Jennie's Potty-Training chapter 31

Synopsis. Baby Jennie plays ballerina dress-up with her sister Angelica, and learns her fate if she wets her diaper at the party on Sunday. Connie comes over to babysit Baby Jennie and Angelica while their mother Isabell goes out with Ellen Green from next door to discuss Baby Jennie attending Daisy's Fairy Princess party tomorrow.

Chapter 31. “You’re Just a Baby.”

I was dragged from my wonderful ballerina fantasies when my dummy teat was roughly plucked from my lips. I sucked empty air for a few unsatisfying seconds before a spurting rubbery nipple was pressed to my pursed pink lips. As I swallowed a tasty mouthful of spearmint-flavoured water, I hazily opened my eyes. Angie was standing by the side of my crib, leaning through the steel bars and holding the end of my baby bottle for me. "Drink up, Baby Jennie," my grinning sister cooed to me like I was her own precious infant. "Mummy wants you to finish this bottle before she gets you up, and then she can dress you in your ballet tutu and wings, too." I examined Angie's shiny new outfit as I struggled to full wakefulness. I was barely aware of the soothing warm flow of wee-wees over my tummy as I freely wet my already-damp nappy.

My beaming sister was dressed in her new baby-pink tutu with the frothy, wide-flared, darker-pink tulle skirts. She had a pair of modest wings fastened across her back made from pink and white dyed silk stretched tautly over a thin wire frame. A sprinkling of silver glitter made them sparkle like real fairy wings. They rose half-way up to the back of her head, and she was wearing a brilliant bejewelled tiara on her neatly-brushed platinum locks. When she jiggled from foot to foot in excitement, her translucent wings fluttered behind her like the wings of a gigantic butterfly. I marvelled at how realistic they looked. My radiant sister looked like a beautiful Fairy Princess, although I couldn't see what she was wearing on her feet.

"Hurry up, baby," Angie impatiently urged me. “Don't you want to dress up like a beautiful Fairy Princess, too?" I nodded as I sucked down another mouthful, my excitable clittie stiffening inside the comforting warm folds of my soggy nappy. Of course I wanted to wear my gorgeous new ballerina outfit! Plus all the wonderful accessories… Angie grew bored before I drained half my huge pink baby bottle, and she frowned dismissively and abruptly dropped the end. "Hold your own bottle like a big girl, baby," she carelessly ordered before turning away.

She stepped back to admire her reflection in the mirror behind the open wardrobe door. She hopped up and down to make her frothy flared skirts bounce and sway attractively, and then attempted to twirl while keeping her wide blue eyes on her fascinating reflection. Angie was wearing a pair of pink scuffs over her white anklet socks, so she couldn’t rise on the points of her toes properly. I felt a twinge of malicious satisfaction when I noted how clumsy and awkward she looked, especially when compared with the way I could daintily pirouette. I couldn't wait to put on my beautiful fur-trimmed tutu and my stunning wings and show off for her.

I discretely pressed the warm wet front of my nappy over my stiffening clittie and went to pick up my bottle. That's when I realised I was still wearing the pink leather baby mittens. My curled fists were so clumsy, I had to use both hands to awkwardly clutch my sloshing bottle and steer the dripping nipple between my lips. A few drops squirted onto my face and splashed onto my bibbie, and I was momentarily grateful for the infantile napkin that protected my pretty baby doll nightgown. I sucked hard on the spurting teat, trying to drain the contents as quickly as possible, hoping that Mummy would remove the humiliating mittens when she let me up from my afternoon nap.

I’d almost finished my bottle by the time Mummy strolled into the Nursery. Although she was wearing the same gleaming white satin blouse from this morning, she had changed out of her brown leather miniskirt and towering platform boots. She looked much less menacing in a pair of faded denim jeans and white sneakers. Mummy smiled down indulgently at Angie admiring her reflection in front of the mirror, and then stepped over to me and leaned her elbows on the top rail of my crib.

"Are we almost finished our bottle? What a good little baby girl!" Mummy sang to me in syrupy encouragement. "Let me check that nappy, sweetheart." She reached between the steel bars and wriggled two fingers under the tight elastic leg bands of both pairs of baby panties, and her olive-green eyes grew wider. “My goodness, Baby Jennie! I know you did a wee-wee before your nap, but how many times did you wet in your sleep? This nap-nap is saturated, little girl!” I knew she didn’t really expect a reply. After I sucked down the last few drops of water, she took the empty bottle from my hands and placed it on top of the nearby dresser. She unlocked the heavy side rail and lowered it out of the way, then helped me to clumsily climb down from my crib.

Mummy took my mittened fist in her hand and led me waddling wetly towards the change table, where she lifted me onto the soft padded vinyl surface onto my tummy. She unlocked the chain in the small of my back securing my outer baby panties, and loosened the waistband before sliding them down my legs and away. She rolled me onto my back and went through the familiar routine of undressing me and wiping me clean with the minimum of instructions, and then she lifted me down. “Come on, baby girl. It’s time for Mummy to sit you on the potty again.”

She removed my stained ‘Mummy’s Little Nappy Wetter’ bibbie and escorted me into the bathroom. She eased me backwards onto the low pink seat and buckled me in. While I sat there sucking my dummy, she returned to the Nursery to tidy up a bit. She left me alone for about ten minutes, I guess. When she returned my potty was still empty. I had saturated my nappy while I slept, and wet again just before she let me out of my crib. I felt sure I wouldn’t need to go again any time soon. I didn’t bother trying to do a poo-poo, as I was pretty certain my bowels were empty, too. Mummy seemed disappointed by my lack of performance, but she merely frowned and sadly shook her head when she wiped clean my damp bottom and bits with a warm soapy washer.

Back on the change table, I happily lifted my bum when she slid one of my puffy pink disposable diapers underneath me. “You can wear a disposable this afternoon, sweetie, while you play ballerina dress-ups with Angie,” Mummy informed me, much to my delight. She rubbed some sweetly-perfumed baby powder over my bottom and around my ball sack, and even gave my limp clittie a couple of quick loving squeezes with her powdery fist. My sensitive tool instantly swelled with excitement, but Mummy merely smirked at my uncontrollable arousal. She wiped her hands clean with a baby wipe before tightly taping the rustling diaper over my loins. She slid some transparent pink plastic panties over my feet and pulled them up over my diaper. Mummy then carefully tucked the snug elastic leg bands under the crotch of my disposable, as if she didn’t trust the puffy gel-filled diaper to contain my flow. She slid the same socks on my feet that I’d been wearing before nap-time; the white ones with the wide pink lace frills dancing around my ankles.

Mummy helped me climb down from the change table. When I wobbled unsteadily after she released me, she grabbed one wrist to stabilise me. “Oops! Careful, sweetie!” She made me clumsily wrap both mittened hands around the nearest tubular steel leg of the table for support. “Hang on to the leg of your change table, baby girl,” she firmly insisted, talking down to me like I was a useless infant. When she was sure I was safe, Mummy stepped into the walk-in closet. She returned holding up the hanger bearing my shiny baby-pink tutu. It looked even more beautiful than when I tried it on in the fabulous dance-wear boutique. The mere sight of the gorgeous frothy creation had the usual predictable effect on me. My excitable clittie was already primed by Mummy’s earlier intimate handling. When she spread wide the top of the shimmering tutu bodice and held it down and open for me to step inside, my tiny tool swelled to full hardness inside the papery folds of my puffy pink disposable diaper.

I shuddered uncontrollably in arousal when Mummy drew the satiny lycra bodice over my trembling torso, and my stiff clittie pounded with excitement when she pulled the stretchy panty crotch up snugly between my legs. She straightened the fur-covered straps over my narrow shoulders and adjusted the frothy tulle layers around my padded hips, pausing momentarily to flip my bobbing skirts up over my tummy. Mummy ducked her head down to check if my tell-tale stiffie was tenting out the shiny pink front of my leotard panties - it was - and then she patted my skirts back into place and looked at my innocent girlish expression with a sly knowing smile.

Mummy returned to the walk-in wardrobe to collect my fairy wings and my new silver tiara. In minutes the lightweight pink-and-white silk wings were buckled around my shoulders, and I waited impatiently while Mummy fixed the comb ends of my glittering bejewelled tiara into my curly platinum locks. I smiled in delight at my beautiful reflection in the mirror, but then Mummy whisked me off my feet. She plonked me on my bottom on the padded change table again in a sibilant swirl of swishing tulle. She laced my gleaming pink ballet slippers in place around my ankles, and when she lifted me down, I rose up on my tippy-toes and twirled happily in front of the mirror beside my beaming sister.

“Now we both look like Fairy Princesses!” Angelica squealed excitedly.
“Yeth we do!” I joyfully agreed, beaming with unbridled happiness.
Mummy smiled proudly and nodded in approval, commenting; “You both look gorgeous! You’re my two beautiful little ballerinas.” I almost swooned with joy at Mummy’s words of praise. This was a moment I’d fantasised about hundreds of times while I lay in bed playing with my clittie, and here I was - living it! When I tried to caress the fluffy tulle layers rustling around my hips, I realized the stupid leather baby mittens were still buckled around my wrists.

I held up my hands entreatingly towards my mother, pleading, “Pweathe Mummy? Pweathe can you take off my mittenth?”
Mummy frowned down at me and shook her head sorrowfully. “No, Baby Jennie. Mummy knows what her naughty little girl secretly likes to get up to when she’s dressed in her pretty ballet tutu.” I felt my cheeks flush warmly with a combination of guilt and shame, worried how much she really knew. “You can keep your baby mittens on while you play pretty ballerina dress-ups with your big sister,” Mummy informed me. She took me by one shackled wrist and then held out her other hand to my sister. “Come on Angie. Come with Mummy downstairs, and you pretty ballerinas can play in the sunroom in your gorgeous new outfits for a little while. Mind you don’t get them dirty, though. We want to keep them nice for the big party tomorrow.”

As soon as we reached the bottom of the staircase, Angie gaily skipped away from us in the direction of the sunroom, her frothy pink skirts flying. Mummy led me waddling along behind my sister at a more sedate pace, but when we reached the door to the sunroom, she released my wrist. I couldn’t help myself. I bounded into the room and skipped about like an excited little girl, loving the way my gorgeous tulle skirts swished and swirled around me. I went into first position and performed a competent plie, and then stretched my arms over my head and rose up on my points.

Mummy smiled at my practised feminine movements, and she nodded in what I hoped was approval. “Girls? Call me if you need to use the potty,” she reminded us. “You’ll probably have a bit of difficulty getting out of those tutus by yourselves. Alright, girls?” Mummy smiled and nodded again when we both chorused assent, before she disappeared into the kitchen. When I tried to delicately place my fingertips together over my head, my stupid mittens were in the way. Despite my feelings of pleasure at being so beautifully dressed, I frowned momentarily. I twirled around in a neat pirouette and was thrilled by the envious expression on my sister’s face while she watched me.

I squealed in alarm when she unexpectedly pushed me in the tummy with both hands. I lost my balance and tumbled backwards onto the carpet on my frothy ruffle-covered bottom. Thank goodness I had some extra padding down there! I gazed up at here in astonishment, but her gleeful expression vanished when she saw the vengeful look on my face. She shrieked, turned and ran, while I clumsily clambered to my feet. I set off in giggling pursuit and chased her round and round the sunroom, admiring the multiple frothy layers of pink lace ruffles decorating her bouncing little bottom. We ran around squealing like excited little fairies for a minute or two until I finally caught her in my arms.

We fell to the floor in a fit of giggles, collapsing in a swirling frothy mass of pink and white tulle. I realised even though I had captured Angie, I couldn’t really do anything to her with the awkward leather mittens buckled over my fists, so I let her go. When we had mostly recovered our breath, I helped Angie to her feet and started showing her some of the simpler ballet exercises Sally had taught me. We skipped, twirled, and hopped around the sunroom to make our beautiful fairy wings flap realistically, until our faces were red and we were practically exhausted from giggling.

Mummy walked into the sunroom carrying a sippy-cup for Angie, a baby bottle full of watered-down juice for me, and a clean white terry bib tucked under her armpit. She handed the purple cup to Angelica, but I had to wait until my frilly bibbie was safely clipped around my neck before she would hand me my huge pink bottle. I awkwardly grasped the lace-trimmed bottom edge of my bibbie between my mittens and read upside-down the embroidered legend, ‘Mummy’s Precious Potty Princess.’ Even though my hands were clumsy because of the pink leather mittens, Mummy insisted I try to hold my own bottle like a big girl. She sat me down and made sure I was safely holding my bottle first, and then she helped me clumsily steer the dripping nipple towards my mouth.

While I thrust the clear silicon teat between my lips and started gratefully suckling, Mummy crouched in front of me and raised the front of my shimmering pink and white tulle skirts with one hand. She slipped her other fingers inside the leg bands of my leotard and my baby panties, worming her way inside the plastic shell of my diaper. She probed the crotch of my puffy pink disposable, and a pleased smile lit up her face when she found me not only dry, but flaccid, too. “Good girl, Baby Jennie,” she praised me as she stood erect. I beamed up at her from around the gurgling teat of my bottle. She didn’t bother checking Angie’s pull-up, and she was returning to the kitchen when the telephone rang.

Mummy changed direction and headed for the hallway, and picked up the portable phone sitting in the cradle on the telephone table. I continued to thirstily suckle from my titty-bottle and listened more attentively when I heard Mummy say, “Oh hello, Cath. How is your naughty baby girl doing?” She sat down in the padded chair next to the telephone table, as if settling in for a lengthy chat. After listening for a few minutes, Mummy laughed harshly and commented, “Bonnie filled her nappy during her afternoon nap then? That must have made nap-time particularly unpleasant for her.” She didn’t sound at all sorry for her naughty teenage niece, and I wondered how much my buxom cousin enjoyed lying in her stinky mess for an hour or so while trying to sleep. I well knew what that felt like!

Distracted by my memories, I missed the next few exchanges in their conversation. My attention was dragged back to the present when Mummy stated quite firmly, “No Cath. Not tonight. I told you already; I’m going out tonight with Ellen Green.” I sighed with relief when I felt sure my sadistic Aunt wouldn’t be visiting us again today. “No, I’ve already organised a babysitter.” Another pause. “Connie, a neighbour’s teenage daughter from down the road. You don’t know her.” That reminded me; Connie was coming over to babysit us tonight, and I had promised the pushy teenager I would talk to Mummy this week about David sexually assaulting me. Mummy paused a few seconds before continuing, “The neighbour who lives behind us… Yes, that’s right. Ellen. The one who shot the video of my naughty baby having a little play in her tutu.” She listened again for a few more moments before adding, “Yes, her daughter Daisy is having the Fairy Princess party tomorrow. You can come over then and see how beautiful they look all dressed up.” Another pause. “That’s right. Two o’clock, Sunday afternoon.”

Air noisily sucked back through the nipple of my emptying baby bottle and I felt a familiar hot splash in the front of my diaper. I squeezed hard with my long-unused sphincter muscles, and sighed with relief when I barely managed to control my flow. I dropped my empty bottle to the floor, jumped to my feet, and ran as fast as I could to Mummy, squealing, “Mummy! Mummy, I need to do a wee-wee! Mummy, I need to do wee-weeth in my potty!” Mummy held up one palm to momentarily silence me, and I skidded to a stop right in front of her. I tried to reach down and grab hold of the head of my clittie to help contain the uncontrollable minor squirts that accidentally leaked out, but my mittens and my stiff tutu skirts were in the way.

Mummy tucked the phone under one ear as she said, “Hang on a second, Cath.” She brushed my clumsy mittened fists aside and raised my rustling tulle skirts with one hand, and then slid her other fingers inside the leg band of my leotard at the front. She wormed her way inside my plastic panties and inside the plastic outer layer of my disposable diaper. She grimaced in disgust when she felt the warm wet wadding between my legs. “Oh baby! I think it’s a little late for the potty! You’ve already wet your diaper!”

Mummy was distracted when her sister asked a question, but she couldn’t prevent that familiar long-suffering tone creeping into her voice when she replied into the receiver, “Yes Cath. Of course it’s Baby Jennie who wet herself! Angie doesn’t wear nappies any more. She’s a big girl who uses the potty - not a silly little baby like Baby Jennie.” I knew her cruel comments were meant for my ears, and the humiliating barbs struck home. My cheeks turned pink with shame and I bowed my head, my brimming eyes fixed on the trembling tulle skirts separating us. Mummy ripped her fingers out of my nappy crotch and wiped the damp tips on my white terry bibbie as she muttered in annoyance, “Look Cath, I have to go. My naughty wet baby girl needs a change right away. Yes, okay, Two o’clock tomorrow. See you then. Goodbye.”

She hung up the phone and rose to her feet, and she frowned down at me in distaste. “Baby girl? Why didn’t you tell Mummy you needed to use the potty? I only checked your diaper ten minutes ago.” I twisted my frothy skirts from side to side and stared up at her with wide innocent eyes. I batted my long fluttering black lashes at her endearingly even as I felt another hot gush in my diaper. But Mummy was immune to my childish feminine wiles, and she shook her head and gave a sharp snort of disdain. She unclipped my white bibbie and tucked it under one arm before she firmly clutched my wrist. “Come with Mummy up to the Nursery, you bad little baby girl.” When I glanced over at Angie, her cornflower-blue eyes were wide over the bottom of her sippy-cup, and she was scornfully shaking her head at me in imitation of Mummy.

My sister slowly followed us upstairs, and Mummy dragged me into the Nursery and stood me beside the change table while she unbuckled and removed my fairy wings. I realised there was no point in trying to hold it, so I freely wet my diaper while Mummy roughly tugged me this way and that. I couldn’t help enjoying the soothing hot rush around my hairless genitals, and I loved the way the clinging warmth slowly crept around to my bottom. My sparkling tiara was torn from my curls and I cried out in pain, but Mummy merely frowned dismissively at my shrill girlish squeals. Her movements were rough and uncaring when she peeled the snug pink leotard down my body and over my legs. I almost fell when she yanked the rustling skirts clear of my feet. She caught me and lifted me onto the change table, and settled me onto my back before tugging down my transparent baby panties.

Mummy ripped apart the tapes and tugged the soggy disposable diaper from under me without bothering to order me to lift my bottom first. She used the relatively dry rear to swab clean my shrivelled genitals, and then disposed of the used diaper in the usual way. I watched her warily when she prepared one of my normal cloth nappies, placing an opened toddler’s disposable diaper between the two fluffy cloth layers she arranged on the change table between my splayed legs. Mummy placed two of the blue disposable liners on top as usual, and then she grabbed my ankles. She pushed my feet together, slipped her left hand under my ankles, and then rolled me back onto my shoulders as she slid the prepared nappies underneath me. She didn’t bother giving me any instructions, treating me like a helpless one-year-old incapable of understanding her intentions.

She brusquely wiped me down with some baby wipes, powdered my bottom and between my legs, and finished up by pouring a handful over my tummy and limp genitals. She carelessly rubbed in the sweet-smelling talc, watching my cowering face the whole time. The thick cloth nappies were swiftly double-pinned over my hips, and then Mummy selected a clean pair of pink baby panties for me from the dresser drawer. She opened the waist and leg holes wide, and fed my slippered feet through one at a time, and then slid the frosty pink pilchers up to my knees. Before I could try and lift my botty to assist her, she thrust my feet into the air with one hand, and tugged my crackling baby panties up my thighs and over the rear of my bulky swaddling one-handed. I knew it would have been much easier for her to simply order me to lift my bum to help her, but she seemed determined to treat me like a helpless infant, incapable of following even the simplest of instructions.

My crackling baby panties were tucked into my nappy around the crotch, and then Mummy picked up my discarded tutu from the floor. She fed my ballet slippers through the leg holes and slid the slinky leotard up to my knees, then grabbed my hands and made me sit up. Angie was standing before the mirror behind the wardrobe door, but her eyes had been watching Mummy’s every movement while she changed me. I was lifted down and when I was steady on my feet, Mummy finished tugging my baby panties into place and tucking in the snug elastic waistband all the way around. Then my tutu was dragged up my thighs, and it was a huge effort for Mummy to yank the tight leotard bodice over my bulky nappy. I had to grab her shoulders to prevent myself tumbling over backwards, she pulled so vigorously. After she finally slid the fur-covered shoulder straps into place, she twisted my shimmering lace-edged skirts from side to side, trying to settle the frothy layers evenly around my wide padded hips.

Mummy grabbed my shoulders and twirled me around, and thrust me over to stand beside my sister in front of the mirror. I could see Angie’s wide cornflower-blue eyes staring at the bulky nappy bulging out the front of my leotard panties, and the corners of her mouth turned up in scornful amusement. The huge wad of cloth between my thighs prevented me from bringing my legs together, and I knew I was wobbling like an unsteady infant. The shiny, stretchy pink lycra crotch piece at the front couldn’t hope to cover the wide expanse of fluffy dry terrycloth, and my shiny baby panties poked out the sides all the way around to the backs of my thighs. Tthe elastic band where the tulle skirts were sewn round my hips was so tight, it slid up over my slippery plastic panties beneath. It settled around my much narrower waist instead, straining the tautly-stretched crotch piece below even more. I slowly turned around and glanced back over my shoulder at my reflection, but the rear view was even worse. The dainty pink-and-white lace ruffles decorating my seat were stretched to absurdity across my huge padded bum, failing utterly to conceal the packed pink plastic panties poking out either side.

My expression must have revealed my dismay, because Mummy nodded in satisfaction and gave me a thin-lipped smile. ‘You don’t look so much like a beautiful ballerina now,” she commented. “Do you, baby girl?” I mournfully shook my head and plucked at the visible elastic leg bands of my baby panties, where they were stretched tautly around my outside upper thighs below my bouncing tulle skirts. I looked like a pretty, oversized, diapered toddler wearing a too-small ballet tutu, and I cringed in embarrassment at how retarded I appeared.

Mummy gave me another grim smile, but there was no humour in her cold olive-green eyes when she murmured, “I was planning on letting you wear a disposable diaper under your tutu to Daisy’s birthday party tomorrow afternoon, Baby Jennie. But if you wet your diaper at the party, Mummy will have to change her hopeless little baby girl into a proper thick cloth nappy, and then send her back to the Fairy Princess party dressed like that for all the other little girls to see. Is that what my naughty baby girl wants?”
“No Mummy, no!” I wailed in fright. I tried to control the hot spurt of wee-wees that seemed to gush out my limp clittie by pure reflex. “Pweathe no? I’ll be a good widdle girl, Mummy, I pwomithe!” She watched my tearful expression with calculating eyes, and she gave the barest nod of approval when she thought I had been suitably cowed by her threat.

My sister neatly twirled beside me and grinned contentedly at her shimmering reflection, before wickedly suggesting, “Let’s see you try and twirl now, Baby Jennie.” Of course I was as clumsy as a splay-legged one-year-old when I attempted to pirouette before the mirror, and Angie laughed with malicious satisfaction at my frustrated efforts to bring my thighs together. “See?” My sister prodded me in the side with her bony elbow, and I cringed away from her cruel touch. “I can do it better than you, now,” she boasted. “You’re just a silly baby in nappies. I’m a big girl, and I can dance like a beautiful ballerina.”

I felt relieved when Mummy removed my embarrassing too-tight tutu a short time later. She dressed me in my tiered red gingham frock instead. She lifted me onto the change table and lay me back to unlace my ballet slippers, and she took off my socks too. She made me wear the shiny red satin cheerleader panties over my frosty-pink plastic panties. Even though she didn’t bother asking, I helpfully raised my botty off the padded top so she could easily tug the sweetly-ruffled seat over the slippery rear of my plastic panties. The strappy red sandals were buckled on my bare feet, and again I wished my pretty baby-pink toenails were painted red to match my cute outfit.

Mummy then thankfully unbuckled the pink leather mittens from around my wrists. I sighed with relief when she took them off. My fingers had started cramping from being curled into fists for so long, and jagged barbs of pain lanced them when I first tried to straighten them out. Mummy ignored my whimpers of pain when she brusquely sat me up and clipped the white terry bibbie back around my neck. She attached my dummy chain to the frilly collar with the decorative plastic clip, then popped the amber rubber teat in my mouth. I couldn’t help but sulk when Mummy lifted me down and ordered me to get down onto my hands and knees again. “I warned you what would happen if you didn’t try to stay dry, little girl,” Mummy chastised me when she spied my grumpy expression. “Silly baby girls who can’t control themselves have to crawl like little babies, don’t they?”
“Yeth Mummy,” I mumbled in surly reply.

Angie giggled in callous amusement as I crawled towards the landing doorway. She nimbly skipped past me with a superior smug smirk plastered across her pretty face. Mummy followed me as I slowly bumped my way downstairs on my puffy bot-bot. She gave me a thin-lipped smile of approval when I reached the bottom step and I automatically dropped to my hands and knees once more. “Crawl out to the sunroom where your big sister can keep an eye on you, baby,” Mummy ordered. I meekly followed the direction of her pointing finger while she returned to the kitchen.

When I crawled into the sunroom, Angelica was still dancing and twirling gaily around the room, her frothy wide-flared skirts swishing noisily around her slender hips. She paused and turned to face me, and she caressed the slinky pink bodice of her sleek lycra leotard over her tummy. She haughtily patted the bouncing layers of musk-pink tulle into place and gazed down in disdain at my subdued infantile appearance. “Look at me, Baby Jennie!” Angie smugly cried, before deftly twirling in a full circle to face me again. “Look! I’m a beautiful ballerina and you’re just a baby! You’re just a baby! You’re just a baby!” she chanted while she danced all the way around my kneeling form, giggling with spiteful glee when my head drooped in shame.

“I want my dolly,” I snivelled around the teat of my dum-dums, seeking any distraction from my miserable plight.
“Mummy!” Angelica yelled in the direction of the kitchen.
“What is it, darling?” Mummy called in reply.
“The baby wants her dolly,” she informed Mummy before she attempted another pirouette.

“Can you be a big girl for Mummy and get it for her, darling? Mummy is a little busy in here right at the moment.”
“Okay.” Angelica obligingly skipped out of the room and dashed upstairs to my Nursery, where she collected my baby dolly Justine from my crib. When she returned, she was carelessly carrying my dolly upside-down by one leg. I frowned up at her resentfully. “Here baby. Here’s your dolly,” she said with casual disregard, dropping Justine onto the carpet in front of me. “I’m a beautiful ballerina, but you’re just a baby,” she reminded me yet again.

I picked up Justine and gave her a cuddle while Angie danced away from me. “I don’t care,” I whispered resentfully in my dolly’s ear. “I still look prettier than her in my tutu, anyway.” Fortunately for me, Justine totally agreed with my spiteful assessment. I sat there on my warm wet bottom playing with my dolly while Angie joyfully danced around the room. After about half an hour I think she was getting bored with playing ballerina dress-ups all by herself. She disappeared into the kitchen and a few minutes later, Mummy took her upstairs to change her outfit. While they were upstairs the doorbell rang, and I crawled towards the hall doorway and cautiously poked my head around.

Mummy came bounding down the stairs a few moments later, followed by Angelica. My sister had changed into her sleeveless red gingham dress like mine, and she had her strappy red sandals buckled on her feet too. I noticed with a twinge of envy that the hem of Angie’s tiered red frock fell halfway down her thighs, whereas mine was short enough that the crotch of my baby panties was permanently on display. Angie paused halfway down the stairs and watched as Mummy strode to the front door. Curiosity overcame caution and I crawled into the hallway to see who had come to visit, too. When Mummy opened the front door wide, I recognised the smiling brunette from the medical supply shop waiting on our porch.

“Hello,” said Melanie, and for some strange reason, she looked slightly embarrassed to be standing there. “I’m here to deliver the supplies for your big baby,” she explained, as if the huge bundle of fluffy pink nappies in her arms wasn’t explanation enough.
“Oh good! Come in, come in,” Mummy cried, opening the door wider and ushering the pretty twenty-something sales clerk inside. “It’s Melanie, isn’t it?”
“Yes Ma’am,” she replied, and her pink cheeks turned a rosier hue even as her big brown eyes searched the house for me.
Mummy closed the door and stepped in front of the heavily-burdened blushing brunette. “Here, let me take this and I’ll show you the way. The baby’s Nursery is upstairs, the second doorway on the right.”

As well as the bundle of nappies, Melanie had a bulging plastic shopping bag emblazoned with the name of the medical supply store looped over one arm. Mummy took the bag from her arm and peeked inside, then she grinned at me. I felt certain the bag contained a fresh selection of pretty wetproof baby panties for me. Melanie nodded a greeting to my sister on the stairs, and then stared at me lurking in the hallway on all fours, the pink frills of my humiliating bibbie scraping the carpet and my big pink dummy bobbing in my mouth. She smiled broadly at the infantile sight I made, and briefly nodded to me before she followed Mummy upstairs. Angie watched them walk past and then turned and inquisitively trailed after them. I heard Melanie’s delighted cries of amazement echoing down the stairs when she caught sight of the assortment of big pink baby furniture decorating my Nursery. I didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or pleased by her thrilled reaction.

By the time Mummy led the grinning brunette back downstairs, she and Melanie were chatting like kindred souls once more. Angie followed a few steps behind them, but she paused halfway down to lean over the balustrade and smirk down at me. “Would you like to stay for a cup of coffee or something, Melanie?” Mummy asked the smiling brunette when they reached the bottom.
“No, I can’t,” Melanie politely declined, although it looked like she wanted to stay. “Thank you anyway, Isabell. I still have several more deliveries to make and a schedule to keep.” The attractive brunette turned and walked down the hallway towards me, and she stepped around my kneeling form to lean down behind me. “Those pretty red panties look so cute on her,” she commented to Mummy, as she crisply swatted my huge padded behind. “I love frilly panties on little girls.”

Even though the affectionate slaps were quite loud, I barely felt a thing, but that didn’t stop my cheeks from blushing rosily with embarrassment. ‘Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack!’ The familiar infantile sound seemed to cause my bladder sphincter to instinctively relax. Hot wee-wees pulsated out of my limp clittie in time with each firm swat. ‘Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack!’ I thought about telling Mummy that I needed to use the potty, but I didn’t want Melanie to observe that humiliating part of my baby treatment as well. Anyway, her hand patting my bottom actually felt nice, and I was enjoying the warm stimulating sensations front and back. ‘Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack!

I sighed quietly in regret when she stopped smacking my bum and stood up. Melanie stepped around right in front of me and crouched down, and she gently cupped my bowed chin with her fingers. She raised my head until she could examine my feminised features from mere inches away, and she smiled and shook her head in amazement. Then her eyes dropped to the humiliating inscription on my bibbie, and her smile grew broader when she read it aloud. “Aww! ‘Mummy’s Precious Potty Princess!’ That’s adorable!”

Melanie released my chin and stood, and she walked back to Mummy grinning madly. “I can hardly believe it,” she declared incredulously. “Two weeks ago, she – he - was a naughty little pants-wetting boy, and now she’s a beautiful little baby girl!”
“Yes, she is,” Mummy agreed with a thin smile, “but it’s a pity I can’t seem to potty-train my little panty-wetter.” She sighed heavily. “Sometimes I think my little Baby Jennie is going to be stuck in nappies forever!”
“It’s lucky she makes such a gorgeous little baby girl then, isn’t it?” Melanie tittered, as Mummy opened the front door for her.
“Yes, it is,” Mummy agreed with a tight smile. “Thank you for delivering my big baby’s new nappies and pilchers, Melanie.”
“You’re welcome! Call me anytime you need a babysitter.” She handed Mummy a business card, which my mother slipped into the back pocket of her jeans. “All part of the service,” the chirpy brunette added. “Goodbye all.” She waved farewell to Angie and me before stepping outside.

“Goodbye Melanie. Thanks again.” Mummy closed the door behind her, and then strode down the hallway towards me. She paused beside where I still knelt on all fours, and reached down and gave my bulging bottom one quick firm spank. Then she slid her fingers inside the elastic leg bands of both pairs of my panties to probe the crotch of my nappy. I looked up to check her reaction when she discovered I was already a little wet. She grimaced in disappointment before ripping her fingers out of my baby panties. She wiped her damp fingertips on my drooping bibbie as she mournfully shook her head at me. My chin dropped in shame. Mummy didn’t bother reprimanding me. She simply stalked off to the kitchen with another of those long-suffering sighs of hers. I didn’t know whether to feel pleased or embarrassed that she didn’t chastise me as she usually did when I wet my nappy. Her disdainful silent treatment made me somehow feel even more useless and infantile. It was as though she expected nothing more of me, because I really was just a helpless little baby girl who couldn’t control herself.

I noticed Angie peering down at me from over the banister, shaking her head and sneering in contempt for my hopeless baby ways. I turned away from her disdainful stare and crawled back into the sunroom to my dolly. My sister ran back upstairs to fetch her baby dolly from her bedroom, too. We spent the next half-hour playing together with our baby dollies, although Miss Bossy-boots kept telling me how I should hold my baby and how I should put her to the breast, and how to check if her nappy needed changing, and so on and so on. As if I needed instructions from her on how to change a diaper! When the front doorbell chimed again, I timidly remained out of sight in the sunroom this time. Angie jumped to her feet and dashed down the hallway. Mummy followed from the kitchen at a more sedate pace. When she opened the front door, I heard them greeting Connie, our babysitter. My heart froze. I was supposed to tell Mummy about David assaulting me before Connie returned to babysit us this evening. I hadn’t found the time - or the courage - to mention a word of it to Mummy yet.

Connie strolled into the sunroom after Mummy with my babbling sister in tow. The toothy brunette was wearing a cute tennis outfit consisting of a short pleated white skirt that exposed most of her muscular brown legs, and a snug white tank top with thin spaghetti straps over her freckled sun-bronzed shoulders. The stretchy top tightly hugged her mammoth bosoms, and her underwired sports bra caused the excess flesh to bulge out over the top in an eye-catching cleavage. Connie wore her pink sneakers with the pink laces, and some short white sports socks with fluffy pink balls sewn at the back above the heel. A pink plastic Alice band kept her damp dark-brown hair from falling in her eyes, and she carried a packed pink nylon backpack in one hand with the handle of a tennis racquet poking out the top. Her glossy red-painted lips and tanned face seemed to make her dark brown eyes shine more brightly, and she positively glowed with rude health. “No,” she continued speaking to Mummy, “I have a change of clothes in my backpack here. I can shower and change later, after I help you feed the girls, put them on the potty and pop them in the bath.”

Mummy looked torn with indecision even as she headed back towards the kitchen. “If you’re sure?” she asked, obviously anxious to return to where dinner was cooking.
Connie simply laughed and waved Mummy on her way. “My mum always said that dinner and bath time were the most frenzied times in any home with small children, so I thought I’d come over early and help you out with ‘the witching hour’,” Connie joked. “I’ll wash up after I’ve put the girls down for the night, Mrs R. Don’t worry about me.” She crouched down in front of me to sweetly demand, “How are you, Baby Jennie?” She gave the pink plastic chain attached to my dum-dums a quick teasing tug that made my dummy unexpectedly pop out, and then prattled on as if she didn’t really expect a response. “You look very pretty today, darling. Look at that pretty mouth! I love your darker eyebrows and your curly hair. You look so cute!”

Angelica interrupted her litany of praise to tell Connie about our new ballet tutus. She grabbed the grinning teen’s hand and dragged her upstairs to show off our gorgeous new dance outfits. I heard my sister loudly boasting to her about graduating out of nappies and into pull-ups like a big girl, which only made me feel more ashamed of my heavily diapered state. I replaced the comforting nipple of my dum-dums in my mouth and started to crawl along behind them. When I reached the bottom of the stairs and gazed up to where I could hear their girlish squeals of excitement, I froze. I really wanted to join the other girls upstairs, but I didn’t want to have to crawl up and then bump my way back down again, especially with Connie watching my slow infantile progress. I decided to crawl back down the hallway through the doorway into the sunroom and wait for them. Connie tripped lightly down the stairs a few minutes later, but Angie paused at the top step and yelled in the direction of the kitchen. “Mummy? Can I put on my tutu again and show Connie?”
“No sweetie, not now,” Mummy called back without leaving the kitchen. “Wash your hands, sweetheart, and then come downstairs. Dinner is almost ready.”

Connie walked into the sunroom, her face split by a wide grin. I knew she was picturing me wearing my frothy pink tutu. Her grin faded when she knelt down in front of where I sat on the floor. She ordered quietly, “Lift up the front of your frock, Baby Jennie.” Connie slipped her hand inside the waistband of my baby panties and probed the front of my nappy, while she leaned closer and whispered in my ear. “Have you told your Mummy about what that nasty brute David did to you?” She leaned back to wipe her damp fingers on my bibbie, and watched my face carefully when I anxiously shook my head in denial. I cringed abjectly at the disappointment I could see in her big brown eyes. She compressed her full painted lips into a thin red line and frowned, shaking her head at me, as if she expected nothing more from a silly little girl like me.

“I’ll tell her. Thoon!” I whispered urgently around the rubber teat in my mouth. “I will, Aunty Connie. I pwomithe!” She gripped my dummy’s pink plastic ring and gave my oversized baby soother another teasing tug. I bit harder on the satisfying rubber nipple to prevent her stealing it.
“You were supposed to tell her before this weekend,” she reminded me with a frown.
“I will, I will!” I quietly pleaded, “Pweathe don’t thay anything to Mummy jutht yet? Pweathe Aunty Connie?” Even though she shook her head again in disappointment, she took pity on me.

“I’ll give you one more day - but that’s it. Then I’ll have to tell her myself.” Fortunately Mummy interrupted us at that moment to call us into the kitchen for dinner. Connie stood up and I reached out my arms and gazed up at her expectantly. She laughed at my childish unspoken request for assistance and helped me clumsily clamber to my feet. I was pleased when she kept hold of my hand to follow Angie out to the kitchen. At least I didn’t have to crawl all the way to my pink-painted steel highchair.

“Hey! New highchair,” Connie commented, before she lifted me backwards into the wide padded seat. She fed the end of pink nylon waist strap through the loop in the crotch piece and wound it around my body. She pulled it tight before securing me in place. She lowered the painted metal tray and chuckled when she saw the cartoon Princesses decorating the top surface. “How cute!”
“Yes,” Mummy replied as she sat Angie in her booster seat. “Baby’s Aunty Cath picked up some baby furniture more suitable for my big sissy baby. Wait till you see the new layette in her Nursery!”
“I can hardly wait,” chuckled Connie. She unclipped my dummy and plucked the teat from my mouth. She tut-tutted reproachfully as she used my white terry bibbie to wipe the shiny stream of drool dangling from my pouting lips to my baby pacifier. My cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.

Connie talked down to me and treated me like I was a useless one-year-old while she spoon-fed me my entire meal. At least she didn’t deliberately try to smear food all over my face, and the only time stuff spilled on my bib, it was mostly my own fault. She did pause regularly to wipe my chin with my frilly bibbie, and she gently chided me for being such a dribble-puss. Angie fed herself as usual, and when Mummy saw Connie had everything under control, she disappeared upstairs to shower and change. My sister finished her delicious dinner of roast lamb and vegetables before Connie finished feeding me half of my lukewarm pureed paste from a jar. Our babysitter took away Angie’s empty plate and replaced it with a bowl of diced apricots and pears, with hot custard poured over the top. By the time I managed to finally force down my serving of bland toddler food, Angie had almost drained her sippy-cup of warm milk.

“Good girl, Baby Jennie!” Connie praised me as she took away my empty Barbie bowl. “You ate up all your dinner like a big girl. Oh, and you’ve finished your dessert already, Angie. That was quick!” She let Angie out of her booster seat and before the toddler scurried out of the room, my sister turned back to watch Connie start feeding me my dessert. I was being allowed to eat the same thing as the grown-ups - I mean, my sister - except Mummy had put the diced mixed fruit through the blender first. My dessert was a pureed mess of pale orange paste, although the custard had simply been poured over the top rather than blended in. Connie took care of that detail, stirring in the sweet yellow custard with my pink rubber-coated spoon. Despite the unappetising appearance, it tasted delicious after the flavourless packaged toddler food. I greedily wolfed each mouthful from the spoon.

“I’m going upstairs to use my potty,” Angelica proudly announced, with a superior smug smirk for me.
“Do you need a hand, honey?” Connie asked her with a quick frown of concern.
“No, that’s okay,” Angie replied, casually waving away our babysitter’s offer of assistance. “I can do it by my own self, Aunty Connie. You stay here and finish feeding the baby.” She disappeared down the hallway, and Connie took away my empty bowl and rinsed it in the sink. A bottle of warm milk had been heating in the microwave, and when the box pinged, Connie opened the door and took out the hot baby bottle. She sealed the clear silicon nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and then inverted the pink plastic bottle and gently shook the contents, ensuring the heat was evenly distributed.

“Here, baby girl,” Connie crooned after a minute, thrusting the warm bottle into my hands. “Hold your own bottle like a big girl and drink up, sweetie. I just need to go and check on your sister.” She left me bound in my seat while she trotted after Angie, and I sat back in my roomy new highchair and drew hard on the teat of my baby bottle. There was plenty of room to slip one hand inside the tray and cup my fingers over the lovely warm front of my panties, and I caressed the slick satin material over the slithering plastic pilchers underneath. I love the feeling of luxurious satin sliding over slippery plastic. It feels so sensual!

I had almost finished my bottle of warm milk by the time Connie returned to the kitchen in her squeaking tennis shoes. I discretely moved my playful palm away from my crotch, wondering where she’d been for so long. She took the bottle from my hand and tilted the base high, making it easier for me to suck out the last few tepid drops. Connie must have been perspiring heavily while playing tennis this afternoon, and I could smell her musky body odour. It was kind of pleasant, actually. “Good girl,” she praised me with a wide smile, before she plucked the empty teat from my pursed lips. “What a good little baby girl you’re being for Aunty Connie.” She wiped my messy cheeks and chin with a warm soapy washer, and she was much gentler than Mummy had ever been. I found myself unconsciously pressing my face harder into the warm wet washcloth, which made her giggle.

Connie removed my dirty bibbie and tossed it on the kitchen bench, unfastened the seat belt, and unlocked and raised the hinged tray. She experimentally prodded the bulging front of my shiny satin panties. Her sculpted dark-brown eyebrows crawled up her forehead when she realised how wet I was. She cooed teasingly, “Ooo! Who’s a wet little baby girl? Hmm, Baby Jennie?” She helped me clamber down from my highchair, but she loudly sniffed the air around me as she steadied me on my feet. “And not just wet,” she commented with a frightening degree of certainty. “Pooh!” she cried, “I think some little girl had made a smelly mess in her nappy!” I shook my head in denial, but she ignored my mumbled protests and tilted me forward, so my freshly-scrubbed face was pressed between her bountiful breasts. I inhaled the combined aromas of her recent perspiration and her perfumed deodorant welling up from her fleshy cleavage, reveling in her sweet personal scents.

Meanwhile Connie raised the rear of my red gingham dress and pulled out the waistbands of my satin panties and my plastic pilchers, before using the fingers of her other hand to tug the back of my warm sodden nappy away from my body. “Pooh!” Connie cried again in dismay, as she peered over my shoulder and down inside the seat my nappy. “You sure did, baby girl!” She let go of my nappies and baby panties and stood upright, and I almost collapsed face-first into her wonderful lush breasts. “You did a big smelly poo in your nap-naps!” She grabbed my shoulders to steady me, and then held me at arm’s length to stare down at my embarrassed red face. “Baby Jennie?” Connie demanded, and I shuddered at the reproach in her tone. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying to hold it for the potty?” I meekly nodded my bowed head, cringing in shame.

Connie shook her head in disgust at my infantile lack of control, and released my shoulders. She scornfully pointed to the white linoleum tiles at her feet. “On your hands and knees, baby. Your Mummy said that if you couldn’t behave like a big girl, I was to treat you like the naughty little baby you apparently want to be.” I submissively dropped to my hands and knees, my limbs trembling with embarrassment. I hadn’t even realised I had soiled my nappy. I was sure I hadn’t felt anything coming out of my botty-hole. I kept my humiliated gaze glued to the floor so I wouldn’t have to see the disappointment I knew must be blazing from Connie’s big brown eyes. “And you are just a baby, aren’t you? Aren’t you, Baby Jennie? Yes, you’re just a silly little baby girl,” she answered for me in a condescending tone, like I was an infant incapable of responding.

I nodded remorsefully in agreement. It was true. I really was just a baby. A silly little baby girl. When Connie pushed the saliva-drenched dummy between my lips, I gratefully sucked on the soothing rubber teat. She left the decorative clip dangling by the plastic chain, and her low voice oozed contempt when she ordered, “You can crawl on all fours upstairs to your Nursery like a silly little baby. We need to change you out of that stinky poopy nappy right away. Go on, Baby Jennie! Off you crawl!” She encouraged me on my way with a single hard swat on my messy wet bottom, mashing the lumps over both cheeks. I shuffled towards the hallway on my hands and knees, pouting in misery.

To be continued in chapter 32.
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