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:


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s