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  1. Hey everyone. It's been a very, very long time since I've posted any new story content on this forum or to the DD site. I finally have a new story idea that I love, and I want to share it here with all of you for feedback and development. Eventually, once it's done, I'll send it to the DD main site for publication there. Mild spoilers: this story will contain elements of romance, sissification, and some emotional content. --- One: Emily Nothing exciting ever happens in Thebes Park, California. That’s what makes it such a nice place to live, I think. Some people have lived here their entire lives, maybe going no further than ten or twenty miles away for a nice dinner at the Adams Bistro or a trip to the Camarillo retail outlets. They get jobs in the booming service sector. They raise kids, send them off to college, spend their weekends visiting the Town Center, and then retire to Silver Estates on the hillside if they’re lucky. It’s not a bad way to live if your paycheck holds steady. But I never wanted that kind of a life. When I couldn’t find work in Hollywood, I came back home and brought back a little flair to the theater scene in Thebes Park. My Friday and Saturday nights were devoted to whatever performances I could stage at the Cultural Arts Center. I played both Hamlet and Romeo, as well as the likes of Stanley Kowalski and Marius Pontmercy. The reviews weren’t much, but the ticket sales was decent. At least I could eat and do what I love. Speaking of food and love, I was compelled to walk out of my house on a cold autumn morning to the local Starbucks. Wrapped in a leather jacket and black jeans, I trundled a few blocks south to where the morning traffic was thinning out. My eyes drifted over a line of sedans and vans zipping along the main road toward Thebes Park’s business sector. With my hands stuck inside my pockets, I felt some dim satisfaction at my current state. Everyone else was rushing to work or from one errand to the next. With no performances lined up that weekend, I had all the time in the world. I sat at the Starbucks for the better part of an hour, sipping coffee and scrolling over the news on my phone. I was prepared for a mindless reverie until lunch. What I got instead was a tap on my shoulder. When I glanced up from my armchair, I saw a huge smile and perfect white teeth. “Jordan! Hey there!” Emily Parcher leaned over me, offering a tiny wave. “Hey yourself,” I replied. As I waved to the chair beside me, I added, “Out for a coffee break?” “Late breakfast, actually.” Emily sank into the chair, smoothing out the skirt of her green dress. My next-door neighbor was my contrast when it came to fashion. She chose to stand out with bright clothing and white jackets, while I preferred to blend in with blacks and grays. The same could be said about our personalities, too, and in exactly those terms. I set down my phone, watching the screensaver flicker on. “Another late night, then?” “Mmph, totally.” Emily paused to finish chewing on the muffin she’d been carrying. She wiped at her mouth and added, “DeSoto wants six new sketches by the weekend. I’ve been pulling all-nighters just to keep up with my other clients.” “Poor thing.” “Well, a girl’s gotta eat.” Emily lifted her muffin and snickered. “Case in point.” “True!” I chuckled and took another sip of coffee. My neighbor grinned and continued to ramble on about her day job. I might have led a life in the theater, but Emily Parcher was one of the classiest people I knew. She never had a bad hair day or wore anything that clashed. Her every step was an exercise in poise, and she always had a kind word for any occasion. But you could have seen her refined taste in the way she drew. Emily was a born artist, a virtuosa with a pencil or a pen. She did everything from portraits to landscapes. The small-time publishers in Thebes Park couldn’t get enough of her. Emily had enough commissions to afford the nicest house on the block where I lived, though I suspected that she came from a family with money, too. As neighbors went, she was a treat. Emily could always be counted for a bottle of wine or a towel when you ran short. At neighborhood barbecues, she never failed to delight with her potato salad, and she always volunteered to clean up. Sure, I’d given some thought to courting her a few times. But I never got the nerve. It wasn’t low self-esteem. I just felt like I’d be ruining an otherwise good friendship. And I never got the sign from Emily that she ever thought of me as anything more than a neighbor. When we hit a lull in the conversation, Emily looked around the Starbucks. I noticed that she twitched her legs in. Even her hands fluttered in her lap. Like she was trying to stay calm. Trying, but failing. “Sorry if I’ve been monopolizing your time,” said Emily. She brushed some hair back over her ear. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.” “Not at all.” I gestured to the phone on the table. “I’m just killing time.” “No shows this week?” “It’s the dry part of the season. And yet...” I put my hand to my breast. “I get by. Somehow.” Emily grinned. “You love the limelight, don’t you?” “Against my better judgment, yes. I feel more alive onstage.” “Oh, yeah. It’s like me with a pencil.” “Bingo.” Emily shook her head wistfully. “I wish I could feel that good around people. I’m too much of an introvert.” “You’re plenty social at the local get-togethers, you know.” “Well, that’s not what my parents say.” “Oh.” I grimaced. Parental judgment was the worst. As a second-generation Korean-American, I knew it all too well. “Sorry to hear that.” Looking up at me, Emily nodded. “Thanks for that.” “Anything I can do to help?” “It’s... complicated.” “I’ve got nothing but time if you want to chat.” As a new line of people began to enter the coffee shop, Emily glanced down at her hands. They still fluttered, but not as much as before. When she met my gaze again, she looked so serious. She said, “Let’s take a walk.” *** Heading back to our neighborhood, we felt a little warmer as the day wore on. I kept my hands out and loose at my side as Emily explained her predicament. “So, the thing is, my parents are strict. Like, super old-fashioned.” Emily’s face turned red as she spoke, and I guessed it wasn’t because of the changing weather. “They didn’t like it when I moved out here to work and live on my own. They’d rather I go back home and marry one of the nice boys that they met at the country club.” I grinned when I heard the venom in her tone. “Dudes in polo shirts and khakis?” “Dudes with no class and an overdeveloped ego,” Emily insisted, but at least she smiled a little. “Yeah, I’ve been fending off their proposals for years.” “You don’t strike me as the housewife type.” To my surprise, Emily blushed at that. “I’m not totally against the idea. I mean, if I met the right person, maybe?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d rather just do my job out here.” “Then you should.” “But that’s the problem.” Emily turned to me as we came to a stop at the next intersection. An empty school bus passed by the street where we turned toward home. “My parents will cut me off if I don’t meet their standards. That means I lose the house, Jordan.” “Wait a second.” I frowned, examining her nice—and pricey—dress and jacket. “They’re paying your mortgage?” “Well, yeah. Most of it.” Emily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m good for clients, but I could never afford a place on my own.” “Em, that’s terrible.” “And so’s my family. My father’s convinced himself that I need to have another woman as a housemate in order to stay ‘proper.’ Because, you know, any unmarried woman living away from her parents only has one thing on her mind.” “Premarital sex. Oh, the horror.” I threw a melodramatic hand to my forehead. “The scandal.” “You got it.” “So, you’re looking to rent out a room. Any takers?” “None. And I don’t have any friends from work who aren’t already married.” “You’re kidding.” “Nope. I’m the odd one out.” I shook my head. “God bless quaint little Thebes Park.” “Tell me about it.” We crossed the intersection and turned the corner onto our block. Our houses stood side-by-side, both done up in similar shades of white and beige. My front lawn was small and easy to keep up, but Emily’s house stood out with its garden full of roses and tulips. You could tell from a glance who put the most effort into their dwellings. Emily even kept her car in the garage to keep it from getting too dirty, whereas I was content to let my Toyota Camry gather a little dust before I usually decided to take it in for a wash. It had been this way on our street for the better part of three years. As we passed in front of my house, I reached out and put my hand on Emily’s shoulder. She looked at me with a dismal frown. “Listen,” I said, “I don’t know what I can really do to help, but just know that I am here to help if you ever need anything.” That got a light smile out of her. “Thanks, Jordan. You’re a real sweetheart.” I chuckled. “Nah. I just play one onstage.” *** Hours later, as I finished my latest Netflix binge session—as inspiration for future roles, or so I told myself—I heard a knock at my door. Putting the TV on pause, I got off the couch and ambled over to answer it. Emily stood on my doorstep. She looked tired. Tired, and anxious. I stepped aside and waved her in. “What’s the matter?” “I...” Emily stopped herself. She hesitated on the threshold, taking a glance at her shoes. Those lovely pair of Kurt Geigers. “I’m sorry. I had the stupidest idea. I can’t believe I even came over to ask you.” “Never hurts to ask. What is it?” Emily wavered, but she didn’t leave. “So, remember earlier? I told you about my folks, and you said you wanted to help?” “Sure I do.” “Well, remember how I said I needed a, uh, female roommate to convince my parents?” I glanced askew at her. A nervous flutter rose up in my stomach. “Yeah?” Emily looked up at me with a coquettish smile. “Think you might be interested in the role?”
  2. Alex struggled helplessly in his binds. Stuck in a diaper and dress, gagged with an oversized pacifier, and with a bright red ribbon wrapped around, he could do nothing but wait. He supposed that was what he was a Christmas present for someone. The only question was for whom. It was a question that had haunted him since the day he arrived at the training institute. Like everyone, he knew there was someone paying for him. Like most, he had no idea who they were, when he’d see them, or what they intended to use him for. There were several reasons someone could end up in the institute. A scant few were volunteers- people choosing the submissive lifestyle, often for a kink, or out sheer laziness, giving up freedom to be guaranteed food and shelter rather then work their entire lives and risk homelessness. This, in Alex’s opinion, was a poor trade and a worse excuse for a career. Others seemed to think they eventually be guaranteed a place their anyway, and so volunteered. The advantage there was that they could at least pick the manner of their submissiveness, and have some control over who their eventual master was. Had Alex known that would be necessary for him, he’d have taken that route. He shifted uncomfortably in his binds, his arms getting stiff, and his diaper beginning to chaff his spanked bottom. He definitely would have. Alex, for himself, was one of the many who had been chosen against their will. Some of them had obvious reasons for going. They had committed clear crimes, were put on trial, and plea-bargained out of jail or were sentenced directly. They stood out at first in the first days at the institute. Trying to look tough, with tattoos on their arms and glares on their faces, until they realized this just made them all the more ridiculous. Alex was in a final category- those who had no idea at all why he was brought. He had simply went to bed one night after drinking at a bar, blacked out, and woken up already locked and dressed in the institute, with his form of submissiveness and master chosen for him. Many had similar stories, or were dragged from public places kicking and screaming, or got into cabs that went in completely the wrong directions… There was a long list. They were usually given a explanation. Vague allegations of minor crimes, poor behavior, a likeliness of future crimes or failures, internet search histories, having failed some kind of government test- there were plenty. Alex had a mix of these, with the same accusations of brattiness and immaturity that most who ended up in diapers got. They may be true, he knew, but he tended to believe the rumor that the institute simply needed to sell certain number of submissive to operate and did what was necessary to keep going. The government turned a blind eye and the public kept silent less they be chosen- they were fulfilling a needed service, anyway. For Alex, it was hard to argue. They seemed to know everything about him, and his trove of 'secret' stories about similar kinks was brought up time and time again as a reason. Whether they knew about them when they grabbed him or coincidently found out after searching was beyond him. Alex moaned inwardly thinking of it. The struggled slightly, hearing the tissue paper and his diaper rustle, then stopped. He glanced at the paddle beside him. Tauntingly cute looking, but sharp and painful, he had been given a taste of it earlier and threatened with more if he woke anyone up. He was a Christmas present, and just like any other gift supposedly from Santa Clause, he would not be seen until morning. Waking them up would spoil the surprise, and he had been trained to obey. That training itself had been a nightmare. When he first woke up that day long ago, he had no idea what was happening. He had woken up slowly at first, feeling a slight headach, then bolted up when he noticed he was in a strange room surrounded by bars. “No” he had thought, “it can’t be…” IN reality it was obvious- he had long known about the training program, and that the diapered subs were one of options, but like most, he had never thought it would happen to him. When it did, he did everything in his power to deny it to himself. He had quickly glanced down at himself to see he was dressed in bright pink footed pyjamas and a bulky object he later realized was a diaper. He tried to scream out, only to find his mouth full of something he later realized was a pacifier. He tried to remove it, only to find his hands were wrapped in thick, fingerless mittens, leaving them useless. He looked around himself, and confirmed his suspicions. The bars he had once thought were for a cage were in fact part of a crib, and the room was a giant nursery, decorated cutely, with a changing table, high chair, and toys all clearly intended for him. A pit had begun to form in his stomach. A woman, not much older then Alex, came in beaming. He still remembered the first words she said. “Hello, how’s my little baby doing?” She spoke in a sweet, familiar voice, as if he truly was a baby girl and there was nothing strange at all with him being there. The rest of the day had followed suit. He was offered no explanation and given no chance to ask for one. He was carted helplessly from humiliation to humiliation, unable to get out of the arms, baby harnesses and strollers that held him, and unable to speak with the pacifier in his mouth, only leaving it for feedings. That day he wasn’t even treated as a sub, but simply as a baby. Spankings or other punishments weren’t necessary yet- he was too restrained and bewildered to fight, he was simply there to learn his place. He was fed, talked to in baby gibberish or simply ignored, and changed. THAT was a memory that had stuck with him, not because of the teasing or punishment, but because of the lack there of. “Do you smell something?” one has said calmly. “I think the baby has a stinky butt” the other replied with no sign of surprise. “Check him?” Alex was bent over, his onesie undone. “Yep,” then, in the high pitched joking voice used for infants, “has the baby made a stinky? Does she need to get her butt changed? YES SHE HAS! YES SHE DOES!” The lack of mocking and teasing had made it seem all the worse, as if it was something natural that should be expected. The truth was, as he would learn, it soon would be. As Alex was lain on the floor in a main hallway and changed as the pair in front of him talked on as if nothing was wrong, he had even begun to wonder if he really was a baby, and the last few decades of his life were some bizarre dream. It seemed a better option then being a submissive. The real training had started the next day. Alex shifted again, and tried to pull his arms at least a bit loose. This position was far from comfortable, and his back was getting sore. He wondered what it said about his new masters that he was to be found this way. Did they know how uncomfortable it was? Did they want him to be sore? An answer either yes or no could mean a lot. Of course, the fact that he was chosen as a sissy baby said a lot as it was. There was something of an unspoken hierarchy at the training institute. It depended a lot person to person, but their were some general rules that could be said depended on the harshness, or embarrassment, related to the job. At the top were the merely unstated submissives. They were there to serve, with no real, and as long as they behaved were treated well. After that came the ‘animals,’ either work horses intended to pull their masters around or pet kittens and puppies, they were treated well, if condescendingly. Then came the punishment subs, there to take spankings, be degraded, and tied for their masters pleasure. Underneath them all were the babies. Some could live pretty good lives and be treated well, finding themselves essentially just living to be cuddled and coddled, but that was often not the case. It was hard to feel any sort of pride when all others were baking away from the smell of your diapers. Alex was the lowest from of these. Not just a baby, but a sissy baby and a punishment sub at that. He had become well acquainted with rope and paddles while there, and the diapers and dresses simply added a whole new level of humiliation. Alex pondered slightly. As most had guessed, if that is what his masters wanted, it did not bode well for him. Whoever was paying want him degraded as much ass possible. Most ended up living essentially as their training had done. Some, however, were lucky. They were punished and trained to a low level then brought to their masters as if being rescued, receiving love and affection, and forming a strange form of bond from the knowledge of what they were being kept from. Others got the exact opposite. Even within the categories, the harshness, strictness and length of training varied. Some masters wanted subs with fight left in them that they could spank out over time. Others would switch their subs theme upon arriving, leaving the poor, bewildered submissive confused and having to go through training again. The ones that Alex pitied the most were, ironically, barely even punished at training. Their masters wanted the opposite idea then the rest received. They were praised, given freedoms, and given rewards to build up a sense of pride that the masters could have fun breaking. They were often even given authority over the other submissives, who were told to keep mum about the poor fools fates. Sometimes they’d come back with their masters later, tears streaming down their faces, their pride shattered, their delusions gone as they were laughed at by the ones they had looked down on. Alex himself had been spanked by a few confused submissives only to later see them crawling around In diapers themselves, now bigger bawling babies then anyone, their pride making the fall all the worse. Somehow they never seemed to learn until it was too late. Alex groaned at the binds and his stiff muscles. He was beginning to feel hungry again. How long had he been there? He would have thought it was only one night, but there were no windows, and it felt like a lot longer. He prayed his masters were in the kindest category, hoping for him to see them as some kind of saviors, but he craved being untied whether or not they were. It was more likely that he was meant to be the baby he was dressed as anyway. This could still mean different things, as rumors always came back about what the babies got in the outside world. Some were treated merely as that, infants for their ‘parents’ to take care of, nothing more. Some existed for humiliation, spending long nights tied in messy diapers and over laps getting spanked in public. Some were there to work and please their masters, their clothing adding a form of mocking comedy to otherwise adult tasks. Some lived for pleasure, receiving toys and other benefits, others were deliberately denied it, being brought close to it then returned to whine and moan in their diapers. Some lived to train people to take care of real babies, used for diaper changing demonstrations, some were mascots for small sports teams and organizations or public draws to restaurants and game rooms. Others still were even given to younger people, treated as playthings, live in dolls for the amusement of children. Most did not know what it was going to be until they got there. He shuddered at the thought, and prayed it was one of the better ones. He tried to think of the cruelty of someone who would subject him to it. Could he really blame them though? He had, after all, written all those stories... but those were fiction, not reality... was there a difference? Yet there he was, an adult, diapered, sissified... The training varied from person to person, but for babies there were some general themes. The life in a nursery, the wearing diapers, and being given toys were all common. Most were fed, and most were taught to use their diapers. Some were deliberately made incontinent, being given pills and hypnosis to render them diaper dependent. Alex avoided this, though you never would tell from watching him. A messy diaper around his waist was a common theme in his life. Like all babies, he slept in a crib, and was taken care of like a baby in his ‘home.’ This home was the residence while he stayed in the institute. As usual, he was the only baby there. The other themes were represented similarly, there were pets, work animals, slaves, sissies, and other kinds of submissives, but rarely more than one or two of each at a time. There were also groups of non submissives who went in and out of living there like a hostel, and more still that came by and paid to gawk and laugh. They usually paid to see due to their own sadistic kinks or schadenfreude, and the fact that they beleived the people there had earned their punishment made them all the more vicious in their laughing and teasing. This was for a serious, if subtle reason. If the submissive felt rare, and they were constantly faced with a new group of people, it kept the helplessness and embarrassment of their situation fresh. As had been explained to Alex, the reason a sissy male was embarrassed to be in a dress was because men didn’t wear dresses. If Alex had spent his life surrounded by other sissy babies, eventually it wouldn’t seem to be strange at all. From the ‘homes,’ the submissive would be taken daily to training, this time along with the similarly dressed brethren. As a sissy baby, Alex would join a long and often smelly line of grown adults in diapers, feeling absolutely ridiculous as they were paraded, all holding a rope like children, toward class. Once there, they were trained as a group, with variations for their individual master’s desires. They would be given kindergarten like classes on basic subjects to reduce them and bring their thinking to that of a babies. Sometimes they’d deliberately be given fake information, being forced to learn math wrong or memorize a made up alphabet. They’d then be tested on it, and have their place hammered home when they failed tests seemingly made for children. From there it was more kink related training. They’d be taught to be submissive, with a long list of humiliating and painful punishments, from spankings and being tied up, to more childish such as time outs and mouth soaping’s. They were trained to behave as their masters wanted, forced to crawl around, play with children’s toys, and mess their diapers. They were even trained to act up from time to time, practicing throwing tantrums or acting as brats. Some were slowly rendered incontinent, some were given potty training which was deliberately made impossible, then told they were in diapers because they failed, and others were simply ignored until they messed themselves, and at times kept in them until they were used to the feeling. Whatever a master wanted, he could get, and the trainers bet their careers on making it happen. Alex wasn't given a chance. There was no effort to untrain or to pretend to train. This, he figured, meant whoever he was going to meet in the morning wanted someone who was able to control their functions, but still used to diapers. Did that mean they intended to some kind of joke potty training routine? Was it meant to be successful, with him finally getting out of the childish undergarments, or not? Would they go the opposite route, subjecting him to hypnosis and bizarre diets? He doubted that one, if they wanted that they could have done it already. There was a chance they'd keep him in diapers but let him use the toilet, or present themselves as the saviors of the degradation he had suffered... It was possible, and he hoped for it, but he had learned not to hope for too much. Something told him that wasn't the case. The most likely was that they'd keep him in some variation of what he had before- continent, but with no way to tell that based on what he wore (or, he thought blushing, he smelled like), giving them control over when it happened and whether or not he'd be punished... he shuddered. What else could tell him what to expect? So this one is a bit different then my others. I'm sort of experimenting with a different structure. Rather then having a normal narrative or much dialogue, it is a series of settings, with the plot hopefully coming through. That is because it is supposed to be the Alex (myself) remembering what happened to him as he lies in bondage. I figured memories tend to be more like vague snapshots rather then having a lot of details, so I tried to write it like that. If it didn't work, it is basically the story of Alex's will being broken as he waits for his captors. BTW, this goes with this picture: http://swabbs.deviantart.com/art/The-Gift-That-Keeps-On-Giving-Dress-Clean-652281997 by Swabbs, with his permission. Le me know if there is an issue with me posting that there, I will remove it.
  3. Every sissy baby knows that for every one mistress or mommy out there, there are hundreds of sissy babies begging for her attention. We are all looking to be submissive, and have someone else control how we dress, or what tasks we have to do, but there simply aren't enough mommies to go around. So while we're all naturally submissive, I propose forming a group where people can take turns switching who gets to be the sub and who gets to be the domme, so we all can get that feeling of helplessly being controlled at some point. Note that you must be willing to switch and be the domme half the time, so please take that into account that before messaging about joining. For everyone interested, please respond to this thread, or send me a message directly, and I'll begin organizing the group Also note, I get pretty creative and vengeful about punishments, so you've been warned.
  4. After much deliberation (and a few delays), PetiteAB is taking preorders on our brand new design, Le Jardins Secret - The Secret Garden. Shipping is expected to be February, 2017 on the size S and March, 2017 on the size M. Feel free to ask questions, I'll make sure I keep an eye on this thread and answer. Our indiegogo fundraiser site (best deal on cases - $125 with free shipping!) http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/designer-incontinence-products-for-adults/x/4636949#/ Our website: http://www.petiteab.com Follow us on Twitter: @Petiteabdotcom Our Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/Petiteabcom-1156556287752208/
  5. 588e2aa759092-DLBiker-20080330(1).jpg

    From the album DLBiker

    Some of my earlier photos during my sissy AB days on a visit to Goddess Nicole in St Pete, FL
  6. 588e2aa577f9d-DLBiker-20100801(2).jpg

    From the album DLBiker

    Some of my earlier photos during my sissy AB days on a visit to Goddess Nicole in St Pete, FL
  7. diapers

    Essentially, (y/c) Kidnaps and regresses via drugs or hypnosis or whatever my character, turning them into a sissy who needs and uses diapers. Surgery is allowed, as well as sexual if you want.
  8. Ruffled diaper bum

    From the album Me

    Still looking for that 24/7 thing.
  9. Hi =) I just moved to Gatineau and i'm looking for abdl friends! I'm 30 yo sissy ABDL but in real live i'm your normal funny dude. I am looking for friends/abdl party/daddy/love. I hope there is some activity in the region and abdl don't hide too much .
  10. So, just to prove to everyone I'm not actually dead, I'm reposting this, a little short I whipped up for a contest on another forum last month. Hope you enjoy! -------------------------------- 1 Being a short man in a tall man's world had been one long, 27-year string of disappointments for poor Michael. From being bullied at school to being passed over for promotion after promotion at his modest job in the accounting firm, it seemed the only attention Mike ever got was the kind he didn't want. The worst of it all, though, was being all the ladies' “best friend” but never their lover. No, Mike's only contact with females throughout the adult portion of his life was when they were sobbing on his shoulder the morning after a much taller, more handsome man would treat them wrong the night before. Well, that and his occasional thrill on Pervert's Row at the local strip club, tucking dollars into the girls' G-strings or, even better, the ankle straps on their spike heels. Sometimes they even let him put the bill in his teeth and let them take it with their voluptuous breasts, then give him a face full of said breasts. It seemed to be his destiny, to be that lonely, slightly awkward loser with the decent apartment and decent job, wasting most of his nights trying to get noticed on Fetbook, and the rest emptying his wallet at the strip bar, going home with sticky messes in his boxers after those oh-so-beautiful women let him touch them. Well, that was his life before he met Sally. That's when absolutely everything changed. When she popped in with a private message on his Fetbook page, Mike's entire world turned upside down. This wealthy, tall, dark-haired, athletically built vixen swooped into his life and systematically fulfilled every little fantasy he'd ever had in the whirlwind that was their first few months as a couple, and he willingly let her push him beyond his outer limits into fantasies he never even knew he had. In short, she was perfect. Of course, there was a reason Sally was perfect. Unbeknownst to hapless little mikey, as she called him, Sally had been watching him for a long time. Owner of said strip club, she knew all her regulars, and little mikey was an object of interest from the first day he awkwardly sat at the bar and watched those girls from a distance. The longing in his eyes was as obvious as the nose on his face. When she found his profile on Fetbook, it was almost hysterical to her how predictable he was; lonely pathetic little wimp looking for a Mistress to abuse and humiliate him, to let him worship her feet, to make him into a pet for her amusement. They were everywhere on that site, and the few that worked up the nerve to approach her got flat rejected with a referral to a professional Domme she knew. Because most of them just wanted one night of wild beatings and humiliation and then go back to their stupid little lives until they felt that itch again. Little mikey was different, though. Watching him in the club all that time, she knew he was different. He would follow her to the ends of the earth just for the chance to lick her heel. And in reality, all his little shortcomings fit perfectly into her desires. His “problem” with premature ejaculation was perfect. He never begged to put his little winky inside her, and in return she taught him well how to service her with his mouth, his fingers, the many toys in her collection. And he absolutely loved it when she shamed him over the messes he made; his full-body shudders as he groveled for forgiveness for being so pathetic were like candy for both her sweet tooth and his own. But even after she convinced him to give up his job and his apartment to move in with her and be her house slave, there were places Sally wanted to take him that he wasn't going to go without a little help. Fantasies she had that she was determined to make him fulfill. But that was just a matter of timing. Patience. And Sally had plenty of that. They'd been living together four months, and Sally had “little mikey” trained into a nice little routine. He abandoned his job at the accounting firm happily as part and parcel of moving in with her. They slept in until noon, and he'd get up, fix her breakfast in bed (he was quite a good little cook, to her surprise), and sit dutifully at her feet while she ate, massaging her ankles and calves. She'd get up to shower and do her makeup, and he'd stand at the ready in the master suite, holding her towel while she teased him with seductive poses and noises behind the steamed-up sliding glass door, turning his head when she was finished. (He wasn't allowed to look at her naked body unless she explicitly gave him permission; his backside had taken many welts for that transgression.) Once she was dressed and ready for work, she'd give him a list of rooms to clean top to bottom while she was gone, with the promise of her strap on his backside if they failed to pass inspection. And they rarely passed inspection. She was pretty sure that was deliberate on his part, though. There was always something obvious, something a complete idiot would have noticed, left untouched while the rest was immaculate. So, when she arrived home from work, there would be the inspection, then his beating, and then he would, sans clothes, serve her supper at the table while he whimpered and groveled and kissed and massaged her tired feet in between fetching her wine. And later, depending on what mood struck her, she would take him down to the dungeon and abuse him until he cried out the little safe word she gave him (No more, Mommy!) and make him clean up his little messes on the floor under her St. Andrew's Cross. Or she'd lie on the bed and make him please her long into the wee hours of the morning, until he collapsed from exhaustion. On her off days, she'd dress the both of them up in properly coordinated leather and take him to the BDSM club to parade him around on all fours, beat him, and humiliate him in a more public forum. She knew he loved that more than anything else; she had to put a cock ring on him to keep him from ruining his leather shorts, a fact she made sure everyone there knew. And she pushed him farther and farther toward what she wanted out of him; he went under the laser to get rid of his pathetic little beard because she didn't like being tickled by hair when he went down on her. He agreed to undergo bi-weekly Brazilians when the alternative was sleeping in a cage at the bottom of the bed “like the hairy little animal you are”. And he hadn't cut his hair since he moved in. By September, he was as androgynous as could be, a just over five foot tall little boy-girl, his wispy blond locks in a little cascade on his shoulders. He was ready, and it was time for her to make a little magic happen. After all, what better time for a little magic than Halloween, for a witch of Miss Cassandra “Sally” Divone Nenet's caliber? ~~ 2 “Can you believe it? We're gonna have our first Halloween together!” Sally asked coyly, as she cuddled Mike's shivering form, stroking his naked back as she brought him out of his sub-space. Aftercare was paramount when taking care of a pain slave, and Sally was every bit the expert caretaker as she was the sadist when it was time to discipline him. “Mmmm,” Mike replied absently, just barely becoming aware of her words again, the adrenaline subsiding, replaced by her tender touch. “We have invitations to an absolutely enormous party, you know,” she continued. “So many of our friends will be there!” Mike flinched a bit when she said that; that phrase was all but code for “Mike's going to get flogged in front of a crowd.” Terrifying, yet incredibly stimulating. He hadn't realized how much of a turn-on humiliation was until Sally introduced him to it. “Fun,” he managed weakly. “You know what would be extra fun?” Sally cooed. “How would you like the chance to switch for the night?” That got his attention. “Wait... what do you mean?” he said, popping his head up from her bosom. “I'm sure you'd just love to pick out my costume for me, and be in charge the whole night, in front of all those people, wouldn't you? No safe words, no nothing, just little mikey playing Big Man Michael, and Miss Sally being just little sally?” His eyes widened as she spelled it out, and visions danced in his head. He knew exactly what he'd want to see her in; he'd fantasized about it since the first time he laid eyes on her. No leather that night, no, not at all. He gathered his thoughts... she wanted an answer, no doubt. “How... I mean... what... do I have to do?” “Well,” she chuckled. “First you have to prove that you're capable of being a Master. How about going a whole week without any discipline?” “But that's not fair!” he protested. “All you have to do is make up a reason!” Her face darkened noticeably. “When have I ever disciplined you and you didn't deserve it?” “I... uh... never...” he replied weakly. Truth be told, the rules were all laid out. All he had to do was follow them. Except he wanted her strap on his backside. NEEDED it. He felt unwanted, unloved when Sally didn't discipline him. “So what makes you think I would be so unjust as to do it just to win a bet?” “I... you wouldn't, Miss Sally.” “Of course I wouldn't. Now apologize for making such a slanderous accusation!” Mike slunk, trembling, down off her lap and onto his knees in front of her. “Forgive me, Miss Sally. I'm a horrible, ungrateful boy, undeserving of your love and care and affection. Forgive your unworthy slave of his transgressions.” It was a well-rehearsed line, and the words came easily. “You are unworthy, ungrateful, and pathetic. But I will forgive you once again, little mikey, even though you deserve nothing less than to be cast from my sight!” “Please, Miss Sally!” he begged. “Punish me however you see fit, but don't send me away!” Now would usually be a time he would be disciplined, but he'd just spent two hours on the rack; he was in no shape to take another thrashing. “No no, little mikey,” she said, grasping his head and pulling him gently. “Come back to Miss Sally's bosom. All is forgiven.” He climbed back up and buried his face in her chest as she stroked him. “So does little mikey want to try to be Master for a night?” she whispered. “I... I would like that,” he whimpered back, his breathing starting to even back out. “Then we'll start tomorrow,” she purred. “What... happens if I don't make it?” he asked, almost as an afterthought. “Well of course, if I win the bet, I get to pick your outfit, you get to be the slave, no safe words, no limits. It's only fair, don't you think?” “Of course,” he replied sheepishly. Sally had every intention of keeping her little promise, to only discipline him when he actually earned it. But she knew just as well as Mike did how needy he was, how desperate he was for her attention and affection. She wouldn't need to break that promise. To Mike's credit, he definitely went the extra mile that day. But the harder Mike tried to please, the less interest she showed. She barely acknowledged the elaborate breakfast of Belgian waffles with fresh-squeezed orange juice alongside her coffee. She caught a bite to eat at work, and coldly announced she wasn't hungry for the admittedly gorgeous-looking Quiche Lorraine he prepared for her. Her inspection of the rooms on his list was quick and silent; not even offering the slightest compliment for the touches he added, like fresh flowers in her office, and she didn't even bother inspecting the on-suite, which wasn't even on that list, but that he'd meticulously scrubbed top to bottom. And to top it all off, she retreated to the bedroom and shooed him away, declaring she was tired and wished to be left alone. Mike was devastated. What had he done so wrong that she would shut him out like this. He choked back tears as he stared blankly at the laptop screen, at the special Halloween costume he'd picked out for her that day as he waited for her to come home. She didn't even want him to pleasure her, or even massage her back while she slept! And he dare not ask, no, that in and of itself was an infraction of the rules! Mike's purpose was to pleasure Sally; it was for Sally to decide what Mike needed and deserved. He had to try harder, do more, because clearly his mistress was displeased with him. And try he did. The next day he was tireless, cleaning the entire house top to bottom, fixing Eggs Benedict for her breakfast and a thick, juicy ribeye steak with creamed spinach and roasted fingerlings for supper. But she showed no interest whatsoever. She spent the evening in her office, and when she came to bed, she banished him to the dreaded cage. The next day, it was more of the same. He worked relentlessly all day, cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, and once again she devastated him by coming home late, ignoring the elaborate dinner, isolating herself from him. Few words, no physical contact at all. Mike was bewildered as he lay in the cage again, trying his best to keep his tears silent. At this point, Halloween was an afterthought, the promise of being Master for the night pie in the sky. He wasn't even sure if she still cared for him at this moment, and that terror trumped all other thoughts, desires, needs. Trembling, weeping, and panic-stricken, he accidentally bumped the cage door as he shifted his weight. “Be quiet down there!” she shouted. “How dare you wake me?!” Of course, she wasn't sleeping, she was just silently relishing the mental anguish she was inflicting on him. Physical punishment wasn't the only path for the sadist. And for sure, he was near his breaking point already. “I... I'm sorry Miss Sally,” he whimpered, trying to stifle an outbreak of sniffles. No answer. Mike couldn't take it anymore. “Please, Miss Sally, what did I do wrong?! Why can't I sleep in your bed?!” “Come out of that cage!” she snapped, flipping the light on. He knew what was coming now, but it didn't matter. He needed it. Damn the costume party, he needed it. He crawled out and knelt on the floor beside her. “What is the rule about Mistress' instructions?” she asked, more calmly, but still very stern. “Miss Sally knows what is best for us. We are never to question her judgment,” he nearly whispered, his head down. “What do you suppose Miss Sally should do about this, little mikey?” “I need... to be disciplined, Miss Sally.” “Yes, yes you do,” she said, feigning a solemn tone. “Get Miss Sally her strap.” He cringed a bit, but at the same time his heart warmed at having her undivided attention again, something he'd been starved of these last few days. He went to her closet and retrieved the pink-handled, heavy leather implement from among her various implements of discipline, laid it on the bed at her feet, and got back down on his knees. “Up here,” she scolded. “Assume the position.” Quickly he stripped naked and laid down on the bed next to her, face down. As he braced for the coming physical pain, he found himself very suddenly erect. Of course, Sally anticipated that outcome. “Where is your towel, little mikey?” she demanded. “I... I'm sorry Miss Sally,” he fumbled, scrambling off the bed, embarrassed as his erection stood out in front of him like a flagpole as he walked by her toward the on-suite. He returned with a dirty towel he retrieved from her laundry basket and was most dismayed when he saw what was in Sally's hand. She smiled as she held up the little ring. “Stand right here, little boy,” she commanded. He complied, and she grasped the tip of his penis and squeezed. It wasn't painful, but it was definitely humiliating for Mike as he watched it quickly sag and shrink back to its normal, pathetic self. She lifted it up and cinched the cock ring snugly just above its base. “This is not fun time, this is discipline time,” she said calmly, taking on a motherly tone. “Little mikey doesn't deserve fun time right now, does he?” “No Miss Sally,” he mumbled. That little ring, he hated and loved it so, stealing away his manhood, his sexuality, but at the same time exciting him with the humiliation of her taking total control of every aspect of him. “Now, assume the position.” He spread the towel out on the bed, lay across it, and braced himself, this time decidedly less comfortable with the blood flow futilely straining against the cock ring, the base of his penis swelling painfully while the rest remained flaccid. There would be an orgasm in his near future, but it would be a painful one, like when she milked him, not at all pleasurable like when he was strapped to the St. Andrew's cross. A loud crack and searing pain across his bottom snapped him out of the thought, and he whimpered in spite of himself. Then came another, and another. The blows continued as he gritted his teeth and struggled against the inevitable tears. She was silent as she moved, efficient, deadly accurate, working inch by inch from the very top of his hind quarters down to the tops of his thighs, watching carefully as the angry welts rose up, listening to the changes in his vocal responses. Down in the dungeon, during “funishments”, she'd often draw blood, but not tonight. Tonight it would end when the heaves began, after he'd made his little cummies and was sobbing like a proper little boy should after his Mommy spanked his deserving little tush. She heard him gasp a bit and tense up, letting loose a whimper, and she knew what had happened. She knew just as well as he did how unpleasant those orgasms were, but she had to maintain the appearance that this was discipline, even though she knew well how much he was starving for the attention. Finally he broke into sobs, and she stopped. As she strode back to the closet and hung the strap in its proper place, she cooed, “Now, what does naughty little mikey say?” “Th... thank... you... Miss... S... Sally... f... for caring... enough... to... to correct me,” he blubbered into the towel, his entire body shuddering under the intensity of the pain he'd just experienced. “Poor baby,” she continued as she sat back down on the bed, running her fingers through his hair, rhythmically massing the back of his head. “You're just such a little mess, aren't you? It's so hard for little mikey to be a good boy, isn't it? Poor, poor baby... But don't you worry, Miss Sally will always be here to help, teach you how to be good. Yes she will, baby. Yes she will...” It wasn't too much later that he finally fell asleep exactly where he lay. And Sally's head was filled with plans and preparations for what was to come, just a few weeks away. A simple bet was the final step toward him being the perfect slave. Well that, and a little magic. 3 Mike had earned himself quite a few more such spankings over the course of the next month as he begged and pleaded with Sally to tell him what her plans were for Halloween, but she was steadfast, teasing him with only the promise that he was going to absolutely love what she had planned. See, Sally knew about his other little fascination, those little Asian girls with their elaborate Victorian outfits he fawned over. And she intended to indulge it for him. On her terms, of course. Finally the big night arrived. Halloween fell on a Monday that year, which was fortuitous, because she could close the bar for the day and not worry about losing much in the way of cash flow. And since the big party didn't start until nine in the evening, there was plenty of time for more teasing that day. Mike was practically in panic with anticipation of what she had planned, and at five o'clock, after a light lunch, she left him to clean the kitchen while she dressed. Mike was absolutely in awe when Sally resurfaced in a stunning, floor-length, long-sleeved black Victorian dress that flared from the waist, with subtle powder-pink accents at the hem, ringed with pink bows at the knee. How could she have known of his Lolita fantasies? And stranger yet, what else did she have planned? He'd imagined her in this very dress the first time he saw it, on his arm as he donned a steampunk three-piece suit in all black, a monocle in his eye and a rakish top hat, the two of them strolling through the crowd, all eyes on them, admiring their finery. “You like?” she purred, knowing the answer. “It's... you're beautiful, Miss Sally,” he stammered. “Perfect.” “Of course I am,” she laughed. “Are you ready for yours now?” “Y... yes Miss Sally!” He stood straight, and she spotted a subtle tremor in his hands. “Turn around,” she said. He complied, and she swiftly applied the blindfold. “Now you stand right there while I get everything ready, and I'll be right back to collect you.” “Y... yes Miss Sally...” His nervousness was delicious, and Sally was quite certain he'd already made a mess in his underwear. No matter. The outfit rustled subtly as she pulled its hanger from the closet and hung it on the corner of her vanity. She opened a box she had tucked into the back of her closet several weeks ago, ripped loose the packaging on the first bag, and lay her hands across the items within, whispering the all important words: “The two become one, and the one becomes all, As pleasure combines with the irresistible call, Desires to merge, and barriers to fall. As above, so below.” And with that, Sally took one of these suddenly very magical objects and laid it along with a tin, a pump bottle, and a tube on her nightstand and went to retrieve her little slave boy. Mike had stood dutifully in the kitchen where she left him, blindfolded and nearly overcome with anticipation, fear, and excitement over what his Mistress had planned. And, contrary to Sally's thoughts, while he was painfully erect at the moment, he had managed to control himself, though with some difficulty. Standing perfectly still like this was helping, but the thoughts running through his head weren't. Sally in that stunning black and pink dress, smiling seductively at him. Oh, that he could have been strong enough to contain himself and won that bet, the things he'd have done with and to her. Of course, Mike didn't have it in him to be as severe as Sally, but still, he'd certainly have enjoyed her going down on him, a treat he hadn't experienced since before he moved in with her and became her full-time slave. He'd have her blindfolded and naked on the bed, tied to the posts, while he stroked and teased her with the flogger, whipping her into a frenzy. But he'd be in control. She'd be the one begging for release, for permission to orgasm, and he'd hold that power in his hands. “Little mikey, time to get dressed for the party,” came her seductive whisper in his ear, and he shuddered his way out of that delightful little fantasy. Her hand grasped his firmly, and he walked behind her as she led him back toward the bedroom. “Did someone make messes?” she cooed. “No Miss Sally,” he replied confidently. Oh, he'd come right to the edge, for sure, and it wouldn't be difficult for her to push him over it in the state he was in right now, but dammit, he'd controlled himself! “No?” she replied, genuinely surprised. “What a good little boy!” she cheered. Mike warmed with pride as Sally stood him at the foot of the bed. “Time for little mikey to get naked!” she chuckled. Mike quickly stripped, including his underwear, even more puzzled at what she had planned. “Little mikey loves Mommy's Lolly dress, doesn't he?” she whispered as she nudged him down onto the bed. “Yes Miss Sally,” he replied, confused at her new self-reference. Mommy? What's that about? “Of course he does,” she continued, grabbing the pump bottle of lotion and the tube of rash cream. “Lie still now, let Mommy take care of you.” Mike's eyes widened behind the blindfold as she worked the strange but familiar-smelling substances into his nether regions and around his thighs, then rolling him on his side and doing likewise with his bottom. His erection had weakened considerably in the confusion, more than a little fearful of all this sudden sensuality, and baffled by the smells he couldn't quite identify. The next thing he felt was a cooling sensation on his buttocks, followed by another very familiar smell wafting to his nose. By the time he heard the fateful rustling of plastic, the puzzle pieces began to fall into place, and panic shook him as he realized she was taping him into an incredibly thick disposable diaper which now was latched snugly around his middle. “Mommy, please, no more!” he cried out, invoking the safe words for the first time in months. “Uh-uh. Remember our bet, little mikey, no safe words tonight,” Sally cooed softly. “You're mine, to do with exactly as I please. Mommy needs her little baby to stay clean and not make messes everywhere tonight, so this is what the baby is going to wear. Understood?” Mike's face was red-hot with humiliation on a level he'd never imagined possible, and to his surprise, his erection returned with a violent vengeance. Terrified to move, he whimpered, “Yes Miss Sally.” “Nope. Tonight, my name is Mommy, and that is how you'll address me.” “Y... yes Mommy,” he stammered. “Good. Now for the rest of your costume! Stand up, baby.” Mike complied silently, trembling as the thick padding beneath him rustled in response. A much louder rustle came from the vanity, and his mind reeled at the possibilities. Sally grasped his leg and picked it up, causing him to nearly lose his balance, and plunked it in the middle of a huge amount of material. The other leg followed, and he began to realize that the mountain of satin she was sliding up his legs had no pants. Worse yet, it didn't stop at his waist. He was near tears as his arms were guided into the puffy short sleeves of what he now realized was a very elaborate dress, one that, as near as he could tell, ended just a few inches below the bottom of his... the diaper. She intended to take him out like this? He wobbled as his brain started to shut down from the stress of it all, and Sally caught him. “What's wrong, baby?” she cooed. “Miss.... Mommy... I don't...” he was afraid to answer. Would she punish him for complaining? Would she somehow make this even worse than it already was? “No safe words, no limits,” she whispered in his ear. “Mommy knows what little mikey wants, what he needs, and what he can handle. Tonight, little mikey is going to be little michelle, an adorable little baby girl who isn't potty trained. And Miss Sally is going to be Mommy, and we are going to be the absolute life of this Halloween party. Aren't we?” “Y... yes Mommy,” he whispered. “Good. Now it's time for Mommy to do little michelle's hair and makeup so she can be super adorable. And little michelle going to keep her eyes straight ahead until Mommy's all done, or else little michelle's going to have to be disciplined right before we go to the party, and little michelle doesn't want that, does she?” “No Mommy!” he said, much more assertively. His diaper rustled as he flinched, but it was just Sally taking his blindfold off. He faced the window, his eyes locked straight ahead, fighting with all his strength not to look down as Sally began to tug his hair this way and that, brushing and tying and humming merrily. He felt thin strips of cloth drape down his temples, teasing his imagination even further as Sally appeared in front of him with a makeup kit, dabbing on his cheeks, on his eyelids, and finally applying lip gloss to his trembling lips before she stepped back and smiled approvingly. “Hands out,” she insisted. He held his palms out to her, and she turned them over. He knew what she was about to do even before the powerful smell of nail polish wafted up to his nose. She was quick and efficient, hitting the nails with a blow dryer to speed the curing process before turning her attention to his feet, sliding long knee socks up his calves and buckling what thankfully were some sort of flats onto his feet. The anticipation was killing him, but his eyes stayed fixed on a tree outside the window, examining its twigs and branches and leaves as she worked. She popped up, looked him up and down, and smiled broadly. “Perfect!” she declared. “Little michelle ready to see how pretty she looks?” No, he wasn't. But he was. Desperate to see, but terrified. “Yes... Mommy,” he whimpered, trembling as she took his hand, stood him up, and walked him into the closet, turning him to face the full-length mirror. What he saw was horrifying, humiliating, and erotic beyond his wildest imagination. There stood a girl of not much more than nine, blond hair in adorable little pigtails tied up in pink ribbons that cascaded down just in front of her ears, with blushing pink cheeks, soft purple eye shadow, and candy pink lips, all of which perfectly coordinated against the pink satin romper that cascaded down her chest, with little purple teddy bears dancing along its hem, which landed just above her knee. The little girl in the mirror's bottom lip trembled as her eyes darted around, noticing all the subtle details of her outfit, from the puffy white sleeves of her blouse to the delicate pink bows on her knee socks and the bright brass buckle of her pink Mary Janes. And Mike's erection strained against his padding. Painfully. Agonizingly. The little girl in the mirror shifted uncomfortably, and her diaper rustled in response, but not as loud as her romper dress as it twirled subtly with each of his movements. “Aren't you the prettiest little thing?” Sally said as her face appeared next to the blushing little girl's face, Sally's hands clasping on her shoulders while Mike felt the weight of anvils drop onto his. The little girl's knees buckled a little, but she kept her feet. “Yes... Mommy...” the girl mouthed as the words escaped Mike's lips. “No no, tell me what you see, baby.” “I'm... a... pretty little girl, Mommy,” the girl said, in Mike's voice. “Yes you are. Oh, and look – even your little underwear is coordinated!” Sally reached down, and the little girl fidgeted as the front of her dress came up to reveal a huge pink diaper, with little silhouettes of princesses in dresses, purple and blue, with little purple and blue stars and hearts dancing between them. “Don't you love your new underwear, baby?” she whispered, pressing her hand against Mike's manhood and stroking up and down. The girl in the mirror bucked and strained at the touch, her mouth gaping subtly as her eyes widened and rolled back, and seconds later, Mike came. Almost immediately after the orgasm was over, to his horror, Mike peed uncontrollably. 4 Sally grinned widely as Mike's diaper first began to twitch and spasm, then slowly warm and swell. The spell had taken effect, but the real magic was just beginning. And, thanks to his delightfully thick and noisy underwear, Mike would be blissfully unaware of what was happening. “Oh my, did my baby girl have an accident?” she cooed. “Does she need her little diaper changed already?” Mike was still entirely too stunned to process the situation, and he automatically responded, “Y... yes Mommy!” His orgasm had been powerful, nearly mind-blowing, but as shocking as the loss of bladder control was, the sensation that accompanied it had eclipsed the ejaculation. He nearly passed out from the intensity of the feeling of hot urine pouring out of him, spilling down the front of his member, and being absorbed by the thirsty padding surrounding it, which swelled in response, heightening the pleasure. And now, confused, terrified, but overwhelmed with an endorphin rush like he'd never experienced before, those were about all the words he was capable of forming at this point. His legs wobbled as Sally led him out of the closet and back to the bed. “My goodness, isn't it lucky Mommy decided to get her baby girl new underwear for this party!” Sally scolded playfully as she gently pushed Mike back down onto the bed. “Your pretty new dress would be ruined, wouldn't it?” “Yes, Mommy,” came the meek, unsure reply. She flipped the skirt up and ripped the tapes loose as he lay there, limp as a ragdoll. “Oh my my my,” she said. “What a mess my baby girl has made! Maybe Mommy needs to get the cock ring tonight, or we'll be changing diapers all night long, huh?” “No Mommy!” he pleaded, panicked at the idea of having to wear that accursed thing. “Aw, it's okay, baby,” she soothed as she took a cool wet wipe and cleaned up his rapidly sagging penis, stifling a laugh as he shivered at the touch. “Mommy's not going to spoil your fun tonight, as long as you're a good little girl.” “I'll be good, Mommy! I promise!” Desperation had driven his voice to a near squeak, and it was a struggle for her not to burst into peals of laughter. “You'll be a good what?” she prodded. “I'll be a good baby girl!” “Alright, then. No nasty cock ring for my sweet little baby Michelle. Just a nice clean diaper to keep her little messes where they belong.” For Mike, this was just yet another round of conflicting feelings rolling into the raging storm within his mind. He hadn't even begun to process the fact that he was to be paraded about like this in front of God knew who, likely a large number of Sally's friends and associates. But the idea of spending the next seven or eight hours strapped in a cock ring while experiencing this previously unfathomable level of humiliation, knowing how excited he was already getting by it, was unconscionable. So there was relief as Sally changed his... the diaper, but the fact that it was being replaced by another just like it, one that he would have on at the party, one that was at great risk of being exposed, considering the length of this... oh god, this DRESS, this dress that looked like it belonged on a kindergartner going to her first fancy party... His thought pattern spiraled out of control once more, and his mind feebly grabbed hold of the only comfort available, that of the soft, dry padding Sally was now wrapping around his middle. Comfortable, soft, like a great big hug around his crotch. Clean. Dry. Comfortable... “Now, if you have to go potty again when we're at the party, Mommy expects you to ask, baby,” Sally's admonishment stunned him out of his thoughts again. “Just because you're wearing a diaper as part of your costume, doesn't mean Mommy wants to be changing wet and dirty diapers all night,” she added. Of course, that was exactly what she already knew she'd be doing, but he didn't need to know that. “Yes Mommy,” he mumbled. Mike was too much on autopilot, Sally decided. She needed to snap him back into the present. She sat him up and flipped the hem of his dress back down, spreading it across his thighs. “So, what does little michelle think of Mommy and baby's costumes?” she prodded. “I... I...” Mike could scarcely process the question, never mind answer. “Is Mommy pretty?” “Yes! Mommy's very pretty! I love your costume, Mommy!” “Is baby michelle pretty?” she asked slyly. “I... yes... I'm... pretty too, Mommy...” he offered with much less conviction. “Yes you are, baby,” she encouraged. “Do you like feeling pretty?” The noise in his head suddenly quieted on this singular question. Do I like this? “I... I don't know, Mommy...” Sally was determined. With an arm around his waist, she pulled him back to a stand and took him back to the mirror in the closet, standing beside him smartly. “What do you see, baby?” “I see...” Mike knew the answer, but forming the words was hard. Admitting it was hard. “I see a beautiful Mommy and...” he trailed off. “And?” “And an adorable little girl.” “That's you, baby. How does it feel to be an adorable little girl, with a pretty dress that matches her Mommy's dress, all ready to go to a party?” Indeed, the pink accents in Sal... Mommy's dress set off perfectly against Mike's bright and colorful outfit. He was adorable. He wasn't really Mike anymore, at least not where anyone could see, he was Michelle, an adorable little girl who just peed in her diaper and enjoyed it. And enjoyed her Mommy changing her diaper, and very much enjoyed being in a dry, clean diaper now. And he was positively terrified of what the evening held in store for him. But in this strange moment, in this brief calm amid the storm, he finally found an answer to this question. “I love you, Mommy. Thank you for my pretty party dress... and my pretty new underwear... and for cleaning up my messes for me...” “You're very, very welcome baby,” Sally said, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek, careful to avoid the heavy blush she applied earlier. “Mommy loves baby michelle too. And Mommy and baby michelle are going to have so much fun tonight! You just wait.” And at that moment, he knew his answer was the right one. 5 Two hours later, as Sally led him out to the Escalade, wobbly, slightly bow-legged, and back to being a nervous wreck, Mike wasn't so sure of that answer anymore. Sally touched up his makeup before they left, reassuring him the whole time that this was going to be the most fun Halloween party ever. But deep inside, he was quite sure that fun she spoke of would be had by others, at his expense, far more than he would be enjoying himself. Of course, Sally knew otherwise. Yes, her little pet was going to be humiliated tonight, but that was largely going to be his own doing. Between the magic she had woven and the plans she'd already made with other party-goers, little mikey was going to have the time of his life in between the blushing and the self-consciousness. And, Sally felt certain, little mikey was going to take rather well to being little michelle on a more permanent basis. “Wait... what are we doing here?!” Mike protested as they pulled up in front of the strip club. It wasn't long ago he'd been a regular here; the last thing he wanted was to be seen like this by people that might recognize him! “Relax, baby,” Sally chided. “It's a private party. Invite only. None of your little drunk friends from back then will be here, only our best customers, the girls, and us.” “But...” “Has Mommy ever harmed you, baby?” she cut him off swiftly. “No.” “You are going to have the time of your life tonight, baby, so long as you play the role your little costume is supposed to convey.” Truth be told, he felt like a scared little girl right now, vulnerable, afraid. “I... Yes Mommy...” he stammered. “Mommy's not going to let anything bad happen to you tonight, baby. I promise.” She turned his trembling chin to face her. “Do you believe me, baby?” “Y... yes Mommy...” “No you don't,” she scolded gently. “What has been the nature of our relationship up to this point, Michael?” Mike was stunned at this very sudden and very serious question. “You... you're the Domme, I'm the subbie,” he ventured. “It's much more than that, and you know it,” she replied curtly. “You're my Mistress, and I am your slave,” he admitted. “I live to serve you.” “Yes, and every step that we've taken together on that journey has involved me showing you secret desires you never knew you had, right?” “Yes...” “Tonight is a very special night, Michael. Not only are we dressing up in fancy clothes and going to a party, but the very nature of our relationship is different tonight. Tonight, instead of servicing my needs and desires and forgetting your own in exchange for my affection, I am taking care of your needs and desires. Tonight, in exchange for making yourself vulnerable, for willingly giving me control over every aspect of your being, you will want for nothing, and I will give you pleasure without pain, and I will show you more secrets in your heart that you didn't know were there, but I always have. “Do you remember what you saw in that mirror today?” she continued. “Yes... Miss... I mean... Mommy... I mean...” Mike was confused by the way Sally addressed him, but more overwhelmed by her words, the realization of how she had been treating him since she taped that first diaper around his middle. “What did you see, baby?” Sally said, leading him back where she wanted him to go. “I saw... a pretty little girl...” “You didn't see a man dressed up as a little girl?” “No... Mommy...” “That's right. And neither will anyone else at this party, so long as you be that little girl tonight. Be the little girl who needs her Mommy to do everything for her, and no one will ever know that little baby michelle is really little mikey, Miss Sally's slave boy. And just for tonight, Mommy will spoil her little girl rotten. How's that sound?” “I... I think I'd like that, Mommy,” he managed. Well, he liked the parts about Sally taking care of him, and he liked the idea of her spoiling him for a night anyway. Be the little girl in the mirror. It was a simple request. The little girl in the mirror was wearing thick diapers under her party dress because her Mommy didn't want her to have accidents and make messes. And she'd already had an accident and made a mess that evening. So clearly she needed them. Her Mommy was right. “I have one more thing to add to your little costume,” Sally said, reaching into her purse. “I think you'll find it very helpful to calm your little nerves and remind you to be that adorable little baby girl.” Out came a pacifier, with a white mouth guard and a powder-pink ring. Attached to the ring was a delicate-looking strip of lace, and on the other end of that strip was a pastel purple suspender clip. Mike blushed deeply, but didn't argue as Sally attached the clip to his collar, leaving the pacifier to dangle at his chest. “Now, when you feel scared, or nervous, or excited, or confused, you just suckle on that, and it will help you calm down. I promise. Right now, though, we don't want to muss up your pretty pink lipstick unless we absolutely have to, do we?” “No Mommy...” “Good girl. You sit right there and Mommy come get you, okay?” “Yes Mommy...” And with that, Sally exited the driver's side, swiftly came around to the passenger's, and, to Mike's surprise, hoisted him off the seat, plunking him on his feet next to her before closing the door. She grasped his hand and tossed the keys to the waiting valet, who chuckled a bit before climbing in and driving off. “Baby walk with Mommy, or shall I carry you?” she teased. “I'll walk, Mommy!” he squeaked. The bouncer at the door smiled broadly as he held it open for them. “Good evening, Miss Sally,” he boomed in a deep baritone voice. “And to you, Travis,” she replied, tucking a twenty into the pocket of his smart black button-up shirt. “Thank you, Ma'am,” he said as Sally led Mike through the door. She set an easy pace for him across the lobby, thankfully, but even so he found himself stumbling as he tried his best not to waddle in the thick undergarment, feeling very self-conscious as he and Sally were fawned over by the hostess. He recognized Jennifer immediately, recalling the fantasies he'd even had about her before Sally swooped into his life, and inside he worried that she remembered him as well, despite Sally introducing him as her cousin and assuring the striking beauty that “she” was indeed of legal age, despite the costume. The music from inside the bar was booming as Geoffrey stepped aside and opened the door for the pair, and Mike suddenly felt very lightheaded as they walked into the chaotic scene. His knees buckled, and the world began to spin. “Michelle? Are you okay?” Sally's worried voice rang in his ear. “I... I'm not sure... Mommy...” 6 “Healing thoughts sent in flight, bring the brightest of blessings this very night, Surround my child with healing light, As above, so below.” The words whispered through Mike's mind as he opened his eyes and found himself sitting on a couch just a few feet back from Pervert's Row. Sally sat to his left, an arm around his shoulder, her other hand on top of both of his, which were in his lap. To his right, another woman he didn't recognize, in an elaborate fairy costume complete with wings and a tiara atop her straw-colored hair, had her hand atop Sally's. A third woman, donning tiger stripes and painted-on whiskers across her ebony cheeks, was at his feet, her hand atop them all. These couldn't be dancers who worked here, unless they'd been hired in the six months or so since he became Sally's pet, since the last time he'd been in this building. “Well hello there, cutie-pie!” Sally cheered as he opened his eyes. Smiles and chuckles surrounded him as he began to get a grip on his surroundings. “Did someone get a little dizzy?” “Yes, Mommy,” he managed, which brought delighted squeals from the other two women. “Oh my god, you are just so freakishly adorable! I want one, Sally!” “Me too! Where on earth did you find her?!” “Hush, ladies, the poor thing is just getting her little bearings!” Sally scolded. “Michelle, I want you to meet my very special friends, Suzanna,” she paused, and the one directly in front of him offered a little wave, “and Rachelle.” The one to his right grasped his arm and gave it a squeeze. “They were very helpful when you had your little spill back there. Can you say hello?” “H... hello Suzanna... and Rachelle.... thank you... for helping my Mommy take care of me...” That resulted in another round of squeals, not to mention two hugs that seemed awfully close to inappropriate to Mike, both women pulling his head directly into their chests as they praised him for being such a polite little girl. Mike looked nervously at Sally, fearing some repercussion for such sexually forward behavior, but she seemed unfazed by it. Of course, he found himself with another erection as a result, and couldn't help but squirm a bit as the two women took their leave, flitting off into the crowd together laughing and joking. This was really the first chance Mike had to get a look at the crowd. The first thing he noticed was that the vast majority of them were female. There had to be a hundred or more people in here, and he could count the number of men that weren't employees on two hands! Some of them he recognized; he'd seen them on stage plenty, but most were complete strangers, with or without masks, in their elaborate costumes. A waitress appeared out of the midst of the crowd, a tall brunette in an absolutely perfect replica of a Playboy Bunny outfit. She greeted Sally with respect, but fawned all over Mike, just like the others had. “So what are we drinking?” she asked after she'd gotten a pinch on Mike's cheek, making him blush again. “Cosmo for me, Maker's and coke for this little cutie,” Sally replied, leaving Mike stunned. He hadn't drank bourbon since he was a regular here; at most he'd have a glass of wine with her when she allowed it. How did she know that was his usual? “Oh my goodness, what's a little angel like you doing drinking a big grown-up drink like that?!” the waitress chirped. “Sure you wouldn't rather have a Shirley Temple?” Mike shook his head with a cringe. “She's very fussy,” Sally offered, “and she's in the party mood tonight, isn't she?” Sally turned to him expectantly. “Yes Mommy,” he mumbled. Once upon a time, getting this much attention from so many beautiful women would put him straight over the moon, but dressed as he was, under the watchful eye of his Misstress... or... Mommy, he felt like he was under a microscope, and in the back of his head there was still a nagging voice that said they all knew, they all could tell that it was the grown man everyone knew as Mike underneath all these ruffles, and they all knew what he had on under the dress, too. Of course, Sally knew what was rattling around in Mike's head as well. But she had bigger plans in store, plans that necessitated getting a few stiff drinks in him, before the party could hit its... climax. Half an hour later, just after the waitress brought their second round, Mike finally seemed like he'd settled down a bit and at least gotten accustomed to the steady stream of party-goers greeting Sally and complementing them on their costumes, some more emphatically than others. It was time for the second act of this little play. She stood up and smiled down at him. “Alright, baby, Mommy has a little thing she needs to take care of. You be good girl while I'm gone?” Mike was horrified. “Wait, where are you going, Mommy?!” he whined. “The girls are going to dance for our VIP guests tonight, and I need to emcee for a little bit. I won't be gone long, I promise.” “But... what if I have to go to the bathroom?” he whisper-yelled, trying not to make a further spectacle of himself. “Oh don't worry. If you can't wait until Mommy gets back, she has spares in her purse,” She patted her large handbag sitting next to him on the bench, kissed his forehead, and strode off through the crowd, then reappeared climbing the back stares onto the tall podium, thirty feet above the floor below, a number of girls following after and lining up at the stairs leading down onto the lighted stage. Morbidly curious, Mike peeked into the bag. Sure enough, there at the bottom lay two huge diapers and a travel-pack of wipes. He closed it up quickly and very self-consciously tugged at the hem of his dress. He tried to close his legs, but the bulk between them was far too massive for that to be comfortable. Crossing them was no help either, so he sighed and took a sip of his drink, blushing fiercely as he looked around the room. “Ladies and gentlemen!” Sally boomed into a wireless microphone, and the crowd quieted. “I want to thank you all for coming to our quiet little get-together here tonight. Hope everyone's enjoying themselves!” A loud cheer erupted in response. “Wonderful! Well, of course, here at the Atlantis, it wouldn't be much of a party if we didn't have dancers, would it?” More rowdy approval from the crowd. “Then by all means, let's hear it for Mandy and Melissa!” Another cheer rose, and the twins he'd seen grace this stage so many times together strutted down the staircase in matching sea-blue two-pieces with feathered masks across their eyes. Whistles and catcalls rose up from Pervert's row as the two girls went into their well-rehearsed routine, and Mike, for the first time all night, managed to forget himself a little bit as he sipped his drink and stared at the beautiful bodies writhing in sync on the twin poles at center stage, then taking their turns attending to the dollar-waving men and women on Pervert's Row. Sally's watchful eye remained locked on her fidgety little charge as she called off several more acts, a parade of women strutting down to the stage, working through their various routines, collecting their tips, then exiting directly into the crowd to offer their attention to those who weren't close enough to get a proper show. She smiled as he went rigid when she called the next name, “Tiger Lilly!” Aiko, or “Tiger Lilly”, wasn't your average dancer, and while the crowd always found the Asian girls exotic and tipped them well, was hardly an average Asian girl. Tall, well-busted, and very toned, her acrobatic act on the pole was as big an attraction as her forceful dance routine, projecting her aggressive femininity that made the horny toad regulars melt in their seats. Of course, there was only one such “regular” in this crowd, and both Sally and Aiko were well aware of this fact. So while Mike trembled in his little dress and pigtails, Aiko locked her eyes on him during her entire set, save the few minutes she spent gathering up bills off the stage floor before exiting. Mike, meanwhile, was transfixed while Tiger Lilly danced. He felt those eyes burn a hole straight through his middle, this powerful woman who molested him so many nights at home in his bourbon-soaked fantasies. And then, as she strutted down the side-stairs off the stage, the unthinkable happened. He quickly realized, he wasn't just imagining Tiger Lilly staring at him, she really was, because she came straight for him once she hit the floor, in her leather bikini bottom, the top having been discarded during her routine, and her fishnets and knee-high boots. He trembled as she closed in and bent down to his eye level, a few tiny inches from his face. “Are you being a good little girl?” she asked him seductively. Mike mouthed a few things, but all that came out were gasps, so he nodded his head nervously, his erection raging inside his diaper. “I bet you'd rather be a naughty one, wouldn't you?” she asked, looking up and down his chest. Mike shook his head fiercely. “No? Then I guess I'll just have to be naughty by myself, huh?” A rapid nod. “Here, have your little binky, baby, while Tiger Lilly gets naughty on you,” she said, picking up the pacifier and tucking it into his mouth as she mounted his lap, shoving her ample breasts into his face as he suckled furiously on the nipple and whimpered both his appreciation for this attention and his fear of Sally's repercussions later. Her hips ground against his thighs, and she massaged his face with her tits first, then grabbed him fiercely by the chin and licked his forehead. “What a good little girl you are,” she whispered in his ear before licking it, which drove him half out of his mind. Without warning, she reached under his dress and, as he cried out in protest from behind his pacifier, grasped the front of his diaper and began to grind it up against him. He squealed as she pressed her tits back into his face, hot humiliation amplifying the intensity of her sexual aggression, but to his shock, she didn't back off, she didn't even seem phased at his underwear. “Wittle baby like it when I do that to her?” she asked, pressing the soft padding hard against his throbbing member and stroking it while her whole body moved in rhythm. If Mike hadn't just had an orgasm a couple hours ago, he would have probably had one immediately right then and there, if not sooner, but instead Tiger Lilly just worked him over, teasing and stroking and grinding and squeezing until finally it happened. Except something was very wrong. Last time, it seemed as though he started peeing as soon as he was done. This time, he wasn't even finished before the flow began, and it seemed to heighten his orgasm even further, causing his whole body to shudder as his diaper grew hot and swelled. He whimpered and squeaked behind the mouth guard, biting down hard on the nipple as Tiger Lilly whispered, “Guess you were a naughty little girl after all, weren't you? I knew you could do it. I'll see you later, pretty little baby girl.” And with that, Aiko dismounted him and left him there. Breathing heavy, with beads of sweat and Tiger Lilly spittle running in rivulets down his cheeks, Mike couldn't even begin to process all the things that were wrong with what just happened. He dropped the pacifier out of his mouth and drained the half-full drink sitting next to him, safe and sound in its little cup-holder, and his waitress appeared seemingly from nowhere to replace it with a full one. “Th... thank you...” he stammered, taking a sizable swig and setting it down. Sally, meanwhile, smiled from her perch on the scaffold and nodded approvingly. “Oh, little Michelle, the fun is just beginning for you, baby girl...” 7 Mike finally got his wits about him after another drink, and he returned his attention to the girls on stage, though he was far less engaged now, his diaper rapidly cooling and the stickiness from his orgasm still pressing against his skin, which was decidedly uncomfortable, powder and cream or no. He'd managed to get his dress back down before anyone had seen the diaper, or at least if they had, no one had taken any notice of it. The swollen mass between his legs pressed them even farther apart now, to where he had no choice but to spread them in a decidedly unladylike fashion. As a result, he found himself fidgeting with the hem of the dress quite regularly, pulling it down in his lap, praying no one could see the embarrassing underwear, especially now that it was wet. Meanwhile, Sally was drinking this all in with sadistic pleasure, watching the pitiful thing's eyes dart to and fro, making himself completely obvious with all his grabbing and pulling. She was so fixated, she had to continually remind herself to keep at least one eye on the girls so she didn't miss her timing on announcing the next one. By the time the waitress brought Mike his fourth drink a mere thirty minutes later, Sally decided he was ready for another round of something else. She whispered something to the tall, buxom blonde standing third in the line, then stepped out to announce her. Mike's eyes bulged as that name was called; Svetlanna, the Moscow Mistress as she was known, was a nearly burly woman, formerly a competitive weightlifter, though she had long stopped her bodybuilding routines in favor of allowing her once-ripped physique to soften a bit, presenting a well-chiseled but still feminine appearance. Most of her act was demonstrations of her strength, regularly and effortlessly dragging denizens of The Row up onto the stage to be used as her playthings during her act, climbing the pole and hoisting them up with her under their arms while she held on with her legs. Oh, and the girly boys all loved when she'd incorporate bodybuilding poses into her act. So did Mike. He used to dream of her having her way with him, pinning him to the bed, tossing him around like a rag doll while he helplessly submitted to her whims and demands. All those little fantasies came rushing back as the fierce blonde stormed out on stage and began her performance. It took a little doing to get Svetlanna here tonight, on account that she had moved across the country several months before, but for Sally it was worth every second of what was about to happen. The woman's routine was short and sweet, skipping over her usual drafting of volunteers, and when she exited the stage, she too made a beeline straight for the trembling sissy. Sally's only regret was that she didn't add a wireless mic to her little slave's costume so she could hear the exchanges. “Vat in the world is a dainty little girl like you doing in such a place?” Svetlanna demanded in Mike's ear as she straddled his lap, a fistful of his collar locked firmly between her fingers. “I... I...” Mike couldn't even form words at this point, his mind reeling as this incredibly powerful woman leered in his face. “I should take you over my knee for being such a naughty thing! But you'd like that, wouldn't you?” she growled low. Mike could only nod his head as he trembled under her grip. She shoved him back into the seat and slapped him across the face with her tits. The force of the blow took Mike by surprise, and he cringed a bit, even as his member, barely recovered from being molested by Tiger Lilly, jumped right back to attention. “Oh yes, you'd just love it if I took you right up on stage and spanked your naughty little bottom in front of all these people, wouldn't you? That'd be the thrill of your life, wouldn't it?” He shook his head fiercely in panic. No, the last thing he wanted was to show what by now had to be two hundred people his soggy, diapered bottom. “Vhat's wrong, naughty little girl? Are you worried someone might get a peek at your naughty little lady parts?” She pushed right past his trembling hands in his lap and made a grab between his legs, catching a squishy handful of plastic. “Oh, so you're vorried about everyone finding out what a little baby you are, is that it? And a very wet little baby from what I can tell. Perhaps Mama Svetlanna should take you to the back and change your soggy little diaper for you?” she sneered as Mike helplessly gaped, mouth wide open, trying to form words. “Vood you like that, little baby girl?” She began rhythmically pressing the sodden mass against Mike's raging erection as she continued, “Oh, yes, I'm sure you'd love for Mama to take your nasty diaper off and spank your naughty little bottom, wouldn't you?” She slapped his thigh hard enough to elicit a yelp. “Varm that little ass right up, make the baby cry, then put a clean diaper on her, maybe make her stand in the corner for a while. But first, I should take that dress right off you and take you up on stage, show everyone vut a nasty little baby girl you are. How'd you like that, baby?” Another fierce slap, but this time Mike's head was swimming as he neared yet another climax as she continued to grind the padding forcefully against him. His breath came in staccato gasps as she leaned in and bit his ear lobe. “That's it, baby. Make Mama a big mess in your filthy little diaper. Go ahead. Do it. Come for Mama,” she chanted low. And Mike did exactly as he was instructed. Except... Mike would have looked down if he hadn't been pinned to the back of the bench by this hulking beauty, because between his legs, something bizarre was happening. What he felt was the intensely pleasurable sensations of an orgasm, but all that was coming out of him was hot urine, first in spurts, then in a steady flow, warming the sodden mass right back up. “Vut a nasty, nasty little baby you are,” Svetlanna sneered. She lightly slapped his cheek as he gasped for air. “Pissing in your little diaper while Mama tries to play vit you. Horrible, nasty little girl. You just wait, Mama will be back, to give you exactly vut you deserve, little brat.” She slapped him again, harder, then dismounted him and stalked away, leaving him in a heap on the bench, dazed, confused, drained, and humiliated, with his dress hiked up more than enough to show off his swollen plastic underwear to any passer-by who cared to look. Realizing this last part rather suddenly, Mike scrambled back into the most modest sitting position he could muster, pulling his skirt down and draining the last of his drink in hopes of steadying his fraying nerves. The booze was definitely getting to his head, but at this point, all he could do was pray Sally would get back here soon, take him into the back somewhere, and get him out of this disgusting diaper. Dear God, what would she do when she saw this much piss? She might force him to wear these things longer than the duration of this party! Worse, with the messes he'd made, she might put that horrible cock ring back on him as well! He shuddered at how angry Sally typically became when he came without permission. No, whatever reaction she had to his spew all over himself would surely be far worse. She'd thrash him for that, and there wouldn't be any aftercare at all. Self-pity rose up in him as he accepted another drink unbidden from the waitress, dreading another night in the cage, probably more, unable to get comfortable on account of the welts he'd have on his backside. Of course, Sally already knew what she'd be finding in that diaper. In fact, she knew more than he did. But let him squirm. Let him fear her wrath. Anticipation is half the fun, after all. She focused on finishing up the stage act, stealing occasional glances at him twisting around on the bench vainly trying to get comfortable with an inner tube full of his own piss wrapped between his legs, knowing the apex of little Michelle's coming-out party was yet to arrive. And oh, when it did, it would be something for all involved to remember. But all that had to wait, sadly. And so Sally focused on trotting the girls out there, one after another. Forty minutes later, the first set was over. And act two of the transformation could now proceed. The last girl left the stage to go troll for lap dance tips, which were surprisingly easy to come by; the women in attendance seemed to enjoy this sort of attention every bit as much as the scattered few men. Sally confidently strolled down the same stairs, smiling and waving and shaking hands as she exited the stage on the side opposite from Mike, content to let him stew in his own juices for a bit longer while she greeted guests and hobnobbed. She worked her way patiently around the perimeter before sidling up next to the still-blushing little whelp with a smile. She could see in his eyes that he was either outright drunk or not far from it. Perfect. Disinhibition would make things move just that much smoother. “And did my baby girl behave herself while Mommy was gone?” she chirped. He nodded. “Yes Mommy,” he offered weakly. She feigned surprise. “Are you sure? You sure are acting like a little girl who got into trouble. Do we need to go potty?” He blushed deeper, and his head dropped further. “No Mommy.” She leaned in tight and whispered, “Does that mean we need a diaper change?” “Y... yes Mommy.” She drank deeply of his humiliation, savoring his agony at this admission. But she wanted more. “Then someone needs to ask Mommy nicely, unless that someone wants to sit in a wet diaper all night.” Her whisper was seductive, but with a subtle edge of menace, just enough to spur him into action. He looked up at her with pain in his eyes, but her face remained steely. “I... I mean... M... Mo... Mommy...” he choked on the words, and she had to fight hard to suppress her smile. “What is it, baby?” she said firmly. “W... will... you... pl... please... change my... d... di... diaper Mommy?” Glorious. Even all the booze he'd soaked up couldn't stop tears from forming in his eyes. “Oh, don't cry, baby girl,” she cooed, wiping them away with a flick of her thumb, “Mommy get you all cleaned up in a jiffy. Let's see if we can find someplace nice and quiet.” She grabbed her purse, latched onto his arm, and nearly jerked him to a stand. “Keep your chin up, baby, unless you want everyone to figure out what we're doing,” she admonished as she led him through the crowd into one of the private dance rooms. “Now lie down, sweetie,” she instructed. He was very, very slow and deliberate, bouncing his eyes between her and the floor, and she knew why, but she doubted he was ready to admit it. “Unless we don't want a diaper change after all?” “I do Mommy!” he said quickly, dropping to the ground and lying back, eyes averted from her. She pulled the wipes, powder, and one of the spare diapers from her purse, reveling in his fear. He flinched as she ripped each of the tapes loose and pulled it down. He had certainly made a mess of himself, but she had to work at putting on a facade of shock. “You weren't a good girl at all, were you?!” she snapped, swatting him hard on the thigh. “I'm sorry Mommy! The... the girls... they just came over and...” he begged. “Oh sure, blame it all on the other little girls at the party!” she cut him off. “Dirty little thing! I ought to get my strap!” “Please don't, Mommy!” he groveled. “I'm sorry!” He covered his face with his forearms, cowering. Another sharp swat to the thigh. “You should be sorry! Any other night of the year, I'd have you out there on the cross in just your nasty little diaper and a ball gag! Be lucky it's Halloween, little girl!” Sally was struggling not to laugh at this point as she quickly wiped down his now even smaller penis, paying special attention to the tiny, newly formed slit behind his tiny balls, which triggered a gasp from him and brought what was left of his dick to attention. She swatted his thigh again. “Nasty little thing, you think Mommy's here to tickle your dirty little pee parts?!” “No Mommy!” he yelped back, quivering. The erection subsided as quickly as it arrived, meekly disappearing into what now looked like the genitalia of a grade-school boy, certainly not a grown man. She quickly finished the job, powdering him thoroughly and taping him up, tossing his used one in the trash casually. She softened her tone then, grabbing his arms and pulling him into her lap. “It's alright, baby girl, Mommy knows how hard it is to be good all the time,” she whispered, rocking him and patting his bottom loudly and obviously. “Aren't you glad Mommy made you wear diapers to the party?” “Yes... Mommy...” he muttered. And truly, after all that happened, Mike was grateful. He was even more grateful to be in a dry, clean one now, but he was confused at how erratic Sally seemed to be behaving. At first he was sure she was going to savage him. Now she was suddenly all gentle again. His booze-addled brain couldn't process her moods, not that he was any better at it sober, so he dismissed the thoughts and just soaked up the attention. “Of course you are. Now, Mommy has to go and pay the girls, baby. Would you like to go back out and sit on the bench, or stay in here where it's safe and quiet?” “Could I stay here?” he asked hopefully. With the girls prowling around out there, and as forward as they seemed to be tonight, despite him not even having cash to tip with, the idea of accidentally crossing Sally again was downright terrifying. “Of course you can, baby. Why don't you go sit in the nice comfy chair and wait for Mommy to get back so we can go have fun together?” As Mike quickly scrambled into the plush chair in the corner of the room, Sally packed the supplies back into her purse and stood up. “Now be good girl while Mommy's gone, okay? I'll send the nice waitress to get you another drink.” “Yes Mommy,” he said confidently, “I'll be good!” I'm sure you will, Sally thought to herself as she strode out the door. Too bad there are so many naughty girls here who won't. 8 Outside, Sally waved to the waitress, who nodded her acknowledgment and turned back to the bartender. She made her down to the dancers' dressing room. Of course, Svetlanna and Aiko were there, chatting, and they both brightened when Sally entered. “Everything will be ready shortly; he's in number four,” she said, grinning subtly. The two women nodded and returned her smile, and Sally flitted through to her office for another, more important meeting. Mike sat in the plush chair, drinking his I-forgot-th Maker's and Coke, relieved to be away from the plying eyes out there, away from people who might see, might recognize him, might know that there was a man under this dress and diaper. For half an hour, the only person he interacted with was the waitress, and to her credit, she was damned attentive, bringing him two more drinks while he sat there, half trying to gather himself, half trying to inebriate himself to the point where he no longer cared. The latter half was winning this battle, for certain. In fact, he was getting quite comfortable in the soft cushions, sinking deeper, forgetting his modesty, when the door burst open, shocking him into a rigid stance, his knees pulled together as far as he could get them, what with the bulk of the (thankfully now dry) diaper between his legs. In walked Tiger Lilly, a seductive smile on her face, with Svetlanna directly behind, both clad in skin-tight leather one-piece bikinis and tall boots to match. What was left of his feeble penis stood straight at attention as they marched in. “Oh look,” Tiger purred, “It's the naughty little babygirl I left in a puddle tonight. Did your mommy come and change your little diaper for you, baby?” “I... I mean... Uh...” Mike stammered, but Tiger didn't wait for an answer, darting straight over to him, lifting his dress, and slowly running her hand up and down his crotch, eliciting a loud crinkle from there and a series of gasps from him. “Oooooh, you're all cleaned up, aren't you, baby?” “Zho vee can make her all messy again,” Svetlanna mocked as she approached, grabbing Mike by the chin. “Dirty little zhing, she'd much rather be naughty and messy, vouldn't she?” “N... n....” was all he could manage. Sally had been kind the last time she'd seen the aftermath of these two in his diaper, but certainly she'd be furious if it happened again! His protests were interrupted rapidly by Svetlanna's lips on his own, and her tongue in his mouth as Tiger continued to stroke the front of his diaper. He could do little other than squeak as Tiger's hand worked her magic, pressing the soft fabric against his tiny but very stiff and sensitive member. Svetlanna finally released him from her kiss and licked her lips. “Naughty little zhing, you don't need kisses, you need spankings, don't you?” Without waiting for a response, she shoved her chest into his face, straddling his lap as Tiger backed off. “Hey, I was having fun there!” Tiger protested as Svetlanna easily manipulated poor Mike's head around with the slick leather corset. “Ve don't vant zhe babygirl to go filling her little diaper back up right avay, do ve?” She trapped Mike's face and, as if for emphasis, flopped it back and forth as he moaned and squealed underneath. “Zat's right, little girl, tell the big bad tiger that she has to be patient!” “I'm... mmmmf... thirsty!” Mike managed, desperately trying to find a way to back the two dominating women off him for a minute and collect his scattering, increasingly drunken thoughts. “You are?!” Svetlanna cooed. “Vell here, baby, drink up your little drink!” She grabbed his cup from its holder in the chair arm and roughly pushed it to his lips, tipping it up quickly. Mike tried to gulp it down as fast as she poured, but he helplessly choked, horrified as his neck and the collar of the dress got soaked. “Look at zhis messy baby, spilling her drink all over herself!” the Russian woman spat as she jumped off his lap. “She needs a bib!” “Well of course she does, trying to drink out of a big-girl cup like that!” Tiger scolded. “Poor baby! Svetlanna, go find the waitress and tell her to bring us a washcloth so we can clean her up!” “Fine, zhen!” Svetlanna sulked. “Both of you better behave yourselves while I'm gone, or zere vill be trouble!” With that, she stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. From Mike's perspective, even as bewildered and intoxicated as he was, he was also pretty certain trouble was already here. If Sally walked in on this mayhem, god only knew how many nights he'd be spending in the cage with a backside full of welts. He didn't have long to dwell on that thought, though. “Now that mean old Svet's gone, Mama Tiger can take care of you proper,” the towering Japanese woman cooed, sliding into the chair and pulling Mike into her lap. “I... Tiger... I...” he stammered. “Shush you,” she interrupted, shoving his face into her breast and holding it there as her free hand found its way back under his dress. “Mama take good care of the baby girl now.” He squeaked and moaned helplessly as she massaged the front of his diaper. “There, isn't that nice?” After what seemed like an eternity of Tiger's teasing, a knock on the door gave Mike a breath of air. “We're a little busy in here!” Tiger sang. “Special delivery!” It was the waitress. “Oh, come on in, then!” The waitress came in, but to Mike's horror, she carried a pink baby bottle with a huge, oversized nipple attached on her tray, along with the requested washcloth. “Maker's and Coke for the baby!” “Oh thank you so much!” Tiger cooed, taking the washcloth. The waitress offered a curtsy as she grabbed the remains of Mike's last drink, depositing the bottle in the cup holder and sashaying back out of the room. Tiger unbuttoned the front of his dress and slowly and seductively ran the warm washcloth from his chin down to his hairless chest and back. “Tiger... please...” he begged, squirming at the stimulating sensations. “Oh yes, Mama Tiger knows, baby girl is thirsty!” She tossed the rag aside, snatching the baby bottle up and tucking it into his mouth as he protested incoherently. “Uh-uh, drink it all up, baby!” she scolded. Mike had no other option, really, what with the nipple steadily leaking into the back of his throat. God, if Sally saw him in Tiger Lilly's lap; drunk or not, he needed to get this over with. He sucked furiously on the huge nipple, gulping the drink down as fast as he could, while Tiger offered encouragement. He was nearly finished when the door suddenly burst open, and he squeaked, shutting his eyes in terror. To his surprise, however, Mike didn't hear Sally's familiar voice. Instead, it was Svet's booming voice, “So, I leave for five minutes and here you are spoiling the little brat?” “Aw, she was just thirsty, weren't you, you adorable little thing?” said Tiger, popping the now-empty bottle out of his mouth and showing it to Svet. “Vell good, at least she von't be making any messes on the change of clothes I brought for her,” said Svet. “I'm sure Brianna vould be quite upset if you spilled your drink all over the pretty dress she vas nice enough to let you borrow for the rest of the evening!” Mike lay there, mouth agape, as Svet produced a spaghetti-strap pink satin babydoll. “Now, let's get her out of that soggy thing before her Mommy sees what a mess she made!” And then Tiger turned on him. Begging, pleading, and squirming, Mike desperately protested as the two women restrained him and removed the Lolly dress, leaving him in nothing but the pink diaper on his waist. His head was swimming now, though what was left of his penis was fully erect, creating a tiny but very obvious tent in the front. “Well will you look at this, Svet?!” Tiger cackled, stroking the front of Mike's diaper while pinning him against the wall. “This little girl has parts she's not supposed to!” “And she's missing some parts too!” Svet added. “Look at that pathetic chest!” “Please...” he begged. “I don't... I can't...” “Shut up, sissy boy!” Svet cut him off, forcefully shoving the discarded pacifier into his mouth and giving him a solid slap on the cheek. Tiger backed off just long enough for Svet to pull the teddy over his head and push his arms between the straps. She slid in behind him, and Tiger wrapped herself around his front, staring fiercely into his eyes as the two of them began to grind on him, his still fully exposed diaper crinkling away as he squeaked incoherently into his pacifier. “That's it, baby,” Tiger whispered as his breathing quickened, “make a nice mess in your little diaper for Mommy!” Her hand clenched around his member while Svet reached under to stroke behind his sack. Then it all happened at once. His bladder let loose as he reached climax, and his legs went to jelly, collapsing backward onto Svet. Meanwhile, the door burst open, and in walked Sally, a wry grin on her face. As the pacifier fell away from his face, the room began to spin, and he dropped to the floor, still peeing as the scene began to fade to black. The last thing he saw was Sally's smiling face above him. “Looks like my little girl got good and naughty tonight, huh?” 9 Ere the dawn of the morning sun Let past and future become one This Samhain's mischief ne'er to be undone As above, so below Mike awoke with a pounding headache, the sunlight boring into his squinting eyes like a power drill. What a bizarre dream that was! Sally, Tiger Lilly, Svetlanna, and those other two women... what were their names?! They were standing over him in a circle and chanting as he helplessly wet his... diaper? And then the part where he grew breasts and a vagina! Then Sally carried him into the house and changed him, then put him in a... His hand reached out and touched wooden bars, and panic filled him. He must still be dreaming... right?! Both hands came to his chest and touched soft satin, which covered two small but very sensitive mounds of flesh. His eyes shot open, and he started to sit up. A rustle at his groin, and the feeling of plastic between his thighs filled him with horror. Then his bladder began to empty, accompanied by a powerful tingling sensation that sent shivers through him. He couldn't even concentrate to try and stop the flow of moist heat spreading throughout his crotch area. Now he was fully awake, headache or no, and his eyes were wide as saucers as they darted around, trying to process the scene before him. He was sitting in what had to be every bit of a six-foot-tall crib, painted a soft pastel pink. He still had on that pink babydoll from last night's party, the pacifier still attached and dangling from the collar, not to mention a now very swollen pink diaper underneath. The room itself looked vaguely like Sally's parlor, only all the furniture he used to clean on a twice-weekly basis was gone, replaced by a giant changing table with a small staircase next to it, this crib, an armoire, and a mysterious lidded wooden box, all painted the same pastel pink as the crib. “Miss Sally!” he shrieked, terrified and confused. “Miss Sally, where are you?!” Footfalls, getting closer. The door burst open. “Well good morning, little mikey!” Sally was grinning ear to ear. “Looks like someone needs a change!” “I... I don't want to wear diapers!” he said, forgetting himself for a moment. “What's happening?!” “Oh mikey, you've said that every morning since you lost your bladder control,” Sally replied as she strode toward the crib. Strange memories began to fill his head, memories of wetting his pants, of doctors saying things like “nerve damage” and “urinary sphincter” and “atrophy”. But how?! “But Miss Sally, I'm a...” “Mikey, I'm tired of telling you, you're not allowed to call me that anymore! What is my name?!” Sally threw her hands on her hips and stood back from the bars. More recall, now of Sally demanding that he call her Mommy since she had to change his diapers for him like a little sissy baby. Of Sally fucking him with a double-dildo while he lay face down on a puppy pad, pissing all over himself as he climaxed. “I'm... sorry... Mommy.” “That's better. Now, would you to come out and get your diaper changed and get dressed, or are you going to sit in there and pitch a fit?” “I... I want to come out... Mommy...” “That's much better, little sissy boy.” Sally stepped forward again, and Mike heard a motor whir as the bars began to slide down, collapsing to about a foot above the mattress. She reached out her arms, and he waddled forward on his knees and fell into them. She hoisted him out and onto his feet, and he knew what was expected next. “But I used to be a man, Mommy. What happened? When did I grow breasts?!” “My goodness, did you get bonked on the head at the party last night? You've always been a hermie, mikey. It was only after you had to start wearing diapers again that you started embracing your sissy baby side. I thought it was adorable, so I went along with it. Don't you remember us picking out this furniture for you, shopping for toys to fill your toybox and pretty little dresses and rompers for your closet?” Strange images filled his head. He helped her paint all this stuff! They picked outfits at some Lolita store online! What was it called? Angelic something... He remembered filling the toybox with stuffed animals, and a dollhouse, and... None of it made sense, but the memories were there, as clear as if they happened yesterday... Or last night... - End -
  11. Slowly, you begin to wake up, feeling groggy. Your bed feels... different. Softer. In your tired state you can't tell exactly what it is, but something isn't right. It feels like your blankets bunched up between your legs, and you can't get your knees together. Something is definitely wrong. Maybe you are still dreaming? You have an odd taste in your mouth. It feels like something is sitting between your lips. You try to spit it out, but can't. You reach over to take it out... but your arm won't move. With a start, you realized your hand is tied. You open your eyes in shock, but in the dim light you can't see much. This isn't your room. Your eyes begin to adjust and you see more and more. You are surrounded by bars... are you in a cage? You try wiggling around, kicking off the blankets. What the hell are you wearing? You are dressed in a pink, footed onesie. Around your waist you see a buldge. With horror, you realize that you are wearing a diaper. This isn't a cage, its a crib! The lights flicker on, blinding you momentarily. "Ahhh I see the baby girl is awake. Did you sleep well honey?" a strange voice asks. You look toward the voice to see a tall women standing in the doorway. She has long brown hair that falls over thick shoulders and arms. Clear blue eyes look at you with compassion. She is holding a baby bottle. A BIG baby bottle. Big enough for you, even. You try to ask what is going on, but can't speak through what you now realize is a pacifier, tied behind your head. Getting a better look at your outfit, you notice cartoon princesses covering your onsie, and "Diapered Princess" written across the chest. Your hands are locked in finger less gloves, rendering them useless, and you can feel a frilly bonnet on your head and tied under you chin. You are dressed like a one year old girl. A nearby mirror reveals the words "Messy Diaper Butt" written on the flap of the onesie. "Awww don't worry baby. Just let mommy check your diaper and we can untie you for breakfast. That sound nice? Just promise not to be a bad baby, or you will get a spanking." The women tells you, standing over you. She reaches down to open the flap on your onsie, revealing a thick, infantile diaper with "Baby" written across the front in pink. "Looks like someones dry!" She says, pinching your cheek, "Good baby! Keep this up and maybe one day we can begin potty training... In a year or so..." At this point your surprise and fear turns to anger. How can this woman humiliate you like this? You try to struggle against her as she unties your arms and lifts you up but to know avail. Your moments turn into uncoordinated squirming, and you realize you have little control over your limbs. A hard smack on your diaper stops you completely. "Now now, if I'm gonna untie you you have to be a good baby. Try that again and I'll give you a real spanking. OK?" You stop the pointless squirming. How can you be so weak? What the hell is going on. The woman sits you in a high chair, strapping you in place. The diaper crinkles underneath you as you wiggle on the seat, wondering what is going on. The padding feels like a cushion underneath you, but serves as a constant humiliating reminder of your diapered state. Even worse, you are seated right in front of a window facing a street and another row of houses. You recognize the neighborhood as one near your own home. What if someone sees you? A bowl of unidentifiable mush sits in front of you, along with the bottle she was carrying earlier. She doesn't intend to feed you this, does she? In answer to the question, she unties something behind your head and removes the pacifier. You try to speak, to ask what is going on, but she quickly spoons mush into your mouth. "Open up for the airplane! Vroommm vrooom!" She says as she forces the sweet goo down your throat. You gag and choke it back, forced to eat by her constant shoveling. Finally you can take it no more. "Wai! Wha goin on?" With horror you realize that is your own voice. A high pitched squeal, with words lisped and barely formed. What had happened to you? "NO! No more foo! Stop oo F---ing b----!" "What! How dare you? Is that how babies talk? Come here!" The woman pulls you out of the high chair and grabs you by the wrist.You scream curses as you are forced to waddle behind her, your thick diaper making walking normally impossible. She pulls you down the hallway and into a bathroom. Once there, she forces open your mouth and sticks a bar of soap into it. The bitter soap instantly fills your mouth with suds, and you try to spit it out, only to have it replaced. "Alright, listen. You are going to learn to be a good baby whether you like it or not. Now I am going to spank you 20 times. If you drop the soap, we restart." She couldn't be serious...! A spanking? At your age? You spit out the bar again. "Oo can't pank me! I am..." You only get that far when her hand smacks the back of your diaper. Even through the padding, it stings. "I told you to keep the soap in your mouth! BAD BABY!" the woman says as she replaces the soap and begins to rain down smacks upon your bottom. SPANK 1... SPANK 2... SPANK 3... You struggle to keep the mouth in as she counts out the blows. You are forced to suck on it, swallowing the suds as you do. Your bottom gets sorer and sorer. She is nearing the end. SPANK 19... SPANK 20. "Good baby!" She sits you on her lap, and takes out the soap. "Will you be a good baby for mommy from now on?" "Wes I sowwy! I be a goo baby!" "Good, now lets get you back in your high chair while I clean your dishes, then we can play with your toys." She pops the pacifier back in your mouth and carries you to the kitchen. You can still taste soap. She sits you in the chair. You struggle to get comfortable on the hard seat. Even through the padding, your sore bottom stings whenever you put weight on it. For once, you are grateful for the diaper. Suddenly you realize you may need the diaper for something else. Your bladder is extremely full, aching for release. Even worse, you can feel your stomach rumbling. If you don't think fast, soon you will be in a very uncomfortable diaper. "uhhh... mama?" you ask, trying to sound as childish as possible to get on her good side. "Yes baby?" "I has do go potty" you inform her, blushing. Surely she can't mean you to use the diaper. "Well that's what your diaper is for silly! Anyway, I am working here, so you won't be let down for a while. I will change you when I'm done" "No! Pwease don make me!" You cry, seeing you please ignored. You squirm back and forth, trying to press your knees together. The padding between your legs isn't helping much. You can't... But it is getting harder and harder to hold it in. Those muscle relaxants really are taking there toll! Perhaps you could wet, but she wouldn't force you to MESS yourself, would she? At least you could keep that dignity. Hoping to meet her half way, you let go of your bladder. Instantly you hear a hissing noise as you feel you diaper become soaked. The diaper inflates around you. Soon you are sitting in a warm, wet, puddle. You blush furiously. How could she make you do that!?! Pissing yourself like a toddler... What the hell was going on? Even worse, you can feel the pressure building in your gut. There is no way it could get this bad that quickly! She must have put something in the mush... Soon your diaper will be full of something much worse then pee. You squirm miserably in your wet diaper, wishing the pressure would disappear. Desperate, you call to the woman again "Mommy! Pwease, I wet me di di! I needs a change." "Don't be silly! I told you I can't change you yet. Your diaper can hold more then a little pee. Don't you know what it says on your onesie?" "buh I.. buh... I needs to go da other way." You finally say it, horrified about what her response will be. "Now I am getting sick of you complaining! You are wearing a diaper for one reason and one reason only." "Buh... pwease don make me!" "No buts!" The woman walks over and stands next to you, hand reaching down to feel your diaper. With her standing over you like this, hands on her side and her eyes glaring, you can't help but feel intimidated. "You are going to use this diaper and you are going to use it properly." The pressure builds in your gut, and to your embarrassment you let out a loud fart. "Haha! I knew you would be needing those diapers soon! Now, fill it up like a good boy, or its another spanking." You look pleadingly up at her. She can't make you do this! But she doesn't budge. "I'm counting... one..." What is she counting too? "twoo..." "Eeeep!" With a horrified squeak, your resolve breaks. You start pushing against he back seat of your diaper. Grunting, you can feel something coming out. Suddenly, a massive load explodes into the thick padding. A gooey mess forms around your butt, caking you. It keeps coming out until your diaper is completely full. Defeated, you sit back down into your own mess, hearing it squish underneath you as you do. "Good girl! Now play with this until I can change you." She hands you a large brown teddy bear and walks away. You hold the bear in front of yourself, not certain what to do with it. Instead, you shift your weight back and forth, trying to get comfortable in your own mess. The smell is horrible! It almost makes you gag every time you breath in. The pacifier filling your mouth makes it difficult to breath through your mouth, and you are forced to smell the rotten stench. The humiliation over the entire situation is even worse. You can still see people walking down the road in front of the window. A few even turn to glance at you. Why is this happening to you? Finn ally you can bear it no longer. You have to know! "Mommy?" "Yes baby?" "Wha's goin on? Why am Is here?" The woman sighs and stops cleaning. "Alright, I was going to tell you this later, but... You are being treated. Recently, your friends and family have noticed you getting too...rowdy. You were getting drunk every night and starting fights. Though this isn't a problem if it happens rarely, with you it got worse and worse. Were you aware you were about to fail out of school?" You shake your head. It hadn't gotten that bad, had it? "After a psychological evaluation, it was decided you needed to restart. We gave you drugs to weaken your limbs so you can't fight back. I am going to re raise you as a baby. You can still see your friends, but only when they are willing to babysit. If you go back to school next year, you will be in diapers, and hopefully much better behaved. Don't bother trying to argue, it has been done, and your family agreed. Alright?" Your eyes tear up. How... how could they do this too you? The woman walks over. "Awww, don't cry. Its not that bad. Just play along with us, don't fight, and you will be out of here before you know it. Here, play with teddy, he will make you happier." You hug the teddy bear against your face. The softness is surprisingly comforting. "There's a good baby. Now just wait a bit longer. I will change you, and we can go to the mall so you can visit the toy store. Would you like that?" The thought of leaving the house in a diaper is horrifying, but you realize there is no escape. You nod, sucking on your pacifier as you do, accepting the life of a baby girl.
  12. Humping the Chair Arm

    From the album Pottpanties the Diapered Sissy Baby

    Diapered sissy is so horney!
  13. Diapered Sissy

  14. Diapered Poof Bunny

  15. The position

    From the album Me

    Still looking for that 24/7 thing.
  16. There was a great flash like lightening, and heat filled the room. He felt himself burning and woke in panic, not understanding what was going on. All around him was piercing noise, sirens slowly twisting into screams. His breath was cut off. In the noise he wasn’t sure if his calls for help were going unanswered or simply never left his mouth. He was in the air, moving without will as he was crushed against a mass of rough brown cloth. Screams still followed, distant and barely audible under a moaning, lurching sound, but piercing into his ears and his mind none the less, and going answered. He was outside. He felt the ground under his body. The cold air cut into him after the intense heat and he fell shuddering. The screaming continued, but morphed into a moaning, crashing sound, and stopped. Noise filled the gap. People were crying. Sirens wailed. The screaming remained inside him, echoing in his mind, and mixing with the ice cold wind. Something wrapped around him and he was warm again, and he hoped to never feel that cold again. He was in another place. The cold was gone, but the screaming remained. It was a different sort, a deeper, thicker, rougher shout, but still there, and he shuddered. Steven awoke in a cold sweat. The alarm was going off, screeching for his attention. He hit the button. He would have to get that sound changed.He got undressed and headed into the shower. He turned on the nozzle, and the heat came with a loud hiss… Burning, screaming… He shook his head and removed the thoughts. He blanked them out, turning his mind to other things. He had to get up. He had to get dressed. He had his job to do and a random nightmare was no excuse not to.He got clean as quickly as he could, dried off, and got dressed. His typical black suit and tie, along with permanently polished shoes and watch. He grabbed his long coat to go with it, and headed down stairs to the kitchen. Breakfast was already waiting for him. He thanked his maid and moved out the door.He got in a car - this one was a red sports car, for every second day of the work week- and turned the ignition, preparing himself for the noise. He had paid more than enough for it, and as the salesman said “if it doesn’t wake the neighbors, its not doing its job.” He never really enjoyed it too much, but it was almost expected to own something similar where he worked. He could drive in something cheaper. No one would really say anything. They would think it, though.The engine came alive and roared loudly… Crashing, moaning…“DAMINT!” he shouted. He thought he had gotten rid of those images. Years of hard work and secretive therapy sessions should have ensured it.He could call in sick. No one would say anything, of course. He was allowed to.They would all think it though. Just like the car. His boss was on his fifteenth year without a break. His step father had gone the full 35 years before his age granted him the leniency for sick days.He cursed, and drove off.He arrived at the office twenty-five minutes early, or, as he called it, ‘late’. He walked through the long grey hallways dotted with cubical and water coolers and made his way to his office. He passed by people he knew by name and department and flashed polite, empty smiles. He opened the door and went in. He had a large, lightly decorated office with a massive desk, a garbage can and a window whose blinds he kept perpetually closed. People started drifting into the building, chatting around his office. He concentrated on his work, but the noise built until finally had to slam his door shut.The time drifted by in odd bursts and lulls. He didn’t pay it much mind, he had work to do, and wouldn’t leave until it was done.A loud screeching noise made him jump.Screaming, shouting…He looked down at his phone and lifted the receiver.“Hello is this the Henry Berran Brokers?” a shrill voice asked.“Yes, this is Mergers and Acquisitions,” he replied.“Excellent. Do you know…”Something was happening outside. People were speaking, loudly.“if that is true, should we…”He took out a pen and began copying down what she told him.The voices were getting louder. Through the closed door, he couldn’t make out what they were saying.“And then I’ll need…”He made out the sound of his senior, Michael McNaughton. He began to shout at someone. He was always shouting.Shouting, screaming…“large tubes of..”He was getting louder and louder. He could picture him, red faced…Burning, steaming…Shouting louder, louder…Screaming, calling…“place it inside…”Someone was crying.Crying, moaning…“it may hurt a bit…”He was throwing things, tearing them apart.Moaning, crashing… The last remains of sunlight cut through the blinds, hurting his eyes.Burning, cutting“But I think we are ready…”Steven shouted and through his phone from his desk. It crashed into the wall opposite of him. He stared at it, breathing heavily.Finally he ran up to it again and picked it up. The women was still speaking.“Hello? What was that? It sounded like a crash!” she said.“Sorry, I, uhh… dropped my phone,” he replied.“Alright. Well is there anything else you need to know?”“No, that is fine,” Steven said. He was sure he had everything he needed in his notes.“Aright, well, goodbye! Thanks for everything.”“No, thank you.” He hung up the phone.He stared down at his notepad. Gibberish, completely illegible.He tried to remember any detail of the call. Her name, where she worked… nothing came to mind.He tore the piece of paper from his notebook and threw it into the trash bin. Hopefully it wasn’t anything important. He thought about calling back the same number, but it would probably only lead to a directory, and that was useless without knowing the department which called.He looked at his watch. It was late, most people were probably clearing the office. Never the less, he sat back down at his desk and kept working. There was still work to do, and leaving too early would always look bad.When he finally finished it was dark. The air was cold,Cold air, howling wind… and he pulled his jacket against it. He got into his car and began to drive away.He watched the road as closely as he could. The images from the dream kept coming back, and he shook them out of his mind.He turned the radio on, hoping it would help him clear the images out.He didn’t know the station. It seemed good enough at first, people talking calmly. They were announcing a new song. It came on gently, with a moment of silence. There was a voice whispering something, getting louder, and louder..Suddenly the singer was screamingScreaming, shoutingThe guitar came blasting randomly, pouring out notes faster and faster.Moaning, burning…The drums pounded.Crashing, falling. Screaming, shouting Falling, biting Burning, chocking, Flashing, cutting Howling, whining He screamed and fumbled at the radio. He looked down to turn the nob, and didn’t notice the light changing in front of him. He sped through, and a truck smashed into the side of his vehicle.…Steven woke up again, this time to gentle singing. He had no idea where he was. He was surrounded by warmth, and felt cushions piled around him. Everything was soft and silken, from the voice to the blankets. He sank into them and wished he could go back to sleep. He hadn’t felt this way in as long as he could remember.Finally he opened his eyes completely, and saw a white tiled roof he did not recognize. He sat up completely. He looked down at himself. He seemed to be fine. He didn’t seem to be injured and couldn’t feel pain anywhere. He was wearing long white pajamas. They weren’t his own, but they were comfortable and fit perfectly. The room he was in was painted a golden hue, and had wall to wall carpeting.There was a women sitting on a chair in front of him. She had been the one singing, and stopped when he saw her.“What is going on? Where am I?” he asked.“Don’t worry about that right now. You are safe,” she replied, in a voice as soft as the cushions.“But I need to contact someone. I need to get back to work, I…” he stopped as she shushed him and put a finger on his lips.“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. Don’t even think about work. It will all be alright. You are with us now, and we are going to take care of you. We will take care of everything you’ll ever need, and everything you could ever want. All you have to do is trust us.”Despite their strangeness, he felt a calm reassurance at her words. He realized he really did trust her. He nodded, and smiled. (If anyone is wondering, there is going to be ABDL material later. The story just needed some set up. So don't worry your pampered butts :p)
  17. Hi I'm a sissy sub from Germany and I love being dominated. Since I can't do this all the time I also love role playing. So if you want to role play submissive sissy who will do anything you say. We can talk about interests in chat and of course there are things i like more than others but you can do with me almost whatever you want and I won't stop you.
  18. At the beginning of the summer I made a few simple rules for myself about pushing my sissy baby side while exercising, and it's been so much fun I feel like I have to share this with everyone. The rules are: I have to go on at least 3 long runs per week, outside (along the east river in NYC) Under my normal workout clothes, I need to be diapered with some form of panties covering I need some kind of toy in me (vibrator/plug/dildo) I started with the easiest options I had, a single disposable under a discrete thong, and a little 4" jelly plug, and while it was virtually unnoticeable, I was so self-conscious, thrilled, humiliated, and loving it the entire time. I've since been pushing it a little more on each run, trying different combinations of clothes and toys, and forcing myself to do little embarrassing things along the way. Last night was probably the furthest I've taken it. I wore a double disposable diaper with pink tie-side bikini bottoms, and an 11" jelly vibrator in. Well mostly in. It doesn't fit all the way, so pokes out a few inches. This was under white running shorts, and then a regular shirt, but halfway through the run, I made myself pull the ties over the edge of the shorts, so I had two pink bows and dangly strings coming out at the hips. That was probably more than I ever thought I would do in public, but even so, I'm craving pushing this further. So I'll keep posting updates on all the little things I try, but if anyone wants to make me do something as part of it, I'm totally at your will. I love manipulating games and punishments so can't wait to have some fun with everyone! I don't have all that many sissy baby things, but there are the options: Diapers: Disposables (Always max absorbancy)Panties: 2 lacey pink thongs 1 tie-side bikini bottom (and padded top I should add) A medium vibrating plug A very large vibrator thats just too big and uncomfortable to run with ive found And an even longer jelly plug, but because its soft and flexible it isnt as painful. but still not great So excited for the next one!
  19. dpr2.jpg

    From the album Britney

    My first of hopefully many pics. I was dry in these :)