I shivered in the cold morning air, as I stood precariously perched outside the entrance to Manchester Piccadilly station, wobbling slightly on my pink schoolgirl shoes, feeling the hot stream of urine pouring into my nappy. As usual I had not known I was going to wet until I had, and I felt a mixture of pleasure and guilt as I recalled that I had now been totally incontinent for nearly a year. Glancing downwards, I shivered again, this time with excitement, as I reviewed my outfit from top to bottom . I wore no male clothes, on my feet were pink schoolgirl shoes and white knee socks, around my waist were three well soaked nappies, and several plastic pants. In addition, I wore a girl's blouse, pink cardigan, and fleece and girl's jeans. Standing there I felt a brazen desire for everyone to know that I had become a total sissy, and a shameful delight in the questioning looks and side glances, ranging from disbelief to amusement, to outright contempt. As time wore on however, my excitement grew for another reason. My nannies would be coming to take me for the latest instalment in my training. With escalating anticipation I eyed the Station approach, urging each approaching car to be the car. As each car turned out to be a taxi my anticipation, my desire, and need to see the car grew and grew. Then finally, finally anticipation turned to grim and frightening solid reality. The large Black car was here. I walked over to it, almost running in hasty excitement.


Once inside, a dummy was forced into my mouth, with strict   instructions from  Nanny Amanda, not to say a word. Nanny Susan placed a baby safety collar around my neck, and I was ordered to sleep.I closed my eyes and in no time at all we had arrived at the premises, the terrifying yet necessary venue for the training of helpless sissies as I yearn to be. I was ordered inside and up the stairs, where I was soon stripped and placed in plastic pants, for a breakfast of eggs and  toast fingers. The food was difficult to eat, but I struggled to eat it all, for I knew that I would need my strength later. Nanny Amanda and Nanny Susan were going to punish me, and teach me to be a good little girl. As a first step I was taken back upstairs and placed in a nice fresh clean Terry towelling nappy and plastic pants. I was given a towel, and told that I would be sat in a the high chair for a while, and gagged and bound. I would be made to wet myself, which would happen, as I have no bladder control at all now, and when I have become wet I would stay wet. My nannies would not change me; they would keep me in my wet nappy, sitting on a wet towel. I did hope that I would not wet the carpet, as my nannies have threatened to spank me really, really, really hard if I did, but I was afraid I might and up doing so anyway. As I sat there, I wondered whether I was going to be made to sit there until I developed nappy rash from the wetness of my nappies. I would be ashamed if that happened, and it would certainly hurt, but in a way it would have been so utterly babyish, that I almost wished it would happen. Whilst sitting bound, and sucking my dummy in the chair, I was forbidden, on pain of being spanked from speaking, even in answer to questions. Being forbidden to speak made me feel a weak and submissive a   helpless feeling, that mixes shame, excitement, and a sense of total helplessness and lack of control, into a delicious cocktail of masochistic yearning.


Only nanny Amanda has ever really understood me guiding me on a journey of discovery with a heady and wonderful mixture of humiliation and loving care the feeling that I was experiencing was that of helplessness mixed with the need of approval that pleasing nanny   always brings her gentle voice brings shivers of pleasure down my spine but equally so to displease her brings with it feelings of trembling anticipation


I live my life to please nanny because she will never abandon me or let me down and now I even carry her special mark.