Confessions of a Sissy baby

[nappy1]

Greetings everyone. Posted below is a take on Baby Bobby's "Confessions of a sissy bedwetter".  I was so taken with their story that I asked if I could repost it but with my additions, alterations and...I think...a neat twist.  I acknowledge Baby Bobby's effort and as you can see the first part is similar with alterations.  It is the last part that is mine.  I have tripled its length as well.  Enjoy!

Confessions of a sissy baby

 
 As Anna sipped her glass of wine in the easy chair, a pleased, satisfied smile slowly began to appear across the features of her very pretty face. She twirled her long, silky dark hair in her free hand as she gazed off toward the hallway, listening intently. In the room next over, the harsh, rhythmic slaps of a hard wooden paddle could be distinctly heard, swatting the tender bare bottom of Francis, her neighbour's diminutive 15 year-old sissy boy. His mother had left the door wide open, so that every crisp swat of the paddle, every sobbing howl of the boy being so thoroughly punished, could be easily heard. And howl he did. With Francis' high pitched voice, he sounded more like a five year-old schoolgirl than the teenager he really was.

And while Anna couldn't actually see the tears now streaming down his face, she could plainly hear the penitent tone of his crying, accompanied by the hard, angry swats of his mommy's paddle on his soft, youthful bottom.

To be sure, he was now regretting his earlier bluster and rudeness towards Anna. That, and his quite silly claim when he had boasted that he didn't need to wear nappies for bedtime. She had laughed out loud at him when he had said it but his Mommy had taken a much more serious view of it. Now he was in his nursery, prissy shorts and panties down, bent over her lap, and getting a much needed lesson in truthfulness and manners.

Occasionally, the spanking was interrupted so that his Mommy could make a specific point to her errant son. This was always followed by a particularly hard swat from her paddle to emphasize her remarks, in which Francis let out another piteous howl of pain. Anna could easily imagine him, crimson bottom in the air as his feet kicked and thrashed about wildly, his panties tangled around his ankles, helpless to stop the assault on his stinging, defenceless cheeks. The paddle would be leaving fresh, angry marks on his buns with each blistering smack, until the entire surface was a hot, blazing inferno of cherry redness.

At long last, the humiliating punishment was finally over. All that could be heard now were Francis' sobs and crying as his Mommy dressed him for bed. It took about five minutes, during which time Anna patiently sipped from her wine.
        
With his Mommy leading him by the hand back out of his nursery like a little child, Anna beamed with amusement as she took in his humiliating makeover. It was a sniffling and defeated sissy that now stood before her, all of his previous bluster, a thing of the past.

Gone was the delicate silk blouse he had been wearing before. Now he had on a short, pink, frilly fleece top decorated with bunnies and giraffes that barely extended to his navel and a hem ending with a flouncy white ruffle. The top's overall pink colour was set off by the short puffy white sleeves that accented his toneless, skinny arms. On his feet were woolly, pink booties tied prissily with pink ribbon around his slender ankle, giving him the further look of little baby girliness.

But what really stood out was the big, fat, bulky, fluffy white nappy now securely and shamefully pinned around his narrow hips. It was quite wide between his smooth, hairless legs and it forced him to toddle about with a very baby-like waddle. The thickness of his nappies hinted that a long night of wetting likely awaited the incontinent boy. His shiny white nursery print plastic panties covering his nappies were stretched to the limit; they were snug, yet well fitted, and his Mommy had taken great care to make sure most of the voluminous cotton cloth was contained within them.  Although Anna could detect a small amount of fluffy, white nappy peeking below the leg line of his baby pants.  Anna smiled to herself she liked seeing just a hint of nappy showing which accentuated his baby condition.  ‘How considerate of his mommy,’ she thought.  ‘When he's with me he'll be showing all of his nappy because babies do that.’  Anna could imaging him in her mind's eye crawling or toddling around the house or floor or lying in his crib drinking his bottle, his thin legs protruding from his thick fluffy nappy on display for all the world to see.  ‘Even better,’ she thought, ‘if he was wearing a nice pink baby top. He’d look very sissy-like then.’ Proving him to be the sissy baby she firmly believed he was. She shook herself slightly.  Perfect!

As he stood before her, still sniffling, he stared at the floor in abject shame while he held his stuffed teddy bear in his hand and a baby bottle filled with warm milk in the other. ‘Formula I hope,’ Anna mused.  Well, she hoped it was because that's what he'd have when she baby sat him.  ‘All babies like their formula and so will this little sissy baby,’ she mused. His cheeks and neck were blushing a deep shade of red and he couldn't bear to make eye contact with his stunning next door neighbour.

Looking him up and down closely, she smiled and crossed her sexy, shapely legs, dangling a high heel within his field of vision. ‘He’s perfect,’ she thought. ‘The perfect sissy baby.’
     
"Francis would like to make a confession to you," his Mommy announced, standing alongside him with a chart of some kind in her hand. "Go ahead, honey...what do you say to Miss Anna?"

Anna smiled sweetly and sat up forward to better look at the emasculated sissy.

"Yes Francis…what would you like to tell me?" she asked with syrupy sweetness bordering of sickliness.

He swallowed hard and tried to clear his throat. "I...um.....ah...."

Never having been seen before by his neighbour while wearing his shameful night-time nappies, was absolutely mortifying for the bedwetting teenager. And her having been such an intimate witness to his spanking only made matters worse. He could only hope the floor might suddenly open up and swallow him, abruptly ending his humiliating misery.

"Honey, talk to Miss Anna…not the floor," his Mommy softly chided him as he shuffled his feet.  Her heart went out to her fifteen year old son, her baby son, her sissy baby because that’s all he was.  Her heart ached as well.  She hated spanking him.  He was so delicate, so tender, so baby-like but just like any recalcitrant toddler he needed to understand and learn Mommy’s rules. He needed to be reminded that Mommy rules the house and he will be very respectful and well-mannered to anyone who arrives.

His face blushed an even deeper shade of red as he looked up into his pretty neighbour's chestnut eyes. She smiled back at him with expectation but underlying that was smug confidence and superiority from having just seen him be so thoroughly put in his place by his Mommy.

"I hafta wear nappies at night," he mumbled, the embarrassment nearly overwhelming him as tears of shame welled in his eyes and started rolling down his cheek.  His mother saw his plight and felt awful but he needed to own up to the situation.  She decided that later she’d take him into her loving arms and cuddle him closely giving him the feed he’d be so desperately craving.  At that moment her breasts ached.  They were full waiting for her baby.  She had no intention of letting this new neighbour into this secret.  He’d never forgive her and she’d never forgive herself, but fifteen years of breast feeding her son, of holding a close secret, was important to her.

"And why is that, Francis honey?" she asked innocently.

"Um....cause, um...I'm a be…bed-wetter," he replied, once more staring at the floor. 

‘Don’t you mean a baby,’ Anna thought but never said it.

Anna reached her slim, finely manicured hand over and gently patted the fat, bulging seat of his nappies, feeling for herself, the smooth plastic panties that would be retaining all his wetness tonight.  She allowed a finger to trace the small piece of white, fluffy nappy peeking below the leg line of his baby pants.  It was so soft just perfect for soaking up all his pee.  Francis shuffled.  He could feel her finger and when she touched his soft, sensitive skin on the back of his thigh it sent a shiver through his body.  His bladder stirred and he felt a squirt of warm pee gush into the soft folds of his nappy.  Francis knew all too well that soon warm pee would be seeping through his nappy and he was powerless to stop it.  It would probably be the first of several wettings throughout the long night.

Her other hand went to his chin, delicately raising it and forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"And is that why you sleep in a crib with a waterproof mattress cover on it?" she asked tenderly.

He cringed as she made mention of his shameful bed meant for a baby.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied between sniffles as he blushed anew.

He had SO wanted to keep this a secret from this woman he had come to idolize since she had first moved in next door last month. But now all the terrible secrets of his sissy lifestyle had been fully exposed to her, revealing just what a simpering pantywaist he truly was. What a baby!
          
"Well…. now wasn't that easier than getting your little bottom spanked, hmm?" she asked the humiliated boy.
       
"Yes Ma'am."

Once more, she gently patted his thickly nappied bottom maternally, looking into his eyes which only made him squirm even more uncomfortably before her.

"Francis also wanted to show you his bedwetting chart," his Mommy volunteered as she held the grease-board up with a monthly calendar superimposed in it. "The W’s represent every morning that Francis has woken up with a wet nappy. As you can see, he hasn't had a dry night the entire month. In fact…" his Mommy paused allowing her previous statement to sink in. “He hasn’t a dry nappy at night for years.”

The object of her discussion bit his lip and stood fidgeting, his cheeks burning brightly with acute embarrassment as his childish habit was revealed before this beautiful young woman.

"Well, it certainly looks like you belong in nappies, Francis. Maybe when I come over to babysit you, I'll just get you changed…first thing into your nice soft fluffy nappies," Anna suggested. “Won’t that be good?”

Francis shook his head vehemently. "No! I don't wet during the day," he protested in his whiny, high pitched voice.

"I'm not so sure..." she said uncertainly, "I think just to be on the safe side, I'll put you into your nappies and plastic panties as soon as I come over. Especially since you have such cute panties to wear," she giggled as she fingered the pretty lace around the leg holes of his vinyl underwear.
       
"Mommy!" he cried desperately, "Please….don't let her do it!"

She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled down at her nappied sissy baby son.
       
"When she's babysitting you…she's in charge, Francis, just like Mommy. That'll be up to her.  And maybe if you were nappied during the day, that might give you more incentive to stop wetting your bed during the night," she reflected.  Although his mother knew in her heart that that was impossible. He should be in nappies anyway she believed.  It would be logical and stop all his pretending.  He was a baby and her darling Francis needed to understand that.  She decided, there and then, that tomorrow morning after she took off his wet night nappy she’d just pin him into clean, dry nappies for the day. It’d be so much easier, so much more logical and practical. 
 
"Come along baby," Anna said as she stood up, towering over the diminutive boy in her high heels. "It's beddie-bye time for you now. Let's tuck you into your crib and then it will be lights out."

Her voice had taken on a tone of voice reserved for ordering round toddlers as she led the defeated, spanked sissy back into his nursery.
 
Waddling awkwardly, Francis pouted but let her take his hand as she led him into the warmly lit room he spent much of his time in.             

Taking a moment to marvel at the furnishings, Anna paused as she took in the full sized crib, painted in pink with white trim, the similarly painted dresser, stocked with a row of dolls along the top, and a low, sturdy changing table covered with practical, waterproof vinyl, along with stacks of white fluffy nappies their red selvage edge contrasting and winking at her from the stark whiteness of the cloth just waiting for their fifteen year old baby to pee and poop in. ‘Perfect, baby nappies for a sissy baby,’ she mused as survey the layered piles.  Then, there was the plastic panties as well; the gorgeous hues of pastels in infant and sissy patterns.  She could imagine her sissy baby parading around the house with these wonderful confections covering his huge padded nappied bottom.  Anna could picture herself, hand in hand with her sissy baby, strolling through the local shopping centre, large nappy bag over her shoulder and the 15 year old sissy clad only in a prissy top and plastic panties packed with a nappy. Her nostril caught the faint but stale smell of pee-soaked nappies could be discerned from a large plastic nappy pail in the far corner, despite its closed top. There could be no doubt that a bed-wetter slept in this room…a sissy bedwetter, a sissy baby.  Lastly, frilly pink curtains diffused the light coming in from the single window and the beautiful pink and white patterned girly wallpaper which adorned nursery.  The perfect touch which proved a sissy baby inhabited this room, this nursery. Anna caught sight of the polished, well used wooden Spencer paddle hanging up next to the dresser.
           
She led him over to the crib and pulled back his baby blankets, tucking him in and making sure his teddy bear was close by to snuggle with. As she smoothed his ruffled blond hair out of his eyes, he didn't even notice as she coaxed the rubber nipple of his baby bottle between his lips and urged him in her sweet gentle voice to nurse on it.

"That's it, baby, sweet sissy dreams....night-night."

Anna sighed as she left the nursery and the 15 year old sissy baby dozed.  She could hear his rhythmic suc-ks as he nursed his bottle.  She took one last look and whispered, “Good night baby boy.”  And left.

An hour or more later his Mommy tip-toed into the nursery to check on her baby boy.  She leaned on the rail of the crib and cast a motherly eye over her 15 year old son.  He was so delicate, so tender, so baby-like.  No sign of puberty, still very sweet and cute.  She sighed.  He was a baby she knew that.  It was just a matter of her sweet adorable Francis accepting his fate.  She knew he would eventually. 

As she watched her dozing baby he stirred.  She reached for the empty baby bottle lying on the mattress.  She noticed he was now suc-king his thumb.  ‘That won’t do,’ she thought.  ‘His pacifier would be better.’  Francis moaned and suc-ked harder on his thumb.  His Mommy felt awful about spanking him.  She hated it but he needed to be reminded of a few things.  She watched as he wriggled around on the mattress and rolled onto his back his legs flopping open exposing the thick mound of his white baby panties with his nappy packed inside.  She could tell by the colour that he was wet already.  His Mommy sighed she knew he would be.  She could tell he was agitated.  ‘Probably the image of his spanking is troubling his baby slumber,’ she thought.   As he moved the warm, pink cuddly blanket slipped off his prone form exposing one leg.  She noticed he had lost one of his pink baby booties. She looked at her watch then her hand went to her left breast.  It felt damp.  Opening her shirt she saw a wet patch on her bra.  ‘Damn!’ she cursed to herself. ‘I must remember to use those nursing pads,’ she declared to herself. “Hmmmm time for baby’s feed anyway,” she whispered to herself.

Easing the side of the crib down, she probed under the blanket and found the stray bootie.  “There you go,” she whispered.  Gently taking his small warm foot she slipped the warm woollen bootie in place and tied the pink ribbon neatly and firmly around his ankle to prevent it slipping off again while he slept. 

Francis whimpered.  His mother looked at his face.  He was in a light sleep.  After checking his other bootie her hand light kneaded the bulky baby panties between his splayed legs.  She smiled to herself, her baby was certainly wet.  She sniffed the atmosphere around the crib.  “At least you’re not poopy little one,” she whispered.  But she knew that anyway she just liked to hear herself say it.  “Right my baby… feed time.”

Gently slipping her hands under his armpits she lifted her sleeping son from his crib.  Francis whimpered and struggled a little.

“Shhh my precious,” she whispered to him. “Feed time baby.”

Slowly Francis was lifted into his mother’s arm.  Immediately he whimpered again, wriggled and buried his face in her shoulder.  His mother smiled.  He hadn’t changed from when he was little.  She used to love lifting his warm body from his crib ready for a night feed and he would burrow into her.  Francis was doing this now.  Her hand supported his wet heavily padded bottom and the other behind his head she carried her half asleep sissy baby down the hallway, past the kitchen with the two empty wine glasses sitting on the bench and into the cosy lounge.  Francis moaned in her embrace.  His mother allowed her hand to pat his thickly nappied bottom.  A dull whomp, whomp could be heard.

His Mommy found her favourite chair and eased herself in allowing her drowsy baby to slip onto her lap.  Francis’s eyes flickered open momentarily.

“Mama,” he croaked and whimpered.

His Mommy smiled adoringly at him.  “Yes it’s Mama my precious.  It’s Mama.”

Francis started to grizzle softly. “Sorry Mommy,” he whimpered. “Please don’t spank me.”

“Awww darling Mommy doesn’t want to hurt her baby,” she soothed.  “Mommy knows her baby is sorry.  Now don’t cry darling,” she added softly adjusting his slender body until he was cradled in her arms.   
         
Francis continued to grizzle lightly.  “Sorry Mama I…I peed,” he grizzled. 

His mother smiled at his admission. “Mommy knows you’re wet darling that’s why her baby wears nappies, doesn’t he?  Mommy knows her baby can’t help weeing his nappy,” she said.  Each comment she made she emphasized the fact that he was a baby.  This was important as far as she was concerned because he was.  She had to condition his mind into totally accepting his situation.  This was his life as far as his Mommy was concerned. “You’re just a baby, aren’t you my darling Francis?  You’re just a baby?” she crooned.  Francis didn’t respond.  He looked at his mother, rubbed his eyes and slipped his thumb in.  He always did this, she mused, when he was unsure. Just like a baby. “Did you hear Mommy precious?”

“Huh,” he responded.

She didn’t think he had. “You’re just a baby, aren’t you Francis?” she repeated.

“Ah huh,” he replied softly nodding slightly.

“Good baby,” she praised. “Good baby.”  She caressed his face.  She thought she detected a frightened look in his eyes.  That was something she didn’t want to happen.  She loved him dearly and certainly didn’t want her baby to fear her.  His mother reflected on the way Anna had reacted towards him.  She didn’t feel comfortable with her attitude.  She felt she’d be a cruel babysitter and she certainly didn’t want to inflict that on her baby son.  Her eyes focused on his angelic face.  “You’re just a baby. Mommy’s baby, aren’t you?” she repeated again.  He nodded. His mother smiled at his acknowledgement. “Of course you are honey. Of course you are.” 

Francis fidgeted in her arms.  ‘What did she want from him?’ he thought. 'What was she going to do?'

His mother saw the indecision and apprehension in his face.  He needed reassurance.  “Mommy loves her baby,” she whispered.  Francis swallowed.  “Mommy loves her baby very much.”

“I love you Mama,” he croaked.

“I know you do baby,” she responded relieved to hear the endearment. “I know you do.”  His mother waited until she was sure he had settled.  She had planted the seed in his mind.  He was a baby and had acknowledged it, now all she had to do was remind him on every possible occasion.  “Now darling Mommy has decided that her baby will wear his nappies all the time.”  Francis’s eyes widened.

“No…no…Mommy please,” he whimpered shaking his head.

“Now…now….now my precious this is Mommy’s decision and I have decided,” she softly chided him.  “You’ll be a good boy and wear your nappies all the time for Mommy, won’t you?”

“But…but….” he tried to stammer.

“Shhhh….there are no ‘buts’ Francis, baby’s wear nappies, you’re a baby, so you’re going to wear your nappies, understand?” she hushed him but a bit firmer with her tone.  She could see his eyes darting around.  “You’ll wear your nappies all the time for Mommy, won’t you?” she repeated with a slight edge to her voice.

Francis fidgeted again.  He didn’t want too.  It would be embarrassing to be seen pinned into thick nappies during the day.  He wasn’t a pants’ wetter but he could see no way out.  His Mommy had decided and Francis knew that once his Mommy had decided on something there was nothing that would change her mind. 

Finally he gave in. His ego deflated once more. He had no choice. “Yes Mommy,” he weakly whispered. 

His mother smiled broadly and warmly at him.  “Good baby,” she praised.  “Just do all your wee-wees and poo-poos in your nappy like a good baby.  After all you’re good at doing that at night so it will be simple enough during the day, won’t it?” she explained.  Francis reluctantly nodded.  His mother beamed at him.  “Mommy’s got lots of lovely clothes for her baby. He’ll look so cute pinned into his white fluffy nappies.  I know he will,” she said very satisfied.  “And don’t worry about school honey. Babies don’t go to school anyway they are looked after by their Mommy’s and babysitters,” she added.  Francis swallowed.  He didn’t want Anna looking after him.  He felt she’d be cruel and horrible.  He hoped that his Mommy wouldn’t let her.  His mother shifted Francis in her arms and looked down at his bulging crotch and splayed legs.  She rubbed a hand down between his legs and over his bulging baby panties.  “Has Mommy’s baby got wet nappies?” she cooed.

“Yes Mommy,” Francis croaked.

“Never mind my darling Mommy will change your nappies soon,” she announced.  She was watching her sissy baby boy closely.  He was on edge she could see that.  Slowly she watched her son turn towards her chest.  His Mommy chuckled lightly she knew what he wanted.  He couldn’t resist her breast.  He had never been able to. 

Francis felt himself being drawn to his mother’s breast.  It was like a magnet drawing him in.  He couldn’t stop himself.  His mother had breast fed him as far back as he could remember.  It was a daily occurrence, morning and evening.  In between times he took a baby bottle like he had when Anna was here earlier.  Francis swallowed hard again.  He knew he shouldn’t nurse from his Mommy but she had such a hold over him that he couldn’t refuse.  He jumped as more pee squirted into his already wet nappy.

His Mommy smiled to herself.  He wanted her.  This pleased her because it gave her immense pleasure to breast fed her sissy son.  Fifteen years of breastfeeding had taken a toll on her breasts.  They were more large and more fulsome and her dark nipples had become large and succulent, like fat spongy cigars.  She knew she had enough milk to completely fill his tummy and now that he was going to be in nappies all the time his Mommy knew that she’d be able to feed him in the middle of the day as well.  She cast an eye over his thin, frail body.  Her milk was perfect for him.  It was essential to build him up.  She pulled him closer to her chest.  “Baby wants Mommy doesn’t he?” she teased.  Francis grizzled like a starved infant, a baby.  “Of course Mommy’s baby does, mmmmm,” she continued.  “What do you say to Mommy darling?” she said softly.  She waited.  “Come on baby what do you say?” she chided.

Francis looked at his mother anxiously.  It was embarrassing being made to ask for her breast but he had no choice.  She went through this ritual every time she fed him. He hated it. He wanted her and what was concealed with her large fleshy mammaries but asking to nurse was humiliating.  He also knew that his mother expected to hear it, wanted to hear him ask.  It was further testament for subjugating his ego.

Francis watched as his mother very slowly, almost enticingly undid the buttons on her blouse.  He could see the white lace of her large nursing bra come into view.  “Come on darling what does my baby have say to Mommy?” she asked again.

“Boo…boo Mama..boo…boo,” he whimpered.  God he hated saying that.

His mother smiled.  “Of course you can my darling, here’s Mommy’s boo…boo full of nice milk for baby Francis,” she teased as she removed the bra cup and her large, fulsome, gleaming white breast swung into view.  Francis could see the glistening wet nipple and a drop of milk oozing from the large, dark pink morsel which stood out like a fat sausage.  He could smell the milk.  It caused his taste buds to tingle and his mouth to fill with saliva. His mother lifted the dripping teat until it was near mouth.  Francis couldn’t resist any longer he opened his mouth and took the whole large, rubbery, warm morsel in.  He squealed and mewled with delight as warm milk dribbled onto his tongue.  He suc-ked and was reward with a squirt on milk into the back of his throat which he swallowed immediately.  His mother’s nipple was so large from years of him suc-kling on it that it almost filled his mouth.  It rested on his tongue like some fat, squashy slug and Francis knew that by squashing it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth he gathered his first mouthful of her warm, creamy nectar.  Francis didn’t have to suc-k hard to fill his mouth with milk his mother had so much.

His mother sighed as she let her milk down and soon she heard the reassuring and satisfying snuffles, slurps and suc-ks as her sissy baby son nursed.  She could see milk seeping out of the corner of his mouth and around his lips. “Good baby,” she praised softly.  “Mommy’s baby loves Mommy’s milk, doesn’t he?”  She never waited for an answer before answering for him.  “Of course he does.  All babies like their Mommy’s booby and milk, eh.  And my little Francis just loooovveess his Mommy’s milk,” she crooned in a sickly sweet tone.

It was blissful half an hour or more for his mother as Francis emptied both of his mother’s voluminous breast.  There was so much milk he sometimes struggled to keep up with flow. By the time he had extracted the last drop his tummy was so full he thought he would burst.  Now he was certain that his night nappy would be extra wet in the morning.  His mother slowly withdrew her wet and milky nipple trailing a line of milky saliva between herself and her baby.  Her 15 year old sissy baby son lay in her arms his mouth partially open, breast milk around his mouth and trickling down his chin.  He belched and she saw bubbles of saliva and breast milk ooze out.  “Tut-tut-tut such a messy baby,” she softly chided. “Mommy will have to make sure baby has his bibby on next time, won’t she?  Mommy’s bought lots of lovely bibbies for her baby.”

“Mama,” he burbled.

“I know baby. You’ve got such a full tummy, haven’t you,” she said cutting him off and slipping her hand under his pink baby top to caress the soft, pink skin of his bulging tummy.  “Never mind my angel Mommy’s pleased because then have you’ll lots of lovely wee-wees in your nappies for Mommy in the morning, won’t you?  And may be a poo-poo nappy as well.”  Francis shuddered at the thought of slimy poop coating his nappy area.  It had happened a few times.  His Mommy saw his consternation.  “There…there… my baby.  All babies do poo-poo in their nappies for their Mommy and you’ll do it for Mommy, won’t you?” she soothed as Francis started to whimper still rubbing his tummy and her hand migrating down to the top of his nappy.  Francis heard his mother chuckle softly to herself when she mentioned poopy nappies and caressed the top of his soggy nappy.  “Baby liked that, didn’t he?  Mommy’s baby just loves nursing from Mommy.  You just love Mommy’s milk…of course you do…all babies do,” she kept prattling.  Francis didn’t know how to respond.  He couldn’t and daren’t.  It was a done deal as far as his mother was concerned. “It’s just as well Mommy has lots of yummy milk for her baby, isn’t it?”  She looked him square in the eye. “I’ll never stop breast feeding you Francis, just remember that.  You’ll never get out of nappies, just remember that too.  You’ll always be my sissy baby, just remember that as well.  You’ll always be in a crib, just remember that also.  You’re a baby Francis and you will always will be a baby. You’ll never leave this house.  The only time you will leave this house is with Mommy and you’ll be pinned into your thick nappies like a good baby, wear the baby clothes I decide and be firmly strapped into your pram...” she paused allowing what she had decreed to sink into her son's head. “Mommy has decided exactly how your life is going to be Francis,” she added with an air finality and steel in her voice. 

Francis whimpered as the comments hit him.  He had no control over his life all the power lay in his mother’s hands.  He was powerless to resist and knew it was fruitless to resist.  Any resistance meant being dragged over her lap, his nappies removed and the paddle heating up his bottom.  He didn’t want that.  Compliance was the only course to take!
        
His mother cradled him closer tightening her hold and looking him directly in the face, her face close to his. “This is where you belong Francis,” she whispered giving him a rock and speaking low and slowly. “In my arms, nursing on my breast forever soiling your nappies. You’re…a…baby… a… sissy…baby, understand Francis?”  Francis nodded.  He was trapped.  He had to agree or his Mommy would make it difficult for him. “Good,” she said quite satisfied with his response.  “Now Mommy’s going to change her baby’s nappies and put him back in his crib.”

With that she stood with her 15 year old emasculated son in her arms and headed back to the nursery.  As she laid him on the changing table he slipped his thumb into his mouth.  His mother saw him and gently removed it saying, “No…no…no…baby you mustn’t suc-k your thumby it could be all yucky…here this is better.”  And she retrieved a new pink pacifier and pressed that against his lips.  Francis let the large silicone bulb slip in.  It filled his mouth just like his Mommy’s nipple did.  Soon he was suc-king on it quite happily.  His mother saw that Francis had taken the pacifier.  She smiled to herself with satisfaction as she watched the pink infant soother bobbling in his mouth.  She took the ribbon that had been attached to the ring and pinned it to his pyjama top with one of his pink tipped nappy pins.  His Mommy admired it.  The nappy pin matched his baby top beautifully, as did the pacifier. “Such a good baby for Mommy, aren’t you darling?” she praised.  Francis ignored her and continued to stare at the pattern on the pink and white baby wallpaper which adorned his nursery.

He lay passively while his mother set about changing his pee soaked nappy.  He hoped she didn’t move him around too much in case he regurgitated any breast milk.  He had done that many times before and it wasn’t very pleasant.  And the lingering smell of regurgitated breast milk was unpleasant as far as Francis was concerned.  It made him smell like a baby.  Maybe, that’s why his mother tended to move him about a lot hoping he’d puke the half-digested breast milk.  She wanted him to smell like a baby.

His mother watched her 15 year old sissy baby suc-k his pacifier as she slipped her fingers into the waist band of his white pink baby pants and eased them down over his very thick, bulky, pee-soaked  nappy.  “Botty up precious,” she cooed as her baby boy absent-mindedly lifted his hips so she could remove the plastic panties.  Her nostrils were assailed by the smell warm fresh pee and his nappy was no longer white but a dull grey-yellow.  “Good baby,” she praised.  “Bot-bot down.”  He complied.  Slowly she removed the pink tipped nappy pins from the cloth.  Francis felt the cloth slacken and cool air hit his warm wet nappy area.  He felt his mother pull the sodden cloth away from his groin revealing his small pen-is which had been nestled hidden snugly in the soft folds of the cloth.  His mother smiled at his small limp noodle as it lay against his skin, pink, wet and dormant, like some small pink sausage.  ‘It’s only worth peeing out of,’ she mused when she saw it, ‘which it does very well.’  That’s something her fifteen year old sissy baby was good at – wetting his nappies.  ‘And soon pooing them a lot more as well,’ she chuckled to herself.  “Botty up precious,” she cooed again.  Again Francis responded and his mother removed the pee soaked cloth and dropped it with a dull ‘splat’ into the nappy pail along with all the other soiled nappies ready to be washed. “Bot-bot down,” she sang again.

Francis jumped as his mother touched his sensitive groin with a cool baby wipe.  “Sorry precious,” she whispered. “But Mommy has to make sure her baby is squeaky clean.  Never mind my baby Mommy will soon have you pinned safely into your lovely, warm, fluffy nappy. Won’t that be nice? Mmmm.”  Francis nodded slightly. “Of course darling all babies feel better when they’re snugly pinned into their nappies.  All Mommies know that,” she added and like usual she answered for him and made bold assumptions about his needs, wants and desires.  Francis could feel the wipe being smoothed and rubbed over his skin.  He felt his little noodle being wiped and he couldn’t prevent it from thickening slightly.  His mother smiled as she saw his peenie thicken.  “Hmmm I think baby likes having his nappy changed.  That’s good because Mommy’s going be changing her baby lots of times and for a long, long time Francis. Just remember that,” she teased.  Francis ignored her taunt.

Finally, Francis felt his mother gather his ankles together.  He knew what that signalled.  This was when he sometimes spilt half-digested breast milk. Also he knew that a thick nappy would be slipped under his rump.  As she lifted his bottom his mother saw the red marks from the spanking he’d received earlier in the evening.  She felt a tinge of guilt pass over her.  She hated spanking her baby, but sometimes desperate remedies were needed to correct errant behaviour.  With a baby wipe she caressed his tender skin.

“Owwww…” he squeaked it hurt.

“I’m sorry darling. I know it hurts.  Mommy doesn’t like spanking her baby but you should behave better for Mommy, shouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” he burbled around his pacifier tears stinging his eyes.

“It’s alright precious Mommy will put some special cream on your botty then it’ll feel much better, okay.”  She picked up the very bulky ready folded nappy for her 15 year old baby son and slipped it under his raised bottom.  Francis let out a sigh as his bottom rested on the soft mound under him.  Pushing his legs back his mother smeared white cream over his bottom.  It was cold to start with but it did feel good.  With his bottom back resting on white fluffy stack his mother sprinkled a generous coating of sweet smelling baby powder all over his bottom, groin and nappy until his limp little tool was buried under a white mantle.  As she pulled the thick wad of cloth up between his thin legs, Francis’s legs were spread further apart.  Just before she buried his limp noodle within the soft folds of his nappy she asked, “Does baby need to go poo-poos?”  Francis was stunned and humiliated by the question.

“No,” he burbled.

“Are you sure baby?” his mother pressed.  He didn’t respond.  “Never mind darling I’m sure baby will fill his nappy for Mommy by morning, won’t that be good?  That’ll be a nice surprise for Mommy, won’t it?” she chuckle to herself as she pulled the white, fluffy, bulky cloth firmly over his noodle burying it in amongst the soft white folds to do its hosing job later in the night and pinned Francis’s nappy closed with the two pink tipped nappy pins.  As she patted the mound between his splayed legs she said, “There precious all safe and sound and ready for the night.”  Francis blushed.  He knew what she was referring to.

Francis felt his mother snake his baby panties up his legs, lift his thickly nappied rump and ease them over the soft white confectionery.  “Come darling,” his mother said as she lifting her big baby from the changing pad and laying him in his crib.  Covering him with his soft pink baby blanket she flicked one of his golden locks away from his brow.  Leaning over her baby she whispered, “Sweet dreams my sweet baby…sweet wet dreams.”  She kissed him tenderly.  Francis looked up at his mother through sleepy eyes.

“Nigh…nigh  Mama,” he lisped around his pacifier.

Patting and caressing his padded rump his mother replied, “Nighty… night baby.  Nighty…night.  Happy wetting little one.”  The side to the crib was raised.  The overhead light switched out leaving the night light dully illuminating her baby’s nursery and his mother left the nursery taking the full nappy bucket of Francis’s soiled nappies to be attended to. 

By the time his mother left the nursery Francis was asleep and drifting into an easy baby slumber. His bladder was emptying its warm contents again into his waiting thirsty night nappy and his bowel gave a twinge signalling that Francis was going to deliver on his mother’s prediction of a nice poopy nappy for the morning.  A small, serene smile could be detected behind his pacifier as Francis slumbered happily and dreaming happy, sweet baby dreams about years of coming baby bliss.  Of wet nappies and Mommy’s breast, of cuddly toys and baby play, of baby blocks  and baby rattles, of pacifiers and cosy cribs, of bottles and soft fluffy nappies and…and…  It was, after all, what Francis wanted in the first place!