Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Menu => Active Sissy Stories => Topic started by: DaraJaney on April 23, 2022, 02:24:07 AM
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Mrs Henley, school inspector, had been called into the director’s office. “We have noticed an increase in the number of children being home-schooled recently. There is a certain amount of concern that we don’t really have any idea what’s happening in these situations – whether the children are really getting a proper education or not.”
Mrs Henley nodded. She had been concerned about this herself. “We have recently been given the powers to start visits with no advance notice in home-schooling cases and here is a list of addresses with the children’s names.” “Very good sir. I’ll start tomorrow.”
The first few visits turned up nothing unusual. The parents appeared to be doing a good job of ensuring their child got a good rounded education and the children themselves seemed happy.
On her third day of inspections one of the parents – a Mrs Cave – was clearly less-than-pleased to see her. She showed her ID card. “I’ve been tasked with inspecting home-schooled children. I believe that James Cave lives here.” “Yes, that’s right”, the lady said but showed no signs of allowing her to enter.
“May I come in and see him?” Mrs Cave appeared to be trying to think of a reason to refuse but reluctantly stood back and allowed her in. She led her down a corridor to a room at the back. She paused and appeared to be bracing herself before entering.
Mrs Henley followed her in. There was a blackboard on an easel with French grammar chalked on it at the other end of the room. There was an old-fashioned wooden school desk with bench attached facing the blackboard. The child seated in it was wearing a blue gymslip, white blouse, white knee socks and t-bar shoes and had two pig-tails tied with blue ribbon.
On hearing the door behind open, the child slid across the seat and went to stand, tugging the short hem of the pleated gymslip down at the back, then turned and curtsied. “Mother”. Looking up in surprise the child saw Mrs Henley. She could see it was a boy’s face.
“Mrs Henley has been sent to check up on your home schooling”, his mother told him. The boy visibly cringed and tried to push his short gymslip down as much as possible. “I expect she’ll be surprised to see your uniform but I think you can assure her that it has helped to improve your discipline.” The boy looked at the floor in front of him. “Yes mother.”
Mrs Henley checked her notes. James had a record of bullying before his mother withdrew him from school. She hated bullies and couldn’t help feeling satisfied that this boy had been brought down more than a few pegs. His mother probably thought that the game was up and expected her to be outraged but she maintained a poker face.
“I see.” She looked at the text books on the shelves – English, Maths, Science. “So you are covering all subjects.” Boy and mother were clearly surprised at the lack of reaction. She thought she saw a flicker of hope in the boy’s face that he was going to be saved by this turn of events.
She noticed a paddle hanging on a nail in the wall. “Is this being used?” she asked in as level a tone as possible. James’s mother was again surprised at the lack of concern from the inspector. “Yes, occasionally … when necessary”, she ventured cautiously.
Given the lack of reaction, she decided to push a little further. “Would you like a demonstration of how we use it?” “Yes, thank you.” “James, fetch the paddle.” The boy was obviously crushed that the inspector wasn’t outraged and in fact wanted to see the paddle in action.
He reached up to take it from the nail and a couple of rows of frills peeked from under his short gymslip. Mrs Henley struggled to keep a straight face. James handed the paddle to his mother. “Now assume the position.” James looked at them both unable to believe this was happening.
He walked over to his desk and leaned over it. The lower half of his thickly frilled white panties were revealed. He reached back and flipped the pleated skirt of his gymslip up onto his back to reveal the fully frilled panties in all their glory.
“I barely tap him. It’s more the embarrassment that works”, she assured Mrs Henley. “And you can see his bottom is well cushioned anyway.” Mrs Henley could see his cheeks reddening – the cheeks on his face that is – even though the spanking hadn’t started yet. He was clearly mortified bending over the desk with his frilly panties exposed waiting for the inevitable – probably wanting it to be over as soon as possible.
His mother delivered the first blow. It wasn’t very hard but wasn’t very light either. The boy clearly felt it despite the cushioning effect of his frilly panties. She continued to deliver another five blows. “Resume your seat.” Mrs Henley pretended to take notes calmly as the boy, now sniffling, pushed his pleated skirt down and resumed his seat – just a little gingerly – trying to tuck his short gymslip under his bottom as his mother put the paddle back on its nail.
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Loved 'Should Have Gone to Camp' - but WOW, this tale seems to be off to a wonderful and most interesting of beginnings. Thank you, DaraJaney - not only for this story but for all your delightful contributions over the years!
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No doubt Mrs Henley is surprised at how excited she is, and how attractive she finds Mrs Cave! Home schooling provides such a great opportunity for girls to learn to be strong empowered Women, and boys to learn to serve and obey them. An inspector like Mrs Henley is in such a great position to influence things in a Gynarchic direction.
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Very interesting set up.
Hope this isn't the end, although it almost could be, given the home schooling inspector has seen everything is in order.
Unless, that is, there are other aspects she would need to inspect?
Perhaps, the provision for other parts of a suitable curriculum?
Such as domestic science (cooking/cleaning), home economics (shopping) PE, or dance, with the clothing to suit, naturally.
Or, the sleeping/eating arrangements?
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They heard the front door of the house open and close. James’s mother looked at her watch. “That’ll be Linda, home from school.” They could hear the footsteps approaching and then the door opened. Linda was clearly surprised to see the visitor. She looked from her brother to the lady and wondered what was up.
Mrs Henley observed that his sister was in a school uniform, grey trousers and sweater and looked to be younger than James.
“This is Mrs Henley, come to inspect James’s home schooling.” Linda was amused that Mrs Henley was not reacting in outrage to her brother being dressed in a gymslip and knee-high socks with his hair in pigtails and ribbons. She wondered had she seen his frilly panties yet.
“Would you take over here while I give Mrs Henley a nice cup of tea?” “Certainly!” Linda responded happily, putting down her own school bag. And so the ladies left James in the charge of his little sister.
Over the tea Mrs Henley said “of course, this is outrageous and probably illegal”. But her amusement was obvious to James’s mother so she waited to hear what else she had to say. “But I’d be interested to see how it turns out. So I’m going to submit an anodyne report just saying that everything looks fine here.”
When the tea was finished they went back to James’s schoolroom to give him the news. His mother opened the door and they walked in to find him bent over his desk again with his pleated skirt on his back and his frilly panties presented nicely to Linda who was holding the paddle and looking a bit sheepish.
“Oh dear. Has he been naughty again?” “Ehm, yes that’s right”, Linda replied a little relieved that her mother appeared to just accept she must be spanking him for a good reason. “What did he do?” “Ehm, he was a bit cheeky” was the best she could come up with. James sniffled as he remained bent over his desk with his frilly panties in the air knowing full well that his little sister was taking advantage of her authority over him. He hadn’t been particularly cheeky but he knew from experience that any protest from him would only make things worse.
“Right, well he’s only just had a spanking and you know the rule”, his mother told her. “A second spanking in the one day gets double the strokes – so 12 then!” his sister confirmed with a grin. “That’s right.” James sniffled harder. This wasn’t fair! The first spanking was only a demonstration – he hadn’t actually done anything wrong to deserve this but now his sister was getting to deliver 12 strokes for barely any reason. But he was long past expecting any fairness.
“Very well, so I will submit my report and come back in six months to check progress”, Mrs Henley told them. James looked up in great concern. He’d been hoping that the inspector would put a stop to it but instead she confirmed that he would spend the next six months at least in his gymslip, frilly panties and pigtails.
As they went to leave, his mother told him “once your spanking is finished you can change out of your uniform.” Mrs Henley noted that James nodded but didn’t look particularly relieved.
She admired the beautiful garden and his mother offered to show her around it. They spent several minutes admiring the flowers and shrubs. Then James appeared. He was wearing a short yellow gingham dress that flared at breast level over a single stiff petticoat that peeked below the hem. Over this was a frilly white pinafore tied at the back in a big bow. His pigtails were now tied with yellow ribbons.
“You can have 30 minutes of play before you start your homework”, his mother called out. “Thank you mother”, James curtsied taking the peeking frill of his petticoat in his fingertips either side and raising it slightly as his knee bent. Even that little movement gave a flash of the frills on his panties. He looked unenthusiastically at the range of dolls sitting in little chairs around a table and mini tea set. “Why don’t you take Angeline for a walk in the pram?” Linda suggested. She took out her phone and started video recording her brother.
James obediently bent down to pick up the blond doll and place her in the little pram, carefully bending his knees so his dress didn’t ride up at the back. But when he went to push the little pram he had no choice but to lean down to push the handle and his frilly panties were once again revealed and continued to be on show as he pushed his doll in his pram around the garden.
“What homework did you give him?” Linda asked when she’d stopped recording. “You know that new pack of plain white panties you bought for him at the weekend? Well, he has to sew on 10 rows of frilly lace onto each one.” “That will be great practice for him”, Linda laughed. James visibly cringed at the thought of the evening ahead.
“Please mother, could I have more time playing with my dolls?” James asked, curtseying. His mother was pleasantly surprised. “”Well now, I’m pleased to hear that you love playing with your dollies. If you ask again even more nicely perhaps you can have an extra 30 minutes.” Linda took out her phone again and pointed it at James.
He curtsied even more prettily holding out his pinafore and petticoat either side, giving a quick flash of his frilly panties “please can I have more time playing with my dollies”, he smiled sweetly. “Yes dear”, his mother agreed and Linda ended the recording. She continued tapping at the phone screen for a minute and James wondered what she was doing with the videos – nothing that was good for him, he was sure.
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I'm sure Mrs Henley will find it difficult to resist the temptation to return to check James's progress sooner than six months. As a professional, she may even have some useful suggestions to make...
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On how humiliating for James to sew the ruffles on his own knickers. Mummy should have him make outfits for his dollies for home work. Looking forward to the next chapter of this interesting story.
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Mrs Henley had a few more visits that week that threw up no surprises. Then when she called at the Browns’, the door was answered by the mother who appeared to smile knowingly when she let her in. She was shown to a nice drawing room. When they sat, Mrs Henley made it clear she wanted to see Tim. “Why don’t we have tea first”, Mrs Brown insisted. She picked up a little bell from the table beside her and rang it.
After a few moments they could hear the click of heels in the hallway outside. The door opened and in walked a maid. Mrs Henley’s eyebrows raised – it was a long time since she had seen a uniformed maid anywhere – let alone one like this.
The black uniform was trimmed with white lace at the collar, short puffed sleeves and the hem. The short skirt flared over stiff petticoats and the long legs were clad in black hose, leading down to what must have been four-inch heels. A gleaming white full apron had well-starched lace trimmings over the shoulders.
The maid’s figure was also of note, quite a large bust was very clearly well supported underneath, a narrow waist and the petticoats were given extra flare by nicely curved hips and bottom.
The maid scampered over with arms held out at the side and the hands bent out daintily in their white gloves. The lace at the wrists was matched nicely by the choker and headpiece pinned on top with ribbons trailing down the back.
The curtsey was deep and well-practiced, the petticoats held out so that each of the five layers could be distinguished and Mrs Henley caught a quick glimpse of what looked like lace stocking tops. The maid was wearing heavy make-up with long fluttering false eye-lashes, scarlet lipstick and rosey cheeks.
“Tea for two”, Mrs Brown ordered. “Yes mother”, the maid responded, curtseying deeply again. “Thank you Timmy.” Mrs Henley’s jaw dropped further. As Timmy turned and minced away she saw his stockings had ruler-straight seams. There was also a little padlock which appeared to be locking the zip of his uniform in place at the back of his neck. Then she noticed two padlocks at the ankle straps of his high heels.
He had to bend slightly to reach the door handle and his stiff petticoats tipped up to reveal thick suspender straps with metal clasps and a quick flash of black and white frilly panties. She reckoned such strong suspender straps were probably attached to a metal-boned corset which explained the narrow waist.
“So you can see that Timmy is not so much home-schooled as in training”, Mrs Brown told her confidently. Mrs Henley was left in no doubt that the mother was expecting the visit, having presumably heard from another mother already visited.
“I see”, Mrs Henley responded, again trying not to look too surprised at what she had seen – keeping an open mind. “He is no good academically. When he was showing behavioural problems at home – refusing to help with housework and so forth I made him do housework wearing an old maid’s dress as a punishment - and to make a point.”
“I had him serve the ladies at my weekly card game. They were amused of course but it prompted my friend Mrs Cartright to mention that her maid was retiring in six months and she didn’t know where she was going to get another maid as good. Young ladies don’t want to be servants these days and certainly were not going to agree to wearing a traditional uniform. So I joked that Timmy could become her maid. She joked back that if I could train him suitably over the six months she would consider it. We all laughed at the time. We continued to joke about it after that evening – describing how his uniform might look – and it just took on a life of its own.”
The door opened and Timmy minced in with a tray. He tried to bend his knees when placing the tray on the coffee table but it was low and his heels were high so he couldn’t avoid giving a flash of his frilly panties. When he stood up again he gave another deep curtsey, “So here we are”, Mrs Brown continued, “Timmy is training to be a maid and if Mrs Cartright is happy with the results he will become her maid in another four months or so. Won’t you?” Timmy clearly didn’t look happy about the prospect but curtsied deeply again saying “yes mother”.
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The plot thickens...
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“Now today’s the day for scrubbing the hallway floor, isn’t it?” Timmy was trying to think about it – clearly not relishing the prospect. “It’s every other day, isn’t it and you didn’t do it yesterday.” “Yes mother”, another curtsey and Timmy went to turn away. “What do you say?” she asked sternly. Timmy turned back and curtsied again “Thank you for reminding me mother.” This time he tottered away and Mrs Henley couldn’t help but smile at his fluttering petticoats and the big bow at the back of his apron with the pointed ends dangling just below the hem.
Once again Mrs Henley said that the situation was obviously unusual but she had an open mind and was interested to see how it turned out. Mrs Brown was pleased and relaxed a little. Mrs Henley was sure she must have been warned in advance of her visit – probably by James’s mother who would have told her of the inspector’s surprising acceptance of his unorthodox home-schooling.
They could hear the clicking of heels outside the door again and the sound of a bucket being put down on the floor. This was followed by the sounds of rubber gloves being pulled on, water sloshing around and then vigorous scrubbing sounds.
Mrs Brown chatted away and mentioned her late husband. “He was a handsome man.” She picked up the bell and tinkled it. The scrubbing outside stopped. They could hear the rubber gloves being pulled off with a thwat and then there was silence for a moment. Mrs Brown rang the bell again impatiently. They heard heels clicking quickly towards the door. Then a short pause before the handle turned.
Timmy minced across with his frilly white gloves on again and curtsied. “Would you hand me the photo of your father?” The photo was on the mantle piece just two yards away. There was a brief flash of irritation on his face which she cut off. “Now remember: a good maid gets to finish at 7.30pm – anymore nonsense from you and you’ll be in your uniform and heels until 11pm.” Timmy forced a smile and curtsied “Yes mother.”
He went to reach up for the photo and his dress rode up again showing off his lace stocking tops and frilly knickers. He handed the photo to his mother. “Turn around”, she ordered sternly. He did as he was told. “Look at the state of those seams!” Mrs Henley could see that the seams on his stockings were slightly tugged to one side at the top – hardly surprising given that he’d just been bent over scrubbing the floor.
“But I …” Timmy started to protest but was cut off by his mother again, raising a hand. Mrs Henley guessed that the slight delay in his entering the room may well have been because he was checking or trying to straighten his seams but he was probably interrupted by his mother’s impatient ringing a second time.
“No talking back!” his mother insisted. Timmy looked gloomily at the floor realising his blunder. “You know what to get.” “Yes mother”, he curtsied and went over to the sideboard. He leaned forward, flashing his panties again and took something out of a drawer. He brought it over to his mother and turned around.
She took it, stood up and proceeded to push large ball gag into his mouth. She pulled the attached strap around the back of his head, pushing trailing ribbons of his maid’s headpiece aside as she tightened the buckle and then fixed a little padlock through it. Timmy turned around and Mrs Henley could see that the front of the gag had a wide leather shield with four metal rivets fastened to the ball gag. His mouth must have been held wide open over the gag but you couldn’t tell from the firm leather shield that was nicely contoured under his nose.
“Now back to your scrubbing when you’ve straightened those seams. I think you know now that you’ll be working until 11pm tonight.” Timmy gave a little whimper through the gag but curtsied and scampered away before he could get into more trouble.
Mrs Henley again agreed to report that everything was fine. She would record that Tim was in training and had a job lined up in a few months if the training was successful. She didn’t need to say training in what, they tittered.
Mrs Brown showed her out. When they went out into the hallway Timmy was scrubbing away in his rubber gloves, his stiff petticoats tipped right up at the back showing all the black and white rows of frills on his panties. He straightened up and pushed his uniform down at the back. He struggled to his feet which wasn’t easy in his corset and high heels and curtsied.
“It’s all right Timmy I will show Mrs Henley out.” Timmy tried to think about how he could get back down on his hands and knees with some kind of dignity. “When you have finished that I want you to scrub the floor of the downstairs toilet.” The gagged Timmy clearly didn’t like that prospect but was in no position to argue. He curtsied again and turned to continue his scrubbing.
On his knees, he glanced over his shoulder, hoping that Mrs Henley was gone but the two ladies were still talking. He tried to push his petticoats down at the back as he bent over to scrub again but it was pointless. As soon as he leaned forward his fully frilly panties appeared again. Mrs Henley enjoyed the way the lace fluttered daintily as he scrubbed.
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I really enjoy this is just mommy get more cruel.
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I am really enjoying this story, I await in eager anticipation to see what happens next....
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Wonderful development. You write so well! Looking forward so much to the next installment.
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It was a couple of weeks before Mrs Henley was once again met with a knowing smile as she arrived for a ‘surprise’ inspection. “Does Stephen Frost live here?” “Yes come in.” Mrs Frost led her down the hallway to the kitchen. “So little Stefi, we have a visitor”, she announced on entering.
Mrs Henley walked in to see ‘Stefi’ in a high chair. He was wearing a pink frilly dress with puffed sleeves that flared from his armpits over layers of petticoats. He looked out between the thick lace frills of a bonnet and was suc-king on a large soother with a pink moulded face-guard. A white lace-trimmed bib was tied around his neck, his hands had thick padded mittens buckled at the wrists and she could see he was strapped into the high chair with a pink leather harness.
Beneath the very short dress she could see he was wearing a very thick nappy and the nappy cover had alternating rows of pink and white frills. His legs in powder pink tights were forced widely apart by the nappy.
Stephen was clearly not happy to be seen in this state but just sat there suc-king on his soother - there wasn’t much else he could do. “We tried gymslips, spanking, toddler dresses and frilly knickers but nothing seemed to bring him into line – until now that is”, his mother explained.
Stefi shifted uneasily in his high chair and Mrs Henley got the impression that his nappy might be very wet. “Would you like to give him his bottle?” Mrs Henley smiled and nodded. He was bibbed and ready to go. There was a baby bottle of milk warming in a pan of hot water on the stove. Stephen eyed it unhappily.
Mrs Frost removed the bottle, dried it and handed it to the inspector. She pulled Stefi’s soother out and replaced it with the large teat of the bottle. He started suc-king obediently and winced a little – presumably at the tepid milk.
His mother explained in a little more detail her attempts at disciplining Stephen as he suc-ked on his bottle and watch gloomily as she scrapped a plate of potatoes, spinach and beans into a blender and then poured some prune juice in. She pressed the button and after a few seconds tipped the slimy contents into a pink plastic bowl.
Baby Stefi wasn’t sure whether to get his humiliating bottle-feeding over as quickly as possible or delay and put off his sloppy lunch for as long as possible. It didn’t really matter. He knew he was going to have to finish every drop of tepid milk and eat every last scraping of his food.
Stephen heard the conversation between the women as he was being spoon-fed. He learned that this lady was an official home-schooling inspector and it was clear to him that she was not shocked at the way he was being treated and dressed completely like a baby girl – in fact she seemed content with it.
There was a ring of the doorbell and Mrs Frost went to answer it as Mrs Henley carefully gathered the last few morsels from the bowl and pushed them into Stefi’s mouth.
She heard “I think he’s been wet for a couple of hours now but I’ve been keeping him for you” as they approached the kitchen. In walked James in his gymslip, white knee-high socks and pigtails. “Well hello”, his mother smiled as she saw the inspector. “You’ve found another of our projects.” The mothers giggled.
James was attempting to discretely tug the hem of his pleated skirt down and Mrs Henley wondered was he wearing a pair of his self-frilled panties. He looked with concern at Stefi in his pink baby dress, suc-king on his soother that Mrs Henley had reinserted. It was clear he was concerned that he might end up like that someday.
“Now James, take Stefi to the changing table.” James shuddered a little, presumably at the thought of having to change Stephen’s nappy but he went over and kicked off the brake on the high-chair’s wheels. He propelled the chair out the door and down the corridor. The ladies all followed.
Mrs Frost opened the door ahead of him so he could push the high-chair into the room. Mrs Henley followed them in and found a fully furnished nursery. There was a play-pen, cot, changing table and rocking horse – all scaled up to suit the rather large baby in the high-chair. It was decorated in pastel colours with lots of lace on the curtains and the pillows and duvet in the cot.
The inside wall was one gigantic mirror and James placed Stefi’s high-chair facing it and locked the wheels again. He went to prepare the changing table while Stefi suc-ked hard on his soother, confronted again with how babyish he looked in his frilly bonnet, puffed-out pink dress, his thick nappy obvious below the short dress and made appear even thicker by the substantial frills on his nappy cover. He appeared to be trying to tuck his legs out of sight under his high-chair but they were still prominent in the powder pink tights.
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I didn't see that coming! Can't wait for the next instalment. Thank you, Dara Janey. This is a classic.
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Excellent as always, I can't wait to read the next chapter.
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Mrs Henley looked around Stefi’s nursery. “So this is not a short term punishment thing.” Mrs Frost sighed. “No, a few other boys have responded to a week or two in nappies and baby dresses and were allowed ‘grow-up’ again quickly but I’m afraid that Stefi continued to resist - until we had his room converted to this nursery. Now he has settled down but I don’t know if we can ever take the risk of letting him out of nappies.”
Stephen was released from his high-chair and squirmed as he climbed down – clearly concerned that his soggy nappy was going to leak. He waddled over to the changing table. Mrs Henley noticed the wrist and ankle straps at the four corners of the table.
However, Stefi cooperated now – desperate to get the cold soggy nappy off. James grimaced as he removed Stefi’s nappy cover and pulled his pink tights down. Stefi was suc-king hard on his soother. Mrs Henley could see that he was in an old-fashioned cloth nappy under plastic pants. James winced as he pulled the plastic pants down and unpinned the nappy before dropping it into the bucket with a splosh.
James paused and sighed heavily before commencing to wipe Stephen and powder him. Stefi just lay back holding his petticoats up staring at the ceiling. Then Mrs Henley noticed that there was a mirror on the ceiling directly above the changing table so that Stephen had to watch every stage of his own nappy being changed.
“Lots of mums are quite happy to have Stefi kept in baby dresses and nappies as an example to their boys of what can happen if they don’t behave” Mrs Cave added. “James is always so well behaved after a visit here”, she chuckled. Mrs Henley made a mental note of the term “lots” of mums.
“The other mothers are very supportive alright. Stefi is never short of offers to babysit – between the mothers and their daughters”, his mum told them. “That reminds me, Sylvia is coming to babysit you this evening. We’d better take the usual precaution.”
Mrs Henley watched as she fetched a clear plastic tube and ring from the shelf. She handed it to James who again sighed before taking the pieces. He had to carefully handle Stephen’s private parts to secure the plastic ring behind his testicles and fit the hard plastic tube over his pen-is. Mrs Frost handed him a little padlock, having removed the key and James locked the two pieces together. Mrs Frost checked that everything was secure. “Little Stefi is a little too fond of Sylvia, aren’t we?” Mrs Henley could see that the boy was becoming aroused just at the mention of his babysitter but his member pressed futilely at the hard plastic and he suc-ked harder on this soother.
“It doesn’t help that she is always dressed so skimpily”, his mother added. “Young girls these days – all low-cut tops and tight jeans. I suspect she has her boyfriend come over when I’m gone. Goodness knows what they get up to. Little Stefi probably knows don’t you?” But Stephen clearly wasn’t allowed speak so gave nothing away but Mrs Henley could see him squirm from the growing pressure on the chastity device. “Rumour has it she lets him put it just about anywhere!”
James reached for the nappy rash cream and his short pleated gymslip rode up to show two rows of frills on his panties. “Are those the panties that he sewed himself?” Mrs Henley asked. Mrs Cave smiled – pleased that she had remembered. “Yes, not a bad job eh? James show Mrs Henley your panties properly.” James sighed and flipped up the skirt of his gymslip to show all ten rows of frills. Mrs Henley tugged at the lace. “Good job.” “Shows what can be achieved with a lot of practice” Mrs Cave added with a satisfied grin.
James pinned a clean nappy on Stephen and pulled a pair of plastic pants up over it. The ladies particularly enjoyed the boys struggling to get Stefi back into his pink tights. Soon his frilly nappy cover was back in place and he waddled to the play-pen where his mother closed the side gate with a click. Stephen flopped down and immediately picked up a rattle and shook it, clearly relieved to be back among his toys – such as they were.
“Well I’ve seen enough to satisfy me that Stephen is being well cared for”, Mrs Henley smiled as she looked around the nursery. “You don’t mind if I pop by to check up on him every now and again?” Stefi frowned at the reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere soon but tried to distract himself with his rattles and blocks.
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The boys are clearly the focus of the mothers' "project" but Sylvia should watch herself lest her mother decide she is out of control with her boyfriend and opts to take a cue from the mothers in the project.
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..or maybe the boyfriend will be increasingly brought under the Mothers' control, and Sylvia will take her rightful place as another dominant Woman?
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It is good that as a good girl James learns how to take care of little babies as Stefie. I love this diaper change scene.
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A few months later: the chatter in the room settled down as Mrs Henley rapped the table. “Welcome to the first meeting of Mothers Organising Disciplinary Schooling for Boys, or MODS for Boys. You have seen my proposals to set up a bank of clothing that you can all share. This should save a lot of money. As you know, it can be quite expensive to have these juvenile sissy clothes made in specially large sizes for your boys.”
“In the long term, the plan is to train lots of the boys in sewing and dress making so that they can make and maintain these pretty clothes themselves. There should also be savings in bulk-ordering lace, ribbons, nursery-print cloth and wallpapers etc.” The mothers gathered around the table all nodded happily.
“We can also organise baby-sitting rotas for the girls ensuring that boys as far as possible are babysat by girls a few years younger than them. There will be a computerised booking system where you can rate the babysitters’ performance on discipline, punctuality, dedication etc. They will be able to record the boys’ behaviour, the number of spankings and any resistance to their authority that needs to be dealt with afterwards.”
“For my part I will ensure that the Council gets glowing reports of the boys’ progress, carefully not mentioning the methods being used to discipline them. So you should be able to operate safely under their radar for many years to come.”
“You have the written constitution before you. Can we have agreement to adopt these and establish MODS for Boys?” “Hear, hear” echoed around the room and the happy chatter resumed among the mothers.
Mrs Henley rang a bell. Timmy came into the room in his maid’s uniform carrying a tray of drinks. The mothers all smiled as he scampered in – his short petticoats fluttering with each little step forced on him by his high heels. They watched carefully as he reached in to place drinks in front of them for the inevitable exposure of his frilly panties. A couple of them patted his lace-encased bottom just to ensure he knew they appreciated it.
Then another maid minced in wearing a pink uniform. “Welcome George … or Georgina”, Mrs Henley smiled, admiring his white lace stockings. Georgina distributed drinks on the other side of the table. “Oh where did you get those pink pettipants? They are adorable!” “Yes” George’s mother agreed. “Georgina show the ladies your pettipants properly.” George winced but turned around, put the tray of drinks on the side table, leaned over and flipped up his layers of petticoats to show the full extent of his pettipants. “They are available online – I’ll send you the link. They have them in all pastel colours.”
“We should order one of each colour for our library of clothes”, Mrs Henley suggested. “Oh yes” Timmy’s mother agreed - far too excited about the prospect for his liking. The women chattered again until Georgina gave a pointed cough, still bent over displaying his pettipants since he had not been given permission to straighten up. His mother realised and said “oh yes Georgina, you can continue serving the ladies.” He turned and curtsied – “thank you mother.”
“Shall we take our drinks into the garden?” Mrs Henley suggested. Chairs were pushed back and the party of mothers took themselves into the garden where their daughters and other girls from the town were supervising the boys’ play time.
A dozen boys wearing a colourful variety of baby dresses, toddler dresses, petticoated party dresses and school uniforms were all holding hands in a circle. “Now go again”, Linda ordered, giving a little whack of her paddle against her hand.
There was short hesitation as the boys grimaced at each other. How many times was it now? Twelve, twenty? “Come on!” Linda gave a louder thwack of the paddle. “The boys started walking clockwise still holding hands.” “Ring-a-ring a rosie” they sang unenthusiastically. They started skipping along creating a very pleasant vision of flouncing petticoats, fluttering lace and ribbons, dancing sausage curls. “Ring-a-ring-a-rosie” they kept repeating as they circled gaining momentum such that dresses and petticoats whirled out giving glimpses of frilly panties and nappy covers. Little Stefi was having difficulty keeping up, forced to waddle quickly by his thick nappy.
“Now!” Linda eventually called out. “We all fall down”, the boys sang as they dropped on their bottoms in a shower of petticoats and lace. The mothers all clapped. “Again!” “Encore.”
The boys helped each other to their feet and all held hands again for the repeat. They had to do it another six times before the ladies grew tired of it. “All right”, Linda shouted. “You can let hands go and turn to your right.” The boys all turned to their right forming a continuous circular line, expecting to be told to pat each other on the back or some similarly tiresome gesture.
“Now all take the skirts of the boy in front in your hands.” They did as instructed. “And lift.” The boys all dutifully raised the skirts of the boy in front to demonstrate that they were all wearing beautifully frilled panties and nappy covers. “Now walk.” The boys walked in the circle holding skirts and petticoats up to ensure that the mothers got to see each one from a favourable angle.
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how are you doing,DaraJaney ? You came back from the moon super quick this time. Did you run out of moon cheese straight away?
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Not all interventions with problem boys resulted in long-term confinement to dresses and skirts. Occasionally a targeted approach was sufficient. Like when Laurence Taylor kept teasing his little sister about the embarrassing peach flower girl’s dress she was going to have to wear to their cousin’s wedding. The eight-year-old Clara was a bit of a tomboy and hadn’t even worn a skirt in years.
Eventually their mother got tired of his taunts during Clara’s fittings for the flower girl dress and went to Mrs Henley having heard a little bit about what was going on around the town.
Mrs Henley was able to work with the bridal hire shop to let Clara’s dress out so that it could fit 12-year-old Laurence and they pounced on him the morning of the wedding. The four bridesmaids didn’t have too much difficulty getting him into the dress and doing up the tiny buttons at the back though it was a little trickier getting him into the white lacey tights without ripping them.
While it had been easy to let out the dress, it wasn’t possible to make it any longer given the attached layers of petticoats so it only barely covered his bottom. They had fortunately predicted this issue and the bridal shop had been very helpful in having matching panties made from the same peach material with lots of frills in the same lace as trimmed the puffed sleeves.
Laurence was pushed into the back of a car and driven to the beauty shop where, alongside two proper little flower girls, his hair was arranged with complex twists of white ribbons, his face made-up with rosey cheeks and his nails painted a sparkly peach.
Decanted from the car at the church, before he’d even managed to push down his petticoats, lots of photos had been taken and he really had no choice but to go along with it. Where was he going to run to in his short petticoated flower girl’s dress?
His fellow flower girls, four-year-old twin cousins, were particularly amused by his matching frilly panties which Laurence found it impossible to conceal in the mild breeze that blew around the tall church. With his long legs in lace tights exposed below his short dress, e looked even sissier then they did!
His mother told him if he didn’t smile for the photos then he’d find himself in dresses for the next week. He was mortified posing for an endless series of photos clutching a little bouquet of flowers. It was bad enough being photographed in the sissy flower girl’s dress but having to smile and look like he was happy about it was mortifying and he just knew these photos would be trotted out whenever his mother wanted to put him in his place.
He cringed as he walked slowly down the aisle distributing rose petals from a basket in front of the bride. He wanted to hold his petticoats down to avoid any embarrassing flashes of his peach frilly panties as they rocked but both hands were occupied.
When he got to the altar the maid of honour indicated to him that he should put the basket down. As he did so there was a burst of laughter behind and a few flashes from cameras. He straightened up as quickly as he could pushing his petticoats down at the back with his now-free hands but clearly it was too late.
It was a hot day and he was getting very sweaty under his tights and layers of petticoats. When he sat at the top table at the reception, one of the bridesmaids noticed his predicament. She discretely told him that he could take advantage of his legs being tucked under the tablecloth to ventilate a little.
He thought it was a good idea and hitched up his petticoats under the table and flapped his legs apart and from side to side to get as much air as possible up under his skirts. It was a relief. He continued for several minutes until a waitress leaned in and said “you do realise that the table cloth does not go down over the front of the table. Laurence froze. He saw the grinning faces at the table facing theirs and quickly pushed his legs together and lowered his petticoats again. He could feel his face burning.
After the meal, the bridesmaids and other flower girls all changed into other clothes. “Sorry we didn’t think of bringing a change of clothes for you”, his mother tittered. He glared at Clara in her smart slacks. He was now the only one left wearing a frilly wedding outfit.
The bridesmaids insisted on making him dance when the music started. They particularly enjoyed ‘The Hokey Pokey”. His hands were firmly held by a bridesmaid on either side. At each “Oh do the hokey pokey” he was practically lifted off the ground, they held their hands so high, ensuring that his dress rode up reminding everyone how thoroughly all parts of his outfit matched.
He was so relieved to be back in trousers the next day. His mother and sister got a little more amusement from it by refusing to clean off his nail varnish until the following day leaving him walking around all day with his fingers in a fist trying to conceal the sparkly peach.
His mother was quite pleased how well behaved he had become after that experience. Any little flash of naughtiness could be easily treated by taking out the wedding album.
Whenever they had visitors their attention was almost always drawn by the large framed photo of the family party at the wedding displayed above the mantelpiece. Laurence cringed as they had a closer look. But he looked so convincingly like a girl in his peach, puff-sleeved dress with the layers of petticoats and lacey tights, his hair done up in ribbons that they rarely guessed. Sometimes he detected some amusement in their faces as they looked closely at the flower girls and must have wondered at the taller one – clearly rather old to be a flower girl – dressed to match the little twins but managing to look even sissier.
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Great story with wonderful ideas.
What if some of the teenage boys who are now being treated like toddlers are forced into a play dates and were babysat and supervised by their now very ex girlfreinds.
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As usual, your writing is great. Funny that you chose for your most recent protagonist the name, spelling differences aside, of one of the most brutal and effective linebackers in American football history. Wonder if anyone of his tormentors would have survived his response to the "attempted" petticoating.
Since a 12 year old male is approximately five feet tall and around 100 lbs he should have provided at least more of a physical challenge to the four bridesmaids. Ripping the clothes off would have been his second thought after first realizing his secret would be out and his life effectively over once word of his punishment circulated, and it would certainly get around. Enjoy the genre and realize it's fantasy but sometimes the compliance is just too immediate and unchallenged, though that doesn't diminish the quality of your story telling.
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Classic forensic critique, babycakes. You are truly the Sherlock Holmes of Betty's.
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Normally wouldn't respond to drivel since this is a story site and with deference to Betty. Nonetheless, sorry for posting a story related comment that did not meet the high standards of the self-appointed editorial-staff.
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Oh! I’m sorry, babycakes. No offence intended. It was only meant as the gentlest teasing of your very individual and characteristic angle on things; hyper-analytical, but always thoughtful and intelligent. My tone was not at all what you inferred, I assure you.
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Then there was the case of the boy’s local football team. They were knocked out of the first round of the county championship. The girl’s team got to the quarter finals but the boys continuously mocked them saying that girls’ football was stupid, that they only got to the quarter finals because the other girls’ teams were “even stupider”.
The boys minced around kicking footballs and giggling girlishly, supposedly imitating their female counterparts. At the club house they pointed to old photos of previously successful boys’ teams, lined up behind trophies with cheerleaders looking on adoringly. “That’s what the girls should be doing”, they laughed.
Just before kick-off at the girls’ quarter final match, a minibus pulled up. Two stern looking women got out and threw the sliding side doors open. “Out!” they ordered clutching short canes which they proceeded to thwack randomly until the occupants started to get out of the van.
People began to realise that this was the boys’ team – all dressed up as cheerleaders – and not in boys’ cheerleader costumes either. They tugged at their short skirts, their hairy legs concealed under thick tan tights. Those who had short hair had wigs of pony tails tied up in red ribbons to match their red and white dresses. For some boys their hair was long enough to twist into short pigtails similarly tied up with ribbons.
The women whacked at their legs and made them scamper over to the pitch. They were all well endowed with padded sports bras which bounced as they flounced along. Little padlocks could be seen swinging at the back of their cheerleader outfits holding the zips up in place. Nobody could see it but all the seams on their dresses were double stitched for extra toughness (Babycakes 😊)
“You are not getting out of here until you perform”, the women reminded them as they lined up in front of the small stand, squirming and desperately tugging their short hems down. “Go Panthers go!” the women shouted and the boys started to reluctantly raise and shake their pom poms.
There was laughter from the stand. Then the girls’ team emerged from the dressing room and saw the boys kicking their legs up in their cheerleader dresses. They laughed and laughed as they ran onto the pitch. “Jump” one of the women leaders shouted and the boys’ jumped up and down shaking their pom poms as high as they could. It was clear as their short skirts fluttered that they were wearing red panties with lace trim around the leg opening.
As the teams lined up for kick-off the boys continued their routine until the leader shouted “now”. The boys all bent forward in their line to show that their panties had one big white letter sewn on each spelling out “GO PANTHERS”. There was greater laughter from the crowd and they started chanting “Go panties go!”
The game continued and the boys had to repeat their routine over and over. Onlookers who were close enough could see the little padlocks ensuring that the cheerleader dresses could not be removed but only the boys and the ladies knew that each had a little chain sewn into the waist band of their panties, locked in place to ensure that they couldn’t remove the lace-trimmed underwear or their tights.
The girls’ team scored the only goal with minutes to go. The boys were forced to jump and down shaking their pom poms even more enthusiastically and then line up either side of the entrance to the dressing room to cheer the girls in. Their only consolation was seeing their mini-bus pull in ready to take them home and away from this humiliation.
“Right boys! We’ll have to work on new routines for the semi-final.” Their jaws dropped and their pom poms sagged at the prospect. The mini-bus had a low ceiling meaning most of the boys had to lean forward to get in thereby giving one final flash of the letter and lace-trim on their panties.
The two ladies were very satisfied climbing in to the front of the van. It was amazing what could be achieved when mothers worked together.
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The picture of a flock of cheerboys under the control of two strict women is original and unforgettable. Brilliant. More mass humiliation, please, DJ.
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Dara Janey,
I'm just catching up now and read the entire story from the beginning. I'm glad I changed into fresh diaper before starting - it's certainly wetter now!
I wonder what further embellishments the boy cheerleaders will have to endure at the girls team semifinal and hopefully championship games?
I can imagine myself in the place of each of the boys in your story, suffering each of their humiliations.
I think that the most embarrassing situation I could be in was to be Baby Stefi after the conclusion of the girls championship game. While they were being interviewed on television, having to waddle in as their baby mascot, having my petticoats and skirt lifted up to reveal my diaper cover embroidered "Go Panthers" just as I have a loud, stinky bowel accident to my most utter embarrassment and the great amusement of everyone else, including the vast television audience.
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the boy cheerleaders should be in nappies. Because such silly creatures as boys cannot keep their panties clean and dry like grownups can and more practically their panties were locked on for who knows how long. :)
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Excellent chapter DaraJaney and thanks for the double stitched, escape proof cheer uniforms. Realistically doomed to wear them until released by the mothers. Have to agree with Sarahpenguin that nappies are certainly called for given the padlocked cheer panties. Also, pleasantly reminiscent of powder-puff football games in America where generally high school boy football players and girl cheerleaders switch roles and sometimes uniforms for a one-off game, usually as part of some celebratory event(s) such as homecoming.
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Mothers Organising Disciplinary Schooling for Boys decided to have an annual event with prize-giving. Mrs Henley led the festivities. “Our first prize will be the Best Baby Award and we have three entrants!”
The audience applauded as three teenage boys were wheeled out onto the stage in large strollers. They were all in their prettiest, frilliest dresses and bonnets and squirmed desperately on being brought out in view but were firmly held in the strollers by leather straps. They all suc-ked hard on soothers that were not strapped in, being well used to them at this stage – if not dependent on them.
Mrs Cave proudly displayed James in the centre – confident that she could ensure his win as he was longest in nappies – the other two being kind of proteges.
“Can we see their pretty outfits properly?” Mrs Henley prompted to more applause. The mothers loosened the straps from the strollers but kept the boys in the harnesses with firm grips on the reins.
The boys were slow to get out of the strollers aware that when they stood up their short dresses and petticoats would reveal very frilled nappy covers bulging over thick nappies. Mrs Henley commented on aspects of their clothes. “Don’t you just love Casper’s alphabet patterned tights?” “Isn’t James’s sailor dress so cute!” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many layers of petticoats”, she commented running her fingers through the countless hems under Peter’s dress.”
“You will get to vote on the Best Baby but you don’t have to make your mind up just yet.” Three high-sided play pens were set up at the front of the stage towards one side. The mothers tugged on the harnesses and led the big babies to the play-pens. The mothers in the audience noticed that James’s nappy appeared to sag more than the others and commented to each other that he must be very wet. The two other baby-mothers frowned wishing they had thought of ensuring that their little charge had a thoroughly soaked nappy too to show off in front of everyone.
The boys were pushed into the play-pens, the gates were clicked shut and they stood clutching the high side bars as they realised they were going to be kept in full view of the audience for some time. “And the Best Baby will be allowed to progress to Toddler status!” Mrs Henley announced.
The boys on hearing this immediately set about playing convincingly with their rattles and blocks, suddenly now trying to win over the audience. The ladies all smiled and waved at the sissy babies in their pens, particularly pleased if the boy waved his rattle back or gurgled in response.
James crawled to the other side of his pen to give the audience a good view of the crowd-pleasing two-inch lace on the seat of his nappy cover. Peter, on seeing this, turned his bottom to the audience and made sure to wiggle his bottom noticeably while he crawled. There were little ripples of applause from the audience in response. James glared at Peter through the bars of their cots: this was on!
Casper, who was only in nappies and baby dresses a couple of months, couldn’t bring himself to act the complete sissy baby like the other two so sat disconsolately suc-king on his soother, convincing himself that he didn’t want to humiliate himself even more.
“Next comes the lip-synch battle”, Mrs Henley announced. The ladies in the audience clapped enthusiastically. Two victims were led out holding their mummy’s hands. They both wore Shirley Temple costumes and heaps of sausage curls. Tom was in the Stand Up and Cheer costume – white dress with large red polka dots, flared from under the arms over layers of flouncy petticoats. Kyle was in the Baby Take a Bow dress, baby pink with six layers of lace crammed onto the short skirt.
“And the winner of the lip-synch battle will progress to school-girl”, Mrs Henley announced. The two boys eyed each other determinedly. “Now the first test is to ensure that their sausage curls are genuine.” Mrs Henley took a bunch of Tom’s ringlets and pulled up. “Ow!” he protested. She moved to Kyle and he squealed girlishly as his real ringlets were pulled, drawing a scowl from Tom who wished he’d thought of that. The audience applauded at the confirmation that both boys had their own hair permed into sausage curls.
“Assume your start positions”, Mrs Henley ordered. The two boys dropped into a curtsey holding their petticoats out and froze in that position. Good Ship Lollipop started playing on the PA system. The boys started their well-drilled dance routines, their mothers clapping anxiously from the sides of the stage – hoping the hours and hours of practice would pay off.
As the boys twirled, their pull-up nappies were revealed and the sissy babies looked on enviously from their play-pens wishing they could wear dresses that long. The two dancers were keeping a close eye on each other and were clearly trying to out-do the other in terms of twirling, mincing around and swinging their sausage curls.
There was great applause as the boys finished with another deep curtsey, each trying to outdo the other in how long they could hold it. “Alright ladies, you have voting buttons – press the red button if you think Tom was the best Shirley Temple, blue button for Kyle.
The boys watched anxiously as the numbers were displayed on a big screen at the back of the stage, desperately hoping to progress to those pink gingham primary school uniforms and proper panties.
“It’s Kyle by just two votes!” Mrs Henley announced when voting time was up. Kyle jumped up and down, giving more flashes of his pull-up nappy – but he didn’t care, he would be out of them soon.
Tom slumped and tried to hide his disappointment behind his sausage curls. But his hands balled and went up to rub his moist eyes. Soon he started stamping his feet in frustration. “Oh dear, have we a little tantrum?” Tom’s mother grabbed his hand and tugged him off the stage. “No! No please!” the boy pleaded as he was led away.
“So it’s time to put our cute babies out of their misery – well, this particular misery – by voting on the Best Baby. James red button, Casper blue button and Peter yellow button.” Everyone watched the results scrolled up on the screen. The boys desperately hoping that maybe they could wear those Shirley Temple dresses if they won.
“And it’s James!” Mrs Henley opened the side of James’s play-pen and let him out. James was so excited he couldn’t stop curtseying his thanks to the audience. His mother took his hand to lead him away and he continued waving happily to the audience. He couldn’t wait for his toddler dresses.
“Never mind babies”, Mrs Henley looked down on the disappointed losers. “There’s always next year.” “Nnnnggghhh!” The two babies climbed to their feet and shook the bars of their play-pens on realising that they had been consigned to a whole year in nappies and baby-dresses – at least! Peter suddenly looked down and squirmed, clearly wetting his nappy as the audience looked on.
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Silly boys should be kept in super thick nappies and baby dresses and mittens permanently. Will lead them into getting trouble again if there mommies get silly ideas about letting them grow again. :)
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DaraJaney,
Thank you for the lovely chapter. I made sure that I put on a fresh diaper before I started reading.
When I read that James's nappy appeared to be the wettest, I started wetting my own diaper.
When the Shirley Temple lip synch contest started, I was reminded that in my seventh decade, I don't have hair that can be permed into sausage curls. I wonder if Tom's tantrum after he lost may get him demoted from pullups to nappies.
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“Now for our primary school girl competition!” Mrs Henley announced. The two losing sissy babies realised that they were being left on view in their play-pens while the show continued. They slumped down and had little enthusiasm left for playing with their toys, facing a whole year of nappies, baby dresses, rattles and dolls.
Four teenage boys walked out on stage in pink gingham dresses with Peter Pan collars, their hair in pigtails tied at the ends with big pink gingham bows. They held hands in pairs and walked to the middle of the stage with big rosy pink cheeks, staring at the floor in front of them as the mothers all sighed at their cuteness and tittered at their embarrassment.
The boys tugged nervously at the flared hems of their short uniforms with their free hands while standing as far apart as they could while still holding hands as instructed. A stern-looking lady with a cane came out and tapped the boys on their outside arms forcing them to stand much more closely together. Their discomfort on holding hands with another boy was obvious and amused the audience.
Another lady brought out four hula-hoops and distributed them to the boys who were clearly relieved to be able to let go hands. The boys took the hoops and swung them over their bodies. “Now the winner will get to progress to secondary school level and wear a nice navy gymslip.” The anxious looks on the boys’ faces were clear.
Steel-drum music started and the boys began to swing their hips to get their hoops going. They seemed to have little enthusiasm at first but it was impossible to keep the hoops going without giving it more effort. The audience began to get flashes of the lace trim on the boys’ panties and starting giggling and pointing.
You could see the boys’ dilemma as they desperately wanted to win but really didn’t want to expose more of their pink gingham panties with six fluffy rows of frills. But soon more and more frills became visible as the boys glanced at each other, trying to judge how to be the best performer without their flared dress swirling out too much.
Soon they realised it was pointless and they all started to give it everything much to the delight of the crowd. “Ow!” Their swinging pink bows at the ends of their pigtails became dangerous missiles, one clattered the next boy in the face.
Two boys’ pigtails snagged and wrapped around each other several times forcing them to stop twirling. Their hula hoops dropped to the floor eliminating them from the competition and their heads were drawn close together so they were trapped with their faces just inches apart. The boys desperately tried to separate but their pigtails were hopelessly tangled and they were forced to stand almost nose to nose to great laughter from the audience while the remaining two boys continued to compete.
It seemed to them the music would never stop as they continued to twirl as fast as they could, having long given up any attempt to keep their frilly panties out of sight. One started to get dizzy, stumbled and his hula hoop fell to the ground. He quickly pushed his dress down and cringed on realising he’d gone and exposed the full extent of his frilly panties to no avail.
The audience applauded as the boys were led off. The winner jumped up and down not caring anymore what was seen, looking forward to getting out of his pink uniform. The audience laughed as the entangled pair were led off the stage, their heads still held embarrassingly close together like conjoined twins.
“Next the best party outfit”, Mrs Henley announced. Six boys walked out on stage followed by the stern lady with the cane. The boys looked back at her nervously. They were all wearing little-girl party dresses – though none of them were girls and only two of them could be considered particularly little.
Their dresses were all in different pastel colours and they had matching tights and even the lace on their frilly ankle socks matched their bespoke dresses perfectly. The dresses competed for the widest lace collar, most puffed out sleeves, most elaborate lace designs on the bodice and greatest number of petticoats.
The two tallest boys – people were guessing their ages as around 16 – could do nothing to stop the bottom layer of frills on their pettipants from showing beneath their short petticoats. Their pettipants were in contrasting pastel colours and so very noticeable against their matching dress and tights.
Their mothers watched on anxiously. One mother sighed disappointedly – she had thought that five layers of petticoats might be too much but saw now that it was too little. Another wondered if the enormous peach bow pinned on top of her son’s head – and much bigger than it – was too much but she could see from the smiles in the audience that it was well judged. But she was envious of the enormous lace heart embroidered on one boy’s dress.
All the dresses had sashes tied in big bows at the back but the bow on the smallest boy more than covered his entire back and the ends of the sash dangling over his petticoats almost reached the floor.
The boys were made to model their dresses along a walkway projecting into the audience. They had all been desperately trying to push their perky petticoats down to minimise the exposure of frilly pettipants but gave it up as a lost cause when they saw the beaming smiles from mothers and sisters in the audience looking up under their dresses as they minced along the elevated walkway.
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DaraJaney,
Thank you for another great chapter.
I really liked the action you depicted in the primary school girl competition. I didn't realize that pigtails could be weapons.
I'm looking forward to how the party outfit competition goes.
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“So let’s have a party game!” Mrs Henley announced to cheers. Linda came out on stage holding a rope. She let the rope go loose and a piñata lowered from the rafters above the stage. She tied the rope when the piñata was at a satisfactory height.
“The winner of this will get back in to trousers!” Mrs Henley announced immediately getting the full attention of the six boys in frilly party dresses. “The little ones first.” Linda handed a bat to the boy with the enormous bow on the back of his dress. He swung the bat carefully trying not to reach up any more than necessary, conscious of his short petticoats and contrasting pettipants.
The audience encouraged him to swing higher. They could see his dilemma. He desperately wanted to get back into trousers but to do so it looked like he had to show off his frilly pettipants to the whole auditorium. He took the long term view and swung as high as he could. The ladies cheered as the lower three rows of frills on his lilac pettipants were revealed.
The boy realised that he was going to have to jump. He jumped and swung at the piñata and as he descended his petticoats ballooned up revealing the full extent of his frilly lilac pettipants. The ladies cheered. The dignity ship had sailed so he desperately jumped a number of times, barely making contact with the target. In the end he slumped realising that he had failed but in the process given the audience a lovely display of frills and flouncing petticoats.
The second small boy approached with little enthusiasm having seen what happened with his predecessor. Mrs Henley reminded him of the prize which jolted him into action. He made no futile attempt to avoid giving a full frilly display and jumped several times. The long streamers of the mint green bow pinned to the back of his head billowed prettily while his petticoats parachuted beautifully.
The next competitor being a few inches taller clearly looked more confident as he approached wielding the bat. But Linda, tugged on the rope and tied the piñata into a higher position. The boy was really frustrated by that and jumped and jumped with no regard for his shocking pink frilly pettipants.
The taller boys knew that their pettipants were already peeking below their petticoats so had no inhibitions in jumping as high as they could but had no better luck as Linda ensured that the piñata was just beyond their reach no matter how high they jumped.
For a grand finale all six boys were brought to the centre of the stage and Linda allowed the piñata to drop in the middle of them before pulling it up again. All six boys desperately swung at the target and jumped again when she pulled it up. She allowed it to drop momentarily several times. The audience applauded loudly as the six boys jumped up and down in their pretty party dresses, in a shower of flouncy petticoats, various brightly coloured pettipants and frilly socks.
A couple of the boys stopped and squirmed and the audience realised that their tights were slipping down from all the jumping up and down. They tried to discretely pull their tights up but in the end had to reach under their petticoats and pull their pettipants up as far as they could hoping that would keep their tights up. The ladies laughed at the poor boys’ embarrassment.
There was no winner and the boys stomped off fuming that they had been coerced into giving a humiliating display for nothing. Mrs Henley almost sympathised. “Aw, but you can’t really look angry in a flouncy party dress, layers of petticoats, pretty tights and frilly ankle socks, can you?”
“Now for our sixth form competitors!” Two boys minced on wearing navy blue gymslips, cream blouses, stockings and suspenders and high heels. Their hair was gathered in ponytails with a straw boater perched on top. Both boys were clearly wearing substantial shaping clothing. Their blouses were stretching over e-cup breasts and padded hips and bottom ensured their pleated skirts flared adorably.
They were given hockey sticks and small goals were placed either side of the stage. “The winner”, Mrs Henley announced as the boys watched in anticipation, “will graduate next year!” The boys were crestfallen. Another year in gymslips! But losing meant two years in gymslips so they still looked determined to win.
Linda threw a ball to the back of the stage and the two boys tottered after it in their heels to great laughter from the audience. Running around was not easy with their large breasts and bending down to swing at the ball was not helped by their tight corsets. They swung at the ball and hit it around the stage to no great effect. Eventually it looked like one was going to score but the other pulled him back and Linda awarded a penalty stroke.
The penalty was taken into the left hand goal. The boy had to bend over substantially to line up the ball. The audience appreciated the lacey navy panties. The penalty was scored. The winner was initially jubilant, jumping up and down with little concern how the short pleated skirt of his gymslip fluttered but then seemed to remember he still had another year to endure in his gymslip, stockings and suspenders and high heels, dragging those large boobs around.
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DaraJaney,
That was another great chapter. I'm picturing in my mind the parachuting petticoat and pettipants show of the six boys in party dresses desperate to graduate to trousers try to break the piñata, and almost feeling the embarrassment of having to stop and pull up my pettipants, all in front of an audience.
When I dress up as Dolly Bo Peep I have to check every once in a while that my pettipants are staying up.
That one on one field hockey duel was quite entertaining. I read it wearing a new body shaper and panty girdle over my diaper and my second largest boobs.
The two sissy babies are still on stage - is there going to be a diaper changing contest in a future chapter?
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“Well ladies, of course, it’s not all about our errant boys, where would we be without our enthusiastic volunteer babysitters? Let’s hear it for Linda, Rita and Sue.” The audience applauded as the girls appeared each wheeling a changing table onto the stage.
The two sissy babies in their play pens looked on nervously, suc-king on their soothers. “And I think we have two customers here in need of a change”, Mrs Henley told the audience. Both boys nappies were indeed soaked – it being a couple of hours since their last bottle – so she met no denial from them.
The realisation that they were about to have their wet nappies changed on stage had the boys suc-king much harder on their soothers and desperately trying to find a way out of their secure play-pens.
“But of course, we need three don’t we?” Mrs Henley continued. A woman walked out on stage holding leather reins and eventually succeeded in dragging out their third subject. The audience recognised Tom, the Shirley Temple with a tantrum. He was now longing for his Stand Up and Cheer outfit as he squirmed in his pink frilly baby dress. It was short enough for the audience to see that his pull-ups had obviously been replaced by a thick cloth nappy underneath those pink tights and frilly nappy cover.
“Nnnggghh!” he protested through the soother strapped into his mouth. “Is he ready do you think?” Mrs Henley asked his mother. “Well if he wasn’t before he sure is now”, she replied and the audience laughed as the boy cringed holding his hands in mittens in front of his groin.
The two other sissy babies were put in their harnesses and led across in front of the changing tables. They were encouraged to climb up on the tables and their reins were tied to the ends to remove any danger of them running off.
“This will be a timed contest”, Mrs Henley announced. “The fastest gets to take their baby to Regionals!” The audience applauded loudly. The boys looked at each other – this implied there were other boys in other towns and cities being subjected to the same treatment. “Get ready … on your marks … go!”
The girls quicky pulled down the boys’ frilly nappy covers and then their tights. The boys’ booties had to be removed as well. Rita was unfortunately enough to have Tom to change. Having only just been demoted to nappies he was not as familiar with the changing routine as the other boys. Peter and Casper knew exactly when to lift their bottom, turn over to have their bottom wiped and powdered, and how to cooperate with having their tights pulled on efficiently.
The audience tittered as Tom got it all wrong much to Rita’s frustration. She kept having to give him little slaps on the bottom to get him to do the right thing quickly.
The soaked nappies were dropped in their buckets, the girls carefully cleaned around the boys’ chastity devices – all three boys particularly wincing during this part of the process. This was not a problem when their mummies were changing their nappies but when they were being changed by attractive girls their own age it was a different matter and the girls always seemed to be particularly thorough in this part of the process.
Eventually the boys were pinned into their clean nappies, their plastic pants pulled up, tights, booties and nappy covers restored. The audience had a good laugh as Rita really struggled to get Tom’s tights on over his feet and up his legs, getting them all twisted due to his inexperience.
Linda finished just a couple of seconds ahead of Sue and Rita trailed badly looking really frustrated with Tom. “Never mind” Mrs Henley consoled him, “you will soon get used to the routine.” Tom suc-ked hard on his soother and sniffled, figuring he was going to have to be a better baby to stand a chance of getting out of these nappies.
“Of course the time will be null and void if the nappy is not properly fitted or the boys are not properly dressed”, Mrs Henley reminded them. “So let’s examine.” The girls untied the boys’ reins from the changing table and led them to the front of the stage. The boys all cringed as they realised that they were about to have their attire and nappies closely examined in front of the audience.
“Hold up your petticoats”, Mrs Henley ordered. The boys did as instructed so the audience could see their entire nappy covers and that the rows of frills were all straight. “Now girls pull down their nappy covers.” The boys suc-ked hard on their soothers and tried to focus on the back of the room and not the smiling faces of the audience looking closely at their nappy areas.
Tom’s tights were a little twisted but the others were perfectly aligned. “And now their tights.” The boys swallowed hard as they had their tights pulled down to their knees so the audience could see their nappies through their plastic pants. “Now turn around.” The boys did as told and there was an audible ‘aw’ from the audience as they saw that Casper had a little sliver of nappy poking out from under the elasticated leg opening. Linda swore under her breath and Sue jumped up and down as the clear winner.
“You had better finish the job properly”, Mrs Henley advised Linda and she tugged at Casper’s reins to make him return to the changing table. He struggled to keep up with her with his tights around his knees and his nappy cover around his ankles.
“Thank you girls”, Mrs Henley drew an end to this part of the show. The two boys waddled towards the wings of the stage but the girls tugged firmly on their reins and they were led into the play-pens – there seemed to be no end to it.
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Please go on
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DaraJaney,
That was a superb chapter. Tom's situation answered my question, and yes it is possible to be demoted into nappies.
There are regionals, at least for sissy baby diaper changing. How about regional sissy cheer competitions?
Are the 2 (so far) sissy maids going to make an appearance on stage?
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“Now for our next babysitter contest”, Mrs Henley announced. Three of the older boys from the party dress competition walked out on stage and were directed to stand at the front. They appeared to have given up on trying to keep their contrasting pettipants out of the audience’s view.
They were followed by three younger girls all carrying small tables which they placed behind the boys. They took the boys’ hands and led them to the tables, their backs to the audience who were pleased that the boys so meekly followed the girls’ instructions – being well trained by now.
The girls made them bend over the tables. The boys’ ample layers of petticoats tipped up framing their pettipanted bottoms beautifully for the audience. The boys’ wrists were secured in place with straps.
“Of course, another skill our young girls need to learn is spanking”, Mrs Henley explained. The boys started to struggle against their straps but it was too late.
Then a lady wheeled a mannequin out onto the stage. The mannequin was dressed in a Little Bo Peep costume – pink frilly dress with comically large puffed sleeves, stiff petticoats, a bonnet with an outrageously wide brim and frilly ankle length bloomers. The boys watched it being wheeled out and then dropped their heads and swallowed hard. They struggled a little harder against the straps but it was pointless.
“The first to make their boy put on the Bo Peep outfit will win. The, eh, winning boy will get to play Bo Peep for two weeks this summer in the community play.” The boys resumed pulling as hard as they could on the straps.
The girls all selected their paddles carefully, getting a feel for them, looking for one with just the right weight. They were clearly well practiced at their art.
There was no need for them to raise up the boys dresses and petticoats because they were all so short and perky none of them were in the way and the boys’ full bottoms in their frilly pastel pettipants were exposed, no matter how much they squirmed.
“Go!” The girls started spanking the boys. Of course the thick frills cushioned their bottoms against the blows. Nonetheless after twenty or more strokes a couple of the boys clearly looked up at the Little Bo Peep contemplating giving in – probably only too well aware that the girls would happily continue as long as it took – they just didn’t want to be the first to cave in. Mrs Henley pinned up a poster for the show with “For two weeks only!” prominent in a strap line. The boys put their heads down and gritted their teeth.
“In another minute, you may pull down their pettipants”, Mrs Henley told the girls. The boys stiffened and looked up at the costume again. None gave in and so their pettipants were pulled down around their ankles and there was nothing but (admittedly fairly thick) tights cushioning the blows.
A couple of minutes later, none had given in. “And in another minute you can pull down their tights.” The boys squirmed. As the girls reached for the waist band of their tights one of the boys broke. “Stop!” They all paused. The girl asked him to confirm that he was going to put on the Little Bo Beep costume. He nodded, sniffling.
The boy was freed from the straps and pulled his pettipants up under his petticoats. The girl unzipped his frilly party dress – she could only just reach the zip. She helped him into his Bo Peep dress, zipping him up and tying the big pink bow at the back.
She held out the frilly bloomers in front of him. He glumly reached under his stiff petticoats, pulled down his pettipants, somewhat reluctantly exchanged them for the much worse frilly full-length bloomers. He stepped into them and pulled them up under his petticoats. The wide stiff petticoats ensured his Bo Peep dress only came half way to his knees so the dozen or so layers of frills between that and his ankles were in full view.
The girl came to him with the enormous bonnet. He had to bend down so she could place it on his head and his stiff petticoats tipped up at the back so the audience could see the frills all the way up to and including his bottom. The girl seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to tie the bonnet’s ribbons under his chin in a big bow, smiling sweetly into his face.
The boy, now fully dressed in his Little Bo Peep costume, was turned to face the audience. He was handed a pink crook and a toy sheep to clutch under his arm. The audience applauded wildly. Mrs Henley replaced the show poster with one already printed with the boy’s name under the word “Starring” and had copies distributed amongst the audience.
As the audience filed out, the Little Bo Beep boy was at the back door to the auditorium handing out more posters for his play while everyone had a closer look at his pretty costume.
When the hall emptied he heard “eh, hello?” from the stage. The two other boys were still strapped over the spanking tables with their petticoats tipped up and pettipants around their ankles. They could stay there as far as he was concerned – they were lucky not to face two weeks performing as Little Bo Poop in front of the whole town.
Then he heard the groans and whimpers from the three boys still in the play-pens on stage. They were shaking the bars of their pens and whimpering through their soothers afraid that they had been forgotten.
A lady came out to sweep the stage. She saw the boys but continued sweeping. “There’s an after-party”, she explained to them. The boys could hear the clinking of glasses back stage. “I’m sure your mummies will be out to collect you in an hour or so.” The baby boys slumped down on their nappied bottoms and looked around their play-pens for some toy to amuse them.
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DaraJaney,
That was another great chapter.
I loved the paddling contest to determine who had to play Bo Peep.
I guess the sissy maids were busy with duties at the after party.
The Bo Peep costume is more elaborate than the one I wore at two Halloween parties several years ago and still have. In place of a bonnet, I make do with a pink trimmed white wide brim hat over a bubblegum pink sausage curl wig. The dress is a pink floral heavily lace trimmed square dance outfit with an additional pink petticoat. In place of bloomers, I settle for regular length pettipants with pastel frills over white tights.
I wore it without needing to be paddled.
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The annual awards show was the talk of all the ladies for the next week but they were also looking forward to the girls’ football team semi-final. They were to be cheered on again by the boys’ cheerleading team. Their instructors were quite pleased how compliant the boys had been in continuing their roles as cheerleaders. The boys knew very well from some unfortunate friends that more long-term changes could be made in their lifestyle if they didn’t obey.
If it was possible for the boys to look even more embarrassed as they stepped out of the mini-bus this time, well they did. The crowd in the stands noticed that the skirts of their cheerleader dresses appeared to flare out more than before. The boys kept trying to push their uniform down as much as possible which surprised the audience who assumed that their routine would include showing off the frilly letters on their panties as before.
Their two lady instructors ordered the boys to start their routine. They unenthusiastically started jumping up and down shaking their pom poms. The crowd saw that the boys were all wearing white pettipants with thick rows of frills all the way from the waist band to the leg openings. But there was something else. The pettipants bulged oddly. “No!” “They’re not, are they?” People in the audience couldn’t believe it. “They’re wearing nappies!”
The boys cringed as they continued their routine, hearing the laughter from the stand growing as realisation spread. They glared at Alex. He was the one who couldn’t hold it in after the previous match and wet himself before his panties could be unlocked. Now they had all been forced to wear nappies and the women insisted on cloth nappies with plastic pants that could be locked on.
When the boys complained that everyone would be able to see their nappies through the clear plastic the ladies told them “you can wear these” as they produced a stack of white frilly pettipants.
Every one of the boys had to agree that being seen in frilly pettipants was better than having the crowd see their nappies. They suspected that the bulge beneath their pettipants would make it obvious that they were wearing nappies but still.
The girls’ team were unaware of this development and their run onto the pitch was interrupted as they had to stop and laugh at the boys’ display of bulging frilly pettipants as they jumped up and down. “My god they’re in nappies!” “Brilliant. I’d heard Alex wet himself last time!”
The boys were regretting the large colas that had been distributed to them as they were being forced to change into their cheerleader dresses, before they knew about the nappies. As they lined up to get on the mini-bus after the girls’ team’s victory, a number of them were clearly cringing, desperate not to actually have to use their nappy.
The ladies displayed the ring of keys and said “right, let’s get you back and then we can unlock you.” The boys quickly scrambled onto the mini-bus. The ladies drove in front of the bus.
Before long there was a bang and the bus leaned to one side. A flat tyre! The boys looked on with concern as the tail-lights on the lady’s car disappeared around the bend ahead. They had to get out as the driver went to fetch the jack.
The boys were all desperate now. Pacing up and down trying not to think about wetting their nappies. Before putting the jack in position the driver said “just a minute”. He went around the back of the bus and they heard him unzip. He started to relieve himself.
It was loud and he went on for what seemed like ages. The boys were cringing having to listen to the driver pee so freely while they were desperate to go. Alex was again the first to cave. They heard a little ‘no!’ as he obviously commenced to wet his nappy. That started a domino effect and within minutes all the boys were no longer cringing with pain but slumped in dejection. At least they were all in the same boat – albeit a very wet boat.
They were all moving very carefully as they climbed back into the bus, convinced their saturated nappies might leak onto their tights which would get them into big trouble.
Eventually the ladies returned in their car. The minibus driver replaced the tyre and they started off again. They pulled into a service station. One of the ladies took a large sports bag from her car and went over and stood outside the door of the baby changing room. The boys were appalled. “Please we’ll be ok!” they begged. “Nonsense. Luckily I bought a pack of 24 so there’s enough to change you all.”
She pulled Alex into the baby changing room and the others had to wait outside and pushed and shoved each other as they formed a queue. People coming and going from the Gents and Ladies toilets right beside them looked curiously at the queue of rather butch looking cheerleaders and then glanced at the “Baby Changing Room” sign on the door they were queuing at.
The boys could only shift anxiously from one foot to the other as they were now desperate to have their nappy changed, watching with envy all the people going into the toilets, trying to ignore the nudges, pointing and tittering as people realised they were all wearing wet nappies waiting to have them changed.
“Well there is no doubt that you’re all going to have to wear nappies for the final”, they were told.
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Another excellent chapter and how humiliating for the former footballers to be brought down a leg of two. Perhaps the school to make sure the boys still get some exercise should have them play netball instead of football. I am sure the girls would enjoy seeing them in little gym slips and gym knickers whilst playing netball. Then straight back into their nappies and rubber knickers after their exercise. Just a thought.😁
Please write another chapter soon as I can't wait to see where the story goes from here.
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DaraJaney,
Thank you for another entertaining chapter.
The cheerleading boys sure went through a lot of humiliation. Most regular cola drinks have caffeine, which can act as a diuretic, thus leading to wet nappies.
For the finals, shouldn't the cheerleaders have their appearance upgraded with perms providing bouncy curls to their hair, acrylic fingernails in the school colors, and long lasting makeup that takes days to wear off, including bright lipstick?
Will the girls finals take place in a large city some distance away? They might have to stop on the way for food and beverage. If so, maybe the food might have a laxative effect, leading to diaper messing.
Sissy Poopsie has a great idea of making them play netball to stay in condition. To increase the difficulty, should they have nappies locked on?
I wonder how the community play will go. We will definitely have a not-so-Little Bo Peep, but who will play the sheep? Will Miss Muffit make an appearance?
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“This is Regional News South reporting from Hillview where local police have reported a remarkable drop in petty crime – particularly among teenage boys. Superintendent Jackson can you explain what police policies have led to this reduction?”
“To be honest, we haven’t really changed anything and the drop came as something of a surprise when we reviewed the statistics at the end of the year.”
“It has been noted that the proportion of children being home-schooled is particularly high in this area – do you think there is any connection?”
“Is that right? I wasn’t aware of that. Perhaps there is a connection. Either way the local community is certainly pleased with the relatively crime-free atmosphere. So I suppose they are not too worried about why.”
“Mrs Henley, you are the local official responsible for monitoring home schooling - do you think there is a relationship between the low crime rate and home schooling?”
“I think so, yes. We have had a lot of enquiries from other communities who are eager to learn from us. In fact, right across the country there appears to be a growing interest from mothers in particular. We’ve been happy to help spread the word – in fact we’ve had interest from abroad too.”
A minibus pulled up behind the reporter.
“And tonight the local girls’ football team are playing in the final – it’s another great achievement for this community. I see that their cheerleaders are being picked up by their bus behind us.”
The cheerleaders gaped in surprise at the television camera as they scampered over to the bus. They wanted to pull their short flared dresses down as much as possible but already had their pom poms in their hands.
“Yes they have a long bus journey ahead of them to the venue but we’ve made sure they are well hydrated and there’ll be a rest stop along the way with all the appropriate facilities”, Mrs Henley assured the reporter smiling sweetly.
“My goodness they are a fine group of young ladies themselves”, the reporter observed, “all quite tall and certainly well endowed – if you don’t mind my saying so - and such curvy figures! I can see they have gone all out for the final with big sequined ribbons in their pony tails and sparkly tights!” “Yes and long acrylic nails in the team colours”, Mrs Henley added.
The boys were desperate to get on the minibus and out of the view of the television cameras but each one saw how the boy ahead exposed his white frilly pettipants to the television camera as they leaned over to climb in - only made worse by the stiff petticoats now sewn under the skirts of their dresses. They were terrified that viewers would identify the reason for their particularly big bottoms.
“Well best of luck with the final!” the reporter added. “Thank you”, Mrs Henley smiled. “The girls are very excited. If they win this they are through to the nationals!” A boy about to climb into the minibus overheard this and cringed, clinching his pom poms to the front of his dress.
“That’s all from Hillview, back to the studio.” Before the sound was cut the reporter was heard to say “you know it’s almost as if they are wearing …“. “Thank you for that report Kylie”, the news anchor broke in.
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DaraJaney,
Thank you for the beautiful chapter.
A lot of the home schooled boys were most likely not able to do petty crimes because they were not able to go out by themselves, not to mention fear of punishment if caught, being further demoted to younger and more childish situations (even back to nappies), or undergoing sissy maid training.
Let me guess how the cheerleaders attained their curvy figures. How huge were the fake boobs? Were the waists slimmed by tightly laced steel boned corsets? How many thicknesses were the nappies to achieve their really big bottoms? What better way to show off those fat bottoms that stiff petticoats for the short skirts to really put them on display?
Those long acrylic nails would make it even more difficult to attempt to undo buttons, etc.
I hope the girls team wins and makes it to the nationals.
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“That’s all from Hillview, back to the studio.” Before the sound was cut the reporter was heard to say “you know it’s almost as if they are wearing …“. “Thank you for that report Kylie”, the news anchor broke in.
Oh that is so clever - I can almost sense a degree of warmth in my diaper reading that line - - -
And now back to waiting for the next revealing episode of the boys from Diapered Petticoat Home-School !
Annual graduation parties contests results in promotion to the next level development.
What are the levels/steps - Baby - Toddler - ? - ? - Teenager - (Adult) Baby ?
Evidently this is leading to diapers for ever - a course in irreversible potty-training !
I LIKE IT ! I like it !
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A year later.
“Ladies, I called this Board meeting of Mothers Organising Disciplinary Schooling for Boys’ to update you on developments”, Mrs Henley told the other board members as they strolled along the corridor of their new centre.
“So here is our new creche”, she opened a door and led them in. The room contained ten teenage boys – all in frilly baby dresses and bonnets – some crawling around exposing frilly nappy covers over thick nappies, others sitting with legs splayed wide in thick tights.
“Now stop fighting over that rattle”, she ordered two boys who were trying to grab the same rattle in their mittened hands. “There are plenty to go around.” One of the boys stopped first and suc-ked unhappily on his soother knowing that was the best rattle.
“As you are aware it has turned out that some boys do not respond to treatment and will have to be kept as babies permanently. So this centre has been built to cater specially for them.” One boy overhearing this sobbed and rubbed his eyes with his mittens. “Oh dear – did you not know?”
“Diuretics and laxative are mixed into their food on a regular basis to ensure that they remain incontinent and don’t get any ideas about progressing from nappies. As you know those padded fingerless mittens are key to keeping them helpless and if they want their nappies changed promptly they have to behave.”
“It has provided employment for two of our young ladies.” Two eighteen year old girls stood supervising the boys in their blue uniforms with well starched aprons. One of them carefully picked her way amongst the baby boys in her high heels and bent over to pick up a doll from the floor. Her short dress rode up revealing the suspenders keeping her black stockings up.
She also found a large soother, took a wet wipe from her breast pocket, cleaned the soother and popped it into the deep crevice revealed by her low cut dress while she looked around the room. “Chrissie! You’ve lost your soother.” She tottered over to Chrissie, took the soother from between her breasts and popped it into the stunned boy’s mouth. As she bent over to do that, the boy sitting on the floor behind her watched the back of her dress ride up. “As you know ladies, we have ensured that none of the boys can get any arousal. The naughty young ladies do enjoy teasing them though!”
It was clear that the baby boys sitting on the floor got quite a view of the young ladies’ uniforms from their low angle even when they weren’t bending over and many found it hard to concentrate on their play blocks or dolls.
Mrs Henley left the room and the Board ladies followed her. “Now we are also thinking very long term. As you know, we have found a number of boys who actually liked the idea of having to wear frilly dresses and sometimes even nappies. Well we have collected six of these sissies in a special room here.
She led them into another room where six boys were strapped to beds all facing a wall-screen which was currently blank. “I think we are ready for another run” she told the woman sitting at a laptop. The woman started a video on the wall screen.
A movie taken at dress rehearsals for Little Bo Peep showed on the screen. The boy was shown being zipped into his dress, having his frilly full bloomers pulled up under his short petticoats and his bonnet placed on his head.
The ladies observed as the boys struggled against their straps but each duly started to react to the video in front of them. Six members quite quickly perked up and the boys couldn’t help themselves but watch the outrageously filly outfit on the big screen.
The lady got up from the laptop and fastened tubes over each of the boys’ erect members. A couple of them begged “no not again - please!” but were ignored. She went back to the laptop and pressed a key. The tubes all started vibrating up and down. The boys squirmed on their beds. The video now showed Little Bo Peep walking out on stage in front of a full audience. The boys jerked involuntarily on the beds as the inevitable took place.
“So we are collecting sperm from sissy boys that will be used to artificially inseminate the young ladies in this community. We hope to use their sissy DNA to breed out all masculinity in a few generations.” The ladies watched as the white sperm was pumped along tubes into already half-filled plastic bottles.
Each of the boys in turn collapsed back on the bed as they passed their climax and the woman went around removing the tubes. “Do you think they’ll be ready to go again in about 30 minutes?” Mrs Henley asked her. “Oh yes.” The boys continued struggling against their straps for a while before giving up.
“Hundreds of other communities are now following the same path. Ladies, this is the future!”
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Thank you, DJ - a fitting and exciting climax.
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Such fabulous writing i hope they have a room where they are being hypnotized in to being sissy's by a sadistic female hypnotist.
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DaraJaney,
When I don't think a chapter can push my buttons any harder (in a very good way, of course), you manage to keep topping yourself!
The uniforms and actions of the teenage nursery attendants give me the desire to be an adult baby in the creche.
Things haven't worked the same since I had prostate surgery, so I couldn't be one of the sperm donors, but I would love being the star of the video being dressed as Bo Peep, especially being tightly laced into a corset to ensure I would stand up straight.
You didn't finish the chapter with "The End", so I hope there will be more.
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Ten years on and local boy Hughie brings his new girlfriend to meet his mother for the first time. “Very nice to meet you Mrs. Logan”, she smiles sweetly, on her best behaviour. “Lovely to meet you Tina.”
Hughie and Tina settle down on the sofa as his mother makes tea. They are both naturally nervous, hoping that his mother will like her. When the conversation goes well they start to relax a little. Hughie is very pleased with Tina who is really charming his mother as he’d hoped she would.
“I must congratulate you on bringing up such a well behaved boy Mrs Logan”, Tina continues flattering her. “Well it wasn’t always easy”, his mother responds and gets up from her chair to reach up to the book shelves. She takes down a photo album. “Mother no!” Hughie interjects.
“Oh goodie! The baby pictures!” Tina grins in anticipation of this traditional embarrassment of a boyfriend by his mother. “Mum, really! Please!” “Don’t be silly Hughie”, Tina tries to ease his clear nervousness, “it’s just a bit of fun.”
She opens the photo album with an anticipatory grin which then freezes. “Ehm …. he’s wearing a dress and bonnet! … Wait! … How old is he in these?!” Hughie’s head is in his hands.
Tina flicks the stiff page of the album over. Hughie’s wearing two different frilly baby dresses with matching bonnets, booties and tights and he’s suc-king on a soother as he looks up from a play-pen. But it’s clearly not the chubby face of a baby. Although his legs are splayed wide presumably by a thick nappy, they are not the short fat legs of a baby. In the third photo she recognises the furniture of the room they are sitting in and it is clear that she is looking at a very big baby in the photos.
She looks up at Mrs Logan in astonishment. “We had a little trouble with Hughie’s behaviour when he was a teenager”, she explains. The stunned Tina turns over another page to see Hughie crawling away from the camera and there is no doubt that below the thick frills across his bottom is a very thick nappy.
“A little time in nappies and baby dresses sorted the problem out eventually.” In the next photo Hughie was in a pink fleecy sleeper looking out through the bars of a large cot. Tina flicked back to the photos with the play-pen and could see that this nursery furniture was clearly made larger to accommodate a teenage boy with room to spare.
“Unorthodox I know”, his mother continued, “but as you can see it was very effective.” Tina flicked over another page. Hughie was standing in a pink frilly dress, flared from breast level over several layers of petticoats which only barely covered his bottom. He was wearing pink tights, lacey ankle socks and pink Mary Janes with big bows on the toes. His bonnets had been replaced by two big pink bows pinned either side of the back of his curly hair. A soother was pinned to his dress, dangling unused but, presumably, threatening. Hughie clutched a very large doll in a matching pink dress.
In the next photo, Hughie was in the same outfit but was reaching up to catch a balloon so that his dress rode up revealing a less dramatic bulge beneath his pink pettipants – presumably disposable pull-ups. “So as his behaviour improved he was allowed to grow up a little.”
Tina turned another page. “Oh that was at a cousin’s birthday party!” Hughie was wearing a lilac polka dot dress that came half way to his knees, floral patterned white tights and t-bar shoes with a two-inch heel. He had a frilly pinafore over his dress trimmed with perky lace over his shoulders.
Tina estimated that the birthday girl blowing out the candles in the picture was about eight – as were most of the other children in the photo. The girls were clearly beyond the stage of wearing pretty dresses to please their mothers and many wore slacks so Hughie, despite towering over them, wore by far the prettiest and most juvenile dress.
In the next photo, taken at the same party, Hughie had reached the top of the ladder of a garden slide and was bent over desperately clutching the bars at the top. A queue of children lined up behind were all looking up and pointing and laughing at the view up under his petticoats.
Then Hughie was in a relatively sombre pink gingham school uniform, white ankle socks and his hair in pigtails tied with pink gingham ribbons. He was standing beside an old-fashioned wooden school desk but it was the only one in the room with a small blackboard on an easel in front of it. Tina could see that the garden out through the windows was the same one she could see from her place on the sofa.
In the next photo Hughie was writing across the top of the blackboard. In reaching up his dress rode up and white frills peeked below. He was completing the line “If I don’t behave I will be spanked.” Then Tina noticed the paddle resting on the desk behind him. His rosy red cheeks appeared to be wet.
In the last picture Hughie was sitting on a plastic chair behind a table in the same room. He was wearing a navy gymslip and was writing earnestly with what looked like an exam paper on the table. His legs were crossed and Tina could see a suspender strap clipped to the top of his black stocking. His hair was tied in pony tails with navy ribbons. His gymslip bulged over a fine bust and he displayed a lovely slim waist. His heels must have been a good four-inches. His face was fully made-up with lipstick, blush, and false eyelashes. His fingers gripping the pen had long scarlet nails.
“But you can see that we ended up with a fine well behaved polite young man”, Mrs Logan reminded her. Hughie was staring at the carpet. Tina was still quite shocked but smiled at him. She took his hand and squeezed it. He was just relieved that she hadn’t stormed out in outrage but she knew his excruciating secret now.
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Wow what a wonderful chapter to this excellent story. I check everyday to see if there has been an update on this story as I am enjoying it so much. I do hope you continue with it.
Poor little Hughie must be so embarrassed now that his mummy has humiliated him in front of Tina by telling her all about his petticoating past. Will Tina use it to keep Hughie in line I certainly hope so. Maybe if Hugh starts to complain mummy will look out his old pacifier and make him suc-kle on it whilst the grown ups are talking.😠
Please add another chapter soon and continue with this great story of yours.
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DaraJaney,
Thank you for yet another great chapter.
Thanks to the discipline from Hughie's mother, Tina now knows that she can have a well behaved, compliant husband if she wants one. If Hughie doesn't follow her wishes, she could certainly be send him back to school or even further back if needed.
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A couple of months after that Hughie’s mum arrived at their house for dinner. “Did you enjoy your holiday?” Tina asked her as she took her coat. “Yes it was wonderful. Thanks so much for looking after my house while I was away – the redecoration of the spare room looks good. I hope the work men weren’t too much trouble.” “Not at all. Here are your spare keys, so I don’t forget. Dinner is almost ready.”
Tina led Mrs Logan into the dining room. Beside the dining table Hughie was sitting in a high chair in his pink baby dress, suc-king on a large pink soother, looking out from the frilly trim of his bonnet. He had grown a few inches since his mid-teens and the dress rode so high on him that even in his seated position his matching frilly nappy cover could be seen bulging nicely beneath his petticoats.
He was strapped into the chair with a pink leather harness – his mother smiling at the familiar cute bunny on the breast plate – and his hands were in padded fingerless mittens strapped at the wrists. His legs dangled in pink wool-knit tights and his mother recognised the thick soled fleece booties.
“So I moved some of Hughie’s old things over here from your house – I hope you don’t mind”, Tina explained. “Not at all, I’m delighted to see them being put to good use again”, his mother responded. “Has little Hughie been a naughty boy?” she asked. “Not at all – I just thought he should know the consequences if he ever is.” “Very wise.”
“Would you like to give him his bottle?” Tina asked. “Of course.” His mother took her coat off while Tina fetched the large baby bottle from the pan of hot water that was warming it and handed it to her.
Hughie’s mother popped his soother out and immediately replaced it with the large teat of his bottle. “I hope you’ve been a good baby”, she teased him. Hughie suc-ked on the teat and winced a little on his first taste of warm milk for some time.
“Wine?” Tina asked. “Yes please?” Tina poured two glasses of the red she had already let breathe. Hughie saw that she had a bottle of his best vintage that he’d been keeping for a special occasion. “mmmpppfff!” His mother kept the teat of his bottle firmly pressed into his mouth so he could do nothing except whimper. Hughie wriggled against his harness but was held firmly in place.
“Cheers!” The two women clinked glasses, swirled the wine and took in the bouquet before taking a large mouthful. Hughie whimpered again through the teat. “I hope you are enjoying your special drink as much as we’re enjoying this”, she teased. Hughie frowned, slumped in his high chair and continued suc-king on his bottle.
Tina checked on the roast chicken. The smell filled the room as she opened the oven. “Oh lovely!” his mother licked her lips and checked how much progress Hughie was making with his bottle.
When he was finally finished, she popped his soother back in while he glared at the half empty bottle of vintage red on the table. Tina was laying out the knives and forks for dinner. Then she returned with a large plastic bowl of baby food. “Would you like to do the honours?”
Hughie groaned as his mother took the bowl and popped his soother back out. He looked longingly towards the kitchen as she pushed a spoonful of baby food into his mouth. Again, he winced at the tepid mush but she had the next spoonful ready as soon as he swallowed it.
Tina laid out the two plates of food while his mother continued his feeding. She placed them on the dining table just as his mother was carefully scraping up the last morsels of baby food.
Hughie slumped in his high chair, suc-king on his soother again, as they tucked into their dinner, continuing to wash it down with his vintage wine. He squirmed against his harness and kicked his pink legs trying to indicate that he wanted out of the high chair.
“Oh would you like your rattle to play with while we eat?” Tina asked. Hughie sighed. Tina fetched a circular rattle that had six different sounds and he took it between his mittens. He obediently tried each sound – knowing from experience that it was better to do what he was told when he was effectively a helpless baby.
They took their time to enjoy the dinner and wine while Hughie tried to eek some amusement from the rattle. When they sat back digesting Tina asked him “do you want to do anything in your nappy before you are put down for the night?” Hughie looked at the clock – it showed 6.30pm. He whimpered through his soother again.
“It might be wise to”, Tina encouraged him. I can’t see myself being up too early in the morning. We have another bottle of this to get through.” Hughie wriggled against his harness again. He only had the two bottles of that expensive vintage.
Tina got up and started to unbuckle his harness. She swung the tray up. “Why don’t you sit in your play-pen for a while and do what you need to do.” His mother smiled as he very carefully climbed down trying to stand on the toes of his booties. Then he got down on the floor and crawled towards the sitting room. She watched his frilly bottom wriggle out through the door and smiled at the layers of petticoats on view.
Tina opened the side gate on his play-pen and he crawled in and turned over to sit on his thickly nappied bottom. She returned to the dining room but they continued to observe Hughie as he turned over on his hands and knees and started trying to push out a poo. “Good baby! You know it makes sense.” Hughie glared at her momentarily before concentrating on the business at hand.
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DaraJaney,
Thank you for another chapter.
Tina is certainly making sure that Hughie knows his place in the household.
I would guess that Hughie's regression to sissy girl baby status is not just a short term thing.
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Great chapter I love that little Hughie has been given a really early bedtime that must be so humiliating for him.
Tina should let his former grown up friends know why he isn't allowed to drink alcohol and stay up past his bedtime nowadays.
Maybe her and his mummy should have a girl's night out. Of course sissy baby will need to have a babysitter. He couldn't be left on his own now, who would change his nappies.
Looking forward to your next instalment. 😀
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Eventually they saw Hughie turning over again and sitting ever so gingerly on his bottom wincing as he sat. Tina went over to the sitting room door, gave a quick sniff to confirm what she thought. “Good baby! We’ll get you changed once we’ve done all the washing up.”
She closed the door to keep the smell in that room but not before she heard a few protest whimpers from Hughie who had obviously been hoping for a more prompt change. Shortly after completing his poo, Hughie drenched his nappy with a lengthy pee.
It seemed like ages before they finally returned to free him from his play-pen. Tina opened the side gate and Hughie crawled out and towards the spare room where he knew his changing table and cot were set up. He winced as the surplus pee sloshed around inside his plastic pants. The ladies followed behind, admiring the frilly nappy cover and layers of petticoats fluttering as he crawled.
His mother looked at her watch. “Oh Big Brother is about to start.” Tina was removing Hughie’s booties – or crawling trainers. “Oh we don’t want to miss the start.” She lowered the side of Hughie’s cot and prompted him to climb in. “NNnggghh!” he protested through his soother. “Sorry we don’t have time to change you.”
The two women took an arm each and pushed him into the cot. They raised the side bars, which clicked into position and Tina checked that the baby proof catch was in place. Hughie scrambled to his knees and pawed at the side bars with his mittens. “NNNGGGGHHH!”
Tina picked up the baby monitor unit and instead of turning it on, put it in a drawer. “We won’t be needing that.” Hughie tried his best pleading look, suc-king wistfully on his soother and fluttering his eyelashes just under the frills of his pretty bonnet. But the draw of the TV was too great.
His mother was at the door holding the second bottle of vintage wine. Tina went to the door and looked back at her husband through the bars of his cot, still in his pink frilly baby dress with layers of petticoats and thick tights. It was going to be warm night for him though his saturated nappy would soon go cold. They smiled, secure in the knowledge that he was safely confined to his cot for the night and if they turned the TV up, they wouldn’t hear any crying or whimpering. “Nighty, night. Sleep tight!” Tina called back to him but gave a look that revealed that she knew he was unlikely to sleep tight.
Hughie fell back on his bottom and winced again as his excess pee merged with his poo. They were leaving him like this for the night. And goodness knows when his wife would be up in the morning. It wasn’t unusual for her to sleep off a hangover until noon.
He looked around his cot. His old dollie Susie was there. He picked her up and hugged her and suc-ked hard on his soother. He lay down on his side hoping that it would feel less icky but the load just shifted to one side and continued to ooze downwards. It was going to be a long night.
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On I think little Hughie is going to be suffering the indignity of having a severe case of nappy rash. Will he be taken to either his doctor or local chemist store to get some nappy rash cream?
Either way it's going to be very embarrassing for the big sissy baby to be exposed in such a way.
Another excellent chapter thank you.
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It was almost Noon before Tina came into the spare room to free Hughie from his cot. She immediately went to the window and threw it open. “You must be parched.” She handed him his baby bottle of milk. He was indeed parched and had gone through the baby bottle of water that had been left in his cot. He suc-ked eagerly on his milk.
They both braced themselves for what was going to be an unpleasant nappy change. “Luckily we have lots of nappy rash cream”, Tina commented as she spread it across his bright red bottom.
She reached for another thick cotton nappy. “Nnngggghhhh!” Hughie protested. He’d hoped it was just one day in nappies to make a point. “It’s a long holiday weekend and I want to see you in your other two baby dresses.” Hughie flopped back on the changing table while she pinned his clean nappy on.
She took his peach dress off its hangar and held it up admiringly. Even without a body in it the dress cut a pretty shape with its puffed sleeves and attached layers of petticoats. There was a slight whimper as she threw it over his head but he sat patiently on the changing table as she fastened the tiny buttons up the back.
She went to a drawer and took out a pair of white tights that had a nursery pattern of rattles and letter blocks. She pulled the tights over his feet and up his legs. He had to get down from the changing table so she could pull his tights up over his plastic pants and nappy.
He was now facing the mirror and could see that his flared dress only covered the top two inches or so of his nappy. The opaque tights may have kept his nappy out of view but it was quite obvious what was bulging underneath and he squirmed holding his thick padded mittens in front of his nappy area.
“Don’t worry, we have these”, Tina assured him, flopping out the large copiously frilly peach nappy cover. Hughie grimaced, unsure which was worse, his nappy ineffectively covered by tights or the mortifyingly frilly nappy cover. He wasn’t consulted on the matter anyway and Tina made him step into the nappy cover and pulled it up over his tights. “Good baby! Now if you continue to be good I’ll make sure you are promptly changed and we’ll tackle that nappy rash.”
She was now holding his peach bonnet. He particularly hated this one. She placed it on his head and tied the ribbons under his chin. This bonnet had a particularly restricting brim projecting in front for a few inches which meant he could only see directly in front of him and he had to turn his head right around if somebody spoke to him from the side. He was sure Tina, like his mother, would get added amusement by deliberately speaking to him from all sorts of different angles to force him to keep turning his head around.
So he didn’t see that she had fetched his crawling trainers until she was slipping the left one onto his foot. He whimpered through his soother in protest and being forced to crawl again but she ignored him and just buckled the strap around his ankle, quickly followed by the right one.
“Ok breakfast time”, she called out cheerfully as she walked quickly to the kitchen. “Or more like brunch I suppose”. Hughie gingerly climbed down off the changing table, got down on his hands and knees and crawled after her.
She directed him to his play-pen while she prepared his food. He crawled in and she closed the side bars behind him. The side bars weren’t as high as those on his cot but with his feet in the spiked booties there was no way he could stand up to climb out.
Tina picked up the TV remote, turned on the TV and started a DVD. Hughie winced. She’d also retrieved the DVD of “The Fairies” from his mother. “Now I want to hear you shaking your rattle to the music”, Tina told him as she turned the volume up. “Fairy Dancing Girl” was the song that came on first. Hughie sighed but then pulled himself together and smiled at Tina while starting to shake his rattle to the music. He needed his food.
As the second song started the caption came up “Song 2 of 40”, reminding him it was a two hour DVD, he could hear his food being scrapped out of a jar. He sighed – more baby food. Tina wheeled his high-chair into the room in front of the TV. He crawled over and climbed in. She strapped him in firmly, spoon fed him a large bowl of baby food before leaving him to enjoy the rest of the DVD. “Oops nearly forgot your rattle!” She handed him his rattle and waited pointedly until he started shaking it to the music.
“Actually that music is rather annoying isn’t it?” She stopped the DVD. Hughie looked at her hopefully. She took a set of ear buds and plugged them into the TV socket. She had to wheel his high-chair over right in front of the TV for the short lead to reach. She loosened his bonnet for a moment and pushed the buds into his ears before tying his bonnet back in place, which ensured the buds were held tightly in his ears.
She locked the wheels of his high-chair. The large flat-screen now filled the restricted view allowed by his bonnet. She pressed play. Hughie winced. The DVD resumed from the start again.
Tina smiled with satisfaction as she could no longer hear the annoying music. It filled Hughie’s ears instead, blocking out any other sounds. After she left he tried looking away from the TV for a while but he had to turn his head so far to get his bonnet to point away from the TV it hurt his neck. So he had no choice but to sit there in his high chair and watch the fairies dancing on the large screen to the irritatingly childish songs. He knew he had to keep shaking his rattle if he wanted prompt feeding and changing.
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DaraJaney,
Those last two chapters are really something!
Sissy Baby Hughie really knows now that Tina really means business after being left all night and the next morning in his pee and poop filled nappy. He will obey or else.
What further humiliations await him on this long weekend and after?
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As well as his mother’s ‘baby’ pictures, Tina now had lots of photos of adult Hughie in his baby dresses and nappies so it was never any problem getting him back into nappies again if he didn’t want his friends to see the mortifying photos.
Tina decided that she wanted to meet her old college friends and arranged for her younger sister Sam to babysit Hughie. Sam had a two-year old named Chloe.
Chloe laughed when she saw Hughie in his pink baby dress, sitting in his play-pen, clutching a doll. “Would you like a pretty dress like that Chloe?” Tina asked. Chloe made a face “ugh, no!” “Doesn’t Baby Hughie look pretty in it?” Chloe giggled and nodded.
“I’m going to change now”, Tina told them. “Would you like to give Baby Hughie his dinner?” she asked Chloe. Chloe clapped her hands happily “yes!” Tina opened the side bars of his play-pen and Hughie crawled out towards his high chair. “Baby Hughie’s wearing a nappy!” Chloe laughed again. “That’s right. He’s not able for pull-ups like you” Sam told her.
“How is the potty training going?” Tina asked. “Good, she’s getting the hang of it”, Sam confirmed. Hughie climbed into his high chair and Sam strapped him in. They placed a chair beside him so that Chloe could stand on it to feed him. She giggled at the sight of this man – almost her uncle – in a pink baby dress, thick nappy, pink tights and booties, strapped into a high-chair, suc-king on a large soother, helpless as a real baby. Chloe enjoyed every moment of making him suc-k on his bottle and then spoon-feeding him his gooey baby food.
Hughie’s jaw dropped when Tina walked in again. She was wearing a very tight, low cut and short coc-ktail dress. As she tottered around in six-inch heels, he was sure he could see stocking tops as the stiff net petticoat of her dress fluttered. She was dressed much more sexily than she had ever dressed for him.
He would have been aroused by it had she not locked his member in a small tight chastity device – making sure that nothing happened with her sister when she was changing him.
“Now, have I got everything?” Tina wondered out loud. She opened her handbag. “Condoms, lubricant, breath mints …” A whimper came from the high-chair. He desperately hoped she was teasing him. “Right! You guys have fun”, she said as she smiled at Hughie in his high-chair. She twirled to go out the door and Hughie caught a glimpse of her suspender straps as she did so.
When Hughie’s feed was over Sam asked “will we see if Baby Hughie can use the potty before he goes to bed?” “Oh yes!” Chloe clapped her hands in anticipation of seeing this man hovering over a potty. Hughie was appalled as Sam let him out of his high chair and unstrapped his crawling trainers so he could stand.
She led him to the changing table in the spare room – now part-time nursery. She removed his nappy cover, tights, pulled down his plastic pants and unpinned his nappy. “Oh look!” She took his chastity device in her hands and moved it this way and that, examining how it was securely held in place by a ring behind his testicles and she jiggled the little padlock.
Hughie gurgled through his soother, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as his member pressed hard against the sides of the plastic tube and she continued to handle his normally private parts. “I see there’s a little slit so Baby Hughie can do his business.”
Chloe placed her plastic potty in the centre of the room. Sam pulled Hughie off the changing table. “NNnnggghhh!” he protested. He didn’t want to be wandering around the room with his nappy off and his imprisoned member dangling between his legs.
But what concerned him most was that he had never been able to urinate in company. He’d always used cubicles in public toilets because if he stood at a urinal and anyone else came in, he just couldn’t perform.
Sam tugged him over until he stood over the potty. He was desperate to pee but desperately did not want to like this. Chloe was giggling as she looked on. He had no choice but to try. He squatted over the potty and tried to pee. Nothing. He tried to think of something else to relax. But how could he think of anything other than the fact that he was squatting over a potty with his member dangling in a chastity device, wearing a big pink frilly baby dress and bonnet, suc-king on a soother, his hands disabled in mittens and his girlfriend’s little sister and her two-year old girl watching him fail to perform.
“Go on!” Sam encouraged. He winced. Chloe laughed and clapped her hands. “Oh it doesn’t look like Baby Hughie can use a potty”, Sam sighed. “Let’s give him a few minutes.” Chloe clapped her hands excitedly again. Hughie squirmed as he continued to try to bring an end to this humiliation.
But he just couldn’t. “Never mind”, Sam consoled him. “Let’s get your nappy back on.” Hughie eagerly climbed back up on the changing table, never so happy to be pinned into a nappy with his plastic pants restored.
“Why don’t you show Baby Hughie how it’s done?” She helped Chloe take off her pants and then lowered her pull-ups. Chloe immediately peed into the potty. “Good girl! See? That’s how it’s done.” Hughie winced as listening to the jet of pee made his need to go impossible to resist.
“Oh look! Baby Hughie is wetting his nappy now!” Sam noticed as pee clearly started building up at the lowest point of his plastic pants. Chloe was finished and stood laughing and pointing at his nappy. “Baby Hughie is obviously more comfortable wetting his nappy than using a potty. Tina will be interested to hear that.”
Hughie was mortified but relieved to be changed immediately. Sam lowered the side bars of his cot so he could climb in. She slapped his thickly nappied bottom as he climbed in and his short pink nightie rode up.
Hughie sat in his cot, looking up sheepishly beneath his lace-trimmed bonnet as he suc-ked hard on his soother following his failure to use the potty. Sam raised the side bars until they clicked into place. “Check that the baby proof catch is in place Chloe.” Her little daughter, turned the handle on the catch so it was flush with the side bars and Hughie would be unable to open it with his hands disabled in mittens.
“Nighty night!” Sam turned on the musical mobile dangling over his cot and flicked the switch on the baby monitor. “Sweet dreams!” Chloe smiled and waved happily through the bars at Baby Hughie.
“Do you like babysitting Baby Hughie?” Sam asked. Chloe nodded and giggled. “Good, because Tina said she’ll be meeting her friends monthly. Maybe next time Baby Hughie will be able to use the potty for us.”
Hughie watched them leave the room, sniffling and glumly clutching his dolly. He could hear them go to the sitting room and turn on the TV. Sam placed the other part of the baby monitor on the coffee table and smiled at Chloe as they heard him shake his rattle in time with the nursery rhyme.
THE END
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Great chapter how humiliating for Hughie to be babysat by not only his sister in law but also her toddler niece. Baby Hughie seems as if he will be in nappies a long long time. His niece might want to give baby all her toys which she has grown to big for to be playing with.
It's a shame this seems to be the end of this story. I had hoped it would continue for a while yet.
Thanks for the excellent writing of this wonderful story.
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DaraJaney,
Like all good things, this had to come to an end, and you left us wanting more!
I liked Hughie being babysat by Tina's younger sister with help from her two year old daughter who mocked him for his baby dress, nappies, bottle and spoon feeding his baby food.
I really liked the finishing touches of Tina dressing super sexy and carrying condoms in her purse, having a bladder too shy to use the potty in front of the audience. and finally finding out this will happen every month.
I would like to join Sissy Poopsie, sarahpenguin, and the other readers in saying thank you for your wonderful story and that we are eagerly awaiting your future writing.
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I agree that one always hates seeing such a wonderful, creative, well-written story reach its end. I found it to be one of my favorites - and want to thank you for the time, expertise and creative energy that went into its creation.
jenniesissy
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I know this was published a while ago, but I just read it yesterday and today.
Another great story. I like how each boy can 'graduate' to the next level if they cooperate with their treatment.