Dear Auntie Helga,
Six months after my adoption by Mummy a number of changes in our relationship and my life have occurred. Although I am still in part time work, earning money for Mummy, at home I am subject to a strict routine and numerous House Rules that now govern my daily existence. My work as a Director of Art at a local Art school is supplemented by my work as a Professional Artist in the studio at home and Mummy has taken charge of managing my private work by organizing my website and arranging commissions for me to undertake. Apart from enjoying the financial gain from such work it also amuses Mummy to have me complete such work in the studio at home while having to remain in my Baby clothes and spend long periods in my wet and nasty nappies.
Whilst some of Mummy's Rules are relatively easy to follow there are some that I find either unpleasant or just humiliating but in order to preserve our special relationship I have no choice but to do as I am told.
Initially from Thursday evening until Tuesday morning, when I return to work, I had to wear nappies and plastic panties as my grown up clothes were taken away by Mummy however this has now developed further. As for my clothes I am only permitted to wear clothing which Mummy deems appropriate to my age and sex.
I am now restricted to one Potty time a day which occurs first thing in the morning. Having stripped me of my wet night nappy Mummy secures me on the Pottybox and I am left there until she is satisfied with my potty performance. Failure to perform properly for Mummy at Potty time is dealt with by the insertion of a number of suppositories into my botty or extra laxatives at teatime and as I am only allowed one Potty time a day the consequences of this action inevitably leads to a very nasty night nappy and a nappy rash. The fear of such consequences and having to remain in a nasty nappy for long periods during the night or day very quickly taught me to perform properly on my potty in the mornings and now I am usually able to perform my Boo-Boos properly for Mummy every morning.
Only when Mummy is satisfied with my performance on the Pottybox are my wrists released from the cuffs. It is while I am performing on the potty that Mummy chooses my clothes for the day and lays them out on my toddler bed. In the last few months the constant practice of wearing a nappy has caused me to lose control of my bladder and this has pleased Mummy immensely and the fact that I cannot keep my nappy dry anymore is seen as a successful outcome of her training.
During the first few months of my nappy training Mummy insisted that I find her and politely ask for my Potty every time I felt the urge to make a Pee Pee". The fact that I had to find Mummy and make such a humiliating request knowing full well that it would be rejected meant that I would have to squat down infront of Mummy and "Make Pee Pee' in my nappy whilst she watched.
There came a time when my tiny tinkle simply made Pee Pees on its own and so I was never able to find Mummy in time. Consequently when I eventually found Mummy I was forced to endure the humiliation of confessing that I had made a Pee Pee in my nappy already.
In the beginning of this final stage of my nappy training I did find it difficult to be constantly in a damp and squidgy nappy. In the evenings, when Mummy was supervising me brushing my teeth I would look across at the grown up toilet wondering if I would ever again be allowed to sit on that clean white plastic seat like Mummy.
My gradual acceptance of my need for nappies I know pleased Mummy as it clearly showed that I had reached a point where I was becoming reliant on them and would never again be able to wear any kind of grown up panties again. This has now had serious consequences for me as I now have to wear disposable nappies to work under my clothes in order to prevent me having wet patches on my trousers. It has now been four months since Mummy told me that I would have to wear nappies all the time and because of this the only warning I receive is when I feel a warm sensation in my panty.
As I am now being brought up as Mummy's Little Baby Girl my wardrobe consists of Baby dresses, leotards, tutus, tiny skirts and Nighties all of which I now have to wear over my noisy plastic panties and padded nappy while at home with Mummy.
Last Christmas was very special in more ways than one. Mummy bought me some lovely presents and she allowed me to use the computer to order some vouchers for her from Victoria Secrets shop in London using my pocket money. Of course my salary and the extra money I had earned from my artwork meant that Mummy had a wonderful array of presents from her Baby Girl.
Instead of two or three jars of baby food I was allowed to sit at the dining table in a proper chair and eat a pureed meal of chicken and vegetables using my fingers. I did have rather more bottles of warmed milk and laxatives than is usual during the day though which led to a very nasty naptime in the afternoon.
After my nap Mummy changed me and we went down to the living room. She then went into the kitchen and collected another bottle of warm milk for me and as I sat on the plastic playmat, in front of Mummy, by the Christmas tree she started to explain the plans she had for my second year of training. As I sat there sucking on my bottle of milk and laxatives wetting my nappy uncontrollably I listened carefully to what Mummy had planned.
Although I had my own apartment that was being rented out making money for Mummy every month I also had my own car. Mummy told me that as I was now a Baby there was no need for such a thing as only Mummy had need of a car as she would be doing any driving in future. She then told me that she had made the decision that my car was to be sold and that the money was to be placed into Mummy's bank account. In addition she would insist that I cut up my driving license in the same way I had been made to destroy all my bank and credit cards once the accounts had been closed. The money in the accounts was transferred to Mummy's bank account leaving me with no money at all.
I remember the shock of Mummy's decisions resulting in me wetting my nappy as I sat there cross legged in front of her. Taking away all my credit and bank cards so that I had no money and had to rely on Mummy for my pocket money was bad enough but watching Mummy sell my car was taking our relationship to another level. Baby's don't drive cars do they? I was told
The day after Boxing Day Mummy had me sign the transfer papers making her the new owner of my car and then we waited for the new logbook to arrive from the DVLA. Once the new logbook arrived showing Mummy as he new owner of my car Mummy contacted a number of car dealers in an effort to secure the best deal.
I remember the day when the man came from the company to collect my car as if it was yesterday. It was 9.30 am one Friday morning when the man arrived and I was still wearing my wet and messy night nappy as Mummy had not put me on the Pottybox that morning. I was still sitting at my little desk in the Nursery writing out some punishment lines in the Naughty Book. I heard the front doorbell ring downstairs and this was followed by some voices. After a while I heard the front door shut and then heard the familiar sound of Mummy's footsteps on the stairs.
Mummy unlocked the wrought iron Nursery door and instructed me to follow her into her bedroom. I was still wearing one of my tiny little Tee shirts with the words "Mummy Knows Best' in large letters on the front as I was forced to stand in front of the large window looking out on the front of the house. She pulled back the net curtains and forced me to remain standing at the window. Although I was concerned about the man taking my car away I was also terrified that he would look up and see me standing there in my pink nightie.
Outside I could see the man securing cables to what used to be my car and then eventually it was winched up onto the truck. Mummy held my hand firmly and made me stand there in my nasty nappy watching as my car was driven away.
"There now Baby, all gone, no more car!" said Mummy
It took a moment for the reality of the situation to sink in. The fact that I now had no money and no car suddenly made me realize just how vulnerable and dependent on Mummy I had become. It was just one further Grown Up privilege and pleasure that Mummy had taken away from me. Losing my credit cards and bank accounts was difficult for me as I realized this placed me in a very vulnerable position completely reliant on my Mummy for the small amounts of pocket money she granted me but having to lose my car meant that I now had to rely on public transport if Mummy was not able to collect or deliver me anywhere. I was now in nappies all the time and the fear of having accidents whilst using Public Transport was something which made every journey a very anxious and difficult one for me.
Throughout the later part of the first year of my adoption by Mummy sexual contact with her decreased consistently. I was regularly lectured about the pitiful size of my "little clitty' and the fact that Mummy was more interested in training my tongue and mouth to achieve pleasure.
Mummy bought one of those dildo gags and this was strapped into my mouth whenever I was allowed into her bedroom for my "duties.' Mummy would make me kneel at the end of the bed and place a blindfold on me to prevent me seeing her most precious place. She would then sit on the bottom of the bed and guide my head into the correct position. Mummy held me firmly in her hands and then gently pulled towards her as the thick rubber dildo entered her beautiful lips.
Denied any pleasure myself the dildo would fulfill, for my Mummy, the duty that my tiny little clitty was now incapable of doing. The only treat I would be allowed following Mummy's enjoyment would be to suck and lick the soaking dildo clean before being taken back to the Nursery to be strapped into bed.
Once or twice a month, providing I've been a good little girl, Mummy does empty my little balls of "Baby Juice' either during a nappy change or before inserting my suppositories. Sometimes Mummy forces her finger up inside my botty and she rubs my baby gland and this makes my clitty "weep' but I'm not able to obtain any pleasure from this at all as it is rather painful particularly if Mummy uses more than one finger.
It is now five months since Mummy and I had Grown Up Sex. I had been told that such behaviour is reserved only for Grown Ups.
I love Mummy very much but in order to ensure the future of our special relationship I have had to accept this Rule despite the frustration it can cause me. I do, on occasions, ask Mummy to empty my clitty but it is something she prefers to reserve as a reward for good behaviour or a task that I have performed exceptionally well.
If I'm suspected of playing or touching my little clitty Mummy has a very nasty device called a Holy Trainer which she sometimes locks my little "bits and pieces' into for a week. It is a punishment I really do not like as it makes any excitement very painful. The device is extremely effective in preventing any disobedience but at the same time it is very unpleasant to be put into it. Thankfully Mummy has only had to use this nasty device a few times but knowing that she has this cruel plastic prison really does make me think twice about being naughty.
It was at this point, after thirteen months of my adoption, that Mummy introduced a number of additional restrictions and requirements which now form the basis of my daily existence as Mummy's Baby Sissy. I now have a number of weekly chores and duties around the house for which I am responsible and this relieves Mummy of a number of mundane household tasks.
I have now been adopted for just under two years and despite the loss of all my Grown Up privileges I am a very happy little baby girl with a very special Mummy.
However just one month ago Mummy had me sit down on my plastic playmat infront of her in the living room while she informed me of her latest decisions regarding my upbringing. These, would I know, have some frightening and humiliating consequences for me but I was no longer in any position to argue with Mummy" I would have no option but to comply with her wishes and accept her decisions. It is now March and being without money, bank accounts, credit cards or a car I have become completely reliant on my Mummy for even the most basic of needs.
I am no longer permitted to wear a watch as Mummy considers me too young to know how to tell the time. Instead I have a silver bracelet which has a small padlock and a tiny silver heart attached to it with the word BABY engraved on it. I am forbidden to remove this as Mummy says it is there to constantly remind me of what I am and what I have become under her "care and control.'
I am no longer permitted to look at or read any newspapers as I am too young to understand about the Grown Up world. I do have a number of Baby Books in my Nursery which are suitable for two year olds and have been approved by Mummy and these are the only books I am allowed to look at during playtime. I am no longer permitted to go into any of the kitchen cupboards or the fridge as Mummy decides what I eat, when I eat and how much I eat.
I am no longer permitted to use cutlery or crockery when eating as I have my own plastic bowls and plates and have learnt to use my fingers to scoop up the various cereals and mushy slops Mummy liquidizes for me.
The Grown Up bathroom is strictly out of bounds unless Mummy is supervising me such as bath times or brushing my teeth. Mummy's bedroom is also strictly out of bounds as is her study also and I am only permitted to enter these rooms when instructed to do so.
Recently Mummy ordered a special Baby Board from Vistaprint which she designed herself and I was instructed to secure this up on the kitchen wall. Much to my shame the board has various charts on it detailing such things as Pottytimes, Bedtimes, Chores, Duties and Behaviour Records. This is now constantly on display above the kitchen table. When Mummy's friends come to the house a large painting is placed over it but I'm always terrified that someone unexpected will see it. Mummy has a number of male and female friends who occasionally come to the house for coffee or lunch and when this happens I am taken upstairs to the Nursery and strapped into my bed and I have to remain there until Mummy's guests have gone.
There are times when her friends come to the house and end up staying for the whole evening. Whenever this happens I have an early bath time and I am put straight to bed. Evenings like this can happen quite often as Mummy has a large circle of friends. The early bedtimes mean I lie strapped in my bed unable to sleep listening to the Grown Ups enjoying themselves downstairs. During such evenings I am always very anxious that guests will use the upstairs bathroom, even though there is one downstairs, as the wrought iron Nursery Door provides no protection from prying eyes. The sound of footsteps on the staircase always terrifies me.
Mummy has spoken to me about the possibility of sharing our private and very special relationship with her closest friends Katherine and Martina and I have pleaded and begged her not to do this. However she is so proud of what her training and tuition has managed to achieve she is, I know, desperately keen to share our secret with these two ladies.
Mummy has informed me that both Katherine and Martina are coming over to the house for dinner next month and I am extremely nervous about what Mummy intends to do...
Thank you for your letter Baby Charlotte and for continuing to amuse and inform us of the amazing changes you are going through. For many readers your relationship, though it might be something of a struggle for you, find it immensely exciting and wish they too could live as you do.