Baby Candy Chapter 2 free porn video

Please note; this story is based on a short story entitled, 'Candie' (author unknown) which I re-wrote a decade ago and posted on various sites over the last ten years. I picked it up again and decided to re- work it, in an attempt to make it read more smoothly. I hope you enjoy the changes. Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia. Chapter 2. Sweet as Candy Aunty June dragged me out of the tub and roughly dried me with a huge yellow towel. It was so demeaning being man-handled by her like a small child. As soon as she deemed me sufficiently dry, she sat on the closed toilet lid, her jeans stretched tautly over plump womanly thighs. She draped the damp towel across her lap and patted her knee in blunt invitation. "Come here, child," she ordered sharply, crooking her index finger at me. As soon as I stepped within range, she grabbed me by one ear and dragged me squealing and kicking across her towel-covered lap. With her left hand holding my neck in a vise-like grip, the other fell repeatedly on my damp pink posterior. "You naughty, wicked boy!" She scolded me as she beat me with her huge hard palm, smacking my hands out of the way when I foolishly tried to intervene. "I'll teach you! Teach you to do as you are told!" She hand-spanked me solidly for about five long minutes, although it felt like hours to me. By the time she finished beating me, my bottom was red and blazing and tears were rolling down my crimson cheeks. Auntie roughly stood me up, and I wobbled alarmingly and sobbed my heart out, rubbing my burning bottom with both hands. She sneered at me in contempt and callously reprimanded me. "It's nothing more than you deserved, you wicked, wicked child! Oh stop all that nonsense! What a sissy cry-baby you are!" She swiped my tear-stained face with a corner of the damp towel, and ordered me to stop snivelling. I gradually brought my ragged breathing under control, brushing away the last tears before she could do it for me. Auntie instructed Alison her eldest; "Look in Brenda's wardrobe, and find this little sissy some of your sister's oldest, smallest clothes for him to try on." I couldn't believe it when my peenie started to thicken, no matter how hard I tried to make it stop. While we waited, Aunt June began blow-drying and brushing out my long wet hair. I kept my hands cupped in my lap to conceal my swelling tool until Alison returned with some panties, a slip, and a short cotton sundress for me in a pretty floral print. Aunty made me stand and I started trembling with humiliation when my arousal became obvious. I bent forward at the waist and crossed my hands in front of my groin in a futile attempt to conceal my evident excitement as I stepped into the plain cotton panties Brenda handed me. They were so loose, they hung off my slender hips, although my stiffie in front helped keep them up. Laughing caustically at my erection and my cowering shivering state, Aunt June and my jeering cousins began dressing me in the feminine clothes. Even though at sixteen Brenda was only a year older than me, her smallest old clothes were grossly too large on my slight frame. The light cotton dress billowed loosely about my slender body, and the hem fell all the way to my ankles. My Aunt snorted in annoyance. "Those clothes are way to large. Take them off him." The girls seemed disappointed as they stripped me again, but Aunty June snarled, "Don't worry, girls! He's not getting out of it that easy!" She concentrated for a moment, and seemed to remember something. "I know where I've got something that will fit our little sissy cry-baby. Bring him downstairs, girls," she commanded her daughters. Brenda grabbed one bicep and Alison the other, and I struggled to keep my hands cupped over my groin. I was dragged naked and blushing back down to the basement once more, my embarrassing stiffie cradled in my cupped palms. Aunt June quickly found and opened the sought-after pink overnight bag she'd hidden on top of the wardrobe a few days ago. She took out a light summer frock first made from pink and white gingham, shot me a malicious smirk, and placed the flounced dress aside for the moment. She then produced a pair of girl's pink designer bike jeans that barely covered the knees, and a frilly white cotton blouse both sized for a ten-year-old girl. "Ahh, perfect," she cried in satisfaction. She also drew out a pair of pink lace-edged sneakers and a few clear plastic packages of new nylon underwear, clearly marked 'girls size eight to ten.' Aunt June smirked and commented, "Good. These clothes might just be small enough to fit our little sissy." She ripped open a package of underwear and whipped out a pair of silky white nylon panties. They had tiny red polka-dots and frilly red lace trim around the waist and leg openings, and there was even a matching training bra! I was shivering from a strange combination of fear and unrepressed excitement as my Aunt held down and open the shiny bikini panties in front of me. She sharply ordered, "Come on, sissy! Put your feet in the leg holes. That's right. Good girl!" After smacking my hands away from my bobbing hard-on, she pulled them up over my stiffie, till the wide elastic waistband tightly gripped my slender waist. "Oh good, they fit." Her girls giggled in cruel amusement when they pointed at my tenting panty crotch. I was mortified to find the girls' size eight panties were quite a good fit on my undersized fifteen-year-old male body, despite the erection jutting out the front. The frilly nylon panties had a silky exciting feel which started my peenie leaking drops of sticky clear fluid, and a shiny wet spot appeared on the front of my new underwear. I remained speechless when my aunt teased me that my boobies needed to grow more, as she fed my limp arms through the training bra straps and then clasped it in back for me. Alison remarked that despite my bright red face and the fact that I seemed so embarrassed, I had tears brimming in my eyes - my little stiffie still hadn't gone down! "Look how hard it is!" She chortled in derision, pointing to my shame. "And look! He's making his pretty new panties wet in front!" My Aunt archly replied, "Obviously some part of him loves being humiliated. What a sissy!" "Yes," Brenda sniggered in agreement, "and I can see which part!" Next the giggling teens dressed me in the pair of pink girl's bike jeans, which ended at the top of my hairless calves. I quickly helped to pull them on, the sooner to cover the embarrassing evidence of my uncontrollable arousal. I kept my back to the girls when I had to force my boner to one side before I could zip the fly closed. The stretch pink jeans fitted me very snugly, and gave me a rather feminine figure from behind, emphasising my rounded little butt and my slim girlish calves. I gazed down at the fine blonde down on my legs, and once again regretted the fact that puberty was so late arriving for me. Brenda further embarrassed me by mentioning that she could see my 'visible panty line' through my snug jeans' bottom, as the stretchy material drew even tighter when I closed the zipper. She gave my bottom a crisp smack that made me squeal (in surprise more than pain,) and ran the tips of her fingers over the seat of my jeans, following the leg elastic of my silky nylon knickers towards my crotch. I whirled away from her and defensively covered my tender bottom cheeks with both palms, making the girls giggle again. My Aunty then dressed me in the soft white cotton blouse, feeding my arms through the sleeves like I didn't know how to dress myself. The top was made from sheer cotton, and the red polka-dots on my training bra could be easily discerned underneath, a fact eagerly pointed out by Alison. I felt totally humiliated as the giggling girls lavishly complimented me on my sweet new outfit. There were no socks in the box, so Aunt June had me wear the pink frilly sneakers without any hose. Even the laces were pink, which Brenda tied for me in big floppy bows that looked extremely feminine. The girls continued to tease and taunt me as they dragged me back upstairs to further feminise me. Aunty insisted that my cousins file and paint my fingernails, which my bossy cousins were more than happy to do. They sat me down in front of the vanity in my Aunt's bedroom for a manicure first, and then painted my fingernails bright pink. They even made me remove my sneakers and they did the same thing to my toenails. They did something to my eyelashes with a little black wand, and Brenda dusted some perfumed pink powder on my cheeks. Alison told me stretch my mouth wide as she carefully applied a coating of glossy pink lipstick to my trembling lips. I hoped no one would notice that my stiff little tool was pounding with arousal inside my silky nylon knickers. Aunt June brushed my blow-dried hair in a fluffy feminine style, and slid some barrettes in the sides for a more feminine look. When they decided I was ready, they made me stand in front of them while they closely inspected me. I felt my heart begin to race when no one spoke for a whole minute. Brenda was the first to break the silence. "He actually looks pretty good," she commented, although she screwed up her face in distaste as she made her pronouncement. Alison looked serious as cancer when she nodded in reluctant agreement. "If I didn't know any better, I would swear he was a cute seven or eight year old girl." Aunty June seemed pleased with her daughters' evaluation. "I told you he was too pretty to be a boy," she smugly reminded them. I was floored when they all sincerely commented on what a beautiful little girl I made! They seemed genuinely astonished by my altered appearance, and they stood me in front of a mirror so I could see, too. I was shocked to see that I really did look like a pretty pre-pubescent girl. The feminine hairstyle completely altered my features, softening my jaw line and making me look even more like a real girl. I was thrilled and yet so incredibly mortified, I couldn't move away from my reflection! I stood frozen to the spot in shock while Aunt June announced, "Since you look so sweet, from now on your new name will be 'Candy'!" She warned me, "Now you better behave like a good little girl, Candy - or else!" She glanced at her daughters, and they were smiling and nodding in approval. A few seconds later she turned me to face her and sternly demanded; "What's your name, little girl?" I whimpered "Candy" in response, too embarrassed to look her in the face. She frowned forbiddingly and snapped; "Candy what?" I belatedly corrected myself. "My name is Candy, ma'am." She smiled thinly and nodded in approval. "That's a good little girl! Put Candy's sneakers back on her feet if her toenails are dry, will you Alison?" After an embarrassing lunch with the girls where they constantly teased me, Aunt June announced that it was a beautiful day. She ordered me to go outside and play. I knew she wanted to further embarrass me by making me parade around dressed as a pre-teen girl. I stuttered that I didn't want to go anywhere dressed like this, but she insisted I go outside - or else she would paddle my naughty little bottom. Most reluctantly I agreed, and I shuffled dispiritedly towards the back door. I surely didn't want any of the neighbourhood kids to see my shameful effeminate attire, so I asked if I could still ride my bike, planning to pedal away from the house as quickly as possible. After thinking for a minute, my Aunt replied that I could still go bike riding. But she cautioned me to stay close by her house, and insisted I had to use Alison's old bike from now on; not my cool black Malvern Star that I had brought with me from home. She sent Alison and Brenda to dust off their old kiddie bike and wheel it out of the garage. I stood there in horror when I realised what they had planned for me. It was a pink and white little-girl's bicycle, with a white cane basket on the front and pink streamers dangling from the white rubber handgrips. Brenda and Alison shepherded me onto the kiddie bicycle standing in the driveway, and I realised with disgust that it was only a fraction small for me. When Alison laughed and commented that she had outgrown this bike when she was six or seven, my face fell even more. I whined in protest. "But - but - that's a little girl's bicycle!" Aunt June insisted, "I think a little girl's bike is very appropriate for you now, considering how you are dressed." When I continued complaining, she decided that the humiliating pink bike was going to be my bike for the remainder of my vacation, riding roughshod over my shrill objections and demanding, "Do you want your bottom spanked again, little girl?" I shook my head in denial, my bottom lip poking out like a sore thumb. She pointed imperiously to the street. "If you don't want another session over my knee, young lady, you'd better get going! Go on, Candy. Off you go!" I reluctantly wheeled the pink bike out to the kerbside, encouraged on my way by another stinging slap to my still tender rear. "And don't you dare get those pretty clothes dirty, or you'll be in for another paddling - only worse," was her only parting comment. As I pondered my humiliating predicament, I spotted a group of local boys in the distance approaching on their bikes. I definitely didn't want them to catch me dressed like this, so I began pedalling my shameful pink bike in the opposite direction as fast as I could. I rode quickly for about five minutes, and slowed down as I realised I was passing the roadside caf? at the town perimeter. Unfortunately the bike chain slipped off the gears at that moment, and it clattered noisily to the road. As I knelt at the kerbside and tried to work the greasy chain back over the spokes, I noticed how striking my pink fingernails looked. I became so anxious trying not to dirty my hands or my clothing, I couldn't successfully rewind the chain. While muttering, stumbling and fumbling, I was startled by a gruff feminine voice from behind me. Two cute but tough-acting girls who looked about twelve or thirteen years of age were standing over me. They were dressed in faded blue jeans and similar scoop-necked t- shirts, with scruffy old sneakers on their feet. I felt quite feminine and attractive squatting in front of them. One asked, "What's wrong, little girl?" I didn't reply, and she loudly and unnecessarily observed that my chain had fallen off. The other girl asked more insistently; "What's your name, girly?" I didn't respond again, so she repeated the question, only much louder and more slowly, as if addressing a retard. "I said, what's your name?" Blushing with shame, I stood and faced them, and softly whispered; "My name is Candy." I sighed quietly in relief when they didn't seem to suspect anything was amiss. The girls told me their names were Sally and Beth, and both said they were thirteen, although they were both much taller than me Beth was slightly taller than her friend, with short light-brown hair. Sally had dark brown hair down to her shoulders, with cute bangs over her forehead just like me. They asked me a few questions; like where I was from, and how old was I. I replied, "I'm from Sydney, and I- I'm twelve years old." My cheeks turned pink with shame when I lied to the girls, but I didn't dare tell these bigger girls that I was a fifteen-year-old boy. Not looking the way I looked. They seemed dubious when they commented that Sydney was very far away, and that I looked awful small for twelve. Beth looked doubtful when she asked, "Are you sure you're not telling fibs?" I shrilly insisted, "I'm not lying," but I'm sure my small stature and guilty expression only made them assume I must be younger than I admitted. Sally asked me, "If you're really twelve, how come you are riding a little kid's bicycle?" I told them, "I had no choice." My tone turned resentful when I added, "My horrible mean Aunty made me ride it, to punish me for misbehaving." I didn't realise my bottom lip was poking out like a sulky toddler's. "Why? What did you do?" Beth demanded, suddenly interested. "I went to the dump yesterday, and my clothes got filthy while I was playing in an old car," I explained. "My Aunty went ballistic!" They nodded in understanding, and Beth smiled in what I suspected was approval. After a few more probing questions, they decided that I was 'cool enough.' Beth asked, "Do you want to be our friend and join our gang?" I didn't respond right away, but when they told me if I joined their gang, they would help me fix my bike chain, I cautiously replied that I was interested. Sally said, "Good girl! But first you have to smoke a cigarette, for your initiation." I confessed to them that I had never smoked before, and they both sneered at my admission. Beth insisted, "All the big kids smoke! Are you chicken?" I frowned in annoyance, stung by the childish accusation. I thought smoking was a disgusting habit, but I retorted; "No, of course not!" But I really needed help fixing my chain, so I agreed to go behind the nearby diner and smoke a cigarette with them. When we trotted behind the diner together, Beth took a rather crushed packet of cigarettes and a lighter from her pocket, and very unskilfully tried to light one in the gusting breeze. In the meantime, Sally asked me how long I had been wearing a training bra. Her question caught me completely off-guard, and I didn't know what to say. I hesitantly replied, "I only got it today." The pre-teen girl puffed out her small bosom proudly, and bragged, "My Mum had to buy me a bunch of proper grown-up ladies' bras, 'cause I need them so badly!" I hope my expression didn't reveal what I was thinking. Beth coughed violently when she finally managed to light the cigarette, and then she handed it straight to me. I tentatively took a couple of shallow puffs without coughing too much, and that seemed to satisfy them. Suddenly a stout old woman in a green waitress' uniform came barrelling around the side of the diner towards us. Sally and Beth looked terrified and screamed; "Run!" I tossed the burning cigarette to the ground when the fat woman started yelling for us to stop, but we all scattered in different directions. I bolted over to my fallen bike by the footpath, planning to make a quick get-away. However I'd forgotten that the chain was still dangling uselessly. The next thing I knew, another much younger waitress in a shorter green uniform grabbed me by one arm, and she wouldn't let go. She dragged me away from the broken bike and clutched my arm tightly as the older waitress, still yelling, came trundling up to us. The fat old woman's face was red as a tomato when she gasped, "What were you girls were doing behind the diner? I smell tobacco smoke." She demanded, "Have you been smoking cigarettes?" I was so scared, I was stunned into silence. "I asked you a question. Answer me!" She kept berating me, and a small crowd began to gather. Some people searched behind the diner and a spotty teenage boy found the still-smouldering cigarette. He shambled over with it, and presented the smoking butt to the fat old waitress with a flourish and a goofy grin. She loudly demanded, "Little girl? I asked you if you'd been smoking?" I fearfully whimpered, "No ma'am!" But the wheezing woman reasoned, "Then how come this burning butt has glossy pink lipstick on it exactly matching the shade you're wearing?" She demanded to know where I was from, and who my mother was. She said that she already knew who the other two local girls were, and that they were both bad girls. She told me she planned to notify their parents later, as well. I was badly frightened, but I didn't want her to tell my strict aunt what had happened. Initially I didn't respond to her barrage of questions. Angered by my silence, she told me, "Listen up! You're already in big trouble, and you had better answer me!" By now a large crowd had formed around us, as this was apparently quite a major incident in this dinky backwoods town. She warned me, "If you don't speak up immediately, I'm going to pull down those fancy pink designer jeans you're wearing, and spank your bottom while everyone watches!" With that, the young waitress who was still holding me twisted my arm painfully up behind my back, and the fat waitress gave me a couple of vicious sample swats on my already-tender bottom. The gathered crowd cheered as I squealed and danced in pain. They laughed and yelled encouragement when the old woman began undoing the snaps of my tight pink jeans. I was already on the verge of tears, and cried to the women that I would cooperate. To the dismay of the crowd, the waitresses dragged me into the empty diner and forcibly sat me down in a booth. With tears blurring my eyes I fearfully admitted to the women, "Yes, I did it. I was smoking a cigarette behind the diner with those girls." "I thought as much," muttered the dumpy old bag. "Now tell me your name, and where you live." Reluctantly I told them, "My name is Candy, and I'm from Sydney. I'm staying with my Aunty, June Jones. She lives on Condamine St." "I know your Aunt well. She's a very sensible woman," added the older waitress. "I'll give her a call in a minute." I needed to go to the toilet, but I wasn't game enough to ask to use the ladies' bathroom. I certainly knew I couldn't use the gents'. Not after convincing everybody that I was a little girl. I sat there and crossed my legs, trying to hold it while the fat old woman continued badgering me. I knew my aching bladder would have to wait until I returned home to my Aunt's place. I tried to ignore the growing pain in my lower tummy, and suffered through the angry woman's tirade in silence. The severe young waitress took her turn reprimanding me while the fat old one telephoned my Aunt. A short while later, my Aunt pulled up outside in her bronze Ford Statesman. She threw open the door and leapt out, and stormed into the cafe. The nasty old waitress briefly told her what had happened, and informed her, "Not only did I catch her smoking, but she lied to me when I questioned her about it. She's a very naughty little girl, who obviously needs her bottom paddled." Aunt June tried to hide her smile when she realised the women had mistaken me for a little girl. "You're right, she is a bad little girl," Aunty agreed with the waitresses' astute observation, and mentioned, "I only spanked her bottom this morning for some other wicked deeds." "Maybe you didn't spank her hard enough," she sour old woman suggested. Aunty June turned to me and snapped; "This is the last straw, little girl! On your feet, Candy!" She sternly ordered, "You apologize to these women right now," pointing to the two smirking waitresses. I couldn't see what I had to apologise for, and made the mistake of saying so. "Why do I have to apologise to them?" I whined like a surly child. To the waitresses' delight, Aunt June reached down and viciously swatted my bottom several times. I squealed like a startled schoolgirl and jumped away from her hard hand. She tersely commanded, "You will tell them all you are very sorry! Now do it!" I was so shocked by the unexpected spanks on my tender rear, I almost wet my pants! Embarrassed and red-faced, with hot tears of shame clouding my eyes, I stammered an apology to the watching women. Aunt June stiffly pronounced, "We'll continue this discussion when we return home, little girl!" She then thanked everyone for their help, before dragging me by the ear out to her car, with me crying and moaning the whole way. After opening the rear door, she practically threw me into the passenger seat. She dumped the useless pink bike in the trunk, slammed the lid, and drove the short distance to her house, loudly berating me the whole way. When we reached her home a few minutes later, Aunt June was still extremely angry. She hauled me out of the car by one wrist and turning me towards the front door, spanked me all the way up her front path. Aunty has a large firm hand, and I was squealing in pain after the first harsh blow. By the second smack my aching bladder gave way, and I felt a burst of heat spreading over the front of my pants. Hot wee-wees filled the front of my tight stretch jeans and ran between my legs to soak my bottom, and then a dark stream began to form down the insides of both thighs. As I scrambled up the path I began to leave a tell-tale trail of wet spots behind me. When my Aunt's hard palm made contact with the warm wet bottom of my clinging stretch jeans, she immediately realised what I had done. "Oh you dirty little girl!" She roared in alarm. "Don't you dare step in my house in those dripping wet pants. Take them off right now! At once!" She made me remove my wet pink sneakers, then roughly stripped the stained bicycle jeans and wet panties down my shivering legs. Scolding me all the while, she used the remaining dry patches to wipe my damp calves and feet. Then she slammed open the front door and imperiously pointed to the stairs. "Get up those stairs this instant, you disgusting little pants-wetter! Go on! Straight into the bathroom with you, you vile child!" Naked and embarrassed, I ran up the staircase as Brenda and Alison observed from the landing, goggle-eyed. Aunty June informed her bemused daughters, "It seems turning him into a pre-teen girl apparently wasn't enough to discourage his bad behaviour." She announced with a stern expression, "I've decided to turn him into a much younger girl, so that he will be sure to stay out of trouble!" After stripping off my blouse and training bra, she scooped my hair on top of my head and bound it with a hair elastic. She shoved an elasticised plastic shower cap over my head, and made sure all my hair was safely contained. She picked up a bottle of cream and squirted some onto her hand, then called her girls into the bathroom. "Brenda? Alison? Come in here and help me put this depilatory cream on him," she ordered. The giggling girls took turns with the plastic bottle, and began smearing some smelly pink cream all over my legs and arms. They made me lift my arms up high, and rubbed some of the stinky stuff into my armpits, too. Aunty June rubbed the cream into the blonde fur around my shrivelled manhood and over my tummy, and she smacked my hands away when I tried to interfere. "Keep your arms up and your hands out of my way, little girl," she snapped, in a harsh no-nonsense tone. She even rubbed some lotion into my shivering bumcrack, and my cheeks were blazing with shame by the time she had finished. By the time they were satisfied, the cream around my balls was starting to burn. "It hurts," I whimpered tearfully, but Aunty June merely snorted in disdain. "Shut up, you sissy cry-baby. You too young to have all that grown-up hair. This cream will make you baby-smooth all over, the way you should be." I gave a cry of alarm and went to wipe the cream off my genitals, but Aunty ordered, "Hold his hands, girls, and don't let him wipe it off. It needs to stay on for another five minutes." They gleefully grabbed my wrists and held my arms away from my body. The lotion really began to sting and burn, even my arms and legs were tingling, and I began to blubber uncontrollably. "What a baby," April heartlessly chided me. "Don't worry, Candy. Soon you'll be baby-smooth all over, just like any other little girl," Brenda reassured me in faux-tender tones. When she decided it was time, the girls lifted me into the waiting hot bath, where Aunty June fiercely scrubbed the cream off my arms, legs and genitals. I whimpered at her rough handling, but didn't bother protesting. I had accidentally smeared some bicycle grease on my fingers, so they received a vicious scouring as well. My cheeks were grubby and my eyes had black rings around them from where I had been crying, so Aunty used some white cold cream and tissues to cleanse my face of make-up. By the time she was finished with me, there was a mess of fine blonde hair stuck to the sides of the tub, and apart from my head, I was completely hairless. When she was satisfied I was pink and shining clean all over, she stripped off my shower cap and pulled out the plug. I watched my body hair swirling down the drain with mixed emotions. She carefully dried my steaming pink body, and the girls marvelled at the smoothness of my limbs. When I glanced down to check, my peenie looked strangely bereft and childlike without its normal patch of surrounding blonde curls. Aunty wrapped me in a big pink towel, then led me over to the closed toilet. In no time I was thrust naked and shivering over Aunty's lap again, only this time I heard her curt command; "Hold his arms and legs, girls." I looked up to see a grinning Brenda grab my wrists and stretch my arms out over my head. At the other end, I felt my ankles being securely grasped by Alison and my wriggling toes pressed to the cold tile floor. "No," I whimpered, "please no!" I didn't see what she used on me, but later Brenda told me it was a special wooden punishment paddle which her mother kept for severe acts of disobedience. I was shrieking after the first blow, but after a few minutes, I had practically screamed myself hoarse. My nose was clogged with snot and I was gasping for breath as I begged Aunty to stop. By the time she decided I had learned my lesson, the centre of each bumcheek had turned purple, and my protests had been reduced to incoherent whimpers and hiccuping sobs. When the girls released my limbs, I was rolled off Aunty June's lap and onto the floor. I lay on the cold bathroom tiles in a shivering, sobbing wreck. The girls watched me with dispassionate interest while my Aunt strode out of the bathroom. Aunty June made a quick phone call, and then dumped me back in the car wearing nothing around me but the damp towel. She drove us a couple of blocks to her friend Mandy's house in silent fury. To be continued in chapter 3, "Reduced To Babyhood." Please post a comment here if you are enjoying this sissy-AB tale. Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia