U. N. Known Writer

The Babysitter

This story is narrated in the first person by the particular character in each chapter's title. Skipping ahead might get you confused.

Chapter One
Joseph's Hobby

Holding onto the soft padded top rail of the playpen, I looked out of the attic windows of my gran's house. Being so high up gave me a clear view of most of the surrounding neighbourhoods. Thankfully the rain that had soaked me on my journey from my own home had finally stopped. The dark almost black clouds that had delivered it had parted slightly, allowing faint rays of early summer sun shine to illuminate the dampened town, as I gazed across the road.

Sucking on the dummy that was, as usual lodged in my mouth, I really wished I had the nerve to go outside, even if only into the back garden. Gran was out, as usual at one of your many committees which seemed to do nothing other than hold meetings so there was nothing really stopping me. Other than what I was wearing of course. After all how many thirteen year old boys do you usually see wearing a nappy they'd made themselves, and a wet nappy at that, thanks to the two litre bottle of Gran's own lemonade that I'd drunk on the way upstairs to spy on the Wimslows over the road.

Still even though the temptation was there, it wasn't as if I could actually go outside. Fact is I couldn't even leave the play pen, let alone the actual attic. Not for another hour at least, by which time Gran might be coming home. which is why I'd set the timer on the padlock for that long in the first place. It was there now, behind me, holding the thin chain I'd wrapped around the gate of the playpen, sealing it shut. So until that lock gave it's little click and released itself, I was stuck inside the four foot by four foot [1.2 x 1.2 m] square netted play pen, unable to climb over the waist high sides, partly due to the extra padding around my middle and partly due to them not actually being that strong to support my weight if I tried it. No, I was trapped in there just like a real baby would have been and I loved it.

For most of the time I'd done what toddlers would do, playing with the few oversized plastic toys I'd managed to route out of Gran's assorted jumble, but as the big clock up above the door got closer to one o'clock, I'd rolled myself into a sitting position and then worked my up onto my bare feet, before shuffling over to the window to wait for Aaron Lawrence to turn up for his job at the Wimslows.

You see, Aaron was the neighbourhood babysitter. Well not really a babysitter as he didn't sit for baby's as such, but for slightly older kids, which I guess would have made him more of a child minder, yet he called himself a babysitter. Don't know why. Or at least I didn't then.

Anyway, looking after other people's kids was a strange occupation for a fifteen, nearly sixteen year old boy, even if his mum was some sort of high powered nurse but as Gran explained to me, when a little boy gets to an age when they think girls are 'Yucky' yet still need someone to look after them, then what would be better than another, elder boy they could look up to. Parents for the most part wouldn't care one way or another, Gran said, just as long as they got to go out without their kids, and would probably be more than happy to find a reliable boy like Aaron while they got on with their lives free of their rug rats. That was certainly the case with the Wimslows, across the street.

Jamie Wilmslow was going on nine by then and again according to Gran, he'd always been something of a handfull, even when he'd been a baby due, she said, to his parents letting him get away with anything and everything. This not surprisingly made him uncontrollable as far as most of the local female baby sitters and child minders were concerned. Gran could tell so many stories of the tantrums little Jamie had thrown which she could hear from her house, and which were far more suited to a kindergarten full of kids, not just one little boy. A kindergarten being the one place that Gran through Jamie should be, rather than primary school.

So it was, that when I heard a that I boy I knew from school even though he was in the upper years, was going to take on the little demon over the road I'd settled down at Gran's front window to watch the show, with the real expectation of their being some great fireworks. It was going to be great, I thought, seeing Aaron Lawrence finally finding someone who wouldn't give in to charm, and especially if that someone was a little kid.

Only it didn't turn out like that. Not even slightly.

Right on the dot of the time he was meant to, Aaron turned up at the Wimslow's house, looking smarter than most fifteen year olds ever did. He was even wearing the black trousers and white shirt of our school uniform, and a tie, although not the school tie, but a nicer one. His blond hair was all neat, and he had polished shoes on that clicked when he walked, like he was a soldier or something.

Anyway, Mr Wimslow opened the door and he must have liked what he saw, when Aaron smiled at him, because he left pretty much straight away, as did his wife a few minutes later after, I guess, showing Aaron where everything was, and stuff like that.

Then Aaron was alone with Jamie-the-demon and nothing happened. Nothing. Not a thing. No shouting. No yelling. No explosions. Nothing. Well not until nearly half an hour after Aaron arrived when he walked out into the back garden, that despite the name was actually at the side of the house.

At first I couldn't see where Jamie was, and did get to wondering if Aaron had murdered the little brat, and was now looking for somewhere to bury the body but then Jamie came out the back/side door as well and he was wearing a nappy.

It was a real nappy. Just like baby's wear. So white that the sun made it sort of shine. There were three blue tapes on either side holding it together and it was clearly quite thick as Jamie was walking with his legs slightly bowed, as if he couldn't get his legs closed properly.

That wasn't all either. If the nappy didn't make Jamie look more like a baby than a nine year old boy, then the dummy that was in his mouth, did especially as it had some ribbon on it that went around the sides of his head. He even had little boy mittens on his hands, you know the ones without fingers, and they had ribbon around the wrist as well.

All in all it had to be about the strangest sight I'd ever seen. There was Aaron Lawrence from school taking photographs of Jamie dressed as a baby, and there was I getting a stiffie. It wasn't even just a little semi-stiffie either like I got all the time around that age, but a full on tent-post, cold-chisel sort of one that was almost impossible to hide in the sort of trackie bottoms I was wearing, and which wouldn't go away unless I did the five finger shuffle sooner rather than later. Something I couldn't well do in Gran's front room so once Aaron and the baby like Jamie had gone back inside, I went elsewhere to take care of business.

Naturally the next time Aaron Lawrence was due at the Wimslows I wanted to be watching, just not from the front room, as I wanted a much better view and where better to get that than the attic.

Gran's house was even older than she was, having been there for several wars, and as Gran never throw anything away "Just in case" it could come in handy at some time in the future there was stuff everywhere. None more so than in the attic.

It was all there, piled up in sections. Old curtain, linen and even rugs that the bugs had finished with, in one section. Furniture in another and more boxes of clothes than I could count. Just about everything that a large household that had been going for several generation could have possible ever used, and then not needed anymore. Odd thing was Gran herself never went up there, due to how steep the stairs were, which meant that when I asked I got to have the entire attic totally to myself. All I had to do was promise not to make a mess, which obviously I did.

I have to say that for someone who wanted to spy on the neighbours Gran's attic was perfect. There were two large windows on either side, all of them built into the recess of the slopping roof, which made it difficult if not impossible for anyone to see in, even if they had been enough in the first place, which they couldn't be as Gran's house was the tallest one around, and on a bit of a hill.

Hover as I soon discovered, while being a spy did have moment of intense excitement that could easily lead to heavy panting and a sore wrist, there were also very, very, VERY long periods of complete and utter mind numbing boredom during which nothing at all happens.

It was during one of these that I had the strange notion to wonder what it would be like to wear a nappy.

Obviously, or so I thought at the time, no one actually made nappies big enough for a thirteen year old boy to wear, and even if they did I wouldn't have had the first idea of where to go looking for them, or the nerve to actually buy one, so instead I decided to make one. The only question being how?

In those days before the internet there was only one option if you wanted to learn something knew and that was books. Thankfully Gran's house had a library. An actual Library. A room filled with books on shelves that went from floor to ceiling all the way around, with some more freestanding shelves in the middle. Most of these books were fiction by writers I'd never heard of, written with words I didn't know how to pronounce, but there was one lot from the time of the last war that were all about make-do-and-mend which gave me the answers I needed.

Taking a white cotton hand towel from one of the trunks up in the attic, I folded it into the triangle shape the books showed, before wrapping the long part around my bare waist, and then pulling up the single point between my legs, which made it into something like a nappy. I didn't have and safety pins to hold it all together especially as my stiffy was now pushing the front out making it tricky to keep the makeshift nappy on.

The answer to this issue proved to be as easy as it was obvious and I was so proud to have come up with it myself and not from one of the books. I put my underwear back on. Well not so much my underwear, as the boxers I wore really didn't help the situation, but some old briefs that could well have been my dad's or even my granddad's as they were that old plain white style with no gap in the front to wee through, but they did the job.

That first time I didn't actually wear my new towel nappy for long as I just got too excited but it, and no sooner did I have it on then I was grabbing hold of the front and wanking myself like crazy through the soft folds of the cotton. After that I took it off, as it was a little bit sticky inside, only to instantly wish I hadn't.

Anyway, time went on and wearing the homemade nappy become something I did every time I kept a watch on the Wimslow's house. The hope of catching a glimpse of Aaron Lawrence with Jamie being enough to pretty much keep me stiff although that may have been down to wearing the nappy as well, of course. Still, those times I did see them, and especially whenever I got to see Aaron poking a finger down inside Jamie's nappy to see if he was wet, were enough for me to wet my nappy only not with wee.

Oddly that Jamie had started wetting his nappy didn't surprise me at all, even though the little lad was nine years old. After all, why else would someone be put into nappies if they didn't have a wetting problem in the first place? It was probably that wetting issue that had made him a bit of a brat in the first place as clearly, now that was under control with the nappies, he was a lot calmer, and certainly more obedient.

This got me wondering that if that was good enough for a nine year old then perhaps it would be for a thirteen year old too?

Okay so that probably doesn't make too much sense to anyone else, but it did to me back then, and is why I came to the conclusion that I should try to wet my nappy just to see what it was like.

It didn't prove to be all that easy, as I found that you can't just have a wee when you want, especially when you're wearing clothes, even if it was a nappy. Your body just isn't used to that, so I decided to give it a little bit of help.

Twenty minutes of drinking glass after glass of water until I felt like I was carrying around a swimming pool in my stomach, and I was ready to go.

Up in the attic after a precarious climb up the stairs, I was ready to wet myself for the first time in roughly ten years or so.

Standing, which is how I normally went for a wee, I leant back slightly, taking some deep breaths to calm myself from the excitement of what I was about to do rose. Alas so did my stiffy, which made having a wee even more difficult. Thankfully I was well aware of a cure for that, and several minutes later, I was a bit more panty, but ready to have another go at making my nappy more wet, and less sticky.

It took several more minutes of controlled breathing and visualising myself standing in front of a urinal before the wee started to flow out of me and into the nappy. The second it did I felt for the first time that great sensation of the warm liquid spreading throughout my groin and then, up around my nuts and bottom until finally my nappy making skills failed me and it started to run down my legs, which was a lot less pleasant.

Moving as fast as I could, which wasn't that fast at all, I grabbed another towel from the pile I kept handy, dropping it on the floor and then sat on it until the swimming pool inside me had finally been totally drained, at which point I had to take care of yet another stiffy that sprung up the moment the wee stopped flowing.

Once I'd finished making myself all panty again, I got to spend the next half an hour cleaning up the mess I'd made forever thankfully there Gran had never put any carpet in the attic and that the floorboards had apparently been sealed over the ages against leaks.

That somewhat unpleasant task of cleaning up my own mess wasn't something I was used to at thirteen as there were normally other people around to do that sort of thing, but it was something I would gradually get used to as my experiments went on, although I did look for ways to cut it down.

Again it was Gran's make-do-and-mend books that gave me the answer. What I needed was plastic pants, or at least someway to make something like them which is what the books provided.

Taking a bin liner from Gran's kitchen was strangely exciting and not just because I was only wearing one of my nappies when I did it.

Carefully I cut off the bottom corners of the bin liner, just enough to make holes I could get my feet through but not so big that they wouldn't still grip me around the thighs once I'd put the bin liner on like a pair of pants. This allowed them to provide the seals that I so desperately wanted, and prevent me from leaking all over the attic.

The bin liner rather handily had a draw sting closing at the top, which I could fold over and then knot around my waits to act as the upper seal, as I started to refill my internal swimming pool.

Back up in the attic the need to go to the toilet came upon me right on cue, just as I was standing over the spare towels laid out on the floor.

Having learnt from my previous experiences, I didn't just go at once, but let a little out at time, checking between spurts that nothing was leaking before continuing on.

It worked. Even when the pool was drained, nothing was coming out of the bin liner, with all the liquid being held inside, sucked up into the thirsty towel while the bin liner held it prisoner. This also meant that I didn't need to take the nappy off the moment I wet it, which just added to the fun, and let me get on with my task of sorting through Gran's mountains of rubbish.

With nothing to watch outside the window, I'd started going through all the boxes and piles hoping to find something to help with my games. Already I'd found the three sides of a playpen and some baby toys, so I didn't know what else I might find, if I kept going.

Oddly having a wet nappy seemed to spur me on with my job, and in no time at all I had burrowed quite a way into the mound of bits and pieces. Pulling things out, and then putting them behind me so I get even further into the junk than I'd ever gone before, desperate to find that four side to the playpen for reasons I didn't quite understand at the time.

I didn't realise I'd totally boxed myself in until I started to get little aches in my stomach, which I just put down to either drinking too much water too fast, or perhaps having the bin liner's draw cords tied too tightly around my belly. In either case I ignored it and kept going certain I was going to stumble upon treasure at any moment.

A few minutes later and it was getting worse to a point when I realised I need a poo, and quickly. That was when I noticed I'd got myself trapped with little option other than to mess myself.

Never having thought about doing a poo in my nappy before, my first though was the natural one, to use the toilet. The only problem with that was that the nearest one was downstairs, and I really wasn't sure I had the time for that, not to mention getting the nappy off and putting on my own clothes first. That probably being the case even if I didn't have to move a load of boxes first.

In the end it was clear my only option was to go in the nappy, something which along with so many other things I'd done up in that attic both scared and excited me at the same time.

Dropped into a crouch by a sudden cramp, I remained in that position, pushing my knees under me on the floor with my elbows resting on a nearby box. Then taking deep breaths I tried to calm myself down enough to let loose.

At first there was nothing. Then I surprised myself by having a wee, which I hadn't been expecting. Only once that had started I couldn't stop it, or what followed.

It was a fart that came along with the wee, which my bum must have taken as a signal for that's when it totally released itself and I started to fill my nappy.

Raising my torso up slightly I pushed as there was no option to do anything else, forcing the poo out of myself and into the nappy where it quickly became trapped by the tightness of the towel and started to spread not just over my bottom but down between my legs and across my front.

By the time it was all done and I was empty both back and front, I found I was breathing heavily to the point of panting so totally overcome by the intoxicating pleasure of what I'd done.

Without me even knowing it, my hand was already rubbing the fount of my new plastic pants and the stiffy that was underneath.

Given the thickness of the towel nappy, along with the tightness of the underwear that I was still using to hold it together, not to mention the slickness of the plastic bag coating everything, it took a lot more effort than normal to provide me with the stimulus I through I so desperately needed, to the point where I was lightheaded enough not to think of the consequences of what would happen if I sat down in a soiled nappy.

I landed with a squelch that instantly mushed all my poo all over the inside of my homemade nappy as well as myself. It was this that drove me that final bit over the top to a point where I wouldn't have been able to stop doing what I was doing, even if Gran had walked in accompanied by my parents, my mates from school and pretty much anyone else, I was that so far gone.

From that day on I made sure I didn't use the toilet at Gran's house unless I really had to, preferring instead to do it in the nappies that I was almost constantly wearing whenever I was up in the attic as I imagined myself to be living not so much as an actual baby, but as an elder boy, my own age, being punished by being dressed in nappies and treated as a baby.

I did, of course, eventually find that illusive fourth side to the play pen, setting it up in front of the windows so I could sit in it and still watch Aaron Lawrence treat Jamie Wimlsow like a little baby.

Soon I was devising ways to make sure I couldn't get out of either the nappy or the play pen that easily, just as it would have been if I was really being punished. Duct tape around the bin liner was a good way of doing that, as well as providing an extra seal and of course the timer lock and chain on the playpen gate did the same thing.

From Gran's make-do-and-mend books I learned how to place the soiled nappies into a big bin with a lid to hold in the smell. This I placed over by one of the other windows which I left open slightly all the time so the smell wouldn't be too much of an issue before I had the chance to wash the towels out. This being something that I also did myself, albeit by using gran's washing machine and tumble dryer downstairs.

I also learned how to sterilise the sippy cups, baby bottles and even the dummy I'd found so that I could use them. Filling the bottles and cups with anything that would make me want to wee, for which Gran's lemonade proved to be a sure fire hit. For similar reasons I no longer turned down any Brussels spouts I was offered, and went through baked beans like no kid ever.

Some lessons I got to learn the hard way, the most painful being about nappy rash, teaching me that I needed to have a good supply of both baby oil and baby powder on hand if I was going to play my games. Mind you the baby oil proved to be a bonus is another way as whenever I put it on myself it would provoke a most un-baby-like reaction in my willy which I would need to take care off. No matter how many times it happened.

All in all I was having just about as much fun as I could being a teenaged baby boy on my own. Only that was the problem. I was on my own and no one leaves babies, no matter what their real age, on their own, so it just didn't feel right. What I really wanted, or so I thought, was someone to baby me. Someone to treat me like Jamie Wimslow was being treated. Basically I wanted a babysitter, and who better to do that than Jamie Wimslow's babysitter, Aaron Lawrence. But how? Easy, I asked him.

Chapter Two
Aaron's Job

I was dressed as I always did for a new client in the smartest clothes that I had which was my school trousers and shirt. Normally I'd have worn a tie too as the parents of the kids I sit for tend to like that but this time I had the strangest idea that there weren't going to be any parents involved. That it was the kid himself that was asking for me to sit for them, which would have been well odd, but worthy of a look-see I thought so there I was knocking on the door that big house over the road from the Wimslow's place.

Yeah that's right. I ran my own babysitting service when I was fifteen which probably sounds dead odd for a teenage boy to do, but really, it's piss easy especially as I don't do babies. At least not real ones. They're no fun at all, so I leaves all them for the girls to sort out as they like that sort of thing, while I get paid for plonking some primary school kid down in front of the telly. It really is that simple. Course sometimes I have to get a bit heavy handed, so the kid knows who's in charge but they soon get the message, the little ones anyway. Some of the older ones, need a bit of work like Jamie Wimslow did, but the end results the same. Money for doing next to nothing. No getting up a stupid o'clock, or lugging great big boxes around, or getting filthy dirty. None of that. Just me. Arse on a sofa, eating snack food. Simple.

At least that's how it normally was. This job was going to be different. That much I got from the note that had been put through the Wimslow's door, especially as it was addressed to me, not to the Wimslows.

"Seeking a babysitter for a naughty thirteen year old baby boy, who has been put back into nappies and needs to be controlled and punished like any naughty little toddler would."

That's what it said. All typed out and everything, which didn't look that odd, although it was singed not by a Mr. This or a Mrs. That, but with the name Joey Thompson, and who ever heard of an adult calling himself 'Joey'. It was such a childish name that it just had to be a kid that had written the note, didn't it? Which you have to admit is dead weird. I mean what sort of thirteen year old wants a child minder, let alone a babysitter. Let alone one who would call himself an actual 'baby'!

That's what got me interested. Well that and the double use of the word 'Naughty', and especially the word 'Punished'. Parents normally put disciplined, or something like that, not punished. Punished meant spankings and stuff like that and parents don't like thinking of their kids being spanked, which is why I did it when they're not there, and make sure the kid doesn't tell them about it.

No, this was going to be one interesting job. I could just feel it even though I did wonder if the age thing was just a mistake, and I was going to end up with a three year old and a one year old and they just forgot to put the 'and' in the middle. Either that or it was my mates taking the piss. Still it was too good a chance to turn up which is why I was on that doorstep.

When the door of the mansion started to unlock, I instantly put on my best shit-eating smile, the one that got me out of loads of trouble as adults just seem to think that boys who look as good as I do, and smile, can't do nothing wrong. Well if only they knew, then they'd realised why it was called a shit-eating grin.

I kept the smile in place as the door opened, and even when I could see that it was a boy who answered not a parent, even though he stayed hidden behind the door as he told me to come in.

This, I knew, had to be the Joey Thompson who'd written the note. Had to be. Yet I kept it all professional as I went into the house and he closed the door behind me. Only then when I'd checked there were no adults about, did I turn around and check the kid out, confirming everything I'd thought that this job was going to be interesting.

The kid just stood there, even though he must have known I was checking him out and the fact he wasn't wearing the jeans and hoody combo that most thirteen year old wannabe's wear. He was wearing a t-shirt, just not a black one that depicted some rock band, or movie, or random slogan. Instead his a light blue with little cartoon dogs on it. It was also too small for him, as it was tight across his chest, and short enough to show a tiny amount of surprisingly flat and firm stomach rather than that little balloon belly that the little kids I normally sit have.

Working down from the shirt, he had shorts on, which was a surprise as no kid over nine would wear shorts. Jamie Wilmslow certainly wouldn't, but then he doesn't get to wear trousers at all when I'm with him so that's really not an issue I have to deal with. Still even if Jamie had worn shorts they wouldn't have been as short as this kids shorts were. I mean there was an awful lot of long hairless legs on show, going all the way down to a pair of plimsolls the likes of which I hadn't seen since infants school.

However, while the shorts were short, they weren't small in any other way, being obviously rather big around the kid's clearly slender middle as if he was wearing something bit and bulky underneath them, and from the note I had a pretty good idea what that something was going to be. Only I wasn't going to mention it yet, just in case I was wrong.

All the time I was checking the kid out, which must have been about five minutes, he just stood there, with his hands in front of himself in a way that boys tend to do when they've got a hard-on they don't want anyone to see, although just why my looking at him would give him a lob-on I had no idea, plus I couldn't see any tentage going on in his shorts, so maybe there was another reason.

Anyway, other than the way the kids was dressed and the way he was behaving, he was pretty cute, and could well have been mistaken for a mate of little Jamie over the road, if it were not for his extra height – he was still shorter than me of course – and that faint shadow of what could one day be called a moustache that was just about visible between his little turned up nose and pouty lips.

Still I couldn't just stare at him all day, as I had a job to do, so I decided to get on with it, first by confirming that he was who I thought he was so I asked him his name.

"Joseph," he said first before changing it to, "Joey."

Next I asked him if his parents were home, as then I could decide just how to continue.

"They don't live here," he said which surprised me a bit, so I kept asking until I found out that this was his Gran's house, and that he stayed there during the day while his parents worked, but that his Gran wasn't there for a lot of the time either, which was just what I wanted to hear.

"So you're on you're own then and that's why you want a babysitter?" I summed up having put two and two together to get an answer I was starting to like very much indeed.

He nodded which didn't tell me anything I hadn't already worked out for myself, but when he started to do a sort of little boy shuffle from one foot to the other, then I really learned something as his shorts started to make little crackling noises, just like they would if he was wearing a nappy under them.

Bingo!

Smiling at him, I leant down those few inches that separated us, staring Joey right in the face, while at the same time reaching between his legs, and slipping a finger up the inside of his shorts to confirm my suspicious as I felt the plastic coated softness at the top of his leg, just like Mum had taught me.

The instant I did that, his entire body went dead rigid, yet he didn't yell, or pull away, anything like what you'd expect a boy to do when someone they've only just met sticks a finger up their shorts, although I soon had my finger out of there, the moment I felt wetness.

"Well, well!" I dried my finger on his t-shirt, "It looks like you've gone and wet yourself, doesn't it."

He nodded. Just once and only slightly, but that was all I needed.

"So then, I guess as I'm in charge I should be the one to change you then?"

Again with the nod and not a single protest or claim he could do it himself, or that he was a big boy, or anything along those lines. Instead, he just turned and made for the stair case. So I followed, wondering just where this was going to go.

It was quite a climb up that house. Not so much that first staircase to the first floor, or even the next one up to the second, or even the third. However the last one was dead steep, being not that far off from being more a ladder than steps, but it did give me a great view of Joey's bit round bum, as he went up in front of me.

The top floor of the house was just one great big room, right under the roof, and it was pretty much filled with junk all piled up all over the shop, except for the front part, by the windows that Joey had obviously cleared for whatever he was up to.

A faint but no doubt ever present smell of stale piss floated about the air, coming from, it seemed the large bucket in the corner even though it had a lid on. This just had to be where Joey kept the nappies he'd used before he somehow got them washed, cos there was a pile that looked like they'd been recently put through a machine over on a box, along with a half opened packet of black liners of all things, and a pair of scissors. All of which filled in quite a few of the gaps in what I knew about him, if not all of them so I kept looking around.

There wasn't much furniture in use, at least little that was actually being used, even though there was a lot of it up there. A few chairs were pulled to the sides, but these were mostly covered with other things such as a neatly folded pair of boys jeans and a sweatshirt, no doubt in a size thirteen, plus trainers, socks and boxers. These clearly were Joey's normal clothes for when he wasn't dressing up like an overgrown baby, which was interesting.

One thing that had been set up was one of them large kiddie playpens with narrowly spaced yet brightly coloured netting instead of prison bars. A few plastic toddler toys had been scattered inside, but it was the chain and padlock hanging open on the gate that I found most interesting, as that was clearly used to lock Joey in the playpen.

I'd seen enough. It was time to get to work, so I did what I normally did to get a kid's attention and clapped my hands together which I could do really loud, to a point that it made Joey jump, just like I'd wanted it to

"Right then," I said now I had his attention, "Let's get you changed. Where are your clean nappies?"

He didn't speak, just pointed towards the towels I'd already seen which was disappointing.

"No disposables?" I asked, and he shook his head, looking a little bit sad.

"Well no bother about that for now, I'll use what you've got and see about getting you some proper nappies later."

"Proper nappies?" he repeated, like I'd just told him he'd won the lottery.

"Sure, surprised your Granny hasn't got you some already?"

Joey said nothing to that, which didn't surprise me at all, as clearly the kids grandmother didn't know nothing about her grandson getting all dressed up like a baby in the attic, which was another bit of information for me to store away for future use. In the meantime though, I had a job to be getting on with, such as making a shopping list of stuff I could get from Mum.

"You'll be needing some other things too, I think, but we can sort that out later." I moved across the room to stand in front of him. "Now are you going to be a good little boy, or a naughty little boy?"

"Good boy!" he replied like just about any kid would have done but I knew he wouldn't be able to keep that up. Kids never can. They always end up needing to naughty at some point and then I get to punish them. Have to admit I was really looking forward to punishing Joey.

Still the boy behind the baby, Joseph had to be a good boy or else he wouldn't be able to stay in his gran's house by himself, which would also work in my favour. That and the fact he wanted me to do stuff to him, like change his nappy.

"Raise your arms for me," I said and he did allowing me to pull the t-shirt up over his head leaving him shirtless, and showing me that he didn't have any pit hair, although other than he had a pretty mature chest. Maybe he was even a swimmer like me. He had the wide shoulders for it, but perhaps not the upper body strength. Still time would tell on that one.

I told him to put his arms down, but then changed my mind and told him to put them on his head instead. Which he did letting me know that he was going to do anything I told him straight away, without me having to do all the stuff I normally did to get the little monsters to do what I wanted. Mind you given that Joey was already wearing nappies the trick I'd played on Jamie clearly wouldn't have worked anyway. Just a shame I didn't have my camera so I could blackmail Joey to do what I wanted just like I had with Jamie. Still there was still time. It's surprising what kids will do rather than get embarrassed at school.

This was the real advantage of looking after older kids, that I could blackmail them. Either that or spank them until they did, or tie them up. Any of those work, preferable several or all of them as it's always best to mix things up for the best results. None of that would work with real babies or toddlers of course, but then that's why the girls always had their work cut out for them. Silly bitches. They had to get all down and dirty while I got parents to pay me for bulling their kids. Result.

There were things, of course, that even I wouldn't do with the kids I say, because of their age. Jamie had so far been the eldest I'd sat for, so I'd done things to him I hadn't done to others, but with Joey being thirteen there would be things I could do to him that I'd been dying to try out, but which never felt right doing to little shrimps, like Jamie and the others.

I put my hands on his hips. His bare hips, where I was able to feel the tremors going through his surprisingly taut torso. Once more I looked him right in the eye as I said, "Right then. Let's see what we've got then, shall we?"

He didn't answer, but that was fine, although he did gasp a little as I pulled the waistband of his oversized shorts away from his skin, lifted it over his nappy and then allowed them to drop down to his ankles where I told him to step out of them, which he did.

"Is that a bin bag?" I asked, remembering what I'd seen earlier. "Guess you don't have any plastic or rubber pants do you?"

He nodded to the first question and then gave a shake to the second.

"Well I'll have to see if I can do something about that, as these bin bags just aren't going to cut it if you are going to be wearing nappies all day and all night."

"All day?" the nearly naked boy gasped, his voice getting a little cracky.

I confirmed that's what I meant, going on to say that naughty little boys who wanted to be babies should wear nappies all the time, not just when they want to, which was apparently just what he wanted to hear. He certainly didn't deny that was the truth, not that he really could given what I was already untying the knot holding the bin bag closed around his waist.

Thankfully the bin bag wasn't that wet inside, although the little boy underpants he had on did have some stains on them but most of them looked old. They also turned out to be holding the entire nappy together, which nearly caused a disaster when I attempted to take them off.

"No pins. Very sloppy!" I told him off, covering my mistake, and told him to sit down on a towel that was laid out on the floor.

No sooner was he sat on his padded bottom, then I gave him a firm push in the middle of his chest that sent him rolling backwards until he was laying down. Oddly Joey kept his hands on his head the entire time, even when he was falling over. No protests. No nothing.

Then with gravity having been removed from the situation, I had much better and less messy luck in pulling down his underpants, and then unfolding the triangular part of the nappy between his legs, which made Joey really blush and not without good reason. He was as stiff as a board.

It didn't surprise me one bit that he had a hard-on. In fact I'd have been more shocked if he still had a floppy sausage. The few times I put babies into nappies and especially with the older boys like Jamie Wimslow, I'd seen nearly all of them get cute little twigs. Normally it would happen when I put on whatever cream they used to prevent nappy rash, but some seemed to stay like it all the time. Jamie Wimslow certainly did, and it looked like this kid was going to go the same way, which meant I was going to be able to get some real control over him as he might just be big enough for me to do that thing I'd been thinking about doing to the kid over the road. He had bigger balls too, and even a bit of hair, but I'd sort that out in time. First though I had to get him to someplace where I had move control about what was going on.

Oh yes, this job was going to be so much more fun, than all my others put together. This Joey Thompson wasn't going to know what had hit him by the time I was done. Until then though, I played along with the babysitter thing.

"Right then, let's get you cleaned up," I said, like changing a nappy on a boy barely two years younger than me, was the most normal thing I'd ever done.

He didn't have any baby wipes, but that was okay cos the towels he was wearing as nappies had taken care of most of piss even if it had gone a touch yellow in the process. Still at least it took care of most of the smell. There was even, I noted, a faint brown stain at the back of the nappy as I pulled it from under him, so clearly pissing wasn't the only thing he'd been doing in them.

All the same I used another towel to take care of anything that remained, and then got busy with the baby powder, shaking it all over him like it was snowing or something, until he was coated in the stuff both front, and eventually at the back too.

Not surprisingly his legs were rather longer than Jamie's so I couldn't just pick them up by the ankles and hold them in the air, while I powdered his arse. Instead I had to get him to sort of fold himself in half, and hold his own legs, which wasn't perfect, but at least got the job done. I'd just figure out something better next time.

Anyway, so there he was, with his legs all folded back, and spread open showing me all he had, and guess what? Yeah, that's right, he was still hard as a rock, even though I was now staring right at his arsehole. Kid certainly wasn't shy, I'll give him that, or perhaps he was just so into being a baby that he didn't realise what he was doing? Whatever the reason it was something I was going to take full advantage off in the future, that's for sure.

Once he was all powdered up there was a bit of a sickly cloud hanging over him, which smelt of pure baby, which made me want to gag a bit, even though it did cover up the piss smell from earlier, I started getting him back into a clean nappy. This proved to be a bit of a bugger as I just wasn't used to anything but disposables, but thankfully Joey had some of the towels already folded ready to go, so that wasn't the problem, as they it was just a matter of sliding the widest part under his arse, and then pulling the pointy bit up over his balls. This then had to be held in place while I got his underpants back on, as his hard-on kept flicking it off again. Still that gave me the chance to have a bit of a grope and him to have a bit of a groan, as if I didn't know just how much he was loving this already.

Finally it was bin bag time which was pretty much the same as putting plastic pants on. His feet went into holes cut in the bottom corners of the bag, which was then pulled up his legs, over the nappy, and tied off around his waist. He had to roll backwards so his arse was right off the ground before I could do that last bit, and he did it without me tell him which was a bit of a disappointment but still.

Anyway, so now he was done and ready, so I wasted no time in letting him know that I was in charge by telling him to get into his play pen which he did, without even standing up. Just rolled right over where he was on that towel, got onto his hands and knees and crawled right on over there.

It was just the sort of thing that I used to make Jamie Wilmslow do just to embarrass the kid, and there was Joey doing all on his own. His big padded arse stuck right up in the air like he wanted me to spank it or something. Obviously if I was going to humiliate this kid then I was going to need to do something extra special. But don't you worry. I had loads of ideas already starting with this one.

I followed him over, and as soon as he'd crawled through the gate of the playpen I shut it behind him with a bang loud enough to make him turn around and see what I was going. His eyes going all wide when I wrapped the chain he'd left there around the gate and snapped the padlock closed, sealing him in.

"Play with your toys," I told him, almost asking where the key to the lock was before I noticed it was one of them fancy timer locks, that you could set to a length of time for it to stay locked. It was already set for a couple of hours which would be more then enough time for me to have a good old root around and see what else there was, that could make this job a load more interesting. If not there was stuff at home I could use, and I could always ask Shane to knock me up something.

Before I did that though, I noticed something else, the moment I'd finished with the timer lock. The attic had a perfect view of the Wimslow house, which meant Joey must have seen what I did with Jamie, and yet he still wanted me to be his babysitter, which was interesting, don't you think?

Chapter Three
Joey's Surprise

Sitting in the back of Gran's little car, I couldn't help but shift about on the back seat, as it kept on sticking to the backs of my legs. It wasn't as if the seat was dirty which Gran would never have allowed, which is why she'd covered it in plastic, which given how hot it got in that car, wasn't the greatest idea.

"Sit still Joseph. Have you got ants in your pants, lad. You are putting me off my driving and we will be sure to crash and die, if you do not desist right this instant."

"Yes Gran." I replied even though the likely hood of us crashing was highly unlikely given just how slow Gran drove. Fact is the closest we'd ever come is when a cyclist had over taken us and had clipped us slightly which means technically he'd crashed into us, not the other way around, but still, Gran had taken it as a warning, and gone even slower since. So slow that it would have been quicker to walk and I would have done, had I not been wearing what I was wearing.

Gran had thought I'd looked very smart when I'd first shown her the clothes Aaron Lawrence had found up in one of the old trunks in the attic. I'd been stuck in the playpen at the time, so I hadn't seen everything he'd dug out, even though there were several bags of it. He'd taken some of it with him, but had left this lot for me to wear the next time he came over, only things didn't quite work out like that as I was going to his house, rather than him coming to mine like he'd done before.

Gran was having one of her committees at her house, and while I'd have normally just stayed upstairs in the attic doing my nappy thing, I'd told Aaron he couldn't come over cos like, that would have just been weird if Gran knew I had a fifteen year old baby sitter. That's when Aaron had said I should go to his instead.

Of course Gran didn't know she was driving me over to my babysitter's, she just thought I was going to a mate's house, yet oddly she never asked why I was wearing an old fashioned school uniform to do it, even though it was the holidays, and no school had had a uniform like that for years. Certainly no secondary school kid like I was. Someone in juniors maybe, Infants certainly, but not a secondary. And you'd think Gran would have known that, but clearly she didn't have a clue. Thankfully.

You'd have thought that even if the shorts I was wearing, hadn't been a tip of then the braces would have told her just how old fashioned the uniform was. The short sleeved shirt was pretty ordinary if not quite as white as it could have been. The tie was a bit narrow, and made from some sort of wool, that left it the same width all the way down, but other than that worked like a normal tie would.

On my feet I wore the pair of old plimsolls I did when I was being a baby, only with grey socks that could be folded over to show the same colours as the tie around my ankles, which left most of my legs bare to get stuck to the car seat all the way up to the shorts.

Now the shorts, weren't actually that short, as they came down almost to my knees. At least they did when I was standing up. Sitting down was another matter, as when I sat down the braces pulled them up my legs to a point they offered my thighs no protection from the sticky plastic and giving me a bit of a wedgie in the process.

Yes, braces. I wasn't sure what to do with the to start with, when I saw them hanging down from the waist of the shorts, but I soon got the hang of them, especially when I found out the shorts didn't come with any sort of belt. There was a button there, but that wasn't enough to hold them up as they were a touch loose on me and would have fallen down hadn't the braces been there. Shame was that the shorts weren't baggy enough for me to wear one of my towel nappies under them but that didn't matter as Aaron had said he'd got me some proper ones, so you can imagine how excited I was to see him. Excited enough to risk going outside wearing old fashioned clothes more suited to a little kid than a teenager. But not so stupid as to actually walk across town.

When Gran eventually pulled up outside the address I'd given her, I could tell from her face in the mirror that she'd been expecting something nicer if not actually posh, but then so was I. It's not that Aaron's house was a dump or anything, it wasn't, but it wasn't as nice as Gran's or even my house. It was though nicer than a lot of the houses around it, so at least Gran let me get out of the car with only the short version of the lecture to by nice to my hosts, and not get into any trouble. The usual stuff. All of which I nodded to, as expected, before waving her off for the entire five minutes it took her to drive out of the road.

Turning back to the house I suddenly got the weird sensation of having hair blowing around my bare legs and arms, while the thin tie started to sway from side to side across my chest. Of course my willy started to stiffen up, not that it could do much as it was trapped in an old pair of briefs, as Aaron had told me I couldn't wear boxer shorts any more, not that I was a little boy.

I was still smiling at that, when I knocked on the door, not for one minute thinking that anyone else would open it but my babysitter.

No sooner did I knock than the door was yanked open.

"Ah good. It's you." Aaron yanked open door, almost as if he was expecting someone else, despite having said that he'd have the house to himself.

The bare concrete steps leading up to the front door were quite step making Aaron seem even taller than I knew him to be, dressed in a pair of jeans and sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up, making him look older too. I had to crane my neck up a bit to look at him towering over me. Him peering down at me, looking me up and down, and clearly liking what he saw judging by the way he smiled.

"I've got something special for you upstairs."

The words nearly made my heart skip a beat as it changed from pumping blood around my entire body, to just sending it down between my legs. I knew what that surprise was. A nappy. A real nappy. One that was made to fit someone my age. A nappy that my babysitter was going to put on me, like I was a real baby.

Climbing up those steep front steps and then the equally steep staircase inside the house was really tricky as I'd made the mistake of tucking my willy down the front of the briefs like a little kid would, rather than leaving it pointing up or to the sides. This made it less obvious, than the other methods, and was fine while it was soft, but not so much now it was stiff.

At the top of the stairs Aaron directed me to the small back bedroom, which had clearly been set aside for when he was minding kids at home as beside the bed there was something I'd never seen before. A changing table.

Okay so it wasn't one of those fancy ones you see in the shops, with drawers underneath for all the baby stuff, but it did have some towels laid out on the top and was waist height and just about long enough for a boy my size to lay down along with several Velcro backed straps hanging down the sides that made my willy throb.

Another table next to it did have a plastic bag baring that looked like something you'd get from a doctor's which I knew had to contain the nappies and some other stuff like a wash rag sat in a bowl of water, the bottle of baby oil and several bits of clear plastic and the tiny padlock. Not that I paid much attention to those latter things as my eyes were just on the nappies.

"Right then. Let's get you changed."

Aaron was stood so closely behind me that he actually made me jump when he spoke which made him laugh, like he'd done that on purpose as a distraction while he slipped the braces from my shoulders, which caused the shorts to fall right down to the ground.

"Hands on your head," he told me, although even while he was saying the words, he had hold of my wrists and putting them there himself before I had a chance to grab my shorts.

"Having fun." he nodded towards the lump in the front of my briefs, as he lifted up my feet to remove the shorts from around my ankles and then reached up for the underwear.

The briefs being rather tighter than the shorts took a bit more work for Aaron to get down, especially as they had my stiff willy all caught up in them. Not that it was the first time Aaron had seen that of course, but this was the first time he actually touched it.

"Who's a naughty little boy then!" he teased as he pulled my willy out from my briefs, and let it snap up against my body, as he took my underwear down to my ankles and off and I can only hope that was a rhetorical question as I really wasn't in a fit state to answer it.

Still kneeling in front of me, Aaron looked up at me, glancing down at my willy, as he asked if it did that all the time.

My head started to shake, cos what thirteen year old boy was ever going to admit to playing with himself but the way Aaron was looking at me, told me he wouldn't have believed that so I nodded and he smiled.

"Thought so, well we'll do something about that in a bit. Let's get you comfortable first shall we?"

I wanted to ask what he meant, but before I could he'd not only stood up, but put his hands under my arms, picking me up and then sitting me down on the end of the changing table.

Just like he had up in the attic, he gave me a push on the chest, that tipped me over until I was stretched out full length on the changing table, my head elevated slightly on a rolled up towel.

"Got to make sure you don't fall off." He pulled a large strap like you find in cars over my chest and used the Velcro attached to it to fasten it down. A second similar strap going across my belly, right over the my belly button.

When he'd finished doing that, Aaron told me to put my hands by my sides, on the table, which was a lot more comfortable than keeping them on my head, only that wasn't the reason Aaron asked me to do it, as he wanted them out of the way, and kept that way, by some more Velcro straps that he was soon fastening around them.

It didn't escape my attention that my entire upper body, save for my head, was now strapped down to the changing table, even so Aaron made sure to mention it, again repeating that he didn't want me rolling about when he was working, which I took to assume meant putting a nappy on me, but he had more in mind than that. Starting with a razor.

I didn't see what Aaron had in his hand at first, or even at all as I closed my eyes the moment he picked up my stiffy from where it had been laying on my middle.

My eyes did open when I felt something scraping across my skin at the base of my willy but by then it was too late. Aaron had shaved off the few strands of pubic hair I'd managed to grew.

"That's better isn't it? Much more like a baby now?"

I smiled at what Aaron said, because it was true. Babies didn't have pubes, as the younger boys at school were always being told. Not that my pubes had ever been that much, not with them being so fine and fair that they barely showed up anyway. Yet now they weren't there, I felt strangely even more naked than I actually was not that I got that much time to think about it, before Aaron was doing something else I hadn't been expecting.

Grabbing my legs from where they'd been hanging over the side of the changing table, Aaron lifted them into the air and pushing them back until I was bent in two with my ankles down on either side of my chest.

He'd done this before, so I wasn't overly bothered by it. Not even when he flicked another thick Velcro strap across behind each of my knees, so my legs would stay there, and leaving me not only totally immobilized but completely exposed, with not just my willy and nuts on display, but my bum as well.

Even from where I was, laid flat on my back, I could see how incredibly wide open my normally private parts were not least of all due to my willy being not that far from my face in all their new hairless glory.

My view of what was going on was somewhat limited by my own body, but I did see from the corner of my eye as Aaron picked up the rag from the bowl of water, moments before it was pressed between my legs, where it proved cold enough to shock the breath from my lungs, and just as Aaron had intended all the blood from my stiffy.

"That's better. Much more like a little boy." Aaron flicked my now soft tube of soft flesh a little flick that made it swing harmlessly from side to side. "Now let's keep it like that, shall we?"

At first I thought he was forbidding me from getting a stiffy again, especially when he the next thing he did was to grab hold of my nuts as well as my willy, and gave them a little squeeze. Only that wasn't why he was doing it. That was the only way he could get them far enough away from the rest of my body so that he could push a plastic ring around behind them. The two parts of which clicked together with a sound that sounded a lot to me like a lock closing and which made me gasp.

"That's only part one. Little boy. Here comes part two."

It was a small clear plastic tube that Aaron held in front of my face for a second, and then allowed my eyes to follow it all the way down my body until it was level with the end of my little limp willy, which he then slotted inside it.

"Perfect fit!" he mumbled, when he had the tube all the way on my willy and was twisting it around in order to get it lined up to the plastic ring that was already in place. Then, carefully he picked up the tiny padlock after pausing so I could see what he was doing, slotted the open arm of it through the matched up holes in the ring and the tube, and then snapped it closed, trapping my willy in the device.

"No more big boy games for you little boy." He jiggled the device I was now locked into, until I realised just what he meant which took me a few minutes to realise.

Given the position I was in, I could still see my willy, even though it was inside that plastic tube. A tube that it very completely filled. There was a hole at the far end for me to wee through, although I did wonder how easy aiming would be, which was the only concern I had, until my willy started to tingle and I realised something else. There was no room in that little tube for my willy to get bigger. None at all.

The shock of what this meant, hit me quite dramatically.

If my willy didn't have enough space to get bigger then it wouldn't have enough space to get stiff. And if it didn't have enough space to get stiff, then it wouldn't get stiff. Ever. At least not as long as that tube was on it. Plus, if it couldn't get stiff, then I couldn't play with it, and if I couldn't play with then I couldn't wank, which was really devastating news for a thirteen year old boy to comprehend. Not that Aaron gave me much time to think about it as he started getting me ready for my nappy with another surprise.

The baby wipes stung a little bit as they were rubbed around my willy, especially when they went over the places where I used to have pubes, but that was nothing to what I felt when Aaron rubbed then down over my bum hole.

I'd never been scrubbed like that. Not down there and when his forefinger pushed a little bit inside my hole I might have leapt up in the air had I not being strapped down onto the changing table.

"Not as clean as you could be," announced Aaron showing me the tiny bit of brown that was on the cloth before delivering the threat that I'd be punished if that happened again.

I was still wondering what he meant by that when a cloud of baby powder seemed to explode all over my middle, turning everything the whitest white, like some Christmas movie, only one that featured nappies.

It looked huge when Aaron took it out of it's package, unfolded it and the pushed part of it under my raised bum. I couldn't see anything after that, until he was unrolling the sides across my hips and then pulling up the front between my legs. By that point I was really starting to feel the confining restrictions of the chastity tube as my willy tried it's hardest to get stiff, but with no success.

Totally ignoring me squirming in place, Aaron quickly bought the front of the nappy up and pressed it down on top of my trapped willy. Holding it there, as he got the sides over my hips and started to seal everything together, with a row of three wide sticky tapes, that made the nappy really tight and snug on me.

It was a relief to be able to unfold myself once Aaron released the Velcro straps holding my legs in place not that this was the reason he did it, as he needed to put plastic pants on me. Well, I guess he didn't need to put plastic pants on me, as the disposable nappy I was already wearing was clearly plastic backed as it crackled when my legs came down, but he did anyway. Not that I minded.

They were real plastic pants, like those I'd seen on Jamie Wimslow. Clear plastic with bands of strong elastic around the leg openings, and an even wider band around the waist, where there was also what looked like some sort of belt.

My feet went into the leg holes, Aaron pulling the plastic pants up my legs slowly, so that I got to feel the elastic as it gripped around my thighs.

When he got to the nappy, he told me to raise my bum, which I did as best I could, allowing him to work the plastic pants under me, and over the nappy, until they covered it all. Then, when he was certain about that, he pulled on the waist of the plastic pants, so that they tightened around my tummy, making a slightly clicking noise until they wouldn't go any further, at which point he pulled something out and showed it to me.

"It's a key," he explained, showing how it fitted into the front of the plastic pants and more importantly, how the plastic pants couldn't be removed with out them, meaning I was trapped in them, and therefore the nappy beneath.

It was all a lot for me to take in. I'd never been put in nappies before, and now I couldn't get out of them even if I wanted too. On top of that my willy was throbbing insistently but there was nothing I could do about that either. Not even once Aaron released me from the changing table and started to walk me towards the door.

"What about my shorts?" I asked, even though I knew the answer to that as I looked down at the thick cushioned front beneath the plastic pants.

"Won't fit," shrugged Aaron, "Besides, no one will see you. Now shift it, while I clear up here."

He turned his back on me, putting this away, leaving me standing there wondering what I was going to do. The feeling of wearing a real disposable nappy was very different to how the towels I'd previously used had been. Tighter, less roomy, and yet still softer at the same time. Of course this only made my willy strain more against it's plastic prison, letting me know that I really was going to have to do something about that, just not in front of my babysitter who had other ideas about what I should be playing with.

"Go downstairs. I've left some toys in the front room."

Aaron finished his instructions by giving my seat what must have been quite a hard slap, as it made me jump forward onto the landing, yet I was so well padded up that I barely felt it.

Seeing as I was already at the top of the stairs I decided to go down them, which proved to be something of a challenge given how much I was waddling, meaning I had to hold onto the handrail all the way, with the slippery vinyl of the plastic pants rubbing softly against my inner thighs, unlike anything the bin liners had done.

At the bottom of the stairs I found myself facing the front door, a position I really didn't want to be in, so I wasted no time in turning into the first doorway I found, which proved to be the front room of the house and where, just like Aaron had said, some baby toys were laid out on the rub, in front of the sofa.

Waddling over, I realised I was going to have an issue sitting down but knew how to get around that, by leaning and then sort of falling backwards, bouncing my big padded bum, off the edge of the sofa and then down onto the ground where I landed with a bit of a thump, but a thump that was cushioned enough so I didn't really feel it.

The toys Aaron had laid out didn't hold my attention for long as it was another one I'd bought with me that I really wanted to play with.

Sitting on the floor with my long bare legs spread out in a large V-shape, I leaned back against the sofa and did my best. Rubbing in the pillowy soft front of the nappy, desperately seeking some sort of relief yet not really getting any at all. If anything the more I went through the motions of having a wank, then the more frustrated I became. My willy was aching, to a point where it felt like it was getting crushed inside the chastity device, but that just seemed to turn me on even more.

Trapped inside a vicious circle I kept on doing what I was doing right up to the point where I heard the front door open. Then I stopped in a hurry I can tell you, and even brought my legs together for what good that did.

Craning my head around the side of the sofa, I saw a figure standing by the bottom of the stairs that looked a lot like Aaron, only different. He was shorter for a start, and had much more hair. A big shaggy head of it, that covered some of his face. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, like Aaron had been, only these look smart on Aaron, they looked scruffy on him, not least because they were splattered with mud.

The kid looked up the stairs for a few moments, while stuffing a front door key attached to a chain, into the front pocket of his jeans, the chain being attached to one of his belt loops. Then he started to walk down towards the kitchen no doubt to get something to eat, only to stop and snap his head in my direction, when my plastic pants made a loud crackling sound.

"Well, what the fuck have we got here?"

The instant he spoke, I realised who he was. It was Aaron's kid brother. It had to be. Not only did he sound like him, only with a higher pitched voice of a kid of around eleven, but he was the spitting image, even with the shaggy hair. It couldn't be anyone else, not with that family resemblance. Not unless Aaron had gone and cloned himself!

Sitting there in bulging diapers and shiny plastic pants, I blushed furiously as the kid came over and peered down at me. There was no hiding what I was wearing, and nowhere for me to go, so I just sat there and let him look.

"Well," he smiled, "You're the biggest fucking baby I ever fucking saw."

Embarrassed to be seen dressed as I was, I told him I wasn't a baby. For what good it did me.

"Of Course fucking not," he laughed before pointing out the obvious issues with my denial, "That's why you're wearing fucking nappies and plastic pants, like a fucking baby."

There wasn't anything I could say to that, but thankfully I didn't have to as it was at this point that Aaron came downstairs, and spotted the newcomer.

"Liam? What you doing here?"

"Got fucking sent home didn't I?" the lad shrugged his shoulders like that was nothing new, "So what the fuck is going on here then? Why's that kid wearing a fucking nappy? Wait, it's not that Jamie kid you asked mum to get nappies for is it? Thought he was like, six or something?"

"He's nine and what did mum say about you swearing all the time?"

A smirk flitted across Liam's otherwise baby-faced face, "She said she didn't want to fucking hear me fucking swearing, but she's not fucking here so she can't fucking hear me can she?"

No doubt used to dealing with such outbursts from his kid brother, Aaron ignored him, to inform me it was time for my nap, which was news to me.

Naturally I was embarrassed about a younger boy seeing me as a baby being made to take a nap in the afternoon, while, Liam clearly had his own ideas about what I should be doing. It was the sound of those that made me take the hand Aaron was offering me so I could get pulled to my feet, and hustled out of the living room and away form the glint in Liam's eye. One that could only mean trouble for me.

Chapter Four
Aaron's Cleaning

The sun was warm as it shone through the little window of our back bedroom as I looked in the door having finally got shot of Liam so I could get on with my plan to tame Joey Thompson.

He was in the room, Joey that is not Liam, sleeping even though he'd said he wasn't tired when I'd told him it was time for his afternoon nap.

Curled up on the small bed mum keeps set up for when I do my babysitting at home, the sheet I'd put over him an hour early had fallen off, so his big padded arse was facing right towards me, with the light even reflecting of the shiny plastic pants I'd put him and which Liam had found so funny.

My little brother could be such an arse at time. I've no idea why he'd come home when he should have been out with his mates, but I can guess that he was doing something he shouldn't and was about to get caught. That's pretty much the only reason he'd have come back to ours instead of terrorizing the little kids at the park, or shouting rude things at the girls down at the shops, or any number of the other obnoxious crap he gets up to when Mum's at work.

Still Liam was gone now, so I could get on with showing Joey Thompson just what it was like to be a real baby, thanks to the things I'd borrowed from mum's medical supplies.

Even now as he was still sleeping, I'd already been into the room, and not just to check he was asleep either, as I'd already wheeled in the stand with the big red rubber enema bag, hanging from it, into position at the end of his bed, and tucked the end of the long slender white hose that ran down from it, under his mattress where I'd be able to reach it when I needed it.

Stepping into the room, I walked over to the side of the bed, watching him sleep for a few minutes as he really looked cute like that. All half curled up with one leg tucked into his chest and the other one laid straight out. He even had one hand up by his mouth like he sucking his thumb or something. Not that his thumb was inside his mouth but it was close and even pointing towards it.

It's funny how even the wildest kid can look so cute when they're asleep. Jamie certainly does and even Liam can look like an angel when he's out cold, rather than the devil he is when he's awake. Mind you Joey Thompson looks pretty cute when he's awake, in his nappies and plastic pants. Speaking of which, there was something I needed to check.

Going into a crouch beside the bed, I placed a finger on the back of Joey's thighs right up near the bottom of his plastic pants. I left it there for a few seconds wondering if he'd move but clearly he was a sound sleeper as he didn't even seem to notice I was touching his surprisingly warm leg.

Slowly I worked my finger upwards, until it came to the tough elastic surrounding his upper thigh. I then had to use my other hand to peel up the seal so I could get my finger underneath it and test the condition of his nappy. The result of which, wasn't that much of a surprise.

He was wet. Not drenched, but damp enough for me to know that he'd wet himself, which was just what I'd expected him to do. He did after all like wearing nappies and wetting himself, so what else was he going to do when I put him in one. Mind you he may have just pissed himself when he saw Liam, as he wouldn't have been the first kid to do that either.

Having removed my finger from inside his nappy, I gave it a wipe on the back of his leg before moving my hand up to gently rub the plastic of that big fat bottom and then gave it a good old squeeze which finally woke Joey up.

Turning his head, he looked up at me, blinking like he was doing morse code, as his mind reminded him that he wasn't home in bed, or even up in his Granny's attic, but here in my house, dressed in nappies and plastic pants, just like he'd asked to be.

"Let's get you changed!" I smiled at him knowing that would disarm any negative thoughts he might be having, and took his hand, helping him to get off the bed, and up onto the changing table where he allowed me to strap him down, without the slightest complaint.

Leaving his legs dangling down for now, I unlocked the plastic pants, and carefully peeled them down his long slender legs, letting out the faint smell of piss that they'd been holding in.

Joey's nose wrinkled up when the smell made it up to his face, but he didn't look embarrassed that he'd wet himself. In fact, if anything, I'm fairly sure he smiled, which did make me wonder if he'd forgotten he'd done it, as he must have wet himself before his nap, rather than during it. Surely.

Anyway, once his plastic pants were off, I picked up his legs and folded them back as I'd done earlier, strapping them into place, along with his arms. None of which he complained about, and then set about un-taping his nappy.

I had a plastic bag ready to put the wet nappy into, tying a knot in the top to keep the smell in, which I left by the side, as I picked up a wash rag to clean him up.

Starting in the obvious place, Joey gave a little gasp as my hand, covered in the rag, closed around his nut sack, where I made sure to have a grope of each of his balls, until he started to stiffen inside the plastic tube covering his dick.

"Oh dear," I smiled at him whilst grabbing his balls in my hand, "Is little baby boy trying to get a big boy stiffy?"

He didn't answer of course but that didn't matter as it would have only got in the way of what I was saying anyway.

"But you're a big baby in nappies, and little babies in nappies don't have stiffies do they?"

He nodded. At least I think he did as it wasn't easy to tell given the position he was in, and the fact I wasn't really watching his face but rather the finger of my other hand as it slide down from his balls, towards his crack.

"Little baby boys in nappies can't be dirty like big boys, they have to be kept clean. Everywhere?"

I don't think he understood quite what I meant until I slipped a finger into his bottom at which point he squealed with surprise, so I did it again.

Pulling my finger out until just the tip was hovering over his rear entrance, I then plunged my untire finger right back inside until the ball of my hand, was pressed up tight to his arse.

"Like that?" I asked, no expecting, or really caring about the answer, as his mouth was hanging open almost as wide as his mouth was, as I worked my finger in and out several times, getting it ready for what was to come.

Finally letting go of his balls, I left my finger inside his bottom while I reached for the enema nozzle that I'd already grease up with some of that Vaseline mum always uses to make things go in easier.

The nozzle I'd chosen from mum's collection wasn't the biggest but it wasn't the smallest either. It had to be about six inches [15 cm] long and perfectly smooth with little holes about half way down. It was also just about as thick as a Joey's prick would have been had it not been stuck inside the chastity tube.

"This is a little bigger than my finger," I warned him before placing the rounded end at the entrance to his hole and slowly pushing it into him.

Joey attempted to shift away from me, but of course he couldn't, he was strapped down tight, and anyway I soon had the head inside him, watching as his hole opened up around it.

Having read mum's books on giving an enema I knew to wait at this stage so he could get used to having something inside his bum hole, before slowly pushing the rest of the nozzle up inside him, a little bit at a time until it was all the way inside him.

To his credit, and my surprise, Joey only said a single moan once during the entire time, although he did still shuffle about on the changing table as he adjusted to the feeling of being full back there

As before, I gave him a minute or so to get used to it and then started to work it in and out in a fucking motion that soon got him groaning and breathing really hard as I told him what I was going to do.

"Get you all nice and cleaned out with some nice clean water."

His eyes flicked to the hose that was now trailing out from between his legs, following it up and around the changing table to the bag it was hanging from. A rather large bag as he soon noted.

"All that?" he gasped.

"Yes all that," I informed him, telling him I'd go nice and slow until he'd taken every drop up his bottom.

Naturally he would have protested that that was as impossible as it looked, but he wasn't able to, not while I was still fucking his bum with the nozzle. Truth was he could take it all. I'd worked it out carefully from Mum's books just to be sure. Still it was going to be fun to prove it.

After telling Joey to get ready I pushed the nozzle all the way in and holding it there with one hand, used my other hand to open the valve that had been keeping the water back.

The look on his face as his arse was suddenly invaded by what must have felt like a flood of water was priceless making me wish I'd set up a camera.

"Ohhh!" he moaned, the muscles of his arse twitching around the nozzle as he tried and failed to stop the flow going into him.

He moaned again, when I shut of the valve, after a short while so that the liquid could settle inside him, waiting until he'd calmed down a bit before opening it right back up again.

The moaning resumed, but that I'd read was normal as he would be experiencing little cramps inside his stomach so I ignored it as I continued to fill him up.

He was breathing quite heavily now as we went past the halfway mark. His hands were clenched but he wasn't really trying to get away or anything like that. He wasn't even telling me to stop. He just had that look on his face that little kids get when they are trying to struggle through something they didn't really understand.

It took some time to get ever last drop of the enema inside Joey Thompson, with me having to open and close the valve several times before the bag finally ran dry and I was able to detach the hose from the nozzle, and unstrap him from the changing mat.

I didn't hurry as I released one strap after the other even though Joey was whimpering as I helped him down from the changing table.

"Don't make a mess," I warned him, which caused him to reach around behind him and actually hold the nozzle in place between his buttocks, as I lead him out of the bedroom and round the bathroom where I got him to bend over as I pulled the nozzel out. An action that sent him scuttling over to the toilet in quick time.

What happened next was something that I didn't need to see, although I could hear it as I went back to the bedroom to wait for him to returned, although I left him with the warning not to make any more mess.

When Joey returned to the little bedroom I was waiting for him sitting on the edge of the mattress, with something hidden behind my back.

"Come here," I told him, using my forefinger to summon him towards me. "I need to check you've cleaned yourself properly. Bend over my lap."

He looked a little confused by my demanded which was fair enough as although the check was something you often had to do with little kids who were just potty trained, what I'd suggested wasn't the normal way to do it. Which I guess is why he asked what I was going to do.

I didn't answer him though. Instead I grasped his hand, and pulled him first towards me and then over my lap, where I made sure he was positioned in such a way that he was not just slightly off-balance but that his arse was totally vulnerable.

He started to struggle but it was too late by then, as I already had him pinned down with my legs locking over his and my hand holding his arms. There was no way he was going to escape what was coming his way, not that he knew what that was. Not until I told him to look in the mirror on the other side of the room.

His head turned slowly, and I got to watch it do that, because I'd set up mum's big freestanding mirror so that we'd both be able to see our reflections. Me sat there on the bed fully dressed while he was bent over my lap, like a naughty little boy, with his bum pointing upwards directly towards the ping-pong paddle that I was holding right above it.

Again, the look on his face was a picture, as he realised what I was going to do. All the same I spelt it out to him, just like a Bond villain would.

"Yes that's right, I'm going to spank you," I smiled at his refection, rubbing the paddle across his bare bottom, "This is what happens to naughty little boys who don't do what their baby sitters tell them."

I don't know if Joey had ever been spanked before, or if he'd spied on my spanking little Jamie Wimslow, but from the look on his face this may not have been the first he'd thought about such things. I certainly wasn't the first time I'd thought about spanking an older boy. Okay, so normally that was Liam, but this would do just as well.

WHACK!

The paddle came down right in the centre of Joey Thompson's well rounded bottom, and he let out a little yelp.

WHACK!

The second one was to the same spot, which made his legs kick a little, and then I was done with my warm up and really let him have it.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Round his arse I went, slapping that paddle down as I went until he was not only kicking his legs and gasping but until he was actually bawling like the little baby he clearly wanted to be.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

The centre of his bottom was good and red by the time he was sobbing like a toddler so I started working on the still pink sides until they matched.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

It was important, I'd already worked out, that when you spank someone, you do it until they were really punished so having finished blistering the sensitive sides of Joey's arse, I returned to the centre of each cheek, swatting them mostly in turn but occasionally switching just to throw him off.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

By the time the spanking was over Joey would have agreed to anything I told him which was just what I wanted if I was going to remain in total charge of him.

I have him a few minutes of laying over my lap, crying, before I pulled him up to his feet in front of me with his hands on his head.

"Right then," I told him in my best babysitter voice, "Are you ready to be a good little boy?"

He sniffed and nodded.

"Do you agree to do everything I tell you, as your babysitter?"

A little smile flicked the sides of his mouth as he nodded to this but that soon vanished with what I said next.

"Do you agree to do this even when I'm not there?"

He was confused by that so I explained.

"Even when I'm not there to be your babysitter to have to behave as if I was, and still be a good little boy. That means no wearing big boy clothes any more. Understand?"

Noticeably he swallowed but still nodded.

"And no playing with yourself." I gave his chastity cage a bit of a jiggle so he'd know what I meant, "This stays on all the time unless you're a really good boy at which time I might… repeat… MIGHT… take it off. Understand."

His face went blank for a few seconds as he tried to grasp exactly what I was telling him, and just what that would mean. No doubt wondering just how long he could go without having a wank which was something most thirteen year old boys never did. I know, I used to be one. Mind you fifteen year old boys aren't all that much different if that respect. Possibly worse if truth be told.

"Understand?" I repeated, when I didn't get an answer, jiggling his capture dick again.

He nodded.

"Good, now the next thing you are going to have to do, is let your Granny know that you have a babysitter."

That got a reaction, just as I knew it would. Even if it didn't quite make sense.

"But… I… she… you…doesn't… can't… I…she!"

Of course I never expected him to just tell his grandmother that he he'd been dressing up like a baby in her attic, and that he'd asked me to babysit him, but I did want to get paid for what I was doing, and that wasn't going to happen unless old lady Thompson knew. So it had to happen sooner or later, and I preferred sooner. All the same I told him not to worry about it for now, as I would help him when the time came for him to do it. Naturally I didn't tell him that time would be a lot sooner than he hoped.

There were a few other rules I let him know about, none of which he complained about even though I was pushing my luck on a some of thing although there were also other things that he was probably doing all ready, on his own so they wouldn't be too much trouble for him.

Joey clearly wasn't so keen about expanding what he'd been doing at his gran's house, back to his own house, and pretty much everywhere in between, but he agreed all the same. He even agreed when I told him he wasn't allowed to wear long trousers anymore, as little boys only wore shorts. I had no idea just how he was going to do that, but quite frankly that wasn't my problem. Personally I hoped he didn't as that would give me another reason to spank him again, as I'd really enjoyed that to a point where I could have done with a chastity device of my own. Still I don't think he'd noticed how stiff I was, while I was blistering his arse.

After I'd finished lay down all the new rules, I told Joey he was going to stand in the corner like a naughty little boy, until his Grannie game to pick him up, without telling him exactly which corner I meant.

Instead I waited until he'd shuffled his way over to the nearest one in the box room, before correcting him.

"Downstairs!" he gasped. "But I'm naked."

"Well not quite," I nodded to his chastity tube, which made him pitch his legs together, "But that doesn't matter. Little boys don't worry about that. So go on. Do as I say, unless you want to go back over my lap for a visit from Mr. Ping-Pong Bat."

His eyes glanced towards the bedroom door I was holding open and then across to the paddle that was still sitting on the small bed, before finally peering over his shoulder at his clearly still sore arse, which made up his mind for him.

"Hands on your head all the time," I reminded him as he walked passed me towards the stairs. "And keep your nose right into the corner."

I stood on the landing while he went down the stairs, gasping a little at the way taking our steep steps stretched out his buttocks, smiling to myself and finally able to readjust the contents of my own jeans into a more comfortable position. At least that was the intention although it turned into quite a bit more than that. Twice.

After I'd finished being a teenaged boy, I set about clearing away the enema stuff and went to check he hadn't made too much mess in the bathroom which he hadn't, certainly not in the way Liam would have done.

All in all, it must have been a good fifteen or twenty minutes before I finally went downstairs myself. As I passed the front door I flicked off the latch that I'd put on to keep Liam out, and then checking Joey was doing exactly what I'd told him.

He was. Standing perfectly still in the corner by the front window, with his feet slightly apart, and his hands on his head acting as if nothing had happened even if the colour of his arse told a totally different story as anyone who happened to look in from the street would have been able to see. Including Liam and old lady Thompson who was just pulling up outside.

Joey went into total panic when I told him his gran was there to pick him up, and why wouldn't he? He was naked after all, with a bum that had clearly been spanked. Not to mention that his dick was in a tube. Mind you all he managed to do on his own was move away from the window, and he even did that only after he'd checked with me that it was okay first.

"What do I do?" he peering around the side of the window as his gran started the seemingly lengthy procedure of parking by our front gate.

"Well," I paused waiting until he was looking at me before continuing, "I think you should probably put some clothes on, don't you."

He agreed, not surprisingly, but was totally unable to remember where they were. Tearing around the living room looking for them, even though they'd never actually been in there and were still upstairs in the back bedroom, to where he was soon scuttling as fast as he could, which seemed to be on all fours. A position that really made his bum stand out in all it's redness.

Not surpassingly, given what was at stake, by the time old Lady Thompson sounded her horn for the second time, to summon him Joey was actually ready to go. His shirt wasn't totally tucked in, and I think one of the buttons was done up wrong, but he looked okay, as I handed him the bag and told him what I wanted to do with the contents.

"But…" he protested, looking inside, only for his words to be cut off from another peep from Mrs. Thompson's car.

Opening the front door, I sent him on his way, without another word but with a reminder about what would happen if he didn't do what I told him. A reminder that made him both jump and gasp, as it contained a slap to his already sore bottom, that would ensure he'd remember everything I'd told him, as well as what would happen if he didn't.

Chapter Five
Dean's Customer

"Excuse me Mister. Is this the place where they fix leather stuff?"

Lifting my head from what I'd been working on at the back of my back street workshop I couldn't help but go all sarcastic with my answer. Making a great show of looking around at all the example of my craft that were either hanging from racks and rails, or in the case of the large saddles proudly displayed on stands of their own.

The moment I confirmed that this was indeed the place where I fix leather stuff, my front door gave a beep as it was opened allowing the person who'd called out to finally come into my shop and from the moment I saw him I knew this wasn't going to be an ordinary customer.

The kid was considerably younger than most of the people who come to my shop, at least those that do on their own and couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen judging by his height or perhaps younger given what he was wearing and how much of his legs he had on display. Rather long, legs that stretched up from ankle socks to pair of what looked like old fashioned school rugby shorts that didn't even have a fly zip.

All of this I noticed with relief that my next customer wasn't going to be another spoiled princess, demanding everything be purpose made for her new pony, even though it will end up being the same thing I've made for every pony around here. After all, horse tack has been made the same way for centuries and for a very good reason. That's what works.

Mind you, the princess always came with a daddy of either the biological or sugar variety, who didn't knew even less about what I did than the bratty girl, but who just wanted to throw some money around. Money that I was only too happy to relieve them off.

It's one of the down sides of my chosen craft, dealing with the horsey set, which would be fine, if I actually liked our four legged friends but the truth is, I can't stand them, which is something of a problem when you work in the bespoke leather industry. Still, thankfully as I don't do house calls – well stable-calls technically – I managed to miss out that part of the job. Instead people come to me with what they want. I make it. They pay and take it away, then pay again when I make the changes due to them not telling me what they wanted in the first place. Naturally, this results in a lot less travelling for me, and very little chance of getting kicked or bitten. So it's a win-win as far as I'm concerned. Plus I get more time to work on the more interesting, but less publicized part of my job.

"You make adjustments to stuff too, don't you? Stuff I've already got?" the lad held up a carrier bag he was holding, giving it a little shake that made whatever was inside rattle as if to get my attention, which it did.

Putting down my favourite swivel knife, I put the cap over the hand sharpened half-an-inch [~1½ cm] blade, brushed the leather flakes from my apron, and walked around the work bench I'd been sat at to stand before him. Or rather over him, as he barely came up to my shoulder.

"So," I peered down at him over the to of my glasses, "What can I do for you today, kid?"

"I'm Joseph, erm I mean Joey. Joey Thompson."

I nodded, whilst trying to think of the last time I got a choice of what to call my customers some of which I never know the names off, while others I only get from the cheques they hand over. A lot pay in cash of course, as that can't be traced, which is fine by me as what the tax man doesn't know he can't demand I pay him.

I held out my hand, which he took with slighty sweaty palms, and told him I was Dean Lantham to which he asked if it was my name above the door, which indeed it was. Lantham Leatherwork Limited, albeit usually shortened to just the initials which were also embroidered onto the bib of my otherwise plain white canvas apron.

The introductions done, I asked what he wanted.

"I need some adjustments made to this," again he gave the bag a shake looking up at my with surprisingly wide and eager eyes. "I need it bigger. Can you do that?"

"Not without x-ray vision."

It took the kid a few seconds to see past my sarcasm to realise I needed to see what he had before I could give him an opinion.

"Oh right, yeah. Where can I…? There's quite a bit and it gets tangled real easy."

I pointed to one of the clear counters. Well, the only clear counter and waited to see what would emerge from the carrier bag. On the rare occasions when boys came into my shop it was because they'd bought one of those over priced designer belts with all the cheep embossing, that end up being too big to go around their skinny waists, without a few more holes punched through the leather. However there was something about Joey, that made me think this was going to be something different.

I wasn't disappointed.

"Interesting," I said, once it was out on the table, which the kid seemed to think meant I didn't know what it was. So he told me.

"It's a toddler harness. They used them in the olden days to keep little kids under control."

"Indeed!" I nodded picking it up to give a quick appraisal, "Good quality leather. Solid steel buckles with adjustment sliders built into the straps. Nice workmanship too. Not sure they make them like this anymore, or indeed at all come to that. So this is probably an antique. Where did you get it?"

Instantly he was on the defensive, his little pug nose getting all squashed up, "I didn't steal it if that's what you're asking."

I wasn't but it was good to know all the same. Still it didn't answer my question, so I gave him my best over-the-glasses stare, and asked him again where he got it.

"My Gran's attic. It was my granddad when he was a boy. I think. I'm not sure. Anyway, he's dead now so he doesn't want it."

I said the usual stuff you say when you hear about the death of someone you don't know and then asked the boy if his relative had also been called Joey.

"What!" his eyes flew all the way open, illuminating some tiny and previous invisible freckles surrounding his nose, "How did you know that?"

Not saying anything I turned the chest plate of the harness towards him and he instantly calmed down.

"Oh right. It's written there isn't it."

"Actually, it's been pressed in with letter stamps and then someone has carefully hand painted around the individual letters in blue to give them a greater contrast to the surrounding leather."

He gave me the look teachers all over the world get when trying to impart knowledge to someone who isn't all that interested in the particular subject. Like those boys Joey soon shrunk the conversation back to the core subject. "So can you do it then?"

"Do what?" my sarcasm asked, "You haven't said what you want done yet."

"Oh right, yeah." his feet started to shuffle about on my bare floorboards, producing a squeaking noise that was surprisingly annoying. "Can you? You know? Make it bigger?"

"Bigger? How much Bigger?"

"Big enough to fit."

"To fit?" I asked and the shuffling increased, as did the squeaking, which was giving me the headache that prevented me from seeing where this was going, as I asked just how big a toddler could be.

"It's not. Not for a toddler."

"Then who?"

He said nothing which actually said a lot, but at least his legs became still which allowed my head to put two and two together and come up with: "It's for you, isn't it Joey?"

Still saying nothing he nodded, making the floppy part of his fringe, well, flop above his reddening face.

Embarrassed boys are so cute, so I didn't let him get away with it quite that easily.

"So let's get this straight. You want me to adjust this possible Victorian toddler harness so that it fits you, a modern boy of what? Ten? Eleven?"

"I'm thirteen."

Trust me if you ever want a boy to tell you his real age, just make out you think he's several years younger than you think and he won't be able to resist correcting you. It will also get them to lower their guard a bit too. The same things works on women too, although they are also much more likely to give you a slap than a boy is, so probably best not to try it.

Anyway, when I didn't answer, Joey decided to give me a bit more biographical information rather proving my unstated point, "I was thirteen a few months a go."

Now it was my chance to get to the bottom of this, "Right! And you want to wear a toddler harness? Why?"

For a moment I thought he was going to at least deny it, or at worst, make a run for the door but to his credit he did neither. He just answered, saying that he thought wearing the harness would be fun.

I didn't ask what sort of fun as I had a pretty good idea about that already, but instead asked him to tell me exactly what he wanted me to do to the harness.

He answered with a I-told-you-that-already look, so I expanded my question adding in some demonstrations so he would know what I meant.

"How do you want me to do it? Shall I just extend the shoulder straps a bit and let out the chest so it will fit you as it is, because if that's all you want you could probably do that with these sliding adjustments on the side. Or, do you want me to take it completely to pieces and then totally scale the entire thing up so that it fits you exactly as it would a toddler.

He choose the second one, just as I had a feeling he would. "Can you really do that? Make it fit me like I was a baby?"

I nodded, noting the word he used, which I hadn't, even though it was something I'd heard before as after all you can get some weird requests when you make things from leather.

"I don't see why not. It's a fairly standard design. The leather is either punch studded together or stitched, both of which can be undone and re-done without too much trouble. I have some leather similar to this in stock, so it will be easy to extended where I have to without it looking too much out of place."

Finished with my explanation, I looked up from the harness to see he was listening much more intently than most of my customers, so I asked him if he had any ideas that might make the harness fit him better.

"Well," the tip of his tongue peeked out of the side of his mouth, "If you could do something to make the chest bit with my name come down a bit further that would be great. Oh and put some straps further down too, like around my waist and, maybe something to stop me taking it off over my head that would be great."

Clearly he'd thought about this, and I guessed there was more that he wanted too, along with just why he wanted all this but that was enough questions for now. There was one thing I was curious about however and not just for purely professional reasons either, although I made it sound like that.

"You know," I held the harness up, "It might be easier for me if I saw it on you first, so I could get a decent idea of what needs to be done."

No sooner had I said it then he had his arms thrust through the correct gaps in the harness and had stepped into it so that my hands which were still holding it, were on top of his shoulders, as he reached around fastening the harness behind him.

"You've done that before?" I joked, knowing only too well that doing the back buckles wasn't easy for the wearer which was the point of them being there.

Suddenly realising what he'd given away, Joey blushed a little when he was done, so I decided to put him out of his misery and get things back onto a more professional track.

"So, you would like this," I pointed to the panel with his name on it which was now up near his neck, "To be more down here?"

My finger gently touched the centre of his chest, through the near vest like shirt he was wearing. A shirt that was thin enough to show the peeks of his tiny nipples, and which did nothing to hid the slightly shiver that ran through him. Yet he didn't pull away so I continued.

"I will have to extend the shoulders like I said earlier, that way it won't bite into your arm pits as much as it does now."

My finger followed the strap I was talking about around to the point in question, almost but not quite making him giggle as I rubbed the leather pulled up tight under his arm.

"Also," I continued, "You want me to add a third torso strap so there will one around your waist, like a belt, as well as the top one that will end up around your chest, and a middle one that should be around the bottom of your rib cage, right?"

He opened his mouth but no words came out, so nodded instead.

"Okay!" I told him that was all do-able, going on to ask him how he wanted everything to fasten together, giving him a few options, although he was only interested in one.

"Buckles. I want buckles. At the back."

With my hand on his shoulder I turned him around, "You realise that if I add all the extra straps you want, with fastenings at the back that you may not be able to reach around yourself and will need help to take the harness off, or to put it on."

"I know!"

Again the reply wasn't much of a surprise, so I decided to push it that little bit further, "In that case I could add a flap over all the buckles that could be closed with locks. Then there would be no chance of you getting out of the harness yourself. What do you think of that?"

The reaction was instant.

His head spun around to look at me, with a big smile, "Could you?"

"Easily," I smiled back knowing I was on the right track now, "And if you really want to make sure you can't get out of it, I could put in some arm restraints as well."

His eyes went even wider, lighting up the freckles again, "Really?"

I nodded. "Now you said something earlier about wanted to be prevented from taking the harness off over your head. How do you want that to be done?"

"A strap!" he blurted out slightly louder than either of us were expecting.

"A strap. Where?"

I knew where of course. I just wanted him to show me which he did.

"From here," he tapped the bottom of the chest plate, in the middle, "To the back. Through… between… lets."

"A crotch strap?"

"Yeah. Yes. That."

He looked down at the area in question, then realised what he was doing, blushed some more, and looked up to find me looking at the same thing and noting just what he had, that there was a lump in the front of his shorts. Nothing too obscene, but noticeable all the same if a bit of a strange shape. Still it lead to me making another suggestion.

"Perhaps two straps might be better so we don't trap anything down there."

"Ah… Oh… Right!" he agreed. I think, so I summed up what he was asking.

"So you basically you want to be totally helpless in the harness like a toddler would be."

He stared at me for a second, as if making up his mind if he was going to answer and then nodded.

"So, I guess, you must have someone who can help you put this on and take if off at home then. A friend perhaps."

He paused as if he wanted to correct me, but then nodded again telling me much more than he probably intended. He then asked the question that all my customers did, sooner or later.

"How long will it take?"

Now normally I would have said anything from a day or two, right up to a month, depending on how annoying the princess was, or how much I thought I could screw out of the her sugar daddy for making it quicker, but on this occasion, and faced with a rather expectant look, I told the truth.

"I could get it done in a couple of hours, if you've want to wait."

"Really?" he gasped, almost jumping up and down on the spot, "You can do all that in a couple of hours?"

I told him sure, asking him to take the harness off so I could get him measured up, which truth be told I probably didn't need to do as I'd be able to get most of what I wanted from the harness itself, especially now that I'd see it on him, with the adjustment of the sliders taking care of any discrepancy. That's how I normally worked. After all I never measured any of the horses I did tack for, but on this occasions I wanted to act like a tailor.

"Arms up!"

"Arms out!"

"Breath in!"

"Breath out!"

He did everything I asked, as I took the dimensions of his surprisingly firm chest, stomach and waist, acting like he was a voice controlled doll, which showed just how disciplined he was which was something I could take advantage off.

Once I had everything noted down, I showed Joey through to the little alcove at the back of my shop where I kept my kettle and showed him my full range of both tea bags and instant coffee, and told him to make himself busy while I returned to my work bench to get started.

As sturdy as the harness was, it didn't take me and my set of tools more than a few minutes to release several of the studs that were holding it together and unpick some of the stitching. The leather was good and strong but also subtle enough to make it very easy to work with, which would make adding the alterations Joey wanted relatively easy.

By the time I had the detached parts of the harness spread out on the bench, Joey emerged from the back carrying a cup of coffee that was nearly strong enough to dye leather in, but which was sweetened by the gesture of his making it for me. All the same I sent him back for some milk, while I rummaged around for the extra bits of leather I was going to need.

The coffee was almost drinkable as I got my rivet gun out, fastening buckles to the various straps, with a punch putting a matching string of holes in the other end for the buckle pin to go through.

For the back panel cover I found a much thicker piece of almost raw hide that I cut down so it was slightly larger than the existing rear of the harness. I then folded over the edge, punching press studs at half inch [~1½ cm] interval around the circumference, but leaving gaps where the straps would need to come through, plus four others places where I replaced the studs with inserted rings. The mirror image of these I then added to the original back panel for the locks to go through.

All the time I was working, Joey didn't once ask if there was somewhere he could sit down. Instead he just stood on the other side of my worktable with his hands clasped behind his back as if he was a naughty little boy standing at the headmaster's desk. He did ask a few questions about what I was doing, and why I was doing what I was doing, seemingly genuinely interested in what I was doing. So I told him, letting him follow me working, right up until the point I was done.

"The new parts could do with dying to match the rest, but I think that's it, don't you kid?"

He didn't give an opinion although judging by just how wide his eyes were, I could work out what he thought, especially when he asked if he could try it on.

"Sure," I said, handing the harness to him only for him to just stand there.

"Could you… you know… help me… could you?"

You would have thought it would have been awkward for a thirteen year old boy to ask a complete stranger to be put into a toddler harness, but I think Joey was just too excited about the prospect to think about anything other than putting the harness on. So that's what did. Acting like a dresser, holding it up and open at the back so he could step into it.

At first he seemed a little confused as to where his arms were meant to go, given just how many straps I'd moved or added, but once I'd shown him he soon had his hands inserted allowing me to lift the harness onto his shoulders.

"How's that feel?" I asked probably for the first time in my career.

"Better." he replied lightly stroking the chest panel with his name on, that was now actually on his chest. "can you do it up, please, Mr. Lantham?"

I could and I did especially as he'd asked so nicely.

Turning around he allowed me full access to the first of the buckles behind his back, which I soon fastened together just not in the way he wanted.

"Can you make it tighter, please?"

Making the adjustments with the sliders I loosened the straps and then redid them asking him if that was better which he said it was.

The chest plate was now pressing firmly into his chest, trapping his shirt against his skin, and making his nipples stick out on either side along with most of the contours of his trim body, especially when I fastened the belly and stomach straps.

When I got to the crotch strap I wasn't quite sure just how to tighten this, so after he'd spread his legs for me, and I'd made sure the split section went either side of that bulge in his short shorts, I pulled the strap up his back but only buckled it loosely to prevent any issues in the front.

"It's okay, Mr. Lantham," Joey told me when I'd explained why I'd done it like that, "You can go ahead and pull it tight. I want it as tight as possible."

I complied, making him gasp slightly as the strap gave him a slight wedgie at the back, pressing between the cheeks of his surprisingly round cheeks, that his shorts now clung too.

"Okay!" I asked, and he nodded, then spotting another of my additions asked what the two loops of leather on either of his hips were for.

"Your hands," I informed him, "Cross your arms over your stomach. No lower down, so they aren't over the chest piece. Good. That's better. Now put your wrists into the loops. That's it."

Instantly he pulled his hands out again, "But they're too loose!" he complained.

I told him to try it again, only this time once his hands were inside the loop I tugged on the last too straps that went through the back panel. The instant I did that the two wrist loops were not only pulled further back, but they also tightened around his wrists, trapping his arms in a position that made it look like he was hugging himself, or wearing an invisible straitjacket.

"Try to get your hands out now!" I teased knowing that he wouldn't be able to. It taking him a few minutes to realise that for himself.

"I'm trapped," he sounded surprised, and yet pleased at the same time which made me laugh.

"Indeed, as helpless as a toddler which is what you wanted I believe."

He smiled. A real genuine smile of someone who is experiencing something they love for the first time which is why I then asked if he wanted to take the harness off, or if he wanted me to put the back panel on and lock him into the harness.

The answer was never in doubt.

"Please," he panted, "Lock it Please."

After reminding him what he was asking me to do, so he had a chance to change his mind, I then set about tucking all the straps into their buckles before attaching the cover panel using the press studs that gave a really satisfying snap as they became fastened in place.

When that was done I found four small padlocks which I waved in front of the kid's face, giving him one last chance to stop me, but he didn't He just gave a bit of a grin and said nothing so I snapped the locks in place, sealing the cover over the back panel and the buckles, and the boy into the harness.

"Now what do you think?"

He stepped back from me at the question, looking down at himself fastened into the childish harness, and then did what any boy, or even any person, would do in that situation. He attempted to find a way out of it.

First he searched for a slack spot, or some way to locate and or loosen the buckles that held him. None of which he was able to do, of course. Not with his arms wrapped around himself. Mind you, even if his arms had been totally free he wouldn't have been able to get himself out of the harness. Everything that held him inside it, was well out of his reach, and covered with that thick leather panel at the back, that he could never reach, let alone remove, even if it wasn't locked in place.

"It's great." he finally said, panting from the exhaustion of trying and failing to escape, plus the feelings that went with that.

"So, do you want me to let you out now?"

"Not yet," his head snapped around looking for something, "Have you got a mirror in here?"

I didn't not with most of my customers being horses and everything, but I did suggest that if he wanted to see what he looked like they the door of my shop, being covered backed with silver paper would offer him a reflection of his current appearance.

He walked over and actually gasped when he saw himself all strapped up as tight as he was, and then blushed when he noticed just how prominent his package now was, with the crotch strap running either side of it, pulling the cloth of his shorts in.

"I'm really trapped. I really am."

He sounded surprised, which was itself surprising so I pointed out that he wasn't, not really as he could still walk around.

"That's true," he turned back towards me, "Have you got anything we could use as reins."

"Reins?" I asked even though I knew what he meant, I just wanted to be sure he was thinking the same as I was, which he was, as proven by the lecture he then gave me on the subject.

"When little kids used to wear these in the old days, like my granddad, one of the reasons was so they wouldn't run off, and to make sure they didn't they put little straps attached to the back of the harness which could then be held by their baby sitters, to keep them under control."

It would have more likely have been the kid's nanny than their babysitter, but I let that go and instead wen to fetch something that could do the job, which was actually a leading line for a horse, but which would do the same purpose for Joey, especially as it already had a strong spring clip on one end and a loop handle on the other. The former of which I clipped to the back of his harness, somewhere where he wouldn't be able to reach it, whilst holding onto the other end.

"Okay. Try it," I offered. "Try walking away from me."

He did but didn't get far. Just the few steps I allowed him before I pulled back on what was effectively a leash, and stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Oh!" he gasped at finding himself pulled up short. "Yeah that works great. Thanks Mr. Lantham."

I told him I was happy to help but that I should probably get back to my work.

"Can I watch?"

"Sure," I shrugged, retuning to my bench until he asked me to wait.

"Can to tie the reign to something first so I don't get under your feet. Or something."

The reason was a bit silly, as I was going to be sitting at a table, but I knew what he meant, from the way he'd phrased it so did what he wanted, reaching up and slipping the noose end of the reins over a hook on the wall and then, finally returning to my work.

It was strange trying to work with someone else in my workshop. Even stranger when that person was a thirteen year old boy strapped into a toddler harness standing pretty much directly in front of me unable to go anywhere else.

The odd thing was that Joey didn't talk. He didn't say a word. Not the entire time he was standing there, which turned out to be well over an hour. In fact all he did was test just how far he could go in any direction before the reins pulled him up short, which was only a few feet. But he must have liked doing that, as he did it quite a bit, even though the results were the same each and every time.

In the end, it was getting near closing time, when I overruled his objections and finally released him from the harness and sent him on his way. Runny thing was, never once did I think to ask him for any money for the work I'd done, but then, I was pretty sure that I'd see him again, sooner rather than later.

Chapter Six
Maud's Opinion

The shock of seeing him sitting there like that was enough to make me drop my bags, and as they were my best Marks and Spencer bags so I was not the slightest bit pleased about that.

It was my grandson. I was fairly sure about that. After all, who else would have been seated on my sofa in the middle of the afternoon? I had to check as you never know these days, do you?

"Joseph?" I enquired, "Is that you?"

He looked up when I asked, so I could see it was Joseph's face, which is exactly the same as his father's was at that age. Especially the eyes, and that little pug nose that looks so cute on a little boy, which is exactly how my thirteen year old grandson was dressed. A very little boy.

The t-shirt was about the most normal of it all, even if someone had clearly ripped of the sleeves without a care for the stitching at the shoulders, which was now frayed from such rough treatment. Otherwise the shirt was clean, which was something, if a touch small on Joseph, not least of which being the way it showed off his belly button. There was text written on it. Actually written on. With pen if I'm not very much mistaken, that said "I'M HAPPY IN A NAPPY" in large red letters that were never going to come out of the material. Not without a good soak, and perhaps a boil wash.

It was hard for an old lady like yours truly to keep up with the fads and interests of my grand kids, but I would put down a fairly large wager that, such a shirt was not the standard attire for boys of Joseph's age. Or perhaps any age. In my experience, boys just do not normally promote that they are wearing protective underwear, like that. My brother certainly did not and his were never on such display as Joseph's were.

I could see them plainly from the doorway right through the plastic pants that covered them. Clearly white and fluffy, like nappies were when I was a girl. Made from towelling or something similar to absorb the wetness boys who cannot control themselves produce.

My brother had had issues in that region when he'd been small, but Joseph did not, as far as I was aware. He had been potty trained at the correct age by my daughter-in-law, his mother, so should have been wearing regular underwear, yet here he was dressed like a baby, with his pale legs stretched out in an almost V-shape on my sofa by the padding between them.

That was not even the half of it though, for if the nappy and the shirt announcing the nappy were not enough, Joseph was also sporting tiny little ankle socks on his feet, that showed the happy, smiling face of that steam train show the little kids like, and these disappeared into strap-on shoes in a tan colour of a sort that my brother would have worn when he was small.

He also had something on his hands that were not quite gloves, but more like mittens a child would wear on a particularly cold day. These seemed to have a buckle, that matched those on the shoes, around the wrists, no doubt to prevent the mittens from being lost or removed the likes of which I had not seen for many a year.

Those had been my brother's mittens. I was sure of it. And so was the harness Joseph was wearing. It even had Joey's name on it. A name that Joseph shared, as one of the sweetest things my son ever did for me was naming his boy after my brother, it being my wish that Joey could live on through Joseph.

You see Joey, my little brother, like so many young men did not make it through the war so in my mind's eye he will always remain a boy. A fun loving boy, who could be rather rambunctious at times but with a heart of gold. My, the trouble he caused my parents who would also become so distraught whenever he would run away, or get into mischief to a point when a controlling harness was the only answer.

Strangely, the four-year-old Joey had loved that harness. He would wear it day or night if we let him but only if I was the one holding the reins that came out of the back. He was just so much calmer with it on, as if he knew nothing bad could happen when he was inside it.

It must have been neigh on sixty years since I laid my eyes upon that harness but I recognised it at once. How could I not? It had Joey's name written right there on the front, yet somehow it seemed larger, with more straps than I remembered although it would be some time before I realised that. In the mean time there were other things to be concerned about such as why my grandson had yet to talk to me.

The reason for this being that he simply unable to, for inserted into his mouth was appeared to be an oversized baby's dummy, the front of which covered his lips completely. From this protruded a length of ribbon in an apt baby blue colour, that had been threaded through the ring at the front and circled around Joseph's head.

I was just about to ask what the meaning of all this was, when that nice Aaron Lawrence boy – his mother's a nurse you knew, practically runs our local hospital – he comes in from the kitchen carrying of all things, a completely filled baby's bottle, complete with a large rubber teat on the end.

"Oh hello, Mrs. T.," he smiles at me with his impeccable manners you just would not expect from someone who lives where he lives, "We were just playing Joey's favourite game and weren't expecting you back so soon. Baby Joey hasn't even had his bottle yet, let alone wet himself."

Walking past me, he spun around on the heels of his feet and then sat himself down beside my grandson. Then, in a quick and clearly practised motion, he put his hand behind Joseph's head, holding him steady, while he removes the dummy from my grandson's mouth only to replace it with the nipple of the baby bottle.

"Baby Joey does love his bottle. This is his third one today."

Well, that was news I can tell you for as a baby Joseph had been a difficult one to move onto the bottle from his mother's breast, yet here he was, happily sucking down milk some eleven or twelve years later.

It was all a lot for me to take in, so rather than making a scene, which really is not my way, I made my excuses instead, leaving the boys to their play. Picking up the bags I'd dropped and beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen to give the matter some careful consideration.

Many a lady may well have reacted differently in a similar situation but it was not as if I had not had some warning that such events were likely to occur under my roof. Young Aaron had told me so much soon after he had been assigned to be Joseph's mentor, a scheme it would seem that Joseph himself had signed himself up for totally out of the blue, some time earlier.

I was skeptical at first, especially as none of my ladies had heard of such a scheme running in our little town but Joseph seemed genuinely keen on the idea, saying that it could help him make friends and get him out from under my feet about which he had a point.

Do not get me wrong I love my grandson, but I was getting increasingly concerned about his behaviour. It wasn't that he was badly behaved or anything like that, at least not like the ruffians you see out on the streets at all hours of the day or night. More the opposite. He just did not seem to go out at all. Instead spending all his time up in that attic doing goodness knows what so it would be good for him to have an older friend to show him what was what.

The first day Joseph bought Aaron Lawrence around to meet me, I laid on a little spread just to make the boy feel at home but I really need not have bothered for Aaron was so full of self-confidence that it would have been easy to mistake him for an adult, instead of a young lad of just fifteen years.

When I saw the two of them together that first time, I knew Aaron would be good for my Joseph. Just seeing them walking side by side, all smiles and laughing showed me that. Aaron so mature in his a nice pair of slacks while Joseph wore those shorts he'd become so fond of recently, his bare legs making the age difference between them so much more than it was, to a point when you could have mistaken them almost for a father and son. Not that Aaron Lawrence is old enough to be Joseph's father of course – there is only two years between them after all – but it was the impression they gave out as they came down the street.

"Hello Mrs. Thompson, my name is Aaron Lawrence, it is very nice to meet you at last, Joe has told me so much about you."

I have to admit I was slight taken aback by his direct manner at first but not to the point where I forgot mine as I shook his hand and invited him into the lounge for a seat.

Yes indeed, I thought to myself as I watched them moving through the house, Aaron was exactly the sort of friend my Joseph needed. Polite and very good looking, he was clearly one who would be going places. Boys like that always do.

I had some snacks prepared, which I had previous laid out on the coffee table. Upon seeing them Joseph instantly helped himself, but Aaron waited until I offered them, eating so nicely, and even saying please and thank you, like he was at one of my more formal Afternoon teas.

When he was done Aaron addressed the matter at hand, before I got the chance to raise it, "Thank you for having me Mrs. Thompson." He still called me by my full name back then. "I thought we should meet seeing that Joe and I will be spending so much time together."

"You are most welcome, young man. Joseph seems keen to become part of scheme but I have been unable to find out much about it, other than what he has told me, so perhaps you could tell me some more?"

The boys exchanged a strange look, with Joseph looking oddly worried about something, but not Aaron, he just answered, "Well, actually, Mrs. Thompson it is not really a scheme as yet, just an idea I had that I wanted to try out before we get more people involved."

I was impressed with the way he spoke, using full words, and in complete sentences, never once breaking eye contact with me, and that grin at the end. His mother must be so proud of him doing something like this to help younger boys, so I asked him if he had done anything like it before. The answer was rather surprising.

"Not exactly," he admitted with a sigh as if he regretted that, "But I have been running my own babysitting service for some time. In fact one of my clients lives across the road from you. The Wimslows and their son Jamie. Do you know them?"

I did indeed. Young Jamie had been a terror not unlike my brother had been, until very recently, then he just seemed to calm right down. Perhaps, that was down to this young man sitting in front of me? If it was, Aaron didn't want to take the credit for it, which was another plus point in his favour especially as he gave it to his mother.

"There is just myself, my brother and my mum at home, but with my mum at the hospital looking after those who need it more than we do, it has always been done to me to look after my little brother who is only slightly younger than Joe, so I know what I am doing in that respect. Liam, that's my brother Mrs. Thompson, he knows mum's rules and the discipline that will follow if he breaks them, just as I do, so that helps keep both of us in line."

"Discipline?" I asked, not having heard that word in regard to child rearing for some time. "What sort of discipline do you mean?"

"Spanking Mrs. Thompson. It is the only way to get the attention of a boy Liam, or indeed of Joe's age and to keep them on the straight and narrow. A path they will thank you for once they are older."

There was nothing there I could disagree with, although from what I'd heard about Nurse Lawrence I could fully accept that she would take this approach with her own sons as she had to be the last of the "Stuff and nonsense" nurses at the hospital. Used to getting things done, and getting them done right. Just as it should be. However, I did wonder how such an approach would work with two growing boys, so as asking is the only way to find out things, I asked.

"Well, if it is my brother who has been naughty and I am the one to punish him, then I will tell him why he is being punished before taking down his trousers and putting him over my knee until he has learned his lesson. Then, once that is completed, he stands in the corner to think about what he has done and can be trusted to be good again."

"My you really are a good big brother are you not, Aaron. I am sure your little brother must be an angel with you looking after him."

He smiled at the compliment, "I try my best Mrs. Thompson."

"I am sure you do, young man. It is just a shame that Joseph does not have a brother to lead him in the same direction."

"Well, that is one of the areas of the scheme I wished to explore with you, Mrs. Thompson."

I was intrigued and asked him to continue.

"Are you aware of boys being put back, Mrs. Thompson?"

I was not so Aaron explained.

"It was something they used to do in schools back in the olden days. If a boy started to behaving in a childish way then he would be sent back to junior school, or prep school, and dress and be treated as if he was a younger boy, or even a baby if he was really naughty. As you can see we have all ready started this process with Joe."

I have to admit that I did not follow quite what Aaron was saying – having totally missed his suggestion that Joseph could be treated as a baby – until he patted Joseph on his knee. His bare knee, it being only then that I realised Joseph I could not remember the last time I saw my grandson in long trousers.

"In those cases," Aaron continued, "A mentor, usually an older boy, would be assigned to the boy who had been put back, who would be in charge of him, to make sure he follows all the rules and, if caught breaking them, is punished accordingly to his new, younger age."

Aaron paused, his hand still on Joseph's knee, "With your permission Mrs. Thompson, this is the role I would like to take with young Joe here, up to and including being in charge of punishing Corey, as I do my little brother."

In all my born days I did not expect that, and must have looked a little surprised, if not shocked at the idea, for instantly Aaron started to backtrack on it.

"Of course if you do not agree then that will not be part of the scheme. You only have to say."

Ignoring that for the moment, I asked Aaron how he would see such an arrangement working in reality.

"For a starter, you and I, Mrs. Thompson, would lay down some ground rules for Joe to follow, and if he were to break any of those, then I would proceed to spank him in the way I described to you earlier."

"I see." I told him whilst looking over to where Joseph was sat beside Aaron, strangely not objecting to having his bottom smacked. In fact I am fairly sure that he could have been smiling, right up to the moment when he saw I was looking at him, at which point his face went completely blank.

"Perhaps, Mrs. Thompson," Aaron brought my attention back to him, "Perhaps we should continue to discuss this without Joe being here."

I agreed, and my grandson was sent up to the attic. Not by me, but my Aaron Lawrence, who continued to speak to me once we were alone.

"Now Mrs. Thompson I you agree to this, you will have to give me total control over everything Joe does, even if some of those things may seem a little unusual or old fashioned, but as I am sure you are well aware, some of the old ways are a lot better than those which replaced them?"

He would be getting no objection from me on that score.

"There may well be times when you have concerns over what we are doing, but if you do, please do not interrupt what is going on and just have a word with me afterwards and I will explain the reasons I have for doing that particular thing. If you still disagree after that then I can adapt the scheme accordingly.

"Naturally, I will not be doing anything to cause Joe any serious injury although he may have a red bottom, and legs from time to time, but that is just a natural part of growing up for a young boy, don't you agree?"

I did and so it seems did Joseph for it turned out that it had been my grandson's choice to join the scheme and he'd even asked Aaron to be his mentor in a letter of all things which Aaron said he would show me, but the rules of the scheme did not allow that which no doubt was one of the new fangled rules anything to do with children had to endure. Which bought up a question in my mind of how the scheme was to be funded.

"Normally, a boy being 'Put Back' would require quite a lot of things, which can prove to be quite expensive, however in Joe's case he himself has managed to find most of the items he will require up in your attic Mrs. Thompson, so thank you for letting him use them."

Ah, the attic. That is why the clothing Joseph had been wearing recently had been so familiar to me. It must have all once belonged to my brother, a fact I soon informed young master Lawrence who seemed surprised about this.

"You mean, Mrs. Thompson, that Joe didn't ask to borrow the clothing?"

He had not, but when I said this did not matter, Aaron could not have disagreed more pointing out that taking things which did not belong to them was just the sort of behaviour that had to be knocked out of young boys before it became a habit. Then he suggested he do just that.

"In fact perhaps it would be an idea if I were to spank Joe – or Joey as I would like to call him – right as a demonstration for you? If you agree of course, Mrs. Thompson?"

That put me in a bit of a pickle, I can tell you. On the one hand, it was something I was always telling my ladies, that bad habits needed to be nipped right in the bud, but on the other hand, I sure Joseph would not want me witnessing such a thing. Aaron had a different opinion.

The reasoning was simple and clear. Joseph had wronged me by taking those things without asking first, so I should witness that he is punished for it. Part of the punishment experience for young boys, was having someone, or indeed several someone's watching them being punished thus making it more humiliating and embarrassing to be punished in such a fashion. In fact, I could well remember times when my brother Joey had been punished not just in front of me, but on occasions, my friends, his friends, neighbours, and even the entire school. So with all that in mind, I agreed to what this young man was suggesting.

No further words were needed. Aaron Lawrence stood up from my sofa and went to fetch Joseph. The two of them returning to the lounge less than a minute later but while Aaron resumed his place, my grandson remained standing, almost as if he were at attention, with his hands behind his back as he was informed about what had been discussed during his absence.

He took it quite well considering how boys are about such things. He said nothing, and although he did glance over towards where I was seated a few times, he kept his gaze upon young Aaron as he was told to remove both his shorts and underwear.

It was quite surprising to hear just how forceful Aaron was with my grandson but even more surprising that Joseph did what he was told, regardless of my presence or the fact he was standing before the front windows.

Once he had stepped out of his lower garments, Joseph picked them both up, placing them on the coffee table. He even folded them up first, before going around the table to where Aaron was seated and lowering himself across his lap.

It was a position I had seen my brother Joey in so many times, both at home, at school, and other pretty much any other place we went, so it was one I was familiar with, albeit not recently. I was also familiar with the sound of a hand hitting a bottom, which soon followed.

I was so proud of how my grandson took his spanking which I could tell was both sound and solid. His rear end quickly took on an even redness that showed Aaron knew his business, seeing that he left no part untouched by his slapping hand. Yet, Joseph did not once complain, or make any attempt to stall or prevent his chastisement. Instead he took it was a due result of his being naughty just like a little boy should.

Once it was over, Aaron had Joseph stand up and then turn to face me so he could apologise for what he had done, which he did, even though his voice was slightly shaky and there were tears in his eyes but he did seem genuinely sorry, which was the thing. However his appearance in front of me, did give rise to one further question, but I waited until Joseph had been sent to stand in the corner before I asked about the item covering his private parts.

"To answer that, Mrs. Thompson, I'm afraid I am going to have to be rather frank about the habits of young boys, so I hope you are not easily shocked."

As I told the young man there is very little that can shock me, especially about young boys, given that I grew up with one, and then raised one of my own. All the same I had not heard about boy's chastity devices until Aaron told me how his mother recommended them for boys who were unable to stop playing with themselves which apparently was something else my grandson had in common with my brother. Naturally the last thing I want is for Joseph to have bad eyesight and hairy palms, so I thought that was a good idea, and readily agreed to sign the papers Aaron had with him to allow his mother to mention the situation and perform any actions she deemed in Joseph's best interests.

So you see, finding my thirteen year old grandson dressed up like a big baby probably should not have come as a surprise to me, yet still I dropped my bags as if it had been. Hopefully my reaction did not spoil the training Aaron Lawrence was putting him through which, thankfully did not appear to be the case when I re-entered the lounge having put away my shopping.

The moment I appeared, Aaron smiled at me, and Joseph let out the loudest belch you ever heard.

"Sorry about that Mrs. T." Aaron gave Joseph's bare leg a little slap, leaving a light red handprint on the soft flesh, "Sometimes babies just can't themselves can they? That's why they need people to look after them. Oh wait, he's off again."

There was no belch this time. Just the faint hissing sound like water escaping from a cracked pipe which confused me as there was no plumping in the longue.

Then it dawned on me that perhaps, just perhaps, the message written on Joseph's shirt, had more truth in it than I had originally surmised. Not only was my grandson happy in a nappy, but he was using them as well.

A quick look between his wide spread legs soon confirmed this to be the case, as there was a distant yellowing to the inside of the plastic pants. None the less I asked if that meant what I thought it meant.

"Baby Joey has wet himself," announced Aaron, again patting Joseph's leg, "But don't worry I don't need to change him for a while yet as Baby Joey likes being wet."

Again some of my ladies may have been surprised by this, as most babies do not like being left in wet nappies, but my brother certainly did. In fact back in the day, I often thought that he wet himself on purpose for just that reason. Some boys were just like that, I guess.

Chapter Seven
Liam's Help

The hospital where mum works isn't really a hospital. Well it is, but mum doesn't work in that bit, she works in the bit round the back. The children's bit, which she pretty much runs and has done for ages, so much so that when I was younger, I spent so much time there that I know it really well to a point where mum gets me to help out from time to time which I don't mind so much as it means I get to boss around the kids there, and I love doing that almost as much as Aaron does which is why I thought it was a great idea to drag that Joey's kid – you know the one that likes to dress up like a baby – down there and get him examined cos I know just how embarrassing that can be as I'd seen it done loads of times.

Aaron made sure we had the proper paperwork, signed by Joey's gran so the nurses on the front desk didn't give us no shit, even though I'd changed them to say he was eleven like me, not thirteen like he really was. That meant we didn't have to sit on them chairs in the waiting area that give you a dead sore arse, and instead to go into locker room to get him ready.

"Take all your stuff off and put them in there," I pointed to the lockers.

"What about my underpants?" he asked when he was out of his that little boy cartoon t-shirt that Aaron had told him to wear.

Taking his clothes I stuffed them all into a locker, one at a time, so he wouldn't have no chance to take any of them back. Not that he did, but I wasn't going to be taking no chances. not that he seemed all that bothered about undressing in a little room with just a curtain for a door. At least not until he got down to just his shorts.

The shorts were real short. Shorter than anything I'd seen him in before, other than the nappy that first day of course, but they weren't all that tight on him, so they hid quite a bit which I guess is why he didn't want to take them off. Still he did. Dropping them down, after just a quick check behind him to make sure no one was in the corridor.

He was actually wearing underpants underneath. Not boxers. Little boy underpants, you know, Briefs, with the same cartoon on them that was on the t-shirt. They also made his arse look enormous and showed the cock-cage he was locked into. The underpants that is. I wouldn't have been seen dead in anything like that, not even when I'd been a little kid, but Joey liked them. Still I wanted him out of them, bare-arse naked so he'd be real embarrassed, so I told him to take them off. Making up some shit about how they'd got lost otherwise and guess what? He actually bought it and did what I told him. This was going to be so much fun.

He took them down. Or peeled them down they were that tight on him, and I got me my first good look at that tube that was locked on his cock only when I did Joey instantly put his hands over himself. Well I wasn't having that, was I. So I told him to put his hands on his head or I'd give him a spanking and make sure Aaron did the same when he got home.

That worked and I got that tingling feeling I always got when I kid did what I told him, so I gave him a few more orders making him stand straight and stuff like that just so he'd know I was in charge of him. Then while he was standing there like he was playing statues I put his undies into the locker with the rest of his clothes. Locked the locker and put the key in the pocket of my jeans which gave me the chance to rearrange things down there. I also made sure he saw me do it, so he would know he couldn't piss me off or else he'd be going home naked. Which I might make him do anyway, just because I can.

Before then though, I had to let mum look him over, so walking around him I pulled back the curtain and stepped out into the corridor, walking over to the examination room, and giving him no choice but to follow me.

It's a great pity that there wasn't nobody in the corridor to see me leading him about all naked and stuff, but that didn't matter as I knew what mum was going to do would more than make up for that. Still it would have been nice for someone else to have seen him all bare-arsed naked, and nude first.

Mum's office is at the end of the corridor right at the back of the unit, but her door was closed when we got there, which means she was busy with something so we had to wait outside which gave me the chance to have some fun.

"Does it hurt when Aaron spanks your bare botty?" I asked him in a whisper so mum wouldn't hear me as she doesn't like me talking trash especially to other kids.

He said nothing so I tried again. "Your arse always looks so red when he's done so it must hurt like a bitch?"

Still he said nothing so I gave him a poke in the arse and asked him if it was true he liked being dressed up like a little kid and having his arse whacked, only he never got to answer that as that's when mum called out that we could go in.

Cos she's the head nurse, Mum's room was dead large so she'd divided in half with a large screen across the middle separating the medical bit from what she called her office. That had her desk in it. One of those old fashioned one's with a green bit in the middle and trays for papers and folders on it. Not that it was the largest thing in the room as that was the modern examination couch which had these leather stirrups at one end. Plus there was all the normal doctor stuff like some weighing scales and shelves of medical bits and pieces that I'd always loved playing with. Not that mum would let me.

Mum was sitting behind her desk when we went in, but she stood up when she saw us and you should have seen Joey's face. He went dead red and clamped his hands over his balls like mum was the scariest thing he'd ever seen in his life and she isn't. Not really. Although I guess she can seem like that. What with her being so big and everything.

"Right," mum said, glancing down at her notes, "You must be Joseph Thompson. So let's get you weighed and measured so we can get on. Liam if you wouldn't mind helping your friend."

I couldn't wait but I had to do things proper or else mum won't let me do it no more so I pointed over to the scales and asked Joey to go that way, telling him to step up onto the little metal platform and then to stand dead still.

It was a bit of a stretch for me to reach up to the moveable market that ran on a track up the wall, which made Joey smile a bit. Still I soon got rid of that when I told him to stand straight with his hands at his sides, leaving him no choice but to uncover himself and let mum see the cock-tube.

Having called out his height so mum and then his weight from the scales so mum could write them into her notes, I got Joey off the platform and told him to stand in the middle of the floor with his arms stretched out so I could measure him.

His face went instantly so red I nearly laughed, and had to keep my back to mum so she wouldn't see just how much I liked embarrassing this older boy while I held the tape along the length of his arms before moving onto the more interesting stuff.

Joey shivered when I put the tape around under his arms and called out his chest size, although that was mostly cos I made sure to rub his nipples when I did it. He laughed when I measured his waist for a similar reason, although then I was tickling his sides, but he grew dead still when I got down on my knees and pushed the end of the tape up into his balls.

With his size all noted down by mum it was time to move on to the real medical stuff starting with Joey's blood pleasure which mum let me do as I needed the practise, even though I only wanted to do the thing that came next.

Choosing the metal chair in the corner beneath the slightly open window as I knew just how cold it would be, I got Joey to sit in it, watching his face when his bum went down. Telling him to sit still while I put the cuff around his upper arm and pumped it up to take the reading.

The samples followed, starting with blood, which again I took, under mum's supervision of course, and which I was dead careful about, making sure there was no air in the needle, and making sure I got it right into the vein in the crook of Joey's arm.

A saliva sample was easier. Just a swab around the inside of his mouth while he sat there with his arm folded up until the hole I'd stabbed in him had cleaned up and could be covered with a plaster.

Then came the fun bit as I got a large glass jar with a tube-like end from the shelf and asked Joey for a piss sample.

Okay, so I called it a urine sample like mum does but the reaction was the same. Joey went all red again especially when I joked about him having to fill the jar up. He didn't have to of course, but he did have to do one as mum wanted to test it, so I gave him a helping hand.

Slipping on a plastic glove I took hold of his cock tube and put the end into the bottle and told him to hold it there while I played the one trick I knew would make him piss himself.

Going over to the sink in the corner, I turned on the cold tap full blast which sometimes is enough to make a boy piss, but if it didn't then I'd take a sponge and hold it under the water. Then when it was really wet and really cold I'd go over to the kid and put it on the bottom of his tummy, right above his cock. The cold and shock being more than enough to make him piss like a fountain, just as it did to Joey.

It's funny making boys piss themselves, especially the looks on their faces when they does it. Still I had to keep it dead professional cos mum was still watching, waiting to test Joey's piss with those bits of paper that change colour when they find something they don't like. Not that they did this time.

Anyway, ten minutes passed while Mum did the piss tests, during which Joey had to stand there, all naked and on display until she was read to give him his examination which she did starting with running her fingers through his hair and around the back of his ears, ending up on his jaw.

Then came the stethoscope which must have been dead cold cos Joey didn't half jump when mum put it on his chest and told him to do all that breathing in and out stuff so she could listen to his lungs and then to hold his breath while she listened to his heart.

When mum was satisfied with all his internal workings she put the stethoscope back around her neck and told Joey to make like a scarecrow so she could run her hands along his arms and then down his sides until they were holding him at the waist. Then she went for the thing no boy likes. She grabbed his balls.

"Turn your head and cough!" she told him and he did but it was such a crap cough that mum had to ask him to do it again until she got the result she wanted.

The rest of the examination went on the same way, with mum running her hands down his legs. Then getting him to lift each of them in turn so she could check out his feet and toes, before she moved away from him and sat on the edge of her desk to give her verdict.

"Everything seems fine with you physically," she said looking him straight in the eye as she moved onto the stuff I'd been waiting for.

"However my older son had told me that you have a problem with masturbation. You are lucky that we have caught it earlier and are able to do something about it before it becomes too much of a habit."

Joey went even brighter red than before until it looked like his head was about to explode. It didn't of course, but that would have been great if it had although then I'd have missed the fun part of getting him up onto the gynaecological table.

Before he had too much time to work out what was going to happen I got him over to the examination table, and turned him around so that his bare arse was against the end of it, right between the two posts supporting the stirrups.

Pushing him back I got him to lay down which made it easier for me to pick up his legs and put them into the stirrups with the straps buckled around his ankles so he wouldn't be able to take them out again.

While he lay there all confused I put the rest of the pads in place under his thighs, and knees, and did a couple of straps around his waist and chest to hold him down. Finally I put a little blow up pillow under his head so he'd be able to see what was going to happen next.

"Now," mum started her explanation when I was done and Joey was comfortable, or at least as comfortable as he could be with his legs all spread out like that, "There are two ways to help a boy with a masturbation problem. The first is the chastity device my son has provided you with, and the second is to milk the testicles which is what we are going to do today. This is something that can be continued once you leave the clinic and I would suggest that it is done often, especially as you are unable to do so yourself. For that purpose I will ask Liam to assist. Do you understand?"

Now it was my chance. It had taken me ages to get mum to let me do this bit finally winning her over by convincing her that young boys would be less embarrassed to have it done by someone their own age, rather than someone who could remind them of their mother.

So it was that mum stepped back at this point while I got the tube of lubricant and after pulling on a plastic glove stuck my fingers into it, to get them good a slippery. When they were stepped over to the examination table and stuck my hand between Joey's legs, easily finding his arsehole.

"Relax!" I told him whilst circling my forefinger around his hole. The moment he did I slipped my finger inside him, heading straight for his prostate just like mum had shown me.

Joey groaned, letting me know I'd found it and I got to watch his cock trying it's best to get hard inside the tube that stopped it from doing just that.

"Okay, I think we are going to have to take that off." Mum produced the small key Aaron had given her not having trusted me with it for some reason, and quickly removed the tiny padlock from Joey's groin, followed by the tube over his cock and the ring around the base.

The instant his cock was free, it went hard. Not just stiff, but real rock hard. SO hard that close up like I was, you could see all the veins under the skin and the head looked like it wanted to burst right open. It also twitched every time I moved my finger, which made it more fun to watch especially as he going crazy from what I was doing to him.

"Ohh" Ahh!" he kept on going, rocking about on the examination table as I continued to ram my finger up his arse and his cock got harder and harder until there was no way he was every going to be able to stop himself from spurting which is just what he did. THrowing a real thick stream right across his belly and almost crushing my finger as his arse contracted.

It was a great show but it wasn't over yet.

Joey's head was thrown back, and he was gasping for air like a fish out of water while I kept on fingering his arse hole until he was all set to go again, and go again he did. Spurting another load onto his chest. Not as much as the first but enough for it to count.

His chest was heaving now, and he was panting loads as I went for a third one, and for this I used not one, but two of my fingers.

The second slipped in beside the first, stretching Joey's hole and meaning that I could drive him nuts twice as hard and twice as fast.

His hips were soon wriggling around on the table, but there was nothing he could do to escape what I was doing up his arsehole no matter how much he tried.

It took another five minutes but soon I had him crying out and spurting like a faulty fountain even though no one was even touching his cock and I could well have gone for a fourth one but mum said three was more than enough which was nonsense as even I can do that many at once, and Aaron can do loads more, so Joey could have as well, especially as he hadn't had a wank for ages. Still he was in a bit of a mess and it wasn't like I wasn't going to be doing this again at some point so it was good enough to be going on with.

We left Joey on the examination table for a few minutes to, as mum said, pull himself together, before we got him down for the final parts of his examination. However before that I got to put the tube back on his cock although mum wouldn't let me keep the key, saying she'd give it back to Aaron when she got home which was a swizzle.

There really wasn't much else to do after that. Mum got me to collect some of Joey's cum, or seman, from his chest and put it in a test tube for testing, and then clean the rest off him before I took him back to the locker so he could get dressed. Mind you I pretty much had to carry him cos all that arse wanking totally wasted him, and he was all wobbly when he tried to walk.

He was a bit more stable by the time he had his clothes on, although he was still red in the face even by the time I got him back to ours so his gran could pick him up by which time I was already making plans of how to continue with his treatment, just as soon as I could get him away from what Aaron had planned for him.

Chapter Eight
Aaron's Friend

"If I told you what it was then it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?" I repeated while Joey continued to jump around beside me on the pavement.

Strange thing is you'd have thought he'd have had enough of surprises since he'd first asked me to be his babysitter. After all he'd been surprised that I found out his secret. Surprised I didn't mind changing his nappy. Surprised that about the chastity device I'd looked on him. Surprised about that first spanking, if not by some of those that had followed. Surprised when I when I'd exposed him to his gran, and do doubt very surprised by what Mum and Liam did to him at the children's hospital. Yet still he was game for another one. Guess some kids are just like that. Joey certainly was.

By the time we were half way to where we were going I'm fairly sure Joey was skipping beside me. Actually skipping. Like a little kid does when he's too excited to walk properly, or can't keep up. Of course it fitted perfectly with what I'd dressed him in that morning. The sleeveless t-shirt, and matching nylon shorts, both with Thomas the Tank Engine on them, along with the usual ankle socks and T-bar strap shoes.

It was pretty much what he'd been wearing every time we went outside, where the nappies he wore inside would be too obvious. However this time, we'd come up with a compromise. Well, Mrs. T, had, having bought them home the day before from a trip into town. And if you listened really carefully you could hear them give a little crinkle whenever Joey took a step, or a jump, or a hop, or even a skip. Just about any movement in fact.

Pullups. He was wearing Pullups. Proper little boy training pants, only ones that fit him, as they were his size. Actual Pullups for a thirteen year old that looked like normal pants, only thinner at the sides, and thicker in the middle, both front and back, to soak up whatever leaked into them. Who knew? Wish I had, as I could have done away with all bother of using cloth nappies on both Joey and Jamie. Still at least Mrs. T. had taken over the washing of those, so that was something.

The journey wasn't a long one, which was just as well, as Joey was likely to wear himself out before we got there and sure enough by the time I turned into the Malones' driveway, Joey was already starting to lag behind me, meaning he had to run to catch up as I was ringing the bell. Not that he needed to hurry as it took ages for the door to be answered.

I actually rang the bell three times before it was opened, which was almost a record as it normally takes a lot more than that which was something at least. All the same I gave the guy hell about it.

"About time Shane. You forget we were coming or something?" I used my best babysitter voice, as I'd got used to that working on my charges. It made no difference to my best mate though. Who just ignored what I said, to ask his own question.

"So this the little guy you told me about then?"

"Obviously!" I shrugged, because obviously it was. Why else would I bring a teenager dressed like a little kid to his house. For a near genius, Shane can be really stupid at times, which is why I had to check that he was alone in the house. But he still wasn't paying attention.

Totally ignoring me Shane and Joey were too busy checking each other out, which took the latter a lot longer than the former as there was so much more of Shane to look at. Not that he was fat or anything, far from it, but he did look like someone had taken a normal sized fifteen year old and then stretched them on a rack as far as they could, until they almost snapped. Shane was that tall. A good head tall than me, and given he was still on his doorstep looked even taller still. Mind you, a strong wind would have blown him away, but still.

"Everyone is out," he finally answered my question, with a mouth that looked a touch too wide for his narrow face, especially as it was crammed full of expensive metalwork, in order to correct teeth that had once seemed keen to escape his mouth.

"So," he looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time, "I guess you want to pick up that thing you asked me to make then, do you, Ron?"

I told him I did, asked him if he'd finished it, and reminded him for the about the forty millionth time that my name was Aaron and not Ron. For what good it did me.

He seemed hurt by the suggestion. Not that he'd been getting my name wrong all these years, that he knew, but by my accusing him of not finishing something.

"Course I have. Even with the extra stuff you asked for at the last minute," he paused and then added, "Ron!"

You should have seen Joey's eyes fly open at that, as he wasn't used to seeing me being challenged like that, but I wasn't going to kick off. Not given how long me and Shane had been mates, "You're an arse, do you know that?"

"Yeah," he nodded his oddly shaped head, "You've been telling me that since the first day of infants. Now you coming in or what?"

Yeah, I'd known him for that long, over eleven years now, since I first ran into kindergarten and there was only one free seat left, next to the odd looking kid it turned out the other kids were already avoiding. Truth is I probably would have too, had I had any choice in the matter but Mum was running late, so that's where I sat, only to have to stand up again instantly and introduce myself to the rest of the class who'd already done the same thing.

Shane who was a clever kid, even back then, instantly made a joke out of my name saying that I wasn't Aaron, but 'A Ron', so that was what he was going to call me from then on. And he has too. But as, annoying as he can be at times, not to mention frustrating and even downright painful at others, I wouldn't change Shane for anything. He's just knows so much stuff that life with him is never boring, and there's nothing he can't make. Nothing, as Joey was about to find out.

The Malone family house is enormous. It makes Mrs. T's look like doll's house. It's also very confusing. There's room every where and corridors all over the place. Thankfully we didn't need to bother with trying to find out way around, as Shane just lead Joey and I, right down centre of the building. Past the big ornate stair case, going up and the smaller one going down, into the kitchen that was bigger than our front room, then right out the back door. That wasn't the end of the trip though, as then we had to work out way down a winding path through a garden that could have double as a park before we finally arrived at a little locked door.

A ring of keys was clipped to the side of Shane's belt, just like it always was, joined via a length of elastic that was just about long enough to be stretched to the padlock holding the door to what he used to call his Secret Hideout, but was now just called his Lair.

Once unlocked the door opened inwards with a screech that any producer of horror movies would have been really proud off, although probably not as proud as Shane was given how much time he spent not oiling the old rusty hinges.

Shane loved to shock people which was what the squeaky door was all about, not to mention all the stuff he had piled just inside the door way the sole purpose of which was to keep his sisters at bay, or indeed any sane person.

It looked like the set of a horror movie. Not one of those big budget Hollywood things either, but one of those you had to get from under the counter at the video shop, and which would nearly always end up being unwatchable from having been copied way too many times. Shane loved all that sort of thing.

There were bits and pieces of machines scattered here and there. Some were even hanging from the roof. Nearly all of them were covered in wicked looking spikes, or razor sharp blades, and all were painted in blood-like red, if not actually splattered with overly realistic gore.

"What? What's all that?" asked Joey, stepping closer to me as if I could protect him which I guess was my job as his babysitter. So I did my best to put his mind at rest. For now anyway.

"Don't worry about Shane he's a genius. Well an evil genius anyway."

"All geniuses are evil. It's in the job description." Shane entered his domain, ducking around the horror smokescreen to the workshop area that was hidden behind it, and especially one large object that was covered in a large once white sheet. A sheet he pulled away with a flourish that sent quite a lot of stuff flying, and everyone else ducking for cover.

"Will you watch what you're doing with your monkey arms," I warned him. Shane may have had his unnaturally large growth spurt the year before, but his still hadn't caught up with how long his limbs were yet which lead to a lot of stuff getting broken whenever he was around. Mind you, he was fairly clumsy even when he was the size of a normal kid and that's what taught him to fix stuff, like the thing he'd just uncovered.

It was a pram. A big, old fashioned pram that was nothing like the modern lightweight onese you see babies being pushed around in these days, but a proper baby carriage, with large wheels that wouldn't have looked out of place on a bicycle, such was the size and weight of the thing.

"Good stuff, is always the big stuff," smiled Shane when I mentioned that it was massive, flexing himself as he spoke, which just looked, well, wrong even though I knew from experience that he was quite a lot stronger than his skinny frame suggested.

"It was made for twins," explained Shane before launching into how he'd found it on one of his regular visits to the local dump, which was followed by a detailed, very detailed, account of everything he'd had to do to it, in order to make it fit for what I wanted. Only when he'd gone through all of that did he dare to show me the changes he'd made starting with the back.

There was a large looped handle that could be used to pushing the pram along the road, sticking out from the main part of the carriage. Underneath this was what looked like a compartment sort of like a bulk head, no doubt to hold everything that people with twin babies need to carry about with them. This he had Joey and I look at, while he reached inside the carriage and did something that caused this bulkhead to come away.

Putting the part he'd removed to one side, revelled that it wasn't a compartment at all, but more a simple extended cover for the pram as the original end of the carriage had been cut away, leaving a large gap that looked right through to the mattress inside.

"What stops the babies from falling out?" asked Joey, which lead to me and Shane exchanging the sort of looks that teenagers do when little kids say something stupid, only they don't know it. All the same Shane had to explain himself. He just can't help it. He loves explaining stuff, albeit more like a less like a teacher and more like a Bond villain.

"That isn't going to happen, little boy. I have made sure of that," his tone was pure patronising, "This is to make getting in and out of the pram so much easier, as all you have to do is slide under the handle without having to climb over, or be lifted over the sides. not that climbing would be all that easy due to the extra large springs I've built into the under-carriage to allow for the extra weight the pram will be carrying."

"So," I stepped in front of Joey, "All he has to do is lay down with his bum at the front and his legs hanging down? Right? So his feet will go on that ledge down there, above the wheels. Then when the cover is put back on, no one can see his legs and won't know they're there?"

"Right?" nodded Shane, without specifying which bit of what I'd said was right, and moving on before I could ask. "Now, I had to get Jenny to help with the insides as you know I'm no use with sewing and all that fiddley stuff, so you're going to have to being owing her, and I wish you luck with that, Ron."

That wasn't the news I wanted to hear as Shane sister had been trying to get me to go out with her since she'd realised that I'd make the perfect 'Ken' to her 'Barbie' and I mean the actual dolls there. Jennifer was such a girlie-girl even now she was ten but that did mean she was great with a needle and thread as the inside of the carriage proved.

The thick plastic covered mattress remained probably as it had always been, but the sides of the carriage where padded out with quilted panel, while inside that was a small pillow ad a thin pale blue blanket, all of which was decorated with images of various babyhood items like bottles, rattles, dummies and such like.

However while Shane and I were looking at that, Joey had spotted something hanging from the underneath. A couple of short padded leather straps that clearly reminded him of something, that were near the foot rest.

"Those are to make sure the baby's legs remain inside the compartment at all times. You know, for their safety of course, like on fun fair rides, just like the other straps inside the pram."

"Other straps?" asked Joey who was then shown where these had been tucked under the quilted padding.

"These go around the baby's waist. This one across his chest, under his arms," demonstrate Shane laying the straps across the mattress. "They're all bolted to the underside of the carriage so baby can be buckled in good and tight with no chance of him falling out, or indeed getting out until someone lets him out."

Joey nodded, asking if it was like a harness, which of course he knew all about.

"Exactly, only we also have these." Two small chain type fasteners of about two inches [5] cm] long each were bolted to either side of the carriage, behind the padding. At the other end they both had small padded leather straps which Shane explained could be buckled around the baby's wrists in order to prevent him from putting their hands where there shouldn't be and, stop him from unfastening anything as they just wouldn't reach that far.

By this point I was a little concerned Shane was giving too much away, so in order to change the subject away from the restraints I asked him about the hood instead, having noted it folded down at the other end of the pram.

"It extends up on these concertina arms and should shield baby from people looking into the pram as well as from the sun. If it rains, however, there's a full cover that fastens over the body of the pram with these press studs around the outside. Once that's on and the hood is up then the only person who will be able to see the baby, will be the person pushing the pram and, of course, the only person Baby will see is that person. Oh, and this was Jenny's idea.

Pulling back one side of the hood, Shane showed us a couple of round spring clips that were fastened there. These were to hold a baby's bottle, something which he demonstrated with a bottle that was clearly a two litre pop bottle rather than something a regular baby would ever use, but which did fit snuggly into the clips, keeping it hidden under the hood.

Being a pop bottle there was no teat on the end. Instead the cap had been drilled through and then sealed with a tube running through the middle of it that had a valve rather like on mum's enema gear which could be used to regulate how much liquid went through it at once to dummy Shane had engineered to take the tube.

"I've drilled loads of microscopic holes in the bulb to let liquid into the baby's mouth so baby won't be able to stop drinking from the bottle. Naturally the dummy will have a strap on it, so Baby won't be able to take it out of his mouth on his own. Oh and the holes will allow him to breath quite easily too."

"Good thinking." said my sarcasm, which as always was lost on Shane who just took the compliment.

"The bottle is fed by gravity so to anyone looking into the pram, it should look like the baby is happily sucking on the bottle and wants to drink from it, even though he's fully strapped in and can't do anything to stop it."

"So," I turned to Joey, "The baby in the pram will be just like a real baby then. Only bigger."

Catching what I was doing, Shane did the same thing, "Exactly, like a real baby, only bigger."

It took a few seconds but soon the penny dropped with a clang that made Joey's head jerk upwards. "Me? You mean Me?"

"Yes, of course you Joey! Who else would want to be helplessly strapped into a pram?"

"Wow!" he finally manage to say, which was oddly disappointing, at least I thought so, but then Joey didn't know the half of what I had planned for him and the price that was going to be paid for it.

Chapter Nine
Shane's Reward

He was late. I knew he would be. It was a tricky trip across town for him but I knew he'd turn up. Once a bargain is made it has to be kept, doesn't it? At least that's what I thought as I watched him slip into our driveway and start to creep his way up towards and then around the side of the house.

There was no one else home, of course, but he didn't know that. That was part of the fun. Making him sneak. If I could have got him to come here naked I would have done, but not in the day time. That was just too much of a risk for us both.

Moving to a different window I lost sight of him for a minute but then picked him up again as he came around the side of the garage where he stood for a moment, looking at the thing I'd left for him, and then around before he started to take off his clothes.

It made me smile to see that he was following the instructions I'd given him. Not many people ever did what I told them but they all expected me to do what they said. That's what happens when you're good at stuff. People take you for granted. That includes my family and my friends. Well friend, as there's only Aaron, or Ron as I like to call him, just to wind him up.

Everyone does what Aaron says. Just one of his pretty smiles, and people fall over themselves to do what he wants. If I tried that they'd just laugh, or run away. They just don't see me like that which just makes me want it more and now it was going to happen. Just because I spent a bit of time building that stupid pram.

The boy was down to his underwear before he started to look a bit nervous and for a moment I thought he wasn't going to go all the way, but he did, slipping them down his ankles and off. He then added them to the small pile of clothes that my instructions told him were to remain on the big bin at the back of the garage.

There was something else on that bin. Something I'd left there for him to wear so he wasn't going too be totally naked. Just mostly.

Most people think stocks are the big thing on legs that stand in the village green, that people are locked into to have rotten fruit thrown at them in the olden days but if you're ever read a history book then you know that's actually a pillory, not stocks although the confusion is easy to see given that stocks are pretty much a pillory without the stand. Basically they're just the big that the head and wrists are locked into, so the person is still mobile or if you don't want them mobile, then the ankles are locked instead. Of course, I'd have loved to have built a proper pillory but I doubt my family – well Jenny might – would want me setting one up on our lawn, even without a naked boy fastened inside.

I'd made the stocks a couple of years back, from a single plank of hardwood about an inch [2½ cm] thick and four feet [1¼ m] long. Into this I'd cut three holes. One large one in the middle down the central line for the neck, and then two smaller ones on either side of it for the wrists.

After they were done, I cut the plank right down the middle using a panel saw so that they'd still fit perfectly back together and screwed a solid brass hinge to one end so the plank would open and close like a clapper board you see at the start of the movies.

At the other end from the hinge I original put a basic hook latch to hold the two parts of the plank together as it didn't need to be much as the person wearing the stocks wouldn't be able to reach it anyway. However, for this occasion though I'd replaced that with a spring catch, that would lock on its own when closed but wouldn't come apart unless someone, namely me, released it.

Picking up the stocks, the boy didn't have to think about what to do with it, although he did have a bit of trouble getting into place as it wasn't easy to balance on his shoulders especially when they were open.

Eventually he did it by leaning the stocks against the wall of the garage, getting his neck and hands in place and then swinging the front around until it locked. It took three attempts but it worked and he was ready for the fate that awaited him in the house.

Totally and utterly naked and with his hands trapped in the stocks he covered the last dozen or see feet from where he'd stripped to the door that lead down to our basement, which I'd left open from him but on the latch so that once he'd come through it and closed it behind him, it would automatically lock, trapping him in the house with no way to escape everything that I had planned to do to him. The door leading into the house wasn't locked, but there was no way he'd be able to turn the handle so that didn't matter. Plus, of course, he didn't know who else was in the house, so wasn't about to go running through the house, stark naked where for all he knows my sister was waiting to pounce on him and no boy would want that. Trust me.

When I heard the outside door slam I so wanted to rush down there and have my evil way with him, but I had a plan, and like I say, a plan isn't worth making if you're not going to stick to it. So I made myself wait for exactly ten minutes, just like I'd planned, before I headed for the backstairs and more fun than I could have ever dreamed off.

Dressed in an overly large t-shirt mostly because that's all I could find that would fit me due how tall I was, I'd made sure it was plain black to look as menacing as possible, along with some combat trousers, and boots, that thumped a bit as I went down the uncarpeted steps leading to the basement.

Reaching the basement door, I paused again, taking a deep breath, to get myself ready, and for one final grope of my prick, before I yanked down the handle and stepped into the almost bare room.

It was my plan to totally humiliate the boy, punish him, and then have sex with him whether he wanted me to or not. Of course, he probably would do, as we were only playing about, but it was going to be as real as it could be, and the kid certainly seemed to be up for it as he was in the position of total submissiveness.

His back to the door he would have had no idea who it was that had come in, but to his credit he didn't even attempt to look. Instead he just remained there, kneeling in the middle of the floor, with his legs spread wide, and his arms out in front of him, with the stock sitting on the floor. Naturally this meant his arse was up in the air, pointing almost directly at me, his cheeks spread slightly so I could actually see the entrance to his hole. Something I would be getting acquainted with later on. First though, I had some teasing to do.

Walking around the boy who was to be my slave for the evening, I didn't say anything, just in case my voice did that annoying wobbly thing, that made me sound like a broken choir boy and ruined everything.

Coming back around behind him, I gave his thigh a prod with the toe of my boot just to see what he would do.

When he didn't move I pushed my boot between his spread legs and slowly bought it upwards, towards his arse hole, before pressing it forwards to nudge at his cock and balls.

The instant I did that, his breathing got heavier but he stayed in place, playing his part really well to a point that got me even more excited by the power I had over him.

I played with the idea of kicking him in the balls, just to get a reaction as had been done to me so many times at school, but I didn't want to be that cruel. At least not yet.

"Get up boy," I ordered and he did it, quickly if with some difficulty due to the weight of the stocks.

He seemed smaller than I remembered, but that could have been the nudity doing it. He was, however every bit as pretty as I remembered, and I couldn't wait to get my hands on him. But I had to follow the plan.

Once more I walked around him. Slowly. Then came back the other way, all the time making a show of looking him up and down but not touching. Not yet. Not until I'd finished looking.

The boy gave a little gasp when I took a good grip on his right buttock, unable to stop myself as his just looked so grab-able. Once I'd done it though, I was committed and gave it a good squeeze before doing the same to the other one. Using my hands to spread his arse apart so I could have a close up look at his hole and check it was cleaned out, like I'd asked.

Thankfully I was able to prevent my self from doing anything else even though I wanted so much to lick his arse which I know is a weird thing to want to do, when I could have just stuck my prick up it instead, but then that's just me, isn't it. Never do the usual thing.

Moving over to a unturned box I'd left there just for this purpose, I sat down and called the boy over to me, telling him it was time for him to have another good old fashioned spanking.

There was no hesitation, but then he'd done this before as I knew only too well.

Quickly, or as quickly as he could with the weight of the stocks on his shoulders and without his hands to help, he stood up, turned around, and then bent himself over my knees. His hands and head pushed down on one side of my and his legs stretched out on the other. Once more his arse was raised all the way up for me to do what I wanted to it.

Wanting to tease him some more, and because it was fun, I ran a finger down his back, and then slowly between the swell of his buttocks. The flesh seeming so soft and yet at the same time so strong and resilient. Thankfully he was also clean back there, something Nurse Lawrence probably had something to do with.

Raising my hand I smacked, I paused, taking a mental picture of the scene, before I bought it down on his bottom as hard as I could.

My fingers were as long as my arms were long, so they managed to reach right the way across both his buttocks, leaving red marks there that were soon joined by others as I got going.

Spanking naked boys is so much fun. It really is. I don't know why more people don't do it. The boy wriggles about on your lap and that really works on your prick, like nothing else I've ever done, and I've tried loads of stuff. Even made a wanking machine once, but that's another story. One that doesn't quite have the happy ending it should have done either.

Anyway, despite the heat in his backside quickly built up, to stinging levels but the kid kept quiet throughout and didn't say a word even as his body bounced with each and every smack I gave him. All the same I reached around him with my left arm, the length of which was more than enough to get my hand right the way underneath him and grab hold of his balls, which I continued to hold tight in my fist as I kept on spanking him until his arse was bright red and he was crying.

When I heard the sound of tears I stopped the spanking, which wasn't an easy thing to do, and did some rubbing of his arse which was now really warm to the touch, just as a slave's arse should be.

"Stand up!" I told him, when he'd calmed down a bit. "Face me."

He did all of this and was pleased to see there were very real tears running down his pretty face and that he was sniffing slightly. However he wasn't that upset, the evidence for which could be found further down his body, where he was as stiff as anything, giving me permission to get out of my own clothes.

After a bit of wriggling around on the upturned box I was every bit as nude as the boy was, and ever bit as hard too. Only, if I do say so myself, my prick looked a lot bigger than his, even if this is mostly due to just how skinny I am, making everything about me look bigger than it really was.

Still standing there with eyes still wet from his crying, he couldn't stop staring at my prick like he'd never seen one before.

"Like it?" I teased, shaking my hips a bit so it would waggle around.

He could only nod as I'd told him not to talk.

"Well, you're going to have to wait for it, as I've not finished punishing you yet although next time it won't be my hand but with a paddle."

His eyes went wide and his mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but then snapped shut. Yet he remained stiff, and so did I. So much so that I was starting to leak pre-cum which was the set up for the next part of the plan.

"Before that though, you can clean me up, like a good little slave."

He paused. He must have known this was going to happen, but probably hadn't expected it to be quite this soon. Still after only a moment's hesitation he dropped back down to his knees, probably landing a bit heavily on the stone floor, and crawled forward until he was right between my legs with my hardness right in front of his face.

"Get on with it!" I told him, even though he was doing just that, but it was in my plan to say that, so I had to say it, just as I had to lean back to give him space to work, which he soon did.

He went at it like a true expert. His warm, wet tongue starting on my balls, the slowly worked up around the base of my prick until all my pubes were slick with his silva rather than my own pre-cum. Then with long, slow licks he went up my shaft, his head curling around as much as the stocks would allow, so he could get right the way around it.

When he reached the stop, he had to wait a second for my prick to stop waving about before he could do the cutest thing ever. He kissed my prick.

Almost as if he was actually worshiping it, he pursed his lips, then gentle, reverently, he put his lips on top of my crown, and gave it the most tender kiss. Like something you'd get from your gran, only not there, obviously. It was a great way to show that he knew just what his role of a slave was meant to be and I could have spurted then and there, but thankfully I didn't as the next bit was even better.

The boy sat back, grinned and then opened his mouth wide before plunging right the way down my prick. Well perhaps not all the way, but from where I was it certainly looked like that and felt like it too. Just the look of his face struggling to get as much of my prick into his mouth nearly sent me over the top as well and there was one thing I was certain about. This boy knew how to suck a prick.

It was the little things that made it so good, just like it is with anything. The soft lips wrapped around my shaft, with that light yet firm suction that seal created, even as his head bobbed up and down. Meanwhile his tongue was going things to the end of my knob that I can't even start to describe despite having tried to analysis them so many times.

Naturally I wanted something that awesome to go on forever, but there was no way it was going to. I was nearly sixteen after all and teenagers aren't known for their restraint, especially when someone is sucking on their prick like a vacuum cleaner set on High. And trust me I know what that feels like!

When I came it was like nothing I'd ever done before. I literally exploded inside his mouth like a volcano going off from some systemic event deep in core of the earth. Yet still he didn't stop what he was doing. Sucking it all down into his stomach. Then he pulled off me, but only so he could use his tongue to clean up whatever cum was left on my prick until I was all shiny and clean once more.

"Wow!" I gasped in what must have been a good ten minutes later, when my head came back to earth, only to see him grinning up at me from between my legs, looking all smug, which wasn't right at all for a slave.

"Not bad, not bad at all," I went back to my master routine, ending the half-compliment with a threat, "But don't think that's going to get you off having a taste of the paddle that I promised you?"

He nodded, although I'm not sure which way he meant that, it didn't really matter as I was in charge, not him and he was going to get paddled one way or another anyway. Both he and I knew that. I'd known all along, of course, and he was just about to find out.

I left him standing there for just as long as it took to move the box I'd been sitting on while he sucked me off, out into the middle of the room. Underneath it was where I'd stashed the paddle.

Like the stocks, the paddle was something I'd made just for my little games. It was even made from the same hardwood plank that was locked around his neck and wrists and was some twelve inches long [30 cm] , including the four inch [10 cm] handle that I'd created, and then rounded, so it had a great grip. The rest still looked like a plank, albeit one that had been finely sanded and then vanished until it shone.

"I made this just for you. The holes I drilled in it, will make it really sting." I told him as he was staring at it with a mixture of what I took to be admiration at my craftsman's skill and fear about what it was going to do to his already spanked arse. "Now bend over that box and don't forget to spread your legs."

He obeyed. Dropping to his knees, more carefully this time, and then shuffling forwards until he could test his upper body, and the weight of the stocks, on the box. His knees pushing in towards the base of the box, ensuring that his arse made the best possible target. It was almost as if he'd done this before.

What a great sight it was. He had the best possible arse. Good and tight, with just the right mixture of fat and muscle to make it rounded to a point that makes it a wonder everyone doesn't spank him just like I was about to.

Picking up the paddle I once more felt the weight of it in my hand, remembering all those practise blows I'd taken against the sofa cushions in preparation for this moment.

Standing slightly to one side of him, I move the paddle slowly towards his bottom, enjoying the way he jumped at the first touch of the cold timber to his warm arse. Then I let him have it.

Using all the technique I'd developed during my practise sessions I pulled back my arm and slammed the paddle right across his arse as hard as I could.

The reaction was everything I could have wished it would be. I visible got to see that round arse flattened under the paddle. The vibrations of the blow rocking right through his body, and he even let out not so much of a gasp as more of a squeal, which just made me so horny.

I didn't want to rush things so I made him wait for the next one, just as I'd planned, even though my erection was back as hard as ever.

The second blow was just as hard as the first one, and in the same spot, landing with a splat sound that was like music to my ears, just as the squeal he made in response was.

Number three actually made him lift his knees up from the ground as the paddle bit deep into his tender arse. What's more it made him cry. Not cry out. Actually cry. Tears and everything.

By the fourth he was sobbing and I was having a great time.

After five it took him longer to become still but that was to be expected. Not that it stopped me going for a killer blow on the sixth paddle strike.

Six was enough. That was clear even though I'd left scope in the plan for more, perhaps even as many as a dozen, that really wasn't needed. I already had everything I wanted. A boy on his knees spanked and paddled into submission just like a slave would have been in the old days. I'd shown my strong side so now it was time to show my softer side.

From the pocket of my trousers I removed a small tube of anti-inflammatory cream which I then applied to his burning arse, watching with scientific amusement as the cream dissolved from the heat.

The boy relaxed whilst I was doing this which showed it helped although how much it would help with the bruising I'd inflicted but it could only help. So now I'd helped him it was his turn to help me again.

Using a great bit of slight of hand I swapped out the tube of anti-inflammatory cream with some lube. A large dollop of which went on my fingers and was then rubbed not on his buttocks but right up the centre, focusing, of course on his hole.

"Ready boy?" I asked, my slippy finger pressing slightly on his hole but not waiting for an answer as I pushed it in.

He whimpered slightly at the penetration but attempt to move away, or say anything so I continued to push my finger all the way inside him until my knuckles were against his bottom.

It felt so wonderful in there. He had a brilliant firm yet yielding grip, and I could all but feel his pulse against my finger as I moved my finger in and out, loosening him up for the next thing I was going to give him.

A few minutes, and a second finger, was all it took to open him up enough by which time I was desperate to get my once more throbbing prick stuffed up his arse.

Kneeling behind him, my long legs could easily straddle his. Holding onto his hips I positioned the end of my prick against his hole slowly increasing the pleasure until his sphincter began to part and allowed me entry.

He gave a sharp gasp as I entered him so I gave him a few moments to get used to having me inside him, before I started to slowly but steadily continued to push the rest of my prick right up his arse.

It was so hot and tight in there. His body pulsating against my hardness making it an extra good job he'd already sucked me off or else I would have blown my load long before I got myself right inside him.

Pausing I moved my hands from his hips up to his shoulders, tucking my slender fingers under the stocks to grip his flesh until I bottomed out in his bottom and it was time for the fun to really begin.

Slowly I moved my hips back, removing my prick from him, but leaving the head inside, before plunging it all back in. And then doing it again. And again.

My pace slowly increased as I got into my rhythm. His arse actually squeezing my prick as it went back and forth inside him, making the sensation of fucking him so much better until I couldn't take it any more.

Despite having been emptied only a few minutes earlier I must have shot a gallon of cum up his arse, while the pair of us were gasping with the pleasure that we were both feeling.

We stayed joined like that for a few minutes even after I'd finished. Our bodies all but glued together by the mixture of sweat and other fluids that were coating us both.

Eventually I peeled myself from his back, but told him to stay where he was even after I'd pulled my prick out of his arse, so that I could move around to the other side of the box and his head, where once more I told him it was his job to clean me up.

He did it even though my prick had just been up his arse and there were still tears on his pretty face. His licking even bringing me back to hard again, but I don't think I had the strength to do anything else, plus I'd already done everything on my plan so it was time to call things to an end. Alas.

A few minutes later and I had him out of the stocks and was watching as he applied more of the anti-inflammatory cream to an arse that was pretty much the colour of an over ripe apple. A red one, obviously, not a green one.

"So," I asked while he shined his arse, having already told him he could talk? "Did you have fun?"

"A bit," he conceded his voice a little croaky from all the crying, sobbing, yelping and squealing he'd been doing, "Arse hurts though."

I laughed, "Yeah well you won't be the only one saying that tonight, I guess."

"True," he nodded, but I wasn't finished yet.

"I guess you won't be sitting while you're babysitting for a while, will you Ron."

"Also true," he turned to give me that pretty boy smile of his, "And my name's Aaron not Ron."

"Whatever." I shrugged.

Chapter Ten
Liam's Turn

That Joey kid had been lounging on his gran's settee when I got there but he soon jumped up and raced over to the TV he'd been watching and turned it off. Then he went back to the settee and sat down again. Only this time he wasn't stretched out across the seat, but sitting almost bolt upright, with his hands on his lap, no doubt wondering about the stuff I'd done to him last time, at mum's clinic.

I wasn't going to do anything like that this time, as I was just filling in as his babysitter as I'd just explained to his gran before she left. My brother, who job it was to look after the kid, was at one of his mates' but he'd left me instructions as to what I had to do, and I couldn't wait as I'd never got to do stuff like that to another boy before.

The first of those things was to make sure he knew I was in charge as he was, after all a couple of years older than me not that you'd think so from what he was wearing.

I don't know if he'd dressed up especially because I was coming but from what Aaron said, then this could be what the kid wears all the time now. It was a school uniform. Just not the modern one. At least not for the local comprehensive where I'd be starting myself at the end of the holidays. Mum already had my uniform bought and hanging in my wardrobe back at home. Black trousers, white polo shirt, sweater and black trainers. Nothing too different from what I was used to. Unlike what the kid had on.

Clearly he'd gone all out to look like a little kid, because not only did he have a short sleeve shirt on, like junior kids wear, but what looked a lot like a clip on tie, they give to infants, and buckle up shoes which looked a bit girly if I'm honest. Then there were the shorts. I'd seen him in shorts before. In fact that's all I've seen him wearing, but those were normal, if old fashioned, knee length ones. These weren't. Not even close. When he'd stood up they'd perhaps come down to the middle thigh, but now he was sitting again, practically all of his legs were on show. Right the way up. All the way up.

He was watching me as I came into the room but I didn't say anything until I was stood right in front of him, looking down at him, like I was so much taller than him, which really I wasn't. Not at all.

"Right then," I put on my best stern voice like Aaron had taught me, "I'm in charge today, so I'm going to be dealing with you."

I didn't give him the chance to answer or especially ask any awkward questions about just what I was going to be dealing with him about. Instead, I turned and grabbed a hard backed chair from beside the big table where he probably did his homework like a good little boy, and placed that in the middle of the room, right in front of the big window like Aaron had said. Then I sat in it and called him over.

"Stand up straight. Hands by your sides."

He didn't move for a second and I thought I was going to have to threaten to tell my big brother on him which I really didn't want to do as that would just make me look weak and he should know I wasn't that from last time. Eventually though he did get up and come over and stand in front of my just as I'd instructed.

"Good. That's better," I told him, "But I'm still going to have to punish you, in the way that all young boys need to be punished to make sure you know who is in charge here."

Those weren't my words but Aaron's, who said I had to say them. The next bit was all me though.

"Do anything I don't like and I'll punish you even more, got it?"

He stared at me, taking his time in nodding. I'd have preferred him to say something but that was good enough and I asked him another question.

"Do you have any slippers?"

Confusion clouded his face for a moment, before he said he had a pair upstairs that he wore in the house.

"Good. Go upstairs and get them and while you're there, take off all your clothes but your underwear, and then come back down here. Hurry up now."

He must have worked out what I was going to do to him from that, as he gave a little smile before running off, and I got to sit there for a few minutes listening to him moving about upstairs, and then coming back down again, wearing just the little kid briefs I'd seen him in at the clinic along with the matching vest, carrying a slipper so big that it couldn't have possibly have been his own.

Taking the slipper from his hands, I put it on the floor next to my chair, taking a quick look over to his feet while I did so and sure enough it was way too big to fit him, which did confirm some of the things Aaron had told me about him, if nothing else. Still at least that means he wouldn't be minding what I was going to do next.

Without a word, I reached over for him, making him shiver as my fingers touched his bare flesh in that slight gap between his vest and pants. He shivered again as my fingers curled around inside the waistband of his pants, and a third time as I stared to pull them down to his knees, where I left them.

"I'm going to spank you," I told him, although we both knew that, but it gave me something to do while I looked at the chastity device that was still locked on his cock.

Aaron always makes the next bit look so easy but then he's always bigger than the boys he's pulling over his lap. Joey was taller than me so it took a bit more for me to get him bent over my lap and get him so his head his hanging down on one side with his hands touching the floor, and his legs dangling on the other side. I even remembered to get his legs slightly spread, at least as much as having his briefs around his knees would allow. This would make sure cock and balls would hang down between my legs, which Aaron had suggested I do so I don't get all wet from when his cock starts leaking which apparently it does whenever he gets spanked.

When I was done, his bum was right in the centre of my lap and I couldn't resist placing my hand on it so I could feel it quivering as he waited for his spanking.

Leaning to one side, I left my hand on his bum, while I reached to grab the slipper from the floor. HIs eyes watching my ever move from underneath, but unable to see me as I raised it up to my shoulder. Only then did I remove my hand from his bum and instead take hold of him around the waist as I slapped the slipper down.

WHOP!

When the rubber base of the slipper bit into his left cheek his body stiffened and he let out a loud gasp but by then I was already giving his right cheek the same treatment.

WHOP!

He wriggled a bit but made no sound this time, so I made sure the third blow landed in the same spot the first one had on his left cheek, making the smooth bottom shiver and shake.

WHOP!

Now he let out a gasp, and even tried to raise his head up for some reason not that it would have made any difference as I was already going at this right cheek for a second time.

WHOP!

I was on a roll now. Giving him a fifth and sixth blow right on top of the first two just to make sure he got the message which he must have done because he was soon jerking and trembling around on my lap with is bum twitching from side to side as I let him have another couple of blows.

WHOP! WHOP!

Now I was doubling up. Hitting the same spot twice in quick succession just to make sure he'd start to cry, which he did, wailing at the same time, as I double-dropped the other side of his arse, and then went back to where I'd started, so he really got the message.

WHOP! WHOP!

He sobbed and groaned. HIs bum was already bright red. The big slipper able to cover all of each one with each blow. But I wasn't done yet.

I waited for a few minutes because Aaron had told me that the gaps between the spankings were as every bit as important as the actual spanking cos they gave the boy being spanked time to think about what was happening. Or in this case what wasn't happening.

When Joey had got himself a bit more together, I slipped my hand under his arse, going straight for his balls, which I gave a bit of a flick too, before rubbing the tube over his willy knowing that he couldn't get stiff, but also knowing that he probably really wanted to. Then I pushed him up to his feet.

"Hands by your sides," I told him as he stood there, probably humiliated, and still crying a bit so I could pull his little boy pants down to his ankles, telling him to step out of them.

"Your spanking isn't over yet," I told him coldly whilst staring him directly in the face, and I swear he very nearly smiled when I said it. That wasn't going to last long as I told him what I wanted him to do.

"Turn around, spread your legs as wide as they will go, then bend right over and grab your ankles."

It had to be about the must humiliating position any boy could be put in. At least that's what I think, but he did it anyway. Giving me the brilliant view of his arse spreading itself open as he bent over, while the spreading of his legs let me still see his balls even though I was behind him.

"Don't move, or I'll give you extra."

The silence in the room was broken as I unbuckled the old belt of Aaron's I had around my waist. The one that was too wide to actually go through the belt loops on my best jeans, but which was going to be perfect for belting a kid's arse.

Holding onto the buckle, I doubled the belt over as I looked at him all bent over, trembling slightly in that humiliating position that exposed everything he had to me.

Slowly, I raised the belt up in the air behind him, and then bought it down right across both his cheeks.

The sound of the belt slicing into his flesh was nearly downed out by the howl of pain that came from him. A cry that was so high you'd have thought he was a little girl rather than a teenage boy. But, to give him credit, he didn't move.

The belt swished through the air a second time. The leather bit into his arse, leaving a bright red strip across his buttocks, and making him cry out in the same, if not louder fashion as before.

He just about managed to hold himself but that he did at all meant only one thing. He was mine. He'd obey me just like he did my brother, and that meant I could do pretty much what I wanted to him, and that was the best feeling ever.

I put everything I could into the last blow and was rewarded with him leaping up like I'd shoved a red hot poker up his arse instead of whipping it with a belt.

He jumped about his hands clasping his bum, his back arching away. His body totally rigid for a moment before his mouth opened, yet he made no sound. None at all as he fought against the strip of pain I'd sliced into his arse.

It was a picture. It really was but I couldn't let him do what he wanted as he had to remain under my control so once he'd stopped bouncing up and down doing what Aaron calls the 'Spanked boy dance', I went over to him and took hold of his wrists, pulling his hands from his bottom, and pushing him towards the corner of the room.

"Stand in the corner," I told him adding that he should stay there, not touching his bum, and with his hands on his head until I said so. I even slipped a hand between the cheeks of his arse, moving it downwards so that he had no option but to spread his legs.

"There. Stay like that until I say otherwise, or else you will get more of the same."

I left him there then to think about everything I'd done to him while I did the same but in the privacy of the toilet where no one could see just how much I'd enjoyed spanking him.

After half an hour I was back in the living room, and no I hadn't been wanking all that time. Just about half of it.

Anyway when I got back the redness on Joey's bum was more a blush albeit a heavy blush from the slippering, but the three marks from the belt were still quite clearly visible, which gave me a bit of a worry cos Aaron had said I wasn't to mark him too bad, so I needed to do something about that.

Walking over to him I told him to come with me, but to keep his hands on his head which he did all the time we went up stairs and even when we were in the bathroom and I was running him a bath.

When it was about half full I told him to get in but to remain standing up, with his hands on his head, which he did and remained doing even as I was washing his arse.

That wasn't the only part of him I washed, although it was the bit I did most just to make sure I hadn't hurt him too much. I also made sure to do all the places that were most likely to be checked, like his face, behind his ears, the back of his neck, places like that. Oh and I cleaned off his willy as well, which just like Aaron had said, was all wet at the end, despite being trapped inside that tube.

There was one other thing that I did, which I wouldn't be telling my brother about even though it was our mum who first got me to do it. I stuck my finger up Joey's bum.

He gasped when did it, just like he had at the clinic but he made no effort to stop me, not even when I first teased his hole, or when I slipped my fingertip inside him. Not even when I had my entire finger up his bum and was teasing him in his special place even though he couldn't get a stiffy.

His face was all flushed by then, and he started wobbling about so I threatened to spank him with the belt if he didn't keep still even though I was the reason he couldn't, cos it was fun to watch his face trying to work out what to do and not able to come up with anything.

I could have teased him like that for ages as it was fun for me, but clearly not for him so after a bit I pulled my finger out and told him to get out of the bath so I could dry him.

He still had his hands on the head all the time I was doing this, which gave me the perfect excuse to once more run my hands and fingers all over him under the pretense of rubbing him down with one of the big white fluffy towels that were in the bathroom. I even managed to get a tweak of both is nipples, jiggle his balls, and even tickle him under the arms and on the soles of his feet. Both of which made him giggle which was fun.

Once we were done in the bathroom, I told him he might as well put his pyjamas on even though it was still only the middle of the afternoon, as it wasn't worth him getting dressed again.

He didn't argue, running off to get them. Actually running. Well more scampering like a little kid does with his arms and legs going everywhere, as his bare feet slipped about on the bare wooden floorboards in the hallway, which made me call out that he should be careful.

"Sorry Liam," he shouted back, over his shoulder before diving into one of the rooms which I assumed was his, as he came out a few minutes later wearing of all things a set of Thomas the Tank Engine pyjamas that may have once had legs and sleeves but which now had neither and were pretty much as skimpy as the underwear he'd had on before I'd spanked him.

"Ready!" he came to a halt in front of me, as if expecting to be inspected, which I didn't need to do as I'd already seen everything he had, not that those pyjamas covered much of that. They were really very clingy, especially the shorts, which jiggled in the front whenever he moved, and got poked out with the exact size and shape of his chastity tube when he didn't.

Around the back was no better. Not only did the pyjamas cling to the cheeks of his bum, but they seemed to make the seem even more red from his spanking than I knew they were. Still, Joey didn't seem to mind, especially when I told him it was time for his tea.

We both ate the jam sandwiches Joey's Gran had left for us, although I had mine sitting at the kitchen table while Joey choose to stand up for obvious reasons. They were nice too. The jam was homemade and tasted loads more fruity than the stuff my mum gets from the supermarket. We had milk with it, which I wasn't used to drinking but there was no pop so it was that or water, and it did make a bit of a chance. Still I was glad none of my mates could see me eating such a little kid's meal, as nice as it was.

After we'd eaten and I'd cleaned up like Mum told me to, we went and watched the TV for a bit. I let Joey pick the programme or rather the video as it turned out to be. It wasn't bad. Some old fashioned kid's adventure thing with some short trousered boy getting into all sorts of mischief while solving a mystery in some big old house, not unlike the one we were in.

If was fun, but by the time it was done, Joey looked really sleepy so I told him it was time for bed, and he went. He even thanked me for looking after him and what's more he promised to be a good little boy next time, although I really hope he didn't mean it.

Chapter Eleven
Joey's Dress

Mrs. Malone answered the door when I knocked which was a bit of a surprise as I wasn't expecting any adults to be home. Shane perhaps, and his sister of course, but not their parents. Aaron hadn't said anything about adults being there that when he'd said I had to say thank you for the work Jennifer had done on my pram.

'My pram,' I can't believe was calling it that, and what's more I couldn't wait to try it out, but Aaron said I had to wait, so I had to wait, until I'd said thank you, like a good boy should.

"Hello, Mrs. Malone," I said in my politest voice, with my hands behind my back like a little boy would, "Is Jennifer in, please?"

She looked down at me from the front step, and she was a tall woman, probably where Shane gets it from, which made her look like a tower to me. A good looking tower, but a tower all the same, and one that was giving me an odd look.

"I'm Joey Thompson," I said, hoping that would make things clearer which thankfully it did.

"Ah yes, the little boy who is going to be helping Jenny win her bet with her friends?"

I didn't know anything about that, but then I didn't really know what I was doing there in the first place, so it was better than nothing, so I nodded.

"Well that's really sweet of you dear," she said before turning to shout up the stairs. A moment later Jennifer Malone had run down those stairs, grabbed my hand and then run back up them again, dragging me with her to her room.

It all happened so fast I barely had a chance to look at Jennifer, at least not until we were both in her room. She was surprisingly just a little bit shorter than me despite being nearly four years younger, with here mid length strawberry blond hair coming up to about my eye level. She didn't look at all like the monster Aaron, Shane and even Liam had joked about. The complete opposite in fact. More like a princess. A full on Disney princess. She was even dressed like one with a pretty dress that was all puffed out around the middle, and was pinker than I thought anything could be. Mind you her room if anything was pinker.

There was pink everywhere. Light prink, dark pink, bright pink, and every other sort of pink there could possible be. Pink on the walls. Pink ribbons were trimmed around the curtains which were, of course pink, and matched the bed spread and further matching pillow although I couldn't see much of that as it was covered in dolls and Teddy bears, which were, also wearing pink.

"So," I said, looking around, "You like pink then?"

She gave me the look girls often give boys, that let me know just how stupid that sounded, before telling me what we were going to do, which sounded even more stupid to me.

"I've bet my friends that I can make anyone look like a girl, even a boy."

"That's nice," I said, before catching on to what she'd meant, "Wait. What? Me?"

"Yes of course you, silly," she gave my arm a thump that disrupted the blood flow in my entire body. "I would have asked my brother but he's like, so tall, and his friend Aaron is such a hunk with all those muscles, so neither of them will fit my clothes."

"But…" I managed to protest before she cut me off with a look that made me fear for my life.

"Aaron promised me you'd do it and I don't like people who break their promises."

The look on her face could have told me that much, as could the way she had her arms were folded across her chest. This clearly was one little girl who was used to getting her way.

"What we're going to do is have a fashion show for my mum so we can see what looks best on your before we show my friends, and I've gots of things for you to try on. Look!"

A wardrobe was opened that could have hidden most of Narnia, but which was filled with so many frilly dresses that couldn't have been any more girly if they'd tried.

"I'm not sure what's going to work best as the last thing I want is for you to look like a boy wearing a dress. You've got to look like a real girl or else I don't win my bet, and THAT would never do."

The threat was subtle, so subtle that I didn't know quite what I was being threatened with, but it was there all the same. So I went along with it as that is, after all, what good little boys like me, do.

It wasn't long before Jennifer had all the outfits she wanted me to try spread out around the room. There had to be twenty of more of them, although it wasn't always easy to tell where one stopped and the next one started as most of them had several extra trimmings with them. Things I would later find out were crinolines, rhumba panties, lacy socks, and even shoes. They were spread out across the bed, hanging from the wardrobes and just about everywhere in between until the entire room looked like what I imagine the fitting room in a girls' clothes shop would be like.

Odd thing was, by the time we got to that stage I was kind of looking forward to trying on a couple of the outfits. I'd never thought about wearing girl's clothes before, but some of them looked kind of cute in a frilly way, that you just don't get with little boy's clothes. Of course I wasn't about to tell Jennifer that, not even when she told me to strip down to my briefs.

"What?" I gasped, not so much scared of the idea of being undressed in front of her, but what her mum would think if she were to find a nearly nude thirteen year old boy in her daughter's bedroom. Mind you being totally naked would be way worse, which apparently was my only other option.

"The rhumba pants will cover up your boy underwear, so they won't show when you bend over. Of course, if you prefer then I can lend you a pair of my panties, but you'll have to take your boy underwear off."

I told her that was fine, and that I'd be keeping my briefs on and was soon out of my shorts and t-shirt before she could suggest anything else. Mind you I nearly changed my back when I saw the things she was holding that would cover the my briefs up.

The so-called rhumba pants were white, with rows of white lace around the front and back that was trimmed with pink along the edge. They did, however, as promised completely cover my briefs. Not that there was much to cover of course, but it was good to get them covered all the same although I think Jennifer got to see some of the redness on the back of my legs that Aaron had used to get me to come to her house.

Crinolines were next, which is a weird sort of stiff skirt type thing that actually goes under a skirt to make the skirt stick out more. Don't know why they don't just make the skirt out of the same thing, rather than making girls wear two things, but they don't so I had to wear them too.

Anyway, that was all the underneath stuff put on, so the next thing was the dress itself which Jennifer explained – at great length – that this was a dress she'd worn at a friend's birthday party. It had little puffy sleeves, with a cute peach bow on the cuff of each one. The front of the dress had two rows of lace going down the front in a V shape that ran from the shoulders to the centre of the waist where there was another, much large bow also in the shade of pink that Jennifer insisted was peach. There was even a sash that went from that bow around the back where it could be tied into an even bigger one, like a belt, but a load more girly.

It went on in pretty much the same way that ever dress I was going to try on did. Jennifer lifting it up over my head while I put my arms up into the sleeves, so that they'd go on while she dropped it down.

There were no fastenings on the front, like a shirt, but everything was around the back so as not to spoil the patten, apparently, but which also meant whoever was wearing it couldn't do it up themselves and had to get someone to do it for them.

"Little girls don't dress themselves," Jennifer told me, while she buttoned me up, and then tied the sash into a massive bow just above my bum.

The skirt of the dress was a little short, especially as it was being held out by the crinolines, meaning that I could almost see the rhumba panties underneath, even when I was standing up and certainly could when I sat on the edge of the bed, so Jennifer could put some frilly lace socks on my feet.

"There that's it," she said standing up again changing her mind as she did. "No wait. One minute."

Grabbing a hairbrush that Aaron would have put to a totally different use, she set about doing something with my hair that required a fair bit of pulling and tugging, not to mention a couple of elastic bands before she was happy.

The two little bunches on top of my head looked a bit silly, even if they didn't have the little bows on them, but then I guess my hair didn't give Jennifer much to work with in order to make me look like a girl. Not that this was a bad thing, in my opinion. Just a shame I didn't have the short back and sides, I'd thought about as then she'd have been stuck for sure.

"Right then. Let's go see what everyone thinks," she grabbed my arm and started for the stairs.

"Everyone?" I questioned but by then she'd somehow got me out of her bedroom, across the landing, down the stairs, and into the living room, where it wasn't just her mum staring at me.

There were a couple of other girls there who were possibly even younger than Jennifer and they both let out the sort of squeals that must have made every dog in the neighbourhood prick up it's ears if it hadn't been for all the pointing and giggling that went with them.

Naturally I wanted to get out of there but Jennifer was standing behind me with a hand on my back that let me know I wasn't going to go anywhere until she had the answers to her questions. "So Holly, Lynn, and mum what do you think?

"Well Jenny," Mrs. Malone spoke first, "I think he could pass for a real girl, no trouble at all in that outfit."

The girls agreed but I didn't see that as I'd been blinded by the flash from a camera as someone took my picture.

"I need to see how much like a girl you look," insisted Jennifer, who continued to take photographs while I walked up and down, spun around so they could see how far the skirt would flare out, and wiggled around so my dress would swish back and forth. They even had me bend over, right in front all of them so they could see just how much of the rhumba pants got exposed.

All the time this was going on, I wasn't just thinking that it would never end and that I would soon be deaf from all the little girl squealing but that how I was kind of enjoying myself. Of course I wasn't new at this dressing up thing, and although the cute little girl outfits were different from the shorts I got to wear as a little boy or in nappies as a baby, that difference made them feel good.

Suddenly Mrs. Malone clapped her hands, "Okay, I think it's time we all took a break. How does something to eat sound?"

"Please!" all the girls chorused and to be honest I was feeling a little hungry by then too. Plus I thought it would get me out of the dress. I was wrong.

"Right then," Jennifer's mum clapped her hands again, "Let's get going."

There was a rush as everyone headed towards the front door. I wasn't one of them.

"Come on Josey!" I didn't realise at first that Jennifer was talking to me, until she came over grabbed my hand and started dragging me towards the door. Her friends helping her.

"I… I…!" I stammered, unable to prevent myself going forwards.

"No one is going to recognise you," the ten year old said as if reading my mind, not that it mattered by then as I was already outside with the front door closing behind me.

Thankfully Mrs. Malone's car wasn't far away and their drive was fairly secluded in a way that meant no one could have seen me even if I'd been running about out there totally naked, although in some ways that may have been better than what I was actually wearing. Still, it was a relief to get to in the car, even if I did end up squashed between Holly and Lynn with Jennifer taking the front seat next to her mum.

Once the car started to move, I could only hope that I could pull off looking like a little girl. After all, I managed as a little boy so how much harder could this be? At least we weren't going to anywhere I'd been before, which had to be something. Right?

Dorothy's was a big up market and yet decidedly old fashioned family restaurant, set in it's own grounds with an overly large car park that didn't look all that full, although as I should have known by then, appearances can be deceptive.

Mrs. Malone parked just about level with a dustbin, so we all had to get out of one side of the car. Lynn first, then me with Holly giving me little shoves all the way until I was standing facing Jennifer who had a very stern look on her face.

"Right, I want to win this bet, so you'd best make like you're a real girl or else," she hissed into my face before pulling back to announce that I had a new name to her friends, "Remember to call him Josey when we're inside. Right, let's go."

Taking my hand she started to stride towards the restaurant where she announced to the person doing the seating how many were in her party and just where she wanted to sit, which was in one of the big booths to the side. That, of course, is where we ended up sitting.

I have to admit that the food was really, really good at Dorothy's. The burgers were brilliant, the fries were so crisp you could actually snap them, yet they were so soft in the middle. Milk shakes that were so cold they gave you brain freeze, from the ice cream in them. Fact is the only thing I didn't like was the bib.

That's right. I wore a bib. A big pink thing with some princess on the front that the waitress bought over to smiles from the girls, and slotted over my head, saying it would be a shame to ruin my lovely dress. Jennifer then took great pleasure in tying it, slightly too tightly, behind my back. Still it was a small price to pay for food that good. If only that had been it.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls," a voice announced over a tannoy system, "Today is the 50th anniversary of Dorothy's so to celebrate we are having a price draw so if everyone can make sure they get a ticket from the waitresses we will start."

The serving staff appeared carrying raffle tickets that they handed out to each of the tables, one per person, adults and kids alike. Once that was done the doors to the kitchen open and an old lady came out who, for one moment I thought was my gran, but thankfully wasn't although as gran had already seen me in a nappy and plastic pants I doubt she'd have been all that surprised to see me in a dress. Anyway, it wasn't her by Dorothy herself, the lady who'd started the restaurant and who was going to make the prize draw.

The first prize was one by the table next to ours, by a man on the other side of the restaurant, who leapt out of his seat and nearly ran across to get his prize which turned out to be free meal vouchers but he seemed happy enough, so I guess he didn't normally win much.

Two more prizes were much the same as the first. One going to a mum with way too many children and who asked one of the waiters bring her voucher over so her baby wouldn't cry only for Dorothy to do it herself.

It took a while for the draw to continue as Dorothy spent some time doing all those things old ladies like to do with babies, including making a right fuss of them.

The next winner nearly gave me heart failure as I recognised him as someone who went to my school. Okay so I didn't know him that well. Fact is I didn't even know his name, but that didn't mean he wouldn't know mine, or at least recognise me back, so I ended up hiding behind Jennifer while he got his prize and didn't even see what it was that he won.

Suddenly Holly got all excited, thinking she had the next number only for Mrs. Malone to spot that what Holly had thought was an eight was actually a six with a smudge on it.

"Darn, two away," the girl slumped in her chair, before bouncing forward again, "Wait, if I'm two away, then one of us might have the right number."

There was a scramble to check tickets from all the girls and even Mrs. Malone, but all of them came up with numbers scattered around the desired one. All but me that is.

"Josey has the winning ticket. Over here. Over here!" Jennifer was up on her feet before I even thought to stop her. By the time I did, everyone in the restaurant was looking at our table and I was being shoved out of the end of the booth.

"Go and get your prize," Jennifer shouted, pushing me onto me feet, "Just remember to behave like a good little girl, or else."

I had no idea what she meant by the 'or else', but I was well aware that the boy from my school was somewhere out there watching me which was all the incentive I needed to do everything Jennifer and the girls had taught me as I made my way across to where Dorothy was waiting for me.

"Well aren't you a pretty little thing, even with your pinny on. Here, turn around and let me take that off for you."

I blushed, having totally forgotten that I was still wearing the princess bib so really didn't mind it being removed at all, even if that did show what I was wearing underneath.

"My, that's a pretty little frock you've got on there, deary. Go on give a little twirl so all the ladies and gentleman can see how pretty it is?"

I did. I had no choice after all. I did it fast though, just to get it over with, which turned out to be a mistake as Jennifer took great delight in telling me later that when I did, everyone had seen my rhumba pants. Or as she called them, Panties.

Anyway, Dorothy seemed pleased with my display, for I didn't get a food voucher like everyone else, instead I was given a doll dressed up like the waiting staff that I then had to make out was something I'd always wanted, just so I wouldn't give the game away. I even did a curtsy probably badly, but it made Dorothy smile, and give me a hug that left me smelling of little old lady for the rest of the day.

"Do you like your dolly, Josey?" she asked once she'd released me, and I was about to say that it was okay, when I got blinded from the flash of a camera that it turned out belonged to the local paper. Again I didn't know that at the time. That was a surprise I got later in the week. Seeing myself, as a little girl, in print. Thankfully even I couldn't recognise myself, so I doubt anyone else did.

After the photo was taken, Dorothy gave me another hug, and then led me by the hand back to the booth where Jennifer, her friends and mum were waiting for me. They then all made a fuss of both me and my doll, to a point where I think at least Lynn was actually jealous of it. Jennifer herself though was all smiles and with good reason.

"See, I told you I could make a boy look like a girl," she exclaimed loud enough for the people at the next table to turn around, apparently looking for a boy dressed as a girl. Thankfully they didn't find one. Or at least they think they didn't. Which was good enough for me. Still I really wanted to get out of there, not least of all because I now wanted to a wee, and I wasn't sure that was even possible with the dress, the crinolines, rhumba pants and my own briefs. Plus which toilet would I use. Mens or ladies? I know which Jennifer would think, and there was no way I was going in the girl's toilets even if I was dressed like one.

Thankfully we did leave a short while later, and even though Jennifer made me carry my Dorothy doll out to the car, Lynn and Holly soon snatched it from me once we were seated in the back and continued to play with it once we were back at the house, along with several others from Jennifer's room. Naturally I had to join in with that, and soon we were having a tea party, which was fun in a sort of way. I mean it must have been because I didn't hear Aaron come into the room until he tapped me on the shoulder.

"Well don't you look pretty as a girl, Joey?" he laughed adding that he hoped I'd behaved myself, which was when I got the first real idea about just how mean girls can be.

"No, he was rude and didn't do what we want even though you promised that he would," piped up Jennifer, lying through her pretty little mouth. Aaron, believed every word.

"Is that right, Joey?"

"No!" I started to protest only to be drowned out by three female voice all saying that it was not only true, but adding other things that I hadn't done to the list.

Naturally Aaron was less than impressed.

"What did I tell you would happen if you didn't behave, Joey?"

"Josey. His name is Josey," prompted Jennifer, crossing her arms. "You have to call him Josey."

Dutifully Aaron repeated his question to me using the girl's version of my name demanding an answer, which I gave.

"You said you'd spank me."

Holly and Lynn gasped. Jennifer didn't. Aaron ignored all of them.

"Yes I did. So put your hands on your head."

I did even though it meant the dress rode up, before realising what that meant.

"Wait. You're not going to spank me here. In front of the girls are you?"

Aaron didn't answer that. Jennifer did. "He is. Of course he is. Why wouldn't he?"

I could think of perhaps a thousand reasons, although all of them revolved around me being a boy and them being girls so it was probably just one reason. One that was quickly discounted.

"You were naughty in front of them, so why shouldn't you be punished in front of them?"

Again, I had that one good reason but I kept it to myself, knowing better than to argue with my babysitter. I only hoped he wasn't about to strip me naked to spank me like he normally did.

Jennifer made Holly and Lynn get up from sitting on the bed, so Aaron could take their place. The three girls then lining up on the other side of the room watching, wide eyed as Aaron summoned me over to him.

My hands were still on my head as I walked those few paces to where Aaron was waiting for me. This allowed him to easily put his hands around my waist and to lift me over his lap. It then took him a few minutes to sort out what to do with all the crinolines and bits of dress that flew but he managed in the end, using his left arm to pin both them and me down.

"Lift up the dress. You can't spank the dress. You'll damage it and Mum will go crazy if you damage it."

The instructions were, of course from Jennifer, who then supervised the best way for that do be done, until the seat of my rhumba pants was totally exposed in all their frilliness.

"I've got my briefs on underneath," I pointed out, somehow concerned that Aaron would think I was only wearing girl's knickers.

"Well, in that case," he said, patting my rear through the frills, "You won't be needing these."

And with that, I was finally out of the rhumba pants and left in my briefs. Only for a split second though, as soon my briefs were down around my knees and the girls were gasping and giggling as they saw my bare bottom, all exposed to them.

There was more giggling to follow but I wasn't all that aware of it, given a lot of it was drowned out by the sound, and sensation of my babysitter spanking my bare bottom until it was really very stingy. However that wasn't the end of it as Jennifer wanted some input into my punishment.

"Here, use this," she told Aaron handing something over that I didn't see but certainly got to feel once the broad back of the hardwood hairbrush was landing on my bottom.

Now most boys would have wanted to appear all big and brave should they happen to be punished in front of girls, and I was the same until that hairbrush came into play. Once that was being applied to my rear, all notions of taking my punishment in silence went completely out of my head, and I was soon crying like the little sissy I was dressed up like, and who could blame me given my bum was on fire.

By the time Aaron was satisfied I'd been punished enough Holly and Lynn had stopped giggling and actually seemed concerned that I might have been hurt. They came around to kneel by my head, patting my hair and making soothing noises not unlike they'd been making to the dolls a little earlier which was nice. Jennifer wasn't with them, however, she was by me feet, taking an unusual interest in how red my bum was, and wanting to touch it, which she did. Not so much patting it as giving it a mighty poke, that make me squeal and her laugh. Thankfully Aaron knocked her hand away before she could do it again, before pulling my dress down.

"That's enough Jenny. He's been punished for what he did. Now leave him alone."

As I'd already guessed Jennifer wasn't used to being told what to do, and who knows what she would have done next, had her mum not then shouted up the stairs saying that Holly's mum was here to pick her and Lynn up.

The two girls got up to go. Before they did, they thanked Jennifer for letting them play with her, and then asked if they would be seeing me again. Jennifer answered that one.

"Yes. Yes you will. Won't they Aaron?"

Still draped over his lap I could feel more than hear the sigh that went through his fifteen year old boy as my big bad babysitter capitulated to the little girl.

"Yes Jenny. You'll be seeing Joey again."

"Good," she said, in a way that made me shiver even with Aaron's arm around my middle for comfort.

The End?