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Whoopsies ? By: Beverly Taff. This story is subject to the usual criterion and restrictions applying to age and copyright as laid down in FM?s preamble. The shock of learning about my parent?s death in a car crash was enough to destroy any child?s self confidence but for me the distress was doubled because I had nobody to share the trouble. People say a pleasure shared is a pleasure doubled whilst a pain shared is a pain halved. Nobody learned that better than I. I have to describe myself first. I was a single child, a seven-year-old boy who enjoyed all the advantages of a happy stable family establishment. I had just learned that my mum was pregnant again and I was destined to have a new baby sister. For a few months I had noticed my mum getting ?fatter?, so I eventually asked her about the strange lump under her dress. She had sat me down that afternoon and placed my hands upon her tummy as the life growing inside her started kicking for the first time. I was mesmerised by the development and my eyes widened with excitement as my mum told me how the doctors had determined it was a baby girl. I was to have a new baby sister. Then my mother kissed me and we talked about how we were going to tell my father that mummy?s tummy had moved for the first time. When we heard his truck coming down the lane I rushed out squealing with excitement as I described what had happened that afternoon. He swept me up then squeezed me before rushing to hug his wife and they went inside to talk. I ran off towards the stream to play and later I heard dad calling me. To celebrate the baby?s first kick, and my having first learned of the baby that same afternoon, they had decided to take me out for my first ?grown-up? dinner. I was scrubbed up and put in my ?Sunday-best? and taken to a posh restaurant downtown. That evening was my last experience with my parents. When driving home a drunk driver arrived out of nowhere and slammed into our car. My mum and dad were killed instantly, as was my unborn baby sister. In the back seat I was found badly injured though alive. It needs no further description to say that this catastrophe devastated my life. As an only child the authorities were left with an orphaned seven-year-old boy to find a carer for. Up until then, we had lived upon a small farm just out of town. It was nice place but it always meant that I had to travel to meet my school friends. After school play was a pastime that I had usually indulged in alone. I grew up entertaining myself and became accustomed to my own company. My dad?s main job was in an aircraft factory across town and the small farm had just been a hobby. It was really just a ?smallholding? with several small fields and some outhouses and barns. Now, with nobody to run the farm, the authorities put the farm in trust for me ready for when I reached eighteen years of age. I was first of all placed with a string foster parents and I became very unsettled and nervous. It seemed that I was being constantly being moved from pillar to post. I began to think that nobody wanted me and there must be something wrong with me. In truth, there was something wrong with me but whilst I had been a single child, the issue had never been a problem. I liked wearing girl?s knickers but I only occasionally managed to obtain a pair when my cousin?s came to stay during the summer. My mother only discovered them after my cousins had left again and she did not make a big issue about it. Indeed, she had not mentioned it again, preferring to keep a family secret within the family home. Even my farther never knew. Unfortunately, after my parents were killed, my distress manifested itself in my transvestite tendencies and I took to ?borrowing? knickers in earnest. This had caused serious problems in getting me settled with foster parents as each time, my ?idiosyncrasies? were discovered. The social services now had a tricky problem on their hands, finding a foster family that would accept a seven-year-old transvestite. I must mention here that I was neither a big child nor a typically ?rambunctious? one. I was a very active boy and I had always played a lot down in the water meadows at the bottom of our fields, mostly just running games, climbing trees and ?skinny-dipping? in the stream. I had already started doing chores about the farm and I mostly liked nursing the baby animals and feeding them. My mother had always liked the soft caring streak in my nature and my father also encouraged it because it meant he always had a young but conscientious carer to help around the farm. With the sudden disappearance of both my parents and the subsequent slaughtering of our animals I was plunged into a state of uncertainty and insecurity. This quickly destroyed whatever self-confidence I had developed on the farm. The sudden and unexpected slaughter of our animals had been particularly traumatic. As a young child I could not understand why nobody would let me look after our animals and after seeing them being taken away, I actually wondered if I was going to be ?slaughtered? as well. After the animals were killed and after being shifted around several temporary foster parents, I became somewhat neurotic about my circumstances. I took to trying to wear girl?s knickers every night and the additional stresses caused me to occasionally wet my pants during the night. This had left me devastated and truly broken. Unfortunately, this was the only behaviour that had been observed by the social workers who had immediately designated me a ?child with problems?. Finally, they placed me with what they deemed to be an especially caring family who were properly ?equipped? to deal with my emotional problems. They were called Mr and Mrs Jones and they had a young daughter called Pauline I should have run away there but being only seven, what did I know? Mr and Mrs Jones? daughter Pauline also had problems with incontinence and at the age of six, she was still regularly wetting the bed. She also seemed a bit childish to me and spoke with a pronounced lisp. Nevertheless she was a sweet affectionate little girl and immediately gave me a hug when I arrived. I knew we would get along together. She still slept in nappies but I was not to know this until the first morning after my arrival. The stupidity was that the social workers should have realised my incontinence was probably temporary and caused by my traumatic loss. As to my transvestism I can only wonder to this day, why they ever placed me in a house with a younger girl. I remain convinced that somebody in social services had got a deal going with the Jones?s. They should have placed me with a ?normal? family with ?normal children and I would probably have quickly recovered. Instead, I was placed with this family who obviously had problems with their own daughter and were now prepared to adopt a boy with apparently the same problems. Had I but known it, Mr and Mrs Jones actually wanted another child with the same problems as their daughter. I supposed the idea was that their daughter would somehow grow up thinking it was normal to sleep in nappies. It was to be much worse than that. Naturally on the first night in this strange bed I wet my knickers and in the morning, my mistake was quickly noticed. Mrs Jones entered my bedroom to wake me and as she gently eased back the blankets, she discovered the tell tale wet patch. I was mortified to realise what I had done. ?Well, well, my little chick-a-biddy,? she smiled, ?have we had a little accident?? I stared mesmerised at the embarrassing patch and bit my lip nervously as I silently nodded my head. Mrs Jones smiled knowingly then inquired why I was wearing a pair of Pauline?s frilly panties. ?And where did you get these from; the laundry basket?? Once again I nodded silently and tears filled my eyes as I wondered if I going to be punished. Instead, she gave a funny smile and just hugged me to her and made soft ?tut-tutting? sounds with her lips. I fell gratefully into her embrace as she kissed my forehead then wiped my tears with a handkerchief. ?Never mind my chick-a-biddy. We?ll help to sort this out. You go and have a shower.? With that, she peeled off my wet frilly panties then pointed me to the shower. I was so relieved that she didn?t seem to be angry that I toddled off naked down the hall to the bathroom. When I returned, the bedroom was as tidy and there were clean cloths laid out on the bed. Mrs Jones was across the landing attending to her daughter Pauline. The only real surprise was that the clothes included another pair of frilly panties. Nervously, I crept across the landing and peered around Pauline?s door. Mrs Jones looked up as she was unbuttoning the back of Pauline?s pink ?baby-grow?. Pauline had her back to me and couldn?t see me in the doorway. ?Yes dear. What is it?? asked Mrs Jones ?Are these for me?? I whispered as I held up the beautiful panties. ?If you wish darling.? She smiled softly. I felt my heart flip with joy and hugged them to me as I returned to my bedroom and eagerly slipped the soft silky panties up my trembling body. Next I grabbed the jeans and pulled them up my legs then fumbled for a moment before I realised they buttoned up the other way. Of course, at seven years old, I never knew that girl?s clothes buttoned up from the left. Then I found that the chequered cotton shirt also buttoned up the ?wrong way?. I took no notice of this because I was so happy to be wearing a secret pair of silky frillies under my trousers. I never realised I was also wearing a girls jeans and blouse. Instead, I just stood in front of the mirror admiring myself as I prepared to go down to breakfast. As I sat on the bed, slipping on my white cotton socks I could hear Mrs Jones talking to her daughter as she discovered that Pauline also had also wet herself. Mrs Jones was chuckling encouragement about the ?wet nappy? and Pauline was ?cooing? childishly as she giggled when her mother tut- tutted. At first I supposed Pauline wetting herself had something to do there being a strange new boy in the house. I concluded that Pauline was afraid of the new circumstances, and was frightened by me. The last thing I wanted to do was frighten Mrs Jones? only daughter and once again be thrown out of another foster home. I was sick of being rejected, and Mrs Jones was just so kind. She even let me wear frilly panties! Feeling a little sorry for Pauline I decided to be nice to her so I arranged to meet ?accidentally? on the landing. I stepped into my slippers and met Pauline as she rustled self-consciously to the bathroom. Her eyes met mine then fell to the floor as she realised I knew her secret. I had noticed her wearing a pair of delightful frilly plastic panties with a big circular ruffle that covered her whole bottom. Underneath the frills was the obvious bulge of a nappy that one normally associated with toddlers being potty trained. I tried to pretend I had not noticed but it was just too obvious. Pauline had to ?waddle? slightly as the bulging nappy spread her legs apart and there was a distinct smell that betrayed her having also soiled herself. Being a natural carer, I felt sorry for the little girl and gave her a broad encouraging smile as I hugged her softly and whisper to her not to be upset. Pauline?s face broke into a huge smile and she returned the hug as we reassured each other. Then I turned away discreetly as she finally made it to the bathroom door and disappeared from view. Puzzled, I knocked on Pauline?s bedroom door where her mother was busy tidying the bed. It was obvious that Pauline had not soiled her sheets because she slept in the leak proof frilly panties. Folded on the bed was the pink oversized ?baby-grow? that Pauline obviously slept in. It had full legs, a high collar, reversed buttons up the back and thick clumsy mittens attached to the sleeves. It was quite obvious that anybody placed inside it, would not be able to get out. I picked it up and examined it curiously. ?Why does Pauline sleep in this?? I asked innocently. Mrs Jones smiled and held it up as she looked at me. ?Pauline still cannot control her bodily functions and she wriggles a lot in her sleep. This is the only way I can keep her bed dry and stop her nappy from coming loose. In my innocence, I took the answer at face value and joined Mr Jones at breakfast. He gave me a smile then poured out some cereal and juice before leaving for work. Later Mrs Jones took me to my new school and I was introduced to my new class. There Mrs Jones had a long chat with the class teacher. After Mrs Jones left, Miss Evans approached me and smiled sweetly as she knelt down to inspect me. She was a beautiful woman and she gave me gave a big, soft smile and a hug as she explained some of the rules. Then she showed me my new desk in the middle of the class. I fell in love with her immediately. I didn?t make friends immediately because I had always been a bit of a loner and found my own company sufficient. I found the lessons easy and by lunchtime I had been moved up into the class?s group of high flyers. At the end of that day, Mrs Jones and Pauline were there to collect me and I rushed out to meet them having enjoyed my first day at my new school. That second night, I again wet my bed again and when my ?Mummy Jones? discovered the ?accident? she gave a little frown and asked me if I was worried about anything. I was baffled by the development and laid back on the pillow weeping softly at this distressing state of affairs. She shooed me off to the shower and I met Pauline again on the landing. Once again Pauline and I hugged each other supportively on the landing but this time Mr Jones inquired about my problem at breakfast. Finally he smiled reassuringly and suggested it was probably the result of the car crash. I didn?t understand about stress and trauma but his kind words seemed to make sense. On the third morning after the same ?bed-wetting? accident, ?Mummy Jones? suggested I might have to take steps to avoid the sheets getting wet because she was running short of clean sheets. That fourth night she invited me to use a nappy and reluctantly I agreed. However, because she had no ?boy?s waterproof pants, I had to borrow a pair of Pauline?s frilly plastic panties. The idea of wearing a frilly plastic pants quite intrigued me but I found the plastic pants and stiff lacy frills tickled my inner thighs. My subsequent wriggling somehow dislodged the nappy. In the morning, the wet nappy had leaked out through the leg elastic and stained the pink frills. Mrs Jones had mistakenly fixed my nappy like a girl?s and she giggled as she scolded her own stupidity and realised her error. I had peed the ?wrong? way and the loosened nappy had failed to keep the bed dry. On the landing I met Pauline whilst I was still dressed in the wet nappy and panties. Reluctantly, I waddled behind her into the bathroom and she showed me how to stand in the shower whilst she unpinned my nappy then I unpinned hers. I should have realised then that this degree of intimacy was not normal between siblings but having been an only child, I knew no better. That fifth night after my bath, ?Mummy Jones? produced a pink ?baby-grow? just like the one Pauline wore but a little bigger. She explained that she had brought them in case Pauline was still incontinent when she was older. By a happy accident, the pink baby-grow fitted me and I was encouraged to get into it. As I finally slipped my arms down the sleeves into the thick clumsy mittens and Mummy Jones had buttoned up the back I discovered that I was trapped helplessly inside it. However, as a treat, I was allowed to stay up a little later than usual because it was a Friday night. I studied my appearance in the hall mirror and giggled self-consciously at the huge round bulge around my bottom that made me look like a pink bumblebee. ?These new nappies seemed to make my bum even bigger,? I thought. Then Mrs Jones put a video in the video machine and I joined Pauline on the settee. We sat together as we watched the video and shared some fruit juice. The video was about ?Beauty and the Beast? and Pauline became a little frightened. She squeezed up tight to me and our frilly waterproof panties rustled under our baby-grows. The crinkly rustling noises made Pauline smile and she gave me a petal soft kiss as she gurgled very affectionately and hugged my chest tight to hers. Her soft skin melded into mine and it was the most intimate we could be stuck as we were inside our flannelette baby-grows. Later Mr Jones carried Pauline up to bed and I held Mrs Jones?s hand as I waddled awkwardly up the stairs. It was difficult to keep my balance because the extra thick nappy spread my legs apart and made normal walking difficult. After cleaning our teeth, I was invited to join Pauline on her bed then ?Mummy Jones? read us a story. Before she had finished, we were both fast asleep and ?Mummy Jones? decided to let us both sleep together in Pauline?s bed. It was easier than carrying a sleepy seven year old boy across the landing. There would be nothing intimate or indecent about our sharing the bed. Imprisoned in our pink ?baby-grow? suits with thick clumsy mittens and each of us heavily nappied, it was quite certain that nothing untoward could happen. I vaguely remember both adults checking in on us later that night then I slept soundly through the night. In the morning though I received a horrible shock. Not only had I wet my nappy but I had also soiled it. At first I thought the smell was Pauline for she always woke up with a soiled nappy but after I sat up I realised that my nappy also felt warm and sticky. I let out a wail of surprise and tried desperately to remove the giant pink ?baby-grow?. My mittens made it impossible and I was forced to call ?Mummy Jones? to come and help me. She arrived and immediately made sympathetic cooing noises to reassure me as I sat on the bed while she undid the buttons up my back. I was mortified by my helplessness and blubbered my apologies. ?I?m sorry Mummy Jones. I?m ever so sorry. I just can?t seem to hold it!? ?Oh never mind darling. A little whoopsie is hardly anything to cry about. Accidents happen and mummy?s not angry. Here let me undress you then you can join Pauline in the shower.? So saying, Mummy Jones next removed Pauline?s baby-grow then motioned us off to the shower. Fortunately our frilly plastic panties had not leaked for the larger nappies had filled the plastic pants tight and the leg elastic was drawn tight into to our crotches. This bulkiness caused us to walk slowly by waddling with our legs spread wide to avoid squeezing any mess out of our nappies. When I got to the bathroom I discovered that I somehow couldn?t get at the safety pins. They were sort of buried deep inside in the top folds of my nappy that formed a waistband. The previous day, Mummy Jones had bought some extra large nappies which when folded triple and turned in at the top around the back. This made it impossible to get at the big stiff pins. I needed at least three hands to unfold the nappy then keep it unfolded as I used two more hands to un-spring the extra strong pins. ?Ouch!? I yelped as struggled to compress the pin and it jabbed my finger. I tried again but only succeeded in drawing blood from my butt. I knew about blood poisoning from down on the farm and I knew that blood and faeces did not mix. I simply could not undo the big pins with only one hand. Pauline was frowning for she was having the same trouble and she let out a squeal of pain as she ?stabbed? her butt. ?Is too tight!? she wailed. I nodded and tried once more but it was impossible. After a third sharp jab I gave up and asked Pauline to help me. She realised our mutual predicament then took hold of the folded waistband of my nappy. ?Heah. I do it dawing,? lisped Pauline affectionately. After another failed and painful attempt, I cursed and turned to present my butt to Pauline. She made me hold the nappy folds open then she reached in and with both hands straining, managed to release the pin. She smiled then giggled as she bent over and tapped her bottom. ?Now you do me.? Reluctantly I untwisted the fold in the waist of her nappy then she held it unfolded as I dug deep and unclipped her pin. Finally we were both free of our nappies and I studied the extra strong pin ruefully. It was obviously going to need three hands to undo these pins in the future. I knew I would be glad when I was out of nappies for good. ?Mummy Jones? had obviously found some extra large strong pins and designed a special way of pinning up the nappies at the back. This made it impossible to remove them unaided. I supposed it was to make sure the nappies wouldn?t come off at night. Unless Mrs Jones removed them for us, Pauline and I would always have to help each other. After placing the dirty nappies in the bath, we both stepped into the shower and gratefully sprayed each other?s dirty bottoms clean. The hot shower jet ?tickled? our ?tickly bits? and Pauline giggled, as my little pee-pee grew stiff. ?Da?s funny!? she cooed as she fingered the strange development growing from my groin. I giggled then gasped as the delightful sensations shuddered through my little body. ?Don?t!? I gasped, ?That?s naughty.? Pauline just giggled again then pressed the jet nozzle against her own little tickly and squealed with delight. It was obvious that she had done this many times before as she manipulated the nozzle to get the best effect. Suddenly she gave a little shudder and slumped against the tiles. For a moment I was frightened but she soon recovered and smiled knowingly. ?Da?s very nice. Mummy says I?s not naughy.? I fell silent and Pauline gave me another hug. Her soft skin feeling delicious and I automatically responded by squeezing her back and pushing my pee-pee against her tummy. She giggled again then finally stepped out of the shower. ?You a nice bwuvver,? she lisped. ?We shower evwy morning cos we de same. OK?? I had no choice but to agree. If I was going to soil my nappy every night then we would have to help each other get clean. I felt both excited yet trapped by our mutual predicament. It was obvious that Pauline was very pleased with developments. Now she could always share a shower with somebody as similarly afflicted as she was. It was obvious that she thought of us as equals now that I also needed nappies but I was mortified by the development. It was OK sharing a shower with little Pauline but the idea that I seemed to be going backwards horrified me. I descended down to breakfast with tears in my eyes to find a sympathetic Mr Jones waiting to greet me. ?Got problems little fellow?? I fell silent with embarrassment. How could I discuss with him that I, a seven-year?old boy, needed a nappy. He smiled benignly then returned to his morning paper whilst I dug silently into my breakfast cereal. Later, in school I suffered the final humiliation. I didn?t make it to the toilets in time and I wet my panties and had to change. Fortunately, nobody had noticed and I was changed in the privacy of Miss Evans storeroom, she discovered my frilly panties and she gave me a knowing smile as she secretly produced an even frillier pair from the school?s emergency stock of spare cloths. I was mortified, but she gave me a tight hug and pressed my nose deep into her fulsome breasts. The warm soft scented valley of her cleavage was delightful and I unwittingly burrowed my nose a little deeper. I did not know then, that Miss Evans was a close friend and associate of Mummy Jones. It takes all sorts to make a world. Once again when school finished, I saw Miss Evans talking to Mummy Jones and exchanging smiles as they glanced towards me. As I walked towards the car, Miss Evans gave me a little package and winked at me as Pauline gurgled a lisping welcome from her baby-seat and stretched out her arms. ?Hewwow bwuvver!? I winced at Pauline?s childish language skills and rapidly tucked the polythene bag with my wet panties into my schoolbag. Miss Evans turned to my mother as she studied Pauline. ?Will she be starting next year, Joyce?? asked Miss Evans as she tickled Pauline affectionately under the chin. ?Only if she?s out of nappies,? whispered Mummy Evans. ?Oh that won?t be an issue. Here?s a letter I would like you to read.? I looked at Pauline but she didn?t seem the least put out. I couldn?t make head or tail of Pauline?s response. ?Was she really quite content to stay in Nappies for ever?? I asked myself. Even as we drove home, I got a distinct whiff of ?whoopsie? as Pauline squiggled in her seat then giggled knowingly. She gave another giggle then waved her legs as though she actually reveled in the shame. There seemed to be no sense to it. Even so, I liked Pauline so much that I couldn?t help smiling at her perverse delight. As a sister she seemed to be the perfect choice. She was sweet and soft and friendly and there never seemed to be an angry word. Some of the boys in my class had described just how horrible it was to have a little sister spying and telling tales but I found Pauline?s company delightful. It was a real pleasure just to have a playmate at home after school. Who cared if she had this little problem with her nappy? I smiled at her and gave myself a secret hug of delight and I felt my stomach tighten with pleasure. Suddenly the tightening became an unexpected cramp and I felt my own frilly panties become warm again. A dark stain spread up the front of my jeans and I let out another low wail of defeat. I just seemed to be loosing it. Was I really getting to be like Pauline? My mother simply glanced in the mirror and reassured me that it was OK until we got home. ?Don?t be upset my pet. Just slip that polythene sheet under your jeans until you get home darling. We don?t want to stain the car seats.? Grateful to not leave any telltale mess in the car, I pulled the sheet across from under Pauline?s child?s seat and sat in silence until we got home. A bumpy ride down the cart track did nothing to help my predicament. My stomach started to churn and even as I clambered out of the car, I felt the warm sticky sensation squeezing into my panties. I just couldn?t seem to hold it! I let out another cry of distress and frantically dragged off my jeans before the brown mess could do any more damage. What was wrong with me? I wondered desperately. Fortunately the Jones family also lived out of town on another smallholding. This was one of the criterions in my adoption process. It was an effort to help me feel at home and adjust to my parent?s death. My desperate strip went un-noticed at the remote farmhouse and I squatted frantically in the grass beside the yard as my bowels once more exploded uncontrollably. However, I still had to now waddle with my lower body stark naked as I parted my legs and made for the front door. Mummy Jones suggested that I go straight to the bathroom while she joined me with Pauline in her arms. There she cleaned us both then put us in fresh nappies and frilly plastic knickers before dressing us. I was now forced to accept that I had to wear nappies even during the day. After that terrible embarrassment at school and the final catastrophe in the farmyard I knew I simply could not do without one. The whole situation was becoming hopeless. I sat in my bedroom in front of the mirror and looked at myself wearing just the thick oversized nappy and the frilly plastic knickers. Despite myself, I couldn?t help admiring the thick rows of frills and the delightful circular fantail of lace sticking up at the back. My bottom resembled the frilly version of a strutting pink peacock. I heard Pauline giggling and cooing across the hall and decided to join her and mummy, as Pauline was dressed. Mummy Jones had dressed Pauline in a beautiful short frilly petticoat with rows and rows of flounced frills that stuck out from her hips like a ballerina?s tutu. Over this she placed a beautiful short pink party frock that was pushed out by the frilly petticoat. The frock was zippered down the back and the little tab was secured under the waistband where it wouldn?t show. Pauline turned to look at herself in the mirror then squealed with delight as she bent over. Her stiff frilly ?peacock tail popped up and lifted all the frills to expose her frilly plastic panties. The petticoat and frock were so short that nobody could miss seeing the frilly training pants underneath. Then Mummy Jones slipped a pair of frilly cotton ankle socks and finally opened a new box of shoes. Pauline let out another squeal and wiggled her toes excitedly as Mummy Jones slipped them on and buckled them. Finally, Pauline stood before the mirror and gurgled with delight as she curtsied and exposed her knickers once again. I simply watched with growing excitement as Pauline pranced and chuckled in front of the mirror. My envy must have shown in my eyes because Mummy Jones turned to look at me and smiled knowingly. ?Aren?t you getting dressed darling?? she asked me. I nodded reluctantly as I bit my lip and returned to my bedroom. There on the bed lay a fresh pair of jeans and a pretty silk blouse that Mummy Jones had laid out for me while Pauline and I had showered. I slowly took hold of the blouse and felt a little twinge of jealousy for Pauline. Whilst I was a little pleased to see that I hadn?t been given another chequered cotton shirt I would secretly have liked to wear what Pauline was wearing. With a weary sigh I sat on the side of the bed and Mummy Jones gently took the blouse from my hands. Reluctantly I raised my arms and waited for Mummy Jones to slip the silky blouse over my shoulders. She must have sensed my slight disappointment and she stopped just as the blouse was about to descent. ?Don?t you like this darling? I thought you?d have loved such a soft silky blouse.? I smiled weakly then whispered softly, for my little transvestite heart ached to be wearing what Pauline was wearing. ?I like Pauline?s frock.? Mummy Jones? jaw dropped and her hands remained stuck in mid air as she held the blouse above my extended arms. ?What are you saying my little peach. Do you want to wear a frock?? I hung my head a shame for a moment until Mummy Jones put the blouse aside and gently took my chin in her fingers. ?You do don?t you. You really like Pauline?s frock.? Slowly, I nodded my head ever so slightly and the telltale tears returned once again to my eyes. I bit my lips nervously as Mummy Jones searched my tearful eyes before an ecstatic smile slowly spread across her lips. ?Well bless me,? she whispered softly through her smile. ?You really do prefer Pauline?s frock don?t you?? I blubbered with relief and threw my arms around Mummy Jones as she gently squeezed me to her soft, pillowed breasts and kissed my forehead. ?Why that?s wonderful darling. I?ve got lots of dresses like Pauline?s. Just come and see.? My eye?s widened with secret hope as I pushed my feet into my mule slippers and waddled off after Mummy Jones. She collected Pauline from her bedroom and led me outside into one of the barns that had always been locked. Pauline let out a high-pitched squeak of expectation and wriggled eagerly as Mummy Jones fiddled with the lock. ?Dwesses! Dwesses!? she lisped, ?I wove dwesses!? The barn door swung open easily and I peered inside uncertainly. I could make out very little until the barn was bathed in light and I was looking at a veritable dress factory for little party girls. Rows and rows of frilly dresses in every shape, colour and material hung in festoons from clothing racks. Mummy Jones took my hand and led me down the rows. ?There we are darling take your pick. I?m a professional seamstress and I have a little business here. Two other ladies help me part time and we make little girl?s party frocks. It means I can work from home and look after Pauline at the same time. See over there by the fire escape. That?s a little cr?che were we mummies place our children whilst we work. You wouldn?t have known of this because you?re at school all day. My eyes widened with ecstatic delight as I waddled eagerly down the aisles and gazed in wonder at the incredible selection. Hundreds of beautiful frocks, panties and petticoats were all set out ready for despatch. It was impossible for me to choose. Mummy Jones recognised my confusion so she took control and stopped by some beautiful blue satin frocks. She took one off the rail and held it against me as Pauline giggled and clapped her approval. The soft, silky, smooth satin felt delightful against my bare chest and I shuddered with anticipation. Mummy Jones smiled knowingly then requested me to remove my plastic knickers. ?Why?? I asked. ?You can?t have pink knickers and a blue frock darling. You have to be colour co-ordinated.? I immediately grasped her intentions and motioned to Pauline to help me unbutton my plastic leak-proof panties. This done I stood there looking a little forlorn in my sagging oversized nappy whilst Mummy Jones went to another rail. She returned with what looked like a proper pale blue ballerina?s tutu that exactly matched the party dress. ?Here. We?ll try these. They will work perfectly.? I inspected them and fingered the panty bottom. It was actually a ballerina?s tutu with built in plastic leak-proof panty. I felt a self- conscious thrill of nervous delight as I fingered the beautiful silky material and yard after yard of pale blue frills. It even had the big circular ring of lace on the butt that would present a perfect ?target? whenever I bent over. Trembling with excitement, I stepped cautiously into the tutu and Mummy Jones drew it up my legs. The millions of frills tickled my thighs but this was always one of the main pleasures of cross-dressing. My knees almost buckled with pleasure as I smoothed the frills around my giant nappied bum. The mass of lace ?skirts? seemed to hide the bulky nappy under the knickers and I turned towards the mirror to savour the wonderful image. There in the mirror stood a child ballet pupil as Mummy Jones secured me up the back. Then she stood up and our smiles met through the mirror. ?There darling. Isn?t that just beautiful. There?s only the frock to complete your outfit.? Now that I looked like a ballerina, I hardly wanted to spoil the image with the party frock but Mummy Jones seemed determined. My shoulders were also beginning to feel cold with only the narrow straps in the unheated barn. I watched Mummy Jones fiddling with the dress then turned again to face the mirror as she lowered the soft blue satiny creation over my head. Once again my body shuddered with delight as the silky bodice encased my shoulders and I began to feel warm again. Mummy Jones fiddled with the zip and gave the hem a final fussy tug before turning me around to look at me full frontal. ?There you are darling. Isn?t that just wonderful; and blue for a boy as well.? I couldn?t resist doing a ?twirl? and Pauline clapped as I gazed appreciatively at my new image. Mummy Jones gave me a final hug then looked down at my feet. ?Those mules are no good at all. It?s proper shoes for you my dear.? With these words, we returned to the house and Mummy Jones went directly to the box room. She returned with a shoebox then presented me with a beautiful pair of shiny patent leather ?Mary-Jane? shoes exactly like Pauline?s. I was so pleased that I could only gaze at my reflection in them. I knew that I was a boy but deep down I was secretly delighted and Mummy Jones knew it. Firstly I smoothed my frilly skirts and frock then sat on the bed as I eagerly slipped my new cotton socks on. As I bent my knees, my mass of lacy skirts ballooned up and exposed my frilly panties to the watching Pauline and Mummy Jones. I didn?t care, I was in heaven as the lacy skirts stood up and tickled the undersides of my arms. Then I slid off the bed and smoothed down my skirts. It was a wasted exercise in ladylike demure for as I knelt down to buckle on my shoes the lace ballooned up again and tickled my arms. My hands trembled with delight as I knelt down first on one knee to buckle the first shoe, then on the other. With both shoes fastened I stood up and noticed the beautiful, pale blue, frilly panties of the tutu reflecting in the shiny black patent leather. I couldn?t resist the smile spreading across my lips. Then I met Pauline?s gaze and her eyes were glistening with delight. It was obvious that she felt that now, at last, she had a real friend to play with. Mummy Jones caught our happy exchange and gently took our shoulders as she steered us in front of the mirror. Before us in the mirror stood two very pretty little girls with incredibly short party frocks and wearing the frilliest outfits I had ever seen. Our panties were completely exposed and there was no mistaking the bulging nappies underneath. ?We the same!? cooed Pauline as she squeezed closer me and gave me the softest warmest kiss I had ever felt. Eagerly I returned the kiss, which was a sort of seal on our acceptance of each other as equals. To my surprise I felt my little wee-wee growing stiff but under my bulging nappy there was nothing to be seen. Nor could I touch it because of the tightly elasticated tutu pants. Instead I gave Pauline another hug and squeezed myself against her. She responded eagerly for we were neither of us a threat to each other in our thick nappies. With our contract of equality now firmly sealed, we waddled into the playroom and I joined Pauline with her dolls. Mummy Jones gazed on then spoke softly to me. ?Make sure you do your homework tonight before daddy comes home. Miss Evans wants you to write about why you like frilly knickers.? I considered this briefly but I simply couldn?t find one big logical reason. I just liked wearing frilly silky panties and I couldn?t understand why. I stopped playing with Pauline?s dolls and thought about it long and hard but there was no explanation. I flicked the blue frills on my plastic tutu bottom and felt a little thrill of pleasure but there was no obvious reason for it. I knew I liked the soft silky textures and the way the stiff lacy frills tickled my inner thighs and bum. I loved the way the stiff lacy tutu skirts popped up and tickled my arms! I liked it when I bent over and all my frothy lacy frills were exposed to view making me seem vulnerable and fragile. This always put a smile on Mummy Jones?s face and I always liked to please her. She was so kind and obliging. There were just so many things about frilly clothes that I loved but most of all it was sharing those pleasures with Pauline and seeing the smile on her face. Yes there were lots of little reasons but no one big obvious reason. I loved it when Pauline cuddled up to me on the settee to watch a video and share our fruit juice before going to bed. I liked it when we squeezed together in her bed as mummy read us a story. But theses were all different mixed up reasons. It was all so nice and girly. Little girls had so much more choice to dress up. Having thought about these things I decided I had enough to write about. I listed the reasons then showed them to mummy before rejoining Pauline with her dolls. I decided that I would set about my essay after helping Pauline dress her favourite doll. Unlike most little girls, Pauline?s fingers seemed to be all thumbs? and she just couldn?t knot the doll?s tiny laces and fastenings properly. She only seemed to understand how to undo nappy pins. Her fingers were still podgy and clumsy like a two-year-olds? whilst my fingers by comparison were nimble and delicate. Pauline was a strange girl, but then; I was a strange boy. Despite everything, I was growing to love her like a real sister. She was nothing like the selfish, sneaky little sisters that the other boys described in school. Later she joined me on the floor as I lay on my tummy and penned my essay together. ?Wha? you doin-?? she lisped as she plopped down beside me. It was much easier for Pauline to stand and sit. Her babyish legs had not yet lost that plump bandiness of the toddler and she could get straight up almost without bending her knees. She simply leant forward and lurched directly to her feet. I on the other had, had to bend my knees like a normal adult to get off the floor. This was tricky because if I pressed my knees too tightly then any whoopsies in my nappy would be squeezed and spread around inside my nappy. It made an awful mess when I had to have my nappy changed. Fortunately, I had almost finished the essay and my nappy was still dry. I sat up and showed Pauline the paper as I explained. ?Writing for Miss Evans. She?s my teacher,? I replied. Pauline peered at the page then waddled off to her bedroom. She returned later with some coloured pencils and stretched down beside me. After a few moments I recognised a drawing of her and me dressed as we were in our party frocks. I was surprised by the quality because Pauline had never shown any capability for anything but the simplest writing. It was better than any of the artwork posted up in my classroom and it was obvious that Pauline had a real knack for drawing. I watched fascinated as she held her pencils awkwardly in her fist and pushed the tip of her tongue out of the side of her mouth to demonstrate her intense concentration. What appeared on the paper totally belied her clumsiness. I could even recognised myself as the features began to take shape. I squealed to Mummy Jones to come and look and she came to see what the commotion was. One look at Pauline?s picture explained it all. ?Why my little darling! That?s amazing. I must show this to Miss Evan?s tomorrow.? I swallowed nervously. I knew it was unlikely, but there was a remote possibility that my classmates might recognise the pretty little girls in the picture even though it was the handiwork of my six-year-old pre-school sister. I studied the picture and swallowed nervously. Dressed as we were, it was fairly obvious who the two little children were. Pauline was obviously a gifted little artist. As Mummy Jones held it up I leapt to my feet and pawed at the picture. ?Mummy! Mummy, please don?t show Miss Jones. She?ll post it on the wall.? ?Oh I don?t think so darling. Miss Evans is changing to a new school next week and we are thinking of sending you and Pauline there. I think you?ll like it.? This news intrigued me. I was not upset about the news. I had not made any friends at my present school and the only person I really liked was in fact Miss Evans. The idea of following her to her new school removed any fear for me. Miss Evans was really nice and she had given me that beautiful hug to her breast when I had the little accident. Mummy Jones smiled softly and promised me that she would hold back Pauline?s drawing until a more suitable time occurred at my new school. I was puzzled by this remark but relieved to learn that it was not going up on the wall at my current school. Some of the boys were quite rough and I had already been ?sounded out? by a couple of the school bullies. Fortunately, despite my little peccadilloes I was used to handling quite big, strong farm animals. I therefore knew a trick or two about bringing down bigger foe. I might wet my panties but woe betide anybody who tried to make an issue of it. Then I realised the stupidity of my thoughts. Being able to defend myself in a fight would not be the issue. If I wet my panties in the playground then I would be a laughing stock and no amount of bravado would prevent the children from teasing me. Nobody would ever play with a sissy baby who peed into his panties. I would be ridiculed throughout the school. I had been fortunate on the Friday that the ?accident? had happened as I was going to the toilets. If it happened in the playground, I would be done for. Even as I considered the scenario my heart sank as I felt the now familiar warm wet feeling in my nappy and I wagged my head with disappointment. There had been no warning, no fullness in my bladder, not even the sensation of ?passing water?. The first intimation had been when I felt the warm wet sensation spreading around my pee-pee. ?Was I ever going to get better?? I wondered. Wearily I presented myself to mummy for a nappy change but she simply smiled condescendingly. ?I haven?t got time just now darling. I?m preparing dinner. I?ll do it before you go to bed.? I waddled of feeling surprised that I felt only a little discomforted and then I sat down to play with Pauline and her dolls again. Pauline sniffed knowingly and smiled. ?You pee-pee.? I nodded resignedly and helped her set out the doll?s house. She cooed happily as I carefully laid out the furniture then a few minutes later she fell silent as that familiar expression spread across her smile. ?I pee-pee.? I nodded acknowledgement just as we heard Mr Jones arriving home. Eagerly we waddled to the door and greeted him as he turned the key. He gazed upon us and grinned. ?Well hello my pretty little things. Well now you look really pretty in those frocks.? I blushed slightly but my embarrassment soon evaporated as he scooped us up each in one arm and carried us to the kitchen. There he stretched out his lips to kiss Mummy Jones and then invited us to each join in. Eagerly, we plunged into the four-sided intimacy and I was surprised that Mr Jones felt as smooth and soft as Mrs Jones. He didn?t have the rough stubble that my real daddy had always sported when he got home. Then Mrs Jones turned to portion out the dinner as Mr Jones placed us both into our high chairs. Pauline still used the little table with raised edge that hinged down over her head and secured her into her chair. I felt really grown up because I was allowed sit in my high chair and eat off the big table. After dinner we were placed on the settee and each given our fruit juice as we watched a video before going to bed. Again, there was a scary bit and I surprised myself as I felt my nappy fill with whoopsies as the baddy scared Pauline and me. She also gave a squeak of fright then she made the familiar wiggle that told me she had also filled her nappy. A faint smell told Mummy Jones that we had pooped and were ready to be changed for bed. ?There?s good petals you are,? she grinned, ?now upstairs and we?ll change you.? Once again, Daddy Jones carried Pauline in his arms as I waddled squishily behind Mummy. In Pauline?s bedroom both parents unbuttoned our party frocks then patiently loosened the back buttons of the bodices of our frilly ?trainer-tutus before sending us to remove each other?s nappies in the bathroom. I found myself giggling like Pauline as we peeled the bodices down to our waists and gingerly stepped out of the thick waterproof frilly bottoms. Then we fidgeted with the difficult pins until finally we could use the shower. Once again we experimented with the hot shower jet and squealed with delight. We were reluctant to come out until finally Mummy Jones had to separate us and wrap us in the big fluffy towels as we skipped back to our bedroom. Amidst shrieks and giggles we were nappied up and placed into our leak- proof panties. Then we were dressed in some exciting special new baby- grows. These new baby-grows had all the usual features except that they had thick frilly ?tutu? skirts and rows and rows of frills around the bottoms. We fingered the lacy frills and gauze skirts joyfully then cuddled together under the duvet as Mummy read us a tale about fairies and swans and ?The little Ballerina?. Once again we both fell fast asleep in each other?s arms and our parents let us sleep together again in Pauline?s bed. That night I dreamed of happiness and dancing surrounded by swans and princesses. I had found peace at last for I had finally found myself amongst a caring, sharing family who totally understood my transvestite needs.