Date: Sun, 12 Nov 2000 04:10:37 GMT

From: simon m <simonsophie56@hotmail.com>

Subject: true story

When I was 14, I was the subject of juvenile discipline by my cousin. My

parents had gone away for four months in the spring and summer and they had

left me in the care of my cousin, who was twenty years older than I was. She

was a tall, muscular woman, named Pauline or Paula for short.

The day my parents left for the United States on business, I arrived home to

begin my holidays to find the house empty. I had taken the train home from

school and walked in the door and went straight to my bed room. Eager to get

out of my school uniform, I found a handwritten note on my bed saying "GET

CHANGED INTO THESE CLOTHES AND COME TO SEE ME. PAULINE" and, under the note,

an aqua tee, yellow girls' shorts and thick red rubber jandals (flip-flops).

I got out of my school uniform and got changed into these feminine clothes

and slipped my feet into the thick red jandals.

Leaving the bedroom, I went searching for Paula. I went up stairs to my

sister's large room, finding it difficult to walk in the jandals, and found

Paula waiting for me. She gestured me to kneel at her feet and be silent. I

did this. She then told me that she was here to look after me (as I knew)

and that she wanted us to go out on our first afternoon together to do some

chores. She added that, during the four months, she expected me to be

obedient at all times and that I would not answer back. I did not have the

best discipline reputation in the family, so I could her stern view coming.

However, she also said that, as my guardian, she would tell me what to do,

what to say, what to wear (hence her choice of my clothes) and would be a

strict guardian, where appropriate using spanking and other punishments.

Ominously, I was told I was to call her "Auntie Paula" and to limit my

talking to "yes Auntie Paula". She informed me that the next few months

would be good for me but that, as I was often disobedient, she intended to

treat me as an infant until I proved I deserved better. Worryingly, as she

said she hated boys, I would be treated and dressed as a girl and would no

longer be Simon but Sophie.

I did not know what this meant and, still in shock, Paula took me to the car

and we went to the local shopping centre. First of all, she said that I

needed a haircut. Against my wishes, she told the barber to cut off all my

hair and shave my head and to leave no hair longer than it had to be.

Flip-flopping on in my jandals and girls clothes, bald, terrified that I

would be noticed by fellow school boys, we went to K-Mart, where I was

measured for what Paula described as more appropriate attire: girl's

clothes! Despite standing bald, in a girl's t-shirt, shorts and jandals,

Paula thought me perfect for even more infantile girlie clothes like

jumpsuits, jumpers, tees, sundresses, bib overalls, tights, pinafores and

bathing suits. Similarly, she had me try on numerous pairs of sandals: I

ended up with girl's sandals in blue, candy and a white pair, which were as

childish as could be. Leaving K-Mart, we stopped by the chemist where Paula

picked up packages of nappies in my size, along with plastic pants,

pacifier, bibs and even a set of reins.

Driving home, I was quite terrified of what Paula planned for me. When we

arrived, she had me drop all the shopping bags in her room and come to the

bath. Undressing me, Paula started the bath with some bubble bath. She said

that I would find the next few weeks distressing but that I had to do what

she said or I would be punished. If I was lucky, I might be fed some early

dinner.

I nodded and she prodded me into the bath. I lay down and Paula washed my

newly shaved head clean with soap. After this, she told me to stand up,

after which she proceeded to soap me all over. Paula produced scissors and a

razor and told me to be very still. Firstly, my small amount of pubescent

penis hair was all cut and shaved, and then all my leg and arm hair was cut

and shaved off. In fifteen minutes I was hairless. Paula told me to get out

of the bath, which I did, and told me to put on my jandals - there was no

bare feet in her house. As she towelled me down, Paula looked at my feet and

hands and rubbed some cream into them to soften their boyish roughness. She

also looked at my hairless body and said that I would make a good little

girl, if I behaved and was obedient.

Taking me to her room, Paula caused me to trip over in my jandals, which

then earned me a short spanking from her right hand. Having learned my

lesson, I waited for her next order, which was to lie on the floor. Going

through the shopping bags, Paula found the nappies, and opened them up.

Grabbing the pacifier, which she put in my mouth, she put the nappy on as

tight as possible, followed by the plastic pants. I was silent. And then

over the nappy came red tights, a large blue jumper, and blue roman sandals

with rbight red socks were buckled on my feet. Pulling me up, Paula took me

to the mirror, held me and told me how beautifully baby-ish I looked - I

just felt the nappy clinging to me and the feeling of wearing girl's

sandals, which were buckled tight. She said that this was as fourteen as I

would look from now on.

From now on, I lived in Paula's large room, where Paula put all my nappies,

clothes and sandals, changing table, and a special crib. I was very sad but

I was also hungry - and so hugged my new auntie back and looked up at her,

pacifier in mouth.

Taking me upstairs, Paula had me crawl on the kitchen floor after plastic

balls and building blocks while she made dinner. I couldn't believe how

embarrassing this was but I needed to eat, so I played along. Eventually,

dinner came - it was jam sandwiches and cordial. Because I was her little

girl, Paula put a bib around my neck, and had me sit on her lap. Removing

the pacifier from my mouth, she fed me cut up pieces of jam sandwiches and

cordial from a kiddie bottle. I ate and ate and sucked and sucked on the

bottle, while Paula rubbed my stomach and kissed me on the head. She then

put the pacifier back in my mouth and gave me a big hug.

Affection given, Paula asked me if I wanted any more to eat. I shook my

head, as speaking was banned, but gestured that I really wanted to go to the

toilet. Paula said "no Sophie" : that what nappies are for: "nappies are for

your pees and poos". Worried, I smiled back, having endured toilet training

from my mother up until I was five.

It was still light outside, so Paula said we were going for a walk, even

though I was not allowed to walk in the house but had to now crawl.. Going

into "our" room, she changed from her work clothes into her maternal

clothes: a big dress and some health sandals. She, thankfully took out my

pacifier but, also, grabbed the reins she had bought at the chemist and put

them on under my blue jumper. She also put a big red girl's hat on my shaved

head. I was terrified! I was a fourteen year old boy!

As we walked out the gate, I so hoped she would not take me near any people.

She had hold of the reins and held me close to her, saying "be a good girl,

Sophie". Hopefully no one would see me. We walked past a neighbour - an old

lady, Mrs Kidresh, who I would often help at her home - and she seemed to

notice me, but looked bemused. Paula said "hello". We were going to the park

and I had already been noticed.

By the time we made it to the park, I was still desperate to go to the

toilet. Paula took off her health sandals and told me I needed to run.

Tugging on the reins, she dragged me and my nappied body along, and I tried

to keep up. Socks and sandals are not the best athletic footwear. She

eventually stopped and dragged me close. Putting back on her health sandals,

Paula took me over to the park's swings. There was another mother and her

daughter there, and the girl would have been six years old. She seemed to

think I was strange. The mother observed the nappy bulge in my tights and

smiled at me. Paula helped me into the swings and started to push me. She

told the mother "that's my Sophie - she has Down's syndrome but is beautiful

all the same".

Retarded or not, I could not stop the desire to go pees and poos. After five

minutes, as Paula stopped the swing and grabbed under my jumper for my

reins, I looked at Paula pathetically and just started peeing and pooing in

my nappy. I could feel myself soiling my bottom, which had no effect on

Paula except for her to remark loudly on the smell caused by "little Sophie

poo pants". Still, she patted me on the head and said she would change me

when we got home.

Dragging me closely by the reins, the little girl waved at me - I waved back

- and Paula and I made a quick walk home. The old lady neighbour was still

there and Paula stopped to chat. Paula said that she was looking after

Sophie- not Simon - while my parents were away and that Mrs Kidresh should

stop by for coffee one day. Excusing herself, Paula actually told her that

the smell was my nappy and that I had to be changed.

Arriving home, Paula took the damp nappy off my bottom and cleaned me up.

Throwing it into the trash, she placed a new one on with plastic pants and

then took off all my clothes and unbuckled my sandals. Over my nappy, she

put a baby doll nightie. Paula then led me to the crib and helped me fit in

it. It was most uncomfortable but I was very tired. Paula looked over at me

and patted my shaved head, before placing the pacifier in my mouth and

telling me sweet dreams. The first night of juvenile discipline had only

just ended and there was months to go!

As it turned out, Paula kept me in nappies for all four months, to the point

where I was seriously troubled on her leaving by an inability to use the

toilet. I could only use my nappies. Also, I was always dressed by Paula in

girls clothes as "little Sophie", and only wore bright girly sandals from

then on. In time, Paula bought a wig of brown hair on my head, which she

usually put into pony tails and bobs. I was very much the feminised sissy

boy to my new aunt.

But I certainly was well behaved with Paula. Even Mrs Kidresh came over to

see me as a girl, I played the part of a sissy. Dressed in a green tee,

tight white bib overalls and candy-coloured sandals, with a nappy obviously

underneath, she could see that I was more than just a boy with incontinence.

She thought I was very good though, and played with my wig's ponytails as I

sat on the floor, pacifier in mouth. When the inevitable happened, and I

soiled, Mrs Kidresh was allowed to change me.

When Paula left and my parents came home, Mrs Kidresh was given my girl's

clothes by Paula, and so I became the little girl Mrs Kidresh never had (she

even bought cotton nappies for me, which were better than disposables!). It

was a mixed blessing. I was embarrassed but my behaviour improved and,

especially through my being Mrs Kidresh's daughter "Giselle", I made someone

happy. She took me everywhere as Giselle : even said that I was her niece

from overseas. She bought me some shorts, which still revealed my nappies,

as well as some blue t-bar sandals, which meant that I had a change from the

candy ones I often had to wear.

At future family reunions, though, I was always terrified of Paula and what

she might say. She often took photos of me in my girls' outfits, wearing

nappies, being changed after poos, and said my parents would be given them

if I was ever rude again. She wanted to look after me again when I was 16

but my parents let me stay with my grandmother instead.

Nappy punishment works on teenage boys: trust me!