Tigger9 : My True Story – Part 2 (f/f)

[Fordman]

My True Story part 2
By: Tigger9

Note: This story was recovered from the old site and edited for spelling and format to improve the reader’s experience.

This is the second part of the story, which happened about a year later when I was nine.

S, my brother's girlfriend, had started staying over at our family home at weekends. My nearest sister (now 11) and I thought this was fantastic because while my brother and our other siblings were still in bed at 10am, both we and S got up before 9am and did some baking, usually either cookies or brownies. It was so much more fun than just slumming in front of Saturday morning TV and S used to let us get nice and messy - up to our elbows in brownie mix in fact - provided that we cleaned up properly after we had finished. Everyone else in the house would gradually get up and find their way down to the kitchen, where they would fill up on our brownies and tell us how good they were, and that was a great way to start the day!

One particular Saturday, after having made cookies and then cleaned up, I went up to my bedroom to get myself dressed. As I got up there, I remembered my mum telling us that our clean ironing was in piles in the dining room for us and as usual, I had forgotten to get mine, so I went back downstairs.

As I opened the door to the dining room, I was surprised to find that it was full of black plastic bags which looked as though they contained clothes. In my usual curiosity, I opened one to find that they were indeed full of women's clothing. I opened another one and found more of the same, and then I noticed that there was one bag with hard objects sticking through the sides of it. I grabbed the side of it and pulled it towards me. Opening it, I found that it was full of old baby stuff; a carrier bag full of bottles, some plastic crumb-catcher bibs, some other junk and what I now know to be a round sterilizing drum.

All pretty boring stuff, but then I found something far more interesting; a green carrier bag containing several - at least four - sets of baby reins. I pulled a bit of black webbing out of the bag and found that the reins were all tangled up together, and with the patience of a five year old, I shook the ball of straps but succeeded in not untangling it at all. I looked closely at some of the buckles attached to the straps. Some of them were plastic, some metal and there was one bit of Velcro which I later found was part of an American-style child leash.

I was a little fascinated by the various harnesses but after looking at them for a while, I dumped them back in the green bag and put them on the floor next to the black bag I had taken them out of. I found my pile of ironing and took it up to my room, where I got dressed and didn't really give the baby stuff I'd found another thought.

That afternoon, my sister and I were having a tickle fight with our big brother. I was good at controlling my tickle reflex, so he mainly just tormented our sister who was very ticklish indeed.

At one point, she got onto her feet and tried to run away from the tickle fight but my brother grabbed onto the back of her sweater, stopping her in her tracks and pulled her back toward him for another ordeal. Seeing that reminded me of the reins I had found earlier so once my brother had got bored of tickling us, I told my sister about the bag of stuff I'd found and we both went back into the dining room to have another look.

I picked up the green bag and tipped it upside down, whereupon all the various sets of reins fell out onto the floor. As a particularly big fan of dolls, much more so than I was, all this baby gear was very exciting for her and she started rummaging through the black bag to see what else was in there. I said that I didn't know where any of it had come from and she told me that she thought it belonged to one of our mum's friends, who had had a garage sale recently but didn't have room to store all the unsold stuff, so it was at our house.

I was only really interested in the reins and tried repeatedly to untangle the ball of straps, but still couldn't. My sister got up to leave the room and I followed her, still carrying the reins and the green bag, into the lounge where we both sat on the sofa.

My sister made herself comfortable and immediately zoned out into Nickelodeon while I sat at the other end of the sofa, busily trying to separate the reins. I eventually freed one set, which were brown webbing with a metal buckle and had both the walking reins and highchair straps attached.

I draped them over myself trying to figure out how they would go on and my sister mumbled something about them being far too small to fit me. I put them down next to me and tried to untangle the remaining sets, which I eventually did, and I got down on the floor to lay out all the various pairs of reins to see how many there were. There was six sets in total; the brown webbing set, a similar pair in white, a pair of black ones with a metal Mothercare symbol on the front and a complicated-looking metal buckle at the back, two grey pairs with thin green stripes on them and plastic clips and finally a white leather set, also with metal clips.

My sister looked down, saw the impressive collection and sat on the floor next to me picking up one set at a time to examine them. We figured out quite quickly that the webbing designs were all adjusted by bar sliders on all four straps, and my sister experimented to see how small they could be made in order to fit her dolls. As she did that, I tried the opposite with one of the grey sets to see how big they would get and I was surprised to see that they could be made enormous. I held them up in amazement and said something about them being suitable for really fat toddlers.

"They'd probably fit Emily", she said, referring to our five year old cousin. "They'd probably even fit you!"

And once again, though it seemed a bit naughty, I went about trying them on to see if they did fit. I put my arms through the straps and pulled the reins on like a jacket, with the buckle at the front. There was easily enough length in the straps and I pushed the two parts of the buckle together. The reins hung loosely over me and I turned around to show my sister what I had done.

"Ha ha! You look like a massive toddler!" she said, laughing her head off. I jumped up and down pretending to be an energetic small child and looked down at the straps on my chest.

"Let's put on the walking strap bit as well!" said my sister, grabbing it off the floor and stood behind me trying to work out how it attached to the harness.

"How does it go on?" she asked, and I pointed out that there should be some points to attach each end of it. After a moment, she looked at my front and noticed that the attachment clips were located at the front.

"Wait, the straps go... I think you've got this on inside out" she said, tugging the clips. "These should be at the back. You've put it on the wrong way round. Take it off," she said, squeezing the clasp on my chest. I slid them back down off my arms, dropped them onto the floor and picked them up to try to work out how they should go on.

"I think you need to put them on this way," said my sister, turning them upside down. But I realized as I pulled them roughly into place that it still wasn't going to work because the clips were still at the front.

"Maybe you have to put your arms in first", said my sister and I slid the reins back off my arms before picking them up in front of me and trying to put them on arms first. I got them over my shoulders and my sister, who was now behind me, grabbed the two parts of the buckle and clicked them together.

"Yeah, that's it," she said and went to attach the grey walking strap to the two plastic clips which I could now no longer see.

Two clicks later, my sister excitedly shook the reins and told me to walk forward. I did so and was stopped after a few steps as she pulled back on my reins. This was a very strange feeling indeed; it was only a bit of fun, but it felt very exciting to be wearing a real set of baby reins. Being held on them by my older sister would have been the embarrassing part but since we spent most of our time at the weekend playing together, this fell into the realms of game-playing rather than anything else. I'd have been much more embarrassed if it had been any of my other older siblings because even though it would still be a game, I would feel much more like the youngest, much more babyish.

"Let's go and show mum!" said my sister and we both ran into the kitchen, but there was no-one there so we returned to the lounge and my sister returned to the sofa. I decided to try to release myself from them and reached behind me to operate the clasp, but couldn't quite reach it. I then realized that I could just shrug my shoulders and because they were so loose, the reins would just fall off. I did just that and the reins fell down around my feet.

"I think they need to be done up a bit tighter so that they don't come off like that", said my sister and stood back up to help adjust the harness. I stood still while she tightened up all four straps using the bar sliders, which took a while because she adjusted them all too different lengths to begin with.

Eventually everything was adjusted to a snug fit and as I looked down, I saw the waist and shoulder straps pulled taut against my chest and torso. My sister again shook the reins as though she was riding a horse and carriage and told me to run away, which I did and was stopped more suddenly than before as I reached the limit of the reins.

I could feel the snugness of the harness on my body and it started to feel much more babyish than it did before. I was embarrassed to think that was wearing a pair of baby reins properly fastened, and quite rightly so as I have never seen anyone even close to my age wearing them. But then on the other hand, it was only my sister so we started trotting around the house with her pulling me back on my reins like a horse, or a naughty toddler.

Back in the kitchen, she let go of my reins and I took advantage of the situation by running around to the other side of the kitchen table. She chased me to try to get hold of my reins but since I was faster than her, she couldn't catch me, and all this went on for about five minutes. Eventually she got bored and went back to the lounge and I followed her.

I had had enough of the game now so I went to release myself from the reins by reaching behind my back with my left arm. I could feel the buckle at my fingertips but I couldn't get quite the right angle to squeeze the clasp. I tried the other arm and found the same tantalizing result.

Eventually giving up, I went to pull the harness down over me again but as I shrugged, the harness stayed neatly in place. I tried to help it off by pulling the shoulder straps down over my shoulders but unlike before, there was no slack at all and nothing would budge. I wriggled quite a bit to try to get my shoulders free but there just wasn't a big enough gap. I then tried to slip my arms inside the chest straps, the idea being that I would slip my whole body down out of the harness but all I managed to do was get my arms trapped. I quickly freed them up by pulling upwards, but I was back to square one. For the first time, I started to realize that these reins really were escape proof, and it surprised me that I couldn't even get them off at my age.

I had to ask my sister to open the clasp which she did, and I slid the harness down off my chest and along my arms, dumping it on the floor. I sat back down on the sofa and started watching the TV again.

Half an hour after that first experiment, S arrived at our house to see our brother who, as it turned out, was not due home for another hour. She came into the lounge to say hello to us and her attention was drawn to all the sets of reins on the floor.

"What's all this stuff, you two?" she asked.

"They're baby reins," said my sister, "and we were playing with them earlier on. They still fit her!"

S looked at me with some surprise. "Do they really?"

"Come on," said my sister, standing up from the sofa, “show S how they fit you."

She walked towards the reins that had been adjusted to fit me and went to pick them up. She handed them to me expectantly and at the same time, S said "oh, I've got to see this! Put them on then."

As before, I took a moment to work out how they should go on before sliding the harness up over my arms and arranging the straps so that they were roughly in the right position.

"Can you do them up by yourself?" asked S, to which my sister answered "no, and she can't get them off once they're on either."

"Well that makes sense, it's kind of the point with reins."

"Why?" I asked.

"Well think about it. If you're using them to strap a little kid into a highchair or whatever, you don't what them to be able to just let themselves out when they want to or you'd have toddlers tumbling out of highchairs."

"Oh yeah", we both responded. It was quite clear now that I wasn't going to be able to do up the reins myself so rather than struggling, I asked S to do up the buckle. She turned me around on the spot with her hands on my shoulders so that my back and the harness clasp were facing her.

I felt the harness tighten up and there was the same sharp click that there had been the first time. As soon as it was done, I walked forward and was stopped almost immediately as S held onto my reins. I pretended to be a runaway toddler and strained at the reins with my arms flailing around, but my torso didn't move an inch against S's tight grip. It was like being chained to a brick wall.

"Well look at you," said S, pulling me slightly towards her, "you're well and truly stuck aren't you? How does they feel?"

"They're okay", I answered. I couldn't really think of anything else to say; I did quite like the feeling of the straps being all snug and the feeling of babyishness was quite intense knowing as I did that I was as helpless as any toddler who might have worn these reins in years gone by.

"Just okay? You like them though, right?" she asked. "Well?" "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone if you do", she said. (Looking back now, that was an odd comment from her.)

"Yeah, a bit" I said, admitting as much as I was going to.

"Wow, it looks as though there's plenty of slack in the straps", she observed. "Maybe we should start using these on you properly from now on seeing as how you've got growing room!"

"Yeah, you could wear them when you go out shopping with mum!" said my sister, clearly quite amused at the idea.

"How would you feel about that?" S asked, still holding me up short on my reins.

"No, I might see someone I know."

"That's true," said S, "maybe not then!" I understood then that she was joking - I'd thought she was serious.

"But you can wear them around the house", said my sister, "We can play horses with them."

"Look at you", said S, amused, "you look like you're about four again. It's a bit like that thing last year with the car seat I borrowed, that made you look really little again. You loved that seat, do you remember?"

Of course I remembered, particularly the last long trip I did in it. "Yeah, but not sitting in it for too long."

"Well you probably wouldn't fit in it now anyway. There wasn't much room left in it last year so I reckon you'd be too big now that you've grown a bit."

"I'm 134 cm tall now", I said (and the reason I recall that is because we were measured at school the previous week and it is the only time I have ever known my height in centimeters!)

"And apparently that's still small enough to fit into baby reins!"

"Yep!"
"Look at all those other ones down there. Where did you get all of them?" she asked.

"I found them in the big bag of baby stuff in the dining room. They were all tangled up but I untangled them."

"Goodness me, those ones look familiar" said S, reaching over to pick up the set with the Mothercare logo embossed onto the metal chest plate. "These are like the ones your brother and I would have worn when we were toddlers in the early eighties. I had some just like these."

"How do you remember that?" asked my sister.

"Well, I've seen photos of me and my sister with them on when we were babies. We used to wear them in everything; pushchairs, highchairs, everything." As she said that, my eyes brightened.
"Hey," I piped up, "we've got a pram and a highchair in our attic!"

"Mum kept them just in case we needed them for when people come to stay", said my sister. "Emily used the pram when they were here last year, do you remember?"

"But isn't Emily six?" S asked.

"No, she's five", I said.

"But even then, why did she need a pram when she was four?"

"It was when we went to this big hedge maze last year. Emily didn't want to walk all day so they let her ride in the old pram", explained my sister.

"Is there something wrong with her or is she just lazy?" S asked.

"Lazy", I said.

"I was talking to my mum's friend about this a few months ago", said S, still taking up all the slack in my reins. "We were talking about these quite big kids you see in buggies now when you go up the high street. Why does a five year old need to be in a buggy when they can walk perfectly well?"

"To keep them safe?" I asked.

"Maybe they've got special needs or something", suggested my sister.

"No no, we're talking about quite healthy, able and normal kids who are just lazy, and parents who can't be bothered to make them walk."

"But isn't it better for them to be in a pram than running off into the road?" I said.

"Well yes, but if you're worried that your kid might do that, you can always use reins or wrist reins."

"Oh yeah!" I said as the irony hit me.

"Like these ones!" said S, playfully shaking the reins which made the plastic clips rattle together.

"Can we get the pram down from the attic?" asked my sister.

"Yeah, can we?" I added.

"For your dolls or for you?" she responded.

"We can see if she still fits in it and then take her out for a ride in it!"

"Yeah! But only in the garden", I said.

"Well, I suppose we could do", said S.

With that, my sister and I ran upstairs to open the attic, and my reins fell out of S's hand who walked the other direction into the kitchen. After two or three minutes digging, we freed up the pushchair from the pile of other stuff on top of it and dragged it down from the attic. It was a simple umbrella pushchair and was very light, so I picked it up and headed downstairs.

We got to the kitchen and between us started trying to open the folded-up pushchair. We found the plastic hook that kept it folded by holding the legs together. My sister opened it and the buggy started to unfold. With it almost in the right shape, we looked for the foot lever which was used to lock it open. Eventually my sister found that as well and kicked it down, making the buggy safe with a loud clack. S, who had just filled the kettle to make tea, came back over to us and looked at the pushchair.

"Did that used to be yours?" she asked us and I explained what I knew of it; it had been a late replacement for the buggy I used until I was about two, which was eventually lost when my mum left it on the bus. She took me to Argos as soon as she realized and bought me this cheap, simple stroller which consequently was not anywhere near as old or grubby as the last one.

"Well see if you still fit in it then," suggested my sister.

I went to sit down in the pushchair, moving all the straps of the built in five point harness to one site. It was surprisingly roomy; I had elbow space, shoulder space and plenty of room for my feet. I wasn't expecting the seat itself to feel quite the way it did. It was essentially just a sling of fabric and while that wasn't uncomfortable, I had it in my head that it would feel squishy and padded like all the other various types of baby seats. I shifted a bit and got settled, and I was fine.

At that moment, we heard my brother arriving back at the house from work. He walked into the kitchen, issued a general hello to us all and started kissing S. He saw what we were doing but no doubt put it down to his stupid little sisters being stupid and said nothing.

After a moment, he and S left the room and my sister and I were left by ourselves. My sister went to pull the various straps of the integral harness out in front of me and using her strap adjusting prowess, which was being honed by all this play with sets of reins, she adjusted them all the way out so that she could do up the harness. She did so and then went about tightening everything. The harness was snug but not tight by the time she was finished, though I could lean forward a lot because although I was harnessed to the seat, the seat of this cheap buggy was just a piece of un-stiffened fabric.

I was unlikely to fall out though, and my sister pushed me out into the garden where we went haring around in circles. We were both laughing our heads off, although I was actually quite worried about some of the tight cornering we were doing.

Eventually my sister ran out of steam and stopped me abruptly, though not abruptly enough that I really needed the harness. I let myself out of the integral straps and stood up to go inside. I still had my reins on and after a few steps, I felt my sister come up behind me and pick up the walking reins. I playfully ran forwards and was held back as the reins went taut.

After a few moments idleness in the kitchen, we both went back into the lounge for some more TV. I sat on the sofa with my reins on and my sister didn't offer to let me out of them, so I just kept them on.

An hour later my mum, who had just returned home from wherever it was she had been that day, called out for my sister and to put away the pushchair which we had left in the garden after our rally driving session. As usual, we both ignored her first request and on the second request, my sister told me that I should go and put the pushchair away because it was my stuff.

"No it isn't! It's yours as well!" I said.

"No it isn't, none of it fits me!" she replied.

"Yeah, so? You were playing with it as well."

"Oh, for god's sake" she said, reluctantly and moodily getting off the sofa and heading out to the garden. I followed her past my mum, who was sat at the kitchen table and noticed that I was wearing a pair of baby reins.

"Oh, what are you doing with those on?" she asked, wearily. "You're far too big for those. Where did you find them?"

"In that bag in the dining room."

"What, Mary's black bags from last weekend?"

"Erm... yeah."

"Well you'd better make sure you put everything back in there properly, and neatly as well please."

I continued out to the garden, where my sister had collapsed the pushchair and dumped it on the ground. "Now you bring it inside", she instructed and I did so, leaving it propped up just inside the rear porch so that it was just out of sight and my parents almost certainly wouldn't notice it.

I went back into the lounge where my sister had swept all the reins up into a small pile and had sat back down. "Now you have to put those back in the bag and put them in the dining room."
"Okay" I said, gathering all the straps up and bundling them back into the carrier bag. I put the bag down next to the sofa and sat back down to watch the TV.

"You forgot about the ones you're wearing."

"I don't want to take them off yet" I said quietly, and my sister then just ignored me and returned her attention to the TV. My attention was split between the TV and my reins, which I kept looking down at and running my fingers over. Despite the babyish feeling, which had subsided a bit since earlier anyway, there was something so secure about the reins that I really liked.

It was almost like a cuddly warmth to be wearing something that I knew was designed to keep me safe. The idea of someone holding onto my reins was on my mind as well, though it was a very different feeling to that of wearing the harness itself. I knew that anyone holding my reins was basically taking control away from me and that I wouldn't be able to do anything about it because I couldn't get out of them.

After dinner, which we were allowed to eat off our laps in the lounge that night as all our other siblings were out, we were told to go and get ready for bed. I went upstairs first with my reins trailing down behind me and headed into my bedroom. I picked up my pajamas from the previous night, which had one more wear left in them before washing, and dumped them on the bed in front of me.

It was at that moment when I started to take off my T-shirt that I realized I couldn't because the reins were in the way, so I called out to my sister who had just walked past my room.

"Can you let me out?" I asked, turning my back to her as she came into my room. She opened the clasp and I slid the reins down my arms onto the bed. It felt a bit strange to be out of them after having been in them for about four hours, but the novelty had started to wear off for one day so I got into my pajamas and went back downstairs.

This part of the story has turned out much longer than I thought it would. I hope it's not too boring so far - it does get a bit more interesting later on! I'll add more parts as I get time.