiled and smelly blanket over me. The nappy bucket in my room added to the pervasive odour of my room. Although I could not remember ever having had a do-di as a baby, I somehow had an instinctive reflex that told me what to do. I fell asleep suc-king my dummy like a toddler and never stirred as my bladder emptied helplessly in my waiting nappies. I wet myself at least twice that night, who knows the actual number, but in the morning, I was soaked. My new pink nightdress was wet, the rubber sheet beneath me glistened with what had leaked out of my nappies. I suc-ked with distress on my dummy.
My mother came in and I thought I detected a small smirk on her face as she saw that I was sat in my soaked bed and still suc-king on my babyish soother. She said very little but stripped off my nappies and rubber pants in one swift action to leave me sitting on my wet rubber sheet. My blankets absorbed some of the pee lying on top of the rubber sheet. She lifted the lid on my nappy pail and threw in my pants and nappies as a single parcel. My nightdress was removed and I sat on top of my bed naked.
She looked at me showing particular interest to my nappy region. “You’re getting nappy rash” she remarked “serves you right.” She took three nappies from the stack by my bed and started to fold them together. I spat out my dummy and told her that I didn’t wear nappies during the day. “You do now” she said “I am tired of you being a little boy by day and a baby by night. Now I am going to keep you as a baby girl all the time.” She stuffed the soother back in my mouth
She soon had me back in nappies and dressed in another pink nightie. We went together into the kitchen and I was surprised to see that my old highchair had come back. I started to grumble and was rewarded by having the back of my legs slapped three of four times leaving deep red marks. She strapped me in using a baby harness that had a line of little bells across the breast plate. It rattled every time I moved. The large terry bib that she tied around my neck helped to silence them
She fed me a bowl of some pasty cereal, but I did not recognise the taste except to note that it was horribly sweet and unctuous. She wiped my messy face on my bib and then put a bottle of milk into my hand and encouraged me to suc-k on the rubber nipple. I asked for my regular beaker and was told that from now on baby would use baby feeding equipment.
It took ages to drink, as I was not used to using a bottle. My mother picked up my do-di and tied it to a ribbon that she pinned with a nappy pin to my bib. She released me from the highchair and to my concern I was still wearing the pink leather harness. She took me back back to my bedroom and told me to hop into bed. She attached the harness to straps with two padlocks that I had not noticed before attached to the side of my bed.
“Dummy” she ordered. I put it into my mouth puzzled. She left the room and returned with five bottles of milk, a plate of rusks and some sandwiches which she put on a little table by my bed. This is your lunch, snacks and tea” she explained “I am going out today because I have a job interview and I can’t take a sissy pissy pants with me can I?
I started to cry. “Exactly the reason you cannot come with me – you’re a big sissy cry baby” she scorned. “Now, while I am out, you are going to wet your nappies for sure, so I am going to let you use what you have on now, before I change you again. If you need to do a poo then I suggest you do it now.
It took me a while but I managed to wee in my nappy but strain as I might, I could not soil my nappy, especially with my mother watching me. Once I had finished, she re-nappied me with an extra nappy in place and an even larger pair of waterproof pants. “You cannot change yourself, so I suggest that if your nappies get too wet that you stuff a dry nappy down inside the front of your pants. So here are another six dry nappies for you.”
Then, with a slam of the door she was gone and I was left sitting on my bed in the biggest nappy I had ever had to wear. My dummy was my only comfort. She had left me no toys, no books to read and there was nothing nearby that I could reach. At eleven o’clock I was thirsty and drank one of my bottles, then I ate a rusk and very bored I lay down to sleep suc-king on my dummy. I wet my nappies. I awoke to the sound of the postman putting some letters through the letterbox, I thought it was my mother coming home. I was very disappointed, but had no idea what time it was. I ate my sandwich and had another bottle of milk lying on my back and looking up at the ceiling as I suc-ked on the rubber teat. My nappies took another wetting and I could feel myself beginning to itch. I was starting to get a full-blown case of nappy rash. This was not going to be helped by the need to soil my nappy. I tried every which way to stop it coming. I clenched the cheeks of my bottom hoping to keep everything in, I tried sitting bolt upright with my knees firmly together and finally I tried putting my hand beneath me and trying to push it back. It was all in vain and I had to suffer the indignity of making a dirty nappy in the most humiliating of circ-umstances. I cried as slowly, and without any choice, the mess slowly eased its way out of me and forced against the tight confines of my terry nappy, squeezing out in all directions as it tried to make its escape. It was exquisitely painful would be the only way to describe the feeling and trying to raise my bottom from the red rubber sheet gave little relief, so tight was I held in place by my harness. Tears rolled down my cheeks from the pain and the embarrassment, only to fall onto my bib still damp and dirty from my breakfast, dummy suc-king and bottle feeding.
Eventually, I had a full nappy that stuck to me like a mud pack around my groin and bottom. There was no way to escape it. I cried some more as my bladder released another big wetting into my nappy to leave it saturated. I picked up a clean nappy from the pile my mother had left me and tried to stuff it next to my sore skin hoping it would provide some dry fluffy relief from my wetness. The plan worked, but within half an hour it was damp and uncomfortable again.
I ate a rusk and drank another bottle of milk, more out of boredom than thirst or hunger. I replaced my dummy because it really did seem to help me cope with the stress. The light was starting to fade as I wet myself again. I hardly thought about it anymore. I picked up another dry nappy and stuffed it down the front of the previous insert. This time it seemed to stay quite dry but my rubber pants were stretched to their limit with six nappies contained within them.
The light continued to fade and I had no access to the little lamp in my room, nor the light switch by the door which illuminated the centre light. It became very dark and I had no choice but to try and sleep. It was as black as pitch in the room. I pulled my smelly blankets around me, now oblivious to the smell of my own piss, the smell of my nappy bucket and my recently soiled nappies. My do-di was such a comfort.
I don’t know what time it was when my mother came back in. I had wet my nappies yet again and they felt like they weighed at least a ton. She breezed into my room turning on the bright centre light. My eyes struggled to adapt to the sudden brightness.
“Phew, what a stinky baby we have here” she remarked “has baby made a poopy in her nappies? I think she has! What a dirty, smelly little girl you are.”
I had no tears left. I was wet, smelly, dirty and very sore in a badly soiled nappy. What did she expect?
My mother seemed in better humour as she set about the task of cleaning me up and completely filling up my nappy bucket with my day’s efforts. She ran me a bath and let me play with my toy ducks as she set about laundering over a dozen dirty diapers left in my bucket. I was clean by the time I heard the washing machine start on its task.
We returned to my room, the room smelt of air freshener, my red rubber sheet had been cleaned and smelt of Dettol disinfectant. My blankets had disappeared and my mother unfurled a brand-new fitted flannelette sheet which she put over the top of rubber sheet. Another flannelette sheet was fitted and on top of that a beautiful thick baby quilt with pictures of fluffy rabbits and other little animals.
A large fluffy towel was put on top of my quilt and I was ordered to get ready for my nappies. A large jar of cream was opened and a huge dollop of zinc and castor oil cream was worked into my skin to soothe and protect me and help eliminate my rash. A generous powdering of baby talc was applied. Nappies were pinned on and instead of my normal rubber pants she came up with a pair of plastic pants which were an innovation at that time. She sat on my bed next to me and gave me a hug. I could have cried I was so happy and I hugged her back with all my might.
She dressed me in a pink onesie that was so soft that it was paradise. I was enveloped in floral fragrance and pink softness. She opened a packet that contained a new terry bib that was white and had a matching pink trimming that matched my onesie. It had a bunny appliqued on the front and although I couldn’t read it, it was embroidered with the words “Mummy’s Baby”.
She put my harness back on, pulling the bib through so it was on the top. I was put back in my high chair and firmly secured as she started to prepare dinner for us. “Mummy has got a new job baby girl” she announced happily “I don’t have to be stuck here all day trying to look after a little brat with an incontinence problem. Now I can spend time with other grown ups and don’t need to pretend that I enjoy the conversations of a five-year old. I know you have had a horrible day but that doesn’t matter does it, as long as Mummy can feed you and change you.”
“Now the good news is that little Tommy is going to get a nanny to look after her, while mummy goes to work. I have told nanny that Tommy is a little bit broken and still needs to be in nappies like a little baby. You will continue to wear nappies all day and every day sweetheart, because nanny said that she does not look after young potty-trained children because she has trained specifically for babies still on the bottle and in nappies.
You will NOT let mummy down, will you?” she glared at him menacingly.
I considered my awful day and weighed up my options. It was best that I adopt the life of a baby, maybe I would find love and comfort in my new role?
[Author's note: I am so thankful for your very kind comments, how much joy it brings me to write when people interact. Encouragement like this will bring a long and fruitful story I promise]
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You out do yourself and others with this. Thank you i hope the nanny is a real monster.
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Now is it likely I would make nanny a monster? No, of course not! She will be far worse than that.
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I love the way mother his slaps legs and thighs its like conditioning him not to use them.
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I hope not thank you such great stories, also went back to read back to the basics again! You are a great story teller! Look my wife doesn't understand nor like that I read these stories.....So I have to be careful.... But I wanted to keep encouraging
you to keep writing!
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Dear KJ
My partner once found out that I wrote the stories and we had a dreadful row. Thank you for being so brave to encourage me.
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Chapter 3
The next day was my birthday, not because my mother ever talked about it but because nanny arrived on the very day of my celebrations. I only knew, because I had some birthday cards from my relatives. It was strange that the gifts of money promised inside the cards had always mysteriously fallen out.
Nanny was called Miss Evelyn K. Warner and she came with the highest credentials having worked with some of the most illustrious families in the land. Rather a lot of families as it turned out, because many contracts seemed to have ended early. The ‘K’ in her name apparently did not stand for kindness but Kathryn. All of this was irrelevant because she was called nanny by everybody.
I was sat in my highchair wearing my new bib and the pink onesie which I had worn to bed. I was wearing a very wet nappy and beginning to feel uncomfortable as the rash was starting to flare up again. My mother was dressed for work in a white blouse and tight black skirt. You could see her lacy bra through the blouse, but this would be covered up when she put on the black jacket that went with the skirt. She still looked very pretty to me and at the moment we were still friends. The had made me scrambled eggs and made up a bottle of formula to have afterwards. Naturally, I was firmly fastened into my highchair with the harness, but did not need to wear it in bed anymore.
The door bell rang and my mother dashed to open it. In came a tall woman dressed in a deep blue nurse’s uniform with white bibbed apron that was as well starched as she seemed to be. Her dark brown hair was tied back severely in a tight bun around which was a lace hat. She was attractive, had a beautiful figure that was not too slim but not plump in any way; she was best described as having a fit and athletic build with muscles in the right places. My mother thought she looked like the tennis player Virginia Wade as she tried to describe her to me as she was making my eggs.
Everybody seemed to be in a rush. Nanny told my mother to go and I heard her car pull off the drive as this new woman in my life closed the front door and came into the kitchen. I gave her my biggest smile and said hello.
In a second, I knew that this relationship was not going to be fun. In reply to my warm welcoming smile, I received back a look that was nearing revulsion. Her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as she took in the spectacle of the big baby in her high chair.
“How dare you talk to me like a grown-up” were the first words that she barked at me “I only look after babies in nappies and babies in nappies do not speak.”
I was stunned and did not know how to react, so I apologised.
“I said to you that babies do not speak, and what do you do? You speak.” She came right up to my face and her nose was almost touching mine. It was very intimidating and my bladder chose that moment to cut loose. I could feel and smell her breath in my face – Palma violets, it was sweet and sickly. “Baby would say ‘Hewo Nana’, can you do that?”
I most certainly could and was happy to oblige – she responded with a sneer.
“Is baby in a wet nappy?” she asked having stood back to allow me to breath some fresh air rather than recycle her floral breath.
I responded that I was very wet.
She went mad on me again, smacking my legs at least six times as they dangled beneath my high chair. “You’re talking like a grown up again” she fumed “you are a silly little baby and babies do not talk and they certainly do not know whether they are in a wet or a dirty nappy. Babies walk around in their soiled nappies until Mummy or Nanny change them. That is why your Mummy hired me – to look after you and change your stinky little bottom. The answer to my question was ‘napnap’ or ‘naffy’.
I used the second suggested word and was praised for being a quick learner.
“Right, it is time to get you down” she informed me “what do you say?”
“Anku Nana” I responded with my best guess. Nanny almost had a small grin of success, as she unfastened my harness. I fell to my feet and started to waddle towards my bedroom and my changing table.
“What on earth are you doing?” she shouted stooping down and giving me a vicious swipe across the back of my legs. So hard was the blow that I went sprawling and fell on my face. “Babies crawl don’t they, you stupid little pansy”.
I regained my position on my knees and continued my journey to the changing table. I stopped not knowing what to do. Nanny grasped me under my armpits and I obliged by helping her lift me. All was well.
I lay there naked smelling of pee. “What do we do now baby? I was too terrified to speak, but nanny was not accepting silence as an answer. She put her finger under my chin “Well?” I realised silence was not going to be an option.
“Baff Nana” I stuttered truly worried
“No need to be frightened” she said in a sickly way “you’re not frighted of your nanny are you?”
I shook my head but not very convincingly. In half an hour I had been scrubbed from head to toe and pinned into a new set of fluffy nappies covered with a very babyish pair of plastic pants. The appearance of a pink and very juvenile bubble romper covered with lace trimmings around the neck and bottom was most unwelcome. However, the fitting of pink woolly mittens and booties was the final humiliation or so I thought until she tied a pink wool bonnet on my head and pushed a new pink sparkly dummy in my mouth. The brief glimpse I caught of myself in the mirror was of an overgrown baby of about six months old. My final depressing sight was of a new terry towelling pink bib adorned with little white lambs that she tied with a large bow around my neck.
I didn’t want to, but I was soon starting to cry. It was my birthday and all I was getting was a very large dose of humiliation. “Hop down” she said cheerily, but something told me there was something nasty about to happen, because she had that horrible look that I was beginning to recognise. As my feet hit the floor I collapsed into a heap as the pain of the dozen nails in each sole of the bootie came through the spongy foam insert and pierced my feet. Nanny could not resist laughing as I burst into tears looking up at her from the floor.
“Now silly baby” she said once she had recovered her composure “it’s your birthday and Nanny has bought you a present.” My heart soared, at last somebody had remembered that it was my birthday. It was wrapped in pink baby paper illustrated with rattles of all different colours. I tore away at the paper with my mittens barely able to get a grip, my deep concentration of the task causing me to slurp and suc-k heavily on my dummy.
I was in, the paper wrapping was off and the gift was revealed. I should have known. What else would it have been but a baby’s rattle? “Anku Nana” I managed to gurgle without much enthusiasm. The handle was a large teething ring which enabled me to fit my mittened hand into it. One look at nanny’s face told me one thing; shake the rattle without any hesitation and look like you are enjoying your new present.
Yesterday I had been six years old and here I was one day later and now only six months old back in nappies, looking every inch a perfect overgrown baby.
What could I do? I flooded my nappy, shook my rattle, suc-ked my dummy and sobbed my heart out.
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OMG I love this Nanny. Putting nails in the feet of the suit is so sadistic. I hope she locks him into a playhouse that she's converted into a scary escape room or better yet can she.
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Thank you so much for sharing. As always, your work is superb. I appreciate you sharing your time and talent with us.
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Sorry I put this in the wrong story! Now where it should be.
Chapter 4
Life was quite dreary and intolerable for the next two years. On my 8th birthday nanny and Mummy bought me a Wendy house. I no longer needed the special booties, I was so used to crawling everywhere that it had become second nature. Nanny now lived with us full time and was my full time carer because my mother was more often out than in, as she enjoyed a full and satisfying social life.
At the age of seven Miss Tranter joined us. I now had a tutor come during, for what for most normal children, been school time. My language skills were very poor and I now spoke through my dummy in childish two- or three-word responses. My tutor specialised in the mentally handicapped or what today would be called challenged children. I might have had all the attributes of a baby but my mind was sharp and bursting to be stimulated. Nanny was always hovering in the background during my study sessions trying to make sure that I did not prosper but I was resilient and suc-ked in knowledge like a sponge. Miss Tranter was not fooled by my baby act and as her one-year anniversary approached she began to have huge suspicions that Nanny was not what she seemed.
One Saturday Nanny told me to play in my Wendy house with Flopsy Bunny and to give her a lovely tea party. I was so engrossed in play that I forgot to be a baby and started to tell Flopsy all about where tea came from and how it was grown and picked. Miss Tranter had taught me so well in her last lesson. I told her about the different teas and how they were produced. Flopsy listened very carefully, but she would do, because a secret microphone was sewn into her tummy.
Nanny came storming in to my bedroom where the Wendy House had been set up. “Bad baby” she shouted “very bad baby. You are talking like a big girl. What are you thinking?” She was holding my baby reins in one hand and a spanking paddle in the other. In no time at all she had be rolled over on to my tummy and my wet nappy and plastic pants pulled down to my knees. She started to whack my bottom again and again until it turned from red to purple. The pain was unbearable and eventually I was almost hoarse from crying and screaming. She roughly fixed on my reins and attached then with a large padlock to the Wendy house. She wrenched up my nappy and plastic pants and shut the door on the Wendy house ensuring I was folded up inside. She stuffed Flopsy through the window. Unfortunately, Flopsy had been in contact with my wet napkin and was quite wet and smelly with my pee.
I was so sore that it was agony to sit on the floor. I no longer had any control of my toilet anymore, and so it was no surprise when I felt myself soil my nappy. I was so confined that I had no option but to sit in my mess and endure the pain. I had no elevenses, no lunch, no tea, no supper and not even a drink. Flopsy didn’t look that happy either as I clutched her to my chest, suc-king my dummy and drooling all over her as my little play house slowly filled up with what leaked from my exhausted protection.
It was very late when my mother returned from who knows where. Nanny had spent the day watching TV in her room, occasionally coming out to make herself food or drinks. She looked into my room and was surprised to find that my cot was empty (yes, my bed had been taken away over a year ago). I was asleep in the Wendy house and completely exhausted.
My mother went to Nanny’s room and knocked on the door. Nanny had fallen asleep, having consumed a bottle of a rather fine Rioja. “Where is Tommy?” she asked.
“Hello” she slurred slightly “Everything alright?”
“Where’s Tommy?” she demanded
“He’s playing in his Wendy house” said Nanny
“It’s gone ten o’clock” Nanny; he should have been in bed four hours ago. What is going on here?” his mother spoke with a raised voice.
“He was naughty” started Nanny, but my mother was on her way to find me.
The smell in the nursery should have been a clue as to my whereabouts, but nanny was often very slow when it came to dealing with my dirty nappies and emptying the pail so the stink was not uncommon. My mother put the main room light on and then spotted the puddle of urine running under the little door of the play house onto the linoleum floor.
She spotted the padlock on the door and wrenched the door so hard that the plastic hinge broke off in her hand. Inside I was laying in a crumpled heap. My pink playsuit was covered in excrement and pee. I had been so distressed that I had also been sick and vomit was everywhere. She unstrapped my harness with some difficulty, while Nanny stood looking on. I fell out of the structure, cramped so badly that I could no longer move without the screaming pain of cramp and pins and needles. So bad was the pain of my bottom that I had managed to slip off most of my nappy inside the plastic pants. My bottom had been so severely beaten that it was blue black in colour and had been bashed so brutally that the skin had broken on one cheek. There was a very bad chance of infection.
My mother, who I did not think had a huge love for me, looked decidedly shocked.
“Nanny.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone “Pack your bags and please leave now. You are most assuredly fired.” She took out her phone and photographed the scene. “I can finish you in an instant, so please don’t even think about arguing”.
It took almost two hours for my mother to clean me up, then get rid of the play house and the mess inside it. She even gave Flopsy a really good bath too and had her clean and dry by the time I was put down in my cot.
Nanny left in rather a hurry. I heard later that she left in such a hurry that she was pulled over for speeding and smelling the Spanish wine on her breath the police found she was over the alcohol limit and prosecuted from drink driving.
I woke up late on Sunday morning and I was inconsiderable pain and had wet my nappies as usual. I was waiting for Nanny to come and change me when I remembered that Nanny had been sacked. I listened for my mother, but could hear nothing. I became very nervous, as I hoped that she had not gone out and left me all alone again. I was very hungry having eaten nothing the day before.
The large door knocker sounded on the front door. I heard voices, my mother, Miss Tranter and maybe two other people. Who could they be?
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just got caught up, boy was that nanny a monster. Mummy has not been nice either till she got rid of nanny.
Looking forward to reading about who came thro the front door along with Miss Tanner.
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Love it
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Another work of art! You are in the Pantheon of AB Sissy story writers with DaraJaney and Johnathan.
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Chapter 5
I heard a lot of people coming up the stairs, there was a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach and my nappy rash was particularly severe and very irritating. I clutched Flopsy close to me and rose to my knees in my cot. The weight of my nappy caused it to sag so that I could feel it resting on the back of my calves. I was suc-king my dummy furiously and my bib that was already very wet from my dribbling became saturated.
My mother was remonstrating with a man outside the door telling him that everything was alright and that there was no need for him to be there. Another woman chimed in and said that they had to investigate every complaint where children were involved. Miss Tranter, my lovely Miss Tranter, said that she believed that I was being abused.
In walked a policeman, a woman with a clipboard, Miss Tranter and my mother. They all looked at an eight-year-old boy kneeling in his cot in wet nappies dressed as a little baby. There was a positive intake of breath and astonishment.
“Tommy” greeted Miss Tranter clearly distressed at the sight of me crying and in such a humiliating position.
“Miss Tranter” I said with no sign of a lisp or any other baby talk, no longer would I have to say “Mith Twanter.” I was going to be a proper boy from now on, now I knew my nanny had gone.
“I am Mrs Wainsworth” said the rather stern looking middle-aged lady with the official looking board and black briefcase. “I am from Social Services, and I have come to see how you are keeping. There is nothing to worry about, we are going to make sure that you are safe sweetheart.”
The policeman who was wearing his big helmet said “and I am Constable Barker. There’s no need to be afraid, you haven’t done anything wrong. I had to come and see you as well because we heard all about you at the police station.”
“Look at you” said my mother lowering the side rail of my cot. “What a mess you are in silly boy. Look at the state of you and look at your bedtime nappies that you must wear because you are a bed wetter.” She pulled down my nappies and plastic pants as I kneeled there and encourage me to stand as she slid them off my feet one foot at a time. My blazing soreness was evident for all to see. The great thump my wet nappies made as they hit the floor was evidence as to how long I had been left in them. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into your underwear.”
I looked a bit surprised. Miss Tranter looked even more surprised. “You keep him in nappies all the time” she said looking at my mother in disbelief.
“No, he’s far to big to be kept in nappies, he’s eight years old for goodness’ sake” she retorted. “My goodness how you have grown recently” she said struggling to put on a pair of infantile pants that I hadn’t worn in three years, and they were terry towelling training pants that were badly stained at that. She struggled to find any clothes that weren’t for a baby girl and opted for a big baby grow with the snaps hanging down, over which she put some pink stretch towelling shorts. She plucked out my dummy and threw it into my bed. “You must stop suc-king that binkie, how old are you? I must be a bit tougher on you and make you grow up.”
Constable Barker and Mrs Wainsworth were not looking very impressed by this performance. I looked like a baby and clearly had no clothes befitting my age. Miss Tranter stated the obvious “look at his bed, they replaced his bed with a cot. He eats his meals in a big high chair. She and nanny forced him to wear a bib and speak like a baby. This poor boy is broken.”
“Shut up Miss Tranter” barked my mother “you don’t know anything.” She helped me out of my cot, but I almost stumbled, because my legs were so weak from not walking but crawling everywhere.
“Look, he can barely walk, because he was made to crawl about on his hands and knees like a baby. Do you think his knees would look so sore if he had been walking?” Miss Tranter was boiling with emotion. How I loved her at this moment. “They forced him to stay in nappies for so long that I doubt he has any control left now.”
As if on cue, I felt the front of my rather small and insufficient underwear grow warm as I wet myself profusely. I dripped onto the linoleum of my nursery floor.
“Need I say more?” asked Miss Tranter
Mrs Wainsworth sprang into action and in a trice had me lying on my back on my changing table as she took off all me wet clothing and with professional efficiency had me cleaned up with baby wipes and dressed in clean nappies and protected with my plastic baby pants. I looked towards my dummy but she shook her head “Time to be a big boy now Tommy” she said firmly but kindly.
She grabbed my hand and took me downstairs with everybody in procession. The constable was speaking to my mother and writing things down in his notebook. Miss Tranter was asked to look after me while Mrs Wainsworth filled out several forms she had on her clipboard. She handed the forms to my mother and took me outside. I seem to have been sold or exchanged for paperwork. We got into the back of the police car and waited for the constable to join us.
We set off with nobody saying anything for quite a long time. “Your mummy is in a lot of trouble Tommy and she needs to sort things out. In the meantime, I am taking you to a special place full of boys and girls just like you. You will be able to grow up and be a proper big boy again.”
The sign outside the dark spooky building said “The Orphanage of the Blessed Sister Mary”. I did not feel that this latest part of my life was going to be a picnic. As we walked up the driveway, having waved Constable Barker goodbye, the overall impression was one of quietness and austerity. On one side, surrounded by a tall wall was a kitchen garden. On the other side was a large grassy area that had three enormous washing lines that ran the length of the garden. One had maybe four or five dozen nappies and twenty pairs of plastic pants fluttering in the breeze. Another was full of institutional grey dresses and grey shorts. The last was hung with aprons, tabards, bibs and other protective wear.
The door was opened by a nun in her full habit, all in black, all very depressing and sombre. A couple of girls all dressed in grey with grey protective smocks, were working with a large tin of polish with rags and dusters to buff the floor to a rich shine. They looked about my age, they looked sad, subjugated, and subservient. The nun pointed at a corner “There!” The two souls rushed to apply new polish and vigour.
We entered a dull office that smelled of polish, indeed, the whole atmosphere was of polish and incense. The furniture was dark, heavy with massive curtains allowing the smallest chink of light to fall on the massive desk before me. There were two chairs facing the window in front of the desk and we sat. We were left alone.
A matronly woman entered; it was the Mother Superior. “You! Stand outside the door and face the wall and do not move.”
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Uh oh from the clutches of one tormentor into the clutches of many. These women are going to give him a strict a unpleasant Christian upbringing.
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From the sounds of this new beginning in his life, things don't look much better for our sissy baby love the story keep up the great writing.
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My apologies for the delay but it is not always easy to find the time or inspiration to write. Thank you so much to those who have made the effort to say thank you and to suggest further plots and story lines.
Chapter 6
I stood outside facing the wall. The two girls polishing the floor worked their way towards me.
“What’s your name. Are you in trouble?” one asked
“I’m Tom” I whispered “I’ve just been collected by Social Services.”
“Oh, bad luck! We are Sophie and Charlotte We came here a year ago because our parents died. Are you wearing a nappy already? That was quick.”
“What do you mean?” I asked “my nanny made me wear them and now I don’t think I can do without them. You don’t wear then do you?”
“Everybody who is being punished must wear nappies. If you behave like a baby then you get treated like one” explained Sophie. “Charlotte and I have been back in nappies for almost a month now.”
“What did you do?” I enquired
“We got caught trying to take some food out of the pantry, because we were so hungry” explained Charlotte.
“We have been put on cleaning floor duties ever since.”
The door flew open and the Mother Superior stood towering above us. “Charlotte, Sophie. Get on with your work at once. I am reporting your misbehaviour to Sister Bernadette who will deal with you appropriately. You boy, Tommy, I did not give you permission to chit chat but I did tell you to stand outside and face the wall. You seem to have disobeyed me and will need to be punished.”
“I’m sorry Mrs” I was lost for words as I did not know how to address her.
“You call me Mother Superior” she barked back
“I’m sorry for not doing as I was told” I stammered “You did not tell me that I could not talk” I tried to plead my defence “I promise I will be good.” The Mother Superior did not look impressed with my backchat and with a wag of her finger and pointing to the wall, she went back into her office and closed the door.
Charlotte and Sophie whispered very quietly “we’ll not get changed until bedtime now” she said shrugging her shoulders. “Got to go”. They polished their way down the hall.
The door opened again, this time normally and Mrs Wainsworth was escorted past me. “You’ll be fine here” she said as she was leaving. She was shown out the large wooden front door which closed with a solid clump. The Mother returned and took me by my arm, not roughly but definitely firmly.
“You will start work here” she said as we threaded our way down one passage, then down two flight of stairs until we ended up in the services area of the old house. “You will work here every weekend for the whole day, from 06.00 to 08.00 each morning and 16.00 to 18.00 every afternoon on weekdays. We are a very large house with lots of sisters to support and we have thirty boys and girls who have no homes, like yourself, who need to be fed and clothed. In order to provide revenue, we take in washing that needs to be washed, dried and then in some cases pressed. You are a new boy and so you will start at the start of the process.”
She took me into a room stacked with laundry boxes on one side and piles of white plastic buckets that were stacked along the other wall. You don’t have to worry about the laundry boxes, you will deal with the buckets.
I was about to ask what was in the buckets, but she kindly took one and prised off the lid. The stench was dreadful and I knew exactly what the smell was caused by. It was wet and soiled nappies and it was a smell with which I was extremely familiar from my own personal experiences.
“Your job is to unload the buckets, scrape off the mess from the soiled ones and rinse them out in this sink.” She gestured for me to start unloading the bucket she had opened. I took them one by one and did as I had been instructed until there were about twenty rinsed nappies in the sink.
“Now you load the washer” she continued to define the process “make sure you have at least forty and no more than fifty in each load. I will send somebody in to collect you for supper. Sister Bernadette will change you before your supper.” Then she was gone.
I lost track of how many buckets I cleared but I had all five washing machines running by the time Sister Bernadette arrived. My hands were sore, I smelt like a sewer and my own protection was saturated with the eliminations of other babies and toddlers. She seemed a nice enough person, about mid-twenties, not ugly but certainly not pretty. Her habit showed nothing of her figure or what lay beneath and she smelt of Dettol and carbolic soap. I was escorted from the gloom of the laundry room down the corridor to what appeared to be a dormitory. There was a large changing table at one end of the room that looked well used and very worn. The pile of terry nappies looked white but were worn and tatty. Once my own nappies were removed; she cleaned and dried me before putting me in these clean ones. They were as soft as sandpaper and my sore skin, that already had a bad rash, was really irritated by the roughness of these worn-out diapers. Sister Bernadette did not say a lot, but she did look upset at the condition of my skin and applied a cream that was very soothing and smelling of bananas.
She dressed me in a grey shirt with matching grey shorts that went over the top of my scratchy nappies and plastic plants. I got down from the changing table and my legs which were unused to walking and standing felt quiet sore after my ordeals of the day.
She led me to the dining hall that was one floor up from our dormitory. It was a wood panelled room, with a long wooden refectory table and benches either side that ran the length of the room. The smell of polish infused the room with the smell of lavender. At the head of the room was a small table at right angles to the main table at which sat the Mother Superior and her cohort of nuns. At the main table in total silence sat about forty children split evenly on the long benches. The overall scene was one of dullness, the nuns in black and all the children in grey. The food for the day was a rather dull chicken soup with a very large hunk of wholemeal bread that had been fresh a few days earlier. I took my seat at the last space on the bench near the head of the table. Sister Bernadette put a bib round my neck, it was old, stained from many years of use, and was grey with a white border. It was institutional, there were no cartoons or silly words on it. The bottom had begun to fray and the weave of the terry cloth was beginning to unravel. I looked down the table and saw that all the children were wearing similar protection. Nobody sniggered, nobody looked, everybody stared at the food in front of them but nobody dared to eat. The food was blessed and with a startling rush the soup was devoured with great rapidity. The person next to me tried to steal my bread while I wasn’t looking but I managed to grab half of it back. The girl in front of me was trying to take soup from my bowl by leaning forwards with her spoon. In a trice, the two thieves were dragged from their seats by a nun and taken to the front table and stood in front of the Mother Superior. I finished my supper with some decorum.
The two children were sentenced by the wag of a finger. Two highchairs appeared and both girls were defrocked to reveal that both were in nappies and plastic pants. Another nun appeared with what appeared to be a pair of large plastic bags - each turned out to be a onesie made of some sort of transparent vinyl. Arms and legs were threaded into the garment and then secured with a large cord around the neck. The two errant children were then placed in the high chairs and firmly secured using the seat straps and then the trays fixed in front of them.
“You will now remain here until morning.” said the Mother Superior “Bring in the hydration for them.” Another nun arrived with a large bag of liquid that was suspended from a drip with a tube that was connected to a large feeding dummy. The two children squirmed in their seats as dummies were firmly plugged into their mouths and then fixed with straps that fastened at the back of their heads. Huge grey towelling bibs were put over their heads to catch the inevitable dribbles that escaped their mouths.
I sat looking at them wide-eyed. I barely felt myself as the warmth filled my nappy.
“Tommy” said the Mother Superior “this is what happens to naughty children. Make sure you are never one of them. Now everybody must return to their duties and thank the good Lord for all his blessings and kindness to us.”
“I’m wet” I said quietly to Sister Bernadette.
“That is why you are wearing nappies” she replied pointing to the exit for me to return to the laundry room. I went in quietness, I had been there for a whole afternoon and apart from talking to the two girls I had said nothing to any of my peers, nor they to me. I suddenly felt very isolated and alone.
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Starting to look like he was better off with mother.
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Sorry, but it is a short part tooday!
Chapter 7
It was almost 9 o’clock by the time I took a wash and went to bed in my new dormitory which had eight boys getting ready for bed, Sister Bernadette was putting every boy into his night time nappies and plastic pants. All of us had grey winceyette pyjamas to wear that were tied up with a white cord around the waist. The trousers had plenty of space to accommodate our bulky nappies as we crinkled along to our beds. Nobody talked. It was like being in with a troupe of zombies. Out of the nine of us, there were four others apart from me who were wearing day time nappies, all of them as part of a punishment so I gathered from listening to Sister Bernadette talking to each of her charges.
We pulled up the blankets over us, there were no linen sheets apart from the rubber sheet on every bed to protect the mattresses. There was a pillow, but this too had a rubber pillow case in order to protect it. It was horribly uncomfortable, but I could not help but think of the two trapped in their high chairs who would be forced to sleep sitting up slumped over in their own leaking protection.
The light went out and the whispers started. The boys wanted to know my name and why I was there. It turned out that everybody had been referred to the home by social services. The laundry was a money-making side of the business, but an even larger side to the business was the selling of babies and toddlers to desperate parents who could not have children of their own. Once a month. Couples would walk round the home looking for children to buy and adopt. Sometimes the older children would disappear and it was suspected that they ended up as unpaid domestics or servants. They were never heard of again.
I mentioned the two girls who were polishing the floors and it turned out that they were often rented out to do their duties in other large houses. A couple of the boys said that I was lucky to work in the laundry, because it was one of the warmer places in the winter. I asked them what part about scraping off shitty nappies was lucky? That got a laugh followed by shushing noises to keep the noise down. Two of the boys were working in the kitchen peeling potatoes and putting them in the chip slicer to pack into bags for sale to local fish and chip shops. Two other boys were being taught how to clean bathrooms and toilets, mop floors and polish work surfaces. The other four seemed to be lucky, they attended classes and were taught useful skills like book keeping and computer skills like typing and taught to take dictation. They were the four who were not wearing nappies.
Eventually, we went to sleep and by morning all of us were wet and in need of a change. We went down to breakfast and the two high chairs with the unfortunate pair were still there. They looked miserable and were sobbing. The inside of their plastic onesies looked disgusting as their eliminations had escaped the protection of their plastic baby pants and spilled out in all directions to pool in the feet of the plastic suits.
They were taken away to be cleaned up. As they had disappeared a group of adults clearly in pairs were looking at us boys and girls seated at the tables in our grey bibs and waiting for the Mother Superior to bless whatever the globby mess was in the plates before us. One couple pointed at a boy who was in my dormitory and had been on potato peeling duties. Sister Angelina from the top table took him away. One of the girls, Sophie, the floor polisher was also pointed at by another couple and she was taken away by Sister Mary.
We never saw either of them again.
Life settled into a rhythm, I was always hungry, always dressed in grey, but as time wore on, I slowly regained my daytime control. The wet, harsh, rough wet nappies became too uncomfortable to wear and slowly I learned to use the large pot that was positioned in my place of work. Sister Bernadette seemed very happy for me and I became used to wearing training pants during the day.
I had been there many years, not seeing much in the way of sunlight, but had formed hushed friendships with my dormitory peers. A lot of people disappeared and I was coming to the end of my own stay as I approached the age of sixteen. I suspect nobody ever picked me because I smelt of my work, like the old leather tanners or dyers of olden times! Those who had not been picked out went on to another house at that magic age.
Nobody knew anything.
The laundry business had grown to such an extent that the foster home now was offering a nappy service that went out to deliver and collect nappies from individual households. In the old days they were a part of domestic washing bought to the house by the householder. Now there was a van and on one glorious day I was told that my days of washing dirty nappies was over and that I was now in charge of a small team who would do my old job and I would be the one who ran from van to front door to collect the buckets and baskets to bring them back.
I thought I had arrived in paradise. I had a smart new uniform (in grey naturally) which was a smart overall with my name on the jacket. Sister Angelina was the driver of the smart white van and I got to sit up front next to her. We did not talk, she barked out the orders at each stop and I rushed up the path, banged on the door, rang the bell, carried the heavy buckets into the back of the van and collected the paperwork. It was all wonderful for the first week until we knocked on one door. As the door opened I shrank back in terror, and for the first time in years, I wet myself.
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Definately doesn't sound like Tommy will enjoy being in this place either. The mother superior seems mean spirited.
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its mother or mother dressed as a domiantrix.
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Sorry for another short chapter and no it wasn't mother back as a dominatrix! A little more intense today and I will try and write more soon!
Chapter 8
There, in all her magnificent evil glory stood Nanny dressed impeccably in her dark blue Matron’s uniform and beside her a bewildered teenage girl wearing a sweet cerise baby frock dripping in lace and ribbons that came to her waist, leaving on show a plump bulging nappy cover in matching fabric. A pink leather, baby harness enclosed her chest and Nanny had a firm grip on the leading reins. She tinkled merrily as she fidgeted. About her neck was a small dribble bib and, in her mouth, a large pink dummy that she was suc-king passionately.
My own memories flooded back to me as I felt my own training pants warm as I remembered my own days under her domination. Sister Angelina had not stayed in the van but had joined me on the doorstep. She looked at me knowingly, staring at my grey trousers that were slowly developing a large dark patch as the training pants slowly failed to control the volume of wetness. Nanny looked at my accident with a large smirk on her face.
It was clear to me that Sister Angelina and Nanny were old friends and instead of collecting the nappy buckets from the client as normal, we were invited in. The teenage girl was gibbering in baby talk and looked very uncomfortable. Every minute or so, she would take a sly glance at Nanny to make sure that she was not in any trouble. Nanny put her in a large play pen that stood in the middle of the lounge. It was full of baby toys, soft cloth bricks, teething rings, rattles and soft cuddly toys. She gestured that I should get in the pen with her.
Behind the large dummy, I could see that she was a very beautiful young lady. It turned out that her name was Susie and that she was aged eighteen, two years older than me. She had long blond hair that had been permed into large curls that flowed down to her shoulders. Beneath her harness it was perfectly clear that she was fully developed and the outline of her breasts could be seen through the delicate fabric of her baby dress. She offered me a dolly, a quick glance at Nanny made me accept her and hold her to my chest. There were smiles from the two matriarchs. Dolly was soft and smelled of baby powder. I brushed against Susie and she too was soft and smelt of baby powder. I felt an arousal from within my wet training pants. These feelings were so very rare in the orphanage as we had no contact between the opposite sex, always being segregated and not permitted to talk.
Nanny and Sister Angelina went in to the kitchen and I tried to talk to Susie but she shook her head violently, took out her dummy and told me to shut up. Suddenly, I was taken by surprise as she plunged on her knees towards me and gave me a huge French kiss. I was horrified, I had never kissed a girl, let alone had a tongue thrust into my mouth. She grabbed my hand and pushed it down into the front of her nappy encouraging me to rub her in that place so exciting that she started to pant. My erection was intense. I rubbed her under the guidance of her own hand and the kissing became a frenzy, the panting became more rapid and turned into a deep groan that seemed to come from the very heart of her. She started bucking up and down on her knees, the grunting noises became deeper and deeper and finally there was a wail like a banshee that was enough to wake the dead.
She hugged me to her breast, which in this case, was a face full of little bells on the breast plate of her harness. I had never felt so happy. My own erection was raging, but it mattered not, because for the first time in my life I had felt real affection.
Nanny and Sister Angelina could not help but hear the commotion. I suspect that they had watched the whole thing on a nanny cam anyway. I was surprised by their reaction, I expected violence, I thought there would be shouting and some sort of pain, some retribution, but there was none. The two women laughed and laughed some more. Clearly Susie was also expecting trouble, she gently removed her hand from the front of her nappy as I pulled my fingers out of her most private of places, wet from her juices and passion. As my hand very slowly tried to surreptitiously sneak out of her babyish protection, she let a gush of urine flood over my fingers. My erection, denied for so long, so excited by this turn of events, oblivious to those around me and held deeply in Susie’s embrace, decided that with a minimal movement within my towelling pants would start to thump and pump - filling me with joy and a further but different soiling of my babyish underwear.
“That’s a good baby,” said Susie rubbing the front of my damp trousers and starting to giggle.
I looked at the three women laughing at me. What on earth was going on?
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I don't know what's going on to Tommy but i bets its apart of Nanny's twisted style and i love it so much. this is getting interesting again i was wondering could Nanny keep and start to hypnotize Tommy to make him submit with tea cup hypnosis from Get Out.
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Chapter 9
Sister Angelina gestured for me to come out of the pen and opened up the gate. Came out sheepishly with the wet patch on the front of my grey trousers even more prominent. Nanny had reappeared with a large padded changing mat in one hand and a couple of really thick white nappies and a pair of pink plastic baby pants.
“No please,” I started to implore them “I don’t need to wear nappies anymore.”
I was completely ignored as Sister Angelina and Nanny began the work of stripping me off and dressing me up in a fresh set of fluffy soft nappies protected with the baby pants which they fiddled about with making sure the thick terry towelling was properly enclosed. Nanny went out the room and came back clutching a baby blue bubble romper that she put over my head and fastened with poppers between my legs. The garment was elasticated with a ruffle just below my arms which had puff sleeves lined at the edges with lace. The nappies were enveloped in this large bubble of silky cloth. I looked younger than a toddler. The front was embellished with ten lines of rucked smocking in different colours of thread. White booties were attached to my feet that were tied with matching pale blue satin ribbons.
Susie had gone back to her baby act and was babbling “Ba Ba” and giggling. I was at a total loss to understand what was happening.
A white wool bonnet trimmed with blue ribbons and blue trimmings was tied on my head, a white plastic backed terry bib trimmed in glue gingham was tied about my neck. A large blue dummy was put in my mouth which I suc-ked reluctantly at first, but within minutes was transported back to my previous addiction.
Finally, they fitted white mittens that matched my booties, but completely trapped my fingers with a cleverly concealed insert. I looked at Nanny, who nodded at me with what could only be described as a warm smile. She fitted a brand new blue leather baby harness that was similar to Susie’s in design.
“You know what to do” was all she said.
I was back where I had started ten years ago and a large tear ran down my cheek as I crawled on my knees, bells tinkling, back to the play pen. I did not need to test the booties for the sharp spines within the sole. “Me baba” I said in a babyish voice. The two women beamed at me.
Susie suc-ked hard on her binkie “you baba” she gurgled.
We played together with the toys in the playpen, apart from our size you would not have known that we were not babies playing together as their mummies drank coffee looking on at them. We babbled and giggled and were lost in the moment.
In the kitchen were two large high chairs, mine was brand new and painted blue, whereas Susie’s was pink. We were strapped in for our lunches. Nanny fed Susie and Sister Angelina fed me. It was a delicious soup, the best food I had tasted in a decade, I bounced up and down in my high chair, so delighted with the wonderful nourishment. I clapped my mittened hands together and kicked my feet with unbridled joy. I wet myself without a second thought, it would not take me long to regress if the price I had to pay was happiness.
Sister Angelina stirred the thick soup and spoke to me softly. I became engrossed in the swirling pattern she produced, my eyes started to feel heavy and I was falling into a deep abyss from which I never wanted to escape. I was aware that Susie was in a similar position with Nanny. I was aware of very little except the unavoidable truth that I was a baby trapped in a big boy’s body. I was developing a huge attraction to Susie. Susie loved me, I loved Susie. I wanted to snuggle up to Susie in my wet and dirty nappies forever. There was no shame being a baby, Susie only liked me because I was a little baby and would never hurt her. She liked me playing inside her nappy and she liked my little sissy stick, and this was perfectly alright.
I don’t know how long I had been in this dream state but when I woke up Susie had been put to bed in her cot. I was taken out of my high chair and taken upstairs for a bath and clean nappy. I had wet and soiled the one I had been dressed in when I arrived. Eventually, I was dressed in a blue nightie and three thick fluffy soft night time nappies, plastic pants covered in nursery rhyme characters which I loved and a blue nightie. I was given my dummy and a dribble bib was tied around my neck. I had no mittens or booties.
We went into Susie’s nursery where she sat holding a cloth paged book and teddy, suc-king her dummy. I was told to get into the cot with her. We looked like twins, pink for a girl and pale blue for a boy. A night light was put on that showed little angels playing on a cloud in the fabric of the lightshade. A mobile hung over the cot of colourful baubles some glittering in the light others of different rainbow colours. It played Brahm’s lullaby as it rotated.
“Hewwo Thuthie” I said through my dummy, my heart bursting with love for her that I could not explain. She looked at me over the top of her dummy with large blue eyes that seemed to suc-k me in to her very soul.
Nanny and Sister Angelia looked at each other with a knowing smile and left the room quietly, closing the door behind them.
Neither of us was wearing our baby harnesses and in no time at all I was seeking out Susie’s breasts with my hands. She lifter up her nightie and guided my lips to her nipple. I spat out my dummy and latched on to her breast. She moaned with delight and encouraged me to fondle her other breast with one hand and her pussy with the other. We were working ourselves up into a frenzy and, in no times at all, Susie had slipped my nappies down to my knees and wriggled her own down to a similar position.
My little sissy stick was not impressive but somehow Susie managed to fit me inside her. I came almost immediately and with such force that I shot deeply inside her. Although Susie did not orgasm on that occasion; it took little time at all before I was licking her to multiple orgasms and again attempted penetration with sufficient success to fill her with my love.
We played for more than an hour, kissing, cuddling and fondling each other until we were spent. Susie pulled up my nappies and I helped refit hers. We put in our dummies, snuggled under the baby blankets and spooned together for the most wonderful night of my life.
In the lounge, Nanny and Sister Angelina were talking as they watched the passions between me and Susie cool. “In nine months time Angelina, we are going to be ten thousand pounds better off. Susie will be pregnant in no time and I already have another girl baby ready for Tommy to fall in love with. We should be able to make twelve babies a year. This house has eight bedrooms, it might be a bit of a crush but we can manage.”
Sister Angelina “I phoned the orphanage to tell them that Tommy had run away and I was driving around looking for him. Nobody seemed to be that bothered to be honest. I will go shortly. In the meantime, I will get one of our couples to choose a couple of new girls I have lined up.”
“Once Susie has finished making us our baby we can sell her off as a nappy dependent domestic.” reflected Nanny.
[Concluded]
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Now that was a classic i love every word even the spaces. Looks like in a disturbing way Tommy found love even if it was in such a horror story as his life kind of bitter sweet. Thank you for writing this.
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Thank you for those kind words. I am going to take a break until a new story comes to mind!
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Good luck.
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Every one gets writers block sometimes, just take your time and another really good one will start forming
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enjoyecd this :)
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First time I have read one of your stories. Couldn't stop reading it. Really enjoyed it. Looks like Tommy has a job for life, lucky boy. Keep up the writing and I look forward to reading your other stories.