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Chapter 8. Baby Won't Learn. We were still a block from Aunty June's house when I realised I needed to do a poo. I felt a painful clench in my lower gut, warning me of an impending bowel movement. I gazed at the humiliating pink potty in my arms. Somehow knew that if I confessed my need to Aunty, she would have no hesitation in pulling down my baby panties, unpinning my wet nappies, and thrusting me on the shameful toddler potty right there on the sidewalk. I clenched my bum cheeks tighter and tried to press my thighs together, but the huge wad of wet cloth bunched between my legs frustrated my efforts. I gritted my teeth around the soft amber teat filling my mouth and silently prayed I would make it home unscathed, but my mental entreaties fell on deaf ears. A few doors from Aunty June's place, a boy on a red bike rode out of nowhere, darting alongside us in a blur of movement. He skidded to a halt a few feet in front of us and expertly dismounted, startling me. I jumped back in alarm and almost dropped my new potty. Beyond my control, a huge log of poo-poo squirted out of my straining sphincter. I moaned as I felt the unmistakable hot rush fill the seat of my warm wet nappy. A muffled fart fluttered out from under my flounced white frock, but fortunately no one seemed to notice. I clamped down with my sphincter muscles, but the warm muddy feeling enveloping my genitals told me it was already too late. "Hello Mrs Jones," the boy greeted Aunty June, glancing inquiringly at me as he flicked his bike stand down and deftly balanced it on the metal prongs. "Do you want a hand with those parcels?" He was about ten years old, with wide blue eyes and a shock of short blond hair. He was wearing a striped rugby jersey over a pair of khaki shorts, with socks and sneakers on his feet. "Hello Jimmy! Aren't you a good boy! Here, darling," she said, handing him the huge bundle of white cloth tied with cord. "You can carry Baby Candy's nappies." "Nappies?" The blond boy asked in some confusion, glancing pointedly at the big pink dummy jammed between my lips. I could feel my face getting hotter as I tried walk without smearing my smelly poo-poos all over the place. Jimmy turned and kept pace with us, and I realized the ten-year- old was several inches taller than me - 'just like everybody else,' I thought despondently. He asked, "Isn't she a little old to be wearing-" "Baby Candy is a hopeless bed-wetter who still wets her panties too, so I've decided to treat her more like the little baby girl she obviously wants to be," explained my cruel Aunty. I shuffled alongside them, my cheeks burning with shame as I tried to keep my anal sphincter tightly clenched. A case of bolting the barn door after the horse had escaped, I'm afraid. I knew I was waddling heavily, poking my bum out in an attempt to minimise contact with the sticky contents of my drooping nappy, but it wasn't really helping. Fortunately my Aunty hadn't yet noticed my embarrassing messy accident, and she took the package of nappies from Jimmy's hands on the porch before leading the way into the house. "Thank you, Jimmy. Say hello to your Mum for me," she tossed over her shoulder in farewell. "Sure thing, Mrs Jones. Bye-bye Baby Candy," he said, giving me a friendly wave goodbye. As he walked past me towards the porch steps, he must have sniffed the rank aroma of poo-poo in air around me. He made a face and screwed up his nose like he could smell something nasty. Jimmy almost stumbled down the stairs when he turned to look back at me in wide-eyed astonishment. I scurried inside the house as fast as I could waddle, my cheeks pink with shame and my mucky nappies sticking moistly to the sensitive areas between my legs. The biggest surprise came after we walked in the door, and the girls called out from the kitchen that lunch was ready. After a laughing Alison took the huge plastic potty from my arms and Brenda took the plastic bags full of baby stuff, I found the big pink highchair from Mandy's house sitting beside the table in my Aunt's kitchen. I was horrified when without being asked, Brenda lifted me into the humiliating baby chair and plonked me on my messy bottom. As I settled into the thick pile of warm crap wedged between my botty-cheeks, the awful smell rose up around my nostrils, filling them with the aroma of my most recent infantile accident. Brenda swiftly buckled me in, then lowered and locked the hinged tray in front of my trapped tummy She sniffed the air and made a funny face before she moved away. Aunty smiled at the suitably infantile picture I presented in the big pink highchair, and suggested, "Girls, you can feed the baby her lunch while I go upstairs and make up the cot for her afternoon nap." Oh no! "There are some new bigger baby bottles in this bag, too," she mentioned, motioning for Brenda to take the plastic bag looped over her arm. "Make up a bottle for her, will you?" Brenda pulled out one of the huge pink plastic bottles and exclaimed, "Gosh, Mum! These bottles are enormous!" She held it up so her big sister could see. "How much do they hold?" "About a pint each," replied my grinning Aunty, before turning to me and commenting in that syrupy baby-voice, "It's a great big baby bottle for a great big baby girl." Alison yanked out my pacifier and unclipped it from my frock collar. "I love your new dum-dums, baby," she giggled, as she placed the oversized baby soother in a glass of water on the kitchen bench. She returned to clip a big pink plastic-backed bib around my neck which had a picture of Bambi and Thumper on it. In saccharine baby-talk, she asked me; "Does widdle Baby Candy want her bottle first, or some din-dins?" I spotted the two empty jars of toddler food on the bench just as the microwave pinged. Alison sniffed the air around me, and when her pert nose wrinkled in distaste, my cheeks began to burn with shame. She backed away from me, her big brown eyes widening in shock, shaking her head in dismay. Brenda shot me an evil grin as she took out a steaming plastic Barbie bowl full of innocuous grey gruel. She carefully stirred the contents and tested a little on her lip to check the temperature, grimacing at the bland taste. She stepped closer to my highchair, leaning her tummy against the tray as she steered a heaped spoonful of gruel toward my lips. She paused for a moment, sniffed loudly, and screwed up her nose. She stared at my embarrassed expression with reappraising eyes. "Oh-oh." I think she could tell I had pooped my nappy, because she chuckled richly in amusement even as she shook her head in disbelief at my uncontrollable baby ways. "Open up, Baby Candy," ordered Brenda with a superior smug smirk, and I knew I had to obey. "Open up, you smelly baby girl." In a few minutes, there was slimy pureed goop smeared all over my face and running down my chin. When Aunty June returned, Brenda was scraping the bottom of the bowl and Alison was standing beside the highchair holding one of my new oversized baby bottles full of warm milk at the ready. "Mum, did you know the baby pooped her nappy?" Brenda asked conversationally. "She stinks," added Alison, fanning her hand in front of her face. "What?" Cried their mother in dismay, racing over to us and sniffing the rank aroma around my bum. "Oh Baby Candy! I asked you if you needed to use the potty only twenty minutes ago! You silly baby!" She snorted in contempt and said to her girls, "Baby won't learn! I think this wicked little girl likes sitting in her smelly messes! I'll change her poopy nappy after she's had her bottle, girls. Bring my naughty baby upstairs to the Nursery when you've finished feeding her." "Here, baby. Aunty Alison has a nice warm titty-bottle for you." When she thrust the warm silicon nipple between my lips, milk gushed into my mouth and spurted down my throat. I realized my raven-haired cousin must have enlarged the hole in the teat, to make it easier - and quicker - to feed me my baby bottles. She held the end up for me, smiling down at me in that smug superior manner as I obediently suckled from the teat of my titty-bottle. She grew bored after a minute, and cooed, "Hold your own bottle, Baby Candy. Go on, you can do it," she encouraged me, speaking down to me like I was an incompetent infant. I clutched the heavy bottle and kept suckling, frowning around the sides of the huge plastic vessel at my slender, big-busted cousin as she cleaned up the lunch things. It took me ages to drain my bottle, and my cheeks were getting tired from sucking by the time I was finished. I banged the bottle on my highchair tray when it was empty, gasping for breath, then I burped loudly. The girls tittered in amusement at my embarrassed expression. "Look at that messy face," Brenda teased me, and she scoured my grubby lips and chin with a warm soapy washer until it hurt. When I tried to turn my face away, she simply grabbed the back of my head and trapped me in place, then scrubbed even harder. I whimpered in pain and she snapped, "Stop whining! I wouldn't have to be so rough if you weren't so messy!" Me, messy? That was so unfair! Alison laughed at my sulky expression as she unlocked the tray and opened it wide, and Brenda stepped behind the highchair to loosen the waist belt. "Come on, Baby Candy," she crooned to me in encouragement. "Hop down and we'll take you upstairs, so Mummy can change you out of that stinky wet nappy." The girls had removed the single bed from the spare room while we'd been out shopping, and Aunty had them set up Eliza's wooden crib from Mandy's in there, instead. The crinkly plastic mattress protector was covered in some juvenile pink cotton ballerina sheets, all ready and waiting for me, and the fuzzy pink baby blanket was also in evidence. Aunty June placed me on my back on a crackling, vinyl-covered padded change table her daughters had moved down from the attic in readiness. First she took off my Maryjanes and frilly anklet socks, and she slid them out of the way under the change table. She pulled down my rumba panties and slid off my ribbed tights, and then tugged down my pink plastic panties, too. I cringed in embarrassment when she made a big point of checking the leg bands for poo-poo stains. She gave a grunt of satisfaction when she saw they were damp but unstained, and she placed the smelly baby panties aside to use on me again. Aunty June stuck the big pink pins in a bar of soap on the shelf above the change table, then lowered the front of my dirty wet nappies. She flinched at the mess I'd made, and she made several nasty comments about my disgusting lack of bowel control. "What a poopy baby! Look at all that stinky mess. Yuck-spuck! Oh well, big babies make big messes, I suppose." She sighed heavily in resignation. "And you are a big baby, aren't you, Baby Candy?" She didn't seem to expect me to respond, so I remained silent. She scrubbed at the smelly brown mess smeared all over my bottom cheeks and between my thighs, insisting, "Yes, that's right. That's all you are. A hopeless big baby with no control. No control at all." By the time she wiped my peenie clean with another handful of baby wipes, my shrivelled tool had started to react to her intimate handling, despite her callous touch and her disdainful words. She ignored my swelling stiffie as she sprinkled powder over my bottom and bits and rubbed it in. I was writhing in embarrassment by the time she pinned my diaper over my uncontrollable tumescence. She merely sniffed in disapproval and gave the tenting front of my nappy a hard smack that made me squeal in pain. She drew the same damp pilchers up my legs and tugged them over my bulky swaddling, then replaced my frilly rumba panties. She produced a new white cotton babydoll nightie and lowered it over my bowed head, before lifting me into the crib for an afternoon nap. The flounced nightgown barely fell to my hips, and left all my diapered shame on display. I plucked at the lacy hemline in a futile attempt to tug it down and cover my bulging rumba panties, my bottom lip poking out like a sulky toddler. I accepted the oversized baby bottle of warm milk she handed me without protest, and gazed up at Aunty June's impassive features when she raised and locked the high crib side in place. "That's where silly little babies like you belong - locked in a cot, and pinned in thick nappies," she commented disdainfully. "And that's the way you'll stay, Baby Candy, until you can prove to me that you've grown up a bit." As soon as I had drained the huge bottle of warm milk, I pushed aside the empty vessel and thrust my dummy teat back in my mouth. Hot wee-wees poured out of me when I rolled onto my tummy, and I spitefully relaxed my bladder and enjoyed the sudden rush of familiar warmth. I was locked in my crib with nowhere to go, so I might as well act like the baby they were treating me as. The stimulating warmth gathered around my sensitive genitals, pooling under my tummy, but safely contained by my double layer of protective panties. As soon as the soothing flow trickled to a halt, my little peenie started to reflexively stiffen. My swelling tool crept up my belly and when I pressed my hips into the mattress, the sensitive underside rubbed against the warm soggy front of my nappy. I sucked harder on my dum-dums as I gently rocked on my bulky swaddling, thrusting my rock-hard rod into a groove that formed in the moist terrycloth, enjoying the erotic stimulation of my warm wet nappies and my pretty cotton babydoll nightie. My Aunty had bought me a bunch of girl's clothes, and I suspected that she intended dressing me like a little girl for the rest of my vacation. Even though I would have preferred to wear silky big-girl panties and dress like a sexy teenage slut my own age, I was secretly thrilled by the thought of dressing like a pretty little girl for the next few weeks. Despite the potential embarrassment, this was a fantasy come true for me! I was going to be dressed like a girl and treated like a girl for several weeks. The crackling of my baby panties mixed with the crinkling of the thick plastic mattress protector beneath my pink ballerina sheets, the familiar sounds of the Nursery heightening my arousal. I thrust myself harder and faster into my warm soggy nappy, panting around the wide pink guard of my pacifier. In a few minutes I was gasping for breath around the mouth-filling teat as I shuddered and writhed to completion. My throbbing peenie exploded inside my warm comforting nappies, spraying sticky stuff all over the front of my diaper. But I knew this time my mess was safely contained, and as my satisfied tool shrivelled to normal size, I relaxed completely and fell asleep on my tummy. I didn't even wake when a hot stream of wee- wees gushed out of my flaccid member, and sighed happily in my sleep when the wonderful wetness enveloped me in familiar comforting warmth. I had the most delightful dreams that afternoon. I dreamt I was a beautiful baby girl, safe in the loving arms of my Mummy. She undressed me on the change table and removed my soggy wet nappies, cooing affectionately to me the whole time. She wiped me down with warmed baby wipes, her soft fingers delving deeper and deeper into my feminine furrow, rubbing me back and forth in a wonderfully pleasant way that made my coo and gurgle with pleasure. Then she rubbed powder over my bottom, delving deeply into my crack and massaging the silky talc around my puffy little nether lips. Mummy raised the front of my thick fluffy nappy over my powder-coated crotch, and as she pinned it tightly around me, I instinctively started to pee. I giggled and cooed, waggling my feet in the air like a contented infant as Mummy gently pressed the lovely warm wetness against my sensitive places. She cooed in approval as she rubbed her fingers up and down over the slippery crotch of my satin-covered plastic panties. I wanted to tell her I couldn't help it. It wasn't my fault. I was just a baby, a helpless little baby girl... I suddenly awoke on my back, my warm wet nappies a sodden weight on my swollen hard tool. My cousin Brenda was leaning over the side of my crib, her hand on my panty crotch, massaging my throbbing erection with the front of my drenched diaper. "Ooo, listen to you," she crooned in that sly teasing tone of hers, as she clutched my straining rod through the crackling baby panties. "You love it! You love all this sissy baby treatment!" "No, no!" I feebly protested, before I remembered to spit the dummy out of my mouth. "You should have heard what you were saying in your sleep!" Brenda mimicked my high-pitched voice with unerring accuracy. "I heard you. 'I'm jutht a baby girl! I'm jutht a baby girl,' you were moaning in your sleep. Don't try to deny it," she scoffed away my dying protestations. She gave my rock-hard erection a few reassuring squeezes that made me gasp in pleasure before she released her grip on my baby panties. Snatches from my dream replayed in my head, and I struggled not to look guilty. Did I really say that? "Come on, baby girl," Brenda sang invitingly, as she unlocked and lowered the side of my crib. "It's time to change you out of that wet, wet nappy, and get you dressed for an afternoon of play." My voluptuous cousin was wearing a fluffy white lambs wool sweater this afternoon, with a low round neckline that showed off her massive cleavage to great advantage. Despite the slight chill in the air, she was wearing a brief denim miniskirt that barely covered her crotch, exposing most of her plump womanly thighs. She was wearing white knee-high boots, with a five-inch heel and a discrete one-inch platform sole, so she towered over me when she helped me clamber down from the crib. Her long blonde hair was brushed back in a neat ponytail, and she was wearing a full face of make- up. Mascara and black eyeliner made her emerald eyes look huge, and her luscious lips glistened with glossy red lipstick. I thought she looked beautiful, as usual. She lifted me onto the change table and sat me on my warm wet bottom with my little legs dangling over the side. "Arms up, sweetie," she sang, and she removed my white babydoll nightie and tossed it over the end of my crib. "On your back, baby." She smiled sweetly as she turned my body and forced me to lie back, encouraging me to obey with that tender smile. "Lift that little bot-bot for me," she commanded, smiling warmly in appreciation when I readily obeyed. Her painted red lips drew back in a broad smile, her emerald eyes twinkling with mischief when she saw how the soggy nappies clung moistly to my swollen erection. "Good girl!" She tugged down my tight plastic panties to my knees, ordered, "Down," and then drew them clear of my compliantly-raised feet. "Good girl," she praised me again, fluttering her long black lashes at me in feminine approval. I glanced down at my pretty pink toenails, and waggled them in the light. Until that moment, I'd forgotten about the bright pink polish my cousins had painted on my finger and toenails. "Ugh! These nappies are saturated!" Brenda complained, as she rolled them up and tossed them in the nappy bucket. "What a wet baby girl." My buxom blonde cousin made short work of wiping me down, and she handled my throbbing stiffie with complete disregard for my feelings. I don't know why, but I found her cavalier treatment rather exciting, and my hard little tool was red and pounding by the time she decided I was clean enough. She gave my twitching erection a quick slap at the finish that made me squeal, and she sprayed a cloud of sweet-smelling talc all over my bottom and bits without bothering to rub it in. She made me lift my bum while she slipped another pair of fluffy white nappies underneath me, and then she pinned them tightly around my waist. She tugged the same damp pink plastic panties up my legs, the clammy wet leg elastics making me grimace in distaste. Brenda noticed my sulky expression and shrugged her shoulders dismissively. "Mum said I had to dress you in the same baby panties you wore at nap-time," she offered by way of explanation, "wet or not. Sorry." It might have helped if she actually sounded like she meant it. She made sure the damp leg elastics were tucked safely up under the crotch of my bulging nappies, then helped me to sit up with my little legs dangling over the side of the change table again. "Point your toesies like a pretty ballerina," she urged me, as she slipped the same sheer white socks back on my feet, before straightening the elaborate yellow lace trimmings around my ankles. Instead of the Maryjanes I expected, Brenda slipped my pink sandshoes on my feet, and tied the lolly-pink laces in two huge elaborate bows. "There," she cried, patting my shod foot in satisfaction, before letting it drop. "Now hop down, Princess, so we can put your pretty dress on." She lifted me down and I clutched the side of the change table for balance, the thick nappies forcing my thighs unnaturally wide. When she opened the cupboard, I noticed my suitcase and all my clothes had disappeared. There were half a dozen toddler frocks hanging in there in place of my jeans and shirts, and I could see several pairs of almost-new Maryjane sandals sitting on the bottom, all in my size. Brenda dressed me in the same starched white cotton frock Aunty June made me wear to the shops that morning, and I slumped in resignation as she tidied up the attached stiff petticoats underneath to make them sit prettily. She twirled me around and then tied the wide yellow ribbon sash in a big floppy bow behind my back, fussing about with it until she was satisfied it looked perfect. She took the ribbons out of my hair, loosened my pigtails, and then brushed my long blonde locks till they were gleaming. I was just starting to relax and enjoy the masochistic pleasure of having my knots brushed out, when she tilted my head forward, gave me a centre part, and began styling my hair into two fresh pigtails, sitting high either side of my head. "There! That's much better," she cooed in satisfaction, as she re-tied my yellow satin hair ribbons in place. "Now you look like a pretty little girl again." She took my hand and squeezed it lovingly. "Come on, baby. Come with Aunty Brenda." She led me waddling awkwardly downstairs and along the hallway towards the front door. When I realised her intention, I started to pull back. "No, no!" I whimpered, as her grip on my hand painfully tightened. "Don't make me go outside dressed like this again! Please no?" "Come along, Baby Candy," Brenda chided me a trifle impatiently. "We already warned you what was going to happen to you, didn't we?" She hauled me towards the front door, commanding, "Come with me, little girl. You don't have any choice." She threw open the door and dragged me onto the front porch, and I blinked blindly in the hazy afternoon glare. I was momentarily relieved when she didn't lead me towards the front steps and the street, instead turning me to the right. Then my relief was shattered by an incredible sight. There was a big wooden playpen sitting in the middle of Aunty June's front porch, waiting for me! My mouth dropped open in shock and I moaned in protest as Brenda pushed me towards the humiliating kiddie-prison. It had a padded wooden floor, covered in baby-pink vinyl with a pattern of posing Barbies printed all over it. There was a low, barred wooden gate in the side closest to me, with hinges on the top, which Brenda opened upwards. It was only about eighteen inches high and the same wide. She placed one large hand on my shoulder and forced me to my knees. "In you go, baby," she urged me, directing me to crawl through the narrow gate. I crawled inside and she gave my padded bum a few firm swats to encourage me to hurry up. I barely felt a thing, thanks to the multiple layers of terrycloth protecting my bot-bot. As soon as she lowered the gate behind my heels, she slid home the bolt and locked me inside. I turned around and clambered to my feet to appeal for mercy, and found my nose barely cleared the top rail of the oversized playpen. The soft padded floor made my footing uncertain, and I almost stumbled to my knees. I clutched the vertical wooden bars in my fists and shook them in impotent rage. "You can't do this to me," I squealed in horror, trying to keep my voice down. I realised I sounded like a frightened little girl, and tried to lower my pitch. "You can't leave me out here dressed like this!" I still sounded like a terrified pre-schooler. "Be quiet and settle down," Brenda reprimanded me with a wag of her finger. She tried to sound stern, but she couldn't wipe the amused smirk from her beautiful round face. "We told you if you didn't behave, you'd end up on our front porch dressed in girl's clothes, for all the world to see. It's just that Mum decided you were too much of a baby to be trusted out here all on your own - not unless you were 'suitably confined,' as she put it." She patted the top rail of my kiddie-prison. "Hence the playpen," she concluded, with a wry smile for my look of disgust. I didn't bother asking where my resourceful Aunty had dug up this huge playpen on such short notice. "You wait there for Aunty Brenda, and I'll bring you your dolly and a bottle to drink. Wouldn't you like that, Baby Candy?" I poked out my bottom lip in surly reply, and she grinned at my sour expression before leaving me alone in the playpen. I turned towards the street and stared in trepidation through the tall wooden bars at the world outside. There was a strip of front lawn about ten yards wide, then a low hedge separated Aunty's property from the tree-lined street. Except for a couple of low bushes either side, most of Aunty June's front porch was painfully exposed to the casual glance of anyone passing by. There wasn't even a balcony railing to hide behind. My anxious eyes darted from one end of the leafy street to the other, trying to see if there were any witnesses to my current infantile predicament. Fortunately the neighbourhood seemed quiet and empty this time of the afternoon, but somehow I knew that situation wouldn't last long. I jumped when Brenda abruptly reappeared on the front porch, holding my Princess Barbie and a full pink baby bottle of watered-down apple juice. She tossed my Barbie onto the padded playpen floor, placed the enormous bottle upright on the wooden veranda, and produced a terry bib from under her arm. "Come here, darling," she sweetly ordered. When I shuffled closer to the side rail, she reached over and clipped the frilly pink bib around my neck. My huge dummy was already attached to the lace-edged collar, and it dangled at the end of the pink plastic chain. When my dum- dums bounced against my chest, I instinctively clutched it for emotional support. I released my grip on the bars and raised the bottom of my bib to see if it carried any humiliating message. The words 'Little Miss Potty-Pants' were embroidered across the front in white lettering three inches high, and I cringed in shame. "Sit down, darling, and I'll give you your bottle," Brenda urged me in soothing baby-talk. I resentfully released my grip on the wooden bars and flopped backwards onto my heavily padded rear, my plastic panties making a noisy 'whoomph' when the trapped air suddenly gushed out around the tight elastic waistband. "That's a good girl." Brenda leaned over the wooden top rail and thrust the clear silicon teat into my mouth, and cool juice squirted down my throat. I sat there few a few seconds staring up at her massive bosoms as they swayed enticingly a few inches from my nose, sucking on the bottle teat like a mindless toddler. "Hang onto your bottle, baby," she encouraged me, speaking to me as though I really was just a little baby girl. "Good girl, that's right," she lovingly praised me, when I clutched the sides of the heavy vessel with both hands and kept the nipple pressed between my lips. "What a good bubba!" I eyed her suspiciously when she gave me a broad approving smile, her emerald eyes sparkling with merriment. "I think I know where my old Barbies are packed away," she mused thoughtfully. "I probably have a bunch of Barbie dresses and stuff somewhere, too. I'll have a look for you," Brenda promised, before she walked off and left me. I sat there slurping on the teat of my huge baby bottle, eyeing the empty streetscape fearfully and waiting for someone to stroll by and notice me. My skin crawled with terrified anticipation. I grew tired of holding up my bottle, and lay back on the soft padded floor of my playpen and tried to relax. At least I didn't feel quite so visible lying on my back while sucking on my big pink baby bottle. I was trapped, with no one to turn to and nowhere to go. I remember thinking, 'I want my Mummy!' I almost didn't notice when I began wetting my nappy, cool liquid trickling down my throat as hot liquid squirted out of me down below. It took me ages to drain the huge bottle, and when it was empty, I carelessly tossed it aside. It rolled across the padded vinyl floor and came to rest against the bars. I lay there burping uncontrollably for a few minutes, my stomach feeling bloated and full. When Brenda returned, she was carrying a small pink suitcase that looked like something she might have carried to kindergarten when she was a little kid. "Here you go, darling," she cooed, beaming with pleasure as she stepped around to the side of my playpen. "Look what Aunty Brenda found for her precious little girl to play with." She leaned over the bars and opened the tiny case, turning it upside-down and emptying the contents on the soft padded floor. A naked brunette Barbie tumbled out first, followed by a veritable shower of tiny dresses, skirts, tops and pants cascading around my head. From my position on my back with my head near the wooden bars, I could see up Brenda's short denim skirt. She was wearing a tiny pair of white nylon panties that cupped her proud pubic mound in front so tightly, I could see a hint of the crease between her nether lips beneath the silky fabric. When Brenda realised I was perving up her brief miniskirt, she demurely pressed her plump womanly thighs tightly together and pressed her skirt against herself. She gave me a knowing smirk, shaking her head in mild disapproval at my blatant ogling. I blushed and sat up, tearing my gaze from her fascinating pudenda to examine the collection of dresses and stuff. I picked up a shiny pink purse covered with sequins, and shook it experimentally. I tossed Brenda an inquisitive look, and she grinned as she explained, "It's full of shoes, handbags and accessories for your Barbies." I discarded the purse and picked up the old brunette Barbie and one of the shiny pink dresses, not bothering to hide my look of distaste. "Good choice," Brenda commented, her grin widening. "You can dress my old Barbie in that pink frock first, and find some matching shoes and a handbag for her, too. Change your Princess Barbie's outfit too, and dress her up in something pretty." When I looked like I was about to refuse, she warned me, "If I don't see you playing with your Barbies like a good little girl, I'll take you and your dollies down to the kiddie playground at our local park, and you can play with some of the pre-schoolers down there. Maybe they can teach you how good little girls are supposed to behave." When I scowled and immediately started tugging the shiny pink frock over the brunette doll's head, Brenda laughed and nodded in approval. Her voice turned saccharine-sweet when she crooned, "That's better! What a good little girl you are being for your Aunty Brenda now! I'll come back in a little while to check on you, so make sure you dress up your Barbies to look beautiful. Okay? Good girl." She obviously didn't expect me to reply, and she walked back inside still chuckling to herself. I dressed up her old brunette doll first, and then tipped out the sequined purse of tiny plastic shoes and accessories, trying to find a pink pair that matched. Then I undressed my Princess Barbie, and changed her into a cute little yellow strapless cocktail dress. It had a tiny strip of Velcro up the back to fasten the bodice in place, so it fitted her snugly around the bust. There were several pairs of yellow high- heeled shoes, and it was easy to find a pair that matched. I found a yellow handbag and some tiny yellow plastic sunglasses, too, so she was fully kitted-out. I didn't think my blonde Barbie looked as pretty in the yellow outfit, so I dressed her in an ankle-length baby-blue ball gown instead, and tried light blue and navy-blue shoes and handbags on her, seeing which colour looked best with her satin outfit. My dummy flopped in my way a couple of times, so I popped the amber rubber teat in my mouth mostly to get it out of the way. I glanced up from my dolls when I heard the sound of high heels click- clacking up the front path. I don't know how long I'd been playing in the playpen, but it felt like hours to me. I looked up to see Aunty June mounting the steps to the front porch, and she was accompanied by a plump, brunette forty-something woman in a knee-length cotton frock. Her flowing dress had a colourful pattern of tropical flowers all over it, mostly in reds and yellows, and she wore a pair of red, medium-heeled court shoes on her stockinged feet. Aunty June was wearing the same outfit as this morning, including her tan platform boots with the six- inch heels, and she looked at least a head taller than her plump matronly friend. "Here she is!" Aunty June crooned in that condescending saccharine voice of hers. "Here's my Baby Candy playing with her dollies!" Her brunette companion stepped over to the side of my playpen, and she leaned over the top rail and peered down at me. "My goodness, June. You're right! He does look like a little girl!" My Aunty merely sniggered and nodded in agreement. "How old did you say he is?" "Fifteen," Aunty replied, her voice dripping with contempt. "My naughty baby girl is really fifteen years old, although she acts like a fussy two-year-old sometimes." "She certainly looks like a two-year-old in that playpen," the brunette laughingly agreed. I glared at the chubby woman resentfully, unaware that I was sucking noisily on my dum-dums like an fretful toddler. She crouched down and reached through the bars to poke my padded crotch, letting her fingers rest against the satin front of my rumba panties. She could feel a warm patch, and her eyebrows crawled up her forehead in surprise. "Ooo, she's wet, too! I love the bib! 'Little Miss Potty-Pants' indeed!" "Is she wet again? She was supposed to ask for the potty." Aunty opened the front door and called down the hallway. "Brenda? Can you come here please?" "Coming, Mum," was the distantly yelled reply. When the buxom blonde came trotting out, Aunty June asked her, "When you put Baby Candy in the playpen, did you tell her to call you if she needed to use the potty?" "Of course, Mum," Brenda replied, lying through her perfect white teeth. My mouth fell open in shock and my dum-dums tumbled out, falling against the bottom edge of my frilly bib. She did no such thing! She never mentioned using the potty to me. Before I could voice a protest, Aunty June asked her, "Did baby ask you if she could use the potty, Brenda?" "No Mum. And I've been out here quite often, keeping an eye on her. Hi, Mrs Fields," she said to her mother's friend, their next-door neighbour. "Hello Brenda," the plump brunette cheerily greeted my deceitful cousin. "I think your charge might need a fresh diaper." "Baby Candy!" Brenda scolded me, scowling in disapproval as she leaned over the side of the playpen to glare down at me. "Why didn't you tell me you needed to use the potty?" My mouth gulped open and closed like a drowning goldfish as I struggled to find the words to reply. Aunty June ordered, "Stand up, baby, and let me check that nappy." Brenda stepped aside to give her mother greater access. My cheeks were blazing with embarrassment as I shakily clambered to my feet. My bottom lip poked out resentfully as I thought, 'It's not my fault! No one told me to ask for the potty.' I didn't realise it, but I was unconsciously slipping into the mind-set of a normal toddler, waiting to be told what to do. Aunty June ordered me closer to the playpen side with a flick of her fingers and in that syrupy baby voice, commanded, "Come here to Aunty and lift up your dress for me, sweetie." Aunty reached down between the wooden bars as her friend stepped closer and rested her hand on the top rail, watching me with narrowed eyes. I raised the front of my dress and petties up over my tummy, blushing with shame as I exposed my bulging rumba panties to the watching brunette. I spread my feet wide and leaned my shoulders back, bending my knees slightly and thrusting my crotch towards the bars, to make it easier for Aunty June to slip her hand inside the waistband of my wetproof panties. I didn't realise I was assuming the normal pose of a diapered toddler having her nappy checked, but I saw Aunty's friend smiling and nodding in approval at my submissive child-like stance. "Baby Candy!" Aunty shook her head in disapproval and withdrew her glistening fingers from my plastic panties. "She's wet alright, but not saturated," she informed her friend. But when she turned back to me, Aunty June was scowling darkly. "Bad baby! Why didn't you ask Aunty Brenda to put you on the potty?" I let the front of my dress drop with a guilty expression, and she wiped her damp fingers on the front of my bib with a grimace of distaste. "I - I - I-" I stammered uncertainly. I didn't know what to say. No one had told me I was supposed to ask for the potty. I was wearing nappies, and I had been forced to use them like a baby for the last two days, so it seemed completely natural to just let go in my diapers. "Maybe she forgot," Brenda kindly suggested, with a condescending smile for me. "After all, she is just a baby." Aunty June harrumphed loudly at that statement, her emerald eyes glittering dangerously. "Baby won't learn," she sternly chided me. She picked up the dummy bouncing against my breast and unceremoniously thrust the amber rubber teat back between my gaping lips. I reflexively began to suck, drawing the soothing latex nipple deeper into my mouth. "Maybe she needs another botty-spank?" I quivered in fear at her cruel suggestion, and felt a fresh warm squirt of urine jet into the front of my damp nappy. I bit down on my dummy teat as I clamped down with my sphincter muscles, and with difficulty managed to stem the flow. Brenda asked, "Do you want me to change her nappy, Mum?" Aunty June shook her head, her cold calculating eyes on my face the whole time. "No, she can stay in that wet nappy for the rest of the afternoon, as far as I'm concerned." Mrs Fields laughed at the noisy sucking sounds I was making. "My my! She certainly loves her dum-dums, doesn't she?" Aunty June chuckled menacingly and nodded in agreement. "Didn't you say you bought her a new potty this morning, June?" Grace Fields asked. When Aunty nodded again, her friend continued, "Why don't you leave her potty out here on the veranda, so she'll remember to ask someone to put her on the pot-pot next time she needs to go." "That's a fine idea," agreed Aunty June. She turned to her daughter. "Brenda?" "Sure thing, Mum," the grinning blonde teen agreed, with a malicious smirk for me. "I'll go fetch her potty from the bathroom, and bring it our here where Baby Candy can see it." 'And where the rest of the world can see it, too,' I thought with mounting trepidation. I clutched my dress hem and tried to straighten my petties as Aunty warned me, "You'd better not wet that nappy again, little girl. Try and remember to ask Aunty Brenda to put you on the pot- pot like a big girl, okay?" She then turned to her friend and suggested. "Come inside, Grace, and I'll make you a fresh pot of tea. Brenda will take care of the baby." The women strolled inside, and I clutched the wooden bars and stared at their retreating backs until they disappeared. Brenda danced out a few minutes later carrying my new pink teddy bear potty. "Here you are, baby," she crooned, grinning madly as she sat the huge pink potty next to my playpen, a few feet from the porch steps. "Now you call me or one of the grown-ups if you need to go, and we'll take care of you. Alright?" I considered how embarrassing it would be if Brenda pulled down my panties and unpinned my nappies right here on the front veranda, and sat me naked on the teddy bear potty for all the world to see. I shivered from a combination of fear and anxiety. The mere thought caused a fresh burst of heat in my nappies, and this time I couldn't stop it. The hot stream poured out of me, and I bent my knees and spread my thighs slightly to give the crotch of my nappies more room to absorb my wetties. Thankfully Brenda didn't seem to notice as I helplessly drenched my diaper. She chirped, "Wait there, baby. I'll be back in a minute," and dashed back inside the house. I stood there clutching the playpen bars and wetting my nappy, glaring at the humiliating potty like a resentful two-year-old. To be continued in chapter 9. Please leave a comment here. I would like to know what you think. Thanks from Baby Jennie