I want to echo what PervScenes11 said and thank everyone for their amazing support, as well as return his thanks for being such a wonderful collaborator. It's been an absolute blast working together, and I'm so glad we've been able to each dedicate so much time and energy to crafting something that people enjoy. I still plan on trying to write on a semi-regular basis, but life has been so busy lately that continuing to post weekly just isn't possible right now. Still, we definitley plan on returning once a sizable chunk of the next part of the story has been written, so I'm looking forward to that.
CHAPTER TWENTY: BABY GIRL’S BEDTIME
Melissa and Lauren smiled at one another as they worked. For now, they were letting Emily stand between them, though Melissa was careful to make sure that one of them was holding one of Emily’s hands at all times while the other one dried Emily off with a towel. Melissa felt so giddy about everything that had transpired today, and so grateful that Lauren seemed to appreciate it all as much as she herself did. Melissa didn’t need to talk to Lauren as they worked. They simply made eye contact every so often. That eye contact and their shared smiles said, wordlessly, everything that needed to be said between them. Melissa knew that Lauren was seeing what she was seeing: Emily standing there in a daze, wobbly-kneed, and drooling heavily around his pacifier as he kept his head turned down and his eyes clamped shut. Melissa knew what that body language meant. She knew her daughter was overwhelmed by the events of the day, and that Emily was trying to crawl away, mentally, to some place where today had not happened, where he was still a fifteen year old boy.
“Emily?” Lauren whispered softly, cupping Emily’s chin and raising it, forcing him into eye contact with her. “Emily, stay with me, please. Stay with us. This is a big night, after all.”
“It’s been a big day,” Melissa said as she dispensed some girly, floral-scented body lotion and began slathering it over Emily’s hairless body.
“I think you should call it Baby Day,” Lauren said.
“Oh, I love that!” Melissa said. “What do you think, baby girl? Should we call today Baby Day? Maybe celebrate it every year instead of Michael’s birthday? After all, today is the day we all stopped pretending that ‘Michael’ was some sort of thing that needed to be taken seriously. And instead, we got my sweet, beautiful Emily’s first full day as the baby she’s always been. Seems worth celebrating to me!”
Emily tried to say “Mommy, no!” but the medicine Melissa had smeared onto his pacifier still had him drooling up a storm and feeling like his tongue and his lips were five times bigger than they actually were, so what came out was more like “Mooooffffffyyyy, nnnnnaaaaarrrrr.” Lauren and Melissa, rubbing the last of the lotion into Emily’s skin, just laughed as Emily’s gurgling caused him to drop his pacifier, which fell to the floor followed by a huge, thick rope of drool.
“Silly baby,” Melissa chuckled, wiping Emily’s mouth with a towel and quickly getting a new pacifier to slide into his mouth. “Okay, down you go. Back to crawling while we go out and get you changed.”
Emily’s mind buckled as he crawled naked–except for his chastity cage–on the floor in front of Lauren while she cooed and squealed to his mommy about how natural he looked crawling. A blur of activity followed: Melissa guided Emily up onto his changing table, unfurled a fresh disposable diaper, positioned its bulk under Emily’s raised hips, powdered her daughter, and then sealed him in the thick, nighttime diaper. A pair of soft pink, nursery print plastic panties followed. Through it all, Emily kept thinking about the fact that three days ago, he and Lauren were peers, classmates, relative equals. Now she was watching him be changed into diapers and put to bed while it was still light outside.
“What’s our little girl going to wear to bed?” Lauren asked.
“Well,” Melissa said, turning her head to the nursery’s very full closet. “I’m not sure. I’d be touched if you’d do the honors, Lauren.”
Lauren looked, briefly, as if she was going to cry tears of happiness. After only a moment’s pause, she flitted over to Emily’s nursery’s closet, where she began pursuing her options. “Well,” she said, looking back at Emily, “those plastic panties you picked for her are just perfect. And they’re pink. So we better find something that matches.”
“There’s no shortage of pink clothes in there,” Melissa said with a small laugh, “I might have totally had a field day when Dr. Thurman showed me the catalogs I could shop from to stock Emily’s wardrobe.”
“A nightgown is the obvious choice . . . ” Lauren said.
“But . . . ?”
“But I was wondering about a onesie.”
“Say more,” Melissa said, grinning.
“Well,” Lauren said, digging in the closet, “it’s Emily’s first night in her crib, right? And cribs are for babies. And onesies are for babies. I mean, sure, little baby girls wear nightgowns, but so do older girls and adult women. But only babies wear onesies. So I was wondering if maybe Baby Emily should wear a onesie to bed?”
“You make a good point,” Melissa said, grinning, “but Emily isn’t just a baby. She’s a baby girl. And today, and the next many weeks and months, are about reinforcing that for her.”
“Well,” Lauren said, grinning back, “do you think this looks like a onesie that a baby boy would wear?” The garment she pulled out of the closet was a pale pink onesie with a white Peter Pan collar and an explosion of white lace at its arm bands, leg bands, and waist. On the chest of the onesie was a huge, floppy white satin bow with long free edges that hung down almost the entire length of the whole garment. The second Melissa saw it, she erupted in a huge grin.
“Lauren, it’s perfect!”
Soon enough, Lauren had brought the prissy onesie back over to Emily’s changing table, and Melissa was guiding her daughter to sit up so that she could slip it over his head. Directing Emily to lie back once more, Melissa buckled the crotch snaps closed over Emily’s large diaper.
Beaming down at Emily as she secured his onesie and put a matching pair of lacy pink ankle socks on his feet, Melissa asked her daughter, “Aren’t you a lucky girl, Emily? Isn’t Mommy’s baby girl so lucky to have a friend like Lauren who is so thoughtful about picking out outfits for her?”
Lauren looked confused. “That’s . . . not right, is it, Ms. Harper? I mean not anymore?”
“What’s not right, Lauren?”
“Me and Emily being friends. I mean, we’re not really friends anymore are we? I mean, friends implies some level of equality. And we’re certainly not equals anymore.”
“No,” Melissa replied, “You’re not. Not on any level whatsoever.”
Lying on his back on the changing table, staring at the ceiling, trying to process the huge bulk of his diaper and plastic pants as well as the weird fit of the humiliating onesie he was in, Emily suddenly burst into tears. All he’d ever wanted was Lauren. Admittedly, he’d wanted her as more than a friend, but since he’d never been able to be her boyfriend, he’d always treasured their friendship. To know now that it was gone? Seemingly forever?
Hearing Emily’s distress, Melissa and Lauren quickly got him down off of the changing table. Emily was allowed to remain standing as Lauren kneeled in front of him and wrapped him in her arms.
“Hey – hey – sssssshhhhh – come here – come here, pretty girl,” Lauren said, holding Emily tightly as he buried his sobbing, drooling face in her shoulder. Emily didn’t know how he had any tears left to cry after all he’d been through today, but he cried hard into Lauren’s shoulder now. Her scent, the smoothness of her skin, the soft pressure of her comforting arms on his back, it was more physical intimacy than he’d ever had with her, but every time his small pen-is pulsed and throbbed against its small cage, he was reminded that this was all the physical intimacy he would ever have with Lauren, and that made him cry all the harder, which made Lauren hold him all the more tightly, which made his pen-is throb again, starting the whole loop over again. He cried so hard and so long that he wasn’t entirely conscious of Melissa and Lauren sharing a look of understanding or Melissa stepping out of the room. After some long minutes of snotty, trembly crying on Emily’s part, Lauren repositioned them both, moving herself and Emily, who never resisted, so that they were on the couch, him stretched across her lap and staring up into her face as he worked his pacifier while she wiped his tears away.
“Hey now,” Lauren finally said, beaming down at him once his crying had slowed down a little. “You got all upset when I said we weren’t friends, didn’t you?”
Emily nodded, not even conscious of how deeply he was nursing his pacifier.
“Silly girl,” Lauren said, beeping his nose. “We’re not the same age. So we can’t be friends the way we once thought we could.”
Melissa re-entered the room carrying a full bottle of her breastmilk. Smiling, she handed it to Lauren, who quickly removed Emily’s pacifier and replaced it with the bottle. Emily was acutely aware that his (former?) friend and (former?) classmate and crush was about to bottle-feed him. He didn’t want that to happen, but what could he do? Nothing. That had been the story all day today: doing things he didn’t want to do but could not stop. Sighing, he mashed his tongue upwards against the nipple of the bottle and felt a jet of warm breastmilk squirt onto his tongue.
Once both women were sure that Emily was nursing steadily on the bottle, Melissa turned to Lauren. “Does it bother you?” she asked, “Losing Emily as a friend?”
“Well,” Lauren said, “I was never really friends with Emily, was I? I was friends with Michael and . . . ”
“You can be honest,” Melissa said gently. She was kneeling next to the couch now, so that Emily, lying across Lauren’s lap, could see only his Mommy and his former best friend when he looked up.
“Okay,” Lauren said. “It’s . . . weird, what’s happened to Michael, this whole transformation into Emily. It’s definitely super weird. But it’s also . . . right. Like, it just is. It’s right. And it’s beautiful, and I feel so, so honored that you’ve let me be a part of it. I want to help however I can. I don’t like losing a friend, but losing Michael? It’s not really that big of a loss, if I’m being honest. No offense.”
“None taken,” Melissa said.
Emily’s eyes welled up with another big round of tears as he nursed his bottle.
“But it’s not like it’s a total loss,” Lauren said. “That’s what I was trying to tell Emily here. So I lost a friend? Who cares when that friend was a weak, whiny, little failure of a man? I’m sorry, baby,” she said, seeing another round of tears, “I know that’s hard to hear, but Dr. Thurman was really clear with me and your mommy that you need to hear some harsh truths. And the truth is, you were a failure as a man. But as a baby girl? Sweetie, you’re the cutest baby girl on the block! And even if I’m not your friend, that doesn’t mean I can’t be the very best babysitter–or maybe even big sister–you’ve ever had. And that’s what I want to be, Little Miss Priss, your Big Sister.”
Emily, still nursing on his bottle, didn’t want to be Lauren’s little sister. He wanted to be her boyfriend, or at least her friend. At least her peer. But lying there with his mommy and his (former?) best friend looking down on him, he felt so weak and so helpless. And–thanks to the lace on the leg openings of his onesie and the way it brushed against his smooth thighs–he also felt so feminine and so babyish. He knew the image he was presenting right now, and he hated every bit of it. A weak, helpless baby girl was the opposite of everything he wanted to be.
But as the minutes wore on and the room got quiet–save for the sound of Emily’s wet, rhythmic nursing on the bottle–something very odd happened. For Emily, the day had been both long and harsh. It was a day of losses, of things being taken away from him, of rules and regulations being imposed, of limits being set, of the searing spanking Dr. Thurman had given him. There was nothing, from Emily’s point of view, good about anything that had happened today. But lying here across Lauren’s lap, nursing the warm breastmilk and looking up, all he saw were the faces of the two women he loved most in the world. And they looked so, so happy. As Emily nursed in silence, Lauren and his mommy were slowly cuddling him, tracing their hands through his hair, wiping his tears away, rubbing his shoulders, and running their fingers up and down his smooth thighs. Melissa, as she played with the delicate lace on her daughter’s new onesie, even started to cry. Over the last several years, Emily had had plenty of chances to see his mommy cry as he struggled with missing homework, misunderstood schedules, and failing grades. But he wasn’t used to seeing her cry like this. These were happy tears. As horrible as the day had been and as humiliated as he felt now, he had his Mommy’s full attention. And Lauren’s full attention. And they both looked like they approved of him. They both looked like he was making them happy, and he wasn’t used to that. It felt good to make his Mommy and Lauren happy, even if he hated everything that was making them happy. It was confusing. It hurt to think about. And so he stopped thinking and just nursed his bottle harder.
“It’s okay, Ms. Harper,” Lauren finally said, her voice almost a whisper. “I know. I get it. It really is beautiful. And you made it happen. You loved your baby girl like she needed to be loved.”
Melissa, utterly at a loss for words, could only nod in agreement and squeeze Lauren’s hand. “Come on,” Lauren said, as Emily emptied his bottle. “Let’s go put your baby girl to bed in her crib.”
“Emily will never ever, for the rest of her life, sleep in a big girl bed again,” Melissa said, wiping away happy tears.
Emily’s stomach sank to hear that as his mommy and Lauren guided him into his crib. The mattress was covered in lavender baby print plastic and crinkled loudly as he put weight on it.
“That is so beautiful, Ms. Harper,” Lauren said. “It’s so amazing how deeply you love your daughter and how much you’ve been willing to do for her.”
Emily gasped as his Mommy reached over the top of the crib and swung the crib’s locking top into place. He was now trapped inside of it until someone chose to let him out, sealed in the little box it made, a box that was long enough for him to fully stretch out in but not tall enough to let him rise above a sitting position. As Emily put his hands on the bars of his crib, thinking how much they felt like a jail cell, Lauren reached through the bars and re-inserted his pacifier.
“Lauren,” Melissa said, “this is just the beginning. We have such a long, long way left to go.”
End of Part One
� Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Topic: A Caring Place (Co-Written by PervScenes11) (Read 70034 times)
