Jennie's Potty-Training

by Baby Jennie

  

Chapter 4. Caught In The Act

When I woke up on my back my nappy was a warm wet weight on my tummy, and I realised with a start that I was still wetting. As the hot flow gradually trickled to a halt I rolled onto my front, enjoying the way the drenched cloth clung to the curves of my behind like a warm moist hand, making me realise I had totally saturated my nappy front-to-back. A faint smell of urine escaped from the tight elastic waistband of my baby panties when I rolled over, wafting up to my nostrils like a familiar sweet perfume. Without any conscious thought I felt my peenie starting to stiffen inside the delightful warm swaddling, and I gently rocked back and forth on the front of my bulky wet nappy. The saturated cloth seemed to fold itself around me and as my sensitive little stiffie grew, it slid into a warm soggy groove that seemed ideal for it. The noisy vinyl panties crinkled and the plastic protective mattress cover crackled lightly as I rocked up and down, enjoying the thrilling sensations coming from inside my humid diaper. I had no idea Mummy had been silently watching my tell-tale movements from the Nursery doorway for several long minutes.

I froze still as a statue when Mummy loudly snapped on the Nursery ceiling light, and then noisily threw back the curtains to let in the bright afternoon sunshine. When she decided to check Angie's nappy first, I gave a muted sigh of thanks. I watched in pink-cheeked silence through the wooden bars, lying on my side in my crib while Mummy removed Angelica's wet diaper on the change table. She cleaned her down with a handful of wipes, and then covered her crotch and bottom in the pleasantly perfumed baby powder. She dressed my sister in a long-sleeved white t-shirt, as it had turned a little cool, and then a pastel-pink sleeveless corduroy smock dress that fell almost to her knees. A pair of frilly white anklet socks were tugged onto her tiny feet and with her pink sneakers tied in place, Angelica was lifted down from the change table all ready to play.

By the time my blank-faced Mummy stepped on the release lever and lowered the crib rail to lift me out, my embarrassing erection had thankfully dwindled into insignificance. I meekly lay on my back on the change table and avoided my mother's cool calculating stare as she unclipped my onesie crotch and removed my glistening pink plastic panties. She remained cold and silent as she unpinned my drenched nappy and dumped it the nappy bucket. I was pleased that my stiffie didn't return when she wiped me down with some cold baby wipes and massaged the cool baby oil into my sensitive crotch and bottom. But I felt strangely glad when I was safely pinned into my thick fluffy nappies again, as they did help conceal the unwanted erections that kept unexpectedly recurring. Mummy silently dressed me in one of my normal white long sleeved t-shirts, and for the first time I realised that even before my diaper punishment, my sister and I often wore similar clothes. But the identical pink corduroy smock dress she slipped over my obediently raised arms and submissively bowed head, was brand-new. Angie attentively watched Mummy's every move with a small smile etched on her pretty face, and I remained silent when my mother slipped some frilly white anklet socks on my feet and tied my pink sandshoes in place for me like I was incapable of doing it for myself.

Angie and I decided we were too tired to play outside that afternoon, but I grumbled resentfully when my sister told Mummy she wanted us to play with her Barbie dolls in the sunroom instead. Mummy shot me a harsh look of admonishment and swiftly assured Angie, "Your sister Baby Jennie would love to play dolls with you, sweetheart!" before sending my delighted sister off to gather her doll collection. While she was briefly absent, Mummy grabbed my shoulders and gave me a quick warning shake. She cautioned me to play nicely with Angie, no matter what silly games my dumb little sister wanted to play. "This is all your own fault, little one. Remember? So you play Barbies with your little sister like a good little girl, Baby Jennie. Or maybe you would rather Mummy took you for a stroll down to the local park while pushing one of Angelica's baby dollies in a toy pram?"

I shook my head in fearful denial and felt my nappy unexpectedly grow warm again around my crotch, but tried to not let it show as I freely emptied my bladder. It amazed me that Mummy couldn't hear the loud hissing noises emanating from inside my baby panties, despite the fact that she was standing right beside me while I thoroughly soaked my nappy. I played with Angelica and her dumb dolls for the rest of the afternoon, and although I was a bit cranky at first, my sister kept making up these crazy situations for Barbie and Skipper (she was my doll) to get out of. By the time it grew dark outside, I had to admit I'd been having fun.

Mummy wandered into the sunroom to check on us occasionally, and each time she would lift our dresses and slip a searching finger inside our plastic panties to check for wetness. She gave us sippy-cups full of watered-down juice to drink; a pink one for me and a purple cup for Angie. I didn't realise that Mummy had refilled our cups several times until I saw her walk into the kitchen with our half-drained vessels, and discretely return with them freshly filled a few moments later. She never once asked us if we wanted or needed more to drink. It just seemed that there was always a full sippy cup nearby to slake our ever-present thirst. I was already wet the first time Mummy checked my nappy, but she confidently murmured that I could last another hour or two before I needed changing. Similarly Angie's disposable was wet each time Mummy checked her, but she was usually only changed after every second or third diaper-check, anyway.

We ate fish and chips and salad for dinner, with me locked in my highchair as usual, but at least I was allowed to feed myself with my fingers like everybody else. As soon as we had finished eating and drained our sippy-cups, Angie and I had our faces and hands scrubbed clean, and then our bibs were removed. I was exhausted that night, and barely raised a protest when Mummy led me upstairs to the Nursery. She removed my drenched diaper in the en-suite bathroom and plopped me in the hot tub alongside my giggling little sister. After scrubbing Angie clean, she washed me all over like I was a helpless infant too, and Mummy dried me as Daddy towelled Angie dry. Mummy led us both trudging naked into the Nursery where we were to be put down for the night, and my toes dragged along the ground every shuffled step of the way. I whined irritably that I was too tired to help Mummy prepare Angie for bed, and flopped face-down on my sister's bed like a cranky toddler until it was my turn to be diapered for the night. I couldn't even muster a protest when Mummy tucked the pink bear and my doll Skipper in bed beside me, and I was sound asleep in my cot before I knew it.

The first week of my new 'diaper-hood' passed more swiftly than I would have expected. I no longer bothered to protest about wearing toddler girl clothes, frilly baby panties and the thick cloth nappies, since I figured my objections were futile anyway. During the first few days my friend Michael came over most mornings and played with us in our backyard, even though I was a diapered little girl now to all outward appearances, including my new name. At first he snickered and grimaced every time he called me 'Baby Jennie,' but as each day passed, he seemed to forget I was ever called anything else. As far as I know he hadn't told anyone else about my awful shameful predicament, and for that I was truly grateful. We haven't seen as much of him lately, though. Maybe he was getting bored playing with just us girls.

Every morning when I awoke my nappy was already soaked, and I usually started peeing immediately - if my bladder wasn't already emptying of it's own volition. As my soggy wet nappy grew warmer around me, I would reach down between my legs and press the thick wad of drenched cloth more firmly against my sensitive groin. I could feel the delicious warmth of my saturated nappy with my palm even through my thick vinyl baby panties and the cotton onesie. As soon as the wonderfully warm wee-wees trickled to a halt, I would enjoy the exciting sensation of my peenie swelling and growing harder. After a few minutes of patting and rubbing my cupped palm over the warm dripping front of my nappy, and sliding the tight terry onesie over the slippery crackling baby panties, my thickening tool would gradually creep up my slippery damp tummy, and soon it would be hard and stiff and throbbing pleasurably. Then I would collect the teddy from between my legs and roll face-down, and start rocking on the bulky front of my warm soggy nappy, enjoying the thrilling sensations for several joyful minutes. But soon the rocking and the clinging moist swaddling would soothe me back to sleep, and that was usually how Mummy found me each morning - warm, wet, and asleep on my tummy in my baby crib, with my pink teddy cuddled in my arms.

Because I no longer had to worry about needing to run to the bathroom to use the toilet, I gradually stopped thinking about it. Without intending to, I began to successfully repress the normal warning signals from my bladder by simply ignoring them. After the first few days, there would be a momentary twinge from the tip of my peenie just before the hot stream began to squirt out of me, but by the end of the week there wasn't even that. Sometimes the first inclination I had that I needed to pee was the belated realisation that my nappy was already growing wonderfully warm around my balls again. Similarly the acquired habit of keeping my anal sphincter tightly closed - achieved only after continuous months of rigorous potty-training - was gradually fading away. I was totally unaware that these vital muscles, like all muscles in the human body, only strengthen through continual usage. By ignoring the toilet-training habits I had at best only poorly mastered over the last few years, I was unwittingly allowing my sphincter muscle tone to slacken to dangerous levels.

But none of that concerned me when Mummy removed my warm drenched nappies each morning, and lovingly cleaned and powdered my smelly pee-stained loins. I soon became accustomed to the huge fluffy wad of cloth bunched comfortingly between my thighs, and over the ensuing days my natural gait assumed a distinctly babyish rolling waddle, even when I was naked. Mummy changed me first one morning, then Angelica the next, and whosever turn it was to be Mummy's little helper first, was allowed to choose our clothes for the day. I was always dressed in almost identical clothes to my baby sister, and after a few days I found I preferred wearing my wide-flared toddler frocks to the effeminate pink shorts and t-shirts Angie liked best. Wide-flared dresses are so much better for hiding bulky nappies, even if you do have to be careful about how you sit.

In addition to becoming 'sisters,' I think Angie has now become my best friend. We seemed to get along so well whenever we were together these days. And that was all the time, since we ate, slept, and played together constantly. Angie was totally ecstatic about our new full-time relationship. She absolutely loved having a sister who was dressed just like her, and adored being with me all the time. Even Mummy appeared somewhat appreciative of my new toddler role, since Angie was kept occupied and seemed deliriously happy most of the time. My clever baby sister was also learning to help Mummy dress and undress me and change my nappies, and I in turn helped Mummy dress Angie and change her wet and poopy diapers.

During the week Mummy spent a few afternoons in her sewing room, while we were busy playing with Angie's Barbies. There she made for my sister and I some gorgeous matching pastel-pink, sheer cotton sundress and bloomer outfits. She also sewed a matching sundress for herself but no bloomers, as her dress was longer and more mature in design. They were completed by Saturday morning, and when Mummy lifted me down from the highchair after breakfast, she led us into the sewing room to try on our new outfits. I was pleased to see in the room's full-length mirror that my new sundress fell just past the crotch of my drooping baby panties. When Mummy pulled the baggy matching bloomers over my swaddled hips and tucked the frilly elastic leg bands high up on my thighs, you could scarcely tell I was heavily diapered underneath. While Mummy was occupied cutting some loose threads from Angie's white lace-lavished hemline with the good scissors, I stared at my attractive feminine appearance in the mirror in amazement. For some unknown reason, my peenie started to grow hard inside my warm wet nappy. Without thinking, I reached down under the lacy hemline of my own filmy pink dress and frothy petticoats, and absent-mindedly caressed the moist cushiony front of my bulky damp nappies. The soft cotton bloomers slithered erotically over the slippery rustling plastic panties underneath, and I briskly rubbed my open palm up and down as I marvelled at the wonderful heat radiating from my warm saturated nappy front.

My thrilling reverie was interrupted when Mummy sharply demanded; "Why are you touching yourself down there, Baby Jennie? Is your nappy wet again, little girl? Do you need a change already?" I blushed hotly when I caught sight of Mummy's frowning face in the mirror, and realised she and Angelica had been closely observing me the whole time. "Come over here, little girl. Mummy wants to check your nappy," she brusquely commanded with an imperious flick of her hand. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I turned away from my fascinating feminine reflection and waddled over to my stern-faced mother. "Lift up the front of your dress, little girl," she ordered sharply. She watched my guilty red face carefully as she pulled the elasticised front of my bloomers and my baby panties away from my tummy, and our nostrils were immediately assaulted by the ammonia odour of a heavily saturated nappy. "Pooh! I don't need to feel that nappy to know that it's drenched. Gosh, Baby Jennie, your wee-wee really smells strongly today. I don't think you're drinking enough water, little girl."

Before she took me upstairs to the Nursery to be changed, Mummy grasped my hand and led me stumbling into the kitchen. I was made to drain two sippy-cups full of ice-cold water, and my little tummy was practically sloshing when she lifted me onto the change table. The only good thing was, my embarrassing erection had time to shrink to almost normal size by the time she unpinned my stinky wet nappy and cleaned me down. But when she started to rub the baby oil into my little sack and between my spread legs, I was horrified to see my peenie uncontrollably thickening again. I tried in vain to will it away, and my cheeks blushed rosily as it continued to grow harder under Mummy's soft caressing hands. Her face was impassive as stone while she poured the faintly perfumed powder over my embarrassing erection. I gasped in shock when she disdainfully gripped the sensitive swollen head between the tips of her thumb and forefinger, to lift my stiffie aside so she could massage the talc into my trembling tummy.

Her top lip curled in disapproval as she raised my ankles and powdered around my bottom and between my splayed thighs. I turned my face away in shame from her harsh unwavering glare, and was actually thankful when she finally pinned my thick fluffy nappies in place over my embarrassing erection. I compliantly lifted my legs and pointed my toes so it was easier for her to thread the crackling baby panties over my feet, and helpfully raised my rear without being ordered so she could tug them up over my snugly-pinned nappy. She then slipped the frilly pink bloomers up my legs, and I automatically raised my bottom without being asked again, so she could more easily slide them over my slippery plastic panties.

As soon as I dropped my puffy padded rear back onto the change table, my cranky Mummy leaned over me and pressed her open palm over the tenting front of my bulky nappy. I was certain she could feel the swollen hardness beneath, even covered as it was by the many layers of thick terrycloth, my crackling plastic panties and bloomers. Her olive-green eyes glittered dangerously as she informed me, "Since you seem to love wearing your pretty baby frock and bloomers so much, Mummy has decided to take her beautiful little girls to the park this morning, to show off their gorgeous new outfits." My erection immediately started to wilt in fright, and it continued to shrivel as I pleaded with her not to take me to our local park dressed like a diapered little girl. To my horror I started uncontrollably urinating as soon as my peenie softened, the hot stream splashing over my tummy and soaking my nappy in front. Mummy shot me a cruel smile and shook her head in bemused wonder when she felt the sudden blossoming of warmth through my bloomers and plastic panties. "Why Baby Jennie! Are you wetting your nappy again already? What a big baby you really are!" Her careless disappointed tone indicated she expected nothing more of me, and she wrinkled her nose and shook her head in in dismay when she lifted me down from the change table.

"It's a good thing those nappies are so thick, isn't it, little girl?" she demanded sarcastically, as she pulled the lace-lavished bloomers higher around my waist. The warm wet cloth was pressed more firmly between my legs as I was lifted onto my tippy-toes by the force of her brutal tugging. "Mummy won't need to change Baby Jennie's wet nappy for hours yet." She savagely brushed out my hair that morning, making me wince and cry out in pain. But I didn't dare raise a hand to try and stop her. She gathered my long blonde locks in two bunches on either side of my head, and gave me two high fluffy pigtails that she bound first with tight pink hair elastics. She covered the plain elastics with frilly decorative elastic bands that had little strips of sheer pink chiffon sticking out attractively in all directions.

She slipped the white cotton socks with little pink lace frills back on my feet, followed by my pink sneakers, and then dressed Angie to match. When Mummy led us waddling out to the kitchen, Daddy was highly complimentary of our beautiful matching outfits and pretty hair ribbons. Despite my awful situation, I couldn't prevent a tremulous smile as he threw Angie and me into the air in turn and caught us, telling us all the while how stunning his little girls both looked. Mummy shortly informed him of her decision to take us for a walk in the park, and although Daddy seemed nonplussed by her sour expression, he nodded agreement before disappearing to collect his camera and film. With the camera strap safely looped around his neck, Daddy made us wait by the front door for a minute. When Mummy returned clutching both our leather toddler harnesses, my bottom lip started to droop and tremble again. Daddy ignored my sulky face and buckled Angie's white toddler harness in place, while my grim-faced Mummy fastened the humiliating pink harness straps behind my back. They each gripped the handles of a pair of matching leather baby reins clipped to the rear D-rings of our harnesses, before we were allowed to safely toddle out the front door. I kept my blushing face down and my eyes glued to the paved footpath in front of my pink sandshoes all the way down our street, but fortunately there weren't any neighbours wandering about to see my embarrassing babyfied state.

I actually started to relax when we reached the leafy local park, as I didn't recognise any of the children playing and running around on the grass nearby. Adults strolling past us simply smiled down indulgently at the two attractive little girls in their matching pink toddler frocks and bloomers, each waddling along at the end of a pair of leather baby reins and buckled securely into their toddler harnesses. When my nappies warmed delightfully around my crotch again, I almost started to enjoy our family stroll in the bright morning sunshine. Daddy insisted on taking several photographs of his 'gorgeous toddler girls' posing in our sweet pink sundresses. Several people stopped to watch us as we posed and smiled prettily for the camera under his direction, and some of them loudly complimented our parents on having two such beautiful little girls. Daddy removed our harnesses for some of the photographs, and I blushed bright pink with pleasure when he whispered in my ear, "You're being a very good little girl for Daddy today, little Jennie, and both my baby girls look simply stunning!" When he told me to hold still afterwards so he could buckle my toddler harness back in place, I realised Daddy had started addressing me as Jennie all the time, too. Without realising it, I always responded immediately when he called me by my feminine name. It was funny, I didn't even particularly notice when people included me with 'the girls' now. Once in a while I even thought of myself as a girl these days, now that I was dressed and acting like one all the time.

As we returned home from the park I began to wetly fart, and I started to soil my saturated nappy without even realising I wanted to go number twos. It was weird, as I hadn't even felt like I needed to do a poo-poo. Along with a muted flutter of gas, a hot wet lump simply oozed out of my slackened anus without any warning, and more soft poop continued to seep out as I slowly waddled along. The tight crotch strap of my humiliating pink leather toddler harness didn't leave much room between my legs, so the hot squishy poo-poos was forced to spread all over my bottom, eventually creeping moistly up my bumcrack towards the small of my back. I tried to toddle faster to hurry home, but Mummy kept a steady dragging pull on the reins that slowed my impatient pace to a crawling, wide-legged baby waddle.

The warm poo-poos squished and mashed between my thighs and crept around to the soggy front of my nappy, where it began to surround my thickening peenie with soft faecal lubricant. I could smell it now, the distinct tangy aroma of my recent bowel movent becoming more obvious with my every tortured step. I tried to keep as far away from Angie as my baby reins would allow, so that she couldn't smell that I had pooped in my nappy, as I knew the little tattle-tale would immediately tell the whole world. Despite my feelings of shame and humiliation, my arousal grew harder with every waddling step in the cramped wet conditions, my thickening erection slithering erotically in the hot slimy muck settling between my legs. I glanced over my shoulder and realising no one was watching, I discretely began to rub the front of my bloomer panties, pressing my drenched diaper against my throbbing stiffie. My whole attention became focused on the pleasurable sensations coming from inside my filthy hot wet nappy, and I was barely aware of my surroundings as our parents slowly walked us the endless two blocks home.

To my distant relief we didn't meet anyone we knew on the way home either, and I waited impatiently by the front door while Daddy inserted the key and unlocked it. But when Mummy knelt to unbuckle the crotch strap of my toddler harness, she caught a whiff of the fetid air around my bottom and immediately realised I had soiled myself. In a voice rich with sarcasm she commented loudly; "My, my, Baby Jennie! That nappy smells very dirty, little girl. Having you been busy making some special mud pies in your nappies for Mummy, baby?" When she unbuckled the pink harness, she held me in place by pressing her palm against the front of my clinging soggy nappy. Her delicate plucked eyebrows shot up her forehead and then she scowled darkly at me in displeasure. I think she could tell I was hard and excited again inside my filthy smelly swaddling, and I ducked away from her piercing olive-green eyes. My cheeks were burning with shame as she wordlessly handed my pink toddler harness to Daddy to hang up. Then she gripped my hand firmly and dragged me upstairs, and escorted me waddling heavily into the Nursery.

Despite her forbidding expression, she seemed pleased my new bloomers were unstained when she removed them, and then she undressed me and made me hang up my clean dress and petticoat ready for tomorrow. But when she lifted me onto the change table and removed my translucent pink plastic baby panties, there were nasty brown stains around the insides of both leg bands and a small brown puddle in the saggy crotch. She had to carefully dump them in the nappy bucket under the change table, and then she unpinned my disgusting poopy nappy and lowered the heavy front with a flourish. "Pooh, Baby Jennie! What a smelly, dirty, wet baby girl you are today!" Mummy cried, as the full extent of my soiling was revealed, and the pungent aroma of my recent bowel movement filled the air around us.

My cheeks turned crimson with shame as I realised I was still hard and throbbing under the thick layer of stinky brown poo-poo. Mummy's silence was deafening, and I turned my blushing red face away from her cruel unblinking glare, cringing abjectly in humiliation. I was so overcome with embarrassment, I felt certain my unwanted hard-on would wilt from sheer mortification - but no such luck! Mummy remained coldly silent as she viewed the bobbing little stiffie covered with smelly fresh excrement, and her face was black as a thundercloud while she disdainfully wiped my hard-on clean with the warm saturated front of my dirty nappy. Her hands were rough and uncaring as she scraped most of the bigger lumps into the yellowed terry towelling, and my erection slowly diminished under her savage assault.

After she cleaned most of the stinky mess from me with a handful of cool moist baby wipes, Mummy ordered me to lie still on the change table while she noisily sluiced out the badly soiled nappy in the Nursery en-suite toilet, and then repeatedly rinsed it out in the bathtub. She dumped the disgusting wrung-out beige nappies in the bucket under the change table, and I was pleased when she immediately replaced the lid to help contain the awful stench. She insisted on hosing me down in the bathtub with the hand-held shower spray before she would pin my clean nappies in place, and her hands were hard and callous as she scrubbed at my tender soiled bottom and slowly shrinking peenie with a warm soapy washer. By the time she had finished towelling me dry, I was sniffling in misery from her rough handling, and my unwelcome erection had dwindled completely.

I thankfully remained soft and shrivelled as Mummy oiled and powdered me, and I actually felt grateful when my misbehaving peenie was safely pinned inside a thick comfy nappy where it belonged. As soon as she tugged my crackling wetproof baby panties into place, I felt my tiny tool begin to dribble uncontrollably, and I felt strangely soothed by the familiar comforting warmth. She stretched a pink cotton onesie over my bowed head and fed my hands through the sleeves without letting me assist her in any way, and my bladder continued to slowly empty as she snapped the crotch pieces together between my spread thighs. I was then dressed in the pair of pink shortalls she'd bought for me, and Mummy demonstrated the new snap clips she had sewn into the crotch to make changing my nappies easier. "Just like proper baby shortalls," she commented with a tight smile that never reached her eyes.

My nappy felt lovely and warm and wet again by the time Mummy buckled me into the highchair for lunch that afternoon. I had come to enjoy the feeling of humid warmth surrounding my loins, and my peenie started to uncontrolably thicken as she tightened the leather waist belt around me. Mummy's face was a mask of disapproval as she locked the tray in place and placed a bowl of mush in front of me. Unconsciously I rocked backward and forward on the warm wet cloth bunched under me, and then made another delightful discovery. Underneath the highchair tray is a wide wooden centre strut that bolts in place into the seat between my wide-splayed thighs. As I rocked forward, I discovered that my little stiffie was pressing into the soggy warm cloth trapped between the wooden strut, the leather crotch strap and my tummy. Mummy didn't seem to notice, so I continued to contentedly rock and press my throbbing, wet nappy-wrapped hard-on against the wooden strut, while she fastened a bib around my neck and started spooning baby food into my mouth. I dreamily gazed into the distance, lost in my own pleasurable thoughts as she crisply ordered, "Open your mouth wide, Baby Jennie. That's it. Good baby. Now eat up for Mummy like a good little girl. That's right. Open wide again. Good baby. Chew... Good girl, Baby Jennie. Open up..."

Totally preoccupied with amazing feelings coming from inside my hot wet nappy, my mouth automatically opened and shut according to Mummy's humiliating instructions. Before I knew it, she had shovelled two large jars of pureed toddler food between my smeared lips as I distractedly rocked away in my highchair. I didn't even notice that Angie wasn't wearing a bib today, and she had been allowed to feed herself a cut-up sandwich while she silently watched Mummy spoon-feed me my infantile lunch. Mummy insisted on wiping my messy face down with my bib before I could have a drink of juice from my pink sippy-cup, and while I was drinking I continued to gently thrust my excited stiffie against the wooden strut between my thighs. As soon as my sippy-cup was drained she took it from my grasp, and scrubbed my face hard with a warm soapy washcloth, until I whimpered and blubbered in discomfort. "Baby Jennie is such a messy eater," she mildly scolded me, easily defeating my half-hearted efforts to avoid her grasp. I didn't realise the pain had made my erection dwindle until I felt the familiar soothing comfort of my nappy warming around my loins again when Mummy lifted me down.

Angie's diaper smelled terrible when Mummy led us both into the Nursery for our afternoon naps. She was lifted onto the change table first, and as soon as her shoes, socks and outer clothes were removed, Mummy made me take over changing her poopy nappy. My little sister lay back watching me with a critical eye as I gingerly released the tapes, and let the heavy front of the dirty wet diaper flop down between her splayed thighs. "Ew, yuck!" I cried in disgust at the smelly brown mess smeared all over her bottom and crotch.

"Yes, Baby Jennie!" Mummy heartily agreed, and then continued in a voice that could have frozen water. "It is yucky having to clean a dirty baby's messy bottom. Poo-poo is disgusting and smelly, not something exciting. But you seem to enjoy your wet and poopy nappies, don't you, little girl? You shameful creature! So from now on, you'll be changing and cleaning Angie's dirty poopy nappies every day. Now use the wet front of that diaper to scrape off the worst lumps, and then you will have to carefully fold it into itself. That's right, good girl. Now roll it up carefully and tape it closed, Baby Jennie, and then drop it in this nappy sack."

She coached me through the whole disgusting procedure, making me clean between my sister's spread legs again and again until she was satisfied. Angelica's yucky brown poo-poo seemed to be smeared everywhere, and it stuck to everything it touched - including me. I squealed in dismay when a big brown lump dropped on the back of my left hand, and it stuck to me like glue when I snatched my contaminated paw away. After furiously wiping the horrible filth from my hand with a baby wipe, I was grateful when Mummy sent me to the en-suite to wash before continuing. I dashed into the bathroom and anxiously scrubbed my stinky stained hands with a soapy washer under the hot tap for several minutes. I had to go and wash my soiled hands twice more before I could oil and powder Angie down, and Mummy watched with a solemn face as I sullenly taped my silently watching sister into a fresh pastel-pink disposable

When Angie was safely tucked into bed, Mummy removed my shoes and socks and pink shortalls, then lifted me onto the change table and unsnapped my pink onesie. She didn't bother to check to see if I was wet. She seemed to simply assume I was always wet these days. But thankfully my peenie was tiny and shrivelled when she unpinned my wet cloth nappy and lifted the heavy front flap away from my groin. Obviously having to clean my little sister's horribly messy bottom had achieved the desired effect, and my Mummy appeared pleased that I remained limp and soft while she cleaned, oiled and powdered me front and back. As soon as I was safely locked in my crib I thought Mummy would leave, but she decided to read my sister a story. I lay there nonchalantly wetting myself as she selected a story book with my sister's advice, and then I rolled onto my tummy to conceal my thickening pee-drenched erection. Mummy sat on the end of Angie's bed and began reading the story of Peter Rabbit, and I had to content myself with discretely pressing my throbbing peenie into my warm wet nappy against the mattress, while I impatiently waited for her to finish. But I fell asleep first, lulled into dreamland by my Mummy's soothing lilting tones as she quietly read to my sister about the silly bunnies.

Mummy went shopping with her big sister Cathy while we were taking our afternoon naps, but she returned before we awoke. I was roused out of a deep slumber by the wooden crib rail rattling down and my sister's excited squeals. Mummy had bought us each an identical life-size infant doll, and they were exactly the same - except Angie's wore a pale yellow toddler frock, while the pretty dolly she thrust into my hands was wearing a brief hot-pink dress with matching frilly pink panties underneath. Angie was jumping up and down and squealing with excitement when she realised we both had matching new baby dolls to play with. After checking my sister's diaper and finding her dry, Mummy sent her to show off her new dolly to Daddy. She dashed out of the room so fast, I thought she had disappeared. Mummy lifted me onto the change table with the doll in my arms and unsnapped my onesie, and she removed my damp baby panties while she explained the reason behind her peculiar purchase. "From now on, little girl, you must carry your baby dolly with you wherever you go. And I mean everywhere, at all times! Looking after babies in nappies is hard work, Baby Jennie, as I am sure you are about to discover for yourself."

My nappy was absolutely soaked with wee-wee after my afternoon nap, and Mummy dumped the saturated cloth nappies in the nappy bucket with a grimace of distaste. With nothing to do while she cleaned and diapered me, I examined the life-like infant doll I held in my hands. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and bright blue eyes just like me, and her body was made out of soft, flesh-coloured latex rubber that felt incredibly realistic. Her pretty mouth was a tiny pink pursed Cupid's bow, and there was a small hole in the centre. I realised the doll was wearing a disposable infant diaper and crackling plastic panties under her frilly pink pants, just like a real baby. I knew my tight-lipped mother was carefully watching my face the whole time, so I tried to keep my expression neutral, even though I was secretly amazed at the realistic doll.

After I was clean and smelling sweetly of baby powder, Mummy pinned me into a fresh fluffy nappy, and simply clipped the pink onesie back in place between my legs over the same damp baby panties. She slipped my socks and pink sneakers back on my feet, and turned down the lace frills around my ankles and arranged them to sit more attractively. "That's all my little girl needs to wear while she does the laundry," was her odd comment as she set me on my feet. "Now you keep a close hold of your new baby, Baby Jennie," she sternly warned me. I was ordered to pick up the heavy nappy bucket full of my soiled wet diapers, and carry it as well as my doll. I stuck the life-size doll awkwardly under one arm, and waddled with great difficulty downstairs and out to the laundry while carrying the bucket. There I had the unpleasant task of emptying my stinky wet nappies into our top-loading washing machine, and ensuring they were evenly distributed around the stainless-steel drum. Yuck-spuck! Mummy taught me how much powder and fabric softener I had to use, and where it had to be poured. The whole time my dolly was lying on the laundry floor beside me, on a clean towel Mummy made me lay down first.

I realised her eyelids closed when she was tilted onto her back, and was distracted by her amazingly realistic appearance. I felt miserable as I was forced to pick up a particularly vile nappy that slipped wetly to the floor, even though the fresh nappies pinned tightly around me were soon wonderfully warm and wet and clinging comfortingly to me. But I wasn't allowed to wash my smelly hands; not until after the machine had been turned on and I had cleaned the floor properly where the soiled nappy had lain. As soon as my hands were scrubbed clean and dried, Mummy dressed me in my pink shortalls again. She ordered me to pick up my dolly and drop the towel in the laundry hamper, and carry her into the lounge room. Angie was babbling to Daddy that her new baby's name was Sophie, and I blushed with shame when Mummy unexpectedly turned to me and demanded, "And what is your pretty baby's name, Baby Jennie?"

When I hesitantly tried to explain my doll didn't have a name, my sister and Mummy turned on me at once. The two females sternly lectured me in stereo about how good Mummies always name their babies immediately, so I gave them the first feminine name I could think of. "Justine," I sputtered over their tirade. "Her name is Justine." I didn't know why my Mummy was grinning so broadly, but even Daddy had a big smile on his face as he examined my new doll's life-like appearance.

"Hello Baby Justine," he greeted the dolly cradled in my arms, squeezing one of her tiny hands like she was a real person, then he turned to me. "Now you take good care of your pretty baby, little Jennie. Understand Daddy?" His jocular tone carried more than a hint of warning, and I anxiously bit my plump bottom lip and nodded obediently as I clutched the dumb doll tighter to my breast. I had to change Angie's wet nappy that afternoon, and at first I was thankful for the momentary relief when we paused from our endless role-playing game of 'Mummies and babies' with our new dolls. But after I removed Angie's wet diaper, Mummy made me place it lying open and smelly on the closed lid of the nappy bucket, instead of folding it, taping it shut and dumping it in a nappy sack as usual. After I had cleaned, powdered her crotch and bottom, and diapered my little sister, I helped Angie to dress in her pink shortalls again. Mummy lifted her down so she could run back to her baby Sophie, then she turned to me, her olive-green eyes narrowed and her high forehead crinkling in a frown.

"Now Baby Jennie, I want you to remove your baby's rumba panties and diaper up here on the change table." I felt confused as I compliantly lay my dolly Justine on the padded change table and undressed her. But as soon as the doll was naked under her pretty dress, Mummy handed me my sister's soggy used diaper from under the table. "Move her dress out of the way first, then put this diaper on your baby, little girl," she commanded sternly, and I awkwardly taped the too-large, smelly wet toddler disposable in place around my infant doll's hips. I had difficulty covering the bulky diaper with the plastic panties that came with the doll, and then replaced the frilly pink panties. When I held Baby Justine in my arms, the faint aroma of my sister's stale urine drifted up to my nostrils, and I began to understand my mother's crafty purchase. I had to carry the smelly wet doll around with me all afternoon, except when I was attending to the laundry or buckled in my highchair to be fed.

When Mummy raised the crib railing and locked it in place for the night, I could hardly wait to be left alone. Next to my pink teddy, Baby Justine was lying beside me with her eyes closed wearing a smelly wet diaper, and I squeezed the soft little hand that felt so life-like. I saturated my fresh nappies without even thinking about it, and as soon as the warm wet feeling surrounded me I started to grow hard again. I rolled onto my side facing the wall with the plush pink teddy resting comfortably between my knees, and contented myself with discretely caressing my erection through the tight onesie Mummy made me wear to bed, pressing my warm wet nappy against my little hard-on for a while.

Mummy read to us until I heard my sister finally fall asleep. I pretended to be asleep too, when Mummy softly padded over and checked me. She leaned over the raised cot side, making my crib rattle slightly, and patted my damp padded bottom gently. She gave a quiet sigh of resignation at the tell-tale wet sound, but didn't bother commenting. The repeated continual patting felt extremely soothing and I had to struggle to stay awake, but eventually her hand slowed to a halt and she quietly wandered out of the Nursery. Then I eagerly rolled onto my wet nappy front and rocked on my exciting erection, marvelling at the wonderful sensations before I gradually drifted off to sleep.

Continued in chapter 5

  

  

  

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