Jimmy's Day of Shopping, part 8
Author: Baby Bobby, May/17/2004 11:39:18 [-04]
I shrank in my seat at her stern demeanor. Having a naturally submissive character, I was easily intimidated, especially by pretty girls who were so obviously superior to me.
“You see these?” she asked as she sat up straight and thrust her chest out proudly, “sissies like you will never get to touch them, so you might as well just put them out of your mind.”
I didn’t know what to say and she resumed her work on my nails, evidently terminating the discussion. Her words stung me but I had no reason to doubt them, coming from such stunning knockout like her. Still, I had nothing else to look at besides my babyish reflection in the mirror so I found myself watching her instead.
Even though her rebuke hurt me, I couldn’t help admiring her every feature. Her silky blonde hair cascaded gently over her shoulders, her cute button of a nose, and the dark glossy lipstick shimmered on her sensual lips.
I could tell she had a thin waist and it only accentuated her generous bustline. What I would give to reach over and fondle them, I mused, but I might just as well wish to catch the moon.
Barbie soon finished my nails and began applying a very light layer of foundation to my face. At first, I pulled back, not wanting to look anymore girlish than I already did.
“Do you need a spanking Sissy?” she said sharply.
“No Ma’am,” I replied in defeat.
“Then settle down. I’m only doing this for your own good.”
I wondered what good she was referring to and once again, she seemed to be reading my mind.
“Sissies like you need to be shown to the rest of the world as you truly are, simpering, effeminate, swishy little pansies,” she explained as she spread the make up over my face.
“Pucker up,” she ordered me curtly, as she unrolled a stick of Bonny Bell bubble gum pink lipstick and applied it generously to my pouting lips. First one coat, then a second, and then frustratingly, a third coat before she was satisfied. I was forced to cooperate or else I’d get a big pink stripe across my cheek.
Next, she brushed on a light application of pink blusher to my cheeks and an almost imperceptible amount of peach colored eye shadow.
“There, all set!” she said proudly.
“Aren’t you a little darling,” she said mockingly.
”Can I go now?” I asked meekly.
“Not yet Sissy. Let me get your mommy so you don’t cry,” she replied.
My mom came over and thanked Barbie profusely for her help, tipping her well for her efforts.
“Take a good look at yourself Jimmy,” my mom said as she faced me towards the full length wall mirror, “take a look at the big sissy you’ve become.”
I fought back tears as I gazed at my reflection, my bulging pink diapers easily visible beneath the layers of my ruffled party dress, my girlish knee socks and mary janes, the big pink bows in my pigtails, and lastly, the glossy pink lipstick and blush that shouted out to the world that I was nothing but a big sissy. Tears spilled down my cheeks and my shoulders began to shake with sobs.
“Awww…poor little baby,” Barbie said with mock concern, “I think he just wants his bottle.”
My mom, ever prepared, retrieved another full baby bottle of milk and handed it to the shapely beautician. She leaned over and while affording me another view of her cleavage, she coaxed the rubber nipple of the bottle between my quivering pink lips.
“There, there Baby,” she said soothingly, “suc-k your wittle ba-ba.”
The other girls giggled and gathered around us, a couple reaching down to squeeze the thick seat of my plastic pantied bottom. If I was looking for sympathy, I certainly wasn’t going to be getting any today.
“Jimmy, I want you to thank Barbie for making you up so prettily,” my mom instructed me.
Eyes downcast, I mumbled out barely audible thanks.
My mom’s arms swooped down and swatted the padded seat of my diapers, making me jump.
“No, that won’t do at all,” she said dissatisfied, “thank Barbie here for completing your sissy makeover.”
I swallowed hard as I paused in front of all the beauticians surrounding me and considered what another trip across my mom’s lap would feel like.
“Th-thank you,” I stumbled uncertainly.
My mom nudged me in the ribs indicating I wasn’t finished.
“Fo-for completing my sissy makeover,” I sobbed shamefully.
The girls all giggled at my recital and Barbie pushed the bottle back into my mouth.
“Anytime Sissykins. Come on back when you get potty trained,” she remarked derisively.
Amidst more giggles and laughter, we left the shop and my mom put me in the backseat again. By now, my bladder was bursting with all the milk I had been forced to drink and the bumps we drove over were torture. The last thing I wanted to do was to wet my diapers to the degree where they’d need changing-my mom would probably do it in the most public place possible. So I just thought I’d just try and relieve a little of the pressure by letting out a tiny trickle.
Relaxing ever so slightly, I felt a small stream of pee flow into my diaper. But all of a sudden, the car hit another bump and I lost what little control I had. Before I could stop it, I quickly soaked the front of my diaper and my bladder hurt when I tried to hold back the rest. With depressing certainty, I realized that by now, there would be no concealing my wetness if mom should check me so I went ahead and just let it flow.
For the second time today, I flooded my diapers, squirming in my seat as the warm pee drenched the front and then began seeping down between my legs. As I sat there, getting used to the warm wetness surrounding me, I felt the pee soaking into my seat, clinging miserably to my cheeks.