Memories 5

 

I was surprised to discover how much I enjoyed doing this. Of course the fact that sitting in the playpen with messy diapers made me feel very babyish was a big part of this feeling of wellbeing. But there was more . I was very aware of the sensual feeling of the poop coming out of my little hole and of the soft, warm mass, engulfing my private parts.  I even liked the smell.”

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You will find the preceding chapters of this story in “categories” under “Memories”, with the different chapters in reversed order. To find the first chapter you just have to scroll down to the bottom.

 

Chapter 5

  

The next day Jennifer had some shopping to do and we drove to a brand new shopping small, a concept we didn’t know in Europe yet at the time. She made me put on grey, tight fitting, shorts, under a white polo shirt, which made me look like an English school boy. I hated the boring look, but realized that I couldn’t go shopping wearing a dress or baby clothes of course.

In the mall we went to a department store where Jennifer was looking at the baby clothes when I was attracted by the girl’s clothes section a little bit further. Going over there to have a closer look, my attention was caught by a collection of accessories. I suddenly longed to be a girl again and to be able to wear colorful bracelets, hairpins and earrings.

Looking furtively around if nobody was watching me I tried on a couple of bracelets and watched myself in the mirror. I looked silly wearing bracelets with boy’s clothes but nevertheless I tried on other stuff. I was soon completely absorbed by it, trying to imagine how it would look if I wore a dress, and didn’t notice Jenifer coming over – pushing David in his stroller – until she was standing next to me: “They look lovely on you”. I jumped up, blushing once more. Jennifer looked at the rack and taking out a headband with a big flower attached to it, suggested its color would go well with the bracelets I was wearing, and before I could react she had me try on the headband. This encouraged me to go on trying other stuff, under the amused eye of Jennifer. After a while I decided which bracelets, and which butterfly-shaped hairpins I liked most, and she offered to buy them for me. At that very moment a salesperson came over: “Going to a hippy party?” Jennifer was as surprised as me and was speechless for a split second, but then smiled at the saleswoman: “Yes indeed, he is invited to a themed birthday party where everybody has to be dressed a hippy. We just made our choice, didn’t we Chris?”  Not able to speak I nodded and handed the selected accessories to the saleswoman, following her to the cash register.

I was all excited, thanking Jenifer with a big hug, and, with the prospect of putting on my new things, was ready to go home immediately. But Jennifer had more shopping to do and we continued. A little while later David messed up his diapers and Jennifer, taking him to the changing room, told me to wait for them in the toys’ store that we had just passed. As I obediently turned around to go to the shop she stopped me. Thanking me for having been such good company since I had arrived she wanted to buy me a real present, telling me to go and choose something in the store. I was of course very excited and giving her another hug wanted to hurry to the store, but when Jennifer asked if I had any idea what I was going to look for I had no clue. She smiled, and bending over she whispered in my ear: “I think my little baby girl would love to have a nice dolly, don’t you think so?”  Once more I turned all red, but she was right, I would love to get a nice doll.

Entering the store I went straight to the dolls section where I was overwhelmed by the choice. At first I was attracted to the life size baby dolls, but then my attention got caught by the Barbie’s and Dawn dolls, only to go back to the talking  and walking mechanical dolls. I would have loved to have them all. As could have been expected after a while I was interrupted by a salesperson who asked if I needed any help. Blushing for the umpteenth time that day I stuttered I was just looking. The woman gave me a strange look and then insisted, asking if I was looking for something specific. I managed to answer that I was looking for a present for my little niece.

The attitude of the saleswoman changed completely: “Oh, how nice! And how old is your little niece?” Again I was completely taken by surprise and stammered I didn’t know. Very patiently the woman asked if my niece was going to kindergarten. By that time I was recovering my senses and I answered she was going to start primary school. The next question was how much I had planned to spend on the present. Again I couldn’t answer, but luckily Jennifer arrived at that moment.  She was clearly intrigued by the scene and asked if I had made my choice. Relieved I answered I couldn’t make up my mind as I didn’t know how much I could spend. Generous as always Jenifer answered that was of no importance, I just had to choose what fancied me most.

Afraid that the saleswoman would find out the doll was for me I wanted to get it over with as fast as possible. I took a large life-sized baby doll out of the rack and said I thought Beth would love that one. Jenifer understanding what I had told the lady, laughed, and began teasing me: “Don’t you think Beth is somewhat old for that?” The saleswoman interrupted her by saying that she understood the little girl was 6 and that many girls of that age loved the doll.

Jenifer corrected her: “Oh no, the girl is 11 years old!” And then she turned to me in mock surprise: “But why have you said Beth was only 6?”  I was horrified and looked at her with pleading eyes. But she continued in her teasing way: “OK, let’s buy the doll and if Beth doesn’t like it you can keep it yourself. I guess that’s what you are really after, no?”  The horror continued when she turned to the flabbergasted woman and said in a confidential tone: “He will never admit it, but he loves to play with dolls”

The woman looked at us not knowing how to react, kept quiet, and taking the doll walked towards the cash register. Jenifer winked at me and then we followed the lady. While Jennifer paid the lady asked an assistant to gift-wrap the doll.  In the car the large pack was sitting between me and David, making me anxious to get home. But I was even more excited with the idea to put on the bracelets and hairpins that Jennifer had put in her bag. When getting home I asked Jennifer if I could put on my presents and open the package she told me to be patient, that she first wanted to diaper me before I had an accident. I loved to be diapered so I promised to be patient. When she had pinned on the diapers and pulled up the plastic pants she opened still another present that she had bought without me noticing it.

When I saw the pretty sundress that she took out I was overjoyed. It was a cute green dress that was fastened over the shoulders with blue ribbons knotted in nice bows. On the front it had 2 little fishes and a starfish with a smiling face on it. The skirt fell to my knees completely covering my diapers and plastic pants. As until then she had always dressed me with short dresses over assorted baby pants I began to wonder if she wanted to take me out dressed like this. Exciting, but at the same time disturbing, idea. With my short hairs I didn’t really look like a girl anymore although dressed like that people would still think I was one. But what if we met someone we knew?

When I was dressed she finally took out the small packs with the accessories and put two butterfly pins in my – short – hair, and helped me put on the bracelets. When she told me to look in the mirror I agreed I looked very cute, and completely girlish.

I spend the rest of the day happily playing with my new doll, sucking on a pacifier.

The next day Jennifer decided we would have a quiet day at home. I understood that that meant I was going to be babied all day but I didn’t mind. To be honest, I think I was very excited with the prospect of being a little baby for a whole day.

That morning, in what had become the daily scenario, baby David had woken me up by making little noises in his cradle. As the crib was too small for him and he risked falling by trying to climb out of it he was attached with a baby harness. But that didn’t seem to annoy him at all. The harness permitted him to sit on his knees to play. As I woke up I also sat on my knees holding the side panel of my cod with my hands and we “talked” to each other making funny noises until Jennifer came to take us out of bed.

She lowered the side panel of my cod bed and checked my diapers (“Gosh Chris, your diapers are soaked! But I guess they will hold out until after breakfast.”) , took David out of his crib (“You are almost as wet as your big sister.”), and, taking me by the hand, led us to the kitchen.

David was installed in his high chair and she fastened a bib around both our necks and then served us a bowl of oatmeal that she spoon-fed simultaneously to the two of us giving a spoonful to each one alternatively

After breakfast we went to the bathroom where she took off our wet diapers and we were put in bath. I loved to play with little David in the water, holding him between my legs and having water run over his face as his shrieked with pleasure. Or sitting on opposite sides of the bath facing each other with our legs open and making the plastic ducks and boats float to each other. But the best moment of the bath was of course standing up and having Jennifer wash me from top to toe.

After bath she first diapered David. I loved to watch her put on the little baby’s diaper.  To watch how she laid him down on the changing table, richly powdered his chubby legs, softly rubbing the powder everywhere, and then lifting his legs pushing the folded cloth diaper underneath his bottom, fold the diapers around his legs and fasten them with safety pins, to end the whole process with pulling up plastic pants. She next dressed him in a short legged romper fitting around his short chubby legs with elastics.

I loved to watch the whole process knowing that next it would be my turn. She told me to wait while she carried David to his pen. When she came back she told me to come out of the bath and then wrapping me in a large towel dried me vigorously. Next I had to lay on the ground where she, kneeling next to me, proceeded exactly in the same way as with David. I loved the feeling and the smell of the baby powder, but the high point was always the moment she tightly folded the heavy cloth diapers around my legs and fastened them with safety pins. But having to stand up so that she could pull up the plastic pants, having them snap around each leg, was almost as good. I was happy to see she took out the sundress from the previous day for me to wear again.

When I was ready she took out some toys and sat down on the floor with us to play. I began building a tower with the building blocks and proudly showed her how good I was. David tried to imitate me but of course wasn’t able to put more than two blocks on top of each other. I made fun of him, in a friendly teasing way. Jennifer seemed amused by the idea that I was making it seem like a competition between me and the 9 month old baby.

She went away and came back holding a roll of duck-tape in her hands. Telling me to come over she told me to hold out my hands and proceeded to tape my fingers together, leaving only my thumbs free. She smiled broadly: “Let’s see who builds the best towers now.”

I soon discovered how hard it was to take the blocks with bandaged hands and to try to deposit one block on top of the other this way. But after a few attempts I got it under control and was rewarded with a big hug from Jennifer. As in the meantime David had messed up his pants she was going to change him but before leaving me alone handed me a coloring book and pencils, instructing me to try to keep within the lines as well as possible.

Coloring with my fingers taped together proved to be extremely hard and the result looked as if a 2 year old had been doing it. But this didn’t annoy me at all, on the contrary realizing she was turning me ever more into a baby made me feel happy.

When Jennifer came back she looked at my work, smiled, and sitting next to me gave me a kiss, telling I was doing great. She had put David in his playpen and told me to join him, after what she disappeared to the kitchen soon coming back holding a baby bottle of milk for each of us.

When we had finished drinking our bottles she asked if we wanted to go out for a walk in the garden. It was a rhetorical question to which she wasn’t expecting any answer. Nevertheless, looking at the way I was dressed, I wanted to tell her I thought we were doing fine at home but she anticipated it by taking my hand and telling me to climb out of the pen as she was going to change me into a more appropriate outfit. I happily followed her to the bathroom where she first checked my diapers – which were still dry – and then took off the dress, and untaped my fingers.

She helped me into a white dress shirt with a Peter Pan collar. This wasn’t exactly the kind of shirt that 12 year old boys wore but I was already relieved she wasn’t taking me out wearing a dress, so I led her button up the shirt. She then took out a garment I had never seen before. It was a kind of short-all but without a waste and with short wide pipes, closing with a zip in the back. It looked like a kind of straight jumper dress of which the skirt had been replaced with shorts. I wasn’t very sure I liked it but Jennifer told me I would be very cute in it and so I let her help me putting it on. The outfit was completed with white knee-high socks and white open shoes.  I knew it looked very childish but  again with Jennifer insisting so much that I looked lovely I didn’t protest. 

A little later we were walking in the park surrounding the building were we lived, me in my childish outfit pushing little David in his stroller. We went straight to the part of the garden where a small play park with a large sandbox was installed. Jennifer took some toys out of a bag, installed David in a quiet corner of the box and helped him playing. It didn’t took very long before she had me sitting in the sand next to David, playing with little forms too, while she installed herself with a book on a bench.

After a while I suddenly heard voices behind my back and when I turned saw Jennifer talking with a girl one or two years older than me, wearing riding pants, boots and a riding cap. I immediately recognized her. Jennifer had introduced me to her and a couple of her friends a couple of days earlier, when we had run into them when preparing to leave for my grandfather’s party. I had been very proud of the admiring way the girls had looked at me with my smart blazer and dress pants. Now she was looking at me in a very different way, her mouth open in amazement.

Blushing very hard I completely froze. But then, without realizing what I was doing, I rose and walked towards them, automatically swiping the sand of my bottom. Feeling how the slightly humid sand had wetted my bottom I suddenly became very aware of my diapers.  At that moment I heard Jennifer asking the girl if she had some time: “I should go over to Julian – the janitor – to make some arrangements, but don’t want to leave my two boys on their own. Can you keep an eye on them while I walk over to him? It won’t take long”

I turned even redder and the girl didn’t know how to react. As I stammered that I could watch over David, Jennifer smiled gently: “I know darling. I love to watch how the two of you play well together, but still, I would feel safer if I knew someone a little older would keep an eye on the two of you.”  She turned again to the girl who was still flabbergasted but, beginning to get intrigued and amused by the situation, said she had nothing else to do and would be glad to wait for Jennifer to come back.  Jennifer thanked her, tapped me on the bottom – reminding me even more that I was wearing diapers and plastic pants – and told me to rejoin David.  Meekly I turned away feeling the eyes of the girl in my back … and on my bottom.

I sat down in the sand next to David but wasn’t able to play anymore. I was just sitting there when she walked over to us: “How old are you?”  I turned around and looked into her sincerely curious face. Realizing she was not trying to make fun of me I answered truthfully:  “Twelve, and in a couple of months I will be 13.”  “Wow, you look younger! I am 13 but I will be 14 in 3 weeks. Why do you wear such childish clothes?”  I blushed once more: “Euh, because my cousin Jennifer makes me.” “She does?”  I felt like I was accusing Jennifer of doing me wrong so I added that I liked the outfit. “It is very convenient for playing”. I immediately realized that attiring her attention to the fact that I was playing in a sand box was not a very smart thing to do.  She looked at what I had been doing and noticed the little figures of flowers and animals I had made in the sand using plastic forms. She realized baby David was way too you young to have made them: “Have you made those?” I nodded. “Yeah, I was showing how to do it to David.” I lied.

She looked at me ever more intrigued. “Can you show me too?” This time she was making fun of me but not knowing what else to do I filled a form of a little duck with sand, pressed the sand in it, and then, having prepared a flat place in the sand, I tuned the form around and posed it on the flat part. When I took away the form I had made a nice duck in the sand. I looked at the girl who clapped her hands in mock congratulations: “That’s a nice duck you have made!”

Knowing she was making fun of I looked down. “What more can you do? Let’s see what other toys you have brought.” She looked around and discovered a large plastic sifter. “Ah, do you know how to make sugarcoated pastries?” I immediately understood what she meant. I hesitated for a second but then nodded and taking the sifter, filled it with dry sand and sifted it on top of some of the small sand figures.  Again she clapped her hands,  but at that moment David, who had been playing on his own, lost his balance and falling with his face in the sand began crying. The girl immediately took him in her arms and, trying to sooth him, walked away with him. When he stopped crying she put him in the grass and taking a large plastic ball rolled the ball towards him. He was able to grasp it and then, on her asking, pushed it back towards her. As the lawn was slightly sloping and he was sitting higher than she, the ball slowly rolled in her direction. She congratulated him loudly and then repeated the little game. I watched them from a distance, relieved the attention had been turned away from me, but at the same time I felt slightly jealous.

After a few minutes she noticed I had stopped playing and was watching them. She smiled, and in a condescending way, asked if I wanted to join them. My first instinct was to say no, but she half-mockingly insisted and a few seconds later I was sitting next to them pushing the ball from one to the other. I tried to assume the same attitude as the girl, participating but making it clear that I did it to help her take care of the little baby.

When David pushed the ball in the wrong direction and it slowly rolled away, I jumped on my knees and crawled on hands and knees behind the ball. Doing so I exposed my bottom to the girl, not aware that the pipes of my jumper had shifted upwards and that on each side the plastic pants were showing.

When I turned around I looked straight in her surprised eyes. She was watching me open-mouthed, wanting to say something but unable to do so.  Following her gaze I looked down and suddenly realized what she had seen. Blushing again I instinctively pulled the pipes of my shorts down, looking around for a way out of this more than awkward situation.

At that moment I heard the voice of Jennifer: “He is a very special boy, isn’t he?” Both the girl and I turned around looking straight into the smiling kind face of my cousin. “Chrissie and I think that nowadays kids grow up way too fast. That’s why we decided that he could be a little kid as long as he wanted to. Isn’t that sweet?” 

The girl look at me even more flabbergasted. Then, thinking it was a joke, she erupted in a loud laugh: “Sure you like to dress like a moron, and to wear diapers?”  I wanted to answer that indeed I did, but Jenifer, probably understanding that the girl was not going to understand anyway, changed tactics: “Oh no, that is something else! I make him wear diapers because when he plays he wets his pants sometimes and when that happens that’s so embarrassing for the poor boy. Besides I don’t like to have to wash his clothes all the time.”

I looked at her in disbelief. The girl had stopped laughing, ever more surprised with the situation, but, deciding to belief Jenifer’s explanation, gave me a look filled with pity. Jennifer decided it had been enough, that it was time to separate us from the girl, so before she could react Jenifer thanked her and began putting the toys in the bag saying it was time for her two babies to take a little rest, “as they surely were very tired after playing so well.”

The girl, relieved to be able to leave us, gave a kiss to David, said good bye to Jennifer, and then turning awkwardly to me,  didn’t know what to do. She murmured a good bye in my direction, vaguely waving with her hand, and then turning on her heels, hurried away.

I felt horribly humiliated but at the same time having the girl think I really didn’t control my bladder made me feel really small and that was a nice feeling. When Jennifer had installed David in his stroller and began pushing him, she extended her hand which I eagerly grabbed. I vividly remember as if it was yesterday, walking at the hand of my beautiful, loving, cousin, nervously looking around, afraid we might run into the girl and her friends. But at the same time holding Jennifer’s hand reassured me, and I think I secretly hoped to meet the girl on our way home, because I was proud to be Jennifer’s little kid.

At home Jennifer put us in bed for our nap, wearing nothing but diapers, plastic pants and a little shirt. Those naps too had become a habit. I remember that in the beginning I had problems falling asleep in the middle of the day, but after a while I got used to it and fell asleep immediately. After about an hour she woke us up to have lunch. Before falling asleep I of course had wet my diapers, because I had become addicted to the feeling of the warm wetness spreading around my bottom. When Jennifer told me to come out of the cod bed she checked my diapers and feeling the heaviness between my legs laughed, saying I was becoming a real baby. She put on our bibs, and spoon-fed the vegetable mash to her two babies. By that time I didn’t even think about eating by myself anymore.

After lunch she changed my diapers and dressed me in a cute romper she had knitted herself. It was made in a pink and white gingham fabric, with a plastic lining. It consisted of baby pants, closing with press buttons on either side, and fitting with elastics around the legs, with a bib and braces that crossed in the back. I was the most babyish outfit she had ever asked me to wear but I didn’t care. On the contrary I loved it.  And I wasn’t surprised when she taped my fingers again, this time even including my thumb.

The afternoon we stayed inside playing, interrupted only for the fruit mash, after which David was put back in bed for another nap, but I was allowed to stay up. At the end of the afternoon she served both of us some sandwiches with jam which she had cut in small pieces and of which she had discarded the crumbs, and then the 3 of us sat on the couch with Jenifer in the middle, reading from a children’s book. Suddenly I felt I had to relief my bowels. When I asked Jennifer to help me to the toilet, – with my taped hands I couldn’t do it myself, but anyway I was becoming so used to being helped with everything I would have asked her even if my hands had been free -, she looked a little bit annoyed having to interrupt the reading, but then smiled maliciously: “Why do you think you are wearing diapers?”

I looked at her in disbelief, she couldn’t be serious. But she smiled calmly: “Don’t be shy. All little babies mess their diapers”. And she resumed reading. I couldn’t decide to do it so I sat back and tried to get interested in the story again, but grew increasingly uncomfortable. Some ten minutes later we came to the last page of the book and Jennifer took David to give him his bath telling me to climb into the pen and to be a good boy playing by myself.

Once in the pen the need to relief myself became too big. I sat on my knees and, pushing, I immediately felt some poop coming out. I was surprised by the swiftness and, ashamed by what I had done, sat down. I felt the poop spread out a little bit and I liked the feeling. I sat back on my knees and pushed again, longer than the first time, and felt the warm sticking mass coming out looking for a place in my diapers. Sitting down again I began shifting back and forth on my bottom, feeling the poop spread all over.

I was surprised to discover how much I enjoyed doing this. Of course the fact that sitting in the playpen with messy diapers made me feel very babyish was a big part of this feeling of wellbeing. But there was more. I was very aware of the sensual feeling of the poop coming out of my little hole and of the soft, warm, mass, engulfing my private parts.  I even liked the smell.

When Jennifer entered the room she immediately smelled what had happened, and smiled: “Little Chrissie has done a big poopoo? That’s a good baby! Come, Jenny is going to have you all cleaned up!”

She reached out her hand which I grabbed, climbing out of the pen and following her to the bathroom to get washed and diapered again. I loved being washed nevertheless I would have like to keep my messy diapers a little longer. But there would be other days I thought happily.

-         To be continued  –

Memories 4

When baby David was dressed in a cute little romper I was wondering what she had in mind for me, and I wasn’t disappointed. She had me put on a very short gingham nightdress, closing with a row of buttons in the back and with short sleeves, and even better, it came with assorted blooming baby pants. Feeling completely like a little baby girl I was overwhelmed with happiness. I flung my arms around Jenifer’s neck and hugged her very hard. She hugged me back and laughed: “I knew you would like to be my little baby girl!””

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 You will find the preceding chapters of this story in “categories” under “Memories”, with the different chapters in reversed order. To find the first chapter you just have to scroll down to the bottom.

 Chapter 4

 

The following days I longed for Jennifer to diaper me again but I didn’t dare to ask and she seemed to have completely forgotten the incident. Soon afterwards my mother came home and Jennifer’s day of return to the States approached. The day before her departure she took me apart and told me how much she had enjoyed my company. Tears welling up in my eyes I answered that I would miss her very much. She hesitated for a while in silence, and then asked if I would like to spend the coming summer with her in Chicago. I couldn’t believe my ears and without hesitation cried out “Yes”, and jumped around her neck. She smiled and after I had calmed down she told me not to get carried away too fast. It would mean I would have to become a boy again, at least during my stay over there, as we would of course meet other family members. I hadn’t thought about that and the prospect didn’t appeal. But still, if that was the price to pay to spend the summer with my big love, I would gladly pay it. We agreed that Jennifer would talk it over with my mother and then we would see.

That same evening everything was settled. I could hardly wait for the two following months to pass but finally d-day arrived.

 After Jennifer had left my mother told me to stop wearing earrings and my ear-piercings had mostly closed. Together we carefully selected the wardrobe I would be taking. Although the financial situation was much better than a couple of years before we were still living on a strict budget. But without hardly buying any new clothes my luggage – consisting mostly of jeans, T-shirts and sweaters – could have been that of any other boy my age. The only new clothes were light coloured summer trousers and a blue blazer, – that I was supposed to wear on “formal” family occasions – , new shoes and boy’s underwear. I hated the plain white briefs and sleeveless shirts, but that couldn’t temper my excitement to travel to the States and the prospect to spend the summer with Jenifer.

 

As the day of my departure approached I was more and more in love with my beautiful cousin.  When she had been in Europe I had overheard her complain to my mother that living as a woman alone with a child without husband was sometimes hard. So I imagined I would be the “man” in the household helping her to take care of little David. I calculated that when I would be 18 years old she would only be 32, and I would ask her to marry me. I promised myself that before I came back to Europe I would declare her my love and, convinced she loved me too, ask her to wait for me.

The day before I left my mother cut my hair short, and I took off the little hanger I always wore around my neck. The next day I dressed in blue jeans, and a light blue dress shirt under a grey sweater, with brown leather shoes with laces. When I looked in the mirror I was very surprised, but my cousins told me I looked very sharp and, teasingly added that all the girls would fall in love with me. With heartache I looked at the basket with bracelets and hangers that I would have to forgo from now on, but then shrugged and said I was all set to go.

Jennifer was waiting for me at the airport with little David.  She took me by my shoulders and repeated over and what a good looking boy I was, giving me a long hug. I was very happy to find both of them. Jennifer was even better looking than I had remembered and little David, who by now was 9 months old, seemed to recognise me and seemed happy to see me. Taking him out of his trailer, I covered him with kisses. While the two of us were playing, a lady was looking on, and remarked to Jennifer that it was rare for a boy my age to be so interested in a little baby. I heard the remark and turned red. Jennifer laughed and answered that I was indeed different from the other boys. This remark made me very happy, as it confirmed my conviction she didn’t consider me to be in the same ways as the other boys my age. Proudly I put David back in his trolley and began pushing him towards the exit, followed by Jennifer who was pushing the cart with my luggage.

Jennifer lived in an apartment in the middle of a nice green, lake-side garden, at about an hour drive from O’Hare airport. When we got there I had been travelling for more than 12 hours, and I was exhausted. Local time was 7 o’ clock in the afternoon but for me it was 1 o clock at night. Jennifer realized I was tired and suggested I would go to bed immediately, but asked if I wanted to eat first. When I said yes she put David in his park, and installed me at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereals. At the moment I wanted to lift the first spoon she stopped me, and to my surprise showed me a children’s bib saying she wanted me to wear it to protect my sweater. I looked at her thinking she was making a joke, but she seemed to think this was a quiet normal suggestion. I couldn’t believe it and protested strongly. She seemed surprised but didn’t insist.

Ten minutes later I was shown the bathroom and asked if I wanted to take a shower before putting on my pyjamas. When I said I was too tired she said she understood and that I would catch up the next day. She helped me undress, which I found a little awkward, but I was in a kind of a daze and didn’t really realize what was going on. While she undressed me she explained it was a small apartment and I would have to share the room with baby David, which of course I didn’t mind. And then after a second of hesitation she said she hoped the bed would be big enough, as I was taller than she had remembered. Again I didn’t register really what she was saying, until we got to the room. It was a large bright, pastel coloured room. There was a traditional white rocking baby cradle standing next to the window, and next to the wall I saw a white cot bed with wooden bars. She showed me the cot and apologetically asked if I thought I would fit in. I looked at her in disbelief but she lifted her shoulders explaining that she hadn’t any place to put another bed and had decided to put David back in his cradle so that I could use his crib: “It measures 1,50 m, and you always sleep rolled up anyway, so I suppose you’ll be fine, no?”

I was never very tall and probably measured about 1,50 at that time, and did indeed always sleep with my legs pulled up, so she was probably right that I would be fine sleeping in the cot bed. I approached the bed and with Jennifer’s encouragement climbed over the side to test it. I lied down on my side and pulled up my legs. I was really exhausted so lying on the soft mattress felt great. I smiled at Jennifer and told her I would be fine. I wanted to climb out but she said I should stay where I was and go to sleep immediately. As she bend over to give me a kiss I sat on my knees and holding the side bar with both hands bend forward to receive her kiss. This called up memories out of a very distant past and I felt strangely happy. Jennifer told me to lie down so that she could tuck me in. She unfastened a small lock and lowered the side panel to the floor so that she could easily tuck me in and kiss me good night. Before I knew very well what was going on she had pulled the blanket over me, tucked it in on either side, and had pulled up the side bars again. “Good night Chrissie”  “Good night Jennifer”. Two minutes later I was sound asleep, feeling in heaven.

I didn’t hear her putting David in bed and slept for 12 straight hours, and when I woke up it took me a couple of seconds before realizing where I was. The room was lit by a strong sun shining through the curtains putting everything is a soft diffuse light.  I heard some soft noises coming from the cradle and realized David was awake. I sat again on my knees holding on to the side panel. I did it without thinking as this seemed to be the natural position to take, and again those vague memories from some long foregone times came back and made me feel happy.  I wanted this moment to continue but at the same time was conscious this was not what I expected coming to stay with Jennifer.  I climbed out of the crib and went over to the cradle where little David received me with a big smile and happy noises. He held out his arms and I took him out of his little bed. Immediately I felt the heaviness between his legs and I vaguely realized this felt good. Confused by this realization I took him to the kitchen which was still empty. I didn’t know what to do when Jennifer, still half asleep, came in: “Hey what’s going on? Why are my little babies not in bed anymore?” Smiling gently she came over and kissed both of us.

She prepared for both of us a big plate of oatmeal, placed David on his high chair, and put a bib around his neck. Again she showed me another one and suddenly the thought of wearing a bib appealed to me. I smiled awkwardly, and while she bound the bib around my neck I secretly hoped she would spoon-feed me. And indeed while at first she let me eat my oatmeal by myself while she spoon-fed David, after a while she must have sensed my jealousy because at a certain moment she began helping me too.

After breakfast she took us to the bathroom where she changed and washed the little baby while I took a shower. When we were both dressed she asked me to take care of David while she got dressed too. When she was ready she told us we would all be going to visit my grandfather. He was an 89 year old widower living on his own, with some household personnel, in the huge mansion where he had lived most of his life. The drive up there took more than an hour, and about halfway Jennifer drove over to the side of the road and opening the bag she had brought along, put a bib around David’s neck and handed him a baby-bottle. David immediately began sucking happily. And then she turned to me and without any comment handed me a baby-bottle filled with formula too, and proceeded to putting me a bib. I gasped, but then, without any comment either, began drinking from the bottle. It tasted strange, and the sucking was harder than I expected, but after a few seconds I started enjoying it. I got used to the taste and I found that sucking softly on the bottle was very relaxing.

Just before we arrived Jenifer pulled over again to take off the bibs and to put away the bottles. We were not the only visitors. My oldest niece, who lived in the neighborhood, was over with her 3 daughters, of 14, 13 and 11. All 3 stunning American beauties. Of course I was the big event everybody had been waiting for. First my grandfather was asking all kind of questions about home, school, and life in Europe. But after a while he got tired and I was turned over to the curiosity of the girls. But soon cute little David began attracting all attention, except for that of Beth, the youngest of my 3grandnieces, who seemed to be very interested in me. And to be honest I was very much attracted to her too. She was very pretty, wearing a T-shirt over high waisted shorts with a side zip, which accentuated her long tanned legs. She had dark auburn hair bound in a ponytail, and grey-green eyes, in which some lights seemed to be twinkling all the time.

Taking me very naturally by the hand she made me visit the mansion. At a certain moment, standing in front of another door, she mysteriously said, that I was not allowed to enter that room. Made curious I asked of course why not and she explained that it was only for girls. Having completely forgotten I was not a girl anymore I looked at her and in a puzzled way asked why I couldn’t go in then? She looked at me flabbergasted. I realized what I had said and turned all red and began stammering some stupid explanation, which of course made things only worse. She laughed, put her finger on my lips, took me by the hand again, and led me into the room. It was a large room filled with all kinds of toys and games for girls. Mostly dolls and dolls accessories, but also a small play kitchen, a beauty parlor, lots of dress-up clothes, … She showed me a baby doll telling me it was her favorite. I took the doll and honestly told her it was indeed a very nice doll. She looked at me slightly puzzled again, and then, on a confidential tone, she made me promise not to repeat to her sisters what she was going to tell me. I promised of course, and becoming a little bit shy, she confided that when she was here alone she still liked to play with dolls. Happy that she had confided in me I wanted to return the favor, and told her that I used to like to play with dolls. She looked at me surprised, but then, smiling, took me by the hand once more as we left the room. We walked down the big stair in silence, but just before we joined the others she bend over and whispered in my ear: “You are weird second cousin Christian, but I like you.”

The next half hour I spend with the 3 girls, and found myself at ease in their female environment, chatting about girlie matters as if I had known them all my life. When they left I learned we would meet again the next Sunday as there was going to be a big family reunion. I was already looking forward to meeting Beth again. Jennifer, baby David and myself stayed for a quick lunch with my grandfather. We were served some magnificent home-made club sandwiches, by a very nice lady in her late fifties, who was extremely happy to see me as she had known me as a little baby.

After lunch my grandfather and David went for a nap, and Jennifer took me on a stroll through the park surrounding the family mansion, which had a large lawn going right up to the beach of Lake Michigan. The park was huge and beautiful with romantic shady walking paths and benches, and a little bit on the side, a small boathouse of which Jennifer told me it had been the place where my father, her favorite uncle, had spend most of his time. I knew my father had been a sailing fan, and had seen pictures of this boathouse, but seeing it for real was very emotional.

For the return trip home Jennifer took a more scenic road along the lake. The drive took even longer and, David becoming hungry, she stopped at a pick-nick place. Several tables were occupied and Jennifer walked up to a table somewhat separate from the others. She took out a plastic bowl with fruit mash, put the bib around David’s neck and turned towards me holding the other bib in her hand. Understanding what she was up to I panicked, looking around to see if anybody was watching us. Nobody was, but somebody could look at us any moment, so I put my hands around my neck to prevent her from putting on the bib. Jennifer, giving me a magic smile, came up to me, and gently pulled at my hands:  “Come on baby, you don’t want to miss the fruit mash, do you?”

A few seconds later I had the bib around my neck and holding David on my lap, was enjoying the mash that Jennifer was spoon-feeding to both of us, as she had done a few months before at home in Europe.

When we got home Jennifer had some work to do and I played with little David. I really enjoyed building small towers that David, shrieking with laughter, then pushed over. The baby couldn’t get enough of it, and although I enjoyed causing so much merriment, after a while I began getting tired. I was kind of relieved when Jennifer announced it was time to pass at table. She had prepared sandwiches with jam that she had cut up in small pieces for both of us. And of course both her “babies” got a bib. To drink she served us milk in a cup with a beak. I was getting used to those small surprises and of course I understood what she was doing and began wondering what would be next. This was not what I had planned but strange enough I loved it.

Next was that she took us to the bathroom, undressed David and told me to undress too.  It didn’t take long for both of us to be sitting in a warm bath surrounded by floating toys. She played with us, pouring water over our faces, with David shrieking with laughter again. She first washed the little baby’s hair, and then mine, before telling me to stand up so that she could wash me. Of course as had happened a couple of months before when she had washed me, my little thing got an erection, which amused her again.

And, as I had begun to hope, after the bath she diapered both of us. The feeling of the diaper being folded and tightly pinned around my legs, and of the elastics of the plastic pants snapping around my legs, was heaven. But what made it even better was the smell of the baby powder that she had copiously applied to my private parts.

When David was dressed in a cute little romper I was wondering what she had in mind for me, and I wasn’t disappointed. She had me put on a very short gingham nightdress, closing with a row of buttons in the back and with short sleeves, and even better, it came with assorted blooming baby pants. Feeling completely like a little baby girl I was overwhelmed with happiness. I flung my arms around Jenifer’s neck and hugged her very hard. She hugged me back and laughed: “I knew you would like to be my little baby girl!”

She took David in her arms, and leading me by the hand, she installed us in front of the TV, on which she played some toddlers video. While we watched the video she handed both of us a baby bottle with formula, which tasted even better than in the car. Around 9 she told us it was time to go to bed. As she put David in his cradle I climbed in my crib. Tired because of the jet lag I rolled up happily waiting for Jennifer to tuck me in. When she had done that she bent over, gave me a kiss, and plugged a pacifier in my mouth. Half asleep already I watched how she pulled up the side panel of my bed and wishing us a good night put out the lights.

The following days we spend doing some sight-seeing, going to the beach at the lake, and shopping. When away from home I was a model boy playing with the little baby, but from the moment we were home I was treated as if I was 9 months old too. She treated me exactly as she treated David, except that at night, when she had put David to bed, we had our special moment.

After the bath she gave both of us at the end of the day, she prepared David for the night with a special heavy diaper, but she told me to pull on the baby-pants without protection. When we both had finished our bottle she put David to bed and then had me lie down on the coach where she proceeded to diapering me with special care. She gently and softly applied baby powder to the whole area to be covered with the diaper. She then slipped a very large cloth diaper underneath me, together with some extra absorbent pads. She pinned the diaper tightly around my legs and had me stand up to pull up the plastic pants.  I loved the feeling of that thick diaper, making me waggle when I walked. The outfit was finished with a cute, always very short, nightdress and baby-pants. When I was ready she made me sit next to her on the couch, plopped a pacifier in my mouth, and putting her arm around me, read from a children’s book.

Every night when I was sitting next to her she told me how good I smelled. And as I would do everything to please her, I told her I loved the smell and the feeling of baby powder too. From then on she took care to apply it also every morning when I got dressed after breakfast, even when I was not wearing diapers, so that soon I smelled like a little baby from morning to evening without hardly noticing it anymore.

Finding myself diapered and treated as a little baby-girl was not what I had planned, even the opposite of what I had dreamed of. But sitting on her lap, while she softly kissed and stroked me, was pure heaven. I knew I had to stop her, that otherwise my wish to be her protector and future husband, would become more and more ridiculous, but I couldn’t.

One morning, as we had done some shopping together, while she was putting David in his seat, I managed to fold the trailer and put it together with all the groceries in the trunk. She complimented me on my efficiency and, kissing me on the front, thanked me by saying she was so glad I was staying with her, that I was such a lovely boy to have around. I suddenly saw my chance, and I blurted out that I loved her, and that I could stay to live with her forever. She looked at me surprised, but also moved by what I had said. She gave me a very tender smile, took me in her arms, and said I was so sweet. My adrenaline rushed through my veins, and I hugged her very hard, thinking she was accepting my proposition. But then she freed herself and still on a very gentle tone, said I knew it was impossible, that I had to go back to my mother.

Feeling the rejection I reacted by telling her vehemently I loved my mother very much, but that I loved her more, that I wanted to stay with her forever, that I wanted to marry her and that I could be a father for little David. To my dismay she began laughing, and taking me in her arms again, she hugged me telling this was the sweetest love declaration she had ever heard. We stood there for a few seconds without moving, but then she continued on a more neutral tone: “Don’t try to grow up too fast my little angel, those are the happiest years of your life, enjoy them. You can be David’s big brother, or sister, he loves it when you play with him. And I enjoy having my two little darlings with me, seeing how well they get along.”

She bent over and whispered in my ear:  “Come on, you sweet little baby, jump in the car and let’s go home, so that I can put both of you in bath” She freed herself and gave me a gentle push towards the car. As I walked away she followed me and gave me a little tap on my bottom:” I think that from now on I will put you in diapers when we are going out. I’m sure you would love that.”

Seating me in the back next to David I blushed. If I couldn’t be her man, being her little baby was not such a bad alternative. As if she had read my thoughts she helped me fasten my seat belt and popped a pacifier in my mouth.

On Sunday we went back to my grandfather’s mansion. I dressed in my ironed beige trousers, with a navy blue blazer over a dress shirt with tie. I really looked smart. When we got there the parking lot was filled with cars and everywhere we went we ran into people to whom I had to be introduced. My old uncles and aunts were very curious, and just as my grandfather the week before, wanted to know everything about my mother. They obviously still loved her very much.

When I got tired of them I went out looking for Jennifer and David but couldn’t find them. Instead I ran into Beth’s older sisters who introduced me to some handsome, broad build older cousins, with whom they had been flirting.

I asked for Beth but got as only answer that she was out there somewhere. Just as I wanted to go and look for her another cousin arrived holding a football, asking who wanted to join him for a game. I told them I didn’t know the rules of American football but that was of course a reason for them to insist to teach me the sport.  I did know the basic rules and my competitive nature soon got the upper hand. Nobody paid much attention to this frail European boy who didn’t know the sport, so I ran myself free and called out to receive the ball.  Probably to do me a favor the cousin holding the ball threw it in my direction, and I did a perfect catch, running as fast as I could away with the ball. It took the other players a couple of seconds to realize what I was doing, and when one of the huge players came up to me to block me, I dived underneath his arms and made a touchdown. Everybody ran over to congratulate me.

I continued for half an hour with my normal enthusiasm but now they knew that I was fast and a good catcher, so they didn’t leave me unguarded anymore. The result was that on several occasions I was thrown to the ground, and my pants and shirt were soon all dirty and stained – I had taken of my blazer and tie of course – but I didn’t care. I was only hoping that Jennifer would pass by and see how fast I was. But she didn’t, and when I noticed the disastrous condition of my clothes I even got worried that if she did, she might be mad.  I excused myself and went looking for a place where I could clean up a little bit.

It was then that I ran into Beth. She was taking care of a bunch of girls between 3 and 5 years old. They were sitting on the grass surrounded by dolls and accessories they had carried outside. Beth was delighted to see me and sprang up to give me kiss: “Here you are! We have been looking all over for you.” And then turning to the girls she continued with a mischievous smile: “Look girls, this is cousin Christian that I told you about, the one who likes to play with dolls.” The girls shrieked with unbelief and merriment, and the oldest one cried out: “That’s not true. I don’t believe you. He is a boy!” For a split second I hesitated but then decided to go along with the game. Falling on my knees I picked up a large baby doll and cuddled it my arms, softly telling it to sleep: “Dodo, dodo, baby Lo, … ” The girls laughed even harder: ”She is called baby Mary, not Lo!”

I smiled, and corrected myself  “Oh I’m sorry!  Dodo baby Mary!” But again the girls interrupted me: “She is not ready to go to sleep. She has to be diapered first!” The next half hour the 5 of us were all absorbed playing with the dolls, when suddenly I heard Jennifer’s voice behind me: “Hi Beth, I see you have found someone to share your secret with!” While I turned around and, blushing, looked at Jennifer’s smiling face, Beth jumped up again and kissed her cousin: “Oh Jennifer, thanks for bringing him, he is so sweet!”  I blushed even harder when Jennifer answered that I was even sweeter than she imagined. But Beth’s attention had shifted already to baby David in his trolley, asking if she could take him out.  Jennifer said it was alright, but just for a minute as we would soon be leaving. She turned to me again, telling me to go say good bye to my grandfather. As I was leaving she held me back, and in a soft voice told me to pass by the bathroom on my way back: “It’s a long drive, and we don’t want accidents do we?”  Although she said it in a very quiet voice I anxiously turned towards Beth to see if she had overheard this remark.  As I turned I realized that Beth was standing right next to me, looking at me with a surprised and amused face. I blushed for the third time in a few minutes, and ran fast away.

Sitting in the car next to David returning home I was all confused. I was, sucking on a baby-bottle, wearing a bib, and that felt so right. But at the same time I was still in love with Jennifer, more than ever, and having been turned down by her did hurt. I had been very proud going to the party, smartly dressed in my trousers and blazer. When I had been the center of attention, and had made a touchdown in the football game, I had been hoping that Jennifer would have come by and would have seen what a vigorous football player I was. But instead she had found me playing with dolls. And when she had made me blush by saying I was even sweeter that Beth imagined that had made me feel happy.  And I had begun to love Beth very much too. I saw her surprised face again when Jennifer had told me to go to toilet as we didn’t want to have an accident in the car. I suddenly wanted her to know I liked to wear diapers.

For the next chapter go to http://clairodon.wordpress.com/2012/09/20/memories-5/

Memories 3

 

She led me to the bathroom were she helped me out of the plastic pants and wet diapers. While I was standing in front of her holding up my skirt so that she could wash me, she took my little thing in her hand and teasingly asked me where her little baby-girl had found this cute little thing.

 ………………

 You will find the preceding chapters of this story in “categories” under “Memories”, with the different chapters in reversed order. To find the first chapter you just have to scroll down to the bottom.

 Chapter 3

 

When summer holiday finally started it was a big relief. Although I still worried where all this would lead and what would happen after the summer break. My mother told me not to worry, to enjoy my holiday, and that she would find a solution for the future.

I continued to respect the dress code that had implicitly been agreed on: dresses and skirts when we were home by ourselves, anything short of dresses and skirts when my cousins friends came over, shorts and neutral shirts to go out. But I hardly ever left our house or garden, and enjoyed the exclusively female environment. Little by little my hair grew longer enabling my cousins one day to put it together in two short pigtails. On one of our rare outings I had, on my cousins insistence, my ears pierced, and from then on I always wore small earrings. 

 My brother stayed a large part of the summer at home. Used to the very male, rustic, military environment, he loved to come into this soft, female environment. From time to time he would make remarks about me dressing and behaving as a girl, but my mother always came to my defence, saying that at least I stayed out of trouble this way. Maxime would shrug and then give me a brotherly hug.

My mother was sometimes absent during part of the day without telling any of us where she was going. Suddenly one day she seemed all excited and told us she had found a new house for us to live in. The next day we went to visit it. It was at the other side of town, in a nice residential neighbourhood. The house was a lot smaller than the one we lived in and didn’t have a swimming pool. But it was a very nice house, with a cosy garden. We loved it. And when my mother showed us the school where we would go to we were even more convinced. It was a small private school, housed in several small buildings spread over a large garden. It was quiet close to our new home so that we could go on foot or by bike.

We moved at the very end of the holiday, a couple of days before school started. When we were more or less settled Maxime went back to his boarding school and my mother told us it was time to prepare us for our new school. In the first place we had to go buy our uniforms. As this was a very strict, catholic school, I should have known they had uniforms, but hadn’t really thought about it.

The uniforms were sold in the school and my mother proposed we would walk there together, and told us to get ready. The 3 of us were wearing summer shorts and at that time that was no attire to go anywhere, so my mother told us to get changed into more appropriate clothes. As I went to my room she followed me. As she often told me what to wear this didn’t surprise me. But what followed next did. Upon entering my room she told me there was something she had to tell me. As I sat on my bed wondering what this was all about I noticed she seemed somewhat awkward by what she had to tell, and I got a little nervous. She sat next to me, breathed deeply, and then with a hesitant smile she announced that this new school was an all-girls school.

I didn’t immediately grasp the complete significance of this announcement, but gradually it dawned on me. I was horrified, but at the same time elated. As my mother looked at me, anxiously waiting for my reaction, I only managed to say ”Wow”.  Relieved that I took it so calmly she gave me a long hug, telling me I was going to love it, and then took out a nice kilt, blouse, sweater and socks for me to wear to go visit my new school.

As she left me alone to go check on my nieces I dressed and then looked at myself in the mirror. The skirt, the blouse, my shoulder long hair bound together in a short pony tail, the earrings, the little chain I wore around my neck: I made a very convincing pretty girl. I smiled at myself and went downstairs to meet my nieces on whom my mother had jumped the big news too. They were wildly enthusiastic and hugging me told me they were so happy for me.

Before leaving the house my mother took me to the bathroom and, lifting my skirt, pushed my little thing deep between my legs: “You make sure you keep your little whizzie always tucked away, ok?”. Seeing my alarmed face she laughed: ”Don’t you worry, everything is going to be all right!” She took me in her arms and kissed me fondly on my forehead: “From now on you are my pretty little daughter Chris! I love you.” I felt good, hugged my mother, and holding hands, we joined the others.

The uniform buying for the 3 of us took almost all afternoon. There were a number of other girls with their mothers and we were introduced to some of our future schoolmates. In the beginning I was terrible nervous. I was used to wearing girl’s clothes but I had never pretended to be a girl. However as time passed and everybody quiet naturally took me for a girl I relaxed and began to enjoy it.

Each of us had to buy different uniforms. The first one was the summer uniform which we were going to wear in the first weeks of school, and then again in spring. It was a simple blue and white striped shirt-dress, with short sleeves and a short flowing skirt, which we were obliged to wear with short white socks.

The winter uniform was different for the “little” ones as for the older pupils. In primary school and up to the second year of secondary school the uniform was a navy-blue jumper dress over a white-and-blue striped shirt. This was to be worn with navy blue – or white for special occasions – knee-high socks. My oldest cousin, who started in 3rd year of secondary school, was so happy she was allowed to wear the uniform for the older students. It consisted of a blue and green tartan skirt, the same blue and white shirt, and a navy blue sweater. Of course also completed with navy-blue knee socks (or white on special occasions).

I didn’t understand why my oldest cousin was so happy not to have to wear the jumper dress, or why my other cousin put on such a sad face. I just loved the jumper dress! It made me feel so girlie !

But it was still not finished. We had also to get a gym uniform. When I heard it was a leotard I got all nervous again, as I could not imagine how I could hide my manly parts in a leotard, even by tucking them between my legs. But, as I should have known, taking into consideration that it was a catholic school in the sixties, the leotards had a short skirt attached to the waist. I just loved the pale blue leotard !

Without doubt with this new school began one of the happiest periods of my short life. I always had enjoyed the company of girls but now I was finally accepted as being one of them.

 

When my brother came home for Christmas holidays he was shocked to see how much I had turned into a real girl. I was giggling all the time with my cousins as the 3 of us sat on the floor doing knitting games or looking into fashion magazines. Whenever we had to go somewhere we helped each other choose what to wear, standing in front of our wardrobes commenting each garment, and I would spend long minutes in front of the mirror brushing my hair. But what irritated him most was when someone spoke to me I would throw my hair backwards with a short movement of my head.

In the beginning he would tell me in irritated fashion to knock it off, but after a while he got used to it, and I think, it kind of amused him. He loved me and our mother very much and loved to spend his holidays with us, but at the same time he lived his own life and watched what was going in our little family in a very detached way. And for us too, although we were extremely fond of Maxime, and were very happy when he stayed with us, it was a kind of a relief when after the Christmas holidays he left and we could resume our girlie lives.

But towards Eastern a new problem arose. My mother had to undergo an operation and would be in hospital and rehabilitation for at least 6 weeks. Although we insisted we could manage ourselves for 6 weeks – my oldest cousin was almost 15 year old by then – my mother considered that to be out of the question. After a week of hesitation she told us that her favourite niece, Jennifer, would come over from the States to take care of the household. When she saw my anguished face she smiled and, taking me in her arms, told me not to worry, that she had told Jennifer everything and after her initial surprise Jennifer had thought it was cute and she had promised not to tell anybody.

At first I was very sad, and even mad at my mother for having told someone our secret. But as my mother insisted Jennifer would not criticise us in anyway and that we could trust her completely, I calmed down. My mother explained that Jennifer, who 6 months before had given birth to her first child, had recently been abandoned by her husband, and was very much affected by that. Coming toEuropewith her little baby was a welcome distraction.

 

Jennifer’s was my mother’s godchild and they had always had a special relationship.  At the time of my birth she had been 14 years old and when we lived in the States she had done a lot of babysitting for me. Of course I didn’t remember that, but my mother assured me she had been very fond of me. One or two years after my father died and our return to Europe she had come to visit us during a summer holiday and I remembered her as a very nice – and exceptionally good looking –  person. The two of them had stayed in contact and had kept a very frequent correspondence. My mother often showed us pictures of her favourite niece so that I had the feeling I kind of knew her. As said, she was an exceptional good looking young woman, with a very kind face. My mother was so happy to meet her godchild again that she almost forgot that she has to undergo surgery. As for me, as my mother’s enthusiasm was contagious, I secretly grew impatient for her arrival, and often looked at her pictures, becoming more and more enthralled with her beauty.

Despite all this, the day she was to arrive I was quiet nervous when the 4 of us went to fetch her at the airport. By that time I had begun to catch up in length with my cousins so that there were less clothes that could be handed down, and the financial situation had improved somewhat, so that from time to time my mother now bought me new clothes. I was rather fashion conscious but generally my mother didn’t let me choose what I wanted. Nevertheless I loved the outfit we had bought specially for the occasion of Jennifer’s arrival. It was a very short, long-sleeved, A-shaped dress, in a green, yellow and orange print, with a white peter-pan collar and cuffs, which I wore over orange tights. Although we had bought the outfit in a children’s clothes shop I thought I looked like Twiggy in a Mary Quant dress.

When Jennifer walked up to us she looked even more beautiful as on the pictures. She had very short dark brown hair, a nice tanned face, and was very elegant. She was wearing simple denim pants but never before I had seen someone wearing jeans in such an elegant way. She was carrying an incredibly cute, large eyed, smiling baby boy in her arms.

My mother and Jennifer embraced warmly, she was then introduced to my cousins, before she finally turned her attention to me. She looked amused but gave me a warm smile: « I can’t believe it that the last time we met I thought you were a boy!  You surely tuned into a very pretty girl!»

 

At that very moment I fell completely in love with this beautiful, kind, sexy women, and her little smiling boy. From then on I didn’t leave them for a second.

She was not only extremely good looking but she had a marvellous taste for dressing. Most of the time she dressed casual but always in an elegant way. Understanding that she thought looks to be important I began paying even more attention to how I dressed myself. Every time I put on another dress or skirt she would compliment me with it, and although I blushed every time – normally I don’t blush easily – this made me very happy.

I tried to guess what clothes she would prefer, but she had a very eclectic taste, and could be very enthusiastic at the moments I least expected it. I had a number of light coloured summer dresses that had been handed down from both my cousins. They were the classic kind with a tight fitting bodice closing with a short zip in the back, short balloon sleeves, and a wide falling short skirt. Although I thought they were childish and old fashioned I knew I looked pretty in them, and when Jennifer assured I was adorable I would wear them whenever the weather permitted.

For my 13th birthday she bought me a new dress. It was incredibly cute but very childish. It was in a bright blue fabric, short sleeved, collarless, A-shaped without a waist but with a small ribbon knotted in a small bow in the middle of the chest, and a number of flats pleats running down from chest to rim, both in front and in the back. It was extremely short barely covering my panties. At first I couldn’t believe she was offering me such a childish dress but as I tried it on I fell in love with the dress. She surely had a good eye and had known that this dress would become me. 

Another one of her preferred outfits was my navy blue school jumper. Most of the girls at school hated that uniform so Jennifer’s appreciation came as a surprise, but as I personally loved to wear that plain dress her liking it brought us even closer. Very often at the end of the school day Jennifer would be waiting for us at the gate, with little David in his trolley, to walk home together. I liked to push the trolley with the happily babbling baby, but by far preferred it when one of my cousins would take care of the trolley and I could walk home holding hands with Jennifer. At those moments I was very conscious how happy I was to pretend to be a girl. A 12 year old boy holding hands with his older cousin would have attracted some very naughty teasing.

One day she asked me if I would like to be girl. Belief it or not but I had never thought about that. I was surprised by the question, but after thinking 2 or 3 seconds, I knew I didn’t. When I answered her question with a resounding “no” she looked surprised, and asked me why not. My motivation was obvious to me: I liked too much the girls. This answer, although obvious to me, wasn’t obvious at all for Jennifer. I had to explain her that I wanted one day to have a lovely wife, and kids – a whole bunch of pretty daughters – and lots of girl friends. (I almost asked her if she wanted to be my lovely wife but was afraid of making a fool of myself). She laughed and told me that was a very good reason.

One day I was watching as she spoon-fed the afternoon fruit-mash to little David. When he was satisfied and there was still some mash left she asked me if I wanted to taste, and without waiting for my answer she spoon-fed me the last 3 or 4 spoonfuls that were left. I loved it, both the taste as the fact that she was feeding me. From the next day on she prepared an extra part of mash and fed it at the same time she was feeding David, giving a spoonful alternatively to him and to me.

 

A couple of days later I watched while she changed David and put him to rest for his afternoon nap. When she was finished she took me by the hand and leading me to her bedroom next-door, she said: « Come, now it’s your turn. ». Before I knew what was going on she had me lay down on her bed pulled up the skirt of my dress and pulled down my panties. Next she glided a heavy cotton diaper underneath and folded it around my legs, pinning them tightly. Then she asked me to stand up and pulled plastics pants over the diapers. It was clear that she had planned this because those plastic pants were way too big for little David. I loved it when she made the elastics around my legs snap in place. In fact I loved the whole thing. Of course this brought back all kind of memories from the time my aunt would diaper me. It was only some 4 years ago but it seemed to have been in another live. I never knew if Jennifer had known about that period, but her diapering me was certainly an unexpected event. It felt like heaven.

 

When I was safely diapered she told me to take a nap and she lay next to me, falling almost immediately asleep. I couldn’t sleep. Not only wasn’t I used to take afternoon naps, but also the diapers excited me a lot. Soon I had an urge to pee but couldn’t at first decide to do it in the diapers. After a while however I did. I loved the feeling of the warmth spreading slowly around my legs. After a while I must have fallen asleep. When Jennifer woke me up by kissing me lightly on the front I had completely forgotten about my wet diapers. But not for long.

 

Jennifer, putting her hand teasingly under my skirt, asked if I had been a good baby. Before I could answer however she felt the heavy wetness. Surprised she pulled back her hand. She really hadn’t expected this and it seemed to upset her: “Hey, you weren’t supposed to wet. You are not a baby! It was just a little game.”

 

I turned all red and started stammering that I had not done it on purpose, that I had fallen asleep. But she interrupted me saying it was alright for once, and taking me by the hand, she led me to the bathroom were she helped me out of the plastic pants and wet diapers. While I was standing in front of her holding up my skirt so that she could wash me, she took my little thing in her hand and teasingly asked me where her little baby-girl had found this cute little thing. Right at that moment I had one of my first erections ever. This really made her laugh very hard.

 Next chapter: http://clairodon.wordpress.com/2011/12/18/memories-4/

 

Memories 2

When I lowered my pants they noticed the girl’s underwear I was wearing. They laughed even harder now and Marc ordered me to put on the girls’ dress. “You see, I always thought he really was a girl in disguise. Doesn’t he look pretty? I think I’m falling in love.”

 Memories of a happy childhood in the sixties

You will find the preceding chapters of this story in “categories” under “Memories”, with the different chapters in reversed order. To find the first chapter you just have to scroll down to the bottom.

Chapter 1. The early years. When she lost her American husband, my mother decided to take me and my brother back to live in Europe. I’ve very fond memories of those years, especially of the times spend with my two nieces at their land house. The fact that, because of my bedwetting, my aunt diapered me didn’t disturb me at all, on the contrary.

 Chapter 2. Losing my friends

 Those happy years came to an abrupt end when I was about 10 years old. Once more our whole live was to change due to a tragic accident. My uncle and aunt had gone on a holiday and had asked my mother to take care of their daughters. Since our house wasn’t big enough the 5 of us stayed at my uncle’s place. The day my aunt and uncle were expected back we waited until late at night but they didn’t arrive. My mother was visibly worried, which was very exceptional since she was a light-hearted person who never made problems or worried about anything. She made us go to bed saying they probably had had some car problem. They would surely be there when we woke up the next morning. I’ll never forget that morning, when my mother, overwhelmed with grief, had to tell us that there had been an accident and that both my uncle and aunt had died.

I don’t know how we survived the weeks following the accident. Of course there were a lot of practical questions to be solved. My mother, courageous as ever, decided she would take care of all of us, that the 5 of us would form a new family, and would live in my niece’s house. Very soon it became clear that the financial situation was worse than ever. My uncle had been incredibly careless, not taking any precautions to protect his family for the case anything would happen to him. The only life insurance he had contracted was to cover the mortgage of the house, and there were no savings of any significance. So my mother was facing the charge of an enlarged family, with a large house and garden to maintain, with more or less the same revenues as before. Our former house was put to rent and, at least whenever there were tenants, this, together with a very small orphan’s pension for my nieces, was the only systematic increase in our scarce revenues. My mother’s parents would help out from time to time but my mother was too proud to ask for any systematic help from them or from her American in-laws.

My mother did wonders. In the beginning we noticed hardly any difference. The vacations at the beach were shortened to one week, the presents at Christmas were of less value (but anyway we always got a lot of presents from our American family), and since having moved to my uncle’s house we had to change school anyway it was decided that from now on I would attend a public school. My 15-year-old brother went on a scholarship in boarding to a military academy, something he had wanted to do for a long time.

My mother started to pass on not only the cloths my brother had outgrown, but also those of my nieces. They were only 1 and 2 years older but were at that time a lot taller than I was. At first it were some pair of jeans, or a dark blue sweater, but soon I was wearing girls underwear (those pink and white striped Petit Bateau panties and undershirts with narrow braces), pastel coloured shirts and pants with cute little hearts sewn on the pockets. I didn’t give much importance to the way I looked so I hardly noticed this was no normal boy attire.

At the new school I immediately made new friends. They tended to be less motivated students, the kind of boys always looking for some mischief or fight. Here too I soon had a reputation as a ferocious fighter. My grades were a lot lower than in the previous school but at sports I still was very good thanks to my determination and will power. More than ever my character and my reputation were at odds with my feminine looks. Maybe it was this surprising contrast of my slender feminine build and effeminate cloths with my ferocious character that made me the leader of a bunch of “bad boys”.

One day, after having played some wild game, I once more came home with my cloths all torn and dirty. My mother, as understanding as ever, laughed about her “wild one” and told me to change myself. I didn’t find any pants or shorts in my wardrobe. Upon telling this to my mother she answered that this didn’t surprise her at all since she couldn’t keep up with me. She proposed to go find some other clothes my nieces didn’t wear anymore. We inspected my nieces’ wardrobes but couldn’t find any pants or shorts my nieces had grown out of.

Suddenly she laughed and took out a short pleated skirt that she said had become too tight for my niece. In her light hearted way she told me she didn’t see any other solution than for me to put on this skirt. I don’t think I consciously remembered the day that I wore the pretty white dress a couple of years before, but the proposal to wear a skirt suddenly appealed to me. Without hesitating I put on the skirt and stood before the mirror to admire myself. Both of us thought it was funny. We looked for other skirts and dresses I could wear and had a good time trying on a large number of them. The result was that a number of those cloths were transferred to my wardrobe and from then on I would often wear skirts and dresses at home. Since I never invited my friends to come over to our house, considering they wouldn’t fit into the quiet, female atmosphere, and my brother came home only about once a month, only my mother, my nieces and their friends knew this. In the beginning they made fun of me but since I really liked being dressed as a girl this didn’t deter me and after a while everybody got used to it. Without anybody, including myself, taking really notice of it, my life had been divided into two almost completely separate parts: a sweet girl at home and a querulous violent boy on the street, where I often hung out with my friends, and at school.

I remember one day that I had been playing for some time with a couple of those friends when one of them needed to take a leak. My friends opened their zip, and as boys that age sometimes do organised a contest for whose spout would reach the farthest. Never being one to refuse a challenge I wanted to participate but suddenly realised that I was wearing one of those short girls’ shorts with a zip on the side. Since I was wearing a shirt over it, it didn’t really show. But to take a leak the only way was to pull down the shorts. I hesitated one moment and this was my error. If I had immediately pulled down the shorts nobody would have made a point of it since everybody was used to see me in this kind of attire. But now they all suddenly looked at me.

At that time one of my friends, Marc, had repeatedly tried to challenge my authority unsuccessfully. He now said defiantly:”Of course Chrissie (my name is Christian but everybody called me Chris) can’t participate. This is a contest for boys, for real boys”.

I automatically hauled out at him, as was my standard reaction when being challenged. But this time the 5 of them immediately were on top of me. They grabbed my arms and legs, each of them holding one arm or leg, while the 5th one pulled down my shorts. They forced me to squat down telling me this was the way girls peed. Knowing that they wouldn’t let me go until I had satisfied them I concentrated very hard and was able to raise my penis without touching it. Just a little, but enough to make a small but distinct spout. I only was able to do so for a second or so but it had been enough to make them laugh. The incident was closed but it soon became clear that my authority was declining rapidly.

Some time later the final confrontation occurred. We were sitting on the sidewalk trying to decide what we would do when two girls came biking down the sidewalk. One of my friends jumped up suggesting to “scare the shit out of those nannies”. I protested since it had never been in my character to harm people needlessly, telling my friends to leave the girls alone. This was the opportunity Marc had been waiting for. As the girls were already next to us he too jumped up. They all started yelling and pushing at them. I now noticed it were 2 friends of my nieces with whom I often played at home. I yelled at my friends to leave them alone and tried to intervene.

All of us were running along the girls who tried to speed up. In the confusion one of them fell off her bike. Luckily she fell on the grass without hurting herself. The other girl got away, looking frightened over her shoulder, but without waiting to know what was happening to her friend. The poor girl was sitting on the grass, tears pouring down her face, looking up at the 6 of us standing around her.

I was the first to react, reaching out to help her stand up and telling her we were sorry. But Marc was not planning to leave it at that.

“Ahah Chrissie, is this one of your friends?”

I shrugged: “Let her go Marc, it’s just a girl”.

“Exactly, I thought you liked to play with girls.”

I looked him in the eyes without answering.

“Don’t you?’

I still didn’t answer. The other were looking at us, smiling meekly, wondering what was going to happen. Trying to regain the initiative I lied: “Girls are no fun. They cry all the time. You can’t do anything with them.”

“You know everything about girls, don’t you? But I bet you never saw one naked.”

And then, suddenly having an inspiration he added to the others:

“Let’s show him one, let’s take off her cloths”.

The poor girl shrieked and tried to escape but failed. While 2 of them held me, turning my arm behind my back the 3 others took charge of the girl. They led us behind a fence and took off her summer-dress. When she was standing in front of us in her underwear they tried to take off her panties. The girl started screaming and kicking, hitting Marc in his lower parts.

“Well, well getting bitchy aren’t we?” he answered after recovering from the direct hit. He took out a large pocket-knife and cut her panties loose on both sides. She was now standing stark naked in front of us and they all had a great time. Seeing her distress I redoubled my efforts to break loose but in vain.

“Getting bitchy too? Let’s see if he is all that different from the girls. Let’s take off his cloths too”.

All laughing very hard now, they tried to execute the order but due to my resistance didn’t succeed.

“Chris, look over here.”

Holding his knife next to the girl’s cheek, Marc quietly told me to take off my cloths otherwise he would damage her pretty face forever.

I didn’t really belief he would do it, but didn’t dare to call his bluff either. So I took off my cloths. When I lowered my pants they noticed the girl’s underwear I was wearing. They laughed even harder now and Marc ordered me to put on the girls’ dress.

“You see, I always thought he really was a girl in disguise. Doesn’t he look pretty? I think I’m falling in love.”

When they were finished laughing it was clear that they were at a loss what to do next. Marc decided to stop his little games, and kicking me hard under the belly, (“Just to see if I was finally a boy or a girl”), they ran off.

The hit had been so hard I almost fainted. The girl seeing me in such pain didn’t understand what was the matter and really worried. She rapidly dressed in my jeans and shirt and helped me up. We started walking off, me being supported by her, limping heavy at first. Both of us were kind of dazed. Me because of the pain but also feeling humiliated and sad realising I had lost all my friends. The girl because she was worried thinking I had been hurt. Little by little I recovered and we started talking, both of us weeping, tears flowing down our faces. I tried to excuse myself for what had happened and she was thanking me for trying to intervene. Gradually we calmed down and walked on in silence. At that moment we passed a lady of my neighbourhood with her little girl who were waiting for the bus. When the child saw me she came running towards us. “Hi Chris. Why are you wearing a dress? “

It was only then that I realised that we were still wearing each other’s cloths. I didn’t know how to react when the kid’s mother walked up to us too:” It’s a pretty dress and you sure look good in it, but Chris, you shouldn’t wear this on the street.”

The way she said this made me laugh. I smiled broadly.” Why wouldn’t boys be allowed to wear pretty dresses?”

Before the lady could recover from her surprise I started running, laughing freely, towards my home.

That evening I told my mother what had happened. On the one hand she was upset by what had happened, but at the same time was relieved that I had broken up with those “bad” friends. Both of us realised however that it was impossible for me to stay in the same school since I was bound to be mocked constantly by my former friends. Since summer break was near and this was my last year of primary school my mother said I would have to survive the next couple of weeks and then we could look for a solution.

The next weeks were indeed horrible. My “friends” told the whole school that I wore girl’s underwear. This news soon was complemented by information that at home I wore dresses, – I suppose some brother of one of my cousins’ friends must have found out – and that at my former school I was called “diaper-boy”. Everybody started calling me sissy or diaper-girl. One day a bunch of them came after me after school and tried to get me diapered.

Of course I defended myself which resulted in daily fights. Defiant as always I would provoke them even more by wearing the most girlish cloths I could find, short of dresses and skirts.

Every day I came home bruised and with my cloths dirty and torn. After a couple of days my mother intervened. She ordered me to cease wearing girl cloths to school, talked to the headmaster and picked me up after school every day.

I spend the remaining schooldays without further problems but very solitary. It was a big relieve when the summer break began

Next chapter: http://clairodon.wordpress.com/2011/08/26/memories-3/

Memories Chap 1

Starting with the third accident I had to wear diapers under my shorts every day.  My mother at first was very upset about this way of treating me, even considering changing us from school,

Chapter 1  Early years

I was 3,5 years old when my father died. I don’t have any personal recollections of him. All I can tell about him I learned from others, mainly my mother. They had met when he was 30 years old and my mother 22. My father was an American lawyer send to Europe to start up an office for the law firm of which his father was a senior partner. Almost from the first moment they had fallen in love and married soon afterwards.

After a couple of years the young couple and their 2-year-old son, my brother Maxim, moved to the States. I was born there 2 years later. My father’s very Chicago society family at first was somewhat reserved towards his young European wife. My father’s 4 brothers and sisters were 7 to 18 years older than he was. On her arrival in the States my mother was 25 years old, and her youngest sister in law was 40. But soon her natural charm conquered the whole family, especially my grandfather who was 75 years old at the time.

Nevertheless it seems that my mother never really adjusted to Chicago, and after my father’s tragic death of a brain haemorrhage on the squash court, she decided to go back to Europe. My mother did a tremendous job raising us. With the proceeds of my father’s life insurance she bought a small country house close to the city where they had lived in the first years of their marriage. Preferring to have sufficient time with us she didn’t want a full time job but found a position as a part time medical assistant. Trying to give us an education as close as possible to the one we would have received if my father had lived, in line with her own childhood as a physician’s daughter. We went to a private school, were members of an exclusive tennis club, went on yearly holidays to a fashionable beach resort (even if it was only for 2 weeks). Some years we even went skiing (but usually this was on invitation of friends or of my mother’s sister). At the time we considered this all rather normal but of course it was almost impossible to do this on her small salary, even supplemented by a small allowance of my American grandfather. But my mother did wonders mainly by saving on all ordinary household expenses. For instance I rarely received new cloths, wearing those my brother had outgrown. But we surely didn’t suffer; on the contrary I have very fond memories of those years.

My brother, although only 8 at my father’s death, soon assumed the “man’s” role in the family. He had the muscular build of my father and was very disciplined in all his activities making him excellent at sports and an outstanding student. I admired him a lot and always tried to achieve the same standards. But I had my mother’s slender body and more volatile mind. I compensated those deficiencies by creativity and, mostly, by determination, perseverance and aggressiveness. At both schoolwork, especially in those early years, and sports those characteristics enabled me to achieve very good results, but not reaching the consistent high achievements of my brother.

Among the best memories of those years are those of my frequent visits to my aunt. She was married to a successful manager in charge of the European operations of some American multinational, and had 2 extremely charming daughters, respectively 1 and 2 years older than myself. They lived in a large country house with a large swimming pool (still exceptional in Europe in those years). Very often I stayed there for days at the time. Maxim usually wouldn’t come along since he didn’t enjoy so much the almost exclusive female presence. For me being free of the constant fraternal competition was part of the attractiveness of staying with my aunt. There were often lots of other kids around, swimming, biking, playing tennis etc. But since most of the time I was the only boy present we would often turn to more girlie games such as rope skipping or even playing with dolls. I didn’t mind this at all.

When I was about 5 years old I developed a bedwetting problem. Sometimes nothing happened for 2 or 3 weeks but then I would have “accidents” 2 or 3 days in a row. My very loving and caring mother never scolded me for it and did nothing to make me feel guilty. She told me it happened to a lot of boys my age and that it would pass in due time. For the rest, avoiding any form of humiliation, she would simply renew my pyjamas and sheets whenever necessary. Even Maxim refrained from comments, never using it as a weapon in our occasional fights. Of course I had accidents at my aunts place too. My aunt, being a little more practical than my mother, but as caring and loving, never scolded me either, but one evening, after I had had accidents for two consecutive days, she entered my bedroom carrying diapers. She told me I would feel more relaxed not having to worry about wetting the sheets. Starting from that day she would diaper me every night. At first my nieces didn’t know this, but soon they discovered their mother washing diapers (in those days disposable diapers didn’t exist). My aunt told them matter of factly they were mine and my nieces accepted this as something natural.

On hot summer days my aunt would tell me to sleep without wearing my pyjama pants, leaving those next to the bed so I could put them on in the morning to come to breakfast. One day, being once more distracted, I went down wearing my wet diapers and plastic pants without my pyjama pants. When I entered the kitchen the whole family looked amused. At first I didn’t understand until my uncle asked if I hadn’t forgotten something or if I was just feeling hot. We all laughed and from then on I often had breakfast just wearing diapers and plastic pants.

The problem complicated however when I started wetting my pants at school. Nuns, whose pedagogic theories dated from somewhere in the middle ages, ran the school. The first time they took off my wet things and pretending not to have nice shorts made me run the rest of the day in underpants. Since we wore smocks it didn’t show too much. But at the end of the day we took off the smocks to go in rows to the exit doors where the parents were waiting for us. The nuns made me put on the still wet shorts, which of course caused my little friends to make remarks about me smelling bad etc. Starting with the third accident I had to wear diapers under my shorts every day. My mother at first was very upset about this way of treating me, even considering changing us from school, but after a while she accepted it, always assuring me that there was nothing to worry about and that in time it would be solved automatically. Of course having to wear diapers made it impossible for me to go to the bathroom without help, and the nuns wouldn’t take time to help me. So I soon took the habit to wet my diapers every day. That’s when some of my little friends began to call me diaperboy. Whenever this happened however I would start a fight, which despite my slender build, I always won. I compensated also by having good notes and by being the best at sports and gymnastics. All this made me a respected figure with my peers despite me wearing diapers.

After a couple of weeks my mother pleaded with the nuns to give me another chance and I never had another daytime accident but the occasional use of the nickname “diaperboy” continued for many years.

The bedwetting problem continued for a couple of years. During all this time, whenever I stayed at my aunt’s place she would come to diaper me every night and I got to really love this special attention and the safe feeling. Gradually I stopped wetting them but my aunt continued to diaper me for many years.

I remember a very specific occurrence from those years which at the time didn’t have any importance but which with hindsight get special significance. My aunt kept a large wardrobe in the attic with all kinds of old cloths; old dresses, used coats, shoes etc. One of our winter games was to dress ourselves in those and to show us to my uncle and aunt. We were very creative at this and were able to change into kozak soldiers, pirates or whatever we fancied. One day when I was 7, maybe 8 years old, my oldest niece discovered the white dress which her sister had worn to do her first communion a couple of years before, and wanted me to put it on. At first I refused, saying I would look silly, but both of them insisted. Soon I was standing in front of the mirror wearing this pretty white dress with short balloon sleeves and a small round collar over a short petticoat showing a bit of ripples and making the skirt stand nicely open. Both dress and petticoat were very short since they were 1 or 2 sizes too small. I remember t was a real shock for me having to admit that I did look pretty. Both my nieces were wildly enthusiastic, so they finished the job by putting some white flowers in my hair, and having me put on white socks and a pair of mary-jane shoes of my niece. Then we went down to meet my aunt. She too was kind of overwhelmed with the result and, repeating over and over how beautiful I looked, insisted I would keep on the dress so that my mother, who was going to fetch me that evening, could see it too. The rest of the day I spend being “a nice girl”. When my mother arrived she too was very surprised and appreciative of “her sweet little girl”. She insisted I would keep on the dress to drive home, pretending to be in a hurry. I didn’t mind at all because all the appreciative comments had convinced me that I really looked pretty and I felt quiet at ease in my dress. At home my mother took a couple of pictures. I soon forgot the whole thing, even forgetting to ask how the pictures had come out, until some time later my eye fell on the frame in my mother’s bedroom in which she kept a number of very special pictures, mostly from the time my father still lived, and noticed the picture of “her sweet little girl” had received a place in it. I remember this made me happy but embarrassed at the same time. I didn’t comment my discovery. I don’t know how long she has kept the picture in that frame and I ignore if my brother, or anybody else, ever noticed it. As I said before, this whole episode didn’t seem of any importance at the time but as a prelude to what was to come it can’t be overlooked.

Next chapter: http://clairodon.wordpress.com/2010/12/09/memories-2/