Return To The Nursery Chap. 2 free porn video

Chapter 2. Carrots and Sticks Jane watched him from the corner of her eye while she finished dressing and getting ready. He lay writhing in shame on her bed, face flushed, not knowing where to look. He still had his dummy in his mouth and a shiny stream of drool trickled down his cheek to stain the flaps of his dribble bib. Jane reflected, 'That was a clever suggestion of mother's; making him dribble copiously whenever he uses his dummies. It adds another extra element of shame to his infantile behaviour; one he is forced to inflict on himself.' As with so many of these fun ideas, it took a few weeks to teach him to perform properly. But Jane, with Emma the Nanny and 'Nanna' (Oh how she loved the fact that David now called his mother-in-law 'Nanna,') had developed a system of rewards and punishments to keep him constantly on his toes. They called them 'carrots' and 'sticks.' The biggest reward was being able to play with himself in his cot at bedtime, and not have to wear the pink leather mittens and lockable plastic panties that normally kept him in a state of frustration all night. He really didn't like the tight- fitting mittens with the rubber balls inside, and was always keen to ensure he earned enough carrots for the privilege of masturbating most nights in his nappies. He needed three carrots for one night's privileges, but if he got himself up to ten carrots, then none were deducted. This was a target worth working for. A later bedtime cost one carrot per half hour. Using the computer (but only to surf permitted ABDL sites - the history file was always to be left available for Mummy to check) was a generous one carrot per hour. The catch was; Mummy or Nanny might come in at any time and make him read aloud what he'd been reading. This revealed his true likes and dislikes to them, and his face usually went bright red while reading parts of some erotic sissy-baby stories like 'Jennie's Potty-training' to Mummy. If there were more carrots than sticks marked on the whiteboard mounted in the kitchen next to the fridge, he was allowed real food at lunch and dinner, instead of being fed pureed baby food from jars. The regimen was a minimum of two stage-three baby jars per day. He quickly learned that the so-called puddings and desserts were not particularly unpleasant. Many of them were quite palatable. The savouries, like chicken stew with rice, or liver and dumplings by "Organix" or "Heinz," were tasteless at best, disgusting at worst. So it was well worth being in credit so he could eat a 'proper' lunch - albeit cut-up in tiny pieces and if not spoon-fed to him, always eaten with a small child's spoon or his fingers. He could use up his daily ration of two jars by eating a banana and apple dessert, chocolate pudding, or summer fruits and custard for afters. One of his regular humiliations during their visits to the local supermarket was having to choose his weekly needs from the range of baby foods on the shelves. Apart from the jars of baby food, he had to choose little snacks; rice cakes, children's packs of raisins and dried fruit, pots of "Cow and Gate" pureed fruit and "Organix" fruit bars and biscuits. Mummy made him choose every single item, and while at first he would try to do it as quickly as possible, paying little attention to what he was doing in his desperate hurry to get away from the baby food isle in Sainsbury's or Tesco, Mummy always delayed the process by querying his choices, protesting this or that item wasn't suitable for her precious toddler girl. After a few weeks, he realised life would be much more pleasant if he took the time to choose jars of food he actually liked. When he was with Nanny Emma, the attractive eighteen-year-old always made him point and politely ask for what he wanted in his high-pitched baby lisp, and she generally loaded his selections from the shelf into the trolley herself. If the item was low down, she would smile entreatingly and ask him to bend over and get it for her. Her excuse was that she was so tall, ( a basketball star in high school) and the bottom shelf was a long way down. They both knew that whenever he stooped down to fetch the desired item, his plastic panties and nappies would bulge out from beneath his too- short overalls. Meanwhile, busy mothers with real children in tow would wander by and quickly make similar choices, while David the overgrown baby was forced to wrestle with his own. Mostly the children sat in the child's seat on the trolley, and Nanny recently confided to him, "I know your Mummy is getting one of these trolleys adapted for you, Daphne, so you can sit in it like the silly baby you really are. Won't you love that, sweetheart?" Little threats like this terrified him. They had done more to baby him than he had ever dreamed possible, so anything might well happen. Many children perhaps a little older than David's 'I'm nearly three,' walked around the store with their Mummies. David was always on the look- out to see which ones were still in nappies, and he often thought; 'Well, that's two of us here in the aisle wearing nappies! I bet yours aren't as wet as mine!' Or sometimes he spotted a little girl who seemed very young to be out of nappies, and he always felt very unsettled and envious that one so young didn't need nappies like he did. Small children are often more perceptive than adults, and David would occasionally realise that the little one in a stroller or hanging on to a busy mother's skirts, was staring right at the crotch of his shortie overalls and nappy-filled plastic panties. From their low angle of view, all was obviously revealed! He shrunk away from the thought that at any moment, a small voice would cry out, "Look, Mummy! Why is that man wearing nappies?" The contrast of the big diapered baby asking Nanny for more jars of bananas and prunes in front of a genuine toddler, really was rather funny. Of course Mummy always had to be sure that should he not be in credit as far as his punishment and reward 'sticks and carrots' were concerned, they had at least three or four days' supply of savoury jars, so those were piled into the trolley as well. Then there were the usual purchases - big white plastic bottles of powder, bulk packages of moist baby wipes, and tubs of nappy rash cream and Vaseline. A full week's baby shopping nearly filled a trolley, and Jane had for some time done most of the grown-up food and supermarket shopping via the internet. When they reached the check-out, the trolley was mainly full of baby items - for him. The women with him usually found some way of making it clear at the check-out that everything was for him, too. Reward carrots were earned by little acts of sissy behaviour, usually in public or in front of their infrequent visitors - such as using his squeaky little-girl voice and lisping well when speaking to strangers, or playing like a good little girl with his dolls while visitors were around. He soon learned that doing things like nagging Nanny for chocolate or lollies at the checkout like a whiny brat, was often good for two or three carrots. Especially if there were a couple of women in the queue right behind them. Summoning the courage to perform these little humiliating acts - which drew unwanted attention to his plight - usually required a desperate need to play with his peenie that night, or a longing for a more robust diet than the endless jars of insipid baby food. Sticks were much easier to come by. Any behaviour deemed to be 'adult' usually brought an immediate rebuke. "That's one stick for you! If you do that one more time, child, you will get into real trouble!" If he talked normally, walked without a wide-legged gait, or tried to discuss anything of an adult nature, he earned a stick. Most importantly, he was never allowed to discuss the state of his nappy. Never allowed to complain when he was wet or dirty, not even to answer the question, "I wonder if you need changing?" What really humiliated him was the way Mummy or Nanny would occasionally check to see if he was dirty. They would simply lift his dress, pull out the back of his nappy, and bend down to smell his bottom, as if that were necessary. If he wasn't dirty, more effort on their part was needed to ensure he was clean. His nappy and plastic panties would be pulled back, to the sharp admonishment, "Stand still, will you?" All the while he had to meekly stand there throughout the humiliating charade and give absolutely no indication of the state of his nappy, like a useless infant. Real babies rarely tell anyone when they are dirty or wet. At home this was bad enough, but it happened in front of visitors as well. He was often checked as a pretence, just to embarrass him. Occasionally they checked his diaper in public, pulling aside the back of his overalls and his plastic panties, cloth nappy and disposable, to peer into the gap where his exposed bottom cheeks may or may not hide a nasty shameful little parcel. Maintaining silence throughout this humiliating ordeal had been more than he could do in the early days. An adult plea of "Pweathe Mummy, don't do that here? Pweathe Mummy, pweathe? People are wooking!" was quite enough earn a couple of sticks on the white board. A stick equated to twenty minutes in the naughty corner, three sticks earned a hand-spanking across the thighs or bum, and five a session over Mummy's lap with the wooden paddle or the hairbrush. The paddle really hurt! Ten sticks earned him a proper caning on the bare bottom. "You have been behaving like a man, be punished like a man," was Jane's strictly enforced rule. David seriously didn't like being caned, and went a long way to avoid it. Sticks and carrots could be offset one for one, or David could run to Mummy with his dum-dums in his mouth, crying, "I thowwy I wath a naughty widdle girl, Mummy! Pweathe put Baby Daphne in the naughty corner?" If he'd had a particularly bad day and one more stick made a caning a real possibility, it would be, "Me tho thowwy Mummy, Baby Daphne hath been bewwy horrid today. Pweathe Mummy, pweathe thpank wicked Daphne'th naughty botty?" If he looked appropriately contrite and acted babyish enough - and had the sense to ask when both Jane and his Nanny Emma were there, they would often oblige! It would usually result in a flurry of upturned petticoats, a snivelling bare-bottomed sissy-baby perched across Mummy's knee - with Emma standing ready to help hold him down - followed by a very lengthy, hard hand-spanking, till he was yelping and crying real tears, and his battered botty-cheeks turned bright red, bordering on purple. All the while he would hear the two women laughing and deriding his naughty behaviour, calling him a sissy cry-baby for crying, and making him promise to be a good baby girl in future. When it was over, they would taunt him as they diapered him, demanding to know why he had asked for a spanking. "Does baby wants to play with her nasty little clittie tonight then? Hmm? Does baby want to do spurties in her lovely wet nappy? Baby Daphne can't do it properly, can she? No, she only makes squirtie messes in her nappies while dreaming about her pretty dresses! What woman would want that?" At that Jane and Emma would burst into cruel laughter, and if Daphne had any sense, he would join in the humiliation by agreeing with them, or even adding a little self-deprecating touch of his own. A good one-liner at this stage may well score a carrot, but David was normally too tearful and flustered after a spanking to think of anything clever to say. Jane had come up with a brilliant ploy for administering corner-time. They made him stand in the punishment corner in the hallway, just inside the front door. If anyone came to the door and it was opened all the way, the visitors would be able to see her big sissy with his nose buried in the corner. That added an extra frisson of nervous excitement to his humiliating ordeal. He had to suck one of his huge Nuk No. 4 dummies, with a loop of short satin ribbon attached to the plastic ring - his punishment dummy. The loop went round a slender chromed steel rod running from floor to ceiling deep in the corner. David hadn't noticed it's presence when he returned home from overseas, but he soon learned it's usefulness. The sight of this smart but unusual piece of hallway furniture was always questioned by Mummy's visitors, and if David was up and about, he would have to explain its cruel purpose. This arrangement meant he couldn't turn his head without releasing the dummy teat from his mouth. If he did, his punishment dummy would tumble to the floor. His hands had to remain clasped behind his back, fingers intertwined. They stayed there because behind him, Jane had set up a small portable movement alarm. It beeped loudly if it detected any movement, audible from anywhere in the house. It allowed slight fidgets, releases of muscle tension in neck, arms and legs, but nothing significant. He was imprisoned by a simple electronic gadget! If he accidentally let go of his dummy, there was no way he could stoop down to pick it up without setting off the alarm. He couldn't move his hands from behind his back to hold it, so he had to keep his nose buried in the corner - all the while hoping against hope that the front doorbell wouldn't ring. If the alarm went off or his dummy was found on the floor, he had to finish the current time and then start from the beginning again. Simple. Jane was fully dressed, her tawny locks styled in a neat chignon, and she sat at the vanity ready to put on her make-up. She glanced in the mirror at David sitting morosely on the bed, obviously pondering on how he would be able to cope with the day ahead when he felt so unsexy, so adult. She could tell he was desperate to end his baby role this minute. He longed to return to his old self. Sensing his discomfort, Jane brusquely ordered, "Don't sit there and sulk, baby girl. Toddle off to your Nursery and pack your 'Barbie' changing bag. We're going out as soon as I finish getting ready. Go on. Off you go." She knew he didn't need to pack a change of diapers, but she wanted to get the surly child out of her hair. She intended taking her sissy baby to Nanna's place, and her Mum had all the necessary supplies there to look after her big baby girl. But Jane didn't want Baby Daphne to know their destination. It kept her little girl anxious and nervous - just the way Mummy wanted her. David's spirits sagged even further as he slid off Mummy's bed. He didn't want to go out, but he dared not complain or moan about his fate. He had a surplus of ten carrots on the whiteboard and he was eating much better food, and had even been allowed to play with his peenie in his crib at night almost whenever he wanted. He certainly didn't want to lose his hard-earned credits. Mind you, after two orgasms this morning, the thought of playing with his little member was a million miles away. He sighed and returned to his Nursery to gather his things. Looking round the room, he still couldn't believe he lived in such a baby girl world. His Mummy had lavished money and attention on the pink-painted room, setting it up for him while he was overseas on his last business trip. There were white plastic Disney Princess chairs and a matching low table, with assorted brightly-coloured plastic boxes for his dolls and toys. There were teddy bear motifs on the duvet cover, 'Winnie the Pooh' wallpaper, and an overall sense of pink - with pastel-yellow and blue hints to set it off. The heavy wooden changing table with its washable pink vinyl surface stood prominent against the opposite wall, and above and below was a full array of paraphernalia for nappy changes. Pampers, nappy rash cream, baby powder, baby lotion, and a jar of soap for the pins sat on the shelf above. On the shelf below were piles of disposables and two stacks of terry cotton nappies as well. About a dozen pairs of pastel-coloured plastic panties were neatly piled at the end, beside a big white lidded bucket for his soiled nappies, and a smaller bin for his used disposables. His adult-sized, pink-painted wooden crib stood against the far wall, the barred side rail lowered as if waiting for him. In the matching white chest of drawers and built-in wardrobe were dresses, petticoats, and a full range of feminine tee-shirts, socks, nighties, sissy girl pyjama sets, and a couple of pairs of Maryjane shoes and some little-girl sandals. Jane's commitment to babying him seemed absolute, and he knew it wouldn't come to an end anytime soon. Signs of his baby status were scattered all around the house these days, from piles of nappies in the airing cupboard, nappies and plastic panties hanging on the washing line in the back yard, and baby things in every room. His changing bag was a very sissy, bright Barbie-pink vinyl bag, in which he kept some spare disposables, one thick cloth nappy, nappy cream, a small bottle of powder, nappy sacks, and of course, a slender tub of Pampers moist scented wipes. Mummy Jane had a bigger diaper bag that held the same, but with enough room to pack several spare cloth nappies for him, huge plastic panties and a couple of clean bibs. There was also a deep transparent PVC pocket sewn outside at one end, made for his bottle or feeding cup, and it had written on the side in bright hot-pink lettering, 'Daphne's Diaper Bag.' He picked up the life-size infant doll lying on the floor and straightened her blue gingham frock over her diaper. Jane told him she bought the doll for him because it had shoulder-length pale-blonde hair, just like him. Nanny had come up with the suggestion last month that he should carry a doll's bottle and a spare nappy or two for his dolly, Nancy. If Mummy filled the bottle with liquid and he gave Nancy her bottle, she wet her nappy. Then he had to change her diaper, just like she was a real baby. The idea was that he had to take Nancy with him, and feed and change her while they were out. So far he had only had to do it while nobody else was around, although the very idea of a grown man changing his dolly's nappy was ridiculous. He suspected he would have to do it in front of someone one day soon, and shuddered at the imagined humiliation. From the upstairs landing he heard Mummy call out, "Don't forget Nancy's bottle and her nappies, honey-bunny! She might need a change later. Oh, and where is her pram? You can bring that, too." David's heart sank. Jane knew about the new game! She was certain to make him put his dolly in the new doll's pram and wheel her about, wherever it was they were going. He waddled downstairs to fetch the pram from the playroom. It used to be his study, but over the last few months, all signs of the former male occupant had disappeared. The golfing pictures, the big cherrywood desk and the Sony Vaio laptop had all gone. Daphne had to use a slow old PC covered in pink girly logos, resting on a small whitewood child's desk. He was only allowed in to write his sissy baby stories and surf certain well-known ABDL sites, such as Sissykiss, Daily Diapers, Buffalo Betties, Petticoat Monthly, etc. One rule was that he regularly had to select favourite bits of writing to read out later to his Mummy or Nanny. The floor was untidy with his scattered toddler toys and colouring-in books, stuffed animals and Barbie doll clothes, and Bunty annuals and other early-reader titles. He had to do all the colouring in and little quizzes in each book or comic, while sitting at his little table on the small plastic chair. When each one was finished, he had to run to Mummy or Nanny, acting all excited, crying, "Wook Mummy! I done it, Mummy! I done it! Me good girl!" The pram stood next to the Wendy house, and he made sure all the diapers, plastic panties and spare dresses for his dolly Nancy were packed inside before placing her alongside them on her back. Her eyes closed as though she was sleeping peacefully, and he couldn't help smiling. He had actually started to enjoy the temporary distraction of playing with his dollies and pram, but today he felt anxious and uncertain about what Mummy had planned for him. He heard her marching downstairs, and hurriedly wheeled his pram into the hall. Jane looked stunning! Money, confidence, and pure sexuality radiated from Jane. She was wearing a tight-fitting, mid-thigh navy skirt, made from shimmering silk, glistening like oil on water with her every movement. It was tight around her slender waist, wide child-bearing hips and womanly bottom, but flared out below to flow around her shapely thighs, clad in gossamer black silk stockings. A clinging white button-front cotton blouse was loosely covered by a skimpy black satin waistcoat, her enormous breasts proudly displayed. It was an expensive outfit and she looked so tall and powerful. The muscles in her calves showed out in sharp relief and he noticed the elegant black patent high heels that somehow brought an additional sparkle to her legs and movement. Jane was only a couple of inches taller than him, and in the past, she'd been happy to pad around the house with him in flat-soled slippers or bare feet. She'd only worn high heels on special occasions, and usually with a modest two-inch heel at that. Since learning of his secret fetish however, she only seemed to wear scary high heels these days. The heels were usually pencil-thin and always more than four inches high. "The shoes are Jimmy Choos," Jane said, as if in answer to his thoughts. "Like them?" She grinned and daintily pointed one shiny black toe at him, the picture of mature sophistication. Poor David, bending forward over his dolly's pram, in his too-short sissy baby frock with his nappies and plastic panties plainly in view, in his pastel-pink Maryjanes with lacy anklet socks, and his hair in frothy bunches. What a contrast! What a sight! What shame! Jane continued in that cool calm voice which can only come from a top-drawer education. (St Paul's School for Girls, and Oxford with a first in Law, in Jane's case.) "Come on, baby girl! No sulking! You look lovely, too. For a little sissy baby who has to wear nappies, you really look the part! That dress is divine on you, so babyish! I'm so glad you ordered it. It really suits you, darling. Come here, sweetie." Mummy reached for the ring of his dummy and gently pulled it to draw him closer. "Suck and dribble, baby," she commanded in sugary baby tones. "Suck and dribble. Show Mummy." Jane watched him dribble copiously, and smeared the warm drool round his chin and cheeks with the wide plastic dummy guard. "More!" Spittle ran freely down his chin, making a shiny wet mess all over his satin dribble bib. Luckily it had a plastic backing, so his new frock wouldn't get stained. "Good girl!" Jane purred. "That's more like it! You will get a stick if you don't remember to dribble lots, sweetie. You don't want that, do you?" David frantically shook his head in denial. "Let's put your coat on." She reached into the hall cupboard and pulled out his pink anorak. It had a shiny pink finish, with fluffy white faux- fur round the collar and cuffs. It fastened down the front with large toggle-ties, and had white woollen mitts attached to each other via a ribbon that passed through the sleeves, like a small child's. Like everything else he owned it was too short, failing utterly to cover his embarrassing nappies and bulging plastic panties. Moments later Jane shrugged on her three-quarter length black leather jacket (he knew had cost her well over a thousand pounds,) and at last they were ready to go. Outside the house, there was a new X5 series Mercedes SUV in the driveway. It had a 'bambino al bordo' sign in the back Jane bought on her last trip to Rome. She said it looked cute. David realised it attracted more attention than the normal 'baby on board' sign. His Boxster had been sold months ago. "You won't need that any more," she carelessly assured him when she confiscated his car keys. "No more driving for you, baby! You're too young to drive! Anyway, we need a SUV now instead. All the best mums drive them these days." The brisk cold air felt sharp on his bare thighs, exaggerating his sense of exposure and heightening his vulnerability. Within moments he felt the natural urge to wee as the cold gripped his weakening bladder. He was about to relax and wet himself when all of a sudden, a sense of male determination gripped him, not disconnected from the loss of libido caused by his two recent cummies. Even though his nappy was already a little damp, he decided to restrain himself, and try not to wet whenever the passing urge hit him. He would go when he was alone and standing still, and when he decided to let go - consciously, like an adult. The fact it would be into a nappy was beside the point; he was trying to act like a grown-up and exercise some control. After a spasm of concentration, the urge to pee gradually faded. Jane left him standing in the drive while she piled the bags and his doll's pram in the boot. He wasn't allowed to touch the door handle of the car and he pouted in frustration. He felt so vulnerable standing there like an overgrown baby girl in full view of any passers-by, or where any of their neighbours could see him, with the chill breeze gaily fluffing out his frilly petticoats. Even though both the next-door neighbours were well aware of his sissy baby status, the people across the street didn't know. At least he didn't think so. He danced from foot to foot, impatiently waiting for Mummy to come around and open up the rear passenger door for him, so he could clamber out of sight into the bright-pink plastic booster seat in the back. When Jane opened the door for him, standing right behind him, he started to ask where they were going - a strictly forbidden question. "Shush, baby!" she sternly quietened him, with a warning smack on the bottom. "Be quiet, Baby Daphne!" He barely felt it through all the padding. "Little baby girls should be seen and not heard!" She helped him climb into the pink plastic capsule and leant right over him to fasten his seatbelt. The release clip was almost behind the hard plastic shell, well out of his limited reach. "You know better than that!" Jane scolded him, as he heard the 'click' of the latch closing. Her body was so close he could smell her perfume; her wonderful creamy breasts mere inches from his lips. He sucked harder on the teat of his dum-dums by pure reflex and a gush of saliva filled his mouth. He always wanted to suck on her nipples, no matter how ashamed he felt. She giggled at the unspoken desire in his eyes, squeezed his nose playfully, and straightened his dress and petties under his seatbelt before backing out and closing the door. The elevated booster seat raised him up and tilted him back slightly, and his dress and coat rode up so his bulging plastic panties were prominent between his legs. Despite his recent resolution to try and exercise control, David gazed down at the area of shiny pink plastic between his legs, feeling safe as the bulk of the combined disposable and cloth nappies forced his hairless thighs wide apart. The sight of his wetproof plastic panties tautly stretched over the thick protection always gave him such a wonderfully secure feeling; the deep realisation that really, he didn't have to worry about controlling his wetties and his messes anymore. As they drove away, Jane began to relax. Her submissive husband was safely strapped in the oversized toddler's carseat behind her, unable to escape his fate. She could hardly believe David had let her drag him outside dressed and diapered like a big baby girl. She glanced at the dummy-sucking sissy in the rear-view mirror and grinned to herself. He actually looked like a little girl. A very sulky young girl - pre-teen, in fact, due to the lack of bosom - albeit one dressed like an overgrown toddler. She had put him in as grown-up mood as she dared by making him cum twice this morning, but she hadn't wanted to risk a confrontation before they were safely on their way. He was absolutely not in the right frame of mind for the many humiliations that lay ahead for him. Jane wriggled her hips a little to increase the tingling sensation down there, thinking, 'Wow! This BDSM stuff makes me really randy!' She grinned to herself she gunned the powerful car quickly up to eighty down the dual carriageway, as she considered, 'I have no problem humiliating someone, if that's what they really want me to do! If it gets my baby's rocks off, why shouldn't I have some fun at the same time?' Aloud she called to her sissy in the back. "You've already earned two sticks so far this morning, baby, as you well know! Understand? Any more naughtiness out of you, and you'll go straight across Mummy's knee when we arrive at our destination. Your favourite wooden hairbrush is packed in my bag, sweetie. Understand, Daphne? Anyway, to satisfy your curiosity, we are going to Nanna's for the day. You'll like that, won't you?" What she didn't mention was that her sister Sheila and her golf-mad barrister husband Simon were going to be there as well, with their three and five-year-old daughters. A little added surprise for David! One of the most amazing side-effects of Jane's enforced conversion of David to Baby Daphne, had been the altered relationship between him and her mother. Until a few months ago, Helen had made it abundantly clear to anyone who would listen, that baby-faced David wasn't good enough for her beautiful youngest daughter. She told people the puny Lothario probably only married Jane for her money, and the chance for rapid promotion in the family firm. Of course she was absolutely right! David never quite got the relationship right with his disapproving mother-in-law, and was by turns alternately gauche or overbearing. The truth was; he was completely intimidated by her voluptuous good-looks and disdainful manner. She was like a taller, bossier, more domineering version of his beautiful wife - with bigger tits and way more attitude. He overcompensated by behaving inappropriately around her or making endless faux-pas. Above all, he was scared spitless of Helen! Now that Helen's woman's intuition had been proven correct for all to see - David was clearly a little sissy pantywaist - they seemed to get on much better. David no longer had to struggle to impress her, although he tried his best to behave like the little baby girl he was being trained to be, especially when Helen was babysitting him. He subconsciously realised that he had nothing more to prove to her, and he could relax and be his true submissive sissy self. That was something he could do well! Helen was satisfied, as she had obviously been proven right all along. As a result, she was much more at ease with her slender sissy son-in-law. Expecting nothing from his manly side, she was happy to treat him like a silly little girl in nappies. On this basis, they got on perfectly - as Nanna and Baby Daphne. Jane had arranged for Helen to look after David for one day each week, which gave her and Emma the Nanny some time off. In recent weeks Nanna had become sufficiently relaxed to let David talk to her about more everyday things. She always made him speak with a dummy in his mouth though, with wet streams of dribble trickling down his chin onto one of his ever-present bibs. He had to lisp and use his normal high-pitched baby-talk, but he was able to tell Helen how he really felt about his new sissy life. Sitting on the rug in her elegant lounge with his pretty dress fluffed out by petticoats, often after lunch when she was having a coffee and he his bottle, he would be allowed 'off the record.' He spoke of things not permitted by Mummy at home, to tell Nanna of his fears about being turned into a full-time sissy baby. Nanna Helen always consoled him, offering the reassurance that Jane was only doing what he really wanted - deep down - and he should just relax and let it happen. The 'big man' in him always dissolved in front of this elegant assured older woman whom he had once feared, but now was starting to really like - even love - in a strange but submissive way. Although he didn't have the slightest suspicion of the truth, Jane's mother Helen had been the chief architect of his current infantile demise. Six months ago, Jane had assumed David's lack of desire for her and his poor performance in bed were indications he was having an affair. The following Saturday afternoon when he was at the golf club, she swallowed her scruples and searched his laptop. Her friend Fiona, who was head of the security division of their company, had agreed to provide her with a de-encryption code to break his password. "Why do you want to search David's computer?" The heavy-set redhead asked, screwing up her pug features in concern. "I don't know for sure," Jane confessed with a guilty grimace. "It's just that - I know he's up to something, Fi." "Women's intuition, huh?" Fiona suggested with a sympathetic smile. Jane shrugged her shoulders. "Please don't mention this to the girls," Jane pleaded. "Cathy and Isabell have already been giving me a hard time for marrying him." "Don't worry. I won't say a word," Fiona promised, handing her he memory stick. "And if you need anything else - like spy cameras or recording devices, let me know. I also have access to software which allows you to monitor his emails and track his phone, if you're interested." "This will do fine for now," Jane replied, holding up the memory stick with the de-encryption code. "Thanks Fi. I must run." "Don't mention it. See you for drinks on Friday night." It wasn't evidence of an affair Jane had discovered on David's laptop. She was incredulous when she uncovered reams of incriminating material on sissies and adult babies. She found long detailed letters from David detailing his unspoken desires to other sissies like him, and a well- hidden 'favourites' list which contained all the well-known sissy-baby sites. When she subsequently searched for and found his stash of big baby girl things, she went crying to her mother, ranting of divorce. Helen wouldn't hear of it! "Don't be ridiculous, Jane!" she scoffed, as she examined the suitcase full of big nappies and oversized toddler frocks her distressed daughter had brought over. "He'll take you and our family to the cleaners! He'll get half your house - the one I paid for, by the way! The big baby will sue you for half your shares and half your income. For what? Why do we want to pay out the effeminate little drip? Have your freedom, yes - but not a divorce." It was Helen who planted the idea to baby him. "Give him what he apparently seems to want," she suggested to her distressed daughter with a wicked grin. "If you can trap him in his submissive sissy-baby persona, you can take away his independence and control him." Helen argued that he would be soon hooked and helpless, and she promised Jane, "You can then take back your life and start again - if you want to. In a year's time - if you like - we can offer him a small settlement. If my plan works, he will be too ashamed and too deeply ingrained in his sissy-baby role by then to do anything but accept our meagre offer. Also," she added significantly, "if we can convince him to quit his job in the firm, we can finally employ someone who really knows how to market our products properly - like Jake, who resigned last month because David was such a lousy boss." Helen came up with the wonderfully convincing line, "An expensive Nanny is a hell of a lot cheaper than a messy divorce! You know I'm right!" The more they discussed the matter, the more Helen's outrageous plan made sense to Jane. Of course they both acknowledged it might be a difficult scheme to pull off. One night a few weeks later when Jane was going through a phase of self-doubt, she brought over her laptop and showed her mother some photos of her husband she'd found and copied, which David had taken of himself and stored on his computer. He was sitting on the floor of their lounge holding a baby dolly, wearing a little-girl dress short enough to show off his bulky cloth nappy and transparent pink plastic panties. The picture was completed by his black-patent Maryjanes, frilly white anklet socks, and a pink Alice band in his hair. Helen laughed uproariously and her distraught daughter eventually joined in. Soon they were almost in hysterics. For Jane, it was mostly relief from the weeks of accumulated stress and tension. Helen burbled through her laughter, "He - or she - looks quite sweet, really." She glanced meaningfully at her daughter. "She looks rather helpless - as though she really needs her Mummy." Jane pointed at her guffawing mother and tartly responded, "And a Nanna, too!" They both collapsed in hysterics again. When they had calmed down, Helen commented, "You know, I wouldn't mind babysitting David and changing his nappies occasionally. It would probably take him down a peg - or ten!" "He'd probably like that!" Jane scoffed. 'You should read some of the humiliation fantasies he's written and posted on some of the sissy-baby sites. Here, let me show you." From that night on, Jane grew more determined to follow her mother's sage advice. The first step was to convince David to let his hair grow longer, telling him "It will look much more attractive with a bit of length - more modern." It was a simple request and he readily agreed. He secretly thought his face looked more feminine when he had longer hair. Jane put concealed key-log software on her husband's laptop and was soon following his every surf, building up a complete picture of his secret likes and dislikes. She found his private baby email address, and watched him when he chatted online to other men who wanted to be sissies, too. He poured out his longing to them to be treated like a naughty baby girl, kept in nappies 24/7, wet and dirty. He seemed to want to be trapped in his sissy baby state! Jane realised that although he wrote these things, there was a risk he probably wouldn't really want to be treated like a sissy baby all the time. He could demand a divorce when confronted with his choice. Jane was nothing if not resourceful. The fact that she tracked David's every electronic move for months without ever saying a word to him was proof enough, but her next step was pure genius. She made contact with a professional dominatrix she knew David had visited a couple of times - a self-advertised Adult-Baby Nanny, to find out more about how she treated the sissy babies she was paid to look after. Jane paid Denise for the first visit, of course, and didn't mention her husband was one of her old clients. The beautiful blonde hesitantly explained, "My boyfriend likes to wear diapers and dress up like a little girl, sometimes. But he's very shy about it, and reluctant to reveal his needs. I want to learn how to mother a big sissy baby. To do things that excite him and make him want me, and desire me more than ever!" Denise grinned and replied, "I think I can help you with that." After Jane had broken down the buxom brunette's reserve, the professional Nanny was very forthcoming. Her favourite bon-mot was, "Men keep their brains in their balls." Her advice was, "Keep him wanting more, keep him excited, and only let him cum occasionally. Make him think that if he behaves, a bigger thrill is just round the corner. You've got great tits and a great arse, Jane. Taunt him with your body. Make him want you, but slowly withdraw your favours as he becomes ever more committed to his infantile role. Remember; he will have fantasised about being your sissy baby ever since he first met you. Most adult babies have normally been like this all their lives, especially the transvestites. They repeatedly try and kick the habit, but they always return. Always! They can?t help themselves! Watch out though, in the early stages. After he cums, he will want to return to adulthood in a flash. He wants you to think he is still a normal man, and he?ll beg and plead to be allowed to dress normally. That?s when you must take control.? Jane even persuaded Denise to let her watch a few sessions while the Mistress babysat some of her AB clients - getting paid twice over by the client, if Denise had anything to do with it. A few men were happy and willing to pay an additional fee for the presence of the beautiful busty blonde with the severe attitude. It was in Denise?s Nursery/dungeon that Jane learned to use a wide, long-handled wooden hairbrush on a naughty male rear end. How to balance a grown man over her lap so his bottom was perfectly positioned, upthrust and quivering, waiting for her attention. She was taught to use the thick leather strap and the cane with frightening accuracy, and with enough force to be real punishment. Jane was surprised how aroused beating some hapless male?s bottom usually made her feel. When she changed into her street clothes after a session, the cotton gusset of her panties was always a little moist with her secretions. Jane had helped Denise humiliate her clients in some unbelievable ways - and found she enjoyed it! She usually had to masturbate as soon as she arrived home afterwards, and some of the subsequent orgasms had been earth-shattering! She had been amazed and bemused by the number of men who outside that room seemed like normal regular blokes, but in Denise?s Nursery - they behaved like little sissy babies dressed in nappies and a variety of cute little frilly frocks. A rare few wanted to be little baby boys, but most wanted to be toddler sissies or baby girls. Denise informed Jane that the ?little girls? were mostly heterosexual and usually craved a dominant Mummy-figure in real life. Above all, Jane learned to stand quite still and glare down at some hapless cringing client who was begging to be put in a nappy, and by the sheer force of her strong personality and with a very quiet authoritarian upper-class tone, make him drop his pants and bend over and ask - even beg her - for the cane! Denise used to say afterwards, ?My God! I hope you haven't scared him off!? Later she would phone Jane and tell her, ?You know so-and-so? He wants you to come again, and he?ll pay extra next time!? After two months of twice-weekly sessions, Jane knew she was getting the hang of it. She grew increasingly eager to practice her newly-acquired skills on her submissive sissy husband. As they sped along the motorway, Jane thought about what lay ahead. Her sister and Simon the barrister knew all about David?s odd predilections, of course. They had seen the photos, and were reasonably relaxed about their two pre-school girls seeing ?Baby Daphne? in her nappies and a baby dress. Simon had set one condition; if David needed a spanking, it wasn't to be done in front of the girls. Simon was great; nothing phased him! He seemed to know a little about everything. He even told Jane and Sheila a lot about adult babies. Apparently Simon had a case once where the subject came up. He was however, a real alpha-male. Sheila loved him for his masculinity and forgave him his odd indiscretion. She knew he loved her, but he needed, as he once put it, a bit of ?outside practice? from time to time. He told her it was necessary to make sure he remained in top form, to have good sex with her and know all the latest tricks. The busty blonde was submissive by nature, and allowed her husband to play up occasionally - as long as he always came home to her. Jane knew her sister and Simon had an active sex life. Sheila had boasted of her husband?s prowess on several occasions, and one time when she?d had too much to drink, she confessed to her kid sister that she and David liked to ?role-play? now and then. ?He likes me to dress up in a school uniform for him sometimes, and he plays the strict teacher. It?s so much fun!? Sheila told Jane one night, her eyes sparkling. Looking concerned, Jane had asked, ?You don?t let him spank you, do you?? ?Sometimes,? Sheila confessed with a drunken giggle. ?It doesn?t really hurt that much,? she hastened to reassure her kid sister. ?And afterwards he?s so horny, the sex is fantastic!? As Jane drove towards her mother?s place, she looked forward to catching up with her sister and Simon. They were such a fun couple. To be continued in chapter 3 If you?re enjoying this naughty sissy-baby tale, please post a comment or a review here. I love to read what you think. Hugs from Baby Jennie