Leslie Goes to Nursery School by deeplyf
Part 11
Though Leslie paused, he had learned thus far in his day at nursery school that Mrs. Horner expected answers from him when she asked questions. Since he did not really know what kind of an answer she expected, all he could do was softly confirm, "Yes, Mrs. Horner. I'm a big boy."
"Well, my gracious," responded Mrs. Horner in mock surprise and she resumed her very slow but steady sudsing of his erection. "And does Mommy let you squirt, big boy?"
Leslie could not believe his ears. Why would Mrs. Horner be asking about that! She couldn't possibly be referring to him having an orgasm and c-umming, could she? Leslie was forced to inquire blankly,"Let me squirt? What do you mean?"
"Oh Mrs. Horner thinks the Sissy Lelsie know very well what she means. You've just told me that you are a big boy and look what happened to your wee-wee while I was rubbing it to get you all sparkling clean. I'm talking about squirting spermies. Does Mommy let you squirt spermies out of your little wee-wee?"
Leslie would have been embarras-sed, but Mrs. Horner's steady motion with her soapy hand up and down, un and down his stiff ***** had him practically hypnotized. Would he actually get to c-um again so soon after he had just done so? He finally gathered his thoughts and stated, "No. Mommy doesn't let me make spermies."
"No, no, that's not what I asked, Leslie. I didn't ask if YOU got to make your little wee-wee squirt. I asked If Mommy took care of it when she saw you with a little stiffie like you have now."
"No, she doesn't."
"So do you get to make the spermies squirt out, big boy?"
"Oh no, Mommy doesn't like it when I make messy spermies," answered the aroused boy.
"So then...you have made your little wee-wee squirt and when it did, Mommy got mad. Did you make a wet sticky mess in your panties?"
Leslie did not even flinch at Mrs. Horner's presumption that he regularly wore little girl panties instead of the normal underwwear of a fourteen-year-old boy. He was more concerned with the humiliationg revelations about his masturbatory habits that she was so keen on hearing. He knew that there was no denying anything to her and that being silent now would probably only get him another sound spanking. And besides, her gentle caressing of his turgid member practically made him want to talk about playing with himself---if for no other reason than to keep her engaged in this slow stimulation.
"Yes, when I came in my pants, Mommy found sticky messes and she did not like having to wash them."
"And did you play with yourself anywhere else that made a mess that Mommy didn't like?"
"Yes."
"Come on, Leslie Honey, tell Mrs. Horner where it was and what you did. Come on..."
Leslie found again that he wanted to talk his masturbation in the same slow, methodical way Mrs. Horner was phrasing her questions and masturbating him while she spoke. "At night...in my bed I used to rub my wee-wee until it made spermies because it felt so good but it always made a wet spot on my pijamas and that would soak through and get the sheets wet and stained so that when Mommy washed them she could see it. She said making stains in my bed was like baby did so she punished me by putting me in diapers and a baby harness so that i couldn't touch myself and she put a waterproof baby sheet on my bed so that it would get stained."
"Well, that's a good idea because little boys should not be playing with themselves even when they want to make spermies. When their wee-wee's get all hard like yours, then Mommy should supervise you while you squirt, just like she does if you are making *** *** or poopie on the potty. Let's get you rinsed off and then we'll have you make your little squirt without touching yourself and without making a mess that Mrs. Horner has to clean up."
Leslie couldn't believe his ears. Somehow Mrs. Horner was going to let him c-um. He was so excited that he practically started to prance in place and his erection did not subside when Mrs. Horner stopped rubbing and turned the hand shower back on to rinse him off. When he was told to step out of the tub, Mrs. Horner towelled him off and then left him standing naked and now unashamed of his fourteen-year-old boner standing at attention.
Mrs. Horner brought what looked like a rolled-up exercise mat that the children must have used for tumbling games. On top of this roll she draped a polyurethane pad---like a sleeping pad, only slick. Soft but water repellant. She returned to the bathroom and got a large bottle of baby oil and led Leslie out to her main room where this strange apparatus awaited him. She set down the oil and noted that Leslie's erection was starting to wane. "Oh, if your wee-wee is getting small again on its own, then we won't have to do this. Are you still a big boy, Leslie?"
Leslie panicked. If he lost his erection, he wasn't going to get to c-um. He responded quickly that he was still a big boy. Mrs. Horner just gave a knowing nod and turned to get something else out of the cupboard. Leslie did something that he had either been too afraid of or physically restrained from doing since his mother had put him back in diapers at the beginning of summer vacation: he touched himself while Mrs. Horner had her back turned. He had to keep his erection without bringing himself to orgasm---because then she would know, just like Mommy knew. He thought exciting, erotic thoughts and it didn't even strike him as unusual when the first fantasy that popped into his mind was lying on a diaper while one of his sixteen-year-old babysitters masturbated him with baby oil. It was working...his ***** stiffened anew by the time Mrs. Horner turned back around.
"Oh look here! Our Leslie is still being a big boy so we can let him squirt spermies our special way. Is a darling just all excited? Does 'ums little wee-wee feel good when it's all hard?"
"Yes, Mrs. Horner, my wee-wee feels good," replied Leslie anxiously. He stared at the apparatus Mrs. Horner carried in her hand. She walked to a jar of Vaseline and applied a thick coating to its smooth surface.
"Before we take care of your spermies, we want to make sure there are no more poopies making a mess. This is a poopie plug that we're going to have in our little bottom so that no messy poopies can come out. Now be a good little boy for me and squat and bend over so we can put it in."
Leslie was quick to obey. This plug didn't look big enough to hurt and he wouldn't mind not having to worry about having another bowel movement. With its thick lubricant, the plug slid right in. To Leslie it seemed just like the feeling he got when Auntie Katie or Auntie Baba inserted a finger in his anus during his bath. He liked that and this felt just the same. It went in a little deeper but it seemed to be filled with some kind of thick get that kept it from making any sharp jabs that would hurt. At its bse was a small pad that Mrs. Horner was fussing with. To the pad were attached two long strips. Leslie unconsciously began thrusting his bottom against the plug to attain the same stimulation he got when he did so against the inserted finger in his bathtub. The gentle prodding of his prostate was exciting him and with Mrs. Horner pushing against the little base pad with him bent over for maximum exosure, the plug found its mark. Mrs. Horner happily noted his response, but busied herself with securing two straps to the front and back. Once this was completed, she straightened Leslie up and adjusted both loops over his shoulders like a skinny pair of suspenders. Leslie noted that when he stood up, the two suspenders kept the poopie plug riding high but gentle in his rectum. Mrs. Horner fastened a cross strap that joined the two vertical straps at his back and then repeated this with another joining strap that went across his chest. Now the suspenders could not slide off either side. The poopie plug was in place. Next, Mrs. Horner had Leslie straddle the soft pad. Both his knees touched the floor but he still couldn't see how this was going to work.
Mrs. Horner again asked Leslie how his wee-wee felt when it was all stiff and Leslie confirmed, "My wee-wee feels good."
"No, no," admonished Mrs. Horner. "Say it like a little boy would. Say 'Wee-wee feel good, wee-wee feel good.'"
Leslie repeated this phrase several times. He didn't care how she wanted him to say it because the fact was that his wee-wee did feel extremely good! By sitting squarely on the poopie plug, he was eager to add to the excitement he was alredy feeling. His ***** was standing at full attention.
But Mrs. Horner had more questions. "Honey, what do little babies say when they are happy and having fun?"
"They say, 'Baby is happy and having fun'." guessed Leslie.
"No, silly, little babies can't talk. They go "Goo-goo, ga-ga" when they are happy little babies. And you're going to be a happy little boy baby while you make your spermie squirts. That is exactly what you're going to be saying the whole time you're working at making your little squirties. If you stop saying "Goo-goo, ga-ga, wee-wee feel good" over and over, then no spermie squirts for you, but a hard spanking instead."
Leslie knew exactly what that meant and he started to repeat the phrase out loud right away.
"What a good little boy Leslie is being. Now the only other thing I want you to say is 'I'm going to squirt, I'm going to squirt' right before your spermies come, OK?"
Lelsie nodded in agreement and Mrs. Horner brought over the baby oil and spread a slippery coating the length of his stiff *****. She spread a little pool on the polyurethane pad in front of Leslie. She left him straddling the pad and awaiting instructions while she wiped her hand clean and took up a mini camcorder.
"Now lie down on your tummy on the baby oil spot on the mat. Keep your hands on the floor and pump your wee-wee so that it rubs on the baby oil spot. Start saying what we practiced." Mrs Horner started a stop watch.
With Mrs. Horner's recorder whirring, Leslie repeated "Goo-goo, ga-ga, wee-wee feel good" to provide an audio background for the hands-off ejaculation he was about to enjoy. Mrs. Horner circled with her camera to catch every angle of him humping away on the slick mat. Her camera caught his straining face and he said the baby-talk words right at the lens. From behind, his spread cheeks exposed the poopie plug to the camera. With nothing to prevent it, Leslie's ***** occasionally slid out to the side. In such a position Leslie could produce no stimulating friction with his thrusts. He was forced to realign his ***** so that it would thrust straight ahead. He experimented with how to move and how tightly to grip the oiled pad. Visually, Leslie appeared somewhat like a male dog around a bitch in heat when he starts to mount in any way possible in order to get at the other dog. The series of false couplings requiring repeated adjustments and new maneuvers. This is how Leslie looked as he sought a way to attack the mat that would bring maximum stimulation. How he would have loved to just take his wee-wee in his hand, encircle it right at the sensitive points and masturbate himself to orgasm as he had been able to do in the past. The forced repetition of "Goo-goo, ga-ga, wee-wee feel good" was a distraction to Leslie. It didn't allow him to totally give himself over to the physical stimuli that coursed through his body. It prevented his mind from capturing erotic thoughts and visions and then holding them clear to savor. Instead there was a sort of blur of images and ideas that flipped through his mind's eye.
And then he hit it. He gripped tightly to the pad, pressing it with his thighs. He was catching the sensitive tip of his ***** perfectly. He was practically quivering from head to toe. "Goo-goo, ga-ga, wee-wee feel good" became the mental image as well as the sound that was coming out of his mouth. The pad he was pounding (with his legs trying to wrap around) became like a big, yeilding mas-s between his legs. It became a bulky diaper as Leslie gasped his final "Goo-goo, ga-ga, wee-wee feel good" and switched to "I'm c-umming, I'm c-umming, I'm c-umming!" and spilled his load onto the pad's slick surface. The aroma of the baby oil that had lubricated this wonderful opportunity turned Leslie's last mental image into the puffy folds of a white diaper into which he was pumping his semen or *** ***---it didn't matter. This time it was his orgasm---not one brought on by some babysitter or other girl who chose to allow him to c-um. Leslie felt like such a big boy inspite of the infantile images his circ-umstances had provided him. He did not find it odd that the last flash before he shot his load was of baby diapers, nor that all the while baby oil was as-saulting his nostrils and exciting him nor that he was hear and thinking "Goo-goo, ga-ga. wee-wee feel good". Who cared---it had been a wonderful orgasm and Leslie now lied straddling the slick pad, content to relax and savor the wonderful feeling. Mrs. Horner clicked off the stop watch.
Part 12
Suddenly there was a tug at the back of his neck. Mrs. Horner had him by the hair and was pulling him back up on his knees. She maneouvered him off the pad and quickly pulled it off the rolled-up mat. This left it lying flat on the floor. The gob of semen (quite a bit, actually) rested in the middle of the mat.
"Now, Leslie, let's clean up this mess. We've had our little squirtums without using our hands, which Mommy didn't like. Now let's clean it up to get into the habit of cleaning up our squirties so Mommy won't find messy clothes and sheets. Mrs. Horner is going to count to ten and little Leslie is going to lick up every bit of his spermies before she gets to ten or she will get the Spanking Club paddle and show what happens to messy little boys."
This was such a shock to the post-orgasmic trance that Leslie was in that he could hardly believe his ears. When he heard Mrs. Horner say, "One", he jumped to get to the waiting puddle of sperm. He was so intent on avoiding another bare-bottom spanking that he did not even notice that Mrs. Horner was again recording every detail on her video camera. He also did not notice that baby oil pretty much tasted just like it smelled. Since his birthday when his girl clas-smates had made him shoot his sperm onto a plate and then fed him back all the semen by the spoonful, Leslie was not afraid of the taste of semen. All he was afraid of was the relentless count of Mrs. Horner, "Six...seven...eight..." and that awful paddle. By "ten" the pad was clean except for a few drops that had oozed out of Leslie's ***** at the foot of the pad while he was focusing all his attention on licking up the middle. Mrs. Horner kept her camera on Leslie's face while she wiped up each little drop with her finger and presented it to Leslie to lick off on camera.
"All done, Sweetie? No more dribbles?" asked Mrs. Horner as she pointed he camera at Leslie's now shriveled *****.
Leslie waited and then answered, "The mat is all clean, Mrs. Horner."
"And did a little boy like playing on the mat?"
"Yes."
"Leslie's wee-wee felt good. What did he do on the mat while he was playing?"
"I squirted my spermies on the mat, Mrs. Horner."
And with this Mrs. Horner turned off the camcorder and prepared Leslie for the rest of the afternoon. Leslie had not noticed that Mrs. Horner had stopped the timing on the stopwatch and set it down on her desk.
Mrs. Horner had Leslie stand up. The little tug on the straps of his "poopie plug" made him reaware of its presence. With all the other sensations coursing through his mind and body while he pumped away on the mat, he had scarely noticed it. Now he felt it anew and twitched his little behind to heighten the feeling. Mrs. Horner approached with his pink thong leotard. Leslie remembered being put into the leotard before. The sheer material had made him feel as if he were wearing nothing at all. When he had gotten aroused, he remembered that his erect ***** showed clearly through the material. The thin strap that came up between his two bottom cheeks was so slight that it was as if there were nothing at all covering his behind. He almost wished to be put into a diaper first so that it would provide him some sort of modesty.
Mrs. Horner had him step into the two leg openings and drew the leotard up around his thighs. Then she stopped and went to a closet. From it she returned with the largest toddler-size Pamper disposable that she had been able to buy. She kept a bag of them in case any of her four-year-olds had a wetting accident. She placed the Pamper barely through Leslie's legs with most of the diaper going up Leslie's front and making a little pouch that encased his ***** and balls. She told Leslie to hold it in place and she raised the leotard up into position. The small, stretchy pink garment was much more narrow than the fanned-out disposable diaper but the V-shape that rose out of Leslie's ****** caught the Pamper in the middle while the thin strap through the crack of Leslie's rear firmly kept the back part of the diaper in place so that it would not ride up. This left Leslie's backside striped with the thong part of his leotard in the middle and the two retaining straps of his plug on either cheek. Instead of hiding his Pamper, the contrasting pink leotard made the white disposable practically scream out its presence. The edges of the Pamper sort of flared out beyond the confines of the leotard's V-front. Leslie was appalled that the young children would see him like this but remembered that Mrs. Horner had said that he would be taking a nap and so he hoped that this arrangement was only for his naptime.
Mrs. Horner brought in one of the cots her little charges could use for taking a nap. She told Leslie to lie face down on it. She then retrieved the length of cord she had used to tie his hands under the stool while he was being fed his lunch. She had Leslie dangle his hands on either side of the cot. She knotted one end of the cord around one wrist and brought the other end under the cot, behind the two front legs and tied it off to Leslie's other wrist. Though loose, Leslie did not have enough extra cord to get either hand back up to the cot. Leslie felt as helpless as a baby.
"Mommy doesn't want Baby Leslie playing with himself and especially not when he's in beddy-bye for his nappie. Remembe, Sweetie, to tell Mrs. Horner if you have to *** *** in your diaper. And then let's close our eyes and keep them closed until Mrs. Horner comes in to get us up to go out and play with the older boys and girls. They won't have to nap as long but I'll keep the door closed so our little honey can have sweet beddy-bye dreams. Mrs. Horner will spank if she sees Leslie trying to stay awake with his eyes open."
So Leslie shut his eyes tight and Mrs. Horner stayed watching him for a few minutes to make sure that they remained closed. Sunlight streamed through one of the office windows and fell right on Leslie's exposed little tush. He was not particularly sleepy but the forced prone position made him savor the pleasant experiences that had just befallen him. The poopie plug as-serted its presence and a slight pressure began to build on Leslie's bladder. He hoped that he would not be made to nap so long as to have to call out loud for Mrs. Horner to watch him wet his diaper. He shifted slightly and managed to make the straps of his plug pull tighter. He tried closing his spincter more tightly around the plug. It felt good and when he thought he heard Mrs. Horner leaving, he thrust more forcefully to try to maximize the sensation. This thrusting, of course, rubbed his ***** in its little Pamper pouch and soon Leslie was getting another erection. By keeping his eyes closed he could block out any visual stimulii. Having just ejaculated, he was not ready to frantically pound away for an orgasm like he had done on the slippery mat. He was more like a boy who finds pleasure in stimulating his ***** and absentmindedly rubs himself to do just that.
Leslie was so lost in his little reverie that he did not notice that Mrs. Horner had tiptoed back in and was standing watching as his bare cheeks bobbed up and down. He was jolted when Mrs. Horner asked, "Why are you being such a little squirmy? Do you need to do *** ***'s? I hope we haven't wet out diaper without telling! Just raise up your middle using your knees while I check."
Leslie brought his knees up and since he was unfettered save for his hands, he was soon presenting himself to Mrs. Horner's inspection with his bottom up in the air and his face down on the cot. Mrs. Horner's hand went instantly inside the Pamper and felt, not wetness, but Leslie's erection.
"Oh my goodness! Do we have another little boner already? Are we ready to be a big boy again so soon? Well, we'll just have to let you play on the mat again so you can squirt and get back to sweet little baby girl nappy time without ole Mister Stiffie bothering you."
With this she again set up the mat arrangement and untied the cord on Leslie's hands. With Leslie standing before her, she pulled the thong leotard down and removed the Pamper so that he was left with just the poopie plug straps and his nakedness. By now his erection was gone, but Mrs. Horner revived it with baby oil. She went to the desk where the stopwatch lay and brought it back.
"One minute and 48 seconds," she said holding the face of the watch for Leslie to see. "That's how long it took our little man to make squirties before and that's how long he has to make his spermies again. If being a big boy gets in the way of our nap, we want our big boy to finish his business quickly. This isn't playtime...it's naptime. Let's get you kneeling over your play mat and I'll tell you when to start. If our big boy can't make his spermies in one minute and 48 seconds like before, Mrs. Horner will use her Spanking Club paddle to make a small wee-wee again."
Leslie was so surprised by the turn of events that he had neither the time to think about how wonderful it would be to get to have two orgasms so close together nor the ability to realize that he had never tried playing with himself back-to-back, as it were. He had always found having one to be so satisfying that he just savored that feeling. So engrossed had he always been with his post-orgasmic pleasure that it had gotten him into being diapered. At night he merely nodded off, leaving the gob of c-um to soak through his pijamas and stain the sheets. He was about to find out that the pas-sion he always found for a single ejaculation was not as easy to come by for two in a row.
"You may begin to play on the mat," said Mrs. Horner as started the stopwatch. "And don't forget what the baby says while he's having so much fun."
Leslie started pumping away searching for the spot that he could rub himself to ecstasy. He goo-gooed and ga-gaed and said "Wee-wee feel good", but could not exactly duplicate the sensations he had only just enjoyed. He shifted and ywitched to get his thrusts just right, but his ***** seemed somehow deadened. He vaguely heard Mrs. Horner's encouragement, "Come on, big boy, hurry and shoot your load or Mrs. Horner will spank."
Now in desperation he was thrusting wildly and not getting the contact between his stiff little wee-wee and the mat that he needed to make himself c-um.
"One forty-five, one forty-six, one forty-seven and one forty-eight," announced Mrs. Horner as she again grabbed him by the hair and raised him off the mat. Leslie kept bucking away at the mat but to no avail. "Have we made our little squirt, big boy? Oh no, I see that we have not. Maybe we're not as big a boy as we like to show. Well, Mrs. Horner is getting her paddle to teach our little man that, if he is going to get a big boy boner, then he's going to have to be able to make his spermies more quickly so he can get back to being our little babykins honey bunch right away."
Part 13
Mrs. Horner was now at a crossroads. Should she spank Leslie in a slow, soft way and have him hump away at the mat until he was able to have his little ejaculation? If he were to be a regular in her care, she was sure she could use this technique to creat a spanking dependancy in Leslie where the only way he could get sexually aroused would be to get spanked. But she did not know how frequently she would get to be in charge of the sissy boy. Her other option was to administer a sound spanking that would give Leslie second thoughts about having sexual pleasure as-sociated with humping the play mat. Getting Leslie to have his pleasure more quickly appealed to Mrs. Horner's sadistic side. Perhaps she could create a premature ejaculator in this fashion and there would go Leslie's future sexual pleasure. She would need to speak with Mrs. Seldon to see how often she could expect Leslie to spend the day. Lacking regular visits, at least she could inform Mrs. Seldon about the different ways little Leslie's rampant sexuality could be channeled.
Mrs. Horner finally decided to give Leslie a quick, sound spanking: one minute and forty-eight seconds worth. She wanted to implant that number in his mind. "We'll see how much pleasure our little masturbator can derive out of forcing himself to c-um quicker than he may be ready to," she chuckled to herself.
"OK, Leslie, let's go sideways across the play mat so our bottom is sticking up for Mrs. Horner's paddle. Our spanking will be just like our playtime for spermie squirts: one minute and forty-eight seconds. Now that didn't seem like very long at all, did it, Sweetie? In fact, it wasn't enough time to make the second stiffie go away, was it? I'll start the watch so we can tell the time exactly. Will you be a big helper and tell Mrs. Horner when the time is up?"
"Yes, Mrs. Horner," replied Leslie.
"Now after each spank I want you to promise Mrs. Horner out loud, 'Next time I'll squirt my spermies faster.' Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mrs. Horner."
And with that, Mrs. Horner gave Leslie a solid swat on his butt-plugged bottom. He gulped and made the promise required of him. This done, her paddle descended again. When Leslie didn't start his recitation instantly, Mrs. Horner warned him that she could start the stopwatch all over again. This spurred Leslie on to make his fast-squirt promise inspite of the pain the spanking produced. He wanted to stop and reach back to protect his now-red tushie, but fear that a whole new time clock would get him an even longer spanking kept him on Mrs. Horner's pace.
After a minute and forty-eight seconds, Mrs. Horner stood up a tearful little boy and held out the leg holes to his pink thong leotard so that he could get set to go back to his naptime. Once it was in place with the Pamper fanned out of the edges, she settled Leslie back down on the cot, secured his hands underneath and again ordered him to close his eyes for his nappie. She reminded him not to get a hard little wee-wee any more unless he was prepared for a double dose of playtime on the mat. With his two cheeks blazing red from her paddle, Leslie was not anxious to try to c-um on the slippery mat again. In fact he was mad at himself for having given in to the pleasure of being the master of his own orgasm when she had provided him the chance the first time. If he had taken the time to begin with, he would have been able to prolong the pleasant sensation of humping the oily mat and he would not now be gauged against his one minute forty-eight second performance. Mrs. Horner was just like his mother and two teenage babysitters: Leslie never seemed able to come out ahead of them no matter what he did to try to anticipate their actions or the consequences of his own. Leslie lay there with his eyes tightly shut waiting for his bottom to stop burning and daring not to move lest his ***** somehow be stimulated into yet another hard-on. Eventually the emotional drain of the day caught up with him and he fell sound asleep.
The morning's many bottle feedings ultimately made their presence felt and Leslie was awoken by his urge to make *** ***'s. He briefly opened his eyes and was momentarily confused by his surroundings. He remembered Mrs. Horner's admonitions to both keep his eyes closed and inform her or Miss Peggy if he had to either wet or make poopies in his diapers. Here again was a dilemna for Leslie. Should he dare go ahead and wet, pretending he had done so in his sleep, or should he call out to Mrs. Horner and risk all the little children also hearing him tell about his need to ****** in his diapers? He could feel himself starting to choke up with frustrated emotion. The pressure on his bladder forced him to literally cry out, voice cracking, "Mrs. Horner! Mrs. Horner! Mrs. Horner!"
But it was tenneage helper Miss Peggy who rushed in with three four-year-old girls ***king around from behind her. "What's the matter, Baby? Are we all wide awake and ready to come out and play with the big boys and girls? They have been up and playing already and wondering when their little baby Leslie would finally wake up from her nappie. Did our little sleepyhead just wear herself out trying to keep up with the big kids?"
Fearing that he would wet himself if he waited a moment longer, Leslie practically pleaded, "I have to go to the bathroom!"
Miss Peggy turned to one of the little girls and told her to run and tell Mrs. Horner that the baby was awake and had to make *** ***'s. The messanger dashed off with this important announcement. Mrs. Horner was not long in coming. No one had done a thing to change Leslie's position on the cot before she arrived. Thus it was that Mrs. Horner, Miss Peggy and now five or six little girls all gazed at Leslie face down on the cot with the thong back of his pink leotard nicely set off by the fanned-out Pamper.
"What is it, Baby? Are we all wide awake from our little nap?"
"Mrs. Horner, I need to go bad," whispered Leslie, not knowing how many other ears were hearing his declaration.
"Is it *** ***'s or poopies, Sweetie?" asked Mrs. Horner cloyingly.
"I have to do *** ***'s and I have to go right now!"
"Very well, then. Let's get you up and take you out into the other playroom. Just clamp down like a big girl until we get you where you can tinkle."
She undid the cord that kept Leslie's hands under the bed. She took Leslie by the hand and led him back out to the playroom where he had been humiliated earlier. The little circle of onlookers expanded as other little girls who had been plaing came over to see what this big girl baby would do next.
As Leslie did the little dance that all children do when they are desperate to hold back wetting, Mrs. Horner explained that the baby was showing herself to be almost ready to be placed on the potty like a big girl.
"She's old enough that she should already be using the potty, but she's still in diapers. Mommy puts her in a diaper because she must be careless about wetting and can't be trusted to always tell when she has to tinkle. We've already seen how she wet her diaper without telling, didn't we? Well. sometimes the best way to get a little girl who should know better to act like a really big girl about going to the potty is to shame her out of still acting like a baby and make fun of her when she insists on behaving like a baby does. So...Leslie, Mrs. Horner wants you to wet your diaper right here in front of all of us. And while you're filling your diaper, you are to tell us out loud, 'I like wetting my diapers because I'm a big baby.' Now do as I say or I'll have to go back to the Spanking Club paddle to remind you of what a bad little baby you have been for all the good boys and girls today."
Part 14
Leslie had no choice because he couldn't hold back his stream any longer. So, while he repeated "I like wetting my diapers because I'm a big baby", he let go and soaked his Pamper. Since he had to go so badly, the disposable could not soak up all his ***-*** and soon two little rivelets appeared at the ****** and ran down each of his inner legs. The girls were beside themselves with nervous energy. They had never seen a baby so big that it could be ordered to wet nor had they ever seen a baby wet so much that its diaper could not cantain it all. They were certain that Mrs. Horner would need to know and so they cried out that Baby's diaper was leaking and making a puddle on the floor.
When Leslie was done, he fell silent but Mrs. Horner was not going to let this situation end so abruptly. Since the Pamper extended beyond the leotard's thin thong, the pink leotard wasn't dampened in the least. She sent one of the little girls into her office with Miss Peggy to get another Pamper. Leslie was left to stand with his bare feet squarely in the middle of the yellow puddle. Soon the little girl was back announcing "Here's another diaper for Baby Leslie" and only then did Mrs. Horner lower his leotard. She instructed Miss Peggy to remove the wet diaper and give it to Leslie to hold on to. She then repostioned the new dry Pamper in the same fashion as the other. Of course, the girls behind Leslie could plainly see the poopie plug straps during this switch. In the irrepressible curiosity of pre-schoolers, they were soon peppering Mrs. Horner with questions about "those straps coming out of Baby's bottom". Mrs. Horner recalled Leslie's messy, smelly poop from lunch and how unpleasant it had been. She then used her baby-talk voice to explain away the poopie plug's function as if it were the most natural way to deal with big girls who still acted like babies and filled their diapers with smelly loads that made it stinky for everybody else.
With the wet Pamper changed, Mrs. Horner was able to leave Leslie standing embarrassed and ashamed while she went to get the means for cleaning up the mess. She returned with a bucket and a tiny swatch of cloth.
"Put your wet diaper in the pail, Baby Girl. Now since big girls should know better than to wet their panties, they are responsible for their messy wetties. So they have to clean them up. Mommy or Nanny can clean up a lettle baby when he wets, but older children need to be made aware that their actions cause extra clean-up. I want you to soak up all your ***-*** with the rag, wring it out in the pail and then soak more up again until the whole puddle is gone. Get down on your knees and don't get any ***-*** drips on your pretty leotard or Mrs. Horner will spank."
This was too much for two of the girls to stand. They bolted from the circle and dashed outside to tell the boys what had happened. Leslie could hear them yelling out the events that had befallen him as soon as they were out the door. This added shame was too much for Leslie and he started to cry as he kneeled to perform the job assigned him.
"Oh the baby is crying because she has to clean up her mess," teased one of the girls. Her bravery to confront this baby-wetting by such a big girl emboldened others to follow and once the boys scampered in, they, too, verbally joined in the humiliation of this big girl whose fanned-out Pamper proclamed her infantile status for all to see.
Leslie's job was not made quick by the small rag he had been given to mop up with. As the smell of his own urine wafted up to his nose (which was now running to join the tears streaking his face) he had to soak up and wring out the dainty rag over and over. When the puddle was finally gone, his knees, feet and hands were cleaned for him and new paper towels and disinfectant were issued so that all the "messy germs" could be removed from the linoleum surface. Finally, a big to-do was made of blowing his nose and wiping his face clean. Then one of the little girls held a bottle to his lips that he was forced to nurse "to calm her down" as Mrs. Horner explained. Then he was given his pacifier so that he wouldn't fuss anymore.
As a final humiliation before any of the children started to be picked up or before Mrs. Seldon herself arrived for Leslie, Mrs. Horner made a final set of demands of Leslie.
"Leslie, sweetheart, pretty soon Mommy will be comimg to pick you up. We want you to show her all the fun things that you did today at nursery school. Won't it be fun to sing all the songs you learned today and tell her what you did! And won't Mommy be proud when she learns that her little darling is getting so big that now she tells Mrs. Horner when she has to ****** in her diaper. We're all so proud that our big baby not only had fun today but that she's getting ready for potty training, too. Boys and girls, let's all clap for all the big-girl things that Leslie has learned today. And Leslie, to show Mommy that you're very excited, we want you to volunteer to tell her all these things without Mommy having to ask or any of us having to prompt you. Remember, you're an excited little toddler who got to play with big kids today. If you don't, then Mrs. Horner will also have to tell the naughty things you did---wet diapers, poopie diapers, messy bed and puddles on the floor and we'll have to get down the Spanking Club paddle and punish you in front of Mommy and everybody else. You'll have to go home with your little crybaby tears. And Mrs. Horner will insist that you come spend this weekend with me so Mommy will be free to work on sewing the clothes for the big wedding. Do you want to spend Friday night all the way through to Sunday with just Mrs. Horner at her house? No, of course not, Baby wants her mommy, doesn't she? Well, then, remember to do all those things. Will you sing all the songs for us now to practice? Give me your pacifier and you can show us you remember."
And so Leslie had to perform for the assembled group and do all the cute little mimes that accompanied the words. He wanted to make sure he had all the songs right. He was afraid that any mistakes would mean a very public spanking and a whole weekend with Mrs. Horner. He could only imagine what she would be capable of with himself as her only charge. Who knows what she might make him do or where she might make him go!
And sure enough, just a few minutes after his practice and while the instructions given to him were still fresh in all the children's mind and before any of them were picked up, in walked Mrs. Seldon to collect her Little Precious Pie. Mrs. Horner announced in a loud voice, "Leslie Honey, Mommy's here."
Most of the children heard the ringing voice and scampered over to see if this big baby girl would submit to this final humiliation.
Leslie heard, too, and bolted toward his mother oblivious of the other children and the exposed Pamper he wore under his leotard.
"Mommy, Mommy, it was so much fun! I was a good boy (whoops...but he didn't even notice in his rush to please) and I learned new songs and I ate all my lunch and I took a long nap and Mrs. Horner taught me to tell her when I have to wet my diapers."
"My, my," reacted Mrs. Seldon. "Why is my darling wearing a disposable diaper instead of her puffy cloth diapers?"
"Well, I...err...ahhh...I wet my diaper and Mrs. Horner put me into a Pamper for my nap. Let me sing all my songs for you. Mary had a little lamb, little lamb..."
Mrs. Horner's eyes met Miss Peggy's. They smiled at one another and turned to Mrs. Seldon who nodded her approval. All three of them knew Leslie would be coming back again...and again.
The End