Author Topic: Baby Girl for a Day (Read 126792 times)

DaraJaney · « **on:** December 18, 2006, 03:18:25 PM »

Alan couldn’t believe he was letting his mother do this. She had to bribe him, of course. He focussed on the playstation she had promised him.

She had always wanted a baby girl and since his father left them last year, she had been quite depressed at the realisation that she would probably never have one. So she begged and bribed Alan to dress up as a baby girl for just a few hours so that she could pretend and maybe take a few photos for posterity.

Alan had stripped down to his underpants. His mother stood before him holding what looked like an old-fashioned cloth nappy. He winced. “Do I really have to wear a real nappy?” His mother nodded firmly. “It just won’t look right unless there is a big bulge around your bottom”, she reasoned.

He lay down on the carpet and let her wrap the cloth nappy around him. She pinned it in place. He was about to get up but she pressed him back. She shook out a pair of plastic pants. He frowned. Being unfamiliar with cloth nappies, he had no idea of the significance of the plastic pants. His mother pulled them up his legs and over his nappy.

The door opened and Mrs. Fulton came in. She smiled on seeing Alan in the nappy. He clasped his hands in front of his nappy in a pretty futile attempt to conceal it. Then he saw the baby costume she was holding. His shoulders sagged. Did he really have to wear that? He looked at his mother but she was rushing over to take the dress from Mrs. Fulton.

She held it up. It was a big pink frilly dress. Alan had no idea what all of the frilly white bits were called but there were lots of them. His mother pulled up the hem of the dress and there were more white lacey bits underneath.

Alan was frozen with horror as she came towards him enthusiastically with the dress, so she had no difficulty in getting it on him. He was zipped in before he knew it. The women stood back and admired him in the baby dress. Alan looked down at all the pink and white and then looked away with embarrassment. He tried to think about the playstation. A few hours of this and then tomorrow he would have the game all to himself.

Next thing his mother was holding out a pair of pants for him to step into. He looked down and caught a glimpse of pink lace before it disappeared under the hem of his flared dress. She had to guide his feet into the panties and she pulled them up under his dress and over his nappy.

Mrs. Fulton came over with a pink bonnet which she placed on his head with delight. She fastened it in place under his chin with thick pink ribbons that tied in a bow.

With both women working on him, he was quickly being turned into the perfect baby girl. His mother produced a large pink soother which hung from a loop of ribbon. She draped it around his neck and pushed the soother into his mouth.

When her back was turned he spat the soother out again. He didn’t have to suc-k on it until they were ready. But the big soother dangled annoyingly on the front of his chest.

Mrs. Fulton flapped out a pair of white ankle socks that had pink lace around the tops. She put these on his feet and fluffed out the lace. Then she strapped a pair of black t-bar shoes on his feet. The women stood back again to admire him.

Alan couldn’t see his shoes and socks because of his enormous dress so he bent forward and pushed his dress down to get a look. When he saw the pretty lace on his socks, he was sorry he looked. Then he realised that his dress was so short that he must be showing off his frilly panties at the back as he bent over so he straightened up again quickly.

Mrs. Fulton smiled and said “come here and we’ll let you see yourself properly”. She steered him towards the door. Alan found that he was practically waddling, his nappy was so thick. She brought him out the door and across the corridor. She opened another door and brought him in.

Alan was impressed. It was just like an out-sized nursery. There was a wooden-barred play-pen, a cot, a high-chair, a rocking-horse – all sized up proportionally so that he would look just like a baby beside them.

He wondered why Mrs. Fulton had all of this stuff. He looked around the walls and saw several portraits of pretty baby girls all around. As he studied them he realised that they were all taken in this room. That meant that the subjects were not real baby girls. Many of them were clearly straining to maintain the fake smiles behind their soothers.

He wondered if some of them were actually boys. It was very hard to tell. With the bonnets covering up their hair and underneath all the lace and ribbons how could anyone know for sure? Did lots of mothers come here to see their sons dressed like baby girls?

Mrs. Fulton led him over to a full length mirror. She picked up a doll as she passed the cot and handed it to Alan. She pushed the soother into his mouth and turned him to face the mirror.

Alan was stunned. He looked just like the baby girls in the pictures. Mrs. Fulton stepped back out of his view and he looked just like a real baby girl clutching her dolly among the nursery furniture, his legs spread apart by the thick nappy.

His mother came over to admire him. She turned him around and he looked over his shoulder to see how he looked from the back. He realised that his dress was very short indeed. He bent over just a little and immediately saw a row of pink lace on his panties.

DaraJaney · « **Reply #1 on:** December 19, 2006, 04:02:11 PM »

Mrs. Fulton led him over towards an arm chair in the corner. She motioned him to sit down. He went to sit down and then wondered should he smooth his dress underneath his bottom as he sat. He swept an arm under the back of his dress but realised that it was so short, there was no point. He sat down and his dress spread out around him.

The two women fussed over him, setting his bonnet just right, fluffing out the lace on his socks yet again, straightening the hem on his dress. His mother made him close his knees together and tilt them to one side daintily.

Then Mrs. Fulton set up her camera on a tripod. They wanted him to smile but he could barely manage it. Since the big soother hid much of his face it didn’t matter that much. The camera flashed and a Polaroid slid out. He was relieved to see that at least there would only be no copies.

They made him pose in the high-chair, in the play-pen and in the cot. He had to straddle the rocking-horse too, while Mrs. Fulton clicked away happily.

As he stood beside the cot he noticed his mother looking pensive. “Do you have a shorter dress?” she asked. Alan’s eyes widened in surprise. Even shorter than this dress? “We can’t see those pretty panties”, his mother said.

Alan had a really hurt look on his face as they pulled off his baby dress. One might have thought that he’d be relieved to get it off but not if it meant he had to wear one even shorter.

The second dress was a powder pink and it was puffed out even further with layers of what his mother called petticoats. When he was turned towards the mirror he was distraught to see that three rows of pink lace on his frilly panties were clearly visible. “That’s much better”, his mother said. “We can see his nappy clearly now.” There followed another round of photos.

Alan was so relieved to get out of that dress. His mother pulled down his plastic pants and unpinned the nappy which was quite moist with sweat. He was never so glad in his life to pull on a pair of trousers again.

The next day the play-station was delivered and he spent nearly all of his free time playing on it. About a week later at school he noticed a gaggle of his classmates in a corner of the schoolyard. They were gathered in a circle all straining to see something in the middle. He could hear roars of laughter.

He ran over to see what was so funny. One of the children in the huddle saw him approach. “Here he is!” she shouted. Alan froze. The huddle broke up. They all turned to look at Alan and they roared laughing. Many of them pointed at him while they held their sides with the laughter.

He only caught a glimpse of one photo but it was enough to tell him that they had somehow obtained photos of his day in the nursery. Alan turned and ran. He could still hear the laughter as he sprinted out the school gate and down the road.

He was in tears when he got home. He roared at his mother. How could she let anyone get copies of the photos? His life was over. How could he face his schoolmates again after they had seen him dressed in a nappy and baby dress posing like a baby girl?

He spent the whole evening splayed out on his bed. He could hear kids out on the street shouting up at his window. “Is the big sissy baby in his cot?” “Is your nappy wet?”

The next morning he refused to even get out of bed. His mother told him he had to go to school eventually. She had no idea how they had obtained the photos but it would soon blow over. Alan did not think it was that simple. He would be mortified. Even the sissiest girl in school would give him a hard time. There was absolutely no way he was going back and that was that.

He heard his mother on the phone downstairs. A while later a car pulled up outside. He heard his mother talking to a woman who sounded familiar.

They came up to his room. It was Mrs. Fulton. “This is your last chance”, his mother told him. “You have to go to school.” He shook his head firmly and buried it in his pillow.

“Alright, well there is one way you can stay at home.” Alan looked up in curiosity. “Only babies stay at home with their mother”, she said, “so if you stay at home then it’s back into nappies for you.” He buried his head again in frustration. How could she be so stupid?

“For the last time, are you going back to school?” she asked again. “There’s no way in the world that I’m going back to that school”, he said, though it was muffled by the pillow.

“Right”, his mother said. The two women pulled at him and removed his tee-shirt and shorts. Mrs. Fulton pinned his shoulders down while his mother wrapped the cloth nappy around his bottom and pinned him in. Then she pulled up the plastic pants and carefully tucked the cloth inside the elasticated legs.

Mrs. Fulton held out one of Alan’s hands by the wrist. Alan looked up wondering what she was doing. His mother pulled a fingerless mitten over his hand and tied it tightly at the wrist. They then did the same with his other hand.

The two women stood up and looked down at the boy who was studying the mittens. He struggled to get them off his hands but it was pointless – they made his hands useless.

His mother crossed her arms on her chest crossly. “This is you’re final chance. Are you going back to school?” Alan scowled at her. No matter what predicament he was in here, it was nothing compared to going back to face his schoolmates who had all seen him dressed and acting like a baby girl.

“Right, it’s your choice”, his mother concluded. They pulled the powder pink dress over his head and he was soon dressed in the frilly panties and bonnet. He didn’t put up much resistance. He was determined to prove his point by demonstrating that even this was better than having to go back to school.

Mrs. Fulton left the room while his mother put the frilly ankle socks on his feet. He just watched grimly as she fastened the t-bar shoes on him.

DaraJaney · « **Reply #2 on:** December 20, 2006, 04:06:02 PM »

His mother brought him downstairs. Mrs. Fulton had set up a large play-pen in the front room. This was getting ridiculous, Alan decided. He resisted but his mother pushed him into the pen and closed the side rail. “Now sit down”, she instructed him. He sighed heavily but sat down in the pen. She hung the soother over his neck and pushed it into his mouth. Mrs. Fulton held a doll out towards him. He crossed his arms firmly so she sat it down beside him.

“Now you stay there”, his mother instructed, wagging a finger. Alan looked around the play-pen. He could easily get out but why bother? Where was he going to go? He was hardly going to run out the door wearing a baby dress.

The two women left the room and closed the door. They went out to the car again. Alan saw his mother glance through the net curtains to check that he was still in the pen. He spat out the soother.

The women went in and out to the car several times. Sometimes they went upstairs and sometimes to the kitchen.

Eventually they came back in to the front room. His mother was carrying some kind of harness. She pulled it over his arms and buckled it around his chest. He looked down to see that the chest band was decorated with pink and blue fairies. She yanked the reins to indicate that he was to stand up.

Alan was quickly getting tired of this ridiculous carry on but he stood up. Mrs. Fulton opened the side of the pen. Alan wearily walked out and wondered what was next. Mrs. Fulton walked towards the door and he followed, his mother kept him on a short rein.

He was led upstairs again. He plodded up the stairs and back into his bedroom. To his great surprise there was a large cot in the middle of the room. He sighed again. Were they going mad? “Mum!” he protested wearily. She shoved the soother back in his mouth. “Now, now! Babies don’t talk.”

Mrs. Fulton lowered the side of the cot. His mother pushed him to get in. “Why don’t you try it out?” she said. He obediently climbed in. Mrs. Fulton replaced the side bars and they clicked in place. He was getting really tired of this. He spat out the soother. “Please Mum!” With a cross look on her face she pushed the soother back in, took the ribbon attached to it and tied it tightly behind his head. The soother was now firmly held in his mouth. He groaned in protest.

The two women went over to the wardrobe. His mother opened it while Mrs. Fulton flapped out a large black plastic sack. His mother took a pile of shirts and threw them into the sack.

Alan was looking on with shock from the cot. “Mmffff” he protested. His mother threw some of his sweaters into the sack. They appeared to be throwing out all of his clothes! “Mmfff” he grunted and he shook the bars of his cot. His mother stopped and looked at him. “You decided to stay at home as a baby girl rather than go back to school, so you’re not going to need these clothes anymore.”

Alan was panicking now. He shook the bars desperately. He tried to spit out the soother but it was held firmly in his mouth. He wanted to protest that he didn’t choose to stay at home in nappies and baby dresses – certainly not indefinitely – but it just came out as “mmppfff! mmppfff!”

His mother threw all of his pairs of trousers into the bag. Alan examined the catch holding the side bars of his cot in place. There was a small lever that needed to be pulled over but there was no way he could budge it with his hands in these mittens. He shook the bars again in frustration and uttered “mmmfff!” again.

The women continued to calmly fill the bag with his clothes. Mrs. Fulton left the room for a few minutes. She returned carrying four more baby dresses on hangers. She brought them over to Alan’s wardrobe and hung them there. She admired the white pinafore on the lemon dress. She pulled up the hem of the lilac dress and ran her fingers through the layers of petticoats.

His mother tied the top of the plastic bag and then stopped to examine Alan’s new dresses. She held one up and looked over at him clearly trying to imagine him in it. He stopped his shaking of the bars of the cot momentarily and looked at the dress. If anything it was even shorter than the dress he was wearing.

Alan got up on his feet in the cot. “Ah, ah!” his mother called out as she came over to him. She took hold of his reins and pulled him back down on his knees. She tied the reins to a leg of the cot so that he could no longer stand up.

Alan strained on his harness, he shook the bars of his cot again and he desperately tried to spit out the soother but he was trapped in the cot and unable to utter anything other than muffled groans.

Mrs. Fulton opened a drawer of the dresser. She took another plastic bag and started filling it with Alan’s underwear and socks. Meanwhile his mother was taking pairs of frilly bloomers, bonnets and lacey socks and began stacking them in the drawers.

She looked over at Alan. Tears were streaming down his face now. He sat on the backs of his legs having given up his futile shaking of the bars. The second plastic bag was tied. As the two women passed his cot carrying the bags he looked up at them desperately. His muffled pleas sounded more like wimpers now.

He watched as they disappeared out the door with his old clothes. He heard them go down the stairs and out to the car. He looked worriedly at his wardrobe full of his new baby dresses. He had no idea that they intended to keep him dressed as a baby girl indefinitely until it was too late to do anything about it.

He flopped down in the cot and cried profusely. The women heard his sobs as they came back into the room. He looked up and watched through the bars as they stripped his bed. Then they took either end and brought it from the room as he resumed crying heavily.

DaraJaney · « **Reply #3 on:** December 22, 2006, 04:11:09 AM »

A few minutes later the women came in the door steering a table into the corner of the room previously occupied by his bed. His mother reappeared with a stack of nappies and plastic pants. This made Alan sit up in his cot again. He looked at the pile of nappies that she placed on the table with great concern. “Mmppff?”

Mrs. Fulton took a load of bottles and tubes from a box. Alan read the labels. “Baby powder.” “Anti nappy rash cream.” Then a carton of baby wipes. It appeared that they were going to make him actually use his nappy! “Mmppff!” he pleaded with his mother as she passed the cot again. She completely ignored him and the women left the room again.

He stared blankly at the changing table. Then he decided he needed to look somewhere else. He turned to the other side of his cot. He was facing the dresser mirror. He saw himself clutching the bars of the cot. He looked at his pink dress, the frilly panties protruding underneath, the crescent of lace around his bonnet, the tear tracks down either side of his soother.

Eventually his mother returned. She deftly flicked the latch on the side bars and let them down. She helped him out of the cot. “Down to the kitchen”, she ordered as she untied his reins and took them in her hands.

When he got to the stairs, he couldn’t see the steps because of his voluminous dress so he clutched the banisters as he went down sideways, one careful step at a time.

He waddled into the kitchen to find a big high-chair in the middle of the floor. Mrs. Fulton was holding the tray of it up so that he could climb in. He looked pleadingly at his mother but she urged him on. He sat up into the high-chair and Mrs. Fulton swung the tray in front of him and it clicked into place. “There. He’ll be safe as houses there now and you can work around the kitchen without worrying that he’ll hurt himself or anything.”

His mother brought over a baby bottle full of purple liquid while Mrs. Fulton tied a terry bib around his neck. “Now are you going to take your bottle for Mummy?” Alan eyed the bottle warily. He gave a pained look. “Or we can leave your dummy tied in if you prefer.” Alan sighed and gave a barely perceptible nod.

Mrs. Fulton untied his soother and he let the it drop down and hang from his neck. He moved his jaw around to give it some much needed exercise but his mother jammed the teat of the bottle into his mouth.

He started suc-king the juice. He winced at the first taste and stopped suc-king. “Come on now. Mummy knows best. Baby has to do what Mummy says.” He reluctantly started suc-king again and despite repeated winces, continued to work his way oh so slowly through the bottle.

After a few minutes his mother instructed him to hold the bottle up himself. He was just about able to hold it in his mittens. She walked away and left him suc-king on the bottle.

He thought he would never get through the disgusting liquid. He finally put down the bottle. “Ah, ah!” Mrs. Fulton said. She held up the bottle and showed that there was a millimetre left at the bottom. Alan sighed and took the bottle again and suc-ked a few times until it was totally empty.

Mrs. Fulton walked away with the bottle saying “that will get him moving”. Before Alan could fully figure out what she meant, his mother arrived with a bowl of green pureed vegetables. She held up a spoonful and pushed it purposefully towards his mouth. He opened his mouth obediently and she shoved it in. He closed his mouth over the spoon and she withdrew it. He chewed a few times and winced bitterly. It must have been sprouts or cabbage or something that he hated.

He held the mush in his mouth, bracing himself before swallowing it. Eventually he swallowed and shuddered. His mother was holding up another spoonful. He looked at her with a desperately sad expression. “Come on. This is what baby has to eat now.” He fought back the tears as he opened his mouth. He noted the implication that this was what he was going to be eating from now on.

Tears rolled down his face as the full realisation hit him that his mother had every intention of treating him just like a baby girl for the foreseeable future. The juice would obviously soon cause him to soil his nappy.

He now had a changing table with an ample supply of nappies, a wardrobe full of baby dresses, a cot where his bed used to be and his old clothes were gone out in the garbage. He realised that this seemed to be his new life now as his mother carefully scraped up the last of the vegetable mash from the bowl.

He was sniffling badly by the time she finished his feeding. “Now there you are” she said softly as she slid his soother in. “That’ll help.” He just sat there staring at her. “You need to nurse it”, she said, mimicking a couple of suc-ks. She obviously wasn’t going to go away until he did so he suc-ked on his soother a couple of times. She smiled and walked away.

He examined the mittens again to try to find some way of taking them off. They were fastened tightly at the wrist. They were clearly carefully designed to make his hands practically useless. He tried to move the tray away in front of him but it was clipped in place. He looked around either side but could see no clip to open. He knew he would probably not be able to open it even if he could see it.

He had to accept that he would have to stay in the high-chair until he was let out of it. He just sat there and watched his mother clean up around the kitchen. He could feel the pressure starting to build on his bladder. He nursed on the soother again at the realisation that he would soon have to wet his nappy.

DaraJaney · « **Reply #4 on:** December 24, 2006, 06:21:48 AM »

He looked over at his mother, busying herself at the sink. He wondered if there was any point in pleading to be allowed use the toilet.

When his mother was finished she came over, reached under the tray of his high-chair and easily opened the catch. He was brought back to the play-pen. Mrs. Fulton put on her coat. “If there is anything else you need just give me a call”, she said brightly. She looked down on the boy in the play-pen. “You be a good baby for your Mummy now, won’t you?” She looked up at his mother. “He’s going to be just perfect!” His mother saw her out. “I’ll bring over a selection of suitable toys tomorrow”, he heard Mrs. Fulton said.

When his mother returned he looked up with an angelic face. He pointed to his nappy. “Oh, are you wet dear?” He shook his head and gave a pleading look. “Well let me know when you are love”, she said as she walked out into the kitchen. Alan sat there now in the knowledge that he was going to have to wet his nappy and wondering how long he could hold out.

His mother boiled the kettle. When it had come to the boil and switched itself off, she heard whimpering from the front room. She stuck her head around the door. Alan was looking up with a tear stained face. “Wet?” He nodded and bowed his head.

She helped him to his feet. She felt around the tops of his legs. “That’s good. The plastic panties are keeping all the wet in alright”, she said. “Do you think you might want to do a number 2 soon?” she asked. Alan thought about it. He probably would. He nodded uncertainly. “OK. Well, I’ll think I’ll leave you until you do that then. There’s no point in changing you if you’re only going to soil yourself in another few minutes.”

Alan sat back down very gingerly. He could feel some excess pee swishing about in the bottom of his plastic panties and couldn’t believe it would all be held in when he put pressure on it by sitting down. Within a couple of minutes he wet himself again.

When his mother came in again he was concentrating on the imminent number 2. He realised that he couldn’t do it sitting down. He got up on his knees. His mother looked over her magazine and smiled. “There’s a good baby.” He couldn’t believe he was going to do this but he clearly had no option. He pushed and a poo came out easily and plopped into his nappy.

There was more to come but he cried profusely before trying again. His mother came over and knelt beside the pen. “Don’t worry love. You’ll get used to it. Soon you’ll wet and soil your nappy without even thinking about it.” He cried even harder.

Eventually, he looked up at his mother with a tear-streaked face and she knew he was all done. “Good baby. I’ll change you now in a minute. Just sit back down.” Alan looked troubled. He really didn’t want to have to sit. His mess would surely be squashed all around his bottom if he did that. His mother went off into the kitchen.

Rather than stay frozen on his hands and knees indefinitely, he turned and sat very carefully. He grimaced as he felt and heard the mess squish under him. He was no sooner seated again but his mother came in and opened the side of his pen.

He went to get up. He could feel the cloth nappy sticking to his bottom. His mother led him to the foot of the stairs where he stopped for a moment. She watched him carefully for a moment before realising that he was probably wetting himself again. He stood there absolutely mortified as his nappy was further saturated.

He was crying again by the time it stopped. “There, there”, his mother consoled him. “It’s perfectly natural. You just suc-k on your soother and Mummy will take care of you.”

She brought him to the changing table. He lay back and looked at the ceiling. His mother hummed happily as she tapped his bottom to make him raise it. When he did she pulled his frilly panties down. Next she removed his plastic panties and dropped them in a bucket beside the table.

The stink hit him then but his mother continued singing to herself as if she found this to be a delightful exercise – and indeed she did. “We’re going to have such fun”, she enthused, “with you as a baby again.” He raised his head and looked at her incredulously. She was deftly unpinning his nappy. He raised his bum again and she peeled the nappy off. He heard it plop into the bucket.

He heard her tear off sheets of paper towels and she set about cleaning him. He fixed his eyes on the ceiling until she asked him to turn over. She wiped his bottom firmly several times. He lay there on his tummy with no choice but to let her clean him up.

Then she worked over him with baby-wipes. He had to turn forwards again for her. Then he saw her take a shaving razor. With no explanation she started shaving the hair from around his groin. “Mmmfff?” “I have to remove all hair from your nappy area”, she explained. When he was fully shaved she took a cream and rubbed it all over his groin and bottom.

She was humming again when she took the clean nappy to put on him. She pulled it up between his legs and pinned it on him. She took a clean pair of plastic panties and pulled them up over his nappy. She pulled his legs up in the air as she checked that the nappy was tucked inside the elasticated legs all the way around. Then his frilly panties were restored.

She brought him back downstairs and put him in his pen. She went to the kitchen for a few minutes and returned with a baby bottle full of warm milk which she handed to him. He didn’t need another drink but he supposed he had better do what was expected so he started suc-king on it. His mother smiled. “That’s a good baby.”

DaraJaney · « **Reply #5 on:** January 04, 2007, 07:13:02 PM »

As he suc-ked on his bottle his mother turned the TV on to the Childrens’ Channel and left him there in front of it. He wasn’t much interested in the stupid programmes that were on. He just sat there wondering how he had ended up in this situation. Unless they were pulling an extremely elaborate joke, he seemed now destined to be kept in nappies and baby dresses.

Tears welled up in his eyes again as he thought about this. He suc-ked on his bottle. The warm milk provided some comfort. But in what seemed like little time the bottle was empty. He looked at it carefully, hoping he could drain a little more but it was all gone. The tears started to return. He put the bottle down and reinserted his dummy. He suc-ked on it a couple of times. It wasn’t as comforting without the jet of warm milk but it was better than nothing.

Later he was brought back into the kitchen and put in his high chair while his mother made dinner. She handed him his bottle with juice this time. The last thing he needed was more liquid. He was already feeling the need to fill another nappy but he was so bored he started suc-king on it anyway.

When the dinner was cooked, he was intensely disappointed to be presented with another bowl of mashed vegetables. He looked wistfully around the kitchen hoping that there was something better coming but his mother inserted a spoonful and continued until the bowl was empty.

She left him sitting in the high chair while she fetched her own dinner and sat down. He looked longingly at the steak on her plate. She looked up at him before she started and was pleased to see he had taken his soother and was suc-king – not quite contentedly.

He was returned to the play-pen but his mother had moved it to the back room away from the TV. She watched her soaps in the other room while he wondered what amusement could be gleaned from the dolls that were his only accompaniment in the pen.

It wasn’t long before he had to wet himself again. He frowned as the warmth spread around his nappy. “Mmmfff”, he called out. “What’s wrong dear?” “Mmmffff!” “Are you wet, Babykins?” “Mmff.” “Just wait until this programme is over and I’ll sort you out.” He sat there glumly waiting for the familiar signature tune.

As she pulled his plastic panties up over his clean nappy she chirpily said “nearly bed-time.” He looked at the clock in surprise. It was only 8.30. She went over to the chest of drawers and produced what looked like a pink fleecy body-suit. She pulled it over his two feet first and made him jump down from the changing table, ignoring his frustrated moans that he was being put to bed so early.

She pulled the over-sized pink romper suit up and poked his arms into the sleeves. She zipped it up the front. He looked down at the garment and where it bulged obviously over his nappy. His hands and feet were completely contained within it.

She led him to his cot. He continued to groan through his soother but she put him in the cot and lifted the side-bars. “Now I don’t have to strap you in, do I?” Alan looked down and frowned but shook his head. What would be the point of getting out of the cot? It would probably only get him into worse trouble. (What could possibly be worse than being kept in nappies and baby clothes?) It was just as boring sitting in the play-pen anyway.

“Back in a minute”, she told him. While she was gone he poked and pulled as best he could at his romper but he was well and truly zipped in. She returned in a minute with a bottle of milk. He grimaced at the prospect of yet another bottle but it wasn’t so bad when he tasted that nice warm milk.

She made him lie down while he suc-ked on the bottle and she pulled the Minnie Mouse duvet over him. She pottered around the room. He watched her through the bars of his cot. She placed a radio on the dressing table beside the cot and switched it on. “Now you’ll probably wet yourself during the night, so just cry into this and I’ll come and change you.”

Alan stopped suc-king on the bottle when he realised that it was going to make him wet himself during the night. “Now, now”, she scolded, “you must finish your bottle” and she held it in his mouth until he started suc-king again very reluctantly.

She waited until he had finished every drop and then took the bottle from him. She fetched his soother and pinned it to his romper before pushing it into his mouth. She handed him a teddy bear which he held under his arm.

“Sweet dreams”, she whispered as she backed away from the cot. Sweet dreams? This was more like a nightmare. She switched off the light and closed over the door leaving it slightly ajar.

Alan could see that it was still bright outside. There was also a nightlight plugged in at the corner of the room. Again, he couldn’t get his mind off the long-term implications of his predicament. He felt that he really ought to resist this treatment. He removed the soother and threw teddy to the end of the cot.

A few minutes later he sensed a presence. His mother was peeping in the door. When she saw he was still wide awake she came in. “Oh, can Babykins not sleep?” He glared at her. “Oh you’ve lost your soother.” She found it among the bed clothes and pushed it back in. “And what happened teddy?” She retrieved him and handed him to Alan.

“I know!” she concluded. Alan looked up. “I must get some nursery rhyme tapes and play them for you every night to help you sleep.” He sighed and she tucked him in again and left the room.

It was another hour before he finally nodded off. The soother slipped out of his mouth but his arm was still wrapped firmly around his teddy.

DaraJaney · « **Reply #6 on:** January 07, 2007, 05:40:47 PM »

Alan woke several times. Each time he wondered what the uncomfortable bulge around his bottom was before remembering that he was in a nappy and sleeping in a cot. He looked through the bars at the clock and saw that only half an hour or an hour had gone by.

Each time he woke the pressure on his bladder was growing. By 3am he couldn’t sleep anymore with the pain of needing to go. He lay back and peed a little. The warm urine ran quickly down around his bottom. Then he let go. He kept going for what seemed like a couple of minutes. Surely the nappy could not hold all this, he thought.

He was afraid to move but as far as he could tell all of his pee had been contained within the plastic panties. They certainly felt very heavy with the saturation. He looked through the bars at the baby monitor.

He knew that he could get out of the cot but reckoned he had better not. She had told him to cry rather than call out. He was in enough trouble as it was so he figured he should do what he was told.

He tried to imitate a baby’s cry. “Waaa!” He repeated this a few times. He couldn’t hear any reaction. He went to get up on his knees and lean as close as possible to the monitor. Excess urine swished about in his panties and made him move more gingerly.

He leaned over the side bars and cried again. After a few more whinges he heard movement. The door was pushed open. His mother was yawning and rubbing her eyes. “What’s wrong dear?” Alan pointed to his nappy. “Oh are we wet dear?” He nodded. “No number 2s?” He shook his head.

“Where’s your soother?” He watched crossly as she searched around the cot. “There we are!” She pushed it into his mouth. “That’s better. No more tears.” She lowered the side bars and let him out. She unzipped his romper and he stepped out of it. He moved very carefully, still unsure of the nappy’s capacity. She took the teddy bear and gave it to him.

He lay back on the changing table suc-king on his soother and holding his teddy while his mother removed the soaked nappy. “My goodness”, she said as the sodden nappy sploshed into the bucket heavily, “I think you may need thicker nappies to hold all that.” He wanted to say “well don’t make me drink so much” but he just suc-ked on his soother, unhappy at the prospect of an even thicker and more obvious nappy.

“There we go”, she said as she lowered his legs having satisfied herself that his nappy was fully within the elasticated panties. He jumped down off the table and she helped him back into his romper. She patted his well padded bottom as he waddled towards his cot.

He lay down again. She pulled the duvet over him and locked the side bars in place. “See you in the morning”, she whispered. Once she was gone, he removed the dummy and threw teddy to the bottom of the cot.

He woke very early, not needing all the sleep time he was getting. He lay there for a couple of hours again contemplating his fate. Was she really going to put him in his cot for nearly twelve hours every night?

Eventually she came in bright and breezy. “How’s my little Babykins? Did we have a lovely sleep?” He glared at her. She went over to his wardrobe and opened the doors. “Now which pretty dress do you want to wear today, hmm?” Obviously, Alan didn’t want to wear any of them.

She took the four hangers and held them up. She pulled out the skirt of each dress in turn so he could see. “Come on love, or I’ll have to pick.” They all looked so sissyish he didn’t think there was much difference. He decided to pick the one that was marginally longer than the others. He pointed with a mitten. His mother held out the lilac dress. “This one?” He nodded.

She let him out of the cot, took off his romper and pulled the dress over his head. As she smoothed down his skirt and the three layers of petticoats underneath, Alan checked the mirror. The dress just barely covered his nappy. That was some relief.

His mother stepped back and admired him. “Good choice”, she decided. “Now, we have matching tights for this dress”, she told him as she headed for the drawers. Alan winced. Tights? His mother took the lilac tights from the drawer and flapped them out as she walked towards him. “Mmmfff!” “Yes aren’t they gorgeous?”

She made him sit on the side of the bed and started to pull the tights over his feet. “Mmmfff! Mmmfff!” he moaned in protest. She ignored his pleas and pulled the tights up over his nappy.

She returned to the drawers and retrieved a pair of white bloomers. Alan winced again when he saw them. They had lilac bows on the side of the legs and four rows of thick lilac lace across the bottom.

His mother pulled the bloomers on over his tights and nappy. The legs of the bloomers protruded several inches beneath his dress – almost to his knees. His mother turned him around to see the back of the dress in the mirror. He looked over his shoulder. The bottom row of lace on his bottom could be clearly seen.

He looked ruefully at his chosen outfit in the mirror while his mother fetched the matching bonnet. It had an enormous lace-trimmed stiff crescent of material around the top. When his mother placed it on his head and tied the ribbon under his chin the crescent was drawn into a tight funnel around his face so that he could only see directly in front and his view was completely framed with lace.

Once his booties were tied on, his mother stood him in front of the mirror again. “Now aren’t you pleased with your choice?” Alan just gave a couple of suc-ks on his soother as he looked at his thoroughly baby-like image in the mirror.