My charge, I see, is a special sister! I am so happy. I am babysitting
a rich special sister who seems to live all alone in a huge mansion. She
is an adult, but dresses like a lovely child. She has on the prettiest and
pinkest dress I have ever seen, with lots of crinoline underneath. She has
on black patent leather shoes, and white socks. She is very flat-chested,
with a cute round face, fluffy dark hair, and make-up that is somehow suited
to her, even if the lips are very red, and there is a lot of eye-makeup.
She raises up her skirt and shows me her pink plastic training pants. They
are somewhat transparent, and I see that she is wearing a very fluffy white
diaper under them, with a lot of lace all over the backside.
She confides in me that she really wants to be a girl. She is going to
show me that she really isn't, but I tell her that she shouldn't do that.
If she shows me, then the magic won't happen.
The magic, in my dreamworld, is that if you wear your diaper very tight, and put on another
and another, each so tight you can hardly get them on, then you will become
more and more a baby, and what you have between your legs will just sort of push its way back
into your body, so that when you take them off at last, you are now a baby
girl!
We excitedly take all of her pretty panties and diapers from the dresser
drawers. She has so many of them! Pink, white, pink, white. They are the
cutest things I've ever seen. I like the white cotton one with the rows
of pink bows in the back. I like the pink one that has a real white carnation
flower directly over the crotch. I especially like the darling briefs that
are designed to look like a real diaper, complete with safety pin!
This special sister has all the nicest things! I watch her as she begins
to struggle to get into each and every panty she owns. Soon, she is waddling
around the room because she is wearing so many panties and diapers. She
toddles about, outsized bottom, outsized padding between her legs, her crinoline
dress exposing it all now that there is so much to expose.
"Do you think it's time yet?" she asks me.
I go to the window and I say, "Wait until you hear the morning birds."
Somehow, when it's morning, we are both together in the room, and sunlight
is filtering in, and we hold each other and kiss each other and whisper
excitedly and jump up and down in agitated, giggling little jumps.
It seems as if all the layers of her diapers peel away at the same time. And there I see
the prettiest, pouting vagina, hairless with a deep cleft and very puffy
lips.
"Darling Mylene, you were right," she whispers, "I am a girl!"
"And you will grow into womanhood," I assure her, smiling, acting
as if I'm about to burst into a song, like this was "Mary Poppins."
I raise my skirt, and I look in the mirror.
"I am not wearing diapers," I tell her.
I don't remember what I saw in the mirror. But I realized, it didn't matter.
When you really want to be a woman, something inside you lets it happen.
You become one, if only fleetingly, if only in your thoughts. But that can
be enough to warm you through times that are very cold.