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Author Topic: Baby Candy (Complete story!) - By Baby Jennie  (Read 35104 times)

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Baby Candy (Complete story!) - By Baby Jennie
« on: February 25, 2008, 11:21:50 pm »

Here's something rare - looking over my vast collection of stories, I found I actually have the entire story of Baby Candy.  That is somewhat unusual, as many sites have this story, BUT not the entire thing.  So - here it is in its completed form.


Baby Candy

When I was thirteen years old, my mother decided that rather than spending my summer vacation languishing at home in the city, I should instead stay with my mother's divorced younger sister. She lived in a small country town called Willowtree, in the state’s north-west - a very different environment indeed for a boy like me. However, I didn't like this idea one bit! I wanted to spend the summer with my friends in Sydney! But my mother considered most of my bigger, tougher peers a bad influence, and thought that I would be much better off in the quiet countryside. To make matters worse, several weeks prior to the holidays, I had been caught along with some friends who were shooting a BB-gun and throwing rocks at our school's windows. Many windows were broken, and even though I was only an innocent observer, I still ended up in a lot of trouble.

As a result I had no further say in the Willowtree matter, and shortly after the school year finished, my mother packed me into the car and drove me to stay with her sister, my Aunt Meg. I was quietly apprehensive during the long eight-hour trip. I didn't really remember much about Aunt Meg or her daughters, my older cousins. I knew April was fourteen, and Bonnie had recently turned sixteen. I assumed I would be in for an endless boring summer. When we arrived, my mother immediately complained to Aunt Meg about my recent misbehaviour. She informed my Aunty about the BB-gun incident, and concluded by suggesting I really hadn't been disciplined firmly enough.

I felt Mum was exaggerating. Except for that one recent incident, I had never been involved in any kind of real trouble. Furthermore I was very small for my age, and usually meek, mild and timid, and I cried easily. I was quite afraid of most authority figures, and usually did as I was told. I behaved far better than most other boys my age, and usually went along with their pranks merely to avoid a confrontation. Nevertheless my mother asked my Aunt to discipline me as she saw fit! With a tight smile, Aunt Meg replied that she would be pleased to help her sister in this matter.

Then Aunt Meg sternly gazed down at me and ran her fingers through my rather unkempt, shoulder-length blonde hair. She frowned and demanded to know what time I’d last had a haircut? With a disparaging shake of her head, Auntie cautioned me that in her town, decent young boys normally sported neat crew-cuts. I begged my mother and Aunt Meg not to make me cut my hair, as long hair was the current style amongst my city peers and myself, all budding fans of hard-rock music. My mother conceded that I could leave my hair long on one condition! If I promised to behave and do everything Aunt Meg told me! Of course I instantly and insincerely promised I would.

The next minute my mother climbed in our car and left for home, abandoning me to the tiny town of Willowtree. Shortly after her departure, Aunt Meg made several disparaging comments about the black punk-rock tee-shirt I was wearing. She ordered me to take it off, as it didn't look nice for a sweet little boy to wear such terrible things. I cheekily reminded her that I was thirteen years old, and not a sweet little boy. Although I realised most people treated me as if I were far younger, because I was tiny for my age, had a baby-face, and a high-pitched little-girl voice, that I could hardly wait to change. I was by far the smallest boy in my high school, and the other kids had nicknamed me ‘Peanut.’ I tried to explain to Aunt Meg that all my teenage friends in Sydney wore similar shirts, but she responded that we weren't in ‘that crazy big city,’ and that I ‘certainly needed to learn some manners!’

She yanked the offending shirt from my body over my grumbled protests, and spirited it away. When she returned she grabbed me by one ear and hauled me squealing into the bathroom, insisting that if I was going to wear my beautiful blonde hair long like a girl, it at least had to be shining clean and brushed prettily at all times! I whimpered that I had washed it only last week, but she spitefully retorted that all her girls must wash their hair every second day! She forcefully bent me over the bathroom sink and proceeded to soak my head. Then she roughly shampooed my hair with her floral scented shampoo. She rinsed, conditioned, and rinsed again, then partly blow-dried my hair, and then made me sit down and brushed it dry. Finally she combed it out and despite my protests, trimmed the ends and the front with her good sharp scissors. Later I would discover she was giving me ‘little-girl bangs,’ with an effeminate part in the middle.

When I saw my reflection I complained bitterly that boys didn't wear it that way, but she icily replied that my beautiful long hair was far too long for a boy, and from now on, that's how I had to wear it - just like a girl! She insisted I must brush and comb it the same way every morning, and she would check to see that her instructions had been followed to the letter. With my fringe cut into bangs and my hair parted neatly in the middle, I knew I looked even more feminine than usual.

Aunt Meg sorted through the t-shirts in my suitcase and declared them all “quite unsuitable!” She said she would buy me some nicer tops to wear whilst I was staying in Willowtree, and searched her youngest daughter’s wardrobe for something for me to wear now. She gave me an old white collared polo shirt of April’s to wear, but it hung down almost to my knees. It almost looked like I was wearing a dress! When April spied me in her old top, even she giggled and commented scathingly; “Now you really do look like a little girl!”

I should mention Aunt Meg was much taller than Mummy, and quite attractive with a great figure. She often wore tight jeans or short skirts provocatively displaying her long tanned legs. With her full sensuous lips painted luscious red and her dark smoky eye make-up, I thought she always looked very sexy. Over the next few days I came to realize that she was also very strict, and somewhat obsessed with cleanliness, manners and dress. Her daughters were similarly tall, buxom young women, and beautiful in an arrogant sort of way. They obviously knew they were attractive, and treated most boys like amusing playthings.

I had always been interested in women's clothing as far back as I could remember, and by the time I was eleven, I had started secretly dressing up in my mother and my big sister's panties, slips, and slinky nightgowns, whenever I found the chance to play alone at home. Their undies were much too big on me of course, but I didn't care. They looked and felt so pretty! Mummy’s silky nylon panties and satin mini-slips felt so wonderful, as I would rub my throbbing little stiffie through the layers of soft feminine finery.

Aunt Meg stored her washer and dryer in the basement, and on my first morning there I prowled around unseen. I quickly discovered that she would usually dry her delicate lingerie and her buxom teen daughters’ lacy undies on a small clothesline behind their house. I was fascinated by the delicate assortment of sexy panties, bras, slips, and lacy suspender-belts I spied drying on the line each sunny morning. I couldn’t stop myself from staring intently at the beautiful lingerie displayed seemingly for my arousal, while fantasising about wearing them. But my Aunt Meg happened to walk out and catch me in the act of rubbing my crotch whilst stroking the silky-soft crotch of one of her girl’s thick satin panties hanging on the line.

She strode over and grabbed my wrist, and archly demanded to know what I was doing pawing her daughters’ panties? When I blushed crimson and couldn't respond, she surprised me grabbing my bulging crotch with her free hand. I tried to turn and back away, but she had already captured the stiffie tenting out the front of my baggy blue jeans. She snorted with contempt when I squealed and wrenched away from her painful grip, warning me that if she caught me touching their frillies again, she would make me wear everything I saw hanging up! I was so embarrassed at being caught in the act, I covered the bulging front of my jeans with both hands and started stammering furiously. I couldn’t speak!

Aunt Meg observed my embarrassed tell-tale behaviour, and laughed cruelly as I stood there cowering, aroused yet humiliated. She teased me further, even threatening to dress me in her girls’ frilliest lingerie and parade me around town in them! With my cheeks burning and my hands still vainly trying to conceal my erection, I turned and ran around the side of the house, her threats and mocking laughter filling the air behind me.

Over lunch that afternoon, she cruelly informed her daughters of what had happened. The girls reproached me and laughed their heads off as my cheeks burned red, and then loudly discussed what a disgusting, perverted little boy I was, as I mutely cringed in shame! They agreed with their mother that I should be dressed in their panties and underthings, if they caught me fondling their frillies again. I felt so embarrassed, my whole body turned hot and cold! But for the rest of the day I couldn't drive the incident from my mind. I was finding the threatened humiliation of being forced to wear such sexy girls’ undies to be a very, very big turn-on!

There were some boys who lived nearby who played street cricket outside my Aunt’s in Condamine St, and touch football in the local park nearby. Despite the fact that I was a teenager and they all looked younger than ten, during that first afternoon I attempted to join in their games. They were all much bigger and brawnier than me, and they didn't like me right from the start. They sneered at my feminine hairstyle contemptuously, and said that I couldn't play with them because I looked like “a little girl” and “a sissy baby!” They asked why I was wearing jeans under my dress, and I tried to explain that it wasn’t a dress but a borrowed shirt, but they wouldn’t listen. A few of them actually thought that I was a girl simply trying to act like a tough tomboy, and they wanted to bet me and their friends that I was really a girl! I kept insisting that I was a boy, but everyone seemed convinced that I was merely a tomboy.

When I refused their raucous demands to lift up my dress and pull down my pants and prove I truly was a boy, they all started chanting; "She's a sissy gi-rl, she’s a sissy gi-rl!" over and over, until I stumbled away almost in tears. At dinner that night I whinged to my aunt about what had happened, adding that the boys in her town were stupid, and complained again that I wanted to return to Sydney. To my chagrin, my aunt acted as if the teasing was my fault! She said that the nice local boys probably wouldn't let me play with them because they realised I was obviously a juvenile delinquent, who had no manners and hadn't yet learned how play well with others.

I became upset and shrilly protested that it wasn't true, and that it was completely the other boys’ fault! My aunt’s next comment really floored me. “Then maybe I should put you in a dress and make you play with the girls, instead!" I was so surprised by this outrageous remark I started blushing hotly, and ducked my head down to hide my burning cheeks. Aunt Meg and my cousins started chortling at my subdued shame-faced reaction.

My aunt sensed how embarrassed and yet how titillated I was by her threats, and seemed delighted by my humiliated silence. She added that she might take me to the girls' department of the local Myers’ store, and buy me a pretty dress of my very own! Dumbfounded, I started trembling and sweating as her girls laughed and jeered at me. Later that night I couldn’t stop thinking about my Aunt's repeated threats to dress me like a girl, to the point that I could hardly fall asleep!

The next day however, my aunt made no further mention of making me wear a dress or taking me to the girl’s department at Myers. She did ask Bonnie to keep an eye on me when she went shopping that morning. I was both relieved - yet oddly disappointed - when she returned at lunchtime with four new t-shirts for me that actually fitted. They were completely plain, but the colours! They were all pastels; lemon, powder-blue, mauve, and pale green. I complained about the sissy colours of course, but my Aunt replied that she could have bought a pink and an apricot one, too, and asked would I prefer them instead? That shut me up pretty quickly and I put on the green top, as it seemed the least offensive.

The rest of the day passed quietly enough until dinnertime, when I accidentally spilled some grape juice on my new t-shirt and down my pants. My Aunt was furious, and made me immediately strip to my briefs in front of my giggling cousins while she frantically tried to scrub out the stain. She loudly scolded me all the while, informing me that if my new top was ruined, she was going to spank my naughty bottom and then put me in a dress!

I was mortified, yet secretly thrilled! I didn't know what to say. In a way I wished that the stain wouldn't come out, and she would make good her threat! Then Bonnie snickered and whispered to me about the time a few months ago, when Aunt Meg punished another younger boy cousin who had ruined his good clothes by playing football in them. She said that Aunt Meg had dressed him completely as a girl, and made him stand on the front porch for the rest of the afternoon while everyone passing by made fun of him! Bonnie giggled as she snidely promised I would be next! I found this idea both scary and exciting! However a short time later, my Aunt Meg grimly announced that she had managed to scrub out the stain, and my clothes weren't ruined after all. I actually felt rather let-down.

Lying awake in bed that second night, I somehow dreamt up the idea that perhaps I could trick my aunt into dressing me as a girl, by appealing to her hatred of ruined clothes and filth. I thought that if I snuck off the next day and really messed up my clothes in a major way, she might make good her repeated threats to dress me as a sissy girl. I shivered with a combination of terror and excitement at my bold plan.

The next morning I set out on my bike and rode to the outskirts of an abandoned coal mine I had discovered the day before. I was accustomed to not having any companions, and would often just ride around alone on my bike exploring. I had mentioned my discovery to my aunt at the time, but she of course forbade me to return to the derelict mine, telling me that it was both dangerous and filthy there. I had specifically selected my crisp white jeans and the powder-blue t-shirt to wear that day, for maximum contrast. Furthermore before I left the house, my aunt even cautioned me to be careful of my nice clean clothes.

I began ‘Operation Dirt’ as I dubbed it, by climbing over some old rusted machinery and playing inside a filthy abandoned car with no windows. I figured I might as well have fun while I was at it. Next I rubbed clods of earth and greasy coal over my hands, and then ran my blackened paws over my face and all through my femininely-styled long blonde hair. Just to be certain I was messy enough, I even rolled around on the ground like a pig in the dirt. I had assumed the area to be completely deserted, but was startled to see an old man striding towards me. He called out in a raspy voice; "What the heck are you doing there rolling on the ground, little girl?"

Embarrassed at being caught in the act, I mumbled quietly, "Just playing." He reproached me soundly, telling me that I was filthy, and he strongly suggested that I'd better scamper home right away, and that my Mummy would probably give my bottom ‘a well-deserved whipping!’ I ran away from him and jumped on my bike, and swiftly pedalled for home. As I approached my Aunt’s house I saw some of the local boys were playing cricket in the street. As I rode by they teased me, yelling things like; "Look at the dirty tomboy!" and warned me that I would be in big trouble for messing my pretty clothes!

By the time I turned in my Aunt’s driveway, I was having second thoughts. I realised that I might have overdone it, and that my Aunt would be absolutely furious with my appearance! I suddenly developed cold feet, and decided to call the whole thing off. As I stashed my bike I figured I could climb through the open basement window, sneak quietly upstairs to my room, hide my filthy clothes, and discretely take a shower. So I tentatively lowered myself through the small window at the side of the house, and listened carefully for my aunt and cousins. I heard nothing, and began tip-toeing quietly up the basement steps.

All of a sudden the door above crashed open! The basement light snapped on and Aunt Meg loomed large above me from the top of the stairs! I shrieked in alarm and froze in terror. Aunt Meg took one look at me and screamed bloody murder! Bonnie and April came running to stand beside her, their mouths gaping. My aunt was livid as she clattered down the wooden steps. She scolded me severely and demanded to know how I had wound up in such a disgusting condition. I cowered away from her and whimpered that I had just been playing outside.

She was furious, and grabbed me by my dirty neck and shook me like a rat. She again demanded to know where I had been, and I hesitantly confessed that I had been playing at the old coal mine. She reminded me that I had been forbidden to play there, and that I was going to be severely punished! When she released me I ducked my head and tried to slink past her up the stairs, but she yanked me back by my hair, making me yelp in pain. "Just where do you think you're going, you wicked child?" she angrily demanded.

I tearfully replied, "I'm sorry, ma'am. May I go upstairs now and clean up?"

She snapped; “No! Do you want to track dirt all over my clean house and make a complete mess of everything?" She then ordered me to take off all my clothes, explaining that she would put them in the washing machine right there and then in the basement. I hesitated to undress in front of her grinning girls, and with a snort of disgust, Aunt Meg began forcefully ripping away my filthy clothes while Bonnie and April watched us and giggled.

She quickly stripped me completely, and threw my soiled clothing in the washer and started the machine. She then hurried me upstairs to the bathroom still naked, urging me on with hard spanks to my bare bottom, and drew a hot bath for me scolding me furiously all the while. Bonnie and April followed right behind her, snickering and whispering the whole time. I was terribly embarrassed as I cupped my hands tightly over my tiny shrivelled penis and balls. Aunt Meg hauled me off my feet and forcefully thrust me into the hot tub, and began washing me very roughly with a soapy washcloth all over my body. I bitterly complained that it hurt, but she kept scrubbing me till I was pink and clean. She shampooed my hair three times! She said that I deserved a sound spanking, and a punishment that I wouldn't soon forget!

She dragged me out of the tub and roughly dried me off. As soon as I was dry she sat on the closed toilet, and placed the damp towel over her lap. “Come here,” she ordered, crooking her finger at me. As soon as I stepped within range, she grabbed my ear and dragged me squealing across her towel-covered lap. With one hand holding my neck in a vise-like grip, the other fell repeatedly on my damp pink posterior. “Naughty child!” she scolded me. “I’ll teach you to do as you are told!” She spanked me for about five minutes, although it felt like hours. By the time she finished padling me, my bottom was red and blazing and tears were rolling down my crimson cheeks. Auntie roughly stood me up and as I wobbled alarmingly and sobbed my heart out, she sneered at me contemptuously. “What a sissy cry-baby!” She roughly wiped my tear-stained face with the towel and ordered me to stop snivelling, and I gradually brought my breathing under control, brushing away the last tears before she could.

Then Auntie told April to bring her some of her oldest, smallest clothes for me to try on. I couldn't believe it when my peenie started to thicken, no matter how hard I tried to make it stop! While we waited, Aunt Meg began blow-drying and brushing my long wet hair as I kept my hands in my lap. April soon returned with some panties, a slip, and a short cotton dress! Aunty made me stand and I started trembling with humiliation at my obvious arousal. I bent forward at the waist and crossed my hands in front of my groin in a futile attempt to conceal my growing excitement. Laughing caustically at my erection despite my cowering, shivering state, Aunt Meg and my cousins began dressing me in the feminine clothes. Even though April was only eighteen months older than me, her smallest old clothes were grossly too large on my slight frame.

My Aunt seemed deeply disappointed as they stripped me again, but then she snarled that I wasn't getting out of it that easy! She concentrated for a moment, and remembered some clothes that a relative had given her ages ago. They were new clothes intended for April some years ago, that had been much too small for her youngest. She had stored them in a box in the basement with intentions of passing them on to a visiting younger niece, but they had been forgotten – till now.

I was dragged naked and blushing to the basement once more, my embarrassing stiffie cradled in my palms. Aunt Meg quickly found and opened the sought-after box of clothes, and produced a pair of girl’s pink designer bike jeans that barely covered the knees, and a frilly white cotton blouse, both sized for an eight-year-old. She also drew out a pair of pink lace-edged sneakers, and a few clear plastic packages of new nylon underwear, clearly marked in girls’ sizes eight to ten. Aunt Meg smirked and commented that these clothes just might be small enough to fit me!

She ripped open a package of underwear and held out a pair of silky white nylon panties. They had tiny red polka-dots and frilly red lace trim around the waist and leg openings, and there was even a matching training bra! I was shivering with unrepressed excitement as my Aunt held down and opened the shiny bikini panties, and sharply ordered me to step into them. Smacking my hands away from my bobbing hard-on, she pulled them up over my stiffie to my waist while her girls giggled and pointed. I was extremely mortified to notice the girls’ size eight panties were quite a good fit on my undersized thirteen-year-old male body. The frilly panties also had a silky exciting feel that started my peenie leaking drops of sticky clear fluid, making a tiny shiny wet spot on the front of my panties. I was speechless as my aunt teased me that my boobies needed to grow more, while she fed my limp arms through the training bra straps, and then clasped it in back for me.

April remarked that despite my bright red face and the fact that I seemed so embarrassed I had tears in my eyes, my little stiffie still hadn’t gone down and I was getting wet! My Aunt archly replied that obviously some part of me must love the humiliation and control they had over me! Next they dressed me in the pink pair of girl's bike jeans, which ended at the top of my calves. I helped to pull them on, to more quickly cover the embarrassing evidence of my arousal. I kept my back to the girls when I had to force my boner to one side, before I could zip the fly closed.

The stretch pink jeans fitted me very snugly, and gave me a rather feminine figure from behind, emphasising a very rounded little butt and my slim bare girlish calves. Bonnie further embarrassed me by mentioning that she could see my ‘visible panty-line’ through my snug jeans’ bottom, as the material drew even tighter when I closed the zipper. Next my Aunty dressed me in the soft white cotton blouse. It was made from very sheer fabric, and the red polka-dots on my training bra could be clearly discerned underneath, a fact eagerly pointed out by April as well. I felt totally humiliated as they lavishly complimented me on my sweet new outfit.

There were no socks in the box, so aunt had me wear the pink frilly sneakers without any. The two girls continued to tease and taunt me as they led me upstairs to further feminise me. Aunt Meg insisted that my cousins file and paint my fingernails, which they were more than happy to do. They sat me down in front of the vanity in my Aunt’s bedroom, and painted my nails bright pink! They even made me remove my sneakers, and they did the same thing to my toenails. Then they did something to my lashes with a little black wand, and Bonnie dusted some pink powder on my cheeks.

April told me stretch my mouth wide as she applied a coating of glossy pink lipstick to my trembling lips. Aunt Meg brushed my long hair in a fluffy feminine style, and then slid some barrettes in the sides, and they all commented with amazement on what a beautiful little girl I made! They seemed genuinely astonished at my altered appearance, and stood me in front of a mirror so I could see, too.

I was shocked to see that I really did look like a pretty pre-pubescent girl! I was so excited and yet so incredibly mortified, I couldn't move! I just stood there in shock while Aunt Meg concluded that since I looked "So sweet!" from now on my new name would be "Candy!" She warned me I was to behave like a good girl, or else! A second later she looked down at me and sternly demanded; "What's your name, little girl?"

I whimpered "Candy" in response, too embarrassed to look at her.

She frowned forbiddingly and snapped; "Candy what?"

I had forgotten that she had previously trained me to address all older females as ma'am. I belatedly corrected myself. "My name is Candy, ma'am.”

To which she smiled sunnily. "That's a good little girl! Put Candy’s sneakers back on her feet if her toenails are dry, will you April?" After an embarrassing lunch with the girls, Aunt Meg announced that it was a beautiful day, and she ordered me to go outside and play. I knew she wanted to further embarrass me by making me go out dressed as a young girl. I stuttered that I didn't want to go outside dressed like this, but she insisted I go out and play, or else she would paddle my naughty little bottom! Most reluctantly I agreed.

I surely didn't want any of the neighbourhood punks to see my shameful effeminate attire, so I asked if I could still ride my bike, planning to pedal away from the house as quickly as possible. After thinking for a minute, my Aunt replied that I could go bike riding. But she cautioned me to stay close by, and insisted I had to use April's old bike from now on, not my cool black Stingray that I had brought with me from home. She sent April and Bonnie to dust off their old kiddie bike and wheel it out of the garage.

It was a pink and white little-girl’s bicycle, with a white cane basket on the front and pink streamers dangling from the white rubber handgrips. Bonnie and April shepherded me onto the small bicycle, and I realised with disgust that it was only a little small for me. When April laughed and said she had outgrown this bike when she was six or seven, my face fell. I whined in protest, but Aunt Meg insisted that a little girl’s bike was more appropriate for me now, especially dressed the way I was. When I continued complaining, she decided that it was going to be my bike during my vacation from now on, riding roughshod over my objections. When she imperiously pointed to the street and ordered me to get going, I reluctantly wheeled it out to the kerbside, encouraged along the way by another stinging slap on my tender rear.

As I pondered my humiliating predicament, I spotted a group of local boys approaching on their bikes from a distance. I definitely didn't want them to catch me like this, so I began pedalling my shameful girl’s bike in the opposite direction as fast as I could. I rode quickly for about five minutes, and slowed down as I realised I was passing the roadside café at the town perimeter. Unfortunately the bike chain slipped off the gears at that moment, and clattered noisily onto the road. As I knelt at the kerbside and tried to work it back on, I noticed how striking my pink fingernails appeared. I became so anxious trying not to dirty myself or my clothes, I couldn't successfully rewind the chain.

While muttering, stumbling and fumbling, I was startled by a gruff feminine voice from behind me. Two cute but tough-acting girls, who looked about eleven or twelve years of age, were standing over me. One asked, “What’s wrong, little girl?” I didn't reply, and she loudly and unnecessarily commented that my chain had fallen off. The other girl asked more insistently; "What's your name, girly?" I didn't respond again, so she repeated the question, only much louder and more slowly, as if addressing a retard.

Blushing with shame, I softly whispered; "My name’s Candy." They told me their names were Sally and Beth, and said they were both twelve. They asked me a few questions; like where I was from, and how old I was? I said I was from Sydney, and lied that I was only ten. I didn’t dare tell these bigger girls that I was a thirteen-year-old boy - not looking the way I was! They commented that Sydney was very far away, and that I looked awful small for ten. Was I sure I wasn't fibbing? I told them I wasn't lying, but I’m sure my small stature and guilty face only made them assume I must be much younger. Sally asked me how come if I was really ten, why I was riding a little kiddie’s bicycle? I told them I had no choice, that my aunt had made me ride it to punish me for misbehaving.

After a few more probing questions, they decided that I was ‘cool enough,’ and asked if I wanted to be their friend and join their gang. I didn't respond right away, but then they said that if I joined their gang, they would help me fix my chain. I cautiously replied that I would join. Sally said, “Good! But first you have to smoke a cigarette for your initiation.”
I confessed to them that I had never smoked before, and Beth sneered at that. She insisted all the big kids smoked, and asked me if I was a chicken? I frowned at the childish accusation and retorted; “No, of course not!” But I really needed help fixing my chain, so I agreed to go behind the nearby diner and smoke a cigarette with them.

When we trotted behind the diner together, Beth took a rather crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her pocket, and very unskilfully tried to light one in the gusting breeze. In the meantime, Sally asked me how long I had been wearing a training bra. Her question caught me completely by surprise, and I didn't know what to say. I hesitantly replied, “Only a month or two.” She puffed out her small bosom proudly, and bragged that her mother had recently bought her a bunch of proper grown-up ladies' bras, because she needed them so badly. Beth coughed violently when she finally lit the cigarette, and then handed it straight to me. I tentatively took a couple of shallow puffs without coughing much, and that seemed to make them happy. Suddenly a fat old woman in a green waitress uniform came barrelling around the side of the diner towards us. Sally and Beth looked scared and screamed; "Run!"

I discarded the burning cigarette and the woman started yelling for us to stop, but we all scattered in different directions. I bolted over to my fallen bike by the kerb, expecting to make a quick get-away. However I had forgotten that the chain was still dangling uselessly. The next thing I knew another much younger waitress in a shorter green uniform grabbed me by the arm, and she wouldn't let go. She dragged me away from the broken bike and held me tightly as the older waitress, still yelling, came trundling up to us.

Her face was red as she asked me what we girls were doing behind the diner, and she demanded to know if we had been smoking cigarettes? I was so scared that I couldn't muster a response. She kept loudly berating me, and a small crowd began to gather. Some people searched behind the diner and a spotty teenage boy found a still-smouldering cigarette. He shambled over with it, and presented the smoking butt to the fat old waitress with a flourish and a goofy grin. She again demanded to know if I had been smoking. I fearfully whimpered, "No ma‘am!"

But she reasoned, "Then how come it has glossy pink lipstick on it exactly matching the shade you're wearing?" She demanded to know where I was from, and who my mother was. She said that she already knew who the other two local girls were, and that they were both bad girls. She planned to notify their parents later as well.

I was so frightened, but I didn't want her to tell my strict aunt what had happened, so I didn't reply to her barrage of questions. She warned me that I was already in big trouble, and I had better answer her. By now a large crowd had formed, as this was apparently quite a major incident for this dinky backwoods town. She warned me that if I didn't speak up immediately, she was going to pull down those fancy pink designer jeans I was wearing, and spank my bottom hard while everyone watched.!

With that the young waitress who was still holding me twisted my arm painfully up behind my back, and the fat waitress gave me a vicious sample spank on my tender rear. The gathered crowd cheered as I squealed in pain, and laughed and yelled encouragement as the old woman began undoing the snaps of my tight pink jeans. I was on the verge of tears, and cried to the women that I would cooperate. To the dismay of the crowd, the waitresses dragged me into the empty diner and forcibly sat me down in a booth. With tears blurring my eyes I fearfully admitted to them that yes, I had been smoking the cigarette behind the diner. Then I told them that my name was Candy, that I was from Sydney, and I was staying with my Aunt Meg on Condamine St.

I needed to go to the toilet, but I wasn’t game enough to use the ladies’ bathroom, and I knew I couldn’t use the gents’. So I sat there and crossed my legs as the fat old woman kept badgering me, and knew my aching bladder would have to wait until I returned home. I tried to ignore the growing pain in my groin and suffered through the old woman’s angry tirade in silence.

The young waitress then severely reprimanded me while the old one telephoned my Aunt. A short while later, my fuming Aunt Meg pulled up in her car and leapt out. The old waitress briefly told her what had happened, and informed her that I had been a very naughty little girl. Aunt Meg agreed with her astute observation, and said that I was already being punished for some other wicked deeds. To me she snapped; “This is the last straw! On your feet!” She sternly ordered me to apologize to the two waitresses, but I couldn't think of what to say.

To the waitresses’ delight, Aunt Meg reached down and swatted me several times very hard on the bottom, and loudly commanded me to tell them all I was very sorry. I was so shocked by the unexpected hard spanks, I almost wet my pants! Ashamed, red-faced and with hot tears clouding my eyes, I stammered an apology to the grinning women. Aunt Meg stiffly pronounced that she would ‘continue this discusion when we return home!’ She then thanked everyone and dragged me crying and moaning out to her car by the ear, practically throwing me into the passenger seat. She dumped the useless pink girl’s bike in the trunk and drove to her house, berating me the whole way.

When we reached her home, Aunt Meg was still extremely angry. She hauled me out of the car by the wrist and turning me towards the front door, spanked me all the way up the front path. She has a large firm hand, and I was squealing in pain after the first harsh blow. By the second smack my aching full bladder gave way, and as I scrambled up the path I began to leave a tell-tale trail of wet spots. When my Aunt’s hand made contact with the warm wet bottom of my stretch jeans, she immediately realised what I had done. “Oh, you dirty little girl! Don’t you dare step in that house in those dripping wet pants. Take them off now! At once!”

She made me remove my wet pink sneakers, then forcibly stripped the stained bicycle jeans and wet panties down my shivering legs, and used the remaining dry patches to wipe my damp calves and feet. Then she slammed open the front door and imperiously pointed to the stairs. “Get up those stairs this instant, you disgusting little pants-wetter! Go on! Straight to the bathroom, you vile child!” Naked and embarrassed, I ran up the staircase as Bonnie and April watched, goggle-eyed.

She said that turning me into a pre-teen girl apparently wasn't enough to discourage my bad behaviour. She said that now she was going to turn me into a much younger girl, so that I would be sure to stay out of trouble! First she gave me another scalding hot bath, and scrubbed my urine-stained legs and genitals fiercely. I had accidentally smeared some bicycle grease on my hands, so they received a vicious scouring also. My cheeks were grubby and my eyes had black rings around them from when I had been crying, so Aunty used some cream to cleanse my face of make-up. Then she carefully dried my steaming pink body and wrapped me in a big pink towel. She made a quick phone call, then dumped me back in the car wearing nothing but the damp towel, and angrily drove us a couple of blocks to her friend Tammy’s house.

When we arrived there she told her friend Tammy, an attractive heavy brunette even taller than Aunty, that I was her bad little pants-wetting nephew who needed to be turned into her well-behaved little niece! She asked Tammy if she could borrow some of her smaller girls' clothes for this express purpose, and her grinning friend was more than happy to oblige. Tammy laughed and commented scornfully on my pretty pink nails as she led us to up to her daughters’ bedrooms. She had three girls: Karen, Susie and Chrissie, and they were eight, six, and four years of age respectively.

When Tammy pulled out some of her girls’ frocks from a cupboard, I realised with horror that her four-year-old must be almost as tall as me, and both the six and the eight-year-old girls were certainly taller! Tammy chuckled that I was “way too pretty for a boy," and noted that as I was hardly any bigger than her youngest daughter, some of Chrissie’s or Susie’s old frocks should fit me very well!

Despite all my begging and pleading, the women proceeded to show me numerous little-girl outfits they thought might fit me. They held up the various short dresses, skirts and blouses against my shivering frame to check them for size. To my embarrassment, under the damp towel I could feel the beginnings of an erection stirring. In mock-sweet tones Aunt Meg crooned; "With all these lovely dresses to choose from, what does little Candy want to wear this afternoon?" I was unable to respond, and the women continued to taunt me with more embarrassing questions. I begged for them to stop, but they just laughed. Finally Aunt Meg decided; "Since little Candy can't make up her mind, we'll just have to choose for her!"

With that she ripped away my towel, leaving me trembling and naked. As I quickly covered my thickening penis with my hands, the women pointed and chortled contemptuously at the evidence of my arousal. I stood there cringing helplessly as Aunt Meg pulled a pair of heavy thick pink terrycloth panties up my shivering legs and over my bobbing stiffie. I felt hot and cold at the same time, and blushed all over when I realised the thick panties had a crackling inner layer of wetproof plastic between the absorbent terrycloth layers. They were little girl’s training panties!

To my shame the bulky pink toddler panties fitted me perfectly, and they had row upon row of frilly white lace sewn across the rear! My Aunt sounded quite delighted as she exclaimed, "Oh Candy! What a pretty plump girly bottom you have in those thick ruffled training panties!" I was so humiliated, my eyes began to swim.

The tall woman laughed derisively and soundly chided me as the first tears trickled down my hot red cheeks. “Don’t be such a sissy cry-baby, Candy!” The sneering brunette pushed me down me on the bed and slipped some lacy anklet socks and a pair of rather snug black patent Maryjane shoes on my feet. Then the women started braiding my long blonde hair into two juvenile high pigtails, one on each side of my head. I tearfully begged them to stop, but they wouldn't listen. When they finished, they tied a big floppy bow of pink satin ribbon on the end of each dangling pigtail.

My tattered nerves finally got the better of me when Aunty combed out my bangs, and I started sobbing heavily. Tammy held open and up a silky white petticoat, consisting of a full nylon bodice with several tiers of attached tulle ruffles below the waist, for me to feed my head and arms through. “Hold your arms up for Aunty Tammy, my pretty baby,” she instructed me in cloying sugary tones. But I kept crying despondently and wouldn't obey her.

With that my aunt demanded mockingly in baby-talk; "Doesn't little Candy want to stop crying and finish dressing in her pretty frock? I’m sure she will look so sweet!” I still wouldn't respond and so she continued haughtily. "Okay, my naughty little baby. Fine! It's quite warm out, so if you don't stop crying this instant, I'll take you home dressed in just your ribbons, lacy anklets, Maryjane shoes, and those pretty frilly training panties for everyone to see! Would you like that, sweetheart?" I tried to shake my head in denial and form a coherent reply, but I just couldn't stop crying!

My Aunt only grew angrier and added coldly; "And on the way home, we'll detour through town and stop over at the kiddie’s playground. Wouldn’t you like that, little girl?" I sniffled and sobbed, but still couldn't manage a response. My Aunt probably thought I was simply being difficult and uncooperative, so she continued icily; "And when we reach the playground, I'll gather a crowd together, announce what a bad little boy you've been, pull down your training panties, place you over my knee and spank you so hard, you won't sit down for a week! Is that crystal clear, my little cry-baby?"

With that she grabbed my wrist and started dragging me towards the door, bidding her friend goodbye. Tammy was laughing hysterically as she looked at the tenting front of my training panties in disbelief, and then waved me farewell. "Bye-bye, Baby Candy! Have fun at the kiddie playground!" I couldn't believe this was happening! I realised Aunt Meg was serious, so I knew I had to stop sobbing. To be hauled outside dressed in frilly girl’s training panties would be far more humiliation than I could handle! I was able to muster my strength enough to stop crying, and yet my excited little tool wouldn’t go down!

As I sniffed back the tears and gulped for air, My Aunty archly asked me if I wanted to finish dressing properly, and I whimpered; "Yes ma'am."

To which she responded with a tight smile; "Now that's a good little girl!" My humiliation mounted as the women resumed where they had left off.

The silky-smooth shortie petticoat was lowered over my head and threaded over my compliantly-raised arms, and at least it covered the embarrassing bulge tenting out the front of my panties - just. Lastly came a starched pale-pink cotton little-girl’s party dress, with a big darker pink satin waist sash that tied in a bow in the back, sheer elbow-length puffy sleeves, and loads of lace trimmings. Both women ‘Oohed!’ and ‘Aahed!’ as they straightened the lacy dress hem for me over the bouncing petticoats. The frock fitted me very snugly around the bust, though it was extremely short.

Aunt Meg produced her make-up bag and after a few minutes, mascara, lipstick and blusher had been applied to my drying eyes and cheeks. Tammy was astounded at my transformation, and dragged me over to a floor-length mirror where I was stunned to see I looked exactly like a cute five or six-year-old girl in a pretty party frock! I was trembling all over as I stared in amazed wonder at my reflection, the frothy white petticoats swaying and bobbing with my every tiny movement. Both women seemed overjoyed with the results, and loudly commented that I looked "Adorable!"

I was warned to behave myself like the good little girl I now appeared to be. Before I could even catch my breath, the women grabbed my hands and hauled me down to the kitchen. The thick crackling panties, frothy petticoats and my bobbing skirts all made me feel incredibly juvenile and feminine. The petties also made a very noticeable rustling swishing sound, whenever I walked or moved about. I felt terrified as they led me downstairs, but still extremely aroused!

Tammy offered that as I had been behaving like a good little girl so far, I could have some milk and cookies, if my aunt said that was okay. After my humiliating experience I wasn't at all hungry, and politely replied, "No thank you, ma'am." Then my Aunty smiled tightly, and asked me if I would rather go out in the back yard and play with her friend’s young daughters instead. I fearfully demurred, “No thank you, ma’am,” again. But Aunt Meg spitefully decided I had to do one or the other. I was afraid to venture outside dressed like a pretty girl toddler, so I chose the milk and cookies option. Their coffee was already brewing, so I meekly followed them when they strolled into the living room.

I plopped down on the couch as I usually did while wearing my jeans. The women started cackling as I unwittingly sat with my bare thighs splayed wide open. Aunt Meg snorted and shook her head as she remonstrated with me. "Candy! Unless you want your frilly training panties to be disgracefully exposed, you’ll have to sit with your legs demurely together or crossed whilst wearing short skirts with tulle petticoats." I immediately blushed rosily and clamped my knees closer together, as much as the thick crackling wad of cloth between my thighs would allow me. The women chuckled at my efforts, and Tammy commented on how I was blushing so prettily again. They then spent the next twenty minutes teaching me how to sit and stand properly like a polite little girl while wearing a toddler dress and flaring petties.

I couldn't eat many cookies and when I said I was full, Aunt Meg insisted I had to toddle out in the back yard and play with Tammy’s girls anyway. I was feeling extremely self-conscious as one could imagine, and didn't want to be embarrassed in front of any more people, even much younger children. But Tammy forcefully clasped me by the hand and said she would introduce me to her daughters. A smirking Aunt Meg followed close behind, to better observe my ongoing humiliation.

The three little girls were playing jump rope on the patio. As I stared straight down at my lacy anklet socks and black patent Maryjanes, red-faced with shame, Tammy introduced me as ‘Aunty Meg’s niece, little Candy from Sydney,’ and asked her daughters to make me feel at home, as I was a very shy little girl. She told her youngest, Chrissie, that I had to borrow one of her frocks and her old training panties for the afternoon, as I had wet my panties and jeans earlier.

As my cheeks burned with humiliation, Susie chirped that I looked very pretty in her baby sister’s party dress. The three girls asked me to join them in skipping rope, but I timidly whispered that I didn't know how. Aunt Meg asked Tammy’s children to be good little girls and teach me, and they were happy to oblige. Then my Aunt said that she and Tammy were going inside, and she warned me that I had better ‘play nice, and behave yourself like a good little girl - or else!’ She added that she was going to come out later and watch me jump rope, so that I had better let the girls teach me properly.

After the girls asked me a few questions; about my age and where I was from, and how often I wet my pants, it was time to jump rope. Since the tough girls at the diner obviously hadn’t believed me when I told them I was ten, I tentatively told these younger girls that I was only eight years old, and I almost never wet my pants. Their expressions seemed to indicate that they scarcely believed either answer, and I sighed with relief when they didn’t quiz me further. When asked, I softly replied that I wanted to be a rope turner first. Karen decided that was okay, but reminded me I had to jump later. When she handed me one end of the rope, I realised how much taller than me she was. And she was only eight!

I had the rope turning down all right after a few minutes, but when it was my turn to jump, that was something else! At first I actually made a few reasonable jumps, but I forgot to hold my short dress and flaring petties down. They flew up high around my waist, with all the girls giggling merrily at my indecent panty display. They prissily insisted I had to hold my dress hem down and stop showing off my frilly petties and training panties like a bad girl! However I became so involved with holding down my bobbing dress and petties, I couldn't even make one good jump. After many fumbling turns, I was able to successfully hold down my wayward dress and make a few decent jumps simultaneously. I saw Aunt Meg and Tammy watching my antics through the kitchen window, pointing at me and giggling at my poor attempts at demure feminine behaviour.

Karen unexpectedly asked me if I wanted to sleep over at their house that night, and stay for her middle sister Susie’s seventh birthday party the following afternoon. I politely replied, “No thank you.”
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babyjennie

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Re: Baby Candy (Complete story!) - By Baby Jennie
« Reply #1 on: July 31, 2010, 12:20:42 pm »

Actually, the story here is incomplete. Let me fill you in...

    Karen unexpectedly asked me, “ Do you want to sleep over at our house tonight? It’s Susie’s seventh birthday tomorrow, and you could stay for party in the afternoon.”
     I imagined trying to keep my male identity a secret while surrounded by a troop of clamouring seven-year-old girls, and politely replied, “No thank you, Karen.”
    The three girls all seemed disappointed, and the bossy eight-year-old demanded; "Why not?"
     I made the lame excuse, “My Aunty Meg is really strict. She probably won't let me sleep over.”

        However Karen dashed in and asked my Aunt herself. To my disappointment a few moments later, Aunt Meg and Tammy strolled out to join us. My sadistic Aunty stated that it would be a wonderful idea for me to sleep over with the girls so I could attend Susie’s birthday party on the morrow! I meekly tried to object, but soon found I had no further say in the matter. After ringing her daughters, Aunt Meg decided to remain with us for dinner that night. She ordered me to assist the other girls setting the table and help wash the dishes afterwards “like a good little girl should” - something I had never been made to do at home. I had to wear a white frilly bibbed apron while I carefully washed the dishes in the sink, so I wouldn’t splash ‘my good frock.’

       Shortly after dinner Aunt Meg packed her handbag and curtly warned me, “Now Candy, make sure you obey Tammy tonight - no matter what! And mind you play politely with the other little girls - or else!” Despite my abject pleas, Aunt Meg then departed, assuring me with a dismissive wave; “You’ll be right, Candy. Stop carrying on like a big baby!” She turned to her friend and grimaced. “What a sook! I’ll return before lunch tomorrow, Tammy, to help you get ready for the party. Goodbye girls.” She disappeared without so much as a backward glance for me.

     Tammy seemed pleased that I was staying with her overnight. Like Aunt Meg, it appeared she was enjoying my feminised juvenile predicament, and the absolute control she had over humiliating a sissy teenage boy like me. Tammy ordered me to play quietly with her girls and their Barbie dolls for ages in their living room. After an hour or so of dressing and undressing and role-playing with Barbies, I truly began to feel like the six-year-old girl I appeared to be. Then Tammy announced, Girls! It’s bedtime for Chrissie’s and Candy.”
      I whined, “But it’s only just past seven o'clock!”

       Tammy snapped irritably; "Don't give me any back-talk, missy. All little girls need their beauty sleep!" Karen, Susie, and Chrissie all chorused they wanted me to sleep with them in their rooms, but Tammy decided there was not enough room in their small bedrooms. Instead she suggested, “Chrissie’s old crib is still set up in my bedroom. Candy can sleep in there tonight.” The girls giggled merrily at the announcement. Tammy wasn't joking however, and she led us into her spacious bedroom and showed me the huge pink-painted wooden crib standing against the side wall. She lowered the barred side rail and to my horror, lifted me in to check if it was long enough to accommodate me. To my chagrin, it was easily big enough! I was surprised when her smile faded and she coldly demanded, “So tell Aunty Tammy the truth, little Candy. Are you a bed-wetter, too?”

     I tremulously exclaimed, "No ma'am!" I meekly lay there in the spacious wooden cot gazing up at her stern features. The girls giggled at my reply and I blushed rosily again when I spied the pink padded baby change table standing against the wall next to the crib.
       Tammy warned me, “If you are a bed-wetter as well as a panty-wetter, you had better tell me right now, little girl! I don’t want to find out the hard way.” I cringed at the girls’ bright peals of mocking laughter, and again hesitantly assured their mother I wasn't a bed-wetter. She hardly seemed convinced by my stammered denials.

        “Alright, then. You can just wear a nightie and panties to bed. Chrissie, Susie? Go and find Candy something pretty to wear to bed.” Tammy sent her younger daughters to select one of their prettiest nighties for me to wear. They soon returned with an ultra-feminine, lace-lavished, knee-length, pink nylon nightie, and I accepted the feminine garment with shaky fingers. Tammy brusquely asked me, “Do you need any help undressing, little one?”
       I shyly replied, “No thank you, ma’am.” She curtly told me to change into my nightie and wash my face and hands, and then brush my teeth and go potty. After I had finished, she would come back after and tuck me into the crib. She and her daughters then left, the children sniggering and whispering secretively amongst themselves.

        The grinning young girls were waiting for me when I tip-toed into the bathroom. I was wearing the silky flowing nightie over the snug crackling training panties, and shivered as I entered the cold tiled room. Susie handed me a brand-new pink Barbie toothbrush with pink bubblegum-flavoured toothpaste already smeared on the bristles, and Karen ordered me to hurry up and brush my teeth. She closely supervised Chrissie and I both as we brushed and rinsed, treating me exactly the same as her four-year-old sister. After we washed our faces and hands, I was startled when Karen pulled her baby sister’s panties down. She helped her baby sister sit back on a big pink potty she placed in front of the toilet. But the big toddler simply held her baby-blue shortie nightie up around her waist as if this were an everyday occurrence, and loudly emptied her bladder in the big plastic potty without a care in the world.

        “Are you finished, sis?” Karen asked, when the sound of her baby sister’s stream trickled to a halt.
        Chrissie took a deep breath and held it. She scrunched up her pretty little face, strained and pushed, and we all heard the noisy final squirt into the plastic potty. “I finished,” she announced with a proud smile.

       Karen beamed in approval. “Good girl!” She spread the little girl’s thighs wide apart and carefully wiped her damp puffy slit with folded toilet tissue, which she then threw in the toilet. After ensuring her little sister’s crotch was completely patted dry, Karen assisted Chrissie to her feet and pulled up her matching blue panties. She noisily emptied the potty into the toilet and placed it back on the tiled floor, looking at me inquiringly. “Well, Candy? Don’t you have to go potty, too?”

      With my cheeks flaming with humiliation, I denied that I needed to go. There was no way they were going to pull down my panties and put me on the potty like a big baby! Karen stared at me in apparent disbelief, but then she shrugged her shoulders dismissively. “Oh well, suit yourself,” was her only careless comment, before she rinsed and then replaced the big pink potty in the bathroom cupboard.

        Tammy returned and ignored me, asking Karen if I had done everything she instructed. Before the bossy girl could answer for me, I sulkily replied, “I did everything. Why do I have to sleep in a baby’s crib? It’s not fair!”
       Tammy disdainfully sniffed, “Stop complaining! I’m sure you will quickly get used to it.” She cautioned me not to whinge any more as she grabbed my hand and hauled me into her bedroom. She lifted me into the cot with disarming ease, and drew a soft fuzzy pink blanket over me. Tammy tucked me in and kissed me goodnight, then raised and locked the barred safety rail in place with a loud ‘click!’ To my ears, it was the sound of a prison door slamming.


Chapter 4.  Bedwetting Baby Candy

     Tammy switched off the light on the way out, but she left her bedroom door open a crack so the room was partially lit from the landing. As I lay there alone in the semi-darkness dressed in my feminine finery, I felt the familiar erotic feelings wash over me. The ruffled little-girl panties and slippery nylon nightie were really turning me on, especially after having been dressed and treated like little girl all day! I grabbed my straining erection through the thick training panties and began fondling my stiffie. An intense sensation swept over me, momentarily distracting me from my infantile imprisonment. The plastic lining between the two terry layers crackled loudly as I rubbed my stiffie and wriggled about in ecstasy.

      . With a guilty start, I pulled my self-pleasuring hand away, realising that anyone who peeked in would easily catch me playing with myself. I rolled onto my belly, the thick plastic mattress cover crackling noisily under the thin cotton sheet, in unison with my crinkly plastic-lined panties. My hard little peenie felt wonderful when I rocked gently back and forth on my tummy, till the throbbing head was sliding erotically against the wide elastic waistband of the snug terry training panties.

     When the sensitive tip made contact with the front of my slinky nylon nightie, I think I had an orgasm for the very first time! I twitched and shuddered in excitement, gasping as I sprayed some strange wet stuff into my nightie and all over the front of my pink panties. The front of my training panties and the bottom of the nightie felt slippery and damp, and I grew fearful that someone might notice. I rolled over and pulled the fuzzy baby blanket over me and tried to fall asleep, hoping my damp panties and nightie would dry out during the night. A short time later however, Tammy wandered in and switched on the overhead light, make me blink rapidly in surprise.

       She stepped over to the cot side, and I saw she was holding up a pair of pink frilly nylon knickers in one hand. She cooed, “I hope you haven't fallen asleep yet, sweetie, because the girls forgot to give you these pretty matching panties for your nightie.”
       I sleepily protested, “I don't need a change of panties!”
      She peered down at me from over the rail and shook her head, her long brown locks flicking either side of her large moon face. She primly insisted, “Little girls in my house always wear fresh panties at bedtime, and you will be treated no differently.”

      Tammy folded back the fuzzy blanket and started to lift my nightie hem. She immediately noticed it was damp and sticky in front, and sighed and looked annoyed. “Oh Candy! Did you have an accident?” She flipped my nightie all the way up over my chest and angrily yanked down the front of my slimy wet panties, examining the insides with her probing fingers. “Oh no! These panties are wet! You naughty girl! I asked you if you were a bed-wetter, and you lied to me! You’re a very naughty little girl!” She scolded me severely for soiling my nightie and training panties, before she unlocked the crib side and dropped it with a loud clatter.

       My eyes started tearing over when she snorted that she had carefully discussed all this with me earlier, and that she knew exactly how to handle a disgusting little bedwetter like me! She growled, “You bad little girl! Wait till I tell your Aunty that you wet your pants again!” My first fear was that she was going to phone my aunt and inform her what I’d done. I miserably begged her not to make the call, but after pulling my sticky training panties back in place and dumping me on the padded change table, she stormed out and snatched up the phone.

     She returned a few agonising minutes later to tell me that my Aunt was also furious with me! “Meg said she knew you couldn’t be trusted - that you were nothing but a sissy pissy cry-baby. She agreed with my decision that you should be pinned in nappies like a baby!” I begged Tammy not to diaper me, but she informed me, “It’s no use complaining! I’ve already made up my mind.” With a face set like stone, Tammy strode into the en-suite bathroom and returned with some baby oil, baby powder and lotion. Then she went to her huge closet and took out a stack of fluffy cloth nappies and rustling waterproof panties, which she placed on the handy shelf under the pink padded change table.

       I tearfully pleaded with her not to make me wear nappies. “I’m not a baby,” I whined in protest. “I don’t need nappies!” I didn’t realise how much I sounded like a sulky two-year-old.
      She scornfully replied, "I only left you alone for half an hour, and already you've wet yourself. How could you possibly last through the whole night locked in a crib?" I started weeping again, but she paid no heed to my tears of distress as she yanked down my crackling damp training panties.

     Without another word, she pushed me down onto my back, forcibly spread my thighs, and began scrubbing my sticky crotch and tummy with some scented moist baby wipes. Ignoring my growing hardness, she rubbed baby oil and lotion all over my sensitive groin with her large soft hands. Then she turned me over and while she was thoroughly oiling my bruised buttocks, Karen and Susie - who had heard all the commotion - opened their mother’s bedroom door to peek in. Tammy caught sight of them peeping around the edge of the door and scolded them; "Hey! We're busy in here! Didn't I teach you girls to knock?"

      Eight-year-old Karen was bold enough to ask, “What’s going on, Mummy? Why is Candy on the change table?”
      Tammy candidly replied; "Baby Candy had a little accident in her training panties, and I'm getting her all cleaned up. I'll let you girls know when I'm done changing her into something more… appropriate.” The girls started giggling and continued trying to peek at me. As I lay there covering my eyes and snivelling with shame, Tammy warned them, “Scoot! If you girls don’t get out of here, someone else is might end up wearing nappies to bed, too!”

      The giggling girls hurriedly departed, and Tammy sprinkled sweet-scented baby powder all over my trembling bruised botty-cheeks. She rubbed in the perfumed talc with smooth sure strokes, and then turned me over. Ignoring my throbbing little stiffie, she heavily powdered my front, too, but didn‘t rub it in. She first lifted my legs into the air to adjust several layers of thick cotton terrycloth nappies under my bottom, raised the front flap over my tummy, and then pinned the side flaps securely in place over my raging erection. Next she slid some noisily rustling plastic baby panties up my legs, whispering confidently, “These wetproof panties will surely keep my big baby from wetting her nightie again tonight.” She carefully tucked all the stray bits of nappy under the tight elastic waist and leg bands of the pilchers, to prevent any leaks. Just in case, these were followed by another pair of wetproof baby panties.

    “Just to be sure,” Tammy said, with a grin for my look of discomfort.  The outer panties were pink satin rumba style, with five rows of frilly white lace across the seat, and a matching row of softer frothy lace around the elastic leg openings and waistband, complete with an inner lining of wetproof PVC. When she finished adjusting them and stepped back, I reached down and patted my padded crotch. I noticed that the puffy satin panties were extremely soft and smooth to the touch. They were also very frilly however, and made me look even more like a big baby girl. My erection pulsated madly beneath the soft fluffy swaddling.

   Tammy put a clean pink satin shortie nightie on me, before lifting me up and laying me on my back in the crib. After she raised and locked the barred side, she cooed, “Baby must be thirsty from all that crying. I’ll be right back.” She returned a few minutes later carrying a pink baby bottle full of warm milk! She ordered me to start drinking as she forced the warm latex nipple between my parted lips, and said she wanted the bottle drained before I went back to sleep. She only departed after I obediently clutched the bottle and started noisily sucking down the contents. To my dismay she returned a few minutes later with all three of her grinning daughters.

      She informed them, "Baby Candy had to be put back into nappies and has to drink from a baby bottle because she wet all over herself in the crib tonight." The older girls laughed, and a wide-eyed Chrissie asked her Mummy if I was really wearing nappies? Tammy replied; "She sure is!" She stood me up in the cot and the girls gathered around. Tammy made me lift up my shortie pink satin nightie, showing them my matching frilly baby panties.
       The girls giggled as their mother then pulled down both pairs of my wetproof panties in front, exposing the thick nappies pinned tightly beneath. The girls laughed again and chanted over and over; "Baby Candy’s wearing nappies! Baby Candy’s wearing nappies!"

    Tammy grimly reminded her four-year-old daughter; "See? This is what happens to all bedwetters, Chrissie!" The four-year-old gave me a disdainful sniff and then turned her back on me. Tammy then pulled my baby panties back up, lay me down, and tucked me back in the crib. I hadn't yet finished my bottle, so she stuck the nipple in my mouth and held it in place for me, telling me to drink it all. Tammy warned me, “Baby better not try to take off her nappies or climb out of her crib during the night! Because if she did, Aunty Tammy would have to spank the daylights out of her!” She and the girls giggled when I cowered at the threat, before they left the room and Tammy switched off the light.

      While lying there almost numb with shock, I faintly heard Tammy and the bigger girls watching television in the living room downstairs. Exhausted from my humiliating ordeal, I eventually fell asleep. I awoke some time later with an urgent need to pee. I didn't know what to do, as I had been forbidden to take off my nappies or climb out of the cot. However after a while, the need became an overwhelming urge. I lay there shivering and twitching spastically, and the next thing I knew, my nappy was filling with hot urine. I was scared, but at the same time wetting my nappy was such a relief - and it felt very exciting!

      I lay there quietly afterwards, discretely caressing my growing stiffie through the warm wet cloth and the slinky baby panties for a while, till the landing light suddenly switched off. Tammy quietly entered the darkened bedroom and turned on her bedside lamp, filling the room with a soft yellow glow. I was frightened that she might check my nappy and discover I had wet myself, so I pretended to be asleep and tried to will my erection away. In the dim light I cautiously watched as Tammy began undressing. I happened to catch glimpses of her bare shapely bottom and large swaying breasts while squinting to try and see what she was doing. If anything, my stiffie only grew harder when I realised she wasn’t wearing any panties under her short cotton nightie. I quickly clamped my eyes shut as she crept over to me dressed only in her wispy yellow nightgown.

      Reaching through the bars, she gently pulled back the baby blanket, lifted my slinky nightie, and stuck her finger up one of the leg openings of my wetproof panties. She clucked her tongue and crooned softly, "Ooo, you’re wet! Baby Candy needs changing again!" This time Tammy quietly lowered the clattering barred rail, and I pretended to gradually awaken. She was giggling and acting playful as she pulled down my waterproof panties and unpinned my wet nappies. Fortunately she ignored the ready evidence my arousal, and as she removed and carried the soggy diapers away she simply commented, “Baby Candy certainly is a heavy wetter!"

     She returned shortly and began wiping me down with the cool moist baby wipes, followed by lotion, oil, and then powder again.  I erected fully under her gentle caresses, blushing mightily at my lack of control. Smiling enigmatically and shaking her head in bemused wonder at my obvious  excitement, she then pinned me in fresh nappies with some big pink-headed diaper pins. She slid the same damp waterproof panties and the dry rumba panties back on me, all the while quietly humming; ‘Rock-a-bye Baby.’ In truth it was all quite pleasant, actually, despite my fearful exhausted state. She tucked me in and raised and locked the side rail, and whispered, “Try and go right back to sleep, little girl. We’re going to have an exciting day tomorrow!”

   As I groggily came to in the morning, Tammy was already leaning over the crib rail checking my nappies. She gaily announced that I was wet again and to my surprise, she seemed to expect it rather than be annoyed. When she saw I was finally awake, she crooned, “Good morning, baby girl! Your nappy certainly is wet, but I think you’ll be safe until after breakfast.” She lowered the crib rail and lifted me down, and sent me waddling off to the kitchen with a crisp smack to the rear of my drooping, plastic-sheathed nappy.

       There was a big pink highchair waiting beside the table in the kitchen. Before I could object, Tammy lifted me into the juvenile device and fed the waist belt through the loop of the crotch strap, then buckled the restraints in place around me. "Babies who wet their nappies have to be fed in the highchair," she stated firmly, as if it were an oft-repeated ritual. Stunned that the infantile contraption was actually big enough to accommodate me, I couldn’t even voice a protest when she lowered the attached hinged pink tray and locked it securely in place against my tummy. Her three daughters were already sitting at the kitchen table eating Barbie bowls of milky cereal, and a similar full pink plastic bowl was placed on the tray in front of me, but no spoon. Tammy clipped a frilly pink bib around my neck and my mouth fell open in astonishment. The unasked question about eating utensils was answered when the tall woman took a big pink plastic spoon and loomed over me. She dipped the spoon into my bowl, and shovelled a large scoop of soggy cereal into my gaping mouth.

     “That’s right. Eat up, Baby Candy. Good baby!” Tammy grinned and praised me as I reflexively chewed and swallowed. “Eat it all up for your Aunty Tammy like a good little girl!” Before I could object to this relentless infantile treatment, another spoonful was pressed between my lips, then another, till I was forced to consume the entire contents of the pink Barbie bowl in humiliated pink-cheeked silence. When I had eaten every scrap, Tammy roughly wiped my face with my bib, and then gave me a fresh baby bottle full of orange juice to suck while she attended to her own breakfast. I needed to pee again, and hoped no one noticed as I warmed my nappy afresh while sucking on the my pink baby bottle.

    The warm wee-wees squirted uncontrollably from my peenie, splashing against the front of my saturated nappy, before trickling erotically around my tiny sack and dribbling down between my bottom cheeks. When Tammy finished eating and I had drained my bottle, my bib was removed and I was released from the highchair and escorted to the bathroom. After sending her girls away, Tammy stripped me of my satin nightie, and then my damp baby panties and saturated nappies were removed and dumped in a white nappy bucket. She produced the big pink potty from the cupboard and placing it in the centre of the cold tiled floor, seated me on the humiliating device. She sat on the closed toilet seat watching me, and continued encouraging me to ‘do my business on the potty’ for about ten awful minutes. I huddled in front of her hunched over the pink potty, wracked with shame and failing abysmally.

   Her girls all seemed to find a reason to visit the bathroom while I was perched on the humiliating potty, and every few minutes a different head  would pop around the doorway to ask Tammy a question or check on my progress. My cheeks were blazing with shame by the time a disgusted Tammy gave up on me and lifted me into the hot tub, before replacing the unsullied pink potty in the cupboard. I was given a complete baby bath, and then carefully dried off by the huge grimly-smiling woman. She hung up the damp towel and then dragged me by one hand naked into her bedroom. My other hand was cupped defensively over my genitals, but I was fortunate the girls didn’t see me.

       As Tammy prepared to start dressing me in her bedroom, I saw her readying some fresh thick cloth nappies on the change table. She silently signalled me to come closer to the table with her crooked index finger. I begged her not to diaper me again. ‘Please Aunty Tammy, I don’t really need nappies. I’m really thirteen years old, not two,” I reminded her.
      She sarcastically demanded, "In that case Candy, how come you still wet your pants? How come you soaked your nappies in the crib last night, like any other two-year-old? Your nappy was drenched when I took it off this morning. And how come you can't perform on the potty for Aunty Tammy like a big girl?”

     I wailed, “I don’t know! I’ll try and control myself better from now on. I promise!” I pleaded, but she snorted in disbelief and lifted me into the air, and plonked me on my back on the soft pile of nappies laid out waiting and ready for me on the padded vinyl table top.
     She replied shortly, “I’m in no mood to take any chances with you today. Today I’m going to have a house full of screaming kids. I don’t have time to deal with a silly baby who has accidents in her panties, so you are going to have to stay in nappies all day long, whether you like it or not! Now hush up and settle down - or baby will get another spanking!”

       The threat of more punishment certainly shut me up. To my disappointment Tammy diapered me as heavily as she did last night, pinning two of the thick terrycloth nappies tightly around my loins. She covered my fluffy nappies with a clean pair of rustling transparent pink plastic pilchers, then drew over the top some musk-pink satin rumba panties, similar to the ones I had worn last night. She lifted me down from the change table and slid a very short, layered white petticoat on me, which swished attractively around my padded hips. She re-tied some darker pink ribbons in my braided pigtails, then slipped some white lacy ankle socks and the black patent Maryjane shoes on my feet.

     A lace-lavished, flounced, musk-pink little-girl’s party dress was produced on a padded satin hanger, and it rustled noisily when she slid it off the hanger. Tammy explained the shiny pink dress was made from heavy bridal satin, as she eased the slithering frock over my bowed head. It was so short that it barely covered the bulging crotch of my matching pink satin panties. She dragged me over to a mirror to show me how gorgeous I looked. “Aww! Look at you! You look just like a sweet, adorable little toddler girl!" Tammy simpered, and she was absolutely right. After seeing my reflection, even I could hardly believe I was really a thirteen-year-old boy. I looked like a six-year-old girl dressed like a big baby!

       She led me waddling awkwardly downstairs, and her girls enthusiastically complimented me on how pretty I looked. To further humiliate me, Tammy announced, “As Baby Candy can’t be trusted to use the potty like a big girl, she needs to be kept in nappies and baby panties all day today.” Her girls laughed at my crestfallen face. She then told her grinning daughters, “Keep an eye on her for me, girls, and be sure to check her nappies regularly, Silly little toddlers like Baby Candy can’t be trusted to tell us when they’re wet!”

    To Tammy's amusement and delight, Karen stood over me and patted me on the head. “Cheer up, baby. I‘ll be your pretend-Mummy for the day. We can play ‘Mummies and Babies,’ and you can be my precious baby girl all day! Won’t that be fun?” I felt so humiliated, my cheeks were burning and my ears were red and buzzing. I was made to help decorate the house for the party, handing up streamers and inflated balloons to the bigger girls. Chrissie and I were not allowed to stand on the chairs, as we were too little. Now and then, without saying a word to me, Susie or Karen would stop right in front of me, lift the front of my dress and petties with one hand, and then slip the other inside the waistband of my baby panties for a quick wetness-check. My cheeks burned with shame each time they checked my nappy and loudly announced to their mother, “Baby Candy is still dry, Mummy!“ Thankfully I remained dry all morning.

    About 11:00 a.m. Aunt Meg turned up, along with my two cousins, April and Bonnie. Both teens were wearing blue jeans and light summer blouses, and they looked fresh and attractive this morning. My astonished cousins seemed amazed at my transformation into a convincing toddler girl. “My God! Look at him!” April cried. “He looks so much like a little girl!” She shook her head in disbelief, her long raven locks flying.
       “He looks about six years old,” cackled Bonnie. She strode over beside me and flipped up the front of my dress. “Look, April!” Bonnie squealed. “He’s wearing nappies!” Both teenagers burst into fits of laughter, and I turned away in shame, trying to push my dress hem back down like a shy little girl.
       “Aww! It’s okay, little girl,” cooed April, chucking me under the chin like I was a sulky toddler. “You look really pretty in that sweet little frock - and Mum hasn’t even put any make-up on you yet!”
       ‘I bet you’ll look gorgeous then!” Bonnie agreed.

        I looked so much the part that my cousins talked to me and treated me exactly as if I really was a sweet little girl - and it wasn’t too bad! But Aunt Meg seemed annoyed with me from the moment  she set eyes on me. She strode into the room wearing a short denim skirt and a pair of navy sandals with a four-inch heel that showed of her long shapely legs to advantage. Her white cotton, button-front blouse was demurely fastened below her throat, but it was sheer enough to give tantalising glimpses of the white lace bra she wore underneath, which struggled to contain her massive bosoms. “She’s a very naughty little girl,” growled Aunty Meg, “making lots of extra work for Aunty Tammy. Candy had to be put back in nappies because she wet her panties again last night.”
        “Really?” April demanded, staring at me with goggle eyes.  Bonnie simply laughed uproariously.  

         Aunty Meg demanded, “Have you apologized to Aunty Tammy for your disgusting lack of control, Candy?”  I was trying to hide the tears of shame pricking my eyes by staring down at the floor, and I numbly shook my head, making my pigtail ribbons dance. She insisted, “Why not? Answer me, little girl.” I didn't know what to say. I just stood there with my head bowed until Aunt Meg angrily demanded, “You silly baby! What’s wrong with you?” Again I failed to reply. How do you answer a question like that? “Does your nappy needed changing?” I foolishly shook my head again instead of answering. Finally she’d had enough. Aunty Meg grabbed my wrist and jerked me closer, and snarled, “What’s the matter with you, you silly child? Answer me!” With my throat constricted  with shame, I still couldn't respond. Aunt Meg must have thought I was just being difficult, for she lost her temper and snapped; "I've had it with you, little girl!"

     Meg yanked me over to the couch and dragged me across her bare shapely thighs. I felt a sharp warning twinge from my bladder, and realised it was full. I need to pee - and soon! She raised my short dress and frothy rustling petties in the rear, revealing my lace-lavished, bulging pink satin rumba panties. Then she proceeded to spank my frilly diapered bottom hard and fast with her hand, while Tammy and all the girls watched and giggled. Despite being heavily padded, I started weeping, more from the humiliation than the pain. But Aunty kept spanking and scolding me regardless. Finally I couldn't hold back my wee-wees any longer, and began wetting my nappies just as she ceased punishing me. The urine seemed to seep out of my peenie rather than gush out, and the comforting warm stream seemed to last forever! I felt mortified, but the erotic sensation of spreading heat around my peenie and ball sack was incredibly arousing.

      When she finally finished paddling me, she stuck one finger up a leg opening of my baby panties, and scathingly announced to all, “Oh no! She’s soaking wet!  She gave my bobbing bottom one final hard spank, and scolded me afresh for lying when I said I hadn't needed a nappy change. “You silly baby. You should have told me or Aunty Tammy you wet your nappy. You’ll end up with a nasty case of diaper rash if you're not changed promptly. What a hopeless baby girl!” When Aunty Meg paused to catch her breath, Tammy volunteered to change my wet nappies. But Aunt Meg growled, “No Tammy. I’ll do it. My silly big baby has caused you enough trouble.” Tammy offered to help, and the two women dragged me waddling heavily into the bedroom to change me, while all the girls waited in the living room and laughed at my departing back.

    As the women lifted me onto the padded change table and removed my outer frilly panties, Aunty Meg commented to Tammy, “It’s a good thing she’s wearing two pairs of wetproof panties, seeing that she’s such a heavy wetter.” She tugged down the tight pink pilchers and unpinned my drenched yellowed diaper, and snorted contemptuously when she spied my stiff peenie. It remained hard and throbbing while Tammy wiped me over with baby wipes, and then Aunty Meg liberally powdered my crotch and bottom. As she pinned the dry nappies around my waist, Aunt Meg warned me in syrupy baby-talk, “Listen to me, Candy. You’d better behave like a perfect little girl at Susie's birthday party this afternoon - or else!"

        When they finished pulling up my rumba panties, they sat me up on the change table with my little legs dangling over the side. Aunty Meg took her make-up purse out of her handbag, and began to paint my face. In a few minutes mascara, rouge and pink lipstick had been added, and when I glanced in Tammy’s vanity mirror, I saw I looked like a beautiful little girl again. “Ahh, that’s better,” cooed Aunty Meg, beaming in approval. “Now you look like a pretty little girl again.”
       “She looks beautiful,” Tammy agreed, making my head swim and my stiff clittie pound inside my soft fluffy swaddling. Aunty Meg lifted me down from the table and crisply swatted my diapered bottom before the women walked off chatting, leaving me alone in the room. I was feeling very humiliated and didn't want to go outside, but I heard Aunt Meg instruct the girls to drag me outside and play with me.

     April and Bonnie and Tammy's daughters, Chrissie, Susie and Karen, all raced into Tammy’s bedroom. They were laughing and calling me "Pretty Baby Candy," and all exclaimed that they wanted to play with the precious diaper baby. My cousins spied the crib, and asked me if that's where I’d slept last night. I blushed and didn't answer, and Tammy's daughters crowed; "Yes she did!"

    Bonnie saw the empty pink baby bottle lying in the crib. Giggling, she picked it up and asked Tammy’s daughters, “Is this Candy’s? Did she have a bottle last night?”
    The girls responded again for me, shrieking “Yes! It’s Baby Candy’s baby bottle!”
    April wickedly suggested, "Let's give Baby Candy a fresh bottle right now!" Bonnie volunteered to ask my Aunty if that was okay. To my annoyance Aunt Meg agreed it was a fine idea, and allowed her sniggering daughter to fill the bottle with warm milk. Bonnie soon returned and sat on the edge of Tammy's bed, and lifted me onto her lap. She smugly warned me that her mother insisted I had to finish the whole bottle like a good baby girl.

      The girls all watched and laughed as Bonnie stuck the latex nipple in my mouth and ordered, “Drink up, Baby Candy. Drink the warm milk all down like a good little baby girl.” She proceeded to rock me back and forth as I noisily suckled on the dribbling teat. I felt so ashamed as I meekly lay there in her arms being fed like an infant, but I was still hard inside my nappies. When I finally finished the bottle, Bonnie sat me up and successfully burped me.
        Then April gaily announced, "We’d better check the baby’s nappies." They all laughed hysterically as I started blushing all over and drawing away from them. “Come here, Baby Candy,” April insisted.

     I shrieked in alarm. “No!” I made a waddling dash for the door, clumsy because of the thick wad of cloth between my thighs. The girls easily caught me and dragged me back into the bedroom, then April closed the door to prevent my escape. Bonnie carried me back to the big bed and roughly threw me onto my back. While April and the other girls held my arms and legs spread wide, Bonnie tickled me until I was shrieking with laughter and almost in tears. As my erection dwindled, I felt a few hot spurts of urine escape into my clean nappy, totally beyond my control.

   Bonnie tossed my short dress and petties over my face, before yanking down the front of my waterproof panties. She reached inside and boldly felt my nappy front all over, and sneered; “Our baby girl’s nappy is only damp - so far! These thick nappies will easily handle another wetting or two.” She then pulled my baby panties back into place and ordered the girls to let me up from the bed. I felt so humiliated as they led me waddling outside, the girls laughing their heads off as I tugged at my bobbing hemline like a shy little girl.    
    
« Last Edit: August 01, 2010, 12:15:45 am by babyjennie »
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babyjennie

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Re: Baby Candy (Complete story!) - By Baby Jennie
« Reply #2 on: July 31, 2010, 12:31:05 pm »

Chapter 5.  Humiliated at the Party

   The first guests started arriving for the party around noon. Bonnie and April asked if they could be excused, as they were far too old to attend this kiddie party. Aunt Meg agreed, saying she and Tammy probably wouldn't need any more help. I timidly asked if I could be excused too, but Aunt Meg handed me a pink sippy-cup full of sweet orange cordial and snapped; "Certainly not! Especially after Tammy went to all this trouble dressing you so prettily! Now drink up, sweetie.”

     Snickering as I drained the juvenile cup, she continued, "And you look so adorable in that gorgeous little party dress, sweetheart. I love the way your petties swish and bounce so attractively every time you move. And the frilly lace on your rumba panties peeping out so delightfully below, constantly drawing everyone’s eyes to my prissy little poppet’s big diapered bot-bot. Such a sweet look on little baby girls. Don't you want everyone to see how beautiful you can look?” She suddenly dropped the cloying baby talk and her voice lowered menacingly. “This is a very suitable punishment for a disobedient little pants-wetter like you, and you had better be on your best behaviour this afternoon. Because if you're not, you haven't seen anything yet!" As I was staring down at the floor, Aunt Meg ordered me to look up at her in a voice suddenly dripping with honey. She placed a little gold cardboard crown on my head and pulled the elastic string under my trembling chin. “Ooo, so pretty!” she commented, before warning me; “Keep it on like a good little Princess!”

      She refilled my sippy-cup and ordered me to drain it, and then hand the cup back to her at once. Despite my grizzled protests, she held the cup spout to my lips and made me drink the contents. I was starting to slosh with all the liquid I had been forced to consume, but when I complained, Aunty replied. “Little girls like you can’t be trusted to walk around with a normal cup, sweetie. If you want another drink later, I’ll have to ask Tammy to bring you this special sippy-cup, or even better, your baby bottle.” I didn’t want to wander around carrying a toddler’s cup or drink from a baby bottle again, so I just shook my head. When my Aunt’s attention was distracted by a crying little girl, I scurried away as fast as I could waddle.

   The guests were mainly six, seven, and eight-year-old boys and girls - mostly girls, with some parents with toddlers and infants in attendance as well. I stood alone at the far end of the huge sunroom, nervously pushing down my short flared party dress over my swaying petties, as they were almost exposing my bulging baby panties with the obvious thick nappies underneath. An attractive young mother strolled over and in a sweet contralto voice, asked me who I was and why I was standing there all alone. I shyly whispered that my name was Candy, and that Aunt Meg was my aunt. She said that I was a very pretty little Princess, and told me I shouldn't be so shy. She led me by the hand over to some other smaller children and introduced me to them, telling them I was a very shy little girl named Candy.

   Then Tammy organized a game of pin the tail on the donkey. By hiding behind the bigger children, I managed to sit that game out, but Aunt Meg noticed my disobedient behaviour and grew annoyed with me. Next it was time to have a spelling bee. Clapping her hands loudly for attention, Tammy requested all the boys line up on one side of the room, and all the girls line up on the other. Aunt Meg tapped me on the shoulder and quietly cautioned me that I had better play properly with the other little children this time.

    I wasn't thinking, and so I naturally lined up with the boys. A young boy pushed me hard in the back and yelled, "Get on the other side where you belong, you dumb girlie!" I fell to my knees and felt a hot spurt of wee-wees jet into my nappy as my dress and petties went flying up in back, to reveal my lace-trimmed bulging baby panties to the row of jeering boys. Whimpering in shame, I clamped down on my nervous bladder and with difficulty managed to stem the warm trickling flow. Blushing furiously and tugging my short hem down in back, I scrambled to my feet and scooted over to the other side with the rest of the grinning girls. I saw Aunt Meg snickering at my red face as a chortling Tammy started the game. When reaching the front of their line, a boy or girl would be asked to spell a word. If they missed, the other side would have a chance to spell it correctly. I was developing an overwhelming urge to pee, but I didn't know what to do. I wanted to drop out by misspelling a word, and slink off somewhere quiet to wet my already-damp nappies in private.

        But the words were far too easy for me, and for some strange reason I just couldn't seem to deliberately make a mistake. Aunt Meg and Tammy noticed me squirming and unconsciously pressing my fist against my dress right over my padded crotch, and they just glanced knowingly at each other and smiled. After a while all the boys were knocked out, and I was left facing off against two bigger girls. I was squirming and shuddering and really couldn't hold in my pee any longer. Then while I was spelling the winning word with everyone silently watching, I soaked my nappies with hot urine.

     Despite the fact that I was sure everyone could hear the noisy stream gushing into my diaper, the feeling of relief was incredible. I gave a loud sigh of thanks and couldn’t help smiling at the sudden comforting warmth filling my nappies. There was a smatter of desultory applause and for my reward, Tammy had me reach into the girls’ grab-bag of toys. As my stream of wee-wees dribbled lazily to a halt, I pulled out a ‘Princess Barbie’ doll for my prize. Remembering how I was dressed, I tried to react like an excited little girl. I squealed and jumped up and down as I proudly held up the new doll. I politely thanked Aunty Tammy, and all the other little girls gazed enviously at me as I sidled away.

   Aunt Meg signalled me to come over and show her my new dolly. She admired my prize and hugged me, and crooned in my ear, “Candy, you’re behaving like a very good little girl now. I’m so proud of you, little one.” She handed me my doll and sat me up on her lap, loudly warning me to hang on to my new dolly carefully for the rest of the day. She then whispered in my ear again, asking, “Does my little girl need her nappy changed yet?”
     I felt too ashamed to tell her the truth and stuttered, "N-no Auntie," and ducked my head as I lied. She firmly patted the warm wet cloth bunched between my legs and could instantly tell I was lying by the distinctive wet sound.

   In honeyed baby-talk she doubtfully cautioned me; "Really, baby? Okay… But if I find out you're not telling me the truth, I'm going to have to do something you won't like, sweetheart." Pointing to the long bare dining table, she continued in the same syrupy tone. "If I find my little girl is lying to me, I'll have to change her wet nappies right over there on that table, where all the other little children can watch! Would you like me to do that, Baby Candy?" I fearfully shook my head in anxious denial. She began putting her hand under my dress as she warned me; "So I'll ask you one more time. Do you or don't you need a nappy change, sweetie?"

    I knew she'd find out anyway, so I miserably nodded my bowed head and sheepishly admitted the truth. “I think I wet my nappy, Aunty Meg,” I apologised. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
   But when I dared glance up at her, Aunt Meg unexpectedly smiled and praised me. "That's a good little girl!" She then waved to Tammy and indicated that she was taking the baby into the bedroom for a diaper change. Our hostess merely smiled and nodded her head, so Aunty Meg led me by the hand waddling wetly to the master bedroom, carelessly dragging my Barbie along by one leg.

   While Aunt Meg was removing my rumba panties and pilchers, Tammy wandered in carrying a pink baby bottle full of orange cordial for me. She smiled at the infantile spectacle I made, and in saccharine baby-talk, asked me if I was being a good little baby girl for my Aunty. Tammy slipped the dripping nipple between my lips before I could reply, and softly stroked my hair while Aunt Meg unpinned my warm wet nappies and spoke to me using similar crooning baby-talk. Despite the humiliating circumstances, I felt a really pleasant sensation wash over me as they took turns oiling and powdering my bottom and crotch till I was hard again, the women chuckling in amusement over my uncontrollable erections. When they finished diapering me, Aunty drew my damp pilchers up over my bulky clean nappies.

      “Aren’t you worried those damp plastic panties might smell of stale urine?” Tammy asked my Aunty, who smiled nastily before replying.
     “I think it appropriate that an older child who still needs to wear diapers should smell like a baby, even when she’s just been freshly changed.” Aunty tugged the frilly satin rumba panties over my glistening baby panties as she continued, “The lingering aroma of her stale wee-wees reminds her - and others - of her true status: that she is nothing but a silly baby girl who still wets her panties and wets her bed.” When I had finished the bottle, Aunty lifted me down and rearranged my frock and petties to sit prettily. Taking my hand, she led me back out to the party clutching my Princess Barbie to my breast.

      Despite soaking my nappy less than an hour later, no one seemed to check up on me. I even managed to drink unnoticed from a normal cup a few times. But I wasn’t game enough to put down my Barbie doll, and had to cart her around with me everywhere. The rest of the afternoon passed without any major incidents, until near the end. I felt the need to pee once again, as I had been discretely sneaking cups of my favourite creaming soda whenever I could. I quietly crept out to the empty back patio so I could drench my already-wet nappy in relative privacy. Soon I felt the almost scalding-hot urine filling my thirsty nappies, and I was really starting to enjoy the comforting clinging warmth gathering around my crotch and bottom. It actually made me feel like a spoiled helpless infant again. After I had been standing out there peeing for only a few moments, some big girls came strolling out. They said that they had just heard I was “a diaper-baby," and demanded to know if it was true? I suspected one of Tammy's daughters must have told them I was diapered.  I timidly denied the accusation while the hot stream continued to pour out of my peenie uninterrupted, but they weren't convinced.

   A big fat eight-year-old girl snatched my Barbie from my fingers and snarled sarcastically; "You think you're so clever for winning the spelling-bee! But you're really just a big baby who still has to wear nappies!" Another horrible girl giggled and suggested; "Let's pull up her dress to check if she’s really wearing a diaper." As I reached for my doll the jeering children began to surround me, and I squealed for them to leave me alone. A vicious girl sneaked up behind me without me knowing it, and she yanked my dress and frothy petticoats up high, completely exposing my frilly waterproof panties and the obvious drooping wet nappies underneath. All the children howled with laughter as I tried in vain to push down my dress and petties and wrestle free.

       Fortunately, the attractive young mother who had earlier led me over to play with the other little girls, came striding out. She immediately realised I was being tormented and crisply demanded to know what was going on. The children surrounding me kept laughing and poking me, and several spiteful girls told her I was nothing but a big baby who still had to wear nappies. I was crying uncontrollably by the time she marched over and scattered my tormentors. She took my Barbie from the horrid fat girl and handing it back to me, ordered the nasty children to leave me alone and return inside. As they reluctantly shuffled away, they continued taunting me, saying things like; "I bet your nappies are all wet!" and; "Go ask your Mummy to change your smelly diapers, you little baby!"

   The kindly young woman bent down closer to me and commented sweetly, “That’s a beautiful pink frock you’re wearing, Princess.” I sniffled and clutched my doll but didn't respond, and she asked in a softer voice as she rearranged my tilted cardboard crown; "Are you wearing nappies underneath that pretty party frock, Sugarplum?” I was so embarrassed, I stared down at the ground, but my wide-flared pink skirt and lace-trimmed stiff petties filled my blurry vision. I shook my head in useless denial, making my frothy petties sway and dance distractingly. She continued, “I saw that nasty girl pull up your dress and petticoats, and it really did look like you were wearing baby rumba panties with nappies underneath, sweetie. What‘s your name again, Princess?”

    “C-c-candy,“ I stuttered fearfully. My eyes started clouding over again with tears of shame when in an even softer voice she cooed.
   “How sweet! But how come a big girl like you is still wearing nappies and baby panties, Candy?” She lifted my trembling chin with one finger and dried my teary face with the edge of her floral cotton apron. Her sweet perfume filled my senses, and I found myself staring up in fascination into her kind blue eyes.

     I hesitantly whimpered, “My Aunty Meg and Aunty Tammy made me wear them to the party be-because I wet my panties yesterday and I wet the bed last night.”
     "Oh I understand, darling. But why do you still wet your bed at your age, Candy? You’re a big girl now. Surely you must be six or seven?" she asked, with gentle maternal concern shining in her beautiful blue eyes. I whispered that I didn't know why I wet the bed, and that maybe it was ‘an accident.’ She suggested that if I managed to keep my nappies dry for a time, maybe Aunt Meg would let me wear big-girl panties again soon. I nodded my head hopefully as she continued to gently wipe my tear-stained cheeks with her apron. She asked me if my nappies were wet right now? I was too embarrassed to tell her the truth, and shook my head again in denial. In a soft but sceptical tone, she asked if I had kept my diaper dry all afternoon? I nodded apprehensively.

   She loudly sniffed the air around my groin, chuckled and shook her head. "Wow! I don't even think I could go all afternoon without going to the potty. Are you sure they're not a teensy bit wet, baby doll?" She smiled conspiratorially as she cooed confidentially; "You can tell me." I knew she didn't believe me anyway, so I shyly whispered that they might be just a little wet. She gently clasped my hand and said, "That's okay, Princess! Just a little wet?” she questioned in mock-disbelief. I timidly nodded, and she said that it might be hard for me to tell, and that maybe she had better check for herself.

      I didn't say anything and before I knew it, she had stuck her other hand under my short flared dress and petties, and with years of practise, easily slipped her searching fingers inside the tight elastic waistband of my waterproof baby panties. She cried out in horror, "Oh honey! Your nappies are soaked! We’ll have to change your diaper right away!" I kept staring down at my shiny pink frock, trembling and red-faced with shame. She generously offered, "I'll tell you what we can do. Why don't you show me where they keep your nappies, Candy, and I can change your diaper myself. Then we don't have to bother anyone else. Your Aunty Meg and Aunty Tammy will be so proud of you for staying dry! Isn't that a good idea, Princess?" She kept hold of my hand and started to lead me inside.
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babyjennie

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Re: Baby Candy (Complete story!) - By Baby Jennie
« Reply #3 on: July 31, 2010, 12:32:29 pm »

Chapter 6.  A Dummy for Baby Candy

     I was so embarrassed, I kept my head down and whispered, "Oh no thank you, ma'am."
    She probably thought I was too shy to let her change me, so she continued soothingly. "It's okay, sweetheart. I know you're very shy. But don't worry, I change little girls’ nappies every day! I have a two-year-old still in diapers named Cindy. She used to hate wearing her nappies and being changed, but I soon helped her over that..." She saw that my demeanour wasn't improving, and she swiftly added; "Oh Candy, of course I didn't mean that you're like a two-year-old, sweetheart!"
      I timidly thanked her again, but told her that I only liked my Aunty Meg or Tammy to change my nappies. She said that it was all right, and that she understood, but that I needed to be changed right now, so she would take me to my Aunty Meg first. As she led me waddling wetly back inside clutching my dolly, the cruel children began teasing me again, hissing things like; "Go get your dirty nappies changed, you big baby!" The beautiful young mother warned them to stop misbehaving, or she threatened to tell their parents.

   She brought me waddling slowly over to Tammy and Aunt Meg. She told them that I was a dripping wet little girl whose diaper urgently needed changing, and that the other children had found out I was wearing nappies and were teasing me unmercifully. Aunt Meg and Tammy laughed at my bowed head and tear-streaked cheeks, and warmly thanked the helpful young mother, calling her by her name; "Melody." They informed her that I had been a very naughty little girl earlier, and needed some ‘special diaper-training.’ Melody told them that she had offered to change my wet nappy herself, but that I seemed too shy. Then Aunt Meg surprised me by agreeing that it would be a wonderful idea if Melody would change my diaper, because they were both too busy winding down the party and cleaning up. Tammy told her that my clean nappies and baby panties were in the main bedroom under the change table. As Tammy snickered, Aunt Meg leaned over and commanded, "You behave like a good obedient little girl, Candy, and let Melody change your wet nappies without any fuss."
     I whimpered, "Please no, Aunt Meg?”
     She gripped my chin tightly and forced me to look up at her stern features. Aunt Meg gazed resolutely into my watering blue eyes and warned me coldly. "All right, Baby Candy, I'll give you a choice. Either you be a good little girl and let Melody change your wet nappy, or I'll give you a bare-bottom spanking in front of everyone, and Melody will still change your wet nappies, but right there on the dining table! It's up to you, missy."

     I started crying afresh, but Melody kindly took me by the hand and cooed reassuringly, "It’s okay, Candy! There's nothing to worry about. You'll feel much better after we change you out of those yucky wet nappies." She then led me waddling heavily and snivelling abjectly towards the bedroom. Aunt Meg laughed at our slow departure and warned Melody that she was “in for a real surprise!" I noticed that some of the nasty children watched me being led away, and they were laughing snidely and pointing at me from across the room. When we reached the bedroom, Melody tried to comfort me and crooned for me to stop crying. She kindly suggested that if I remained dry for the rest of the day, maybe my Aunt would let me out of my nappies tomorrow. She noticed the open crib, and with wide disbelieving eyes, asked me if that's where I slept. She seemed surprised when I nodded shamefully in reply, too humiliated to answer her. She looked thoughtful, then carefully dumped me on the padded change table and pawed through the stack of big nappies and large waterproof panties underneath as she observed; "These big nappies must be for you, honey." Again I didn't respond, letting my Barbie dangle despondently by one leg. She selected some nappies and a pair of transparent pink waterproof panties decorated with circus animals and lace trimmings, and placed them ready on the change table. I started weeping again, then Melody seemed struck by an idea.

    “Wait here a minute, Candy. I'll be right back!” She returned a few moments later leading her two-and-a-half-year-old daughter by one hand, and clutching a big pink vinyl diaper bag in the other. She said, "This is my daughter, Candy, and her name is Cindy. She's very wet too, just as I thought. Can you please help me change her diaper, Candy?" I felt very embarrassed, but would do anything to delay my own impending humiliation, so I nodded and hopped down. Melody then took out a colourful vinyl-backed changing mat from her diaper bag and asked me to spread it open on my Aunt's queen-size bed. Using crooning baby talk, Melody said; "It's time for a nappy change, Cindy. You be a good girl and show Candy how easy it is, okay?"
    To which Cindy giggled and cheekily chirped, "No!"
    Melody repeated in a firmer voice, "I need you to be a good girl for Mummy today, Cindy! We have a special little girlfriend here with us."
   Again Cindy defiantly yelled; "No!" But her sweet smile seemed to indicate she was merely being playful.
   Melody grimaced and insisted, "Okay, baby girl, let's get you undressed." She then sat her squirming daughter on the edge of the bed and after telling me to hold her still, she took off Cindy's shoes and dress. She dived into the change bag and gave the restless little girl a pink baby soother to suck to quieten her objections, and made Cindy lie down on the changing mat.

     I gave her my Barbie to hold, and the happy toddler squirmed and chortled around her dummy as her loving Mummy tickled and blew on her milky-white bare tummy. Melody took out some clean nappies, a new pink dummy in a case, several pairs of plastic panties, baby powder, oil and lotion from the voluminous diaper bag. While Cindy lay there sucking noisily on her pink soother and playing with the pink plastic crown still pinned in my Barbie’s long blonde hair, Melody took off her daughter’s transparent waterproof panties, then unpinned and removed her yellowed wet nappies. Melody ruefully commented that her daughter’s cloth diapers were soaked, and she left the room for a moment to noisily wring them out over the en-suite toilet. She quickly returned and slipped the heavy used nappies in a plastic bag, then placed that bag in another zippered compartment of the gaping diaper bag. Melody thoroughly cleaned her baby's bottom and crotch with baby wipes, and then rubbed Cindy down with baby oil and some pink lotion. She had me sprinkle her daughter’s groin with baby powder, and then spread it around her puffy slit and into her bottom crease with my trembling fingers. She then diapered and dressed her giggling toddler, and Cindy laughed happily throughout and had a great time of it.

   When she was finished, Melody turned to me and crooned; "See? See how easy that was, Candy? Now it’s your turn, sweetheart." She continued to speak in soothing toddler tones as she first removed my cardboard crown and placed it on the vanity. "Now let’s take off your pretty pink dress, little girl. We don't want to spill lotion or anything on that gorgeous satin party frock of yours and ruin it." I hesitated, but she was insistent as she unbuttoned the back of my frock. "Come on, honey! I can't let you stay in those drenched nappies another minute!" I gazed up at her with fresh tears of shame pricking my eyes, but she simply ordered me to raise my hands over my head. She pulled off my satin dress and then my frothy petticoats, and neatly draped them on the wide bed. I felt so embarrassed standing there in just my saggy wet nappies and frilly waterproof baby panties in front of her and her bemused toddler daughter.

    Melody suggested her giggling toddler take my Barbie and go play with her dolls, but Cindy just remained kneeling on the change mat, watching us closely through wide blue eyes over her bobbing pink pacifier guard. Melody sat me on the edge of the big bed and unbuckled and removed my black patent Maryjanes. She ordered me to hop up and lie back on the changing table. I was still reluctant to reveal the full extent of my shame, but Melody was growing impatient. She lifted me bodily and plonked me on my soggy bottom, then firmly pushed me back down on the table. I started sobbing again but Melody just sang, "There, there, Candy. This will only take a few minutes. Now lift up your botty, Sugarplum, so I can whip your pretty panties down and unpin those wet nappies. I promise, you'll feel much better when we’re done."

   I just lay there limply on my back snivelling like a truculent toddler, so Melody proceeded to drag down my waterproof panties without my assistance, then she unpinned my soaking wet nappies. As soon as she lifted away the soggy yellowed nappy front, she spied my tiny shrivelled penis and balls. She seemed puzzled for a moment, but then tried unsuccessfully to hold back her peals of laughter. She exclaimed, "Oh Candy! You're really a little boy, aren't you!"
    I cringed and whimpered, "Yes ma'am." She turned her face away so I wouldn't see her laughing. Even Cindy was giggling. When she had herself more under control, Melody asked me why I had been dressed like a baby girl, and I whined that that's how Aunt Meg and Tammy were punishing me. Melody made me tell her some of the bad things I had done, including wetting my pants and wetting the training panties and my nappies in the crib. When she spied my poor bruised bottom, she pointedly observed that I certainly must have been a bad little boy. She frowned at my thickening erection as she wiped me clean and began to soundly scold me, and asked me if I wanted a sore red bottom from her, too?  She concluded that my Aunty had done the right thing by punishing me this way. I started weeping abjectly, and when my stiffie wouldn't go down even then, Melody seemed to begin to feel sorry for me again.

     “Oh there, there, precious! Don’t cry. You actually make a very beautiful little girl, you know?” I heard her walk to the diaper bag and there was the sound of a package being ripped open. The next thing I knew, Melody was forcing a latex teat into my mouth. Expecting another baby bottle, I started to reflexively suck, but when I felt the plastic guard bobbing against my nose, I realised what it was. It was a baby’s dummy! “It’s a good thing I keep a new spare soother in the diaper bag for Cindy,” Melody observed with a small smile, as the sucking seemed to have calmed my tears somewhat. She gently ordered me to keep sucking on the pink dum-dums, then spoke softly to me in soothing baby-talk. She told me that she felt sorry for me, but suggested that maybe some time spent in nappies and baby dresses would help me learn a valuable lesson. Adding to my humiliation, Cindy still really wanted to help diaper me, so Melody allowed her. I felt absolutely mortified as the little girl sprinkled and rubbed baby powder on my bobbing stiff peenie. She stood there and watched her mother pin the clean nappies around me while still noisily sucking on her dummy, just like me. Cindy even helped her Mummy tug my clean waterproof panties up my legs and over my thick fluffy nappies.

   When they were finished, Melody kissed my powdery tummy and crooned I had been a very good little girl for her. She tickled me all over until I couldn't stop giggling, and as my unwanted stiffie diminished, I even felt a few hot spurts of fresh wee-wees escape into my clean nappy. Just as Melody was finishing putting my dress and petties back on me, Aunt Meg and Tammy strode in. Aunt Meg demanded to know where I had found the pink dummy, and asked me pointedly if I had been giving Melody a hard time? Melody spoke up for me and replied, “Baby Candy has been very good, but her nappies were drenched!  She should have spoken up sooner.” She informed the women that she had given me the new baby pacifier to calm my tears, and they wryly commented on how effective the baby soother seemed to be. Aunt Meg coyly asked the beautiful young mother if she had discovered her naughty baby girl’s ‘little secret?’ Melody laughed and told her she certainly had discovered my little secret!

       Aunt Meg and Tammy thoroughly explained the whole situation to her, and the women laughed and laughed as I blushed rosily and instinctively sucked harder on my dummy for comfort. Melody astutely observed that I was way too pretty and effeminate for a boy, and commented that my sweet toddler frocks suited my sissy juvenile nature admirably. Aunt Meg turned to me and noted that her little one looked very tired. “Are you tired, Baby Candy?“ she asked mock-solicitously.
    I took out my dummy and crankily insisted I wasn't tired, and she asked me if I had taken a nap yet today. I sulkily replied; “No! I don't need naps.”
   She forced the latex soother back between my pouting lips and calmly responded, "Oh yes you do, sweetness! Keep sucking your dummy, little girl. All little toddlers who still have to wear nappies need their nap-naps, and you've had more than enough excitement for one day. Now you keep that dummy in your mouth, Baby Candy." With that Aunt Meg quickly drew off my dress and petticoats, and then removed my frilly socks. She lowered the safety rail on the crib, picked me up and dumped me inside, and swiftly raised the bars back in place.

    I irritably complained around the dummy that I didn't need a nap, but Aunt Meg just patted me on the head and warned me to behave and stop whinging, or else I would receive another botty-spank. I tried to cover my shameful nappies with the pink baby blanket, but Aunt Meg took it away, saying it was too hot. That left me lying there in just my nappies and the transparent pink baby panties. The women seemed to revel in my blushing embarrassment, and continued to taunt me for a being a big diaper baby as I lay there cringing while obediently sucking my dummy. Cindy stood next to my crib holding onto the rails, staring at me and giggling around her dummy as she handed me my Princess Barbie doll. Aunt Meg picked up my empty baby bottle and said, "The cranky baby probably needs some warm milk to help her fall asleep."

      Melody announced that sadly she and Cindy had to leave, but suggested my Aunt call her if she needed anyone to take ‘special care’ of her naughty Baby Candy. Melody impishly added that Aunt Meg’s precious big toddler girl could even play Barbies with Cindy, now that I had my very own Barbie doll. Tammy looked down at me and sneered. "Oh my! Playing Barbies with little Cindy! Wouldn't that be fun, Baby Candy?" My Aunt warmly thanked Melody, and said she would call her tomorrow. 
   As the women walked out, little Cindy trilled, "Bye-bye, Baby Candy!" and everyone laughed. I noticed Aunt Tammy had left her bedroom door wide open after she stalked out. I called out for her to please close it, but she ignored me. A few moments later a group of children remaining at the party wandered in and surrounded three sides of my crib. They were laughing and chanting that I was a big diaper baby who sucked a dummy. They taunted and teased me and asked me if I had wet myself again yet, and I rolled onto my side to face the wall and buried my red blushing cheeks in the sheets, biting down on the comforting latex teat to help fight back the tears. They made fun of my transparent pink baby panties with the circus animals and the frilly lace trim, and tried to poke and smack my bulging bottom through the crib bars. I was so humiliated, I pressed myself against the bars lining the wall and clutched my Barbie tighter, and sucked on my soother for comfort.

   Aunt Meg and Tammy returned and I begged them to make the horrible children leave. But my Aunty rolled me onto my back and plucked the soother from my mouth, and replaced it with the nipple of a full baby bottle. She calmly ordered me to drink up the warm milk for Aunty like a good baby girl while she held the bottle for me. Knowing I had no choice but to obey, the children howled with laughter as I compliantly sucked on the warm rubber teat until it gurgled dry. An older girl asked the adults if another bottle would make me wet my nappies soon. But Aunt Meg chuckled as she replied, “Oh Emily, Baby Candy’s nappies have just been changed. So it will probably take a while for our big baby to wet enough to need changing again.” When Emily’s face fell, Aunty Meg added, “But certainly if you would like, we can make up another bottle so you can feed it to the baby. But you must hold her bottle for her, and make sure she drinks it all. Little babies like my Baby Candy can‘t be trusted to hold their own bottles.”

   The ten-year-old girl nodded excitedly and with a smile and a nod to her friend, Tammy disappeared to fetch me a fresh warm bottle. The children continued teasing me as Emily made me suck down another bottle of milk, and Aunt Meg and Tammy left the room without a backward glance. Finally the party was over and to my relief, the remaining guests departed. Exhausted from my humiliating ordeal, I drifted into a fitful slumber#, dimly aware of the uncomfortable full feeling in my bowels.

      After waking me later that evening and checking my wet nappy, Aunty Meg changed me as soon as she lifted me out of the cot. I was still half-asleep as she removed my baby panties and unpinned the sodden weight of cloth wrapped around my loins. I wanted to ask if I could use the toilet before she pinned the clean nappies over my hips, but when Tammy asked me in syrupy toddler tones if I needed to use the potty, I shook my head in embarrassed denial. I was afraid Aunty Tammy would make me sit on the big pink potty while everyone watched my humiliating performance.

       I remained meek and silent as Aunty Meg dressed me in a sheer yellow cotton sundress that barely covered my diapered hips. When we left Aunty Tammy’s that night, I was sucking my new pink dummy and Aunty Meg was carrying a large plastic bag full of things for Baby Candy. I shuddered at the thought of the contents, and didn’t understand when Tammy sang out from her front door; “Call me tomorrow if you need to borrow the furniture!”
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babyjennie

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Re: Baby Candy (Complete story!) - By Baby Jennie
« Reply #4 on: July 31, 2010, 12:35:21 pm »

Chapter 7.  Dirty, Bad Little Girl!

    Aunty Meg made me sit in the back seat of the car with the overflowing bag beside me. She buckled me in like I was incapable of doing it for myself, and then she climbed into the front seat behind the wheel. We drove in silence for a few minutes, until I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to fart. I knew my bowels were dangerously full and I needed to go number twos, but I thought releasing some gas might alleviate the pressure. As a loud ripple of gas noisily trumpeted out of my bottom, I felt the unmistakeable sensation of a warm wet turd sliding out of my anus to squish against clean nappies. I squealed in dismay and started to wet myself in shock as I began to uncontrollably soil my tightly-pinned diaper. With nowhere else to go, the hot poop started to fill my crack, before oozing up my back towards the tight waistband of my plastic panties. My body was thrust against the seatbelt when Aunty slammed on the brakes, forcing even more smelly excrement to squirt out of my tortured sphincter.

    I bit down hard on my dummy teat as the car screeched to a halt, almost slicing the rubber nipple in two. Aunty turned to glare over her shoulder at me as I slumped back, my bottom slowly settling into the semi-soft pile of hot poop cushioning me. “I hope you haven’t done what I think you’ve done, little girl?” Aunty Meg icily demanded, staring at me in genuine disgust.
    I started crying like a baby as I sulkily replied, “I couldn’t help it, Aunty.” She glared at me in disbelief. “It was an accident!” I wailed like a useless toddler around my dummy.

    “Accident my foot!” She angrily interjected. “Aunty Tammy asked you if you needed to use the potty less than five minutes ago, you dirty, bad little girl!  Why didn’t you do your poo-poos then?”
   “I didn’t know I needed to go,” I lied, as I sobbed in misery around the dummy still clenched between my teeth. She glared at me in silence for a whole minute while I slowly sank deeper and deeper into the warm creamy poop filling my nappy. I wriggled about on some of the firmer lumps and my actions made the tight waistband of my baby panties crackle and pop, releasing some of the musty, fruity-herb aroma safely contained until then. I sat there with my head bowed in guilt and my cheeks burning with shame with the ripe smell of my dirty accident slowly filling the air around us. Aunty Meg wrinkled her pert nose in disgust.

   “Only silly little babies can’t tell when they need to go number twos,” she commented acidly. “You must really be a baby after all. Is that what you are, Baby Candy?” she demanded. I could only shake my head in useless denial and tearfully sniffle in reply. “Yes, I think so,” she decided for me with chilling finality. “You’re nothing but a silly little baby girl, who still needs to be potty-trained and disciplined.”

        She turned away and started driving again, and a few seconds later we turned into Aunty’s street and drove up her driveway. April and Bonnie were eagerly awaiting our arrival, and they watched as Aunty Meg seized my hand and led me waddling slowly and carefully up the stairs. She cruelly informed them that their little cousin Baby Candy had just soiled her nappies, and they watched with open mouths from the bathroom doorway as Aunty made me climb into the bathtub. She stripped me of my feminine finery in the tub, and then ordered me to spread my bare feet wide as she unpinned my wet saggy nappy.

   There was a collective gasp from the watching girls as the extent of my disgrace was revealed. Bonnie acidly commented on the awful stench, while April loudly declared she wasn’t going to change any dirty diapers. Aunty informed them it was all part of taking care of a baby, and something they would have to do for their own babies soon enough. She suggested a few weeks of taking care of a big baby like me would make excellent preparation for their own future motherhood, as she dumped the stinky nappies in a large bucket beside the bathtub.

      Aunty Meg made April take my dirty nappies downstairs and dump them straight in the washing machine, along with the badly stained pilchers. Then Aunty hosed me down with a hot hand-held shower spray in the tub. After she had washed most of the sticky excrement down the plug hole, she allowed the tub to fill and gave me my second scalding-hot bath for the day. After powdering me heavily and pinning fresh nappies around my loins, she dressed me in the same pink satin nightie and matching rumba panties I had worn last night at Aunty Tammy’s.

   The girls showered me with sarcastic compliments when they spied my pretty nightie and matching baby panties. My cheeks grew warm as I felt a sudden blossom of heat in my nappies when they lifted me into a kitchen chair to feed me my dinner. I was sent to bed clutching my new dolly as soon as I had finished my meal, and Aunty made me keep my damp nappies and baby panties on for the night. At least I was allowed to sleep in a big-girl’s bed, even if Aunty made me keep the dummy in my mouth. She clipped the dangling pink plastic chain to the collar of my nightie, and I unconsciously fingered the pink plastic clip shape like a teddy bear. Aunty Meg gave me a bottle of warm milk at bedtime too, telling me it would help me sleep. It certainly did that! I finally fell asleep sucking obediently on my pink pacifier, and I didn’t even wake up when I soaked my nappy repeatedly during the night.

    The next morning, Aunt Meg threw back my covers and immediately probed my warm panty crotch with her large cruel hands. She snorted in contempt when she detected my saturated state. She announced she wouldn’t bother changing me until after breakfast, and lifted me out of the crib. I had to endure the laughter and taunts of her grinning daughters when they spied the thick wet nappies and baby panties drooping down between my legs as I slowly waddled into the kitchen. A frilly plastic-backed cotton bib was clipped around my neck before Bonnie lifted me into a padded vinyl-covered chair, plonking me heavily on my drenched nappy bottom.

      It was April’s turn to feed me this time, and she seemed to delight in deliberately missing my mouth, smearing my lips and chin with warm porridge. She tut-tutted in mock-reproval when food cascaded onto my bib, then simply scooped it up with the spoon and pushed it back in my mouth. After being forced to drain two bottles of watered-down apple juice, my face and hands were scrubbed clean with a warm washer. Only then did Aunty carefully remove my sticky stained bib.
 
  She dragged me back into the bathroom, stripped me of my drooping baby panties and drenched nappies, and made me sit on the toilet while she fussed around the bathtub. I didn’t feel the need to empty my bladder, probably because I had peed several times during the night already. And there was no way I was going to try and evacuate my bowels with her standing over me like a prison guard. After sitting there in humiliated silence for several long minutes, Aunty Meg icily demanded, “Well? Have you done a poo-poo yet, Candy? I haven’t heard anything yet, little girl.” Without waiting for my answer, she simply grabbed my shoulders and thrust me forward, folding my chest over my knees while she peered into the empty commode behind me.  

    “I don’t need to go!” I wailed n distress, feeling the blush creep up my cheeks as she man-handled me like a recalcitrant toddler.  
    “Are you sure?” She demanded in disbelief. My vision swam and tears of shame brimmed in my eyes as I nodded earnestly. My cheeks blazed with embarrassment when she scathingly replied, “That’s what you told us yesterday, little girl. And look what happened in my car...” she cruelly reminded me. “Well you better not do anything in the bath, because if you do…” She let the threat go unfinished, and simply lifted me into the waiting hot tub.

    After another of her scalding baths, Aunty wrapped a towel around me and carried me into the spare bedroom, where she lay me on the bed. Her grinning daughters followed a few minutes later to further witness my infantile humiliation. Aunty Meg dried me thoroughly and efficiently and then powdered me all over, leisurely rolling and folding my tiny frame this way at that, as she slid a thick bundle of white terrycloth under my raised rear. She pinned me in the fresh thick nappies and drew some plain tight transparent pilchers snugly over my heavily swaddled hips, covering these with some white satin rumba panties that had rows of yellow lace shimmering across the seat. Her watching daughters snickered with amusement as she dressed me in another fancy short party frock that she must have borrowed from Tammy’s youngest. This crotch-length toddler dress was fashioned from stiff white starched cotton, with yellow lace trimmings and a wide yellow satin sash around the high Empire waist. It even had two layers of stiff white tulle petticoats sewn in, to make it flare out crazily over my diapered hips.

   The thin cotton socks were white with elaborate yellow lace trim too, which my Aunty ordered me to fold down neatly. She fussily made me rearrange the wide lace frills above the ankles till the floppy yellow rows were even, then handed me my Princess Barbie doll. After she buckled on my black patent Maryjanes for me, she took my free hand and led me to the kitchen. She collected her handbag and keys, gripping my hand tightly as she led me to the front door. When I whimpered and tried to pull back, I realised her daughters were standing right behind me. “Please no?” I uselessly begged. I had nowhere to go; there was no escape. Aunty held up the big pink dummy in warning.

   “I’ll make you keep this in your mouth all day, if I hear one more word of complaint!” She threatened me. I clamped my mouth shut and she escorted me numb and silent down the two long blocks to a small shopping centre. .. She smiled tightly as I clutched both her hand and my Princess Barbie in terror, sticking like glue to her side the whole way and fearfully trying to conceal my small frame behind the skirts of her billowing long dress. She led me inside a new-and-used children's clothing store next door to a busy hairdressing salon.

       Inside the store Aunt Meg selected a number of appropriately juvenile dresses and skirts, petticoats, socks, panties and tights for me to try on. The pretty teenage salesgirl unwittingly commented that I made a very attractive big toddler in my sweet little party frock. Aunt Meg simply smiled in approval as I glanced down shyly and blushed attractively, and then she snatched my paw and dragged me into the communal fitting room.

     Despite the fact that there were two other mothers in there with their toddlers in tow, she swiftly removed my frock, and one-by-one, slowly made me try on all the clothes she had selected for me. My cheeks were already crimson when the other little children noticed my obvious thick nappies and baby panties, but then they started to whisper to their Mummies and point at me. I wanted to shrivel up and die! When the adults stared at my diapered shame too, I let my chin droop and lowered my teary gaze to the shiny black shoes buckled on my tiny feet.

      Aunty fed my limp arms through the sleeves, bunched up the petticoats and frocks, and fed them over my submissively bowed head as I meekly stood there trembling with humiliation. After carefully checking the fit of each garment, it would be ripped from my body and the next thrust into place. Finally I was dressed in my stiff white cotton toddler frock again and after gathering her selections, Aunty dragged me over to the infant and toddler’s section.

     She selected several packages of extra-large contoured cloth nappies from the shelf with a grunt of approval. She then searched for the girls' extra-large wetproof baby panties, but the bin where they should have been on display lay empty. As I continued blushing and holding my head down in disgrace, the helpful young salesgirl wandered over. Aunt Meg asked her if she had any more girls' extra-large waterproof panties in stock. The girl motioned to an assortment in size ‘large,’ asking my Aunt how big the baby was, as that size would fit most big toddlers. To my undying shame my Aunt pointed straight at me and loudly announced;  “My big baby is right here! As you can see, she really needs the extra-large pilchers!” She continued scathingly, “My naughty little Candy still wets her panties and her bed occasionally. I've had to put her back in baby nappies and toddler frocks as a suitable punishment."

    The attractive teen salesgirl fought back her laughter. Grinning madly, she offered to check the stock room out back. She returned a few minutes later with a small stack of frilly girls' extra-large baby panties. With the salesgirl and some other interested customers looking on, my Aunt made me pull up my dress, completely exposing my frilly satin rumba panties with the obvious bulging nappies underneath. I knew my bladder was full and I had been suppressing the need to urinate for several agonizing minutes. I felt so embarrassed that I kept fidgeting and shifting my weight from foot to foot, until the sneering salesgirl sharply ordered me to stand still for my Mummy.

       Aunt Meg held a pair of the lace-lavished PVC panties stretched across my waist, and gleefully announced they would fit me just fine. I was mortified when in a momentary lull they both heard the unmistakable sound of my wetties tinkling noisily into my nappies. The pretty salesgirl stared at my crotch with wide eyes, before she burst out laughing. “I think someone just had an accident in her panties,” she giggled.

    “Baby Candy!” My Aunty remonstrated with me. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed to use the potty, you silly little girl?”  As if the idea had suddenly occurred to her, she looked up at the chuckling teenager and asked, “I don’t suppose you have potties big enough for my overgrown toddler?”
    “As a matter of fact, we do!” The pretty blonde grandly announced. “Bring your little nappy-wetter over to aisle six.” Leading the way, she escorted us to the section with several shelves displaying a variety of brightly-coloured plastic potties.  

      She stood on tippy-toes, her tight blue denim jeans shorts hugging her lush round rump as she lifted down a pink potty shaped like a teddy bear in front. Her grin grew to Cheshire Cat proportions as she placed the portable toddler’s toilet on the floor in between my widely-splayed feet. “This is the largest girl’s potty we stock, suitable for children from four to six years. And see? The teddy bear’s ears make little handles for your toddler to hang onto, while she does her business on the pot-pot. It come with a lid too, to help reduce the smell,” she demonstrated while removing it, “and the whole thing comes apart for easy cleaning. You can even toss it in the dishwasher,” she confided conspiratorially.

    “That looks fine,” nodded Aunty Meg, smiling in grim approval. “We’ll take the potty, too.”
    “Do you want me to pull her panties down and remove her nappy, so she can try it on for size first?” Suggested the overly-helpful salesgirl. For one awful moment, I thought Aunty was about to agree!
    
    Instead of answering, Aunty turned to me and demanded, “Baby Candy? Do you need to use the potty any more, little one?”
     “No! I wailed in alarm. I shook my head in fearful denial and the horrified expression on my face must have made both women laugh.
      “Did you wet your nappy already?” Aunty demanded, as if she didn’t already know the answer. “Tell me, baby.”
      “Yes. I wet my nappy. I want to go home! I want to go home now!” I shrilly demanded.

         Aunty’s wolfish smile instantly turned to a frown. She reached into her handbag and produced the big pink pacifier, and without a moment’s hesitation, thrust the amber rubber teat between my trembling pursed lips. “I warned you! Now you can keep that in your mouth for the rest of the day, Baby Candy!” Aunty muttered darkly, and then turned to the stunned young woman watching us, her pretty mouth agape. “Take this potty to the desk, please miss, and we’ll meet you there in a minute. I just need a pacifier chain and clip for my naughty little toddler.” After pointing us in the right direction, the chuckling salesgirl stood from where she had been crouching at my feet, and she carried the humiliating pink potty back to the checkout.

    When we shuffled over to the checkout a few minutes later, there was a long pink plastic chain running from the loop of my humiliating pink pacifier, all the way to a brightly-coloured clip attached to the stiff wide Peter Pan collar of my starched white frock. It was long enough so that it bounced distractingly against my chest with my every awkward swaying movement. The smirking blonde rang up our purchase, and when she patted the pile of nappies and waterproof panties, she stared pointedly at my drooping satin panty crotch. She giggled, “Looks like your little girl will be needing these as soon as you return home.” Contempt was clearly etched on her pretty features when she snorted to my Aunty. “What a lucky big baby girl she is!” Aunty made me carry the embarrassing big pink potty all the way home, and our pace was slowed by the number of heavy bundles she carried.

    We were still a block from Aunty’s house when I realised I urgently needed to do a poo. I gazed at the humiliating pink potty in my arms, and somehow knew that if I confessed my need to my Aunty, she would have no hesitation in pulling down my baby panties, unpinning my wet nappy, and thrusting me on the shameful toddler potty right here on the sidewalk. I clenched my bum cheeks tighter and tried ineffectually to press my thighs together. The huge wad of wet cloth bunched between my legs frustrated my efforts. I gritted my teeth around the soft amber teat filling my mouth and silently prayed I would make it home unsMeged, but my entreaties were pointless.

      A few doors from Aunty Meg’s place, a boy skidded his bike to a halt a few feet in front of us and expertly dismounted, startling me. I jumped back in alarm and almost dropped my new potty, and I felt the unmistakable rush fill the seat of my warm wet nappy. I clamped down with my sphincter muscles, but the hot muddy feeling enveloping my sensitive genitals told me it was already too late. “Hello Mrs Anderson,” the boy greeted my Aunty Meg, glancing inquiringly at me as he flicked his bike stand down and deftly balanced it on the metal prongs. “Do you want a hand with those parcels?”

    “Hello Jimmy! Aren’t you a good boy! Here, darling,” she said, handing him a bundle of white cloth. “You can carry some of Baby Candy’s nappies.”
   “Nappies?” The boy asked in some confusion, glancing pointedly at the dummy clamped between my lips  as he turned and kept pace with us. “Isn’t she a little old-”
   “Baby Candy is a hopeless bed-wetter who still wets her panties sometimes, so I’ve decided to treat her more like the little baby girl she still obviously wants to be,” explained my cruel Aunt. I stumbled along beside them, my cheeks burning with shame as I tried to keep my anal sphincter tightly clenched. A case of bolting the barn door after the horse had escaped, I’m afraid.  Fortunately my Aunty hadn’t yet noticed my humiliating baby accident, and thankfully she took the package from Jimmy’s hands before we entered her house

      But the biggest surprise came after we walked in the door and the girls called out that lunch was ready. After a laughing April took the huge plastic potty from my arms, I found the big pink highchair from Tammy’s house sitting beside the table in my Aunt’s kitchen. I was horrified when without being asked, Bonnie lifted me into the humiliating baby chair and plonked me on my messy bottom. As I settled into the thick pile of warm crap wedged between my cheeks, the awful smell rose up around my nostrils, filling them with the rancid aroma of my most recent infantile accident. Bonnie buckled me in immediately, then lowered and locked the tray in front of my trapped tummy.

    Aunty smiled at the suitably infantile picture I presented in the big pink highchair, and suggested the girls feed me lunch while she went upstairs and made up the cot for my afternoon nap. Oh no! April clipped a big pink bib around my neck that had a picture of Bambi on it, and in saccharine baby-talk, asked me; “Does widdle Baby Candy want her bottle first, or some din-dins?” I spotted the two empty jars of toddler food on the bench just as the microwave pinged, and Bonnie shot me an evil grin as she took out a steaming plastic Barbie bowl full of innocuous grey gruel. She carefully stirred the contents and tested a little on her lip to check the temperature, grimacing at the bland taste. “Open up, Baby Candy,” ordered Bonnie, and I knew I had to obey.

    When Aunty Meg returned, Bonnie was scraping the bottom of the bowl and April was standing beside the highchair holding two full baby bottles at the ready. “Mum, did you know the baby pooped her nappy?” Bonnie asked conversationally.
   “What?’ cried their mother, racing over to us and sniffing the fetid air around my waist. “Oh Baby Candy! I asked you if you wanted to use the potty only twenty minutes ago! You silly baby!” She snorted with contempt and said to the girls, “I think this wicked little girl likes sitting in her smelly mess! I’ll change her poopy nappy after she’s had her bottles, girls. Bring my naughty baby into the Nursery when you’ve finished feeding her.”  

     They had removed the single bed from the spare room, and Aunty had set up Chrissie’s wooden crib from Tammy’s in there instead. The crinkly plastic mattress protector was covered in some juvenile pink cotton ballerina sheets. The fuzzy pink baby blanket was also in evidence, and Aunty Meg placed me on my back on the crackling, vinyl-covered padded change table her daughters had moved down from the attic. She changed my dirty wet nappies without flinching, commenting nastily on my disgusting lack of control. “What a poopy baby! Look at all that mess. Oh well, big babies make big messes, I suppose. And you are a big baby, aren’t you, Candy?” She scrubbed at the smelly brown mess smeared all over my bottom cheeks and between my thighs, insisting, “Yes, that’s right. That’s all you are. A hopeless big baby with no control.”  

     By the time she wiped my peenie clean with another handful of cool moist baby wipes, my shrivelled tool had started to grow erect from her intimate handling, despite her disdainful words. She ignored my swelling stiffie and when I was freshly powdered and diapered, she drew the same damp pilchers up my legs and replaced my frilly rumba panties. She produced a new white cotton babydoll nightie, and lowered it over my bowed head before lifting me into the crib for a nap. I took the bottle of warm milk without protest, and gazed up at Aunty Meg’s impassive features as she raised and locked the cot rail. “That’s where silly little babies like you belong. Locked in a crib, and pinned in thick nappies. And that’s the way you’ll stay, until you’ve proved to me that you have grown up a bit.”

    My Aunt Meg kept me in juvenile girls’ clothes with thick nappies and baby panties underneath for the rest of the summer. I had to sleep diapered in the crib every night, and all my meals were spoon-fed to me in the humiliating highchair. My drinks were all served in baby bottles, and I soon grew used to slurping on the teat. If I dared murmur a protest, the nipple of my pacifier would be unceremoniously thrust between my lips, and I would be sternly ordered to suck on my dum-dums. Aunty Meg had Tammy babysit me some days, and she made me play little-girl games with Tammy's daughters almost every day.

      I became quite adept at skipping rope, playing jacks and hopscotch, all while holding down my flying dress and frothy petties. We played with our Barbies for hours, and I began to empathise with my constant role-playing as a little girl. Without my realising it, over the ensuing weeks, my normal behaviour naturally became more and more like that of Tammy’s little girls. The girls loved to role-play Mummies and babies, and we did this on many occasions. Because I was usually obviously diapered under my precious toddler frocks and frothy petties, I always had to play the baby. Some of the times when Karen tried to change my drooping wet nappies came too close for comfort! I had to hurriedly waddle off, bleating to Aunty Tammy to please change me first.

    My Aunty even took Melody up on her offer, and had me sleep overnight at her house. Melody borrowed my highchair and set it up in the kitchen beside Cindy’s highchair, and spoon-fed me at the same time as her toddler. Then she made me sleep in Cindy’s crib for the night, while her two-year-old was allowed to sleep in a big-girl’s bed.  It was one incredible diapered summer!

The End

Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia
« Last Edit: August 01, 2010, 12:49:16 am by babyjennie »
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babyjennie

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Re: Baby Candy (Complete story!) - By Baby Jennie
« Reply #5 on: September 23, 2010, 10:10:09 pm »

I decided to have another go at this classic sissy-AB story. if you want to read the latest version, which is about fifty pages longer (so far), check the 'member stories' forum.
Baby Jennie
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