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Chapter 349.

As they returned to the stable, Tim was in a huff.
“Stupid brats,” he muttered.
“What, those two nice girls?” asked Lucille, tongue in cheek.
“Nice?  Asking all those silly questions…”
“We thought they were rather fun.  There was some sort of chemistry going on between the three of you…”
“Yeah…  I was thinking about poisoning them…”
“So I asked them to hang around for the next session.”
“What?”
Serena snorted with laughter.
“Miss…that’s not fair…come on…”
“But this one’s so pretty…my favourite actually.  You’re going to look amazing…”

It was a beautiful dress.  Even Tim realised that.  When he clocked himself in the full-length he did a double-take.  If he had met a girl looking like he did, he might well have fallen for her on the spot.  The conflicting emotions of embarrassment and excitement were tying him in knots.
“So what do you think?” asked Doreen, watching his confused expression with interest.
“I…  You know…  It’s a dress, isn’t it…”
His voice trailed off, but he couldn’t take his eyes of himself.  Beautiful white latex with pink flowers, not glossy but with a seductive sheen, like the finest satin.  Crinolines, a white ruff collar, white stockings with pink bows.  The dress fitted to perfection – more, it seemed to shape his body into female lines.  He touched the latex.  How did they even make this?  It must be fearfully expensive.  And it was made specifically for him.  They must think he was worth it.  He experienced a little shiver of pride and excitement – and, it must be said, a slight pressure in the little soft latex panties hidden away under the mass of crinolines.  He gulped, and took a few deep breaths.  Momentarily he understood completely how Bobby must feel in his dresses.  Suddenly his cheeks were burning.  Quickly he turned away.
Doreen was looking at him with a little smile.  Was she reading his mind?
“See?  You have to admit you look quite something.  Now sit down here and let me touch up your face.”

Five minutes later he was on his rostrum.  The two brats had waited, but he could see that their mirth was tempered with admiration.  Lucille let them feel the material.
“Gosh, miss, that must have cost a fortune!  I wish I could afford a dress like that…” said the ginger-haired girl.
Her friend turned to her, laughing.
“Caroline, what are you saying?  You’d never wear anything like that.  You refused all those dresses you mum got you.  You hate dresses!”  She turned to Lucille.  “She only dresses up for riding.  Otherwise it’s jeans and T-shirts.  She doesn’t even dress up when we go clubbing.”
“No, but Faith – remember I went through like a goth period…  I liked dresses then…”
“Yeah, but your mum didn’t let you wear goth dresses, did she?”
“I’m older now…  What I meant is…  I mean, this is latex!  Latex is cool.”
“Black latex…”
“No, black latex is yesterday.  It’s been so overdone.  Imagine white latex, like this.  Sort of innocence and sex fused together…”  Her eyes shone.
“I think Caroline’s got a point,” said Serena.  “Caroline, let me have your number.  When I have a moment, I’ll see if our supplier has anything off the peg you might like…”
“Wow, would you?  Thank you so much…”

The photo-session proceeded.  Whether it was the dress, or Tim’s ill-disguised impatience, but this session seemed to have attracted a bigger crowd.  And at the back Tim caught sight of that woman he had passed earlier, again looking at him with a sort of proprietorial smirk.  That should have been a clue.  They were about to return, when the woman in question approached.
“I wonder…  That’s such a beautiful dress…  Do you think I might get a few snaps for myself somewhere slightly less busy?  So many girls – and horses!”
Serena stepped forward.
“Of course, madam.  We can do that.”  She gave Mrs Brookshaw a secret wink.  “Let’s move to the passage between the stables over there.”
And so Connie Brookshaw had a photo-session all of her own.  Which was only fair, given that she had designed the dress…

Chapter 347.

Tim’s day, which had been so fun in the morning, was turning into a nightmare.  As he entered the stable, he saw that underneath the box that was being unpacked were two more!
“How many dresses are there…?”
“Oh, not many,” said Doreen, calmly.  But we need to get through them all this afternoon, so let’s get a move on.  Turn round and let me unzip you…  The next one’s very plain and simple, so I'll need to clean off all that makeup.  It's not appropriate for a little girl.”
“Little girl?  What do you mean?”
“You'll see.  Sit down and pass me the wipes.  Thank you.”

Serena was outside on her phone talking to Connie Brookshaw in a low voice.
“We’re in the new stable complex.  You can’t miss us  - we’re being followed everywhere this afternoon.  Sorry?  Grumpy, I would say.  Yes, he’s not happy at all.  Dresses aren’t really his thing.  I know…hilarious.  I’d better go, anyway.  Half an hour?  Right.  I’ll have him in one of yours.  No, he has no idea.  Just mingle with the fans…”

Serena stayed outside enjoying the air till they reappeared.  Tim was frowning.  Well, not surprising.  He did look an idiot in that little red juvenile outfit.  Of course, once he was up on his dais he did his best to laugh it off.  As usual had an audience, and he didn’t want them to see her wasn't doing all this of his own free will.
“What sort of dress do you call that?” asked a blonde girl, cheekily.
“It’s just a work dress, that’s all…” improvised Tim.
“Looks more like a little girl’s activity outfit,” remarked her curly-haired friend, suppressing a laugh. 
“What’s with the hair-bow?” persisted the other.
“Leave me alone, would you?  I’m modelling all sorts of things today.  Did you see my black leather…”
“Yes, we did!” cried curly.  “So sexy!”
And they burst out laughing.
“Just go away!  Miss, tell them to go away…”
“Sorry, Mitzy.  They have more right than we do to be here.”
“Yes, Mitzy.  We have more right to be here than a silly boy in a little girl’s smock…” said blonde.
“Made of rubber, by the look of it,” added curly,  “and…”
“Hey, Paula!  Come round here!  You can see his panties!”
“Ooh…”

And so it went on.  Eventually they escaped those two particular little horrors by moving into the indoor school.  There were just three riders there, and they were a bit older, so potentially not as annoying.
“Miss, I hate this outfit.  If I have to wear a dress, can it at least be glamorous?  This is like a kid’s dress.  I feel totally stupid.”
“Okay, Tim.  I’ll tell you a secret, shall I?” said Lucille, whispering.
“What?” he replied, sulkily.  But his face said he was interested.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you, actually.  Mrs Brookshaw ordered this one from the Fantastex catalogue herself.  For a grown boy, she said it was the most embarrassing one she could find.  She also said…”  She lowered her voice.  “She also said, if you were prepared to wear this without complaint, in fact to swagger about in it just as you do in your pageboy shorts, she’d let you wear your shorts for the whole weekend instead of the maid’s outfit she had planned.”
“Really?  Even for her party Saturday night?”
“Even for that.”
“Okay!  Listen, can I still do it, then?  I was being silly.  I apologise, I really do…”
“Well, I suppose…  But you mustn’t tell anyone I told you.”
“I promise!”
“Okay…  Well, let’s have some piccies by the side of the arena, shall we.  Nice poses, mind.  I don’t think those girls will bother you.  Then we’ll have a little parade around the Centre, let all the others get some pretty snaps.  Then we can move on to the more sophisticated styles…”
“Okay.  No probs, Miss Lucille…”
“Good boy!  Here.  I've found another Alice band that matches your dress better...”

Lucille turned to the others and winked.
“Did Mrs Brookshaw really say that?” Doreen asked Serena.
Serena laughed.  “No,” she whispered.  “She wants him in his shorts the whole weekend anyway.  Thinks her guests would prefer it.  And Robyn, of course.  Anyway she’ll be here any minute.  With luck she’ll get to see just what a sweet, obedient little boy Tim is!”

About a week later when he arrived at the nursery Mrs Lawson was there.  “Look, we’ve made a walker for you!”  Joe glared at his latest accessory as she opened the side to let him in.  He was helped from his stroller into the walker.  The suspended seat in the middle held him at a height where his toes could just about touch the ground.  Mrs Lawson drew the straps around his waist and secured him into it.  She closed the side of it.

“You should be able to push yourself around in it”, she explained.  They were all staring at him expectantly so he pushed as best he could with his toes and the walker moved a few inches on its wheels.  “There you go!”  His mother was clearly pleased.

He tried again and got a few more inches.  “See, you just need lots of practice.”  “We’ll keep him in it until lunchtime”, Aly assured her.  “Look there’s bells and rattles all around you there”, his mother demonstrated.  She flicked the lever on a bell and it dinged.  Joe pawed at it with his mittens and with some difficulty got it to ring.  They all clapped as if this had been a great achievement for him.  “Look there’s a horn!”  He managed to squeeze the rubber balloon on the end between his mittens and it honked.  The babies all laughed.

“Thanks so much for everything you are doing for him”, his mother thanked Mrs Lawson.  “You’re welcome.  It’s been great having someone to test these all out.  The next thing we need to figure out is if we can give a one or two year warranty.”  “Well his play-pen, cot and high-chair all look as good as the day you brought them.  He’s never been able to get out of any of them and it’s not for want of trying!”  They all smiled.  “But it will be interesting to see how they are after two years of use.”  Joe suc-ked hard on his soother.

His mother went off to work as he was left to practice in his walker.  He reckoned if they just lowered his seat a little he could get better purchase.  Communicating that through his soother was not easy though.  “Nnnggghhh!”  “Yes dear?”  He waggled his bottom in the seat and tried to demonstrate that it needed adjusting.  Aly just looked puzzled.  He spat the soother out and was about to speak but she took it and re-inserted it firmly “Now, now!”  Joe just had to be satisfied with the set up and eventually managed to move a little more easily.  “See!  I told you that you would get better with practice.”

One day they were told that little Jean was old enough now to move to the creche, this was going to be her last day.  They had got a cake for the occasion.  Joe was let out of his walker and crawled towards the little table.  He turned and sat on his thickly nappied bottom, his legs in his cerise tights pushed wide apart by his double-thickness cloth nappy.  He smoothed his petticoats down and looked up cutely through the frills on his bonnet and Aly went to get his big plastic bib.  She secured it around his neck and made sure it protected his pretty dress.  She took a spoon and scooped up some of the cake.  She carefully held it in front of his mouth and he leaned forward and took as much as he could in his mouth.  Some crumbs and cream stuck around his mouth and some dropped on his bib.  Aly scraped the crumb and cream from around his mouth and inserted the spoon again.

“Will Baby Joe be going to the creche again?” Jean asked.  “I don’t think so”, Aly smiled, “he’s better suited to here.  He’s our permanent one-year-old!” she giggled.  Joe looked sad.  “Oh now, you don’t want those toddlers teasing you again, do you?”  He had to agree he didn’t.  One of the baby boys crawled over to him and handed him a rattle to cheer him up.  Joe sighed but took the rattle and shook it.  They all smiled.  “See, this is the right place for you.”

Chapter 4

Andy felt his popper pants being opened and his dry nappy being unpinned. His personal parts were pulled first one way, then another as the clippers removed his scant growth of hair. He continued to suc-k on the bottle propped on a pillow and with each suc-k he became less able to move, less able to direct his thoughts. “It’s so sweet” he thought he heard “this definitely belongs in a nappy for doing wetties because it certainly is useless for satisfying a woman”. There was a tinkling laugh that made him feel sad and humiliated. His wet bib was removed.

The restraints were removed, his bottle hissed and gurgled as the last of the liquid was suc-ked through the nipple. His dummy was reinserted and again old reflexes took over. Olivia shaved him from head to toe, he was pulled and shunted this way and that, tossed and turned, with foul smelling cream being applied all over his newly shaved areas. It stung.

Olivia pulled him out of bed and onto his feet. Now was his time to escape, but he could barely stand and he leant heavily on his captor, his head lolling, his legs uncoordinated like a bad drunk. He was thrust into a shower room where Olivia propped him up against the wall. A huge shower head dropped a storm of water over them both. Olivia soaped and washed him with a huge soft sponge holding him tight and close. Andy was in his head sheltering from the storm beneath a large tree with Olivia, his head fell on her breast and he spat out his dummy and latched on. He groped and fondled her clumsily, but in his dreamy stupor he was a sexy stud. Olivia put her hand on his sissy stick but it was not responsive, the drugs had rendered him impotent. He suc-ked as she turned her attention to her own pleasure centres.

She wrapped him in a large fluffy towel and patted him dry. Andy dreamed he was a little toddler being cared for by his mummy. His legs almost buckled but Olivia kept heaving him straight. His mummy guided him into his nursery and he fell in to his pink cot. He could no longer distinguish between what was real and what was in his dream.

Heavy creams were applied, baby powder fell like snow all over him. Thick fluffy nappies were secured and enclosed in soft vinyl baby pants. He was put in a vest that fastened beneath his legs forcing his nappy tight into his bottom. A pink bonnet made of softest wool, trimmed with ribbons was put on his bald head and tied beneath his chin. A pink bib edged in lace was carefully tied around his neck. Soft mittens were put over his hands and booties on his feet. He was a confection in pink. In his dream he was given his comforter, a soft freshly laundered nappy that he held to the side of his face as he suc-ked on his dummy. He  waggled his arms and wiggled his legs as his mummy tickled his tummy and snuggled his nappies. He looked for his beloved teddy bear but the soft face that stared back at him was not his beloved Patchy, this was wrong. Where was he?

Suddenly, a feeling of total dread washed over him as the drugs coursing through his veins reached their peak. He felt so insecure, he feared falling out of his cot, as it was a long drop with the side railing down. He scooted back on his bottom to be close to the wall, he felt nauseous and he began to salivate heavily a sign that he would be very sick in a short space of time. Jingling bells, he heard jingling bells. Olivia had a set of pink leather reins and was fitting them round his chest. He heard a click to his right and then another to his left as he was secured to the D-rings on his harness by connecting to tethers attached to the base of the cot. He tried to get to his knees but he was completely restrained. The cot side slid up with a whoosh and he heard the reassuring sound as the two catches snapped into place. He felt totally safe again and he lay back as his dream state continued.

A carousel of little animals circled above, in time to the tinkling of a music box, a flying penguin, a soaring giraffe and an airborne piggy made him giggle behind his dummy. A line of brightly coloured balls stretched from one side of his cot to the other and he tried to kick them with his feet. He caught one with his hand and it twanged on the elastic making a large noise. He did it again and could not resist making a satisfying gurgle.

A large soft blanket was pulled over him and tucked in tightly, curtains were pulled and the room became dim. Andy soaked up his dream, reliving memories that had been dormant for thirty years. Wonderful times when he had been the centre of his mummy’s universe. Free of stress, everything done for him, no need to worry about money, bills, or the competition to climb the corporate ladder. No need to worry about finding a toilet, it was fine to wet the bed, it was perfectly acceptable to crawl along and drop a big poo in the back of your nappy, because you were a baby. You were always protected, always being cleaned and perfumed, always swaddled in love and softness. Sitting in a wet and filthy nappy was not so bad, but being changed in to a warm, soft nappy fresh out the airing cupboards was so special.

He felt himself drifting into a peaceful sleep, he didn’t know if his life was real or imagined but it was not a problem. He pulled his cuddle nappy comforter to his cheek and rubbed it against his dummy. His head now devoid of hair was warm and snug in his woolly bonnet. Gentle music came through the air buds fitted in the sides for his baby headwear. A gentle melody added to his sleepiness but did he hear a female voice in the background? He suddenly had the picture in his mind of a teenage boy wearing a nappy, this was quickly followed by the feeling that this was perfectly normal. In the next vision he was pleading to be treated like an incontinent baby. He smiled behind his dummy and slowly fell into a deep sleep.