I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl
A boy's family discovers his secret
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl
A boy's family discovers his secret
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 1
I cannot believe this has happened to me. No, not in a million years would I ever dream my family would make me wear diapers and expect me to use them for what diapers were intended. Not only that, on most days, the outfits I wear that my mom has made for me might make one think I was just an overgrown 2 year old toddler girl. I really thought I was being so careful- so very careful. I really, really did. But that’s all in the past and I am living a nightmare that about a month and a half ago was what I believed to be an exciting and very private dream.
I never envisioned being treated this way by my family and I suppose it’s really my own fault. I could have avoided it, I think, if I had only passed by the drugstore that first time. But it really wasn’t just that, not after everything I did. No, I guess I really asked for this. So here I am in the middle of our family room sitting in a very large playpen that my dad made especially for me. I am spending my days playing with all of my toys - my new “baby” toys. I never really wanted to be treated like a baby girl; I was just satisfying my own curiosity.
But before I explain just how I got myself into this predicament, let me give you some idea of how I have spent my summer so far. The days are running routine lately. Most of the time, I spend the long hours in the day playing in this large playpen with lots of old baby toys, many stuffed animals, and dressing and undressing an endless procession of my sixteen year-old sister’s collection of Barbie dolls she gladly donated to the cause. If someone in my family has the time, and they usually do, I am taken out and into the backyard to play. I hate this since I am “allowed” to be dressed in some kind of very short summer dress with matching rumba panties (my “outside play dress” as my sister likes to call it) or I am dressed in my new two-piece swimsuit so I can consider myself “lucky” enough to be allowed to play in the wading pool.
My mom insists I should su-k on a pacifier (she calls it my “binky”) at all times when I am not feeding or drinking my “baba.” I wasn’t used to this, so at first, I was really bothered by it since it tended to hurt my mouth. But I finally got so used to it, I don’t even notice that I am su-king on it almost all of the time. Since I am expected to use my diapers for their intended purpose, I don’t even remember what is like to use a toilet. And lately, I discover I am wet and don’t remember doing it and that is really scaring me. But worst of all, my family has taken to calling me the family’s new little baby girl, Baby Sammy. So, how did I get myself into this mess?
You see, for some time now, I have been enjoying a newly discovered fetish I never knew I had. I had begun wearing diapers and plastic panties in the secrecy of my own bedroom. It had developed from an experiment into a nightly happening that was escalating in new and more exciting ways for me. At night, when I went to bed, and before I would nod off to sleep, I would pin several layers of my mom’s large dish towels as diapers on myself, add a pair of toddler’s plastic pants (I am a bit small for my age), wear them all night while I slept and take them off early the next morning when I got up for school.
I would only wear them to bed and never out of my room. I was very careful not to make any noise or to even put them on while my parents were awake. This took some doing and careful planning. Lately, I even borrowed my older sister’s baby-doll nightie with matching ruffled panties to try to look little more like a baby girl. It just fit me. I even went so far as to add wearing one of my sister’s bras stuffed with a couple pairs of my socks to complete a strange, yet somewhat satisfying look.
But I really slipped up when my mom come into my room one night to get me for a late phone call from a friend and caught me fully dressed as I lay in my bed. Right then, my world changed for good. And in some way sort of masochistic way, I guess I blame myself for not being careful enough and probably feel I deserve and even tend to enjoy my punishment.
But it could have been so different.............so very different.
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 2
It all began several months ago when I offered to baby sit my baby cousin so my parents and aunt and uncle could go out for dinner one night. For some reason, when I went to change my cousin’s wet and messy diaper, the thought of wearing my own diapers and plastic panties began to interest me. My cousin wore cloth diapers since her parents were the kind of people who were so concerned about the environment, landfills, and waste of materials that they would never use disposables on their baby girl.
When I finished changing my little cousin, I looked at her padded rear end covered in thick, white cloth and enveloped by soft, white plastic panties and I couldn’t get that image out of my mind. I then dressed her so she would be ready for bed when her parents came home and she was going to be wearing a cute, little baby doll nightie with matching, ruffled rumba panties. Then, all of a sudden, I though about what it would feel like to actually wear an outfit like that. I mean to say, I really wanted to know just what it would feel like to be dressed as a little baby girl in diapers, plastic panties, and an outfit like this one.
After that night, I began to think about it a lot, but always dismissed it as something weird. Yet the more I thought about it, the more I began to think it was something I would at least want to try – maybe just once just to experience the feeling. I would just wear diapers once and then never again. After all, what could one time hurt? I reasoned that it would be just a one time experiment and so I began to think about it a lot. I could try and find something that I could use as a diaper, pin it on myself, feel what it was like, and take them right off and never think about it again. Satisfying an irresistible urge, I would have experienced what I wanted to fell and my problem would be solved. At least, this was what I was thinking.
So after some searching at home, I borrowed some of my mom’s dish towels that were once flat rectangular style diapers, the kind you needed to fold to fit a baby’s body. If I laid out four of them, they gave me what I thought was enough padding to experience the feeling. I took the towels out of the drawer one night and brought them to my room. It was very late and everyone in the house was asleep. I carefully laid out the diapers on the bed, took a couple of large safety pins I borrowed from my mom’s sewing supplies, laid down on the diapers and pinned them on myself.
The feeling was wonderful. As I stood up and looked in the mirror, the sight of me wearing a diaper was really weird, yet somewhat satisfying. Then I thought I heard someone walking in the hallway, so I quickly took them off, stashed the towels in my dresser, put my pajamas back on, jumped in bed, grabbed a book as if I had been reading all along, but no one came in my room. Was I hearing things? Or was I getting a little jumpy? Oh well.
The next night, I lay in my bed thinking about the night before and how the feeling of wearing a diaper was so wonderful. I battled with myself debating on satisfying my new urges or trying to convince myself how weird it was to want to wear a diaper. After all, a seventh grade boy doesn’t wear diapers – he just doesn’t! But my wish to satisfy myself won out and I again pinned on “my diapers.” But this time, I put on my pajama pants over the diapers and looked at myself in the mirror again. There I was with my pajamas and I knew I also had a padded rear end, but couldn’t really tell. I guess my current size and thin diapers were not enough to show through. Right then, I got scared thinking that if anyone walked in on me right now that I would catch hell. So again, I quickly took the diapers off, stashed them in my dresser, and went back to bed. Yet somehow I knew that soon I would need to go a bit farther.
One night, I managed to finally wear the diapers overnight. I always had to be up for my paper route early and before anyone else awoke, so getting them off before anyone would catch me was no problem. I took me a while to fall asleep and I did not sleep very well. When my alarm went off, I remembered what I was wearing and I thought it was so cool to have managed to stay in diapers for an entire night. The feeling was quite exciting. Reluctantly, I took off my diapers, stashed them again in my dresser drawer, got dressed, and went out to do my paper route.
I had been wearing a diaper to bed for about two weeks when another urge took over – what would it be like to wet a diaper? I knew I would need some kind of protection and that I would need some plastic pants. I began to think of where I would find something like that and could only think of baby departments at the department or drug stores. Would those places have anything large enough for me? I was small for my age, and pretty skinny, too. But even so, would a pair of baby sized plastic panties fit me? I began to scour the baby departments to find what was available, if anything. Yet every time I tried to look in the baby department, I would chicken out. I was sure everyone was looking at me and wondering why I needed baby supplies. I also feared that I would run into someone I knew and would have to explain myself.
I had finally managed to get up enough courage to go to the drug store and get some supplies. I convinced myself that I would need to look for the largest size baby plastic panties I could find and purchase them quickly before I chickened out. I took some of my allowance and went to the store. I managed to find the baby aisle quickly, but a couple of mothers were in that section, so I walked down another aisle pretending to look for something else. When I finally went back to the baby aisle, the mothers were gone. With my heart pounding, I looked over the shelves of items and soon found the plastic panties hanging all together. I looked them all over, found the toddler size and after reading the size chart on the back, I thought these just might fit me. I decided it was worth a try.
I slowly walked to the counter after checking the whole store over. I wanted to be sure no one who knew me was in the store as they might ask questions why I had a package of baby’s plastic panties in my hand. After I was sure no one who knew me was in the store, I went to the counter. Luckily there was no one else in line and I was able to buy them quickly and I hurried out of the store.
As I walked home, I stuffed the package down my pants so I could get it in the house without suspicion. But I was so excited that I wanted to try the plastic pants on right away. So I walked over to a gas station a few blocks from my house and went into the bathroom. It was a small bathroom that only one person could use at a time and I would have privacy. I took off my jeans, opened up the package of the plastic panties, shook out a pair, stepped in, and struggled to get the all the way up. It took some doing, but to my surprise, they fit, although they were a bit tight and didn’t really cover my entire butt. After all, they were made for a baby and even though I was small for my age, and skinny to boot, they were still a bit tight. Yet I was actually wearing a pair of baby’s plastic panties. I was so excited, I decided to put on my jeans and wear them home. I could always change at home if I locked the bathroom door and was really careful about it.
That night, after the house was quiet and I was sure everyone was asleep, I took out my diapers and pinned them on. Then, I took out a pair of my new plastic panties and struggled to pull them up and over my diapers. It was a tight fit and I managed to stuff most of the diaper inside the plastic panties. I thought to myself, here I was wearing diapers AND plastic panties and the feeling so good. I looked in the mirror and as I modeled for myself, I decided to go all the way and try to wet myself.
Now I had never tried to do this and I found it to be a miserable experience. You just can’t always urinate on command and try as hard as I might, nothing was coming out. I sat down on the edge of the bed quite disappointed. I was willing to do the whole act, but I could not manage to pee even one drop. I pulled on my pajama pants and finally fell asleep.
The alarm clock went off and it was time to get up to deliver papers. I wearily got out of bed and started to take off my pajamas to get dressed. Suddenly, I remembered what I was wearing and my heart jumped. I quickly took off the plastic panties and diapers. I hid them again at the bottom of my dresser and finished getting dressed. As I closed my drawer, my bedroom door opened and I got scared half to death. My mom had heard the alarm go off and just wanted to make sure I was up. That was too close!
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 3
For the next few nights, I tried to do the same thing. Each night, I would diaper myself, struggle with the plastic panties, and try to pee into the diaper. My body just wouldn’t allow me to wet my diaper. I was getting frustrated but eventually I managed to convince myself I could do it. I needed to prepare better somehow. I remembered that once I drank a lot of pop and later on I needed to urinate a lot. That must be it! So, one night before bed, I drank a lot of pop before I went to bed. I figured that if I had enough to drink, there would be no problem wetting myself since I would have to relieve myself quite often.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I silently pulled out my supplies. I was kind of excited since my bladder was feeling kind of full. I carefully pinned the diapers on myself and then struggled to get to plastic panties pulled all the way up and over the diaper. Then, I carefully stuffed into the plastic panties any diaper cloth that was peeking outside the boundary of the plastic panties. While I was doing all of this, I also felt my bladder getting fuller. I really needed to pee and figured it was now or never.
I tried to lie down on the bed under the covers to wet myself. Even though I needed to go quite badly now, I still could not release the flow into the diaper. I lay there for a few minutes trying and trying, but just couldn’t do it. Then I got the idea to stand up reasoning that if I could not lie down and pee, perhaps I could do it standing up. By now, I really had to pee. I stood next to the bed, concentrated, and tried to relax. Then it happened! I finally released a little pee into the diaper.
Oh what a relief. It was only a small amount, and I still needed to pee quite badly, but I actually managed to pee a little into the diaper. I decided to concentrate and relax as much as I could. That did it. I finally was able to release the full load of my bladder into the waiting cloth prison. As it flowed and spread throughout the cloth and I felt euphoric. At the same time, I felt very weird and very much like a very bad boy.
I figured as long as I was wet, and it was late, I may as well go to sleep in a very wet diaper. After all, I thought, babies do it all the time and all they tend to suffer is a little rash now and then. I then wondered what a diaper rash felt like? I climbed into my bed and covered up. What a feeling I had. Here I was – a seventh grade boy getting into his bed wearing a very wet diaper. As I tried to drift off to sleep, I needed to feel my groin area to see if I was dreaming or what not. After all, is this a dream or isn’t it?
I felt down to my pajama bottoms and found that I was indeed wearing diapers. Of course I was. What a silly notion. But then, I also felt a wet spot on my bottoms. Then I felt under my rear and found another wet spot both on my bed sheets!
I jumped up and turned on the light and there was the proof. The thin diapers and baby sized plastic panties I wore were not nearly enough to hold all of the urine I had released into the diapers. Some of the pee had leaked out of the diaper, onto my pajama bottoms and onto the waiting bed sheets and mattress. The pajama bottoms were a bit damp and the spot on the sheets was about twelve inches across. There was not going to be any way I was going to hide this.
I began to panic a bit. I thought about pulling off the diaper and plastic panties, but realized I had nowhere to put them, nothing to put them in, and they would probably give my dresser a good urine odor. I began to think about what my parents would do if they found my sheets wet. I could possibly explain the sheets if I lied and said because of all the pop I drank that night, maybe I wet a little bit before I got up to go pee. But I knew I could not explain the wet diapers and plastic panties I was wearing. My mind was racing with possible alternatives.
I finally decided that the house was a bit more secure in the morning when I got up for my paper route than right at this time, so I carefully climbed back into bed and ever so gingerly placed myself on top of the wet spot. I tried to sleep, but as soon as I began to fall into that dream state, I would jolt upwards. I kept feeling myself and found the wet spot was growing as more and more of the pee leaked out. There was nothing I could do right now, and my wake up time seemed to be coming faster and faster. Oh, what a tangled web I wove.
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 4
As the alarm went off, I realized I had fallen asleep for about a couple of hours. I got out of bed being careful not to get more of my sheets wet. I undressed in the dark trying to be extra quiet and listen for anyone coming down the hall. When I was completely undressed, I turned on my light, balled up the wet diaper and plastic panties and put them in the bottom of the dresser drawer thinking I could get them in the wash soon afterwards. I then examined my bed and found that the wet spot had grown to about two feet in diameter. After a few moments though, I reasoned that if I was really careful, I might just get away with this.
I got dressed for my paper route, but took some extra time to get a plastic bag from the kitchen. I went back to my room and placed the wet diapers in the bag so they would not mess up my drawer. Only a few of my clothes got a bit damp, but it wasn’t bad. I had already made the bed, so my sheets were covered up and wash day was still a few days away. I thought I would surprise my mom and offer to wash my own sheets to prove I was growing up. Satisfied my deeds were covered up I left to do my paper route.
As the days went by, I had made some strides in getting better about my fetish. I secretly rinsed out the original wet diapers and snuck them in with the towel load of laundry. To her surprise, I asked my mom if I was grown up enough to do my own laundry, like washing my own sheets. Complimenting me on my new found maturity, she said I could begin by washing my own bed linen. Great! So I was able to wash my own sheets – and I could do it alone. My only problem was the pee stain on my mattress. The day I washed my sheets, I had tried to scrub the area with some detergent and water, but the stain still remained. It did, however, look a little lighter. I didn’t know what to do, but it also didn’t matter – who looks that close? And I was able to make my own bed, so I relaxed.
Weeks had gone by and my nightly experiments had grown a bit. It was beginning to get easier to wet my diapers and the pee still leaked a bit, so I tried putting plastic in-between my sheets and the mattress so there would at least not be any stains on the mattress. Since I washed my own sheets, the stains on my sheets were no problem as well. I followed mom’s instructions she gave me concerning washing clothes and learned how to pretreat a stain so everything would come out in the wash. Everything was going smoothly.
Since it was on my way home from school and I had some time, I had gotten a bit braver roaming the baby sections and even started to roam the lingerie sections in the department stores at the local mall. My stash of supplies had been growing over the past few months. I managed to secretly purchase out of my allowance a couple of large pacifiers, some colored plastic baby bottles for feeding, a few safety pins with animal shapes where they clasp, and a few more pairs of plastic panties. I had discovered the plastic panties had a short life span when they continued to be stretched as far as I stretched them.
As I roamed the baby section one day, I saw some outfits that excited my brain. There were some pajama outfits for baby girls hanging on a rack. I looked around to make sure no one was looking and saw a few baby doll nightie outfits. They all looked like the one I remembered my cousin wearing when I was baby-sitting a few months ago. The tops had short, puffy sleeves and matching rhumba panties full of rows and rows of lace. I remembered how the top did not come down far enough to cover the bottom and when my cousin wore them, her bottom stuck out with the padding that was encased inside.
I vowed to be wearing that soon. I didn’t know how, but I wanted so much to be wearing a similar outfit. There were, of course, no outfits in the infants section that were big enough for me, so I walked away a bit dejected. As I continued to walk through the first department store I entered, I saw the women’s section in the distance. I remembered that this was where my mom bought her undies and stuff, so I wanted to see if there might be anything there similar to what I wanted.
Nervously, I scanned to area for familiar faces and saw none. I roamed a bit through the racks of hanging and packaged panties and felt something stirring inside. It was then I realized that I also wanted to be wearing ladies panties as well. I looked over the different kinds of panties available and discovered there were bikinis and hipsters and brief styles – and in so many different types of materials and in all sorts of colors and prints. This was nothing like what I wore as underwear, so plain, white and cotton. I was so jealous - I wanted to wear them all. Then a few ladies were looking over the same panties so they could make some purchases and I got scared. What was I doing there?
I left the panty section and found myself in the pajama section. I began to look over the different styles and eventually saw one with a top and bottom that I recognized. My sister had one just like it, but I never really noticed it before when she wore it. The top was similar to the baby set I saw and the bottom was just like it except without ruffles on the butt. I wanted to just try it on and wondered if my sister still had her outfit. I could just steal her’s out of her dresser and try it on one night. Just then a saleswoman asked me if I needed help and I sheepishly lied about looking for a present for my mom. I got scared and quickly left the mall and went home. I hoped that the saleswoman didn’t recognize me and would say something to my mom about her “present” the next time she was in there buying more underwear for herself or my sister.
I finally got home and my mom was finishing up the laundry. She asked me where I had been and I told her I met some friends at the mall. We had all decided to meet there to begin planning our upcoming summer activities. I saw her taking out clothes from the dryer and noticed that they were some of both her and my sister’s delicates. In another attempt to prove how grown up I was, I offered to fold them for her. At least this way, I could see some of the clothes they wore under their outer clothes. My mom gladly allowed me to do this chore, even though I would be folding their “unmentionables.”
As I folded the undies, I noticed my mom wore panties of the same color and style – all white, nylon briefs. As there were a few pairs of my mom’s undies in a pile, she wouldn’t miss one pair, so I stuffed a pair in my pocket for later. My sister wore many different styles – from bikinis, to hipsters, to thongs (not for me, I decided) and in both cotton and nylon. I wondered how she would decide which one to wear each day of the week. But she also had a nice pair of dark green nylon hipsters with a piece of white lace down the front that I kind of liked, so I stuffed those in my pocket as well. They would never miss them, I surmised. My mom’s slips and plain nighties were also in the load, but for some reason, I wasn’t interested. However, my sister had no nighties in the load and I was very disappointed.
I feigned some false ignorance and asked my mom whose items belonged to whom. After we sorted all of the items, I told my mom I would put the piles in her and my sister’s bedrooms. I put my mom’s pile one her bed first and then entered my sister’s room. I put her pile on her bed and then silently began to search her dresser drawers. I quickly found her pajama drawer, but didn’t see the nightie I wanted. I searched her other drawers, but didn’t find them. Just then, my mom’s voice bellowed from behind – what was I doing in my sister’s dresser drawers? I thought quickly and told her I was going to surprise my sister and have her clothes put away for her and was searching which drawer to put them in. Mom told me to mind my own business and leave the pile on the bed for my sister to put away.
I went to my room and pulled out of my pocket the borrowed pairs of my mom’s and sister’s panties. Since my mom was just down the hall in her room, I immediately stashed the pairs of panties in my dresser drawer for safe keeping until later. I then told my mom I had some homework to do before dinner, so I went downstairs to the family room where the computer was located. In truth, I did need to do some research for a school project, so I immersed myself in my homework for the next hour or so.
I was really disappointed that I could not find the nightie and just couldn’t stop thinking about it. What happened to it?
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 5
About an hour had passed and my dad had come home from work. He had picked up my sister from cheerleading practice. She was still in her cheerleader’s outfit. Now I had never noticed this before because she was my sister, but that outfit looked awfully exciting. I began to imagine that I, and not my sister, was wearing that outfit. The thought began to spin in my mind and I decided that I was getting a bit too weird. Would I really want to wear a cheerleader’s outfit? Now that’s really too weird!
Mom called everyone to dinner, so I signed off the computer and began to head upstairs for dinner. It was then I noticed to paper bags full of clothes next to the door leading to the garage. When my parents went through our clothes from time to time, they decided to give our old, but still somewhat useful clothes to the Salvation Army. Could my sister’s nightie possibly be in there I wondered?. I quickly looked through both bags and to my great surprise, found the outfit at the bottom of the second bag. No one would miss this outfit since it was destined for the needy and since I was a bit needy, why not me? But how to get it into my room unnoticed?
I ran upstairs and told my mom I needed to get my school book bag from my room since I needed to save what I was working on the computer to another disk for school. She said all right, but I needed to hurry so my dinner wouldn’t get cold. I got my bag, went downstairs, went to the computer to “save” my document (I needed to do something to fend off suspicion), crept to the bags of clothes, and stuffed the nightie into my bag. My heart was pounding so hard, I feared I was going to hyperventilate. I ran upstairs and then to the dining room for dinner. If I was breathing hard, it was going to be due to my running and not my excitement of the panties and nightie I vowed to be wearing that night.
As bedtime approached, my heart began to pound wildly. I didn’t know if anyone else noticed, but I could hear my heart racing in my ears. My sister was in her room on the phone talking with her boyfriend, mom was in her sewing room making another outfit for someone, and my dad was in his workroom creating another work of furniture art for another friend. I got into my pajamas for bed and took my clothes to the laundry room. I lifted the lid and saw one of my sister’s plain white bras in the pile. I got a new thought and took the bra to my room. Since everyone was doing something else, no one saw me do this. What a night it was going to be.
I said good night to everyone a bit early that night, went to my room, closed the door, and climbed into bed. With all of the excitement waiting for me, I knew I would not fall asleep too soon. I decided to read a bit while waiting for everyone to go to sleep. I thought the time crept slowly, too slowly, for my anxiousness. But soon, I began to hear everyone readying themselves for bed. Soon, my time would arrive.
About an hour or so later, I was sure everyone was asleep, so I quietly crept out of bed. I silently and slowly opened my drawer, took out the diapers, the plastic panties, the bra, the nylon panties, and, of course, the nightie and laid them out on the bed. My heart began to pound so hard, I was sure everyone in the house could hear it. I first put on my sister’s green panties and bra. The feeling of the silky panties on my groin area excited me a bit that I began to get a hard on. I turned on my light to look at myself in the mirror and was surprised at how much unlike a girl I was, yet how much I enjoyed the look. I decided I needed some padding, so I took out a couple of pairs of my socks, rolled them up, and stuffed the bra with the rolled up socks. This made my chest look a little more “feminine.”
I then carefully pinned on my diapers over the green panties and pulled on the plastic panties. Then I pulled up my mom’s white, nylon brief panties over the diapers. The white panties bagged a bit, but still, the look was pretty cool. Lastly, I put on the nightie and matching panties and slowly walked to the mirror. What a sight looked back at me. At last, I was looking a bit like my baby cousin and I could hardly contain my excitement.
I was admiring myself in the mirror when I heard footsteps in the hall. In a wild panic, I jumped into bed. Just about the same time I switched off my night light, my bedroom door opened – it was my mom! Without turning on my overhead light, she whispered to me and asked if everything was all right. I told her I just finished reading and was about to go to sleep. I had covered up to my neck, but mom walked over to my bed, bent down, and kissed my forehead. She wished me good night, left my room, and closed to door. My heart was racing – again, that was too close for comfort.
For several weeks, I managed to dress each night, and it had been a while since I wet myself. Each morning, I took the borrowed panties and occasional bra and put them in the hamper as I left for my paper route. I began to suspect my mom was on to me, but dismissed it as a paranoid condition. I was really being so careful to hide my fetish. But once in a while, I would make a mistake now and again. Once, I fell asleep with a pacifier in my mouth. It had fallen out during the night and in the morning before my paper route, as I was making my bed I found it on the floor. What if I hadn’t seen it and my mom found it while cleaning my room. Another time, my mom noticed a pair of her panties missing (I swore she was counting them) and the next day they mysteriously appeared in the wash along with one of my sister’s missing bras.
Then that fateful night arrived. I had tried to be so careful, but was a bit tired and went to bed early. I put on the complete outfit. As usual, I first slipped on the green hipsters panties followed by the diapers, plastic panties, my mom’s nylon briefs, my sister’s bra, and finally, the nightie outfit. I again stuffed the bra with socks to give myself some cleavage and to further the feminine look. I took out my pacifier and put it in my mouth. As I stood admiring myself, I felt fullness in both my bladder and bowels. I thought to myself that this was the night of nights. I easily wet the diaper and then pushed out a solid mass into the seat of the diaper. I felt so overwhelmed by the feeling of it all, I began to get hard again. This was really exciting to me.
Just then, I heard the phone ring. I jumped into bed, turned off my light, and pretended to be asleep. I could hear my mom tell the caller she thought Jimmy was asleep, but would check. My heart began to pound wildly. Mom opened the door and called out my name softly. I didn’t answer. She called my name again. Again, I didn’t answer. She told me my friend Joe was calling and it was important. I still did not answer.
She turned on the overhead light and walked over to my bed. I was sure she knew I was awake. She told me she had just seen me turn the light off and Joe said the call was important. I kept my eyes shut in sheer terror. She said she knew I was faking and grabbed the covers. Before I could react, my mom pulled the covers off me and my secret was out. There I was, fully dressed as a baby girl, my pacifier lying beside my head, and the smell of urine and poop filling the air. I watched helplessly as my mom’s mouth dropped open in shock.
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 6
There would be no way of explaining this. Mom stood there for a minute with her mouth open, stammering to speak. Then she left the room without saying a word. I didn’t move from my spot, but I did overhear her tell my friend Joe I was asleep. I also heard her tell Joe that even though summer vacation began the next day, there could be no way I could spend any time with him. I was needed around the house all summer. She was sorry, but the family decided the do some sprucing up around the house and it would take the whole summer. She again apologized and then I heard her hang up the phone.
I sat up in bed awaiting the inevitable. I heard her talking to my father in the living room in hushed and tearful tones. I heard my father yell a bit and my mom saying no, no that there must be another way to handle this situation short of violence. I began to cry thinking what I had done to myself and what kind of punishment would be in store for me. Just then, my sister walked by my room door. She stopped and stared, and began to laugh. She walked in the room, looked me over, then noticed the telltale smell of the diaper. She began to laugh even harder and ran out of the room holding her nose and waving the air.
She never said a word, but her laughter cut right through me and I began to cry even harder. Then she returned with her digital camera and began snapping pictures of me. No matter how I tried to hide, she managed to get a shot here and there. Soon she gave up, mostly from laughing so hard, but at least my ordeal with her was over.
Eventually, my mom and dad walked into my room, closed the door behind them, and began to ask me all sorts of questions. What was this all about? When did it start? How did I get the clothes? What was it like? Was I gay? Who else knew? Why would I do such a thing? They asked all sorts of tough questions. I poured my guts out between sobs and as my mom comforted me by hugging me and patting my back, I sobbed even harder. I told them everything I could remember and in full detail. I felt there was no use in holding anything back. There seemed to be a decent mood of parental understanding, but I also had this bad feeling about what was to come. There also seemed to be a sense of dread in the air along with the smell of the diaper I was wearing.
After what seemed like an eternity, they got up to leave. My mom told me to get under my covers, messy diaper and all. I stared at her in disbelief. Then she picked up the pacifier and placed it in my mouth. As I sobbed, my mom told me quite firmly that since I had made my own bed so to speak, I may as well sleep in it. In my current condition and appearance, I couldn’t argue. She also said she would be back soon to tuck me in for the night.
When she returned, she had my old teddy bear in her arms and carefully put teddy in my arms. I knew what she wanted me to do, so I took teddy and held him like I did when I was very little. She tucked me in for the night and as she turned to leave, she said she would return in the morning to “change me” and I should rest comfortably until then. She turned out my light, closed the door and I rolled over and cried my eyes out.
I didn’t sleep well that night for obvious reasons. However, I managed to drift off to sleep and finally woke up around eight o’clock the next morning. Just as I woke up, mom walked in the room and said she thought I would never wake up. She pulled back my covers and told me to turn sideways in the bed so she could change me. I did as I was told and mom slid a baby’s plastic changing pad under my rear. She soon was pulling off all of the things I had worn in secrecy up until last night. She clicked her teeth as she removed each layer, but especially when she pulled off the pair of her panties I was wearing.
As she pulled down the plastic panties, she muttered that these baby sized plastic ones would never do – too small. When she got to the diapers, she said she wondered where all the towels were disappearing to. Finally, she got the diapers off and saw my sister’s panties, all wet and messy. She whistled loudly at the smell and waved her hand as if to blow away the odor from her nose. She stood up, put her hands on her hips and looked carefully at my appearance. She and I stared at each other for the longest time. I really felt her disappointment in me and I felt so depressed. Eventually, she carefully removed the dark green panties, cleaned my bottom with some cleaning cloths, and then told me to go into the shower and get the rest of me cleaned up.
I began to get out of the bed and walk toward the bathroom when mom told me to crawl instead. As I looked back her, she told me babies crawl, they definitely do not walk. I got down on all fours and crawled to the bathroom. I climbed in the shower, turned it on, and began to wash myself all over. Fearing what might happen when I got out, I tried to stall a little in the shower and took my sweet time cleaning myself. I had no idea what mom had in store for me, but I was scared to get out. I had been spanked before and usually for little things. This was different, though. And to make matters worse, I really felt my parents emotional pain. They weren’t as angry with me as much as I felt that they were really disappointed in my behavior.
I eventually turned off the shower, dried myself, wrapped up in a towel and walked back to my room. Mom looked at me with that stern mother’s look like I had disobeyed her. I knew what that meant, so I got back down on all fours. As I did, the towel fell off. Mom told me to forget it, smiled at me and motioned for me to crawl over to where she was standing. I did and then she told me to lie down on my back on the floor in front of her.
While I was in the shower, mom had gone to her sewing room and gotten some white cloth remnants from some previous project she did. She had folded them carefully and told me to lift my butt. As I did, she slid the thick cloth under my backside. She also had cleaned out my dresser drawers and had found a pair of my animal shaped safety pins. She told me that they were awfully cute and that I had made a good selection.
Then, she told me to roll over on to my stomach. I did as I was told, but wondered why I had to do this. Almost immediately, I felt something cold slide into my rear end. I jumped a little and almost got up when my mom told me to hold still while she took my temperature. Babies always get their temperatures taken in their butts, she said. It was a very uncomfortable feeling that only lasted a few minutes, but seemed like a lot longer.
She finally pulled the thermometer out, rolled me back over, pulled the makeshift diaper tightly around my waist and pinned the ends together. Then she took a tee shirt of mine and pulled it down over me head, shoulders and arms. She told me it was all she had for me – until later! There was something about the way she said that last part of that statement made me shudder a little. Then she took the pacifier I had gotten and stuffed it into my mouth.
Mom went on to explain (as she put it) “the facts of the situation” to me. Since I had wished to dress like a little girl, my family would be only too happy to accommodate me. They would begin from this day forward, at least for the time being, to treat me as a baby girl. I was to be dressed as a baby girl and I will need to behave as a baby girl would. This behavior would include anything my family could come up with that would improve my chances at fulfilling me dream to be that baby girl.
Furthermore, to begin my feminine training lessons, I would need to understand that I was to now really begin to use these diapers all the time for their intended purpose. I would not be allowed to use the bathroom like a grown-up for at least a week – maybe longer. As my mom explained it, the length on time I would spend wearing diapers would depend on my cooperation and behavior. Any rule breaking would be dealt with rather severely. This way, I would learn first hand what is really like to be a baby. Maybe wearing and using diapers 24/7 would eventually teach me how to be the real grown-up the family thought I was.
Mom stood there with her hands on her hips for the longest time while I stared back in shock. I never imagined my life would take this turn. Part of me was reeling in fear of how the summer would turn out and I had no idea of how long my parents would treat me this way. But another part of me seemed to take pleasure in knowing I would somehow get my wish. I felt a small part of me, a very small part now, was smiling somehow.
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 7
I was told to crawl to the kitchen and wait for her. She finally came in and took out a pot, measured out some water, and I knew she was going to make oatmeal. It took a little while, but mom finally finished. As I watched her make my breakfast, I noticed that she really added a lot of things to the oatmeal. I knew she added a lot of other ingredients, but I could not see all of them. She then told me to get into a chair. I did and she then took out a towel and tied it around my neck like it was a bib. I knew what was next, so I started to cry. Mom put a big bowl of oatmeal in front of me. I thought mom was kidding, so as I went for the spoon, she slapped my hand and told me that mommy would feed the big baby. She then took out a big, ****en spoon and began to stuff large amounts into my mouth. Naturally, it would not all fit in at once, so a good portion of each spoonful would drip down my face. She would scrape my face scooping up the dripping oatmeal and put it back into my mouth.
It took some time, but she eventually fed me the entire bowl. To add to my new misery, she washed my faced like I was a complete baby. She then stuffed the pacifier back into my mouth. I started to cry again and my mom calmly told me that I should have been careful what I wished for. She told me to climb down off the chair and just sit on the floor and wait until she cleaned the dishes. When she was done, she told me to follow her to the sewing room.
I knew my mom was quite a seamstress. She had majored in fashion in college and had a home business. She would make all sorts of outfits for all sorts of people. She really excelled in women’s fashions and the many dresses she made for many of the women in town were really quite beautiful. She took out her measuring tape, a pencil and a pad of paper. Then she told me to stand while she took all sorts measurements of my height, chest, neck, arms, waist, from the front of my neck to my crotch and then up my backside. I had no idea why she needed all of these measurements, and to my horror, I would soon find out.
I started to become aware that I needed to pee. I held it as long as I could, but it was soon becoming a bit painful. I told my mom I needed to go potty and she told me to wait just a minute. She left the room and I thought she was going to undo the diapers and let me go to the bathroom. However, she returned with a white kitchen plastic garbage bag. She told me to lie down and lift my butt. She wrapped me up with the bag like a diaper cover. Then she reached for some packing tape and taped the sides together so they would stay around my waist. Then she checked to make sure the bag was tucked around the diaper and when she was satisfied it was, she smiled. Then she told me that since I was wearing my potty, I could now use it and she hoped that nothing would leak out.
I cried some more, but mom ignored me and told me to sit in the corner facing to wall. She left the room, but returned with, as she described, my new best friend – teddy! She began to search through her bolts of material and whistling the whole time. I noticed her choice of tunes were all children’s nursery songs. I continued to cry and as painful as it was, I still held out releasing any of my pee into the diaper. But, I couldn’t last forever and nature took over. I began to wet myself and waves of relief washed over me. As I was relieved, I then also realized what I was doing and cried even harder. Mom looked at me and asked me if I had finished wetting my diapers. I nodded and she told me I was a good baby girl. After all, all baby girls wet their diapers and I was no different. That statement cut into me like a knife. Mom then told me I would have to wait to get changed as she was pretty busy.
Mom found some material and began to make some measurements on the cloth. She began to cut and trim the cloth into what I knew were shapes for some kind of outfit and I was afraid who the outfit was for. After about an hour, I heard the front door open. It was my sister. She bounded into the room and told my mom she was successful and got four packages of them. She also told mom the saleswoman was very helpful in picking out the right size. She also was able to get some full-size plastic panties that would work really well for me. I didn’t know what she meant, but eventually, like most everything else in my story, I would find out.
Mom told my sister that I was wet and needed a change. She asked my sister if she wanted to change her new baby sister and my sister said she would be glad to. She got some of the baby wipes mom left in my room. Sis told to lie down and lift my butt while she slid the changing pad under me. Then she cut off the plastic bag to reveal my wet diapers and held her nose in a mocking fashion. She unpinned the diapers, removed them, and proceeded to wash my crotch area all the while cooing at me as if I was a two year old. Then, she brought in one of the packages she told my mom about. It was a package of adult disposable diapers, the kind I saw on TV commercials. When I saw that there were 26 in a package, and I knew she bought four packages of them, I began cry a little harder. This might be a punishment that would last a little longer than the week my mom had suggested earlier.
She pulled out one of the diapers, slid it under my lifted butt, and before she taped it up, powdered the heck out of my crotch area. She then taped the diaper tightly about my waist. The reality of the situation began to sink in and it was beginning to be clear that this was not going to be a short punishment, but a rather long, drawn out prison-like sentence. To make matters worse, my sister and I didn’t get along too well, so this was going to be a heaven like state for her – she was going to really be able to baby me and enjoy every minute of it.
My sister finished cleaning up my changing area. Then, she took my wet diapers and brought them to the laundry. When she came back into the room, she went over to my mom and told her she had a brilliant idea. I could her through the whispering old dollies and new sister and didn’t like the sound of either in the same sentence. My mom spun around in her sewing chair and looked at me with a little smile on her face. She whispered something to my sister pointing towards the bathroom and they both shared a quiet giggle. Then she told my sister what a wonderful idea it was and that it was about time I began learning to be a little lady.
My sister walked over to me, pointed towards the bathroom made me crawl all the way down the hall. As I entered the bathroom, she lifted and then put the seat down on the toilet and told me I may as well get used to not using it for a while. Then she made me sit on the toilet seat and asked me if it brought back any memories for me. Tears ran down my face as I sucked on my pacifier. My sister told me that it was okay to cry – little girls sometimes do that. Then she told me what she was going to do and that if I protested in any small way, she would tell mom all sorts of lies to make my punishment even worse. Besides, what she was going to do was really mom’s idea anyway.
She began to pull out an assortment of her make-up and nail polishes and set them on the sink counter. She began by applying all sorts of different kinds of make-up on my face – foundation, blush, eye liner and shadow, mascara, and finally lipstick. Then she took out her curling iron and plugged it in. The experience of having my sister do all of this was really humiliating, but what could I do? I had been caught in the act, but good! While the curling iron was heating up, she began applying nail polish to not only my fingernails, but to my toenails as well. She had picked out a bright shade of pink. After applying polish to all of my nails, she began curling my long hair. I had been proud of my hair up until now and was planning on getting a short haircut for the summer, but it was too late now.
She had curled about half of my hair into a tight, fluffy style. She stopped long enough to apply a second coat of polish to my nails. She took extra care to make sure it was an even coat for good looks. Then she turned her attention back to my hair. She soon finished with my head and added a few bows and clips to finish the look. As ordered, I looked at myself in the mirror and burst into tears. The look was quite convincing and very humiliating. My sister was giggling with a bit too much glee and having a bit too much fun at my expense. But as I was standing there in nothing but a tee shirt and a disposable diaper, turning on my sister for retaliation was not an option. I sagged to the floor in sobbing defeat.
I was then led back to my mom’s sewing room. As I entered to room for show and tell, my mom was quite impressed with my sister’s work. She complimented her on her attention to detail and that I indeed looked very much like what I had asked for. She told my sister I was her new little sister for the summer and she could play with me whenever she wanted. Then my sister took me back to the family room and told me to sit in the middle of the floor. She then stuffed the pacifier back into my mouth and warned me to be a good little girl.
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 8
My sister laughed a little more and left the room in a rush. I heard her run down the hall to her room. She soon came back with a small suitcase in her hand. I wondered what it was for when she put it on the floor in front of me. She told me she had a special present for her new little sister and opened the top of the case. It was full of her collection of Barbie dolls and all of the doll’s clothes and accessories. Looking up at my sister, I knew what I was expected to do, so again in a sobbing defeat, I pulled out one of the dolls and began to dress the doll in its small and tight fitting clothes.
I had played dollies for about an hour continuously dressing each doll in one outfit and then another. My sister seemed to be enjoying watching me with a sadistic glee. While I played with her dolls, she watched TV, but I sat on the floor so my back was to the screen. It had been some time since I relieved my bladder and soon I was in the painful position of just how to relieve myself unnoticed. I tried to relax, but it was as if my sister was watching and waiting for the inevitable. I was able to hold off for a few minutes, but the pain grew to be too much for me and I gave in to nature. As I tried to relax, I found myself grunting a little as I managed to release the contents of my bladder into the thirsty diaper.
The liquid quickly spread throughout my crotch region and my sister noticed my predicament. She asked me in a babyish sort of way if Sissy Baby Sammy was a wet little girl. I nodded my head. After all, she would check anyway and if I lied, I could get in even more trouble than I was already in, but I couldn’t think how. She left the room and returned with my changing pad, a box of baby wipes, a bottle of baby lotion, a bottle of baby powder and, of course, a fresh new disposable diaper. I think my sister enjoyed changing me since it really made me look so weak and small. She took her sweet time cleaning me, applying lotion and powder to my crotch, but seemed to take a special pleasure, and some extra time, in putting a new diaper on her new, favorite little sister.
My mom came into the room holding what looked like a dress for one of her customers. It was a bit strange looking, though. She held the dress in one hand and a matching pair of bottoms in the other. It dawned on me that what she was holding she had made for me. Mom put the dress over the arm of the couch and motioned for me to stand up. As I did, she held out the bottoms and told me to step in. I began to protest, but my mom stood there with her hands on her hips. She then told me I had a choice – I could step into the outfit now, or after she called a few of my friends over to see the new girl on the block. Fearing more humiliation at the hands of my friends, I relented and agreed to do what my mom said.
She once again held out the bottoms for me and I reluctantly stepped into them. As she snaked them up my legs, I noticed that they looked very much like my cousin’s rhumba panties she wore the night I baby-sat for her. I realized my mom had made the same outfit for my baby cousin and this was simply a larger version of the same outfit. The panties were pink and white polka dotted cotton with several rows of lace across the seat. As she fussed with the panties around my diapers, she seemed satisfies that they fit, so she turned her attention to the top.
The top was not a nightie top like my cousins, but more like a baby’s sun dress I had seen my cousin wear at parties early on in the summer. It matched the panties and buttoned in the back. I put my arms through the armholes that ended in short, puffy sleeves with elastic cuffs. The dress was barely long enough to go past my waist and really showed off the panties. There could be no question I was wearing diapers in this outfit. Mom buttoned the back with what I counted to be at least twelve buttons and spun me around. As I turned, she smiled with a sense of pride in her workmanship. To complete the outfit, my sister put a pair of anklet type pink socks on my feet and finished it off with a pair of black-strap Mary Jane shoes that just fit my feet. Before she left the room, mom turned to my sister and asked her if she would like to take her new little sister out in the back yard to play.
Playing out in the backyard dressed like a little, baby girl was not in my mind when I began satisfying my fetish so long ago. But my sister was dragging me outside where I would be in plain view of anyone who might be out in neighboring yards. I was mortified at the possibility of being seen like this. However, I was soon out in the yard with my sister and she was determined to play some kind of game with me.
At first, all I could do was to sit curled up in a fetal position on the patio deck as far away from the yard as possible. I was crying some really big crocodile tears. My sister pleaded with me to join her in a simple game of catch, but nothing could stop me from crying. I was so fearful of being seen dressed as I was. Then my sister left me alone for a few minutes and reappeared with my mom. She walked over to me, gave me a big hug, told me that everything was going to be all right. However, she explained, that this was what I had asked for and like any good mother, she was going to help me get what I wanted. I tried to find the words to explain to mom that this was not what I had wanted in any way, shape or form. But the words just never could come out. After all, my mom was the one who first discovered me dressed in bed.
My sister got me to finally play catch with her. She sat me down in the middle of the yard and would roll a big soccer ball to me. I was on the soccer team and this ball was my practice ball, but using it to play catch with my sister was really a problem for me. We had been at it for about thirty minutes. I thought my sister would never tire of this, but she kept rolling the ball to me and I would roll it back. Every time I would catch the ball, my sister would make me clap while she also clapped and told me I was a good girl. After a while, I even got caught up in trying to catch the ball several times in a row as a type of contest with myself. It kind of got my mind off of my troubles.
Then my troubles grew a little worse. I had not had a bowel movement all morning and I soon felt cramps and pains in my gut. Then soon, I felt the urge to poop and I really had to go. I tried to hold out for a few minutes, but this was unlike any bowel movement. I remembered the last time I had pains like this was when I was sick and had a bad case of diarrhea. I was having the same kind of cramps and feelings of urgency right now. My sister sensing my new troubles asked if I had to make a poopy in my diaper. I nodded and she told me to just let it go. I shook my head no, but she insisted that I use the diaper. I tried to get up to run inside, but she blocked my way. I tried to run around her, but she would always move a little faster and continue to block my way. I then tried to do a sort of tight buns dance to try to hold it in. I managed to hold it, if I stood very still, but soon lost the battle.
I had once pushed out a load into a diaper because I wanted to. That was exhilarating. But this time I had to push out a load into my diaper, in front of my sister, and I really did not want to do that. This was really something quite different. And unlike my first time, I really didn’t need to do much pushing on my part. It seemed to really just let loose and in a big rush of a bowel movement, I filled my diaper rather quickly with quite a lot of loose mush. Doing it in front of my sister was particularly humiliating. I thought everyone for miles around could also hear my butt sounds as I did my dance. It occurred to me this was no ordinary bowel movement.
I stood on the deck, diapers filled with the load I had just made, and my sister laughing hysterically. She came over to me, felt my bottom, confirmed that I had just made “a large poopy” in my diapers, and told me once again what a good baby girl I was. She then put both hands on my shoulders and began to try to make me sit down on the ground. My sister was a lot taller and stronger than I was, but I managed to fight her off for a little while. However, she tripped me up as I tried to get around her and get inside and as I fell to the ground, I landed on my bottom. The mushy load in my rear spread with a splat and I was forced to concede defeat. As I cried, my sister only laughed with sadistic glee.
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 9
This was only the first day, and already my sister put make-up and nail polish on me to make me look just a little more ladylike. My mom had made one sun dress outfit for me to wear and was busily sewing new girlish outfits for me to wear in the very near future. As my sister dragged me into the house to change my diapers, I could not help but think of how my life had suddenly changed and not for better. I could not bear the thought of more humiliation and torment at the hands of my sister, but I really had no other options available. My best bet was to just accept my fate as best I could. Maybe if I pretended to enjoy it a little, they would all tire of the game and I would be released from my suffering. I didn’t think I could endure another day of this, let alone a week or more.
I was wrong as I could be. As the next few days came and went, my mom had made several more outfits for me to wear. She made a few baby doll nighties with matching ruffled rumba panties that I began wearing to bed each night. She also sewed a few onesies for me to wear whenever it was too hot for a sun dress. The worst was the two piece bathing suit she made. The top was a kind of bra, but with extra ruffles sewn into the shoulder straps that tied at the neck and in the back. The bottoms were a kind of panty and skirt combination and the skirt didn’t really cover my butt too well. I would have to wear this while sitting in the old kiddy pool my parents brought out of the attic. They set it up in the backyard, filled it with water, dressed me in new found swim diapers and my swimsuit, and make me sit in it and splash around while they all video taped my performance.
A week went by and each day brought new frustrations. My mom and sister have decided that there should be a daily routine that should be followed. I should have a morning bubble bath after I awoke to make sure I at least started the day out really clean. I was beginning to develop certain body parts, so my sister shaved my armpits, arms and legs daily. For my groin, she used a depilatory cream. I would then be diapered and dressed in some new sissyish outfit and fed my breakfast of oatmeal. What I found out later was that both my mom and sister were adding a few spoonfuls of Metamucil to each breakfast. I later learned that’s why I needed to poop so much. My mornings were spent in the family room where my sister made me play with her dollies. Then, a lunch of some kind of mashed food and then I would be made to take a nap. After I was awakened around three o’clock, it was backyard play if the weather was nice. It had been nice outside all week, so I hadn’t spent my afternoons indoors that first week.
Dinners were a special event. I was sat near my sister and fed jar after jar of baby food while everyone else got full meals of chicken, spaghetti or steak. Mom and Dad cooed over their new little girl as my sister delighted in missing my mouth a lot so she could scoop up fallen food and re-feed it to me. I was not allowed to talk at all except in baby talk. This caused me a lot of frustration in trying to get my needs met. I was beginning to feel what a real baby felt like which was what my family probably had in mind all along.
After dinner, I was cleaned up, my diapers changed, and by seven o’clock, I was being tucked in for the night. I was given two full bottles of formula and told to drink them dry. After that, I could turn over and sleep. I began to look forward to sleeping since it seemed to be my only sense of normalcy. I usually cried myself to sleep, but each night got easier and easier to fall asleep. I didn’t think anything could get worse, but like before, I was wrong.
It was Saturday and a little more than a week had passed since I entered my new babyhood. I was awakened, undressed, and given my usual bath and make-up treatment. After being dressed in a new jumper outfit, I was brought down to the family room and got a big shock. My dad, a cabinet maker by trade, had fashioned a large playpen especially for me. It was quite a bit larger than a normal playpen and had a gate so I could climb in without having to be lifted over the railing. The gate was opened for me, so I crawled in and sat on the thin, vinyl mat that was decorated with some animals and such. My dad closed the gate and locked me in. The sides were pretty high. Even if I stood up, I could not lift my leg over to get out, so I was quite trapped.
My sister gleefully began to throw in some baby toys – rattles, blocks, a pyramid ring thing, and some bigger dolls. She told me my cousin had outgrown them and wanted to donate them to some needy baby. My mom, my dad and my sister all watched me as I looked over my new surroundings. My mom told me that now I could just sit and play and my sister didn’t need to spend so much time looking after me. She gave me two baby bottles filled with water in case I got thirsty and no one was around. However, she warned me that if I ever took the cap off and did not drink through the nipple, I would be severely punished. I didn’t know what that meant, but I also didn’t want to know.
With nothing else to keep me occupied, I played with the toys in my playpen. It helped to pass the time. My sister had left for the day to be with her friends at the mall. Mom and dad spent a lot of time in the bedrooms. I think they were doing a thorough cleaning because I heard furniture being moved around. I did not know how much time had passed, but I started to get hungry. I thought it might be nearing lunchtime and as my mom came in the room, I found out I was right. She opened the gate to let me out, took me to the kitchen where she, my dad and I had some lunch. They ate sandwiches, potato chips, pickles and pop. I was fed more oatmeal and formula out of a sipper cup.
After a much needed diaper change, my mom announced it was time for my nap. I crawled down the hall and into my room and got another shock. My dad had made a new bed for me. But this bed was an oversized crib. I looked up at my mom and dad and began to cry and shake my head. How could you do this to me? How? Why? This is too much! I won’t do it! I won’t!
My mom had the answer again. If I didn’t do what they told me, they would simply invite all of my friends over to play with me. Nothing would really change except that maybe I wouldn’t be able to ever show my face again in public, let alone at school. This time, however, she added a few names of some girls who I had mentioned I liked at school. Maybe they would enjoy baby sitting me some night. Sobbing in defeat, I stood up as mom lowered the side of the crib and crawled up and into my new bed. As she covered my up with a new baby animal print blanket she made especially for me, she added a new friend for me to sleep with – a large teddy bear. She lifted up the locking side, walked over to the window and closed the shades, turned out the light, and left me to fall asleep for my nap. I could have died right then and there.
The days passed by without too much more happening. I had fallen into accepting the routine of my new babyhood. I slept in my crib, was given lots of bubble baths, had make-up and nail polish applied daily, wore diapers 24/7, and really hated my existence. I began to just sit and wait for the time to pass. It was dull and boring. What was worse was that I had begun to wet my diapers from time to time and didn’t notice it until after I had done it. I would just be playing with some stuffed animals and notice that I was wet. Was I beginning to lose all control? Even making a bowel movement in my diapers was getting easier and easier to do.
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 10
My only other sense of normalcy was my paper route. I still had to get up in the morning and deliver the newspapers. Only then was I allowed to climb out of the crib, take off my nightie, and get dressed in “normal” clothes, but I still had to wear the diaper I had on and was told I would catch heck if I was ever caught without it. When I would come back from delivering the papers, I would get dressed back into the nightie and crawl back into the crib. I was told never to climb out of the crib for any other reason and I feared further punishments of any kind. I figured, how could my life get worse?
Since I had to wear the diaper while delivering my papers, I would nearly always come home wet. However, I was beginning to wake up now in a wet diaper, so I would go out to deliver the papers starting in a wet diaper. Since it was already wet, if I peed more, it was more than likely I would come home in pants that were wet from a leaky diaper. I felt fortunate somehow that most people, in my neighborhood was awake when I delivered the papers, especially all my friends. All of my friends were usually still asleep.
Then one day, the alarm clock went off and I didn’t hear it. My mom came in to wake me about two hours late. One of my customers had called wondering if there was something wrong and why hadn’t he gotten his morning paper. I quickly dressed and left in a run even though my diaper was thoroughly soaked. My sister had given me a lot of water to drink the night before and I must have peed all of the water she fed me into the diaper. I had no time to argue, however, since I was a bit late as it was.
As I ran to deliver the papers, I could feel my jeans getting a wet spot in the rear just below where the diaper would come. I tried to move as fast as I could to avoid being seen by anyone, but as my luck would have it, pretty Francine, one of the girls my mom mentioned as a possible baby sitter met me at the door to get her father’s newspaper. I tried to tell her I was late, but she wanted to have a conversation about my summer, and school next year, and where I had been for the past three weeks. I told her I was helping my mom clean the house and didn’t have time to go anywhere else. I tried to leave, but she kept talking and talking and talking. What a blabber mouth, I thought.
Finally, she heard her father calling for the paper since he was late for work. As I turned to leave, Francine remarked about the large, growing wet spot on my rear. I told her I must have sat in a puddle of water somewhere and turned to go. She giggled a bit as she told me it looked just like I had wet my pants. If only she knew how right she was. I feared she really knew the truth.
I was just about finished when at last I turned to my street to get home. As I ran for my house, my friend Joe stopped me on the sidewalk. He kept badgering me about where I had been, why I hadn’t called, what happened to our friendship, and stuff like that. I tried to tell him the same story I gave to Francine, but Joe wasn’t listening to me. He kept going on and on about what kind of a friend wouldn’t call or come over. I protested, but it seemed in vain.
I didn’t want Joe to see my backside, but I didn’t realize I had begun to leak in the front as well. Joe looked down at my crotch and noticed the wet mark on my jeans. He laughed and asked me if I had wet my pants or something. I tried to tell him the story about sitting in a puddle when two more friends came out of Joe’s house. They had stayed overnight. Frank and Eddie joined Joe on the sidewalk and by this time, Joe was really grilling me over my wet jeans. Unfortunately for me, my jeans showed a little bulge in my seat and Joe was convinced I had something under my jeans I was trying to hide. What was I hiding under my pants? Was I wearing diapers? They wanted me to show them, but I refused. Realizing they meant what they said, I got scared.
I turned to run, but the guys soon caught up to me. They tackled me and while someone held my arms, the other two began to try to take my pants off. I fought hard, but three against one isn’t an easy fight. Soon, they had removed my pants and held them up in victory. Everyone there could see I was wearing my nighttime cloth diapers and plastic panties. To make matters even worse, my mom had just gotten me a pair of pink animal print panties to wear the night before. Now that the guys had gotten my jeans, I was pretty much left to stand there in nothing more than my tee shirt, thoroughly wet diapers, plastic pants and socks.
They began pushing me around in a circle all the while taunting me. Did sissy baby wet her diapers? Does she need a change? Does she need her baba? Does mommy know her little girl is so wet? And it didn’t just end with taunting. They all took turns holding me while the others felt my soggy bottom. Then, Frank and Eddie held me face down while Joe spanked my wet bottom right on the plastic pants and diapers. Bad girl! Bad little girl! How could you wet yourself? Finally, there was a moment when they released their grip and I managed to escape. I ran as fast as I could
They chased after me the whole way. Luckily, I made it to my door first and burst into the house, ran to my room, and collapsed on my crib sobbing in deep humiliation. My mom came in and asked what had happened. As I began my tale of woe, the doorbell rang. Joe and the guys wanted to drop my jeans and gym shoes off. I could hear them laughing as my sister took the items, and thanked the boys for their thoughtfulness. My mom hugged me while I cried and cried. I began to think of how I could explain this to the guys, but my mom said it was about time I had my bath. Later that day, I heard her call the newspaper company and tell them I had resigned the route. My mom took the blame for me, but I would no longer need to leave the house to deliver papers.
One thing was for certain, though. I would not need to ever leave the house for a long time to come. I somehow felt good about that. I thought it would be pleasant to just stay home and not have to worry about anyone seeing my wet diapers. Just then, I realized what I had thought! Had I regressed this far?
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 11
About three weeks had gone by and although my friends had stopped by to “see” me, my mom told them I could not have visitors. She told them I was sick with a real bad illness, and I could hear them laughing as they left out of earshot of my mom. They remarked that I must have gotten a touch of some kind of baby illness – one that makes me wear diapers all the time. Their laughter hurt more than anything I had been through up until now. In any case, my friends now knew the secret behind the closed doors. I imagined they would be peeking over the fence now trying to see if anything else was going on. I shuddered to think what might happen if my sister ever told me I had to go out and play in the yard or worse, play in the pool.
One night, my parents decided to go out to dinner and a movie. They asked my sister to baby sit her little sister and she readily agreed, especially since they offered to pay her extra. As my parents were getting ready to go, mom told me to get into my playpen until my sister could get my dinner ready. Sis took me to the family room, opened up the gate to my pen, allowed me to crawl in, and locked the gate behind me. Then she went to the kitchen to get me some kind of dinner and I was sure I wasn’t going to like it. All of my new toys were now stored in the playpen, so I could play with anything and usually did just to avoid the arguments.
As soon as my parents were ready to leave, they came into the family room to say goodbye. Mom bent over to give me a kiss and hug and as she did, she sniffed the air. She announced in a loud voice to my sister that somebody needed a change and soon. Then she and my dad lectured me on the necessity of behaving for my baby sitter or there would be hell to pay when they got home. However, since this was a special occasion, I would be allowed to stay up past my usual early bedtime, so I should consider it a special treat.
Almost as soon as my parents left, my sister was on the phone. I couldn’t hear too much, but what I heard kind of scared me. She was inviting a few friends over for the evening. When she eventually got off the phone, I told her what I overheard. First, I got a lecture about talking only in baby talk and second, I got a lecture on keeping quiet or she would tell my parents I misbehaved. I argued a little bit with her, but when she threatened to call Francine and invite her and a few of my other friends as well, I decided to keep quiet. I really believed she would do it just to be mean. Then, sis changed my diaper, gave me a bottle of formula and a bottle of juice, and told me to drink it all down fast - we were going to have a party!
About a half of an hour later, the doorbell rang. I heard the voices of several girls as my sister answered the door and a few of them were very familiar voices. These girls had been here before, so they knew me quite well. My sister brought her friends into the family room and introduced them to her new, baby sister. Recognizing me, they all began to laugh and then coo to me in an awkward kind of baby talk. My sister unlocked my gate, and a couple of the girls all got into my large pen to play with me. A few others made me play as if I were a real baby pushing toys at me, talking gibberish, and otherwise humiliating me.
I soon became aware I had wet myself again and so did the girls. They all giggled, shook their heads, or clicked their teeth. One girl even began to shake her finger at me and told me what a bad baby girl I was to have wet myself around company. The worst part was when my sister had the bright idea to get a deck of cards. Each girl would draw one card and the highest card would get to change my diaper. They all were excited, but since my sister had already had the luxury of already changing me for more than three weeks, she “graciously” bowed out of the contest. Some girl named Melinda won the task. I was pretty thankful, however, that I hadn’t had another bowel movement as well.
Sis got out all of the supplies – changing pad, baby wipes, nighttime cloth diapers (mom made them triple thick), adult-sized plastic panties, diaper rash ointment, lotion, baby powder, animal shaped safety pins and, of course, my baby doll nightie. Melinda and the girls all giggled at the sight of all of this and while sis left to room to go into the kitchen, Melinda got down to the job of changing me. So they would have memories of their night, the girls took sis’s digital camera and they were sure to get some nice pictures of my dilemma.
She carefully guided the changing pad under me as I lifted my backside for her and she quickly removed my wet diapers. Then she took out several wipes and thoroughly cleaned my crotch and rear end. Before she could apply anything else, she guided the nighttime diapers under my rear as I once again helped out by lifting my rear for her. Then she applied a good amount of diaper rash ointment all over the area to be diapered. She also added a large portion of lotion and finally powder to the same area. She pinned one side of the diapers and pulling the other two corners rather tightly around my waist, pinned the other side. Finishing off, she snaked a pair of plastic panties up my legs and as I again lifted my rear, fitted them snugly around the diapers so that no cloth peeked out.
Now the girls were going to have some more fun watching as Melinda would dress me for bed. Holding out the ruffled bottoms, she motioned for me to step into the panties. As I did, she very slowly pulled them up and over my diapers. The speed at which she did this told me she wanted to prolong my suffering. Then, the girls had a bright idea. Before she put on my top, one of the girls took some time to remove her bra without removing her shirt. Laughing all the while, she donated” her bra for my “costume.” All the girls were laughing pretty loudly as sis finally returned to the room. Seeing what the girls were up to, she put whatever was in her hand down on the end table and as she, too, laughed. She then ran out of the room saying to wait, she’d be right back.
She returned in a few minutes with some pairs of her socks and the girls all took turns stuffing them into the cups of the bra. I now was wearing a bra with a very large cleavage. Melinda finally held up the top and I slid my arms into the armholes and she very, very slowly lowered it onto my body. Now, it was makeup time, I was told and in a few short minutes, I was again fully made up with blush, eye shadow, eye liner, lipstick, mascara, and a full set of nails polished.
My sis then went over to the end table and picked up what she had brought in earlier – another baby bottle full of formula. Again, the girls drew cards to see who would feed me and the loser would get to tuck me in my crib. Melinda bowed out “gracefully” as she was the one who got the change my diaper and get the little girl ready for “beddie-bye.” A girl named Joanne won this time, gleefully took the bottle, and jumped onto the couch. Sis told me to get up on the couch too and lie down with my head on Joanne’s lap. I did as I was told and as Joanne teased me with the nipple of the bottle, Melinda was gladly taking pictures of the whole affair. Joanne finally “let” me take the nipple into my mouth and I began to su-k the bottle and continued until it was empty.
The last girl, Fran, then had me crawl down the hall into my room. As I crawled, she took delight in patting my bottom with every movement. When we arrived in my room, she lowered the side of the crib, let me crawl in, put teddy into my arms, shoved my pacifier into my mouth and covered me up. The girls then got down to the business of singing me laughing lullabies. As they did this, and like before during the entire evening, someone took pictures with sis’s digital camera. Sis told the girls it was getting late, asked them to leave the room, and said she wanted to tell her little sister goodnight privately.
When the girls had left, sis came over to me and whispered softly. She told me that if I breathed a word of what happened tonight, she would take the digital picture card, download all of the pictures on to her personal web site, and tell all of my friends how to access the site so they could all see the truth about what really goes on with her new little sister. She looked at me rather triumphantly, smiled an evil little grin, let out an evil giggle, and then left the room and closed the door. As I lay there in the dark, I hear the girls all laughing wildly down in the family room. I knew they were looking at all of the pictures they had taken tonight on my sister’s laptop. In the privacy of my room, I finally had the opportunity to finally let go of all my pent up feelings and cried myself to sleep.
I used to like my sister in a kind of “I like my sister, but won’t ever say it” kind of way. Yet tonight, she crossed that line of how a sister and a brother should relate to each other. I vowed to get even, if I ever could. But what could I do now? My life was really a mess and it was all my own doing.
I Am the Family’s New Little Baby Girl - Part 12
One Saturday morning, my mom dressed me in my usual very thick nighttime cloth diapers and a new pair of pink plastic panties. It was early in the morning and I could not figure out why she was not having me wear the usual disposables. She then pulled out some new pure white opaque tights I had seen my sister wear from time to time, but these were new in a package especially for me. She snaked them up my legs and over my diapers and pink plastic panties.
Then, she brought out an especially frilly, pink dress with matching rhumba style panties that had at least five rows of lace across the seat. She first made me step into the panties and she pulled them up and fussed with the fit. The dress slipped over my outstretched arms and as soon as she was satisfied with the fit, she buttoned up the back. The dress fluffed out more than usual with all of the extra petticoat material she added to the underside. And since it was so stiff and scratchy, I had a hard time keeping from scratching myself. This made my mom fuss even more than usual. I could not figure out why. She finally added laced ankle socks and black Mary Jane shoes and told me to go downstairs. I had dreamt of this day, but never this way - not with my mom dressing me this way. No, that’s not how I dreamt it to ever be.
Then, as we headed down for breakfast, she announced that I would need to very careful when I ate my breakfast since it was picture day. What? Picture day? What’s that?
My parents had scheduled a professional photographer to take a family portrait that day - right in the backyard!! This was also news to my sister who announced she didn’t want to be in the picture with her sissy brother and his new dress. She’d die of embarrassment. I almost wanted to tell my parents about the night sis brought all of her friends over, but I held my tongue. After all, sis still had pictures of me and had threatened many times to post them if I ever breathed a word about it. Eventually, my parents convinced my sister to be in the picture. It would not be a family portrait without her in it, they said.
It was soon after breakfast that the doorbell rang. My parents went to the door together and warmly welcomed the photographer. As my mom and dad walked into the living room to introduce the family, this lovely, young, very shapely woman walked in behind them carrying a couple of large cases I assumed were full of equipment. By this time, sis had me “all made up” with a couple of pink satin bows in my hair for the photo shoot. The woman walked over to me and made a lot of fuss about how cute a little girl I was and how darling my dress was. She never let on I was a boy and considering the job my sister did on my make-up, she probably didn’t know. But I always had a sneaking suspicion she really knew and was kind enough to say nothing.
The experience in the backyard was a long and humiliating one. We spent about 3 hours moving from place to place trying to get that perfect picture. About halfway through the shoot, I had already been wet about an hour, but I had a bowel movement as well. Sis was the first to notice and mentioned it to mom. My mom announced that the baby needed to be changed and went into the house to get the supplies. The photographer took that time to check her voice mails and went into the house with her notebook.
My mom came out with my new diaper bag for this kind of stuff. She carefully laid out the changing pad on the picnic table on the deck and I knew what I had to do. As she began to remove my panties and plastic panties, I swore I heard giggling. As she removed my diaper and commented on the mess I had made and what a bad little girl I had been, I heard the giggling again. Mom began to wipe my groin area and this time I was sure I heard laughter.
I looked to my left, I could see at least eight of my former friends peeking through the bushes. Joe and Francine had hands over their mouths trying hard not to break laughing out loud. As I began to cry, my mom scolded me about ruining my make-up. She finished changing me, put a new pair of pink plastic animal print panties over my thick diapers, and pulled up the rhumba panties. It was then my friends broke out laughing out loud and scattered. As they ran away, I heard a few of them shout out how cute the sissy looked. I began to cry harder, but my parents and sister stifled some giggles and that hurt a lot more than what my friends said.
I had a hard time for the rest of the shoot, but eventually relaxed enough to manage a smile for a few of the pictures. It didn’t help, however, when the photographer stooped to baby toys that squeaked to get me to smile. I felt so helpless when everyone worked to get the “baby” to smile. It wasn’t bad enough for my own family to treat me like a baby girl, but when the photographer announced she had worked with much smaller babies that were a lot easier to get to smile, I could have screamed. All of this time, you see, I had only managed to talk the required baby talk. How I wanted to disappear into another world or at least to another family. Better yet, if I really was a baby girl, then this wouldn’t be so bad. But I wasn’t, and here I was, and here I’ll stay.
So that’s how my summer has been up until now. So here I am sitting in the middle of our family room in that very large playpen that my dad made especially for me. And I now spend my days playing with old baby toys and dressing and undressing an endless procession of my sister’s old dollies she gladly donated to the cause. I have been wearing diapers 24/7 and my family is still calling me mommy’s new little baby girl, Baby Sammy. I still haven’t gotten used to it and I still find it hard to understand why my family has decided to do this, but I think my punishment will soon be over. After all, it’s mid-August and school starts in a little over a week. My punishment cannot possibly last forever, can it?
At least that was what I thought until my mom came into the family room and happily announced that her new little girl will start being home schooled in the fall. It was all arranged with the school administration and I would spend my eighth grade at home. This way, she said, the family can help me to continue to realize me dream of being a little baby girl without interruption. The news hit me right between the eyes, but instead of crying, I began to laugh. In fact, I began to laugh so hard that I once again began uncontrollably wetting my diapers.
I guess I am such a lucky girl! What more could I have asked for? Mom was right about one thing - the family, like all good families do, was only helping me to fulfill my fondest wish to become the baby girl I wanted to be. So I suppose I will have to put up with being the family baby for a while longer.
After all, it’s really what I wished for all along, isn’t it?
Loved it, especially the photo scene towards the end.
Dis ibs a goodies tories, mees fweels sworries fur jymmies, hims gwots ins weally weally farsder dans hims wannded toos.. nows hims goonas bees a widdles gwirls furs looooonnnggg twimes... (giggles) hims didns gwets hims wishins da ways hims wanned, hims gwots wats hims mommies wanned..
Tanks yous fur dis tories, ibs bees a goodie tories...
Very good story. Now that everyone knows she can tell her parents about that night. hehe revenge.
excellent story i love it
OMG, this story is beautiful. Thank you so much <3.
excellent story i love it a lot a lot a lot
that was a good story
Vewy Cute I wove it very much <3
Originally Posted by virtuallythere
Dear Ballerina4 life, that was a lovely story. Do you have any more? I'd love to read some please.
Hugs from Baby Jennie
This is an excellent story. Thank you.
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