Jennie's Potty-Training chapter 29

Dear shitkickercitys, thanks for the comment.

Synopsis; Aunty Cath and Mummy pick up Baby Jennie and Baby Bonnie from the hairdressing salon. Baby Jennie is forced to ride in a toddler's stroller while Bonnie pushes her to the mall. They meet Tammy and her mother outside the medical supply store, where Mummy leaves the others to take Baby Jennie to the dancewear shop to buy the sissy baby her very own tutu.

Chapter 29. Let's Go Shopping!

I flopped backwards into the low-slung stroller, my cheeks scarlet with shame as Mummy fussed about with the pink nylon restraining straps. The passing crowd on the sidewalk swirled around us, and I could feel a hundred pairs of eyes aimed in my direction. I sat in the lay-back seat looking inside the salon. My blue eyes widened in shock when I saw my grim-faced Aunty fastening a new white leather toddler harness around my embarrassed cousin's buxom torso. It had narrow shoulder straps like my harness, and shiny chromed D-rings front and back to attach the slender leather reins my sadistic Aunty held curled ready in one fist. Unlike mine, Bonnie's harness had only one chest strap that buckled in the rear between her shoulder blades, but the white leather front piece under her huge bosom was about four inches wide. There was a pattern of glittering diamantes blazing across the front, too. When Aunty Cath used the reins to drag my cringing cousin closer, I saw the sparkling jewels formed the words, 'Baby Bonnie.'

Mummy had me securely buckled into the stroller before I knew it. I anxiously pawed at my breast, unconsciously searching for my missing dum-dums. The pink nylon webbing straps came up between my thighs and formed an 'H' over my chest, keeping my upper body pressed back into the low canvas seat. The straps disappeared over my shoulders and clipped to the rear of the seat somehow, but the locking mechanism was out of sight - and surely out of my reach. The tight straps between my legs and my bulky wet nappy forced my thighs wide apart. Like Bonnie's, my droopy baby-pink plastic panties poked out through the gaping leg holes of my shortalls. Anyone glancing between our legs couldn’t help noticing our exposed plastic panties. They’d know for certain that we were diapered like big babies! I didn't realise my thumb had crept into my mouth and in the absence of my soothing dum-dums, my digit would have to serve.

"Come on, Baby Bonnie," Aunty Cath urged her humiliated daughter in loud condescending toddler tones. She used the white leather reins to steer my red-faced cousin into position behind my stroller. "You can push your pretty baby cousin down the path to the mall, little girl. Seeing that you like to expose Baby Jennie's babyfied state to the general public, we'll see how much you enjoy the same fate." She gathered the looped ends of white baby reins in one hand, and pointed with the other. "Go on! Push Baby Jennie to the mall, you naughty little girl!" Mummy picked up my heavy change bag and slung it over her shoulder, and she let Bonnie wheel me past before she turned to follow.

The slender white reins that Aunty Cath had curled in one fist were about ten feet long. That meant the grown-ups could saunter along the footpath several yards behind us, so they could observe other people's reactions to our bizarre appearance. The parking lot was packed and the sidewalk was crowded when Bonnie wheeled me towards the mall entrance, where the bustling Saturday crowd became much denser. The lunchtime shoppers were mostly women and teenage girls, with the odd group of noisy adolescent males larking about. Everyone's eyes turned towards Bonnie pushing me along in my pink stroller, and I could feel the embarrassment radiating in palpable waves from my cousin.

I knew I looked like a beautiful little girl with my feminine curly hairstyle and pretty make-up, so I wasn't too concerned when most people smiled down indulgently at me reclining in my stroller. I didn't realise my thumb was buried in my mouth and my fingers were curled around my nose. I was sucking it hard and rhythmically, like an anxious toddler searching for solace. Peoples’ eyes widened when they took in Bonnie's juvenile outfit, her embarrassing toddler harness and baby reins, her pronounced pear-shape and her distinct waddling gait. I knew they couldn't see the tell-tale drooping baby panties poking out the legs of her shortalls, because the back of my stroller mostly shielded her lower body from their view. But I felt positive that when they walked past us, their heads swivelled and their mouths dropped open like rotating clowns in a sideshow alley, as they turned back to stare at the beautiful long-legged teenager being taken for a walk by her mummy in her gleaming white toddler harness and baby reins. Then they couldn't help seeing the shiny plastic panties sagging down between my cowed cousin's helplessly-splayed thighs.

I expected my ride in the stroller to be an excruciatingly humiliating experience, but as everyone's attention seemed focused on Bonnie, I didn't feel so bad. I knew I looked like an overgrown diapered toddler, but my beautiful buxom cousin couldn't help looking like a grown-up, despite her juvenile outfit and her bulging wet nappies. For once I wasn't the centre of attention, and I settled back in my stroller and relaxed slightly. I wiggled my botty about in my comforting warm wet nappies, completely unaware I was busily sucking my thumb like an overgrown baby. It was even more crowded when we entered the mall, and it felt like dozens of people were staring at us as Bonnie wheeled me inside the wide sliding doors. There were three levels of shops inside, around a vast open space. The high vaulted ceiling was made from translucent glass panels, so the arcade was filled with bright sunlight. There were hundreds of people leaning over the glass balcony railings on the floors above, gazing down into the milling crowd. Some girls just stared at us with wide disbelieving eyes, while others grabbed their friends and pointed out our embarrassing predicament, before they all burst into shrill shrieks of feminine laughter.

Aunty Cath used the reins to draw Bonnie up short outside a chain pharmacy, a few doors inside the main entrance. She urged her daughter to wheel me inside the drugstore with a sardonic smile. "This is where I bought Baby Jennie's dummy," Cath informed my mother, who smiled briefly and nodded in understanding. My smirking Aunt used the reins to steer Bonnie over to the counter in the back, where a pretty, dark-skinned teenager was serving an older woman. The slender Indian girl found it difficult to keep her eyes on her elderly customer when Bonnie wheeled me closer, and my wet diapered cousin stood behind me glowing with embarrassment. There was an older woman in a white jacket standing behind a high counter in one corner of the pharmacy – probably the pharmacist - on a raised platform which allowed her to see every inch of the shop floor. She was wearing oversized spectacles that seemed to enlarge her watery blue eyes, which watched our approach to the counter without blinking. The pharmacist was preoccupied typing up a prescription label, and while we stood there waiting, she returned to her duties at hand.

When the black-haired eighteen-year-old shop girl turned to serve us, she stared at Bonnie and me with a mixture of curiosity and contempt written all over her pretty oval face. I knew she was reading the diamante legend on Bonnie's shameful toddler harness and the humiliating embroidered message on my bibbie, but then her disdainful dark eyes swept away from us to settle on the adults. "Yes, ladies? Can I help you?" she politely inquired of Aunty Cath and Mummy, in perfect if accented English. It was obvious she considered Bonnie and me nothing but small children, and she didn't waste time consulting us.

"Yes dear, you might remember me? I was in here last week, to buy a big dummy for a special big baby girl," my smirking Aunty replied, with a nod to me in the stroller. "You served me."
"Oh yes, ma'am," gushed the pretty raven-haired assistant, "I remember! The Nuk number four pacifier, wasn't it? You bought the last pink one in stock."
"Yes, I believe that was it," murmured Aunty Cath with a pleased smile. "You said you were ordering in some new stock. Is that right?"
"Yes ma'am, and they arrived just the other day. Here, let me show you. There are a few different colours and patterns to choose from now, too."
"Oh good," replied my Aunty, with a calculating smile for her humiliated, red-cheeked daughter. Both adults leaned on the counter to examine the handful of large dummies the dusky shop assistant produced from a drawer behind her. From my lowly position in my humiliating pink stroller, I couldn't see a thing, although Bonnie was standing behind me gripping the stroller handles with knuckles that had turned white.

"I think this one, and this one, too," Aunty Cath decided, as she pointed out the pacifiers she liked. "I like to have a spare dum-dums on hand for my special baby girl, just in case. You know how silly toddlers are always losing their dummies. Oh, and I want some of those cute plastic chains on a clip, to secure her dummy to her outfit, too."
"Certainly, ma'am," replied the smiling Indian girl. She reached into another drawer behind her and produced several rattling plastic chains. She glanced at me and my shame-faced cousin before asking the adults; "I assume you would prefer pink?"
"Of course," confirmed Mummy, stepping beside Bonnie and patting her niece on the head in a deliberately patronising manner. She seemed so much taller than my cringing cousin. "Little girls always prefer pink!” Mummy turned to glance down at me and when she noticed I was sucking my thumb, she bent down and plucked out the offending digit with a frown. "Oh dear! Mummy forgot to bring your dum-dums today, baby." When she let go, my sloppy wet thumb automatically returned to my mouth without a second's thought.

Aunty Cath intervened with a condescending smile for my infantile preoccupation with my thumb. "That's alright, diddums!” she crooned to me. “Aunty Cath will buy her precious baby niece a new dummy, too. All baby girls need to have a spare dummy, in case one gets lost." She picked up one of the huge pacifiers and snapped off the protective plastic cap, and she attached a new pink plastic chain to the ring at the front. My Aunty loomed over me and when her grinning face was inches from my own, she stuck out her glistening pink tongue. Cath lavishly licked the amber rubber teat and the inside of the pink plastic guard till they were dripping with her saliva, and smiled wolfishly. She pulled out my drool-covered thumb and popped the sloppy nipple between my plump pink lips. I gratefully sucked on the slick rubber teat while Aunty clipped the small plastic clip to the lace-edged collar of my bibbie. She cooed to me in honeyed baby tones, "There you are, darling! Have a lovely suck on that instead, Baby Jennie."

When I glanced back over my shoulder, I saw from the mortified expression on Bonnie's face that she knew what was coming next. Her cheeks were aflame with shame when Aunty Cath snapped open another huge pink pacifier and attached the clip and chain. Mummy accepted the oversized toddler soother from her sister's hand with a thin-lipped smile. She turned to face Bonnie, so the humiliated girl could watch her liberally licking the teat and wetting the inside of the plastic guard with her spit. "Open wide, Baby Bonnie," Mummy sang invitingly. The buxom beauty reluctantly opened her mouth, like she was expecting a dentist to start drilling - without anaesthetic. As soon as her full pink lips parted enough, Mummy rammed the dripping amber nipple into the embarrassed girl's sulky mouth.

"Have a good suck on that, Baby Bonnie," Mummy ordered the crushed teenager, while my smirking Aunty paid for their purchases. Even though I knew Mummy and Bonnie were around the same height, Mummy towered over my cousin today in her five-inch heeled, brown platform boots. “Let me hear you sucking that dum-dums, Baby Bonnie,” Mummy firmly commanded. “Nice and loud now.” As Bonnie obediently drew harder on the rubber teat filling her mouth, she seemed to shrink, too. She looked even smaller and more child-like cowering beside her tall stern-faced aunt.

"Alright, girls. Let's go and buy my naughty big baby some special new underwear," Aunty Cath brightly suggested, giving the leather baby reins an imperious flick. Bonnie obviously knew where we were going, and she wheeled me out of the pharmacy and steered the stroller in the direction of the medical supply shop I first visited with Mummy only two short weeks ago. The grown-ups let us wander a few paces ahead of them again, so they could enjoy the passing crowd's reaction to our embarrassing infantile appearance.

I contentedly sucked on my dum-dums, watching the astonished faces of the women and girls approaching us when they caught sight of the dummy-sucking diapered teenager gripping the handles of my pink stroller. As we approached the double sliding glass doors at the entrance to 'Johnson & Johnson Medical Supplies', I recognised one of the people walking towards us. It was Tammy, and she was holding the hand of an attractive mid-forties blonde who looked a lot like her.

Bonnie's footsteps faltered when she spotted her petite blonde friend accompanied by her beaming mother. The white rubber wheels of my stroller slowly ground to a halt. Our parents caught up with us as Tammy gave us a shy wave and quietly called out, "Hello girls!" Bonnie and I kept sucking our dummies and didn't reply, but I tentatively waved in return. The gorgeous little blonde was dressed in another of her sweet Empire-line babydoll frocks, a pleated white one this time. The wide-flared hemline was so short, I could almost see the crotch of her panties when she nervously jiggled from foot to foot. Tammy was wearing her pink sneakers with the fluffy pink laces - just like mine - only her frilly anklet socks had white lace trimming instead of pink.

The slender woman holding her hand was dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and white sneakers, with a simple lemon cotton blouse over the top. Tammy's mother smiled broadly at our appearance, and turned to glance down indulgently at the pretty petite teen tightly clutching her hand. Even though Tammy looked a trifle embarrassed to run into us while we were dressed like big babies, I could see she was almost quivering with excitement.

"Hello little Tammy, hello Irene," Aunty Cath greeted the couple in her loud booming voice. "Fancy meeting you here!"
"Hello Cath," the blonde woman replied as she paused in front of us. She turned so her gaze encompassed my mother. "Is this your sister? You two look so much alike." She ignored Bonnie and me for the moment, and I felt like an insignificant child trapped in my toddler stroller.
"This is my sister, Isabell - Isabell, this is Irene, Tammy's mummy. Irene, I'm sure you've already heard all about Isabell’s Baby Jennie."

The smiling woman said hello to my mother, nodded a greeting to my dummy-sucking cousin, and bent down to gaze at me. When her smile broadened, I hesitantly smiled back. "So this is Baby Jennie? My, my! I've certainly been hearing a lot about you, baby girl!" Even though her friendly smile was without a trace of guile, I could feel my cheeks flush warmly with embarrassment. I sucked harder on my new dum-dums, surprised to find myself enjoying the soothing rubber teat.

"I've brought my naughty Baby Bonnie in this afternoon to buy her some new nappies and baby panties," Aunty Cath informed Tammy's mother. Irene smiled at the buxom red-faced teen cringing behind me, her new pink dummy clenched between gritted teeth. "Seeing that she's going to be wearing nappies 24/7 for the next four weeks,” Cath explained, “I thought we'd better stock up."
"Me too," admitted the smiling blonde woman. "After we got home yesterday afternoon, Tammy and I had a lovely long chat about her… desires." Irene turned to glance at her beautiful pink-cheeked daughter and her expression was full of love. "When Tammy told me she secretly wanted to be babied now and then, I couldn't have been more delighted!" I think everybody's eyebrows hit their hairlines when we heard that unexpected comment - except Tammy and her mother, of course. Irene leaned across me in my stroller to stage-whisper to my Aunty, "I always thought they grew up too fast, you know? I felt quite relieved when she told me all she wanted was for me to baby her again now and then. So we've come in to purchase some nappies and baby panties for my special big baby girl, too."

The smiling woman didn't seem to notice the stunned reactions of the other adults. "But- but-" Aunty Cath stammered, "what about what the girls were doing in Bonnie's bedroom?"
Irene grinned and waved her free hand dismissively, ignoring her beautiful daughter's blushing red face and Bonnie’s sudden fascination with the lacy frills around her ankles. "Oh that? It's completely normal for teenagers to experiment sexually. One incident does not a sexual fetish make," Irene pronounced with misplaced certainty.

I thought, 'We're talking about a lot more than one incident!' But my opinion wasn't sought, and I thoughtfully chewed on the pleasant rubbery teat of my dum-dums as I contemplated what life might be like in Tammy's more lenient household.

Mummy interrupted their conversation to address Aunty Cath. "I have to take Baby Jennie upstairs to Bloch's, and buy the girls some tutus for tomorrow's party."
"Yes, I remembered," responded Cath with an indulgent smile. She dug in her handbag and produced a fat white business envelope. "Here, darling," she urged, thrusting the envelope into Mummy's hands. "Take this, and use it to buy something really pretty for your little girls."
"Is your little girl going to Daisy Green's birthday party tomorrow?" Irene asked my Mummy, who nodded. "My eight-year-old daughter Mandy has been invited, too. She does ballet with young Daisy, you know?" The small blonde woman turned to her even-smaller teenage daughter and asked, "Perhaps you'd like to go with Mandy to Daisy's party, too, Tammy? Now that you know some of your little baby friends will be there?"

I felt an uncontrollable thrill of excitement when I imagined the gorgeous blonde teenager turning up at the same party as me. I couldn’t help wondering, 'What might Tammy wear if she attended?'
"Can we talk about it later, please Mummy?" Tammy pleaded, shuffling her tiny feet in embarrassment, her red cheeks turning scarlet. Her mother nodded and smiled, looking unmistakably pleased. Irene obviously loved it when her almost-grown-up daughter called her 'Mummy'.

When my Mummy opened the fat envelope full of cash from Aunty Cath, her mouth dropped open in shock. "Oh Cath! No, I- I can't accept this!” she protested. “It's too much!"
"Nonsense!" my Aunty replied in a firm soothing tone, resolutely pressing the open envelope back into her sister's hands. "Take it and spend it! Please?"
"But- but-"
"Look, if it appeases your conscience, consider it a loan."
"A loan?" Mummy feebly objected. "But you know I'd never be able to pay you back."

My Aunty gave her a sly wink. "Don't be too sure of that," she replied, and her expression seemed to indicate she knew something her younger sister didn't. "You go to the tutu shop with Baby Jennie, and Irene and I will take our special baby girls shopping for some pretty new baby panties and some super-absorbent nappies. Alright, Irene?"
"Yes Cath, certainly," replied the beaming blonde. Irene gave Mummy and me a farewell wave as she led her gorgeous rosy-cheeked daughter inside the store.

Mummy took the stroller handles from Bonnie as Aunty Cath used the reins to drag my cousin towards the automated sliding glass doors. "Come on, Baby Jennie," Mummy sang to me, after she slid my full change bag onto the wire tray underneath my seat. "Let's go and buy you the prettiest tutu in the shop!"
"We'll meet you back here in about half an hour. Alright?" Aunty Cath insisted, and Mummy nodded in agreement before she wheeled me away. “Come on down, Baby Bonnie,” Cath loudly urged her daughter, mimicking the voice of a popular game-show host. “Let’s go shopping!”

The dance wear shop was located on the second level of the mall, so Mummy steered my stroller over to the lifts. We waited beside the elevator doors for a few minutes, and a few other shoppers with strollers and prams gathered alongside us. The children in the strollers didn't seem to pay me any heed, but I could feel their mothers discretely studying my infantile appearance - so at odds with my size. I tried to take comfort in the fat rubber teat in my mouth, sucking earnestly on my dum-dums and enjoying the familiar way the turned-up pink plastic ring gently bobbed against the bottom of my nose. When the other mothers' eyes kept drifting down to stare between my legs, I suspected my drooping plastic panties must be poking out the leg holes of my juvenile shortalls. I writhed in silent embarrassment in the tight nylon webbing restraints while Mummy wheeled my stroller backwards into the elevator.

No-one spoke to us until the lift started moving. One woman who had been fixedly staring at my puffy crotch, leaned over me to tap my mother on the shoulder. The busybody inquired with an overly-sympathetic expression, "Is your little girl still wearing nappies?"
"Yes, she still needs her diapers," my Mummy replied a tad shortly.
"Is she developmentally delayed mentally, or is it a physical handicap?"
"Neither, really," Mummy callously admitted, with a frowning glance at me. "Just laziness," she informed the startled woman, whose face instantly puckered in disapproval. My cheeks turned crimson.

The lift doors fortunately hissed open at that point, and Mummy wheeled me outside before the offended woman could respond. The ballet shop was only a few doors from the elevator, and there were several brightly-clad mannequins in the huge plate-glass display window. Two of the store dummies were dressed in gorgeous full flaring tutus, one pink and one gleaming white, while the other was wearing a glamorous short pink dance outfit with knitted pink leggings stretched over silver lycra tights. Mummy steered me towards the entrance and pushed open the heavy plate-glass door with the front wheels of my stroller. The shop was cavernous, with an enormous high ceiling from which dangled a dazzling array of frothy tutus. It looked like the ceiling was made of colourful clouds of fluffy tulle. One side wall was lined with hanging racks full of gorgeous brightly-coloured dance outfits, while the opposite wall held display racks of ballet slippers and dance shoes. I felt my heart beat faster as I gazed around in wonder at the frothy sea of femininity surrounding me.

A mid-thirties saleswoman dressed all in black was attending to some customers at the far end of the store. A stout middle-aged woman smiled proudly at her ten-year-old daughter, who was modelling a baby-blue tutu. The slender brunette child was primping and posing in front of a tall mirror mounted on the end wall. The stiff navy-blue tulle skirts swished and swayed attractively with her every tiny movement, and the shiny pale-blue lycra bodice glistened almost wetly in the bright spotlights. A younger, black-clad saleswoman approached us from behind the long, glass-topped counter. From her slender frame, perfect posture, and her pronounced duck-footed waddle, I assumed she had to be a long-time ballet dancer herself. The pretty smiling blonde was wearing a simple black polo shirt over her small bosom, and a short flared, pleated black cotton skirt below, like one of the brief dance skirts I spotted hanging on one of the many racks. Her thighs and calves bulged with muscles under her sheer tan pantyhose, although her ankles were slender and her feet tiny. She was wearing flat black Princess slippers made from supple leather, and she padded silently over to Mummy and me.

"Can I help you?" she asked Mummy, before crouching down at the foot of my stroller. She looked around twenty or so, although she still might have been a teenager. With her pretty face painted with so much make-up, it was kind of hard to tell. She straightened my lace-lavished bibbie across my breast, smiling broadly at the tell-tale embroidered message. "Oh, isn't she gorgeous!" She turned her face up so that her welcoming smile included my mother. "What a pretty little girl."
"Thank you," Mummy politely responded, before adding, "I need to buy a tutu for my special little Princess to wear to a birthday party tomorrow afternoon."
"Is that Daisy Green's 'Fairy Princess' party?" the smiling young woman inquired as she sprang to her feet. "I've had about ten mothers bring their little girls in this week already," she informed us with a pleased smile. When Mummy nodded, she continued, "Then I suppose you'll want some fairy wings, too?" Mummy smiled and nodded agreement again, and the pretty saleswoman asked, "Will you be buying your sweet baby girl some ballet slippers as well?"

In reply, Mummy produced the envelope from Aunty Cath and pulled out a sheaf of crisp, brand-new, hundred-dollar bills. "We need everything," Mummy confirmed, and the young saleswoman's face lit up at the potential commission. "I also need an outfit for my three-year-old daughter, too."
"My name is Michelle," the pretty blonde introduced herself, reaching across me in the stroller to daintily shake Mummy's hand. "I'll take care of all your needs, but your three-year-old? They don't actually make proper tutus in sizes that small," she reluctantly admitted. "Most ballet schools won't take pupils under the age of six. However," she amended, when a look of disappointment flashed across my mother's face, "we do keep a selection of 'pretend' tutus for the pre-schoolers. They're almost like the real thing," Michelle assured Mummy, "except not as frothy, and nowhere near as sturdily made. They are less than half the price of the proper tutus."
"That will be fine," Mummy replied, smiling with relief.

The pretty blonde saleswoman pointed to the humiliating embroidered message on my bibbie and glanced down at my bulging crotch, and she turned to ask my mother; "Is your little girl wearing a nappy?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so," Mummy sadly confirmed. "She's quite the hopeless little panty-wetter."
"Is she wet right now?" the young woman asked. Michelle frowned when Mummy grimaced and nodded in confirmation. "I'm sorry, but she can't try on any of the leotard tutus while she's wearing a wet nappy. It's a health regulation," she regretfully explained. I wondered, ‘How many diapered little girls had to try on tutus to make such a bizarre rule worth concocting?’

Mummy reached down behind me and produced my pink gingham diaper bag from the tray under my stroller. "I have a clean disposable and wipes right here in her baby bag. It will only take me a few minutes to change Baby Jennie into a fresh diaper," Mummy informed the girl, as she loosened the pink nylon straps binding me in place. "As long as you have somewhere I can change her?" She stepped around to the front of my stroller, and reached out to grab my hands to pull me to my feet.

"Certainly, certainly," responded the eager young assistant, keen to make a sale. "Follow me," Michelle insisted, as she waddled towards the back of the store in her strange duck-footed gait. "We have a stock room out the back with a wooden bench. I'm sure you can change your little girl's nappy out there without too much trouble."

Mummy hefted the change bag over one shoulder and gripped my hand, and she led me slowly waddling after the duck-footed blonde. I saw the young girl in the blue tutu and her mother watching our approach in the huge wall mirror. When we were a few feet away, the little girl inquisitively twirled to face me. She pointed at my bulging crotch and cried, "Look, Mummy! That girl is wearing a nappy!"
Her mother frowned down forbiddingly at the bulging crotch of my juvenile shortalls and my awkward waddling gait. She responded, "Yes she is, sweetie! And by the looks of it, she's very wet, too! Some children just never seem to want to grow up," she added snidely. My grim-faced Mummy led me past them and into the stock room out the back. I knew my cheeks were pink with shame, and I chewed on the rubber teat of my dum-dums to ease my anguish.

"Here," Michelle said, indicating the wide, waist-high wooden bench. She brushed aside some fluffy faux-fur decorations and a bolt of shiny hot-pink lycra material to clear a space.
Mummy dumped my change bag on the floor. "Come on, Baby Jennie," Mummy urged me, grunting with effort as she lifted me onto the high wooden bench.

Michelle commented, “Gosh, she’s a big baby, isn’t she?” Mummy merely nodded and gave her a wry smile. I lay back, smiling up gratefully at the pretty young woman when she rearranged the bolt of material so that it acted as a cushion for my curl-covered head. When Michelle loitered beside Mummy while she unclipped the snap crotch of my pink shortalls, I wished she would give us some privacy. But who considers the desires of helpless little babies in wet nappies?

"Lift up, baby girl," Mummy sang. When I raised my damp padded bum high off the table, Mummy pushed the shortall flaps up out of harm's way front and back. She tugged down my glistening baby-pink plastic panties to my knees. "Good girl, and down," Mummy commanded, and my soggy nappy bottom plopped onto the wooden bench with a distinct wet sound.
"My my! She's a wet little thing, isn't she?" I knew the smiling blonde was just trying to be friendly, but her running commentary was so embarrassing!
"Oh yes. My Baby Jennie is a heavy wetter," Mummy conceded a touch sadly, as she slid the damp baby panties clear of my feet.

When Mummy unpinned the side flaps and lowered the saturated front of my yellowed terry nappies, the watching young woman squealed in surprise. "Oh my God! Your little girl is a little boy!" I knew my cheeks were blazing with embarrassment. It seems it didn't matter how many times my true sex was revealed to a total stranger. I felt crushed with humiliation every time. Life would have been so much easier if I’d been born a girl.
"Yes, Michelle," Mummy grimly confirmed, sounding apologetic as she wiped my limp clittie and ball sack with cool baby wipes.

"But- but she's so gorgeous!" Michelle shook her head in astonishment. "She's far too pretty to be a boy!" Despite my embarrassment, my heart was gladdened by her kind words. But Mummy’s response made my cheeks burn with shame once more.
"My pretty little boy is just a sissy baby girl at heart. She loves to try on her girlfriends' clothes and undies, and I recently discovered she loves wearing their frilly tutus, too. But my naughty Baby Jennie can't seem to stop wetting and soiling her panties like a hopeless little baby."
"Oh dear," Michelle responded, clucking her tongue in sympathy for my mother. "It's a good thing you keep her in nappies then, I suppose."

After Mummy disposed of the soggy liner in a nappy sack and rolled my wet terry nappies into a used plastic shopping bag, she produced a puffy pink disposable from my voluminous gingham change bag. She unfolded and straightened out the papery disposable diaper, before sliding it under my raised rear. Mummy powdered me heavily before she taped the side flaps to the front, sealing me in the crackling disposable. "It's probably just as well you changed your sissy baby into a disposable diaper," admitted the grinning girl, who seemed to have recovered from her initial shock. "I'm not sure she would have fitted into a full leotard tutu with those big cloth nappies pinned around her bum." Mummy didn't comment as she unclipped the plastic chain of my dummy from the lacy collar of my bib, before removing the humiliating item and tossing it in the overflowing change bag.

I frowned in dismay when Mummy removed my shortalls completely, rather than tugging the flaps down and refastening them under my crotch. She made me sit up and then she drew my white t-shirt over my head. She unlaced my pink sneakers and removed them, too. "Come on, Baby Jennie," she urged me as she lifted me down. "Let's go and find my little Princess the prettiest tutu in the shop." I didn't want to go back out there dressed in nothing but a puffy disposable diaper and my frilly anklet socks, but when Mummy snatched my hand and gripped it tightly, I knew I had no choice in the matter. She hauled me into the main area of the boutique, and the smirking young saleswoman followed in our wake, carrying my packed diaper bag and a bundle of my clothes.

The pretty brunette ten-year-old was still twirling and posing in front of the mirror beside the stock room door when Mummy led me out, my dummy clamped between my lips and the plastic clip and chain bouncing against my bare breast. I knew my face was already pink with shame, but the girl's disdainful expression brought a fresh burst of heat to my rosy cheeks. Her mother was paying for her newly-purchased outfit at the cashier's desk, beaming with pride for her little ballerina in the shiny baby-blue tutu. Her contented smile turned to a frown when her eyes slid over to where my Mummy dragged me across to a rack of plain white tutus, dressed only in my puffy pink disposable diaper and lace-trimmed anklet socks.

"How old is she?" Michelle inquired of Mummy as she waddled along behind us. "She looks about six or seven, but she could probably get away with a size eight. That will give her a little more growing room, so that she can wear it for more than one season." She dumped the change bag beside the cashier's desk and tossed my clothes and shoes on top.
"My big sissy baby is thirteen years old," Mummy replied in a loud clear voice, with total disregard for my feelings, “but I want my pretty Princess’ outfit to be a perfect fit for the party.” I heard the woman being served at the counter gasp in astonishment. I refused to turn around to see the contemptuous expression I knew I would find on her sneering face. Blood pounded in my ears and I wanted to shrivel up and die.

"Thirteen?" Michelle repeated in stunned disbelief. "But- but she's so small and dainty! She could easily pass for a seven-year-old."
"I know, I know." Mummy sadly confirmed, "My Baby Jennie is a late developer - in every sense of the term."
Michelle reached past Mummy to select a plain white tutu from the rack. It looked slightly shop-soiled and I frowned in dismay. “This one is a size seven," the salesgirl said, handing the hanger to Mummy. "It should fit your little sissy perfectly." She pointed around the corner where there was a row of small louvred swing doors leading in to a number of spacious change rooms. “Why don't you take your… Baby Jennie into one of the change booths, and try it on her for size." When Mummy accepted the hanger and led me around the corner, the bubbly blonde followed us, explaining; "Once we know your sissy's correct size, we can show you something a bit more… special, for your precious little Princess. Okay?"

Inside the change room, Mummy held the white leotard down and open for me to step into. I propped one shaky hand against the wall for support as I clumsily raised each foot in turn. Mummy pulled the bottom part up my trembling legs until the leotard crotch pressed my puffy diaper firmly against my groin. I couldn't help my body's automatic reaction. As soon as she drew the slithering lycra bodice up over my shivering torso, I could feel my excitable clittie swelling to rock-hard fullness inside the rapidly-warming disposable. I hoped Mummy wouldn't notice my turgid excitement, but my silent prayers were in vain.

After she rearranged the elastic shoulder straps over my slender shoulders, Mummy knelt in front of me and fussed about with the bouncing layers of rustling white tulle swirling around my hips. She raised the front of my bobbing stiff underskirts with one hand and with the other, Mummy stroked the shiny crotch of my tight leotard panties, right over my straining erection. I was afraid I was going to get into trouble again, but when Mummy squeezed my steel-hard stiffie through my panties and dry diaper, she merely shook her head forgivingly and gave me a thin-lipped smile. "My goodness! You love being a pretty girl so much! Don't you, Baby Jennie?"
"Yeth Mummy, I do," I confessed, my eyes shining with love for my generous loving mother. She firmly gripped my straining erection again.

She gave my throbbing shaft a few hard squeezes that made me shiver with unrepressed excitement, then she released her thrilling grip. "It's alright, darling,” she reassured me. “I think Mummy understands now. You just get excited when you think of yourself as a pretty girl, don't you?" she asked as she climbed to her feet.
"Yeth Mummy," I freely admitted around the teat of my dum-dums. "I've alwayth wanted to be a pwetty wittle girl." It felt wonderful to be able to say those words out loud to Mummy at last.
Mummy reached out to cup her hand under my chin, and she raised my face until I was gazing up into her loving olive-green eyes. "I know, darling, I know," she tenderly murmured. "And one day, Mummy hopes to make all her gorgeous little girl's dreams come true."

Our deeply personal tête-à-tête was interrupted by the salesgirl anxiously waiting outside the swing doors. "How's it going in there?" she demanded in a bright inquiring tone.
"Fine, thank you Michelle. We're just coming out now," Mummy replied in a louder voice. She smoothed my bobbing skirts down in front to cover the tell-tale bulge in my panties. She turned me around and ushered me through the swing doors ahead of her. "Come on, baby. Let's take you over to the full-length mirror so you can see what you think."

I couldn't help it. As soon as Mummy released my hand, I skipped away from her on my stockinged feet, towards the huge wall-mounted mirror at the far end of the boutique. I held my hands out at my sides, so I could feel the frothy tulle skirts bouncing against my palms with my every springing step. A few feet from the mirror I went into first position and tried to rise up on my points. I suddenly remembered I wasn't wearing ballet slippers. My attempted pirouette almost went awry, and I stumbled around to find my grinning Mummy and the two saleswomen watching me, expressions of delight lighting up their faces.

"Goodness!" The older saleswoman commented with a pleased smile, "She certainly is a beautiful little ballerina. But she needs some proper ballet slippers before attempting pointe work."
"I'll get her some new shoes to try on," gushed the younger assistant enthusiastically. "What size is your sissy? A size six?" When my smiling Mummy nodded in confirmation, the grinning assistant rushed into the storeroom and returned moments later carrying a white shoebox. "Here, sweetie," she cooed to me, ushering me towards a row of chairs against one wall. "Sit down here and we can try these pretty ballet shoes on your little feet, too."

I flopped onto the padded seat and leaned back, glad there was no-one else in the store as the young saleswoman carelessly spread my bare thighs. Michelle lifted one of my feet onto her knee to slip a gleaming pink leather ballet shoe on my foot. My raised knee forced my stiff skirts up over my tummy, and I didn't realise the saleswomen could see the tenting front of my shiny leotard panties, where my stiff clittie obviously poked out through the thin padding of my dry disposable diaper. The women exchanged knowing smiles with my mother, before the grinning blonde salesgirl showed Mummy how to fasten the long satin straps around my ankles and over my calves. The frothy flared skirts bunched around my waist meant I couldn't see anything below my hips, and I sat back smiling in ignorant bliss. In minutes I had a brand-new pair of pink ballet slippers laced around my slender ankles. I jumped to my feet to the women's vocal encouragement, and danced over to the mirror once more. I raised my arms high over my halo of bouncing platinum curls, with my fingertips daintily pressed together, and went up on my tippy-toes. I performed a neat pirouette this time and then slowly collapsed into a gentle demi-plie, before rising and demurely curtsying to the assembled watching women.

My cheeks flushed warmly with pleasure when the two saleswomen actually applauded. "Well!" the older woman chuckled in astonishment. "Someone's been practising her ballet."
"Has she been taking dance lessons already?" Michelle asked, beaming in delight.
"Not really," admitted my Mummy. "The Greens live behind us, and I recently learned my special little Princess used to go over to Sally and Daisy's place and play ballerina dress-ups occasionally. Apparently Sally Green taught her a few moves."
"She's very graceful," the older woman observed. "Have you thought about sending her to proper ballet classes?"

Before my mother could respond, Michelle blurted, "Oh yes! The local ballet school has a special class, just for… er, for little Princesses, like your Baby Jennie. The sissy boys get to dress up like pretty ballerinas and dance around together like sweet little fairies, without the rest of the world watching and laughing at them."
"Yes, Mademoiselle Severance holds dance classes for the fairy boys one afternoon per week," the older assistant chimed in. "She's very good, but very strict."
"What an excellent idea," Mummy replied, her green eyes shining at that titbit of information.

Before she could ask any more questions, the older saleswoman expertly prompted her younger assistant back to the task at hand. "That tutu is a perfect fit on her," she commented, with a meaningful nod to her assistant.
"It's a size seven,' responded the grinning blonde salesgirl.
"Is this for a special occasion?" the older brunette asked Mummy, but the eager assistant replied for her.
"She's going to Daisy Green's 'Fairy Princess' party, and her mother wants something really special for her pretty Baby Jennie."

The older woman slowly ran her eyes up and down over my slender body in a professional assessing manner, then she nodded. "I think I have just the thing for your gorgeous little sissy." She took a long wooden pole from a nook in the corner, and I noticed it had a strange upside-down metal hook on one end. The brunette saleswoman walked around scanning the dozens of brightly-coloured tutus suspended from the ceiling, her head tilted back as she inspected her stock. "Aha!" She gave a cry of delight. "Here's the one!" She used the hook on the stick to latch onto a hangar dangling from the ceiling, and we all craned our necks back to watch as she carefully lowered the frothy feminine creation.

The tutu she selected for me was pink (of course,) but the bouncing skirts were made up of interwoven layers of stiff white and baby-pink tulle, edged with an inch of delicate soft white lace. It looked like it was made from multiple layers of fairy floss! The shiny bodice was baby-pink, and the shoulder straps and bustline were covered with a fluffy layer of white stretchy faux-fur, like a row of cute bunny-rabbit tails. It had the required frothy layers of ruffles across the panty seat, too, also made from matching pink and white lace.

My eyes were like saucers and my mouth dropped open as I examined the gorgeous ballet outfit. I barely caught my dripping dum-dums when it tumbled from my parted lips. “Oh Mummy!" I gasped, my big blue eyes shining with excitement. "It'th tho pwetty!"
"Yes baby," Mummy agreed, with an indulgent smile for my expression of wide-eyed wonder. She took my dum-dums from my shaky hand and suggested, "Let's try it on you and see if it fits." Mummy thanked the smiling saleswoman as she accepted the padded hangar from her hands, and then she clutched my hand to escort me back to the change room.

I simply stood there quivering helplessly with excitement, while Mummy removed my shiny white tutu and dressed me in the pink one. I fondled the soft fluffy fur trim over my bosom with trembling fingers, my pink lips parted in breathless wonder. Mummy smiled at the joy radiating from my face and needlessly asked, "Do you like it, baby?"
"Oh yeth, Mummy! Yeth!" I squealed, throwing my arms around her slender waist and hugging her tightly. "I wove it! It's tho beautiful!" As soon as I pranced through the swinging louvre doors, I found both saleswomen waiting outside the change room for me. Their faces lit up when they saw how pretty I looked.

The older brunette saleswoman nodded in approval at my delirious expression as I skipped over to the mirror. "I thought she'd like that one," she commented confidently to my mother. "All the sissies I serve in here want to wear pink tutus."
"Do you get many boys in here buying ballet dresses?" Mummy asked, while I took my turn primping and posing in front of the tall mirror.
"A few," replied the smiling brunette, her eyes focused on me. "We see about two or three per month, on average. They rarely come in by themselves, of course. Usually their mothers or their aunts bring them in, and some of the little sissies get so excited when they see themselves dressed in their gorgeous tutus for the first time, they, well -" She turned to glance at me admiring my feminine reflection, and made sure I wasn't paying attention before she continued in a loud whisper; "Some of them get so excited, they make messes in their little panties!"
Mummy chuckled and replied, "You won't have to worry about that problem with my special little Princess! The only place she'll be making a mess is in her diaper!"

The blonde assistant sniggered at the thought. "Maybe we should make all our little sissies wear diapers before they're allowed to try on any of our tutus," Michelle cheekily suggested, and both saleswomen laughed at the thought. The young shop girl then scurried off to find a simple stretchy pink tutu for my sister in a size 3.
The older brunette assistant showed Mummy a selection of strap-on fairy wings mounted on the wall behind the counter, and Mummy pointed out the pink, white and silver wings. “They'll go perfectly with that tutu,” the assistant said, smiling and nodding in approval. “I'll get you a new pair. These one are a little shop-soiled.” Before she walked away, she leaned over the counter and lowered her voice. “I have to tell you - your little boy is the prettiest sissy we've ever had shopping in here. She really could pass for a beautiful little girl, you know?”
“I know,” Mummy agreed, with a quick glance at me to make sure I wasn't listening. I was, but I tried to look like I was infatuated with my feminine reflection - which wasn't difficult - as I strained to hear their soft voices.

The inquisitive saleswoman asked, “Has she always been this way?”
“What way?” Mummy asked, trying not to bristle.
“You know - so pretty and feminine,” the brunette elaborated, which seemed to pacify Mummy somewhat. She smiled happily in response.
“Yes, she's always been a pretty little thing, and many of my friends and relatives have commented on her - her dainty manners, and-”
“So she's always been a little sissy,” the brunette concluded with a knowing nod. “I thought so. They’re usually born that way. I'll go and get those wings,” she added before she walked away, missing Mummy's quick frown of annoyance.

After the older saleswoman returned from the stock room carrying a new set of wings, she stepped over to where I stood in front of the mirror, fascinated with my pretty feminine appearance. "Here, darling," she cooed. "Hold your arms up for a moment, sweetie, so I can slip this in place… There! Now hold still while I buckle this strap together." Mummy stood behind us beaming in approval as the fussy brunette assistant buckled the beautiful fairy wings in place. They had a swirling pink and white pattern, like the wings of a beautiful butterfly, and there was silver glitter sprayed in attractive whorls over the sheer silk, too. But the thing that captivated me most was the fluffy white faux-fur edging, which went perfectly with the matching fur on my gorgeous tutu.
"Oh Mummy!" I squealed in girlish delight. "Mummy, I wove them!" I turned to gaze up at her entreatingly. "Pweathe Mummy? Pweathe can we buy thethe oneth?" She chuckled and nodded, and I squealed again in girlish glee.

The crowning glory was a silver-plated tiara encrusted with dozens of sparkling diamantes, which the smiling brunette assistant gently lowered into place over my bouncing halo of curls. I was torn between elation and frustration. I looked like a beautiful little ballerina, but my pulsating clittie beneath the frothy tulle skirts begged to be fondled. I looked like the perfect picture of demure femininity, but my throbbing tool was rock-hard inside my slippery damp diaper. I tore my gaze from my fascinating reflection to stare beseechingly at Mummy, pouting my puffy pink lips in supplication, batting my long black lashes like a proper little girl begging favours from her mother. She laughed and nodded in answer to my unspoken question. "Yes sweetie. We can buy you a pretty tiara, too.” Mummy added, “But we'll have to buy one for Angie, as well."

The blonde assistant returned with a pink tutu in a plastic bag, which she assured Mummy would fit any average three to four-year-old, and a smaller set of pink-and-white wings for Angelica too. Mummy approved of her selections and the staff had the items rung up and my sister's new outfit packed and ready before I had finished twirling in front of the mirror. Mummy let me play in front of my reflection while she selected a smaller bejewelled tiara for my sister, and another as a present for Daisy. She also purchased a glittering diamante-encrusted bracelet for the lucky seven-year-old birthday girl, before walking over to interrupt my narcissistic reverie. "Come on, darling. It's time to take that pretty outfit and those ballet slippers off so the ladies can pack everything into a bag for the trip home. Come on, sweetie. Come with Mummy and we'll change you back into your shortalls."

I reluctantly let her drag me away from my fascinating feminine reflection, asking anxiously; "Can I wear it again thith afternoon, Mummy? Pweathe Mummy? Pweathe?"
"Yes honey," she replied with an indulgent laugh. "I'm sure Angie will want to try on her new tutu this afternoon, too, so you girls can play ballerina dress-ups together for a little while after nap-time. Alright, baby?"
"Yeth Mummy, thank you Mummy," I gratefully mumbled. I didn't care that when she removed my new pink tutu, my hard little clittie was still visibly tenting out the front of my puffy disposable diaper.

A few minutes later I was properly dressed in my white t-shirt and my pink drill shortalls again. For some reason, I felt nervous that I wasn’t wearing a normal pair of baby panties over my diaper. I hoped my disposable wouldn’t leak when I inevitably wet it. After Mummy tied my pink sneakers in place, she led me waddling out to my stroller, still parked at the entrance of the wonderful dancewear shop. My rustling pink disposable already felt a little damp in front, even though my swollen clittie was standing stiffly at attention. The full change bag went on the steel mesh tray under the candy-striped canvas seat, and Mummy hung our bulging bags of shopping on the white rubber stroller handles. She lifted me into the seat and locked me in place with the pink nylon restraining straps, and then gave my dummy teat a generous lick before popping it back in my mouth. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face, and Mummy beamed at how thrilled I looked while she clipped the pink plastic chain to the bib front of my shortalls.

The trip in the elevator back down to the mezzanine level passed in a happy blur, then Mummy wheeled me towards the automatic opening doors of the medical supply shop. She steered me in the direction of the 'Incontinence' section, but before we reached the aisles of oversized diapers and baby panties, we spotted the others gathered at the counter. I could tell from Tammy's splay-legged stance that she had been diapered again, and without thinking, my cupped hands pressed over the bulging front of my shortalls. The gorgeous little blonde looked pleased, despite the way she tried to keep tugging down the front of her too-short babydoll frock. The thick cloth nappy bulging down between her slender thighs made the pink plastic panties covering them poke out a couple of inches below the flared hem of her white cotton dress.

Irene was standing beside her darling diapered daughter, clutching her hand and holding a new vinyl-covered baby bag in the other. Tammy's shiny new change bag was in a cute pink gingham pattern like mine, but the checks were larger. I could see the roomy bag was already packed with a thick fluffy pink nappy and a new pair of shiny pink plastic panties. I spied a folded white bib and huge pink plastic baby bottle sitting inside, too.

One glance at my crimson-faced cousin told me she must have been recently changed into some fresh nappies, too. If anything, the straining crotch of her candy-striped shortalls looked more packed than before. I wondered if the others had been present when Bonnie had her wet nappy changed, and who did the actual changing? The dummy was still lodged in her sullen mouth, and the pink plastic chain was clipped to the high bib front of her juvenile shortalls, like mine. A huge pink vinyl diaper bag sat on the counter, and a familiar brunette saleswoman was busily stuffing it full of some of my Aunty Cath's recent purchases. There was a large bundle of pink nappies on her other side, a massive cardboard carton of adult disposable diapers, a stack of plastic-lined rumba panties and pastel-coloured vinyl pilchers, and a smaller pile of huge plain terry baby bibs. I felt certain Bonnie's new bibbies would soon be edged with lace and embroidered with embarrassing messages, like mine.

The smiling saleswoman pushed the packed diaper bag across the counter top towards my Aunty and said, "The rest of your purchases will be delivered this afternoon, madam. Probably between five and six pm."
"That will be fine," replied Aunty Cath. She graciously added, "Thank you for helping me change my naughty big baby girl's wet nappy, Melanie. I'll remember those little tricks you showed me."
"Oh no trouble at all, madam. It was an absolute pleasure," she pretty twenty-something brunette responded, smiling with professional approval at the humiliated diapered teenager sulkily sucking her dum-dums a few feet away.

"Yoo-hoo! Girls!" Mummy called out. Every face turned towards us as she wheeled me closer. The pretty brunette assistant's smile grew broader when she recognised the tall blonde woman gripping the handles of my stroller. When her eyes dropped to where I reclined in the low canvas seat, I saw a brief flicker of recognition cross her face. I realised I was still clutching my stiffie through my papery disposable, and I belatedly released my grip. For a few seconds, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Aunty Cath was preoccupied replacing her credit card in her wallet, and the smiling saleswoman stepped out from behind the counter to approach us.
"Hello, madam, my name is Melanie. Didn't I serve you a couple of weeks ago?" She inquired.
"Yes you did, Melanie, and thank you again for all your help," Mummy replied with a sunny smile.

"No problem, madam. We're always happy to help." She looked confused for a moment as she stared at my prettily made-up face. "But didn't you bring your little boy in to buy him a complete layette?"
"Yes, that's right," Mummy smoothly responded. She glanced down pointedly to where I was strapped into my stroller. I ducked away from the pretty assistant’s searching gaze and sucked harder on my dum-dums.
"I remember!” Melanie exclaimed. “You chose pink nappy pins and frilly baby panties for him, and- and-" The pretty brunette broke off and stared fixedly at my rosy-pink cheeks again. "No," she mumbled in wide-eyed disbelief. Melanie slowly covered her gaping mouth with her hand. "It can't be?"

Aunty Cath stepped over and interrupted the shop assistant's epiphany to inform Mummy, "I bought some new nappies and baby panties for your Baby Jennie, too. She needed some more absorbent nappies, and I noticed most of her old baby panties have nasty poo-poo stains around the leg bands now."
"Thanks Cath," Mummy replied, with an appreciative smile for her generous older sister.
"Baby Jennie?" the pretty brunette saleswoman mouthed in disbelief.
"I've given them your home address, and the stuff will be delivered late this afternoon. Is that okay?" Cath asked.
"That's great," responded Mummy with a grateful smile.

"We're heading home now," announced Irene, leading Tammy over to the front of my stroller. The beautiful blonde teen smiled shyly down at me when her mother continued. "But perhaps your little baby girl might like to come over for a play-date with my Baby Tammy one day soon?" she asked my Mummy.
"I'll get your telephone number from Cath and give you a call to arrange a day and time, if you like?" Mummy suggested. Irene nodded before she and Tammy said their goodbyes and headed for the exit.

A few seconds later Mummy turned my stroller around, and Aunty Cath used the baby reins to steer her dejected daughter into position between the white rubber hand grips. Bonnie wheeled me out of the shop only a few metres behind Tammy and her mummy. I kept my eyes glued to the pretty pink baby panties I could see peeping out from under the back of the gorgeous girl's swaying babydoll frock as Tammy waddled ahead of us. I lost sight of her near the entrance to the mall where it was really crowded. Before I knew it, I was being wheeled along the footpath towards Aunty Cath's gleaming black BMW.

To be continued in chapter 30.
Please post a comment here if you are enjoying this lengthy sissy-baby story. I crave some feedback. Any feedback. Pretty please?
Hugs from Baby Jennie



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