Jennie's Potty-Training chapter 34

Synopsis. Justine gives Baby Jennie a lovely feed from her breasts at the Church Nursery. After breakfast at their favourite local restaurant, Isabell takes her little girls home for a nap before the Fairy Princess party.

Chapter 34. Feeding Time for Baby

“Look, baby girl,” Justine lovingly cooed to me as she pinched the swollen glistening bud between her thumb and forefinger. She squeezed the erect nipple hard, making me wince. My blue eyes grew wider when I saw two, then three tiny milky droplets appear on the bumpy russet tip. She released her tortured nipple and proudly cupped her sagging breast with her palm. “Look darling! Aunty Justine’s got milk for you, baby.” I thought it was impossible for a girl to produce milk unless she’d had a baby first. But contrary evidence was seeping out right before my eyes, and I wasn’t about to argue! She dried my tear-stained cheeks with my frilly bibbie first, then smoothed the humiliating baby napkin back over my trembling breast.

Justine smiled down at me like a doting mother when she raised my head with her cupped palm, and she steered the dripping nipple towards my open mouth with the splayed fingers of her other hand. “Come on, darling,” she tenderly urged me. “We can pretend that I’m your mummy and you’re my little baby, and mummy is going to give her sweet little baby girl a lovely long feed from her titties.” Her fragrant creamy boob completely filled my field of view and I could even smell her milk - an intriguingly familiar sweet-sour smell which strangely repelled me as much as it attracted me. “It’s feeding time for baby.” I reluctantly closed my eyes and concentrated on sucking the swollen milky nipple deeply into my mouth. “That’s it, baby girl,” she shakily crooned, shuddering with arousal. “Come feed from mummy.”

Her milk tasted thin, watery and sweet, but I latched onto her dripping teat like a starving infant. At first it was difficult to suck out a decent mouthful, but after a couple of minutes, I seemed to establish a rhythm. I gently pumped her firm warm breast with my fingertips, either side of her areole, and suddenly my mouth almost filled with every hard suck. I wanted to ask Justine how she did it; how she managed to produce milk without having had a baby? But there was no way I was going to let that sweet morsel of woman flesh out of my mouth long enough to interrogate my beautiful redheaded wet-nurse. Instead I focused on feeding properly like a hungry little baby, sucking hard and gently pumping out the nourishment with my curled fingers. I simultaneously thrust my hard clittie into my warm wet nappy, pressing up against the palm she had thoughtfully cupped over the slithering pink nylon front of my plastic-lined rumba panties.

“Oh good girl! Good baby,” Justine lovingly cooed down at me, pressing down more firmly over my straining erection. She drew in a deep breath and released it in a shuddering sigh. “God! I love it when you suck hard like that,” she whispered in a low throaty voice, squeezing my stiffie through the multiple damp layers to encourage me. “Mmm, what a hungry baby girl you are! Ooo, that’s right, Baby Jennie. Good baby! Suck nice and hard for mummy, my pretty little baby girl. Fill your tummy with mummy’s sweet milk.” Encouraged by her softly crooned words, I drew even harder on the sensitive erectile tissue, drawing her swollen russet cap deeply into my mouth and making her groan with unrestrained pleasure.

“Ohh! That’s it, baby! Oh yes! Suck out the milk from mummy’s titty like a good little baby girl,” she whispered to me like I was her own precious infant. “Mmm, good baby! Oohh!” I could feel Justine rubbing and pressing her thighs together under my head, and her cupped palm began to thrillingly slide up and down over the tenting front of my rumba panties. She began to squeeze me through the multiple layers of warm damp cloth and I burbled wetly in excitement, watery milk dribbling down my cheek.

“Keep feeding, baby,” she cautioned me in honeyed tones. When I obediently drew her squirting nipple deeper into my mouth, the erotic squeezes around my rampant clittie grew firmer and faster. “Drink down all of mummy’s milk. Mmm, that’s it, baby. Keep swallowing. Drink it all up. Mmm, good girl!” I settled into a rhythm again for another wondrous minute or two, sucking then swallowing, sucking then swallowing, encouraged by the sweet supportive sounds she kept making and her fabulous thrilling caresses. I began to pump her softening breast more firmly when the flow of warm milk eventually slowed and then stopped, until Justine actually winced away from me in pain.

“Ouch! Hang on a second, baby.” She regrettably released my clittie and I felt her fumbling with the other lace-edged bra cup for a few seconds. With my face pressed deeply into her warm soft bosom, I couldn’t really see anything. Justine didn’t bother asking me to stop sucking. She merely slipped the saliva-wet tip of her index finger into the corner of my mouth, breaking the seal of my lips around her sweet succulent nipple.

I distractedly sucked on the wet tip of her finger for a few unsatisfying moments, tasting her nail polish and mewling in disappointment. Justine used her finger to cleverly steer my pouting pursed lips to her other erect russet nipple. She popped out her finger and slipped her left teat into my mouth in its place, and this time the ready spray of warm milk was easier to draw out. “Oh baby girl,” Justine moaned when I latched on, her low voice husky with passion. “Suck nice and hard for mummy, darling. Ooo! Have a lovely big feed. That’s mummy’s good little baby girl!” The act of breastfeeding caused her supply of milk to let down in the other firm swollen teat, and I revelled in the steady flow of warm sweet nourishment trickling down my throat to fill my little tummy. I made some happy little grunting noises that made Justine giggle, and I could hear her fleshy chest reverberate with the odd sound of her muffled laughter.

The buxom redhead drew in a deep breath and held it, and then slowly released it in a long shuddering sigh. I could feel her rubbing her thighs together more briskly under my head and she began making these tiny whimpering noises deep in her throat. I cautiously opened my left eye and peeked around her massive creamy mammary, and stared up at her beautiful face. Her eyes were scrunched closed and her perfect arched eyebrows pulled together above her pert wrinkled nose in the semblance of a frown. Her full pink lips were drawn back in the rictus of a smile, revealing her small, even white teeth. “Ohh! Oh God!” For a fraction of a second I thought I might have been hurting her, but then I recognised the flushed-faced teen’s throaty moans of pleasure. “Oh! Oh! Ohhh!” Justine groaned, biting her sensuous bottom lip with her top teeth and tossing back her head. Her waist-length mane of dark red head flew back over her bare shoulders and she thrust out her voluptuous bosom as though to force more of her sensitive swollen teat into my greedily suckling mouth.

Justine gripped my pulsating clittie through the warm wet cloth and squeezed me fiercely. I moaned loudly at the thrilling sensations. “Don’t stop, baby! Don’t stop,” she whispered urgently. “Keep sucking mummy’s nipple just like that. Drink up all of mummy’s milkies like a good little baby girl. Ooo! Oh baby! Mmm, that feels so good!” I pumped the sides of her heavy swollen teat with my fingertips like a hungry kitten using its paws, drawing the firm squirting nipple halfway down my throat. Justine quivered and moaned in pleasure/pain, pressing her creamy thighs even harder together and rocking her hips backwards and forwards on the tatty grey lounge. “Mmm, baby,” she muttered throatily, “mummy loves it when you suck hard like that. Oh yes! Ooo! Ohhh!” She clamped my head against her chest, almost mashing my face into her sweaty bosom in her excitement.

I emptied my lungs through my nose, drew in a deep snuffling breath, and sucked for all I was worth. My tummy made some funny squiggly noises and suddenly I felt some ominous movement in my bowels. Urgent signals from my lower abdomen told me there was a poo-poo that needed to come out - and soon! I tried to pull my face away and grunted in alarm, but only managed to spray watery milk everywhere. I recognised the danger signs of an impending bowel movement and I wanted to warn Justine that I needed to use the potty. She simply clutched my face tighter against her slippery wet mammary and huskily ordered, “Don’t you dare stop now!” Her erotic manipulation of my throbbing clittie abruptly ceased, and I mewled wetly in disappointment and obediently returned to busily breastfeeding. “Keep sucking, baby girl,” she commanded, and she wormed her right hand under the snug elastic waistband of my frilly rumba panties to encourage me.

I sucked even harder and moaned in arousal when her wiggling fingers deftly slid inside my warm wet nappy. She chuckled throatily and murmured in a gentle teasing tone, “Ooo! Who’s a wet little baby girl then?” My excitement knew no bounds when her soft fingers wrapped around my pulsating clittie and she gripped me possessively in her warm moist hand. She was actually touching my clittie! This gorgeous girl was caressing my raging erection and my excitement knew no bounds! My knees drew up almost by reflex, and my little feet mindlessly thrashed about when she began sliding her curled fist up and down over the slippery wet head of my throbbing tool.

Her sexy voice grew husky once more when she lovingly whispered, “I know what’s wrong, baby. It’s okay, darling. Mummy knows stuff needs to come out.” I thought in amazement, ‘How could she tell I needed to do a poo-poo? Had Justine heard the warning gurgles from my tum-tums?’ “But that’s okay, baby,” she murmured. “You just let it go. Come on, baby. Show mummy how you let it all go in your nappy like a perfect little baby girl.”

I drew her dripping nipple most of the way down my throat and sucked for all I was worth. At the same time I obediently relaxed my useless straining sphincter. I concentrated on Justine’s erotic manipulations and her sweet crooning voice, and suddenly her expert caresses were pushing me closer to the edge. I realised I was living my dream. It was a fantasy come true! I really felt like a loved little baby girl at that moment. I felt like I was shrinking till my body was the same size as a real baby’s. I was a real baby lovingly being breastfed by her gorgeous caring mummy. I helplessly pushed out a big poopy load in my nappy while mummy tickled my clittie and cooed down encouragingly at me.

My whole body began to tremble as I flexed my hips and knees, thrashing my feet in the air as I focused on simultaneously filling my nappy and feeding from mummy’s breasts like a good little baby girl. Justine fell silent as she concentrated on pressing her upper thighs together in that special way, grinding together her swollen engorged pussy lips inside her damp satin panties. Then she began making those familiar excited grunting sounds that only inflamed my passions. “Unh! Unh-uh-ungg!”

‘I’m a baby girl, I’m a baby girl,’ I chanted in my head. ‘I’m just a helpless little baby girl and mummy loves me, and mummy is breastfeeding me, and- and- Ga-ga-ga! Ga-ba-baa!’ I babbled in my mind like the tiny helpless infant I imagined myself to be. Justine was shivering all over and her soft fleshy lap began bouncing up and down. She was moaning with arousal and mashing my face so hard against her emptying breast, I found it difficult to breathe. But breathing was the furthest thing from my mind at that moment.

As her fingers tickled the sensitive underside of my pulsating clittie, bright lights began to flash in my head even though my eyelids were tightly scrunched closed and my face was crammed against her heaving breast. The shuddering redhead stretched her head right back as though to gaze at some fixed point on the ceiling, but her eyes remained tightly closed when she groaned, “Ooo! Ooo! Ooohhh!” Her cheeks were flushed and her pink lips had turned red. A thin film of sweat formed above her curled top lip as she gasped and twitched in the throes of her intense orgasm.

Although the velvety fist wrapped around my clittie held me in a grip of iron, the palm cupped against the back of my head abruptly relaxed. I clutched her emptying dug with both hands to stop my head from rolling back onto her shivering lap. I almost bit down on her teat to prevent it being ripped from my slobbering mouth as I felt my pulsating tool exploding into her clenched fist. I moaned and thrashed my legs as I violently climaxed, feeling another thrilling surge of hot waste simultaneously filling the seat of my warm wet nappy. Justine’s head and shoulders slumped and she relaxed her grip on my pulsating shaft, instead running her fingertips over the spurting eye and across the sensitive spot on the underside of the head. She giggled from a combination of relief and amusement, watching me writhe and shudder to completion in her fingers as she collapsed back against the worn grey cushions.

Justine pressed her left fingertip into the corner of my mouth, breaking my suction seal on her sweet seeping nipple. She gave a cry of relief when my hungry mouth fell away with a loud wet ‘plop!’ My head collapsed back onto her lap and I couldn’t tell whose body was trembling more with reaction - mine or hers. I swallowed the last few drops of her milk feeling like a happy little baby girl, and I gurgled contentedly. “Ga-ga-ga goo-goo-goo!” My beautiful wet-nurse chuckled throatily at my infantile babbling as she pulled her slimy hand out from beneath my wet cum-stained nappy.

The panting teenager slid her gooey fingers inside the waistband of my rumba panties and she wiped her digits mostly clean on the relatively-dry outer front of my nappy. The breathless redhead gazed down fondly at me and wiped my messy milk-smeared chin and cheeks with my frilly bibbie. She smiled tenderly down at me as I twitched spastically across her lap for another minute or two. When she judged I had finished, Justine leant down and gently kissed me on my parted pink lips. “Thank you, baby girl,” she whispered, and her big brown eyes glowed with affection for me.

I stared into those limpid chocolate pools, my big blue eyes fluttering wide in surprise. Justine was thanking me? Thanking me for fulfilling one of my greatest fantasies? I could hardly believe my ears! “No, Aunty Juthtine! Fank you! Fank you berry berry much!” I gratefully panted in response. “But how?” I mumbled in confusion, nodding at her bountiful breasts. “How come you have milk? You haven’t had a baby?” Justine carefully wiped her milk-stained teats with my bibbie first, then clipped her pink bra cups back in place. She gave her drained breasts an erotic wiggle with her hands to settle them comfortably, and demurely raised the zip of her clinging white dress all the way to the base of her throat once more.

She chuckled at my curious question, and nodded. “That’s right, Baby Jennie! Normally your breasts fill up with milk when you get pregnant, and after you have the baby, your milk comes in. But that’s not the only way...” She dimpled attractively and reached across my limp frame, and she collected my huge pink baby bottle from the change bag. “Here, darling,” she cooed, as she steered the nipple towards my trembling puffy pink lips. “Have a little drink from your bottle, and I’ll tell you all about it.” Justine held my bottle for me and cradled me in her arms like a loving mummy, and I compliantly drew on the clear silicon teat. Even though I figured I had been feeding from Justine’s beautiful breasts for about fifteen or twenty fabulous minutes, my tummy wasn’t anywhere near full. And despite the fact that I had been drinking the whole time, my milky mouth felt cloying and strangely parched. I greedily swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the pleasant spearmint-flavoured water, and I stared up into my beautiful babysitter’s contented brown eyes as she lovingly gazed back down at me and explained.

“When Lucy was born, mum had still been breastfeeding Danni, right up to the time of delivery. Being a premmie, she needed the extra nourishment. When mum came home with the new baby, Danni tried to latch straight back on her breasts - but mum needed her milk for Lucy. We tried to switch Danni to the bottle, but at first she wouldn’t take it.” Justine smiled and her gaze turned inward, and I knew she was remembering a happy time. “I was twelve at the time, and my little boobies had already developed quite nicely. My nipples were puffy and sore, and kind of itchy a lot of the time. Even wearing a t-shirt seemed to irritate them sometimes. Anyway, I wasn’t wearing a top that morning, when mum called me into her bedroom and told me to get Danni out of the room. She was trying to feed Lucy, and Danni kept trying to attach herself to the other teat.” Justine giggled, “It was driving mum crazy! So I grabbed Danni off the bed and cuddled her against me as I carried her out of the room. By the time I reached my bedroom, she’d latched on to my titty!”

She gazed down tenderly at me, her big brown eyes glowing at the fond memory, patting my curls with one hand as she held the bottle to my suctioning lips with the other. “It felt amazing! I never realised that having a baby suck on your nipples could feel so good! Suddenly my nip-nips didn’t hurt anymore - it was as though this was what they were designed for - which I guess, they were.” She gave my head a shake when she giggled, “So that’s when it started. After that, I let Danni have a suck on my titties almost any time she wanted - which was like, at least three times per day. My breasts just grew and grew after that - which only encouraged me to keep doing it,” she confessed with a self-deprecating grin.

“I could hardly believe it when one day after P.E. at school a few months later, there was a tiny wet spot on the front of my t-shirt. It smelled kind of like sour milk when I sniffed my bra cup, and of course I recognised the smell. As soon as I got home I hid in the bathroom, stripped off my top and bra, and gave my titties a good hard squeeze.” She giggled and shook her head in dismay at her youthful ignorance. “I almost pissed my pants when a few drops of milk squirted out! When I questioned Danni, she told me she’d been getting a little bit of milk out of my titties for the last couple of weeks, every time I let her have a good suck. I didn’t mind, you understand?” She looked questioningly at me and I nodded, then she continued.

“Once mum explained to me what I’d done, I didn’t think it was so bad. She told me all it takes to bring a woman’s milk down was to let a baby suckle on a regular schedule for a month or two. Mum knew exactly what I’d done, and she was a bit cranky with me.” She sighed with only a hint of regret. “I had a terrific pair of C-cup breasts by that time.” She paused to glance down fondly at her proud bosom, and she hefted one large teat in her hand for emphasis. “They’re D-cups now,” she proudly stated. I nodded silently in admiration and she returned to her story.

“Anyway, I really didn’t want to make Danni stop feeding - even though mum told her she had to. I bought some little absorbent pads to stuff inside the cups of my bras, so I didn’t have to worry about leaky nip-nips any more. Whenever we had some alone-time together, I would let Danni have a good feed.” Justine laughed. “She’d still suck me dry three times a day if I let her, but these days I only let her latch on when she’s been especially good.” She laughed again, a happy tinkling sound that made me smile around the slurping nipple of my baby bottle. “Last week was particularly exciting for my Baby Danielle,” she whispered in my ear like it was a big secret. “I let her feed from my titties every day, three times a day, for the whole of last week - just so it would bring my milk back. Just so I would have lots and lots of lovely breast milk to feed my precious Baby Jennie this morning!” She smiled down affectionately at me and I basked in the sunshine of Justine’s love. I don’t know how long I lay there with my head in her lap, enraptured by her beauty, but I was ripped back to the present by the sound of air noisily sucking back into my bottle through the emptying nipple.

“Good girl,” Justine cooed in approval. “What a hungry, thirsty baby girl! You had a lovely feed, and you drank up all your bot-bot like a good little baby girl for mummy.” I beamed up contentedly at her. She tossed my empty bottle back inside Danielle’s change bag, wiped my damp face with my bibbie, and then lifted my head from her lap. She tried to help me stand, but I misunderstood her intent and automatically rolled off the lounge onto all fours. She hid her grin as she shakily climbed to her feet. After she straightened her clothing, she looped the handles of the change bag over one shoulder. She leaned down and affectionately swatted my out-thrust, perfectly-presented padded posterior. “Oh-oh!” Justine cried in alarm, when the waistband of my puffy air-filled panties loudly popped. A familiar stink wafted up from under my billowing petticoats.

“Wait a minute, baby,” she cautioned me. She flipped up the rear of my bunched pink cotton frock and chiffon petties over my back. Justine pulled the waistband of my baby panties away from the small of my back with her fingers, and bent down closer to my soggy bottom and sniffed loudly. “Oh-oh!” She gathered the waistband of my baby panties and my nappies together, and sneaked a peek inside the seat of my diaper. She let everything go with a loud sigh and an admonishing, “Oh baby!” Justine flipped my skirts back down and drew back to look at my face when she exclaimed, “Baby Jennie! Did you poop your nappy, little girl?”
My cheeks coloured with shame when I humbly confessed to helplessly soiling myself like a hopeless infant. “But Aunty Juthtine! You thaid I could! You told me to,” I weakly protested, unable to hold her accusing stare.

She laughed at my childishly lisped response and gently scolded me. “I most certainly did not tell you to poop your nappies, little girl!” When she saw my downcast expression, she relented. She gave my warm squishy bot-bot a firm soothing rub, smearing my sticky mess all over my trembling botty cheeks. “Oh well,” Justine muttered forgivingly, “mummy’s precious baby girl probably couldn’t help it. After all,” she reassured me, “she’s still just a little baby! Aren’t you, Baby Jennie?” I gazed up at her with a grateful smile and nodded, but the gorgeous redhead wasn’t finished with me just yet.

“You’re not too dirty, so mummy doesn’t need to change you right away.” Her rosy flushed cheeks developed deeper dimples when she whispered, “So my naughty baby girl can enjoy her messy wet nappies for a little while longer. Okay?” I nodded, wondering how she knew? I was distracted when she urged me on my way with a firm swat to my squishy rear end. “Go on, baby girl. Off you go,” she sweetly commanded. “Crawl outside and you can have a little play with Danielle and Lucy before your Mummy comes to collect you.” She walked ahead of me to open the door wide. She beamed down at me in approval as I shuffled past her on all fours to join the other pre-schoolers in the playroom.

“I want to hear you make some of those cute baby sounds while you’re crawling along, darling,” she coaxed me with a winning smile. I willingly obeyed her crooned maternal instructions.
“Ga-ga goo-goo-goo!” I easily responded around the fat rubber teat of my bobbing dum-dums. Her pleased smile warmed the cockles of my pounding heart.
She beamed and cooed, “Good baby girl! That’s mummy’s ‘Little Miss Squishy Britches’!”

Danielle and Lucy were sitting at the low plastic table in the corner again, with a collection of dolls scattered around the remaining chairs. I crawled over to them babbling in nonsense baby talk with a broadly-smiling Justine dogging my heels. While Danielle beamed down at my infantile appearance, her sister Lucy turned up her freckled nose and grimaced in disdain. Danielle couldn’t have been more welcoming, sweeping some teddies off the chair next to her and smiling invitingly at me.

The diapered five-year-old sweetly suggested, “Why don’t you come and sit up here next to me, Baby Jennie?” I gratefully clambered to my feet and immediately dropped into the low white plastic chair beside her. I couldn’t help enjoying the way my bottom slowly sank into the warm squishy pile inside my dirty wet nappy. It was like sitting in a puddle of warm thick mud, and I smiled contentedly at my new baby friend and giggled happily. Lucy’s scornful expression didn’t alter until she leaned over the table closer to me, and then she wrinkled her nose in disgust when she sniffed the rank aroma surrounding me.

“Juzzy!” Lucy exclaimed in consternation, looking up at her grinning big sister with wide accusing eyes and pointing at me. “She smells dirty!” Lucy leaned back in her chair and slid away from me in revulsion. “She pooped her nappy, didn’t she?” It was more a statement than a question and when the buxom redhead smirked and nodded, the offended creature demanded; “Why didn’t you change her after you gave her a feed? You can’t let her crawl around in a poopy nappy! That’s disgusting!” Lucy acidly commented, her top lip curled in a disdainful sneer. That’s when I realised both little girls must have known that their cheeky big sister planned to breastfeed me in the tea room. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or embarrassed by the unexpected revelation.

“Baby Jennie’s Mummy will be back soon,” Justine tried to excuse her unusual behaviour, “and I thought she might prefer to change her messy baby’s nappies by herself. You know?”
Lucy snorted sharply in disbelief and she thrust herself away from the white plastic table and jumped to her feet. “Well I’m not sitting here with those stinky babies! I’m going to play with someone more grown-up who doesn’t smell like poo-poos!” The annoyed four-year-old stormed off towards a group of pretty girls playing at the other end of the long room. I thought I recognised two of the girls from my last visit to the Church Nursery.

Justine frowned at the impudent hussy’s back when she bounded away from us. From my position on the floor I could see up Lucy’s dress. I caught a glimpse of her white cotton panties and pouted with envy. She was such a big grown-up girl. Justine shook her head in disappointment as she dropped Danielle’s change bag on the floor, resting it upright against the side of the low plastic table. When the buxom beauty turned back to us, she held up my empty bottle and she was all smiles again.

“Can I trust you baby girls to play nicely together for a few minutes?” she cooed to us like a loving parent. Her smile broadened when we both sucked harder on our dummy teats and silently nodded. “Good girls. I have to put Baby Jennie’s bottle back in her diaper bag, and check on some of the other toddlers,” Justine explained, and then she grinned mischievously. “Behave for mummy, girls, and I’ll be back soon.” She gave us a little farewell wave and strolled off towards my pink stroller, and I saw her stop to check a couple of kid’s nappies on the way.

I didn’t notice Lucy pointing out me and Danielle to her new friends. It was just as well I didn’t see the contemptuous sneer on her face when she told them all the about the diapered sissy babies playing with their dollies at the kiddie table. My new baby friend grinned at me from around the transparent red guard of her pacifier as she introduced me to some of her dollies. We spent the next twenty minutes happily playing with the hot-pink plastic tea set like two contented toddlers, chatting about our baby dolls and our Barbies like any normal little girls. I wanted to ask Danni loads of questions; about her baby girl dress-up play, and how she liked the taste of her sister’s breast milk - and how often she was allowed to breastfeed… But with so many other children wandering past every few seconds, the opportunity never arose.

Occasionally Danielle with sneak a sideways glance at me and gurgle, “Goo-goo ga-ga,” from around her dummy teat. We would both burst into uncontrollable girlish giggles.
“Ba-ba da-da goo-goo goo!” I mindlessly burbled some nonsense phrases back at her every few minutes too, keeping the cute little carrot-top in fits of high-pitched laughter. She seemed to find it more hilarious every time I did it, and I had to raise my voice towards the end, trying to make myself heard over her joyful squeals. “Ga-ga goo! Ga-goo! Goo-goo goo-goo ga-ga-goo!” I babbled loudly around the mouth-filling teat of my dum-dums. Danni’s laughter cut off with a strangled gurgle and she looked up in consternation. That was when I realised someone was standing close behind me. I tilted my chin up and looked back over my bouncing blonde curls.

Mummy was leaning over me with a grim smile and shaking her head in bemused disdain. “So we’re even babbling like a baby now,” she commented with a snort of derision. “That’d be right!” I wanted to tell her that Danni and I had just been fooling around playing babies, but I knew my protests would fall on deaf ears. Mummy helped me clumsily clamber my feet and when I staggered for balance she ordered sharply, “Try and stand still while Mummy checks your nappy, Baby Jennie.” My poopy wet nappy stuck moistly to my skin, the heavy warm cloth touching me like a sweet muddy kiss. From the disgusted expression marring Mummy’s pretty features when she raised my dress and petties, I think she could already smell I had messed myself.

She experimentally squeezed my warm wet crotch though my snug-fitting baby panties and shook her head in disappointment. She dropped the front of my skirts back in place and leaned back so she could examine my face while she chastised me. “Oh Baby Jennie!” Mummy remonstrated me in a voice loud enough to attract every eye in the room. Her cranky expression made me cringe in shame and embarrassment. “You’ve wet and dirtied your nappy again! That’s the second time you’ve pooped your panties this morning,” she cruelly reminded me. When my cheeks blazed crimson with shame, she nodded in heartless satisfaction.

I thought defensively, ‘The first time doesn’t count! I was asleep!’ I frowned sulkily at the injustice of her accusation.
Justine walked up behind Mummy and innocently asked, “Does your baby girl need a nappy change?” When my grim-faced Mummy nodded, she grinning redhead kindly offered, “I’ll do it if you like? I saw you brought some fresh nappies in Baby Jennie’s diaper bag for her.”
“Yes darling,” Mummy sighed mournfully in reply. “Can you fetch the change bag from baby’s stroller? Don’t worry Justine, I’ll change my naughty baby girl’s dirty nappy. She’s a very smelly baby girl this morning. Things could get a bit messy.”

After Justine handed her my pink gingham change bag, Mummy waved away the helpful teen’s repeated offer of assistance. She sternly ordered me to crawl into the tea room ahead of her. Justine followed us at a discrete distance and she stood in the open doorway observing with her arms folded under her generous bust. My stony-face mother ordered me to climb onto the rustling white change mat she spread out on the old grey sofa. Mummy swiftly stripped away my rumba panties and removed my dirty wet nappy without bothering to give me any instructions, talking down to me and treating me like the silly babbling infant she had discovered playing outside.

There was poo stuck to me everywhere when she peeled away my sticky smelly nappy. Mummy grimaced in disgust when she had to try and collect the disposable liners without smearing excrement all over her fingers. I worried she might have found some evidence of my spectacular climax in the front of my nappy, and fear helped keep my tiny tool flaccid. But I guess I must have washed the bad baby juice away when I did more wetties, because she didn’t seem to notice anything except the smelly brown mess smeared between my cheeks.

It took her ages to clean my messy bot-bot with moist baby wipes. She spent several minutes carefully scrubbing my limp clittie, which thankfully didn’t stir from its well-satisfied slumber. Once the filthy liners, soaker pad, and brown-stained wipes were tied into a nappy sack, she rolled up my poopy wet nappies and tied them in a used plastic shopping bag. At least that reduced the stench to a bearable level, although Mummy clucked her tongue in irritation when she washed her hands at the nearby sink. A heavy coating of baby powder over my loins filled the room with that familiar comforting sweet fragrance, and Mummy briskly rubbed in the silky talc. In minutes I was pinned into a fresh pair of bulky pink nappies, and my frilly plastic-lined rumba panties were forcibly tugged over the top without any assistance from me.

Mummy took my hand and helped me to stand. She thankfully let me walk out of the room instead of making me crawl. I gratefully clutched her fingers and tried not to wobble all over the place when I clumsily waddled after her, my little legs splayed wide by the mass of fluffy cloth between my thighs. “It looks like we didn’t need the frozen spoon today,” Mummy muttered to Justine, as we shuffled past her in the hallway outside the tea room doorway. Justine simply smiled and nodded. “Goodbye Justine, and thanks for taking care of my little girls,” Mummy added.

After she walked by, my grinning babysitter gave me a discrete wink and a meaningful nod. I shyly smiled back at her from around the pink guard of my dum-dums. The huge room was almost empty now, with only a handful of kids remaining to be picked up. I waved farewell to Danielle when Mummy dragged me straight towards my pink stroller without giving me any time to say goodbye to my new girlfriend, and she turned me around and lifted me into the low candy-striped canvas seat. Mummy swiftly buckled the pink nylon restraining straps in place and turned my stroller around, and I could see Angelica was already waiting impatiently for us beside the heavy oak door.

“Goodbye, Mrs R. Goodbye girls,” Justine called after our retreating backs. “See you next week.” I raised my hand and waved bye-bye behind me before Mummy pushed me outside. She wheeled my stroller through the almost empty car park towards her white Toyota Camry, and I lay back basking in the beautiful morning sunshine. Angelica trotted alongside us, holding the stroller with one hand and prattling enthusiastically to Mummy about what a fun time she had playing with her girlfriends in the Church Nursery. Mummy buckled me into my Disney Princess car seat first, locked my door, and then folded up my stroller and dumped it in the boot. She slammed the lid closed and walked around the other side to check on my sister. Mummy looked delighted when she found Angie had already climbed into her car seat and correctly fastened her own seat belt, and she soundly praised her. “Good girl Angelica! What a big girl you are now, doing up your seat belt all by yourself! You are such a clever big girl! Mummy is so proud of you!”

Angelica beamed contentedly all the way to our favourite restaurant. After Mummy parked a few doors down the block, I had to wait impatiently in my juvenile restraints while Angie climbed out by herself and helped Mummy set up my stroller again. I anxiously bit down on my dummy-teat, cringing in shame when I realised Mummy wasn’t going to let me toddle even the short distance down the street to the tables inside. Although to be honest, with these brand-new fluffy nappies bunched between my wide-splayed thighs, I wasn’t sure if I could comfortably waddle that far either. The elderly manager called out a greeting to us when Mummy wheeled me inside, and when he asked Mummy if she wanted her usual table, she shook her head.

“My husband isn’t with us this morning, so we’ll sit at one of the booths,” Mummy decided, pointing to the row of semi-circular booths set against the side wall. Angie squealed with glee. She loved sitting in the booths, and this was a rare treat for her.
The grey-haired gentleman thoughtfully asked Mummy, “Do you want me to wheel over a couple of highchairs for your little girls?”
Mummy smiled gratefully at him for remembering, but again shook her head in the negative. “No, that’s alright.” She fondly patted Angie’s head and explained, “Angelica can sit on a big seat today, because she’s been behaving like such a big girl.” She turned to glance at me, and her expression turned sorrowful. “But I think I’ll leave Baby Jennie in her stroller for breakfast,” she decided. “She’ll be safe enough there.”

The kindly old manager nodded in understanding, and led us to one of the side booths with a half-circle bench seat. Angelica scrambled up onto the green padded seat cushion giggling merrily, sitting up like a polite young lady. She proudly rested her hands on the imitation wood-grain Formica table top, watching Mummy as she locked my stroller wheels in place at the head of the table. Even though we were off to one side and mostly out of people’s way, my pink push-chair was parked in the aisle. Anyone who needed to walk past would have to manoeuvre around my oversized toddler’s stroller. Mummy ordered scrambled eggs for breakfast for all of us, as usual, and the attentive old man took her order and disappeared into the kitchen.

Mummy straightened my humiliating ‘Little Miss Squishy Britches’ bibbie over my breast and then turned to Angie sitting opposite. The two proceeded to have an animated chat that didn’t include me at all. I tried not to sulk at being treated like an incompetent baby who had nothing to contribute to the conversation. I ignored them and sucked harder on my soothing dum-dums instead, wishing it was Justine’s sweet nipple. A grinning young waitress brought our food and drinks for the girls. She almost dropped Mummy’s mug of coffee, she was staring so hard at me in my stroller.

Angie beamed in delight when Mummy let her start eating without having to wear a bib. My sister was allowed to cut up her own food and eat it all by herself, too. (Scrabbled eggs on a piece of soggy toast, that had already been cut into quarters - big deal!) I spat out my dum-dums and Mummy spoon-fed me between bites of her own meal, reaching down to feed me in my stroller and cooing softly in encouragement like I was a real baby. Angie had her orange juice served to her in a proper glass, and she was allowed to drink it like a grown-up. I watched her with envious eyes while Mummy pressed the teat of my baby bottle between my parched lips.

She held my tepid bottle of watered-down apple juice for me at first, but when my breakfast was finished, she coaxed me to hold it by myself. She crooned instructions to me like I was her sweet baby girl. “Go on, Baby Jennie. Hold your own bot-bot, darling. That’s right, good girl! What a clever baby girl!” That gave Mummy time to savour her morning coffee, which she did with relish.
After Angie finished her juice, she placed her empty glass back on the table with a loud ‘bang’ and stated in a matter-of-fact voice, “Mummy, I need to do a wee-wee.”
“Good girl, Angelica!” Mummy praised her. “Can you wait just a minute, sweetie?” She beamed with approval when Angie smiled and nodded.

As soon as Mummy finished her coffee, she stood and helped my sister climb down from the bench seat. “We don’t have a potty here, darling, but I’m sure Mummy can help you use the grown-up’s toilet like a proper big girl.” She glanced down in contempt at me, and couldn’t prevent the disdain creeping into her voice when she muttered, “I’m sure your baby sister will be alright here for a minute or two. After all, she’s not going anywhere in that stroller, is she?”
“No Mummy, I guess not,” Angie giggled. With a scornful parting glance for me, she scurried after Mummy towards the bathrooms.

I sat there busily slurping from the teat of my titty-bottle, cautiously glancing around the half-full restaurant to see if anyone was staring at me. There were about twenty patrons sitting around the sunny room, and fortunately, most of them paid me no heed. When my bottle was almost finished, I tilted the end up high and noisily sucked out the last few drops. Intent on my task, I eventually lowered the empty pink plastic vessel to find an elderly couple approaching me. A beaming grey-haired old lady dressed in her Sunday best led the way, with her skinny shrunken husband in tow. He was wearing a worn but serviceable navy-blue suit. They walked over to stand at the foot of my stroller, and the little old lady placed her veined hands on her knobbly knees as she leaned down to inspect me. “Aww!” she cooed, pursing her thin red-painted lips in the semblance of a pout. “Look at you! What a pretty little girl! Isn’t she beautiful, Fred?” She reached out and chucked me under the chin like I was an infant, smiling broadly when she cooed, “Cootchy-cootchy-coo!”

I let my empty bottle rest in my lap, shocked by her cavalier treatment. I instinctively tried to cover my bulging baby panties with the bottle and both hands. The old lady’s watery blue eyes widened when she read aloud the legend on my bibbie; “Little Miss Squishy Britches, hmm?” I defensively raised my hands to cover the humiliating message, and her smile tightened when she glanced down between my splayed thighs. The nosy old woman leant forward and rudely prodded the bulging crotch of my rumba panties. “My goodness!” she muttered in astonishment. “Are you still in nappies, little one? Are you?” Her red slash of a mouth turned into a disapproving wafer-thin line and she shook her head in contempt. “You’re much too big to be diapered like a baby. Look, Fred! She’s wearing nappies.”

The stooped old man behind her nodded gravely in agreement with his opinionated wife. His grey, badly-shaven face puckered in disapproval. I felt my cheeks burn red with shame and I instinctively scrabbled for the big pink dummy dangling at my breast. I shoved the calming rubber teat between my lips, sucked hard, and stared up at them with a vacant clueless expression. “Ba-ba-ba!” I babbled like an excited baby, holding up my empty pink bottle in one hand and mindlessly waving it about. “Ga-ga goo-goo ga!” I figured if they were going to talk down to me like I was a useless infant, I might as well act the part. “Ga-ga-ga-ga goo!” After all, I was dressed and diapered like a baby girl, I had been put to the breast this morning and fed like a baby, and had my wet and poopy nappies changed several times. I was a dummy-sucking, diapered big baby! A totally feminine, beautiful baby girl! “Ga-ga! Ga-ga-ga-ba ba-ba-ba!”

At first the grey-haired senior citizens seemed surprised by my mindless chatter, but then the old woman’s expression softened. Her wrinkled face puckered and her smile turned indulgent as she cooed, “Oh my! You really are just a little baby, aren’t you?”
“Ba-ba ga-ga, goo-goo-goo, goo-goo!” I enthusiastically gurgled in reply.
“Yes she is,” Mummy replied from behind me in a chill, unamused tone. She rested her hands possessively on the white rubber handles of my stroller, giving it a warning jerk. I was so startled, a squirt of scalding hot urine jetted out of my limp clittie.
The prune-faced old lady raised her watery blue eyes to glance behind me. “She’s very beautiful, but why is she still in nappies?” the little old lady questioned my mother, her wrinkled face creasing frighteningly in concern.

“I’m afraid my pretty baby girl is a little bit slow,” Mummy sadly explained, as she and Angelica stepped around to my side. I was shocked! Was my mother telling them I was retarded? The old folks’ faces fell in sympathy, and the little old lady clucked her tongue in disappointment for my mother’s plight. Mummy moved to the front of my stroller between me and the interfering busybody. She plucked out my dummy and used my stained bibbie to wipe the remaining smears of cooked egg and sticky apple juice from my puffy pink lips and my drool-stained chin. “There you are, darling!” Mummy cooed to me in that condescending sing-song toddler voice of hers. “That’s better! My gorgeous widdle baby girl is all clean now.”

Mummy teasingly held up my dum-dums in front of my face, shaking it at the end of the pink plastic chain. Her olive-green eyes sparkled with mischief and she smiled broadly when my lips automatically parted to accept my baby soother. First she insisted; “Let Mummy hear you ask for your dums-dums, Baby Jennie. Come on, sweetie. Show these nice folk what a clever baby girl you are.” Realising Mummy’s intent was to humiliate me even further, I deliberately relaxed my straining sphincter and let the hot urine gush freely into my thick and thirsty nappies. I wriggled about in infantile delight as the seeping warmth slowly enveloped my botty.

I knew I couldn’t suddenly break into normal adult speech now; not without embarrassing myself horribly in front of the old couple. “Dum-dums, Mama,” I obligingly pleaded, clumsily reaching up for my much-needed pacifier. When she grinned but didn’t otherwise respond, my high-pitched cries escalated in volume and rose another octave. “Dum-dums! Ma-ma! Dum-dums! Ma-ma! Ma-ma-da-da ga-ba-ga-ga-ga!” Her patronising smile turned shark-like before she lavishly licked the amber teat for me and popped the dripping pacifier into my babbling mouth. I anxiously sucked on the soothing rubber teat as I intentionally drenched my nappy. “Num-num-num-mmm-mmm!” I didn’t realise every head in the restaurant had turned towards my convincing infantile performance. Fortunately most of the watching patrons merely smiled forgivingly at the babbling big baby girl in the candy-striped stroller.

“There you are, baby. You have a lovely suck on your dum-dums,” Mummy crooned encouragingly to me. She turned to confront the elderly couple. “She loves her dum-dums so much!”
“She certainly does,” agreed the old woman, smiling at the sight I made. “She’s a beautiful little girl. It’s such a pity she’s-”
“Yes, isn’t it,” Mummy cut off her misdiagnosis to agree. “But we all have our cross to bear,” she added stoically, “and Baby Jennie is mine.”
“Well good luck to you, and God bless,” the smiling old woman kindly wished her. She led her doddering hunch-backed husband past us to find a place to sit.

Mummy collected my change bag from the bench seat, stuffed my empty bottle inside, and Angelica led the way as she wheeled me out of the restaurant. At short time later we pulled into the driveway at home, and Mummy held my hand as she led me inside. As soon as I waddled through the front door she released her grip. I dropped to my hands and knees without a second’s hesitation. Angie ordered me to crawl after her into the sunroom, and she trotted over to her doll house and sat on the carpet to play with her Barbies. I sat beside her and opened the little pink suitcase Connie had given me, filled with Barbie dresses and accessories. I dressed and undressed my dolls without paying much attention to what I was doing. My mind was preoccupied remembering the erotic scene in the Nursery tea room with my gorgeous babysitter Justine. My easily-aroused clittie stiffened inside my warm wet nappy at the happy recollection. I discretely fondled my throbbing clittie through the moist cloth, making sure my tattle-tale sister didn’t catch me in the act.

When Mummy came back downstairs, she had changed out of her pink outfit into a pair of faded blue jeans and an old fawn button-front blouse. She stepped into the sunroom in her white sneakers, clapping her hands for our attention. “Girls! It’s a beautiful day outside, so why don’t you take your dolls into the back yard, and play out there for a little while?” Mummy suggested.
“Cool!” Angie enthusiastically agreed, and she jumped to her feet.
“Come upstairs first, darling,” Mummy instructed my sister. “The sun is very hot out there this morning. You need some sunscreen and I think you should wear a hat, too.” After Angie trotted past her into the hallway, Mummy followed her upstairs.

When Angie came skipping back into the sunroom, she had a layer of white zinc sunscreen smeared over her nose and cheeks. She had changed out of her pink dress and bloomers into a pale-pink t-shirt with the word ‘Princess’ emblazoned across the front in glittery hot-pink lettering, and her favourite hot-pink stretchy terry shorts, You could barely tell she was wearing a pull-up underneath. She wore her pink sneakers over her frilly anklet socks, and she had a soft pale-pink cotton, pork-pie hat on her head, which provided some shade for her face and neck. Angie grabbed her dolls and smirked superiorly at me before heading for the back door.

Mummy strode into the sunroom a few seconds later, and walked over to me carrying a shiny piece of pink satin embellished with lavish white lace frills in one hand, and a tube of zinc cream in the other. “You’ll need a hat too, baby.” Mummy slid something soft and slithery over my bouncing curls, rearranged the wide white lace edging to frame my face, and then pulled some satin ribbons together around my throat. It wasn’t until she tied the ribbons in a big floppy bow under my chin that I realised she was putting a baby bonnet on me! When she tied the knot securely, she leaned back to examine my humiliating new headwear. “That’s better,” she cooed condescendingly, smiling broadly in approval as she straightened the stiffened frills around my blushing cheeks. I felt like I was wearing blinkers made of thick white lace!

She smeared sticky white zinc cream over my nose and my hot pink cheeks, stood back, and then smiled down at me in satisfaction. “What a pretty baby girl you are in your lacy pink baby bonnet! Just stay there for a moment, baby,” Mummy instructed me, and she collected my Barbies and dumped them and the little pink suitcase inside the doll house, and then she hauled the whole lot outside. I was expecting her to come back carrying my pink leather toddler harness, but she was surprisingly bare-handed when she returned.

“Come on, Baby Jennie,” Mummy cooed, holding out her hands to help me clamber to my feet. She kept hold of my hand and led me slowly waddling outside, and I was puzzled by my relative freedom - until I spotted the huge playpen set up in our back yard, on the far side of the sandbox. “Look baby,” she smiled, and pointed to the pink-painted steel baby prison. “Mummy has a special big playpen for her helpless little baby girl to play in.” Angie was already sitting on the grass beside her doll house, which Mummy had set up next to the other side of the wide-spaced steel bars. I frowned sullenly when I noticed Angie wasn’t wearing her toddler harness, either. Mummy released my hand when we reached the playpen and ordered, “On your hands and knees now, baby, and crawl inside.” This took my babyfication to a whole new low!

There was a low, upward-opening hinged gate on one of the shorter sides of the rectangular steel playpen. Mummy opened it high so I could shuffle through the narrow opening on my hands and knees. The foam padded floor was covered by a wetproof layer of heavy-duty pink vinyl, decorated in the recurring Disney Princess pattern. It was about four feet long and three wide, and I turned around just in time to see Mummy lower the hinged steel gate and lock it in place. She smiled down at me in ruthless satisfaction when I knelt up and grabbed the pink bars for support. I thrust my face between the steel bars and grumpily gazed up at her, sucking resentfully on my dum-dums. Angie wriggled closer to my playpen and passed my dollies to me through the bars. By the time I opened my little pink suitcase and sulkily selected a new outfit for my brunette Barbie, Mummy returned carry my infant doll Justine, a fresh bottle for me, and the fuzzy pink blanket from my crib.

She leaned over the high top rail to hand me my diapered dolly, and then she tossed the pink blankie into the playpen beside me. She reached through the bars to feed the nipple into my mouth, and didn’t release her grasp on the pink plastic vessel until she was sure I was securely holding it. “Good bubba.” Then she stood and turned to my sister. “If you need a drink, Angie, just come inside and tell Mummy. And if you need to use the potty - well, you know what to do. Okay, sweetie?” My beaming sister nodded agreement, and without another word to me, Mummy returned inside the house.

My sister began to boss me around as usual, telling me what clothes I should dress my dolls in and what our role-playing game would be. I was growing tired of her telling me what to do all the time, so I wriggled into the centre of my roomy playpen, out of her reach. I lay back on the soft padded floor and closed my eyes to block out the bright light. The sun was warm on my face, and I stretched out my legs to soak up the brilliant sunshine. I tuned out Angie’s high-pitched warbling and stuck the nipple of my baby bottle in my mouth, and gratefully sucked down a few mouthfuls of icy-cold, watered-down apple juice. When Angie raised her voice at me in annoyance, I started to sing a meaningless song in my head, effectively jamming her whinging. ‘La-la-la-le-la-la, ga-ga-ga-ba, ga-ba-ba,’ I sang tunelessly to myself, and soon I couldn’t hear Angie nagging me at all. ‘La-la, ba-ba, ga-ga, ga-ga-goo.’

I think I must have dozed off, because when I woke up, I was alone in the back yard. One hand was cupped over the tenting front of my baby panties, and I realised I must have been caressing my stiff clittie in my sleep. “Ga-ba-ga?” I sleepily burbled around the teat of my mouth-filling dum-dums. I sucked harder on the comforting rubber teat for reassurance. I relaxed my grip on my swollen groin and sat up in groggy alarm, peering around in confusion at the high pink bars that enclosed me, my empty bottle falling to my side. There were banging noises and loud voices coming from the house behind ours, and I clumsily climbed to my feet and clutched the sun-warmed steel bars for support. The playpen’s top rail was inches over my head. When I pressed my face to the warm bars and looked past the oleander bushes that separated our back yards, I saw Daisy and Sally carrying armfuls of plastic outdoor furniture to set up in their back lawn. They were obviously getting things ready for Daisy’s birthday party this afternoon, and I shuddered with mixed emotions when I recalled I would be attending the Fairy Princess party suitably diapered and dressed.

Sally carried an armful of stackable green plastic chairs towards the bushes bordering our properties, and set up the lightweight outdoor furniture facing the middle of the lawn. When she had arranged the chairs to her satisfaction, I saw her raise her head and peer into our back yard. Even from this distance I could see the stunned expression on her face and the uncertainty in Sally’s stance. She threaded her way past the oleanders and trotted into our back yard, making a beeline for my playpen. Sally was wearing a plain grey t-shirt over her generous bust and some tiny white cotton shorts that snugly hugged her plump curvaceous bottom. Her sister looked up when she realised she was alone in their back yard. When she spotted Sally heading next door, Daisy instinctively followed, curious to see what had captured her big sister’s attention.

Sally’s pace slowed as she approached my humiliating kiddie-prison. Her face reflected a confusing mix of emotions. Sympathy, horror, and amusement all fought for dominance on her thin angular face, but it was clear that amusement won the battle. Sally began to giggle uncontrollably as she stepped closer to the bars. She was tall enough to poke her pointy chin over the top rail and peer down at me. “Aww, look at you in your playpen, Baby Jennie!” Her voice was bubbling with laughter when she cooed, “Don’t you look adorable!” My cheeks flushed warmly from a combination of pleasure and embarrassment, but her pencil-thin sister’s snide comments made sure that embarrassment ruled the day.

“Look at that frilly baby bonnet! She looks like a great big sissy baby!” Daisy scornfully declared, trotting up to stand beside her grinning sister. She was dressed in a similar fashion to her big sister – shorts and t-shirt - and I felt even more feminine cowering before them in my floaty pink baby frock, my lace-lavished baby bonnet and my frothy petties. Daisy scowled at me and reached through the pink-painted bars to contemptuously slap the wide white lace brim of my baby bonnet. I instinctively cowered away from her, and when I released my grip on the bars, I clumsily fell backwards onto my wet padded bottom with a girlish high-pitched squeal of alarm. My dummy flew from my mouth and bounced against my bibbie, accompanied by a shiny stream of drool. The sneering seven-year-old shook her head in contempt when she demanded, “Why do you want that big sissy baby to come to my birthday party? She’ll ruin everything!”

“She’ll be fine,” Sally dismissively replied, ignoring my embarrassed blushes and leaning down closer to me. She reached through the bars to affectionately pat my satin-covered curls, and I loved the gentle stoking of her hand. She picked up my drool-covered dum-dums from where it dangled over my bosom. She kindly popped my comforting baby pacifier back in my mouth and then wiped her fingers dry on my bibbie. I sucked on the amber rubber nipple and gratefully gazed up at Sally as she stood erect, trying to thank her with my eyes. “Anyway, if she gives us too much trouble, we can always bring the baby back here and lock her in her playpen,” Sally cruelly suggested. She burst into fresh peals of bright laughter when she saw my instantly horrified expression. ‘No,’ I thought, biting my dummy teat in terror, ‘she wouldn’t dare! Would she?’

“Hello girls,” Mummy called from our back porch. “Happy birthday, Daisy! Are you getting everything ready for the party?”
“Thanks Mrs Ryan,” Daisy trilled.
“Hi Mrs Ryan. Yes we are, but we’ve still got tons to do,” Sally replied. She leaned down and picked up my empty bottle from the playpen floor before standing erect. “Your little Baby Jennie looks absolutely adorable in her playpen,” she added, with another teasing grin for me. “I love her pretty new baby bonnet, too.”
“Yes, she’s the perfect baby girl, isn’t she?” That was Mummy’s considered response, and despite the hot midday sun, my blood ran cold at the chill note of premonition in her tone.

I heard a loud call from Sally’s place, and both girls’ heads swivelled towards the familiar summoning sound. “Oh-oh! That’s mum,” Daisy muttered, easily identifying the noisy squawk.
Sally turned away from me with a reluctant sigh. “Oh well, I guess we’d better get back to work.” She waved my empty bottle at Mummy. “I think your baby needs a fresh bottle.”
“That’s okay. I’m going to give her a snack now and put the baby down for an early nap anyway, so she’ll be lovely and refreshed for your party this afternoon, Daisy.”
“I can’t wait!” the excited little girl exclaimed, dancing on the spot beside my playpen bars and smiling down at me in malicious anticipation.
“Come on, sis, we gotta go,” Sally insisted. “Bye-bye, Baby Jennie.” She dropped my empty bottle beside the playpen and gave me a farewell wave, and then called out a goodbye to my mother.
“We’ll see you this afternoon, girls,” Mummy reminded them, before our neighbours slid through the gaps in the bushes into their own backyard.

Mummy unlocked the playpen gate and ordered me to crawl out. When she made no move to help me stand, I sullenly shuffled on all fours towards the back porch. She took my hand and helped me to waddle up the rough wooden steps, thank goodness, but as soon as we entered the house, her grip relaxed and she released me. I dropped to the floor and continued crawling where she pointed, towards my pink steel highchair. Mummy lifted me into the roomy padded seat and tightly buckled me in. She lowered the Disney Princess tray and plonked a plastic Barbie bowl full of pureed apples in front of me. She plucked out my dum-dums and dropped it in a glass of water on the kitchen bench, and turned back to me with a purse-lipped smile.

“Here diddums,” she cooed, stirring the liquefied mixture with my pink rubber-coated spoon. “I want you to eat some of this for Mummy, before I put you down for your nap.” I wasn’t really hungry after my session of breastfeeding and our late breakfast, but Mummy insistently pressed the loaded spoon to my puffy pink lips. “Come on baby girl. Eat up for Mummy,” she crooned invitingly. She kept shovelling it in until I had the choice of swallowing or choking. She didn’t stop feeding me until the pink plastic bowl had been scraped clean, and there was slimy apple sauce covering my cheeks and running down my chin.

My pink ‘Little Miss Squishy Britches’ bibbie was splattered with pale green goop, too. Mummy clucked her tongue in reproval as she unclipped the humiliating item from around my neck. In a way I was glad I’d made a huge mess of my pink bibbie. I didn’t want to wear that embarrassing tell-tale item for another minute. She firmly scoured my messy face with a warm soapy washer, making me wriggle and whimper in discomfort, and then she carefully scrubbed my hands and fingers, too. She popped my wet dummy back in my mouth to silence my complaints, raised the hinged tray out of the way, removed my restraints and lifted me down to the floor. “Crawl upstairs now baby, and we’ll change your wet nappy and get you ready for your nap,” she instructed me in that saccharine baby voice.

To be continued in chap. 35.
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Baby Jennie



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