The Teacher's Aid free porn video

Chapter 1 I sat in my car and allowed myself to breathe, concentrating on the slow intake and exhalation. I told myself that it's just a grocery store. All these people were there on their own ordinary business; corralling children, struggling to remember lists that were never actually written down. They wouldn't care about me and they wouldn't take any notice of me at all. I checked myself in the mirror and for once saw an attractive young woman with long blond hair and sparkling jade eyes. With this final affirmation, I opened the car door, grabbed my purse and strode forward with purpose. I was a woman on a mission and no staring passers-by would deter me from my goal. I wished it were something more lofty than milk and coffee but I'd been coming to find that even the smallest chore was a significant hurdle. Everyday life is much harder when you're always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for some dickhead with an inflated sense of self-importance to call me into question; to make my identity a subject for public debate. I moved quickly through cereal, and told myself that the seven year old that gaped up at me was merely appreciating my jacket. The meat freezer loomed ahead and I tried not to establish eye contact with the steaks and hamburger meat that beckoned me to its greasy embrace like an affectionate car salesman. I stood true to my purpose and procured my few items, and hesitated only briefly at checkout when at the last moment, I remembered to switch to cash instead of my debit card. The day seemed a little brighter as I exited and surveyed the lot to locate my car. I took my purchases and went home a stronger woman for it. This small victory made the larger challenges ahead seem a little more possible. As they weeks slowly passed, I made progress and got all my documents changed. I no longer had to pay for everything in cash and even had a license that I felt confident using at liquor stores without drawing undue attention. If only employment were as easy to obtain as milk and coffee. I'd spent weeks filling out applications and tweaking my resume. I never knew if I just wasn't right for the job or if they'd found out about me somehow and decided that they didn't want one of those freaks working for them. Worn out, feet aching, and lost in a part of the city I wasn't terribly familiar with, I found myself on a park bench trying not to cry. It had become so easy. Anything could serve as a catalyst these days, even someone like that cute man across the park playing Frisbee with his dog. As I watched them, I knew that I'd never land a guy that gorgeous and would be lucky if a guy with half his looks paid as much attention to me as that one did to his dog. And that was my catalyst. I pulled a napkin out of my purse and tried to cry as unobtrusively as possible. Some part of me wished that guy would notice, rush to my aid, and then fuck my brains out over my kitchen table. So, I was surprised when a smartly dressed woman in a ridiculously floppy black hat blocked my view to say to me "Oh hey, none of that now. You poor girl. What's the matter?" I was flummoxed. In my own little world of self-pity, I had no response to this uncalled for intrusion into my wallowing. So my mouth mostly bobbed up and down while I made vague gestures with my hands that seemed to indicate that "everything" was the matter. She seemed to understand this on some level and said, "Tell you what, you look a mess. How about we commiserate over a cup of coffee?". Having nothing else to do but continue this crying jag once I got home, I acquiesced and that was how I met Deirdre O'Reilly. I introduced myself as Nicole without a second's hesitation. Deirdre allowed me to go on about my troubles with finding work and being alone in the big city. Once I was all talked out and about to ask her about herself, she told me that I was in luck. It just so happened that she had an opening in her little business and had I ever worked with nannies? Well, I told that I had had a younger brother growing up and had helped take care of him from time to time but I didn't really have any formal childcare experience. "No dear, you misunderstand. I run a small training school for nannies. I help to have them certified so that they can go on to professional careers. What I need is someone to help assist in the training. I'm afraid I've lost my poor Naomi. She went on to a professional career of her own." I listened and squinted at her confused, hoping to make some sense out of what exactly she was asking me. Eventually I sputtered out "I'm sorry, I don't have any experience training people to take care of children either.". She laughed with her whole body. Her face, which had been up until that point completely smooth, broke out into a myriad of happy creases. I looked around the cafe to see if I'd missed someone setting a clown on fire or maybe an ostrich on stilts. But no, and it seemed as if a few other patrons were also curious as to what could have set the woman off. "I'm sorry, I'm being rather coy. But I'm hesitant to talk about a position of this nature in so public a setting. Tell you what, here's my card and if you want to hear more, call me up and I'll arrange a meeting." She handed me the simple but elegant card in one black gloved hand. Then she sashayed out of the cafe with a quick "Ta-ta". I went home and immediately wondered what that lady had been thinking. I looked horrible, my makeup had run and I had little beads of sweat dotted across my forehead. My straight blonde hair looked lank and greasy. "How could someone have offered me a job when I looked like this?" I thought to myself. I examined the card but the only thing it revealed to me was her name and number, not even the name of the business. Googling the number brought me no closer to solving the mystery. I tossed the card on my nightstand and passed out. The answering machine woke me up in the morning "Sorry, we couldn't reach you Ms. Gregory but we regret to inform that the position that you interviewed for with Petrie Services has been filled. Feel free to resubmit your application in four to six months." I groaned and stumbled into the kitchen, not even ready to assimilate this new rejection before caffeine had plunged into my system. Sipping coffee and perusing the classifieds, I summarily disqualified myself for positions relating to research science, working from home for "One thousand dollars a day!" and escort services. Perhaps it would be less desperate to say that it was some weeks later before I called Deirdre, but it really only took about twenty minutes. The other end was picked up by an enthusiastic receptionist "Hello, Nanny Inc, how may we help you to help to others?" Holding the card in my trembling hand, I said, "I'm calling in regards to a potential position that I spoke with Ms. O'Reilly about yesterday. Would it be possible to be connected with her?" "Of course, one moment," she replied. Within a couple seconds, the phone rang over the connection and I tried to keep my voice steady and decidedly not desperate when I heard, "This is Ms. O'Reilly, Is this Nicole?" "Yes, ma'am. I'm calling about the position you mentioned yesterday. I was wondering if it might be possible to set up an interview?" I tried not to hold my breathe as I awaited her answer. "Of course, of course. How's 2:00 for you?" she said, sounding nearly as desperate as I imagined I did. "Certainly! Let me get your address," I replied and wrote down the information while trying to plan what would be considered a smart but conservative outfit. I settled on a pencil skirt and a black pinstripe blazer with modest two inch chunky heels. On the bus, I rehearsed my lines, trying to make a nearly four year absence of any and all work history sound like a positive life experience that would better enable me to do whatever it was that I was intended to do at this job. I ignored the guy in the next seat who would stare my breasts intently only to break occasionally to look at my crotch or my throat. There was a part of me that worried about why Ms. O'Reilly had been so shady talking about the position, but that part was overrun by the part that needed to pay the rent. No sooner had I settled into a chair in the waiting room, preparing for a long stint of reading three month old magazines, that I was called in directly for my interview. Ms. O'Reilly stood up to greet me, extending a bronzed hand that I shook primly. I smoothed my skirt under my legs as I took my seat. "I'm so glad you could make it, my dear. I could just tell from looking at you yesterday that you would be perfect for this position," she stated with a disarming smile. My resume had not left my hand when she gestured that I needn't even worry about presenting it to her. "No no no, I don't really go in for all that work history business. I like to think that everyone here starts with a clean slate." I began to start to say that my work history was pertinent for such and such reasons when she held a finger to her lips and actually shushed me! "I'll not hear a word of it," she said. "Let me tell you what would be required of you here. Our training is an all- encompassing experience and the school runs 24/7 and as such you would be required to live here for the duration of the contract. Uniforms will be provided as needed, and we will provide for all of your needs as doing so is an integral part of the training for our nannies." "So I'm to be sort of a training dummy then?" I asked, not entirely sure I understood her meaning. "That is a way of putting it, yes. You'll assist our students in learning the skills required to go onto to a professional career in the field." She went on to talk about salary and benefits and I was floored by the money and the perks, so much so that when she slid a long contract in front of me, I failed to read every word of the fine print. Chapter 2 We agreed that I would start at the beginning of the following week. I packed up my things, putting some into storage and on Monday, I walked confidently into my new job as a working woman. Intent on my self-image as an independent woman, making her way in the world without help from family or a husband; I may have allowed myself to disregard warning signs like the closet in my room with a lock on it that I was unable to open or the pastel pink wallpaper. No sooner than I had begun unpacking than I was greeted by another employee who introduced herself as Bonnie. I couldn't help but notice her considerable height as I'm no short stack myself. She towered at least a head over me and wore a conservative almost Victorian style ensemble. "I'll be happy to take your things and store them until your contract has terminated. Your dresser has been filled with clothing appropriate to your position here. The mistress has told me that you are to shower and change immediately," she stated imperiously. "Oh. I guess I wasn't aware of that clause in my contract. Are you sure everything is in my size?" I asked, a little taken aback. She nodded and gestured towards the bathroom door. I decided to follow the path of least resistance and walked in the bathroom. As I took note of the fluffy towel, and the ornate mirror over the sink and strange child's toothbrush in the holder, I slowly came to realize an absence. It took me a moment to grasp that it was the toilet that was missing. I called out from the bathroom as I was pulling my shirt over my head. "Why isn't there a toilet in here?" Bonnie's assertive voice answered back, saying, "Your position does not necessitate a toilet in your quarters." "Well, then where will I be doing my business?" I asked with an edge of desperation in my voice. What had I gotten myself into? "That will be made quite clear in just a moment when you're done with your shower," she said, and I think I heard her laugh quietly to herself. Finished disrobing, I hopped into the shower, glad for the intense water pressure and noted the removable shower head with a smile. When I finished, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around my chest before finding what would await me in the bedroom. Whatever I expected, it wasn't what lay on my bed. There were a large pair of bib overalls, a short pink cotton top, cute knee-high rainbow colored toe socks, and a noticeable lack of bra and panties. A lack that was soon explained by what waited in Bonnie's hands. "What is this? You can't expect me to wear... I mean, why would you even.. am I supposed to be the...." Without even a word from Bonnie, I began to slowly grasp the situation as the pieces fell slowly into place. "Look, umm, I don't really think I'm right for this sort of thing. I just uhh..." Again I trailed off, unable to find words at this inexplicable turn of events. "You are perfect for this sort of thing, actually. Also, you are contractually obligated so the question of whether or not you think you're right for this sort of thing isn't even relevant. Remove your towel and lie down here." She gestured towards a large plastic table that she had folded out of the far wall. A changing table, my mind quickly supplied. Completely flabbergasted, I weighed my options. And soon realize that I had a dearth of options available to me aside from getting myself up on that table. I had no doubt Bonnie could force the issue if she so desired. I accepted my fate, hoping against hope that this was some sort of sick hazing for the newbie. In all the confusion, I'd nearly forgotten about my junk. This woman was about to see my penis! I started to hyperventilate at the thought of some stranger seeing that, touching it, and powdering it. Bonnie regarded me for a moment, seeming to come to a decision. "I see we'll be doing this the hard way." And in one swift motion, she jerked my towel away and left me standing in front of her naked. "Aww, isn't she cute?" Bonnie said bending down and extending an index finger towards my girl cock "The mistress will be ecstatic that you still have it. Now, will you get up on the table or do I have to do that the hard way too?". In a shock, I shook my head and made my way onto the table. I stared at the ceiling and tried to imagine myself some place else rather than here having my junk oiled and powdered so gently. I pictured myself on a scenic beach with green cliffs jutting out of the water, and a cut tan young man looking entrancingly into my eyes... and slowly jerking me off. I had no recourse but to scream as I saw Bonnie's hand moving up and down my penis. She seemed genuinely startled by that. "Well, excuse me! I just thought I'd try to make this a little easier on you. I didn't realize you'd throw a big tantrum." I fumbled for a response "I'm not comfortable with that. I don't use that you know, like that. Just do what you have to do but I don't.. I don't need any extras." I stared up at her horrified, hoping she wouldn't make this situation any worse. "Fine, ruin my fun. I suppose you've got enough on your plate at the moment." With that she pulled the disposable diaper over my powdered crotch and taped it up snugly. "For now, you are on the honor system, but if I even suspect that you have been tampering with this, I will lock it into place." she warned. In my desperation, the only thing I could think to do was try to negotiate with this woman. "Wouldn't it make a lot more sense to use actual children for the training of the nannies? I mean, I'm just way too big for this sort of thing." I pleaded. "Well, if our nannies were the traditional sort, then you'd be exactly right. But our students cater to a more niche market. They go on to work for well-off folks who enjoy this type of treatment. You know, there are people who pay good money for this kind of thing." She said as she gingerly picked me from the table and set me on my feet. "Hire those people then!" I yelled as she gestured for me to raise my arms so she could get the pink t-shirt over my head. When my head popped out the neck hole, she said, "I've said as much to the mistress myself and got a week in those for my contribution." She gestured to my bulging diapers and held a leg of the overalls at my feet. "Personally, there's something about doing this to people like you in particular that I think the mistress finds exciting." I held onto Bonnie's shoulders as she bent down to pull the overalls over my enlarged rump, not taking long to figure out exactly what was meant by "people like you". She gestured that I should sit on the bed and raise my feet so she could get the rainbow socks on me. "Don't I at least get a bra? I mean, these are real." I said, indicating my small chest. "Little girls don't wear bras," she stated matter-of-factly. I looked down and noticed that without a bra and being covered by the bib overalls, it didn't look like I had any breasts at all. In the tall mirror on the wall, I looked like an overgrown toddler girl, certainly not the independent woman I'd seen myself as earlier that morning. Bonnie worked her way behind me and pulled a couple long pink ribbons from a pocket. She began shaping my hair into perfect pigtails. It was while enduring this that I came to grasp the full meaning of having no toilet in my quarters. "I have to use these things?!" I nearly screamed and grabbed my crotch in a most unladylike fashion. "Of course, sweetie. Our students need training changing little girls like you," Bonnie said. "You mean I have to do everything in them, and a whole class worth of strangers will be seeing my, you know," I exclaimed while observing myself looking like a whiny child in the mirror. "Don't worry, most of their clients in the future will have penises too. Your penis will be an entirely appropriate learning instrument," she said as though I should've been proud to be able to so uniquely fit the needs of the students. Bonnie took my hand and led me over to the vanity where she began to pull out powders and makeup and brushes of all sizes. Maybe the clothes and the utter desperation made me more pliable than usual, but I began to notice that her tone with me was certainly not that of one coworker to another, but of an adult to a little girl. "So other than crapping myself..." I began and got a hard slap on the arm. "Little girls don't use that kind of language. If you must, say that you made poo-poos. No curse words allowed!" she said with a finality that told me in no uncertain terms that any slips would be met with punishment. I tried not to roll my eyes when I asked, "So other than making poo- poos, what other surprises do you have for me?" Bonnie said almost contemplatively as she brushed in a couple grams of pink blush into my cheeks "Well, mistress would kill me if I ruined all the surprises. But I suppose it's obvious that you'll eat in a high chair, be bottle-fed, and that sort of thing." It wasn't obvious to me but I let her go on. "Some days you will be told when you are awakened that you will be expected to behave as a girl of specific ages, such as toddler, baby, early elementary school, and maybe middle school. Each scenario will carry it's own rules. Do not break any rules. The mistress takes great joy in punishing her little girls." "And I suppose breaking out of here isn't an option?" I asked half with sincerity and half as an attempt at levity. She laughed and quietly cursed under her breath as she messed up my pink lipstick, which she quickly fixed. "Oh absolutely not. And attempting anything like that would bring down the harshest of punishments. There, you look like a doll. Let's get you introduced to your nannies." "Introduced? Now?" I asked nervously, seeing myself reflected in the mirror; the very epitome of six foot tall girlhood. "Of course, it's the first day of the semester after all," she said cheerily and took my hand again. I walked awkwardly down the long hallway trying to get use to the extra waddle in my gait. We stopped at door that opened onto a classroom that looked like any you'd see in a public school; filled with plastic chairs with attached trays and an attentive class of women, most of whom looked younger than me. As Bonnie and I entered the room, the class turned it's full attention on me and there was some snickering that was immediately put to a stop by the instructor who was my contact for this whole thing: Ms. O'Reilly. "Class, your clients will probably look far less enchanting than this little girl here. And you may well be dismissed from service if you so much as crack a grin at their ridiculous get-up. You are to treat little Nicki here as you would any little girl in your employ. Doing so is required for certification." She turned to me, her white blouse and A-line skirt the very picture of a strict schoolmarm. "Sit at my feet, Nikki." I turned to see that Bonnie had disappeared and having no recourse, I did as she asked. I listened to her give a course synopsis to the class laying out the kind of training they would be receiving. Knowing that most of these things would be played out on me, I tried to look away from the women in the class many of whom were often staring down at me mischievously. Bonnie interrupted the teacher, to give her a bottle of milk. I stared at it curiously as Ms. O'Reilly took it and nodded curtly to Bonnie. "Now I'll begin with the proper feeding technique. Many of your charges will likely be as big if not bigger than little Nikki. You must make them feel like a baby, while also working within the bounds of your strength." "Nikki, stand near the armchair in the corner." I did so and Ms O'Reilly walked over and sat in the chair. "Now sit sideways with your bum just to the right of my legs. This is important class, as it keeps our little girl from crushing my leg." I did as instructed and had no choice but to let my legs dangle over the side of the chair. Ms. O'Reilly supported my upper half with one arm, holding the bottle in the other. "Now you see our little girl is in the classic "baby" position, and the only weight I have to support is behind her back. She then unceremoniously stuck the nipple of the bottle between my lips. She continued to lecture and stopped only briefly to stare down at me angrily. I took the hint and began to suck on the bottle and she continued. The day went on with demonstrations of other positions and possible situations that might arise. All in all, I must've knocked back three bottles of milk and by the end of class, I found myself trying to cross my legs to prevent the inevitable. Ms. O'Reilly noticed this movement and said, "Excellent timing, Nikki. Uncross your legs and let it flow." I uncrossed my legs but couldn't even let go when I was trying. "Class, Nikki is demonstrating here a reluctance that you might find common in your clients at first. Wendy, go to the lab table in the back and turn the water on full blast, if you will." A young looking redhead stood up and did as she was asked, and no sooner did the water start than I felt the pressure release into my waiting nappy. "Good, Wendy pull out the extendable table from the lab station now." Wendy reached down and found the groove to pull out the five foot long metal table. "Since you've been so helpful Wendy, would you like to change little Nikki here? Go sit on the table, little one." she directed me. I did as asked and sat on the table, legs extended to either side. Ms. O'Reilly gestured that she proceed and Wendy looked furtively into my eyes before unsnapping the crotch of my overalls. When she opened the diaper, I shuddered at the cold air on my wet loins and the expressions on the class which had all gotten up from their seats to observe. Their emotions seemed to range from sardonic grins, to knowing smiles, and quite a few gasps of surprise, which sort of delighted me that I had been passing with some of them up until that point. "Okay class, here we have a penis. By and large your clients will have one much like it. Clients vary as to how they like it treated. I'll demonstrate today the most common approach." Ms. O'Reilly moved Wendy out of the way to stand in front of me. "Look at her! She's such a cute little baby penis. You'd never be able to please a woman with that little thing, could you? No, you couldn't. No, you couldn't." She broke off talking to me as though I was a child that cared whether or not my penis could satisfy a woman to say "Consider this your default relationship to your client's penis, even if they happen to be hung like a donkey, which thankfully, our little girl isn't.". She then allowed Wendy to put a new diaper on me and complimented her on her skill. After that, class was over and it looked like all the thanks I would receive from Ms. O'Reilly was a curt nod. Bonnie entered the room and took my hand to lead me out to my nursery. Bonnie said that I would be served dinner soon in my room tonight and that the rest of the day was free to me and that I could avail myself of the television or the shelf of books provided for me in my closet. I found the closet that had been locked earlier full of unusual dresses and other accouterments that I didn't want to linger on. I pushed the frilly dresses aside to find a shelf filled with Dr.Seuss, Nancy Drew, Shel Silverstein and Zilpha Keatley Snyder. Frustrated, I turned on the TV to find that I got an assortment of Disney channels and a couple family channels, but no news or channels that featured adult comedy or drama. Bonnie came in and fed me mashed potatoes and pork chops which she had cut into bite size squares. Then she had me get into my "jammies" which was a pink fuzzy footed sleeper. I eventually turned off the television and fell asleep. I awoke in the middle of the night needing to use the restroom before remembering that I was wearing one. Using the trick Ms. O'Reilly had taught in class, I pictured a roaring waterfall and let nature do the rest. I fell back to sleep quickly, warm under my covers and in my diaper. "Time to greet the day! Time to wake up and brush your teeth!" was yelled at me while only a sliver sun rise made its way through the bars on my window. I nearly fell out of bed in surprise at my new caretaker and finding myself in such an awkward way upon waking. "I'm Lena and I'll be your caretaker today. Hop up on the changing table. I'm sure your didees are wet." she exclaimed happily. It seemed Lena had drunk a few cups of coffee already. I groggily made my way to the changing table and let her do her thing. She didn't so much as acknowledge my abnormality as she quickly and efficiently taped a new nappy on me. She pulled a clipboard from outside the room and on the wall near my door. "I see here that you've not gone number two yet. Well, your breakfast should take care of that and provide essential learning material at the same time." she smiled at me as though we had collaborated to provide such a effective tool for the students. Instead of being able to eat at my bed as Bonnie had allowed me the night before, Lena drug in a high chair and picked me up without warning to set me down in it and locked the tray. I had fried egg cut into small bites and roll that I was allowed to eat all by myself. Lena insinuated that I should feel like a special big girl for that privilege. Big girl or not, I still had milk in a bottle and it was laced heavily with laxative as Lena enthusiastically told me. "Today, you're six," Lena said with a smile and a wink. She pulled out of my closet a blue and white plaid jumper and a white top with a peter pan collar as well as white tights and a pair of Mary Janes. I began to reach for the top to put it on when Lena shook her head with a frown. "Allow me, young miss." She dressed me gently, buttoning the top, pulling the jumper over my head and zipping the back, rolling the tights into a donut and sliding them up my legs, and finally buckling the single tiny gold buckle on my black Mary Janes. "Today, you are expected to act the part and reluctance to do so as well as outright failure to do so will result in punishment." Having never been a six year old school girl, I wasn't entirely sure how to act. That was quickly remedied by a crash course in cuteness. Lena instructed me enthusiastically while applying my makeup for the day on how to lisp, how and when to skip instead of walking. Also, I was told that I was to behave appropriately in all respects. This meant keeping my vocabulary small and generally behaving like someone without any real schooling. Lena took my hand once again as she led me to class where upon entering, I was met with a chorus of "Aww" and "She's so cute!" from the students. I took my place on the floor near the teacher's desk and tried to find a way to sit that didn't flash my nappy at everyone in class and failed utterly, eventually I gave up and just splayed my legs out. "That's not ladylike, sweetie. Tuck your legs under your bum." Miss O'Reilly stated. I did as requested. The teacher launched into a rather boring discussion of how one maintains their client's confidentiality and I thought happily that I might not be required to participate much in the discussion. That was until my stomach started to churn from the exlax laced milk from earlier. Ms. O'Reilly was quick to pick up on my discomfort and brought it to the class's attention. "Notice the furrowed brow, and the tension building in her whole body here. Most of your clients will not want to sit in a poopy diaper long and you need to recognize these symptoms so you can be prepared to quickly take care of the situation as soon as it happens." She then instructed an older matronly looking student to pull out the changing table and set up all the supplies. Now, I know that I've always tended towards the submissive and maybe that's why I'd allowed this to go so far, but hearing her dissect my distress so thoroughly began to really put me on edge. I gave Miss O'Reilly a smoldering look and she returned it as if to say 'Go ahead and start something.' I didn't want to give her another opportunity to use me as a prop so I looked away and as quietly as humanly possible, shat myself. It came out all at once, more liquid than not. Sitting there, dressed as a little school girl who had just messed her diaper, I finally cracked. I began to sob, big heaving sobs that shook my whole body and my despair was exacerbated when the teacher started in on this new opportunity. "Sometimes a client will have what we refer to as a moment of clarity. They realize that they are a full grown adult and begin to see their fetish as a long downward slide over which they have no control. At this point, it is in the best interest of your continued employment to reinforce their self-image as a helpless little girl." She then began to demonstrate in the most condescending way possible. She knelt down and put an arm around me, saying, "Aww, you poor little girl. It's okay that you messed yourself. You just don't have any control. That's why Mommy's here to take care of you." I tried to avoid eye contact during this diatribe, but she held my face between her hands and made me look at her. She stood up finally and held out her hand, and somehow the human contact, no matter how overbearing felt better than trying to deal with this alone. I allowed myself to be led, with my vision distorted by tears to the changing table in the back. I was changed there by the older student who tried not to pull a face once she undid the tapes and released the stench into the room. One student, a younger woman with a Bettie Page style haircut and bright red lipstick looked to be actually turning green. As the older one started in on me with the baby wipes, the younger ran to the trash can and threw up in it. "If you expect to have a career in this field, Pamela, you'll need to have a stronger stomach than that. Clients must not be allowed to feel disgusted with themselves anymore than necessary and throwing up in front of them will be a quick way to find yourself out on your ass," Ms. O'Reilly said. "I think that perhaps the best way to help you conquer your distaste for this aspect of the job is to give you more familiarity with it. Tomorrow, when you come to class, you are to be dressed exactly like little Nikki here. Maybe a little first hand experience will better serve you to overcome your weak stomach." Pamela and a few others in the class gasped. I suppose this treatment was all well and good to them until they had to participate. My tears dried on my face and I couldn't help but smile with knowledge that I would have some company in my misery. The older student finished cleaning me up and taped a new nappy on me. The class was then split into groups and each was assigned the task of finding an activity for me that would "reinforce my self-image" as the instructor put it. In one group, I was sat in the lap of a large woman who held me close and read to me from a Dr. Suess book. Ms. O'Reilly praised the group, but pointed out that the student holding me should do her best to keep my head as near to her breast as possible to help reinforce the mommy/girl bond. Another resourceful group used a jacket to play peek-a-boo with me and when I was not at first delighted by the sudden appearance of the student's face from behind the jacket, I was instructed even though I wasn't assigned such a young age that day that I should giggle and clap my hands enthusiastically. Despite my foul mood, I managed to force a smile and delighted giggle every time the jacket descended to reveal another student's idiotic face making cooing noises at me. Going to the back of the class near the sink, one student brought back a few cups then pushed three desks together so that we could have a tea party. Having never done this myself when I was younger, I wasn't entirely sure how a tea party operated. "While I do like this idea, you must remember that many of your clients like little Nikki here probably have never done this before so you really should lead the way in this and any other gender-specific activity that your charge might not have experience with." Ms. O'Reilly offered. The young brunette with the cups nodded and began to pour imaginary tea from an imaginary kettle into my plastic cup. She then led me through an inane conversation regarding which of my imaginary stuffed animals might be getting married in the near future. Ms. O'Reilly loved the creativity of this turn of the conversation and directed the rest of the class to take notes. Chapter 3 When class was ended, Ms. O'Reilly suggested that Pamela stay with me until class the following day to better help her acclimate to the character that would be expected of her. Bonnie instructed us to hold hands as we walked to my room. Pamela took my hand and gave me a genuine smile. I suddenly began to realize that this might not actually serve as a punishment for her. Pamela swung my arm happily as we made our way to my room. "You.. you're going to enjoy this, aren't you?" I asked. "You are just so adorable. We're gonna be like sisters. Oh, I'm gonna braid your hair! Can I braid her hair?" This last was asked of Bonnie, who smiled and nodded. With an exclamation of "Awesome!" Pamela jumped on the bed and promptly slid her underwear off and tossed it across the room. Bonnie reached into my nappy drawer and pulled one out and put it on Pamela before handing her a second pink footed sleeper. Though she allowed Pamela to put hers on herself, Bonnie decided to work mine on to me anyway, one foot and arm at a time. "Now you girls play nice. I don't want to hear any commotion out of here." With that Bonnie left and closed the door behind her. Sitting on the bed, I looked over at Pamela who was lying down next to me. She seemed to be luxuriating in her new outfit. As I turned on the television to settle into a little "Dora the Explorer" she said, "Silly, don't watch the boring tv. I wanna talk." "What about?" I asked, unable to look at her as peevishly as I felt. She was too damn cute and excited to be mad at. "Well.." She wrapped her legs loosely around me from behind and then did the same with her arms "I just think you're really pretty and brave to be doing this and I..." She stuck a finger in her mouth and coyly looked away as she said quietly, "I kinda have a crush on you.". I gave her a classic 'WTF' look before saying "What? How is that even? I've been dressed like a giant toddler for the last two days." "I know, it's so hot. I mean, it's like crazy hot when I see regular girls in this type of get up, but one like you.." and she grabbed at my diapered crotch and made a sound like "Ohhhh!". I calmly pushed her hand from my crotch. "I'm sorry. You're a uhh very attractive young lady, but aside from the fact that I'm very creeped out by you finding this hot," and I gestured at my outfit, "I'm straight." She pouted in a way that I would not allow myself to find cute. "Well, we wouldn't have to do anything serious. Bonnie'd probably kill me if I tried to take your diapy off, anyway." She pulled her face close to mine though and said, "You're sure you don't want to mess around just a little? We could do practise kissing," she said with a mischievous grin and looking directly into my eyes. "Nothing gay about a couple of girls just practising," she said, each word dripping slowly from her ruby red lips. Maybe it was a combination of the isolation I'd felt since I'd moved to the city mixed with already being so far out of my comfort zone, but as I saw her lips slowly approaching mine, I knew that I could turn my head before they collided. She was giving me that opening to reject her advance, but for some reason, I allowed her to kiss me. The kiss was nearly broken by her wide smile as I reciprocated. It was a languorous sort of kiss. She seemed worried that if she went to fast, I might run away like a frightened kitten. So it was maybe a minute of slow contact before she let her tongue slip into my mouth. I've made out with a number of guys in my lifetime, both before and after transition. The only girl with whom I shared that exercise was Monica something or other from seventh grade. I had been at that time pretending for the sake of my reputation and my parent's respect to be a nice little straight boy with a nice little straight girlfriend. Monica though, had not known that she was merely a prop holding up my facade when she kissed me without warning as we sat talking about boy bands. So even though I was marginally disgusted by this strange woman's tongue in my mouth, I wanted to think that the experience was for her, better than it had been for Monica. As she put her arms around me and continued to check for cavities with her tongue, I took a moment to reflect on why I was only marginally disgusted. Some part of me even kind of liked it. I felt very confused. I reached a point of overload when slowly pushing me down onto the bed, Pamela's hand cupped the front of my diaper over my sleeper. "Whoa whoa whoa." I said, "Let's slow down a little there. I don't really..". Instead of finishing that sentence, I just sort of waved my hands over my crotch and shook my head. She frowned briefly. "Aww, well, I guess that's okay," she said as though giving me permission to have limits regarding what other people did with my body. She looked at me again ready to gear up for another make out session when I began to cry partly because I was so confused about my feelings for this woman and partly because I needed to distract her from being more intimate with me. "Aww poor baby," she said, trying to console me. She put my head down in her lap and stroked my hair. I knew I could actually object to this treatment unlike what I'd been put through in class today; tell her that I was a grown-ass woman and not a little girl. I just couldn't bring myself to spurn her tender ministrations. I allowed myself to cry it out as she held me and called me a "beautiful little girl" and "her sweet little pumpkin". As I began to wear myself out, Pamela laid down next to me, turned the television on and spooned me, resting a hand on my breast that I didn't remove. When dinner finally arrived, I'd been just about ready to drift off to sleep. Bonnie said, "You two are so cute. I almost hate to interrupt; you look so peaceful." We were having mac & cheese tonight. When Bonnie sat me in the high chair, Pamela asked if she might feed me. Bonnie nodded and Pamela came over to send the airplane into the hangar over and over despite my white hot glare. After dinner, Bonnie allowed Pamela to change my wet diaper which she did expertly and resisted her urge to play with my bits and pieces. Pamela then asked that I sit in front of the bed and while we watched television, she braided my hair into two pigtails and attached pink ribbons at the ends. As we snuggled in bed preparing for sleep, she told me that she meant what she said when she told me that she thought I was brave and pretty. She told me that she hoped she might meet someone like me one day out in the real world and continued on saying how worried she was that she might have to work for some freak who would take advantage of her once she graduated. I came to realize that she was a genuinely sweet girl and not the sadistic bitch that I had made all the students out to be. I wondered if any of them even knew the circumstances under which I was employed by the company. It occurred to me that they must think I'm the sort of person that they might have to work for in the future. When I woke in the morning, my eyes fluttered open to see Pamela staring down at me. "G'morning!" she chirped and quickly kissed my cheek. "Hey, I saved something for you," she said. Before I could even say anything, she took my hand and held it to her crotch. My mind was still too muddled from confusing dreams to realize what she was doing until her diaper warmed in my hand. "Eww, why would you save that?" I asked. "Don't you think it's sexy? Have you gone yet? Can I feel?" she continued unperturbed by my revulsion. "No, no, and no!" I exclaimed. Our argument was interrupted by Bonnie wheeling in breakfast, which again Pamela was allowed to eat in bed and I had to go to my high chair, where I did in fact release my bladder, safe in the knowledge that I wouldn't have to endure Pamela trying to feel it happen. "Today, you'll be twin toddler girls and will be wearing matching pink party dresses." Bonnie intoned as she pulled the dresses and petticoats from the closet. "Sweet!" Pamela said and held her hand up in front of me for a high five and I answered it with a glare. After getting everything out, Bonnie changed us both. As Pamela was getting her dress and tights and things on, she seemed so genuinely thrilled with the whole state of affairs that I envied her ability to get into character to some degree, and I wondered if I was approaching this situation from the wrong angle. When the instructor had first said that Pamela would be joining me for a day, I was elated at the prospect of having someone with whom to commiserate. It didn't occur to me that she might be able to enjoy it. I would never have guessed that she would slough off her serious student personality and just take this treatment as an opportunity to let loose her inner child. As Bonnie rolled the white tights up my legs, I thought about the fact that I was stuck into this contract for the semester and that it might go a little easier if I let myself inhabit the role. Then some part me argued that would be like letting them win, and if I started acting like a little girl they would think I liked this sort of thing. I continued arguing with myself, thinking that that might not be so out there, since they are all training to take care of people who do actually like this sort of thing. Once we had our shoes buckled, Pamela excitedly took my hand and began to skip down the hallway, and when someone holding your hand in a death grip starts to skip; you kind of have to do likewise so that you're not dragged along. Even Ms. O'Reilly cracked a smile at us as we skipped through the doorway. She quickly returned to her strict demeanor and pointed to the floor next to her desk where we sat as demurely as possible in dresses that showcased our diapered butts. We weren't the only ones in costume that day. Ms. O'Reilly was in a Victorian get up that looked very authentic, all the way to the bustle and the lacy collar. Her hair was in a tight bun and she opened the class by talking about how some clients prefer a more traditional style nanny and that the students might find themselves in a similar ensemble. "Also, it is possible that from time to time, your client may want a playmate rather than a nanny. That is part of the reason that I've given Pamela her assignment," she continued. "Give us a curtsy, dear." I looked up at Ms. O'Reilly and was relieved to see that she had been talking to Pamela and not me. Pamela stood up and did a formal curtsy with a flourish. I marveled at how even in front of her peers, Pamela did not seem ashamed by any of this. In fact, I think she rather the liked the attention. When she sat back down, she held my hand again and smiled sweetly at me, and I couldn't help but return the smile. Ms. O'Reilly began her lecture with acceptable ways of taking age-play outside of the house without forcing innocent bystanders to take part and appropriate ways to discourage a client from creating a social faux pas by pooing their diapers in a crowded elevator or other similar reckless behaviors. As she droned on, my stomach began to churn and I peeked over at Pamela and for the first time saw her look debased. I had hoped to find some solace in our shared discomfort but I could only feel sympathy for her condition. With one hand on her roiling stomach, she looked at me and mouthed, "I hate this part." It seemed nearly rehearsed when we both interrupted Ms. O'Reilly's lesson by simultaneously filling our nappies. She didn't take offense and merely turned to us saying "Pamela stand up for the class." Pamela did as instructed, looks of disgust, shame, and confusion darting across her face. "Now sit back down," Ms. O'Reilly continued, grinning malevolently. "You will find, class, that some clients take a special pleasure in making rather a mess of things by sitting down on it repeatedly and sometimes even rocking back and forth on their bums." She nodded to Pamela to indicate that she was to do this too. Pamela looked to have lost all her former enthusiasm as she held her crossed legs up in her hands and rocked back and forth on her poo-filled diaper. "I suppose you may be changed now, Pamela. Do try to control your stomach and don't add to your already considerable mess," Ms. O'Reilly stated. Pamela trudged back to the changing table, both her and her diaper looking markedly more downcast than they had when she'd entered the classroom. I found myself somehow happy that I had not had to go through the same exercises she'd just been put through and then I marveled at the fact that I could be happy about anything while sitting in this room in my own putrid nappy. Though Pamela noticeably gagged, she did manage to keep her breakfast down and then I toddled back to get my diaper changed as well. Instead of being changed into a new diaper, Pamela was given a towel to cover herself and allowed to go to the restroom to change into more proper attire. Throughout the rest of class that day, Pamela would occasionally smile down at me; sometimes encouragingly and sometimes wistfully as though she already missed our time together. I was still confused from the previous night's escapades and wasn't sure what to make of my feelings towards her. Chapter 4 The days seemed to run together after that, a blur of diaper changes and belittling treatment at the hands of the staff and students of Nanny Inc. I wondered if my own bladder control was beginning to weaken as I noticed over time that I didn't really think much about wetting; it just seemed to happen. Of all the students, I'd found that Pamela was consistently the most gentle with me and the most understanding when something particularly awful was happening to me. It was in such a moment when Ms. O'Reilly was harping about some boring aspect of nannying that she caught Pamela making silly faces at me and Ms. O'Reilly stopped mid-sentence to ask Pamela to stay after class. Though I didn't hear the content of their meeting, I was able to guess at it when I was joined in my room once again by a puffy-bottomed Pamela. She had tear tracks down the sides of her face and her eyes were red. Apparently, not only was she to spend the rest of the semester as my companion, but Ms. O'Reilly had actually spanked her bare ass with a ruler. I wondered why it was that I wished I could have seen that. She didn't really want to talk about it or much of anything else that evening. She cuddled up to me and I felt like I should repay the gentleness she'd shown me in kind so I held her close and entwined my legs in hers. The next day we were to be dressed like dolls. I wore a white empire waist dress and Pamela a pink one of the same cut. Lena drew lines around our elbows and necks with black eyeliner so that they would like attached limbs such as one might see on a doll. Our lips were done Kewpie doll style and we had circles of pink blush on each cheek. It seemed like it would be a simple day when we received our orders which were that we do nothing and merely allow ourselves to be handled, no matter what. Bonnie came in to pick me up and Lena carried Pamela. We were both dropped into armchairs in the classroom. The class was then instructed to treat us as dolls. I wasn't sure what this meant at first since grown women didn't play with dolls anyway, but I soon found out as the students tried to one-up each other in thinking of things to do with us. If I was disturbed when one student started making out with me, then I was definitely mortified when one pulled up her skirt to reveal that she wasn't wearing underwear and then rubbed her pussy up and down my unmoving face. Bonnie then rolled in a wardrobe full of clothes and the students were allowed to play dress-up with us. Also, sometimes making out with us or sucking on nipples. One student even tried to tickle my feet, hoping to get a rise out of me and get me in trouble for breaking character. I proved as unbreakable as a British Royal Guard though and didn't so much as crack a smile. It turned out to be a pretty good day. I could see why some of the clients would go in for the "doll treatment" from time to time. It was nice to have that much human contact, to be be able to just receive and not be able to do anything about it. More and more, I found myself being able to see the reason for the school's existence. While I had still been diapered for the doll presentation, Pamela had been allowed cute panties and took a moment to exercise her temporary freedom by using the restroom on the way to our room after class. I was still in a silly mood after the day's events and without giving much thought as to why I do such a thing, I laid down on the bed, limp in doll mode. When Pamela came into the room, she giggled quietly and crawled onto the bed and hovered over me. She gently kissed my cheeks and my neck. She nibbled briefly on my ear, and she finally brushed her lips over mine, so lightly that I may have imagined they touched at all. She still looked so beautiful and doll-like. Her eyes were done up to look extra large and her black hair cascaded onto my chest and shoulder from where she crouched over me. As her lips levitated over mine, her eyes looked pleadingly into my own. When she moved to firmly place her lips on mine, I finally broke character and returned the kiss enthusiastically. The first time we'd kissed, it had felt like I was just reaching out for any kind of human contact I could find in this strange environment. This time it felt different. I actually wanted her physically. I had never been turned on by a woman before. I told myself I'd do all the requisite soul-searching and introspection some other time; I was too involved in the physical sensation of the moment to deal with my crisis of sexuality. We continued kissing heavily and my hand began to reach down under her skirt to outline the shape of her pussy. She moaned and playfully bit my bottom lip. I began working my fingers in and out of her. Almost as soon as I started though, she had me stand up so she could unzip my dress and pull it over my head. I took off the rest except for the diaper and lay back on the bed where we picked up where we had left off. As I pumped my digits in her moist crevasse, she began suckling on my rock hard nipples. I gasped excitedly and tried not to lose my concentration and break my rhythm as I worked her into a frenzy. When she came, she bit down and at any other time, I would have screamed in pain but the feeling only served to excite me further. To my own embarrassment, I found myself grinding my nappy against her leg. Once she'd came, she wanted to return the favor and continued sucking on my sore breasts. She threw another trick into the mix by putting a hand down into the back of my diaper where she proceeded to finger fuck my hole to my own screeching orgasm. "Would you little girls keep it down in here? I'm trying to finish my crosswords!" yelled an angry Bonnie from the doorway. She then slammed the door behind her and left us giggling in each other's arms. That night as we cuddled in front of the television, I allowed myself to consider what this burgeoning relationship with Pamela meant. Girls always seemed off limits to me because I knew that inside, I was one as well and I wouldn't allow myself to engage in the stereotypical male behavior of chasing girls. It was easy for me since I was attracted to boys. I just thought that people might be able to take me more seriously as a woman if I was only into men. If Nanny Inc had taught me anything though, it was that the only person who could dictate what turned you on was yourself. So in that moment, I decided that I would allow myself to be turned on by whatever may come. I wouldn't let societal norms dictate my orgasms. I felt warmed by this. Suddenly so many avenues of sexual pleasure were open to me. Even, I thought somewhat guardedly, the now soggy diaper around my groin. I held Pamela closer and she looked up at me briefly, sensing a change. "What?" she asked. "Nothing. Hey, are you seeing anyone.. you know, on the outside?" I inquired sweetly, hoping that I wasn't just a plaything until she returned to some other lucky person after school was over. "No, I'm not. Why do you care, Miss I-only-like-boys?" she chirped at me, grinning. "Well, I was just thinking that maybe after this is all over, if you might want to keep in touch..." I stumbled along, embarrassed and she just laughed. "Aww, you're such a sweet little girl, trying to ask me if you can be my girlfriend." She held my cheeks with one hand and mushed them together. I think a week ago, I might have found that frustrating. With my newfound openness though, I found it to be an endearing quality and wanted her all that much more for it. "Well, I suppose. But you can't just be grown up all the time, you know. I mean, I might want to play wif my wittle giwl sometimes," she said, and though her tone was joking, her eyes were definitely serious. My being able to take part in the sort of activity I'd been whining about for the last couple of weeks was contingent on us having a relationship. With a only a second's hesitation, I said, "Deal," and kissed her gently over and over again. Epilogue I think Bonnie must have reported back to Ms. O'Reilly that Pamela and I were screwing because she informed Pamela after class that she could continue to take the class as my playmate if she so desired. So we attended class nearly everyday for the rest of the semester in matching outfits. When the semester was finally over, Pamela had come to see that she enjoyed the baby side of age-play a great deal more than the nannying side and decided not to pursue a career in that field. Ms. O'Reilly informed us that she was extremely pleased with our job during the semester and gave me a considerable bonus for being the first baby that she never had to punish. When she gave me the check and congratulated me for this feat, she patted my head and said, "Good girl" and I couldn't help but blush. She then asked if I might be interested in a job as a receptionist for the school. "You won't have to wear a diaper for this position, but you may if you wish." she added with a smirk. Ms. O'Reilly was quite strict and prim in the classroom but outside of it, she was kind of fun to be around and I jumped at the opportunity to continue working with the school. Pamela took my position though she was allowed freedom enough to come home to me after class because Ms. O'Reilly knew I would be able to "reinforce her self-image as a helpless little girl" as she so often put it. And I did, but sometimes I joined in on the fun too.