Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Sissy Story Archives (older stories) => Pre-2011 Sissy Stories => Topic started by: BetBots on February 11, 2006, 08:01:34 PM
-
Debt Collector - Part 1
Username: DaraJaney, Dec/19/2005 19:15:33 [-04][new]
Frank knew this was going to be humiliating for his father. His gambling habit had landed him in debt to loan sharks to the tune of several thousand pounds. They had paid him a visit recently. He nursed his broken arm in a plaster cast. That was just a warning.
They waited for Frank’s Aunt Julia to arrive. They had not seen her in years. Julia and his father hadn’t spoken for most of that time. They had hated each other since childhood. Their father had a very old fashioned attitude to women and her childhood had been miserable while she and her mother waited hand and foot on the men in the house. Frank’s father had largely inherited that attitude but never had a daughter to torment. Still, he adored his son and encouraged his promising sporting talents.
Aunt Julia had done very well for herself despite her difficult childhood and owned a large company. She was quite rich and could easily spare a few thousand pounds to get her brother out of trouble.
She made them sweat and arrived late. When the situation was explained to her she did little to hide her smug satisfaction. She had her brother at her mercy. She took some time to think it over.
Obviously she was going to ask for something in return but Frank could never have guessed what. “I want Frank to come and live with me for the summer”, she told them. Frank didn’t know what to make of that. But then she added: “I want him to live with me as a girl.” They were all shocked. “I want to dress him and make him act like a girl.”
Julia explained that she had always wanted a daughter but couldn’t bring herself to have a relationship with a man since she had grown up with such a hatred of them. She reckoned it would do Frank some good to experience life as a girl since he had no sister and was getting such a traditionally male upbringing. But her real motivation was that she knew it would kill her brother to see his precious son dressed up like a girl.
It occurred to them that she must be joking but she insisted that this was the only deal she would do to help pay off the money. It wasn’t until she left, telling them to phone her later with their decision, that they had to accept that she was serious.
The last thing that Frank’s father wanted was for his son to be in anyway influenced by anything feminine but the pain from his broken arm inevitably overcame these concerns. Frank couldn’t believe the position he was being put in. If he didn’t agree to spend the summer as a girl, his father could be killed. He had no idea that his Aunt’s bitterness was so profound. They basically had no choice and later that night the call was made. Frank didn’t sleep very well that night.
The next morning Aunt Julia arrived carrying a large suitcase and accompanied by a friend who was a beautician. They brought Frank upstairs. He was close to tears.
A couple of hours later he stood before the mirror in his bedroom. All his body hair had been removed. The hair on his head was twisted into tight curls. His hands had been manicured and his nails varnished. A little make-up had been applied to make him look a little more feminine. The only remaining masculine thing about him was his boxer shorts – and they were about to go.
The suitcase was opened. It contained several dresses. Julia spread a few of them on the bed. “This will be your wardrobe for the next couple of months”, she told him as she began removing the dresses from the case. He looked miserable as he studied the pink gingham dress with lace petticoat ***ping from beneath the hem, the yellow high-waisted dress with white pinafore and the blue outfit with thick ruffles down the front.
“Which would you prefer?” Julia asked. As Frank studied them his will to live deserted him. He didn’t care really. They all looked equally girlish. Julia held up the pink dress. The petticoat made the skirts stand out at an angle. He quickly decided that there WAS a difference and reluctantly opted for the blue one which was marginally less sissyish.
“OK. Now where are the matching panties for that one?” she muttered as she rummaged through the suitcase. Frank felt sick as he saw all the panties, bras, slips, camisoles, stockings and tights packed into the suitcase – was he really going to have to wear these things all summer?
Julia found the panties and had his shorts whipped off him before he had a chance to reconsider. She handed him the panties and he stepped into them quickly rather than have his privates exposed to these two women.
It wasn’t until they were pulled up over his bottom that he noticed the three rows of white lace across the seat of the panties. He was now suddenly quite anxious to get the dress on to conceal the frillies. He pulled it over his head but was stopped before he could put his arms into the sleeves. The beautician held up a bra in front of him. He sighed but didn’t resist her slipping it over his arms. She fastened it behind him and Julia slipped some padding into the cups. Then they zipped him up.
He looked down beyond the ruffles and could see his knees clearly. He checked himself out in the mirror. The dress fell several inches short of his knees. He tugged at the hem to little effect. Julia handed him a pair of white socks. He took one, rolled it up and bent over to pull it over his left foot. As he did this he glanced back at the mirror to see that one row of lace on his panties could be seen. He stood upright immediately. The women sniggered. He sat on the side of the bed and pulled the sock up to his knee.
When both socks were on he was handed a pair of black t-bar shoes. He buckled them on and stood. He practiced walking in them. They had a higher heel than he was used to.
Julia packed the other dresses into the suitcase again and zipped it up. “Right, let’s show your parents what a sweet girl you are.” Frank thought of begging them to release him from this torment but realised that things had gone too far for that. With his hair in curls and his varnished nails, he might look even sillier in trousers. But the dress was way too childish for a sixteen year-old girl – and he wasn’t even a girl, he had to remind himself.
-
Debt Collector - Part 2
Username: DaraJaney, Dec/19/2005 19:47:58 [-04][new]
They had to give him little nudges to make him go downstairs. He was dreading his parents’ reaction. But they seemed to be even more humiliated than him. They didn’t want to look at him but couldn’t help themselves. He looked so convincingly girlish.
Julia was amused the way Frank pressed his knees together and practically squirmed in the dress. He obviously felt very exposed. “Good”, she thought, “now he’s beginning to realise what’s it’s like to be a girl.” She made him turn around. Much to his horror she lifted the back of his dress to show off his panties. His father looked away.
“We’d better be off then”, said a bright and breezy Julia. She handed Frank his suitcase. This really brought it home to him that he was going to spend the next two months in nothing but dresses, skirts and all the frilly underwear in his case. The only material he would feel over his legs in that time would be nylon.
Tears came to his eyes as he clutched the suitcase. Julia savoured the moment, with Frank and both of his parents carefully studying the carpet. Then she opened the front door. Frank paused for a moment but knew the game was up. He walked out the door and for the first time felt the cool fresh air circulate around his panties. He didn’t look back as he sat in the back of the car, his knees pressed together and his hands tugging the hem of his dress down as far as it would go.
On arriving at Julia’s house he was despatched to his room. He was told to put his new clothes away in the wardrobe and chest of drawers. This way he saw every garment that he would be wearing over the next two months. He held up the white suspender belt with a pattern of pink hearts and innocently wondered what it was for.
At the bottom of the suitcase was his party dress. He froze when he first glimpsed the cerise puffed sleeves and the ruffled lace over the shoulder. He cleared away the other pairs of panties and stockings and lifted out the dress. The skirt stood out at quite an angle. He lifted the hem to reveal several layers of lace-trimmed organza petticoat. Then something else concerned him. He held it up against himself and looked in the mirror. It was even shorter than his blue dress. Julia walked in. “I know you can’t wait to wear it”, she said sarcastically, “but we’ll have to wait for a special occasion”.
She insisted that they had to go shopping for groceries. He braced himself as they walked down the road. It would be the first time he would encounter people while dressed as a girl. He realised that he was dressed so childishly that he would inevitably attract attention. He would have to try to act as a girl as best he could. It was going to be bad enough enduring the sneers for being dressed in such a sissy fashion but if people realised that he was a boy! It didn’t bear thinking about.
They wandered around the aisles of the store. He tried to ignore the stares and the sniggers. A gaggle of girls, barely in their teens and all wearing jeans and t-shirts, tittered and pointed at him. “Oh my gawd, look at her!” “Jeez, my little sister wouldn’t wear that!”
Half way down one aisle Julia told him to pull up his socks. He looked down and saw that they had indeed sagged a little. He bent over and pulled the left sock up. It was only when he straightened up again that he realised that he must have flashed his frilly panties. He looked behind and there were three boys at the end of the aisle bent over with laughter. He wondered how he was going to pull up his other sock without revealing his frillies again. He went down on one knee and pulled up the other sock, much to the boys’ disappointment.
The next day he was made to wear the yellow dress with the pinafore. There were, inevitably, matching panties which had a lace trim around the leg openings. Because the dress flared from a higher waist, he felt even more exposed and came down to breakfast clutching his skirts nervously.
After his breakfast, Julia handed him a skipping rope and told him to go out on the road and practice. He realised by now that he basically had to do whatever she said so he obediently went out the front door.
On the pavement he tried to skip. Of course, he had never done this before and was useless at it. He persisted, hoping that he would be able to learn the basics before anyone came along and saw him.
Eventually he was able to step over the rope a few times in a row. Then a man came down the road. He glared across at the skipping child as he passed and Frank realised that his panties must surely be showing as he skipped so he stopped and clutched the back of his dress.
After twenty minutes of this he wondered how long he would have to keep this up. Then a girl emerged from a house three doors down. She looked about eight but was dressed in a more grown-up fashion than Frank in a top and shorts. Her attention was immediately caught by this older “girl” in a dress that she wouldn’t be seen dead in. She came over and introduced herself as Angie.
Frank gave his name as Francis but undoubtedly it was understood to be Frances. She insisted on giving Frank skipping tips. He didn’t want to skip anymore because he knew the girl must be able to see his frilly panties. The little girl couldn’t help herself. “Why are you dressed like that?” she asked. Frank sighed. “My Aunt makes me wear these stupid clothes”, he told her. Angie nodded sympathetically. Sometimes her Mommy wanted her to wear stupid dresses when her Granny was coming. But she always refused. She wondered why this older girl couldn’t just say no.
-
Debt Collector Part 3
Username: DaraJaney, Dec/21/2005 23:07:56 [-04][new]
So Frank spent a month in sissy dresses, almost becoming used to his predicament, before his parents came to visit. They didn’t want to see their son in sissy dresses but Julia insisted that they come and see how he was doing.
They were shown in to the lounge. A very red-faced Frank sat demurely in an armchair working on a piece of embroidery. It was the first time he’d had to wear the cerise party dress. The layers of petticoats rested on his lap above his white-stockinged knees. His curls dangled just above the puffed sleeves and were tied up with matching ribbons.
His cheeks appeared to get even redder. He put the embroidery on a table beside his chair. He rose from the seat hesitantly, trying to discretely push down the voluminous petticoats and very conscious of the gradually stretching suspender straps. It wasn’t until he stood up fully that his mother realised how short his dress was. Her gaze continued down his long legs and she realised that his heels must have been a good four-inches high.
“What have you been practicing for your parents?” Aunt Julia asked him. He glared at her momentarily and then took the hem of his skirt on either side between his thumb and forefinger. He lifted the edges of his skirts as he curtsied. His father turned towards the window and suddenly became more interested in the garden.
They were invited to sit. Frank shuffled about self-consciously rearranging his petticoats several times, desperately hoping that his pettipants weren’t showing. They were covered with rows of lace from top to bottom.
Julia made him show the embroidery he was working on. Then she drew their attention to a completed piece that was displayed on a shelf of the display cabinet. She told Frank to take it down and show them. He rose from the chair, straightened his petticoats and tottered across the room in his high heels. As he reached up for the embroidery his dress rode up and revealed the lace tops of his stockings. His mother also noticed the little pink hearts on his suspender belt but his father had looked away by then.
Julia later enquired how his father was getting on at Gamblers’ Anonymous. He just studied his knees and wrung his hands. It was obvious that he was not having any success at cutting out the gambling. Frank didn’t like the sound of that at all.
When his parents were leaving they walked them to their car. Frank had desperately hoped against hope for some reprieve and that he might get to go home with his parents. His mother turned towards him. He gave her a despairing look and was clearly close to tears. She could only give him a sympathetic look in return.
Even after a month, he had not become used to the short dresses, petticoats, frilly panties, stockings or his ringlets. He was consumed by it all from dawn to dusk. As the car sped away he knew he was in for another month of it. Part of the problem was that he didn’t know whether it was better to get used to it or not. The very idea that he might get used to this was revolting to him and he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.
Frank prayed for the end of the two months to come as quickly as possible but each day seemed like a year. He just couldn’t get used to wearing girl’s clothes. He would often pause when dressing and sigh, before ruefully, but expertly, attaching a suspender strap to his stocking, still unable to believe that this was happening.
At the end of the two months his parents visited again to bring him home. Frank was so relieved that this was going to be his last day in a dress. He wondered, though, how long it would take to straighten his hair out. It was a good bit longer now and had been pressed tightly into curls for so long.
However, when his parents arrived he couldn’t help but notice his father’s downcast look. It turned out that he had managed to work up even bigger debts. The loan shark, realising that he was being bank-rolled, let him work up five-figure debts. So they left without Frank and the poor boy stood there facing a longer sentence in sissy dresses.
He sat crying in the chair when Julia came back in, having seen his parents off. The beautician was with her and they were studying him carefully. It was enough to make him stop crying and wonder what they were planning.
About a week later they came in and woke him one morning. They had a new dress for him. This one was a peach colour and flared from ****** level. It only barely covered the matching panties and indeed the lowest row of lace ***ked out even if he stood perfectly straight. They also had little white ankle socks for him with three rows of peach trim on them.
He was sent out skipping and when Angie came out she immediately noticed his even more childish attire. She said nothing which made him feel even worse. It was even too embarrassing for an eight-year old to mention!
His parents visited at Christmas. By now he was completely resigned to being dressed as a little girl indefinitely. He was wearing a red woolly sweater, a pleated mini-kilt and white opaque tights. He had finally ceased to worry about showing his panties, it had become so normal and at one point when he turned suddenly his kilt swirled out revealing red panties pulled up over the tights. When they went out in the snow to church he wore a short fur-lined jacket, knitted hat and fur-trimmed boots.
The other locals still tittered at his childish outfits, especially girls of his own age and younger but it had ceased to become such a big deal.
By the time the next summer came around there was still no sign of a reprieve. In fact, his father was still getting deeper into debt but Julia didn’t mind too much since she relished the hold it gave her over Frank.
-
Debt Collector - Part 4
Username: DaraJaney, Dec/21/2005 23:09:33 [-04][new]
One day the beautician visited again. Julia looked at Frank and smiled. “I think it’s about time we made him even younger.” Frank wondered how on earth they could do that – he was dressed like a four-year old.
A week later he was called up to his room. Julia had a large bag which he suspected contained new outfits for him. He eyed it gloomily. Julia pulled out a pair of huge pink frilly panties. There were little pink bows on either side, a big white heart in the centre at the front and a big pink bow in the centre at the back. His head dropped. But then he thought “those panties are way too big for me – they’ll never stay up”.
Twenty minutes later he appreciated why the panties were so big. They fitted quite snugly over his thick cotton nappy and plastic panties. He had started crying when they were putting him in the nappy and Julia have him a large pink soother to suc-k on which only upset him more.
Then a pink dress was produced from the bag. It had a pattern of nursery rhyme characters all over, a huge lace-trimmed collar and flared even more than his cerise party dress. When it was on him the huge skirts pushed his arms out at quite an angle. He looked in the mirror and saw that the dress was so short that most of the frilly panties could be clearly seen. It was obvious that they stretched over a thick nappy too.
He wondered if they would insist on bringing him out in this outfit because anyone who saw him would know instantly that he was in a nappy. But they weren’t finished. Julia placed a pink bonnet on his head. He could see the lace trim at the edges of the bonnet while she tied the ribbons under his chin in a bow. His ringlets dangled a few inches below the edge of his bonnet. Finally they put booties on his feet which, not surprisingly, had fluffy lace all around the tops.
Later, he sat on the sofa downstairs with growing pressure on his bladder. He was afraid to ask. He waited as long as he could. He removed the dummy and said “I need to use the bathroom”. Julia snorted. “What do you think the nappy is for?” His shoulders sagged at the confirmation of his worst fears. There was no point in arguing. He replaced the dummy in his mouth and waited. Within a few minutes a warmth spread around his groin area and then down around his bottom.
Julia glanced at him and saw the tears running down his face. “Are we done?” she asked coldly. He gave a barely perceptible nod. She stood and took his hand. He followed her. She walked much more quickly than he would have liked. He was concerned that his plastic pants wouldn’t hold it all in.
In the laundry room she had set up a changing table. He was made sit up on it and was told to pull up his dress. He didn’t have to pull it up far to clear his panties. Julia removed his booties and then his frilly panties. Then she took off his plastic panties and dropped them into a bucket. At this point the beautician came in and saw his soaked nappy. Her broad grin was unmistakable.
Julia cleaned him with baby wipes. She told him to turn over. He faced another table in the corner. There was a pile of at least a dozen nappies, plastic pants, at least two containers each of powders, creams and baby wipes. He realised when he saw this that they were planning to keep him in nappies for a long time.
When he turned back, tears were streaming down his face. He removed the dummy. “Please Aunt Julia!” She shushed him and pushed the dummy back in. “Now, now, babies don’t talk”, was all she said.
He lay back and looked at the ceiling. He suc-ked on the dummy a couple of times and considered it. Then he suc-ked some more. “Bottom up”, his Aunt instructed him. There was a moment’s hesitation but he obeyed. “That’s a good baba”, she said and smiled.
His parents came to visit a few weeks later. They were shown into the back garden. In the centre was a very large play pen with a very large baby sitting in a powder pink dress. They were behind Frank’s right shoulder but the bonnet blocked his peripheral vision. He clinked with a hammer, seemingly happily, on a tin xylophone positioned between his legs which were spread at quite an angle and were in pink tights.
He leaned forward to pick up a letter-brick and they saw the frills on his enormous matching panties. His mother sighed as she realised from the bulge that it wasn’t just a baby dress they had put him in. Then she saw the nappies fluttering on the washing line at the end of the garden and realised with a shock that they were obviously making him use his nappies.
She coughed and Frank turned his head suddenly. He looked up at them with a pink dummy in his mouth. He clearly had not been expecting them. He looked around the play pen, at the hammer in his hand and the xylophone and realised that they would have seen him act just like a real baby. Then he looked down at his nether regions and wondered if they had noticed his nappy.
He remained seated as his Aunt Julia gloated over how successfully she had reduced him to being such a sissy baby. He was terrified to move lest they see his nappy – even though he knew it was inevitable that they eventually would. Then the fluttering nappies caught his eye and he realised that they must know. He just hung his head in shame.
During his parents’ stay he was bottle-fed, spoon-fed in his high-chair and eventually changed after doing a particularly smelly poo. They couldn’t go until he was put into his cot for the night.
As his father headed for the door, he looked back at his son clutching the bars of his cot, in his short pink nightie, revealing his cloth nappy under the see-through plastic panties. Frank turned to look towards him and his sausage curls swung back and forth. He took a couple of suc-ks on his dummy. His father resolved to get that money paid off but almost immediately the realisation hit him that this was never going to happen – it was too much now.
Instead, he resolved never to come back and see his son like this again. They couldn’t make him. Frank recognised the look of despair in his father’s face. He knew now that there was no hope. A jet of warm *** soaked his nappy.
-
Debt Collector - Part 5
Username: DaraJaney, Jan/6/2006 10:25:04 [-04]
One day he was sitting in his pen having just finished reading a fairytale book. He wanted to get another one off the shelf but was forbidden to leave the pen. He decided to chance it. He opened the catch at the side and tip toed across the room. As he reached up for the Little Red Riding Hood book he heard a cough behind him. He froze. Aunt Julia was looking crossly at him. But then she looked down at his frilly panties which were completely exposed as he reached upwards and she grinned. “What are you doing?”
She made him get back into the pen. “Where is your dummy?” she asked, looking around the room. He had hidden it under the blanket in his cot. It took her several minutes to find it. Instead of making him suc-k on it, she left the room but returned moments later with some pink ribbon which she ran through the ring on the dummy. She attached the ribbon to his dress with a safety pin. The dummy dangled on his chest. She took it and pushed it into his mouth. “There! Now you won’t keep losing it.” The next day he was sitting in the high-chair spoon-feeding himself some breakfast cereal. His Aunt Julia produced a pair of fingerless mittens, pulled them over his hands and fastened them at the wrist. “Now! That’ll stop you opening the catches on your pen or cot. We can’t have you wandering around.”
He examined the mittens. He realised he couldn’t pick up the spoon again. “I’m afraid we’ll have to spoon-feed you all the time now,” she said picking up the spoon. “You’ll be almost completely helpless.” He was just about able to hold his bottle between his hands and could pick up the larger play-blocks and dolls and cuddly toys but that was about it. “Next thing is, we have to find you a nanny,” she told him.
A few days later an eighteen-year old girl called Jenny was shown in to what was now a well-equipped nursery. Frank was sitting in his pen in a yellow frock with a white pinafore. “Oh isn’t he adorable?” Jenny enthused. His Aunt Julia gave her the full run-down.
“He has to use his nappies all the time,” she said.
“That’s alright,” Jenny said, “I’ve been used to changing my little brother.”
“Oh, how old is he?” Aunt Julia enquired.
“Well he’s four now so he’s out of nappies. Not like our little Frank here.”
“No,” Julia smirked, “you’d think by the age of sixteen he would be but we’re not in any hurry are we?”
“The mittens make him almost completely helpless so you’ll have to bottle and spoon-feed him everything. When you put him in his pen, cot or high-chair just make sure that the catches are closed and he’ll be held in securely.”
“He has his bottles at eight, noon, four and eight again just before he goes to bed. He nearly always wets himself during the night. He has a nap at 2pm or he gets cranky.”
Jenny laughed. “That’s no problem.” Frank eyed Jenny with concern. She was gorgeous. Her low cut t-shirt showed off ample ******s and she wore very tight jeans. In other circ-umstances he would be interested in trying to impress her but there was little chance of that while he was being kept as a baby girl. He wasn’t looking forward to her leaning over him changing his nappy. He felt sure he would not be able to contain himself.
Sure enough, the very first time that Jenny changed him he had an erection. She scolded him but there was nothing he could do about it and she was presented with the same show with each changing. The second day she was changing him in the morning before his mother left. When he inevitably had another erection, she called his mother in. He was mortified that his mother should witness this. “Right! Proceed as we agreed,” his mother said and left.
Jenny took his ***** in her hand and started massaging it. Frank was initially startled but this was soon overcome by intense pleasure. She wasted no time and within seconds he was coming. He was in such ecstasy he didn’t notice that she gathered most of the sperm in a little bottle. Frank was still lying back recovering when she removed his dummy. She inserted some metal frame into his mouth and forced his mouth open. The device clicked into place and held his mouth wide open. She held the bottle of sperm over his open mouth. He shook his head desperately but it was impossible to stop her emptying the contents into his mouth. The taste was horrific. He wretched and coughed but ultimately he had to swallow his own sperm. She removed the device and replaced it with his dummy. He was left with the disgusting taste in his mouth until his next bottle four hours later.
In the afternoon he needed changing again. Despite his every attempt to think of something else it was hopeless and soon he was spluttering on his sperm again. When his dummy was in again, he desperately wanted to plead that no matter how many times they did that, he was inevitably going to get an erection every time that Jenny changed him. But he was forbidden to speak.
The next day Jenny appeared in a halter-top mini dress. Frank started crying when he saw this. He knew he was in for another nasty day.
-
Debt Collector - Part 6
Username: DaraJaney, Jan/6/2006 10:29:46 [-04]
Frank was thoroughly unhappy being kept as a baby girl, not surprisingly. One Saturday he was particularly depressed about his status. At lunchtime his Aunt told him that she thought he must be constipated or something and fed him a desert of stewed prunes. “You’ll have a bowlful of that with every meal now until you cheer up,” she told him.
Soon after, he produced a very messy and smelly nappy full. He tried to put on a more cheerful disposition. “That’s more like it,” she said. “Now if you’re a happy baby girl this afternoon you might just get a little reward.” She showed him a red lollipop and placed it on the tray in front of him. It was still in a plastic wrapper so he couldn’t have it unless she unwrapped it for him.
She put him in the pen and told him to play with his dolls. His diet had consisted almost entirely of warm milk and mushed vegetables for weeks now and the prospect of a lollipop was sufficient to make him pretend to be happily playing with his dolls all afternoon. He was duly rewarded and relished it.
She continued rewarding suitable little girl behaviour with sweets. But his frustration got the better of him on Sunday and he threw a brief tantrum with more pleading to be freed from his predicament. “Please! Please! Please Auntie. I can’t take this any longer.”
“Oh but you will just have to,” was her response and all he got out of it was another bowl of stewed prunes.
On Monday Jenny noticed his improved behaviour. When his Aunt returned in the evening she was given a glowing account of his day. He hadn’t grumbled once about his bottles or feeds and spent the day absorbed with his toys and picture books. He even avoided getting an erection when she changed him and was generally very co-operative. His Aunt gave him some Pavlova for desert.
The following Saturday morning his Aunt told him he was so good he could have an ice-cream of his choice. He bopped up and down excitedly like a real baby. She laughed. “Now we’ll have to put on your prettiest dress for the trip to the shops,” she said as she flicked through his dresses. He was shocked. She was going to take him out in public! He started to grumble about this. His Aunt grew cross. “Now don’t spoil it,” she warned. “You’ve been such a good baby girl. Anymore trouble and it’ll be stewed prunes for a week.”
Poor Frank didn’t know what to do. He desperately didn’t want to go out like this in public but he knew he was at her mercy and resistance was futile in the long term.
He just stood there and let her dress him in a peach taffeta dress that had three-inch lace trim around the neck, sleeves and hem. She put him in white tights before pulling up the matching bloomers that had three layers of the same lace down the legs, each trimmed with peach bows down the sides. Then she made him step into the four-layer organza petticoat and pulled it up under his dress. This dress came with a mop-cap style bonnet.
When she had buckled his t-bar shoes on, he thought he was done. But she produced a white leather harness, pulled it over his chest and arms and tightened it before buckling him in. He looked down at the thick strip of leather across his chest. It said “Baby Frank” in pastel multi-coloured letters. He looked up at his Aunt with an unmistakably pleading look on his face but she ignored it. He knew that any more dissent than that and it would be stewed prunes for him.
He wanted to cry as she brought him to the front door. His experience so far had been so humiliating but at least it had been all in private. How he was about to be paraded in front of the whole town and he had a fair idea what they would think about a sixteen year old boy in a nappy and frilly baby dress.
They weren’t gone a hundred yards when they met a lady. Her startled look was quickly replaced with a huge grin. “Who have we here, Julia?” she asked. Frank saw her scan his whole outfit from the bonnet down to his bloomers before her eyes fixed on the name on his harness. There was another startled look. “It’s a boy?!” Julia smiled proudly. “This is my nephew Frank.” He just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. The neighbour was bemused. She looked below his dress again. “Is he wearing a nappy?” Julia just nodded. Frank could do nothing but stand there suc-king on his dummy. “Why is he dressed like this? Is there a fancy dress party on somewhere?”
“No, Frank was unhappy as a boy and I discovered that he secretly liked frilly girly things so we decided to start him off again as a baby girl.” Frank looked at his Aunt in surprise. He couldn’t believe the lie she was telling but he knew he couldn’t contradict her so he just stood there and took it.
The neighbour looked at him expecting a denial of some sort and when it didn’t come she took it as confirmation of the truth. “My goodness!”
“We’d better move on”, his Aunt said to his relief. “I want to get to the shops and back before he wets himself, or worse.” Frank cringed. The neighbour was astonished again. “You mean he uses the nappies?!”
“Absolutely,” his Aunt confirmed, “he’s done everything in his nappies for a month or so now. He insists on being treated just like a real baby girl.” Frank was beside himself with frustration but knew that he would regret any dissent. “He spends his whole day in his play-pen and high-chair and sleeps in a cot. We have to spoon and bottle-feed him everything.” The neighbour stood there open-mouthed.
“Anyway we’d better get on,” his Aunt repeated and they finally did. But they met several others on their way. The bulge under his bloomers was so obvious that everyone asked immediately was he really wearing a nappy. Each person found a different thing most amusing – his bonnet or his bloomers or his tights. “I presume that’s a wig,” a woman asked on noticing his ringlets. “No, not at all, that’s his own hair.”
The shop was busy and a crowd gathered around the poor boy. His Aunt explained again to everyone that Frank wanted to be a baby girl and detailed to everyone exactly what that entailed.
When they finally got home, Julia asked if he was wet. Frank realised that his nappy felt wet and warm but he couldn’t remember when he had wet himself. But the unrefutable evidence was there. He had wet himself without even realising it. He started crying. His aunt was puzzled at this. “It’s alright, I’ll soon have you changed”. But she wondered why he was so upset at being wet – given that he should be so used to that by now.
Then she realised what it must be. “Did you wet yourself without realising it?” she asked. Frank nodded glumly, hoping that this development would make her realise just what she was doing to him. It became clear that she did. “Excellent,” she said and let the bawling Frank to his changing table.
-
Debt Collector - Part 7 Username: DaraJaney, Jan/6/2006 10:31:45 [-04]
Julia obtained a large pushchair for Frank. Each day Jenny would strap him into it saying “now you’ll be safe as houses” and she pushed him around his Aunt’s large garden. The first sunny day Jenny decided to leave him on the patio to enjoy the sun. He became too warm under his several layers of petticoats and his tights. It wasn’t far from his nap time and he fell into a half-sleep. His soother teetered on the brink of falling out of his mouth several times but he instinctively suc-ked it back in each time. He awoke to find himself being pushed down the road outside their house. He was alarmed at another unexpected public exhibition. “Are you awake dear?” Jenny asked from behind the pushchair. He grunted through the dummy. “Sorry dear but I need to get something in the shops,” she told him. He groaned to indicate his displeasure at being taken out.
She stopped and came around in front of him. “I hope you’re not wet dear. I couldn’t stick my finger in to check because you have your tights on.” He realised that he was. He often wetted himself during his nap now. He nodded desperately. “Oh well, we’ll only be fifteen minutes. It won’t do you any harm,” she said. She started pushing him towards the shops again and he groaned.
As he was propelled along towards the crowded main street he looked down at the straps holding him in the pushchair. There was a simple snap-release that would free him but with his hands in mittens even that simple task was beyond him.
A lady met them. “Oh here’s our pretty little baby girl,” she said in mock baby talk, assuming this was what the sissy boy wanted. Jenny stopped to let her admire him. He would very much prefer if she didn’t. “Who’s a pretty-witty-ickle-baba,” she said and tweaked his nose. He jerked his head back from her in protest and she laughed.
“I’m afraid we’d better be getting along,” Jenny told her, much to Frank’s relief. “His nappy is wet and we don’t want him to get a nasty rash do we?” she continued and Frank winced. The lady laughed heartily at his discomfort.
Everyone they met wanted to engage them in conversation while taking in the spectacular sight of the sixteen-year old boy in a pretty baby dress and nappy. Jenny apologised to each one explaining his predicament. “Oh I hope there are no leaks,” one woman tittered. “No, his plastic panties are elasticated at the legs and are very good at holding everything in – even number twos,” Jenny explained helpfully as Frank squirmed in his nappy. His Aunt’s lollipop incentive scheme was very successful and Frank was soon behaving like a perfect baby girl from morning to night. He had to keep up the pretence even on his occasional excursions to the shops and seemed to be almost too convincing. “Aw, he seems to be so happy in his nappy”, one woman observed. He wanted to puke but kept up the fixed smile as she tickled him under the chin.
Eventually his mother came to visit again. His father steadfastly refused to see his son again. As far as he was concerned he no longer had a son. And in many ways he was right.
Frank had been gently reminded that good behaviour during his mother’s visit would be well rewarded. On the one hand he wanted her to realise how unhappy he was being kept as a baby girl. On the other hand he knew there was nothing she could do about it. No matter what he did he was stuck like this for the foreseeable future.
When his mother appeared he climbed to knees in the play-pen and smiled up at her from behind his dummy. “Give your Mummy a hug,” his Aunt told him. He stood up and put his arms around his mother.
Julia suggested that they go into the garden. His mother brought him by the hand through the patio door. A swing had been erected in the garden with a specially designed seat for Frank. His Aunt strapped him into the seat. “Now you won’t fall out,” she assured him as she tightened the straps.
She gave him a little push and he swayed back and forth no more than a few inches. That was all she ever did. “We don’t want you getting sick or wetting yourself from too much excitement,” she explained for his mother’s benefit.
His feet didn’t reach the ground and the seat was designed to prevent him from leaning back to start himself swinging so he had to sit there with his feet dangling frustratingly just an inch from the ground until someone pushed him again. This was about as exciting as his life got now. At the end of her visit his mother declared “he seems quite happy now.” Frank so wanted to scream, “of course I’m not!” but there was no point. “Sure he doesn’t have a care in the world,” Julia said. “His only concern is that he gets changed quickly enough before he gets nappy rash.” The women laughed.
His mother produced a camera and asked Julia to take photos of them together. They took photos of him in his swing, in his high-chair, in his pen, kneeling in his cot. His mother fussed over his dress and petticoats, anxious that they look their best for the photos. She arranged his sausage curls to show them off and fluffed out the lace trim on his socks. Julia asked if he should take his dummy out of his mouth for the shots but his mother preferred him with the dummy in. She stood beside Frank in the garden for more shots. He tried to push his petticoats down to hide his nappy and frilly panties but she slapped his hands away saying, “don’t do that.” She made him turn slightly so that the rows of lace on his panties could be seen. Julia knelt so as to take the shot from a nice upward angle.
When his mother was gone, Julia had the idea to have some photographs taken professionally. She had a special dress made for him. It was made of powder pink taffeta. The lace collar was so wide it rested on the big puffed sleeves. The hem of the dress was scalloped to reveal the lace trimmed organza 100-yard petticoat underneath. The pink lacey pettipants came to just above his knees. The white tights had a pattern of pink hearts.
His sausage curls were freshly pressed for the occasion and his bonnet had a huge crescent brim trimmed with lace of course.
The photographer did his best to hide his amusement at the assignment as Frank stood before him clutching his most expensive Victorian doll. Julia made him stand and sit at all angles fussing about his dress to get it just right. He knew better than to try to minimise the embarrassment by attempting to hide his nappy or frilly bloomers in any way. He just stood there and let them take the pictures whatever way they wanted. The result was that his nursery and the lounge were decorated with large blown up photographs of Baby Frank. He couldn’t look in any direction without seeing some reproduction of himself in that powder pink dress. In each and every photo his pettipants and nappy stand out prominently and his sausage curls dangle perfectly beneath his bonnet. There is nothing in any of the photos to give scale to his figure. He smiles in each one – just the picture of a perfect happy little baby girl.
-
Debt Collector - Part 8 Username: DaraJaney, Jan/6/2006 10:35:31 [-04]
His mother came to visit more regularly. She clearly loved to baby him. Frank became more and more consumed by his new life. He had to accept that there was nothing he could do but make the best of it and be a good little baby girl. At least that way he got occasional treats instead of torments.
He had even become quite used to being brought out in public. Jenny regularly wheeled him down to the local park. She would head for the playground. Of course Frank wasn’t allowed onto any of the swings or slides but she would tie his harness to the surrounding fence where he could watch the children playing as he clutched his dolly. Jenny would sit nearby reading her book.
While the children gradually became more used to the spectacle of the teenage boy in a baby dress, they could never fully resist teasing about it. The worst were the smallest children, especially those only out of nappies themselves. He would have to endure a four-year old asking him in a snide way – “do you still have to wear nappies?” Frank knew he was required to nod in confirmation. “I don’t, ‘cause I’m a big boy now not a little baby like you.”
Sometimes Jenny would get really absorbed in her book and Frank would be waiting there too long. If he wet himself he would have to cry to attract her attention. The kids would all gather around in delight. “Jenny! Baby Frank has a wet nappy.” One of them would probably sniff around his bottom to see if he was more than just wet.
Occasionally, if there were no other children on the roundabout, Jenny might let him stand on it, clinging as best he could to the bars, while she gently moved it around very slowly. The kids would laugh at the pathetic s***d Jenny would go at. “Faster, faster,” they would shout. “Now you know what might happen if he gets too excited”, Jenny would remind them. This would bring screams of laughter from the kids who would run away shouting “he might poop in his nappy!”
He was only sick once. Julia rang the doctor to see if he made house calls. Despite Frank’s fervent prayers, alas he didn’t and Frank was propelled in the push-chair to the doctor’s surgery where he had to sit for an hour among loads of adults making mock-baby noises at him and loads of children teasing him about his nappy and frilly dress. He just suc-ked on his dummy and tried to show disdain for them.
An elderly lady next to him flicked the plastic animals strung across in front of him in the pushchair. He knew he was supposed to play along if he didn’t want stewed prunes so he batted the toys and made them rattle. The children all laughed at this. One child kept hiding behind the pushchair, jumping out in front shouting “***p-oh” which greatly amused everyone except Frank.
When he finally got to see the doctor, it was thought he was running a temperature. The doctor asked Julia to take off his nappy. He told Frank to turn over, presumably looking for nappy rash or something. The doctor walked around in front of Frank and said “I must take his temperature.” Frank was ready to open his mouth to facilitate this but to his surprise the doctor walked down by his side and suddenly Frank felt something being inserted in his bottom! His head jerked up in shock but he was otherwise frozen in position (he even stopped suc-king on his dummy) as the doctor held the thermometer there for the requisite time. Frank was never so relieved to get his nappy back on.
After six months news came through that Frank’s father had disappeared. Nobody knew if the money lenders had finally caught up with him or if he had gone into hiding. A further month passed without any news. Julia decided that there was no longer much point in keeping Frank as a baby. The main target of her plan was no longer around to torment. She spoke to his mother about it. She came to be there on the morning that Frank was to be freed.
He looked up from his cot as the two women walked into his room. “We’ve a nice surprise for you,” Julia told him. His mother was carrying a pair of trousers and a shirt. “We can finally let you out of your nappies and baby dresses.”
Frank’s face brightened instantly. At last! Julia took the dummy from his mouth. “You won’t be needing that anymore.” Frank watched uncertainly as she placed it on the table. That was a bit sudden. His mother went to take the doll he was holding. She was surprised to meet some resistance before he let her take it. The smile had now gone from his face. He was wondering was all this really necessary?
-
Debt Collector - Part 9 Username: DaraJaney, Jan/7/2006 20:57:55 [-04]
Frank was driven home by his mother the next day. His special furniture came afterwards in a van. When he looked into his bedroom, his old bed had been removed. The wardrobe had been emptied of his boy’s clothes. His study desk was gone and all the shelves had been cleared of his books and comics. The room was practically bare – ready for his special furniture. He wondered if his boy’s clothes had been stored away somewhere or had they been disposed of altogether.
The van arrived and his cot, play-pen and high-chair were all moved into his room. His mother carried in his dresses and hung them in the wardrobe. His panties, bonnets, tights etc. were tucked into drawers.
When the van was gone he toddled into the lounge. His push-chair was there. He was not pleased to see this. They did not have a big garden and the only possible use for the pushchair was to bring him out on the streets. It was only then that he realised that he was probably going to have to face a whole new neighbourhood of people who hadn’t seen him dressed in nappies and baby dresses before. And these people knew him from before.
All of his school friends would probably see him. He knew they would be merciless in their taunting. He remembered the day he turned up for school in old trousers that were too tight on him and thought of the torment visited on him that day. If they saw him dressed as a baby girl, there was no way he would ever be able to go back to that school. He thought ruefully that there seemed to be little chance of that anyway the way things were going.
His mother put him into the high-chair for his first feeding since coming home. She gave him a baby bottle of warm milk and he held it up himself and started suc-king. When he was finished that, she spoon-fed him his lunch of pureed vegetables. She hadn’t bothered putting his hands in mittens. He just accepted being spoon-fed now anyway. He never tried to get out of his cot or pen either. He was completely compliant with his status as a baby.
His mother had acquired some more baby paraphernalia such as a baby monitor and nursery rhyme tapes. She had recovered some of her old dolls and these were placed in his cot and pen.
The next morning, his mother took out his pink gingham dress. “This is your favourite isn’t it?” He nodded. “OK”, she said throwing it over his head, “you’ll want to look your best for your first outing.”
He tried to stop her putting the dress on him as a protest against being brought out in public. “Now, now, what’s wrong?” He gave her a cross look. “You can’t stay in the house all the time,” she told him, “you’re going to have to go out sometime and anyway I can’t leave you home alone when I need to go out.” She zipped him in despite his grumpy look.
She opened a drawer and took out a pair of pink tights. He groaned through his dummy. “You’ll have to wear tights if you’re going outside, your dress doesn’t do anything to cover your legs.” Who was she telling?
It may have seemed churlish to argue about being put in tights given the pink baby dress and obvious nappy he was wearing but he knew well by now that people would pick on every single mortifying aspect of his appearance. He could have asked her to put him in the marginally less embarrassing white tights but he was unused to speaking now. His frilly panties were pulled up over his tights and as soon as his bonnet and booties were on, he was strapped into the pushchair. His mother handed him a doll and he cradled it in his right arm.
He braced himself as she opened the front door. It never occurred to him that he could easily open the release on his straps with no mittens on. It wasn’t until they met the first lady on the street that he realised that it looked so much more damning without his mittens. At least when they were strapped on his hands people might realise that he was forced to dress like this. But now people could see that he wasn’t resisting being dressed as a baby girl.
He started crying when he realised this. “Oh what’s wrong with the poor baba?” the lady asked mockingly. Frank suc-ked hard on his dummy which made her laugh. His mother pressed on and he realised that he was about to be exposed as a big sissy baby in front of the whole neighbourhood but there was nothing much he could do about it now.
It wasn’t long before they encountered a school friend of Frank’s. Tommy saw the big baby from some distance and was clearly intrigued. Frank was never so mortified but he didn’t realise that Tommy had yet to recognise who was dressed in the pink dress and frilly panties.
He was grinning from ear to ear as the pushchair came nearer. Then he recognised Frank’s mother and you could see the puzzled look on his face as he looked again at the big baby. “Are you not going to say hello to Frank?” she asked in case he was still in any doubt. Tommy’s jaw dropped. He looked at the pink dress, at the frilly panties and the way they bulged over what was obviously a nappy. He looked hard at the face behind the dummy and, despite the bonnet and dangling sausage curls, eventually made out the face of his school friend.
Tommy bent over laughing as he tried to take in the pink tights, the booties. He managed to point as he held his sides. “It’s Frank!” he splurted. Frank squirmed in the pushchair.
That was it. Word was out now. He could never face any of his friends ever again. The tragedy was that he would have to – every day, on his way to the shops or the park.
[/quote]
-
Debt Collector - Part 10 Username: DaraJaney, Jan/11/2006 19:32:58 [-04]
Another day his mother wheeled him down to the pond in the park. She handed him some stale bread to throw to the ducks. Another lady came along holding a little girl by the hand. “My goodness! Look at the big baby!” the mother said. The little girl looked at Frank blankly.
“How old is she?” the mother asked somewhat incredulously. “HE – is sixteen,” his mother announced proudly. “What !?!” The little girl looked up at her mother in confusion. “Oh my God! I can’t even get her to wear a skirt and look at him! Where did you get the dress … and the panties and bonnet?”
“It was his Aunt put him back in nappies,” his mother told her. “She had a selection of baby dresses made for him.” Frank continued throwing bread to the ducks, trying not to get too upset about this unwanted attention.
“And why did she put him back in nappies?” the woman asked, clearly intrigued. “It’s a long story,” his mother answered, unwilling to go into her husband’s embarrassing addiction. But she was not so inhibited in detailing every excruciatingly mortifying aspect of Frank’s predicament. “He can’t do without his nappies now anyway.”
“You mean he has lost control of his toilet?” she probed. His mother nodded. “That’s funny because Melanie here is just out of nappies. Aren’t you dear?” The little girl nodded proudly and looked pitifully at Frank.
“Is he wearing cloth nappies?” the lady continued. “They seem to be quite thick.”
“Yes,” his mother confirmed. “They’re fine really. The elasticated plastic panties keep everything in OK.” Frank had run out of bread. He had nothing to distract him now from the embarrassing conversation and he started to sniffle.
“Where did you get the pink tights?”
“I don’t know where his Aunt got them but she got a dozen pairs. So he doesn’t have to worry about running out of them for some time,” his mother teased.
The lady turned to the little girl. “Doesn’t he look pretty? Especially those frilly panties.” The girl grimaced and the women laughed. Frank suc-ked on his dummy. “I’ve managed to wean her off the S-O-O-T-H-E-R just recently,” the lady confided in his mother. “Oh I’m afraid Frank can’t do without his at all now. He gets quite cranky if he doesn’t have it.” There were tears running down his face now. How could she?
“We’d better be going,” his mother said. “He usually wets himself about now so I don’t want to be too far from home when he does.”
The woman laughed. “Is he that regular?”
“Well he gets his bottle every four hours so that usually keeps him going.” The woman was laughin****controllably now. Her daughter was still puzzled by the amazing sight.
“Do you come down here every day?” the lady asked. His mother confirmed this. “Will we come back tomorrow and see the big baby again?” she asked the little girl. She nodded.
“Bye, bye,” Frank’s mother said, “see you tomorrow. Frank! Wave to the little girl.” Frank obeyed half-heartedly, knowing he wouldn’t be wheeled away until he did. The lady smiled at his obedience. As he was wheeled away he was sure he heard the lady say “poor thing!” but it was followed by a snigger.
They were now a bit later than usual. Frank froze when he heard a familiar sound from his past life. It was the unmistakable sound of children rushing out from school. He realised that he was about to be surrounded by all the kids from his school.
A dozen or so children emerged from the school gate. Frank twisted around in the pushchair and gave his mother a pleading look. If she didn’t take evasive action quickly, he was about to have the most embarrassing moment of his life – and some of his recent experiences would take some topping.
“Oh look it’s your friends,” she exclaimed. Frank flopped back in his push-chair. She was obviously going to propel him into the middle of this. That familiar warm feeling spread around his nappy.
One of the kids pointed towards him. “Hey! That must be Frank, the big sissy baby we heard about!” They ran towards him. He was still filling his nappy with warm ***. He instinctively tried to push his petticoats down to hide his frilly panties and nappy but it was pointless. “Look at his frilly knickers,” someone shouted. “He really is wearing a nappy!”
He was now surrounded by kids. “Does he really do everything in his nappy?” one of them asked his mother. She smiled and nodded. For once it appeared that she wasn’t going to elaborate. But then she added, “he hasn’t used the bathroom for more than six months now.” Frank cringed. He suc-ked on his dummy. “Ha, ha! He’s suc-king on his dummy!”
“Does he even do his shi … eh … number 2s in his nappy?” They all laughed. “Of course he does,” his mother confirmed.
It seemed like they were there for hours as the kids quizzed his mother on all the details. “Yes, I do bottle and spoon feed him. Yes, he does sleep in a cot. No, he doesn’t have any boy’s clothes anymore, just his baby dresses.” Frank swung around in shock when she confirmed this. The kids laughed. Tears started streaming down his face. He realised that his mother regarded this situation as permanent – or at least very long term.
“Oh the big baba is crying,” they taunted him. He suc-ked shamelessly on his dummy. He just didn’t care anymore. He wanted to get home to the safety of his cot.
“I think he may be wet,” his mother suggested. “Is your nappy wet dear?” The kids were in hysterics now. He didn’t deny it. “I’d better get him changed,” his mother said and finally pushed on.
A group of girls he recognised as being in the year behind him followed. “If you ever want someone to baby sit him, let us know,” one of them offered and she laughed along with the others. “Actually, I was hoping to go out on Friday night,” his mother said. Frank squeezed his wet eyes shut in frustration.
The girls were excited at the prospect. “Really? Can we baby sit him then?”
“What? All of you?” his mother asked.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.”
“You might have to change a poopy nappy,” she warned them. They laughed and poked each other. One of them eventually recovered enough to say “we’re all experienced baby-sitters and used to changing nappies.”
His mother thought about this. “But do you know how to pin on a cotton nappy? He’s not wearing disposables.” The girls were in a heap laughing again. “No, we’ve never come across them before.”
“Never mind,” his mother said and Frank hoped for a reprieve. “I can show you all when you come over.” They jumped up and down with excitement.
“See you Friday, Frank!” They all went running and laughing down the street.
-
Debt Collector - Part 11 Username: DaraJaney, Jan/14/2006 11:17:35 [-04]
On Friday evening eight girls turned up to baby-sit! "My goodness," his mother said, "it's not usually so easy to find baby-sitters."
They were shown into Frank's room where they found him sitting in his playpen. They were amazed at the furnishings. "Wow! It's just like a real nursery. He's got a big cot and a big high-chair and everything."
Frank had a very grumpy look on his face. He was obviously not pleased to see so many of them turn up. "Poor baba doesn't look very happy," one of the girls observed. How could he be happy in this situation? But there was another reason for his grumpiness. "He wet himself about an hour ago but I decided to wait until you were all here before changing him so I can demonstrate," his mother told them.
The girls were clearly excited at the prospect of seeing Frank have his nappy changed. His mother let him out of the pen and he waddled over to the changing table. "Hee, hee. Look at the way he walks!"
He sat up on the changing table and all of the girls gathered around. Frank wanted to die there and then. His mother took off his dress. He raised his bottom without needing to be told (sniggers) and she pulled down his frilly panties. "You can see the way the plastic panties are elasticized, girls." His mother ran her finger around the elasticized leg. "Keeps everything in." There was more tittering.
She carefully removed the plastic panties and dropped them in a bucket. The nappy was thoroughly soaked. The girls tried not to laugh too much but it was difficult. He had such a wounded look on his face as he lay back suc-king the dummy trying to forget the fact that there were eight younger girls watching him have his nappy changed.
His mother took out the pins and he lifted his bottom again while she took off his nappy. There was more tittering now as his privates were exposed to all. She took a baby-wipe and started to wipe him down. "You've shaved all his hair off there," one of them noticed.
"Yes. We use a cream. It's important that he is smooth and hairless all around his bottom. Turn over, dear."
With his bottom wiped, his mother picked up the powder. "Can I do that?" Kim asked.
"Sure," his mother replied. Frank looked over his shoulder to see the girl take the powder. She was smiling broadly. The girls all tittered loudly while she shook powder on Frank's bottom and started spreading it around. She laughed herself silly while doing it.
When she had done his bottom she asked him to turn over again. He didn't move. He had a hard-on. "Come on," she said and when he didn't move she slapped his bottom lightly. Several girls were doubled over laughing now.
His mother instructed him to turn over and Frank gave in. Kim put her hand to her mouth when she saw his erection. "Frank!" his mother shouted. She took the powder, briskly shook it over his gradually reducing ***** and reached for the cotton nappy. He co-operated fully, anxious for once to get the nappy on to cover his embarrassment.
His mother relaxed once she had him wrapped in the nappy. "Now as you can see, you pull the nappy up between his legs and pin it at the front like this. Then you pull on a clean pair of plastic panties. Make sure that all of the nappy is tucked inside the elasticized legs and waist. And voila!"
"Now, do you want to dress him while I get ready to go out," she asked. "Yes, can we pick a dress?" a girl asked excitedly.
"Sure, his wardrobe is over there. His panties, bonnets and booties are in the drawers over there."
The girls scampered across to pick an outfit while his mother went off. "It's full of nothing but frilly baby dresses," Kim said when they opened the wardrobe. They were amazed at the selection. Each one was taken out and held up. They inspected the petticoats and lace trims.
Frank observed from the changing table, worried which one they would pick. As he suspected they were most attracted to the peach taffeta dress. It was such a bright color. When Kim held it up a big grin spread across her face. "Which one do you think is prettiest, Frank?" she asked. Then she noticed the grimace that he made on seeing the peach dress. "I think this is definitely his favorite," she said. The girls looked at his expression and laughed. "Definitely!"
Another girl found the matching bloomers. They were about to make him step into them when one of the girls shouted, "wait!" She held up a pair of white tights. Frank groaned. It wasn't fair. He only needed them if he was going outside. She saw the look on his face and that was it. "We HAVE to put these on him," she declared.
When his mother came back into the room she stopped with a jolt. They had tied little ribbons at the end of each of his sausage curls. She suspected one of them had given his cheeks a little blush but maybe it was natural. She smiled. "Oh, he looks adorable."
"Now, he must be in his cot by nine, girls. Make sure he gets his bottle before you put him down. He might resist it because it makes him wet himself during the night." There was widespread tittering again.
"Do you have to get up and change him every night?"
"Well, usually. But more often now he wets himself in his sleep and doesn't wake me. I'll have to start putting him in double thickness nappies at night. He's becoming so used to wetting himself now he'll probably sleep through it every night soon." The girls all turned and looked at him. Tears were streaming down his face.
"Right, well I'm off," his mother announced. With that she left the room and he heard the front door close. The girls were all standing around him in a circle, looking at him. He knew they were wondering what they could do next.
-
Debt Collector - Part 12 Username: DaraJaney, Jan/16/2006 09:04:04 [-04]
Now that his mother was gone they were much less inhibited in their comments. "What a big sissy baby," Kim said, "peeing and pooping in his nappy, flouncing around the place in frilly dresses and panties."
"Ah don't be too hard on the poor baba," one of the others interrupted, "he doesn't have any choice, does he? His Mummy wants to keep him as a sissy baby."
"What do you mean?" Kim countered, "he can take off that dress anytime he wants but he doesn't because he loves dressing in sissy dresses. Don't you?" Frank looked cross and shook his head. He wanted to argue with them and protest that he didn't want to be a sissy baby but what was the point? He just suc-ked on his dummy.
"I know!" one of them said. "I'll go home and get my camera. We can take lots of photos of him and show them around at school." Frank looked so upset when he heard this but that only made her more determined. He decided he would have to try to control his reactions because it only encouraged them if they saw he was dreading something. But it was hard to look anything but utterly downcast at the prospect of having photos of oneself wearing a nappy and baby dress handed around the whole school. She returned in five minutes with a digital camera. "This is great," she said. "We can post pictures on the web and everything." Frank's eyes started watering. "Quick, get one of him crying," Kim urged her. This only made him more upset and soon tears were streaming down his face. The camera flashed several times.
He was brought over to the high chair. Each of them wanted to be photographed giving him his bottle. Then Kim looked in the refrigerator and asked if he would like some ice cream. He was surprised at this. He would love some ice cream. The tears stopped for a moment and he nodded. Kim came over with a tub of chocolate ice cream. Frank started to get excited. "Better get a bib," Kim instructed. A quick rummage through the drawers was enough to find a selection of bibs. "Which one will we put on him, the one with the Care-Bears or the one with the Teletubbies?" Once the Teletubbies bib was on, Kim took the spoon to the ice cream. She took a big scoop and held it up to Frank. He opened wide but she smeared it all around his mouth. The girls laughed at Frank's dirty face and the camera flashed several times again. Hardly any ice cream actually made it into his mouth. He tried to lick around his mouth as much as he could. He thought about wiping it off with the back of his hands but that would probably only make things worse.
The girls were in hysterics as Kim smeared more ice cream on his face, despite his desperate attempts to close his mouth over the spoon. Kim had to put the ice cream down she was laughing so much. Poor Frank had barely got a taste at all - only enough to frustrate him.
One of the girls realized that there was a little milk left in the baby bottle and she squirted it around his mouth so that it dribbled down his chin. The camera flashed again.
Frank started crying in frustration. They were so mean. He cried so hard they began to feel guilty. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Oh give him his dummy," Kim said. His dummy was pushed into his mouth and he gradually calmed down. The crying died down to a whimper and the odd sniffle. "God! The soother actually works on him!" Kim observed, looking at the others in disbelief. Then they all started laughing and the tears started to flow again.
"Alright! Alright!" Kim tried to calm him. "We'll let you sit in the pen and play with your dolls." She swung back the tray on the high chair and he hopped down. She led him over to the playpen by the hand. Frank dried his eyes with his free hand.
He sat down with a bump, knowing well by now that the thick nappy would cushion his landing. A couple of girls tittered. "Now play with your dolls," the girl with the camera instructed. Much to her surprise, he did as he was told and picked up the Raggedy Ann doll. She started clicking. "You should take some shots of the whole room," Kim suggested, "so that people can see how he lives totally like a real baby girl." She must have taken a hundred shots altogether. Frank in the pen. Kneeling in the cot clutching the bars. Lying down in the cot looking out through the bars. Hugging his dolls. They even made him curtsey.
"Take the shots from a low angle so that we can see his nappy and frilly panties clearly," Kim said at one point. The girl with the camera replied: "there's no need really. His dress is so short and flared they can be seen clearly anyway."
They kept him up past his usual nine o'clock bedtime. He actually found now that he had become used to his long night and afternoon naps and if he didn't get his usual sleep, he became grumpy. They were hoping that he would wet himself again so that they could change him but he held out. They eventually put him in his cot at ten. But Kim insisted on reading him a fairy tale. When that was done she told him to lie down. He looked troubled. "Is something wrong?" she asked him. He just looked at her with a grumpy face. He was too embarrassed to say.
She followed his line of sight. He was looking at the dummy which was on the tray of the high chair. "Oh you want your dummy?" she blurted and they all laughed. "The poor baba can't sleep without his dum-dum"; she teased as she held the dummy up to his mouth. He was mortified but still opened his mouth for her to insert it. "There we are. Alright now dear?" she asked. He nodded and lay back in the cot. Kim turned on the tape of nursery rhymes and they exaggeratedly tiptoed out of the room, tittering and shushing all the time.
They all went home now that the fun was over except one of them. He woke when his mother came in the door and heard whispering outside his door. "Was he OK?" his mother asked.
"Good as gold," the girl replied. "You can call on us anytime you want a baby-sitter for him."
"That's great," his mother replied. "My friends tonight were talking about starting a book club to meet every Friday. Do you think between you all you'd be able to baby-sit every week? Frank winced in the cot.
"I'm sure that will be no problem," the girl replied and she sniggered.
-
Debt Collector - Part 13 Username: DaraJaney, Jan/17/2006 19:51:47 [-04]
On the following Friday ten girls arrived to baby-sit Frank. Almost as soon as his mother was gone to her book club, Kim offered him some ice cream. He just glared at her, remembering that she smeared most of it on his face the previous week. Kim fetched the ice cream from the kitchen anyway. She came in with a bowl and they put Frank in the high chair. This time she spooned it cleanly into his mouth. He eagerly devoured the whole bowlful. He could see the girls trying not to laugh. He wondered what were they up to.
He was put in the pen and they made him play with some of the toys. He wearily obliged. At least this week they seemed to have tired of making him look like a complete sissy baby.
Within an hour, though, his tummy started to rumble. It was quickly followed by movement further down. He really didn't want to soil himself in front of the girls but he knew that he retained control over his number twos and could usually hold out until the most convenient time.
A loud fart emerged that surprised him as much as anyone else. The girls tittered and looked at each other knowingly. The look on Frank's face when he realized that he was about to poo uncontrollably in front of the girls was priceless. Within seconds there was a very loud fart and an unmistakable sound of gushing. Frank was horrified. The girls burst out laughing. He realized that they must have put something in the ice cream to make him do this.
The girls were afraid to go near him. Frank was sitting in shock feeling the mess ooze around his nappy. There was more gushing. The smell reached the girls. Their reaction was a mixture of disgust and hilarity. Frank started to cry.
"Get his dummy quick," Kim instructed, when she recovered from laughing. One of the girls found the dummy and held it at arms length as she edged towards Frank trying not to get an inch closer than she absolutely had to. Frank accepted the dummy but even it made little impact on his crying.
Eventually two girls mustered up enough courage to get close enough to help Frank to his feet. They brought him to the changing table as the other girls kept their distance. Now that someone was going to have to clean him and change him, their prank didn't seem like such a good idea anymore.
He sat up on the changing table very gingerly. His mess was audibly squashed all around his nappy when he put his bum down. "Ew," the girls uttered. They looked at each other wondering who was going to do it. Frank looked at the faces with growing concern. They couldn't leave him like this.
Eventually they decided to draw straws. When a girl called Winnie pulled the short one the others all sighed in relief. Winnie looked towards Frank in horror. Frank suc-ked on his dummy with tears still rolling down his face.
Winnie inched towards him reluctantly. He lifted his bum, eager for her to start. She tentatively pulled down his frilly panties with her fingertips. They could see the brown stain on the nappy under the plastic panties. There were more "Ews," even louder now.
Winnie closed her eyes as she reached for the plastic panties. She pulled them down his legs. The smell became over-powering and she had to back off for a moment. Frank gave her a pleading look. Eventually she moved forward again and removed the plastic panties, dropping them into the bucket.
She grimaced as she reached for the nappy pins. She undid them and pulled down the front of the nappy. The mess could now be seen in all its gory detail. There were screams and a couple of girls left the room. Winnie backed off completely.
She took a minute to regain her composure before carefully pulling at the nappy and letting it fall into the bucket with a sickening splosh. She just couldn't bring herself to deal with his bottom though.
"You have to clean him up," Kim told her. "If we don't we'll never be allowed to baby-sit him again and there are lots of girls in the school who want a chance to." Winnie braced herself and set about the job. She did it all as briskly as she could. Most of the girls left the room unable to cope eventually Frank was cleaned and pinned into a clean nappy. They used nearly all of a can of air-freshener before most of the girls were prepared to come back into the room. "I don't think we're going to do that again in a hurry," Kim joked as a very disgruntled Frank was returned to his playpen.
His mother had to be told when she returned that he had made quite a mess, as she would see the evidence later. She just reckoned that he must have reacted badly to something he ate earlier and made nothing off it. She just apologized to girls for their having to deal with it and they were quite magnanimous about it. "I suppose he's starting to lose control of his number twos now as well," his mother speculated. The girls tried not to laugh at this thought. "See you next week," Kim said as they departed.
-
Debt Collector - Part 14 Username: DaraJaney, Jan/19/2006 18:41:18 [-04]
One morning his mother was selecting a baby dress for him when Frank removed the dummy from his mouth and spoke. “Mummy? I know that I need to wear nappies but why do I have to spend the whole time being treated like a baby?” He reinserted his dummy.
“Well, I can send you back to school if you like. Do you want to go back to school?” she asked as she pulled the peach dress over his head. He shook his head when it emerged. He couldn’t face the tormenting he would get at school.
“Well, you can’t have it both ways. If you don’t want to go to school, then you have to stay at home and be treated like a little baby. I’m not letting you run around the place delighted that you don’t have to go to school.”
He thought about this. The dummy came out again. “But why do I have to be dressed like a baby girl?”
“Well, your Aunt spent a lot of money on all these lovely baby dresses. Your boy’s trousers wouldn’t fit over your nappies so I gave them away to a needy family. I can’t afford to buy you a whole new set of clothes.” She pulled up his matching bloomers.
Frank thought about all this as he suc-ked on his dummy and while his mother tied his bonnet under his chin. “Between your baby dresses and your baby furniture your aunt spent a lot of money so we’re not letting you go straight back to being a teenage boy.”
Frank frowned. “But how long will I have to stay like this?” he asked as he held out his skirt and petticoats.
“Well, you had another three years to go at school so I guess it we’ll be keeping you as a baby girl for that long instead.” Frank was shocked. The dummy nearly fell from his mouth but he saved it.
“Mummy, please no! Not three years!”
“Shush, now, dear,” she said as she pushed his dummy back in. He went to try to speak but she held the dummy in place. He whimpered. “Now there’s no point in complaining. It’s been decided. We’ve spent all this money on your baby things and given your boy’s clothes away. So that’s that. You just have to accept that you’re going to be a baby girl for the next three years. And then we’ll see.”
Frank’s eyebrows raised. She wasn’t even promising that he would be freed from being a baby after three years! Frank was close to tears for the rest of the day.
As he took his morning bottle he thought about the fact that he would spend the next three years suc-king from a baby bottle.
As he waddled over to his play-pen he thought about the fact that he was going to be wearing these thick cotton nappies 24-7 for over a thousand days.
As the familiar warmth of his *** spread around his nappy he thought about the fact that it would be at least three years before he would get to use a toilet again.
As his mother pulled on his tights in preparation for an outing to the park he thought about the fact that he was going to be paraded about in front of the whole town in his nappies and sissy dresses hundreds of times.
As he watched the toddlers in the playground he realised that they would progress out of nappies, into pull-ups and eventually into proper underwear while he would still be in nappies.
On the way back from the park they met a mother and son coming towards them. Frank’s mother said, “I don’t believe it! That’s Mark. The boy I gave your clothes to.” Sure enough Mark was wearing Frank’s Wrangler jeans and his striped sweater. Mark and his mother stopped to talk.
“Mark, this is the lady who gave us all those clothes,” his mother said. “Did they belong to …?” She nodded towards the boy in the baby dress. “Yes,” Frank’s mother confirmed, “as you can see he doesn’t need them anymore. He has a large collection of pretty dresses instead.” The women laughed.
Frank could see Mark looking below his dress at the bulge of the nappy. He was obviously reluctant to laugh at the boy when he had been fortunate enough to get his clothes second-hand but Frank was such a ridiculous sight, he was having difficulty keeping a straight face.
As he watched Frank waddle off in his humiliating nappies and baby dress he thought, “oh well, it’s an ill wind.”
[concluded]