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.
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.”