Synopsis; Aunty Cath reviews the recording of her daughter Bonnie and her girlfriend Tammy playing on Bonnie's bed. When Cath realises a third person is in the recording, she calls her sister Isabell and arranges a viewing.

To Baby Renee - thank you for all the lovely comments. I'm glad you're enjoying this long-winded sissy-AB story.

Chapter 26. Sex, Lies, and DVDs.

I was sitting in my highchair - my old pink wooden highchair - and Mummy and Angie were taking turns feeding me some of Mummy's tasty tuna and egg casserole, when there was an unexpected knock at the open back door. I love Mummy's tuna mornay, and I had been hoeing in with a vengeance. "Come in," Mummy yelled, making me jump. As a result, there was cheesy casserole sauce smeared all over my face when Ellen Green and her daughter Daisy came strolling through the door. Not to mention the mess splattered all over my bib too, as a result of Angie's clumsy attempts to spoon-feed me. My sister was being allowed to help feed me dinner tonight, as a reward for doing a poo-poo in her yellow potty this afternoon and successfully wiping clean her own bottom unassisted.

Our visitors looked tanned, fit and healthy when they walked into the kitchen. Seven-year-old Daisy started to snicker in contempt as soon as she laid eyes on me. I could feel my cheeks blush warmly with embarrassment below the thick crust of drying food. I cowered in my infantile highchair, but escape was impossible. Daisy reminded me of a skinnier, slightly taller version of Sally at around the same age. The sniggering wide-eyed girl was dressed in a pastel-blue t-shirt and a short denim skirt. Her mother had more self-control, and Ellen Green merely smiled thinly at the sight of the overgrown baby girl in the highchair being spoon-fed her din-dins. "Hello, Isabell, hello Angie. And this must be Baby Jennie?" Ellen was dressed casually, too, in a pale-yellow t-shirt and faded blue jeans, with a light white Summer cardigan over the top.

"Hi Ellen, hello Daisy, Welcome home," Mummy greeted the skinny thin-faced woman. Our neighbour tried in vain to stop her bemused smile from turning condescending. "Yes, this is my Baby Jennie. I assume Sally told you; she wants to invite my special big baby girl to Daisy's birthday party?"
"Hi Aunty Ellen, hi Daisy," my sister effusively greeted our two visitors. She clutched the sniggering girl's hand when she entreated, "Can Baby Jennie come to your Fairy Princess party, too, please Daisy? Please? Pretty please?"

Before Daisy could reply, our Mummy intervened. "Angelica? You ate up all your dinner like a good girl, so why don't you go and wash your face and hands in the bathroom. Okay sweetie?" Angie nodded but before she could walk away, Mummy asked, "Do you need to use the potty again, sweetheart?"
"No thank you Mummy," Angie proudly responded. My sister tossed a superior smirk in my direction before dancing away towards the downstairs bathroom.
"Good girl," Mummy warmly praised her retreating back, beaming with pride for her well-trained daughter.
"Go with Angie, honey," Mrs Green urged Daisy, giving her bemused daughter a push in the direction of my sister. "Make sure she's okay. Let the grown-ups talk for a few minutes." The grinning seven-year-old kept her wide blue eyes on my blushing red face until she left the room, and then both women turned to examine me. I shrank back in my highchair, but restrained by the snug leather seatbelt and the tight wooden tray, I had nowhere to turn.

Mummy returned to feeding me the rest of my dinner, scraping my colourful plastic Barbie bowl clean with the pink rubber-coated spoon. "How was your vacation, Ellen?" she asked conversationally, as if spoon-feeding a sissified teenage baby in a highchair was hardly worth mentioning.
Mrs. Green's pale-blue eyes remained glued on my messy flushed features. I struggled to swallow the last few bites of the casserole through a throat that had tightened in shame. "Oh fine," Ellen faintly responded, sounding highly distracted. "We had two weeks of mostly glorious weather, and the girls spent almost every day at the beach." I could tell she was dying to question Mummy about my new infantile status.

"That's good," Mummy murmured. She used the rubber-coated spoon to scrape off the bigger pieces smeared around my mouth before feeding them to me again. "Good bubba," she tenderly crooned to me in encouragement, sounding like she was talking to a real baby. “That’s a good girl! Eat it all up for Mummy!” There were a couple of cheesy lumps of tuna spattered on my bib, too. Mummy scooped them up and steered the loaded spoon towards my mouth one more time. I didn't want any more to eat. I had suddenly lost my appetite, and my throat felt too constricted to swallow another mouthful. Instead of protesting like a sensible adult that I was full, I simply turned my face away from the approaching spoon and pursed my lips closed like a sulky toddler. This only resulted in more sticky mess being smeared all over my stained cheek. "Oops!" Mummy cried reproachfully, "Oh baby!"

"Ooo, I think your little girl has a full tummy," chuckled Ellen, her hatchet face breaking into a broad smile.
Mummy scraped the food from my rosy red cheek and then cooed, "Come, on, sweetie! Show Aunty Ellen how you eat up all your din-dins like a good baby girl. Open wide for Mummy. Come on, darling. You can do it. Open up, Baby Jennie." She was speaking down to me like I was a useless one-year-old, and I knew my messy cheeks were scarlet with embarrassment. I opened my mouth and let her shovel in the last scraps, if only to end this humiliating charade.

"There you are, baby! All gone! Good baby!" Mummy sang brightly to me, dumping the spoon in the bowl and gently clapping her hands. "What a clever baby girl!" Ellen smiled approvingly and gave me a little clap too. Like a stupid fool, I thoughtlessly joined in their applause. They both beamed down at me in delight, like I was such a well-behaved toddler, until I realised what I was doing. I stopped abruptly and suddenly I didn't know what to do with my hands, feeling my cheeks colouring hotly with shame once more. Mummy dumped my spoon and bowl in the sink while suggesting, "Let me just wipe down the baby's face and hands first, Ellen. Then we can have a chat in the sunroom while she's having her bottle in her highchair."
"I wanted to talk to you about your Jere- Baby Jennie playing dress-ups with my girls last year," Ellen hesitantly began. At first she appeared reluctant to speak freely in front of me, but the more Mummy continued talking to me and treating me like a helpless toddler, the more reassured our neighbour seemed.

Ellen looked a bit guilty when she added, "I really wanted to tell you at the time, but after I discussed it with my husband, he told me not to interfere."
"Uh-huh," Mummy responded. She vigorously scrubbed my cheeks clean with a warm soapy washer. I whined in discomfort and tried to pull my face away like a cranky infant, but she was too experienced a mother for my infantile avoidance tactics. Her other hand moved to the back of my head to clamp me in place. She kept scrubbing my lips and chin until she was certain my face was pink and shining-clean. My hands weren't too bad, as I hadn't actually been allowed to touch my food - or any utensils. Mummy tossed the dirty damp washcloth in the sink and then handed me one of my pink baby bottles full of green-tinted water. "Here you go, baby. Drink up for Mummy like a good little girl," she urged me in syrupy toddler tones. I gratefully took the heavy bottle with both hands and stuck the nipple between my lips to help cover my sulky scowling mouth and flushed cheeks. “Good baby!”

Ellen smiled at the babyish picture of rosy-cheeked innocence I made, slurping noisily from my big pink baby bottle while bound securely in my highchair, my filthy frilly bibbie still clipped in place. I didn't realise she was admiring my new diamond stud earrings, my long fluttering eyelashes, my pink-stained lips and my pretty pink fingernails, too. Her smile grew broader when she deciphered beneath the spilled food the humiliating message embroidered across my breast, and I was glad she didn't read the words aloud. My frill-laden pink bib proclaimed me to be 'Mummy's Princess Potty-Pants.' Ellen tore her eyes from the revealing inscription with difficulty, and concentrated on speaking to my mother as she tried to explain.

"When I first caught him - her - your Baby Jennie, dressing up in Sally's old tutu in our garage, I thought I should mention it to you. But then he did wet his pants that first time, and I sent him home to find you for a fresh change of underwear. I assumed you would ask him why he had wet undies and socks, but no wet pants. When you didn't bring it up, I figured you were a bit embarrassed by his sissy behaviour, so I decided not to say anything - unless you brought it up first."
"I remember that day," Mummy murmured with a far-away look in her olive-green eyes. "I found her wet panties and socks. I wasted almost an hour looking for her wet shorts."

Ellen glanced at my vacant wide-eyed expression, listening to me thirstily suckling from my bottle teat like a hungry baby, before pulling a DVD in a clear crystal case from the back pocket of her blue jeans. "My husband Bob was a little nervous when I told him about… Baby Jennie playing with our daughters without any adult supervision. I wasn't really concerned, but he insisted we set up our nannycam in the garage. There's a bit of footage I recorded that you should watch. I also videotaped the girls when they gave me a little performance, after they'd been rehearsing together for several months. I have to admit, your little… ahh, your little girl was really getting quite good towards the end. I actually think she might have some real talent. There are another couple of later, other, um… err… performances, that I thought you should see, too. I put them all on this DVD so you could take a look, if you wanted."

I didn't know what a 'nannycam' was, but Mummy seemed to understand what our neighbour was talking about. I remembered when Sally's mum had come out to the garage with her old camcorder to film us - at Daisy's insistence. Even though I really didn't want anyone filming me while I was prancing about in my pretty pink tutu, the girls eventually talked me into it. Sally convinced me that with my longer hair, my tiny waist and my pretty features, no-one would know I wasn't a girl - unless somebody told them. She and her little sister both swore on a stack of bibles that they would never tell anyone, so I reluctantly agreed. I had to admit; part of me secretly wanted to see what I looked like dancing around like a pretty ballerina on the television, and that definitely swayed my decision.

Daisy, Sally and I had been practising one single routine for weeks under Sally's strict tutelage. We'd been working out together regularly for months by this time, usually three afternoons per week, and even for an hour or two some Saturday afternoons. Sally was an absolute slave-driver - but I loved it! I started feeling proud of my growing ability to follow some of the more complicated steps. My pointe work was still a little shaky, but I was beginning to master my pirouettes. I always felt so wonderfully feminine as I twirled about on my tippy-toes, my frothy net skirts swishing noisily around my hips, trying to keep sight of my spinning reflection in the mirror the way Sally taught me.

Mrs Green hadn't really seen me dance for months, and she looked pleasantly surprised by my new-found skills when we performed for her. We'd managed to piece together a four-minute routine to some music from 'The Nutcracker Suite,' which belted out from Sally's boom-box in the corner. When the day came to tape our performance, Sally asked her mum if she would do our make-up first. Ellen Green laughingly agreed, and we all had to swan into her bathroom dressed in our swishing tutus, one by one sit on a chair, and lean back with our chins tilted up so she could paint our faces. Sally went first, then Daisy, and I went last. I grew more and more excited as I impatiently waited to take my turn, watching their mother transform the girls’ eager young faces with thick stage make-up. She was an expert at applying false eyelashes, too, as I soon learned. Sally's mum had a whole collection of special make-up for her stage performances, and her mother knew made-up faces showed up better on videotape, too.

I sat back with a thrill of excitement when it was my turn, hoping Mrs Green wouldn't spot my stiff clittie poking out beneath my frothy tulle skirts. I loved the delicately-perfumed liquid foundation and base powders she used on me, and easily endured the odd pressing on my eyelids when she glued my long fluttering false eyelashes in place. "They come off very easily," Ellen assured me, but I couldn't have cared less. My eyebrows had almost disappeared beneath the thick coating of skin-toned foundation, but she drew in new ones with a mid-brown pencil, along the top of my sparse blonde fuzz. My new, feminine arched eyebrows gave me a child-like expression of innocent wonder when I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, and I giggled in delight. Eyeliner, glossy pale-blue eye-shadow and pink blush followed, and I smiled like a happy little girl as she made me beautiful. I loved the smell and feel of make-up, and I felt like a pampered little Princess when a smiling Mrs Green leaned over me, innocently indulging me in some of my wildest fantasies. After she finished painting my lips with a brilliant fuchsia-pink lipstick, I stared at my reflection in their bathroom mirror, amazed by my transformed, feminised features.

After fluffing out my slowly-growing hair with some gel and a brush, Mrs Green shepherded her painted little dolls out to the garage, bouncing and squealing with excitement. We tried to suppress our nervous giggles, and assumed our positions on the dance floor while she started the camera recording. At the end of our routine we collapsed together on the springy wooden floor in fits of shrieking laughter, falling about like silly little girls in our gorgeous frothy tutus - all of which their laughing mum captured on videotape. I remembered watching the recording with the girls and their mummy afterwards in their living room, and I was thrilled by my convincingly feminine appearance and dainty dancing. I loved wearing make-up, and didn't want to take it off - ever! They practically had to drag me back to the bathroom to wash my face afterwards. I was the last of the pretty ballerinas to have her face scrubbed clean by a chortling Mrs Green. If only my hair had been longer…

My pleasant reminiscence was interrupted when Angie called out from the foot of the stairs, "Mummy? Can I take Daisy upstairs and show her my new bedroom? Oh, and Baby Jennie's new Nursery, too?"
Mummy told her, "Go ahead, honey." She turned to her neighbour and smiled. "Come into the sunroom, Ellen. We can watch it on the system in there," suggested Mummy after she accepted the DVD, waving for her friend to lead the way. I slurped thirstily on the teat of my bottle as they walked into the sunroom, wondering what Mummy would think of my performance as a little ballerina. I didn't know that Sally's daddy had expressed some concern about their next-door-neighbour's immature effeminate son playing sissy dress-ups with his daughters. Even though I had only been eleven at the time we started dancing, Ellen had long been convinced that I was going to turn out gay, so she felt certain her daughters were perfectly safe playing with me. Under his direction though, she set up a nannycam - a wireless digital camera linked to her home computer system, hidden inside a friendly-looking brown teddy bear.

Sally's parents had originally purchased the motion-activated nannycam to keep an eye on the various babysitters they hired, before their oldest child even started school. After reviewing the sitter's performance on their monitor a few times, they were satisfied, and the technology-laden bear sat unused in a cupboard in their bedroom for a few years. When Sally's daddy learned what I was up to in the garage, Bob told his wife to mount the bear on top of the mahogany wardrobe facing the dance floor, and set it to broadcast to the radio receiver attached to their home computer. Even if I’d noticed the innocuous brown teddy sitting on top of the wardrobe, there was no way I could have recognised it for what it really was.

I didn't realise that the first thing Mummy was going to see on the DVD was her eleven-year-old son shyly stripping off his t-shirt and his pee-stained underwear, right in front of the camera. Mummy watched in open-mouthed horror when her only boy unwittingly exposed his rigid little erection to the lens, before tugging a padded pair of pink 'Goodnights for girls' training panties over his bobbing stiffie for the very first time. Mrs Green had left the nannycam sitting on top of the wardrobe for several weeks, and switched it on whenever she went to pick up Sally from ballet school. Not only that - months later, shortly after we stopped practising together, Ellen became suspicious that I had been sneaking into their garage to play dress-ups while they were out. Once again she mounted the innocent-looking spy camera in place and switched on the motion sensor, to record my private activities on the dance floor. She captured some of my frenzied masturbatory antics on her computer, which resulted in my being locked out of their garage for good.

All I knew was; there was nothing but shocked silence from the sunroom for the first few minutes, while the women watched me expose my true feelings to the hidden camera and Ellen's family camcorder. I nervously drained my baby bottle and then set it quietly on the tray in front of me, straining to hear any conversation from the next room. There was some embarrassed snickering for a minute, but when I heard the familiar swelling strains of music, I knew they were watching our performance to 'The Nutcracker Suite.' I had to smile when I heard Mummy burst into spontaneous applause at the end, and she laughed loudly when we fell together in a frothy heap. But a few moments later, I heard her gasp in shock. Then there was the vague sound of our neighbour mumbling something to Mummy. I couldn't hear the words, but Ellen's tone sounded very consoling.

Angie and Daisy came rattling down the stairs about five minutes later, and they dashed into the kitchen. After a smiling glance at me, Daisy called out, "Mrs R? Do you want me to let the baby out of her highchair? She's finished her bottle."
"Thank you, Daisy," Mummy politely replied, her voice strangely cool and distant. Daisy stepped behind the chair and unbuckled the waist belt, then returned to stand in front of my highchair to remove the tray. "Stay there in the kitchen, girls.” Mummy instructed, “We're coming out now." I heard Mummy’s footsteps approaching as she frostily assured our neighbour, "Don't worry, Ellen. I'll make sure my little fairy never needs to borrow your girls' clothes ever again."

The women walked into the kitchen before Daisy attempted to lift me down, thank goodness. Mummy was tapping the crystal case containing the revealing DVD against her thigh, and her expression looked grim when she regarded my innocent countenance. "I really wish you’d brought this to me at the time, Ellen," Mummy commented a trifle testily, as she placed the DVD out of our reach on top of the kitchen cupboards. The other woman's thin angular face looked wracked with guilt as she brushed her daughter out of the way to help me clamber down from my highchair.

"I know, I know," Ellen responded, shaking her head and grimacing in self-loathing. "I'm sorry, Isabell. I wanted to tell you - really I did! But Bobby told me to keep my nose out of it. You know what he's like." She was looking up pleadingly at Mummy, even as she crouched down in front of me. She raised my tiered gingham skirts with one hand, and slipped her other fingers inside the waistband of my pink plastic panties to feel my nappy crotch. "Ooo, what a wet little girl you are!" Ellen cooed to me in baby talk, even as she seemed to realise what she was doing. "Oh! I'm sorry, Isy," she apologised to Mummy, standing and looking a little flustered. "It's just a normal mother's reaction when you lift a baby down, to check their nappies-"

"Don't apologise for that, Ellen," Mummy waved away her concerns, but her laughter sounded brittle. "I understand completely. But I'm not surprised Baby Jennie is saturated. My big baby girl has been wearing the same nappy since I changed her after her nap this afternoon. She's overdue for a change."
"She takes naps, too?" Ellen questioned in disbelief.
"Mummy, you should see Baby Jennie's Nursery!" Daisy interrupted her mother, pointing animatedly at the ceiling towards my Nursery. "It's just like a normal baby girl's Nursery - but everything is bigger. You should see it, Mummy!"
Ellen turned to glance down at her excited child with a condescending smile. "I'm sure mummy will see it later, sweetheart. Hush up for just a minute, now. Let the adults talk."

My Mummy glanced down meaningfully at the troop of little girls clustered around them. "Little pitchers have big ears," she prefaced her next statement. "We'll talk more tomorrow, Ellen. We really need to discuss a few things in private, I think. Listen - Brett is away until Sunday night. How about we have dinner together, tomorrow night - just the two of us. I can organise a babysitter for my girls. Yours too, if you need it."
Ellen Green laughed dismissively. "Don't worry, my Sally can babysit Daisy on Saturday night. She's a very mature young lady these days." They both turned to glance disdainfully at me, and I knew I was suffering badly by comparison. After the women agreed on a plan, Mrs Green turned to Daisy to sweetly ask; "Well, honey? How do you feel about Baby Jennie coming to your birthday party on Sunday?"

The skinny seven-year-old disdainfully eyed my tottering form and shrugged her shoulders dismissively. "I don't mind," Daisy carelessly replied. "It was Sally's idea to invite her." But then her pale-blue eyes lit up in greedy anticipation. "Does that mean I get another present?" Both mothers chuckled at Daisy's audacious question. When Mummy assured Daisy she would receive one present each from both her little girls, the avaricious child was more than happy to grant her big sister's wish. As soon as they went home, my frowning Mummy sent Angie off to watch TV in the sunroom while she led me waddling upstairs to my Nursery. She was strangely silent as she undressed me and removed my sodden nappy, before dumping me in a wonderful hot bath full of strawberry-scented bubbles.

Mummy left me there to soak for a few minutes while she cleaned up the change table, and when she returned, she sat on the side of the tub facing me. “Did you enjoy playing ballerina dress-ups with Daisy and Sally, Baby Jennie?” she asked. She was careful to keep her tone and expression neutral.
“Yeth Mummy,” I admitted, watching her face carefully to assess her reaction. She merely pursed her lips and nodded in what I thought was approval.
“How often did you dress up, baby, and how long did you play ballerinas for?” Mummy softly inquired.

I thought it best to try and minimise my involvement, so I told her, “Only onthe or twithe a week, uthually, Mummy. And we only did it for about thix monthth,” I fibbed. Mummy merely nodded again, her expression unreadable.
“Did you ever play ballerina dress-ups by yourself, or only when you were playing with Sally and Daisy, honey?”
“Only when I wath with the other girlth, Mummy,” I lied, hoping my blushing pink cheeks didn’t give me away. She nodded her head again, but I was concerned when her normally plump pink lips compressed into a grim smile.

I didn’t realise Aunty Ellen had already informed Mummy of all the details of my dress-up adventures in her daughter’s clothes. The revealing DVD they watched together clearly gave lie to my last response. I sat quietly in the tub while Mummy soaped up a washcloth and silently began cleaning my arms and legs, contemplating the thought of attending Daisy's seventh birthday party with a bunch of little girls dressed as fairy Princesses. My skin crawled at the thought of so much potential humiliation, but another part of me longed for the chance to wear a beautiful swishy tutu again. And Mummy told me she'd buy me a tutu of my very own? "Mummy? Am I weally going to Daithy's birthday party?" I timidly asked her, while she carefully scrubbed every inch of my steaming pink body.

"Stand up, baby. I thought you'd be delighted by the idea of prancing around in a pretty tutu again," she responded rather coldly. "After watching your little performance on that DVD… Well!" Her scrubbing grew harder when she reached my shrivelled genitals, until I squealed in pain and tried to wriggle out of her grasp. I didn't know why Mummy was so mad at me. I assumed she'd only been watching the tape of our dancing performance. I thought perhaps she might have spotted my stiff clittie bulging out beneath the bouncing layers of musk-pink tulle skirts, in spite of the puffy training panties I wore underneath - but she already knew that wearing girls' clothes excited me sexually. I didn't realise she also knew about my naughty solo activities on the dance floor next door. "Keep still, you silly baby!" Mummy warned me, her tone still frosty.

As soon as I had been roughly towelled dry, Mummy hustled me out to the Nursery with a crisp smack on my damp pink botty. "On your hands and knees," she sternly reminded me. "Little babies crawl, not walk." I crawled the rest of the way to the change table, frowning resentfully, my bottom lip practically dragging on the floor. I was swiftly powdered and diapered for bed. Mummy dressed me in some frosty-pink panties and a floaty babydoll nightie all without speaking a word to me. The pink cotton nightie was different to the one I'd worn the previous night. The sleeves were longer and edged with frilly white lace, and the lacy neckline was a little lower, but the flounced hem was still too short to cover the shiny pink crotch of my packed plastic panties. In minutes I was locked inside my new steel cot, and I gazed up at the higher barred side rails towering over me on either side. Mummy walked to the door without giving me a kiss and a cuddle goodnight, and I pouted in misery. I groped for the dummy dangling from the lace-edged collar of my cotton nightie, seeking some consolation from the familiar rubber teat. Mummy paused with her hand on the light switch, and then turned to me.

"I wasn't going to let Bonnie go through with her plan to give you a perm tomorrow morning at her salon - but after watching your performance on that DVD…" She paused so long, I thought she must have forgotten what she was going to say. "Bonnie will be here to pick you up at six-thirty in the morning, little girl. Don't forget - your potty-training starts again tomorrow morning, too. If you don't try harder to use the potty, well…" She let the unfinished threat hang in the air for a few moments. "Go to sleep, Baby Jennie. Mummy needs to sleep on it before she decides what she's going to do with you." She switched off the light and I was left alone in the darkness to contemplate my fate.

I wondered what Mummy had seen on Aunty Ellen's DVD that upset her so much? I gently stroked the bulging front of my slippery plastic panties, enjoying the warm gush of wee-wees as it splashed over my flaccid genitals, before trickling down around my ball sack to tickle the sensitive place between my botty cheeks. The dummy teat was soothing in my mouth, and I sucked on the firm rubber nipple in a regular rhythm that seemed to lessen my anxiety. I heard the telephone downstairs ringing as though from a great distance, but I think I must have fallen asleep before Mummy answered it.

It was my Aunty Cath on the phone. She had reviewed the candid recording she secretly made that afternoon in Bonnie's bedroom, and needed to discuss some of the content with her sister. Cath would never admit to her little sister that she had been fondling her wet kitten through her damp nylon panties while she watched the video of the naughty teenagers frolicking on Bonnie’s bed for a second time. Cath was in her private office off her bedroom, with both doors securely locked.

The room had originally been designed as a spacious walk-in wardrobe for her husband, mirroring her own on the other side of the bedroom. After he moved out fourteen years ago, she converted it into a small but efficient private office. One wall had sliding wooden doors opening onto a complete wardrobe, where Cath stored some of her more 'exotic' shoes and outfits. There was plenty of room for a wide teak computer desk against the opposite wall, a plush black leather office chair, and a lockable beige filing cabinet. When the buxom thirty-nine-year-old settled down with a glass of chilled Chardonnay to watch the pornographic recording on her monitor in private, she first stripped down to her sexy black nylon underwear. The spanking scene was so hot, too, and the girls’ multiple thrilling climaxes left her almost breathless.

Even though the camcorder had been aimed in the direction of Bonnie's queen-size bed, the lens had a wide field of view - wide enough to include the bathroom door off to the right-hand side. Cath hadn't spotted it even during the second run through. But on a more leisurely third viewing - after she regained her breath and washed her hands in her en-suite bathroom - she noticed the door of Bonnie's en-suite open slightly at the edge of the screen. Bonnie and Tammy were holding their hands under each other's crotches as they simultaneously pissed their nappies, but the perspiring woman ignored them for the moment. She kept her eyes on the slowly opening door for the next few minutes, and she was astonished to recognise the overgrown toddler skulking inside the pink-tiled bathroom. As the frenetic sexual activity on the bed escalated, the door opened a fraction wider - enough to ensure that Cath felt quite certain sure she could tell what the naughty big baby girl was doing in there. She felt compelled to ring and immediately inform her sister. But there was one detail she had to take care of first.

Cath grabbed the phone on her desk and hit the speed-dial button. It was picked up after a couple of rings. Without any preamble, she demanded, "Do you still have that software for cropping and cleaning up video recordings?" She smiled at the response, then rudely interrupted the rambling voice on the other end. "Shut up and listen. I need you to drive over to my place with the disc right away." She paused, then replied, "I don't care how you're dressed! Throw a robe over the top and come straight over." Cath merely snickered at the indignant squawk from the other end. "No, April is staying at her boyfriend's tonight, and Bonnie is locked in her room. She's not going anywhere. Yes, that's what I said. Locked in." Another pause, then her voice lowered menacingly. "You'll find out when you bring over the software, won't you. I'll give you fifteen minutes. Get moving!" She hung up without waiting for a response.

The next number she speed-dialled was Isabell's, and when her sister answered, Cath briefly explained what she had seen on the tape. "The vision is a little fuzzy, but I have someone coming over this evening who will be able to use computer software to focus on the figure hiding behind the bathroom door, and probably brighten and sharpen the image." Aunty Cath paused before continuing. "I won't swear it was your bad baby girl perving on my daughter and her girlfriend, while they were… 'fooling around' this afternoon. But by tonight, I'll know for sure. I'll burn you a copy of the edited film and bring it over later, okay?"

Mummy agreed and hung up the phone, looking more worried than ever. When she padded into the Nursery after putting Angie to bed, she placed a pink baby bottle full of water at the foot end of my crib, and stared down at my peacefully-sleeping form with an expression of grave concern. "What am I going to do with you, my naughty baby girl?" she quietly asked herself. My only response was to contentedly suck on the amber rubber teat of my dum-dums as I mindlessly wet my nappy in my sleep.

Aunty Cath came over to our place later that night. She was carrying a freshly-burned DVD her ex-husband helped her to make - although Cath hoped Isy wouldn't ask who had assisted her. Her ex had used the software package to crop out some of the action on the bed, focusing instead on the person hiding in the bathroom. Using image-enhancing tools to lighten and sharpen the images, the DVD clearly identified the culprit lurking behind the door. Cath didn't mention who helped her with the editing, and she was glad her sister didn't ask. She didn't want to cloud the issue. As soon as she arrived, Cath stalked into the sunroom and snatched the remote control from the coffee table. "You better sit down first, Isy," she warned her younger sister, as the screen flared into life. Before she could insert the DVD into the player, Isabell advised her to wait.

"There's a DVD I want you to watch with me first, which my neighbour Ellen recorded last year. Hang on." Isabell slipped into the kitchen, and returned a moment later carrying the slim crystal case. As soon as she loaded the incriminating DVD into the machine, she instructed her big sister, "Hit the play button, Cath." They sat on the lounge and watched in silence while the skinny pre-teen boy on the screen stripped off his pee-stained old undies right in front of the camera.
"Not very impressive, is it?" Cath snorted disdainfully, as she observed my bobbing stiff clittie. "Perhaps she'd be better off without it, anyway."
"But look how excited she is by the opportunity to wear something feminine," my mother remarked, her voice strained.

Cath snickered as she identified the puffy pink underwear I pulled over my naked turgid loins. "Is that a pull-up she's wearing? It is!" She answered her own question when she recognised one of the pink 'Goodnights for girls,' and giggled at the thought. "Perhaps she's just excited about dressing up in some pink training panties, Isy. You know what a sissy baby she is."
"I don't think so," her sister softly replied. The scene cut, starting again with me taking off my shorts, undies and t-shirt - different ones, this time - but I was still fully erect when I finally stripped naked and tugged on my puffy pink pull-up. The opening sequence was recorded several times with me in a few different outfits, as if to demonstrate that I always had a raging erection at the beginning of each dress-up session.

A look of dawning comprehension crossed Isabell's face. "I just realised - last year I kept finding wet pink training panties dumped in the rubbish bin outside. Not every day, mind you, but at least one or two per week for several months. At the time, I thought Daisy might have been having a little problem controlling her bladder - and she was trying to hide it from her mother. She was only five and a half, after all. A few months later, I stopped finding them. Now I think I know why."
"It looks like your naughty baby girl finally found a way to keep her pants dry," Cath observed with a sardonic smile.

"She did have a rather unusual long dry spell for quite a few months last year… Oh! Look at her face while she's putting on her tutu," Isabell exclaimed, pointing at my beaming image on the screen. Indeed the expression on my face looked rapturous, as I drew the frothy pink net skirts over my bulging padded panties.

"She certainly loves her frilly clothes, doesn't she?" Cath wondered aloud, "I wonder if she's a transvestite or a trans-sexual?"
"What's the difference," Isabell asked.
"A transvestite is usually aroused by wearing women's clothing, whereas a transsexual actually wants to transform - you know; breast implants, hormone injections, the full cut-and-tuck… She wants to live her life as a woman."
"My naughty baby doesn't want to live life as a woman. She wants to live it like a pampered baby girl, constantly in need of a mother to clean up after her," Isabell noted somewhat sourly.

"She certainly gets aroused by wearing feminine clothes, which tends to indicate she's a transvestite,' Cath observed with clinical detachment.
"But she told me she wants to be a girl," Isabell reminded her well-informed sister.
"Oh, they all say that!" scoffed Cath, causing Isabell to turn and stare at her big sister in confusion for a moment. The loud orchestral music drew her attention back to the screen.

They both had to smile when they watched the three heavily-made-up little girls dressed in their gorgeous ballerina costumes, holding hands and dancing sweetly for the camera. "She's actually not too bad," Cath reluctantly conceded, as they watched me go through my paces. "I've seen bigger girls dance a lot worse. Maybe you should sign Baby Jennie up for some real ballet lessons? I've heard the local ballet school accepts some male pupils, too."
"She certainly looks like she's having a ball," Isabell agreed, looking thoughtful. But then the scene changed again, and there was silence while they watched me strip naked and then dress myself in my favourite pink tutu, but this time without any underwear underneath. There was obviously no-one else present in the Green's garage that day, and when I stood in front of the mirrors admiring my reflection while stroking my stiff clittie underneath the frothy net skirts bunched over my tummy, both women shook their heads and sighed in despair.

There were three different scenes showing me playing with myself through the slick leotard panties. In the first, I grabbed the stiff tutu skirts front and back, and attempted to hold them in place while I rocked my hips backwards and forwards inside the leotard. It was my first clumsy attempt at masturbation, although at that moment I had no idea there was a word for what I was doing. The slippery lycra material slithered erotically over my bobbing stiffie in front, and I frantically thrust my hard little tool into the sexy underwear clinging so sensuously to my rampant erection. The other scenes showed me dancing for a minute or two in front of the mirrors, before freezing in front of my feminine reflection. I held my tulle skirts high over my tummy with my left hand, while briskly rubbing my right palm up and down the length of my throbbing tool, my cupped hand sliding easily over the slick satiny crotch of my tight pink leotard.

"I see," Cath muttered, when the DVD abruptly came to an end. "In that case, this little gem shouldn't come as too much of a surprise to you then, Isy. I'll apologise in advance for the behaviour of my youngest daughter." She popped open the drawer and took out the DVD, and replaced it with the one she'd brought. "Watch the bathroom door on the right-hand side," Cath advised, as the disc whirred into life.

At first it was difficult not to watch the captivating female figures cavorting on the queen-size bed. Bonnie and Tammy were approaching the apex of young womanhood, and they were both beautiful girls. Isy privately marvelled at the size of Bonnie's magnificent bare breasts, and she covered her gaping mouth with one hand when the gorgeous diapered blonde crawled between her naked niece's wide-splayed thighs. But then her attention focused on the opening bathroom door, and she gave a muted cry of recognition when she caught sight of the diminutive figure in the pink baby frock. "That's my bad baby girl!"
"Keep watching," Cath grimly advised her astonished sister.

The view seemed to shift to the right a few degrees, till the writhing figures on the bed were partially obscured. The blurry figure behind the door grew bigger and appeared overexposed for a few seconds, but then the image focused and came into proper contrast. The enhanced imagery clearly showed the lust on my face as I perved on the playing girls. Diapered Tammy was performing oral sex on my moaning cousin, while Bonnie writhed in ecstasy atop her saturated nappy. The women watched as I slipped one hand inside my baby panties, and it soon became obvious that I was furiously masturbating inside my droopy wet nappies. My ruthless Aunty turned up the sound at the conclusion of Bonnie's thunderous climax, urging her sister; "Listen carefully to what Tammy has to say, and watch the effect it has on your big baby girl."

My mother watched closely, her expression torn between fascination and shame as she observed the naughty sissy baby frantically wanking on the screen. Even though the sound was slightly muffled, they could clearly hear Tammy cry; "Mama! Oh! I think- Ohh! Mama, I think I need to do a poo-poo!" Anyone could see the effect her words had on me. My right arm began to jerk up and down more urgently, and a look of intense concentration swept over my face. The women listened to Bonnie's admonishments not to do it, but they could identify Tammy's infantile squeals of pleasure when the kneeling teen began to soil her nappy.

That was when I spread my little feet wider and squatted slightly, bearing down so I could poo my nappies at the same time. As mothers who had long cared for diapered toddlers, they both instantly recognised my tell-tale squatting stance and the straining expression on my red face. They watched in stunned silence as I slipped my free hand between my legs and held my palm against the seat of my rumba panties, so I could feel the hot poo-poos squirting out of my naughty little hole. While the gorgeous blonde teenager noisily soiled her nappies and then exploded in a shrieking, gut-wrenching climax, they watched as I silently reached orgasm, too. My whole body jiggled violently and my splayed legs trembled as the bad baby juice spurted out of me, while I simultaneously strained to fill my nappies with hot squishy poo-poos like a helpless infant. "Oh my," Mummy weakly sighed, the soft words muffled by the hand she had pressed over her mouth.
"Keep watching," Cath firmly urged her stunned sister, her voice low and husky.

They continued to observe my reactions as Bonnie began to chastise her naughty girlfriend, climbing to her feet and then spanking the stinky out-thrust bottom of the gorgeous blonde kneeling on the bed. The thick plastic panties stretched tautly over Tammy's dirty wet diaper seemed to amplify the sound of each hard smack. It was easy to see that I was getting excited all over again. When my right palm began to rub up and down over the slippery front of my pink rumba panties once more, Isabell shook her head in despair at the depravity she was witnessing. She demanded mournfully, "What are we going to do with out naughty little girls?" They listened in silence to the sounds of Bonnie savagely spanking Tammy's big padded bottom, and the smaller teen's second tumultuous climax. It was clear I was straining to soil my nappies again like the dirty diapered teen on the bed. The recording came to an abrupt end the moment the bathroom door slowly closed.

Cath sighed and shifted in her seat in some discomfort, hoping her little sister didn't notice her glittering green eyes and her flushed lips and cheeks. She had masturbated three times already while watching this erotic recording, and part of her regretted editing out the next exciting scene on Bonnie's bed. But there was no need for Isabell to know everything… Even though Cath had washed her dripping kitten and changed into a clean pair of panties before visiting her sister, she was aware there was a fresh warm moist spot staining the cotton gusset of her white satin bikini underwear. Watching the recording of her voluptuous teenage daughter dominating and disciplining the gorgeous diapered blonde pixie had set her juices flowing all over again. She had decided there was no reason for Isy to view the remaining scenes on the original tape, but her twitching kitten grew wetter when she recalled the arousing images that followed.

When Tammy had recovered from her thunderous, toe-curling climax, Bonnie made the dirty baby girl crawl off the bed. The chestnut-haired beauty tossed the wet nappy aside and took her friend's place, lying back on the damp change mat. The petite diapered blonde took her time cleaning and powdering Bonnie's hairless kitten and between her big fleshy bottom cheeks. Then Tammy diapered the smiling bigger girl just like her. As soon as she had tugged the frosty white baby panties up over the supine Amazon's huge diaper package and tucked them in, Tammy threw herself on the bed beside the buxom teen. She squirmed up alongside the bigger girl till their faces were level, and then Tammy softly kissed her girlfriend on the mouth. Bonnie gently nibbled the tasty pink lips of her adoring lesbian lover, before giggling, "I can still taste my juices on your lips, baby."
"Oh Mama," the gorgeous blonde moaned excitedly. She let her rosy mouth gape wide while Bonnie's tongue licked her swollen lips clean, before delving deeply into her wet open mouth.

The kiss had been so passionate that Cath found herself becoming aroused all over again. When their wet open mouths finally parted, the beautiful girls smiled dreamily into each other's eyes for a few minutes. They cuddled each other tightly like they never wanted to let go, but then Tammy slid down and turned her attention to Bonnie's melon-sized titties. They looked even larger when contrasted with Tammy's small hands, and the tiny blonde fondled the warm fleshy globes with a gasp of wonder. She nuzzled one of the massive teats like a hungry little puppy, snuffling and whimpering quietly with excitement as her rosy pursed lips drew closer and closer to the erect russet cap. Bonnie groaned loudly when Tammy greedily latched on to the swollen sensitive bud. Watching the recording, at first Cath couldn't tell if it was a cry of pain or pleasure.

When her daughter began slowly massaging the front of her thick nappy with her fingers, Cath felt sure they were cries of pleasure. One of Tammy's smaller hands slid down Bonnie's smooth round tummy, cupping the hand her daughter had clutched to her dripping vulva. Bonnie let the greedy little girl feast on one stiff nipple for almost five minutes, cooing soft encouraging words to her in baby talk before she moaned, "Oh Tammy! I think I need to do a wee-wee first, before I do another cummie." The hand she had pressed over her crackling panty front moved to slide under the snug elastic waistband, but Tammy stopped her. The gorgeous little girl's pursed lips reluctantly separated from the swollen teat with a loud wet 'plop,' and Bonnie's nipple looked red and angry from the fierce attention she’d lavished on it.

"Wait a second, Mama," Tammy pleaded in a husky voice. "This time I want to feel your kitten while you wet your nappy." She rolled over to my supine cousin's right side, so that she could slip her right hand inside the tight waistband of Bonnie's baby panties. She wormed her fingers under the fluffy nappy front. "Besides," Tammy giggled like a cheeky toddler as she nuzzled the huge sagging breast closest to her, "this titty needs some attention, too, Mama. Otherwise it will get jealous!" Bonnie couldn't restrain her groans of pleasure when the beautiful blonde sucked hard on the previously untouched nipple, while simultaneously cupping her dripping kitten with one small soft palm.

"Here it comes, baby. Here it comes!" Bonnie moaned a few moments later. She spread her long legs wider and relaxed her sphincter muscles to allow the thick stream to gush out of her urethra. Tammy grunted with arousal when she felt hot urine spraying against her cupped palm and fingers, but she refused to stop sucking Bonnie's stiff sensitive nipple even for an instant. She thrust her wet diapered crotch against her girlfriend's plastic-sheathed hip, trying to masturbate against the poopy wet padding that caressed her swollen vulva like a lover's slick fingers. "Ohh, baby! I'm pissing in my nappy," the buxom teen squealed in excitement. "I'm a naughty little girl and I'm wetting my nappy!" When Bonnie finished peeing, the suckling blonde slid her drenched fingers inside the taller teen's steamy dripping opening. She gathered some of Bonnie's copious vaginal lubricant on her fingertips, before fingering her moaning girlfriend's stiff little clitoris. It only took a few minutes before Bonnie's long chestnut pigtails began to whip from side to side again. Her orgasmic wails must have been loud enough to disturb the neighbours.

Cath shuddered and felt her panties moisten afresh as she recalled the teenagers’ erotic diaper escapades. She decided to closely examine the film one more time as soon as she returned home. After she sorted a few things out with her ex - and perhaps, used her and abused her one more time. When Cath diapered her naked, contritely-sniffling daughter for the night before leaving to visit her sister Isy, she noticed that Tammy had left wide dark-red hickeys all around Bonnie's huge russet nipples. They looked like the angry love bites her teenage boyfriend used to leave on her neck decades ago. It was all Cath could do to keep from smiling at the familiar sight from her youth.

'No,' Cath thought, dragging her thoughts back to the present. 'There's no need for Isabell to know everything about my naughty baby girl.' Aloud she said, "Well, Isy, I've already given my bad baby girl a very sound paddling, as you suggested. Bonnie thought the paddle she gave you to use on Baby Jennie was the only one I owned." She laughed in scorn, and it was a harsh cruel sound. "Silly girl."
"Bonnie's going to get another hard spanking from me too, you know that," Isabell forcefully reminded her.
"I know, I know," Cath replied, holding up her palms in a placating manner. "I just thought it would be better if we didn't punish her at the same time. Two separate spankings will really drive home the message of how angry we are - plus it will hurt for longer, thereby making a more… lasting impression. I hope. She's also going to spend a whole month in nappies and baby clothes as we agreed, without a break."

Isabell smiled grimly and nodded, but she hardly looked satisfied. "How did Bonnie accept having to take four weeks off work?" She asked.
"She's furious! Terrified of losing her job, but it's only part-time. She's a casual employee - too casual, if you ask me. I phoned her boss and told her she had to have some time off due to an illness in the family."
"A mental illness in the family," Isabell interjected in a poor attempt at humour. They both smiled weakly. There was silence as they became lost in their own thoughts.

"Have you seen a psychologist yet?" Cath finally asked, and Isabell nodded.
"Yes, I've had two appointments already with the doctor April recommended."
"Oh yes, she's mentioned him a couple of times. He's one of her professors at the University, you know? He's supposed to be excellent with disturbed children."
"Speaking of which - where is Bonnie now?" Isabell asked.

Cath's luscious red lips pressed into a thin smile, but there was no humour in her voice. "She's locked in her bedroom at home right now, with a very sore red bottom - diapered and dressed in some special new baby panties and some mittens I purchased for her this afternoon. I bought some for your Baby Jennie, too - in case you think she needs them - but I left them at home." When she noticed her sister wasn't exactly focused on what she was saying, Cath added; "I'll bring the mittens and a couple of pairs of the special baby panties over tomorrow morning, to show you. I think you might need to use them on your naughty baby girl, too." She rose to her feet as she said, "I won't stay, Isy. You've got a lot to think about tonight."

Mummy escorted her to the front, but before she opened the door, Cath gathered her into a warm hug. "Listen, try not to worry too much. I have a feeling that things will all work out in the end." When Isy's troubled face reflected her strongly-held doubts, Cath gave a shallow laugh. "No, I'm serious! Look, there's another important issue I think we need to discuss, but I want to get all my facts together first. I need one more day… Can we arrange to meet sometime on Sunday afternoon? It's important, Isy."
"I don't know," Mummy replied doubtfully. "Our next-door neighbours are having a 'Fairy Princess' costume party for their seven-year-old daughter's birthday, and both my little girls have been invited."
"Oh how sweet!" Aunty Cath trilled. "A Fairy Princess party! What time Sunday? I'd love to come over and see them all dressed up."
"The party starts at two and goes until five pm," replied Mummy. "But don't worry, Cath; I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities to see my big baby girl dressed up like a sweet little fairy."

Cath gave her frowning younger sister a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure I will, too. I'll try and come over to visit while the girls are at the party. I'll give you a call when I'm on the way, and you can sneak away for an hour or so. That way we can have a little privacy while we… discuss some very important issues. Alright, Isy?" Isabell nodded passively in agreement, her shoulders slumped in acceptance. When had she ever been capable of denying her bossy big sister? She kissed Cath's cheek and bade her goodnight, and as soon as the front door was securely locked, Isy turned off the lights and wearily headed upstairs to bed.

To be continued in chapter 27.

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Baby Jennie