Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Menu => Active Sissy Stories => Topic started by: DaraJaney on September 18, 2022, 05:12:19 AM
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Tom’s mother went to answer the door. Outside was an attractive young woman. “Mrs Gordon?” she enquired. “Yes, that’s me” his mother responded, clearly curious what this unexpected call was about. Tom approached behind her, similarly wondering what this nice young lady wanted. Then they noticed a cameraman who had been off to the side of the door. He came around behind the woman and focused in on Tom and his Mum.
“I’m Martha. You made an application to the ‘Make a Wish’ TV series.” “Yes”, his mother answered, growing increasingly excited. Tom knew nothing about this. “Well, we have decided to … grant your wish!” She spoke the last three words as if they were a catchphrase. Tom was aware of this popular show but never watched it.
“Oh my goodness!” his mother was beside herself. “And your wish was?” Martha prompted her. “To have a daughter!” Tom frowned. What? Martha continued “and today Anna Gordon you will have a daughter”. She then looked at Tom. “And you will have a sister!” Tom gave a fairly weak smile supposing that they expected him to be happy about this. But he’d never particularly wanted a sister – a brother to play football with maybe – but a sister, pah!
They were bundled into a limo to be driven to the TV Studio. His mother knew how this worked. They would record pieces like the doorstep surprise and then further pieces in the studio and on location, depending on what the wish was. Martha was in the seat opposite them. “Are you excited to have a sister?” she asked Tom. He looked at his mother as if to ask “do I have to say yes?” She frowned at him. “You’ve always wanted a little sister!” “Since when?” he disagreed. “I remember you saying you wanted to have a little sister!” she protested. “When I was three maybe!” he scoffed.
His mother was disappointed. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have one now though?” Tom gave a look of incredulity. “No! Flouncing around in pretty dresses, playing with dolls? Nah! Girls are stupid!” Both his mother and Martha frowned. Tom realised belatedly that this wasn’t the best audience to air his views about girls. “That’s hardly a very progressive view of girls nowadays”, Martha was clearly cross with him. Tom was a little put out by that – he liked to try to please pretty young women. What was Martha? Twenty? He wasn’t the least bit put off by the fact that he was only 12.
They arrived at the studio and Tom was told to sit in the waiting area while his mother was taken into the studio area by Martha. A few minutes later she came back through the doors accompanied by a young girl who looked a bit peeved. “Sorry about that but you will still be paid and we’ll find you another opportunity” Martha told her. Then Martha looked over at Tom. “Come along then.”
He was led into a dressing room. His mother was in a chair in front of a mirror having studio make-up applied. Tom was motioned to get into another of the chairs. When he did, it was swung around away from the mirror. Martha stood in front of him. Two very attractive make-up ladies flanked him. Tom smiled at them, eager to make a good impression on them. Martha was still looking rather pissed with him so he thought he’d lost his chance there.
One of the two women started to remove his t-shirt which took him by surprise. He noticed, hanging on a clothes rail behind Martha, was a jacket and white shirt with a tie slung over it. There was also a pair of trousers there and then various costumes. He supposed that his t-shirt and jeans weren’t the look the show was going for and they wanted him to wear something more respectable.
The other woman reached for his belt. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to undress in front of all these women but they were very attractive when they smiled and they seemed very pleased with Tom when he cooperated.
He sat in the chair with his hands cupped over the front of his briefs. The chair was pushed back towards a sink and they started washing his hair. “I suppose I always liked him to have his hair a bit long since I didn’t have a daughter”, his mother observed. Tom made a face. He hated going to the barbers, that was all.
He was a bit puzzled at the smell of some of the lotions – they must be conditioners, he presumed – that the women were working into his hair. One of them started smearing make-up on his face. This didn’t particularly worry him as he knew enough about TV to know that everyone needed make-up to look presentable on the TV screen. He did wonder what all the pulling at his hair was about but he still had his back to the mirror so could see nothing.
A plastic cap was put over his hair and he was quickly steered towards one of those enormous hairdryers which was promptly lowered over his head. He was aware that some of the male football TV programme presenters had fashionably big hair so wasn’t too fazed by this.
Before he was freed from the drier Martha came over and sat beside him. “Your lips are so dry, do you never use chapsticks?” Tom frowned and shook his head. That was another thing he associated with silly girls, but again, he needed to look his best for TV. So he let Martha apply it.
Just as the drier was finally taken away, one of the make-up ladies reached for the clothes rail. But she didn’t take the shirt and jacket as he expected. She reached behind that and took out a pink dress, with puffed sleeves and a heavily flared skirt. She walked towards Tom. His jaw dropped.
His mother, Martha and the two make-up ladies stood between him and the door. Martha removed his plastic cap and as he looked in the mirror a bundle of curls unfolded down to his shoulders. He saw also that the chapstick had obviously been a pink lipstick!
“We had planned for that girl you saw leaving earlier to be your mother’s daughter for the show and your sister”, Martha explained. “But after hearing your views about ‘stupid’ girls, we decided to change plans. You are going to be your mother’s daughter and maybe you’ll learn to appreciate girls!”
“No!” Tom protested. But there were four of them. They got the dress on him and buttoned it up the back. Two of them held his arms while Martha pulled white opaque tights up his legs and under his skirt. His mother pulled pink ankle socks with white lace around the top over his feet and quickly buckled pink t-bar shoes with a two-inch heel over them. Martha meanwhile was tying two thick pink ribbons through his curls in a complex weave before tying big bows on top.
They let him go. He was appalled. He looked in the mirror and stood with his arms hovering above the heavily flared skirt – as if he would be further contaminated by touching something so sissy. But eventually his urge to try to push it down took over. The dress was very short on him. “The dress was meant for that girl who is only 9 years old. I thought it mightn’t fit him but it does – just about.” Martha gave a satisfied smile.
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you are doomed now little girl by being mean to women in a dara janey tale. i hope you will be a baby girl for halloween being taken trick or treating by your mommy wearing a my first halloween baby costumme dress strapped iinto a pretty pink stroller. remember always to be polite :)
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“No! It’s too short!” Tom protested, trying to tug the short hem of his pink dress down. “Well if you are worried about your modesty”, one of the make-up women interjected as she moved towards the clothes rail. She removed a hanger that had a pair of pink panties with lace trim and three rows of frills around front and back. Tom was speechless as he backed off, as if the devil was approaching. He backed into the chair and flopped into it. The two make-up women took the opportunity to hook the panties over his feet and up under his dress.
He was freed again. He looked aghast in the mirror. The two big ribbons in his hair were mortifying. He reached up to try to take them off but they were so thoroughly threaded through his curls that it was impossible. The women were all giggling. He looked in the mirror again and saw that, as he reached up to the ribbons, his dress rode up revealing two rows of frills on his panties. He quickly lowered his arms again and decided against any further vain attempts to remove the embarrassing ribbons.
Martha and his Mum grabbed an arm each and led him to the door. “No please!” But he was unbalanced by his two-inch heels and was easily ushered along. They took him out into the corridor. There were a few people passing by. Tom cringed expecting a thorough mocking from anyone who saw him. But of course it was not unusual to see people in all sorts of costumes in a TV studio. So people definitely looked him up and down and smiled but nobody thought too much of it.
Nobody appeared to realise that he was a boy. Which was a relief but when he thought about it, he was not happy that he could be so easily made to appear like a stupid little girl. He was going to have to stop thinking of girls as stupid though - look at the trouble it had gotten him into!
Martha and his mum started walking along the corridor. He tried to follow rather than be left standing around on his own in the stupid dress. He stumbled along in his unfamiliar heels. They stopped. “People are probably going to suspect you are a boy if you don’t walk more like a girl”, Martha observed. Tom thought about how to mince around like a stupid girl …. like a girl, he corrected himself, but he reckoned that might only get him into more trouble for having a poor impression of girls.
They could see he didn’t know what to do. “Come along”, Martha ordered and moved towards the reception area. Tom did his best to follow without looking too much like a sissy. Martha went out the doors to the street. Tom cringed. He really didn’t want to go out in public like this. “It’s just a few doors down”, Martha tried to reassure him. He tottered along uncertainly.
A few doors down the street was Mrs. Harding’s School of Deportment. “Good idea”, his mother agreed. Tom winced but was anxious to get in off the street where his juvenile pink frilly dress was attracting more attention.
They went into a studio where ten girls were lined up in front of the instructor. Martha took Mrs Harding aside and had a private chat. They looked at Tom who squirmed in his white tights. Was she telling him that he was a boy? Could the girls tell? They were smirking and giggling but, while they were all wearing dresses, his was easily the sissiest despite obviously being a few years older than any of them, so it might be just that.
“Very good now, come along Tom” Mrs Harding motioned to him to join the line of girls. The girls all looked at each other astonished. They clearly hadn’t realised this was a boy. Well, why would they with his pink dress, white tights, frilly ankle socks, curly hair tied up with pink ribbons and pink lipstick? Mrs Harding tried to bring the giggling and laughter to an end as Tom joined the end of the line. He was at least six inches taller than any of the girls.
“Leave him with me. I have a series of one hour classes all day so I will keep at it and give you a call when I think he is ready.” Tom’s jaw dropped as his mother and Martha left him there. He was clearly going to have to endure a series of different groups of girls witnessing his mortification – unless he learned fast and got out of there.
He had been worried earlier that if he minced around like a sissy girl, that he would get into trouble. But that was exactly what it felt like Mrs Harding was teaching him to do. He had to walk across the studio with his arms held out daintily above his flared skirt. She trained him to place one foot directly in front of the other while he walked which felt like it could only be done by wiggling his bottom while he moved along.
He had to learn to curtsey and how to sit and stand while managing his short dress. He had to learn to pick something off a low coffee table without bending over and revealing his pink frilly panties. That took a lot of practice with the girls lined up behind him, they were only too happy to burst into giggles whenever they saw a peek of frills.
Despite his best efforts he had to endure two more hours in the company of new groups of girls before Mrs Harding phoned Martha to say he was ready. A camera crew turned up with her and his mother to capture the final minutes of Tom’s training. He was trying to put the thoughts of appearing on TV like this to the back of his mind. It would be the end of his life as we know it. He had to find a way out of it but right now he was just concerned with getting out of these deportment classes so had to try his best to be convincing.
It didn’t help that this latest group of girls were barely more than toddlers but he was still the most sissily dressed and it was particularly mortifying to have them laugh at his efforts and giggle at his frilly panties.
He noticed that his mother was now dressed up. When Mrs Harding allowed him to leave, she told him to demonstrate his well-practiced curtsey to her. He was mortified having to do his most perfect effeminate curtsey while everyone looked on, otherwise he risked another hour of deportment. His mother clapped with delight as he held his skirt out and dipped daintily in front of her. “You look just ready for a nice meal in a posh restaurant”, she told him. Tom cringed but was desperate to get out of there so didn’t protest.
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Quite a great deal of work to grant her wish for the day!
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Who said it was just for a day? ;)
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Heads turned as they entered the restaurant. Tom could feel the ribbons in his hair fluttering while he focused on trying to hold his dress down while he sat, hoping not to give away any flashes of pink frilly panties. He looked ridiculous enough.
He had to sit there smiling as if he was having a lovely time with his mommy as the cameras captured footage. The crew were still there when he needed the toilet. He really didn’t want to go while they were still recording but there was no sign of them leaving.
Eventually he had to ask. “Please may I go to the bathroom?” “Of course dear. Remember it’s the little girls’ room today” she tittered. He sighed heavily and desperately tried to keep his flared skirt down as he stood. His mother giggled as he walked towards the bathroom, eyes in front and arms held right down by his side, occasionally fumbling with his hands to confirm his dress wasn’t poking up at the back. His discomfort in his very short dress was most amusing.
He passed some tables with teenage boys leering at him. He knew only too well himself how much naughty pleasure he got from glimpsing a girl’s panties. If these boys saw his especially pink and frilly panties, he knew they would probably explode!
His mother certainly wasn’t rushing the meal, enjoying the attention her pretty ‘daughter’ was getting. Martha sat at the table. “So we’ve booked you into the Four Seasons for the night.” “Oh wonderful!” his mother was thrilled. Tim winced. He was pretty sure there would be no boy’s clothes waiting for him there.
Their room had a double bed and a single. The single had an apricot chiffon nightie slung across it. “Oh adorable!” his mother picked it up and underneath there was a pair of matching panties with three rows of frills all around as well as lace trim at the leg-openings.
He was keen to take the embarrassing dress, tights, frilly ankle socks and panties off but his night attire was no better. Of course the nightie was short and he had no choice but to wear the frilly panties or his boy parts would be on display.
Martha left them with promise of more surprises in the morning. As his mother rolled his hair onto curlers to preserve his ‘do’, she tried to remember what else she had wished for with her daughter in the letter she’d sent to the show.
In the morning all was revealed. “You are going to visit a dress shop to fit out your daughter for an imaginary First Communion ceremony!” Martha told them. Once again his mother was delighted. All her Christmases were coming at once. (That made her think – wouldn’t he look gorgeous in a red plaid dress with white fur trimmings and maybe green and red striped tights! But first things first.) Martha, noticing Tom’s lack of enthusiasm, assured him “we’ve booked a private fitting in the shop”. That was some small mercy.
But Tom never felt so uncomfortable in his life as he did standing in the shop crammed with pretty flouncy Communion dresses, flowergirl dresses, bridesmaids dresses and wedding dresses. There were enormous petticoats hanging everywhere, lacey gloves and stockings and veils and bonnets. He couldn’t move without brushing against something even more sissy than the dress he was wearing.
He stood there while his mother considered a rack of Communion dresses. She selected a ballet-length dress. The shop owner, Mrs Collins, considered him dubiously. “Obviously finding a size to fit him may be a limiting factor”. Tom wondered would he be spared if they simply couldn’t find a dress to fit him. He tried to look as big and butch as possible – not easy in a pink frilly dress.
His mother selected another full length dress but the lady sighed. “I really don’t think any of these are going to fit him. “Maureen!” she called. “Can you bring out that rack for plumper little girls?” The door to the store room opened and Maureen wheeled in a rack of dresses they obviously preferred to keep out of sight except in cases of emergency.
Maureen took a full-length dress from the rack and held it up to Tom. “This will be maybe tea-length on him”. Tom could see the wider bodice on the dress was more his size. He was fretting.
“And this knee-length would probably be too short”, Maureen concluded putting it back on the rack. “Wait a moment”, his mother stopped her. “That beadwork is exquisite.” Maureen let her take a closer look. “I love it. Let’s try this one on him.”
Tom cringed as he had to take off his pink dress. The ladies tried to be as professional as possible and not laugh too much at his pink frilly panties but it was difficult. At least when the Communion dress was thrown over him it covered those embarrassing panties. Maureen struggled with the buttons at the back. Tom saw a glimmer of hope. She gave a firm tug which seemed to free the dress from a snag on one side. “There we go!” she announced with satisfaction as she did up the rest of the buttons.
They all stood back. The dress flared just below his chest and he could see it only came half-way to his knees. His mother smiled at the beading again. “This is definitely the one.” “Very good. Petticoats?” Mrs Collins ran her hands through the lacey hems of several snow white petticoats dangling from the ceiling. Tom felt sick.
His mother had a closer look. “Oh I like this one with alternating powder pink and white layers.” Maureen brought it down on a hooked pole. Tom winced. They were easily the sissiest petticoats in the selection – and it was a wide selection.
But soon his mother was pulling the petticoats up under his dress and tied them in place. Tom could see it made the dress even shorter. The ladies all smiled broadly. He tried desperately to push the layers of organza down as much as he could. “Stop it dear”, his mother admonished him.
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Mmmmm bonnets :)
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It's just trying on a few dresses. What's the worst that can happen, right?
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This is really good.
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Mrs Collins spoke in a whisper to discuss a personal matter. “Those bright pink panties don’t really go with the delicate powder pink of the petticoats though.” Tom frowned and resumed trying to push down his petticoats. He looked in the mirror and couldn’t see any pink panties peeking but it had to be a close thing.
The ever-helpful Maureen told them to wait a moment. She rummaged in some boxes and produced a pair of white panties with powder pink frills across the seat. “Perfect!” his mother concluded. As his mother pulled his old pink panties down, he wondered frustratedly why there was all this fuss about underwear that shouldn’t be seen anyway.
His mother pulled his new panties on him and the ladies stood back behind him. He was facing the mirror and was satisfied that there was no panty showing. “Just lean forward a little” his mother put a little pressure on his shoulder and he leaned forward as little as he could.
“Oh yes, lovely!” He was disturbed how little he was leaning forward to presumably give them a view of the powder pink frills on his panties. “Now tights!” Mrs Collins declared. “Some people think they are tacky but we have these lacey tights with crucifixes in the pattern amongst rose buds.” “Sounds wonderful!” his mother reckoned and soon he was standing in the lacey white tights with Maureen tugging them this way and that to get the crucifix pattern straight.
Once Maureen showed them the ankle socks with powder pink lace around the top Tom knew there was no stopping them. White strapped shoes with a two inch heel were added. It took Maureen a while to find white gloves with powder pink lace at the wrist but she was determined and they loved the consistency of his accessories.
Tom reckoned he must he nearing the end of this torture. He just had to get it over with. “So just a veil, parasol and bag left to choose”, the lady told them. Tom sighed heavily. He could see a dozen parasols at the ceiling and that one of them had powder pink frills along the spokes and he took some consolation that it wouldn’t take them long to choose it. He harboured hopes that a veil might help hide his embarrassed face but these days it seems that a minimal veil draping down the back of his curls was all that was required.
Eventually he was posing for the camera in his short, heavily poufed Communion dress with lacey crucifix patterned tights, pink frills on his ankle socks, pink lace on the wrist of his white gloves, white veil floating over his curls, clutching an opened parasol in one hand and a little white handbag in the other. He was made to walk up and down the shop. His petticoats rocked unnervingly and he didn’t have any free hands to hold them down. He didn’t like that the camerawoman had knelt down to get a lower angle shot. Were his white panties with powder pink frills going to be seen on national TV?
He tried to think could he get a good lawyer to get him out of this. Surely they couldn’t show all of this on TV without his permission – and there was no way he was giving it. But then he reckoned parents can usually give permission on behalf of minors.
He was so relieved when they decided it was a wrap. “So the next surprise is that there is a First Communion day going on today in the next town and they’ve agreed that Tom can join it!” Tom was aghast. He thought he was about to take off the horrendous outfit and accessories but instead he was going to be paraded in public in it! “You said it was an imaginary First Communion!” he protested. “Well yes”, Martha was unfazed, “you won’t be in the actually ceremony – you can only receive your First Communion once after all. But we’ll be taking part in all the photos afterwards.”
Tom pleaded as he was ushered out of the shop. He’d already tried to reach the little buttons up the back of his dress but it was useless. Outside a gust caught his petticoats and parasol and he was helpless to do anything about either. He could see people on the street staring at him. He must have made quite a sight even if they just thought he was a rather large girl for a Communion dress.
A limo door opened in front of him. He needed to get out of sight as quickly as possible. So he tried to climb in but couldn’t without taking down his parasol. He fiddled urgently with the catch but the powder pink lace of his gloves caught in it and he had to struggle with it. He realised that he was half bent forward, having tried to get into the car and his frilly panties were surely on display. The tittering behind him was supporting evidence for that.
Eventually the parasol collapsed and he dived into the car. The door was closed by someone outside and he found himself being whisked away towards the church. He couldn’t believe he was sitting there in a Communion dress about to be shown off to a church full of people. In his seated position his petticoats only came to his knees and he could see his mortifying lacey tights and frilly ankle socks as he went to his doom.
When they got there it looked mercifully quiet around the church. The congregation were still inside and were lining up photographs on the altar. Tom was marched down the centre aisle with his hard heels clicking on the tiles making everyone turn around.
“We told them we needed some footage for a new drama series where a teenage girl is remembering her younger childhood”, Martha explained. “That should prepare them for seeing a girl rather old for her Communion dress”, she smiled at Tom.
The communicants were lined up on the three rows of steps at the front of the altar. Tom noted their elegant full-length and ballet length dresses and how the girls and mothers smirked at his short poufey dress and gaudy powder pink accessories.
They positioned Tom at the side on the lowest step so it looked like he was just as tall as the children on the top step. He tried to shuffle in a bit so his short dress, lacey tights and frilly ankle socks couldn’t be seen but Martha manoeuvred him back again. “If you want this to be over quickly then do what you’re told!” He grimaced but stayed where he was as the cameras flashed and the TV camera rolled.
There were more photos taken outside where Tom was made to put up his parasol making him stand out even more. He could see mothers tittering to each other at what they thought was an older girl in the most juvenile dress.
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Tom really should've paid more attention to the things his mother wished she had a daughter for. At least that way, he'd have an idea of what other torments await him.
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“We’re all having tea in the parish hall”, one of the ladies told his mother who didn’t need a second invitation. “That’s very kind of you, come along … eh … Tina!” Tom was momentarily taken aback at his new name but had no choice but to follow them into the parish hall – anything was better than standing around the church in the middle of the crowd.
His mother pressed a tea cup and saucer into his white gloved hand and a plate with a slice of lemon drizzle cake into the other. “Sit over there.” He hovered over the plastic chair wondering how to control his petticoats with both of his hands full. He tried to swish the petticoats under his bottom as he sat but they tipped up at the front making him jump up again, concerned that his powder pink frills would be seen. Eventually he figured out if he just sank into the middle of the petticoats, it worked better.
His mother was full of chat, no doubt eager to make the whole experience last longer as she admired Tom in his pretty outfit. Eventually they went to leave. Tom was eager to get out the door while his mother was still making her goodbyes.
The Communion boys were all gathered in a semi-circle outside – no doubt bored with the fussily feminine goings on inside. A gust of wind caught Tom’s petticoats outside the building and they fluttered right up in front of him. His attempts to push them down again were clearly too late as the boys smirked and elbowed each other sniggering. His mother hadn’t appeared but he was desperate to get away from these boys who now knew what he was wearing under his dress. But they deliberately blocked his way.
He was a foot taller than all the little twerps but knew it wouldn’t do to engage in thumping them. He was sure to get into big trouble if he dirtied his Communion dress or tore his lacey tights in a fight. His mother came out at last. “Ah I see you have a lot of admirers!” The boys were suddenly smiling as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. “Come along now Tom … oh!” his mother realised her mistake. Tom’s guts felt like they dropped several inches.
The boys’ jaws were collectively dropping. He could see them looking anew at his short poufy dress, lacey tights, frilly socks and gloves and especially those powder pink frills on his panties. He took advantage of their surprise to stomp through the circle but it looked more like mincing in his two-inch heels.
Back in the Four Seasons he never thought he’d be so relieved to be back in his pink dress and plain white tights. Martha was consulting her clipboard. Oh no, what’s the next torture, he wondered.
“So your cousin Fiona is getting married tomorrow and she’s going to have an extra flowergirl!” Tom winced while his mother clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh yes, another dream of mine!”
He desperately tried to think of some way out of this but he had no boy’s clothes and where was he going to go in his frilly pink dress. Who was he going to complain to and reveal that he was a twelve-year-old boy dressed like a six-year-old girl?
The following morning he was driven to the dress shop where the females of the wedding party were being prepared. Three bridesmaids were fussing over each other in their elegant slim pastel pink dresses. Tom’s second cousin Louise was dressed in a matching junior bridesmaid dress. He hadn’t met her often but when he did he always tried to make the most of being one-year her senior by making her feel inferior. In her heels she was now as tall as him.
Then two little second cousins emerged from the fitting rooms giggling in bo-peep style pastel pink dresses and bonnets. Tom threw his eyes up – more sissy girls!
“So would you have a junior bridesmaid dress to fit him?” Martha asked the store staff. They rummaged in the rack of identical pastel pink dresses examining the size labels. They eventually pulled out a dress similar to Louise’s but not so slim.
His mother didn’t seem so pleased. Louise frowned too. “I’m supposed to be the only junior bridesmaid!” She clearly wasn’t happy at the prospect of having to share the limelight with a partner – especially one making the dress look so dowdy.
“I was really thinking of a flowergirl dress”, his mother added. The shop ladies looked at each other. “He’s really rather large for that.” Still, one of them dutifully went to the rack of pastel pink bo-peep style flowergirl dresses and went straight to the far end. She took the largest dress out and examined inside the bodice. “This could be let out a bit”, she suggested.
The dress was whisked away to a sewing machine at the back of the shop. “Mum please!” Tom begged but he could see she was smiling at him trying to imagine how the dress would look on him.
She didn’t have to imagine for long. Once Tom’s pink dress was whisked off him, he was again anxious not to be left standing in front of everyone in his pink frilly panties so had to cooperate with being dressed in the altered frock.
It buttoned up the back no problem and one of the ladies had already found multi-layered petticoats to do under it. Pink frilled ankle socks were pulled over his feet and mercifully flat pink dolly shoes were strapped over them.
But when he stood up, he saw that Louise now towered over him in her heels – an effect compounded by the fact that she was wearing an elegant junior bridesmaid dress while he was in a bo-peep flowergirl dress.
Then he saw his mother coming towards him with a bonnet. “No please!” She ignored his pleas and placed the bonnet on his curls. “You have to match the other flowergirls sweetie!” she smiled as she tied the ribbon tightly under his chin.
“Right let’s go”, the lead bridesmaid clapped her hands. His mother brought the two little flowergirls either side of him. “Now hold Tom’s hands.” The little girls giggled as they clasped his hands tightly, clearly amused at Tom in his matching dress but much shorter on him than their ankle length dresses.
He was pulled along as they enthusiastically headed for the door and then for the limo outside. He was nervous as the wind caught his short petticoats but the little girls held his hands tightly and he had to try to ignore the likely reason for the giggling from Louise behind him.
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Of course the assembled wedding party had to have lots of photos taken before and after the ceremony. Other members of the wedding party were clearly nudging each other and wondering about the larger flowergirl in the much-too-short bo-peep dress and bonnet. Louise was revelling in her role in charge of the flowergirls, making sure that Tom and his little companions were out front in every photo.
At the meal, he had to sit at the kiddies table and to be honest he was more appropriately dressed for it. Little girls much younger than him were giggling at his embarrassingly flouncy outfit. The little boys were clearly trying to get glimpses of his frilly panties every time he moved. He supposed he would if he was in their position. He didn’t like how often they sniggered conspiratorially.
After the meal, the bridemaids and flowergirls all disappeared and returned having changed into more normal clothes. Tom still sat there in his bo-peep flowergirl’s dress and bonnet as Louise appeared in a pants suit and the little flowergirls now ran around in jeans. “Sorry we don’t have any clothes for you to change into”, his mother smiled. She clearly wasn’t sorry at all as she looked admiringly from his bonnet, down his bo-peep dress and mountainous petticoats, his frilly socks and pink dolly shoes.
He just wanted to sit there holding his petticoats firmly down but that wasn’t going to be allowed. The bridesmaids pulled him up to dance when the music got going. Holding his hands tightly they made sure to make him swing and twirl and there was nothing he could do to stop his petticoats swirling and undoubtedly flashing his frilly panties in the centre of the dancefloor.
Towards the end of the night Louise told him – “there was nothing to stop you removing your pretty bonnet but I guess you must really like it”, she tittered. Tom cringed. She was right. He’d become so used to his bonnet during the day it hadn’t even occurred to him to remove it. People must have thought he was quite happy to be there in his complete bo-peep dress and bonnet.
The next morning there was to be no reprieve. “I seem to remember there was something else I had mentioned in my letter but I suppose it was a bit fanciful”, his mother mentioned to Martha. “Oh with our wardrobe and props departments I think anything is possible”, she responded with a knowing smile that Tom didn’t like.
He was finally brought home and scampered into his house before he could be seen in his pink dress. He was relieved to be allowed go to his room and take off the sissy clothes. His mother suggested a bath first and he readily agreed being keen to wash off all the icky sissyness that seemed to stick to him.
After his bath he came out of the bathroom in a robe wondering what had happened its belt. “What about the hair?”, he asked his mother, having been reminded of his stubborn curls in the bathroom mirror. “We’ll need a professional to get you back to normal when the time comes.” “What do you mean when the time comes?” “There’s just one final special treat.” “What? No!”
His mother steered him towards the games room at the back of the house. She opened the door to reveal that the room had been completely redecorated as a nursery! Clearly a girl’s nursery at that – it was all pink and white frills.
Then he saw a smiling Martha in the corner. His mother whipped the bathrobe off him – made a lot easier by the planned absence of the belt. Tom desperately covered his private parts from Martha’s view. He tried to run from the room but the camerawoman and boom operator had come in and blocked the door.
His mother calmly patted the vinyl cover of a large changing table which already had a thick cotton nappy in a nursery print opened on it. “You’d better hop up here if you don’t want to be filmed in your birthday suit.” Tom cringed but climbed up on the table and his mother quickly wrapped the nappy around his waist and up through his legs and pinned it with two pink-tipped pins. “There we are”, his mother said cheerfully, “dignity restored.” Dignity? Tom didn’t think so as he sat there in a nappy being filmed for public TV.
“Please mum numph…” His protest was silenced by a large soother being pushed into his mouth. “Now, now. This is the last surprise so just play along and it will soon be over.” His mother reached for a pair of plastic pants while Tom considered his options. She hooked them over his feet and made him raise his bottom while she pulled them up over his nappy. “See, much quicker if you cooperate.” Tom sighed heavily.
Martha came toward him with a dress. If he’d thought his other dresses were really sissy – and he did – well this made them all look quite dull. The baby pink dress had huge puffed sleeves trimmed with two inch lace, a wide lace collar, white bunny shapes sown on the front. The skirt flared from just below the sleeves and billowed over layers of sewn-in petticoats.
He tried to protest as they threw it over his head but the rubber bulb of the soother was too large to be able to spit out and his mum and Martha held an arm each which they were pushing into the sleeves. He cursed the invention of buttons while he felt the dress close around him as Martha fastened them all up his back.
His mother produced what looked like one side of an oven glove. He watched curiously while she pulled it over his hand and tightened a strap at the wrist. Martha was already doing the same to his other hand. He realised too late that they had completely disabled his hands with padded fingerless mittens.
They let him swing his legs over the side of the changing table and he examined his mittens again trying to figure a way of getting them off. While he did that his mum and Martha pulled pink tights over his feet and once again he was too late to resist. His jumping down from the changing table just allowed them to pull the tights up over his nappy.
He was now facing a mirror. He could see his mother admiring him in the mirror too. He was distraught to see that his dress only came halfway down his nappy and the nursery print could be seen through his pink tights. “Oh dear, did the wardrobe department get the measurements wrong?” his mother asked. “Not at all” Martha assured her as she flapped out a pair of pink frilly knickers for his nappy cover.
He was lifted up onto the changing table again and the nappy cover was pulled up over his tights and under his petticoats. He jumped down again only to be confronted again by the mirror in which he could now see the two lower rows of frills on his nappy cover were prominently visible.
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Oh, he's in for it now!
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Now all he needs are a pretty baby bonnet and a baby stroller with attached stroller tray of attached baby rattles so can't lose them while his mommy is taking him to the shops, or daycare, or story time with the other babies at the library. wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee :)
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Off to the right Tom saw two other similarly large baby dresses, just as ornately accessorised in lemon and powder blue. Three baby dresses! He reckoned his mother was not being entirely honest about this being a quick thing.
Martha took advantage of his distraction to place a bonnet on his head and she drew the attached pink ribbons around to tie them in a neat bow under his chin. Tom reckoned he could pin the end of the ribbon between his two mittens and pull it to undo the bow and get rid of the horrid bonnet.
But Martha stuck her fingers in under his chin and he heard two little snaps as the ribbons were secured in place. Pulling at the loose end was now ineffective and the tightly secured ribbons made sure he couldn’t open his mouth wide enough to get the soother out either.
His torment wasn’t quite over though as he was lifted onto the changing table so they could pull fluffy pink booties over his feet and he heard similar snaps securing them around his ankles.
Again his mother and Martha took an arm each and he was turned to the left where he saw a white wooden high chair with its tray tilted over to the side. He was lifted into the seat, his mother turned the tray down in front of him until it clicked and locked in position.
Martha was pulling straps over his shoulders and up from the sides of the chair. One of the straps had an oval piece of plastic attached to it which she placed over his chest and inserted the other three straps which all clicked when slid into position. She adjusted metal slides on the straps to hold him in more tightly.
They stood back. Tom wriggled desperately in his high chair but was held securely between the straps and the tray locked in position. They sniggered as his pink legs kicked in frustration and just watched until he eventually settled down and resigned himself to being held in the high chair. His mother smiled at his cute face framed by the thick lace of his bonnet as he involuntarily continued to suc-k on his soother.
Tom realised that the high chair must have been made specially for him. He fit in it just perfectly snuggly. It was far too big for a real baby. They manoeuvred the high chair so he faced the mirror and locked the wheels in position.
He couldn’t believe what he saw. Just five minutes ago he walked into the room in a bath robe and now here he was confined to a high chair in a pink baby dress with matching bonnet and nappy cover – he was wearing a nappy for goodness sake! – pink tights and booties with a large soother rammed in his mouth. There was clearly no way he could remove his bonnet or booties or his mittens and therefore could remove nothing else. He had to accept that he was confined to the high chair as his pink legs dangled aimlessly in front.
So of course they had to film him being bottle and spoon-fed in his high-chair. As he sat there he took in the rest of the room and was pretty sure the play-pen, cot and rocking horse had all been scaled up for him as a big baby. He supposed it wasn’t a lot of work for a TV company that was used to making sets.
Then he was finally freed but only to be marched into the play-pen which, as he thought, was made bigger for him but no less secure than a normal play-pen for a toddler. The side bars came up to his chest and he could see it even had a baby-proof catch on the gate which he couldn’t budge with his hands in mittens. The toys were similarly scaled up so he could get his mitten into the ring on the end of a rattle. They wanted him to play with the toys and once again he was encouraged by “the sooner you cooperate, the sooner this will all be over” mantra.
His only consolation was that he was changed into the other two dresses for more footage. He had feared it might be a case of a dress a day in which case this would not be over soon. His other two dresses were similarly designed short to show off the matching nappy cover – more like a pair of frilly bloomers in the case of the powder blue outfit.
They particularly enjoyed him on the rocking horse. Having to lean forward to hold the handles on either side of the head gave a great view of all the frills on his matching nappy cover.
Then they wanted to film him being put into the cot. He was changed into a fleece footed sleeper which was mercifully unfrilly but inevitably pink and buttoned up the back. The bulge of his nappy was still unmistakable as he climbed into the cot. His mother raised the side bars which locked in place with a click.
She made a great show of feeding him another bottle of milk and they insisted he take it all as they wanted to show him finishing every drop. His mum pushed the soother back into his mouth afterwards and he saw the camera crew gather their things and leave the room. At last!
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Yay baby bonnets are the best bonnets. Wonder if his mommy is giving him morning naptime in his crib before an afternoon nap? Consistent sceduels are very import for babies :) Wonder if has a mobile for his crib? All he needs now is stroller to be securely buckelled into with built in baby rattles he can't drop for mommy to him shopping for everything they need. like baby food, baby wipes, baby formula, baby powder, diaper rash cream, as as mommys grown up shopping needs. Unless baby is taking a nap in his crib.
Hope his bottle was filled with baby formula for infants :) wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
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wonderful developments.
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We have the technolgy to add rattles to booties and mittens.
Why not add them our heros own baby mittens baby booties? :)
https://www.lilllamababy.com/products/super-soft-lamb-baby-rattle-booties
https://www.carterjoey.com/products/carter-joey-paws-rattle-mitten
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When will he figure out they went through oh so much work for such a temporary thing? Based on his behavior so far, it'll be a week from Tuesday next before it clicks.
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When will he figure out they went through oh so much work for such a temporary thing? Based on his behavior so far, it'll be a week from Tuesday next before it clicks.
Nah never he is to tiny of a baby to understand time. :)
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Tom’s mum looked a little dissatisfied and then had a thought. She brought over his pink bonnet and placed it on his head and proceeded to tie the ribbons in place. Tom whimpered a protest through his soother. Wasn’t this over? He gave another whimper as he heard the little snaps that confirmed his bonnet and soother were firmly held in place.
“There’s an infra-red camera in the corner there that’s going to film you through the night”, his mother told him. “Nnnggghhh?” He looked up and sure enough a little red light shone beside a camera high in the corner. “Nnnnggghhh!” He protested again, realising that they were leaving him in the cot for the night – or at least some of it.
“Sweet dreams”, his mother said softly and she stood to leave the room. She drew the curtains – it was still reasonably bright outside. Tom clutched the side bars of his cot as best he could with the mittens on and whimpered through his soother. His mother ignored him and went for the door. He shook the bars of his cot – “NNNNGGGGHHHH!” She left the room.
He desperately tried the catch but couldn’t budge it. He shook the bars again. He tried to raise a leg over the side but it was too high and his foot in the fleecy sleeper just slid down the smooth side bar.
He flopped down on his well padded bottom. He clearly couldn’t get out. He looked up at the camera. He could hear giggling from the sitting room. He picked up a rattle and shook it. “Aw!” came from the sitting room. He desperately tried to prise the soother out of his mouth but it was stuck fast. There was more laughter from the sitting room. His mother and Martha lay back and dipped into a big pot of popcorn as they watched him on the big screen.
The second bottle on top of the first began to have an inevitable effect. “Why is he holding his crotch?”, his mother asked Martha. “Call of nature I suppose.” “Oh I completely forgot about that!” his mother confessed. “It’s alright, you made sure his nappy was well tucked into the plastic pants. He’ll be fine.” “You mean we’re going to leave him there to wet his nappy.” “What else is it for?”
Tom was squirming now. He was desperately trying to tug at his mittens and his sleeper. They heard a little whimper and suddenly he wasn’t moving any more. “I think he’s done it.” They could hear sniffling. “Should I go in and change him?” “No, that’s quite a thick nappy, it can hold it.” His mother was unsure but followed the advice.
The next morning Tom was put in his high-chair for his morning feed. “Please let me out of this?” he begged tugging at his pink sleeper. “Sorry but we have another day of filming” Martha told him. He sighed heavily. Another day in this nursery trying to get some amusement from the dumb baby toys. But he was wrong.
Martha left the room momentarily and returned pushing a large old fashioned pram. Tom squirmed. It had clearly been made big enough to take him - the main body of the pram was quite deep but it had all been made to look quite convincing, lined with pink satin material all around, trimmed with thick lace which continued up and over the hood.
“There’s a Golden Oldies festival. We’ve entered you in the mother and pram section”, they told his mother. Martha produced a pink polka-dot 50s dress for this mother to wear. Tom’s protests were muffled by the baby bottle his mother was pressing firmly into his mouth.
His mother left to change clothes while Martha let Tom out of his nappy and mittens to go to the bathroom and clean himself up. He wasn’t allowed even a dressing gown this time so had no choice but allow himself be pinned into a nappy again if he didn’t want to be standing around naked in front of them all.
His mother returned wearing the polka dot dress over petticoats, pink high heels, white gloves and a wide-brimmed white hat. Tom had never seen her look so feminine. While he was staring at her new look, Martha discretely slipped his mittens back on.
Tom was then dressed in his pink baby dress. When Martha went to press the snappers to hold his bonnet in place he whimpered through his soother. She paused. “Well if you promise not to interfere with your bonnet and to keep your soother in.” Tom considered it for a moment. He nodded reluctantly so she left it. He was now committed to suc-king on his soother all day.
The pram was loaded into the back of an SUV and Tom desperately waddled over to it hoping not to be seen. His mother hooshed him over to the window seat which he didn’t want as he’d be more easily seen by passing traffic in his conspicuous bonnet and suc-king on his large soother.
They arrived at the festival which Tom was not happy to see was very popular. Most women were in dresses from the 50s or earlier. Men wore braces and hats and some had fancy moustaches. He saw a couple of women pushing old fashioned prams – usually decorated to match their dresses.
Tom’s pram was brought around. He was keen that his frilly nappy cover and the obvious nappy under it would not be seen so he scampered out of the car quickly and allowed himself to be helped into the pram. He settled down into its depths, propped up on lace pillows and Martha threw a pink polka-dot blanket over him and tucked it in at the sides and up to his chest just below the puffed sleeves of his dress.
His mummy tucked a doll in a pink polka dot dress under his arm and pushed a rattle onto his mitten on the opposite hand. They pulled the hood up. “There!” They were quite pleased. Tom looked up dubiously through the lace frame made by the hood and suc-ked hard.
His mother pushed a pink hand-bag up her arm and started pushing the pram as the crew filmed. This was it. Tom squirmed as he was pushed off into the crowd. He was already getting hot under the blanket in all his petticoats and thick tights.
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yay a pram! but they should not let da baby go in bathroom alone.what if he fell hurts himself cause then are filming a trip to the emergency room cause baby accidentally tripped on is tights instead of a going to a limed time event that was planned. babies are always falling over themselves and have no sense danger ever. Really enjoying this. :)
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DaraJaney,
I have been away from the site and I am really enjoying your latest story, along with the remarks from sarahpenguin and Andlat and sweet baby katie and petticoated.
I will have to go out in a little while presenting vanilla, but I'm wearing a Princess Pink diaper underneath that was dry when I started reading but is wetter now.
I'm looking forward to your next chapters and the comments from the members reading along.
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People smiled at his mother as she strolled confidently around in her pretty 50s dress with her matching pram. Then they were clearly surprised to see that the pram had a live occupant. It didn’t take long for them to see that the ‘baby’ wearing the pink puff-sleeved dress and matching bonnet, suc-king on a large soother was quite an old baby. There was much elbowing, pointing and tittering.
“Well hello!” his mother greeted somebody that he could not see, as he was being pushed backwards with the hood also restricting his view. A lady came around the side of his pram pushing a pram of her own. She was similarly in a petticoated 50s dress with matching pram. There was a large doll propped up in her pram.
As she came around and looked into his pram her jaw dropped. “Oh my goodness!” She took in the pink baby dress, matching bonnet, large soother and then realised that the pram, for all its pink and frilly trimmings, was very large. Tom was mortified but could do nothing but suc-k on his soother.
“Oh who’s a pretty baby”, the lady teased, leaning down towards the pram. “How old is she actually?” she asked, clearly surprised that his mother had convinced an older girl to dress up like this. Tom was terrified his mother would reply with a ‘he’”. “Twelve” was all she said. “Gosh!” She was even more impressed now at the convincing baby clothes and pram. “Baby certainly loves her binky!” she teased, flicking the ring on Tom’s soother as he realised he was suc-king on it a little too convincingly.
Then Tom could see it dawn on her that this mother and pram with a live ‘baby’ was surely going to win the competition. She frowned as she looked at her own pram with the stupid doll in it. Still, there was no way she’d have been able to convince her tween daughter to dress up like that. She’d never wear a skirt if it wasn’t for the school uniform.
Tom was pushed on through the crowd, his mother stopping to greet any other mothers with prams that she met. She was clearly enjoying their reaction as they all saw their chances of winning disappear.
“When will the competition results be announced?” his mother asked Martha. “At the end, around 5pm” she replied. “Nnngggghh!” Tom gurgled through his soother. It couldn’t have been more than 11am. Was he going to be kept in the pram all this time? Then he realised that he wouldn’t really want to get out and walk around in the crowds in his short baby dress revealing his frilly nappy cover and obvious real nappy underneath. He suc-ked hard on his soother. It was going to be a long day.
They decided to get coffees and went to the refreshment marquee. His mother placed his pram at the end of the benches for eating while Martha got the coffees. Tom was even more unhappy now. At least when he was pushed through the crowds nobody got to see him for very long but now people at adjoining tables were nudging each other and probably commenting on how this teenage girl dressed as a baby was dutifully suc-king on a soother all the time.
A young woman came to clear the dirty plates and saw Tom. “Oh how adorable! Aren’t you so good to dress up for your mummy’s competition? Shall I make up a bottle for her?” she asked amusedly, seeing the large baby bottle sticking out of Martha’s hold-all. “That would be very kind!”
Tom cringed in the pram as she returned with a full bottle of milk. His mother popped his soother out which provided some brief relief but was quickly followed by the large teat of the bottle. The young woman had obviously had the milk heated and smiled as she watched Tom suc-k on his bottle. This provided even more amusement for the adjoining tables. Tom was allowed brief breaks to burp but his mother was clearly determined to feed him the whole bottle.
Of course the inevitable build up occurred in his bladder as he was being pushed through the crowd again. The competition judges were mingling unobtrusively in the crowd and Martha told her she would have to circulate as much as possible to make sure they all saw her with her pram and baby.
Tom whimpered through his soother. His mother looked down at him. He pointed to his nether regions. “Oh does baby need the toilet?” He nodded vigorously but was concerned she would make him go in his nappy. “Our company has a stand here with a camper van behind it. It has a toilet he can use”, Martha said. Tom looked around nervously to see if anyone picked up on the ‘he’. But nobody did and he was much relieved to be pushed to the van where his nappy was removed so he could use the toilet.
He delayed as much as he could but they were keen to pin him back in his nappy and get back out there to be seen by as many judges as possible.
At lunchtime they returned to the marquee and got sandwiches. The young lady could see them wondering what they could feed Tom. “There’s a vegetable stew there that you could spoon feed”, she suggested helpfully.
So Tom was placed at the end of the benches again. Martha took a white bib with pink trimmings from her hold-all and made him sit up in the pram so she could tie the strings behind his neck. “There, that will protect your pretty dress!” Onlookers were very amused to see the big baby being spoon fed. It was tricky enough and little bits of stew ended up on his bib giving everyone the excuse to comment that it was just has well he was wearing a bib.
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Hi DaraJaney I just wanted to say how much I am enjoying your story with all its twists and humiliations Tom is going through.
I had a naughty idea myself about the 50's competition but wasn't sure about adding it in the comments section so I didnt.
I hope you add to the story soon as I can hardly wait to see how the rest of little Tom's day goes. Keep up the good work. 🙂
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DaraJaney,
Like Sissy Poopsie and theother members reading your story, I'm really enjoying the perils of Tom. At least this time, Tom got to use the toilet instead of his nappy, but the day is far from over yet!
I think that all of us are eager to read of Tom's next humiliations.
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The afternoon passed oh so slowly. He got another bottle around 4pm. It passed some time while he desperately waited for 5pm and the announcement of the results. Eventually the tannoy announced that competitors should report to the festival tent for prize giving.
Tom was pushed into a line of prams with the other ladies clearly knowing that they were not going to win first prize with their dolls in the prams. There were prizes for all sorts of categories, ladies’, men’s, children’s costumes. Best jivers, best waltzers.
Tom was shifting uncomfortably in the pram as his need for the loo grew. How long was this going to take?! He whimpered through his soother and pointed to his nether regions again. “We can’t go to the van now. We have to wait until our category comes up.” Martha leaned in. “I have clean nappies and plastic pants in the bag so it’s fine!” Tom didn’t think that was fine!
“And now Mother and Pram”. Finally! The prams were all pushed up a ramp by the stage. When they got to the top there was a bump between the ramp and the stage. “Nnnggghh!” Tom started flooding his nappy. The warmth was still spreading around as his mother turned the pram so he was facing the audience. Some other women did the same but some decided not to make it so obvious they hadn’t got a live occupant.
All eyes of course were on, what everyone assumed was a teenage girl, dressed as a very pretty baby, wedged into the large pram, suc-king on a soother. He tried not to give away any signs of the discomfort of his soggy nappy.
Third prize was called and the lady went up to the podium for her trophy. Then second was announced. All eyes were on Tom as the presenter tried to spin out the drama. Of course his mother won and went towards the podium.
“Oh we have to see our pretty baby up here too, don’t we?” the announcer insisted and the crowd clearly agreed. Tom was panicking now. If he had to get out of the pram they would all see his frilly nappy cover under his short dress, his pink tights and the fact that he was wearing a real thick nappy. They would wonder why all that realism was necessary when the child’s lower half was covered by a blanket all day.
“Nnngggghhh!” Tom tried to object as his mother came to get him. Martha came over and helped her lift him out. He was terrified that the movement would make his soggy nappy leak onto his tights and then let everyone know he was in a wet nappy.
The crowd applauded wildly on seeing how complete Tom’s costume was. He tried to push his petticoats down despite knowing by now how pointless that was. To him the nappy felt ten times heavier now it was saturated. He thought it must surely be sagging obviously. He scanned the crowd for any sign of anyone noticing. They were all laughing and pointing but it could have been any number of things – his bonnet, his nappy, his tights, the soother he was still determinedly suc-king.
The announcer tried to get him to say something but he suc-ked insistently on his soother, terrified if he opened his mouth people might identify a boy’s voice. As it was, he was so totally covered in pink and frills that nobody could guess.
He was desperate to get back in the pram. When his mother pushed the pram over that bump again he let more wee into his nappy. “I’m afraid the camper van has gone now”, Martha told them. “There is a baby changing tent over there.” Tom could see the queue for the changing tent and whimpered in protest at the idea of joining that queue and everyone knowing he had wet his nappy. “Would you prefer to wait until we get home?” his mother asked. He nodded vigorously.
Just then one of the other pram ladies came over. “Congratulations!” She leaned into Tom and tweaked his soother playfully. “We always have a celebratory dinner after the festival competition, would you like to join us?” “That’s very kind of you, of course we would!” Tom squirmed in his wet nappy.
They returned to the catering tent and the ladies sat along two benches while his mother propped his pram at the end again. “Surely baby would like to get out of the pram now?” they asked, moving up to make room. Tom shook his head convincingly. They were disappointed. “We can’t see your whole pretty costume while you are tucked up in your pram!” That was exactly why Tom wanted to stay there however uncomfortable it was.
He was given another bottle and his bib was replaced for feeding. The women were clearly amused, and more than a little puzzled, that he was keeping up the baby act even though the competition had finished.
His nappy had gone very cold now and this was looking like a long meal. The starters took a long time to come. Tom whimpered hoping his mother would take pity on him and take him home.
She looked across. “There’s no queue for the changing tent now – all the real babies have gone home.” She stood and said ‘excuse us’ to the other women. “Nnnghhh!” he tried to protest. They would surely realise what was happening. But his mother ignored him and picked up the hold-all and swung it over her shoulder as she pushed him in the pram towards the changing tent. The women all looked at each other astonished.
He had to cooperate with having his nappy changed but was dreading going back to the women with what they now knew. They tried to act reasonably naturally but they were all looking at him in amazement. This teenage ‘girl’ has wet her nappy and had it changed. Her mother was calmly sitting down and prepared to spoon feed him some curry as if nothing was untoward.
Even in the cool of the evening, Tom was roasting under his blanket, petticoats and tights. He had a full tummy and started to drift off to sleep. The ladies were getting well oiled and there was no sign of anyone leaving.
He was woken by a flash. He opened his eyes to find the women all gathered around his pram pointing their phone cameras at him. It was clear some were taking videos. One reviewed her footage. “Oh look!” She turned the screen to him and he saw himself suc-king contentedly on his soother while he snoozed only to be woken by the flash and startled at everyone taking photos and video of him.
“Time to go!” his mother announced taking hold of the pram. “Aw, bye, bye!” they all waved. “Go on wave back!” his mother insisted. Tom waved and the rattle stuck over his mitten jingled and they all laughed.
“It must be way past your bedtime”, one joked. “I know”, his mother responded, “you are usually in your cot by 7pm, aren’t you?” The mothers didn’t know what to make of that as he was pushed away.
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Maybe Mommy will use the winngs to get him a new baby dress to wear :)
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DaraJaney,
Thank you for another great chapter. Tom wasn't able to dodge wetting his nappy this time, and of course it happened at the most embarrassing time! The unexpected delay of dinner meant that everyone knew he was using his nappy and needed to be changed.
I can understand him dozing off, but then waking up to a series of flashes from the troupe of "mommarazzi" and realizing that it's not a dream and really being in a pram dressed as a baby girl complete with nappy, frilly dress with petticoats, tights, soother, bonnet, and mittens leaving him helpless. If it were me, at this point I would be so upset that I would probably not only flood my nappy, but my tummy would rumble and that digested vegetable stew would also noisily emerge into my nappy as a very smelly mess! I would be crying hard with my soother not totally muffling my sobbing.
Will the viewership of the television episode be so huge that the producers will decide to extend Tom's torment to more episodes? Will it prove to be so popular that it will become a new show on its own, "Tommy, the teenage baby girl"?
sarahpenguin,
I believe that so far according to the storyline, all of the little girl and baby items are being provided by television show production company, but maybe Tom's mother might want to purchase more baby, etc. items to continue having him be her daughter when the television cameras aren't there.
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When they got home his mother took off his dress, booties, nappy cover and tights but took his pink sleeper. “Nnngghh!” Tom protested – so used to his soother now that he didn’t try to spit it out. “You may as well stay in that nappy for the night now”, his mother insisted. Tom tugged at his mittens frustratedly for as long as they were strapped on his hands he was helpless.
He continued grumbling as he was shut into his cot and when his mother left the room he lay down still suc-king on his soother for comfort.
The next morning his mother phoned Martha to ask what was going to happen to the large baby furniture and clothes. “I guess we’ll throw them out”, she responded. “Not much other use for them. Don’t worry, we’ll restore the room to the way it was.” Tom was observing this conversation from the cot.
“Seems a shame to waste it all!” his mother mused. She smiled at the ultra-frilly baby dresses hanging on the rail. “Why don’t you just leave it here?” “Really?” Martha asked, surprised. “It would save us having to dismantle it all and dispose of it.” “Yes leave it with me”, his mother assured her and hung up.
Tom was pawing the side bars of his cot anxious to be let out. “We can make more use of all this can’t we?” his mother told him. “Nngghh?” “I’ll get a bottle ready. Which dress would you like to wear today?” “NNGGHH!” Tom shook the bars of his cot but she ignored him and went off to prepare his bottle.
A few days later and a lady his mother introduced as Ms Harper came to visit. She was impressed with Tom’s baby blue dress and all his nursery furniture. “Would you like to try this special soother?”, she asked him. He looked at it dubiously. It was smaller than the soother he’d had so far so he agreed to switch.
The new soother had a very nice taste! It seemed to emit tiny amounts of something very tasty but only when you actually suc-ked on it. So Tom continued suc-king on it much more than he did the old one.
Ms Harper stayed for quite a long time and by lunchtime Tom noticed that the nice taste was wearing off. It was bottle time anyway. He found the bottle much less satisfying and really wanted another soother like the one he’d just had.
Somebody put his soother away and he desperately looked around for it when he’d finished his bottle. “What’s wrong love?” his mother asked. “Awab bwab boo boo.” Tom was startled. What was that? “Bwab baabo”. His mouth felt all numb. He wasn’t able to form words. “Boo mwab iby”. It must have been that soother. What was on it? His mother smiled. “Oh dear can baba not talk?” Tom was reluctant to try again and end up mouthing babyish gibberish. “Oh those soothers can have that effect”, Ms Harper said casually. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have another”, she suggested while twirling one teasingly between her fingers.
Tom stared at it. He really wanted that taste back but it was making him talk like a baby. “Do you want it?” she asked. Tom nodded. “Why don’t you ask nicely?” she teased. “Bwab mwambo biby.” “OK” she happily popped another soother into his mouth and Tom suc-ked urgently on it trying to retrieve that wonderful taste.
His mother came to him with some baby food in a bowl. He shook his head and looked distastefully at the slop. “Would you rather some corn flakes instead?” He nodded eagerly. His mum returned with a bowl of corn flakes in milk. He seemed reluctant to give up the soother but realised he was hungry. His mother pushed a spoonful of corn flakes into his mouth. It all dribbled out again and soggy flakes fell on his bib. “Oh dear! It looks like you can’t chew either.” Tom had to agree that the numbness in his mouth was also stopping him from eating properly.
“It will have to be the baby food then”, she concluded. He didn’t protest – just looked downcast. “Does baba want his baby food?” He nodded but realised she wanted something more. He was starving. “Bwam bimmy goo!” She smiled and pushed a big spoonful of baby food in which he immediately swallowed.
When he was fed the lady asked him was he sure he wanted that soother again. He nodded vigorously, wondering what was on that soother that made it so good. She inserted the new one and he suc-ked on it eagerly even though it was making him talk and eat like a baby. He hoped those side-effects were only temporary.
After his evening bottle, he could still only handle baby food and there was no sign of the numbness in his mouth abating and allowing him to talk. When Ms Harper offered him a different soother he readily accepted it hoping that the taste might be just as nice but without the worrisome side effects.
His mummy wanted to check his nappy before putting him in the cot. He whimpered unhappily about being put in the cot so early. “That soother is one to help you sleep”, Ms Harper told him. Tom yawned as if on cue. He didn’t really want to go to sleep so early.
He was wet so his mum set about changing him. When he was cleaned and powdered Ms Harper suggested doubling up on his nappy. “That soother has a bit of a laxative effect too.” Tom stopped suc-king momentarily on hearing this. But he was feeling drowsy. He wanted to stop suc-king on this soother if it was going to make him poop his nappy but somehow he couldn’t. It was just too damn nice.
The second nappy pushed his legs farther apart especially when the elasticated nappy cover was stretched to its limit to contain it. His mummy put him in his sleeper. He waddled heavily over to the cot which made her smile. He was mortified at the way it made him walk but was anxious to get into the cot before he fell asleep.
His mum locked the side bars in place and closed the curtains. She looked in on Tom and saw him suc-king, seemingly happily on his soother, his eyes closed. Just as she reached for the door his tummy gurgled. Tom’s eyes were wide open as he realised what was coming. “Nnngghhh!” She turned off the light and closed the door. She paused outside for a moment. Was that a gushing sound she heard? She shrugged and went off to the sitting room and turned the TV up loud.
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I love this so much i hope he begins to fight against there conditioning of him.
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So glad baby can only physically eat baby food and only babble nonsense. He has baby toys, can only babble like a baby now, can't chew adult food anymore. He can't even feed himself like every grownup can or even use the potty because is in diapers now 24/7. He is stress because of these new changes. The only grownup thing he is doing is drinking grownup milk in babies bottles. By that away and putting baby back on infant formula you crush his uncertaintiess and he will learn to find happiness as a baby girl. Needs to tell baby about the change, buying baby boxes of formula at grocery store while getting her baby food and tell everyone who knows baby they will need to prepare bottles of formula to feed the baby Powdered baby formula is easier to transport away from home you don't it getting too warm and going bad. :)
Babies start being able to pick baby food starting around 9 months and then put the food in their mouth succussfully. You should treat like baby like he is acting now and set naps for 9 year olds, a regular feeding schedual so he does not get hungry or thursty as well as making hisd baby toys are all age appropriate for babies new age :)
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DaraJaney,
Wow! Tom's mother really does want him to continue to be her baby girl!
It looks like she will take full advantage of all the equipment from the television show. I wonder what other effects the soothers from Ms Harper are going to have?
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The next day Tom was clearly distressed at having been in a badly soiled nappy all night. Plus he could still only utter baby talk and was unable to eat anything other than baby food due to his numb mouth. But when Ms Harper turned up and offered him another soother, he couldn’t say no. They were just too nice – somewhat addictive.
“This one is to make baby happy!” she held up the offered soother and he happily took it in his mouth and clearly liked the taste. He was let out of his high chair and waddled into the play-pen still in his pink sleeper. He started playing enthusiastically with his rattles and letter blocks. He picked up the prettiest dolly and hugged her.
“Is baby Tommy happy?” Tom shook his rattle and blubbered something unintelligible through his soother but that didn’t seem to bother him like before. When it came to lunch time his mummy asked if he wanted his baby food. He clapped his hands and giggled. She was impressed how happy that soother made him feel.
Ms Harper returned again and was pleased to see a very happy baby. “Would Baby Tommy like to go to the park?” Tom clapped his hands and smiled broadly. “OK then you’ll need your prettiest dress – there will be lots of people there on this sunny day.” Tom bounced up and down on his nappy he was so happy. His mummy took his pink dress down. Tom clapped.
He eagerly waddled out of the play-pen when the side gate was open for him. He totally cooperated in being dressed in his pink frilly baby dress. There was no problem getting him into his pink tights and he happily raised his foot when his mummy held out his frilly nappy cover for him. She placed his bonnet on his head and tied the ribbon loosely under his chin – there was no need for the snappers to keep it in place, Tom had no problem with his pretty bonnet or his pink shoes for outdoors.
His mummy turned him to the mirror. “People are going to love seeing this pretty baby!” Tom giggled and made no attempt to push down his petticoats to hide the obvious bulge of his nappy. Ms Harper came over to him. “Look, we have a pretty pink leather harness to keep baby safe.” Tom held out his arms so she could strap him in. “Oh look”, his mummy pointed to the chest band. “It says Baby Tommy.” Tom looked down and giggled at the fairies either side of his name. “It’s just as well”, his mummy added, “or people would have no idea that you are a boy would they?”
The smile fell momentarily from his face. Reminding him that he was a boy seemed to trigger something. He suc-ked hard on his soother but then smiled and waddled happily towards the front door. “Hold on, mummy has to get your changing bag.” Tom sighed at the annoying delay, clearly dying to get out there.
He was shifting from foot to foot. “Does baby need a change?” Tom was wetting himself at that very moment but shook his head vigorously. He really wanted to get down the park – even in a wet nappy. His mother threw the changing bag over her shoulder tucked a baby bottle of milk in the side pocket and opened the door. Tom practically ran out.
His mummy had to tug back on his harness before he ran out the gate. “Why don’t you skip instead of running”, she suggested. Tom skipped happily down the road just in front of her, his petticoats parachuting every time and giving a full view of his frilly nappy cover.
Mrs Astle came out of her house and stopped with her key in the door stunned at the spectacle. They could see her read the breast plate. “Is that really Tom?!” His mother nodded happily. “Makes a very pretty baby girl doesn’t he?” Mrs Astle was speechless but couldn’t take her eyes off the obvious bulge of his nappy under all those frills and the changing bag that his mummy was carrying, confirming that he was actually using his nappies.
When they got to the park gate there were hundreds of people milling around inside. Tom showed no reluctance to going inside, he just had to wait while his mummy caught up.
The chatter around that part of the park died away as people became aware of the enormous baby skipping along the path in the big pink frilly dress. His mother could see people talking it all in – the nappy, the pink tights, the bonnet, the eagerly suc-ked on soother and the harness. The people closest could see “Baby Tommy” and gasped at the others around them.
His mother spotted a gap in the grass and tugged him over to it. She spread the picnic blanket and he got down on his hands and knees and crawled across it, confirming for the people behind him that the pink frills went all the way up the nappy cover.
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Amazing story.
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nooooooooooo babies should be crawling not skipping silly baby :)
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His mother took his toys out and he happily shook his rattles and hugged his dolly while the crowd looked on. A girl stood up about 20 yards away. “Girls! I don’t believe it! You know Tom from our class?” The other girls started to look around wondering why she was so interested in boring old Tom but all they could see was this enormous baby girl. Wait, what was that on the breast plate?
The four girls from his class came over with mouths agape. Tom saw them and gleefully shook his rattle at them. “Mrs Gordon”, one of the girls addressed her. “Why is Tom dressed as a baby girl?” “That looks like a real nappy!” one of the other noticed. “Why not?” his mother responded. “Doesn’t he look happy?” “Well yes, but…” She didn’t know what else to ask.
One of the other girls looked more closely. “Is that a damp patch on his tights?” His mother looked where she was pointing. “Oh dear. Sweetie, why didn’t you say you were wet?” She reached for the changing bag. The girls put their hands to their mouths. Tom had actually wet his nappy and his mother was obviously going to change him here right in the middle of the park!
As his mother got into position, Tom looked a trifle miffed at the interruption to his play but otherwise showed no particular sign of concern having his nappy changed in the middle of a busy park and in front of four girls from his class.
“Can we help?” the girls asked, now wanting to be part of this spectacle. “Sure” his mother responded. Could you fetch those wipes for me please? The girls knelt down around Tom as his frilly nappy cover was pulled down and then his pink tights. They could now see his soggy nappy through the clear plastic pants.
His mother did most of the necessary not wanting to let the girls near his boy parts but when he was turned over asked “anyone like to powder his bottom?” She was almost killed in the stampede. Just wait until the others hear about this, all the girls thought. His mother smiled thinking – he’s not going to want to go back to school now. He’ll have to accept being kept at home in the nursery, in his pretty dresses.
His mother took out a clean pair of pink tights. “Oh can we?” “Sure!” Two of his classmates delighted in pulling the pink tights over his feet and up his legs and over his nappy. He resumed his play as soon as his tights and nappy cover were restored as if everything was fine. The girls went back to their spot and started making calls.
As the afternoon wore on the taste started to wear off his soother. Tom gradually became aware that he was sitting in the middle of a public park in a pink baby dress, matching bonnet, pink tights and obvious nappy underneath. He noticed the plastic bag tied up with a soggy nappy in it. He remembered now having his nappy changed. Did that happen in front of girls from his class or did he dream that?
Other girls from his class were approaching, laughing. He turned to his mother and spat out the soother. “mbick goobywalla”. The girls burst out laughing. “He talks like a baby too.” Tom sniffled and pushed his soother back in, desperate for some good feelings but it was wearing off.
His tummy rumbled. Oh no! He spat out the soother again. “NGA MOOBY ALLA” His mother looked puzzled and went back to her book. He desperately wanted to go before he soiled his nappy.
He turned over on his knees and froze. The girls heard the poo slushing into his nappy. “Oh my gawd!” They covered their noses with their hands and scampered away laughing.
His mother looked up. “I’m afraid I don’t have another clean nappy, we’d better get you home.” So Tom stood up gingerly feeling his mess shift in his nappy. Everyone looking on knew he had soiled his nappy and could only babble baby talk. His mother seemed to take ages putting on his harness as he shifted from one foot to the other trying to find the least icky way to stand.
He was mortified waddling through the crowd in the park, everyone knowing he was a boy dressed in his pink baby dress, matching bonnet and nappy cover, pink tights, controlled in a baby harness, suc-king on a soother, having just soiled his nappy and until a few minutes ago happily playing with rattles in front of everyone and only able for baby talk.
He tried to hurry along but his mother kept a firm hold on his harness and was in no rush. He suc-ked his soother desperately hoping for some of that happy effect although, look where that got him – out in public with everyone thinking he was delighted being kept as a baby girl using his nappy.
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see babies that leave the house have fun in a stroller harness babies are 100 percent to get their diaper changed by thwir classmates at te park. say no to harness trips baby! :)
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When he was home and changed, Ms Harper arrived to hear how the day had gone. His mother asked him did he want another happy soother? He hesitated. Yes of course, it was nice being happy but it meant his mother could do anything with him – bring him to the mall, maybe leave him in the public creche there and he would act as if it was all was fine. And it meant he could only make baby talk and eat baby food.
But he missed the lovely taste. He really wanted that now. He didn’t want to be miserable sitting in his play-pen, trying to get amusement from his rattles and blocks.
Eventually he nodded, somewhat reluctantly. “Good baby!” His mother gave him a happy soother. He suc-ked tentatively, still unsure this was the right thing. But the taste was so good he was soon suc-king without restraint.
“Our Make a Wish episode is on TV this evening”, his mother told him. Tom’s face fell. His mortification pooing his nappy in front of a park full of people was going to pale into insignificance by appearing on national TV in dresses – a Communion dress, a bo-peep flowergirl’s dress, kitted out like a helpless baby! He realised he was wetting his nappy. He started suc-king hard on his happy soother.
“Just be careful”, Ms Harper warned. “Make sure you give him a break from the happy soothers one day a week.” Tom looked up with interest wondering why that was. “If you don’t, the effects can become permanent.” That gave Tom reason to pause his suc-king momentarily as he reached for a rattle.
“Really?” his mother responded – not so much out of concern but she seemed interested in that fact. Tom didn’t like how interested she seemed. Could she turn him into a baby permanently just by continuing to give him these soothers? He could never object if she did because the soothers would just keep him in a state of bliss – even when soiling his nappy.
“Nnnggghh!” he tried to express his concern. He couldn’t resist suc-king on his soother again though. Now that rattle was looking like so much fun. Much more interesting than the grown-up conversation about silly complicated things. He shook the rattle and giggled. “Good baby, you just play with your rattle and you won’t have to worry about anything ever again!” Tom laughed now, fully under the influence of his happy soother and unconcerned about what that might mean. He waved his rattle at his mummy, hugging his dolly ever so tightly. “Aw, isn’t that just perfect!” she smiled.
THE END
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awww baby didn't get to go trick or treating endlessly in his stroller wearing my first baby costumes endlessly to show his neighbors how spooky cute in his baby girl costumes he is. Hope he still has his mind. enjoyed your story. :)
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the happy pacifier eems only super ebarrassing baby play fun lots of large motions for fun reslting in lots of bby rattle sound being made primarily or secondarily rattling baby clearly loves now
not sure when is happing though am uncertain think it is feeling shame for yourself and perform are forced to perform maximally emarassily acti9ons baby pemanenly shamed doing rattle shaking actions permantly is scary
thing my dislike for it effects is misplaced
kind of want happy baby food feeders
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Think baby will end up finding a nappy service to get clean nappies which has a infant daycare for newborns to 1 year old babies which a massive discount for cleaning the nappies babies attttending nursery so our protangist ends up nursery for newborns is cheapest newbons do least of actities so will baby sleeping in cradle playing 5 newborn baby security straps surper gently boung in a newborn baby boouncer lytng like a newborn aby with a newborn baby mobiles slowly spinging baby princess toys wwhenn tured on and also playing variouus lullabies infantile on a loop
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Just finished this story and as always for a story from DaraJaney, it was well crafted. Keep up the writing.