Baby Candy Chap. 10 free porn video

Chapter 10. Harnessed and Reined. Aunty's spacious back yard was bordered by a high plank fence made from old grey hardwood, which gave me a false sense of security when I hesitantly waddled outside. Brenda pointed in the direction of the rotary clothesline mounted in the middle of the yard at the end of a concrete path. There were rows of fluffy white hourglass-shaped nappies drying in the gusting breeze, and several pairs of crackling plastic panties flapping on the line. Brenda handed me a blue plastic laundry basket and pushed me ahead of her into the yard. "Go on, Baby Candy. Take your nappies and baby panties off the line like a good little girl, and fold them up and put them in the basket." I waddled over to the green clothesline as quickly as my thick nappies would allow me, hoping to minimise my chances of being observed. Brenda stuck to the concrete path and followed at a more leisurely pace, grinning at my obvious haste. She wound down the line until I could reach the plastic pegs, then headed for the house. I dropped the laundry basket on the grass and unpegged the baby panties first. There was a wire basket for the plastic pegs hanging from the line, and I tossed them inside. I carelessly folded the rustling pastel panties and dropped them in the laundry basket. When I reached the first row of stiff nappies, I realized they were slightly different from the ones I was wearing. These new diapers were made from two layers of thick thirsty terrycloth, like the ones I was used to, but with an extra oval-shaped lining in the crotch for added absorbency. I squeezed the thick oval padding between my thumb and forefinger, realising it was made from two extra layers of fluffy terrycloth. I wondered what it would be like to wear such thick nappies. I knew I was soon destined to find out. Preoccupied with those thoughts, I was a little distracted as I unpegged the first two rows of flapping nappies and folded them into the basket. The brisk wind kept flipping my skirts and petties up around my shoulders, impeding my progress. When I reached the last row of stiff nappies, I heard a shout nearby that made me jump in alarm. "Yoo-hoo!" I turned to see one of Aunty June's neighbours poking her head over the side fence and waving to Brenda. "Hi Brenda!" Even though the thirty- something blonde was waving at my cousin, her questioning gaze was locked on my cringing form. I foolishly clutched one of the hourglass-shaped nappies against my cowering frame, pressing my bobbing petties down in an attempt to conceal my diapered shame. "Hello Mrs Green," Brenda called out from the back veranda, smiling and waving in reply. The nosy neighbour inquired of my cousin, "I saw all those big nappies and baby pants hanging on the line, and I wondered who they were for?" "They're for our Baby Candy," Brenda informed her while pointing at me, with a sly grin for my fearful expression. "She's staying with us for the holidays. Keep going, Baby Candy," she urged me in that syrupy baby voice, waving towards the clothesline. "You need to take all your nappies off the line like a good little girl, and bring them inside for Mummy." I returned to the task at hand, trying to avoid the inquisitive neighbour's piercing blue eyes. I knew she was watching me intently as I folded up my nappies and pressed them flat into the plastic basket with shaky fingers. "Isn't she a good little helper for Mummy," Mrs Green observed in a friendly tone, then asked, "I thought your mother told me her teenage nephew was coming to stay with you?" "She did, Mrs Green, she did," Brenda chuckled, her emerald eyes glinting with mischief. "But there's been a few changes. Why don't you pop over and I'll introduce you to our Baby Candy?" I almost bit my dummy teat in two, and stared at my cousin in horror. "Alright." The woman's smiling face disappeared from over the fence, and I hurried to rip the remaining nappies from the line. I carelessly tossed them on top of the others in the basket, but Brenda noticed my haste. "Ah-ah-ah!" She tartly reprimanded me. "You fold up those nappies properly, Baby Candy - or I'll tip the whole lot out, and you can start all over again." I moaned in despair around the dummy clenched between my teeth as the side gate opened and the nosy neighbour strode into our backyard. I tried to control my billowing skirts and petties, but it was impossible. She was casually dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a loose beige wool jumper, with some white sneakers on her feet. "My goodness!" The slender woman exclaimed, as she approached where I cowered next to the clothesline. Her honey-blonde hair fell loose over her shoulders, and the gusting breeze flipped a few strands around her pretty face. It also flipped up my dress hem, exposing my shameful packed plastic panties which I struggled to conceal. She brushed some errant locks aside from her pink-painted lips and stared at me with poorly concealed interest. "What a big baby! Isn't she a bit old to be wearing nappies?" Her words brought an instant pink tinge to my cheeks. Brenda stepped off the veranda into the back yard, and she kept to the concrete path in her slender high heels as she followed the attractive blonde neighbour towards the clothesline. "Yes she is," Brenda admitted with a malicious grin for my look of woe, "but unfortunately, our naughty little girl won't stop wetting and pooping her panties." "Oh dear," Mrs Green sympathised, screwing up her pretty face in disdain. "Your poor mother." "Poor April and me, you mean," Brenda replied a mite bitterly. "We're the ones who've been lumped with the babysitting duties." They stopped in front of me, and with the last nappy folded on the pile in the basket, there was nothing for me to do but stand there like a shag on a rock. I feel my cheeks growing warmer as the neighbour inspected me. My fingers anxiously plucked at the edges of my lace-trimmed petticoats, trying to hold down my wayward skirts, and I sucked harder on my dum-dums to calm my tattered nerves. The slender blonde commented with a little laugh, "My goodness! She's even got a dummy!" "Yes, Baby Candy loves her dum-dums," my cousin informed the nosy neighbour with a nasty smile for me. "Lift up your frock, Baby Candy, and show Mrs Green your nappies," Brenda ordered, her malicious grin widening. She seemed to really enjoy humiliating me. My pink cheeks turned a rosier hue when I obediently raised the lace-edged hemline up over my tummy, gathering my billowing petticoats together in front with trembling fingers to expose my shame. The yellow plastic panties were so transparent, you could see the pink-capped pins holding my nappy in place, and every fold of thick white cloth. The attractive blonde tilted her head to one side and examined my bulging crotch with an expert eye. She commented, "What a big nappy! But at least it still looks dry." "I only changed her ten minutes ago," Brenda informed her, with a condescending smirk for me. "She was a very wet little girl then, let me assure you." Mrs Green laughed. "You better not let my eight-year-old see her wearing nappies. She's baby-mad at the moment! Emily will be over here in an instant, wanting to help feed and change her all day, if you let her." I saw Brenda's emerald eyes light up at that morsel of information, and I shuddered in fearful anticipation when she nodded thoughtfully. The pretty neighbour continued inspecting me, running her eyes up from my pink sneakers and frilly socks up to my juvenile feminine hairstyle, before inquiring, "So what happened to the nephew who was coming to stay?" Brenda pointed at my cringing form and laughed disparagingly. "That's her - I mean, him. Well, her - you know?" The neighbour gazed at me uncomprehendingly, her pink painted mouth dropping open in astonishment. My cousin gaily continued, "We found out that he likes to dress up like a girl sometimes, so Mum decided to give him his wish for a few weeks. But unfortunately, our little sissy can't seem to manage to keep her panties dry - so it's back to nappies for our little panty-wetter." The attractive blonde stared at me with wide blue eyes, her fine arched eyebrows climbing her forehead in disbelief. "This is your nephew - I mean, your teenage cousin?" She demanded. "Your male cousin?" She added for clarification. Brenda nodded, smiling down at me in that superior smug way that really rankled my nerves. "Uh-huh," she confirmed. "This is Peter - except he makes such a sweet little girl, Mum decided to re-name him Candy. We call her Baby Candy." The woman reached out and clutched my bowed chin, tilting my blushing face up till my watering blue eyes met hers. She shook her head in bemused wonder. "But- but she looks so pretty, and so petite!" Despite the humiliating circumstances, I felt a tiny thrill of arousal at her kind words. My cheeks flushed warmly with guilty pleasure. "If you hadn't told me, I would have thought she was a little girl aged around six or seven. Are you sure she's a teenage boy?" When she released my chin, I let my humiliated gaze fall to the grass around my feet, my cheeks burning from a weird combination of pleasure and embarrassment. "Quite sure," Brenda gravely replied, her big green eyes glittering with cruel amusement. "After all, I changed Baby Candy's nappy just a little while ago, remember?" Mrs Green shook her head in amazement, and she chuckled when my cousin unkindly added, "She's a real sissy, though, and I'm pretty sure she'd rather be a girl than a boy." "Who wouldn't?" The smiling woman retorted, then glanced towards the fence separating our properties. "I must get back. I've left the peas and carrots cooking on the stove, and they'll be overcooked and mushy if I don't hurry." She turned and dashed out the side gate, calling over her shoulder, "Say 'hey' to your mother for me, Brenda, and tell her I'll drop over later to talk about your new... little lodger." "Okay. Bye, Mrs Green." She gave the woman a farewell wave and then turned to me. "Can you carry that big basket inside by yourself, Baby Candy?" It was a relief to finally waddle back inside lugging the basket full of my freshly-laundered baby things. Brenda took the heavy basket from my hands after we walked inside. "I'll just throw these nappies in the drier for a half an hour, to fluff them up a bit and make them softer for you," she informed me. She reached past the folded nappies and handed me a bunch of crackling plastic panties. "You can put your baby panties away like a good little girl." I had to waddle upstairs and put my folded plastic panties away on the shelf under the change table in the Nursery. Brenda made me bump my way back downstairs on my bot-bot again like a hopeless toddler, watching me every step of the way. It was so humiliating! "Good girl! What a clever baby girl," she fulsomely praised me when my padded rear hit the bottom step, and she held out her hand for mine. "Come on, Baby Candy. We can watch television for a while until Mum finishes making dinner." Brenda made me sit down on the lounge room carpet on my puffy bottom, warning me, "Mum said you can't be trusted to sit on the furniture, baby girl, just in case... You know? You have to sit on the floor, I'm afraid." She snickered at my sullen expression and turned on the TV. Of course I had no choice in the program selection. We watched some dumb teenage dating show she was mad about. The program was more than half-way through when we heard Alison strolling in through the front door. After she said hello to her Mum in the kitchen, the raven-haired beauty wandered into the lounge room to check out what we were watching. "Hi girls," she greeted us, with a sly smile for me on the floor. I frowned up at her, my sour expression mostly concealed by the wide pink guard of my dum-dums. Alison was dressed in a knee-length denim skirt with a daring split up the side, which fell open when she carelessly flopped onto the three-seater lounge beside her sister. I could see she was wearing tan stockings, not pantyhose, and I caught a glimpse of her ruffled white suspenders attached to the lacy stocking top. I felt a thrill of arousal at the sight of her feminine undergarments, and wriggled about on my puffy padded bottom to give my swelling peenie room to grow in front. My older cousin was wearing a cream cable-knit sweater over a button-front white blouse, and a pair of white high-heeled court shoes which she immediately kicked off. Alison rubbed her feet and her slender calves together, her nylon stockings making an erotic whispering sound. She sighed, "Ahh, that's better." When she noticed the direction of my gaze, she covered her exposed stocking top with the flap of her skirt, smirking at my guilty expression. During the next ad break she asked, "How's our little Baby Candy today? Has our pretty little girl been behaving herself?" For a moment I thought she was talking to me, but then I realised her inquiries were directed at her sister. After all, who questions a dummy-sucking, diaper-wearing toddler, and expects a sensible response? "Apart from forgetting to ask for the potty, she's been a very good little baby girl," Brenda answered for me, with a wolfish smile for my look of annoyance. Alison laughed. "I saw her teddy-bear potty sitting on the front veranda. Did you threaten to put baby on the potty out there?" "I didn't," Brenda admitted. "Mum did. It was Mrs Fields' suggestion." Alison sniggered in amusement. "No wonder she was reluctant to use her potty like a big girl." When I nodded dispiritedly in agreement and sucked harder on my dum-dums, both girls chuckled at my woebegone expression. They fell quiet when the program resumed, and they concentrated on the screen when the pretty girl contestant had to make her final choice of the three handsome male suitors. It was at that moment I felt a sharp warning twinge from my bladder, and I clamped down with my sphincter muscles even as I felt the first hot splash in my nappy. My hand instinctively cupped the huge wad of padding over my groin in a useless attempt to grab the head of my leaking tool. "Bwenda?" I quietly pleaded from around the fat rubber teat in my mouth, as I manfully tried to stem the flow. Her eyes darted towards me in a sharp warning frown, then returned to staring at the screen. "Aunty Bwenda, I need- I need to-" It was difficult making such a humiliating request, but Brenda cut me off before I could finish speaking. "Shh!" She quietened me, momentarily pressing one finger to her lush red lips. "Shh, baby! Be quiet. This is the best bit." Her emerald eyes never left the TV screen. "I'll bet she chooses the surfer dude," Alison wagered. "He looks a bit like Brad Pitt." I spat out my dum-dums and tried again, my voice rising to a plaintive whine. "But I need to go! I need-" "Quiet!" They both yelled at me in unison, and I felt another warm gush in my nappy. I shivered, fighting to control my wayward bladder. "Put that dummy back in your mouth and pipe down, little one," Alison warned me with a stern glance. "The show will be over in a couple of minutes." I shoved the amber rubber teat back between my pursed lips and sucked hard on the big baby soother to cover my displeasure. First they told me I had to ask for the potty, and then when I tried to ask, they ignored me. It wasn't fair! My body twitched spastically with the effort of holding on, and I struggled to my feet to confront them. "Pweathe Aunty Bwenda?" I plaintively whimpered around the fat rubber teat. "I need to do wee-weeth." My dummy caused me to lisp like a sissy baby, and the girls simply ignored me. "Told you!" Alison crowed when the girl contestant chose the broad- shouldered young man with the long surfie haircut. The studio audience burst into orchestrated spontaneous applause. "You're right as usual, Allie." Brenda nodded in agreement before she turned to me. "What is it, baby?" She demanded, not bothering to hide her irritation. "What do you want now?" "Pweathe Aunty Bwenda, I need to uthe the potty!" I wailed, clutching the front of my nappy against my trickling peenie with both hands. I couldn't hold it. "Oh pweathe?" Hot urine gushed out of me as I staggered awkwardly towards them, my feet splayed wide as I helplessly wet myself. I moaned in despair. "Oh! Ooh!" I pressed my fingers against the front of my thick plastic panties, as if I could grab the head of my peenie through the multiple layers of thick terrycloth and halt the flow. "Oh no!" Brenda leapt to her feet and smacked my hands away from my panty crotch. She scolded me, "Stop touching yourself down there, you naughty little girl!" I moaned in anguish as the hot stream gushed out of my peenie, soaking into the thirsty terrycloth and surrounding my genitals in comforting warmth. "Here, baby. Let me check," she gruffly commanded. She shoved my dummy back in my mouth to get it out of her way. "Hold your dress up for Aunty Brenda, baby girl." I grabbed the front of my lace- edged dress and petties and clutched them against my heaving breast, spreading my legs apart to give the wide crotch of my nappies more room to absorb my wetties. "I think it's a little too late to ask for the potty, Baby Candy," Alison chided me, sniggering as she observed my tell-tale stance and my anguished expression. Brenda pulled aside the tight elastic waistband of my yellow baby panties and slipped her hand inside, feeling the front of my fluffy nappy. "No, she still feels dry." She slid her hand down further inside my snug plastic panties and fingered the material bunched between my thighs. Her expression turned reproachful and she watched my face carefully to gauge my response. "Oh-oh! Baby Candy! You did a wee-wee in your nappy, you bad little girl! Why didn't you ask us to put you on the potty, you silly bubba? We were sitting right here!" "I twied!" I protested around my dum-dums, tears of shame welling unwanted in my eyes. "It wathn't my fault, Aunty Bwenda. I told you I needed to do a wee-wee!" I was terrified of being punished by Aunty June again, and foolishly added, "You wouldn't withen!" Alison giggled at my childish complaint. "Wouldn't withen? We wouldn't withen?" She repeated, mimicking my high-pitched lisping voice with cruel accuracy. Brenda sniggered as she wiped her damp fingertips on the dry outside front of my nappy, then she removed her hand from my baby panties. "We listened, baby. But you were a bit slow asking for the potty, weren't you?" Brenda chortled at my forlorn expression and chucked me under the chin to reassure me. "Don't worry, Baby Candy. If Mummy asks, we'll tell her you asked to use the potty like a big girl. You just couldn't hold it, that's all." "Just like a real baby," Alison concluded with a disdainful glance at me, sneering at my look of reproach. It was all so unfair! "Sit back down, baby," she commanded, pointing to the carpet. She smiled triumphantly when I grumpily obeyed, flopping carelessly onto my puffy damp bot-bot. A short while later, Aunty June called out from the kitchen that dinner was ready. Alison jumped to her feet and switched off the TV, and Brenda leaned over me to help me to clumsily stand. "Come on, baby girl," she sang to me in invitation. "It's time for din-dins. Come with Aunty Bwenda." She kept hold of my hand and led me toddling into the kitchen behind Alison. Aunty June had changed out of her pee-stained denim skirt into a tight, glossy black miniskirt that barely covered her plump womanly bottom, leaving most of her muscular thighs exposed. She has fabulous long legs, and discretely admired them as I shuffled into the kitchen. She wore the same fluffy pink angora sweater, which tightly hugged her generous bust. She had changed footwear though, swapping her tan platform boots for an elegant pair of strappy black-patent sandals. She looked gorgeous - and sexy! Her shiny high heels had a wafer-thin sole and a slender menacing five-inch stiletto heel, and made her shapely calves stand out attractively. "Is the baby still dry?" She inquired from beside the stove, with a pointed glance at my bulging nappy crotch. I knew she wasn't talking to me - just about me. "Nope, she's wet already," Brenda informed her mother a trifle gleefully. "Hey Mum? Nice skirt," she commented in admiration "Oh Baby Candy?" Aunty June reproached me, making my cheeks flush with warmth. "Why didn't you ask for the potty?" She scowled forbiddingly at me and I dropped my gaze to the white linoleum tiles in shame. "What a bad baby girl." I felt a burst of gratitude when my older cousin intervened on my behalf. "She did ask for the potty, Mum," Alison admitted. "It was just a little too late. Baby needs to learn to ask to be put on the potty sooner, that's all." Aunty June harrumphed in disbelief, but I shot Alison a quick grateful smile - which she ignored. The kitchen smelled fantastic, the room filled with the delicious aromas of cooked food. When Brenda released my hand, I automatically waddled over to the pink highchair. "Good girl," Aunty June nodded in thin-lipped approval when I stood there clutching the wooden leg of the infantile piece of furniture. "Baby knows where she belongs. Pop her in her highchair, will you Brenda, and buckle the baby in?" "Sure thing, Mum." The smirking blonde teenager lifted me into the padded seat and threaded the waist strap through the loop in the crotch strap, before tightly buckling me in place. "That's a great skirt, Mum. Is it leather?" She asked. "No, latex," her mother replied, stroking the shiny black material over her perfect round bottom with her free hand. She gave her glistening rubber-clad rear a quick slap with her open palm, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet kitchen. "I thought it would be a bit more... practical, for when I deal with the baby later." I don't know why, but I shivered in fear at that portentous statement. Brenda lowered the cut-out half-moon tray against my tummy and locked it in place, grinning with amusement at my fearful expression. I wriggled about in my wet nappy, the soggy warmth around my genitals strangely comforting. The buxom blonde held up a clean yellow terry bib, smiling with malicious satisfaction. This one had a wide layer of frothy white lace around the neck hole and outer edges, and bore the humiliating inscription, 'Mummy's Precious Potty Princess.' She sniggered at my embarrassed expression as she clipped it around my neck, before smoothing the lace-edged bib over my breast. Aunty served the girls first, placing their loaded plates on the kitchen table. My mouth watered when I spotted the grilled lamb cutlets and the piles of steaming vegetables. I was starving! Yummy! Lamb chops! I wasn't usually a big fan of peas and carrots, but they were smothered in melting butter and looked and smelled delicious. There was a bowl full of steaming baked potatoes, too. Yum! "Come on girls. Sit down and start eating while it's hot," Aunty June encouraged her daughters. The girls immediately took their seats at the table and started tucking in. I waited eagerly for my dinner, drooling heavily in anticipation. Aunty placed her laden plate at the head of the table, and then stepped over to me and plucked out my dum-dums by the plastic chain. "Baby doesn't need this while she has her din-dins," she primly announced. She laughed at the shiny stream of drool trailing from my dummy-teat to my bottom lip. She dropped my oversized soother in a glass of water on the kitchen bench and wiped the excess saliva from my face with my terry bib. "What a dribble-puss," she chortled in derision, as she cleaned the dribble from my highchair tray with a damp flannel. My face fell when she picked up a colourful plastic Barbie bowl from the bench and plonked it on the pink tray. "You can start feeding yourself, Baby Candy," she informed me with a tight smile, "while we grown-ups eat our dinner. Go on, baby girl. Eat up." Aunty June took her seat at the table and picked up her cutlery, while I stared in disbelief at my repulsive meal. The small plastic bowl was full of pureed vegetables - it looked like mostly peas and carrots mashed up and mixed together, and appeared extremely unappetising. My eyes switched from the bowl of goop in front of me to the delicious meals the women were eating and back again, and I sighed in frustration. "Gosh, Mum. This is fantastic," Brenda mumbled around a mouth full of food. I gazed at her laden plate with envious eyes. "Don't talk with your mouth full, darling," Aunty June chided her, although she looked pleased with the compliment. "I'll say," Alison seconded her kid sister, sliding some peas and carrots on top of the piece of meat on her fork. "This lamb is delicious!" I frowned resentfully as I searched the highchair tray for some cutlery. At first I thought Aunty had forgotten to give me any, but when she glanced my way with that cruel condescending look in her large emerald eyes, I knew it had been deliberate move to further humiliate me. I sighed in resignation as I dug my fingers into the warm creamy goop in my Barbie bowl, before awkwardly scooping some of the olive-coloured gruel into my mouth. I grimaced at the bland taste, but Aunty merely nodded at me in thin-lipped approval before returning her attention to her own tasty meal. Mine didn't taste very nice, but I was hungry, and I reluctantly kept eating. By the time I had eaten half the contents of the bowl, my fingers were a mess and my chin was dripping with slimy olive goo. There was gunk splattered all over the pink highchair tray, too. Brenda and Alison had already finished their yummy meals, and they rinsed off their plates in the sink before popping them in the dishwasher. Alison asked, "Do you want me to finish feeding the baby, Mum?" "No darling. It's Brenda's turn today, remember? It's your turn to look after Baby Candy tomorrow." Aunty June reminded her. Brenda opened the cutlery drawer, and she took out a pink rubber-coated spoon before approaching me in the highchair. "Oh look at you! What a messy baby!" She chuckled in derision. "You've spilled food everywhere! Here, baby," she crooned, as she picked up the half-empty plastic bowel. "Let Aunty Bwenda help you eat your din-dins." It was less messy than trying to feed myself with my fingers, so I sat back and gratefully let her spoon-feed me the rest of my unappetising meal. Instead I tried to focus on Brenda's fabulous cleavage bobbing inches from my nose. I was fascinated by the way her massive bosoms heaved and swayed beneath her fluffy white sweater every time she leaned forward and raised her arms to feed me. Alison protested, "Mum, remember I told you? I'm supposed to meet my friends for lunch tomorrow, and go shopping with the girls at the mall." Aunty June finished her meal with a sigh of satisfaction and sat back, indicating her elder daughter should collect her empty plate. "I told you both the other day that you would have to take turns looking after the baby. It's your turn tomorrow. You'll just have to postpone your little meeting with your friends, Allie." She pushed herself away from the table and said, "I need to go upstairs and get everything ready for our naughty Baby Candy in the Nursery. Look after our little nappy-wetter, will you Brenda?" Even though the raven-haired beauty looked annoyed by her mother's decision, Alison had the sense not to object further as she rinsed her mother's plate and cutlery. She rinsed the pots from the stove too, and placed everything in the dishwasher. As soon as her mother disappeared upstairs, Alison turned towards me with an annoyed expression. "What a pain! Can you dump the baby's spoon and bowl in the dishwasher when you've finished feeding her, Bren? I have to make a phone call and try and change my arrangement with the girls." She trotted into the hallway and flounced upstairs without waiting for a reply. "Sure thing, Allie," Brenda replied, with an encouraging smile for me. She crooned in tender loving tones, "We've almost finished here. Baby Candy is eating up all her din-dins like a good little baby girl for Aunty Bwenda. Isn't she a good bubba?" I knew her questions were rhetorical, and didn't bother responding. Not that she gave me a chance. She kept shovelling the innocuous gruel between my lips, barely giving me time to swallow. As soon as she was satisfied the bowl was empty, she gave my messy face a careless wipe with my soiled bib. "Look at the mess you made of your bibbie," she chortled disdainfully, as she let the stained baby napkin drop to my breast. "What a messy bubba!" Her sister had already prepared a huge pink baby bottle of watered-down apple juice for me. As soon as Brenda dropped my plate and spoon in the dishwasher, she approached me with a condescending smile, holding up the full bottle and waggling it temptingly. "Here you are, bubby girl. Open wide, and Aunty Bwenda will give you a lovely suck on your titty-bottle." She thrust the dripping nipple in my mouth and I swallowed a mouthful of cold apple juice. I sucked eagerly, grateful to wash away the awful taste of the bland baby food. Brenda left me clutching my bottle in both hands while she loaded the dishwasher with detergent and turned it on. She returned to wipe up the mess on my tray, then tossed the damp flannel in the sink. I knew I must look like a complete baby, trapped in my highchair wearing my filthy bibbie, sucking thirstily from my titty-bottle. With a brief smile for my humiliating situation, she disappeared into the lounge room and I heard her switch on the television. I sat there in the kitchen slurping on the silicon teat for about twenty minutes, staring vacantly around the empty room, bored out of my mind. I wriggled about on the soft soggy warmth cushioning my bottom, perversely enjoying the feel of my pee-soaked nappies. By the time I drained the huge bottle, I was panting breathlessly around the silicon nipple and my stomach was starting to feel bloated. I dumped the empty plastic vessel on the wooden tray with a clatter, waiting impatiently for someone to free me from my infantile restraints. It was like they'd forgotten all about me. I tried to reach over the top of the tray and unlatch it, but the unseen release lever was out of my grasp. I attempted to lift my bum off the seat to increase my reach, but the waist strap was too tight. All that did was make me belch uncontrollably. After a few minutes of futile struggling, I gave up. Instead I tried to swivel around in my seat, trying to see where the waist belt was attached at the rear. The back of the pink-painted chair was too high and too wide. I couldn't even see the buckle, let alone attempt to reach it. I gave up and sat back with a sigh of frustration, plucking mindlessly at the frilly lace edge of my badly-stained bibbie. I was trapped in the humiliating piece of baby furniture - just like a real baby. Alison came bounding into the kitchen a little while later, and she dropped a collection of white leather straps on the bench before approaching my highchair. In saccharine baby-talk she crooned to me, "Have you finished your bottle like a good little baby girl?" I nodded as she took the empty bottle from my tray and carelessly tossed it towards the sink. "What a good bubba!" The plastic bottle noisily bounced around for a few unnerving seconds, before dropping into the sink. She rinsed out the washcloth and gave my face a perfunctory swab, then tossed the dirty flannel in the sink, too. She unlatched the tray and raised it out of the way, then stepped behind me and unbuckled the waist strap. I sighed with relief when I felt the restrictive harness loosen. "Come on, baby girl," Alison cooed as she lifted me down. She snatched my hand and dragged me over to the kitchen bench. She released me and picked up the collection of white leather straps, singing, "Okay, baby girl. Hands up high. Reach for the stars." I eyed her warily as I hesitantly raised my arms above my head. Alison held the straps above me and threaded my hands through some loops. "Good girl," she mumbled, "now lift your head up, baby. That's right." She fed my head through the appropriate place and twirled me around, and I felt the narrow leather straps settle over my shoulders. I anxiously fingered the wide white piece of leather across my chest as I unexpectedly felt the straps tighten around me. It was only when it was buckled securely in place that I realised what she'd done to me. Alison had buckled me into a leather toddler's harness! "Hey! No, don't! Stop it," I pleaded. I yanked at the wide chest strap, but it was too late. The harness was buckled securely between my shoulder blades, where I had trouble reaching with both hands. When I tried, I couldn't unfasten the buckle. Alison picked up two slender white reins, and while I was preoccupied with my hands behind me, she clipped the leather leashes to two shiny chromed metal D-rings riveted either side of the chest strap in front. "Aww Alison," I whined like a petulant child, as she gave the reins a sharp tug to make sure they were well secured. She almost pulled me off my feet! "That's Aunty Alison to you, little one!" She crisply reprimanded me. I ducked my head, looking suitably chastened. "Hush up, baby girl," Alison scolded me, as she collected my dripping dum-dums from the glass of water on the bench. "Mum said I had to put the harness and baby reins on you to lead you upstairs." She couldn't maintain her stern expression, and her pretty face lit up in a bemused smile. "Come on," she sang invitingly. "Come with Aunty Alison, baby. Mummy's waiting for you upstairs." The reins were about six feet long, and she walked as far from me as she could before firmly tugging me in the direction of the hallway. "Come on, Baby Candy," she urged me in that syrupy voice, dangling my glistening dum-dums by the plastic chain as though to tempt me to follow her. "Let's go up to the Nursery - where silly babies like you belong." I waddled along at the end of the leather reins, compelled to go wherever she decided to lead me. I was trapped - 'just like a real baby,' I realised with a start. So this was what those little kids felt like when their mothers dragged them around in public. It was so humiliating! She hauled me stumbling up the stairs and along the landing, and dragged me into the Nursery. "Here she is, Mummy," Alison crowed, her high round cheeks flushed with effort and success. "Here's your naughty Baby Candy." Aunty June was sitting on the hard-backed wooden chair in front of the vanity, facing the centre of the room She was waiting for me, an expression of distaste marring her handsome features. She had changed out of her strappy sandals into an exotic pair of skin-tight, black, thigh- high boots, with a menacing five-inch stiletto heel. There was barely an inch of plump womanly thigh exposed between the bottom of her brief rubber skirt and the tops of her shiny black boots. I assumed the glossy footwear were made of latex, the same material as her skirt. She curled her index finger at me in invitation, her crimson nail flashing in the bright light. "Come here, baby," she sang in her sweetest come-hither voice. "Come here to Aunty June." Her luscious lips had been freshly painted with glossy crimson lipstick to match her nails, and her wide emerald eyes were dark and smoky with make-up. She looked beautiful - yet terrifying, and my feet refused to budge. Alison hauled me closer with the reins, and I noticed some strange floppy white sacs sitting on Aunty June's latex-covered lap. She picked up one and held it up so the open end faced me. "Curl up your fingers and put your hand in here, sweetheart," she cooed, in honeyed tones that belied her menacing appearance. Alison grabbed one of my wrists and forcibly thrust my curled fingers into the snug leather mitten, and Aunty June swiftly buckled it around my wrist with an attached narrow strap. In a trice my other hand was similarly bound, and I tried in vain to uncurl my clenched fists. It was impossible. The mittens were far too tight. I didn't see how she did it, but after Alison unclipped the leather reins from the D-rings on the chest strap, Aunty June clipped the bands around my wrists in their place. I waggled my clenched fists in front of my bosom, straining against the steel clips, but my bonds were unbreakable. I realised she had cleverly removed any chance I might have had of interfering with her nefarious plans. Aunty June grabbed the front hem of my frock and pressed it against the chest strap of my harness between my flailing fists. "Hold your dress up for Aunty June like a good bubba," she crooned enticingly. I moaned in fear as I struggled to clasp my frock and petties against my heaving breast with my mittened fists, feeling like a clumsy frightened infant. She tugged my yellow baby panties down over my bulky damp nappy, but left them sitting at the crease below my trembling buttocks. She patted the relatively-dry front of my nappy and smiled in grim approval. "Good. She's not too wet yet." Aunty June watched my face carefully as she removed the pink-capped nappy pins and handed them to her smirking daughter. "Stick those in the bar of soap on the shelf above the change table, please darling?" She moved me to her right side, made sure the nappy front still covered my genitals with her left hand, and then eased me face-down over her broad lap with her right. I squealed in alarm as I lost my balance, my bound fists thrashing uselessly in front of my face. I was already sobbing by the time Aunty had me settled across her thighs to her satisfaction, her latex-covered lap protected by the slightly damp layers of terrycloth she arranged between us. She checked to make sure the front of my nappy safely contained my shrivelled peenie, then pulled down the back flap to expose my trembling buttocks. The tight plastic panties kept everything bunched up below my bottom, but out of Aunty's way. "No Aunty no," I tearfully pleaded, to no avail. "Pweathe no?" I could feel my nose clogging up with snot, and a rain of tears fell from my eyes, pooling on the polished hardwood floor beneath my head. "Oh, listen to the sissy pissy cry-baby," Aunty June heartlessly chided me. "Pass me the paddle, will you Alison?" My high-pitched cries escalated at those terrifying words, until I was wailing like a banshee and thrashing my legs in fearful anticipation. "Hold her legs for me, darling." Alison grabbed my ankles and forced the toes of my pink sneakers to the floorboards. I realised I was completely helpless. To be continued in chapter 11. Please post a response here if you are enjoying this naughty sissy-AB tale. I love reading your comments. Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia