The Innocent

[Sandra B]

Not any more.  Thanks!

[Sandra B]

Chapter 15.  Baby Stuff

Paul looked stupidly at the dress Imelda was holding up.  What was he supposed to say?  He knew what she’d like him to say, but at that moment he couldn’t bring himself to articulate the words, so he said nothing.  Imelda persisted.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s a dress.”
“Brilliant, Sherlock Holmes.  It’s a dress.  Do you like it?”
“No,” Paul said, sulkily.
“Well that’s a shame, Paul, because you’re going to wear it, so you’d better learn to like it.”
The three younger girls were agog with expectation.
“It’s a baby’s dress, though,” whined Paul.
“Not at all.  It looks as though it’ll fit you perfectly. Let’s see, shall we?”
She stood up, gathered up the clothes, and lifted Paul up by his hand.
“Back in a minute, girls.”
She led him to an adjacent bedroom, and threw the armful of clothes on the bed.
"Right, darling.  Now, first of all, get that uniform off.  Yes, all of it.  And the panties.  If you’re shy, I’ll wait outside.  When you’ve stripped, put that pull-up on, and then call me.”
“But…”
“No arguments.”  She raised a warning finger.  “or things could get a lot worse.”
She left the room, half closing the door.  Paul slowly removed his uniform.  He was sorry to take it off.  He was getting used to being a Brook Lane girl.  Reluctantly he stepped into the pull-up.  Once on, it felt horrible.  Like putting part of his body into quarantine.  “Ready, Imelda,” he called.  She pushed open the door and regarded him with satisfaction.
“Good boy.  Now these.”  Paul’s face fell.  “No objections, please!  All little girls need plastic pants over their nappies.  Step in.”
The translucent pink elasticated pants fitted neatly over his pull-up.  Next the lacy satin knickers over the top.  Helped by Imelda, he put his hands through the arm-holes of the dress, and she buttoned up the back.  On went the socks and the gloves, then the little choker.  Imelda closed the padlock with a snap, and, turning him round, adjusted the little ‘P’ so that it hung neatly on his neck.
“P for Paul.  Or Pauline.  In case you get lost.”
Emilia appeared in the doorway holding his red shoes.  While Imelda laced them up, Emilia put on his new earrings.  It was his first real pair, and it hurt a little, but at least that distracted him from his outfit.  Looking at him standing there, red-faced, vulnerable, and with his bulging yellow lace-trimmed knickers peeping out below the hem of his smock dress, Emilia felt an almost irresistible urge to put her arms around him and cuddle him.  But his vulnerability also triggered another reaction; a rising excitement at the power she and Imelda had over him, the possibilities of his total submissiveness.  For the first time she wanted to see him totally humiliated, utterly sissified, and to watch his reactions, and the reactions of his tormentors.  It was not a worthy feeling, she knew, but she couldn’t deny it.  She even found herself looking forward to the reception he was going to get from the three young girls in Imelda’s bedroom.
“Mel.  He’s f***ing adorable!” she whispered.
“He is, isn’t he?  Good choice of dress?”
“Perfect. You’re a genius.”
“Shall we…?”
“Maybe a squirt of perfume?”
“Isn’t he a little young?” laughed Imelda.  “Well, a tiny bit won’t hurt.”  And she sprayed a few puffs from a scent bottle onto his bare neck.  Paul flinched and made a face.
“Oh dear, such a cross face!” said Imelda.  “Come on, smile and say ‘thank you’ for your nice new clothes.  Let’s go show them to your little friends, shall we?”
The girls led poor Paul back into Imelda’s bedroom.  He looked as if he was about to cry.  As he appeared in view there was a communal gasp, followed by exclamations of delight.  All three jumped up and clustered round, smoothing his dress and then lifting the hem to check out his knickers.  Rosalind patted his cheek gently.
“Ooh, who’s a cutie-beauty darling, then,” she giggled.
“She’s the sweetest baby girl I’ve ever seen!” added Tabitha.
“Oh, Paul!” cried Marcia. “Did you know your little knickers are showing?  They look so sweet.  The pink lace sets off the yellow satin so prettily.  You’re such a show-off!”
“Let’s make him parade for us, shall we?” suggested Tabitha. 
“That’s a lovely idea, Tabby,” said Imelda, “and I’ll shoot a little video to remind us of Paul’s first baby outfit, shall I?”
Paul hung his head.  His cheeks burned with shame.  He wanted to run away and hide.  He looked at Emilia, hoping for support.  But a change had come over her face.  She was no longer looking at him sympathetically, but with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Yes,” she said, “and let’s make him lift up his dress and show us his knickers.  Maybe teach him to curtsey.  He’s going to have to learn how to do that sooner or later.”
Paul stared at her, horrified.  She saw the reproach in his eyes, and suffered a brief moment of guilt.  But she justified herself with the thought that she was unable to protect him now, so she might as well go along with the game.  In truth, though, there was something about his discomfort that excited her.  It was a side of her character that before now she hadn’t known existed.
“Yes!” cried Rosalind, “and make him describe his outfit in that silly baby voice we taught him!  That would be so cool!”

For the best part of an hour Paul was put through his paces.   He was made to parade up and down the room.  The girls positioned themselves on or around the bed to give him maximum space, while Imelda made the video.  He was forced to sashay back and forth, to smile and blush, to coyly lift his hem and show his knickers, and later on to display his plastic pants and pull-up, whilst lisping a commentary on every action.  They made him stand in ridiculous poses: toes turned in, gloved hands on cheeks with wide surprised eyes, or holding up a looking-glass with obvious satisfaction. Or with one finger to his mouth, for all the world just like a naughty little girl.  The girls let their imaginations run riot, until their stock of ideas was quite exhausted.  Almost exhausted.
“Shame he doesn’t have a pacifier,” remarked Marcia.
“Of course,” said Emilia, “that’s what we’re missing!  You don’t have one I suppose, Mel?”
“’Fraid not, Em.  But we could get him one.  There’s a chemist’s just along the road.”
“We’ll go!” shouted Tabitha, jumping up.
“Yes, we’ll go!” agreed her friends.
“Okay,” said Imelda, “let me give you some money.  Maybe you could get a packet of extra large pull-ups at the same time.”
“And maybe some baby cream and powder for when she needs changing,” added Emilia.
“Good thinking, Em.”
“But hold on, girls,” said Emilia, thoughtfully.  “I think maybe little Pauline is old enough to go with you, don’t you?”
“Really?  Can we take her?” asked Marcia, wide-eyed.
Imelda and Emilia looked at each other.
“I don’t see why not,” said Imelda.
“And actually,” said Emilia, “now she can talk, she could go to the counter herself, couldn’t she?”
“No…please…” begged Paul.  But nobody took any notice.

There was great excitement as the three girls dragged Paul, protesting, out of the front door.  He clung to the knocker.
“There’s no point in behaving like that,” said Imelda, severely.  “It will simply get you punished, and if you refuse to go, I’ll shut you out for the rest of the day, and you can make an exhibition of yourself in the front garden.”
Paul saw there was no escape.  He gave in and Imelda and Emilia went to the front gate and watched as he was led towards the shops, flanked by Tabitha and Marcia, holding his hands tightly in theirs. 
It was only a short walk.  But it was Saturday afternoon, and the street was busy.  People stopped and laughed as they passed by.  He had to run the gauntlet of a whole crowd of girls at a bus stop, chattering and laughing and shouting after him.  Even the chemist’s was quite busy.  The girls took their time, going through all the shelves of make-up, earrings, and accessories.  They helped Paul find the pull-ups, the cream and the baby powder, and made him pick out the two largest pacifiers they could find, one pink and one yellow.  They insisted he ask the smiling assistant if she had any larger ones.  She was about to say no, when she realised she could drag the visit out by pretending to look “out the back”.  She disappeared and almost immediately two other ladies appeared from the back room looking eagerly around, clearly intent on confirming the report they had just received.  Their eyes lighted upon Paul, and they broke into delighted smiles.  They were very kind, though, and led Paul back to the baby section, making all sorts of suggestions and chatting with the girls. 
“Are you her babysitters?” one asked them.
“Yes.  We’re looking after her all day today,” said Rosalind, seriously.
“She's so sweet,” said the assistant, “and I love her little outfit.  Especially those matching knickers.”
“Oh,” said the other, examining Paul’s choker, “what’s her name?”
“Guess!” said Marcia, cheekily.
“Er, Penelope?  Petronella?  Pixie?  No?”
“Pauline!” cried Tabitha.
“Pauline!  Such a pretty, soft name.”  The lady took Paul by the chin.  “You’re so cute, Pauline.  Did you know that?  And you’re so lucky to have such nice babysitters.”  And she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.   “Does she have a bottle, by the way?”
“No!  We hadn’t thought of that!” exclaimed Marcia.
The assistant picked one off the display. 
“Here.  This one has the biggest teat.  Perfect for greedy babies!”
“Yes.  Thank you!  We’ll take that too.”
After a lot more banter, Marcia decided they’d better return, in case Imelda and Emilia were getting anxious.  The assistants insisted they only pay for the pull-ups.  Everything else was free, and they threw in some lovely ribbons, one red, one yellow, and one pink.  Rosalind tied the pink one in Paul’s hair straight away, and the assistants cooed over him again.
“Come again,” they called, as Paul was led out of the shop, “and please bring Pauline with you.”
The girls promised they would.

The walk back to the house was no easier than the walk there.  The girls at the bus stop had gone, thank goodness (thought Paul), but just as they arrived at the front gate, Imelda’s neighbour and her young daughter were going out.  They stopped dead and stared at Paul impudently.
“Mummy, that’s a boy!” blurted the daughter.
Marcia turned to them.
“No, it’s baby Pauline.  Don’t be rude!”
They quickly turned and hurried away, the daughter continually looking over her shoulder, her mother pulling her by the hand.
“Well said, Marcia,” grinned Tabitha.  “Now let’s get this baby inside and show them all the great stuff we got!”

[sweet baby katie]

I love it.

[Plateguy]

What a wonderful installment.  Not familiar with the ages in U.K. schools, how old are Paul and Emilia?

[krystalasbaby2017]

where a proper sissy should be in diapers with all sorts of baby items paci and bottle included.  I loved this chapter.

[Sandra B]

In reply to your query, Plateguy, the system in the UK has changed since this story was set.  Under the old system, as here, year 1 was the first year of secondary school.  This old system was replaced by one in which years were counted from the beginning of primary education.  This means that Paul's year 1 roughly corresponds to the present year 7.  The present year 7 is for 11-12 year olds.  Year 1 under the old system was for 10-11 year olds, mainly 11 year olds, which is Paul's age.  You can work out the rest.  Emilia and Imelda are in year 3, and both are 13.  Hope this clarifies.

[Sandra B]

Chapter 16.  Nap and Nappy

Imelda opened the door.
“Girls!  You’ve been a long time!  Goodness!  What a lot of stuff you’ve got.  Come upstairs and show us.”  She took Paul by the hand and the girls followed.
“The ladies in the shop were really nice,” exclaimed Marcia, as they climbed the stairs, “apart from the pull-ups we didn’t have to pay for anything!”
“Really?”
“Yes,” said Rosalind, “they thought Pauline was so cute.  They asked us to bring her back again next time!”
“Well I’m sure that can be arranged,” said Imelda, “I’d really like to thank them for being so generous.”
Emilia was lounging on Imelda’s bed.  She looked at the bags the girls were carrying.
“Wow, no wonder you were so long!  We thought you may have lost little Pauline somewhere.”
“No, Em,” said Tabitha, “we kept a tight hold of her all the time.  Though sometimes she looked as though she wanted to come running back to the house!”
“Naughty girl!  All these lovely things are for your benefit, you know,” scolded Emilia.
“No, really, she was very good,” added Tabitha. “And the ladies in the chemist’s loved her outfit.”
The girls all looked at him in silence, smiling or smirking with satisfaction.
Paul stood there silent, looking at the floor.  Dressed as he was, with the thick pull-up around his bottom as a constant reminder of his enforced babyhood, he found it impossible to assert himself in any way.  What could he do, or say, to make anyone take him seriously?  He found himself longing to get back into grown-up clothes, even girls’ ones.  He saw the school uniform had been folded and placed on top of the chest of drawers, his panties laid on top.  He turned away from the girls, and went over to the chest.  Oh, how he hated the rustling of those plastic pants every time he moved!
“Where are you off to, miss?” asked Imelda.
“Want my panties,” murmured Paul.
“Sorry?  What?”
“I want my panties!” he burst out.  “I’m fed up with this nappy!”
The whole room exploded into laughter.
“Oh, she wants her panties,” repeated Imelda, with mock sympathy.  “I’m sorry darling, but babies have to grow up before they can have panties.  Ask us again in a few years!”
“I think baby’s getting tired and grumpy,” said Emilia.  “It’ll be time for her nap soon.”
Marcia had opened one of the packets from the chemist and offered Paul a pacifier.
“Oh, good idea,” said Imelda, “that’ll calm her down and also keep her mouth shut. Pop it in, Pauline. There’s a good girl.”
“No!  I’m hungry!” protested Paul.  “I didn’t hardly get any of those snacks I made.”
“She’s so cross,” said Imelda.  “Let’s give her her bottle, then her pacifier and a nap.”
“Yes, darling,” added Emilia, “and you can have one of my dolls to cuddle when we put you down.  Would you like that?”
Paul was realising it was futile to fight them.  It was five against one, and with everyone treating as a baby girl, he was beginning to feel like one.  He was hungry, and thirsty, so if milk was all he was going to get he might as well have it.
“Can I have a biscuit, too?” he hazarded.
“Oh, I think so, don’t you, Em?  A little food first, then your milk.  But please put that pacifier in while you’re waiting.  Yes?  Good girl!  Marcia, would you like to come downstairs with me and get baby’s snack ready?  Bring the bottle.”

Downstairs Imelda and Marcia giggled together in the kitchen.
“Oh my god, Mel, he’s really starting to behave just like a baby girl!”
“He is.  If you dress him as one, and treat him as one, it seems that he starts to become one.”
“It’s more fun that I’ve ever had.”
“You three are so bad.  We love you all!”
“What shall we give him to eat, Mel?  I’m so sorry we forgot to buy baby food at the chemist’s!”
“Oh, he must be hungry, the poor love.  There’s some soft bread in the cupboard.  I would say two sandwiches, maybe cream cheese in one and banana in the other?  I’m going to warm his milk, and add a spoonful of honey to make it sweet.”
Marcia made the sandwiches, added a biscuit, and took them up to Paul.  He was hungry, and tucked into his snack with enthusiasm, sitting on Imelda’s bed.  The girls watched him eating, knowing it would soon be time for his bottle.
“We’ll eat later, girls, after we put her down," said Emilia. "OK?".
They nodded.  Then Imelda’s footsteps were heard on the stairs.  She came in, holding the full bottle. 
“Finished eating, Pauline?  Milky time, then!”
She climbed onto the bed and propped herself up on the pillows.
“Come on, baby.  Come and lie on me.”
Paul climbed obediently on beside her.
“Here, lie on my lap.”  She made him lie across her, his head supported on her left arm, his face against her left breast.
“There.  Are you comfortable?”
He nodded.
“Here we go, then.”  She placed the teat gently against his lips.  He seemed to resist for a moment, so she squeezed the bottle until a few drop of milk oozed out, and moved the teat back and forth across his mouth until he got the taste of the sweet milk.  Then, as everyone watched, he opened his lips and allowed it to slide in.  Soon he was drawing the warm fluid into his mouth, and swallowing greedily, his cheeks working as he pulled on the teat.  Both the older girls, amongst their other emotions, felt the stirrings of motherly affection as they watched him feed, his eyes closing and opening slowly with drowsiness.  He had finished two-thirds of the bottle when he tried to push the teat out of his mouth, but Imelda was having none of it.
“No, Pauline.  You finish it all up, understand.  You need to grow big and strong.  Em, would you like to take over?”
Emilia took her place for a minute, then offered the bottle to Marcia.  It took Paul as long to drink that last third as it had taken him for the first two-thirds, but it gave all the girls a chance to have a go.  The whole process was conducted in almost total silence, broken only by murmurs of encouragement from whoever was being mother at the time.  Eventually, the big bottle was empty, and Paul, no doubt exhausted by his ordeal at the chemist’s, was falling asleep.  Emilia offered him one of her old rag dolls, a girl with a mop of yellow hair, big round eyes, and a smiley mouth.  Paul took it and cuddled it to him.  Marcia placed his pacifier against his lips, and he accepted it at once.
“Oh, that’s so sweet!” whispered Rosalind.
“Let’s put her in the other bedroom,” said Imelda.  She picked him up gently in her arms and carried him in, followed by the others, laying him on the bed and drawing the duvet over him.
“There.  Nicely sleeping.”
Paul was indeed sleeping, breathing deeply.
“Such a pity we don’t have a cot to put her to sleep in,” said Emilia.
“Yes, I know.  We’d need a big one.  I’ll have a think about that.”
“We’d need one she couldn’t climb out of.  Babies need to stay put.  As soon as she wakes up she’s going to be off that bed and back with the grown-ups.”
“I’ve thought of that, girls.  See?”  Imelda quietly opened the drawer in the bedside cabinet and produced a short length of fine silver chain.
“What you going to do with that?” asked Rosalind.
“You’ll see.” 
Paul was lying with his head on one side.  Imelda produced a tiny key, and opened the padlock on his choker.  She slipped the first link of the chain onto the hasp, and snapped it shut again.  Then she picked another padlock out of the drawer, and used it to secure the other end of the chain to one of the rails in the head of the bed.
“There.  Now she has to stay there till we release her.  She’ll be quite safe.”
“Clever!” said Tabitha.  “Now she can’t wander off somewhere and hurt herself.”

The girls returned to Imelda’s bedroom.
“So what else have you got in that parcel, Mel?” asked Emilia with undisguised curiosity.
“Aha.  A little something for when baby grows up and starts looking for work.”
“Work?  What sort of work?”
“Marcia?  Maybe you’d like to open it us for us.”
“Yes, please!” cried Marcia, grabbing the second package and starting to rip off the paper.  Underneath the brown paper was a layer of tissue, and when Marcia removed that she found something pink shiny and satiny.  She held it up.  It was a little short dress with puff sleeves and a button-up collar, all trimmed in white lace.
“Oh.  A pretty dress,” she said, in a rather disappointed voice.
“Look at the rest.”
Marcia delved deeper, pulling out one thing after another.  Suddenly she cried,
“I know!  It’s a maid’s dress!”
“Correct!  I thought you might like the idea of Pauline being our little maid.  She could wait on us at suppertime, if she wakes up.”
The girls didn’t respond immediately.  They were too busy going through the rest of the costume.  “White gloves.  White stockings.  Ooh, a frilly choker and a maid’s headdress!” smiled Tabitha.
“A little short petticoat to make his skirt bounce!  And a white garter!” laughed Marcia.
“And a cute little apron,” added Rosalind.
“But what’s this?”  Marcia held up something shiny and white and ridiculously frilly.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Imelda.  “As she will only really be a trainee maid, I thought she might still need to wear her pull-up.  So instead of plastic pants and fabric knickers over the top, I thought it might be simpler for her to wear one pair of latex ones.  They’re very lightweight, and all those rows of latex frilling will be visible every time her little skirt bounces up.  They’ll look cute, and I’m sure they’ll be a talking point when we have visitors.”
“Great idea, Mel!” laughed Emilia.  “Only you could have thought of that.”
“Will we have visitors?” asked Marcia, intrigued.
“I don’t see why not.  Do you, Em?”
“No.  My aunt Catherine would love to come.  I bet Autumn and Penelope would, too.”
“Wow, that would be so cool,” said Tabitha.  “I’d just love to see their reactions.”

They had been sitting there talking and looking at the maid’s costume for half an hour or more, when they were interrupted by a plaintive cry from the other room.
“Uh oh.  She’s awake,” said Rosalind.  “Funny how babies always cry when they wake up.”
“It’s cos they find themselves alone, Rosy,” said Tabitha.  “They want attention, that’s all.”
“OK.  Let’s go give her some,” said Imelda.
They trooped into the other bedroom.  Paul was awake, all right.  His doll was on the floor, he had spat out his pacifier, and he was struggling to sit up.
“I’m chained to the bed,” he complained.  “I can’t even sit up.  Undo me!”
“I’m sorry, Pauline,” said Imelda, “it's still grown-up time.  You’ll have to stay where you are for now.”
“But I need to go to the toilet!”
“Well why do you think you’re wearing a pull-up, silly girl.  We don’t expect you to know how to use the toilet yet.  Now please settle down.  Here, you dropped your dolly.”
“Don’t want my dolly!” Paul shouted, throwing it across the room.  “Let me go.  Right now!”
“Dear, dear.  Such tantrums!  Baby must learn to be patient.  It’s still your nap time.  You can get up at five.”  She looked at her watch.  “That’s half an hour.  We are going to prepare some supper.”
Paul’s face expressed extreme panic.  He decided to change tack.
“No…no, that’ll be too late!  Please…  I’ll come and help.”
“Sorry Pauline.  Rules are rules.  Come, girls, let’s go downstairs.
They could still hear him protesting from the downstairs hallway, but once they shut the kitchen door the only sound was the squeaking of the bed as he struggled desperately to get free.  It was about ten to five when that noise suddenly stopped.  They looked at each other and burst into suppressed laughter. 
“I think she’s capitulated,” grinned Emilia.  “Better get the changing mat out!”