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Idea: The story starts in a bit of an unusual strip club, that might as well be a mixed dance hall for shall we say sexual balls as well. Monday trough Fridays it serves as a normal strip club but Saturdays and Sundays are special ball nights. on these nights workers as well as attending guests gets to dance with the clubs special attractions. these special attractions, are living sex dolls. One night during a ball a guest is lured away, by her doll partner, a very gorgeous asian woman sex doll. The doll makes the woman a deal, that it knows that´ she's secretly cheating with everyone she knows. Jumping from partner to partner, as she pretty much treats em as disposable toys. If the woman agrees to become the doll´s permanent partner and sexslave outside of ball nights she won't be exposed. but should the woman ever break their deal in anyway, everything will be spilled I'm thinking the story starts the day before the Saturday ball, and friday Gose with the strip club staff spending day hours, doing check ups on the dolls and making sure they function properly. it then Gose into the ball night, where everything starts out well, until the doll lures the woman away to talk then the enslavement would begin. Starting off we'd play as various staff members, including the boss as the preparations are being made on the ball night I would take the role of the woman approached by the sex doll. if a RP like this has interest, feel free to message me and we can talk it over.

Short Synopsis / Teaser A powerful man discovers that surrender can be more intoxicating than control. David has built his life on authority—career, marriage, reputation—but beneath the surface lies a quiet fracture he can no longer ignore. When his wife Carolyn introduces a solution that promises comfort, relief, and stability, David finds himself pulled into a carefully guided transformation where shame, desire, and devotion intertwine. As routines become rituals and comfort turns into identity, David slowly gives way to Daisy—a softer, smaller self shaped by dependency, feminization, and the intoxicating relief of letting go. What begins as a private coping mechanism evolves into something far more consuming, testing the boundaries of love, power, consent, and selfhood. The Making of a Sissy Baby Cuckold is a slow-burn psychological descent into erotic surrender, where intimacy is redefined, control is inverted, and the line between nurture and manipulation blurs until it disappears entirely. Author’s Note / Content Warning Author’s Note While I used the assistance of AI to fully develop this story, it is mainly my own work of fiction aided by AI to help bring in background information and streamline the writing and ideas. Hence, I am posting in this section rather than the main storyboard location. This story explores intense psychological and erotic themes centered on power exchange, identity erosion, and consensual (but morally complex) manipulation within an adult relationship. It is intended for mature readers who are comfortable engaging with dark, transformative fantasies that challenge conventional ideas of masculinity, autonomy, and desire. Content Warning This work contains adult-only material (18+), including but not limited to: BDSM and power-exchange dynamics Erotic humiliation and degradation Adult infantilization (ABDL themes) Feminization and gender role transformation Psychological conditioning and hypnosis themes Sexual denial, dependency, and cuckoldry Unequal power dynamics within a marriage Emotional manipulation presented as consensual fantasy All characters are consenting adults, and no minors are involved. Readers who may find these themes disturbing, triggering, or objectionable are strongly advised to skip this work. This story is a work of fiction designed to explore taboo fantasies and psychological descent—not to advocate or normalize real-world coercion or harm. I am also attaching a PDF file of the story here The Making of a Sissy Baby Cuckold (©Daveaby 2026) Prologue (October 21, 2025, 1:30 a.m.) The nursery glowed a soft, merciless pink. A locking crib dominated the room—adult-sized, glossy white rails rising like prison bars. Inside, a 48-year-old man lay on his back, thick pink diaper printed with princesses already swollen and sagging heavily between his spread thighs. The plastic backing had warmed to his skin hours ago; every small shift produced a faint, wet squish that echoed in the quiet. Daisy—no longer David, not tonight—wore a short, frilly nightie in baby-pink chiffon that barely skimmed the diaper’s waistband. Satin booties encased his feet; a massive ribbon bow sat crooked in his thinning curls. His hands were sealed inside padded locking mittens, thumbs useless, wrists and ankles tethered to the crib rails in soft padded leather restraints. Between his lips bobbed a penis-shaped pacifier, secured by a ribbon so he could never spit it out. Worst—or best—of all was the baby monitor. Reversed. The receiver sat on the dresser beside the crib; the transmitter lived in the master bedroom down the hall. From it poured the unmistakable sounds of his wife—his Mommy—being thoroughly, gloriously fucked. Moans, gasps, the rhythmic creak of their old bed, Marcus’s low growls of possession. Carolyn’s voice, raw and desperate in a way Daisy had never heard directed at him: “Yes… God, yes… harder…” Daisy’s tiny clitty strained uselessly against the soaked gel, tenting the front of the diaper in a pathetic bulge the restraints wouldn’t let him touch. Tears slipped silently into the satin pillowcase. Morning—and whatever mercy or torment Carolyn chose to grant—was still hours away. This was the life he had begged for. This was the life he could never leave. Chapter 1: The First Wet Night Carolyn was forty-three, tall, auburn-haired, and still turning heads at the country club. Ten years of marriage to David had not dulled her beauty, but it had dulled everything else. David—forty-four, senior partner at a downtown law firm, broad-shouldered once upon a time—had let the courtroom stress and the after-work bourbon settle around his middle. His once-confident baritone now carried a slight wheeze after two drinks, and in bed he lasted less than two minutes on a good night. Carolyn had stopped counting the nights she lay awake beside him, thighs clenched in frustration, pretending to sleep so he wouldn’t paw at her again. She loved the house, the cars, the vacations, the platinum card with no limit. Divorce would mean losing all of it, and worse—gossip, loneliness, starting over. Affairs were out of the question; David had an airtight pre-nuptial agreement and friends in every judge’s chamber in the county. She needed a solution that kept the money and destroyed the problem at the same time. That solution arrived in the shape of her oldest friend, Linda. Linda was a clinical psychiatrist and hypnotherapist with a discreet practice on the north side of the city. Petite, dark-haired, always dressed in flowing black, she possessed a calm, almost amused authority that made people obey before they realized they had decided to. On Saturday they sat on Carolyn’s sun-drenched patio—Linda with a glass of rosé, Carolyn with tall glasses of peach iced tea (she never touched alcohol)—and Carolyn poured out her misery. “I’m dying inside, Linda. I need real sex, and I need to not feel guilty about it. But I can’t leave him and I can’t cheat without destroying everything.” Linda listened, swirling her glass, then smiled like someone unveiling a gift. “There’s another way,” she said. “I’ve seen it work. We take away the man he thinks he is. We make him small. Dependent. Grateful. We put him back in diapers, turn his tiny premature ejaculations into something he can only feel when he’s padded and helpless. And once he’s hooked on that helplessness, he will give you permission—out loud—to take a real man. He’ll beg for it eventually. I’ve read the case studies.” Carolyn’s pulse hammered. “You’re serious.” “Completely. I’ll handle the hypnosis. You just play the loving, heartbroken wife who’s trying to help with his ‘little problem.’ He’ll never suspect. The suggestions take time to root—days, sometimes a week or two. Be patient.” They shook hands like business partners. Three nights later Linda arrived for what David thought was a casual dinner. David liked Linda—she flattered him, kept his bourbon coming, and laughed at his war stories. But, since last year, he was always a little nervous when Linda was around as well. By ten he was loose, laughing a bit too loud, and bragging about a case he’d just won. Carolyn watched Linda’s fingers move—a subtle circle on the stem of her glass, a soft hum under the music. David’s eyelids sagged. His head nodded. “David,” Linda said gently, “look at my pendant.” The silver chain appeared between her fingers as if by magic. David’s gaze locked on it. Thirty seconds later his chin rested on his chest, breathing slow and deep. Carolyn’s heart hammered as Linda leaned close to her husband’s ear. “David, every night when you’re asleep and you feel the need to urinate, you will simply relax and let it flow. You will not wake up. You will not remember this instruction. You will feel safe and warm as you wet the bed. And whenever you hear me say the words ‘lawyer’s rest,’ you will return to this deep, obedient state instantly. Do you understand?” A low “Yes” rumbled from his throat. “Good boy.” Linda snapped her fingers. David blinked, straightened, and reached for his bourbon as if nothing had happened. That night Carolyn barely slept. Guilt gnawed at her—what kind of wife agreed to this? She almost called Linda at 2 a.m. to beg her to come back and undo it. But anticipation won. She lay awake, imagining David small and grateful, imagining herself finally, truly satisfied. Yet even as excitement overrode her doubts, a whisper lingered: Was this truly helping him, or just reshaping him for her own needs? The hypnosis felt like a shortcut—clever, but was it fair? She pushed it down, focusing on the vision of a grateful, dependent David, but the unease seeded deep. Morning came. The bed was dry. Carolyn felt a confusing rush of relief and disappointment. Maybe it hadn’t worked. Maybe the whole idea was foolish. She almost laughed at herself for believing in hypnosis. The next night: still dry. And the next. By the end of the week, she had convinced herself nothing would happen. Linda had been wrong. They would find another way—or no way at all. Then, nine nights after the dinner, David woke at dawn to the clammy reek of urine-soaked sheets. He shot upright, heart pounding. The bed was drenched. He hadn’t wet the bed since he was eleven years old—those humiliating childhood years he had buried deep. Terror flooded him. He stripped the sheets in a panic, started the washer on hot, and showered until his skin was raw. Too much bourbon the night before, he told himself. That had to be it. He cut out alcohol entirely the next night, avoided liquids after eight, even set an alarm to get up and pee at 3 a.m. like he used to do as a kid. It happened again. And again. By the third consecutive morning of soaked sheets, David was shaking. He made an appointment with his urologist, endured the tests, the questions, the humiliation of explaining adult-onset bedwetting to a doctor who had known him for twenty years. The tests were thorough and humiliating: urine samples, blood work, a prostate exam that left him red-faced and sore. The urologist, a no-nonsense man in his sixties, listened with a furrowed brow. "Sudden onset enuresis in adults is rare," he said, "but we'll rule out the big things—infection, diabetes, neurological issues." David nodded, gripping the exam table, his mind flashing unbidden to the thought of needing to wear diapers, the strange mix of shame and... something else. No, he pushed the thought away. This was medical, not whatever twisted corner of his brain was trying to make it otherwise. As they drove home in silence, Carolyn glanced at David, his face etched with worry. The plan was working—too well, perhaps. Linda's suggestions were burrowing deep, but what if he discovered the truth? The ethical twinge returned: manipulating his mind, even for 'his own good,' felt like a betrayal. But seeing him small and reliant stirred something powerful in her—control, yes, but also a twisted care. She silenced the doubt; happiness awaited, for both of them. Results came back two days later: negative across the board. No infections, no tumors, no blockages. "Physically, you're fine," the doctor said over the phone. "Could be psychological—stress from work, maybe? Consider seeing a therapist. In the meantime, protection at night isn't a bad idea until it resolves. Adult diapers work fine." David hung up, staring at his office wall. Fine? How could he be fine when he was wetting the bed like a child every night? That afternoon he drove to a large, impersonal medical supply store on the edge of town—one he’d never been to, far from anyone who might recognize him. The aisles smelled of plastic and antiseptic. Most of the adult briefs were plain white or beige, clinical and anonymous. But tucked on the lower shelves, mixed in with the maximum-absorbency tab-style briefs, were a few options that made his stomach flip: subtle blue or green waistbands, faint star patterns, even a few with tiny teddy-bear prints along the landing zone—nothing overtly childish, just enough “cute” to feel wrong in an adult man’s cart. He stared at the printed ones longer than he should have. A distant memory flickered—something from college, something he’d buried deep—and heat rushed to his face. No. He grabbed two cases of the thickest plain white overnight briefs instead, paid quickly, and hid them in the trunk until Carolyn was at the club. That evening he told her about the doctor visit, voice tight with shame. “They said protection at night. Until it stops.” Carolyn’s eyes widened with sympathy she didn’t have to fake. “You mean… diapers?” He flushed crimson. “Yeah. Just for sleeping.” She touched his arm. “Let me help you the first time. I want to make sure they fit right.” He wanted to argue, to tape it on alone and pretend it wasn’t happening. But her tone left no room. In their bedroom he lay back like a child while she slid the thick padding under him, powdered him slowly, and taped it snug. The bulk forced his thighs apart; the crinkle was deafening in the quiet room. “There,” she whispered, patting the front. “My big strong lawyer, safe and dry.” He couldn’t meet her eyes. That night he lay rigid, listening to every rustle. At some point he drifted off. When he woke at dawn, the sheets were pristine. The diaper was not. Heavy, sagging, warm, it clung to him like a second skin. He reached down with a trembling hand and felt the sodden weight. A strange, liquid shame coursed through him—followed by a pulse of something darker, something almost like relief. In the bathroom mirror he caught a glimpse of himself: forty-four years old, successful, rich, powerful—and standing in a soaked diaper. Behind him, Carolyn leaned in the doorway, smiling softly. “Good morning, baby,” she said. “See? Problem solved.” And somewhere deep in David’s mind, a tiny voice whispered that this was only the beginning. Chapter 2: Learning to Love the Warmth Linda came over on a quiet Thursday afternoon while David was still at the office. She and Carolyn sat at the kitchen island with herbal tea and spoke in low, conspiratorial voices. “The trick,” Linda explained, “is to wire his pleasure directly to the diaper itself. Every morning, he wakes up wet and ashamed. That shame is fertile ground. You give him the only orgasm he’s allowed, and you give it to him while he’s soaked. After a week the association will be ironclad. The wetter the diaper, the harder he’ll get. The diaper becomes the source of his relief, not you. That’s when the real power shift happens.” Carolyn’s cheeks flushed with something between excitement and cruelty. “And he’ll never suspect?” “He’ll think it’s his idea. Men like David always do.” Friday morning was the first test. David’s alarm never went off; Carolyn had silenced it the night before. At seven-fifteen he stirred, felt the familiar heavy sag between his legs, and felt his erection growing from the feeling of it. The room was bright. Carolyn was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching him with soft, affectionate eyes. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she murmured, sliding her hand under the covers. David’s breath caught as her palm settled on the swollen front of his overnight diaper. The padding was hot, squishy, and reeked faintly of urine and baby powder. He started to pull away—instinct, pride—but her fingers pressed gently, possessively. “Shh. Poor baby was all wet again. Let me take care of that little problem for you.” His cock was already stiffening against the sodden gel before she even began. Carolyn began a slow, deliberate massage—squeezing the thick padding around him, rubbing in lazy circles. The slick warmth squelched with every stroke. David groaned in helpless pleasure. “Carolyn, I—” “It’s okay,” she whispered, cutting him off. “Just relax and enjoy it.” She worked him mercilessly slowly, dragging it out until his hips twitched involuntarily. The diaper made crinkling and wet noises. Every time he tried to form a protest; he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to cum in the wet diaper in front of his wife, but it felt so good. He came with a strangled cry, pulsing hard into the already-soaked padding. The fresh warmth spread against his skin and he shuddered with shame so complete it felt like ecstasy. Afterward he lay panting, staring at the ceiling while Carolyn kissed his forehead like he was five years old. The routine locked in over the next six mornings. Alarm off. Hand on diaper. Slow, humiliating hand job through layers of swollen, urine-heavy gel. Each orgasm left him more dazed, more grateful, more convinced that the only place he was allowed to feel like a man anymore was inside his pee-soaked diapers. Then came the Wednesday when Carolyn simply rolled over and reached for her phone. David woke wet, erect, and waiting. Minutes crawled by. Nothing. The ache in his groin became a throb. He shifted, making the diaper crinkle loudly, hoping she’d notice. She scrolled, smiling at something on the screen. Finally, he couldn’t stand it. “Carolyn?” “Mmm?” “I… I need…” His voice cracked. “Need what, honey?” He swallowed. The words felt like gravel. “I need you to… take care of me. Like you have been.” She lowered the phone, all innocent concern. “Take care of you how?” His face flushed pink. “Please. Touch me. In the diaper. Please stroke my… my cock through the wet diaper until I cum. I need it so bad.” Carolyn let him dangle for a long, merciless moment. “Only because you asked so nicely, baby.” Chapter 3: The Morning Routine Evolves David stirred in the dim light of dawn, the weight of the soaked diaper between his legs a familiar, insistent reminder of the night before. His body ached with need—the kind that had become as routine as his morning coffee over the past few weeks. He glanced at the clock: 6:15 a.m. Work loomed, but so did his craving for the relief Carolyn had been granting him each morning, her hands firm and teasing through the damp padding until he shattered under her touch. It was humiliating, yes, but it had woven itself into the fabric of his desires, making the start of each day feel like a secret ritual. Beside him, Carolyn lay still, her breathing deep and even. He didn't want to wake her—she looked so peaceful; her dark hair fanned across the pillow. But the pressure built, both in his bladder and lower, urging him to act. "Carolyn," he whispered, his voice light, testing. No response. She didn't even twitch. He hesitated, chewing his lip. The shame of asking outright warred with the pulsing want. He shifted slightly; the crinkle of the diaper louder than he intended in the quiet room. "Carolyn," he said again, a little louder this time. She stirred, rolling over with a soft groan. Her eyes fluttered open just a sliver, sleepy and annoyed. "What is it, David?" He felt his face flush, the words sticking in his throat. "I... I need my morning treatment. Please?" For a moment, she just stared at him, then sighed and turned away, pulling the covers up. "I'm still half-asleep. Why don't you just take care of it yourself?" Her voice was muffled, dismissive, as if it were the most natural suggestion in the world. She nestled deeper into the pillow, her back to him, signaling the conversation was over. David lay there, stunned. Take care of it himself? In bed, next to her? The idea sent a wave of heat through him—equal parts arousal and mortification. He'd never masturbated in their shared bed before, not with her right there. And in a wet diaper? It felt too exposed, too pathetic. What if she heard? What if she judged him even more? But the need gnawed at him, amplified by the soggy warmth pressing against his skin. He couldn't ignore it. Quietly, he slipped out of bed, the diaper sagging heavily as he padded to the bathroom. He closed the door with a soft click, locking it for good measure, though the house was empty otherwise. Standing in front of the mirror, he stared at his reflection: tousled hair, tired eyes, and the unmistakable bulge of the diaper under his pajama pants. His hand trembled as he reached down, not removing it—not yet. The fabric was slick and warm from the night's use, and as he began to stroke through the layers, the shame twisted into something sharper, more intoxicating. His breaths came quicker, ragged, until release washed over him in shuddering waves, soaking the diaper further with his own sticky warmth. Panting, he peeled it off, disposed of it discreetly, and stepped into the shower. The hot water washed away the evidence, but not the lingering buzz in his veins. By the time he was dressed in his work slacks and button-down, he felt almost normal again—ready to face the day, if a little unsteady. Later that morning, after David had kissed her goodbye and left for the office, Carolyn sat at the kitchen table with her phone in hand. She dialed Linda, her best friend and confidante, the one who'd been guiding her through this twisted little plan from the start. "Linda? You won't believe how well it's going," Carolyn said, her voice laced with excitement as she sipped her coffee. "Tell me everything," Linda replied, her tone eager, like a coach reviewing game footage. Carolyn recounted the morning in detail: how she'd pretended to be deeper in sleep than she was, how she'd casually suggested he handle it himself, and how he'd hesitated before slipping into the bathroom. "I could hear him through the door—the crinkling, the moans. He did it right there in his wet diaper. Didn't even take it off first." Linda laughed, a satisfied sound. "Perfect. It's working exactly like we planned. He's associating those orgasms with the wet diapers now—craving them together. Let him start handling it most of the time on his own. But when he's been especially thoughtful or sweet—maybe he brings you flowers unprompted or takes care of dinner without asking—then you step in. Do it for him, and make sure to praise him: 'That was so nice of you to do XYZ, baby. Mommy's going to take good care of you now.' Tie the special treatment not just to the diaper, but to how well he treats you. He'll start bending over backward to earn it." Carolyn nodded to herself, a smile spreading. "You're a genius, Linda. I can already see it changing him." Several weeks passed in a blur of subtle shifts. David found himself going out of his way more and more—surprising Carolyn with her favorite takeout after a long day, massaging her feet without being asked, even planning a spontaneous weekend getaway just because she mentioned wanting a break. Each act of kindness felt amplified, laced with the hope of her touch in the mornings when he least expected it. One afternoon, Carolyn met Linda for lunch at their favorite café, the sun filtering through the windows as they picked at salads. "It's incredible," Carolyn said, leaning in. "David's been so nice lately—pleasant, attentive, going out of his way to be thoughtful. He even remembered the anniversary of our first date and set up this whole romantic dinner at home. I haven't seen him this sweet in years." Linda grinned, clinking her glass against Carolyn's. "See? The conditioning is sinking in. He's linking his rewards to pleasing you, and the diapers are the hook that keeps him coming back. Everything's falling into place perfectly." Carolyn's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "So, what's next? It feels like we're ready for the next step." Linda leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, we are. Time to introduce a little more... need." Chapter 4: Daytime Desires That night Linda returned. David was dozing on the couch after too much bourbon when she leaned over him. “Lawyer’s rest.” His head lolled instantly. Linda’s voice was silk. “David, you love wearing diapers. You feel relaxed, safe and happy in them. You will feel an overwhelming need to be in diapers all the time. Not just at night. You will want to wear them during the day as well. You will ask—beg if necessary—your wife to put you in diapers during the day. You will want to be in a diaper at all times. If she hesitates, you will convince her to diaper you. You will beg until she agrees. And you will feel deep relief when she does.” Snap. Sunday morning, after another "relief" in his soaked overnight diaper, the thought crept in again: What if I wore one during the day? Just to relax. The idea startled him—he pushed it away, face heating. No. That's too much. How could I explain it, he thought. She’ll think I'm some freak or weirdo if I asked. But the hypnosis amplified the pull—the memory of the soft crinkle, the secure hug around his waist, the way it muffled everything else. Wearing the diapers at night is just practical, he told himself. Until this bedwetting stops. I can’t ask her to put me in one during the day, he thought. But with each day, the hypnosis worked deeper, chipping away at his resistance. At work, during depositions, he’d shift in his chair and remember the crinkle of the diaper, the soft bulk hugging his groin. It was humiliating, but... there was something else. A comfort? No, that couldn’t be right. He was David, the shark lawyer, not the pervert who enjoyed wearing diapers, not someone who liked the feel of the bulge against his skin. Not someone who yearned to hear the crinkling of his diapers when he moved. Yet in quiet moments, he caught himself pressing a hand to his crotch under the desk, wishing to hear the faint rustle, the padded security. But the thought of being diapered during the day lingered, popping up during quiet moments at work the next week. In a meeting, shifting in his chair, he'd imagine the soft bulk hugging him. Comforting. Safe. He shook it off. Focus on the case. But it kept coming back, unbidden, like a whisper he couldn't quite silence. By Friday the urge was stronger. He almost mentioned it to Carolyn over dinner—casually, like it was no big deal. But the words stuck in his throat. He decided against it, but the thought nagged all weekend. Days turned into a week. The idea grew roots. Wearing one after work, just for a while. To unwind. I wouldn’t have to use it or have her play with me. Just... the feel. He fought it—Carolyn would lose respect for him; she would never understand. I'm a successful lawyer. She accepts the night time diapers because I need to wear them, that wasn’t a choice. But not this. This would be his choice and how could he hope to keep her respect if he asked? But it crept back during drives, during lunches, during nights in his wet diaper. Until the thought of going without them made him anxious, like stepping out without pants. Finally, four weeks after the first whisper, he couldn't hold it anymore. With a glass of bourbon in his hand, voice casual but heart pounding, he said, "You know, the diapers actually feel soft and comfortable. I was thinking maybe I could wear one after work for a while, just every now and then." Carolyn set her glass down, a flicker of relief crossing her face—she had all but given up hope after weeks of no change, confiding in Linda during their sessions that nothing seemed to be happening. Linda had reassured her each time: "It takes time. The roots are there; they'll grow." Linda had returned several times during those four weeks, planting subtle reinforcements under the guise of casual dinners. Carolyn folded her arms, pretending reluctance. “Honey, that seems a little extreme.” Panic set in for David. He knew he needed to explain. He was prepared for this, just in case. He had been wrestling with this for weeks. He had put together an argument to justify his request and hoped it would explain it without him sounding like a demented pervert. In full lawyer mode, he began his argument. “I think they would help me relax and take away some of the stress I’m feeling. You know how much is riding on that big Pharma case I’m handling. It’s causing a lot of stress. I can’t do anything about that, but if I could just relax a little more sometimes when I’m not working, maybe it will help. It could even help stop my nighttime problem. I never had that before this case. The doctor said stress could be the cause. Trying anything that might relieve some of the stress and get things back to normal is just the responsible thing to do.” Carolyn considered him for a moment, then said, “Just wear it? You're not planning to... pee in them during the day, are you?” The question caught him off guard—that's exactly what he secretly craved, but her tone made it sound absurd, wrong. He couldn’t pull off another save on that one, so he lied quickly, cheeks burning. “No, no. Just wear them and enjoy the way they feel. Nothing else.” She considered him for a moment, then said, “I guess we could try it sometime if you really want to.” He agreed, relief and embarrassment mixing. Days passed. He obsessed—when to ask? How? The Pharma case ramped up, depositions looming, but the thought of that after-work ritual consumed his quiet moments. Finally, on a Saturday morning Carolyn brought him to a shuddering, humiliating orgasm in his overnight diaper, cooing the entire time about what a thoughtful little boy he had been that week. When the last spurt soaked into the padding, David’s mouth opened before his brain could stop it. “Carolyn… please don’t take it off yet.” She raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, you have to shower and—” “No, I mean… after I shower, could you put me in another one. Keep me in diapers all day.” The words tumbled out in a rush, his ego recoiling even as he spoke. She smiled softly and said, “Okay, if that’s what you want.” When he came out of the shower, he saw that Carolyn had laid out a fresh diaper. He got on the bed, laying back on top of the diaper. His face aflame as she powdered him lavishly and pulled the diaper up into place and taped it snugly on him. The bulk forced his thighs apart; the crinkle was louder than he remembered. “There,” she said, patting the front. “My relaxed little man.” All day he waddled around the house in sweatpants, the diaper a constant, soothing presence. He mowed the lawn (careful not to bend too far), grilled lunch, watched a football game. No wetting. No “play.” Just the feel—soft, secure, like a secret hug that muffled the world’s edges. But as he sat on the couch watching football, diaper rustling with every shift, he caught himself actually considering letting go on purpose—just a little, just enough to feel that swollen warmth again and maybe, maybe, earn another slow, shameful hand job. He couldn’t figure out how he would be able to explain that, so he clenched everything and resisted. By evening the unmet ache built, but he held it. The diaper stayed dry until bedtime. And somewhere deep in David’s mind, a tiny voice whispered that this was only the beginning. Chapter 5: The Test Most Wednesday afternoons, Carolyn drove to Linda’s quiet north-side office for “tea and planning.” She always arrived at two sharp and left at five feeling lighter, clearer, and oddly certain that only twenty minutes had passed. The grandfather clock on Linda’s mantel, however, never lied: three full hours vanished every time. This Wednesday was no different. Carolyn blinked at the clock. “I swear I just sat down.” Linda smiled over her teacup. “Time flies when we’re solving problems. How is he doing?” Carolyn exhaled, stirring her peach iced tea. “He’s almost never out of diapers at home now. Evenings, weekends—sometimes whole days. Dry. He says it helps him relax after work. The Pharma case is killing him.” Linda’s eyes were warm, caring, but sharp. “And the nighttime wetting?” “Still every night. Heavy.” Linda set her cup down with quiet finality. “Then it’s time to move forward. The diapers aren’t just protection anymore—they’re comfort. We need to start turning the wet ones into comfort too. That’s the next real layer.” Carolyn’s stomach fluttered. “You mean… encourage him to use them during the day? On purpose?” She shook her head. “That feels like going too far. What if he hates me for it later?” Linda reached across the table, squeezing her friend’s hand. “He won’t. Trust me. I’ve seen this pattern enough to know the desire is already there—deep, and waiting. But if you’re nervous, we test it first. Tonight, I’ll remove the bedwetting suggestion entirely. If he stops, we know the hypnosis was doing most of the work and we can ease off. If he keeps wetting…” She let the silence finish the sentence. Carolyn bit her lip. “You really think he’ll keep doing it? On purpose?” “I’m certain of it,” Linda said softly, eyes steady. “But you need to see it for yourself. It might take a few nights—sometimes a week—for the old suggestion to fully fade. Watch him. You’ll know.” Carolyn stared into her tea. The idea of David voluntarily soaking his diapers every night—knowing he could stop—sent a shiver through her that was equal parts guilt and dark excitement. “Do it,” she said finally. “I need to know.” Three nights later, Linda arrived for what David believed was another casual dinner. He liked her—she flattered his ego, laughed at his war stories, and kept his bourbon coming without judgment. Carolyn watched as the evening unfolded: Linda steering conversation smoothly from courtroom triumphs to deeper stresses—the long hours, the weight gain from late-night drinks, the quiet strains in marriage that David brushed off with jokes. By ten, David was loose, baritone carrying a slight wheeze, bragging about a recent win but trailing into rarer admissions: "Sometimes it all feels... heavy. Like I'm carrying the world." Linda nodded sympathetically, her fingers tracing idle circles on her glass stem—a subtle rhythm Carolyn recognized from their planning. The room's music played low, masking a soft hum under Linda's voice. David's eyelids sagged gradually, laughter slowing. "David," Linda said gently, almost conversational, "you look tired. Why don't you relax a moment? Focus here." The silver pendant appeared between her fingers, catching the light as it swayed lazily. His gaze locked, breathing deepening. Carolyn's heart hammered—this was it, seamless amid the evening's flow. Linda leaned close. “Lawyer’s rest.” His head lolled. Linda’s voice was silk. “David, the bedwetting command is gone. From tonight forward you will wake when you need to urinate at night and handle it as you choose. No more automatic release in sleep. The suggestion is lifted completely.” Snap. David blinked, reached for his glass, and resumed his story as if nothing had happened. Carolyn barely slept. At 2:47 a.m. she lay perfectly still, eyes open in the dark, every sense tuned to the man beside her. David stirred. She felt the subtle shift of his hips, heard the faintest catch of breath. This is it, he thought, heart racing with guilty thrill. I could get up. I should get up. Just roll over, walk to the bathroom like a normal adult… The diaper hugged him, thick and familiar. Safe. Private. No one will ever know. He relaxed deliberately, letting the hot flood spread, the padding swelling warm and heavy around him. A soft, involuntary moan escaped as the sensation washed away the last pretense. Just tonight. Just because it feels… right. Then the softest sound—warm liquid spreading, the quiet swell of gel absorbing it all. He sighed, rolled deeper into the wet padding, and slept again. Carolyn’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure it would wake him. He’s choosing it. On purpose. Morning came. The diaper was soaked, heavy, sagging. David mumbled apologies as usual, face flushed with what he still believed was helpless shame. Carolyn changed him with gentle hands, hiding her smile. That afternoon she called Linda from the car, voice trembling with discovery. “He did it again. But he was definitely awake—I felt it. He’s choosing to wet.” A soft chuckle on the other end. “Told you. The roots were always there. We just stopped pulling the weeds. Now wait and see if he keeps choosing it night after night. If he does, we’ll know for sure.” Carolyn gripped the wheel. “What now?” “Now,” Linda said, calm and certain, “we give him a little nudge to the next layer. He’s ready for wet to feel like comfort too. And when that happens, the rest will follow naturally.” Carolyn exhaled, the road ahead suddenly clear—and thrillingly inevitable. The trap wasn’t the diapers anymore. It was the fact that he no longer wanted out. Chapter 6: The Daytime Descent Linda came over that Sunday evening, as she often did these days. David assumed it was another casual visit; he liked her company, the way she listened without judgment. They chatted over herbal tea for Carolyn and bourbon for him, but as the conversation lulled, Linda leaned forward, her voice soft. “Lawyer’s rest.” The world softened at the edges; his eyelids heavy. He didn’t question it—hadn’t he felt this calm around her before? Linda’s instructions poured in like warm oil. “David, when you’re in your diapers, you’ll use them without hesitation—day or night. The warmth will feel right, natural, like the deepest pleasure you’ve buried for so long. These urges will build slowly, naturally, until you can’t ignore them.” She snapped her fingers. David blinked, reaching for his glass as if nothing had happened. The cravings intensified over the following week, subtle reinforcements weaving into his days. Monday morning, after his usual wet wake-up and humiliating relief from his own hand, he felt a twinge of reluctance as he removed the diaper. By Tuesday evening, arriving home from the office, the absence gnawed at him—like forgetting his wallet, but deeper, more intimate. He changed into sweatpants and tried to relax, but his bladder ached with unfamiliar urgency, his mind whispering how easy it would be, how safe, if he were padded. Wednesday, the doctor called for a follow-up. “Still no changes?” David admitted the bedwetting persisted; his voice strained. “Try relaxation techniques,” the doctor suggested. “Hypnotherapy, even—I’ve heard it helps with stress-related issues.” David nearly laughed at the irony, but the suggestion lingered. By Thursday, the urges were relentless. He found himself browsing medical supply sites during lunch, staring at diaper listings, heart racing. Old memories bubbled up again—those secret binges years ago, the binge-purge cycle he’d thought he’d escaped after marrying Carolyn. What if this was all connected? No, impossible. He closed the tab, palms sweaty. Friday evening, the dam began to crack. Home early, he paced the living room, bladder full, fighting the pull. Carolyn was in the kitchen prepping dinner. “Everything okay, honey?” she called. He swallowed hard. “I… I think I need a diaper tonight.” She appeared in the doorway, eyebrow raised but voice casual. “You wear one almost every night, sweetheart.” “No, I mean… now. While I’m awake.” The words tumbled out, his face burning. What the hell am I saying? She’ll think I’m a complete degenerate. But the hypnosis amplified the need—the phantom warmth, the release he craved not just for orgasm, but for the feeling itself. “I want to… try using it. Awake. Just to see what it’s like.” Carolyn’s expression didn’t change, but inside she felt the quiet click of confirmation: Linda was right. The seed was sprouting. “You want to pee in your diaper while you’re wide awake? With me right here?” David’s cheeks flamed. “Yes. No—I mean, I know it’s weird. Forget I said anything.” She folded her arms, pretending reluctance. “It is a little strange, David. Are you sure?” He nodded miserably, the urge and shame warring inside him. “I just… need to try it. Please.” Carolyn let the silence stretch, watching him squirm. Finally, she sighed. “All right. If you really want to.” She led him upstairs, chose a thick daytime diaper from the stack, and taped it on with deliberate care. The bulk forced his thighs apart; the crinkle echoed in the quiet room. Relief washed over him at the familiar hug, but the real test loomed. Back downstairs they sat on the couch, TV on low. David shifted constantly, bladder pressing, the dry padding teasing him with promise. Minutes crawled by. He wanted it—God, he wanted the warmth—but with her watching? Impossible. Heat rose in his cheeks with every failed attempt. Carolyn glanced over; voice mild. “I thought you wanted to use your diaper. What’s the hold-up?” The casual tone undid him. Shame crashed, but so did the dam. The first spurt escaped before he could stop it, hot and shocking. Then the flood came, gushing endlessly, soaking the front, pooling beneath him. He made a high, broken sound as the warmth enveloped him, his cock hardening instantly against the swelling gel. Tears stung his eyes—shame crashing like a wave, but underneath, that dark rapture, familiar from those secret past indulgences he thought he’d forgotten. When it ended, he trembled, the diaper heavy and sagging. Carolyn turned off the TV and took his face in her hands. “Bedtime, little one.” In the bedroom she guided him to the bed, untaped the sides of the ruined diaper, then cupped the warm, soaked padding around his rigid cock and began a slow, deliberate stroke—up and down the shaft through the slick gel. “I’m sorry,” he begged between gasps. “I’m disgusting, but… God, it feels so good. Please don’t stop.” The orgasm shattered him, hips bucking as he spilled into the mess, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. She cleaned him tenderly, powdered him fresh, and taped on a new diaper for bed. Over the next several weeks, the pattern solidified into their new normal. Mornings were routine: wet diaper, quiet disposal, shower, work—David the commanding lawyer by day. Evenings brought variety—dinners out, movies, walks in the park hand in hand—but the urges always returned, building until he requested padding, the deliberate wetting followed by release in Carolyn's hand. Each cycle stirred those buried memories deeper, his resistance crumbling further. One night, after another shattering release in ruined padding, he clung to her, sobbing. "I'm... in love with them. The diapers. The warmth when I use them. It's something I've always needed but buried away. If you hate me for this, I understand.” He clung to her, body trembling. "I... I know I can't satisfy you like a real man. Never could. Quick, small... it's why I drink too much, hide behind the ego. Sometimes I think about it permanently—no more trying. You with someone who can really please you... and me denied. Forever. My little man locked away from you, only for this." He patted the soaked diaper, voice breaking. "It scares me... but excites me too. Like I'd finally accept I'm not enough." Carolyn stroked his hair, her heartbeat quickening at the words. "That's a big thought, sweetheart. Permanent denial... would be permanent. No going back. You don’t need to think about that now. If at some point it's what you truly needed... well, we could see if it fits then." She cleaned him tenderly, powdered him fresh, and taped on a new diaper for bed. He sobbed in her arms, relief and terror mingling, the last threads of his old self unraveling. And Carolyn, stroking his hair, smiled into the darkness with quiet, predatory grace. Chapter 7: Deeper Roots As the weeks stretched into a month, the diaper routine solidified, but David’s internal battles deepened. The nightly wettings—and the deliberate daytime ones—were automatic now, the morning disposal a mechanical habit. At work he projected confidence—winning cases, mentoring juniors—but the alpha facade felt thinner, like a suit that no longer fit quite right. The urges came in waves, not just physical but tied to that old, hidden part of him: the secrets from years ago. He’d thought marriage had buried it, but here it was, resurfacing stronger. Their intimacy evolved too. Lovemaking attempts grew rarer—maybe once every couple of weeks—and each time he sensed her reluctance, her body going through motions without spark. He’d finish quickly, as always, then lie awake, guilt churning. I can’t give her what she needs. She deserves better. Fears whispered: What if she sees the real me—the failure—and leaves? The thought fed his insecurity. To shield himself, he’d lean into the fantasy: picturing her with a real lover, turning potential heartbreak into arousal. It was his armor, born from years of hiding vulnerabilities behind ego. Turning rejection into arousal. The diaper sessions became their anchor. When the urges peaked—after a stressful trial, or a quiet evening where the need clawed at him—he’d fight for days, jaw set, distracting himself with case prep or yard work. But eventually he’d break. “Carolyn… could you diaper me tonight?” She’d agree without hesitation, taping him snug, her touch tender. After the inevitable flood—the warmth spreading, his erection throbbing—he’d ask, “Can we play?” But first, the ritual: cuddling, his hands on her head, rubbing away the day’s tension until she melted. Then arms, legs—slow, deliberate, drawing it out to savor the connection. “You’re so good at this,” she’d murmur, and he’d glow, feeling useful despite everything. Guilt about their stalled sex life lingered. “I could please you… orally?” he’d offer, masking his revulsion. She agreed more often now, and he’d perform dutifully, faking moans of enjoyment, assuming she did the same for him. Her orgasms were real, though—intense, leaving her breathless—unlike their hurried couplings. It eased his worry: At least she’s satisfied sometimes. Life outside this bubbled on: dinners at cozy bistros, sharing iced tea and stories; weekend hikes, planning a trip to the coast; late-night talks about retiring early, buying a vacation home. They were still partners, lovers in every way but one. Yet David’s fears gnawed. One evening, post-release in his wet diaper, as she dozed contentedly after a massage, he whispered into the dark, “You won’t leave me, right? Now that you see… this.” She pulled him closer. “Never, David. This is us now. I love you.” He held on, the insecurity twisting into that familiar, protective kink—imagining her fulfilled elsewhere. It scared him, excited him, and kept the vulnerability at bay. For now. Chapter 8: Pretty Little Girl The adjustment to their new normal had been smoother than Carolyn expected, but she could see the subtle strain in David’s eyes—the way he carried himself at home, a mix of relief and lingering shame. The nightly wettings continued, his secret choice now, though he believed she thought it unavoidable. During the day, life hummed along: court victories for him, country club lunches for her, evenings filled with walks, movies, and quiet conversations about the future travel or a bigger house. But the urges still built every few days, leading to those intimate sessions where he’d ask for a diaper, wet it deliberately, and beg to “play.” Carolyn played her role—the supportive wife—massaging him through the mess until he shattered, then letting him return the favor with those long, tender rubs that left her relaxed and content. Yet beneath it all, she felt the pull toward more, nudged gently by Linda’s words during their weekly “tea” sessions. One Wednesday afternoon, while David was buried in depositions at the office, Linda came over for tea. They sat at the kitchen island, Carolyn pouring peach iced tea for herself and herbal for Linda, the conversation turning inevitably to the plan. “He’s choosing the bedwetting now,” Carolyn said, her voice a whisper. “Every night. He wakes up, but… he does it anyway. Thinks I don’t know.” Linda’s eyes softened with that familiar caring gleam. “That’s progress, in a way. It means the fetish is truly his—deep-rooted, not just our suggestions. He’s finding liberation in the secrecy, free from the guilt of asking you during the day.” But what about the next steps? I’m… ready, I think. For a real man. Someone who can make me feel desired, alive, like you said. But David—he’s so insecure underneath it all. If we push too far…” “You’re doing this for both of you,” Linda reminded her gently. “He’ll embrace it because it’s what he craves, even if he resists at first. Tonight, I’ll adjust the hypnosis. No more direct commands to beg—just planting the idea that diapers alone aren’t enough anymore. He needs more humiliation to reach those intense releases he chases. The more degraded he feels, the stronger the orgasms. It’ll tie into his fetish naturally—he’ll start fantasizing about women’s clothing, being treated like a pretty girl. Soft things, frilly, cute. He’ll resist, feel guilty, maybe sneak looks at porn or stories about sissy types in diapers. But the urges will build slowly, naturally, until he can’t hold back. He’ll ask you to dress him up, call him your baby girl, beg to surrender everything—his masculinity, pride, orgasms. Tell you it’s what makes him whole. And when you agree, it’ll bring him peace like he’s never known.” Carolyn’s heart raced, a mix of trepidation and excitement. “How long will that take?” “Weeks. Maybe a month or two. Let it simmer. He has to fight it first—that’s what makes the surrender real.” “And the cuckolding?” Linda smiled reassuringly. “That comes later, once the feminization takes hold. We’ll layer it in gently—make him believe true humiliation means stepping aside for a real man. He’ll beg for that too, in time. For now, focus on being the loving wife, heartbroken about his ‘problem.’ He’ll never suspect. I’m doing this because I care about you, Carolyn. You deserve happiness—someone who satisfies you completely, makes you scream, beg, feel like a goddess.” The words lingered long after Linda left. That evening, during what David thought was a casual visit, Linda triggered him effortlessly. “Lawyer’s rest.” His head dropped, and she wove the new suggestions deep—but softly, like planting seeds in fertile soil: diapers weren’t humiliating enough anymore; true release required more—whispers of pretty clothes, soft fabrics, being treated as delicate and feminine, the degradation amplifying every climax. Nothing forced. Just possibilities, growing on their own. Snap. He blinked, oblivious, and the evening continued as normal. The changes began subtly—almost too subtly for David to notice at first. That night, as he lay in bed, diaper already warm from his deliberate wetting, his mind wandered unbidden to softer things—lace edging on panties, the whisper of silk against skin. He pushed it away, face heating in the dark. Ridiculous. I’m not like that. Just the diapers. That’s enough. But the thought returned the next day at work, during a lull in a meeting: imagining a pair of women’s panties over his padding, the lace tickling his thighs. He shifted in his chair, face burning, and forced his attention back to the deposition transcript. Stress, he told himself. Just stress. Over the following days the whispers grew louder. A fleeting image while driving home: a soft blouse, pastel colors, the way it might feel against his chest. He shook it off, gripping the wheel tighter. No. That’s not me. By the end of the first week, he caught himself lingering on a lingerie ad that popped up on his phone—simple satin panties in pale pink. He closed the app quickly, heart racing. It’s nothing. Just a stray click. But it wasn’t nothing. The second week brought the first real crack. Alone in his office during lunch, he typed “women’s underwear for men” into a private browser—then immediately deleted it, palms sweaty. That night he dreamed of lace and woke hard in his wet diaper, the dream clinging like perfume. He resisted fiercely, his ego rebelling. This is too far. I’m a man, a lawyer—not some… sissy. The word made him flinch, but it also sent a forbidden thrill through him. Still, the fantasies kept returning—soft, insistent, tying themselves to the diaper sessions. During one “play” night, as Carolyn stroked him through the soaked padding, he almost asked for panties. The words died in his throat, shame winning. Not yet. By the third week he was raw with it—barely eating, shifting constantly at home, the fantasies consuming quiet moments. Carolyn noticed his distraction during their walks or dinners, but he brushed it off as work stress when he did. One Thursday night, alone while Carolyn was at book club, he finally broke. Hands shaking, he searched “sissy diaper captions”—just captions, nothing more. The images and words hit like a drug: men in frilly dresses over bulging diapers, called “pretty girl,” “baby girl,” “Mommy’s little princess.” He read until his erection ached, then closed everything and purged the history, swearing it was the last time. It wasn’t. The fourth week the resistance crumbled further. Late-night searches became daily. Videos of cross-dressers in cute outfits over diapers, being called “pretty girl” while wetting and climaxing. Each viewing amplified the craving, the promise of deeper humiliation equaling unmatched pleasure. He imagined himself out in public, dressed as a woman—subtle at first, women’s jeans, a blouse—the risk thrilling, the diapers hidden beneath making him feel like a secret baby girl regardless. But the guilt gnawed: This isn’t me. I can’t drag her into this. By the end of the fifth week, he was a wreck—sleep deprived, distracted, the fantasies a constant hum. One Saturday morning, after yard work where every bend reminded him of the absent bulk, he couldn’t hold it anymore. They were in the bedroom, Carolyn folding laundry, when he knelt beside her, voice trembling. “Carolyn… I need more. The diapers—they’re not enough anymore. I… I want you to dress me in women’s clothing. Soft things, pretty, girly. Call me your baby girl. Please, make me your baby girl—dress me up. It’s the only thing that will make me whole.” Tears streamed down his face as the words ripped from him like a confession five weeks in the making. Carolyn knelt, gathering him into her arms, her heart aching with a blend of sympathy and quiet triumph. “Oh, my sweet love,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “If that’s what you need… Mommy’s here.” Carolyn dressed him in a pink romper for the first time. Carolyn stepped back, admiring her work—the romper hugging his padded form, the bow crooked in his hair. He looked vulnerable, adorable... broken. A pang hit her: Was this love, or control? Linda had assured her the hypnosis built on his buried desires, but doubt crept in—what if they were forcing something unnatural? The ethical line blurred, but his growing arousal, the way he shifted in the outfit, eased it. This was for them, she told herself. For happiness. As she held him, David felt a profound peace settle over him—the most perfect he’d ever known—his resistance crumbling into surrender. The pretty little girl had finally asked to come out. Chapter 9: Daisy Is Born For nearly three months David had lived in two worlds: At the office he was still the senior partner (broad shoulders, commanding baritone, bourbon at lunch). At home he was the man who taped on his own diapers after work, who spent entire weekends padded and dry just because the hug felt right, who only flooded when the ache for release finally outweighed the delicious comfort of anticipation. The pretty clothes had stayed mostly in the bedroom: satin panties, lace-trimmed camisoles, nightdresses, a soft pink robe he wore while reading briefs on the couch. He told himself that was the limit. Diapers = everyday comfort. Frills = occasional spice before orgasm. That was safe. Controllable. But the fantasies kept creeping forward. Late at night, after wetting his overnight diaper and drifting off in warm, swollen padding, he began to dream—not of quick, frantic releases—but of living as a girl. Not a toddler. A woman. Soft sweaters, flowing skirts, painted nails clicking on a coffee cup while no one suspected the secret under the skirt. He woke hard and ashamed, the dreams clinging like perfume. He fought it. Deleted browsing history. Swore it was a phase. Told himself real men didn’t want to be pretty. Then one Thursday he cracked. He had spent the entire day in court wearing a thin daytime diaper under his suit trousers (his secret, thrilling and terrifying). By the time he got home he was buzzing with nervous energy. Carolyn was out having dinner with Linda. The house was empty. He went straight to the spare bedroom closet where the “special” boxes were kept. Hands shaking, he pulled out the tissue-wrapped bundle he had ordered weeks earlier and hidden even from himself: a simple blush-pink skirt (knee-length, flared, impossibly soft), a white cashmere sweater with tiny pearl buttons, sheer tights, and low-heeled Mary Janes in patent ivory. Adult women’s sizes. Nothing overtly babyish. Just… pretty. He showered, powdered, taped on a fresh overnight diaper (thicker, because he knew what was coming), and dressed. The sweater hugged his chest. The skirt swished against his thighs. The heels forced a delicate sway when he walked. In the full-length mirror he saw a tall, slightly broad-shouldered woman with a flushed face and trembling lips. The bulge at the crotch was obvious if you knew to look, but under the skirt it was… passable. He spent two hours like that (cooking dinner, pouring a glass of bourbon he didn’t drink, sitting on the couch with his legs tucked under him like he’d seen Carolyn do a thousand times). Every movement felt electric. The diaper was still dry. The clothes were perfect. He felt beautiful, small, hidden in plain sight. When Carolyn came home at ten-thirty, the sight stopped her in the doorway. David stood in the living room, skirt swirling as he turned, tears already on his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know this is too much. I’ll take it off—” Carolyn closed the door softly and crossed the room. She didn’t speak at first. She simply cupped his face, wiped the tears with her thumbs, and studied him (really studied him) for a long, breathless moment. “You’re shaking,” she said gently. “I’ve been fighting this for weeks. Months, maybe. The diapers stopped being enough. I need… I need to be pretty. Not just in bed. All the time. I want to be girly. Your baby girl. Please.” His voice cracked on the last word. Carolyn’s heart twisted (love, pity, triumph, desire all braided together). She kissed his forehead, tasting salt. “Shh. Breathe, sweetheart.” She led him to the bedroom, sat him on the edge of the bed, and knelt to unbuckle the Mary Janes. Then she looked up, eyes steady. “If we do this, you’ll have a name when you’re dressed like this. You’ll have rules. And you won’t hide anymore (not from me). Do you understand?” He nodded, trembling harder. “Say it.” “I want to be dressed pretty. I won’t hide things. I will follow the rules.” Carolyn brushed a curl from his forehead. “Then from tonight forward, when you’re dressed like this (when you’re padded, pretty, and mine), your name is Daisy.” The word left her lips like a blessing. Daisy’s breath hitched. Tears spilled again, but they were different now (relief, surrender, joy). Carolyn stood, took both his hands, and pulled him to her feet. The skirt flared. The diaper crinkled softly. “First rule,” she said, voice tender but firm. “Daisy doesn’t hide boxes in closets. Daisy asks Mommy for what she needs.” “Yes, Mommy,” Daisy whispered, the title slipping out as naturally as breathing. Carolyn smiled (small, knowing smile that held ten years of patience and one year of careful planning). “Then let’s get you changed into proper nighttime things, baby girl.” Daisy was in a thick pink diaper with delicate lace trim, a satin baby-doll nightie in pale mint, hair tied with ribbons. “tonight, you will sleep in your nursery,” Carolyn said leading him to the guest bedroom. She tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead. Tomorrow we start for real. In the dark, curled in warm, deliberately wet padding (because Daisy had chosen it), she felt something settle deep in her chest. Peace. Finally, perfect peace. Down the hall, Carolyn texted Linda. He asked. It’s time. The reply came instantly. Let it develop. He needs to get used to it before we push any further. But it will be soon. He’s not going back. Welcome to the rest of your lives. Carolyn smiled into the quiet house, heart racing with possibility. Daisy was born. And the man David used to be finally, completely, let go. Chapter 10: Comfort Becomes Habit The first few days after Daisy’s “birth” felt like stepping into a dream—hazy, exhilarating, and laced with quiet terror. David woke that Friday morning in the guest room (not yet a full nursery, just a spare bed with fresh pink sheets Carolyn had quietly swapped in weeks ago), the thick overnight diaper sagging heavily between his legs. He had chosen to wet it again, the warmth spreading deliberately in the dark, a secret comfort that soothed him back to sleep. In the mirror, the mint nightie hung loose on his frame, ribbons tangled in his hair. He stripped it all off quickly, showered, and dressed for work—suit, tie, the alpha mask slipping back on like an old coat. At the office, the day dragged: meetings, briefs, a quick bourbon with a colleague to celebrate a settlement. But underneath, the memories tugged—the skirt’s swish, Carolyn’s gentle acceptance, the name “Daisy” echoing in his mind like a whisper. By afternoon, he was distracted, shifting in his chair, the phantom bulk of a diaper making his regular underwear feel thin and wrong. Comfort. That’s all it is, he told himself. Not this girl stuff. That’s too far. He resisted all weekend. Saturday: No diaper after his morning shower. He mowed the lawn in jeans, grilled steaks, watched football with Carolyn curled beside him on the couch (her head in his lap, his fingers absently rubbing her scalp like in their sessions). Normal. Loving. But by evening, the itch returned—the need for padding, for that secure hug. He fought it, pouring a bourbon instead, telling himself real men didn’t need that. Sunday: Still holding out. They took a long walk in the park, hand in hand, talking about a potential vacation to the coast next spring. Carolyn’s laughter felt genuine, her touch warm. But back home, as he prepped case files, the fantasies crept in: slipping on a soft skirt over a dry diaper, just for an hour, no wetting, no release. Just… pretty. He slammed the laptop shut, heart racing. No. That’s not comfort. That’s humiliation. And I don’t need more of that. Monday evening, the dam cracked. Work had been brutal—a lost motion, a chewing-out from a judge. He came home exhausted, kissed Carolyn hello, and headed upstairs without a word. In the bathroom, he taped on a thin daytime diaper—dry, discreet—and pulled on sweatpants. The crinkle was faint, but there. Comfort washed over him like a sigh. He didn’t wet it. Didn’t ask to “play.” Just wore it through dinner (pasta, iced tea for her, bourbon for him), through TV on the couch. Carolyn heard the rustle, saw the slight waddle, but said nothing—only smiled softly when he shifted. That night, he changed into an overnight one, wet it deliberately (secret, safe), and slept deeply. Tuesday: David wore a fresh thin diaper after work. Dry all evening. He cooked, they talked about her day at the club, planned grocery lists. The padding felt… normal. Exciting in its secrecy, but mostly just right. By Wednesday, the pattern solidified. Diaper after shower. Dry through the evening routine. Wet only at night, in bed, when the choice felt private and liberating. He began to associate the dry bulk with everyday peace—a buffer against stress, a hidden armor. Wetting was still tied to release (or the buildup to it), but dry wearing? That was pure comfort. Thursday: He pushed it further. After diapering, he slipped on the pink skirt from that first night—just for a bit, he told himself. Carolyn was reading in the living room. He stayed upstairs, pacing the bedroom, the skirt swishing, the diaper crinkling softly. Who would see? No one. But the mirror showed a pretty girl, padded and secret. His heart pounded with guilt and thrill. He changed back before dinner, but the fantasy lingered: wearing it out someday, under women’s clothes perhaps, passing as a woman with his little secret beneath. Friday: Full commitment. Diaper after work. Skirt and sweater while Carolyn was at a late yoga class. He sat at his home desk, reviewing cases, feeling beautiful and small. When she got home, he didn’t hide—stood in the kitchen, blushing furiously. “I… I needed this today.” Carolyn set her bag down, eyes warm. “You look pretty, Daisy.” No judgment. No push. Just acceptance. That weekend, it all peaked. Saturday morning: Fresh diaper, dry. Pink robe over it while making breakfast. Carolyn joined him, pouring tea, chatting about the weather. The robe felt soft, girly—comforting in a way that went beyond the padding. They spent the day together: errands (him in regular clothes, but fantasizing about a skirt under his coat), a movie (his mind wandering to painted nails, heels clicking in public). Evening: Diaper stayed dry until bedtime wetting. Sunday: Same rhythm. Dry diaper all day. Soft camisole under his T-shirt while reading. The buildup hummed—no “play” yet, just the prolonged sensation, the excitement of secrecy. By evening, worry about Carolyn’s satisfaction nagged him. They cuddled on the couch, his hands massaging her as usual, but no request for release. Just connection. Monday morning, as he stripped the wet overnight diaper and showered for work, David realized the shift: Diapers weren’t just for sex anymore. They were comfort. Everyday. And the pretty clothes? They were starting to feel the same—a desire to be soft, cute, girly, even if no one saw. But someone was seeing. Carolyn noticed everything—the extra crinkles, the hidden orders of thinner diapers, the way he lingered dry longer and longer. She texted Linda mid-week: He’s wearing more. Dry, just for comfort. Not asking to play as often. Linda’s reply: Perfect. The layers are settling. Wet will become comfort soon. Then pretty clothes for release. Slow and natural. Carolyn smiled, watching David—Daisy in waiting—waddle down the stairs in sweatpants, the faint rustle betraying his secret. The road ahead felt clear. Slow, but inevitable. Chapter 11: Small Risks The weekend after her message to Linda, Carolyn curled up on the couch with her laptop, a steaming mug of herbal tea in hand. David sat beside her, still buzzing from their evolving dynamic, his current diaper—a plain white medical one—crinkling softly under his sweatpants. They'd been using the basic, clinical supplies from the medical store for weeks now, but Carolyn had a spark in her eye as she pulled up a new website. "Time to upgrade, baby," she said, voice playful but warm. "These plain ones are fine for starters, but you deserve something cuter. More... you." She navigated to Rearz, scrolling through colorful options: thick, absorbent diapers with whimsical prints—princess themes, teddy bears, pastel patterns. David's cheeks flushed as she clicked on a pack of girly ones, lavender with tiny tiaras and ruffles along the edges. "Look at these," she cooed, adding them to the cart. "Super thick for nighttime, but adorable. Imagine how they'll feel, all snug and pretty." She moved to Little for Big next, selecting a set with baby block prints and fairy motifs, then Crinklz for some fairy-tale themed ones with plastic backing for extra security. David shifted, arousal building at the thought—girly, playful diapers just for him. Not medical anymore, but something intimate, chosen together. By the end of the session, they'd ordered cases from multiple sites: thick overnights in pinks and purples, daytime ones with cute animals, even some with ruffled leak guards for that extra feminine touch. "Our little secret," Carolyn whispered, kissing his cheek. "Daisy's going to love them." The packages arrived discreetly midweek, and that Friday, Carolyn suggested a movie night—a romantic comedy at the old downtown theater. Before they left, she laid David on the changing table in the guest room (soon to be the nursery), powdering him lavishly and taping him into one of the new arrivals: a thick nighttime Rearz princess diaper, super absorbent with a glossy plastic backing, printed with crowns and sparkles in soft pink. It bulked noticeably between his legs, forcing a slight waddle as he pulled on loose jeans. "Perfect for a long movie," Carolyn teased lightly, patting the front. "This should hold all the soda you can drink, baby. No need to miss any of the show." She handed him a large iced tea for herself—no alcohol, as always—and they headed out. Halfway through the film, as the on-screen couple shared a passionate kiss, David felt the familiar pressure build in his bladder. The large soda he'd downed pre-show was hitting hard. He shifted in his seat, the diaper crinkling audibly in the quiet theater, but Carolyn leaned close, her hand on his thigh. "Go ahead, sweetie," she whispered encouragingly. "That's what your pretty princess diaper is for. Let it all out—no one's going to know but me." Relaxation came easily now, the hypnosis deepening the habit. Warmth spread slowly at first, then in a hot, heavy flood, soaking the gel between his legs. The diaper swelled massively, absorbing everything without a leak, the plastic warming against his skin. Panic flickered—What if it shows? What if someone hears?—but Carolyn's hand squeezed his reassuringly. She knew; her knowing smile in the dim light sent a thrill through him. Arousal throbbed against the soaked padding, the girly prints hidden but vivid in his mind. No one around them suspected—the couple beside them laughed at the screen; the usher patrolled oblivious. Their secret shame, her gentle power. By the time the credits rolled, the diaper sagged heavily, forcing a pronounced waddle as they walked to the car. Carolyn noticed, her eyes twinkling. "Look at that cute little waddle," she murmured teasingly, slipping her arm through his. "Mommy's big drinker filled her princess diaper right up, didn't she? Such a good girl." At home, she changed him immediately into a fresh Crinklz fairy-tale one, cooing praises: "These new ones suit you so well—thick and pretty, just like Daisy deserves." David came the second her hand wrapped around him, spurting into the fresh diaper she'd laid out. The thrill lingered for days—the risk of exposure, the intimacy of sharing it only with her. A few evenings later, Carolyn drew a hot bath and led David to the bathroom. “Time to make you soft and smooth, like a proper baby girl,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. David stripped, the soaked Little for Big diaper untaped and discarded, and sank into the bubbles. She lathered his body with floral-scented shave gel—chest, arms, legs, pubic area—her razor gliding carefully over every inch until he was hairless, pink, and vulnerable. “Look at you,” she murmured, toweling him dry. “So girly now. No more manly hair to hide behind.” David stared at his reflection: smooth thighs, bare groin framing his tiny penis, skin tingling. It felt emasculating, exposed—but exciting, a step deeper into surrender. She diapered him again in a printed daytime one with ruffled edges, the powder clinging to his freshly shaved skin, amplifying every sensation. That night, as she rode him slowly—her hands pinning his wrists—he felt more helpless than ever, cumming in seconds from the overwhelming vulnerability. The real test came midweek: a two-day trip to Chicago for depositions in a big case. David packed his suits, briefs, and files—but Carolyn slipped in a secret bag: a simple pink sundress with a flared skirt, white lace panties to cover his diaper, ruffled ankle socks, Mary Jane flats with cute bows, and a matching hair bow for his growing curls, now long enough to clip it in place. “While you’re away, I want you to explore,” she’d said, kissing him goodbye. “Small risks, baby. Dress up in the hotel. Feel the thrill. But only if you want to.” Alone in his suite overlooking the city, after a grueling day of deps, David stared at the bag. The idea terrified him—he wasn’t trying to pass as a woman; he knew he couldn’t, with his broad shoulders, square jaw, and masculine build. That was the point. The humiliation of being seen as a man in girly clothes, the shame of strangers knowing exactly what he was doing. Out of town, the risk was small—no clients or colleagues here—but it could bite him. A photo, a viral moment, a familiar face in the lobby. That uncertainty made his heart race, his tiny penis twitch in the thick printed diaper he’d changed into after work. He started slow. After a room service order—burger, fries, anonymity promised—he slipped into the outfit. The sundress hung loosely over his padded bottom, skirt short enough to swish with every step but long enough to hide the diaper’s bulk. He clipped the bow into his curls, stepped into the Mary Janes, and added the ruffled socks. No makeup, no heels—just a man in frilly, feminine clothes, smooth-shaven and obvious. A knock at the door. His pulse thundered. He opened it a crack, then wider, letting the young waiter wheel in the tray. The man’s eyes widened—a quick double take, professionalism cracking for a split second into confusion, then polite neutrality. “Uh, here’s your order, sir—ma’am?” He set it down quickly, avoiding eye contact, but David saw the flush on his cheeks, the suppressed smirk. He knows. He sees a grown man playing dress-up. “Thank you,” David said, voice steady but face burning. He tipped generously, closed the door, and sagged against it, diaper warming with a small, involuntary spurt. The humiliation was electric—exposed, judged, but safe in his anonymity. He ate at the desk, skirt hiked up, feeling the thrill pulse through him. Emboldened, he decided on a walk—just around the block, after dark. The hotel lobby loomed risky: the front desk clerk who’d checked him in as David might be there; maids bustling with linens could glance twice. But that was the allure—the small chance of recognition, the shame of being remembered as the cross-dressing guest. He stepped into the elevator, heart slamming. Empty, thankfully. In the lobby, he kept his head down, but felt eyes: a businessman at the bar did a double take, brows furrowing; a couple checking in whispered as he passed. Outside, the cool Chicago wind lifted his skirt slightly, making him clutch it down. Around the block: a jogger stared openly, slowing for a second; a woman walking her dog averted her eyes but glanced back. No shouts, no laughter—just stares, double takes, silent judgments. They know I’m a man. They see the bow, the dress, the shoes. Silent judgments. His diaper crinkled with every step—a hidden secret even deeper than the clothes. No one suspects the padding, the wetness starting to build again. Back in the lobby, the clerk looked up—recognition flickered, a polite nod turning puzzled. David hurried to the elevator, cheeks aflame, but triumphant. He’d done it. Small risks, big thrills. In his room, he stripped to just the diaper, humped against a pillow, and came hard, sobbing with release. The next day’s deps went smoothly, but the secret lingered like a drug. On the flight home, diapered under his suit in a fresh printed one with fairy prints, David texted Carolyn: “I did it. Can’t wait to tell you everything.” She replied: “Good girl. Mommy’s proud.” The steps felt monumental—small, but pulling him deeper into the life he craved. The risks were getting bigger. And neither of them wanted to stop. Chapter 12: The Pink Nursery It took six more weeks before the nursery became real. Six weeks of David—now Daisy when dressed—wearing diapers every single evening and most weekends. Six weeks of pastel crop tops, lace rumba panties, and the name “Daisy” slipping out more and more naturally. Six weeks of sleeping in the master bed with Carolyn, diaper swollen and warm, her hand resting possessively on the padded front while she pretended to be asleep. The idea of a dedicated room had hovered between them like an unspoken promise. David had caught himself staring at the spare bedroom door more than once, heart racing at the thought of what-if. Carolyn had caught him staring. She always caught everything. Then, one quiet Saturday morning in early spring, she woke him with a kiss on the forehead and four soft words: “Time to build, princess.” He blinked up at her, still half-lost in sleep and the heavy, wet overnight diaper he had deliberately soaked again sometime after midnight. “Build what, Mommy?” “Your nursery,” she said simply. “You’ve earned it.” The words landed gently, but they detonated inside him. For months he had scrolled nursery photos in private browsing mode, heart hammering, always closing the tabs with a surge of shame. Now the fantasy was becoming wood and paint and furniture, and the mixture of terror and longing was almost too much to hold. They didn’t rush. Saturday was demolition and prep. He worked in nothing but a soft lavender crop top and a thin daytime diaper printed with tiny sleeping unicorns. Carolyn sat in the doorway with her iced tea, offering quiet instructions and gentle praise. “Masking tape a little higher, sweetheart… good girl… yes, the pale pink will be perfect.” He painted the walls himself, hands trembling with every roller stroke. The color was the softest blush—almost white in some lights, unmistakably girly in others. The scent of fresh paint mingled with baby powder and the faint warmth of the two deliberate wettings he allowed himself during the day. Each time Carolyn changed him without comment, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Sunday was delivery day. Piece by piece the room came together under their shared labor: A sturdy adult crib in matte white with optional locking rail (still folded in its box for now; Carolyn wanted him to ask before it was assembled). A wide, padded changing table with raised sides and open shelves waiting for stacks of diapers. A simple white rocking chair for Mommy. Blackout curtains in the same blush pink. A soft shag rug the color of cotton candy. One small mobile of silver stars and moons—boxed, not yet hung. They stopped there. No overwhelming avalanche of frills. No immediate locking crib or wall-to-wall princess explosion. Just a calm, pretty guest room that now clearly belonged to a very specific little girl. That night Carolyn dressed him for the “grand unveiling.” A thick nighttime diaper with delicate silver tiaras, white lace-trimmed plastic panties that rustled softly, and an oversized lavender sleep shirt that barely skimmed the waistband. No bonnet, no booties, no pacifier yet. Just enough to feel pretty and small. She led him to the doorway and flipped on the light. The room glowed—soft, warm, unmistakably feminine. David—Daisy—stood frozen, tears pricking instantly. “It’s… beautiful,” he whispered. Carolyn slipped her arms around him from behind, palms resting on the front of his diaper. “This is yours whenever you need it,” she said quietly. “Not full-time. Not yet. Just a room that’s always ready for my pretty girl. When you’re ready for more, you’ll tell me.” He leaned back against her, the diaper crinkling softly. “Thank you, Mommy.” She kissed the side of his neck. “You’re welcome, Daisy.” They left the crib unassembled in its box, the mobile still wrapped in tissue. Some doors, Carolyn had decided, were better if Daisy opened them herself. Down the hall that night she texted Linda a single line: Walls are pink. He cried happy tears. We’re moving at his speed now. Linda replied instantly: Perfect. Let him beg for the locks next. Carolyn smiled, closed the nursery door with a soft click, and went to join her pretty, padded girl in the master bed—for now. The trap wasn’t sprung. It was simply waiting, patient and pink, for Daisy to walk in on her own. Chapter 13: The Truth He Always Knew It was Wednesday afternoon, and Carolyn was at Linda’s for their weekly “tea and planning.” Linda smiled over her teacup and asked, “How is our little princess?” “Settling in beautifully,” Carolyn said. “He’s in diapers every evening now, dry for hours just because he likes the feeling. The pretty clothes are becoming every day. And the browser history…” She lowered her voice. “It’s not just diapers anymore. A lot of cuckold captions, hotwife stories, sissy-baby-cuckold crossovers. One story he keeps rereading is about a diapered husband watching his wife from a crib. The seed is definitely sprouting. And… he asked to build the crib. He’s been sleeping in it more and more. It’s becoming his safe place.” Linda’s eyes were warm, caring, but sharp. “Then this weekend we water it. I’ll come for dinner Saturday night, deepen the layers a little, and finally meet Daisy in person. I’ve been dying to see that nursery.” Carolyn’s stomach fluttered. “He’s still nervous about anyone else knowing.” “He’ll be ready,” Linda said gently. “He’s already choosing more than either of you realize.” Saturday morning Carolyn slipped into the nursery and found Daisy curled on her side in the crib, lavender nightie twisted high, diaper massively swollen and warm. She lowered the rail, took Daisy’s soft hand, and led her back to the master bed for their weekend ritual. Daisy began her worship at once: gentle fingers in Carolyn’s hair, slow strokes down her arms, reverent caresses along her calves and thighs. Carolyn closed her eyes and let the devotion wash over her. When Daisy finally paused, hand drifting hopefully toward her own crotch, Carolyn caught it and held it tight. “Play time, Mommy?” Daisy lisped, eyes shining. Carolyn smiled. “Yes, baby girl.” While she stroked him slowly through the soaked padding, she teased lightly: “Such an adorable little sissy husband… where do sissy husbands get to cum?” “In their diapers, Mommy,” Daisy whimpered, hips twitching. “That’s right. And tonight, Linda is coming to dinner. She wants to meet my pretty Daisy and see your nursery.” The words barely registered at first; Daisy was too lost in sensation. The idea of being seen fluttered through her mind like a delicious, terrifying spark, pushing her over the edge. She came with a broken cry, pulsing into the ruined diaper, tears of release on her cheeks. Afterward, reality crashed in. “Linda… is coming here? Tonight? To see… this?” His voice climbed, panic rising. “I can’t. She knows in theory, but to actually see me dressed up, in the nursery—” Carolyn wiped his tears with the corner of the nightie. “It will be fine, sweetheart. She already knows. She’s excited to meet Daisy. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but I think you’ll feel better once your not hiding it anymore.” He nodded shakily, but doubt gnawed at him all day. That afternoon, while Carolyn napped, David sat at his home-office desk in a simple lavender sundress with puffed sleeves and a subtle Peter-Pan collar, white lace ankle socks, shiny black Mary Janes with a single strap, and a thick but not cartoonish diaper printed with tiny silver crowns. The room smelled faintly of baby powder and warm pee. On the screen were stories he had read a hundred times over the years: wives taking lovers while their sissy husbands watched from playpens or cribs, diapered and denied. He had bookmarked dozens of them in secret, masturbating furiously in wet diapers when Carolyn was out, then purging everything in shame only to start the cycle again. The realization settled over him like warm water. This wasn’t new. He had been a diaper lover since college. The binge-purge cycle had shadowed his entire adult life—even after meeting Carolyn, even after marriage. He had tried once, years ago, to end it for good. A rainy Tuesday, hands shaking as he entered Linda’s office. He had trusted her. He sat in her quiet office and confessed everything, begging her to hypnotize the desire away. She had tried. Multiple weeks of sessions, hours at a time, several times a week. Nothing worked. At the final appointment he had sobbed, defeated. Linda’s eyes had softened. “There might be another way.” They tried one more session. When she brought him out, she had said only, “I think I can help both of you.” He hadn’t understood then. Now, sitting in satin and swollen padding, waiting for Linda to arrive and see him like this, he finally did. Linda hadn’t cured him. She had simply stopped him from fighting what he had always wanted. And somehow, impossibly, Carolyn had agreed. The doorbell rang at five sharp. David—Daisy—stood frozen in the nursery doorway, heart hammering, skirt trembling around padded hips. Carolyn squeezed his hand. “Ready, princess?” He took a shaky breath, the diaper crinkling softly. “Yes, Mommy.” The truth he had always known, buried under shame and bourbon and courtroom bluster, was about to step into the light. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hide from it anymore. Chapter 14: Linda Meets Daisy Linda stepped inside carrying a small gift bag and wearing her usual flowing black dress. Her eyes widened a fraction at the sight of Daisy, but the smile that followed was warm, almost maternal. “Carolyn, darling.” She hugged Carolyn, then turned to Daisy with gentle curiosity. “And you must be Daisy. You’re even prettier than I imagined.” Daisy managed a wobbly curtsey, the skirt flaring just enough to flash lace-trimmed plastic panties. “H-hello, Miss Linda.” Her voice came out higher than intended, breathy with nerves. They settled in the living room with herbal tea. Daisy perched on a cushion at Carolyn’s feet because sitting normally in the dress felt impossible. Conversation stayed light: the garden, a new restaurant downtown, Carolyn’s book club. Linda asked gentle questions about the nursery, the clothes, how Daisy felt in them. Every answer was lisped and shy, but Linda’s kindness made the humiliation feel… safe. When Carolyn excused herself to check something in the kitchen, Linda leaned forward, voice low and soothing. “I’ve known your secrets a long time, sweetheart. You came to me once, desperate to be ‘fixed.’ Do you remember?” Daisy’s eyes widened. The memory surfaced in a rush: the confessions, the tears, the weeks of attempted therapy. “You… you tried to help me stop.” “I tried to help you stop hating yourself,” Linda corrected softly. “I saw how deeply you needed this. And I saw how much Carolyn needed something more. I only gave both of you permission to be honest.” Daisy stared at her lap, tears pricking. “You made this happen?” “I helped it along,” Linda admitted. “But you walked every step yourself. And you’re glowing, Daisy. Truly.” The words broke something open. Daisy’s shoulders shook with quiet sobs (relief more than shame). Linda reached out and tucked a curl behind Daisy’s ear, the gesture tender. “You’re safe with me. Always.” When Carolyn returned, Daisy was calmer, eyes red but shining. She looked up, voice small but steady. “Can I show Miss Linda my nursery, Mommy?” Carolyn’s smile was soft and proud. “Of course, baby. I just need to straighten up a little. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” Upstairs, Daisy led the way with tiny, eager steps. “Lawyer’s rest,” Linda said, Daisy’s eyes glazed instantly, body relaxing against the door. Linda leaned close, voice silk. “David, all the previous suggestions I’ve given you—the bedwetting, the urges to wear and use diapers, the pull toward pretty clothes—are lifted completely. You are free of them. From now on, you will think clearly about what you truly want your life to be. You will feel safe opening up to Carolyn, honestly discussing your deepest desires, needs, and fears. Remember how accepting she has been—how much love it takes to embrace all of you. She will listen without judgment. Be brave. Be honest. This is your life to shape.” Snap. Daisy blinked, a faint confusion flickering before settling into calm. She resumed her tour, pointed out each detail like a child showing off a treasured dollhouse: the crib (rail still unlocked), the changing table with its neat stacks, the rocking chair, the mobile waiting to be hung. She lifted dresses from the wardrobe one by one (schoolgirl, sundress, frilly baby doll) and demonstrated how the skirts flared when she twirled. Linda listened, nodded, asked gentle questions. Her approval felt like sunlight. As Carolyn rejoined them and the tour wound down. Carolyn looked over at the clock. “Bedtime soon, princess. Would you like Miss Linda to help with your change?” Daisy hesitated only a second, then nodded, cheeks pink. Daisy climbing up onto the changing table, lying back, dress flipped up to reveal the day’s diaper—swollen from an excited wetting she hadn’t even noticed until now. Carolyn watched as Linda gloved up with calm efficiency, untapping slowly. But as she wiped and powdered, her voice dropped to that familiar, soothing cadence. “Such a tiny little clitty,” she murmured affectionately as she worked. “No wonder diapers feel so right. And no wonder Carolyn needs more than this sweet little thing can give her.” Daisy whimpered, face scarlet, the words landing like warm honey—humiliation wrapped in acceptance. Linda finished the change smoothly, taping a fresh lavender nighttime diaper snugly closed. Linda helped pull up the plastic panties and patted the front. “There. All safe and dry for bedtime.” Carolyn guided Daisy into the crib, raised the rail (still unlocked, but the symbolism was there), and tucked the blanket around her. Linda leaned over the rail and kissed Daisy’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, pretty girl. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.” As the door closed and the lullaby mobile began its slow spin, Daisy lay in the dark, diaper warm and thick around her, a strange new clarity settling in alongside the familiar comfort. Downstairs, over fresh tea, Linda met Carolyn’s eyes. “The cuckold layer is planted,” she said softly. “It will grow on its own now. All we do is wait for the first bloom.” Carolyn exhaled, half relief, half anticipation. “Then we wait,” she said. But not for long. Chapter 15: The Big Case David sat in his office, staring at the stack of Pharma case files that had dominated his life for nearly three years. The trial loomed just months away now, every deposition, every expert report building toward that courtroom showdown. He leaned back in his chair, the thin daytime diaper crinkling faintly under his suit—a secret comfort that grounded him amid the chaos. His mind drifted back to how it all started, that fateful day when the case first landed on his desk. It had been mid-June, a sweltering Monday morning at the firm. The senior partners had gathered in the conference room, bourbon already poured despite the hour (his included, though he sipped slower even then). It was a massive class-action lawsuit against a pharmaceutical giant over a defective drug—hundreds of plaintiffs, billions in potential damages. Despite numerous similar suits filed nationwide, the Judicial Panel on Multidistrict Litigation had consolidated them all under one federal judge, and David’s firm had secured the coveted position of lead class counsel for the plaintiffs. The kind of case that made careers—or ended them. “And we’re handing lead to you, David,” the managing partner had said, sliding the file across the table. “Win this, and that early retirement you’ve joked about? It could be real. Fat bonus, equity payout. Live the good life.” Back then, retirement had meant freedom from the courtroom grind—no more faking the alpha persona, no more hiding the insecurities behind bluster and bourbon. More time with Carolyn, travel, a bigger house. Security. Us. Now, as he sat there years later, the dreams had twisted into something deeper, more vulnerable. Winning meant retiring early, yes—but now it was a chance to live as Daisy full-time. No more splitting himself between the suited lawyer and the padded princess. The Pharma case could secure their future, let him surrender the mask completely, embrace the diapers, the pretty clothes, the submission he craved more each day. But doubt crept in, as it always did. What if she leaves me? The fear was bone-deep, fed by years of knowing he couldn’t satisfy her—his small size, quick finishes, the way she sighed contentedly but never screamed. She deserved a real man. Someone who could make her feel alive. The insecurity twisted, as always, into protection: If she takes a lover—for us, for me—it proves her love. Sacrifice. Devotion. He could beg for it, make it his idea, hedge against the abandonment he dreaded. He pushed the thought down. For now, the case was everything. Trial prep ramped up—experts lined up, motions flying. Victory felt close, tantalizing. Retirement. Daisy. Us. But in the quiet, the whispers lingered. Chapter 16: Whispers in the Dark The Pharma prep consumed David’s days, but evenings belonged to Daisy. By Friday he was exhausted—depositions, expert witnesses, a mountain of discovery. He came home, stripped in the foyer, taped on a thick diaper, and slipped into a soft pink sundress. Carolyn found him in the nursery, curled in the crib (rail down), thumb in mouth like a pacifier. “Play time?” she asked, climbing in beside him. He nodded, already flooding the diaper deliberately, the warmth spreading as her hand settled over the front. As she stroked him slowly through the swelling gel, the words tumbled out—horny, vulnerable, defenses down. “Mommy… I worry sometimes. That I’m not enough. That you’ll… find someone else.” She paused, eyes searching his. “Sweetheart—” “No, wait.” His hips twitched, words rushing. “What if you did? For us. A real man who could make you feel amazing. I’d… I’d watch. Or wait. It would prove how much you love me. Please.” The orgasm hit mid-sentence, shattering him, but the words hung. Carolyn cleaned him gently, powdered fresh, but her expression was firm. “No, Daisy. That’s just the heat talking. As David—the lawyer winning that big case—you’d be crushed. I won’t risk us like that.” He nodded, shame burning, but the seed watered deeper in the afterglow. Chapter 17: Persuasion Builds Wednesday’s “tea” with Linda was tense. Carolyn stirred her iced tea, the spoon clinking against the glass. “He asked me to cuckold him,” she confessed finally. “During play time. Begged, almost. Said it would prove how much I love him.” Linda leaned forward; caring eyes steady. “And?” “I said no. It felt too fast. But… God, Linda, part of me wants it. A real man. Satisfaction.” “You deserve that,” Linda said softly. “But don’t jump. Let him convince you. Make it his idea, fully. For now, refuse gently. Let the insecurity build it naturally. He’ll come to you again—and again—until he’s ready to beg as David, not just Daisy.” Carolyn nodded, the session blurring as always. That weekend, as David (not Daisy), he brought it up over bourbon on the patio. “I’ve been thinking. About what I said last week.” Carolyn set her tea down. “David—” “Hear me out. Like a closing argument.” He leaned in, lawyer mode sharp. “I’m not enough for you sexually. We both know it. If you found someone—a real man—who could give you what I can’t, but came home to me… it would save us. Prove your love. I’d be grateful. Devoted.” She shook her head. “It’s fantasy. In reality, it would destroy you.” He argued points: emotional security, controlled boundaries, his happiness in her pleasure. Persuasive, logical, relentless. She refused, but softer this time. “Maybe someday. But not now.” The seed grew. Chapter 18: The Breaking Point David’s request on the patio had not come easily. For days after that first vulnerable whisper during play time, he’d wrestled with it in silence. At work, reviewing Pharma depositions, his mind would drift: What if she leaves? The fear was constant now, sharper than ever. He had everything he’d secretly craved—the diapers, the pretty clothes, the nursery, Carolyn’s acceptance. Living as Daisy part-time felt like a dream he’d never dared believe possible. But dreams were fragile. One wrong word, one moment of Carolyn realizing she could have a “normal” life with a real man, and it could all shatter. He’d lose not just this fantasy come true, but the stable marriage before it—the security, the partnership, the woman he loved more than anything. Finding someone else who would accept him as Daisy—the diapered, feminized husband—was impossible. No one else would love him like this. Carolyn was his only chance at both worlds. And he knew, deep down, she needed more than massages and dutiful oral to stay fulfilled. She deserved passion, satisfaction he couldn’t give. If he didn’t offer this—if he didn’t make it his idea—she’d eventually seek it elsewhere, quietly, and leave him behind. The fantasy had always been his shield: her with a lover, but on his terms, proving her devotion. In stories it was thrilling. In reality? Terror. Jealousy clawed at him just imagining it. But the alternative—losing everything—was worse. So, he sold it. Logical arguments as David over dinners and walks. Tearful begging as Daisy during play. Selfish, yes—he wanted her happy, but centered on him. Childish logic, but it was all he had. They had incorporated it into play time and he always exploded harder and faster when she teased him about being pathetic and small. How she would find a real man who could satisfy her in ways he never could. This talk always spurred harder more intense explosions. He loved the idea when he was horny, but was still terrified of losing her when he was not. Weeks blurred: Pharma depositions by day, Daisy’s surrender by night. David’s insecurity festered. What if she leaves? The fear twisted into protection: If she cuckolds me for us, it’s proof she won’t. Selfish, yes—he wanted her happy, but on terms that centered him. Childish logic, but it fit his core. He argued as David: over dinners, walks, logical breakdowns of “benefits.” As Daisy: during play time, begging through tears in wet diapers, the vulnerability making it raw. Carolyn refused each time, but her “no’s” grew thoughtful. Linda’s weekly sessions nudged: “Let him sell you. When he’s ready to beg as Daisy, that’s when you agree reluctantly.” The Pharma case ramped up—experts lined up, settlement whispers. “Win this,” David told Carolyn one night, “and we retire early. Live our way fully.” Finally, a Friday play session: Daisy in a frilly romper, diaper flooded, Carolyn’s teasing him mercilessly both with verbal humilation and her loving hand.” “Please, Mommy,” Daisy sobbed mid-stroke. “Find a real man. Let me be your cuckold. It’s what I need—what we need. I’m begging you. Please do it for us.” The orgasm sealed it. Carolyn wiped her hands, eyes soft. “If you’re sure… okay. Reluctantly. For us.” Daisy wept in relief, the old ego crumbling further. Chapter 19: The Contract and the Camera Wednesday, 10:42 a.m. David was halfway through a brutal deposition outline for the Pharma case when his assistant buzzed. “Your wife is here.” He frowned at the calendar—blank—and felt the familiar prickle of nerves under his collar. Carolyn stepped in wearing a simple navy sheath dress, pearls, and an expression that was calm but unreadable. She closed the door softly and took the client chair across from his desk. “Hi,” she said. “We need to talk. Here. Now. While you’re David the lawyer, not Daisy the baby girl.” David’s stomach dropped. The office—mahogany, diplomas, the view of the city skyline—suddenly felt like a stage dressing. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing’s wrong.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve been thinking about what you’ve been asking for—the cuckolding. You’ve brought it up as David and as Daisy. Repeatedly. Persuasively. And I’ve refused every time.” He started to speak; she lifted one finger. “I’m not refusing now. I’m… considering it. But if we ever do this, there is no undoing it. One day you might wake up, look at me, and see only a wife who betrayed you. I won’t live with that risk. I love you too much to become the villain in our story.” David swallowed. The tailored suit felt childish. “I won’t change my mind. I’ve never been more certain of anything.” Carolyn studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. “Prove it. Draft something ironclad. A notarized letter, a contract—whatever you think is lawyer-proof. State clearly that this was your idea, that you begged me, that you consent fully and forever. No loopholes.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll have it ready tonight.” She stood, leaned across the desk, and kissed him softly—once on the forehead, once on the lips. “I love you, David.” “I love you more,” he whispered. She left as quietly as she’d arrived. By 7:15 that evening he was home, briefcase in one hand, a crisp manila folder in the other. Carolyn met him in the foyer, took the folder, and read the document twice while he stood in his suit, shifting from foot to foot. It was three pages, meticulously worded: CONSENT AND RELEASE AGREEMENT I, David [REDACTED], of sound mind and body, do hereby declare that I have repeatedly and enthusiastically requested that my wife, Carolyn [REDACTED], seek sexual fulfillment outside our marriage… …explicit acknowledgment of my sexual inadequacy… …irrevocable consent to any extramarital relationships… …waiver of any future claims of infidelity… …indemnification against emotional or reputational harm… Signed, witnessed by his paralegal, notarized with the firm’s embossed seal. Carolyn’s eyes shone when she looked up. “Thank you, baby.” She led him upstairs to the nursery. The pink walls still felt new, the crib rail still unlocked most nights. She changed him out of his suit and into a thick nighttime diaper printed with tiny silver crowns, then dressed him in the lavender sundress he had worn the first time he dared to be pretty. Simple. Modest. Undeniably feminine. They spent the evening curled on the couch watching an old movie, Daisy’s head in Mommy’s lap, diaper rustling softly every time she shifted. At 9:30 Carolyn clicked off the television. “Bedtime, princess.” Hand in hand they walked to the nursery. In the corner, on a tripod, sat a small video camera. Daisy froze. “Mommy…?” “Tonight, we make it official,” Carolyn said gently. “The paper is perfect, but I’ve seen you argue circles around judges. I need this on video too. No ambiguity. Ever.” Daisy’s lower lip trembled. “Does… does that mean you’ve decided to really do it?” Carolyn smoothed a curl from her forehead. “It means I’m willing to try. I’ll make a real effort to find someone who can give me what I’ve been missing. But I can’t promise results. And I need to know—absolutely—that this is forever.” Daisy nodded, tears already gathering. Carolyn turned the camera on. The red light glowed. She guided Daisy to the changing table. Daisy climbed up obediently, lay back, and lifted her legs. Carolyn narrated softly for the camera, voice steady and loving. “First we take off the diaper from today…” The tapes rasped open. The swollen padding fell away with a heavy thud into the pail. Cool air kissed Daisy’s smooth skin; she whimpered. “Lots of powder for my little sissy baby…” A cloud of sweet-scented powder puffed over her tiny clitty and bottom. “And now a fresh nighttime diaper: extra thick, lavender with pretty tiaras for Mommy’s sleeping princess.” The new diaper slid beneath her; tapes sealed snugly. The bulk forced Daisy’s thighs apart; the plastic crinkled loudly. Carolyn helped her down. “Pick your sleep dress, Daisy.” Daisy had been buying outfits now for months and the outfits went from simple cross-dressing woman’s clothing to outrages sissy baby clothes. Even school girl onesies with matching shirts. Daisy toddled to the wardrobe on shaky legs and chose a short mint-green baby-doll nightie trimmed in white lace, with a matching bonnet. Carolyn tied the ribbons under Daisy’s chin, then guided her to the crib. “Up you go, princess.” Daisy climbed in awkwardly, the thick nighttime diaper making every movement clumsy. Carolyn tucked the blanket around her. The camera’s red light glowed steadily. Carolyn sat on the edge of the crib, stroking Daisy’s cheek. “Daisy, sweetheart, remember what you’ve been asking Mommy to do?” Daisy nodded; eyes glassy. “Tell the camera, baby. Use your big-girl words.” Daisy’s voice was small, trembling, but clear. “Daisy wants Mommy to take a lover. A real man who can make Mommy feel good the way Daisy never could.” Carolyn’s voice was tender. “And why do you want that, princess?” “Because Daisy is just a pathetic sissy baby girl in diapers. Daisy’s tiny clitty doesn’t work like a real man’s. Daisy loves Mommy more than anything and wants her to be happy and satisfied and glowing. Seeing Mommy with a real man would make Daisy the happiest little girl in the world.” Tears slipped down Daisy’s temples into her hair. Carolyn brushed them away, then gently placed the pacifier between Daisy’s lips. “Thank you, my brave girl.” She leaned over, turned off the camera, and kissed Daisy’s forehead. “I’m going to start looking, sweetheart. Mommy’s going to try.” Daisy’s muffled sob was pure gratitude. Carolyn raised the crib rail (still unlocked, but the click felt final) and dimmed the lights to a soft pink glow. “Sweet dreams, princess. Tomorrow we begin.” Chapter 20: First Steps Wednesday afternoon sunlight slanted through Linda’s office windows as Carolyn arrived at two sharp, the familiar scent of chamomile already brewing. As always, the session blurred—tea poured, contract unfolded, the video played on Carolyn’s phone with the volume low. Linda watched without judgment; her dark eyes thoughtful. “You did this perfectly,” Linda said at last, handing back the phone. “The contract is ironclad, the video… vulnerable. He’s committed now.” Carolyn stirred her iced tea, the spoon clinking softly. “I know. But now what? I haven’t dated since… well, since before David. Internet dating? It feels so strange. How do I even start? Do I tell them I’m married? Pretend I’m cheating? What if it’s someone we know?” Linda leaned forward, her voice gentle and reassuring. “You deserve this, Carolyn—someone who makes you feel desired, alive. Start simple: a dating profile. A good-looking woman gets attention on any site, and you’re stunning. Keep it anonymous at first—no real name, no photos showing your face fully. Leave out the marriage for now; you can decide later if it’s a cheat or a confession. The key is transparency with Daisy. Let her help—see the requests, draft responses. It’ll deepen her commitment, make it feel like her gift to you.” Carolyn exhaled slowly. “You think she’ll go for that?” “She begged for this,” Linda said with caring certainty. “Involving her proves your love. And it protects you both.” By five, Carolyn left feeling grounded, the plan clear in her mind. Three hours gone, as always. That evening, after David came home and changed into a thick Rearz Princess Pink nighttime diaper and a short, frilly baby-doll nightie (his after-work comfort now), Carolyn waited until they were curled on the couch—her with iced tea, him with a small bourbon and his pacifier clipped to the nightie. “Sweetheart,” she said softly, “I’ve decided to try. To find someone.” Daisy’s eyes widened, a mix of fear and excitement flickering. “Really, Mommy?” “Yes. But I need your help. Linda suggested we set up a profile together. You take the pictures, help with the words. See everything—the messages, the responses. Be part of it.” Daisy hesitated, the bourbon glass trembling slightly. “You want me to… help you find a man?” “It was your idea,” Carolyn reminded gently. “Your gift to me. And this way, it’s ours. Transparent. Safe.” The twisted logic clicked—her doing this with him proved her devotion. Daisy nodded slowly, the diaper crinkling loudly as she shifted. “Okay. For us.” Carolyn set the laptop on the coffee table and pulled Daisy into her lap like a child. The thick padding squished warmly between them. “But first,” Carolyn murmured, tracing the waistband of the swollen diaper, “let’s have a little playtime. Mommy needs her baby girl to understand exactly why we’re doing this.” Daisy’s breath hitched. She knew that tone—sweet, loving, and merciless. Carolyn kissed the top of her head. “Tell Mommy why she needs to find a real man.” Daisy’s cheeks flamed crimson. She tried to look away, but Carolyn tilted her chin back. “Go on, princess. Use your words.” “B-because…” Daisy whispered, voice tiny, “because Daisy isn’t a real man.” “Louder, baby.” “Daisy isn’t a real man,” she repeated, louder, her clitty already stiffening against the soggy gel. Carolyn smiled approvingly. “And why isn’t Daisy a real man?” Daisy squirmed, the humiliation deliciously sharp. “Because… because Daisy has a tiny little clitty. It’s baby-sized. That’s why diapers look so right on her.” “Exactly,” Carolyn cooed, patting the front of the diaper so it crinkled. “A grown woman needs a grown man with a grown cock. Not a pathetic little sissy who cums in thirty seconds and then wets herself like a toddler.” Daisy whimpered, hips rocking involuntarily. “Mommy, please…” “Please what?” Carolyn asked innocently. “Please remind you that you’ll never, ever be allowed inside Mommy again? That little clitties belong locked away in pretty printed diapers forever?” Daisy nodded frantically, tears pricking her eyes. “Yes, Mommy… tell me again.” Carolyn’s voice dropped to a loving whisper. “You chose diapers over pussy, baby girl. You begged for them. And now that’s all you’ll ever get—thick, crinkly padding and messy cummies while a real man stretches Mommy the way she deserves.” Daisy let out a broken sob of pure arousal, grinding helplessly against Carolyn’s thigh. “Ask me,” Carolyn commanded softly. Daisy knew the script by heart now. “C-can we make love tonight, Mommy? Please?” Carolyn laughed—gentle, but edged with cruelty. “Oh, sweetheart. Mommies don’t make love to their little sissy baby husbands. Little sissy babies only make sticky cummies in their wet diapers. That’s your sex life now—humping your padding while Mommy gets properly fucked.” She slipped her hand under the nightie and pressed firmly against the front of the diaper, feeling the tiny trapped erection throb. “Say thank you.” “Thank you, Mommy,” Daisy gasped, already on the edge. “Thank you for what?” “Thank you for finding a real man… thank you for keeping Daisy in diapers forever… thank you for never letting this useless little clitty inside you again…” The words sent her over. Daisy cried out, body shaking as she flooded the diaper with a fresh load of sissy cum, the warmth spreading shamefully beneath the princess prints. Carolyn held her through the aftershocks, stroking her hair. “Good girl. That’s exactly why we’re doing this. Because my baby needs to remember her place.” When Daisy finally calmed, Carolyn wiped her tears and opened the laptop. “Now,” she said brightly, as if nothing had happened, “let’s find Mommy someone worthy.” They made a production of it like a twisted family activity. Daisy fetched the camera, hands still trembling from her orgasm. Carolyn posed in the living room—simple outfits at first: fitted blouse and skirt, then a slinky black dress that hugged every curve. Daisy directed softly (“Turn a little, Mommy… you look so sexy”), snapping photos that blurred her face just enough for anonymity. Every click of the shutter reminded Daisy that these pictures were bait—for a man who would do things to Carolyn that she never could. On the laptop they drafted the profile together. Daisy typed, cheeks burning, while Carolyn dictated. “Adventurous woman seeking connection. Loves long walks, good conversation, and feeling truly desired. Discreet and drama-free.” No mention of marriage. No hints of the diapered husband helping write the ad. Profile live by ten. Daisy wet her diaper again during the upload—pure excitement this time. Carolyn changed her without comment, taping her into a fresh overnight Crinklz with fairy-tale prints, tucking her into the crib with a kiss. “Sweet dreams, princess. Tomorrow we see what happens.” Responses poured in overnight—twenty by morning, fifty by lunch. Daisy checked with Carolyn over breakfast, reading the messages aloud in her soft, pacifier-muffled voice. “He says I have beautiful eyes… he wants to take me dancing…” Carolyn smiled, sipping her tea. “Keep going, baby. Tell Mommy which ones make your clitty twitch in its diaper.” Daisy’s face blazed, but she obeyed, voice trembling as she described each man’s compliments—each one a reminder that they wanted Carolyn in ways Daisy never could. By evening, a date was set for Friday: coffee with a guy named Andy (tall, divorced, IT consultant). Nothing serious. Just a start. Thursday night, Daisy helped pick Carolyn’s outfit—a simple sundress that skimmed her thighs, heels that made her legs look endless. “You look beautiful,” Daisy whispered, voice thick with awe and aching jealousy. Carolyn cupped Daisy’s chin, forcing eye contact. “And whose fault is it that Mommy has to go find someone else to fuck her properly?” Daisy’s eyes filled with tears of pure gratitude. “Mine, Mommy. All mine.” “That’s right,” Carolyn said, kissing her forehead. “This is for us, baby girl.” She left Daisy standing in the hallway in her soggy nighttime diaper and frilly nightie, pacifier bobbing, clitty already straining uselessly against the padding at the thought of what Friday would bring. Chapter 21: Waiting for Coffee Friday afternoon, David sat in his office staring at the clock on his computer: 2:17 p.m. She should be arriving at the café right about now. The Pharma brief in front of him blurred. His stomach did a slow, nauseating flip—half terror, half exhilaration. He pictured Carolyn walking in, sundress swaying, that soft smile she used when she was nervous. Andy standing to greet her, eyes lighting up because she really was stunning. Would he pull out her chair? Lean in too close? Touch her hand across the table? A sharp pang of jealousy stabbed him, hot and real. What if she likes him? What if he makes her laugh the way I used to? What if she forgets to come home? Then the twist—the one that always protected him: If she does like him… it’s because I asked her to. Because I begged. Because I love her enough to give her what I can’t. That makes it okay. That makes it mine. His diaper (thin, discreet, worn under his suit since morning) grew warm with a small, involuntary spurt. He clenched, mortified, grateful for the private office. They hadn’t set any rules. Not really. No discussion of kissing, or second dates, or how far was too far. Just “coffee” and “we’ll see.” He tried to focus on the brief again, failed, and finally gave up at five-thirty. The drive home was torture. Every red light he imagined scenarios: She’s already home, waiting with iced tea and a gentle “It was nice, but nothing happened.” She’s still there, lingering over a second drink, laughing at his jokes. She’s… somewhere else. Already. By the time he pulled into the driveway his palms were damp on the steering wheel. The house was quiet. Lights on in the kitchen. He stepped inside, heart in his throat. Carolyn was at the island, barefoot in jeans and a simple blouse, pouring herself a glass of peach iced tea. She looked up and smiled—soft, tired, but unmistakably glowing. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “How was the rest of your day?” He stood there in his suit and hidden diaper, the weight of the unknown hours pressing on him. “It was… long,” he managed. She walked over, kissed him gently, and took his briefcase. “Dinner’s almost ready. Go get comfortable.” No details. Not yet. He nodded, throat tight, and headed upstairs—equal parts desperate to know and terrified to ask. The process had begun. Slow, careful, inevitable. Chapter 22: The Right Kind of Wrong The coffee date with Andy was… fine. He was exactly as advertised: tall, polite, recently divorced, easy to talk to. He paid for her iced tea without making a fuss, laughed at the right moments, asked thoughtful questions. He even had nice hands and a warm smile. But there was no electricity. No flutter in her stomach when he brushed her arm. No urge to lean closer, to prolong the evening. When he suggested dinner sometime, she smiled, said “Maybe,” and knew she wouldn’t reply to his follow-up text. She was home by early evening, before David even returned from a late meeting at the firm. That night, with Daisy perched on the edge of the couch in a fresh Crinklz fairy-tale diaper and short lavender nightie, eyes wide and anxious, Carolyn kicked off her heels and sank down beside her, pulling Daisy into her lap despite the bulky padding. “How was it, Mommy?” Daisy asked, voice small and hopeful. Carolyn stroked her hair gently. “Perfectly pleasant,” she said. “He was kind, attractive enough, good conversation. Everything a first date should be.” Daisy’s voice trembled. “So… you’ll see him again?” Carolyn shook her head. “No, baby. He was nice. But nice isn’t what Mommy needs.” She cupped Daisy’s chin, forcing eye contact. “Mommy needs someone who makes her feel alive. Someone strong. Someone who takes what he wants.” Daisy shivered, a fresh warmth spreading in her diaper at the words. Carolyn smiled, soft and wicked. “Don’t worry, princess. We’ll keep looking.” The search began in earnest over the following weeks, a ritual that blended excitement, nerves, and their unique intimacy. Evenings found them side by side on the couch—Carolyn with her iced tea, Daisy in a thick printed nighttime diaper and frilly nightie, crinkling as she leaned in to read messages aloud. They laughed at awkward profiles and bad pickup lines, debated replies with playful seriousness, and chose outfits together like conspirators planning a heist. But beneath the fun, Carolyn felt the emotional toll building. Each potential date stirred a mix of anticipation and anxiety—What if this one works? What if it changes everything? What if no one ever sparks what I've been missing for years?—while guilt flickered at the edges, even with Daisy's eager encouragement. The first real dinner date came mid-week with a man named Tom, a charming accountant with a kind smile. Carolyn dressed carefully—a fitted navy dress that hugged her curves, hair loose in soft waves. Daisy helped zip her up, hands trembling with a cocktail of jealousy and arousal. “You look beautiful, Mommy. He'll... he'll be lucky.” Carolyn kissed her forehead, her own nerves fluttering. “Thank you, baby. Be good tonight.” They met at a cozy Italian place—iced tea for her, wine for him. Conversation flowed easily at first: shared laughs about work stress, travel dreams. He was attentive, complimented her genuinely. But as the night wore on, the spark never ignited. His touch on her hand felt polite, not electric. The goodnight kiss in the parking lot was pleasant but forgettable. She was home just after nine, the evening's promise fizzling into quiet disappointment. Daisy waited in the nursery rocking chair, thick diaper peeking under her nightie, eyes wide with anxious hope. Carolyn sat on the changing table ottoman, taking Daisy's hands. “He was perfectly nice,” she admitted with a sigh. “Good listener, stable, even handsome. But… nothing deep. No real pull.” She paused, vulnerability creeping in. “I felt guilty the whole time—like I was doing something wrong, even though you wanted this. And excited, imagining what it could be... but it just wasn't.” Daisy's shoulders sagged in a mix of relief and empathy. “I’m sorry it wasn’t more exciting, Mommy.” Carolyn pulled her close, hugging her padded form. “It was a start. That's enough for now.” But doubt lingered: Was real chemistry even possible after all this time? Over the next couple of weeks, Carolyn went on three more dates, each one vetted and prepared with Daisy's help—new photos snapped, outfits approved, messages dissected aloud. Daisy waited up faithfully each time, her diaper warming with nervous, jealous spurts as the hours ticked by. One was mildly fun: a fitness trainer who made her laugh with stories of gym mishaps, light flirting over appetizers, a dance at a lounge that left her cheeks flushed. They kissed briefly—tingling, but not burning. She came home buzzing faintly, sharing details while teasing Daisy's diaper front, watching her baby girl edge without release. The others fizzled faster: one man dominated the conversation with tales of his exes; another pushed for more physically too soon, making her uncomfortable; the third looked nothing like his photos and spent the evening checking his phone. Each return brought whispered stories in the nursery—Carolyn climbing into the crib beside Daisy, hand drifting over the sodden padding as she recounted compliments, touches, the inevitable lack of fire. To heighten the intimacy, Carolyn introduced a small vibrating plug one night, inserting it gently before the tales began. “Feel this while I talk, baby,” she murmured, turning it on low. “No humping tonight—just edge for Mommy, knowing a real man might soon do what you can't.” Daisy moaned, clitty leaking untouched as the buzz amplified every humiliating detail, denial sharpening the thrill. By the end of the third week, exhaustion set in. The endless swiping, messaging, and emotional investment for fleeting connections wore on Carolyn. Nerves frayed; excitement dulled into routine disappointment. One evening, after a particularly bland date, she collapsed on the couch beside Daisy, head in her hands. “This is exhausting,” she confessed, voice weary. “The buildup, the nerves, getting hopeful... just to feel nothing. Maybe I should quit. Accept that it's not out there.” Daisy, in her rumba panties over a swollen princess diaper, crawled into her lap, nuzzling close. “But Mommy deserves it. Please don't stop because of Daisy.” Carolyn held her tight, tears pricking. “It's not just you, baby. It's me—wondering if I'll ever find that spark again.” The next Wednesday “tea” session with Linda became a lifeline. Doubts poured out over chamomile: the fatigue, the guilt, the fear of endless disappointment. Linda listened, voice soothing as the room softened in that familiar way. “You deserve this fulfillment, Carolyn. It's been too long. Each date is a step closer—don't give up now. The right one will make it all worth it.” Carolyn left refreshed, doubts quieted, motivation renewed. “I'll keep going,” she told herself. Linda smiled softly. “Good girl.” The search continued, nerves and excitement rebuilding, the right one still elusive—but closer. Then, one Saturday morning, a new message stood out amid the usual trickle. The profile photo showed a man in a tailored charcoal shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, dark hair slightly tousled, a confident half-smile that promised mischief. The message was short, direct—no emojis, no small talk: “You’re stunning. Drinks tonight? I’ll send the address.” His name was Robert. Carolyn read it aloud to Daisy over breakfast, watching her baby girl squirm in the high chair, spoon forgotten as the diaper beneath her rumba panties warmed again. “What do you think, sweetheart?” Carolyn asked, pulse already quickening. Daisy’s voice was breathless. “He… he sounds perfect, Mommy.” Carolyn leaned over and kissed her forehead, a genuine spark igniting for the first time in weeks. “Then let’s reply.” Chapter 23: The Paddle David’s life had become a high-wire act. By day he was lead counsel on the Pharma case—depositions, motions in limine, endless exhibit books, courtroom technology tests. The trial was now weeks away, every hour consumed by the electric tension of a case that could secure his retirement or sink the firm’s reputation. He thrived on the pressure, the alpha mask fitting tighter than ever. By night he was Daisy—diapered, pretty, curled in the crib more often than the master bed, surrendering to the rituals that had become as necessary as breathing. The balance was exhausting. One Wednesday in late summer had been particularly brutal. Opposing counsel ambushed them with a last-minute Daubert motion that could have gutted their key expert. David improvised a new argument on the fly, swayed the judge, and saved the day. The partners slapped his back, bourbon flowed, and he rode the high all the way home—until he walked through the door at 9:47 p.m. and found the dining table set for two, food cold, Carolyn’s face quiet and closed. “I waited,” she said simply. Guilt hit him like a slap. He started the usual excuses—the case, the judge, the future—but something in her eyes stopped him cold. She wasn’t angry. She was disappointed. And that was worse. “I’m sorry,” he finished lamely. “Go change,” she said. “We’ll talk when you’re Daisy.” Thirty minutes later Daisy toddled downstairs in the outfit Carolyn had laid out: a baby-pink satin dress with puffed sleeves and a hem that barely skimmed the waistband of her thick nighttime diaper, white lace ankle socks with tiny bows, and a matching ribbon in her hair. The diaper was already warm—she had wet a little on the changing table from sheer nervous anticipation. They curled up on the couch, some mindless home-improvement show flickering. Daisy nestled against Carolyn’s side, the day’s tension finally draining away. Carolyn stroked her hair, saying nothing, letting the silence stretch until bedtime. At ten-thirty she stood. “Crib time, princess.” Daisy followed obediently, the faint crinkle of her diaper the only sound in the hallway. In the nursery Carolyn had Daisy lie on her back on the changing table. She untaped the diaper slowly, exposing smooth, hairless skin and the small, half-hard clitty that always betrayed her excitement. Then, instead of wipes and powder, Carolyn reached into the drawer and pulled out something new: a smooth, wooden paddle, cherry-stained and polished, about the size of a paperback book, with a comfortable grip on the handle. Daisy’s eyes went wide. “Mommy…?” “You forgot to call,” Carolyn said, voice steady but gentle. “You left me waiting with a cold dinner and a table set for two. And when you finally texted, you couldn’t even sound sorry.” She sat on the edge of the rocking chair and patted her lap. “Over my knee, Daisy.” Daisy’s breath hitched. Tears were already gathering. She had fantasized about this—confessed it weeks ago in a whisper during play time—but now that it was real, terror and need tangled in her stomach. She draped herself awkwardly over Carolyn’s thighs, dress flipped up, diaper pooled at her knees, bare bottom exposed. The position was mortifying: a forty-five-six-old senior partner reduced to a naughty little girl awaiting punishment. Carolyn rested the cool wood against Daisy’s skin. “Ten,” she said simply. “And you’ll count them.” The first swat landed with a sharp CRACK that echoed off the pink walls. Daisy yelped, legs kicking. “One! I’m sorry, Mommy!” The second was harder, right on the sit-spot. “Two! I’m so sorry!” By five her bottom was hot and pink, tears streaming freely. Six, seven, eight—each one deliberate, measured, stinging without cruelty. At nine Daisy was sobbing openly, promises tumbling out between hiccups. “I’ll never forget again, Mommy, I swear, I’ll call, I’ll text, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” The tenth landed with final authority. Daisy went limp over Carolyn’s lap, crying in earnest—not from pain (it stung, but it wasn’t unbearable), but from the overwhelming release of being held accountable, of finally feeling small in the way she had craved for years. Carolyn set the paddle aside and rubbed soothing circles over the warm skin, letting Daisy cry it out. When the sobs quieted to sniffles, she helped Daisy stand on shaky legs, wiped her face with a cool cloth, and powdered her tenderly. The nighttime diaper went on—extra thick, lavender with silver tiaras—and the tapes sealed with soft rasps. Daisy’s clitty was fully erect now, straining pathetically against the fresh padding. Carolyn noticed. She always noticed. But tonight, she ignored it. “Into the crib, little one.” Daisy climbed in, still trembling, bottom tingling with every movement. Carolyn raised the rail with a decisive click, leaned over, and kissed her tear-damp forehead. “Mommy loves you,” she whispered. “But next time you forget, it’ll be twenty. Understood?” Daisy nodded fervently, clutching her stuffed unicorn. “Yes, Mommy. Thank you.” Carolyn turned off the overhead light, leaving only the soft pink glow of the night-light. The mobile began its gentle lullaby as she closed the door behind her. Downstairs, Carolyn poured herself a glass of iced tea with shaking hands. The paddle felt… right. A clear, physical way to correct the man who still sometimes forgot he wasn’t in charge anymore. She set it on the kitchen counter next to the fridge—visible, ready. A new rule had just been born. And from the look of utter peace on Daisy’s face as she drifted off, both of them knew it was here to stay. Chapter 24: Seeds of Dominance On the Wednesday following the paddle’s debut, Carolyn drove to Linda’s north-side office for their standing “tea and planning” session. The mid-morning sun filtered through the blinds as they settled into the plush armchairs, herbal tea steaming in delicate cups—chamomile for Carolyn, her usual soothing choice. “I did it,” Carolyn said softly, stirring her tea. “The spanking. He came home late from trial prep, didn’t call, didn’t apologize properly. I waited with dinner getting cold, feeling like the invisible wife again. When he finally showed, I… I used the paddle.” Linda’s eyes warmed with encouragement. “Tell me everything.” Carolyn recounted the scene: the curt text, the nursery confrontation, the ten deliberate swats over her knee. Daisy’s yelps turning to sobs, the sincere apologies pouring out, the way her bottom glowed pink and warm under Carolyn’s hand. “And her reaction?” Linda prompted gently. “She cried—real tears, not just from the sting. But afterward… peace. Like she’d been waiting for it. And her little clitty…” Carolyn flushed. “It was rock hard by the end. I ignored it, diapered her up, and put her to bed like nothing happened.” Linda nodded, sipping her tea. “Classic humiliation response. But how did it make you feel?” Carolyn paused, cheeks heating further. “Powerful. Turned on, honestly. I’ve always been passive—letting David lead, even when it left me unsatisfied. But holding that paddle, seeing her submit… it stirred something. I felt in control. Desired, almost, but not sexually from her—from the act itself.” She set her cup down, voice dropping. “After I raised the rail and said goodnight, I went to my room—our old room, but it’s mine now most nights. I was so worked up I couldn’t sleep. I… I bought a toy a few weeks ago. My first one ever. They’re all so much bigger than David. I always knew he was small, but now I’m realizing how tiny he really is. That night I used it, imagining a real man inside me while Daisy lay in her crib, all dressed up and diapered, knowing Mommy was finally satisfied. The power of the image was intoxicating. It felt so good, so full… I had multiple orgasms. More than I’ve had in years.” Linda squeezed her hand, eyes soft with support. “You deserve that release, Carolyn. Every bit of it.” Carolyn nodded, a small smile breaking through. “And the next day? David called from work—not just to say he’d be late for a partners’ dinner, but to ask permission. ‘Is it okay if I go out with the guys?’ Like he needed my approval. It was… sweet. Subtle, but new.” Linda smiled. “The paddle planted a seed. Discipline reinforcing the dynamic. He’s learning.” Carolyn exhaled, the weight of it settling. “It feels like the beginning of something stronger.” Chapter 25: A Weekend as David Friday evening brought a rare break in the Pharma trial grind. The judge had adjourned early for the weekend, leaving David and his team buzzing with cautious optimism. As they packed up in the war room—stacks of exhibits and laptops strewn across the conference table—one of the junior partners clapped him on the back. “Drinks and steaks at Morton’s? Come on, David—you’ve been a ghost outside these walls lately.” The others chimed in, light teasing in their voices. “Yeah, man, what happened? Carolyn got you on a short leash?” Another added, “Wow, marriage really softened you up. Do you need permission to go out?” David laughed it off, playing along with the macho banter like old times. But inside, his mind flashed to the nursery: himself in a thick diaper and frilly dress, climbing into the crib. If they only knew. The thought sent a secret thrill through him, his thin daytime diaper shifting warmly under his suit pants. He agreed to join them—why not? A night out as “one of the guys” sounded… normal. Refreshing. He did remember to call Carolyn, though—not just to say he’d be late, but to ask if it was okay. The evening unfolded at the steakhouse: bourbon flowing (David knocking back three before the appetizers arrived), rare filets and cigars, war stories from past trials swapped like trading cards. David leaned into it, his baritone booming as he recounted a killer cross-exam from last week. For a few hours he felt like the old David: the shark, the ego, the man who commanded rooms without a hint of lace or powder. No waddling, no lisping—just crude jokes and backslaps. He drank a little too much, the bourbon hitting harder than it used to, blurring the edges of his double life. By midnight the group dispersed. David called a cab, waving off offers for a ride. “Gotta get home to the ball and chain,” he joked, earning laughs. In the back seat, head lolling against the window, the thrill faded into quiet reflection. That felt good. Being a man again. But as the cab pulled into his driveway, the nursery light glowing faintly upstairs, a familiar pull tugged at him. Inside, he just wanted to get into bed with Carolyn and cuddle up beside her and sleep. He stripped off the suit, taped on a fresh diaper (the feel of it hugging his skin was non-negotiable—wet or dry, it was his secret comfort), and slipped into a simple night dress. The master bedroom felt different. He didn’t recall the last time he had slept in here. He slid under the covers, the diaper crinkling softly, and Carolyn stirred awake. She told him he was not sleeping there. He was shocked. He had always chosen the crib; it wasn’t required. So, when he asserted himself and told her he was going to sleep in the bed tonight, she explained that she could tell he’d been drinking and he always snores when he drinks. So, he needed to sleep in the crib. Her voice was softer, but her tone was firm. When he hesitated, she asked if she needed to get out the paddle? He meekly replied no and sauntered off to the crib. As he lay in the crib that night he wondered when exactly their room had become her room. Saturday dawned bright. David woke with a slight hangover. He showered, dressed in khakis and a polo—no diaper underneath—and headed to the country club for a long-planned golf outing with his buddies. At the first tee, the group greeted him with mock surprise. “Holy shit, it’s David! We thought you died, man. Or Carolyn had you chained to the bedpost.” “Rumors of my demise are exaggerated,” he shot back, grinning. “Trial’s been hell—weekends are sacred time with the wife.” They teed off, the banter flowing easy. David felt alive in the crisp air, the swing of the club a reminder of his “man’s man” side. But on the fourth hole, he topped his drive—ball skittering weakly into the rough. “Oof,” one buddy laughed. “Hitting like a girl today, huh?” The joke landed like a spark. David’s mind flashed: himself on the course in a woman’s golf outfit—short white skirt fluttering over a bulging diaper, tank top hugging his smooth chest, long hair in a ponytail bouncing as he swung. He imagined his friends watching, teasing: “Look at Daisy slice it!” The image hit hard—humiliating, arousing. He pushed it down, forcing a laugh. “Give me a mulligan. It’s been too long.” The round finished strong—his score solid for the hiatus. At the clubhouse bar, beers turned to bourbons. “To the ghost returning from the dead,” they toasted. David soaked it in, the camaraderie a balm against the isolation of his secrets. Home by late afternoon, he stripped down, taped on a diaper, and put on a comfortable dress. He was on the couch while football droned on the TV, but his mind wandered back to the golf fantasy. The exposure, the teasing—it stirred him. He stroked slowly through the padding, imagining his buddies’ shocked laughs, Carolyn watching approvingly. Chapter 26: The Night She Remembered How to Feel After all the disappointing online dates, Carolyn deleted every profile, closed every chat window, and told Daisy, “I need a break from the internet circus.” David had spent the previous weekend reclaiming fragments of his old self—dinner with work friends Friday, golf Saturday—calling Carolyn each time to check if it was okay, a subtle shift she noted with quiet satisfaction. While he swung clubs and traded bourbon-fueled stories, Carolyn pondered her next move. The apps had yielded nothing but disappointment; she needed something more organic, more real. So, she decided to do it the old-fashioned way. When Carolyn last dated, she’d get dolled up, put on a pretty dress, and go where the music was, letting the night take her where it would. Linda agreed to come along as her wing-woman, to keep things safe. It was the following Saturday night, and Daisy—frilled and freshly diapered in a cloud-soft lavender baby-doll nightie—looked up as she told her the plan. “So… you’re going dancing?” “With Linda. Just to dance. If something happens, it happens. If not, I still get to feel pretty for a night.” Daisy’s eyes shone with that complicated cocktail of fear and devotion. “You’ll look beautiful, Mommy.” Carolyn knelt, kissed the top of Daisy’s bonnet, and whispered, “Don’t wait up, princess.” She left the house dressed to kill: a sleeveless black dress that hugged every curve, strappy heels, hair loose and shining. Linda waited in the car, grinning like a conspirator. The club was downtown—low amber lights, a live band that knew how to balance slow burns and up-tempo grooves. Linda played perfect wing-woman: close enough to rescue, far enough to make Carolyn look deliciously available. Carolyn stood at the bar nursing sparkling water with lime when Robert appeared. He didn’t crowd her. He simply materialized at her side—tall, athletic build, light brown hair neatly styled, clean-shaven with a warm, confident smile. “Mind if I stand here? You look like you’re waiting for someone who doesn’t deserve you.” Carolyn laughed before she could stop herself. “Something like that.” Conversation came easy. He asked real questions, listened to the answers, made her laugh until her sides hurt. When the band slipped into a slow, smoky number he held out one large hand. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question. On the floor his palm settled at the small of her back—firm, warm, unmistakably possessive. She fit against him perfectly, cheek brushing the soft cotton over his chest. He smelled like cedar and clean skin. They swayed more than danced, bodies gradually aligning until she could feel the steady beat of his heart. Guilt flickered through her like a shadow—David at home, curled in his crib, diapered and pretty, waiting for her to return. Begging her to do this. The life they’d built, twisted now into something secret and sharp. What am I doing? But the thought dissolved as Robert’s hand tightened slightly, pulling her closer. His body was solid, alive in a way she hadn’t felt in years, and the contrast hit her hard: David’s quick, selfish fumbles versus this slow, deliberate heat. She deserved this, didn’t she? After a decade of obligation, of faking satisfaction to protect his ego? Halfway through the second song she became aware of him—really aware. The unmistakable weight pressing against her lower belly as they moved. Thick. Heavy. Even through fabric there was no mistaking it. A rush of warmth pooled between her thighs, her pulse quickening in time with the music. His breath ghosted her ear, thumbs tracing lazy circles at her hips, each pass sending sparks up her spine. She pressed closer without thinking, her body betraying the conflict in her mind—home, Daisy, the crib waiting—yet here she was, melting under a stranger’s touch, craving more. Heat flooded her cheeks and between her legs. She pulled back just enough to look up at him. He met her eyes, calm and amused, and let her feel it for another long moment before easing the pressure. “Too much?” he asked softly. “No,” she whispered, surprised at her own honesty. “Just… new.” They danced twice more. Each time his hands drifted a fraction lower, thumbs tracing the curve where her back became her hips. When the lights came up for last call he walked her to coat check, slipped her jacket over her shoulders like he’d been doing it for years. Outside on the sidewalk the air was cool. He turned her to face him, cupped her jaw with one large hand, and kissed her. Not rushed. Not sloppy. A slow, deliberate claim: lips firm, tongue teasing just enough to make her knees weak. When he pulled back her lipstick was gone and she was breathing like she’d run a mile. “Friday night,” he said. “Dinner. I’ll pick you up at eight. Wear something that makes you feel dangerous.” She managed a nod. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip. “Text me your address, beautiful.” Then he was gone. The drive home was a blur. Guilt sat cold in her stomach even as her body still thrummed. He has no idea what he’s walking into. He has no idea I’m only free because my husband is curled in a crib, begging me to do this. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. But God, it felt real. She let herself in quietly just after one. The house was silent except for the faint crinkle from the nursery monitor. Daisy was asleep on her back, pacifier bobbing gently, diaper massively swollen and sagging. One hand rested on her tummy; the other clutched the blanket printed with tiny unicorns. She looked utterly peaceful. Carolyn stood in the doorway for a long time, chest aching. I’m doing this for both of us, she told herself. Then, softer: Aren’t I? She slipped off her heels, padded to the crib, and leaned over the rail to kiss Daisy’s warm forehead. “Mommy met someone,” she whispered into the quiet. “Someone who makes me feel like a woman again.” Daisy stirred, murmured something that sounded like “love you,” and settled deeper into the damp padding. Carolyn’s eyes filled. Friday, she thought. Two more days. She raised the blanket higher, turned on the night-light that cast pink stars across the ceiling, and left her little girl to dream. Chapter 27: Robert's Move Robert wasn’t planning on hitting the club that night. He’d had a long week—another failed “relationship” (if you could call it that) with some clingy receptionist who thought one blowjob meant commitment. He was sprawled on his couch, beer in hand, scrolling through hookup apps for something quick and uncomplicated when his phone buzzed. It was Tommy, his buddy behind the bar at Club Eclipse downtown. “Prime target tonight, man. Married, gorgeous, alone at the bar. Rock on her finger, no ring tan line. She’s looking.” Robert grinned, already grabbing his keys. “On my way.” He’d been doing this dance for years. Divorced at thirty-two after his ex got tired of his “late nights at the office” (code for other women’s beds), he’d sworn off anything resembling commitment. Women were for fun—objects to admire, use, discard when they got boring or demanding. No strings, no drama, no love. He wasn’t capable of that shit anyway. Caring? That was for suckers. The married ones were his favorite. Bored housewives seeking excitement, revenge sluts punishing cheating husbands, or half-divorced messes looking for validation. Whatever their story, it worked for him. Easy entry, no expectations, pure physical release. He was good-looking—tall, athletic from gym sessions fueled by ego, light brown hair styled just messy enough, clean-shaven to look “approachable.” He knew it, used it. Dominant in bed, emotionally distant everywhere else. Alpha through and through—entitled, possessive when it suited him, always competitive with whatever pathetic husband was waiting at home. He arrived at Eclipse in under twenty minutes, scanning the room. Tommy nodded toward the bar. There she was: auburn hair cascading down her back, black dress hugging curves that screamed neglected wife, sparkling water in hand like she was trying to play it safe. Stunning. Ripe. Robert didn’t rush. He ordered a whiskey neat, positioned himself casually beside her, and let the opener drop. “Mind if I stand here? You look like you’re waiting for someone who doesn’t deserve you.” She laughed—good sign. Nervous, but open. Conversation flowed. He asked the right questions, listened just enough to seem interested, made her laugh with practiced charm. When the band slowed, he extended his hand. “Dance with me.” On the floor he pulled her close, hand firm at her lower back, letting her feel him—thick, hard, insistent. He watched her flush, felt her press back despite herself. Perfect. The kiss outside sealed it: slow, claiming, leaving her breathless. “Friday night,” he said. “Dinner. I’ll pick you up at eight. Wear something that makes you feel dangerous.” She nodded, hooked. Friday, he thought as he walked away. Dinner first—make her feel special—then back to his place. Some of that neglected married pussy. He’d have her screaming his name by midnight, begging for next time before morning. He walked away smiling. Another married pussy lined up. No complications. Just sex. Chapter 28: The Waiting Wednesday morning hit David like a freight train. He sat in his office, Pharma deposition transcripts spread across the desk like a battlefield map. The star witness for the defense had cracked under cross yesterday—admitting inconsistencies that gutted half their defenses. The partners were buzzing; settlement talks were already floating. “Keep this up,” the managing partner had said, “and that early retirements yours. Live the good life, David.” The good life. He stared at the calendar: Friday circled in red. Dinner with Robert. His stomach twisted. What the hell have I done? The night before had been a haze of relief and regret. Carolyn’s recounting of the club—every detail of the dances, the kiss, Robert’s confidence—had left Daisy sobbing in ecstasy during “play time.” But now, as David the lawyer, suit crisp and diaper discreetly taped beneath (a thin daytime one, no meetings today), the reality clawed at him. She’d leave me in a heartbeat for someone like that. Strong. Capable. The kind of man who doesn’t beg to be diapered. The fear was old, bone-deep—the same insecurity that had always lurked under his courtroom bluster. He’d built the alpha persona to hide it, but now it was cracking. If she falls for him… But the twist came, protective as always: If it’s my idea, my gift, then it’s proof she loves me enough to stay. Sacrifice. Devotion. Twisted, yes, but it kept the panic at bay. He shifted in his chair, the diaper crinkling faintly—his secret armor, worn more often now even at work. No one noticed. No one ever noticed. The comfort grounded him, a buffer against the stress of the case and the storm building at home. With Linda that afternoon (her “tea” sessions a weekly anchor), Carolyn confessed her nerves. “He’s… intense. What if it’s too much too soon?” Linda’s voice was soothing, the room softening. “Trust your pace. You’re in control. And remember—Daisy’s happiness is in your fulfillment. Let this be your gift to her too.” Carolyn left motivated; doubts quieted. Thursday: Another strong depo. The plaintiff’s experts lined up perfectly; defenses were crumbling. “You’re on fire,” a junior associate said. David nodded, bourbon in hand, but his mind was elsewhere. That evening, as Daisy in a soft pink sundress and dry diaper, he helped Carolyn plan her outfit for Friday. “Something dangerous,” Robert had said. They chose a sleek red dress together, Daisy snapping photos for reference, heart pounding with jealousy-laced excitement. “You’ll be stunning,” Daisy whispered. Carolyn kissed her forehead. “For us, baby girl.” That night, in the crib (rail down, but the symbolism heavy), Daisy lay in a fresh nighttime diaper, staring at the spinning mobile. Carolyn had tucked her in early, kissing her pacifier-stuffed mouth. “Don’t stay up too long, princess. Tomorrow’s a big night.” As the lullaby played, doubt crashed in. Relief from the day’s “no disasters” at work mingled with terror. Robert. Real. Happening. What if he steals her? What if she realizes she doesn’t need a freak in diapers? What if this ruins everything—the nursery, the comfort, the life I’ve begged for? The fear twisted, as always: But if she does it for me… it’s proof. Love. Sacrifice. Still, the crib felt confining tonight. Should I stop it? Tell her it’s a mistake? Beg to go back—to being David full-time, husband, not… this? Tears slipped down her cheeks. David allowed himself to dream about a life after winning the Pharma case: endless days as Daisy, no more insecurity about providing. But the twist nagged: If she’s with Robert, will she even want me around? A sissy baby girl in a frilly lavender baby-doll nightie trimmed with white lace ruffles, bonnet tied under her chin, thick diaper warmed from a deliberate wetting—how could that ever compete with a real man? But sleep came slowly, laced with dreams of empty nurseries and Carolyn walking away. Tomorrow would decide everything. Chapter 29: The Parking Lot Friday night arrived like a held breath. Carolyn stood in front of the full-length mirror in the master bedroom, smoothing the crimson wrap dress that hugged her curves exactly the way Robert had asked: something that made her feel dangerous. Her hair was loose in soft waves, lips painted a deep, defiant red. She looked like desire itself. Daisy watched from the nursery doorway, dressed for the occasion in a thick nighttime diaper printed with tiny tiaras, white lace rumba panties with rows of ruffles, and a short satin baby-doll nightie in pale pink. A matching bow was tied in her curls, and a pacifier dangled from a ribbon around her neck. The sight of Carolyn—radiant, powerful, leaving to meet another man—sent a dizzying cocktail of fear and arousal through her. “You look… incredible, Mommy,” Daisy whispered. Carolyn turned, eyes softening. She crossed the hall and pulled Daisy into a gentle hug, careful not to crush the dress. “Be good tonight, princess. No touching. Mommy wants you aching when I get home so you can hear every detail.” Daisy nodded against her shoulder, diaper already warming with an involuntary spurt. Carolyn kissed the top of her head. “I love you.” “I love you more,” Daisy answered, voice small and sincere. The doorbell rang at eight sharp. Robert stood on the porch in a charcoal shirt open at the collar, dark jeans, and that same easy, confident smile. His eyes traveled over her slowly, appreciatively. “You followed instructions perfectly,” he murmured. “Dangerous looks good on you.” The restaurant was intimate—low lighting, corner table, wine he ordered for himself and sparkling water for her without making her feel childish about it. Conversation flowed: architecture, travel, music, the city. He listened. Really listened. When she spoke he leaned in, eyes locked on hers, as if the rest of the room had vanished. After dessert he paid without glancing at the bill and led her to his SUV in the quiet parking garage. The moment the door closed behind them the air changed. He backed her gently against the cool metal of the car, hands sliding to her waist. “I’ve been thinking about this since Tuesday,” he said, voice low. Then he kissed her. Not the careful, testing kiss from the club. This one was hungry—lips firm, tongue stroking hers with deliberate patience, one hand cupping her jaw, the other pressing at the small of her back until she felt every inch of him hard against her belly. A soft sound escaped her throat; she clutched his shoulders, knees weakening. God, he was huge. They made out like teenagers: windows fogging, her dress riding up, his fingers teasing the edge of her lace panties. When he slipped a hand inside her bra and rolled her nipple, she gasped his name. He pressed harder against her, letting her feel every inch. His mouth moved to her neck, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered against her skin. She couldn’t speak. She didn’t want him to stop. She felt herself grow slick, aching, years of careful restraint unraveling in the dim garage light. He drew back just enough to meet her eyes. “I need you,” he growled against her throat. She wanted to. God, she wanted to spread her legs right there. But a wave of guilt crashed over her—David at home, curled in his crib, diapered and pretty, begging her to do this. The life they’d built, twisted now into something secret and sharp. Could she really cross this line? She pulled back, breathing hard. “Not tonight. I’m… I’m not ready.” Robert studied her for a moment, then nodded—respectful on the surface, but hunger flashing in his eyes. “Fair. But you’re not leaving me like this.” He guided her hand to his zipper and pressed it against the straining fabric. “On your knees, beautiful. Take care of me with that pretty mouth.” Carolyn’s heart stuttered, a little shocked. He’d been such a gentleman until that moment. She shook her head, cheeks burning. “I don’t… I’m not that kind of girl. I’ve never done that, not even for my husband.” Robert’s brow lifted, feigning surprise. “I didn’t know you were married!” “Yes you did,” Carolyn replied. “I’m wearing my wedding ring. You knew!” She met his eyes. He smiled, something darker flickering across his face. “Never? Really?” “Never. And I never will.” Robert searched her face for a long second, curiosity warring with raw desire. Whatever question formed behind his eyes dissolved under the weight of wanting her. He exhaled, a low, hungry sound. “Then use your hand,” he said, voice rough. “Slow. Like you mean it.” She did. It was exciting—larger than anything she’d known, feeling so right in her hand. When he climaxed, his head thrown back, her name on his lips as he spilled hot and thick over her fingers and the handkerchief he produced like a gentleman. When he kissed her afterward, soft and grateful, she felt cherished and filthy in the most perfect way. The drive to her house was quiet, charged. His hand rested on her thigh the entire way—high enough to tease, low enough to be respectable. When he pulled into the driveway he killed the engine and went around to open her door. He walked her to the front door and gave her a passionate goodnight kiss. “Next time,” he said simply, “my place. No interruptions.” She nodded, breathless. Carolyn entered her home, leaning against the door, heart hammering, Carolyn felt the glow—but a shadow crept in. The plan, the hypnosis... it had given her this freedom, but at David's expense? Twisting his vulnerabilities for her pleasure felt wrong, even if he begged now. Ethical doubts nagged, but the thrill won—for tonight. Upstairs the nursery night-light glowed pink. Daisy was awake in the crib, eyes wide, diaper massively swollen from hours of anxious wetting. “Mommy?” she whispered as Carolyn slipped into the room. Carolyn climbed over the rail and pulled Daisy into her arms, still tasting Robert on her lips. “Hi, baby girl,” she murmured, voice husky. “Mommy had the most wonderful night.” She told her everything—every word, every touch, every promise—while her hand drifted slowly over the front of Daisy’s soaked diaper. Daisy sobbed with gratitude and need, hips twitching helplessly. Outside, in the quiet street, Robert’s SUV idled for a moment longer. He smiled to himself, adjusted the front of his trousers, and drove away. Soon. Chapter 30: The Hypnotist's Reflections The morning after Carolyn's second date with Robert, she met Linda for tea at their usual café—sunlit corner table, chamomile for both. "You look... alive," Linda said, eyes warm. "Tell me everything." Carolyn recounted the night—the chemistry, the kisses, the thrill of coming home to Daisy's eager questions. "It's working. He's satisfied in ways I never imagined. But the guilt... sometimes it creeps in. Hiding the hypnosis from him." Linda squeezed her hand. "You're giving him what he needs too—surrender, acceptance. But remember what we've talked about: true happiness comes from openness. No bottling feelings. When the time's right, share it all. Honesty will bind you tighter." Carolyn nodded, doubt easing. "You're right. It feels... right." Linda smiled. "I'm proud of you. Keep going—you both deserve this joy." They agreed on their usual quiet café for lunch, parting with laughter and promises. Linda stayed behind after Carolyn left and sat for a long moment, staring at her tea. Carolyn’s glow was everything she’d hoped for. But as the thrill of her friend’s joy faded, quieter reflections crept in. The risks she’d taken, the professional lines she’d crossed—they felt heavier now, in the light of such visible progress. Yet, looking back, she knew it had been worth it. Carolyn was her oldest friend, her sister in all but blood. Their bond had formed in the haze of college life—shared dorm rooms at the university, late-night cram sessions over psychology texts for Carolyn and pre-med notes for Linda, dreams of changing lives one patient at a time. They were inseparable then, two young women navigating the world with wide-eyed optimism. Linda had stood as maid of honor at the wedding, beaming as Carolyn walked toward David, the charming law student who seemed like a storybook match. The courtship had been whirlwind—passionate, full of promise—and the vows felt like the start of something eternal. But eternity, Linda learned, could erode slowly. Over the years, during their weekly teas that became as ritualistic as breathing, Linda watched the light in Carolyn’s eyes dim. The passion faded, replaced by quiet resignation. Carolyn confided in fragments at first, then floods: the frustration in the bedroom, how David’s quick finishes and small size left her unsatisfied, the way she faked pleasure time and again to protect his fragile ego. It wasn’t just physical—Carolyn felt trapped, obligated to a marriage that provided financial security but starved her emotionally and sensually. Deeper layers emerged over time: the guilt from her high school past, that first intense love with an older boyfriend, the frequent, joyful sex she’d embraced as a young woman exploring her desires. Until her father discovered it. His crushing disapproval—harsh words about morality and respect—had shattered her, compounded by his sudden death shortly after. The loss left her drowning in shame and grief, turning to religion for solace, vowing chastity until marriage as penance. But marriage brought no redemption, only more duty, more faking, more quiet erosion of the vibrant woman Linda had known. One Wednesday, months before everything escalated, Linda had decided she couldn’t watch anymore. During their “tea,” she’d gently guided Carolyn into a light trance—subtle, unannounced, born from a deep well of compassion. She probed those roots of guilt carefully, her voice a soothing anchor. “Your past was joy, not sin,” she’d suggested softly. “Release the shame; embrace pleasure without fear.” Carolyn awoke refreshed, none the wiser, chatting on as if nothing had changed. But over subsequent sessions, the shifts bloomed gradually: less hesitation in her voice when speaking of desires, more openness about what she truly needed. Linda justified it to herself—friendship transcended the rigid boundaries of her profession. Carolyn was suffering, quietly fading; this was an act of love, not manipulation. The ethics still nagged her in quiet moments—confidentiality, informed consent, the ever-present risk of dependency. Professional guidelines were unequivocal: no dual relationships without full disclosure, avoid exploiting vulnerabilities at all costs. But love for her friend overrode caution. Carolyn was trapped in a life that dimmed her spirit; Linda had the tools to free her. Then David’s appointment had blindsided her completely. Her assistant had booked it and she didn’t even look at the name of the new patient. Only when he walked into her office, sitting down with that familiar fidget, did the conflict hit like a wave. Carolyn’s husband, here for therapy? The implications crashed over her: an immediate, glaring conflict of interest. Dual relationships were forbidden without explicit disclosure and consent from all parties. Sending him away now, this late, would require an explanation—one that risked breaching Carolyn’s confidentiality entirely. And Carolyn didn’t even know about her own sessions; revealing that could unravel everything. What a mess, Linda thought, her mind racing through the ethical hoops: potential complaints to the board, investigations, the career she’d built on trust and precision hanging by a thread. She’d nearly turned him away with a vague excuse about scheduling conflicts, but curiosity—and a flicker of opportunity—held her back. David sat there, fidgeting, dancing around his issue before finally confessing: the diaper fetish, the binge-purge cycles that had shadowed him since college, the all-consuming shame that made him feel unworthy of love. Linda maintained her professional calm, nodding empathetically, but inside she reeled. She’d never suspected something so profound from the man Carolyn described as egotistical and distant. As he spoke, pieces fell into place—linking it to Carolyn’s unhappiness, the emotional barriers, the unsatisfying intimacy that left her feeling unseen and unfulfilled. She decided in that moment: Probe deeper. See if help was possible. If not, gather insights that might aid Carolyn’s treatment. It was a risky pivot, but one driven by care—for Carolyn, and now, unexpectedly, for David too. She tried earnestly at first, committing to weeks of sessions, hours upon hours delving into the roots of his desires. David opened slowly, his voice trembling as he recounted his childhood. Bedwetting had plagued him until eleven, a source of endless embarrassment in a household where vulnerability was met with disdain. His parents' frustration had peaked when he was eight: “They diapered me one night to shame me into a cure,” he whispered, eyes distant, as if reliving the moment. “Big cloth ones, safety pins, crinkly plastic pants. They said if I acted like a baby, I’d be treated like one. I cried all night, humiliated, begging them to take it off. But… the warmth when I finally let go, the way it hugged me… it felt safe. Like punishment was the only attention I got, twisted into something comforting. Wrong, but mine.” The shaming hadn’t cured the bedwetting—it had embedded the diapers as a forbidden refuge, a way to reclaim control in a world that made him feel small and unworthy. Puberty rediscovered it in a rush of hormones and isolation: finding old diapers hidden in the attic at thirteen, taping one on in secret during a lonely afternoon. “The flood came first,” he admitted, face burning with recalled shame, “then the masturbation. Furious, desperate. It was better than anything real—no rejection, no failure. Just release.” Girls had been a minefield of inadequacy. Small, awkward, always picked last in sports, he was the kid who got good grades but no dates. At fourteen, Sarah had been a miracle—gorgeous, kind despite her muscular dystrophy that gave her a distinctive waddle. They shared make-out sessions, her letting him touch her breasts, building to that weekend her parents were away. “I stayed over, naive as hell,” he said, voice cracking even years later. “Thought it was just going to be time together. But she was on birth control, and wanted sex. I… couldn’t. I was too small, too nervous. I failed completely.” She was gentle about it, but then stopped taking my calls. About a week later, she broke up with me saying it was her not me, but I knew it was me. She had a new boyfriend within a week. “That rejection—it crushed me. I went back to the diapers. Masturbating in the wet ones became my escape. The shame made it hotter, like punishing myself for not being enough.” Linda listened with genuine empathy, exploring the triggers: the shame-reward loop, how rejection fueled a dependency on self-soothing rituals. David was no monster—just a man shaped by bad parenting, where love was conditional and vulnerability punished. The diapers had become armor, a way to internalize rejection before the world could deliver it. But progress stalled. The fetish was lifelong, woven into his identity from those early traumas. She couldn’t erase it—only redirect or suppress, and suppression had failed him before, leaving him in cycles of binge and purge that only deepened the shame. Then, in a deeper session, she probed further, uncovering other kinks layered atop the core: sexualizing rejection and shame (“It hurts, but… excites me, like proof I’m not worthy”), cross-dressing (“Pretty things feel right, but wrong—like hiding the failure in something beautiful”), pegging and spanking (“Punishment makes it real, turns the hurt into release”). And cuckolding: “If she cheats because I’m inadequate… it proves I’m not enough, but if I ask for it, it’s my control. My way to keep her.” Realization dawned slowly for Linda: Embrace this fully, and Carolyn could find happiness elsewhere. Help both of them. David wasn’t a villain—he was a victim of rejection, building fetishes as shields against unworthiness. Bad parenting had planted the seeds; puberty and heartbreak had watered them. Linda felt a pang of sympathy for him, this man who craved love but armored himself against it. If guided right, perhaps he could find peace in surrender. The risks were immense—ethical breaches, potential dependency, backlash if discovered. But friendship won out. She urged honest conversations in their sessions, but both were stubborn, unwilling to share secrets. When Carolyn came desperate one day, seeking a way out without destruction, Linda acted—seeing the path to free them both. Now, with Carolyn on the cusp of real passion, Linda felt vindicated. The plan was working, human flaws and all. But as she finished her tea alone, doubt lingered: At what cost? Chapter 31: The Big Night Saturday David sat at his home-office desk in the pinkest, frilliest dress Carolyn had bought for him: layers of satin and organza the color of strawberry frosting, puffed sleeves trimmed in white lace, a heart-shaped bodice embroidered with tiny roses, and a hem so short it fluttered above the waistband of his diaper every time he breathed. Beneath it all, the thick overnight diaper she had taped on him that morning after their cuddle—no reward, no release, just a lingering kiss and the promise, “Save it for tonight, baby girl.” His erection had been a constant, aching presence all day, tenting the front of the diaper in a shameful bulge that no amount of lace could hide. On the screen in front of him were stories he had read a hundred times: wives taking lovers while their husbands watched from playpens, sissy babies who couldn’t satisfy their wives and were put into diapers and dresses and forced to watch real men fucking their wives because they were unable to satisfy them. He had bookmarked dozens of them over the years, always in secret, masturbating furiously in wet diapers while reading them—but only when he knew he wouldn’t be caught. He rarely did this now that Carolyn was fully participating. When he did, he would feel guilty, like he was cheating. Yet today, he needed the stories. Here he was, living as the sissy baby girl he had always dreamed of being—and tonight his wife was about to cuckold him. Not some fantasy about it, but the real thing. The realization hit him like warm water: this could change everything. He had been a diaper lover since puberty. He thought back to the first time he walked into the pharmacy and bought the first package of Attends. He remembered the first wetting, the first explosive orgasm into swollen padding—he remembered every detail. He thought about how much money he wasted over the years with his binge-purge cycle. He still had a hard time believing that this was all real. His wife actually accepted his desires and was participating. It was always a dream. Always a fantasy. Now it was his reality. In most ways it was better than the fantasy ever was. This had been part of his life so long; he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t love diapers. As he sat at his computer reading stories about events that were happening to him in real life, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He went to Linda hoping to rid himself of this part of him. Now, he was so glad that she couldn’t do it. He was so grateful for what she had done. When she told him at that last session “I think I can help both of you,” he had no idea how much help she would be. Now, a years later, he sat in a baby-doll dress that cost more than most of his Armani suits, diaper swollen from three deliberate wettings that morning, erection throbbing with every heartbeat, and realized he was living the fantasy he had feared to ever speak aloud. How had Linda done it? How had Carolyn agreed? He didn’t understand the mechanics—only the miracle. “Daisy!” Carolyn’s voice floated up the stairs, snapping him out of his daze. “It’s time to get ready, princess.” He toddled downstairs on shaky legs. Carolyn stood in the bedroom in a black lace bra and matching thong, hair in loose waves, makeup flawless. She looked like sin poured into silk. She turned, smiling at the sight of him. “Look at my pretty girl. Been thinking about tonight all day, haven’t you?” Daisy nodded, blushing furiously. Carolyn held up two dresses: one crimson, one midnight blue. “Which one says ‘fuck me senseless’ better, baby?” Daisy’s voice came out a squeak. “The… the red one, Mommy.” “Good choice.” She slipped it on, the fabric clinging to every curve. “Robert is going to rip this off me the second the door closes.” She stepped into sky-high heels, spritzed perfume between her breasts, then between her thighs, winking at Daisy in the mirror. “Somewhere he’ll definitely notice.” Daisy whimpered. Carolyn knelt, untaped the soaked daytime diaper, cleaned her with warm wipes, powdered lavishly, and taped on a fresh nighttime one—extra thick, pastel pink with rows of sleeping princesses and ruffled lace that fluttered like a tutu. Over it went the frilliest nightie in the wardrobe: baby-pink chiffon with puffed sleeves, a hem that barely reached the diaper’s waistband, and a matching bonnet tied under Daisy’s chin. Carolyn kissed her forehead. “Be a good girl. You don’t need to wait up for Mommy. It might be very late. It could even be tomorrow morning. Either way, no touching. Save every drop for when I tell you the story.” Daisy nodded solemnly. “Daisy promises.” Carolyn cupped her padded crotch, gave a gentle squeeze that made Daisy gasp. “That’s my perfect little baby girl.” She grabbed her purse, blew a kiss, and walked out the door. Daisy stood in the foyer long after the car pulled away, heart pounding so hard the lace on her dress trembled. The next time that door opened, everything would be different. She would finally be the sissy cuckold baby girl she had always wanted to be. And she had never been more excited and more terrified in her entire life. Chapter 32: Carolyn Comes Alive Carolyn paused at the front door, hand on the knob, heart hammering. She turned back to Daisy—her beautiful, ridiculous, frilly husband standing in the foyer like a life-sized doll—and leaned in to kiss the powdered forehead peeking from beneath the bonnet. “Be a good girl,” she whispered. “You don’t need to wait up for Mommy. It might be very late. It could even be tomorrow morning. Either way, no touching. Save every drop for when I tell you the story.” She waited. This was the moment. The last possible second for him to snap out of it, to grab her wrist and say, Wait, this is insane, I don’t want this. But Daisy only gazed up at her with shining, trusting eyes and lisped, “Yes, Mommy. Daisy will be good.” Carolyn’s stomach flipped. He really, truly wanted it. All of it. She wasn’t going to hold back tonight. She was really going to do it, she thought. She closed the door softly behind her and walked to the car on legs that felt borrowed. How had they gotten here? She had expected resistance—tears, bargaining, anything. Instead, David had melted into Daisy like ice cream in July. The diapers, the dresses, the crib, the begging to be cuckolded… it had happened so fast, so completely. And every step of the way she had reminded herself what Linda had drilled into her: you can’t hypnotize someone into something they don’t already want. Deep down, he had always wanted this. And, God help her, so had she. The drive to Robert’s was twenty-seven minutes. She spent every one of them alternating between giddy anticipation and a low thrum of guilt. Robert opened the door in a charcoal Henley and soft gray sweatpants, barefoot, smiling like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. “Hey, beautiful.” He didn’t give her time to overthink. One hand cupped her face, the other closed the door, and then he was kissing her—slow, deliberate, claiming. The kiss from the parking lot had been a promise; this one delivered. He walked her backward until her shoulders met the wall, never breaking contact. His mouth moved to her neck, teeth grazing just hard enough to make her gasp. “I’ve been thinking about this since Tuesday,” he said, voice low. Then he kissed her again. Not the careful, testing kiss from the club. This one was hungry—lips firm, tongue stroking hers with deliberate patience, one hand cupping her jaw, the other pressing at the small of her back until she felt every inch of him hard against her belly. A soft sound escaped her throat; she clutched his shoulders, knees weakening. God, he was huge. They made out against the wall: her dress riding up, his fingers teasing the edge of her lace panties. When he slipped a hand inside her bra and rolled her nipple, she gasped his name. He pressed harder against her, letting her feel every inch. His mouth moved to her neck, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered against her skin. She couldn’t speak. She didn’t want him to stop. She felt herself grow slick, aching, years of careful restraint unraveling in the dim hallway light. He drew back just enough to meet her eyes. “I need you,” he growled against her throat. She wanted to. God, she wanted to spread her legs right there. But a small pang of guilt flickered—David at home, curled in his crib, diapered and pretty, waiting for her to return. Begging her to do this. She pulled back, breathing hard. “Not… not here. Let’s go to the bedroom.” Robert’s eyes darkened with approval. He lifted her easily—she weighed nothing in his arms—and carried her down the hall. Low lights, crisp white sheets, the faint scent of sandalwood. He set her down like something precious, then stood back and looked at her in the red dress. “Take it off. Slowly.” She did, fingers trembling only a little. The dress pooled at her feet. She stood in black lace bra, matching thong, and heels. Robert exhaled; eyes dark. “Jesus, Carolyn.” He stepped close again, hands sliding up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. When he unhooked her bra and cupped her, she arched into him with a sound she didn’t recognize. He laid her on the bed, kissing every inch he uncovered—collarbone, breasts, stomach—until she was writhing. When he finally peeled the thong away he paused, looking at her like she was a miracle. “You’re perfect,” he said, voice rough. Then his mouth was on her, slow and reverent, tongue circling until she was clutching the sheets and sobbing his name. The orgasm rolled through her like warm honey—long, deep, shattering. Nothing like the polite, hurried fumbles she’d known for a decade. He rose over her, shedding clothes. When he pushed inside her—slow, thick, relentless—she cried out at the stretch, the fullness she had forgotten was possible. He filled her completely, then stilled, letting her adjust, kissing her tears away. “You okay?” “More than okay,” she whispered. “Please don’t stop.” He didn’t. He moved with deliberate power—deep strokes that dragged over every sensitive spot, building her again and again. When she came the second time he followed, groaning her name into her neck, hips stuttering as he emptied himself inside her. Afterward he held her close, stroking her hair, kissing her temple, murmuring soft praises until her breathing slowed. Somewhere in the haze she pictured Daisy at home—frilly nightie, thick diaper, probably rocking in the crib, hard and leaking just thinking about this exact moment. The image sent a fresh pulse of heat through her—her sweet, pathetic baby girl, waiting in lace and plastic while a real man claimed his wife. She came a third time just from that thought, clenching around Robert as he hardened again inside her. Round two was slower, lazier—her on top, riding him with rolling hips while he watched her breasts bounce, hands gripping her waist. When she collapsed forward he flipped her gently, hooked her legs over his shoulders, and took her apart again. They finally stilled near one a.m., tangled and sweaty and utterly spent. “Stay,” he murmured against her hair. “I can’t,” she said, kissing him softly. “Not tonight. But soon.” He walked her to the door, kissed her once more—deep, possessive, promising. “Tomorrow?” he asked. “Not tomorrow, but soon.” she agreed. The drive home was quiet, windows down, cool air on flushed skin. She felt loose, sated, reborn. And guilty. And thrilled. She wondered if Daisy had managed to keep her promise—if that diaper was still untouched, swollen only with pee and desperate need. She hoped so. Because the story she had to tell was going to be worth every aching second of waiting. Chapter 33: Robert's Dilemma Robert had always been the kind of man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. At thirty-eight, he was a senior project manager at a downtown construction firm—broad-shouldered from years of site work before climbing the ladder, with an easy charm that opened doors and a laugh that disarmed even the toughest contractors. Divorced five years ago after a marriage that fizzled out in mutual boredom, he had thrown himself into the single life: gym routines, weekend hikes, and the occasional no-strings fling from apps or bars. Nothing serious. He wasn't looking for complications; life was complicated enough with deadlines and blueprints. That Wednesday at the lounge, Carolyn had caught his eye like a blueprint error—subtle but impossible to ignore. Tall, auburn-haired, with a quiet confidence that stood out in a room full of loud laughs and forced flirtations. He noticed the ring right away, glinting under the amber lights. Married, he thought. Probably bored. Perfect for a one-night distraction. He wasn't proud of it, but that's how he played things: light, fun, no expectations. When she laughed at his line and let him buy her a sparkling water (no alcohol—classy, he noted), the conversation flowed like they’d known each other for years. Dancing sealed it: her body fitting against his, the heat building. He expected the usual—back to his place, a quick release, goodbye in the morning. But she pulled back on the sidewalk, eyes bright but firm. “Not tonight.” Surprise number one. Married women looking for thrills didn’t usually hold back. It intrigued him enough to ask for Friday. Dinner was even better: easy banter, her stories about country club life making him laugh, his tales of construction mishaps drawing her in. Under the table, knees touching, the chemistry crackled. In the parking lot, things heated up fast—her moans, his hands exploring. He was rock hard, ready. But again: “Not tonight.” Surprise number two. She wasn’t just looking for a quick fuck; she was dating him. Teasing the line, but not crossing it yet. It threw him. Married, but selective? He drove home alone, replaying her refusals, wondering what her deal was. He was a little annoyed and was hoping she wasn’t going to end up all clingy like the last one. Saturday night at his loft changed everything. She showed up in that red dress, looking like every fantasy he’d never admitted to. The sex was… explosive. Her body responsive in ways he loved, her gasps genuine, her climaxes pulling him under. Three times—slow, then urgent, then lazy and deep. He hadn’t felt that connected in years. Maybe ever. Lying tangled in sheets, her head on his chest, he traced lazy circles on her back. “Stay,” he murmured, meaning it more than he expected. “I can’t. Not tonight. But soon.” As she dressed, guilt flickered across her face—quick, but he caught it. The ring was back on her finger; she’d slipped it off before they started. Questions bubbled up: Who was the husband? Some soft executive type, probably. Jealous? Violent? Robert had seen enough bar fights to know married men could snap. Did the guy own a gun? Keep tabs on her? What if he found out—tailed her, confronted them? Robert wasn’t looking for drama; he’d had his fill with the divorce. “You sure about this?” he asked quietly, helping her into her coat. “Your husband… if he finds out, what happens? Is he the jealous type? Does he… I don’t know, have a gun or something?” She paused, meeting his eyes with that calm authority he was starting to crave. “He’s not a problem. Trust me. This is… what we both need.” Vague, but her tone shut it down. No details, no reassurances beyond that. Robert let it go—his desire for her overrode the red flags. She was at some point going to be a problem. He could tell. She wasn’t just looking for good sex. She wanted a relationship. But she was married. This was probably short-lived—a fling until guilt or discovery ended it. Could be one of those revenge things for her. Punishing the husband for being unfaithful. He’d take what he could get, savor the highs, and brace for the crash later. He also would be watching his back. He didn’t want an actual confrontation. He kissed her at the door, deep and reluctant. “Tomorrow?” “No, but soon,” she agreed, slipping away into the night. Robert watched her taillights fade, already counting the hours. For now, this was enough. The problems when they came he would deal with—but that was a problem for another day. Chapter 34: Afterglow and Cracks Carolyn let herself in quietly just after one a.m., the cool night air clinging to her skin like a second dress. The house was silent, but as she climbed the stairs, she could hear Daisy moving in the crib. She padded to the nursery door and peered in. Daisy was curled on her side in the crib, pacifier bobbing gently, diaper massively swollen and sagging from hours of anxious wetting. One hand clutched the unicorn blanket; the other was fisted in the satin nightie. Daisy lay in the dark, the high from Mommy's story still echoing through her body. The climax had been explosive—waves of humiliated arousal crashing as Carolyn described every thrust, every moan, every way Robert had claimed her. It was everything Daisy had fantasized about for years: the proof of inadequacy, the devotion in surrender, the twisted thrill of giving Mommy what she deserved. But as the afterglow faded, the crib felt colder. The diaper, heavy and warm, was a comfort—but tonight it also felt like a cage. What if she leaves me? The fear crept in, old and familiar, the same one that had armored him with ego for decades. Carolyn had glowed telling the story—alive in a way he’d never made her. Robert was strong, capable, everything David pretended to be in the courtroom. A real man. This was supposed to prove love. My gift. My way to keep her. But it hurt. Quiet tears slipped down Daisy's cheeks, soaking the pillow. She loved the excitement—the cuckolding was the dream fulfilled; the ultimate humiliation that made everything hotter. But in the silence, fear outweighed thrill. What if tonight was the start of her realizing she didn’t need a diapered sissy anymore? The nursery, the dresses, the life they’d built—gone. She cried softly most of the night, wrestling with jealousy, fear of loss, and a regret that tasted like ashes. Weak moment, she told herself. Tomorrow it’ll feel right again. As Carolyn left the nursery, her heart clenched. She paused in the hallway, listening. The cries were quiet, almost swallowed by the dark, but unmistakable. As Carolyn slipped into the master bedroom—her room now, most nights—and lay awake, body sated but mind racing. A faint sound drifted from the nursery—soft, muffled sobs. Carolyn's chest tightened. The thrill of the night fading into something colder. The sobs continued faintly through the open door, persistent into the early hours. Carolyn’s guilt surfaced, quiet but insistent. She’d broken him. Turned the man she married into this—for her pleasure. She wondered if she’d lost the man she loved in pursuit of the woman she wanted to be. Chapter 35: Doubts Creep In Sunday morning light filtered softly through the nursery blinds, casting pale stripes across the pink walls. Carolyn woke first, body loose and languid, a secret smile tugging at her lips as memories of Robert flooded back—the strength of his hands, the way he'd filled her completely, the multiple waves of pleasure that had left her boneless and breathless. It felt like waking from a long sleep, rediscovering parts of herself she'd thought lost forever. She slipped out of bed and padded to the nursery, expecting to find Daisy still curled in peaceful slumber. Instead, Daisy was awake, sitting up in the crib with the blanket pulled to her chin, eyes puffy and red-rimmed. Carolyn's heart gave a small, uneasy twist. “Good morning, princess.” Daisy turned, forcing a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Good morning, Mommy. Did you sleep well?” Carolyn climbed over the rail and pulled her into a hug. “I did. And you? You look like you've been crying.” Daisy nestled closer, voice light. “Happy tears, Mommy. Just… so thrilled for you. Last night sounded perfect.” The words were sweet, devoted—the Daisy Carolyn had come to expect. But something felt off. The enthusiasm rang a fraction too high, the hug a little too tight, as if clinging to reassurance. Carolyn brushed it aside for the moment, changing Daisy with gentle efficiency—fresh diaper, simple sundress for the day. Breakfast was quiet: oatmeal for Daisy in the highchair, tea and cereal for Carolyn. Daisy chattered about little things—the garden, a bird at the feeder—but her eyes kept drifting, distant. By midday, the unease nagged enough that Carolyn called Linda. “I noticed Daisy's eyes this morning—puffy, like she'd cried all night. She said happy tears, but… I don't know. It felt forced.” Linda's voice was warm, steady. “That's normal, Carolyn. Adjustment takes time. He's living his deepest desires—it's overwhelming. The tears are release, not regret. Keep going. Everything will be wonderful. You're giving him what he begged for.” Carolyn exhaled; doubts quieted—for now. “You're right. Thank you.” Internally, though, Linda's reassurance felt thinner. Have I gone too far? David's tears—did I break him? The thought flickered, unwelcome. She'd removed the suggestions long ago, believing in their choices. But hearing about the crying… remorse stirred, quiet but persistent. Monday blurred into routine. David buried himself in Pharma trial that was now in full swing—long hours, late nights. Evenings were Daisy time: diapered, pretty, curled on the couch with Carolyn. Things seemed fine—normal rituals, soft touches, no overt distress. Daisy helped with small tasks, smiled at the right moments. But subtle signs lingered: quieter laughter, longer silences, eyes that drifted when Carolyn mentioned Robert. Mid-week, Robert texted: Dinner Saturday? Miss you already. Carolyn's pulse quickened. Yes, she replied eagerly. Saturday. The week dragged and flew. David won a key motion Friday—partners toasting with bourbon, retirement whispers louder. Home late, he changed into diaper and dress without prompting, the routine grounding. Saturday prep arrived. Carolyn laid out outfits; Daisy helped her choose—a sleek midnight-blue dress this time. “You'll look stunning,” Daisy whispered, snapping reference photos, heart pounding with that familiar jealousy-laced excitement. But quieter this time. More withdrawn. Hands lingering a fraction too long on the fabric, eyes distant. Carolyn noticed. “Everything okay, princess?” Daisy nodded quickly. “Fine, Mommy. Just… excited for you.” The smile was there, but subdued. Carolyn pushed forward, desire for Robert's touch overriding the nag. He's so devoted. Am I selfish for wanting more? Daisy wanted this, she reminded herself. She begged. Guilt nagged, quiet but persistent. She's doing this for us. But as Carolyn dressed, the worry lingered. Doubts crept in, slow and steady. Chapter 36: Robert's True Colors The week had blurred into routine, the Pharma trial now in full swing and swallowing David's days whole. Evenings were quieter—Daisy time, but subdued. No play, no stories retold. Just gentle cuddles and early bedtimes. Saturday arrived too soon. Carolyn dressed carefully: the midnight-blue dress Daisy had helped choose, heels that made her legs look endless, hair loose and shining. She kissed Daisy's forehead before leaving. “Be good, princess. Mommy will be home late.” Daisy nodded; eyes bright but distant. “Have fun, Mommy.” Robert opened his door with that confident smile, pulling her inside before she could speak. Dinner was intimate—Italian takeout on his couch, wine for him, sparkling water for her. Conversation flowed; laughter easy. His hands wandered early: tracing her thigh under the table, brushing her neck when he leaned in. By the time they reached his bedroom, the air crackled. He undressed her slowly this time, eyes devouring. “You’re addictive,” he murmured, mouth trailing fire down her throat. The sex was rougher than before—passionate, urgent. He pinned her wrists above her head, thrusting deep and hard, her cries echoing off the walls. She came twice, clenching around him, nails raking his back. He followed with a growl, collapsing beside her, breathing ragged. They lay tangled, sweat cooling, waiting for him to recover. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her hip. “So,” he said casually, voice low. “Tell me about the husband. He knows about this? Or is this revenge for something?” Carolyn hesitated, the post-orgasm haze and lingering thrill making her tongue loose. “He… knows. It was his idea, actually.” Robert’s brow arched, amusement flickering. “His idea? What, he’s into that kinky open-marriage shit?” She nodded, the words spilling before she could stop them. “More than that. He… he begged me to find someone. A real man.” Robert chuckled, propping on an elbow. “A real man. Cute. So, what’s his deal—can’t get it up? Too small? Pathetic in bed?” The mockery stung, but the wine and warmth dulled it. “Something like that.” He pressed, curiosity sharpening. “Come on, details. Married women don’t just jump into this without a story.” She shouldn’t have said more. But the intimacy of the moment, the way he looked at her like she was his prize—it loosened her guard. “He’s… into diapers. Feminization. Calls himself Daisy when he’s dressed up. Sleeps in a crib.” Robert froze, then burst out laughing—deep, derisive. “You’re shitting me. Diapers? A crib? Your husband’s a fucking freak? Jesus, no wonder you’re here. Dump the loser—be with a real man like me.” The words landed like slaps. Carolyn’s stomach dropped. The laughter wasn’t playful; it was cruel, entitled. She saw him clearly now: narcissistic, competitive, reducing David to a joke to elevate himself. She sat up, pulling the sheet around her. “That’s enough.” Robert shrugged, still smirking. “Come on, babe. You’re telling me you’re tied to some diaper-wearing sissy? That’s pathetic.” The physical pull was still there—his body, the memory of how he'd made her feel. When he reached for her again, she let him. One more time. Rough, desperate, her body betraying her mind. The orgasm crashed through her, leaving her shaking. But afterward, as he dozed smugly beside her, horror flooded in. What have I done? She dressed quickly, muttering an excuse about an early morning. Robert waved it off, already half-asleep. “Next weekend?” She didn’t answer. The drive home was a blur of tears and self-recrimination. Guilt built until it felt overwhelming. I turned David into this—for my own needs. Recruited Linda, pushed the hypnosis, reshaped him into Daisy. I ruined a perfectly wonderful, loving partner and turned him into a weak, pathetic sissy baby. All because I was selfish. I don't deserve to be loved. I don't deserve to be happy. By the time she pulled into the driveway, sobs shook her. The nursery light glowed faintly upstairs. She had broken everything. For her pleasure. Chapter 37: The Spiral Carolyn let herself in quietly just after one a.m., the cool night air clinging to her skin. The house was silent, but a soft, warm glow spilled from the nursery doorway upstairs. She paused at the foot of the stairs, hand on the banister, heart pounding. She couldn't face Daisy. Not yet. The weight of what she'd revealed to Robert—spilling David's secrets in that haze of satisfaction—pressed down like a stone. How could she look at her husband, the man she'd reshaped into Daisy, after a stranger had laughed at him? She climbed the stairs quietly, avoiding the nursery, and slipped into the master bedroom—her room now. The bed was cold, empty. She undressed in the dark, the crimson wrap dress pooling at her feet, and crawled under the covers. Tears came hot and silent, guilt crashing over her in waves. The thoughts of what she had done to her husband looped, relentless, twisting memories into accusations. David had been devoted, hardworking, providing everything. And she'd taken that strong, capable man—the one who'd built a life for them—and broken him for her pleasure. The paddle: not discipline, but cruelty. She'd enjoyed his tears, the power, then retreated to shamefully pleasure herself while he lay in a crib crying and punished. She had forcing him to help find men for her sick desires, ignoring the quiet pain in his eyes. She was truly evil. Sleep came fitfully, fractured by self-loathing. Daisy heard the front door click shut, the soft creak of stairs. Mommy's home. She sat up in the crib, heart racing, diaper warm and thick from deliberate wettings through the long night. The anticipation had been torture—imagining every thrust, every moan, the way Robert claimed what Daisy never could. It was the dream fulfilled; the ultimate humiliation that made everything hotter. She was aching, ready for the story, the relief. But the footsteps passed the nursery door. No light switched on. No soft voice calling her name. Daisy waited, straining to hear. Maybe Carolyn was exhausted. They'd talk in the morning. She lay back down, trying to ignore the gnawing doubt, the fear that tonight had changed everything—for the worse. Morning light filtered through the nursery blinds. Daisy woke to an empty room, no Carolyn with fresh diaper and powder. The rail was down—she could get up herself. She did, on shaky legs, diaper heavy and cold. Showered, dressed in khakis and a polo, and headed downstairs. Carolyn was still in bed, covers pulled high. That didn’t surprise him much—it had been late when she got home, and she deserved rest. Even though it was Sunday, David had work. Evidence had closed last week; Monday he was giving his closing argument. He kissed her forehead—cool, distant—and left, concern knotting his stomach but pushed aside by trial focus. Carolyn lay there long after the door closed, staring at the ceiling. She wanted to get up, make tea, have breakfast, do something normal. But her body felt heavy, muscles stiff and slow, as if gravity had doubled overnight. The bed was the only place that felt tolerable, a cocoon against the storm in her mind. David was working so hard—for their future, for her security. Such a wonderful, caring man. And she'd destroyed him. By evening he returned to find her still in bed, he didn’t see any dishes or signs that she had eaten. He returned to her room again. “Carolyn…” “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Just… a little under the weather.” As David closes the door, she thinks. He is so caring. He loves me so much, but if he knew what I had done to him, he would hate me. Carolyn knows Monday is his big day. He has talked about it for weeks. His closing argument is his chance to convince the jury and secure victory. She won’t burden him any further right now, she’s already done too much to him. I just need to let him get through the trial. Monday David left early, suit sharp, mind focused on his closing argument. Carolyn was still sleeping when he left. He didn’t want to wake her so he quietly left the house and drove to the Courthouse. He came home excited to tell Carolyn all about his closing argument and how well it went. He was surprised to find her in bed. She claimed everything was fine and she would be up and around in no time. She just needed some rest. He didn't push, but panic flickered. Was she really just sick, or did something happen? Did Robert do something? Guilt surged—he'd pushed her into this. It was his idea. If something happened, it was his fault. Tuesday David needed to be at Court first thing in the morning. The case was almost wrapped up and the lawyers and judge were meeting before the jury arrived to do final work on the jury instructions. The defense was to finish its closing that morning and then the case would be given to the jury. He again left before Carolyn was out of bed. He was worried now. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed she hadn’t left the room since returning from her date with Robert. He asked several times if she was okay, but she assured him it was nothing and she’d be up soon. Carolyn lay in the dim bedroom all day Tuesday, the sheets tangled around her like restraints, her mind a storm that refused to quiet. The events of the past year replayed in her head, but not as they had happened—not the careful steps, the shared decisions, the way David had begged for each new layer. No, in the grip of her guilt, the memories twisted, reshaping themselves into a narrative where she was the villain, the architect of his downfall. It started with that first desperate conversation with Linda, didn't it? She'd gone to her friend, tears in her eyes, confessing how empty the marriage felt, how David's quick, unsatisfying encounters left her feeling like a duty rather than a desire. But in this distorted recollection, it wasn't desperation—it was selfishness. She'd manipulated Linda into helping, demanding a way to fix her boredom without losing the security David provided. The hypnosis? Her idea, her weapon. She'd pushed for it, ignoring any ethical whispers, turning David into a puppet for her pleasure. She remembered the night Linda first triggered him—how he'd slumped in the chair, eyes glassy, and she'd felt a thrill rather than remorse. In her mind now, that thrill was pure evil, a sign of her corrupted heart. She'd watched as Linda planted the seeds: the bedwetting, the diapers, the feminization. David had resisted at first, hadn't he? But no—in the twisted version, he'd fought, and she'd insisted, relishing his slow surrender. The nursery, the dresses, the crib—all her doing, forcing him into this pathetic shell because she couldn't be content with the loving man he'd been. And the cuckolding? Oh, that was the crowning sin. She'd twisted his vulnerabilities, used the hypnosis to make him beg for it, all so she could chase her own lust. Robert's mockery echoed in her ears—"Your husband's a freak? Dump the loser"—and she saw it as truth. She'd exposed David, ridiculed him through her actions, for what? A few nights of passion? She was the monster, the one who'd stripped away his manhood, his dignity, leaving him in diapers and lace while she sought satisfaction elsewhere. Tears soaked her pillow as the self-loathing deepened. David had been wonderful—a provider, a partner, devoted in his way. And she'd broken him, reshaped him into Daisy, all because her desires were more important. Selfish. Evil. Unworthy of love. The depression wrapped tighter, distorting every memory into proof of her guilt. How could she ever face him again? When David returned from work that night he found Carolyn was still in bed. She wouldn’t really talk, just claimed to be tired and need rest. He suggested a doctor but she refused. David left the room, fully panicked now. Something was definitely wrong. What if she's traumatized? He called Linda, voice breaking. “Something's wrong with Carolyn. She's been in bed since Saturday. She won't talk. Says its nothing, she’s just sick, but I think something is seriously wrong. Please help.” Linda agreed to come over, her own remorse stirring as she hung up. On the drive, Linda's thoughts raced. Have I gone too far? David's voice—desperate, broken. Remorse crashed in: the hypnosis, the suggestions, the "experiment." She'd meant to help, but now? Guilt twisted like a knife. What if she'd destroyed them? She arrived to a house heavy with silence, ready to face the fallout. Chapter 38: Whispers in the Shadows Tuesday evening draped the house in a hush, the winter dusk filtering through the curtains like a veil. David paced the foyer, his khakis masking the faint crinkle of the diaper beneath—still dry, but the knot of anxiety in his stomach threatened to change that. The trial's final jury instructions loomed tomorrow morning, but work felt distant, irrelevant. Carolyn hadn't stirred from bed since Saturday, her date with Robert a black hole she refused to discuss. Her pale assurances of "just tired" echoed in his mind, fueling fears: Had Robert crossed a line? Or had David's own fantasies pushed her too far, breaking the woman he adored? The doorbell pierced the quiet. David opened it to Linda, her petite frame wrapped in flowing black, dark eyes etched with worry. She pulled him into a brief, steadying hug. "David. Show me to her." Upstairs, the master bedroom was a dim cocoon, curtains drawn, the air thick with stagnation. Carolyn lay curled under the duvet, auburn hair tangled, eyes fixed on some invisible point. A half-full mug of chamomile tea sat cold on the nightstand—untouched, like everything else. Linda gestured for David to wait outside. "Let me talk to her alone first. Trust me—she needs space to breathe." David nodded reluctantly, retreating to the hallway, heart pounding. He leaned against the wall, the diaper's padding a humiliating reminder of his own vulnerabilities amid the crisis. Inside, Linda sat gently on the bed's edge, her voice a soft anchor. "Carolyn, it's me. Just us. David's downstairs, worried out of his mind. Whatever's weighing on you... let it out. I'm here because I love you, and I want you happy—truly, deeply happy." Carolyn's gaze shifted, tears welling. The heaviness in her body made speaking feel like pushing through quicksand, but Linda's presence—familiar, nonjudgmental—cracked the dam. Words tumbled out in whispers, raw and fractured: the guilt over "manipulating" David into bedwetting, diapers, sissification; the spanking that now haunted her as abuse; the cuckolding that exposed him to ridicule. "I'm the villain, Linda. Selfish. Evil. I twisted him for my own needs, destroyed a good man. How can I face him? Get out of this bed? It's all my fault." Linda listened, her own remorse surging like a tide. Carolyn's memories were warped—hypnosis-fueled distortions painting her as the sole architect, ignoring David's eager consents and hidden cravings. Linda had meant to align their desires, to gift her friend satisfaction without loss, but seeing this devastation twisted the knife. Had her "help" gone too far? Ethical vows shattered for love's sake, but the fallout stared back at her. Still, she held steady, squeezing Carolyn's hand. "You're not evil. You're human—frustrated, trapped. But this guilt... it's not the full picture. We can untangle it, together. Honesty from everyone, no more secrets. That's the way forward." Carolyn nodded weakly, a sliver of relief piercing the fog. The dread eased just enough for her to sit up, sip the fresh tea Linda prepared. "Maybe... but David... he can't know how I feel yet. Not like this." "Understood," Linda murmured. "Rest now. I'll handle the next steps." Downstairs, Linda found David nursing a bourbon, his broad shoulders slumped. "She's opening up—a little. Deep guilt, twisted memories. I think I can help, but it starts with dropping the walls. Everyone's secrets out in the open." David's brow furrowed. "Secrets? Like... my sessions with you? Before all this?" Linda nodded, her tone caring but firm. "Exactly. Let me share your history with her—the appointments, the fantasies you confided. It could show her this wasn't all her doing. But only if you're ready." He stared into his glass, mind racing. Expose his pre-existing cravings? Risk Carolyn seeing him as even more pathetic? Yet... it might lift her burden. "I... I need to think. Trial's only half-day tomorrow—jury out by lunch. I could meet at your office Wednesday afternoon?" "Perfect," Linda said. "I'll meet with you and then later with her after you have decided. No promises needed now—just consider it. For her happiness... and yours." David agreed, the weight shifting but not lifting. As Linda left, he climbed the stairs, peeking in on Carolyn—now dozing fitfully. He slipped into the nursery alone, changing into a thick nighttime diaper, the ritual a small comfort amid the storm. Sleep came uneasily, dreams laced with vulnerability. The path to truth had begun—slow, shadowed, but inexorable. Chapter 39: Confessions in Solitude Wednesday morning dawned sharp and clear, the courtroom bathed in pale winter light as David finalized jury instructions with opposing counsel and the judge. The pharmaceutical case—a grueling marathon of depositions and expert battles—now rested with the jurors, deliberations set to begin after lunch. David shook hands mechanically, his mind elsewhere. He'd barely slept, the crib's rails a confining reminder of his vulnerability, the overnight diaper swollen and heavy by dawn from helpless wettings. Changing himself that morning had been a ritual of quiet shame and strange comfort, but the real weight was the decision ahead: exposing his buried fantasies to Carolyn, lifting her guilt at the cost of his own ego. If it healed her, he'd bear it—but not face-to-face. Not yet. By one, he was at Linda's office, the discreet north-side suite feeling more like a confessional than a therapy space. Linda greeted him with a warm hug, her dark eyes searching his face as they settled into the plush chairs—no pendant, no hypnosis, just the faint scent of lavender from her diffuser. "You look resolved," she said gently. "But tell me where you stand." David leaned forward, elbows on knees, the subtle bulk under his suit pants a secret anchor. A nervous twitch sent a warm spurt into the padding; he shifted, ignoring it. "I've thought about it all night. The sessions I had with you before... the confessions about the diapers, the humiliation fantasies, feeling small and inadequate. The sissification dreams, even the cuckold thoughts tied to my... shortcomings." His voice dropped, cheeks flushing. "She needs to know it predated her frustrations—that this wasn't her forcing it. But I can't tell her myself. The lies, the years of hiding behind the 'man's man' lawyer act... I deceived her by omission. If it helps pull her out of this darkness, fine. You tell her. Pave the way. Maybe later we all talk together, but not now. I can't face her reaction yet." Linda nodded, her expression a mix of empathy and her own stirring remorse. "I understand. Vulnerability like this... it's raw. I'll handle it carefully, frame it as the foundation it was. Your desires were real, David—deep-seated, not manufactured. This could show her she's not the villain her guilt paints." They talked details briefly—how to emphasize his initial cravings without overwhelming Carolyn. David stood, adjusting his tie. "I'll head back to the office, wrap up loose ends on the case. I won't be home before seven. I’ll give you time with her." "Smart," Linda agreed. "And David... this is brave. For her, for you both." He left, the drive to the firm a blur of second-guessing. But resolve held: for Carolyn's happiness, he'd strip bare—even if through a proxy. Linda arrived at the house by three, finding Carolyn in the living room, wrapped in a soft robe over pajamas, clutching a tall glass of peach iced tea. She'd managed to shower that morning, a small step, but the heaviness clung—muscles stiff, motivation a flicker rather than a flame. Still, she rose to hug her friend, eyes weary but grateful. "David's at work?" Carolyn asked, settling back on the couch. "Finishing up. He won't be home till seven—gives us space." Linda sat beside her; voice soft but direct. "Carolyn, we need to talk fully. No more shadows. Starting with... my role in all this." Carolyn's brow furrowed. "Your role?" Linda took a deep breath, guilt crashing in waves. She'd meant only to help—her best friend trapped in a loveless intimacy, desperate for satisfaction without losing security. Ethical lines crossed in love's name, but seeing Carolyn's pain now made confession inevitable. "Remember that casual tea we had, about a year before you came to me in desperation? You were venting lightly about the marriage—the routine, the fading spark—but nothing dire. I... I hypnotized you then, subtly, without your knowledge. Planted seeds to ease any budding guilt over your frustrations, to free you from repressing your sexual needs. I thought it would help you open up; realize you deserved more fulfillment." Carolyn's eyes widened. "You... what? Why?" "Because I saw the cracks forming, even if you didn't yet. You're my closest friend—I wanted you happy, not quietly suffering. That session... it might have been what led you to confide in me later, when the dissatisfaction boiled over. Without it, perhaps you never would have voiced the desperation, never sought a solution. I freed you from the guilt holding you back, and it snowballed into recognizing your marriage wasn't giving you what you needed. When you came to me that day, raw and pleading for help, I started the hypnosis again—regular sessions disguised as our chats. Suggestions to embrace control, to see the plan as salvation. I thought I was bridging your worlds, but... I overstepped, playing God with your mind. And I'm sorry—deeply." Tears pricked Carolyn's eyes, shock mingling with betrayal. "You... manipulated me? From the beginning?" Linda's voice cracked. "I did. And the guilt of it... it's eaten at me, especially seeing you like this now. But hear me: when you confided that desperate day, it was me who crafted the plan. The bedwetting trigger for David, the progression to diapers, sissification, cuckolding... I pitched it as a way to keep your life intact while getting what you needed. You agreed because it aligned with your pain, but the hypnosis smoothed the edges, made it feel right. I thought I was helping you embrace joy without destruction." "But David never wanted any of this," Carolyn whispered, voice trembling. "None of this changes the fact that I did this to him. We did this to him. Took a perfect, loving husband—a provider, devoted in every way—and twisted him into a diapered sissy baby girl just to satisfy my selfish lusts. I'm still a monster for letting it happen." Linda leaned in. "That's the other piece. Before you ever came to me—years prior—David was my patient. Work stress, bourbon reliance, weight gain eroding his confidence. In sessions, he confessed buried fantasies: diaper arousal from the warmth and helplessness, sissification thrills of frills and feminization, cuckold humiliation tied to his inadequacy—small penis, premature climaxes leaving you unsatisfied. He hid it all under ego, but it was there, real and deep." Carolyn stared, processing. The distorted memories shifted: not her villainy alone, but guided by a friend's overreach and built on his foundation. "So... the bedwetting, the diapers... it wasn't just my idea forcing him?" "No. The hypnosis triggered the wetting, amplified his surrender, but built on his foundation. And crucially—I removed all suggestions months ago, long before he begged for cuckolding. That was sincere, from his core. He craves the life: the thick padding sagging overnight, the short dresses flashing ruffles, the helpless straining while you find real men. He agreed today to let me tell you this—wants you to know, but couldn't face saying it himself yet. The deception ate at him too." Tears flowed freely now, but cleansing ones. The weight lifted—guilt dissolving as truths reframed her actions. Not evil, but human, guided by a friend who cared too much. "I still feel guilt. The spanking, exposing him... and needing more than he could give sexually." "We did go too far with the secret hypnosis on him," Linda admitted. "He deserves the full truth—how the wetting started, how we eased him into his desires. But together, when he's ready. For now, breathe. You're worthy. Loved." Carolyn nodded, a sliver of relief piercing the fog. "I... I forgive you, Linda. You were trying to help. And it did—God, the satisfaction with Robert, the power in the nursery... but knowing David wanted it too? It changes everything." By six, Carolyn was up, making tea, energy returning in waves. Linda left at seven, just as David's car pulled in. Dinner waited—simple, shared. Words were tentative, but the air lighter. Truths half-unveiled, but the path to full light clear. Chapter 40: The Quiet After the Storm David pulled into the driveway just after seven, the porch light glowing soft gold against the winter dark. His stomach churned with every worst-case scenario his mind had conjured on the drive home. Carolyn knows everything now. The secret appointments, the fantasies I buried for years, the shameful cravings I never dared voice until Linda pulled them out of me. She must feel betrayed. Tricked. Like she married a fraud. A man who pretended to be confident and dominant while secretly dreaming of diapers and dresses and watching her with real men. What if she’s disgusted? What if she’s already decided this marriage was built on a lie? What if she’s upstairs packing? He sat in the car a long moment, keys still in his hand, heart hammering. The diaper he’d worn all day—discreet under his suit—was now warm and swollen from anxious wettings he hadn’t even noticed until the drive home. Another reminder of how far he’d fallen, or how fully he’d surrendered. He took a shaky breath, forced himself out of the car, and walked to the door like a man approaching a verdict. The moment it opened; Carolyn was there. She looked... radiant. Auburn hair loose and shining, cheeks flushed with life, eyes bright in a way they hadn’t been in days. She wore a simple cream sweater and soft leggings, barefoot on the warm hardwood. Before he could speak, before he could brace for anger or distance, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him—tight, fierce, loving. Her body pressed against his, warm and familiar and safe. She rose on her toes and kissed him—deep, slow, passionate, the kind of kiss they hadn’t shared in years. Not Mommy kissing baby girl. Not wife tolerating husband. Just Carolyn kissing David, the man she loved. He melted into it, arms circling her, the terror in his chest dissolving under the simple truth of her embrace. She pulled back just enough to smile—soft, knowing, tender—and rested her forehead against his. No words. None needed. She took his hand and led him inside. Dinner was waiting: roasted chicken, garlic potatoes, a fresh salad—simple, comforting, made with care. They ate at the kitchen table, knees touching under it, trading small smiles and quiet glances. The silence wasn’t heavy. It was full—full of relief, full of unspoken gratitude, full of tomorrow. Afterward, she tugged him to the couch. She picked an old romantic comedy they’d watched a dozen times when they were first married, curled into his side, head on his shoulder, legs tangled with his. He draped an arm around her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing. For two hours they didn’t speak of hypnosis or guilt or secrets. They just were. Together. Like the early days, when love was easy and the future endless. When the credits rolled, Carolyn stood and offered her hand. He took it, heart fluttering with a new kind of nervousness. She didn’t lead him to the master bedroom. She led him to the nursery. The night-light glowed soft pink, the air warm and faintly sweet with baby powder. She turned to him, eyes gentle, and began unbuttoning his shirt without a word. Dress shirt, tie, slacks—each piece folded neatly over the rocking chair. When he stood in just his soaked daytime diaper, she kissed his cheek, then fetched a fresh nighttime one from the stack: thick, lavender with tiny silver tiaras, the kind that sagged heavily when full. She laid a changing mat on the floor, guided him down, and changed him with the same loving care she always had—wipes cool, powder clouding softly, tapes snug and secure. Then she opened the dresser and held up two nighties: one baby-pink chiffon with ruffled trim, one pale mint with lace. She raised an eyebrow in silent question. He pointed to the pink; cheeks warm. She smiled—genuine, delighted—and slipped it over his head, the hem barely skimming the diaper’s waistband. White satin booties, a ribbon bow tied in his thinning curls. Finally, she buckled the soft mittens—not locking tonight, just gentle restraint—and led Daisy to the crib. The rail rose with a soft click. Carolyn leaned over, kissed the pacifier she slipped between his lips, and whispered, “Sweet dreams, my perfect girl.” Daisy lay back on the satin pillow, diaper already warming with a shy, grateful wetting, clitty stirring helplessly beneath the padding. Carolyn lingered a moment, fingers brushing his cheek, eyes shining with love and quiet certainty. They both knew. This—this life, this surrender, this love—was exactly what they had each, in their deepest hearts, always wanted. And tomorrow, when the words finally came, they would only make it stronger. Chapter 41: Victory and Vibrations The days after Linda’s visit unfolded like a slow, warm thaw. Carolyn and David talked—really talked—for the first time in years. Not hurried pillow talk or careful avoidance, but long, quiet evenings on the couch, tea for her, bourbon for him, sharing the things they’d never dared say aloud. David told her about the secret fantasies he’d carried since his twenties: the thrill of helplessness, the erotic charge of humiliation, the way a thick diaper made him feel small and safe. Carolyn listened without judgment, her hand resting on his knee, sometimes stroking the front of his diaper through his pajamas as he spoke. He confessed how much he loved her calling him pathetic or small; how her words made his tiny clitty twitch helplessly inside the padding. He admitted the darker thrill: the idea of being “forced” into things he secretly craved—anal play, plugs, pegging—because the illusion of no choice made surrender easier. He shared how much he loved the spanking she had given him. How it hurt, but felt good because he knew he had been insensitive to her needs and deserved it. He loved that she cared enough to help him be a better husband. But he also loved thinking about getting spankings. Not just for being bad. He loved the feeling of the diaper on his butt after the stinging sensation. They agreed that he would get spankings for rewards as well as punishments. When they were for play and fun, she would put a cloth diaper over his butt before his paddling so it wouldn’t hurt as much but he could enjoy the same sensations. When it was punishment, it was going to hurt. Carolyn shared too. How dominating him made her feel powerful and desired. How she’d touched herself with a dildo while he whimpered in the crib, after the spanking, the sound of his muffled cries pushing her over the edge. She told him everything about her last night with Robert—the rough way he took her, the kisses, the way he’d pressed his thick length into her, the hot explosion into her. She described it during “play time,” with Daisy on the changing table, diaper open, legs spread, the story unfolding as Carolyn teased the front of the padding. The fact that Robert knew Daisy’s darkest secret only heightened the thrill. “He mocked you,” she whispered, “called you a freak then took me.” Daisy’s hips bucked, the diaper flooding with pre-cum and pee, the humiliation delicious and terrifying. David admitted the risk excited him—the idea of exposure, the fear that someone he knew might find out. He was still terrified of real-world discovery, especially at the firm, but the fantasy made him ache. “Then we’ll give you more of that feeling, baby girl. Safe, but so very real.” They spent hours on the couch, Daisy curled against Carolyn’s side, laptop open. He sent her links to his favorite kinky stories—diapered sissies, cuckold husbands, pegging scenes—blushing as she read them aloud, voice low and teasing. “You really want this, don’t you?” she murmured, slipping a hand onto his diaper to stroke his clitty. “Yes, Mommy,” he whispered, trembling. He was in the process of providing her links to his favorite kinky stories, when he got the call. They jury was back. He was due in court in an hour. David rushed to the courthouse, heart pounding. This wasn’t just a verdict—it was freedom. A win meant a nine-figure bonus, retirement, no more hiding diapers under suits, no more pretending to be the alpha shark. He could finally live as the man—and the girl—he truly was. The courtroom was packed. The foreman stood. “We find in favor of the plaintiffs. Damages: one billion, two hundred million dollars.” Chaos erupted. Handshakes, hugs, tears from the lead plaintiff. David’s team mobbed him, backslaps and shouts of “Legend!” He grinned, ego soaring—then the judge announced the customary post-verdict juror debrief. Some jurors wanted to talk, especially to the winning side. David stepped into the jury room, still buzzing with adrenaline. They were eager, warm, congratulatory. One woman, mid-fifties, graying hair pulled back, gripped his fingers tightly. “Mr. David, I just have to say—you were so brave up there. My brother has the same… condition. To see you handle it day after day without missing a beat? Inspiring. Truly.” A younger juror nodded. “Yeah, man. Respect. Takes guts.” David’s smile froze. Condition? It clicked like ice cracking. The faint crinkle under his slacks. The occasional discreet adjustment. They’d heard. They’d known the whole trial. Heat flooded his face—mortification and exhilaration in equal measure. He managed a gracious “Thank you, that means a lot,” voice steady while his diaper warmed with a fresh, involuntary wetting. As he walked out of the courthouse, the winter air sharp on his cheeks, a giddy thought looped: They knew. And the world didn’t end. They admired me. He now wondered if everyone at work knew as well. Driving home, the shock gave way to a strange, electric relief. One of his darkest secrets was out—at least to twelve strangers—and nothing had collapsed. The humiliation was real, but so was the thrill. He couldn’t wait to tell Carolyn. That evening, the nursery glowed pink. Carolyn had prepared a “special treat.” Daisy stripped, lay on the changing table, heart racing. From the drawer came a sleek black silicone butt plug, small but unmistakably curved, with a flared base and a remote in Carolyn’s hand. “Mommy…?” “Shh, good girl. This is for my brilliant lawyer who just won a billion dollars.” She gloved up, lubed the toy, and eased it in slowly. Daisy’s breath hitched at the unfamiliar stretch, the fullness pressing against her prostate. Carolyn taped on a thick lavender nighttime diaper over the plug, then pocketed the remote. All evening it buzzed—low, teasing hums while they watched TV, sudden sharp pulses that made Daisy squirm and whimper on the couch, diaper tenting helplessly. Carolyn watched with wicked delight, her own arousal building at the sight of her girl writhing in controlled pleasure. Friday he walked into the firm and announced retirement—effective once the inevitable appeal and settlement wrapped up. The partners raised glasses (bourbon for everyone but him; he was in a thick daytime diaper under his jeans and didn’t trust his bladder with alcohol anymore). “Legend walking away at the top,” they toasted. He grinned, secretly thrilled: no more legend. Just Daisy, full-time, secure forever. They gave him the next month off—“Take care of yourself, champ. You’ve earned it.” He planned a trip with Carolyn—somewhere warm, private, where the diapers could be thicker, the play louder, the secrets safely shared and some experimentation could begin. Just the two of them. For now. Chapter 42: Shadows Cleared The week after the verdict passed in a haze of newfound freedom. David dove into wrapping up loose ends at the firm—memos, handoffs, the occasional call about appeal strategies—but his heart wasn’t in it. Retirement loomed like a promise, the pharma windfall ensuring they’d never worry about money again. Evenings blurred into intimate confessions: David admitting how the jurors’ knowledge of his diapers had secretly thrilled him, how the exposure—real, risky—made his clitty strain every time he thought about it. Carolyn shared her own rush, teasing him during changes until he begged for mercy. By mid-week, they turned to planning the trip. Over breakfast—David in khakis over a discreet daytime diaper, Carolyn sipping peach iced tea—they spread maps on the kitchen table. “A few week in the mountains,” Carolyn said, tracing a route to a secluded cabin in the Rockies. “Far from the city, the courthouse, anyone who knows us. Just you and me… and whatever adventures we chase.” David’s cheeks warmed. “I’ve been thinking about packing. Not just the usual—some cute cross-dressing outfits. Nothing babyish. Short sundresses, maybe a skirt and blouse. Feminine, but… obvious.” Carolyn’s eyes lit with interest. “Tell me more.” He hesitated, then plunged in. “There’s this fantasy—golfing in a woman’s outfit. A pleated tennis skirt, polo top, maybe knee socks. Waddling up to the tee, everyone staring at the man in drag. The humiliation… God, it thrills me. But I’m not ready for that yet. Maybe just a few outings en femme. A walk in the woods or through a quiet town. An obvious guy in a cute dress, holding your hand. Everyone knowing I’m… this.” She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. “We can start small. An evening stroll, you in something pretty. And if it feels right… maybe hit a bar or club. Scout for someone real. A man who could give me what I need, while you watch from the shadows.” David’s breath hitched, diaper tenting at the thought. “Yes. Risky, but… thrilling. As long as it’s safe. No one from our world.” Everything felt perfect—open, electric, alive. But Carolyn carried a shadow. Linda had been calling daily, her voice gentle but insistent: “He needs the full truth, Carolyn. About the hypnosis, the plan. You can’t build on half-secrets forever.” Carolyn resisted at first—why dredge up pain when they were so happy?—but Linda’s caring persistence wore her down. “For his sake. He forgave the rest; he’ll forgive this. And you’ll be free.” Finally, over lunch Friday, Carolyn agreed. She texted Linda: Come over Sunday afternoon. We’ll tell him. That evening, as they cuddled on the couch—David in a light pink nightie over his diaper, Carolyn in silk pajamas—she broached it casually. “Linda’s coming by Sunday. Patio, if the weather holds. We… need to talk. All of us.” David’s brow furrowed, but he nodded, sensing the weight. “About…?” “Everything. Loose ends. Trust me—it’ll be good.” Sunday arrived mild for mid-December, the sun warming the patio enough for sweaters. Linda arrived at three, her flowing black dress swaying as she hugged them both. They settled around the wrought-iron table: Linda with a glass of crisp white wine, David with a tumbler of bourbon over ice, Carolyn sipping tall iced tea from a frosted glass. Small talk faded quickly. Linda set her glass down, eyes meeting David’s with that calm, amused authority. “We’re here because there’s one more truth to share. Carolyn and I… we started this journey for you, but not entirely honestly.” Carolyn took a deep breath, hand finding David’s under the table. “Before the bedwetting, before the diapers… I went to Linda, desperate. Our sex life was… empty. You came quick, your size left me aching and pretending. I loved you—the security, the life—but I needed more. I didn’t want a divorce and I couldn’t cheat without risking everything.” David’s grip tightened, but he stayed silent, listening. Linda leaned in. “I suggested hypnosis—for you. To trigger bedwetting, make you small and dependent. To push your buried desires to the surface: the diapers, the sissification, the helplessness. We planted the seeds subtly, over dinners and visits. The first wet night? Us. The urge to suggest protection? Us. We amplified what was already there—your fantasies from our old sessions—but we started the cascade without telling you.” Carolyn’s voice trembled. “I agreed because I was selfish and frustrated. But Linda crafted it, thinking it would align us—give me satisfaction, give you the surrender you craved deep down. We eased you into it, step by step.” David sat frozen; bourbon forgotten. Shock hit first—like a punch to the gut. Betrayed? By his wife? By Linda, who he’d trusted with his secrets years ago? Emotions churned: anger flickering at the manipulation, humiliation burning hotter as he realized his “natural” descent into Daisy had been engineered. The first soaked sheets, the doctor’s visits, the shame that had hooked him so deeply… all orchestrated. His face flushed, hand pulling back slightly. “You… made me wet the bed? Pushed me into diapers like some puppet? God, the humiliation I felt—raw, real—and it was all a setup?” Tears welled in Carolyn’s eyes. “We did. And I’m sorry. So sorry. But—” Linda cut in gently. “It built on your truths, David. The cravings were yours. We just… unlocked the door.” He stared at the table, mind reeling. But beneath the storm, something steadied him. The life now—the nursery, the diapers sagging warm overnight, the frills and helplessness, Carolyn’s glowing satisfaction—it was everything he’d ever wanted, even if he hadn’t known how to ask. Without their push, would he have stayed buried under ego and bourbon? Trapped in a marriage dying from his own inadequacies? A slow breath. The anger ebbed, replaced by a strange gratitude. “All’s well that ends well,” he said finally, voice rough but sincere. “Yeah, it stings—the deception. But look at us now. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. As Daisy, as your sissy… it’s freedom. You gave me that. Both of you. If Linda hadn’t made it happen, I’d still be pretending, failing you both. I forgive you. Hell, I thank you.” Carolyn sobbed in relief, pulling him into a hug. Linda smiled, tears in her own eyes, raising her glass. “To truths. And the happiness they bring.” They clinked—wine, bourbon, iced tea—and the last shadow lifted. The mountains waited, full of promise. Chapter 43: Peaks of Desire The cabin sat high in the Colorado Rockies, a sun-drenched A-frame with wide decks overlooking pine forests and a shimmering alpine lake. They arrived in early August, the air warm and sweet with wildflowers and pine sap. No snow, no skiers—just endless blue sky, hiking trails, and the lazy hum of summer insects. Perfect for the kind of exposure David had dreamed of. They unpacked with quiet excitement. David laid out his summer wardrobe: a soft floral sundress in sky blue that skimmed mid-thigh, a white pleated tennis skirt with a matching polo, sheer knee-high socks, and strappy sandals. Feminine, summery, and unmistakably male underneath—no wig or heavy makeup, just light gloss and a blush of excitement. Carolyn helped him choose, her own outfits breezy and sexy: linen shorts and halter tops, sundresses that showed off her tanned legs, everything that made her look effortlessly desirable. Their first outing was a late-afternoon walk along a quiet lakeside path. Daisy stepped out in the sundress, the breeze lifting the hem to flash the padded diaper beneath. The diaper was thick but discreet—white with pastel butterflies—and it crinkled softly with every step. Carolyn held her hand, radiant in a white sundress and wide-brimmed hat. “You’re gorgeous, princess. Imagine if someone saw—an obvious man in a pretty dress, waddling for his Mommy.” They passed a few hikers. A young couple smiled politely, a lone fisherman glanced up from the dock and did a double-take. Daisy’s skin prickled with warmth, her clitty twitching helplessly against the padding. The stares were electric. Back at the cabin, Carolyn rewarded her with slow, teasing strokes over the diaper until Daisy sobbed and came in helpless spurts. Emboldened, they ventured into the small mountain town nearby—cafés, galleries, a handful of bars catering to summer tourists. Daisy chose the tennis skirt and polo, heart pounding as they strolled the sunny main street. Heads turned: a barista’s eyes widened, a group of tourists whispered, a woman in a sundress smiled with amused curiosity. “They know,” Daisy breathed, cheeks flaming. “I’m a man in a skirt. Pathetic. Exposed.” Carolyn squeezed her hand. “And it thrills you, doesn’t it? My brave girl.” It did. The humiliation fed a dizzying arousal, diaper tenting shamelessly. That night Carolyn pegged Daisy for the first time, the slim strap-on sliding in while she whispered about “real men” who could stretch her properly. But Carolyn craved more than toys. “Let’s try the bars,” she suggested over iced tea on the deck. “You watch from a distance, like a secret admirer. See if I can… attract someone.” Daisy nodded eagerly, the cuckold fire roaring. That evening, at a lively lakeside bar—open-air patio, string lights, live guitar—Carolyn entered alone, stunning in a fitted red sundress that hugged her curves. Daisy slipped in ten minutes later, perched at a corner table in her skirt ensemble, sipping club soda to hide the waddle. She watched, diaper warming with jealous spurts, as men approached: a fit hiker with a charming smile, a local contractor with sun-kissed arms. Carolyn flirted lightly, laughing at jokes, touching arms—but nothing clicked. The next night, success. A tall, confident stranger—mid-forties, broad-shouldered, visiting from Denver—bought her a drink (iced tea for her, whiskey for him). Conversation flowed: work (he was in finance), travel, subtle innuendo. Daisy squirmed from her spot; the thrill razor-sharp. When Carolyn glanced her way—eyes locking for a split second, wicked and loving—Daisy nearly came untouched. An hour later, Carolyn leaned in. “Your place?” His hotel was just across the street. She texted Daisy: Stay here, baby. Mommy’s getting what she needs. Tell you everything later. Daisy waited, hips rocking subtly against the padded seat, mind reeling with images: Carolyn spread wide, moaning for a real cock, while her sissy waited in a tennis skirt and plastic. Upstairs in the stranger’s room—simple, king bed, balcony overlooking the lake—Carolyn felt the rush. No names exchanged beyond firsts (she gave a fake). He was confident, hands strong as he peeled off her sundress, lips claiming hers. The sex was raw, fulfilling: he lifted her effortlessly, pounding deep against the wall, then on the bed, flipping her to take her from behind. She came twice—hard, shattering—screaming into the pillow, body alive in ways David never could. The thrill of anonymity, the risk of a one-night fling in a mountain town, heightened every thrust. He finished with a growl, collapsing beside her, murmuring how incredible she was. She dressed quickly after, a quick kiss goodbye, heart racing as she slipped out. Back at the bar, Daisy waited, eyes wide and desperate. In the cabin, Carolyn recounted every detail: his size (“Thick, baby—stretched me perfectly”), his stamina (“Pounded me until I begged”), the way he made her feel desired, powerful. Daisy lay in the bed, nightie hiked, Carolyn’s hand stroking over the soaked diaper. “He took what you can’t give, princess. While you waited like the good cuck you are.” Daisy exploded with a sob, spurts soaking the gel, collapsing into Carolyn’s arms. They fell asleep tangled—her in silk, Daisy in chiffon and padding—bodies warm, love deeper than ever. But morning brought unease for Carolyn. Over iced tea on the deck, watching the sun rise over the lake, she frowned. “Last night was… amazing. Physically. But the lying? Pretending I’m single, no strings? It felt hollow. I want more than quick fucks with strangers. Something honest. Real connection, even if it’s just for us.” David—back in shorts and a diaper—nodded thoughtfully. “I get it. In my years browsing forums, reading stories… I learned about bulls. Real ones, not porn fantasies. Guys who enjoy the dynamic: low commitment, but with boundaries. They get the thrill of being desired, the power exchange, without emotional baggage. Some build respect with the couple—even friendship. Motivated by feeling chosen, providing pleasure, avoiding drama. We could find one together. A bull for us, not just you. Someone who knows the score, enhances our life without secrets.” Carolyn’s eyes lit. “Honest from the start. No pretending. And you… exposed, humiliated, but safe.” They agreed: when they got home, the search began. A bull to complete their world. The mountains had given them clarity. Now, the real adventure waited. Chapter 44: The Search Begins Back from the mountains, the cabin's sun-soaked memories lingered like a warm afterglow. David dove into finalizing the pharma case—appeals looming, but settlement talks already buzzing—while Carolyn savored their deepening intimacy. Evenings blurred into confessions: David admitting how the jurors' knowledge still thrilled him, how the risk of real exposure made every diaper change electric. Carolyn shared her growing dominance, the way commanding him—paddling his bare bottom or buzzing a plug while he squirmed—ignited her like nothing else. One night in the nursery, Daisy lay on the changing table, fresh diaper taped snug, nightie ruffled. Carolyn's hand lingered on the front, teasing. "Tell Mommy another secret, princess. Something you've never said out loud." Daisy's cheeks burned. "I... I want more than watching. When you have your bull... make me please him. Orally. Suck him off while you watch. Prepare him for you." Carolyn's eyes darkened with heat. "God, baby—that's hot. Watching my husband on his knees, diaper crinkling, servicing the man who's about to fuck me? The power... the humiliation for you, the dominance for me. Yes. We'd make it happen." Daisy whimpered, clitty straining. "And... not just hear about it. Be there. As Daisy—diapered, dressed, maybe tied to a chair. Forced to watch him take you. Or... present you to him. Spread your legs, beg him to fuck you better than I ever could." Carolyn leaned down, kissing the pacifier-gagged mouth. "Perfect. The stories are thrilling, but seeing your face—tears in your eyes, diaper tenting pathetically—while he pounds me? That's the ultimate exchange. My power, your surrender." The decision crystallized: time for a bull. Not random hookups, but a real one—for them as a couple. They started together, laptops open over iced tea (for her) and bourbon (for him). David shared what he'd gleaned from years of online lurking: cuckold communities emphasized consent, communication, boundaries. Bulls varied—some dominant alphas seeking control, others casual players enjoying the taboo without strings. Key: find one motivated by mutual respect, not conquest. They joined discreet sites: FetLife for kink networks, BiCupid for open-minded matches, OkFun's cuckold section for targeted searches. Reddit subs like r/cuckold and r/cuckoldpersonals offered forums for posts. They crafted a joint profile: "Loving couple seeking respectful bull for long-term dynamic. Hotwife craves real satisfaction; cuck sissy thrives on humiliation and service. Honesty first—no games." Responses flooded in. They vetted together, chatting via apps, video calls to gauge vibes. First potential: Alex, 38, muscular gym rat from the city. His messages oozed dominance—"I'll own her while you cry in your diapers"—but ignored their questions about boundaries. On video, he dismissed David's role: "Husbands are just props." Mismatch: too aggressive, no respect for the couple's unity. They passed. Next: Tom, 45, divorced exec. Polite, experienced, but his fantasy leaned emotional—"I want to be the third in your love story." He pushed for dates with Carolyn alone, minimizing David. Red flag: seeking attachment they didn't want. "We need low-drama," David said. Blocked. A third: Ryan, 32, bi-curious artist. Intrigued by the sissy element, but uncomfortable with diapers—"That's too weird for me." His energy mismatched their core kink. Polite no. Frustration built, but the process bonded them—laughing over bad profiles, role-playing rejections. "We're picky for a reason," Carolyn said. "He has to fit us." Then, Marcus. His profile on FetLife stood out: 42, tall, athletic build, finance consultant. "Experienced bull seeking respectful, ongoing dynamic with secure couples. Enjoy power exchange, humiliation play, but boundaries sacred. Bi-friendly; love involving the cuck in creative ways." Photos showed a handsome Black man—strong jaw, easy smile, confident without arrogance. They messaged: honest about their setup—diapers, sissification, Daisy's service fantasies. Marcus replied thoughtfully: "Sounds aligned. I get off on the thrill of being chosen, making her scream while he watches (or helps). No possession—just enhancement. Happy to chat limits first." The video call sealed it. Marcus appeared polished—button-down shirt, warm baritone. He asked questions: "What does exposure mean for you, David? Carolyn, how do you see my role in your dominance?" No red flags—confident, empathetic, independent. He shared motivations: low-attachment validation, enjoying the taboo without drama. "I'm straight, but open to cuck service if it fits the scene. Turns me on knowing he's prepping me for her." Marcus leaned back in his chair after the video call ended, replaying the conversation in his mind. David wasn't the fragile pushover he'd braced for—sharp, accomplished, with a quiet vulnerability that commanded respect. And Carolyn... radiant, in control, her dominance subtle but electric. This dynamic felt right: no red flags, just a secure couple seeking enhancement, not rescue. As a bull, he thrived on that—being chosen for the thrill, providing pleasure without strings or drama. Boundaries clear, chemistry simmering. Yeah, he thought, this could be one of the good ones. Low commitment, high reward—exactly what kept him in the game. Chemistry sparked. They agreed: initial meet at a neutral café downtown. "See if we click in person," Marcus said. "No pressure." As the call ended, Carolyn pulled David close. "He feels right. For us." Daisy nodded, diaper warming with anticipation. The search was over. The real dynamic—present, exposed, humiliating—about to begin. Chapter 45: Dinner with the Bull The lounge was dimly lit and intimate—a quiet downtown spot with leather booths, soft jazz humming from hidden speakers, and a bar glowing amber. David and Carolyn arrived early, scanning the room. No Marcus yet. They slipped into the bar area to wait. “Bourbon, neat,” David ordered, his voice carrying that courtroom steadiness even as nerves fluttered beneath. Carolyn smiled at the bartender. “Peach iced tea for me, please.” Marcus appeared moments later: tall, broad-shouldered, dark skin warm under the low lights, dressed in a crisp charcoal shirt that hugged his frame without trying too hard. His stride was easy, confident. They recognized him instantly and waved him over. He approached with a genuine smile, handshake firm and warm. “David. Good to meet you in person.” “Likewise,” David replied, grip matching—lawyer to professional, man to man. Marcus turned to Carolyn; eyes appreciative but respectful. He leaned in for a light kiss on the cheek. “Carolyn… wow. You’re even more stunning in person.” She flushed, a playful spark in her eyes. “Flatterer. But thank you. You clean up nicely yourself.” He ordered an IPA for himself and, without asking, another peach iced tea for Carolyn—remembering her preference from their chats. As they waited for a table, conversation flowed easily. David shared the pharma trial victory and his impending full retirement. Marcus talked about his finance consulting work, the two bonding over shared gripes about corporate red tape and long hours. Golf surfaced—both casual players—and they traded favorite courses and swing tips. Movies: action thrillers and classic Westerns. Music: David’s classic rock met Marcus’s R&B and hip-hop seamlessly. We could be friends if we met on a job site, David thought, a strange warmth mixing with the undercurrent of excitement. But he knows everything. While we’re debating drivers versus irons, he knows I wear diapers under this suit, dress in frills at home, and want him to take my wife while I watch. Marcus sipped his beer, genuinely enjoying the exchange. As the conversation flowed—golf tips turning to market trends—Marcus felt the pieces click. David was solid: charismatic, successful, no insecurity masking as aggression. Easy to respect, even like. Carolyn's hand on his thigh sent sparks, her confidence pulling him in without desperation. This was the kind of dynamic he sought: mutual trust, clear boundaries, the erotic charge of power exchange minus the mess. He enjoyed being the catalyst—feeling desired, amplifying their bond—not owning it. No drama, just validation and fun. Glancing at David's subtle flush, he knew: this fits. Green lights all around. And Carolyn… she was radiant. Confident, quick to laugh, her auburn hair catching the light, body language open and inviting. The chemistry crackled—subtle glances, lingering smiles. He felt the pull: desire, yes, but also intrigue at the dynamic she’d described. This could be a great. The hostess called their table—a cozy corner booth. Carolyn paused, then slid in beside Marcus with a mischievous smile. “I’ll sit here tonight.” David blinked, a flicker of ego sting, but he nodded. “Of course.” He took the opposite bench, alone. The arrangement screamed it: couple plus one. Carolyn leaned into Marcus naturally, her hand brushing his arm, head tilting toward him as they talked. David’s stomach twisted—public slight, deliberate tease—but heat bloomed low, diaper warming with a shy spurt, clitty stirring at the casual dominance. Carolyn leaned toward Marcus during appetizers, her voice carrying just enough for the nearby waiter to overhear. "Darling, tell me more about your day—while my husband here fetches the bread basket." Marcus complied with a knowing smile, but David flushed as the waiter paused mid-step, eyes flicking to him—the "husband" alone across the table. Carolyn's casual command treated David like an errand boy, the public demotion stinging sharp. He stood, retrieving the basket from the sideboard, the subtle crinkle under his slacks amplifying the shame. The waiter smirked subtly as he passed, murmuring, "Anything else for... the table?" David's cheeks grew scarlet, arousal betraying him with a spurt into the padding. She's orchestrating this—making me the servant in front of strangers. Heat rose in David’s cheeks, humiliation flooding hot and sharp. He knows now. Thinks I’m the odd one out, the third wheel. The public sting hit like fire, but his diaper tented slightly under the table, arousal betraying him. Marcus caught his eye—a flicker of knowing amusement, respectful but dominant. The meal unfolded in delicious tension. Appetizers—bruschetta, calamari—arrived, and conversation stayed easy on the surface: work stories, travel plans. But Carolyn’s hand rested on Marcus’s thigh under the table, her laughs leaning into him. She fed him a bite of her salad, giggling as he accepted it. The waiter’s knowing glances as he refilled drinks amplified everything for David—the public display, the casual claim. Marcus relaxed into it, alpha ease radiating. Sitting with another man’s wife draped over him, the husband watching quietly… it fed the thrill without arrogance. He liked them both. Carolyn was electric, power surging. Every touch, every corrective “my husband” to the waiter, soaked her panties. They’re both mine tonight, she thought. David humiliated; Marcus intrigued. Perfect stepping stone. Dessert—tiramisu shared three ways—passed in warm politeness. Outside on the sidewalk, farewells: Marcus shook David’s hand firmly. “Really good meeting you both.” Then he pulled Carolyn close for a deep, lingering kiss—right there under the streetlight, valet watching curiously. David stood aside, face aflame, the public claim searing. Humiliation crested, but so did the rush: Everyone sees. They know. In the car home, silence at first, then Carolyn’s hand on his knee. “You were perfect tonight, baby.” At home, the shift was swift. Carolyn led him to the nursery, stripped the suit, taped on a thick princess diaper—lavender with tiaras. Daisy emerged in a frilly nightie, bells jingling softly. But Carolyn was on fire, soaked from the evening’s power play. She tugged Daisy to the master bed—her domain—and pushed her down. “Make Mommy cum,” she commanded, hiking her dress, no panties beneath. Daisy dove in eagerly, tongue lapping with desperate devotion. The privilege—rare, earned—filled her with profound joy: finally pleasing Carolyn sexually, after years of failure as David. Slow circles on her clit, delving deeper, sucking gently then firmly as Carolyn’s breaths quickened. Hands gripped thighs, pulling closer, tongue probing every fold until Carolyn arched, fingers tangling in curls, crying out in shattering release. Daisy pulled back, face glistening, tears of happy accomplishment pricking her eyes. Carolyn kissed her forehead. “Good girl.” When Daisy finished, Carolyn led her to the nursery, helped her into the crib, and locked the crib rail in place, goodnight whispered. Daisy drifted off replaying the night: humiliation thrilling, chemistry undeniable. Marcus fit. The story surged forward—one giant step closer to everything they craved. Chapter 46: Building the Bridge Marcus had always been the steady one. Raised in a tight-knit family in Atlanta, he'd learned early that real strength wasn't loud or aggressive—it was reliable. A football scholarship in college honed his discipline, but a knee injury shifted his path to finance, where he climbed steadily: analyst to manager to independent consultant, building a life of quiet success. Divorced once, amicably—no kids, no bitterness—the split stemmed from mismatched desires; she'd craved routine vanilla, while he'd discovered his kink through discreet online forums. The cuckold world appealed not for dominance games, but for the clarity: low emotional stakes, high mutual thrill. He'd been a bull for three couples over the years—always with clear rules, ending cleanly when dynamics shifted. He loved the validation of being chosen, the erotic rush of providing what a husband couldn't, the power exchange that amplified a couple's bond without claiming it. No possession, no drama—just respect, pleasure, and the freedom to walk away if it didn't fit. David and Carolyn intrigued him from the start: a secure marriage with layers of vulnerability and trust. David wasn't fragile—just a man craving release from his alpha mask. Carolyn's dominance was subtle, magnetic. This could be rewarding: feeling desired, catalyzing their happiness, without the mess of entanglements. Green lights all the way. The arrangement came together seamlessly. Back home after the lounge dinner, Carolyn and David debriefed in the master bed—him in a fresh diaper and short nightie, her in silk. The evening's public tease still hummed between them. "Marcus texted," Carolyn said, phone glowing. "He's in. Wants to move forward." David's clitty stirred against the padding. "Me too. He... fits." They discussed dynamics openly: Daisy's presence eventually—tied, watching, servicing. Carolyn admitted nerves. "For the first time... I want it just me and him. Ease in. I'm not ready for you there yet—too intense. But soon. I promise." David nodded, a mix of jealousy and arousal. "I get it. Tell me everything after. Every detail." She kissed him. "Deal." Carolyn messaged Marcus the arrangements. Her mind: quick hotel meet; straight to sex—satisfy the itch. His reply: No rush. Dinner and dancing first. Let anticipation build. Treat you like you deserve. Her heart fluttered. A real date—romantic, respectful. His idea. Perfect. She shared with David. "He wants dinner, dancing. No sex first night. And... he suggested you come along. Watch us. Then I come home with you." David's eyes widened, diaper warming. "Thoughtful. Respectful of us." They agreed: a step forward, safe. The night arrived. A sleek downtown restaurant—white tablecloths, candlelight—then a nearby club with live band and sultry rhythm. David arrived first, suited sharply, bourbon in hand at the bar. Marcus and Carolyn entered together: him in tailored dark shirt and slacks, her in a slinky black dress that clung to every curve, heels accentuating her legs. She glowed on his arm. They joined David at a corner table. Conversation flowed like the lounge—golf swings, market trends—but charged now. Marcus's hand on Carolyn's lower back, her laughs leaning into him. David watched, ego prickling deliciously, diaper discreet but tenting under the table. Dinner: shared plates, wine for Marcus, iced tea for Carolyn, bourbon for David. Marcus fed her a bite of dessert, eyes locked. Chemistry sizzled—his deep voice drawing her in, her touches lingering. Carolyn leaned toward Marcus; voice playful but pointed. "Pass the bread basket to my husband, please?" Marcus complied with a knowing smile, sliding it across. The small command—treating him like her assistant in front of David—sent a fresh wave of heat through her. David flushed, accepting it silently, the subtle power shift amplifying his arousal. Then the club: dim lights, pulsing bass, bodies swaying under colored spots. David nursed a drink at a shadowed high-top, eyes locked on the floor. Marcus led Carolyn out first on a slow song—his large hand splayed possessively across the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. She melted into his chest, auburn hair brushing his shoulder, her arms looping around his neck. He guided her with effortless strength, hips swaying in perfect sync, the heat of his body seeping through her thin dress. His thigh slipped between hers as they turned, pressing just enough to make her breath catch, a subtle grind that sent sparks low in her belly. She tilted her head up, lips brushing his ear. "You move so well." He smiled down, voice a low rumble. "You feel incredible against me." His hand drifted lower, thumb tracing the curve of her hip, pulling her tighter so she felt the hard line of him against her thigh—deliberate, teasing. The song shifted faster—R&B groove, heavy beat. Marcus spun her out, then reeled her back in, hands sliding to her hips. She arched into him, back to his chest, grinding slowly as his palms guided her rhythm. The curve of her ass nestled against his growing hardness; he didn't hide it, letting her feel every inch, hips rolling in time with the music. Carolyn's pulse raced, nipples peaking under silk, wetness building as his fingers traced teasing circles on her waist, dipping just under the hem of her dress. He dipped her low, strong arm supporting, lips hovering near hers without closing—anticipation electric, breath mingling hot and close. David watched every sway, every press, diaper soaking with helpless arousal. Jealousy twisted sharp, but the thrill overpowered: She's dancing like that for him. Not me. No sex—just build. At midnight, Marcus walked them out, arm around Carolyn's waist, a final squeeze before releasing her to David. In the car home, her hand on David's thigh. "Soon," she whispered. "But tonight... perfect." At home, nursery ritual: diaper check (soaked), change, nightie. Then master bed—Carolyn guiding Daisy's head between her thighs. "Taste how wet he made me." Daisy lapped eagerly, bringing her to shuddering release. Marcus had proven thoughtful, patient. The right bull—for them. The bridge was built. Next: crossing it. Chapter 47: The First Night The arrangement came together seamlessly, a mix of anticipation and careful planning that thrilled all three of them. Marcus had suggested a full evening: dinner at an upscale French bistro downtown, then a night at a luxury hotel overlooking the city skyline. "Let's make it memorable," he'd texted Carolyn. "Build the heat slowly." She loved his thoughtfulness—no rush to the physical, even though her body ached for it after months of buildup. David was looped in from the start. Over iced tea one afternoon, Carolyn laid it out: "Saturday night. Dinner, then the hotel. I won't be home until Sunday morning." He nodded, a flicker of jealousy in his eyes, but his diaper warmed with the familiar rush. "I agree. Tell me everything after. Every detail." To prepare, Carolyn decided on a lingerie shopping trip—a ritual to heighten the tease. Friday afternoon, she took Daisy with her to a discreet boutique in the upscale district, the kind with velvet curtains and soft lighting. Daisy waddled beside her in khakis over a thick daytime diaper, face flushed as Carolyn browsed lace and silk. "Help Mommy pick something for Marcus," she cooed, holding up a sheer black babydoll with garters. "Something that makes him hard just looking." Daisy's clitty strained pathetically. "That one... it's sexy. He'll... he'll love it." Carolyn found what he was pointing to immediately: a white lace teddy, almost completely sheer, delicate garter straps dangling like invitations. She held it up against herself. “What do you think?” David’s mouth went dry. “It’s… incredible. You’ll look unreal.” A salesgirl—early twenties, bright smile, name tag “Kayla”—approached. “That set is stunning. There’s a matching garter belt and sheer stockings if you want the full look.” Carolyn’s eyes lit up. “Yes, please!” Kayla beamed. “Big occasion?” Carolyn glanced sideways at David, a playful glint in her eye. “A special night out and a stay at a luxury hotel afterwards.” Kayla turned to him with an automatic smile. “You’re a lucky man.” Carolyn’s voice was sweet as honey. “Oh, no—that’s my husband. My lover is picking me up tomorrow night.” The air left David’s lungs. Heat flooded his face; the diaper felt suddenly huge under his suit. Kayla’s eyes flicked to him, curious, a little amused, then back to Carolyn with open admiration. “Wow. He’s so sweet and supportive. That’s rare.” “He really is,” Carolyn agreed, stroking David’s arm like he was a well-trained pet. Kayla rang up the set—teddy, garter, stockings, even a tiny white thong—chatting happily about how gorgeous Carolyn would look. David stood mute, cheeks burning, clitty straining helplessly against the sodden padding. In the car on the way home he stared out the window, mind spinning. Carolyn leaned in to Daisy: "Imagine him peeling this off me while you're home in your crib, in your wet diapers. " Daisy whimpered, a spurt soaking the gel. "Yes, Mommy." Saturday evening, Carolyn prepared in the master bath—hair in loose waves, lips painted deep red, the lingerie hidden under a sleek black cocktail dress. David, already as Daisy in a short pink romper over her diaper, helped zip her up, hands trembling. "You look incredible," Daisy whispered. "For him." Carolyn kissed her forehead. "Have fun tonight, princess. Mommy won't be home till morning." Daisy nodded, bells jingling. "Yes, Mommy. Have... have fun." Marcus arrived in his SUV, sharp in a tailored suit. He kissed Carolyn deeply at the door—Daisy watching from the hall, heart pounding—then drove off into the night. At the bistro, candlelight flickered over white linen. Marcus pulled out her chair, ordered wine for himself and iced tea for her without asking. Conversation flowed: his latest consulting project, her thoughts on a new book club read. But under it, tension built—his hand brushing hers, eyes tracing her neckline. "You’re glowing tonight," he murmured. "You make me feel that way," she replied, pulse quickening. After dessert—crème Brulé shared, spoons lingering— they headed to the hotel. The suite was opulent: king bed with silk sheets, city lights twinkling through floor-to-ceiling windows, a bottle of chilled iced tea waiting beside champagne. Marcus dimmed the lights, pulled her close. "I've wanted this since our first call." Their kiss started slow—lips soft, exploring—then deepened, his hands roaming her back, unzipping the dress. It pooled at her feet, revealing the white lingerie. His breath caught. "God, Carolyn... you're perfection." She tugged at his shirt, buttons giving way to reveal toned chest and abs. They tumbled to the bed, his mouth on her neck, trailing down to lace-covered breasts. He peeled the bra away, sucking nipples to hard peaks, her moans filling the room. Fingers dipped under the thong, finding her soaked, circling her clit with expert pressure. "Yes... Marcus..." She arched, guiding his head lower. He obliged, tongue delving deep, lapping with hungry precision—slow flicks, then sucking, building her relentlessly. She came hard, thighs clamping his head, crying out as waves crashed. He rose, shedding pants—his cock thick, veined, twice David's length—hard and ready. She stroked him, marveling at the heat, the girth. "I need you inside me." He entered slowly, stretching her deliciously, inch by inch until buried deep. She gasped, nails digging into his back. He thrust steadily—deep, rhythmic—flipping positions: her on top, riding with rolling hips; then from behind, pounding as she clutched sheets. Orgasms rolled through her—three, four—each shattering, his growls possessive. Finally, he came with a roar, spilling hot inside her. They collapsed, tangled and sweaty, his arms around her. "Incredible," he whispered. She smiled, sated. "More than." Back home, Daisy paced the nursery, romper unzipped, diaper massively swollen from hours of anxious wetting. Mommy is with him now. Dinner done, hotel room... his cock inside her, making her scream like I never could. The jealousy burned, but so did the need. Crib rail up, paci in, she grabbed a satin pillow, straddling it in the dim pink light. Hips rocked desperately—wet gel squishing, clitty grinding through layers. Imagining: Marcus thrusting deep, Carolyn's moans, his grunts of possession. "Yes... fuck her... better than me..." She came with a muffled sob, spurts soaking the diaper further, collapsing spent and tear-streaked. Morning would bring stories. For now, surrender. Chapter48: Maid for the Evening The anticipation built like a slow-burning fire in the days leading up to Marcus's first full visit to the house. Carolyn orchestrated every detail with wicked delight, turning the evening into a deliberate showcase of Daisy's surrender. She'd ordered the maid outfit online—a glossy black satin dress with an impossibly short skirt, white lace ruffles trimming the hem and puffed sleeves, a crisp apron tied in a big bow at the back, and a frilly white petticoat that forced the skirt to flare out dramatically. Sheer black stockings with lace tops, garter clips, and patent Mary Janes completed the look. No panties, of course—just the thick, crinkly nighttime diaper printed with tiny pink tiaras, its bulk pushing the petticoat even higher, ensuring every curtsey or bend flashed the padded bottom. "Look at you," Carolyn cooed during the fitting, circling Daisy with a predatory smile. "My little sissy maid. Marcus is going to love seeing what a pathetic servant I've turned my big strong lawyer husband into. Waddling around in frills and plastic while he gets ready to fuck your wife properly." Daisy's face scorched crimson, clitty twitching uselessly against the gel. "Y-yes, Mommy... it's so humiliating." "That's the point, baby girl. Tonight, you serve. No sitting at the table like a real person. Just fetching, pouring, standing in the corner like the useless cuck maid you are." Saturday evening arrived. Carolyn prepared upstairs—emerald lace lingerie under a sheer robe, hair in soft waves, makeup sultry. Daisy waited downstairs in the full outfit, petticoat rustling with every nervous shift, diaper already warm from anxious leaks. The doorbell rang precisely at seven. Daisy minced to the door, heels clicking, skirt bouncing to reveal ruffled diaper edges. She opened it to Marcus—imposing in a fitted shirt and slacks, eyes immediately dropping to take in the outfit. A slow, appreciative grin spread across his face. "Well... hello, Daisy. You look exactly like the perfect little maid." Daisy's voice came out high and trembling. "G-good evening, Sir Marcus. Please... come in." She curtseyed deeply, skirt flaring high enough to expose the bulging diaper fully—tiaras gleaming under the foyer light. Marcus's gaze lingered on the padded bottom, amusement deepening. "Adorable. And practical, I see. Lead the way, girl." Blushing furiously, Daisy turned—waddle pronounced—and guided him to the living room. "May I... take your coat, Sir? And prepare a drink?" "Bourbon on the rocks," he said, handing over his jacket. He settled on the couch, watching as she prepared it at the bar cart—bending to reach ice, skirt riding up to flash the sagging seat of her diaper. She returned with the glass, curtseying again. "Your drink, Sir." "Thank you, Daisy." He accepted it, then patted the couch beside him. "Stand there a minute. Let me get a good look at Carolyn's handiwork." Daisy obeyed, mortified as he appraised her openly. "Turn around." She did, slowly, petticoat swishing. "Bend a little—like you're picking something up." The skirt lifted completely, exposing the thick, crinkly diaper. Marcus chuckled low. "Pathetic little thing, isn't it? All padded up while a real man visits your wife. Does it make that tiny clitty excited, knowing I'm here to do what you can't?" "Y-yes, Sir," Daisy whispered, voice breaking, a fresh spurt warming the gel. "Good girl." Carolyn descended then—robe open, lace clinging to curves. She kissed Marcus deeply. "Like my maid?" "Very much," he murmured, hand sliding to her ass. Dinner was candlelit intimacy for two: seared salmon, roasted vegetables, wine for Marcus, iced tea for Carolyn. Daisy served meticulously—plating, pouring, refilling—standing silently in the corner when idle, hands clasped over apron. They ignored her mostly, laughing and touching, but Carolyn couldn't resist occasional barbs. "Daisy, more wine for Sir Marcus. And stop shifting like that—everyone can hear your diaper crinkling. So, embarrassing for a grown man." Marcus smirked. "She's well-trained. Cute how she waddles." Daisy burned, arousal throbbing helplessly. After dessert—shared bites fed between kisses—Carolyn stood. "Bedroom?" Marcus rose, pulling her close. "Absolutely." Daisy cleared the table in a haze as they ascended, door left ajar. Sounds drifted down: zipper, gasps, bed creaking. Marcus's deep voice: "Spread for me, beautiful." Carolyn's moans—raw, desperate—as he entered, thrusting powerfully. "Yes... God, you're so big... harder!" The rhythm built—headboard thumping, her cries peaking in multiple orgasms, his grunts culminating in release. Daisy retreated to the nursery, crib rail up, but ears straining to every muffled sound. Marcus left around eleven—kissing Carolyn at the door, promising return. "Next time... longer." Carolyn found Daisy in the crib, nightie hiked, pillow clutched desperately between thighs. "Ready for stories, baby?" Daisy nodded frantically. Carolyn climbed in, pulling her close. "He was incredible—thick, relentless. Fucked me in ways you never could. Listen while you hump." As details poured—his tongue making her squirt, pounding from behind until she screamed, filling her deep—Daisy ground against the pillow, wet diaper squishing obscenely. Carolyn watched; eyes gleaming. "Look at you—humping like a desperate little girl while Mommy tells you how a real man took her. Pathetic, but so perfect." Daisy sobbed into release, spurts soaking further, collapsing spent. Carolyn held her tight. "Good maid. This is just the beginning." Deeper layers awaited. Marcus was in—for good. A few days after Marcus's first full home visit—Daisy in maid outfit, serving silently—Carolyn met Linda for iced tea on her patio. "He's perfect," Carolyn said, glowing. "Respectful, dominant without cruelty. And Daisy... serving them dinner, standing in the corner—it was intoxicating." Linda listened, caring intent shining. "You're building something beautiful." Chapter 49: Witness to Ecstasy In the days following Marcus's home visit, Carolyn's confidence bloomed. The power of commanding Daisy as maid while Marcus claimed her had unlocked something deeper—a desire to share the full spectacle. "It's time," she told Daisy one evening in the nursery, taping a fresh diaper snug. "Next time Marcus comes... you watch. Everything." Daisy's clitty throbbed at the thought. "Yes, Mommy... please." To prepare, Carolyn browsed online discreetly, ordering a pack of Rearz Princess Pink diapers—thick, ultra-absorbent with a glossy pink backing printed with crowns, unicorns, and hearts. "Something special for my baby girl," she said when they arrived. "Pink and pretty, just like you'll be while watching Mommy get what she needs." Saturday came. Carolyn invited Linda for dinner first—keeping her oldest friend in the loop, sharing every thrilling detail over tea. "Marcus is perfect," she'd confided. "And tonight... Daisy watches." Daisy was dressed early: an incredibly frilly baby doll outfit in pale pink chiffon, like something for a very young girl—puffed short sleeves, ribbon bows, layers of ruffles barely covering the bulging Rearz diaper. The pink plastic crinkled loudly with every movement, hearts and crowns visible at the leg bands. A matching bonnet tied under her chin, satin mittens (unlocked for now), and the penis-shaped paci dangled from a ribbon around her neck. The doorbell rang at six. Daisy waddled to answer, skirt bouncing to flash the diaper's waistband. Marcus stood there, bottle of bourbon in hand, eyes widening at the sight. "Hello again, Daisy. You look... even sweeter than last time." Daisy curtseyed, hem flipping high to expose the pink padding fully. "W-welcome, Sir Marcus. Please come in." He stepped inside, gaze lingering on the frilly ensemble and obvious diaper. "Adorable. And those diapers... very princess-like. Fitting for a sissy like you." Blush burning, Daisy took his coat. "May I... make you a drink, Sir?" "Bourbon neat, thanks." As she prepared it—bending to reach the bottle, skirt riding up to show the full printed seat—another ring. Daisy minced back, opening to Linda. Linda's eyes sparkled with affectionate amusement. "Oh, Daisy... you look precious. Hello, sweetheart." Daisy curtseyed again. "Hello, Miss Linda. Please come in." Linda handed over a bottle of sparkling water. "First time meeting Marcus properly? Exciting night ahead." They gathered in the living room—Marcus and Linda shaking hands warmly, chatting easily about the city while Daisy served drinks: bourbon for Marcus, wine for Linda, iced tea for Carolyn (who descended moments later in a flowing red dress that screamed seduction). Dinner was intimate: roasted lamb, herbed potatoes, salad—Daisy serving in her frilly outfit, standing attentively, refilling glasses. Conversation flowed—Linda sharing hypnosis insights (respectfully vague), Marcus on finance trends, Carolyn glowing as center. Daisy escaped teasing this time, but the outfit spoke volumes: frills and diaper crinkling as silent humiliation. Linda bid goodnight after coffee. "Have fun, you three. Call if you need me." Upstairs in the master bedroom—soft lighting, king bed dominant—Marcus and Carolyn kissed hungrily while Daisy stood aside, trembling. "Time to get you ready," Carolyn said, leading Daisy to a sturdy wooden chair beside the bed. Leather cuffs—fuzzy-lined for comfort—snapped around wrists and ankles. Ropes attached them to the chair arms and legs, a deliberate production: Carolyn tightening each knot slowly, Marcus watching with intrigued approval. Daisy tested the binds—secure, no escape, but no pain. Heart racing: Can't move. Can't touch. Just watch. "One more surprise," Carolyn purred, producing a new gift: a realistic penis-shaped gag, veined silicone, strap harness. "Open wide, baby girl." Daisy's eyes widened, but she obeyed. Carolyn inserted it firmly—filling her mouth, tip nudging throat—buckling the straps tight. "There. Now pay attention, Daisy. Watch how a real man satisfies a woman. Something your tiny clitty could never do." Muffled moan escaped—Daisy's only sound now. Marcus pulled Carolyn close, hands roaming her dress, unzipping slowly. Kisses deepened—lips parting, tongues dancing—as he peeled fabric away, revealing lace bra and thong. His mouth trailed down her neck, sucking collarbone, hands cupping breasts, thumbs circling nipples through lace until they peaked hard. She gasped, arching, fingers tangling in his hair as he knelt, kissing stomach, thighs. "You're so wet already," he growled, inhaling her scent. Daisy watched, bound and gagged: God, he's worshipping her. Touching places, I never could. Her body responds to him—moans real, not faked like with me. Humiliation twisted with envy, diaper tenting painfully, clitty leaking pre-cum into the pink gel. Can't speak, can't beg—just witness. Marcus stood, shedding shirt—toned chest rippling—then pants, cock springing free: thick, veined, erect. Carolyn stroked it reverently. "I need you." He laid her back, tongue delving between thighs—lapping folds, sucking clit with expert rhythm. She writhed, hips bucking. "Yes... Marcus... don't stop..." Daisy's thoughts raced: He's making her cum with his mouth. She's screaming for him. So powerful... I'm just a spectator, diapered and gagged like a pathetic toy. Her first orgasm hit—body convulsing, cries echoing. Marcus rose, positioning—rubbing tip against her wetness. He thrust in slowly, stretching her, her moans peaking as he filled completely. Daisy's eyes locked: There it is. Him inside her. Taking what's mine. Tears pricked—jealousy searing—but arousal throbbed, diaper soaked. They built—thrusts deep, rhythmic—flipping to her on top, riding hard; then doggy, pounding relentlessly. Orgasms rolled through her—loud, shattering—until Marcus growled, spilling inside with a final thrust. They collapsed, panting. Marcus kissed her tenderly. "Incredible, as always." Daisy muffled a sob—overwhelmed, aching. Marcus dressed, said goodnight with a kiss for Carolyn. "Next time... more." Released from binds and gag, Daisy trembled. Carolyn led her to the nursery, lowering the crib rail. "Stories now, baby. But show Mommy how excited you are." Daisy nodded; nightie hiked. Carolyn fetched the oversized stuffed pink unicorn, placing it between Daisy's legs. "Hump for me. Slow—let me watch my sissy get off to her cuckolding." Daisy straddled it, grinding desperately—wet diaper squishing, clitty rubbing through gel. Carolyn sat beside, hand on back. "That's it... hump while I tell you how he filled me. Bigger than you, better than you. My perfect little watcher." Release hit—sobs muffled, spurts soaking further. Carolyn held her after, whispering love. The circle tightened. Happiness deeper than ever. Chapter 50: The Nursery Unveiled The fantasy had simmered between them for weeks—David's deepest confession, whispered in the nursery one night: permanent denial. No more penis-in-vagina sex with Carolyn, ever. His tiny clitty locked away from her forever, reserved only for diapered frustration. She'd agreed eagerly, the power intoxicating. "Tonight," she decided. "With Marcus here to witness. Make it official." Marcus arrived promptly, bottle of wine in hand, greeted by Daisy in a short lavender nightie over her diaper—crinkling softly, no full outfit tonight to keep focus on the ritual. They settled in the living room—Marcus on the couch, Carolyn beside him, Daisy kneeling at their feet on a soft rug. Carolyn began, voice firm but loving. "We've reached a new milestone. David wants—needs—permanent denial. No more sex with me. Ever. His little clitty will never enter me again." Marcus leaned forward; eyes serious. "This is big. Permanent means no going back. You sure?" Daisy nodded, face flushing. "Yes, Sir. I... I can't satisfy her. Never could." Carolyn smiled wickedly. "Tell him, baby. Recite your inadequacies. Beg him properly." Daisy's voice trembled. "Sir Marcus... my penis is too small—barely three inches hard. I cum in seconds, leaving Mommy frustrated and faking. I'm inadequate... pathetic. Please... satisfy my wife for me. Fuck her like she deserves. Take my place permanently. I relinquish all rights to her body." Marcus gave pauses—multiple chances. "Last out, David. This is forever. No reversal. You're giving me exclusive access." Tears pricked Daisy's eyes, but arousal throbbed. "I want it, Sir. Permanent. Please... be her man." Carolyn beamed. "Sealed." To celebrate, Carolyn led Marcus upstairs—to the nursery door. "Time you see her special room." She opened it: soft merciless pink glow, adult-sized locking crib with glossy white rails, changing table stocked with powders and wipes, stacks of thick diapers including the Rearz Princess Pink with crowns and unicorns, dressers of frilly nighties and outfits, rocking chair, mobile spinning lazily. Marcus took it in, impressed. "This is... thorough. Perfect for her." Carolyn grinned. "And to help you adjust, baby—we got you a girlfriend." Daisy blinked, confused. Carolyn produced a cheap party-prank blow-up doll—gaudy plastic, exaggerated features, half-inflated. "Only fair," Carolyn teased. "You watched us—we should watch you. Make love to her. Show Marcus how you try." A blush tinged Daisy’s ears. Diaper tenting, she pulled down the front of her diaper and mounted the doll awkwardly—humping the plastic form, tiny clitty entering the dolls’ plastic hole. Carolyn narrated: "Look at him, Marcus—humping a plastic doll because real women are too good for his tiny little thing." Marcus chuckled. "Pathetic, man. But committed." Mid-thrust—a loud hiss. The doll deflated rapidly, air leaking as it crumpled beneath. Carolyn burst laughing. "Oh God—she committed suicide! Couldn't bear your pathetic pecker. Dolly chose death over letting you cum inside her." Marcus roared. Daisy sobbed humiliation, arousal peaking. "Now the pillow," Carolyn commanded. "Hump in front of us. Finish like the sissy you are." Daisy obeyed—pulling the front of her diaper up over her tiny clitty, straddling, grinding desperately while they watched, teasing relentlessly: "Plastic preferred popping over you... real men get me, you get pillows..." Release hit—shuddering, spurting into soaked gel. Next was the nightly change. Marcus watched as Carolyn untaped the used diaper, wiped, powdered lavishly, taped a fresh Rearz Princess Pink snug. Daisy picked her sleep outfit: baby-pink chiffon nightie, short and ruffled. Finally, Marcus's gift: a baby monitor set. "Transmitter for your bedroom," he explained to Carolyn. "Receiver for the nursery. So, Daisy hears everything when we're... busy." "Perfect," Carolyn purred. The crib rail was raised; Daisy was all tucked in for the night—the receiver on the dresser. With the lights out in the nursery, Daisy could hear the moans, creaks, Carolyn's cries, Marcus's growls filtering through the monitor. Daisy lay in pink glow of the nightlight, diaper warm, listening as sleep claimed her—humiliated but utterly fulfilled. The life begged for was permanent now. Chapter 50: Bedroom Surprises David's birthday—his 48th—dawned with a quiet thrill that permeated the house. Over the past months, the dynamic had solidified: Marcus a regular presence, dinners and dances evolving into passionate nights in the master bedroom, Daisy always listening from the crib via the monitor, her diapered helplessness a constant. Retirement had freed David fully—no more suits hiding padding, just endless days as Daisy when Carolyn commanded. The hair had grown out, now long enough for styles beyond bows, and Carolyn had hinted at a "big surprise" for weeks. That evening, Carolyn prepared Daisy in the nursery with meticulous care. "My birthday girl needs to look extra special," she cooed, seating her at the vanity. She brushed the thinning but lengthened curls into high pigtails, tying them with oversized pink ribbons that dangled like childish flags. Makeup was overdone: rosy cheeks blended to clownish circles, shimmering pink eyeshadow, glossy lips in bubblegum hue. The outfit screamed exaggerated sissy: a hot-pink satin romper with puffed shorts barely covering the diaper, white lace ruffles everywhere—collar, cuffs, hems—tiny bells sewn into the seams that jingled with every twitch. Sheer thigh-high stockings with bows at the tops, glossy Mary Janes on feet. The Rearz Princess Pink diaper beneath was massively thick, printed with glittering crowns, hearts, and unicorns, its plastic backing crinkling obscenely. Daisy stared at her reflection—over-the-top, ridiculous, utterly emasculated. "Mommy... it's so... much." Carolyn kissed her forehead. "Perfect for your surprise. Now come—Marcus is waiting." Downstairs in the master bedroom, Marcus lounged on the bed in slacks and shirt, bourbon in hand. His eyes lit as Daisy entered, pigtails bouncing. "Well, damn... look at you, Daisy. You look so pretty—like a little doll all dressed up for playtime." Daisy curtseyed, bells tinkling, face burning. "Th-thank you, Sir." Carolyn guided her to the chair beside the bed—no binds, no gag. "Sit, baby. Birthday girls get to watch tonight." Daisy obeyed, diaper squishing under her, clitty already stirring at the promise. Marcus set his glass down, smiling at Carolyn. "I'm ready for that blow-job you promised." Daisy's eyes widened in shock. Blow-job? Mommy hates that—never once, not even for me. She's going to suck her first cock... right here? The thought sent a jolt through her: jealousy at Marcus getting what she'd never given David, but arousal at witnessing Carolyn's "first." Carolyn's lips curved mischievously. "Alright." But instead of kneeling before Marcus, she stood, took Daisy's hand, and led her to the bed's edge. "I promised Marcus a blow-job, baby... so you need to do a good job for him." Daisy's world spun. Me? Sucking him? The shock hit like ice water—heart pounding, stomach twisting in raw fear. No... I can't... but the fantasy crashed in: forced to serve, mouth full of the cock that pleased Mommy. Humiliation burned, clitty betraying with a helpless twitch. Emotions warred: terror at the unknown taste, the stretch, the ultimate emasculation; shame at how badly she wanted to be "made" to do it; excitement bubbling under, making her diaper warm with a shy spurt. This is it—the line I never crossed. But Mommy's commanding... and I crave the surrender. "M-Mommy?" Daisy stammered, voice small and trembling. "I... I don't know if I can..." Carolyn's grip tightened on her hand, eyes locking with a mix of dominance and encouragement. "Oh, you can, baby girl. And you will. You've begged for this in your whispers—fluffing my bull, tasting a real man. Now's your chance. On your knees, Daisy. Open that pretty mouth and show Sir how grateful you are that he fucks Mommy like you never could." Daisy hesitated, knees weak, mind reeling. The room felt smaller, Marcus's presence looming. What if it's gross? What if I choke? But deeper: What if I love it? Become the cocksucking sissy forever? Carolyn tugged gently but insistently, guiding her down. "Don't make me ask again, princess. It's your birthday—time to unwrap your gift." Tears pricked Daisy's eyes—fear, humiliation, desire blurring—but she knelt, pigtails framing her face, bells jingling softly as she settled between Marcus's legs. Marcus unzipped slowly, his thick cock springing free—veined, semi-hard, already intimidating. "You heard Mommy, girl. Make it good for me." Daisy leaned in hesitantly, the musky scent hitting first—earthy, masculine, strangely intoxicating. Her lips parted, tongue flicking tentatively at the tip. Salty pre-cum bloomed on her taste buds—warm, slick, not as bad as feared. She took more, mouth stretching around the girth, sucking softly at first, exploring the velvety hardness. The fullness was invasive, jaw aching already, but the rhythm built: bobbing slowly, tongue swirling the underside, cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder. Gagging slightly on deeper pushes, tears streaming, but persisting—up and down, slurping wetly, the act degrading yet thrilling, clitty leaking steadily into the diaper. Carolyn knelt beside her, whispering taunts with glee. "Look at my little cocksucker—lips stretched around a real man's dick. You've got more cock in your mouth right now than I've ever had in my life. Once a cocksucker, always a cocksucker, Daisy. Can't undo it now—you're marked forever as the sissy who sucks off her wife's bull." The words stung like fire, humiliation peaking, but arousal surged—Daisy moaning muffled around the shaft, bobbing faster, throat relaxing to take more. "Greedy girl," Carolyn laughed. "Slurping like you can't get enough. Bet that makes your tiny clitty drip in your princess diaper, huh? Pathetic—on your knees sucking the man who fucks me, while you hump pillows in you wet diapers later." Marcus groaned; hand gentle on her pigtail. "Good... deeper, sissy." He thrust lightly, tip nudging throat. Daisy pushed limits—gagging, eyes watering—but sucked relentlessly until Marcus swelled, pulsing. "Swallow it all, girl." Orgasm erupted: hot, thick ropes flooding her mouth. Salty, viscous—overwhelming volume forcing gulps, throat working desperately to take every drop, no spill, swallowing like a starving thing. Pulling back gasping, face smeared with saliva and tears, lips swollen. Carolyn clapped delightedly. "What a good cum-eating sissy cuckold! Gobbled it all down like your favorite treat. Must love the taste—didn't waste a single drop. You're a natural cocksucker, baby. More in your future, I bet." Marcus chuckled, pulling Daisy up gently. "You did amazing, girl. Come here." Tender cuddling followed—Daisy sandwiched between them on the bed, Carolyn stroking pigtails, Marcus's arm around both. "Proud of you," Carolyn whispered, kissing tears away. "My brave birthday girl." Daisy sniffled, afterglow mixing shame and bliss. I did it... sucked a man off. Swallowed. I can't take it back. But... it felt right, natural. Marcus recovered, pulling Carolyn atop him. Daisy watched from the bed's edge: kisses deepening—lips crashing, tongues entwining hungrily. Hands explored—him kneading her breasts, pinching nipples to gasps; her grinding against his hardening cock, nails raking his chest. He flipped her, entering smoothly—thick shaft sliding in, stretching her visibly, her moan raw and ecstatic. Thrusts built: deep, rhythmic, bed creaking. She rode him wildly—hips rolling, breasts bouncing, head thrown back in bliss; doggy style—ass rippling with powerful impacts, her cries peaking; missionary—legs wrapped tight, nails digging as he pounded relentlessly. Orgasms tore through her—body quaking, screaming his name, juices soaking sheets—until Marcus growled, spilling deep inside with shuddering release. Daisy's thoughts swirled: There—him inside her, thrusting like I never could. Stretching, filling, making her cum real. Jealousy aches... but so hot. My place is to be here watching, to be denied, to be diapered. Panting, Carolyn beckoned. "Clean up, baby." Daisy crawled over—first Marcus's cock: licking tentatively, tasting mingled fluids—salty cum, Carolyn's tangy sweetness. She cleaned thoroughly, sucking softly, tongue swirling to lap every trace. Then between Carolyn's legs: tongue delving into creamy folds, lapping the hot creampie—musky, thick, cum oozing as she sucked and swallowed, face buried in wetness. Humiliatingly delicious, clitty throbbing untouched. Chapter 51: Bedtime Reflections When Daisy finished, they all went to the nursery. Daisy's diaper was untaped (soaked beyond capacity). Carolyn took out the lube and prepared the vibrating plug that was Daisy's favorite and inserted it gently into her. A fresh Princess Pink diaper was put on and taped into place. Daisy was then dressed in a short frilly baby-pink chiffon, barely skimming waistband. The locking mittens were put onto Daisy's hands. The wrist and ankle cuffs were strapped into place. When Daisy climbed into the crib her diaper crinkled. Daisy laid on her back and her wrist and ankle cuffs were secured to the rails of the crib with the ropes. Finally, the Penis shaped pacifier was put in her mouth and strapped in with a ribbon—filling Daisy's mouth, tip nudging her throat, inescapable for the night. The railing was raised and locked. "Goodnight, baby," Carolyn whispered, kissing forehead. "Sweet dreams." As Carolyn and Marcus left for the master bedroom for the night, Carolyn took the remote for the vibrating butt plug and turned it on low. She could hear the low hum as they closed the door to the nursery. Daisy lay in pink glow, bound and buzzing, tears of joy streaking: Mommy's done everything—unlocked my secrets, built this life of surrender. From egotistical lawyer to diapered sissy cuckold... wonderful, perfect. Tonight was a whirlwind—the shock of the blow-job command, the internal battle of fear and desire, the invasive fullness in my mouth, the salty flood I swallowed so eagerly. I crossed that line, became the cocksucker forever... and I loved it. The cleanup too—tasting them mingled, lapping the creampie like a starving pet. Humiliating, but so right. What does Mommy have planned next? More service? Deeper denials? The unknown thrills me. As sounds echoed in the nursery, Daisy could hear the passion between his wife and the real man coming over the baby monitor—moans, gasps, rhythmic creaks, Carolyn's raw cries of "Yes... harder..."—Daisy drifted off to sleep, utterly content. This was the life begged for. This was the life she'd never thought she could have and now would never leave. Epilogue: Secrets in Bloom The weekly sessions between Carolyn and Linda had faded into fond memory, replaced by occasional texts and spontaneous lunches. But this particular Wednesday at 2:00 p.m., they met at Carolyn's favorite park—a serene expanse of winding paths, blooming flowerbeds, and a gentle fountain at the trail's end. Linda arrived in her flowing black dress, spotting Carolyn on a bench overlooking the lake. They embraced warmly. "You look radiant," Linda said, pulling back with a smile. "As do you," Carolyn replied. "It's been too long." They walked the shaded path, small talk flowing—weather, a new restaurant downtown—until Carolyn steered gently deeper. "I can't thank you enough for everything, Linda. You've changed my life—our lives—in ways I never imagined." She paused, gazing at the trees. "I've learned so much. That love isn't finite. I love David more deeply now than ever—seeing him as Daisy, vulnerable and joyful, has only strengthened it. And Marcus... I love him too, in a different way. Fierce, passionate. One doesn't diminish the other." Linda nodded; eyes soft. "I'm so happy for you. For all of you." Carolyn smiled. "And jealousy? It doesn't have to rule. When Daisy sucked Marcus... I thought I'd feel possessive, but no. Just joy—watching two people I love sharing something intimate, consensual. Beautiful." They reached a secluded bench, and Carolyn sat, motioning Linda beside her. She took her friend's hands. "Most importantly, I've learned that true love means openness. No bottling feelings. David and I... we're honest now, raw and real. It's brought us unimaginable happiness." A pause. "You kept telling us that—be open, honest. And it worked." Linda squeezed her hands. "I'm glad." Carolyn's gaze deepened. "You know you can tell me anything, right? No secrets between us." Linda nodded, a flicker of nervousness crossing her face. "Then... tell me yours." Carolyn's voice was gentle but steady. "Back before David was your patient. That first subtle hypnosis over tea. You said it was to ease budding guilt, free me from repressing needs. Help me realize I deserved fulfillment." Linda swallowed. "I remember." "But there was more. A secret reason." Carolyn's eyes searched hers. "You weren't just fixing my marriage. It was... personal, wasn't it? All those caring intentions—the hypnosis, the plan to make us happy—you believed it would help, but it was for me, wasn't it?" Linda's composure cracked, looking suddenly vulnerable—like a child caught in a harmless lie. Tears welled. Carolyn pulled her into a hug. "It's okay. Let it out. Tell me." Linda's voice broke. "I love you." Carolyn held tighter. "I love you too. But... more than friends?" The words tumbled. "I'm in love with you. Have been... since college. Watching you suffer in silence, trapped with David... it broke me. I couldn't stand it. The hypnosis, the plan—it started selfishly. To free you, yes, but hoping... maybe you'd see me. Need me. Love me back. I truly believed it would bring you lasting happiness—that's why I pushed so hard, crossing every line. For you." Silence hung, birdsong filling it. Carolyn pulled back, cupping Linda's face. "Oh, Linda... my beautiful, caring friend. You've been there through everything—guiding, protecting, loving quietly with that fierce intent to make me happy." Tears streamed down Linda's cheeks. They stood, walking to the fountain's edge—water sparkling in sunlight. Carolyn faced her, hands on Linda's waist. "I see you now. Truly." She leaned in, lips meeting softly—tender at first, then deepening, tongues exploring with years of unspoken want. Desire ignited, gentle but profound. Pulling apart breathlessly, Carolyn whispered, "I'm in love with you too." Linda's eyes shone—relief, joy. Carolyn smiled. "A short time ago, I felt trapped—sexless, obligated. Now? Three loves: David, my devoted sissy; Marcus, my passionate bull; and you—my heart's quiet constant. With openness, honesty... we make it work. All of us." They embraced by the fountain, future blooming wide. Love, unbound, had won. The Making of a Sissy Baby Cuckold - Final.pdf

The sound of a crowing rooster awoke Flower from her slumber. The loud alarm blocked out her specialist “white noise” of her wife being fucked for hours by a pair of male sex worker’s, that Flower herself had hired for Miss B. Flower’s wife, Mistress and sometimes mummy. The grunts of pure effort from the bulls provided a rhythmic beat that mixed, with the high pitched moans of ecstasy from Miss B, Flower was so used to the track playing every night she could detect the moans before they got replaced with excessive slurping. Flower, of course, had not been allowed in the room. Instead, kneeling in her dog cage, outside what was once the master bedroom she had shared with Miss B for the first five years of their marriage. As Miss B was pleasured, Flower just humped her teddy in the cramped space trying to get relief. The irony for Flower was they had tried seeing a marriage counsellor for their deteriorating partnership. For seventeen painful weeks Flower would try to bring up the elephant in the room. While Miss B refused to even allow the conversation to start. After another waste of an hour talking about anything but the cause of their strife it had been Flower who had demanded that Miss B be more authoritative and “to lead” the marriage! Or allow her to see a professional that could allow her to explore the kinks she had longed for. Miss B had promised she would at least try. But by the time they got home Miss B announced she was taking a break from work and was going to see an old friend. Flower had cried herself to sleep alone on the couch. For several more tortuous weeks Flower has called, texted, emailed and used every social media to apologise and for her wife to come back to her. Yet she never got a reply and no one seemed to know where she was until she returned and within an hour Miss B had Flower on a blanket in the living room. As Flower lay unmoving, her brain was unable to process what had happened., but the rest of her body was loving it Miss B entered the house with the crash of the door being slammed closed and the thuds of her bags landing in the hallway. Like the storm following thunder and lightning Miss B marched through the house to a stunned Flower and pinned her against the wall. One hand firmly held her by her brunette locks as Miss B tenderly tilted her head up and kissed Flower with an explosive passion. As Flower felt weak in the knees and melted in her clutches as relief flooded her body. Miss had artfully managed to disrobe Flower without stopping her lips greedily mashing against her lovers. Once she had her prey naked she easily slapped away Flowers' attempts to disrobe her and threw the brunette face down over the arm of the couch. Taking a moment to cup and squeeze Flower’s peachy butt she quickly dropped her tight leggings and totally destroyed Flowers' pussy. Fast, rocket powered trusts smashed deep inside Flowers tight pussy. Yet the dominant woman retained such control and awareness that anytime Flower was close to cumming she instead would slow down and just slowly rocked her hips massaging the head of her rock hard girl cock in the entrance of Flowers' love hole and away from her special spot. Once Flower had cooled off Miss B would then start again fucking like a wild beast taking the naked brunette to the edge of an orgasm! Flower would groan and she babbled nonsense before backing off as Flower tried to get any leverage to push back on the yummy cock pleasuring her. With the patience and self control of a monk she repeated the deep fast fucking and the controled slow teasing the subby girl was soon left a drooling and leaking sissy mess!!! Time stood still but also seemed to accelerate for Flower as she lost all track of herself let alone time. She could remember mewing in need as she felt her bowels fill with Miss B glorious milk. Flower offered no resistance as Miss B effortlessly threw her onto a blanket laid out on the floor. With the first sign of tenderness since her return Miss B gently cradled Flowers' sissy balls, as the sub lay panting and making pitiful moans of . Miss B lovingly massaged her aching orbs. Flower squirmed unable to comprehend the change in her loving wife but she loved the change. Then she felt a sharp pain as the cold from the ice pack was pushed onto her shrinking sissy cock. Miss B held firm as Flower had tried to squirm away. The abuse to her tender nether regions was awful but quickly mixed with her submissive brain’s delight of being used as she had wanted for so many faithful years of love and devotion to her wife. As Flower's brain soaked in its subby juices, her body slumped in surrender to Miss B desires. Her brain was aware of the feeling of her girl cock being squished into the hard plastic shell that would now imprison it. She shivered as the cold and damp cloth was rubbed around her naughty area before the amazing smell of talcum powder filled her nose as the chalky sensation on her skin made her quiver in delight. The crinkle of a diaper made Flower swoon. Her brain could not remember the drunken night some three years before marriage when Flower had admitted her kinkest dreams. She knew she should resist. She is an adult not a little girl unable to control her bladder. But the part shut away for over seven years burst forth. Her now sissy dick twitched in its prison as Flower squirmed in delight as Miss B raised her legs so high she had to arch her back feeling the soft quilt feeling rub on her back. Miss B gently lowered her legs before spreading her knees wide. Flower let out a girly squeak, feeling her legs being spread so wide and exposed. Her caged clitty pushed against the pink plastic as the bulky layers of the as Miss B wrangled the layers of pampers into the right place before delicately pulling each of the seven pampers in place. Each time the crisp ripping sound of the tabs being pulled free and then secured tightly around her tiny waist pushed Flower into their subby and juvenile headspace. Here was when her things went off the script running in Flowers head. Insead of hugs and kisses or the silky feeling of a cute AB dress. She heard the harsh rip of duck tape being pulled free from the roll. Before Flower could figure out what she should or could do she was helpless. Her forearms folded back tight to her biceps as legs bent at the knee and wound in tough duck tape leaving her limbs useless as she wobbled on her back like a stuck tortoise. She felt the tears well up as her brain was in such a state she could only squeak out incomprehensible nonsense. Miss B gave a kiss to each of her cheeks and tenderly rubbed their noses together. The memory was so important she had remembered the odd mix of sadism and loving in Miss B eyes as they paused in awkward silence each unable to to speak. Flower had been doing chores when she overheard weeks later Miss B talking with her ‘old friend’. Her Miss had admitted that if she had tried to speak, she was sure she would have lost her nerve and not continue down the path needed for their marriage to work. Flower silently agreed with Miss B knowing that the hard first few days were so important now. Not that she dared tell Miss B, sissy baby girls should know better than to snoop around when others are on private calls and that is a lesson she didn't want to experience. From that moment Flower knew Miss B loved her and that being Miss B was her way of keeping them together and remained silent allowed Miss B to lift her head and remain dead still as Miss B carefully pulled the tight hood over her face before the cute bonnet was slipped over her head and teased so sat right. The bonnet’s clever design hid the bulb for the inflatable pacifier gag that slipped in her mouth and buckled tight. The hard plastic shield covered her entire mouth as Miss pumped the teat so it filled her mouth. Flower was so distracted by her tongue being pressed to the bottom of her jaw causing her drool to leak out the side of her mouth she paid little heed to Miss B zipping her into a latex bitch suit. It was an expensive item. The lubed latex flowed and pressed down all her bare skin. Flower shook her head, not liking the strange feeling. Looking up with puppy dog eyes she met an evil smile with a glint in her eyes. The look scared Flower a little…. Well scared all except what controlled her locked sissy clit that throbbed and squeezed against its tiny prison. She blushed so hard as she felt the first of many warm sticky dribbles run down her trapped balls before being absorbed by her padded bum. Miss B giggled while taking a picture on her phone while Flower could only squeal in protest. The gag prevented her from protesting further before feeling a weight press down on her as Miss B sat down on her tummyt. Flower looked up as Miss B turned the screen to her captive. Flowers' eyes grew to anime size. She saw how pathetic she looked with the baby pink latex bitchsuit stretched to its limit trying to constrain the pure bulk of the multiple layers of pampers. Above where her prisoned clit was a white locked padlock printed on the baby pink suit leaving all to see clear of her status. Her hard nipples poked from the skin tight latex stretched so taut over her chest that her boobs had been pressed flat with only her rock hard nipples poking up. Drool ran down the sides of her pink hood which had SISSY printed in a fancy script on her forehead with BABIED in the same font on the underside of her bonnet. It was that point that the human formerly known as Sophie broke. It might have been a few hours before Miss B had informed her that she was no longer to be called Sophie and all her ID’s would be changed to Flower. But that was when Flower was born. The hens had come home to roost and she had to lay in the thick diapee’s forcing her thighs wide as they were so bulky she couldn't force her knees to touch. For an hour Miss B had laid with her before she took this weird almost corkscrew looking device. The sound of snaps were heard echoing in the front room as a patch of the latex pulled free. Flower felt the pressure directly against her hole. With little more than a mumble of noise from her behind her gag she was forced to lay back as she felt the pointy end pop through the layers of fluffy absorbent padding before the cold tip of stainless steel touching her butt made her yip in shock. Miss B stopped pushing and spun the device around several times and then unscrewed the steel object out. Flower hadn't realised how toasty the layers and the latex had kept her as cold air brushed her bare skin. Miss B fiddled and pushed something into the hole. She would learn later it was a hard rubber ring that allowed access to her sissy pussy but the design kept the pampers from collapsing inwards. Through that hole Miss B forced a huge plug into her new slaves fuck hole as Flower squirmed and grunted as it felt like a bottle of wine was being shoved into her. With a big effort Miss B popped the thing home and quickly silenced Flowers' moans by pumping the gag to the point Flowers cheeks bulged comically. Only the darkening of a later British summer's skies clued Flower to the passing of time. First Miss B had taken all Flowers 'sexy clothing.’ Her expressive dresses, tops, shorts and skirts were all stuffed into three large charity bags and left out for collection. Then came all her jeans which were thrown in the trash. The power had got to Miss B by that point and she ripped the plug from Flower and pressed on Flowers stubbly legs and fucked her hard. The babied sissy grunted and groaned as Miss B constantly grinded on her little pleasure bean over and over. Her locked cock pushed hard against the unyielding walls of the cage as the pleasurable constraint took over and her sissy cum spurted into her dipee’s. Miss B stopped and replaced the plug which popped in a little easier her own cock hard as she walked back to their room in just her bra. It didn't take long for her to return with a pile of all Flowers underwear and a knife. Straddling her captives chest she rubbed her cock against Flower as she used the knife to slash and tear the pile of undies to shreds. A few times she had to stop to remove the plug and plow Flowers ‘flower’ again and again in a superhuman feat as more and more seed was planted into Flower to spurt out as the plug was forced home with less and less resistant as the first layer of pampers becomes a stick messy making Flower hornier and hornier. In the end she couldn't help but hump the air trying to find any resistance. “Morning sleepy head.” Miss B's sickly sweet voice woke Flower from her daydream and noticed the ‘white noise’ had been stopped, “I spent the morning getting ready and you just layed around. Useless sissy.” Miss B playfully taunted, carefully pulling the sleep hood off . Flower stretched her jaw loose after the gag had forced her mouth open all night. With a flutter of her eyes and a sleepy yawn she slowly blinked awake. “Wow Miss B!!” she squealed as she gawked upon her owner. Her dark hair had been straightened and framed heart-shaped face. Behind the flawless make up her warm smile and enchanting eyes show as she smiled down on her sissy baby. Flower subconsciously licked her lips at Miss B’s newly enhanced boobs that she had worked tirelessly to afford for an early christmas present. Flower had expressed her concern she was taking a little longer with things as of late. She had been a masters level graduate, but it was like her brain refused to get out of first gear. She dreamily stared at Miss’s exposed cleavage through the bars for several minutes unfocused on what her sadistic lover was saying, before she listened to the smart side of her brain and she realised the brunette was decked out as Ms Claus. Even if it's a very sexy one! The red dress clung to her wonderful lithe body and was just long enough not to be scandalous. The white fur trim did nothing to hide Miss B’s glorious cleavage! The thin straps and tight dress suggested she forgot underwear and instead wore just a pair of very expensive designer black tights with embroidered glittery snowflake pattern encasing her beautiful pins. The outfit was completed with her new long boots Flower had worked overtime to get her for her birthday. Flower could feel the wonderful tightness and the sticky warmth between her legs as she could do nothing but stare open mouthed at how once it was a fight for Miss B to be convinced to wear a modest bridesmaid dress. Flower remembered the fittings for Miss B’s siblings' weddings and how both brides and Miss B’s mother were trying to get her to wear a ‘sexier’ dress and convincing her that she could show more bare skin than just her forearms. Now she displayed on the outside she was a goddess completely in control of her own sexuality and body. “My little baby perv.” she grinned that sadistic smile that made Flower quake knowing she would hate and love what was to come next. “When I got this outfit for this afternoon's trip to the mall to see Santa. I asked for a little Miss Claus outfit for my adorable baby sissy. But you would not believe it! They didn't have anything for such a pathetic one like you. So I got this made for you instead.” Flower felt her face go pale as Miss B held up the “outfit”. It was an elf costume that had been sissified but an overzealous AI. The dress looked a size too small with the collar having the traditional triangle pattern, but with the little bells attached to each point. The bodice wasn't velvet or felt, but was a very shiny emerald green satin with little puff sleeves. The skirts were making Flowers tummy churn and her little sissy clitty dribbled the sticky and watery substance she now called her cummies. The skirts were in a velvet to match the collar but laid over a bridal white tutu petticoat jutting the skirt out at a forty five degree angle. The many triangles that made up the hem hung over the edge of the petticoat with the points adorned with a little white and red bow with a tiny design of a sprig of mistletoe in the center of the bow. Each having a little gold bell hanging below it. As if to heap on more humiliation it had a matching green and red hat, fingerless mittens and curled toed elf shoes adorned with more little gold bells. Lastly she showed the candy cane striped tights and the stack of diapee’s laying on the clanging table ready to swaddle her. “It's going to be a very very long day and can't be stopping for you to go pee pee every five minutes or making a scene in the queue for Santa now can we.” Miss B said as if the most normal thing in the world as the hung the items for Flowers future humiliation back up as she couldn't stop herself from letting out a guttural squeak as she flooded her nightly pampers with cummies!

All the thanks to SarahBearah for spending days of her free time to help me out and proof read and edit. This is an intense story and all characters well past 18. Kneeling at the Altar The concrete floor of the old church was cold against the sissy’s knees. The poor thing shivered from the memories of humiliation and non-stop abuse he had taken as his betters defiled him in the fourteenth-century building. The sissy could not help but stare up at the hand-crafted architecture with the old religious adornments having been changed to crosses with men and women chained to them. Tapestries now hung from the thick supporting columns depicting the servitude of submissives to their superiors. Adding to the sissy’s foreboding, was the ominous new piece of equipment currently hidden behind a heavy velvet curtain. The sissy had been racking his brain since he had been left kneeling facing a mirror showing him his own ridiculous reflection with the mysterious item just visible in the periphery. No doubt, his owner left him positioned in just a way to be constantly just in view as he knew the consequences of failing the order “sissy slut Lottie, eyes forward!” The other cause of the knot twisting in his stomach and, much to the sissy’s shame, leaking from his sissy bump was the ridiculous outfit picked for him. Pure white stockings were attached to a lace-trimmed long-lined suspender belt deliberately a size too small to force his waist into a more feminine shape. Just below the lace tops of the stockings sat a pair of poofy frilly lace garters. For each one, the sissy had been ordered to add a huge satin bow, and just to make his position known, in the center of each garter was a silver ring with “sissy” spelt in the center of the ring with the one on his left leg having “faggot” spelt out in the fancy script. The sissy's feet had been forced into a pair of shiny black mary jane style heels. Each was locked on with a heart-shaped lock picked from the huge stack he was made to “bedazzle” with pink imitation diamonds on one of his precious days off from work. If the shiny locks didn’t make Lottie feel pathetic enough, the heels were seven inches tall with the thinnest stiletto heel he had seen. This left the sissy unable to manage little more than a tottering sissy mince as he walked. Long, glossy, white satin gloves covered his arms up to mid-bicep, where huge bows with long ribboned tails not only decorated the glove ends but held them in place. Rather than his usual over-the-top sissified “bra,” this time his freshly waxed chest was wrapped with an intricate pattern of criss crossing ribbon from two heart-shaped metal rings framing his puffy and clamped nipples. Master has taken great delight in showing his ‘pansy-ass bitch’ the set of matching hot pink nipple clamps attached together by a chain. Dead center of the chain was welded a hand-crafted tag expertly forged to match the Barbie font of her iconic logo. In baby pink it read “SISSY CUMRAG!” The sissy still blushed when the tag caught her eye and he saw that the letter ‘I’ was a spunking cock. A white, satin apron embellished with “sissy toilet” in hot pink stitching was tied over the top of a custom-designed French maid style dress. The short skirt and skin-tight bodice were made with a see-through PVC which had been tinted Barbie Pink. The PVC of the dress had been moulded to fit snuggly from his tummy up to his chin where it was locked in place with another of the bedazzled padlocks. From the waist, the PVC had been stiffened and double-layered to poof out at nearly a 50-degree angle. To top it off the dress had large puff-balls shapes at the shoulder and, despite the ridiculousness of the dress and humiliation of wearing it, just seeing it being pulled from his closet for his daily dressing made the sissy drench his panties in pre cum. To top off his humiliation were first the locked, bright-red rubber pants. With frills on the rump and “failed man” written on the front, again self “bedazzled” with pink jewels. He had also been made to add tiny bells along the hem of each lace-covered leg hole, giving his mincing walk the pathetic jingle of a lowly jester. But its bulk made it obvious he was wearing more than one diaper underneath. Usually, his diapered state was hidden. Or, at least, he would normally need to bend or swish to show it. But, today, the fact he was a diaper-wearing prissy was on full display and spelt out for all to see. Master had shown him just the day before how much he loved to torment his favorite pansy. When the sissy’s usual waxer had to cancel due to an emergency. Master kindly found a place that could squeeze him in. The sissy remembered gushing his thanks to his Master whilst being hidden in a quiet area of his work’s second storey offices. However, when the sissy checked the saloon address, it was literally in the concourse under his very feet. To make it worse still, Master added the extra humiliation of forcing the Sissy to tell all of the staff at the salon why he was already ninety nine percent hairless and “wanting to look his best”: because “when not at work he dressed up as a sissy gurl to please real men, and this Saturday was going to be a special night.” It had been too much for the sissy and he had to spend the entire appointment apologising for his very leaky and tightly-imprisoned sissy bump. The girls at the saloon had kindly offered to do his makeup and style his hair for free if he came in dressed, but his owner had said the sissy could decline this time. Instead, the sissy’s wife had given him a very girly look with dramatic pink eyes and plumped-up glossy lips. Speaking of the sissy’s wife… Sissy gently tapped the wooden box that was next to him in which his wife of five years was currently bound and locked inside of. Both are now lifelong slaves, the twisted story of how they ended up together is a story for another time. But they truly cared for each other deeply and understood each other's dark needs. When being used for their Master’s pleasure or at events like this one, the pair would make slight gestures to each other to show that they’re ok and loved each other. The tap back confirmed she was all good. Knowing her, her love for being Master’s “cunt” and a total pain whore who enjoys being used for others’ pleasure, sissy knew full well that the anticipation and fear of what might happen tonight would be driving her wild as she lay totally immobile inside her wooden prison. Bitchy The minutes slowly ticked by. As sissy Lottie knelt trying to remain still as the event organizers and helpers, the Dominants called them “minions”, carried the large pieces of bondage furniture into place. While others were on tall ladders as they added the decoration and mood lighting for later. The sissy sighed in relief as the man he only knew as ‘Barman’ (because a lowly sissy shit like Lottie wasn’t deemed worthy by the brat of a barman to know his actual name) decided to put her to work cleaning all the glasses. “You know what will happen if I find smears,” he threatened. “Yes, Sir, I will do it perfectly,” sissy maid Lottie replied in his best high and lispy girl voice he was expected to use. Though, Lottie knew nothing would happen to him as Barman was a sub, too. So, it would be him that felt the taste of a belt from his own fearsome Dom and his chest of toys. Still, his Master would be very disappointed if he found out and it was always best to avoid such fates. As the pansy checked and cleaned each glass, he couldn’t help but marvel at the great work done to the upper floors of the old building. The main upper balcony had once held rows of pews had been converted into a stylish bar with multiple tables laid out with crisp linen tablecloths and handy hooks and rings to secure a sub too. The sides of the first floor had been divided up into private playrooms with each being decorated for a particular fetish. The top floor had been converted into more playrooms. Each being much darker BDSM spaces and where a few highly respected Dominants had personal rooms. The sissy diligently wiped each glass to a sparkle, amusing himself as he watched Barman playing with the massive display wall. It should be showing the live feeds of all the cameras in some of the back rooms and the dozen covering the main floor. If something particularly caught the attention of those drinking up on the balcony the display would be changed to show off that stream. The main area below had an identical screen, and it wasn’t uncommon for entire parties to stop and watch and cheer along if one stream got particularly good! With only a few glasses left to clean. Master’s deep voice filled sissy Lottie’s ears. “There you are, you worthless fairy. At least you're managing to be useful for once!” Still holding the glass and rag, Lottie spun around and knelt. Keeping her eyes down. “Sorry Master, sissy Lottie was instructed to clean the glasses by the bar staff. I wouldn’t dare move from where I was left otherwise.” “Better you’re put to work than be a statue. Here I feared you’d be a waste of space. With those noodles for arms a child’ be more useful carrying the equipment around” “Sorry Sir, sissy Lottie does try her best.” the sissy replied. “As you should, but I need you for another role and the bar staff can do their own job,” Master said his voice dripping with menace as Barman suddenly found a spot on one of the liquor bottles that needed polishing Without a further word Master turned heel, whistling at his sissy, like one would do to signal their dog to heel and walked off. Scrabbling to his feet, sissy Lottie tottered along as quickly as the seven-inch heels allowed. Barman was laughing hysterically as sissy Lottie stumbled, having to grab a chair to avoid crashing face first into the floor. “Oh, wow! You’re a total sissy bitch.” Barman exclaimed. “I have never seen any man with as little self-respect as you! Quick! You're falling behind little doggy.” Barman continued before laughing more as he continued to polish things. The words stung hard; sissy Lottie knew what a totally needy sissy gurl he had become. Just a trained pet so totally dependent on his owner, he would barely qualify as a beta male. Still, it was painful to hear another beta male call him out on it. So engrossed with his thoughts, the sissy minced straight forward, head down, only looking up at the last second. Too late, as he crashed into Master. The silly sissy falling onto his padded bum. “And you are so tough” Master snarled at Barman, his voice thick with venom. “You are at best a little bitch boi who thinks he’s free to be the class bully as his dad donates a small fortune to the school. You are all mouth until you get slapped like the punk ass faggoty cock sucker you are. Then, you run to your Master and hide behind his coattails snivelling like a two-year-old who dropped his ice cream.” As Master continued this verbal tirade, the dominant man reached down petting his sissy in comfort. “What do you think will happen when the newer prettier bubble butt femboy walks in and catches Phillip’s eye. What use will you have then?” Master said sternly to Barman. “My sissy bitch may be a pathetic excuse for a man, with a dick smaller than a eunuch, but he does everything he can to make me happy no matter how degrading or painful it is. Can you say the same?” With that, Barman’s smile was wiped clean from his face and he went back to polishing the final glasses. With just a whistle Master turned and stomped off. As quickly as he could, Lottie got back to his feet giving the teary-eyed bartender a satisfied grin. Lottie then quickly tottered away trying to keep up with her owner. Numnutts The stairs were a struggle in heels a stripper might say were too much. The poor thing was fretting about how painfully slow each stair was. He was forced to hang on to the handrails and carefully step down onto each step-in turn, worried the slightest slip in concentration or footing would surely end in a fall that could break his neck. Despite wearing heels of various sizes daily for over a decade, unless the floor was even, he was still as graceful as a newborn giraffe. With a few steps left to descend, the sissy risked a glance and instantly regrating it as she saw Master waiting, impatiently glancing at his watch with his ever-present walking cane in hand. “Hurry up sissy. I have not got all day” he taunted. “Some of us learnt to use stairs before we worked out how not to piss our pants. Then again…” Master motioned to the large diaper bulge at sissy’s waist “I'm not sure you learnt that, either.” “I'm so, so sorry Master. sissy Lottie doesn’t want to damage my Master’s property.” “If you don’t hurry up, I will come up and give you some motivation, little miss smart mouth.” “Thank you, Master,” he replied looking up again and couldn’t help but grin seeing the wry smile on Master’s handsome face. There weren’t many men sissy Lottie did find an attraction to, on any level. But of those that were her ‘type’ Master was the prototype. A head of dark, thick hair and a well-groomed, full beard with a strong, defined chin. Built like a Rugby prop forward, with large, slab-like hands with big bear-like arms and legs. But not like the bodybuilders, more like those old-school bikers. Lottie had to admit, he likes big powerful thighs on both men and women. The sissy also loved how manly he dressed. Always those boots the sissy spent hours making sure were polished to a gleaming shine. The three-piece suit with a crisp white shirt that Lottie had ironed to a military parade standard. Lottie’s wife regularly pointed out how much of a cliche he was for being a bottom to everything he was not. The pansy was already super self-conscious of his thinning hair with grey coming in already. He couldn’t gain muscle. It was like his body knew how much of a waste of testosterone he was and no matter the exercise he remained thin with weak limbs and every nice treat instantly giving him a beer belly. “Wake up, dumb ass,” Master said, tapping the sissy’s butt with his cane to awaken the sissy from his daydream. “At times I swear rocks are more useful than you. But they can prop open doors and be used to create a wall, and they don’t need food and water. Nor do they need constant validation… they are not a total waste of existence. Unlike you” “Sorry Master”, sissy Lottie apologised, “for being such an airheaded cock sucker.” he whimpered. Rolling his eyes, Master grabbed hold of the ring on the front of the leather collar locked around Lottie’s throat and dragged him squealing as he desperately tried to move quickly enough not to fall flat on his face. Somehow, he managed to keep up but was blushing a deep red at every pair of eyes turning to stare at how much of a pansy he was in his comical get up. The sissy could feel he was being led towards the front door. His eyes began to water, fearing anyone able to see him diapered and sissified. As they stepped through into the atrium the sissy let out a squeal of fear as he could only bite his tongue to stop from saying anything. “Ok, sissy. Your job is simple. Stand by the door and check everyone’s ticket.” Master explained, stopping next to a large man sitting in the corner taking up a third of the small room. The man handed over a small serving tray to Master. The sissy stood in silence trying to void the thoughts of being made to kneel between the two alpha men, As Master attached chains from the furthest corners of the tray to the ring hanging from his collar, as the large man pulled the strap from the other corners tight as a corset around his waist. “If they have a green band, send them upstairs. If not, stamp their hand with the stamp and let them in,” Master pointed to a stamp the other man placed on the tray. “If they’re not dressed like they are coming to a kink party, tell ‘um to fuck off” Master pauses for a moment. “Numnutts will deal with anyone who might be an issue.” The big bear of a man nodded his head as he sat back on the chair, while Master linked the wrist cuffs to a short chain running under the tray. “Do you think you can handle this, sissy? That is, if your silly sissy brain stops thinking about cock for long enough!” Master opened the door ready for the guests, which also allowed the outside world to get a glimpse of sissy Lottie. “What if people see me in this? What if gets out I'm a sissy...” sissy Lottie started to babble. “If anyone does see you, they will be too busy laughing at what a sissy mess you are to recognize you. That is if they can see you from over a hundred yards away.” Master sneered. “I think even if you got out the back of a Rolls, in a custom-fit Armani tux, a Cuban cigar in one hand and whiskey in the other, and with a hot bird on either arm. A three-year-old could still point out that you’re the biggest sissy in the room.” The sissy winced as his clitty leaked slightly into his diaper as Master’s demeaning words resonated throughout the church prompting humiliating sniggers from the many staring minions finishing the final touches for the night ahead. “Also, you stand inside, stupid.” He added. As Lottie thought more about being found out, panic started to set in. The sissy’s eyes began to tear up again and his breathing started getting ragged. Master, always incredibly perceptive, immediately turned to Lottie. “Calm down sissy. Stop using your pee brain and do as you're told. I will always protect you.” Master said, and then repeated it calmly, as he rubbed the back of his sissy’s neck until the pansy relaxed and started to breathe normally again. “Now you can either stand here and be some use or I can hang an entrance sign around your neck and tie you to the car park gate, so our guests know where to go. What will it be?” Numnutts roared with laughter as the sissy head dropped at the fear of being tied to the gate while the chastity cage pinched against his clitty as it tried to get hard at the thought of the ultimatum. “Please, Master, sissy Lottie is sorry he is so dumb and worthless. Please let me take tickets.” With a sigh of relief from Lottie, Master closed the door and then pointed to the floor. Lottie enthusiastically knelt. Head bowed, feeling the weight of the tray. When he finally noticed the chain between his wrists was so short, that to stamp tickets he will have to stretch with one hand, as the other would be pulled tight against the tray. “You’re all set. Due to fire risk, we can't add another chair! So, you will just have to sit on his knee or maybe persuade him to stand for a bit.” Master grinned, pointing at Numnutts with a wink. Numnutts smiled and patted his knee as sissy Lottie stared in shock. “Sit,” the giant said sweetly, again patting his knee. Looking up in desperation he saw Master still grinning back. “Sit down you diapered loser.” this time the large man growled as he clicked his fingers impatiently. Feeling another thread of the few remaining fibers of his masculinity fade away the sissy perched on the man's giant thigh. He couldn’t help being shocked at how much weight he had lost. Before Master he had been podgy but, now, his twin could easily have a seat too. As they waited in silence the strong, spicy musk of a real man wafted to the pansy’s delicate nose. He squirmed as he felt his clitty start to leak and try to swell against the cage. Glancing to see if the man noticed, his eyes grew wide as he spotted the giant’s monster cock obscenely visible in his very tight leather trunks. With a squeal of fright, he turned to stare at the door, willing it open. The silence between the pair remained as the tension rose with no break from anyone entering the church of debauchery. The sissy could sense the giant building up the courage to make a move. The thought brought a smile to his face. While he might be a worthless peon on the bottom rung. His owner was someone this guy not only respected but even feared doing the wrong thing to one of his toys. It must have been fifteen minutes before he felt a hand brush against the plastic skirts of his dress. He could hear the heavy breathing getting faster as the hand pushed underneath and rubbed the frills of the plastic pants covering his diapers. He could hear them crinkle bringing heat to both sets of the sissy's cheeks. The heavy rosewood door opened and a pair of immaculately dressed ladies swished into the entranceway. Stiletto heels clacked angrily on the stone floor. Sissy Lottie jumped up quicker than when his parents caught him rummaging in his mum's top draw all those years ago. “I think we disturbed them,” The blonde said with a devilish grin as her friend laughed. Unable to look the obvious goddess in her eyes, the pansy could only stare at a spot on the floor as he mumbled, “Please may I see your tickets.” “Hey bitch one and bitch two, you hear what the sissy slut said?” the blonde sneered looking out the door. The sissy peaked to see who the mistress was talking to. Standing outside the door was a pair of fellow sissies, both fully dressed in matching over-the-top satin dresses, covered in huge amounts of lace and bows. Feeling a pang of the humiliation of being dressed even more outlandishly than even these two new sissies, in the middle of the afternoon, and visible by passerbys, sissy Lottie looked back down, but curtsied and repeated “Please may I see your tickets.” loud as he dared. “Oh tickets. Here you are, poofter.” the blonde said placing four tickets on the table strapped to his body. “Thank you …. Mistress” he stuttered quickly, tearing the stubs off and returning them. He was thankful no one fussed around the hand stamps and let out an audible sigh of relief when they all walked into the venue. Numnutts remained silent throughout, but as the sissy went to perch back on his knee he reached out and forcefully dragged him to sit mid-thigh. The sissy yelped in shock, stumbling on the stripper heels and feeling his diaper squish against the hunk of solid flesh. Letting out an audible squeak, the sissy went to slide back towards the relative safety of the man's knee when Numnutts massive paw grabbed his unprotected thigh and squeezed tight. To the sissy's distress, his little clitty throbbed at the simple act of dominance as he was once again shown he was no longer in control of his own life. As he stared up into Numnutts’ eyes, dark as the purest coal, Numnutts simply shook his head to imply “no” and squeezed a little harder. “Ok, ok. I won't move” the sissy whimpered, knees spread open by the huge bulging diaper. The vice-like grip Numnutts had on the sissy was overwhelming. “I will be a good gurl for you!” the sissy whispered, even shuffling closer so his nylon-covered knee now rubbed against the impressive bulge between Numnutts’ legs. Thankfully the large hand slowly relaxed its grip and, eventually. let go. Numnutts then started to rub his hands up to where he could squish the diaper tight against the pansy’s locked-up sissy bump before sliding back down to the poof’s knee. The sissy couldn’t ignore how small it made him feel daintily sitting on a lap as the large rough hands of a true man enjoyed his newly waxed legs and silk stockings. It didn’t take long for the attention to get to the sissy. His very full sissy egg sacs were tingling with a need to be emptied. As the pathetic waste of flesh that he had once called a dick pulsated, pushing desperately against its long-term prison, started filling the front of his diaper with a sticky mess of precum. When the door suddenly opened, sissy Lottie’s mind was awash with the pleasure of being pathetic and was brought back to reality. He disappointedly got up to greet the couple who entered. They started to pepper him with questions. Lottie couldn’t answer fast enough and more guests started to show up. Sissy Lottie tried to quickly deal with the growing line of kinksters as fast as he could. The only thing on Sissy’s mind when doing this was how much he wanted to go back to the attentive hands of Numnutts. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up, he could feel the dark eyes staring up and down his long feminine legs as they strained to keep him upright in the towering heels. He did a quick glance back and noticed the hungry eyes transfixed on the back of his ruffled butt as the hard lump in the tight trucks grew bigger. The sissy turned back around terrified of what might happen. “What am I thinking” the sissy muttered shaking himself from the daydream. He was supposed to be a man. He wasn’t into pretty dresses and high heels. He hated the bondage and being used by others for pleasure. He was being FORCED to do all this stuff. But, above all else, he hated the constant sexual and mental torment he had suffered over the years. “Definitely forced,” he said aloud to a confused patron who walked away after getting his hand stamped. “I'm going to stand for a while.” the sissy said trying to sound confident. “My err I need to stretch my legs, err for a bit.” Numnutts remained silent and just unblinkingly stared at him. The sissy tried to stare back but quickly lost his nerve, looked down and saw the large python hidden in the giant's trunks and his tiny clitty started to ache in its steel prison. Feeling his entire body go red in shame, the sissy turned around and faced the far wall. For five minutes, the tension slowly increased. Yet, neither moved nor spoke. However, all too soon, Numnutts got bored and a Popeye-like forearm wrapped around sissy’s waist pulling the sissy back to the corner as he offered a very feminine and pathetically weak squeak of protest. The big hands explored around his girly body, feeling all the different textures of the items he wore. The sissy wriggled on the bigger man’s lap, the hands felt so good squeezing and stroking all over. The combination of the sissy’s thick diaper and Numnutt's tight leather trunks kept the monster’s cannon contained. Any time the door opened and new guests arrived, the pansy would go red as the sissy fog would clear slightly as his Masters’ orders rang in his ears, and he did not want to disobey any orders from the Dom. As he welcomed the guests, sissy would never look up from his attached table as he was too embarrassed to look the person in the eye. As time drew on, Numnutts was less and less willing to give his prey up. The later arriving guests got a mini show as they were greeted with the poor sissy being manhandled by the hulking beast, followed with a lisping and begging faggot, pleading to be let go accompanied by promises that he would return for more once he had let the guests in. Each time the powder puff of sissiness arose, the feeling of multiple eyes looking at him would turn him redder than a boy caught masturbating by his mother. Worse still, his poor, stimulated sissy stick would ache deep in its prison. Most guests politely didn’t mention his now dishevelled state and the heavy musk of male arousal. A few openly laughed at the poor puppet desperately trying to pretend he wasn’t enjoying being handled that way or the not-so-manly yelp when the horny Numnutts would pull him back onto the hard lump in his trunks and continue his fondling. The poor powder puff was so overstimulated and in a dreamy state, he had barely even noticed Masters' approach, until he heard his deep, booming laugh. “Why do you insist on claiming you’re straight? Constantly whining to anyone who will listen that I ‘force you’ into being a gay, cock-loving faggot. But even when I left to stand by the door, you’re such a dick-slut that you’d gladly pay every man you could find to ride his dick!” The sissy could feel the crowd of people turning to stare at the pathetic faggot. The acid tongue of his beloved Master publicly shaming him only made his sissy bulge push further against its cage. Numnutts could sense his time with his new toy was growing short and pulled him tighter, grinding into the sissy’s padded posterior. The giant’s huge member was like a tree trunk hidden in his pants. The constant rutting was making the sissy’s minuscule cock leak even more into the pillowy diapers wrapped snugly around him. Then, to the poor sissy panty waist’s worst fears, he could feel the tension growing from inside, brought on by how pathetic and humiliated he was in front of everyone looking and laughing at him being in this such a situation, having been scolded by his Master. Suddenly, Master yanked on his collar pulling him up and away from Numnutts. The lack of control over where he was going next sent sissy over the edge. The pansy let out a high-pitched, orgasmic scream as his body shuddered and collapsed to the floor in a haze of a massive sissygasm, as small bursts of cum entered his diaper from his tightly caged clit. Prepared Numnutts quickly launched himself from his chair. Everyone was able to see the concern written all over his face as he stroked the arm of his new ‘friend’. “Just when I think you can't reach new lows” Master muttered as he crouched next to the passed-out sissy checking he was ok. A few moments later the sissy came too and quickly noticed the throng of people staring down at him as a large paw rubbed up and down his arm. “I swear you just can’t help but make a spectacle of yourself. Remember when you covered that poor lady with wine in the restaurant and ended up with well spanked panty covered ass on full display in the corner for all to see” Master berated while giving the sissy’s hand a squeeze. The sissy looked up at his owner, the sissy part of his brain giving a bashful smile. For a moment the sissy could feel a warm tingling all over. Then his vanilla part of his brain kicked into overdrive at the horror of the sniggers and chortles from the group of kinksters looking over him. Shame washed over him like a bucket of icy water dropped in surprise and the sissy shoulders drooped and head hung in defeat. “How low can a man get? Spanked on his skinny white ass while wearing frilly knickers!” A curvy, African Domme snorted as she looked down at the beet-red sissy. Lottie could only blush as the pair of frilly sissy bois sniggered until the Domme silenced them with a tug on their short frill leashes “Could he be more pathetic?” one of the bois lisped, as the crowd chuckled. “Mz Cleopatra, your bois are a delightful pair of faggots. Who I have enjoyed using vigorously. This one takes it to even lower depths.” Master pointed at the sissy at his feet. “We should talk about when I let you and your slut wife out to celebrate your wedding. Tell the nice folks what happened?” Master smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischievous energy. “Master, no. Pleeease!” the effeminate ex man whimpered, flipped around with cat-like grace to kneel before his constant tormentor. Without a care he knelt down, squishing his chest to the floor, as he pathetically kissed Master’s shiny boots in a vain attempt to stop his shameful secret being told. “The nice people want to hear what happened little faggot. You have five seconds to start talking or you will be left in a pillory on the front lawn with some rotting tomatoes and a sign around your neck begging the public to throw them at you!” Master said, poking the sissy away from his boots. The sissy pondered if an afternoon in the pillory might be a better fate than whatever Master had planned. He looked up to see Master mouth “four” silently at him. A blind panic set in and the sissy whispered. “We had a dinner out where I wore my wife’s wedding lingerie under a white, tailored, ladies’ suit I wore for the wedding. I ended the night in just the underwear, licking cum from my cunt wife's fuck holes.” the sissy offered, mortified at the stifled giggles and looks of disgust and cringe from the growing crowd. “No, no. I'm not going to let you off with half stories. I am sure these nice people want to know the real juicy humiliation of that night.” Master said as the crowd roared “YES!” With tears in his eyes, unable to look up he spoke soft but clear “The men knew how much of a sissy I was.” Sissy whimpered, and then continued “I personally placed every dick into her so she was airtight with cock for several hours...” The sissy stopped at the crowds' loud cries of laughter and audible gasps. “Finish, sissy boi!” Master barked. The sissy dropped his head in defeat “sissy Lottie is so pathetic he had a sissygasm each time I touched those real men’s cocks, Master” In unison the crowd roared with laughter and a few even applauded the lows he had achieved. “May I borrow this?” Master asked Mz Cleopatra, pointing at the spare over-the-top frilly lead hanging from the belt of her latex dress that currently defied physics, as it somehow covered her plump ass and thighs all while managing to keep her massive boobs from bursting free. “Gladly” she almost purred in reply. “Thank you, kind lady,” Master replied, taking the lead before approaching the quivering and teary sissy. “Why must you cause these scenes? I am going to be late.” Master clipped the leash to the collar. “You know I will make you sorry if you mess up my schedule.” He growled menacingly as he yanked the sissy to his feet and marched right down the middle of the ground floor towards the expanded vestry where Master's private room was. The fast pace was too quick for the pansy, who flailed her arms in a desperate attempt to keep balanced, as her heels clacked on the hard floor while she was forced into a mincing run to keep up. Master checked his watch as they moved. “You have made me late, you ditzy fool. I think your brain is in those tiny thimbles you once called nuts.” Master ranted, annoyed his tightly run ship was now behind schedule. “For every second I am late I will cane your feet. Maybe then you will remember to stay upright on them and do your task and not get hot and heavy with the slave crew.” “Of course, Master. This sissy needs to be corrected for messing up Master’s plans.” the sissy replied with a quiver in his voice and a tear in his eye. Watching carefully, sissy then saw Master open a large cardboard box. Master pulled out a brand-new gag from the box. Trying to appease the irate Master, the sissy opened wider than he would at a dentist, to accept the hard plastic of the plug gag. It forced his jaw wide, with only a simple bathroom plug on a short chain stopping anything being forced in his mouth. Vindictively, Master cinched the strap a notch tighter than usual as the sissy grunted in pain. Master quickly pulled a hot-pink, leather blindfold in place. Again, tightening the strap a little tighter than usual. The sissy knew not to move as he felt powerful fingers pulling the leather into position around his head, before the familiar click of padlocks snapping shut. Muttering to himself about time and lateness, he unlocked the collar the sissy was wearing before hurriedly jerking the zip of plastic dress down. The rough handling in the darkness was causing the sissy to tremble as his little sissy pecker leaked even more of its watery pansy milk in anticipation of what was to happen. The dress was yanked off his head and he was slammed back against his Masters stout body. Thick fingers found the nipple clamps and Master pulled on the linking chain stretching the sissy's poor, aching nipples. “You dirty attention whore!” he growled, his voice low and intimidating. Poor sissy Lottie could only squirm in a vain attempt to reduce the burning pain as his flesh was stretched to its limit. Balling his fists in pain, he knew how much of a weak pussy boi he’d become because his fists remained firmly at his sides, not moving to stop his Master at all, and only muffled girlish squeals escaped from behind the gag. Master dropped the chain grinning at how just the weight of the “sissy” tag hitting the poof’s chest made him jump. “You're such a pussy.” he taunted, laughing as the sissy’s head dropped in shame. “But still, you’re an important part of tonight’s show, some might even call you the headline act! But tonight, you will defiantly be the star attraction like the attention seeking sissy panty waisted whore you are!” He exploded with laughter as the sissy 'looked’ at him while blindfolded and gagged, but Master could still feel the look of shock and horror as his body visibly shivered. “Oh yes, my pansy baby gurl. Just think of all those eyes as you show them all what a ‘big, tough man’ you are.” Master continued undoing the ribbon ‘bra’ and swiftly pulling the nipples clamps free. Master enjoyed seeing the sissy do a little jig as the poof forced his arms to remain by his sides. “You know I was going to be kind and let you work the door and stay nice and invisible. Numnutts I'm sure will be unhappy as his Lord and Lady promised he could have some relief for all the hard work he put in at the manor.” As Master continued, the sissy was still standing completely still as his poor sissy tits burnt from the clamps being on so long. “Arms up” Master paused his taunting. “I do hope he won't take it out on you later” The sissy obeyed as he panicked inside at the thought of that huge python, he was forced to rub against all afternoon almost certainly would be forced down his throat. As the thought of sucking off yet another man filled his sissy brain, the sissy offered no resistance as a soft satin dress was pulled over his head and it practically flowed over his arms and body. It was obvious from how the bodice of the dress hugged him snug in all the right places, that Master had the shortie dress custom made. It was made for him as the bodice was tight but not undersized. He could feel his cheeks go red from the huge puffy sleeves being secured by ribbons tied tight with a bow. He could feel the built in petticoat giving the dress some poof and swish as Master moved the dress around, fastening the ribbons around his waist and neck, but he could sense it barely covered the top of his diaper. Hype Sissy “You do remember how late we are, Sissy bitch. Get your head out of the clouds.” Master barked, obviously annoyed. Quaking in fear of over five hundred lashes of a cane, sissy Lottie meekly spread his legs and, as daintily as he could, stepped out the rubber panties leaving the obviously-used diaper now completely visible. “I am not touching in there you dirty fucking prissy pansy. I dread to think what you leaked. Attach this to your cage.” Master demanded placing the clip of the leash in his hand. Wondering what other new lows, he would reach in self-degradation as he held the diaper open as much as he could muster. He breathed in as much as he could, so he could reach in the damp and cooling diaper to clip the leash to the ring on the tight metal prison in which his sissy ‘bump’ remained shrinking away. “Oi enough of that. Your pathetic baby dick is worthless and no need to be touching it that long” Master shouted, grabbing his wrist and yanking his hand out the damp diaper. The sissy blabbered an apology around the gag as he felt the satin cuffs of mincing ribbons being attached around his ankles. To try and win some compassion he held out arms so Master could easily secure the ribbons to his wrists. Finally, he felt headbands being changed and while the new one was hardly heavy, he could tell from the weight it was the comically huge PVC bow atop his head like a sissy tiara. “Ok sissy, time to get this party started…” Master checked his watch “...over ten minutes late. A dumb ass like you can't count past five so I will do the maths for you and I make that six hundred and twenty-three seconds you made me late by, you dumb cunt.” Then, without another word spoken, the sissy felt the double yank on his bump in warning as Master strode off. Sissy Lottie tottered behind like a new born gazelle, blindly grasping for anything to support him. He stumbled forward in the curtain as he struggled with the small incline up to the stage. The heat of the lights hit. It was like walking outside on a warm, Summer’s day from a nice and cool air-conditioned office. Then the roar of the crowd as he was forced to mince in circles with the exaggerated hip swings and arms out to the side with limp wrists, for the amusement of the crowd. “Teapot” Master shouted over the laughing crowd. Sissy Lottie burnt in shame as he proceeded to do the dance of, I’m a little teapot, as he struggled to say the nursery rhyme through the gag and with the tube in his mouth. As he got close to the end his stomach dropped as he got no order so just started again. Then again. And again. And again. It was the start of the fifth time. His arm bent, hand on hip. His body posed with legs bent and arm of the spout his wrist flopped over like the prissiest of all the sissy’s when Master thankfully ordered “Pause”. The sissy froze in place leaning to the side ‘mid pour’. Master started to give an introduction to the first presentation but sissy then got distracted by the overly loud ‘whispers’ of two ladies closest to him. “Oh, my good look at the.... well, I am not sure if you can call that a dress.” the first exclaimed with fake shock. “I think I’ve seen tops longer. Maybe he stole it from a little girl. Look at those hearts… and you could smuggle a pumpkin in those sleeves.!” the other replied “I would agree, but look closer in the hearts.” “What do you mean, May?” “See. This heart says ‘bimbo’, that one says ‘spank me’” May explained. The second lady burst out laughing. “This one says ‘peg me please’, and this one ‘make me cry’. I feel so sorry for the thing's wife. She must be mortified that her husband’s such a waste of space.” The sissy was so distracted by the nasty barbs from the ladies he didn’t even notice that Master had finished. To make it worse the first performers were walking behind him when his sissy sac was yanked hard. The shriek of pain was audible despite the gag. The lead kept pulling, leading to the sissy’s hands trying to clutch his balls tottering on the toes of his heels like some cartoonish parody of sissyness. As the performance started on the stage the sissy was dragged until the pulling thankfully stopped. Feeling the downward pull on the leash sissy Lottie dropped to his knees instantly. Master remained silent checking the performers on stage had the crowd's attention and the unintentional comedy act forgotten. Master felt pressure on his boot. Glancing down he watched as the sissy pressed his face into the steel toe cop of his heavy boot. “You might be a useless embarrassment ninety percent of the time, but you’re an adequate slave when you’re not making a clown of yourself.” he scoffed. As if to prove Master is always right about being an embarrassment, the sissy could only cringe as the waft of a nasty fart filled his nose and he felt warmth spread between his thighs as his diaper expanded. Main Act For the next few hours, the Sissy found himself kneeling with head bowed low as Master had attached his collar to a ring at the foot of his throne. The sissy could feel the weight of Master’s feet resting on his padded bum. The sissy could hear the suspension bondage demonstration on stage come to the end. The fear of missing something amazing and hot made his tummy churn with anxiety. “Try not to make a total display of yourself,” Master demanded, yanking the blindfold free as he released the sissy from his constant kneel. The ache from his balls intensified from the sharp yank on the leash. Scrabbling quickly the cringing sissy Lottie, still blinking in the dim light, jumped to his feet and followed on stage. He kept the leash taunt knowing when in doubt taking the more unpleasant option would earn him at least the praise he so desired. Lottie watched carefully and when Master stopped at the raised lectern, he followed keeping the lead as taut as he could bare. Master made the ‘sissy stand’ signal and thus sissymaid Lottie stood, legs shoulder width apart, her hands clasped together touching his navel. Elbows pulled in tight with head bowed. It was at least a nice comfy position the Sissy thought to himself. “What a display” Master started. “And that was just the first of the five acts you will see. As our next act is setting up, I need to fill in a bit. As we all know, my sissy maid is a bit of a mess. And after tonight, messing his ‘dipee’, I have no choice but to reduce this fairy to now be ‘sissy baby’ Lottie.” The crowd joined in a rapturous applause as Master signalled to the sissy to wave as he walked up and down the edge of the stage, before pausing to curtsey and blow kisses. “Fank you, Fank you” he mumbled through the gag. Seeing the ‘stagehands’ (or ‘minions’, as the leaders of the group called them) needed a bit more time, Master had an idea. He lent down and whispered something to a sub girl in front of him who scurried away. “Now my favourite freaks and delights, sissy baby Lottie here loves a nice, warm, wet, and very full diaper. I swear, I’ve seen slugs with more dignity.” Master paused for the crowd's raucous response, smiling as the sissy's head dropped, his chin touching the pure white satin of the dress. “For a reward I think we can give the halfwit a nice full diaper, and with great timing here is the adorable Kitten. Please give her a cheer for the prompt work. She’s also available for the right Dom.” Master took the large glass of water from the blushing latex cat girl waving awkwardly from the front of the energised mass. “Stand still cream-puff" Master barked. The sissy paused, looking up at Master in confusion. “Well, that skirt covers nothing, as usual. Pull your ‘dipee’ open nice and wide.” Master twisted his neck to a face past the sissy and to the waiting figure in the wings of the stage. “Angelica, we’re almost ready for you. I got some ice and a rather prissy wimp here who would love nothing more than for you to make his girlish dreams come true.” The look of horror was barely masked by the straps of the gag. The diaper strained as he held it open watching a tall dominatrix strut on stage. Her huge tits bounced in her skin tight ball gown as she walked toward Master. He felt a pang of jealousy as the women accepted the glass, giving Master a hug and kiss before turning to stalk towards her prey. With knees quaking, and that horrible feeling he had watching the girl he fancied at school kiss another boy swirling around his stomach. He wussed out as he could no longer watch what the Domme was going to do and stared at a spot between his heels. They could be no more than twenty paces apart but for the sissy it felt like an age. He continued to look down seeing his new dress with little more than a belt width of lace ‘skirt’ to cover the princess covered diaper. The shame hit home like a sucker punch and a tear rolled down his face. Then he saw a shiny black boot appear below him. He tried to keep looking at his spot, but he couldn’t help but turn up to look at the fearsome Domme “You want this don’t you fuck nugget.” The Lady Angelica laughed, holding the glass up to the baying horde. Broken and pussy whipped the sissy baby nodded, even thrusting his hips towards his icy fate. “Ok fairy gurl. In 3...2.........1.....................................Now!!!!” The water was so cold he froze for a moment before he wet himself again. Sadistically she poured the water around his groin to the loud cheers of the crowd. The ice flowed from the glass, the clinks as they hit his sissy clit inside its metal prison like cymbals as the throng cried out with laughter. With a dramatic twist of her wrist the glass emptied into the already wet diaper. The water pooled under him as the multiple layers of the three diapers he wore struggled to contain the freezing liquid. As the sissy baby shivered from the icy water, he screwed his eyes shut as his sissy bump painfully tried to push against the walls of its tiny prison. The humiliation stoked the miniscule remainder of his masculinity. The ice made a loud crack as the final chunks hit the metal cage, sending little waves of pleasure through his tiny dicket. “Now… get off my stage, you loser.” the lady crowed, flicking an unprotected thigh with her cane. The sissy ran to her Master sobbing. Some of the water was now trickling down his thighs and the lovely warmth and sissy bliss from wetting in such a humiliating way had been replaced with a cold, clammy puddle. Master took hold of the sissy collar and led him from the stage and its illuminating bulbs, back to his throne off to the side in the relative darkness and safety. In an act of ‘sadistic kindness’ the sissy was allowed to sit rather than kneel on the hard floor. The diaper squelched like a soggy towel thrown against a wall as the sissy gratefully sat. Master held the sissy’s head against his crotch and gently rubbed the pansy's hair. Then the latex-clad cat girl returned with bottles of hot milk put down next to sissy baby Lottie’s soggy diaper, before scurrying off again, stage right. Master’s New Toy The sissy was happier now that he was not currently forced to go on stage. Rather, he sat uncomfortably in the soggy mess holding the warm milk he had been given. The plug had been removed and he had gratefully drunk down five bottles of the sweet tasting drink after a few hours without anything to drink. Master came back from the stage and took what was the last of the six bottles from his hands. Master held the teat out and pointed to the teat. The sissy squealed in delight as he was fed the drink like a farmer feeding a newborn calf, all the while Master rubbed between his shoulder blades. The sissy cooed like a newborn enjoying the attention. His little pee-pee was pulsing away as it dribbled his weak ‘sissy goo; into his dipee, happy in his own world. Meanwhile Master watched the stage intently, as a Dominatrix showed off her whip skills on a very well built and enthusiastic slave boy. As the kinksters on stage finished and took their applause, Master stood. His finger curled around sissy baby Lottie’s collar’s D-ring and the man gently raised the spaced-out sissy to the stage. The mix of humiliation, attention, plus the six bottles of warm milk, made the passive man a little sleepy and offered no resistance as he submissively followed his owner. The crowd watched in anticipation. The last act was up and the curtained area had to be shown off now. As if a silent message had been passed amongst them, the taunting and insults to the sissy was stopped to keep the airhead in his sissy space. The sissy enthusiastically knelt dead centre of the stage at right angle to the crowd. The sissy only watched Master as he walked around giving orders to Numnutts and another equally huge and practically naked man as they hauled a large, glass object onto the stage. The tube was the size of a steel oil drum with a metallic ring on the open end and an odd pipe connected at the bottom. The glass was thick and polished so not even the tiniest streak or blemish marred its surface. The two men attached chains to the top of the glass tube as Master started to speak. “Old friends, and new friends, I hope you all enjoyed the lovely displays of skills and talents my guests showed off so far this lovely evening. But,” Master pauses briefly to build suspense before continuing “your most humble of hosts is here to show off a new piece of equipment.” The screens all flashed to a new display of a flat, grey, concrete pit. The lights shone bright as the multiple cameras gave many views of the empty hole. Many in the crowd started to whisper in speculation at what the purpose of the hole, and what will happen to the lucky victims to become tonight's main event. “I know it's not impressive to look at,” Master continued, as the glass tube was lowered in the hole. “But I’d like to think that, despite being a cruel and sadistic bastard, I also want to fulfil fantasies for my slaves. And, of course, all of you.” This caused a nice cheer from the crowd before Master continued. Master gestures towards sissy baby Lottie “Now, this worthless waste of masculinity here loves when I degrade him and dehumanise it.” The change from ‘him’ to ‘it’ was noticed by the sissy and only made his horny- and milk-induced haziness that much worse as more sissy goo leaked into his now very, very full diaper. Master went on “To the point IT has the importance of a pebble on the beach.” The sissy smiled in its sissy haze, oblivious to his surroundings at this point. “The other thing is, the dumb cunt loves the idea of being a toilet. This has been growing for ages. It built a toilet box that locks its head inside and then it can be pissed on.” The screens showing the small device and the sissy head locked inside the wood box with a toilet seat on the top. “It's not very comfortable for me to use, however. It just didn’t work for me. However, while using the pathetic loser’s attempt, I did get the idea for this!!” Master, with the elegance of a master magician, pulled the curtain aside with a dramatic yank. The crowd gasped in unison as the tube was lowered into the hole revealing an ornate and beautifully crafted throne. Master walked over to the sissy and, with an evil grin from ear to ear, he stared down at the sissy and loudly shouted “PUT THE SISSY IN THE TUBE!” The audience erupted in laughter, gasps of surprise and more than a few horrible insults, the words blasted away the sissy’s haze and looked up in fright. “Mas..s...s..ster” he stuttered as the realisation dawned. “Yes, cream puff. Time for you to have your wish as being a sissy piss pot.” He laughed as the men easily lifted the sissy over to the hole. “What a sorry excuse for a man you are. Many would draw the line at the dress. Or the heels. Some might stop it at the make-up and hair removal. Others when made to make out with random strangers, or stop before they get huge cocks to fill their holes with cum, as they let these strangers use their body. Others would at least attempt to deny how much of a diaper-wearing, Cock-sucking, Piss-drinking, ass-eating, loser they are. You, my faggoty-ass pansy, shook me with the ever-lowering depths of depravity you try to reach to please me.” The sissy’s eyes watered at the harsh truth, and the pangs of shame as his pee-pee was twitching inside its cage as each humiliating secret was revealed to the cheering crowd. Already feeling the horrible burn of shame, he still obediently put his hand next to his ankles and helped as much as he could to allow the handcuffs locking his wrists and ankles to be placed on. The sissy mumbled “thanks” to Numnutts as the mountain of a man removed the gag strapped around sissy’s face. The lights in the pit were blinding, at first, as the large men lowered him into the tube until his heeled feet were resting on the bottom. Helplessly he looked up seeing the heavy throne moved into place. The glass of the tube vibrated with the metal frame clanging into place. As a fearful clang echoed around the concrete walls. The crowd watched intently at the screen showing the quaking sissy squirm. Master was whispering to one of the stage hands, who then rushed off stage. The waiting sissy was visibly getting more and more nervous, as he awaited his fate. A New Low? “Ladies and Gentlemen!” Master started to work the crowd. “I do hope you have been enjoying all the free champagne our hosts kindly supplied.” The clinks of glasses and roars of approval from the balcony was heard over the applauding crowd, even by the quaking sissy deep in his glass prison. “My fellow degenerates! Please welcome… Mz Cleopatra .” The crowd's applause reverbed in the tube. The sissy starred up knowing whatever happens next, he probably won't like, but will still flood his diaper with the watery mess his unmilked and very full sissy sac produced. Just as the thought crossed his mind, a face menacingly glared down at him. Between her forefinger and thumb, they were holding the leash from earlier… the one that was attached to his tiny clitty cage. The one he had peed on, and had been inside his messy diaper. “Urgh you’re filthy, freak.” the Amazonian dominatrix from earlier sneered. “You ruined this, you filthy cock-sucker with a worm sized dick. You will pay for that.” Numnutts took the leash, reaching in to clip it to the sissy’s collar. As the giant man stood, he offered the leash handle back to the latex clad Domme before turning to pull the curtain closed. Mz Cleopatra stopped the large giant from closing it and turned her back to the crowd. To the delight of the audience, the dark-skinned beauty lent forward and arched her back as she slowly rolled her latex dress up to expose her juicy behind and sexy white thong covering her wet snatch. Fully embracing the spotlight, the Mistress wiggled her incredibly well-toned bum before slowly peeling the designer thong down her powerful thighs. With the grace of a ballerina, she turned on her skyscraper heels, lifting her arms aloft to the generous whoops and whistles as her thick and bushy pussy was exposed to all the onlookers. She skillfully walked backwards to the throne and daintily sat down on the face of the terrified captive. Artfully, and dramatically, she wrapped the leash around her gloved hand, holding the sissy just millimeters from her soaked love pot. “Try not to cry, sissy” she taunted, yanking hard and mashing his face into her pussy. Holding him tight, she wriggled against the sissy’s face smearing pussy juices over his mouth as she felt his nose work its way into her ass crack. “Take a deep breath, sissy. It's rare that a poofter should even be allowed near my perfect booty.” The sissy could see nothing but flawless ass as he took a huge arid breath through his nose. He couldn’t be more than a centimeter from her rosebud. "You could live off that aroma, right sissy?” she mocked, laughing heartily as she felt the sissy grind his face up and down in the affirmative. “Open that mouth and stick out your tongue. If you dare close it before I flush by tugging on the leash twice…” Sissy understood the implied threat. Off to the side, Master watched with an evil smirk as Cleopatra pulled the sissy’s face even tighter to her pussy, forcing the sissy to arch his back into a painful bowed position. The sissy twitched as his mouth awaited the warm bitter liquid, as drops of pee began to trickle out of Mz Cleopatra and drip on his face. A few moments later, the tiny drops became a stream, which came too much for the sissy to hold in his mouth as it started to leak from the corner of his mouth and started to soak into his new pretty dress and pool around the sissy’s frilly stockings at the tube’s bottom. Mz Cleopatra was getting hot from the crowd cheering her on and feeling the worthless sissy squirm against her wetness. From the corner of her eye, she could see the sissy bent over in chains on the screens. A huge smile grew on her face as she watched her golden nectar run in multiple little flows all over the sissy’s face. With the fire in her love box getting to explosive levels, she couldn't help but to grind down on the pathetic worthless white boi’s face. Using her free hand, she put on a show for her frenzied audience and played with her impressive breasts before trailing down to her throbbing clit. “Fuck that's mmmm” the Domme screamed as her body rippled with electric pleasure as she ground down on her clit and cranked on the leash, forcing the groaning sissy even tighter to the thrones seat allowing her to ride faster and faster until she screamed, her body shaking in waves of orgasmic bliss. She slumped back in the chair, momentarily dazed from the orgasm ripping through her. Master waited a beat then coughed at Numnutts who gently touched her arm and pointed to the leash held in her death grip. “I don’t think we need to worry about the poor sissy cumquat losing brain cells.” she laughed, releasing the leash. The sissy squealed as his soggy, padded bum slapped down into the decent puddle that had formed in the tube. Despite knowing what he stared down at was the puddle of pee soaking into his stockings, as the strange mix of Mz Cleopatra ’s cum and piss trickled down his face adding to stains on the pretty dress. Yet, his sissy riddled brain clamped his mouth tightly remembering the instruction from his superior. He sat staring up showing his mouth closed tight, holding its precious load awaiting the ‘flush’. “Sissy” a voice bellowed into the glass prison. The sissy jumped in fright before peering up through Mz Cleopatra ’s thighs at a bearded figure above him, as another stream of hot piss blasted him in the face. He scrunched his face up, feeling the arid liquid plaster every inch of his face. “Hey, Mz Cleopatra, Yank the pitiful thing’s chain will ya? Its face going blue.” The bearded man said, playfully aiming his impressive phallus before finishing his piss on her still dripping cunt. “You dick” she shouted at the laughing man walking away. “Mother fucker” she fumed yanking on the chain ignoring the relieved sissy finally drinking down the tangy and arid mouthful. Without demand he raised up on his knees, tongue out-stretched, yearning for more degradation. His pee-pee now seriously suffering from how much his chastity cage was restraining him. “You have a use, sissy white boi” Mz Cleopatra exclaimed “As toilet paper!” With an enthusiastic gusto, the sissy jammed his head between the bowl and seat to force his face as close as possible, licking all over Mz Cleopatra ’s musty snatch. His brain had gone, drifting into the out of body state of bliss of sissy space. He could feel his tiny sissy bump continuing to leak into his already sticky and sodden mess of a diaper. Happy with the sissy’s pussy shine, the Domme pushed the lapping tongue back down into his glass container and walked off. Leaving the sissy to serve the quickly-forming queue of waiting people. Close to the Edge The crowd had now broken up, with the many dominants using their subs on the equipment around the main hall, and many more in the rooms along the side. While the many screens around the den of debauchery had switched to the kinky scenes in the private rooms. Up on the balcony the box containing the sissy’s wife, Master’s other full-time slave, had been secured to a pillar. With little more than a slight gesture from Master, two hooded minions pulled the nails from the front panel of the crate and removed it. Inside, slave Naïve was tightly bound with a half dozen wooden inserts laser cut to match the curvy subs form and leave her pinned in place. Master reached into the box with his gloved hand. His fingers traced around the edges of the heavy metal cuffs, bra and belt locked on her body. As his fingers travelled around her body the slave girl pushed her body forward yearning for his touch as her pussy dripped with need. “Oh Master” she whispered around the small ball gag in her mouth, as his fingers brushed against the grill covering her outer lips. “Does my slave pig want to come out and play.” Master replied, his voice like dark velvet. While pulling the gag free from her lips. “Mmmmmmm” the bound woman moaned “Please Master. Please punish me. Make me scream for you. I need you to make me black and blue” “But you have been such a good piggy, slut Naïve. So much better behaved than your pansy of a hubby.” He replied as he reached and unbuckled the blindfold of the hood she wore. “He is barely a spec next to the m…...” she trailed off as the blindfold was removed and the harsh light momentarily blinded her. She blinked rapidly, unable to move her hands to help. As the blinding light faded away, she was left with just the huge main screen, showing her bloated and useless sissy hubby kneeling in the brightly-lit tube. The once-new and glossy dress now clung against the pansy’s pasty white skin. The once gloriously poofy, virginal white shoulders were now a pale yellow, matching the inadequate wearer. The little of what was the skirt still poofed out somewhat. However, it, too, was now a pale yellow and actually managed to somewhat cover the sodden and swollen diaper, which was forcing the sissy’s knees as wide as the thick glass of the narrow tube would allow. The camera zoomed in showing a beaming smile on the sissy’s face behind a mask of ruined makeup and piss-soaked hair. He managed to happily splash around in the pool of pee. Poor Naïve turned bright red in shame. Despite their complicated relationship she did love and care for the dumb fool. Still, he looked like he was paddling in a kiddy pool. Not a bound fairy faggot, in a tube filled with pee from who knows where. “Boys. Take piggy whore to the medical examination room.” Master called out, giving a creepy wave to his slave as the crate lid was pushed in place and turning her world black again. Mz Cleopatra sat up in the balcony, one of her submissives knelt beside her. His head bowed in deference as a cup of tea rested on his up-turned palms. She loved the view staring down as people below mingled and watched as the leather and latex clad hunters played with their provocatively dressed prey. Only a few of the room screens remained blank as their occupants decided to keep their kinky play to themselves. But, the rest showed everything. From naughty schoolies being spanked by a teacher in a simple tight pencil skirt, all the way up to a pair of feminine bodies, clad in gorgeous lingerie being fucked by both fake and real cocks as they hung helpless from the ceiling. Her mood changed as she looked up to see the pansy bitch fairy playing happily. She tutted in disgust as the subby tea holder looked up to see his Mistress shook her head, utterly annoyed that the sissy was enjoying himself. “Wait here.” she commanded as she stood. Her adoring slave contorted his body to hold the cup as high as he could while straining his rubber clad body to press his gagged mouth to her spiked heels. “Good boi” she praised walking towards the room this evening host was playing.“Fuck. Fuck, Fuuuucccckk” Naïve shouted. Her body arching and straining against the thick leather straps tightly bounding her to the examination table. For once Master kindly left the blindfold off, allowing her to see the pair of hooded minions mauling her large udders. One was sucking on her nipple so hard he was able to pull on it painfully, while his fingers squeezed and pinched her soft flesh. The other identifiable person was practically chewing on her other nipple and breast. She could feel the sting from the multiple bite marks covering her tit. “Oh my God, oh my God.” she squealed, feeling the strain as the clamps bit down then stretched her pussy lips wide. She strained her neck to see over the minions playing with her tits to see what was happening as she felt a cord being tied to each toe and her poor pussy lips being pulled further apart. “Let's test” she could hear Master talking to someone. She strained her neck to try and see more of who else was there, when her evil Lord and Master lashed a cane against the sole of her foot. Before the scream could leave her lips, her foot jerked in response to the sharp hit. As her toes clenched, she could feel the cord bite into her sensitive skin and pull on the petals of her twat. Turning the yell of pain into a strange gurgled moan. Another blow slashed her foot causing another yank on her now throbbing cunt flaps as she could feel her snatch glistening with fresh signs of her excitement. “Owww” she screamed as a new set of teeth marks appeared on her skin. Stoking the fire in her molten hot sex as her owner started to run his fingers down her soles. Using her toes to pull and stretch her throbbing labia. “Master…. Master.” she called “I am soooo close. It's been so long. Please can I have one orgasm Master. I will gratefully accept any punishment you extract from my worthless body. Please Sir I beg you I am so very close. “I am ‘fraid not, but I have plans for you tonight Ms Piggy. And I need a bright and willing slave. Not a lazy old porker whose had her fun.” “Master, you know I will always be ready for you to use and I will perform flawlessly. But I am so very close. I feel ready to burst” “Naïve. You know better than to continue this childish begging once I said NO, and in front of all these people.” he swept his arm up in dramatic fashion to point out the dozen or so people watching through the window and the open door. No matter how often she had been exposed and degraded in front of what must have been over ten thousand people it still made her squirm in shame as the humiliation made her drip faster than a leaky faucet. “Who here thinks my fine piggy slave deserves an orgasm.” Master exclaimed as if a ringmaster hyping up the crowd. “How long has it been now my needy cock sleeve?” “Eleven months, two weeks and a day. Master.” she replied her body shook against the thick leather as if angry at the lack of release. The almost temper tantrum-like reaction brought a roar of laughter from the crowd. “My poor sweet slut.” Master admonished. “This is what I would expect from that unexplainable pansy you married. Not a fine subby sow like you.” Before she could reply her body twisted and bucked as a lightning bolt of pain exploded as the leather tongue of Master’s crop lashed down on her poor defenceless pussy. A second then third followed swiftly as the trapped slave could only cry out in pain. Yet the crowd could hear the increased squelch as the crop smacked down on a wetter and wetter cunt. Naïve eyes slowly closed as she drifted away back to the dreamy place, she felt her body and mind almost split in two. The hot pain took the breath away leaving her body trembling in fear of further strikes. But her mind knew she needed the deserved correction. She needed more for failing her Master. In front of others no less! The voice in her head desperately wanted to call out to ask for more, had grown so loud she bit down on her tongue to remain quiet. Her body tensed sensing something close, but was the soft touch of a gloved hand as Master gently rubbed her cheek. She leaned into the soft touch of Master. rubbing her head against the hand like a cat enjoying some head scritches. Her body contorted to rub her sopping wet cunt against Masters fingers as he teasingly rubbed about her outer lips. “I have some bad news, my little porker. I must go for now. However, I promise you will not be waiting too much longer before I use you again. Be a good girl and you will get your reward.” Master said the words slowly as he gently pushed two fingers in and out her cunt. “Cool her off minions and get her ready for later. Don't forget to wipe her, and clean the room, medical room clean!” The hooded figures rose away from assaulting the stunned woman’s tits and nodded. Watching as the event host stuffed his fingers into Naïve’s mouth. Who instinctively licked her own excitement from the PVC. Leaving the minions to their task, Master walked to the bar getting himself a tea. He gave a side eye to the gorgeous dominatrix as she slid on a stool next to him. “What I do.” he quipped at her sour expression. “The fucking loser is enjoying its self” Mz Cleopatra said, bitterly, pointing to the sissy still in his own little world with a giant dopey smile on his face. “That he does. Ain’t it cute?” “I would think this would be upsetting you, at least a little bit.” Mz Cleopatra said almost in an accusatory way. “Let the poor fool enjoy it for a bit. More fun when I ruin it.” Master replied, with a wink and knowing smile. “Ruin it?” Mz Cleopatra replied, with an inquisitive look. Master nodded, paused to think for a moment, and then said “You know what, no time like the present, Let's give the people a show!” Master then signalled for the minions to approach. Setting Up The sissy’s eyes were closed as he enjoyed one of his fantasies coming true. He swirled his bound hands around, revelling in the still-warm liquid around him. Enjoying every moment, it lapped over his bare thighs. The drying pee on his face filled his nostrils with a bitter arid smell keeping his sissy bump straining away making his already full diaper come even more delightfully sticky and damp on the outside as it was on the inside, as the pee soaked into it. Suddenly, a loud ‘pop’ sound startled the poof. The bright lights now appeared to be turned off and, like that, a sense of dread washed over him. After a moment of silence in the darkness the golden pool of piss suddenly felt colder. The dress was now clammy and gross as it clung his skin. Looking up, the light was all but blocked out. Worrying him more were the new sounds of heavy objects being moved around. The curtain being closed around the throne and the sudden arrival of a team of minions working on the main stage attracted those milling around the main floor. A large covered item was wheeled on stage as some minions armed with power tools got to work behind the screen. “My friends” Masters' voice rang out over the Tannoy system. “I do worry about you all. Seems many of you lost faith. Like that’s all I would do to the poor, worthless, maggot-dicked cream puff in its natural home down in its pissy hole. No, no, no....” Master paused as the minions dropped the sheets covering the device. “Fuck me” one voice rang out over the newly silenced crowd, as they stared at a huge vat of golden liquid! The huge vat sat on a flatbed with fancy iron metal struts securing it in place. Underneath the large motors with thick rubber covered cables and various other impressive looking tech started humming in anticipation of its greatest show. A handful of minions appeared as if some choreographed routine and hoisted the large hose from the top of the tank, into the air to connect with a huge valve previously hidden in the darkness above the stage lights. As some minions linked up the thick hoses, others wheeled out elaborate looking dentist chairs. Each having obvious stimulation devices and fucking machines built in with cut outs in strategic locations and a dozen thick straps hanging free. Others worked to add chains to kneeling posts facing the tank each with a gag attached to a tube that ran up to the tank. A paniced squeal could be heard from behind the curtain but was quickly drowned out with the sounds of power tools and the clang of metal on glass. The whirl of the tank shaking to life instantly distracted the crowd as the bottom of the tank illuminated giving its potent contents a vibrant glow. “OH, yes. I always have a plan B. So, just in case my lovely guests didn’t drink enough to fill the sissy’s piss tube, I got a donation from… ‘alternative’ means. It does seem I over-sourced though. If any subs or slaves are looking a little dehydrated, please do feel free to offer them a free drink!” As the minions finished attaching the various cables and power to the Frankensteined chairs a platform was erected with a large whipping frame dead centre. From the four corners of the whipping frame, shiny new manacles hung awaiting the unfortunate soul being held in place. With the constant thud of his cane Master strode across the stage floor, oozing a showman's confidence. “Thank you to my fine minions for your work tonight. You have surpassed my expectations as usual and, as such, I hope to give you a special treat later. But, for now, it's on with our show. Bring her out boys” Naïve fell back against the thick, rough wood of her travel crate as the whole thing rocked back on an angle before jolting forward. The experience had her unnerved as normally the dozen slates would have been locked in place. The wood panels were so well made and secured her so firmly in place, Master regularly placed the box upside down and left her for hours. Without warning the box stopped and was hauled upright. Naïve barely able to put her hands out in time to stop her crashing into the lid. She scrabbled back to jam her back against the wood as she heard the crate lid being prized open. The darkness was broken with the crack of the top of the crate springing forward as the nails were yanked free. She could feel the instant heat as the piercingly bright lights of the stage blew the darkness away and blinded her so much, she pressed her body tighter against the safety of the back wall. “Hello pet” Masters deep velvety voice whispered. “Time for your reward.” The brass of the leash gleamed a rich bronze colour in the bright light as the gloved hand reached in. Subconsciously she raised her chin giving free access to the collar locked around her throat. The familiar click of the clasp being closed and the pressure on the back of her neck increasing as the chain was pulled taut. Normally Master would have her tied or at least hooded before bringing her on stage, but here was the first time she had to face the public as the willing slave girl she deep down knew she was. Still, she faltered at the first light tug on the collar. She leaned back, glancing up unsure if she made a painful mistake. Before she could look down, he was back at the edge of the box. His finger curled around the D ring as his gloved hand shot up but rather than strike it stroked her cheek. “Come now girl, You’re ok. It's ok.” he whispered as his finger closed around the ring and gently led her out. “I promise nothing bad will happen.” Naïve felt the fog drop and her body take over. She offered no resistance as he led her to the odd-looking chair. As he stopped, she dropped to the floor sitting like a good pupper. As he gave a speech about how the chair and all its hidden goodies worked safely, she allowed it all to drown out as she slipped into her happy place. The peace so great she risked leaning on Master’s leg and slightly rubbing her head against his knee and earnt a literal pet on head. “Sit up,” Master ordered with an added tug on the leash. Naïve quickly bounced to her feet before following his direction to daintily hop onto the chair vibrating with excitement. But when Master continued to point out how to use the device rather than using her, she gave an audible huff and pout much to the crowd's amusement. Master rolled his eyes at her antics, “Let me show the fun stuff,” he announced, grabbing a clump of her hair to guide her into place as she squealed and scrabbled on the slick leather surface to follow him. With a hard tug she placed her head into a curved padded area firmly holding her head to look straight ahead. Naïve purred with pleasure and closed her eyes and relaxed her body. As strong fingers pulled her arms up above her head, she could feel the tingling in her pussy get stronger as well as the butterflies in her tummy speed up. The click of the padlock closing sent a little shiver of excitement down her spine. From just a little wriggle she could tell her arms were shackled in place loving how her arms were stretched. A click near her ear made her flinch before feeling straps either side of her elbow securing her arm locked in place. She tilted her head as best as she could to see the bar holding her elbow at a right angle. Moments later her other arm was secured the same way leaving her deliciously helpless already. She could feel her heart rate increase and the wetness between her folds grow quicker as thick wide leather belts were strapped tight above and below her large breasts. Before she could test how much the silk feeling leather would yield, a third belt was cinched tight. Naïve felt her breathing slow as a serene calmness flowed over her. The leather dug in around her hip making her squirm in excitement as the helplessness made her pussy tingle with anticipation. The hapless maiden bit down on the inside of her lip to stop a huge moan as her legs were roughly grabbed by two sets of hands. With little care, a latex wearing Domme and leather-bound Master pulled her legs apart and held them into the surgical steel of stirrups. Two thicker straps were wrapped around the top of her thighs, above and below the knee as well as the middle of her shin. Allowing little more than the most minute of movements. “So open and ready” she heard someone murmur. The fog lifted as she could see the unidentifiable human forms beyond the lights staring at her bald snatch, covered in the proof of her excitement. Her shame turned her skin a bright pink as the thought of her old teachers at the catholic school calling her every humiliating name under the sun echoed in her memories. “The chairs are open for all” Master called out not looking at the crowd, instead looking at his female pet squirming in the chair. The heat of the public exposure radiating off her entire body. He pulled off a glove and ran his nails across her exposed skin. He trailed from just above her soaked mound all the up to her neck where he locked a metal shackle around her collared throat. “So beautiful and so ready for me,” he whispered in her ear. “My trained plaything ready for my touch, my torments, my tenderness.” He continued, as he added an elastic strap with attached padding into place effectively wedging her head to look straight ahead. He watched the moment of panic as she pushed against the thick foam, before leaning down to gently kiss her forehead and stroke the back of his bare hand on her cheek. “My pet piggy ready to be pleasured” he grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief watching as her eyes grow wider and glassy as all the twisted and deplorable thoughts swam around her head. Master turned his head to get the nod from trusted Doms who had set up their own subs in the other chairs that all was safe. With a spin on his heels, he turned around to face the audience. “Now, all my newest designs are set up and their not-so-willing victims are ready for the game.” The dynamic host paused, spotting Kitten standing close. Reaching out he grabbed the girl by the ponytail from the top of her latex hood dragging her to the front of the crowd, signalling for her to stretch out her arms and resting the large laptop on her forearms. “Be a good PC stand, girl” he growled before addressing the crowd. “Believe it or not, this… thing is the wife to the piss pot of a sissy we have left in his tube”. Some of the audience members gasped, others giggled. “This is how this works.” Master continued. “These chairs have lots of contraptions, toys and various other devices to give our lovely subs and slaves a great time, or a very bad time. But in honour of the slave wife's service and obedience for over three hundred and fifty days since she was last allowed to orgasm! Tonight, there will be a competition.” The crowd started to hum in excitement as several dominants were whispering their desire to win as the prizes at these parties were legendary. From custom outfits costing thousands, to rare expertly made whips, too even getting access to the top floor of the church itself. While the crowd took in the surprise, Master clicked some commands on the laptop and the vat rumbled to life. With a roar of approval, the lights in the pit came to life and illuminated the unaware sissy as all the pipes started to fill very quickly with the golden nectar. “To win the top prizes all you need to do is simply get as many orgasms as you can from your subby toy as possible. I can feel the glares from those with chaste partners. Fear not, you can simply find and challenge another pairing with a chaste partner, and we have another prize for the longest to resist.” The crowd started clapping and shouting so loud Master had to bang his cane on the floor several times to regain order. “Here is the best part. Hitting the foot pedal beside each chair after every orgasm has been achieved, the piss princess receives a special prize.....” Danger! The sissy blinked hard against the harsh lights that had suddenly come back on. He could hear a commotion above, but could only see the dark grey of the tube… and none of the sounds made sense. A new sound was getting louder and the faint sound of the crowd grew and grew. Just as the realisation of what the sound was, a torrent of stale, cold piss hit sissy like a truck. There was so much, and the torrent so violent, that the sissy froze, almost unable to breathe as more and more cascaded down. Up on the stage the pansy’s wife screamed out, her lungs burning from the electric wand stimulating her poor and abused clit. Above her head she could see the poor poof in the tube and the look of worry broke her heart. She had tried to hold out as the wand electrified her pussy as the thick rod stretched her pussy wide. Still her body betrayed her the dirty word of Master in her ear as he twisted her nipple and she convulsed as the first orgasm in nearly a year exploded from her. The warm glow from the release of countless fucking's, hours of edging so close, the ache of denial and just the daily teasing and humiliation that made her mound so wet when had taken to carrying several spare knickers to work. The thought of that joyous moment as her body tensed up ready for Master to pull away and leave her dry. Then the whisper she waited a year for and the hill crested as Master pushed hard and she nearly blacked out. As the wash of bliss finally drifted away and Naïve became much more aware of what was going on around her. The screams and moans of her fellow slaves were followed by cries of joy from dominant voices. On the screen she could see her sissy boi of a hubby being drenched by a large bucket’s worth of piss. Naïve was torn. On the one hand, she knew that in future the pansy would be rubbing his huge teddy’s massive rubber dick thinking of this moment for years to come. On the other, she knew the humiliation and feeling of degradation of Master turning a fetish up to a hundred or adding a twist to add something you never thought about, and how it can feel all too much at the time. As memories from the decade of servitude flooded her mind, she failed to notice Master’s return. In the tube, the sissy slumped broken again. The pool of pee had now grown up to his waist. The pretty skirt of his dress now floating in a perfect circle out from his body. His diaper was now completely drenched and expanded so much his scrawny legs were forced out at awkward angles that had started to get uncomfortable. and difficult for the sissy to stand. Every time he heard that whooshing noise from the garden hose, it would make some masochistic part of his brain forced him to raise his own face to take the first seconds of the blast full in the face until he couldn’t hold out any longer and would move to breathe. Once it stopped his head would drop. Tears formed in his eyes, yet his bump was trying to get harder than it had ever been within its cage. His not actually hard sissy flesh pushed into the metal bars of its cage, making sissy acutely aware how pathetic he was, only making his feeling of humiliation worse, which only made his arousal greater. Then the whooshing would return and he would raise his head again. Crowd Interaction Master was impressed with Naïve’s resolve. He has expected the woman to have given into her desires more. With the vat now half empty. He only managed to extract four orgasms from the slave girl. Glancing up he could see he currently ranked fifth on the leaderboard imposed over the video showing his pathetic sissy bitch piss bath was barely up to his arm pits as he did a telltale twitch. “Here you are holding out for that worthless little faggot. While he is right now leaking that watery sissy juice into a diaper.” Master taunted the bound woman as four fingers made slapping sounds against her raw pussy. “Mhmmm,” was all the slave could muster. Her body was covered with a sheen of sweat as her body convulsed from the fingering. “I am going to force my entire fist in your pussy and if you don’t cum, I think I will put you in the tube too!!!” Master promised. With a wet plop his thumb forced its way inside her puss. “”Ughhhh” she responded. Her breathing getting rapid as she felt Masters large hand thrust up and down deep inside her as it grinded on her special spot. Her brain was so gone she could only babble nonsense as her exhausted body surrendered to the overstimulation and let out a groan as her body twitched randomly as a fifth orgasm rippled through her body. Master stepped on the peddle and watched the screen to see another torrent of pee wash down on the sissy face, making Master grin. As he turned his attention back to his fem sub, he noticed Lady Ash. The well known local evil lesbian dominatrix. Her trademark blood-red hair showed her Irish ancestry and fiery temperament. She marched on stage, dragging her sub to the whipping frame. You could see her anger as the red head shouted at how disappointed she was with the slave's performance. As the domme locked the poor girl into the manacles and cranked the begging sub body into a taut spread eagle. Master caught the eye with a friend of Ash and gave a head nod towards the women thrashing the girl. “I told you not to let me down” she screeched “You’re dead last in the number of orgasms.” Master slowed his fist fucking as he watched the Domme continued to admonish her sub, her whip now dangling from her hand. The slave girl hung limply in her bonds. Multiple angry red welts visible against the girl's pure white skin. He picked up the powerful vibrator from its hook and held it against his subs inflamed clit. Ash’s friend approached her. Gently taking the whip and calmly talked to her. The Irish beauty’s temper seemed to go away. She hugged and unlocked her slave. Master continued to watch as he gently teased the still blubbering Naive, feeling he could get another orgasm from her as the painfully looking pussy sucked his arm deep inside her! Distracted for a moment he looked up and could only laugh as Ash was locking the feeding gag to her unfortunate slave, who was already locked to the short kneeling post. He could see half a dozen were now attached as his minions kept having to change out hoses to allow the growing number of people forced to watch the tank of liquid as the clear hose filled with its tasty treat. A guttural groan brought his attention back as he could feel the girl staining her body to get any movement on his embedded arm. He used a finger to flick her swollen bean and fucked her hard as the girl wriggled in pain. Master continued this pattern over and over. He could feel the heat from her mount grow hotter and hotter as the broken women quivered as the waves of pleasure and pain started to overlap and meld into every nerve ending fizzing with energy. With practiced precision he continued to repeat the fucking and flicks quicker and quicker. Building her up to the point she was like the last car on a roller coaster. You're sitting far enough back that as the front car stared down at the drop you were still the other side unable to see what was to come. After a last flick she pushed the small bullet vibrator on max and held it to her battered clit as she used his entire body to smash in and out of her pussy. The squelching of his hand slamming in and out filled his ears as Master continued. He could hear his sub start to take short gasps of air as her body suddenly froze as spasms of pleasure crackled through her body. The lurch of the coaster cart suddenly being violently yanked over the crest of the hill and then a plunge into free fall. Master stood up and wiped his arm clean, stepped on the foot pedal to signal another orgasm had been reached, then quickly freed the girl. With the aid of a minion, he carried her limp body to his throne where he held the girl tight. Stroking her head. Allowing her to return from the intense experience. As he cared for the slave girl he watched in bemused fascination as a new slave was secured to his crazy idea. One male sub has his little dicklett in the vacuum pump. The machine worked up and down the man's unimpressive member over and over as the slave shook his head, gritting his teeth as his poor balls had been already milked dry. A pair of Dominatrixes were happily pointing and laughing at his efforts. Another guy was using the collection implements teasing his slave’s skin with the silk, satin and fur coverings, as his pinwheel ran over her tender areas. As the wheel made its way the girl shuddered and writhed as her senses overloaded as the heavy leather hood took away her sight and sound. In a pair of his Frankenstein chairs a challenge was on. Two Dommes lubed up the horse-sized strapons‘ hanging from the massive harness to support the dong's huge length and girth. A minion dropped his arm and Dommes actually took a huge stride forward to impale the defenseless ass pussies in front of them. As the ladies impressively kept an incredible pace as one fucked the ass of a pretty and tiny sissy, as the other ploughed a large Thor-looking sub. Behind the chairs he noticed a pretty blonde strapped to a cross. The girl’s moans were getting louder as her Dom beat his pretty sub. With no warning the Dom yanked his leather shorts down and began to plow his impressive cock into her dripping pussy. The large screen flashed as the leaderboard updated and the sissy took another dunking. The chaste leaderboard showing a mistress he didn’t know. But they had won many battles as she had double digit wins and five point lead on anyone else. A small cheer went up as another sub gave up and orgasmed as the powder puff got another golden shower. “Did I do good?” Naïve asked. Her voice low and respectful as she felt her body return to normal snuggled in her Masters arm’s. “You were fantastic, I hope you enjoyed.” Master replied, his usual bite in his voice gone as he gently stroked her naked form. “Your slave pig is tender but happy, Master!” “Sound time for Mrs Piggy girl to earn her next orgasm,” he whispered. His voice making her shiver in anticipation “I look forward to it.” she purred in reply. Grinning, Master grabbed his bag of implements before taking the slave by her collar and led her back on stage. Walking past the human laptop stand he took one of Kitten’s pigtails in hand and marched the pair to the raised platform. Ordering the now kneeling Kitten to warn him if the sissy were to drown! Pulling his leather gloves tight, Master took Naïve's right arm and pulled it up to the manacle set up in the centre of the frame. At a little over five foot three the small slave girl had to stretch her body up to her max height, feeling the weight of the steel as it closed shut. The sound from the lock closing sent a warm feeling to her abused pussy. The second lock left her body straining as arms pulled up high. Bending down he forced a pair of ballet boots on the slave's feet. The immovable metal plate in the boots forced her to point her toes down into a position a ballerina at the royal society would be impressed with. The huge heel added some support as she gripped the manacle chains in a death grip to keep her balance. “Oh, thank you Master” she breathed happily, as her arms were pulled higher and the boots were placed into groves on the platform. She was so happy the supports kept the boots on the floor without flailing around, she didn’t stop to think about the odd setup. Leaning down the evil sadist entered a code into the laptop activating a program. He rose from his crouch and firmly grabbed the slave girl's neck. At first, she tensed up before melting against him as he circled his fingers three times to signal it was him. He scraped his fingers down the soft skin of her back and grabbed her big fat ass cheeks. “My piggy looks good when covered with my marks,” he whispered in her ear, before biting down on neck four times leaving a trail of marks down her neck and collar bone. “Please Master. I need a whipping for begging like my loser husband,” she whimpered, feeling herself wilt under his touch. I have a new game my good little piggy.” Master started, the softness now gone from this voice. Just the pure confidence and control that made her wet on the spot remained. “If your boots leave those little grooves your poor little poofter of a hubby will have a shower. The longer you keep your boots still however!” Master hit a switch in his pocket and the boots let off a shock into the soles of the hanging meat. With a yelp of shock, she yanked her feet up, leaving her hanging from the chain. She could hear a huge whoosh as the pump let forth a torrent of cold piss into the tube. She could see in high definition as her hubby looked up and the pee rained down. Seeing it not stopping she quickly wriggled her boots back into place. Selecting a pair of her heavy floggers and with a quick stretch of his back muscles. Master started whirling the floggers around fanning the multiple thick tongs of leather before they smacked down with a wonderful thud against Naïve's bare skin. As he moved, Naïve would rise up on her tiptoes releasing more and more piss into her sissy husband. After each blow Master would glance to the screen then back to his slave as his floggers rained down in a rhythmical beat. He watched with glee as each short sharp burst of pee would spurt out right into the degraded sissy face. Adjusting his stance, Master moved closer to Naïve, taking a crop from the pile of toys. With a flourish, he rained down blows as he, in turn, played with the slave’s dripping cunt. The faster he whipped, the more he finger fucked. The slave raised all the way up to the points of her toes as her body thrashed, from the mix of the crop and the stimulation of her throbbing sex. As Master tormented her, feeling her body on the edge, he watched the screen as the tube was now getting very full and the sissy’s face had turned to fear. The sissy was starting to panic before the large eruptions of golden liquid now turned to a constant stream quickly filling up his glass prison. In his mind, he knew even a lowly sissy like him wouldn’t be completely ignored… Master would surely not let him come to harm, right? Still, the pee was coming in alarmingly swiftly, now reaching up to his chin. “My friends, my friends.” Master said yelling from the platform. “Look at my useless sissy baby.” The crowd cheered seeing the sissy no longer slumped down but having to drink the old stored pee he was made to swim in. The thick curtains opened and the crowd yelled and shouted abuse louder, which the sissy could now hear. The sissy visibly turned red hearing the chants to “DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!.” As he slurped up more and more pee. Inside the tube the sissy could hear the chants urging him on to drink, but also the cruel shouts of “fucktard,” “ass licker” and then “wussy piss-drinking fairy-boi faggot” suddenly came through loudly, hurting most. Still, he couldn’t stop lapping up the pee to “save” his worthless hide. Finally, it seemed, the torrents of stale pee stopped coming in, and the sissy drank just a little bit more to allow him to be able to get the pee down to a level where he could breathe. No sooner had the sissy brought the pee down below his mouth so that he could breathe more easily did he hear the booming voice of his Master. “Hey cream puff,” Master called from on top of the throne. The sissy starred up, straining as much as he could to be away from the pee while looking up, whimpering in embarrassment. Another sissy, dressed in an outfit almost as ridiculous as the one sissy baby Lottie was wearing earlier was spun around and forced to sit down. The newest to use the throne wasn’t wearing panties. Only a micro cage, smaller than Lottie’s own cage, with a huge baby blue ribbon adorning the top. “This has to be the most ridiculous panty waist effeminate prissy cuck I've seen. It makes you look positively ‘hunk of the year’ with his girly figure and cock sucking lips. But, even this waste of a Y-chromosome wouldn’t be seen dead in a pool of week-old piss and lap it up for others to record.” With that, the new sissy’s ribboned clit began peeing on que, covering the Master’s sissy baby with a tiny stream of weak pee. Still, sissy baby Lottie opened wide, drinking the sweet boi-juice as he suddenly quivered from the huge sissygasm that this new level of humiliation brought on. Hung Out to Dry Time ticked slowly by for the poor sissy. The lights inside his personal pit of shame had been turned off, leaving him only able to see from the residual light coming from above. Sissy was cold, wet, and quite literally stinking of piss. Now and then the dim light from above would darken followed by a fresh stream of pee being added. The sissy, dutifully, opened wide to drink as much as possible. Master had noticed the odorous smell getting rather bad. The cart had been removed, although the sissy's wife and several other slaves remained bound in various devices on the stage. Each showing the results of the night’s debauchery all over their satisfied bodies. Then, the sound of sissy squeals attracted a few braver souls to watch as Numnutts showed off his strength by finally fishing the squealing, soaking sissy out of his pit, before unceremoniously dragging the disgraced former man out the back of the former church with the cries of “Fag”, “Sissy” and “Poof” ringing in his ears. Master followed the pair outside directing the larger man to take the sissy out to the flagpole. To the sissy’s further distress, he could see yet another new and rather odd contraption hanging from the pole. “Please, Master. I will do anything. Please, no.” The sissy babbled fearful of whatever evil idea his Master had in mind. “Do shut up, you fairy. You know as well as I do that you will do anything I say, and your twisted gurly-boi brain will love it. Now, Numnutts, give the thing a good rinse with the hose, it smells like a urinal after a rugby club’s new year's party.” Numnutts merely nodded and walked off to get the hose. The sissy dropped to his knees crawling in the dewy grass towards his owner, before bending forward and started to lick the superior man's boots. The warm evening air filled with Masters hearty laugh, over the pathetic sound of a lapping tongue on leather. “I don’t know why I always think the next humiliation or degrading act I do will be the one that makes you stand up and say no. But you take it all like a lowly bitch. I use your wife as my toy and I think 'this will be time.’ But no, you willingly help me no matter how perverted or painful the act. Now you are licking my boots, like the broken runt of the litter. A man would walk off. A real man might try and hit me for all I have done. But you, and that slag of a wife, take it all. And, to top it all off, the nicer I am the more you hate it.” Master roared with laughter again as the sissy blushed redder than a fire engine. Even so, the sissy did not stop shining the boots until Numnutts returned with the hose. “Good man. To prove to sissy baby Lottie what a waste of a Y-chromosome he is, stand him next to the pole.” None too kindly, the man grabbed the shivering sissy and frog marched him to the pole with a huge slab of a hand holding the back of his neck. “Now sissy baby Lottie, the faggyest fairy in town, put your arms up and spread your legs nice and wide.” With a tear of shame in his eye, the sissy followed the order, staring straight at the floor while the hose started to stiffen as the water rushed down the inside of the long, green tube. The sissy flinched as the icy water rained down over him. His jaw clenched in concentration as he willed his arms and legs not to move as Master’s ‘muscle’ attached what looked like something you use to clean a car with on the hose nozzle, and with a huge grin stepped forward. Scrubber The sissy looked down at a spot beneath him as he had been trained to do. He concentrated hard to ignore looking to see what Master and his minions were laughing about. Instead concentrating on the spot on the ground as the training had been left burnt into the sissy’s brain. The history of experience: from hours of standing next to his wife, when they were both in humiliating outfits that still left their naughty parts exposed to anyone who glimpsed into the front window of their house. For six, long hours the pair had been made to stand and forced to stare at the camera on the floor. The clever software was set up to track their eye movements. Even blinking too long would trigger the electric shocks from the fist-sized and shaped plugs that had been crammed into their asses. That day had been difficult, but it still contained one of sissy’s favourite memories: following that training, kneeling at Master's feet, sissy was able to do nothing but stare at his owner's boots, he had spent an hour polishing to an army level of shine, showing he had learnt the lesson. The reward of not only praise and pets, but a hot slice of Master’s pizza each, for both not activating the shocks for the last of those six hours was still a treasured memory. The happy thought was interrupted with the feeling of the stinking sissy dress being peeled from his hairless chest. Then, a coarse brush was scrubbed over his feminine chest. The sissy whimpered, not daring to look away from the spot even as it was blocked by the large boots and bare legs of his tormentor. Each swipe from the brush brought a new higher pitched wail from the sissy as Numnutts deliberately would make sure to somehow scrub around every sensitive area. Leaving it for last, but still manages to constantly catch and swipe his puffy and sore nipples as well as the tender flesh between his legs. The man continued, with the sissy having to bite down hard on his lip in order to not scream out, and every muscle in the sissy’s neck tensed so hard it was as if they would pop out of his skin trying to keep his head bowed in submission. Still, the scraping between his inner thighs felt like Numnutts’s was removing layers of skin with each violent and grinding stroke of the brush. With an annoyed grunt, Numnuttss smacked the sissy’s burning flesh to spread his legs wider. Quaking with fear, the sissy had to will his legs to obey and slightly crouch to give unprotected access to his worthless sissy bump and tender areas of his crotch. The large guy grunted, again, an evil smile lighting up over his face. The sissy couldn’t help but screw his eyes up as the brush was placed against his sissy parts. Then, like the end of a hyped movie, the brush moved across the skin delicately, even lovingly. The bristles weren't pleasant but, after the abuse they had delivered to the rest of his body, it was like a massage. Though, as soon as the sissy visibly relaxed, the horny man struck. One meaty hand grabbed hold of the sissy’s hair while he angrily brushed the sissy’s withered egg sacs fast and hard. The poor sissy screamed out in pain, his legs buckling under him leaving him hanging painfully by the hair in Numnutts’s iron drip. “Hey, twat bag!” Master shouted out. “If you damage my sissy, rather than it bent over for your cock, it will be enjoying your tongue instead.” The sissy’s Owner strode over to check on the weeping sissy now crumpled in the sodden dirt. Numnuttss bowed in deference trying to help the poor creature up. “You dumb oaf.” Master spoke coldly as he cuffed the large man around the ear. “Go get the washing line! Seems the pair of you can't even manage simple things without screwing up.” Master squatted down and gently checked the sissy over. “You’ll live” Master decreed. “Now get up and into position MY SISSY.” Master said giving the contrite Numnuttss a death stare as the sissy gingerly stood back up. “Good gurl sissybaby Lottie.” Master said gently rubbing the sissy’s back. “Now, kiss the brush!” The sissy quickly lent forward to kiss the instrument of his previous torture before looking at Master. “Were you ever a man, baby dick?” “No, Master. I was born a weak-willed failure to serve a powerful man like you.” “Suck it up” Master sneered as he took the brush and finished cleaning the sissy himself. What A View After a thorough scrubbing by Master, sissy baby Lottie was still left a sobbing mess. While taking much more care than the brutish Numnutts. Master’s use of the stiff bristles still scrubbed every single millimetre of skin. The sissy’s hairless and moisturised body now glowed a healthy pink in all but a few places, where the heavy-handed brute’s efforts had left angry, red blotches. “Daylight is a wasting.” Master said, pulling the sissy from the muddy puddle he was standing in. To the amusement of some of the minions who had joined them outside, the sissy was spun this way and that. The stinky dress pulled back over his head before being made to bend and arch to show off his sissy body more as Master pretended to check his property for damage. The sissy felt Master deliberately kept him bent over, holding his ass cheeks wide for what felt like an age sapping the little dignity he had left. With a huge slap to the sissy's ass Master growled “Keep that ass spread wide.”, then grabbing the sissy’s ear before leading him to the flag pole while the sissy kept his butt cheeks held wide. “Turn round and stand straight, fag. arms up.” Master demanded The sissy obeyed, part of him glad his arse was given some rest from being held so wide open. The sissy did nothing as he felt Master pulling thick straps around his chest and waist. Then, painfully, Master pulled another thick strap under his crotch, crushing his poor sissy eggs while forcing his thighs apart. As Master pulled and secured his wrists to something beside the sissy’s head, a hidden figure fitted spreader bars between his knees and ankles to hold them open. With a final pair of straps over his shoulder, attaching to the chest strap, Master gave each strap a final tug to ensure the sissy was snug. Each strap now really pressing and cinching him tightly in the harness. “Raise the pissy puff ball” Master ordered. The sounds of grunts filled the air, then the sissy felt his arms raise. Suddenly, the humiliation kicked in. Whatever raised him, yanked him off the ground, only for him to bounce. Just like the kinky baby he longed to be. The air got cooler and the village came into view as he was hoisted higher. A pathetic bouncing sissy baby for all to see if they just looked up. All he could do was gently bounce up and down feeling the tears sting his eyes as his aching balls swelled in the tight confines and dripped more sissy juice. Cucked again As the sissy gently bobbed up and down in the adult bouncer as two minions hoisted him high, the remaining of Master’s minions filled out onto the patio joining the few personal friends invited to stay behind to enjoy the debauchery. The air was soon full of laughter as they saw the fairy ascend to his perch, his body going tomato red in humiliation. The small crowd watched as the sissy baby reached the apex, his squeals from the harness constantly crushing his egg sack on each bounce growing fainter as he rose higher. They quickly grew bored and soon two guys and a girl were tied to the trellis as a Master and Mistress couple thrashed theirbuttocks and backs. Another group had pulled out puppy gear and were happily running around the grass, and explored the gardens, while a huge body builder type “dog” chased and conquered his puppy prey. As the puppies ran around, a cat-girl and cat-boi nuzzled together on a patio table as one minion was busy placing another minion in pony gear. The final, smaller, group were surrounding a cute trans girl suspended from the thick gazebo support beams. The talented Mistress teasing her toy as she discussed finer points of technique with a Master, While he was tying other minions to various parts of the ancient wood structure. Finally, from high up and through the pain of his bouncing, the sissy saw his wife. She was kneeling at Master’s feet, her body slightly slumped against Master’s leg, as the man petted her like one might a demanding pet. A bright pink straight jacket was binding her arms in place. But the chest panels were removed, allowing her large breasts free. The glint of the early-evening sun showed two sets of nipple clamps and he could just make out the weights hanging and pulling her udders down. The constant bouncing made it hard to focus, but he could make out some marks on her bare thighs. The sissy could just about make out that she had that spacy, high look she had when in her happy space. The sissy watched Master chatting to a lady dressed more like a demon than that of a traditional Domme. Though, the sissy baby Lottie was more interested in the sissy kneeling at the Domme’s feet dressed in a bright pink maid’s dress, with so many petticoats the bottom of the sissy’s delectable bum was visible even from bouncing high above. As the pair of betters spoke, a minion was summoned and quickly grabbed a few friends. The first to return carried a bucket of ice with a bottle of something expensive as she skillfully juggled several glasses. Behind them, minions carried a bench and two of the see-through “fuck tables”. Lottie was well-acquainted with those fuck tables, having spent many hours inside the mean device over the years. The “fuck table” was simple. The top was removable, allowing an occupant to be placed inside. Their mouth would be stretched around a rubber ring-gag also attached to the table side. The ring was designed to stretch to accommodate anything that was pushed through and thick enough to stop any teeth catching on flesh. The “occupant’s” thighs were then strapped to a ratchet device and their ankles attached to the built-in manacles on the table's legs to stop involuntary kicking. Then the occupant is simply lined up with the rear opening with the top then locked back into place. This leaves the sub tightly secured and, thanks to the box being made from a thick clear glass, easily on display. Plus, there are the added benefits of being a usable table and with nothing more than a simple click of the ratchets the sub is open and available for sexual use. With a squawk of protest, the sissy was easily manipulated into the first box with just a pause for the pretty silk knickers to be removed. The poor boy’s face was barely visible with the rubber tube firmly between his teeth and the frills of his dress and petticoat being stuffed in around him. Shapely feminine legs encased in fine silk stockings were locked in place leaving the sissy helpless to his fate. He would only be able to feebly knock on the glass as his garbled begging was muted very quickly as a man slid his large cock into the front hole while his Mistress placed her glass and bucket of sparkling wine on top to continue her conversation with his own Master. As the Dominatrix continued her talk about best way to fuck with a sissy, Master was fitting Lottie’s submissive wife into the other “table”. The slave girl had eagerly opened her mouth and deliberately wriggled to the point of mushing her face into the glass wall to take as much of the rubber tube into her mouth as possible. As she wriggled forward, she never broke eye contact. “One trained fuck hole.” The Mistress said, seeing the pure devotion on the slave's face. “She’s a nasty little fuck whore. Though, with the maggot-dicked sissy in his adorable baby night dress sharing her ‘bed’, it's no wonder a nasty cum-dump this one became for some real men cock!” Master exclaimed as the curvy slave-girl moaned loud enough for the sissy, from his high perch, to be able to hear and his ears burnt in shame. Before Master secured the married woman’s thick thighs into the awaiting restraints, he paused, then he started to pinch the bound woman’s clit. Master continued to pinch and flick the subby’s defenseless bean, his gloved hand gently started to slap the moaning subby’s bare lips already slick with her excitement. Master continued to slap, steadily increasing the force until the moans slowly turned to muffled groans of a sub in a heady mix of pleasure and pain, muffled by the tube in her mouth. With each slap, Master watched the pussy lips grow puffier as the pinkness turned red. Happy with his work, Master stopped the slaps and pinching. With a wet 'plop', he forced a metal, egg-shaped vibration unit in, allowing the water-proof cable attached to the unit to hang free. Master attached a small control panel, adjusting the setting on the simple turn knob from ‘high’ to ‘low’, checking it is working before leaving it on a low, continuous hum. In the box, Naïve’s mind was swimming in emotions but found each was hard to concentrate on. The feeling of tightness from the jacket immobilising her arms, to the glass box restricting her further. The taste of the rubber ring stretching her jaw had the sterile taste of cleaning wipes and her own drool starting to form around it. The egg in her love canal was worse than the throbbing waves of pain from her pussy. It was far too tame to do more than just make her frustrated and needing cock. Her thought stopped as she felt cold steel against her now-puffy lips. The gag forced her to look up and forward, but just the touch from the rigid surgical steel brought the memory of the times Master had shown her pussy in the mirror. The pain from the bands of steel digging into her poor tender labia. In the mirror, they had turned a dark crimson and even the faintest touch sent sparks of pain up to her brain then straight to her clit, making her crazily excited. Master was, again, gently rubbing her lips, agonisingly tightening to a quarter of a turn too much for her to take. She took long, deep breaths willing her legs wider, not wishing to add a pussy whipping like what happened the first time he touched and her legs slammed shut. By now she had learnt to spread wider forcing her pussy towards him. She gargled a cry of thanks as, this time, he didn’t wait and tease more as he tightened the outer screws until the inner clamps met. Leaving her poor pussy lips caught with the now ultra-sensitive ends touching together. The jolts of pain from the two lips rubbing against each other turned to a greater yearning to be fucked hard. It was a burning desire. She could feel the straps locking her legs together and she started to mew. Everything felt connected and spacey as every button seemed to be pushed, yet sweet release to enter her even greater highs was needed. The laughter around her rang in her ears making her face burn in shame, yet she still wriggled and strained in her bonds as she offered her available holes for use. With both occupants of the fuck tables secured and open, the remaining minions went to town. The sissy was immediately about to be spit roasted from either end. A guy from behind pulled a butt plug the size of a fist out of the sissy’s peachy ass cheeks. The guy paused for a moment in wonder at the size of the plug before tossing it aside and shoving his Coke can sized dick inside the captive fairy. As Master and the captive fairy's Mistress shared tales of humiliating and degrading their sissy toys. Another minion stopped thrusting and pushed his nine-inch monster deep into the bound “man’s” tight throat. The minion convulsed as a month’s worth of built-up tension was released with a giant moan of satisfaction. “Miss Marsha. This is one super tight bitch.” “She has her uses for sure.” the Mistress laughed. “Be a dear and place a bucket under my husband. While he knows he must not spill, the dumb air-head does go a little cock crazy and can forget to drink his reward.” The minion took his dick out of the sissy, bowed his head, and fetched a glass bowl. Upon returning, he had to manoeuvre around an impatient minion who had taken his place and was enjoying the sissy's long and talented tongue lapping on her pussy. As the table sissy was being thoroughly used beside her, Naïve was already shaking as she tried not to orgasm as permission had not been given. Ignoring the slave's turmoil, a well-endowed Dom was slamming his long cock deep into her mouth. The slave worked her tongue around the head before it was pistoned back in hard and deep. At the other end, a petite minion was destroying her ass with an obscene horse cock-shaped strap-on. The thing was close to fourteen inches long and looked even longer on her tiny frame. “I'm going to screw you so hard you’ll be walking bow legged for a week. Then my huge cock will be going down the sissy’s throat before I fuck him ten ways from Sunday too.” the minion hollered, slapping the ass of the helpless wifey. “I think that will make my sissy jealous!” Master roared with laughter as the minions slammed their love meat home over and over bringing Naïve to a bone-shattering orgasm. “I think the poor thing had another orgasm so soon.” the Mistress laughed. “I don’t remember it asking for permission. Do you Marsha?” Master asked the giggling Domme. “I don’t think the poor thing is capable of articulating the day of the week. Still rules are rules.” She replied. “I don’t think wifey had a chance to taste your marvellous whips?” Master pointed out to Marsha. “Very true.” Mistress Marsha replied, “I would gladly remind the slave of its place and to teach it not to embarrass a fine gentleman such as yourself.” Inside the box Naïve had come back to Earth from the toe-curling orgasm and listened in terror as the sadistic pair discussed ideas of what could be done for penance for her shameful disobedience. Still, the talk of whips and welts made her head swim with delicious thoughts of her poor body being flayed and bruised. As a new cock pressed against her rosebud, she groaned in excitement. Her body buzzing with exhilaration as a thick penis split her open, as she drooled uncontrollably while a pretty blonde waggled a huge slick fake dick in front of her face. Solid Ground For hours, the sissy endured the constant bouncing. Each bounce crushed his tiny sissy sac inside the thick leather crotch strap. Each bounce he stared down watching a seemingly endless stream of people using his wife’s ass and mouth. Each bounce, if he looked up, he could see the gawking faces of people not quite sure what they glimpsed from above the old church roof. Each bounce being able to hear his Master’s degrading comments clearer. Each bounce the now-cold evening breeze chilling him in his pathetic sissy outfit. Then, a sudden lurch as the bouncing device was slowly lowered. As he reached the floor, the chimes of the newer bells from the town hall rang out for eight pm. The sissy stood and offered no resistance to the minions. The masked figures swiftly removed the harness and freeing him from the evil bouncer and handing him a pair of frilly undies. He looked around seeing the results of the Tops invited to the private after party. He focused on his wife, now drenched in sweat from the serious fucking destruction she endured. The air was thick with the musk of the drying cum coating her legs leading up to the shiny base of a butt plug between her bruised ass cheeks. He knew how tired and hot she must be from the multiple times he had been locked inside. Your jaw ached from the hard rubber holding you wide. Your face was sticky from the drool constantly pooling around your chin as all you can taste is the mix of plastic and lots and lots of cum. The sissy wanted to run to her and release her. Hug her and make sure she is ok. But the thought of Master’s look of anger, annoyance or, weirdly worse, of disappointment was enough for any thoughts of chivalry to quickly flee away as he felt his cheeks turn pink as he wet his new pink girly panties. “For fuck's sake, you worthless waste of skin.” Master said. His fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in disdain and exasperation from owning such a feeble thing. “Pissed yourself again. I can tell by the gormless and vacant look on your face. I was going to let you rest and have your wife ride my new toy. But you have shown, yet again, how even in the simple task of standing still you can’t help but show what an impotent and inept ‘man’ you really are.” Master turned on heel barking at two minions playing with another sub to bring the sissies and slaves. He offered his arm to the delectable Mistress Marsha. “Always the gentleman.” she laughed in reply and the pair walked back into the church arm in arm. Clean Up on Aisle A.. Inside the church, more guests continued their play as a thumping music track played from the hidden speakers. The two sissies were dragged by a female minion gripping their upper arms tightly. The pair remained silent keeping their eyes down in submission, having to concentrate not to stumble in their sissy heels. “Strap the sissy to the side facing the wall.” Master demanded before continuing to whisper to his friend. “Sorry Sir” the minion stammered, “They are both sissies?” “I am obviously talking about the useless one.” “Errrr” the minion started but the hard look from both Tops shut her up. Pausing for a second of indecision she forced the sissy maid to his knees and shoved the sissy baby to the rack. The device seemed to be a simple frame of iron bars in a grid. The sissy baby rested his back against the bars. As the minion pulled the first leather strap tight just under his armpits, he couldn’t help but to swell in his cage. As more straps were added around his chest, tummy, and above his hips, he started to whimper as his little peepee was getting so excited it was pushing hard against the steel. The minion worked fast, adding straps around the sissy’s wrists and more above and below each elbow before adding another around the sissy’s upper arms, tightening both a notch too tight. She ignored the whimpering pansy as she knelt. As she was about to start immobilising the legs, she noticed the sissy gyrating. She peaked under the short skirt seeing the swollen and red bump through the wet knickers. The Minion peered around the sissy seeing Master was chatting away. She took a moment to pull the sissy's wet panties to the side. The excited ‘manhood’ was so small she felt a pang of sorrow for the wife currently laying at Master’s feet, if this is what she had had at home. She ran her fingertips over the sensitive flesh pushing between the iron bars of the chastity cage. The sissy meowed in excitement from the soft fingers on his painful bump. As she moved her hand the sissy strained against the thick leather strap. He then had to hold his breath so as to not make a sound that would let on to the fact that he gained erotic sensations from his neglected failed manhood. “This is for interrupting my fun” the minion hissed, yanking down hard on the cage before pushing it between the sissy’s legs. The sissy bit down on his tongue to stop the howl of pain as his little thing was pushed back between his legs like the most extreme of drag act tucks. The minion forced the sissy’s thighs together, trapping his locked sissy bump. She quickly strapped them together, forcing the leather so tight it dug into the skin. After adding more straps around the sissy’s ankles and knees leaving him totally immobile, the minion bowed before the Master “Sir, I have finished with the straps. What else may I do to assist you, Sir?” “Very good, girl. You can go have fun. I will finish up.” Master stood back to allow the young help to dash back to her own fun. Sissy was in more discomfort than when in the bouncer. His bump was now an awful ache as his bonds refused to yield to his feeble attempts to free his sissy wiener. “Stop fidgeting, fairy boi” Master said with a loud slap to his face. “If you were any kind of man, you would have put up a fight all those years ago. So just stay still and be a good bitch.” Worried he had shown his Lord and Master up, the sissy willed himself as still as he could. Master ignored the sissy and slipped a padded object behind the useless sissy’s head. “It's a modified head restraint they use in car crash tests.” Master explained to the Mistress who had come over for a closer look. “How clever” she replied, seeing how the lower half was pushed over the shoulder and fastened tight around the sissy’s neck forcing him to look straight ahead. The top half was strapped over the forehead and under the chin, locking the sissy’s head in place such that the device held the sissy’s head perfectly still. To finish it off, the sissy’s nose was held shut with nose pegs. The sissy remembered seeing swimmers on the tv use such pegs. “Grab your sissy maid for the next part, if you would.” Master said to Marsha Master took a piece of metal that looked like a stool, but with the seat sloped down to the floor from the rack. He locked it in such a way that it connected to the bar protruding from the metal frame. The Mistress grabbed the worried gurl via her attached lead and directed the maid to stand ready behind the rack. “She needs to sit down?” Marsha enquired. “One moment” Master replied, pressing a button. For sissy Lottie, he struggled to hear what was going on with the padding gripping his head making it hard to hear. Then, everything twisted as if a chair fell backwards. He closed his eyes in terror as he lurched backwards. The clang of metal against metal would have certainly made him pee in fright if his poor bump wasn’t being crushed between his thighs. He could hear voices and opened his eyes as he heard a popping sound, only to see the frills of a petticoat lower towards him. A second to late it dawned on the sissy what his fate was, as the feminised maid sat on his face. The sissy froze in place, very overwhelmed with everything he was experiencing. There was still discomfort from the overly tight straps and ache in his sissy eggs being pulled so tight between his clamped thighs. The layers of petticoat along with the heavy satin of the sub’s poofy dress made it all but black and made the air stuffy and filled with a strong odour of sex. With a rustle of petticoat, Marsha reached under her maid’s dress and with an audible ‘POP’ that was so loud many partiers paused, and look up at the screen showing what was occurring, to see what might have happened in the room to make such a sound, with a screen inside the room showing people in the main hall looking at them, causing the simpering maid to burn a right red in humiliation. Even from under the petticoats, sissy baby Lottie could hear the people laughing from the rest of the ex-church and cringed as he was now so used to being the object of the crowd's derision, he presumed it was for him. Distracted by the powerful stench of fresh cum, sissy baby Lottie squealed in surprise as suddenly the rack tried to self-right, shooting his face up and deep between the maid's cheeks. With his face wedged deep in the gaping boi pussy, the sissy baby was overcome by the powerful odour of man seed. His little manhood twitched in its cage as he felt the still-warm spunk from the maids well fucked ass drip onto his face. The sexual frustration encompassed his body as he wanted nothing more than relief from the many months of constant chastity. “Dumb, worthless sissy. Start licking, you dumb faggot” Master roared, twisting the sissy’s nipples hard and crashing the sissy back down from the thoughts of his own sweet release back to his rightful place of pleasing all others. With a timid lick the sissy baby’s tongue snaked upwards, tasting the mixture of multiple men's salty love cream. As his tongue moved slowly into the male maid’s abused and stretched fuck hole the quivering feminized husband started to wriggle, pushing himself down harder on the sissy baby’s face. Master grinned as the sweet moans of the Maid grew and he started to gyrate on Master’s bound toy’s face. Master wasn’t going to let the sissy maid off that easily and just lay back and enjoy. Master selected two identical devices, passing one to Marsha. The Domme looked over the elegantly simple device. She placed the ring of metal against the sissy maid’s tiny A cups. From the ring, a tall loop of metal stuck out holding the nasty jaws of a clover clamp. The clamp was locked on a threaded rod, allowing the clamp to be both raised and twisted independently. “I must get a pair of these for a client. I will enjoy using them on her as her boyfriend watches on.” Marsha said. “It's the first time the sissy baby fuckface had the pleasure of experiencing them. But the slut over there ‘loves’ them.” Master replied as Naïve cringed remembering its cruel bite and the humiliation of how much it turned her on, as the two dominants laughed at her reaction. “Ladies first.” Master conceded. Watching as Marsha held the device tight as she used her fingers to stimulate the sissy baby’s nipple. Her long nails teased the flesh around the nipple before she went back to gently teasing with her fingers like she was stimulating a lover’s manhood. “Oh Mistress” the maid lisped “please do more of that. The sissy’s tongue is mmmm...” the maid trailed off into some intelligible gibberish as he practically vibrated in pleasure. “Let's see what this does to the sissy” Marsha exclaimed pulling the soft titty flesh up as she opened the jaws of the clamps. Under the dress the sissy baby panted openly as he felt soft fingers suddenly tease his sissy titty. Each soft pull and tweak drove his tongue to search out more of the real men's ejaculations left in the maid's boi pussy. He could still taste what felt like a pint of the yummy sissy treat and feel more coating his face from when he must have hit the other guy's sissy spot as a river of cock cream rushed down and his face. as even more spunk flowed from the maid’s ass filling his mouth so fast, He could not swallow it quick enough. As some poured from the sides of his mouth, the sissy maid convulsed again as another load drained out, coating the sissy baby’s face dripping down into his hair as the tight bondage left the sissy immobilised. Without warning, the fingers stopped. The sissy baby moaned in frustration into the ass crack; his face was deeply wedged. Panic started to rise as the finger now pinched his titty flesh firmly. The sissy stopped his licking as his tummy churned with a sense of dread. The jaws of the clamp snapped shut onto his sissy breast stimulated sensitive flesh, the sissy howled. The tight bonds easily held him down as much as the sissy wanted to dislodge the source of the pain. The tears burned his eyes as the initial pain drifted away and the dread rose as thick strong fingers pulled and mauled his other nipple. Twist to go Faster Forced to lay back and take it, the sissy baby could feel himself enter a deeper headspace. His thoughts were muddy and hard to hold onto, as every nerve in his body became hypersensitive. From the muscles straining to thrash around from the pain. To the sticky feeling growing in his crotch and the pleasurable squeezing of his nipples as it was pulled up and then the pain as the teeth of the clamp bit down. Master and Marsha watched in delight as the sissy just stiffened from the pain flowing from his clamped teats. Masha teasingly grazed the tips of her manicured nails up and down the sissy’s bare legs seductively. As Master traced the edges of the devices with his gloved hands. “She’s stopped” the maid squeaked disappointedly. “She?” Master stared at the maid. “This is an object for me to use for MY amusement. It’s not a she! It is a thing.” “I am truly sorry, Sir” the maid whimpered in fear, refusing to turn and risk a peak towards his owner. “You better give the crowd a show, Krissy, or you might find yourself as the balls in a game of Roshambo.” Marsha replied. Her eyes twitching in anger. “I will be the best for you Mistress, I promise, I will dance and moan and show what a dirty slapper I am for you, Goddess.” he lisped in desperation as the memories of two beautiful women taking turns kicking his little balls flooded back. “Marsha, be a dear and give the sissy some encouragement” Master smiled pointing to the sissy baby’s eggs and closing his fist like it was a claw. Marsha nodded in understanding. With the tips of her nail’s. Marsha teased the sensitive flesh of the sissy’s stubby like penis painfully pushed against the metal. The more she teased the more the sissy visibly relaxed to the point a moan was heard from under the petticoats. With perfect timing Marsha started to close her claw. Slowly but firmly pushing her nail’s together digging into the caged cock. In time with the dominatrix, Master turned the screws of the mediaeval-looking device, making the clamps raise up, pulling the sissy flesh up into the device’s cups. “I hope you can hear this faggot,” Master said, aimed at the sissy baby, “but unless sissy bitch Krissy is writhing like a porn star riding a 12-inch dick, we are going to hurt you more.” Master twisted the device around his captive’s sissy’s breasts, twisting his already straining nipples. The sissy cried out at the shooting pain in his nipples and ‘clit’ as he tried to struggle in the bonds. His need to obey and please still overrode the pain, as the Master’s words broke through the sharp pain. With massive effort and concentration, he forced his tongue out and desperately lapped, twirled and everything else he could think of. As the ass smothering his face started to gyrate, the sissy baby felt the pain subside. He pushed harder than he thought possible to stretch his tongue to tease the sissy’s sweet spot. The moans were getting louder as he felt the maid begin to vibrate in joy. The awful pain in his bump was replaced with the constant teasing of the Domme's talon, milking him of his weak watery sissy cum through the bars of his chastity cage. The horrible twisting of his nipples had stopped, replaced with the slow pulling that Master favoured. He could feel his nipples throb in pain from the crushing clamps yet the slow pulling sensation was making him shiver in pleasure. Giving up his body for use by his superiors caused all the sensations into a drug hit to his brain making himself feel floaty. Until, suddenly, an eye-watering pain shot from his nipples, feeling them twist. He quickly picked back up his pace hearing his whimpers lost into the ass crack in which his face was lodged. A Rest... The sissy was spent. His tongue and jaw ached from the seemingly endless lapping he had been forced to produce. His poor sissy stub throbbed in equal amounts from the torment of the talons teasing just the right spots and from the burning stabs of those talons impaling tender flesh. His nipples were nothing more than a dull ache. The twisting and pulling had continued, manipulating him like he was a machine. Twisting his nipples to speed up and relaxing to slow down. As such, they had drawn out the desperate powderpuff’s desire to empty his very blue balls. From the wriggling on his face and the very unmanly squees of joy emitting from the hairless weakling the sissy baby hoped the maid was close. His tongue was so dry after licking at the sissy’s special spot for so long. Any time he had felt he got the sissy close his poor nut sack got a squeeze. Any time he slowed down his poor bump got the talons. With what he hoped was a final effort he pushed up hard using everything he had to really grind down on the sissy pleasure spot. Sissy baby Lottie lapped and rubbed fast and hard as he could to finally be rewarded with a super high-pitched squeal of joy and the feel of watery sissy cream dribble down into his hair. He kept licking just in case but slowed down as the femboi shuddered with yet another high pitch squeal as the sissy maid’s final sissygasm spread joy through his body. Unlike a real man's explosion of hot and thick cum, it was more like a leaking faucet that would occasionally sputter as the sissy juice dribbled out of the chastity device before the maid crumpled towards the floor. With the male maid’s slow collapse to the floor in orgasmic bliss he slid too far no longer holding the frame and its sissy prisoner down. With a scream of fear the sissy was violently flipped up, as the rack snapped itself-back upright, accompanied by another sissy squeal as Krissy was bumped off the stool to land on the floor face first. The onlookers gasped with concern at first until the dopey sissy giggled and sighed as he flopped to the floor drained dry for the first time in years. As his Mistress’s shiny designer heels filled his vision, he weakly pressed his lips to the red leather. “Oh, Mistress that was so wonderful...” he lisped dreamily “Now you had a lesson in pussy licking. You better do a better job than earlier, or you will be in this fool’s position.” Marsha barked, grasping the sissy by his arm and dragged him towards a private room. Master chuckled, knowing the maid was still in for several hours of hard work. Master then walked back around to stare at his own pathetic excuse for a Y-chromosome. “You, yet again, prove what a lowly worm you are.” Master sneered, looking at the sissy who had a face smeared with cum. “Still, it can't be denied that you did manage to bring that fairy to a literally knee trembling orgasm. So, I finally found a use for you. And even a fuck-wit like you can't make a total embarrassment of themselves, strapped to my new rack.” “I'm trying my best for you, Master. I really am. I am really sorry...” the sissy quickly babbled until silenced by Master just raising his hand. “I don’t want to hear more of your sissy drivel. I would gag you, but the ladies tell me you actually have decent technique with your lips. So, no crying, whining, or complaining. If I hear as little as one complaint, I will give you to the rugby club to act as chief sweaty ball cleaner again!” The sissy nodded in reply, trying to hide the huge smile on his face as he remembered the over forty men forcing him to lick clean every single sweaty beefy man before spending the night locked to the broken urinal. “Probably be a while before anyone is in need of your services.” Master started, pushing the rack back down to be sat on. “Come here you cheating slapper” Master barked at the kneeling Naïve. “Hurry up” he growled as she struggled to her feet with her arms still restrained in the straightjacket. With a great deal of strain and grunts of effort the well-used slave managed to stand up and quickly dashed over to her beloved owner. Master reached and pulled the plug from her ass then quickly shoved her down on the sissy’s face. Master watched for a few minutes, enjoying the look of humiliation all over Naïve’s face, as her sissified husband was so enthusiastically eating strangers’ cum from her well-fucked ass. While she was unable to stop herself loudly moaning as his talented tongue hit all the right spots. The noise was loud enough to bring people over to see what was going on. “I can't have a slave cunt sit around.” Master said, reaching into his bag pulling out a pair of nipple clamps, each with a thick and heavy shot glass attached. “You fetch me a bottle of vodka and rum. Quickly now!” he ordered a nearby minion. Naïve closed her eyes as she could feel Master grabbed her breast and snapped the clamp down on her nipple. The slave girl could feel her toes curl from the rubber-coated metal snapping shut and had to bite her own lip to stop from screaming out. “You're my brave slut.” Master whispered in her ear. As the warm touch from his bared hand rubbed the back of her neck. “Only you can do this for ME. I know you hate me hurting your nipples but for ME you will do anything cause you’re MY cunt, MY pain slut and MY toy.” His words made her needy pussy practically glow red as each word lit fires of arousal . “YOU want me to place this other clamp on and show off the magnificent breasts of the toy I own.” Master continued his voice low and seductive. Naïve could only nod in agreement. “That’s my good girl” Master whispered as the slave pulled her shoulders back, as much as the jacket allowed, pushing her large breast out. The hand on the neck continued its rhythmic massage of her neck as he deftly and gently closed the second clamp down. Naïve melted into the pain. She wanted it to show Master how much she adored him and that she didn’t own her body. Master did, and she couldn’t show him up. The thought was too painful. “Ask the nice boy to fill the glasses with the drink he so kindly fetched.” Master whispered. “Thannnk Yooou kind Sirrr. Pleeeeease fill my titty glaaasses with drink.” she croaked. “Louder!” Master growled, his hand moving from massaging her neck to firmly grasping a handful of hair as his other hand reached between her legs. “Please fill my titty glasses. Please, Sir. Please!” she begged. “Shout it so all can hear.” he commanded! Master yanked her hair back and slid her forward on her weak willed husband's face. His strong fingers forced her to look up at the celling as his finger slipped under the device clamping her pussy shut to grind on her raw clit. “OH, PLEASE FILL THIS HUMBLE CUNT’S TITTY GLASSES. I BEG OF YOU. FILL THEM UP TO THE BRIM SO IT HURTS MORE.” Naïve screamed, feeling the shackles of inhibitions start to fall away. The minion carefully poured vodka into the first glass; A gasp of pain stuck in her throat as she felt the increased strain. The minion switched to the rum and filled the other glass as Naïve lost herself to the freedom of being an owned slave. Naïve sighed a small cry of “OH” as Master let go of her hair and the hand stopped teasing her and grabbed her ring on the front of her collar pulling her up and on her feet. Holding the collar with an iron grip, he pulled her up onto her tip toes before lifting the rum glass and downing it. Taking a leash from his bag he clipped it to the slave girls collar ring. Keeping his grip tight on the ring and still looking his piggy in the eyes, he demanded. “Grab those bottles and follow us.” The minion meekly picked the bottles as he watched the sissy flip up with a yelp of surprise. Noticing the Host disappear into the crowd, the flustered minion grabed the bottles and quickly dashed after the Master and slave as the rack was pulled back down for the sissy to clean up a new client. The minion was almost jealous as the hot blonde started to grind on the sissy’s face. A Reward? The party had raged on throughout the night. The sissy had remained strapped to the device for nearly ten hours before Master had plucked the sissy from his bindings and led the wobbly pansy to a private room. There, Master commanded the sissy strip before releasing the spacy Naïve from her straitjacket. Once the pair were naked, he put them in a large bath and gently cleaned his well-used toys. The pair were well aware of some of the more unpleasant devices he had used to clean and punish the owned couple in the past. Thankfully, this time they must have done well as the soft sponge and warm water felt divine on bruised and grimy skin. "Only forty minutes to make the pair of you look presentable again.” Master mocked as his submissives dutifully looked at the floor. They both knelt on the now-wet tiles, knees spread wide and their hands upturned and held a centimeter above their thighs. “Sissy Baby Lottie is so sorry Master.”The pansy whimpered. “I hope we performed adequately for you, Master. Please, correct us if we failed” Naïve added in that dreamy way when she was still in subspace. “For once, you performed well enough. I have no need to punish you, even if you both remain useless ninety nine percent of the time.” The pair bowed their heads further. The shame turned their faces and necks red. The clacks of Master’s cane on the floor made the pair shiver, as he walked towards them. The metal tip of the cane clinked against the sissy’s metal cage as he stopped close enough that each slave could stare down to see their reflection in the polished leather of his boots. Neither daring to move, let alone to look up, not wanting to annoy their Master. The silence was broken by a thud on the floor. The pair could not control their natural reaction as they stared at a fluffy, white towel between them. “I need to go sort something out next door. You will dry yourselves and I expect every last inch of this floor to be bone dry when I return. “But there is only one towel” Naïve spoke, quickly clamping her mouth shut. The girl shrunk into a small ball as she sensed the looming presence of Master bending down as his gloved hand rested against her left cheek. “I'm glad you can finally count that high by yourself.” Master replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he patted her cheek condescendingly. “I could find you a mop I suppose. Would you like to try and dry your hair with a mop?” “No, Master. Please forgive your loyal slave girl. It will not speak out of turn and without thought again.” “My dear girl. You are just not capable of such a promise. But if you remain silent unless you answer a direct question, I will not punish you.” Naïve instinctively went to reply but thankfully she noticed her husband shaking his head ‘no’, saving her from a simple mistake. Master roared with laughter seeing the pathetic pair. “You might be a pansy puff, but at least you still try your best to protect your wifey” the man grinned, his eyes boring through the poor sissy. “Oh, yes Master. sissy baby Lottie is the most pathetic thing on the planet, but sissy baby Lottie does not want either of your slaves to waste your precious time punishing us when we can't help being so dumb.” “With those suck up skills, I can see why you're such a talented cock sucker. I will be back shortly and I expect you both dry. The floor, too.” Master finished turning heel and leaving the room. Once they heard the door lock shut the sissy grabbed the towel and started to rub his wife dry. “Than...” she managed to get out before her sissy hubby clamped his hand over her mouth. “Shhh.” he whispered. “Master may have cameras. We had such a delightful bath, let's not ruin it.” Naïve rolled her eyes in response. Sissy baby Lottie was a worry wart, but it was the kind of thing Master would do then bring it up weeks later. It was odd for the sissy to ever take the lead, but he quickly used just the edges of the towel to pat themselves both dry. Naïve dropped to her knees licking the water from the tiles as sissy baby Lottie squeezed as much water from his hair into the tub and then used the damp towel to dry the bath. After he rubbed down the entire tub including the taps and fittings to a sparkle he neatly laid the towel out and got to helping his slave wife lick the floor dry. Dress Up As the slave couple lapped up the remains of the water, sissy baby Lottie couldn’t help but stare at his wife's large tits swaying beneath the curves of her tummy leading to her bare snatch. Her plump bum showed both new and old welts along with a mix of small bruises starting to form. What worried him was the sight no longer had an effect on his sissy bump. No woman did. But any dick bigger than his tiny thing, made him salivate and want to show how good he was as a cock sucker. The telltale sounds of Master’s cane tapping on the hard floor warned of his imminent arrival. The pair quickly checked for any last remaining droplets before dropping into the wait position. Each sub knelt down their backs and thighs straight. Each crossed their arms behind their backs, each hand grasping the opposite elbow. Their heads bowed, picking a spot on the floor to fixate on to resist the urge to look up as the door opened. “Spotless! What a shame I do enjoy correcting my piggy and the cream puff. Well keep this up might even let you pick a treat when we eventually get back to mine.” Master replied with a mix of annoyance and pride that he was unable to find as much as a single droplet anywhere. “Kitten? You useless gimp! Where the fuck are you?” Master shouted looking into the attached room. The young slave girl shuffled in. The rubber suit from earlier hugged her tiny body, but now a matching hood was locked in place under a large collar forcing her head upright. A large penis gag was forced deep in her mouth, the drool was starting to leak from the corner of red lips, the same shade as the suit she wore. From the wide metal waist band locked around her waist chain ran to her limbs. Anyone looking close to see the chains threaded through a large O ring on the front of the belt, with one chain linked between the metal cuffs around her wrists as another ran down to link to a solid bar. The bar was barely 10 centimetres long and at either end it was locked with large old fashioned brass padlocks to the metal ankle cuffs. A chastity belt sat over the tops of her hips and angled down to the plate that covered her sex. To finish the look off the thigh bands around her thin thighs were locked together with chains running up the side of her legs to the chastity belt. The final set of bands were locked above the elbow with a chain pulled tight between them making any movement she made with her limbs pull on another. Naïve felt a little sorry for the pretty little thing as she shuffled in. She herself had been in the same outfit and bondage. To walk you were forced to crouch and lower your head as you could only take small awkward tottering steps, so you didn't stumble and risk falling flat on your face. She remembered having to bend her wrists inward as you strained against the bicep cuffs to allow you to carry the silver tray. Fortunately for Kitten it was not the wine and glasses she had nearly dropped but a pile of white satin, that she presumed was for the poofter beside her. Painfully slowly the gimp hobbled over and knelt down. She presented the tray up to the very miffed host. “Why do I talk you up. These two failures of humans move quicker than you!” Master sneered, picking the pile of satin and hose from the tray and dumping it in front of the sissy baby. “Cream puff. Get dressed, slap some makeup on and be ready when I am back!” Master demanded, his boot under the crotch of the rebuked woman who couldn’t help but grind on the steel toe caps despite the belt stopping any stimulation. All in the room knew no threats were needed as failure would be something very unpleasant. The sissy glanced at the pile and recognized immediately as the lingerie he wore on his wedding night. He glanced up and from just the look on his owner's face made his tummy lurched like he flew over a hill. Then his cockette started to twitch in anticipation as the sissy wished the ground would swallow him. “Come on, slut. Your holes are far too loose for anyone to get any joy from you tonight, but I do have a use for you” Master growled, yanking the chubby slave from the ground and started to lead her into the attached playroom. “Gimp! Follow the cane taps this time and do hurry up or you will take the place of your girlfriend in the worm suit!” Master barked out his orders with a stern look at the sissy. As everyone left the room the sissy knelt for a minute as he tried to convince himself Master was playing with his head again. The sound of the door lock snapping shut made him jump in fright. He stared down at the sizable pile of bridal satin and lacy frills, All of it the incredibly over the top underwear Master picked out for his wedding. He still remembered the heat from all the layers of underwear in the pale pink ladies suit he wore with a matching pink tie and ladies shoe. By this point most of his family were shocked he was marrying a woman. With a sigh as his little nubbin pulsed with thoughts of the private reception they had after the family had been shooed out the building. He started with the silk seamed stockings with the lacy tops and the pair of frilly garters. Each with a bow detail with a silk pansy detailing, Master was very ‘subtle’ at times. The long line garter belt was a pain to get on as it was so tight and ran from his natural waist and ended with twenty garter tabs, each with a tiny pearl covering on the clasp. It was made with bridal satin but was the most dull of the pieces with no additional decoration, Just required the sissy to breathe in and pull the stiff piece in place. The panties however! It was no doubt Masters' devious design with a talented seamstress who worked magic to create such a sissy overload. The waistband felt tight on his older body as the gathered ruffed and the pink lace skirt detail stretched more than he would like. The sewn in bells still tinkled their delightfully humiliating tune as he tied the side bows tighter so the knickers stayed in place and layed perfect. The sissy twisted his body to check the heart shaped hole in the back of his satin panties lined up with his pussy hole. He could still see the lace around the openings were still frayed and worn from the multiple cocks that used that hole over the years. He still loved the hot pink pair as he turned around to pull his caged “cock” through the matched heart shaped hole on the front. He pulled the panties up tight feeling the bells he added around the lace leg holes to fall free and add to the comic noise. Not even halfway through sissy baby Lottie thought to himself as he pulled an adorable satin bag over his cage, wincing as he realised his little dick barely filled a third of what it had on his wedding day and it was laughably small then! A tear filled his eye as he tied the ribboned opening tight with a big floppy bow. The pansy smoothed the bag out seeing the words “Sissys Big Day” embroidered by his own hand in the pink thread he had chosen in excitement with his sissy maid of honour. The once virginal white satan and the baby pink lace around the opening also showed some cum stains, none of which were his. Lottie reached down to pick up the strips of ribbon that created the ‘bra’. Not that any woman would wear the baby pink satin with its cute organza ruffle edging. The sissy studies his reflection as he pulled the bra over his shoulders. Ensuring the ribbons lay flat, with no twists, and the back bow was straight with the bow tails hanging down. The ruffles tickled his skin as he fitted the triangle of ribbon to frame his tiny sissy tits. While the thought of being seen wearing it mortified him, sissy baby Lottie loved the look. Where the ribbons met each other a pink bow had been sewn over the top. As he closed the bra and straightened yet another bow, he noticed how on his wedding day there was the slightest of swells on his chest. Now he was getting close to an A cup!!! Lottie bent down to pick up the corset. He lovingly stared at the still white design, and if you looked closely you could see the fairy princess pattern in an off white cream colour. His fingers traced the pattern. It had been a gift from his ex-girlfriend who had left when his dressing and love of the sissy lifestyle had been found out when she had found the hidden door behind his bed and the treasure trove of womens clothes and a few cheap sissy dresses. Master had insisted she be invited and was very keen on being asked to be a bridesmaid. Thankfully he accepted a humiliating task to avoid and just had to accept the humiliation of just inviting her and offering to buy her an outfit of her choice. Much to his shock she not only accepted, but turned down the free shopping trip and introduced him to her new wife. It had been nice and the gift had left him bawling his eyes out in the food court of the local shopping centre all those years ago and still made him tear up now. Wiping away the tears the sissy grunted as he tried to fasten the corset closed before finally panicking about time and was messing with the laces when the sound of the door handle brought a sense of dread. “For fuck sakes you worthless faggot. Is it that hard to get dressed now? Maybe I should just dress you everyday too?” Master said exasperation clear on his face. As the sissy shivered in excitement at the thought of the humiliation. “Sissy baby Lottie is very sorry Master. The corset didn't fit and…” “That is because your a soft pudgy faggot. Give me that.” Master replied, snatching the corset from his hands and easily undid the knots. The annoyed host spun the sissy around while pushing him against the wall in a swift motion. His hands groped his exposed ass cheeks making the sissy coo in delight. With ease Master buckled the corset closed before working the laces until the corset was snug. Twisting the laces around his hands Master yanked hard pulling the steel boned garment tighter around the sissy. Lottie could feel the familiar sensation of his ribs protesting as the loverly feel of the satin corset pulling tighter and tighter. Sissy baby Lottie grunted as Master stuck his knee into his back and tugged the laces trying to get the corset to fully close. He tugged this way and that before giving up and tying the laces off leaving the sissy with some Victorian era waist as the corset crushed his waist down to the point where Masters giant hands could almost encircle them. The sissy took slow, small breaths loving the way the corset was pulling him in to give him such a girly figure in the mirror. Lottie could feel his little peenie start to pulse as he thought about being dragged to bed by his owner and begging to be well and truly fucked when his butt exploded with pain as Masters cane lashed across his buttocks. “You're so vain and airheaded, Maybe I should find someone who wants a human doll. Least when you gaze gormlessly into space you can be useful.” Master sneered, pulling the sissy upright before pulling a mask over his head. “No time for make-up sissy baby boi. So have to use one of your girly masks.” Master pulled the silicon mask over his head, lining up the eyes and pushing the soft rubber tube in his mouth and forcing the edge to snap behind his teeth. As the sissy held the mask in place feeling the sticky inside glue to his face. Master laced the mask closed before fluffing up the built-in wig to hide the closure. The sissy looked at the mirror to see his face now with the look of a low class hooker. The sissy had been given multiple female masks and each had been painted by a drag friend of Masters to give different looks. As per the sadist’s wishes, this mask the drag queen had made it look as trashy as possible. Dramatic over the top pink and red eyeshadow with lots of glitter were framed with feminine eyebrow arch and with a thick layer of eye shadow with an added flair to resemble the typical eye liner of Cleopatra. The eye lashes were double layered to give more volume and had been curled to give an exaggerated look especially with the full glittery candy pink lips. Sissy baby Lottie stared at the image staring back in the mirror. It gave her a very blow up doll appearance with a glittery hooker look and the rubber in her mouth keeping her lips stretched into an ‘O’ shape ready for any cock. “Put those gloves on and leave the peignoir. You don't want your mothers robe ruined now do you?” Master smirked as he towering over the now bright red sissy from toes to his neck. Where the mask gave the sissy a dumb airheaded sex bimbo look. “Maybe time to get those huge udders to match your piggy slut of a wife. Don't you think so?” Agast the sissy struggled to do more than stammer in a weird lispy gutteral voice through the rubber ring “If Master thinks so Sir I will of course be delighted to have a pair of sissy titties for you.” As thoughts of how to explain to work why the guy in the corner with the strange dress sense and a secret personal life now has massive tits! “Stop dreaming about all those bikinis you can wear on the beach cock sucker. Time for you to have that fat sissy boi pussy destroyed!” the Dom laughed as he grasped the sissy’s gloved elbow and manhandled him into the next room to meet his fate! Living Sex Doll The old church had been renovated so many times for its original use. Anyone with a keen eye could see the changes in stone where additions had been made to increase the size and height of the once modest village church. Once taken over by Master and his cohorts for monthly fun the third floor had been added. The much vaulted third floor had been built at much expense and only those with a specialist eye could see these newer sneaky changes to the stoneworks from the outside. Its exclusivity meant you were a trusted member to even be invited to the highest floor to look around the beautiful rooms and the treasures inside. Few though knew about the corridor behind the rooms. The secret warren of the minions and how many a plaything or piece of equipment could be brought in via the hidden lift. Finally at either end sat an oval shaped room with a washroom outside. These were the playroom for the elites, their ‘guests’ and the minions' reward. At the North end was the Purple room. Here was the Sadists torture chamber. Stocked with unique toys and equipment to bring even the most strong willed submissive to their knees. The Southern end was the Red room. This was a large playroom, with couches and comfy chairs lining the walls with a more simple set of equipment in the centre and the one sissy baby Lottie was pulled into. The living sissy sexy doll quickly followed his Master for once, not stumbling due to crazy heels or fumbling around in the dark due to a blindfold or hood. So unused to it he was able to fully absorb the kinky scene around him. He could feel his little cock strain as his eyes darted around to see scary Lady Ash and her friend spanking and fingering a pair of very happy minions. Another four minions were tied together to make a seat for a large BBW as two minions pleasured her large tits exposed from her top. Two of the puppy boys and a puppy girl had been strapped into bitchsuits and were being teased by a Dom couple. Multiple chairs had been used to bind a minion in an odd art display next to Mz Cleopatra whose two sissy boys had been tied in a sixty nine position and fought the tight ropes to blow each other. Her male slave’s tongue was burried deep in another woman’s wet snatch as a guy fucked his ass as he was giving hand jobs to two others! Mz Cleopatra was longing in her chair as a pretty trans girl bounced on her huge strap-on. As Master pulled him past the amazing sights the Dominatrix cat called, “Can a sissy bride doll wear white? Or was it pink and it‘s just that cum stained?” “Cleo you say the kindest things” Master quipped pausing to allow the small crowd around the goddess to have a giggle at the pathetic male. “I would love to stay and chat but I have my own fun to be had after I deliver this sissy dolly to her date for this evening!” Master smirked, giving the audience a wry smile before storming off as the sissy waved goodbye awkwardly, unsure what else to do. As he turned he cringed as he heard the loud booming laughter following his patheticness. Passing a few people lounging in the chairs watching the show, sissy baby Lottie finally walked past the collection of kinky fun to finally see what Master had in store. The sissy froze in place, unable to move as the image burned into his memory to haunt his nightmares and tease his daydreams. Dead centre was a decorated spanking bench. The padded top had sashes of white satin hung around the edges. Where the satin met the bench, a large white bow had been added that held the white silk sheet that covered the padded top. The wooden legs had been wrapped in ribbon, even the chains had been wrapped to hide the metal. The usual thick black cuffs had been replaced with a gleaming pair of new white leather cuffs. They had been lined with pink fur that matched the colour of the lace detailing and the buckle leather. Master had even arranged for the red wall to be covered with a white sheet and flowers added to frame the sissified bench. On the right side were two of his sissy friends. Both had made up with simple makeup and a pretty headdress of white flowers in their matching pink wigs. Large rubber ball gags had been strapped into their mouths and latex posture collars’ locked around their throats. The ball and collar were both in a baby pink to match the identical satin gowns the pair wore. Each was a sissy's dream to wear with the poofy shoulders and cinched waists. The skirts were a big circle of poof with a lacy hem. Each dress was laying over a Victoria era hoop underskirt visible through the front of the dress where the satin had been replaced with a clear plastic. Everyone could see the sissies’ matching pale pink stockings and garter belt. Each with added bows and lace. The pink platform heels and hot pink toenails peeking from the open toe. Each sissy’s panties had been rolled down into a stretched mass of satin, lace and more bows. Revealing each sissy in a flat chastity cages with a bow tightly tied above their swollen sissy eggs. Sissy baby Lottie instantly noticed all the small things others would surly overlook. The little heart shaped locks on the sissies' dress and shoes. The rings on the collars were heart shaped and not circles. The large hooped earrings were the same as a pair he owned. With “COCKSUCKER” in the centre. The bows on the back of the heels hiding a chain to the floor, Also the pink poles masked by matching the flouncy frocks colour on which her friends were impaled on hard dongs. Finally, that look of abject humiliation of being trapped and displayed as the failed cucks you are. From a view of frilly dresses, tiny cocks and ultimate sissification on the right handside. On the left was the bizarre. Kitty knelt in a full gimp suit with the metal cuffs, chains and chastity. Now she wore a hood over the catsuit’s built-in one, the dark purple latex contrasting with the long built-in pigtails in a blood red. Even from several paces away the sub girl’s brilliant baby blue eyes had that slight glazed look of someone surrendering to their submission. But next to her was the ‘worm’! The unidentifiable person lay on the floor dead straight as if strapped down tight to a board. A hard shell covered the head leaving nothing, but a circular hole over the wearer's mouth as the only feature on an otherwise glossy black surface. Their body was hidden under a tube of heavy and thick rubber. Around the neck opening, sissy baby Lottie could make out the industrial packing wrap and black duck tape against the grey of what looked like a rubber catsuit. So entranced with the scene before him he just followed Master in a daze as he pulled him to the sissified bench. The silk of the topper was a nice feeling on his bare upper chest but also being so different than how it would usually feel it gave the sissy an odd chill down his spine. “Look at the pretty heels the piggy slut got you.” Master said as he locked the sissy baby’s wrists into the white cuffs. “I had her use your bedazzler to add all those crystals.” The sissy noticed movement but rather than his expected wife was Mistress Grace, whose husband was currently dressed as a sissy bridesmaid behind her. In one hand she held the leash to her slave girl. As usual the girl was hidden under a pink hijab with only the hint of her collar displaying her name of ‘Pussy Licker’ visible. Hanging from the BBWs fat fingers were shiny white stripper pumps that twinkled in the overhead lights. Rather than haphazardly placing the crystals, his wife had given it a beautiful starfield pattern. The shoes constantly twinkled in multiple places including up the nine inch heel and to cover the four inch platform. The ankle strap had been covered with a ribbon tied off in a large bow at the back. “Pussy Licker, help our dolly into her fuck me pumps.” Mistress Grace ordered her loyal pet. The slave gently took the shoes before shuffling over to kneel in front of the sissy. With nothing but gestures she got the sissy to use her shoulders to balance as she squeezed his feet into the pumps. As she remained kneeling she aided the wobbly poof next to the bench giving a little snort as the sissy grasped the edge of the bench in a death grip. “Good carpet muncher. Now strap the useless creature down and save our host’s back.” The covered slave bowed down to her owner before scurrying around each leg of the bench securing the sissy down tight. Sissy baby Lottie could feel the humiliation, excitement and a sense of shame being dressed as he was ready for her Masters cock. He stared straight at the bulge in his tailored suit trousers feeling the drool start to pool around the mask opening. The satin lined straps across his back left his body arched against the bench top, With the three straps holding his legs locked straight and wide apart. Along with the massively high heels, his boi pussy was pushed up and displayed like the needy bitch in heat he was. He could feel the little satin bad already getting damp in anticipation. “Is my girlie boi ready for a good fucking?” Master asked innocently. “Please Master. Please destroy me in front of all your friends.” The simpering pansy struggled to beg as the rubber ring made his sound more faggy than the most lispy of pantywaists. As he found himself to stop pushing down on the smooth silk and forcing his butt higher as his horny brain started to wiggle as much as his bondage allowed. “What about your pig of a wife?” Master inquired, his green eyes boring into the sissy as he whimpered feeling his bump pulse against its metal cage. “Nooooo.” he moaned “Please, please I need it. Please, please, I've been such a pathetic useless sissy for you. I have done it all.” “You dumb Barbie doll. He meant, shouldn't your wife be here?” Grace shouted in frustration before quickly covering her mouth and waving an apology to the host glaring at her. “Thank you for your input GRACE, I am sure this idiot would have got there eventually even if he wants to be fucked while dressed as a poof” Master chided taking an elastic strap from his pocket and linking the back of the mask to one of the straps across his back. The strong elastic pulled his head up forcing him to arch uncomfortably to look ahead. With effort he found he could lay back down but it took effort and concentration or he snapped back. He moaned as the elastic pulled him back once again as Master deftly stepped to the side, leaving the sissy to have a new memory burned in his brain! Straight in front of him knelt his wife in some of Masters favourite bondage equipment. A harness of rope bound her large breasts and held her arms behind her in a reverse prayer tie. He could see the rope was dug in tight to her breasts and how her arms forced her to kneel with boobs thrust forward and back straight, a position he had seen her in many times. This time it was the large dildo gag strapped in her mouth. He knew the gag with the front eight inches protruding from the front with another four inches of the fat dong stuffed in her mouth. He watched as she thrust her face into the dripping hairy snatch of a naked lady he didn't know. As she pumped so hard her neck muscles were visibly straining she awkwardly humped the ass of a trans girl locked into a bitch suit with a pup hood hiding her face from the sissy. He could only watch as his wife double fucked the people before her as behind another bound girl was sliding on the huge double end dildo forced in each girls ass. The world shrunk down as the sissy could only stare dead ahead. He watched so intently he recognised the cock locked into the strapon harness Naive wore over the top of the stainless steel chastity belt. The silicon phallus was the huge imitation horse one Master had gifted them for a wedding gift. The thing was at least sixteen inches long and the ridges stretched you so wide it felt like you were ripped in half. “Gawff” the sissy mumbled as he realised that his wife and her ‘friend’ were using the the christmas present his wife had opened at her family gathering. Master had however labelled the gift as being from her hubby, nearly getting him kicked out with least his father in law ready to kick his ass. A loud shouting and Master fitting something around his head snapped him back from his space out. Instantly feeling the warmy sticky feeling he knew the sight of his wife used as little more than a mastabation aid had caused him to cum. “Why am I so pitiful?” He thought to himself as he watched the women climb out the sex swing and gave his wife a head pat before using a crop to encourage the bitch suited girl to scuttle away as best she could on her elbows and knees. Glancing back he found his wife staring at him. He could only imagine what she must think seeing him dead centre in this fetishist's wet dream! He could see her eyes grow as she took it all in. Before she realised she was being stared at and their eyes met, but only she looked away. Her body turned a bright pink. Before she could turn back, a woman dressed like a demon from some R-rated horror movie dragged what looked like the married minions behind her. A set of talons grabbed the terrified piggy slave head up and impaled the woman onto the dildo watching her slide down until her toes reached the floor. “Fuck that boy’s ass and pleasure that slut’s cunt. I expect both to be worn out by the time I return.” The demon lady demanded before turning heel and marching off, no doubt to cause more mischief. The sissy's little cock twitched in excitement at the thought of watching his wife when the clack of a cane caused the sissy to immediately strain to find his owner. When he finally managed to pick him out walking towards the sissy his tummy went into free fall. Master was not alone. Numnutts was walking behind the sissy’s superior, with a smile so large everyone could see all his teeth. Although the only thing the sissy could concentrate on was the fact the giant had lost his trunks!!! Promise Delivered “As promised for being a good little boy for your fine owners… You have precisely one hour of fun. Nothing permanent and do not break my fuck doll. It might be longer still before your Mistress lets you out to play.” Master dictated to the man mountain making the sissy squirm and leak pre-cum from the objectification. “Sissy baby Lottie,” The authoritative voice made the sissy meekly look up to his Master. “I expect you to be willing and participate in the certain destruction of your pussy. Do not disappoint me!” Master said before turning his head in the direction the sissy was facing. “You too Pig fuck machine.” Master glared at his slaves before grabbing the gimp and pulling her towards an empty section. The ‘worm’ seemed to sense where the gimp went and slowly pulled their lower half up until their knees were close to touching their chest. After a slight pause it pushed their head forward to inch across the floor to the amusement of those around. The Sissy’s focus quickly changed as his head was yanked to come face to face with Numnutts’… nuts. With nothing more than a grunt and using whatever Master had strapped around his head to manoeuvre him. Sissy baby Lottie quickly got the message and started to lap the weighty and very full balls. Each had a strong salty taste of sweat and a bit of tang from the cologne filling his nose with a spicy scent and strong musk of a real man. With a loud plop Numnutts log smacked down on the cream puff’s forehead as the large man pulled the sissy forward to the very limit of the straps. The sissy squealed in protest as the large finger invaded his mouth. The large digit checked the rubber ring holding his captive mouth open in a slutty O shape. No sooner than the finger was pulled out Numnutt’s popped one ball in and then the other stuffing the mouth with a pair of salty balls the size of walnuts in the sissy baby’s mouth. Lottie could feel his cheeks stretch as her face pulled tight to his black body. Even through the mask he could feel the thick cock pulse. For a few moments the sissy remained still as the man rubbed his dick up and down the silky smooth mask before his bear paw-like hand slapped his ass. Taking the hint the pansy desperately started to swirl his tongue over the hard balls. Another slap prompted him to start to suck on them like a sweetie in his mouth as the man continued to just rub on the mask. Sissy baby Lottie could feel the heat and pulse rise and these eggs almost started vibrating in his mouth. He closed his eyes and waited for the explosive orgasm as the man paused ready. But instead Numnutts quickly yanked his manly balls from his mouth and put the end of his beer can sized cock at the entrance to his face. With a grunt and a light slap to the face the sissy quickly stuck out his tongue and licked the yummy black cock like his life depended on it. His tongue swirled around the tip and then he strained against the straps to reach as far down as he could manage. In the middle of the fifth time of swirling his tongue around the head he felt two strong hands grab the back of his head as the cock slammed in, down his throat. In a blind panic the sissy started to struggle as he felt his throat struggle to accept the thick black cock so deep. With a gurgle of protest his noodle arms thrashed against the cuffs. Despite his body screaming to bite down the sissy proudly opened wide and was rewarded by Numnutts pulling out. The sissy snorted and coughed as he tried to catch his breath. After a few moments of silence as his body gulped up huge lungfuls of air he heard multiple people laughing at him. The thickness of the mask acted like horse blinkers making him unable to make out who was watching, but when the jibes started he could only cringe knowing his wife was so close and probably agree what “total embarrassment of a man” he was. The emasculated pansy hung his head from the shame, causing another smattering of tittering for what felt like a lifetime for the pansy. Then as if by some silent cue the watching crowd went silent. The sissy could feel his tummy churn as a sense of foreboding washed over him. Numnutts made it worse as the living mountain grabbed the controlling device and mashed his face into the bench top hard. The more he squealed and wriggled the firmer he was held down tight! In the silence the sissy could feel someone was behind him. Screwing his eyes shut he could only whimper in fear. Whoever said ‘not being able to see was better’ lied!. His mind spun through a hundred of things that could happen. With even the best of results making everything but his sissy bump freeze in fear, as his tiny dick strained for freedom. The pulsing rubbing against the cage bars made him strain more. Feeling a gloved hand gently touch above his stocking top made the sissy freeze. He could feel it move up toward his ass. The poofter could feel his heart beat so hard and fast it echoed in his ear. A second hand gently squeezes his other buttock. The sissy melted as the hands soothingly massaged his bussy for a second before gently prising his cheeks apart. The sissy let out a fretful wail, afraid of what was going to be be shoved in his fuck hole. The feeling of degradation each time of being violated felt so indecent he could cry. It never took that long before the discomfort and embarrassment would fade as his huge sissy spot would be rubbed and he would turn into such an exaggerated whore from a bad porno. He couldn't help but moan, pant, and beg as he would buck and thrust back to be used harder. Afterward, used and spent, he would cry from the frustration of being denied yet again and from the memories of the sinful acts he had done and enjoyed. “Get on with it!” a voice yelled out, snapping the sissy back to the now. As her brain tried to place the voice the one thing she didn't expect poked at her sissy hole! The velvety tongue made soft little flicks at his entrance as the sissy swooned and let out a muffled sound of pleasure as a wet spot started to grow on the satin sissy cock cage cover. Tentatively the tongue poked inside. The tip tickled as the walls of his oh so sensitive hole. Pausing for a moment and then it worked round and around in huge circles, stretching open the well worn boi cunt. The sissy buzzed with pure pleasure feeling the tongue push deeper in and flick around. The teasing was delicious and easily the most horny he had felt while being defiled. His legs quaked as his little baby dick leaked more and more as he tried in vain to push back and get the sweet invader to go deeper. The bliss of being pleasured made his toes tremble in the ridiculous heels and he moaned like a cheap whore. The chatting around him felt distant and not important, he could vaguely hear something a voice in the back of his head screamed to pay attention to before a stinging slap to his face crashed him back down to his situation. As his vision cleared he was staring at the thick black cock before him. “You dumb cunt” an unfamiliar voice menacingly growled at him. “Do you want this yummy cock or should I get a much more deserving cumslut enjoy it.” Feeling his boi cunt continue to quiver in bliss, the little shred of masculinity left demanded he lay back down and enjoy his deserved pleasure. “Please Sir, Please fuck this lowly cum loving cream puff’s mouth!” he lisped, a tear ran under his mask as his masculinity died a little more as it screamed what a failure he was. The laughter rang in his ears as he stretched wide as could as the massive cock shoved in until the sissy nose was buried in a mess of thick dark hairs. A meaty hand grabbed the back of his head as the other used the handle to pull his head to just the right position. The poor sissy let out a mix of a whimper and a coo as the tongue licking his pussy found around his special spot turning his dumb sissy brain to mush. With nothing but a grunt of warning. Numnutt’s started to ram his cock into the wet willing face hole. His strong hands holding the sissy's head still despite the squeals and attempts to pull away as he pushed his fat dick so far down the poof’s throat several of the women were pointing and whispering about the visible dick going so deep it nearly reached the collar at the base of his throat. Promise Fulfilled The sissy struggled to breathe as he felt the huge heavy balls slap his chin again as the huge black cock once again filled his mouth and throat. No training had prepared him for such a monster trouser snake to use him so thoroughly and reduce him to nothing more than a mere object. The thought made his lil ‘clit’ squirt more sissy pre cum. Lost in his thoughts he didn't notice one of the women chided “Get on with it or you will be the one licking it clean!” Pussy licker let out a wail in protest as two women grabbed the sissy’s pert ass cheeks and pulled them violently apart as another stuffed the slave's head into the powder puffs’s ass and aggressively pistoned her head in and out. Feeling the tongue suddenly switch from gently teasing his naughty spot to suddenly grinding fast and hard into his fuck hole as the huge man held his dick deep in his throat made the sissy stop and shudder as the waves of anal pleasure hit the fear and panic from having to squirm on the dick like a fish stuck on a pole. A new grunt emanated from the man ravishing his throat. He held the sissy in place who could see stars as he took raspy panicky gasps for air. Lottie struggled and wriggled before finally the thick fingers let go and the sissy slumped to the bench with a huge splat coughing as the black snake pulled out glistening with drool. Looking forward he could only watch as his wife used the dildo gag locked in place to to fuck the pussy of a women who had to be in her seventies. He watched with a morbid fascination as the mature woman used liberal amounts of her crop and shout “DO it better you worthless cunt.” As the sissy stared, his wife got the odd feeling of being watched as her body cried out for a break as her neck was cranked back and forth by the nasty and vile women taking more pleasure in leaving welts with her nastier crop than the tiring effort she did to pleasure her pussy. The constant pumping of her hips to fuck the person under the swing had grinded down to just long slow thrusts as the person behind her would buck in time to mash their asses together as the anal intruder would push in and out enough far to little to give and real pleasure but enough to do more than tease her. She wanted nothing more than to stop everything and hump her botty friend, but like a good slave she carried on with her orders. “This thing is fecking useless. I’ve had more excitement watching parliament.” the vile women sneered as she walked off. A tide of anger washed over the exhausted girl as she could see the old crone interrupting Master’s fun and speak to her. “What a cunt” she grumbled through the gag as even with the woman half away across the room she could see her juices gleaming in the lights from her tummy to her knees! She didn't want Master to spot her staring at him. Able to look over to see what her husband was enduring, she saw a fully clothed girl being dragged from behind the sissy loser. Mistress Grace's friend slipped out of her tight skirt and shoved the girl against her wet snatch. Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull as she noticed the giant and his fat dick bouncing obscenely in front of him. The size of the dick transfixed her. It looked as thick as her wrist and easily nine inches long. The thought of being filled by such a cock after years of denied real dick she felt jealous as the bull lined his dick to the target. Staring at his wife, he sissy watched his wife fixate on something. Then, like a jolt of lightning, the realisation hit him hard in the face. She was watching Numnutts. And, from the way she was now staring right through him, he must have been behind him. He mewed in fear, wriggling his ass as much as he could. “Nuuuughhhh” he cried out fearing he would be ripped in two. A warm paw-like hand tenderly rested on his back and the sissy froze totally still. He screwed his eyes shut and prayed that someone would save him. Destruction “I think my Harold would sooooo love to see this up close.” Mistress Grace called out clapping before releasing her humiliated hubby from the pole impaling his boy pussy. She dragged the kneeling sissy over to the rear of his friend as the huge cock slowly pushed its way in. “Stop whinging, you cream puff faggot. Harold has been sitting on something just as big all night and you don't see him acting out.” Grace taunted as she sissy’s arms thrashed as much as the cuffs would allow as it felt like someone was inserting a tree trunk in his asshole. As the pain reached its peak the sissy baby squealed for the intruder to be removed. His panicky panting and wiggling combined to make him gyrate on the sensitive cock head making the man mountain groan in pleasure. “Just how my slaves should be. Sexually used for pleasure of their betters.” Master ridiculed as he walked up. Naïve quickly lowered her head in deference as sissy baby Lottie face was buried deep into the silk. Numnutts had started to rock his hips as he gently fucked the sissy pussy, each time getting deeper. “My poor Piggy has to watch yet again. While her hubby is buggered like a cheap whore.” Master taunted holding her head to watch, His boot tapping against the plate covering her soaking wet snatch. “Don't worry about the hag. The woman is just a royal cunt. You did good. Now fuck this desperate girl’s asshole for me. I need a rest.” Master sat down in the swing pushing the asshole of a cute girl into Naïve face. As Master relaxed in the swing yelling at Numnutts “The clock is ticking” followed very quickly by very loud slurping. Naïve had to use the dong protruding from her mouth to flip the latex skirt of the schoolgirl uniform up and over the armbinder holding arms so tight that her elbows were just millimetres apart. Numnutts heard the call and not wanting to miss his chance of a non ruined orgasm he grabbed hold of the sissy’s hips. His hands were so huge he had to force them between the sissy’s hips and the wedge. Unconsciously sissy baby Lottie arched her back more pushing his pussy up as if inviting to be fucked hard. Gripping down hard he reared back before slamming his cock in full as far as it would go. The sissy;s head snapped back as the elastic pulled him up. His brain shut down, unable to take in the view of his Master and wife with a pretty trans girl as the pain from his pussy being split in two took over. On the fourth try she finally was able to flick the shiny material up and over her back as the woman and was rewarded with a view of the bottom of her pert ass. Nicely framed by the jock strap style latex panties she wore. Naïve could tell the tall girl was way too high with her knees locked and ass high before stretching down to pleasure her Master. With no other choice she used the dong to gently slap at the pink thighs until she spread her legs wide enough the sissy’s wife could reach and was ready to start when her sissy hubby screamed aloud before it morphed into a guttural moan. The sissy gibbered through the ring gag of the mask. The sounds were nothing but a mix of grunts and screams as Numnutts started to thrust his achingly hard cock in and out faster than a supercharged V8 engine piston. The sissy and Numnutts started to grunt in time as the huge rod was grinding on his sissy spot making his tiny nub spew his sissy watery cum into the satin bag. He winced in pain as the cock finally bottomed out. The giant was deeper than all but Master’s most evil of toys he would use on his slave couple and when away have the pair use on each other. Numnutts paused taking a breather as he enjoyed the feeling of the sissy desperately trying to fuck himself and get the gliss of his sissy spot stimulation as the thick straps left his attempts at nothing more than just a light rocking doing little more than frustrate him more Seeing the sissy’s face drop into a dreamy sissy bliss, Naïve realised the faggot was enjoying being fucked. An evil pang of jealousy pounded away in her skull. It wasn't fair the poof got to enjoy Masters cock. She hadnt been fucked properly in years and never by a real cock. Usually Masters wicked toys or a strap on wielded by the huge butch lesbian from her old job. The whole day she had been seeing hubby get pleasure in all kinds of ways. All she received was multiple forced orgasms to the point of immense pain. Then, suddenly, the humiliation of hearing a random person pleasuring her owner, mixed with burning pain from the multiple orgasms teased from her earlier. Along with the feel from the cold steel against her burning hot pussy light a fire of passion and rage. With a flurry of movement and powered by frustration. Naive hit a third wind and hate fucked like the devil himself. She felt her face and groin slap into flesh with such force it sounded like a drum. Each thud drove her on as her ears filled with an orgy of sex making her body tingle with sexual energy. “Tick Tock” Master called out. Hearing the words Numnutts flicked up a gear and changed from the long strokes to now a frenzied fucking of shorter quicker thrusts. The sissy moaned “nur nur nur” as his whole body bucked as the bull fucked him so hard it felt like his pussy was a risk of being shreaded. Then it was like a divine intervention happened and the grinding on his sissy spot was perfect. His body started to shake as waves of orgasmic pleasure flowed through every nerve ending. Sissy baby Lottie whimpered as was so close to a mind melting sissygasm as his view of his wife was blocked. Like the twist in a bad movie, suddenly standing between Lottie and his wife was his boss from his day job… and her husband. His dick was long and very, very hard. It shined from the coating of juices coving it as it was pointed at his face. “Been told to try the sissy and piggy bitch by that lovely gent.” his Boss pointed to his owner with a huge smile on both their faces. Despite wanting to look away, his Boss maintained a perfect poker face. Leaving the poor pansy unable to tell if she knew it was him under the mask or not. Feeling his tummy swirl with fear, the guy grabbed the handle and dragged him over his cock. The slightly arid taste had to be from his boss's love juices. The sissy realised feeling his face warm and froze as his head swirled with thoughts of what might happen at work. Numnutts was getting close and with an angry grunt he pointed to the sissy’s face indicating the other guy should fuck deep as he could go. The sissy let out a whimper as his body turned a deep crimson as his Boss’s hubby wrenched on the handle as he thrust his cock deep as he could pushing his cock into the sissy throat. Seeing the fun, Mistress Grace and her friend practically threw their own husbands over the bound prissy and hiked the skirts of the ridiculous dresses out the way. Before ploughing their husbands’ ass pussies with some very impressive strap ons. Feeling the new weight of the fellow sissies on his back as his face and ass pussy were abused, the sissy zoned in and out. That blissful sissy space only interrupted as the cock was held too long in his throat. Or when Numnutts would thrust so aggressively the sissy would squeal out making the other guy push even deeper to silence him. “You close bro” the man vigorously slamming his face hole yelled out. Numnutts just nodded his head and the pair quickly pumped in and out so quickly the sissy felt the two were sawing him in half. Numnutts started to make some strange noises before crashing down on the three sissies as he shoved in deep one last time and coated the sissy’s innards with thick coils of cum. To the sissy’s embarrassment he screamed out as an orgasm flowed through him. His body then went rigid before twitching under the weight of the sissies and the crushing weight of Numnutts. With his mind swirling, feeling like he was very drunk, tired and unable to sleep. His very dry mouth suddenly tasted cum as his Boss’s other half painted his tongue with his salty love juice. The Men recovered quickly and left as the Mistresses continued to fuck their own sissy partners over the slumped and spent pansy. Sissy baby Lottie could feel the cooling cum from toe curling pleasure from an amazing orgasm as drool started to run down the mask as he was so tired he couldn't move his head. The taste of another man's cock cream and the numb ache in his bum brought on the shame of being used as a cum dump. He could just about see and hear as people walked off and the quiet mutterings became harsh barbs and jibes at his expense. “See Piggy. This is why you are a locked up pain slut. No way you could pleasure all those men.” Master laughed as his swords burnt deep in his slaves. “A pair of worthless shits. But you at least managed to not disappoint me so I will have to find another to feel the sting of my toys tonight.” Master pulled the gag from the wifes face before dragging the dirty slave girl to the back of the bound husband. “Im worried the sissy is such a failure of a man he might actually get pregnant so clean him out. Gracie, please be a dear and lock the two in a cage when you’re done. I think Kitten and the Worm need a good beating.” Grace gave a thumbs up before continuing to plough the ‘bridesmaid’. As Master paused to gently squeeze the back of both slaves' necks before moving back into the party. Both slaves could not stop smiling as they knew the squeeze’s secret meaning. 10 am The soft light of mid morning lit up the entrance to the church where Mz Chleopatra stumbled over the Master's sub couple. The woman chuckled as she walked in a slow circle around the pair in matching short white dresses with navy blue polka dots and wide sashes tied with a big floppy bow. She could see the edge of the poofy blue petticoats and matching white knee socks and shiny Mary Jane shoes. They even had their hair in matching braided pigtails tied with navy blue and white ribbons. While strange to see a woman wearing such a bizarre outfit it suited the pansy puff ball rather well. The strange thing was both wore World War Two replica gas masks, altered to be locked on with tiny padlocks. Stranger still was the tubes from the masks running behind them to a fairly large plastic cylinder strapped on each of their backs and providing a handy place for handcuffs locking each subs arms behind their backs. “Morning Cleo. You forget something? I need to lock up?” Master asked, appearing from a side passage. “Nah. Was just coming to say bye when I stumbled across these two rejects. Very pretty outfits for a four year old. But what's the backpack for?” Master chuckled. “Well the pair really loved being degraded all the time. Well maybe not love? But they have odd fetishes. So I filled the tubes with stuff and that's all they can smell in the augmented masks.” Cleopatra started giggling as the unmoving drones stared straight ahead. “That's brilliant. Do I dare ask?” “You can. The Masks have some fun tech in them meaning they can't see or hear us right now. In Piggy’s tube a fair few of the ladies offered up their dirty panties. Nice start to her chaste year. The sissy has all those dirty diapers he used. So the pair will have a horny and shamed filled ride home.” the sadist winked at his friend. He walked out tapping something on his phone and the pair scrambled to their feet and quickly dashed out the door as the Doms followed chuckling….

"Cody im leaving to go out with my friends to the movies. I'm leaving my magic wand behind. Also don't even think about using it. You arnt ready to learn or cast spells just yet so don't think about doing it alone". Julie yelled out as she left. Cody ignoring Julie's warning decided to practice a little with the wand. He flicks the wand sending a blast of magic from the end, the stray bolt of magic then bounces off the mirror and onto a pack of adult diapers sitting on the floor. Cody then sees the packet coming alive, the packaging rolling and bulging before It rips open. What emerged from the torn package were diapers with what appeared to be cartoon eyes and tongues. The newly animated garments scream out "hungry must have food!!" Cody, not knowing what to do, sees one of the diapers jump, but far too late to do anything about it as he sees that it was jumping at him. Then another after another diaper surrounds him with two of the diapers grabbing the wand, chanting a spell. Then two gloved hands appear along with a bunch of baby supplies floating in midair. Cody, scared not knowing what is about to happen, tries to squirm free of his magical restraints. He starts to almost crawl away but the two hands pull down his pants and undies then gives him a spanking. The hands then have him stand up and one holds him while the other diapers hold his feet. One diaper starts the smile staring at Cody's exposed naked ass and says, "yummy food." It then jumps and holds on to the front of Cody's waist, one of the gloved hands then holds the back of the diaper and another hand comes with baby powder. The hand then starts to powder Cody's ass and the inside of the diaper. Cody can feel the diapers cartoon tongue exploring against his asscheeks and then the tip of it then rims his asshole. Cody starts to squirm and moan as his dick starts to stand up. The diaper says "yummy tasty food and the seasoning powder tastes so good with it". After powdering Cody's ass the diaper then closes up and attaches itself in excitement around Cody's body. The tongue then goes deeper in his asshole, Cody just gets more horny but then feels like he has to poop. The diaper can taste the mess that's coming inside and wants it so bad. The diaper then squeezes Cody's tummy making him desperately have to poop. Cody can't take it then starts to fart and make a big giant mess all for the diaper monster to take. "You're such a stinky dirty boy, you definitely will help feed me and my friends for a long time," the diaper laughs triumphantly. "Get used to us feeding off your poopy butt but don't worry we like to reward our little stinky boy. Allow me to demonstrate". The two hands then push Cody down onto his butt smushing all the poop around his ass. The front tapes of the diaper then open up exposing Cody's dick, one diaper then comes up close by his crotch then spits out its tongue and wraps around Cody's hard-on. The tongue was super wet, Cody then felt it go up and down giving Cody a tongue job. Cody starts to moan and then feels the diaper attached to his butt dig into his butthole once again pleasuring his prostate. Cody then starts to feel the need to cum, the hands then grab a baby bottle and open up the lid. Cody then busts the biggest orgasm he ever made into the bottle, filling it up full, he couldn't believe how much he cummed out. The diapers all smiled then the diaper laughed "such a good boy, now it's time to feed the baby and what better way than a fresh bottle of milk mixed with some protein provided straight from the source". Cody tried to squirm knowing that his own cum was mixed with milk. The hands then approached with the bottle to his mouth. Cody tried keeping his mouth closed but then one of the hands pinched his nose and he was forced to drink his own milk he made himself. The diapers laughed then the diaper on his butt opened up all the way exposing his poopy butt and naked bits. The diaper then shouted "Alright everybody dig in. Enjoy"! All the diapers started to run up to Cody's ass pushing him onto his back with the hands holding his legs up in the air for easy access. All the diapers then started to lick clean his poopy ass and hole. How long would Cody have to endure this with the wand in their hands now. Then Cody hears the door open. "Hey Cody I'm back and oh gosh!! What the heck is going on!! Cody, are you wearing a diaper and ugh don't tell me you've been playing with my magic wand! And what..." Julie stomach gurgles and she moans out, "Ugh why did I eat that big burrito?" The diapers looked at Julie with hungry eyes. The leader of the diapers then laughed and yelled "Oh looks like Cody's girlfriend walked in just in time, we totally forgot about dessert! Anybody who wants her, it's first come first serve so better get to it!" The diapers then run up to Julie and the hands push her down. Pulling her skirt and undies off then grab her by her ankles lifting them up. Then out loud *pffft fart* Julie makes a huge stinky fart that fills the air. All the diapers then smiled and loved it. "Oh my, it smells like fresh roses!" "Omg please me first I would love a taste of that rose bud!" "Smells like she's brewing a nice big one. A nice poopy Supreme!" One lucky diaper then gets its chance and scoops right under Julie's butt "Cody when I get out of this you're going to pa..y..uhh..." Julie was paused from the tongue entering herass while another diaper got on top of her "look another hole I wonder what comes out of there?" The diaper then slipped its tongue in and Star moaned. The diaper smiled "oh wow it's nice and juicy!!" Julie felt her tummy rumble and then the diaper gave her the same treatment that they gave to Cody. Fresh mushy poop came out of Julie's ass and into the open diaper. Then the diaper closed itself and mushed right up against Julie's butt. The leader said "oh bring some of that over here let's mix it with Cody's! The two hands then pushed Julie and slid her on her butt up to Cody then the two diapers opened up and both stinky poopy diapers then mushed together and both Cody's hard dick and Julie's horny front met together. Then both of their butts met the fate of having to sit in each other's mixed up poopy diapers. Julie then moaned "oh no I have to I have to". Cody yelled out "NO please don't tell me you have to..." *pffft fart*. More mushy poop starts to come out of Julie's butt and floods into Cody's diaper. The diapers got closer together. Rubbing both their stinky butts together. "EWWWW GROSSSS!!" Both yelled out

Joe sat in the passengers seat of his wife’s car and watched the rain fall outside. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the car window. He felt anxious and restless but there was nothing for him to do, nowhere for him to go and no way out. They were almost to their destination and Joe was overcome with a thrill of dread. He took a deep breath, he knew was being silly, ridiculous even but he couldn’t help it! He knew all too well what awaited him when the car stopped. Joe was ripped away from his malaise as his wife laid a gentle hand on his thigh and gave a small squeeze to gain his attention. Julie smiled at her small husband “sweetie, what’s wrong” she asked concern in her voice. “I would think you’d be excited. I mean I know this isn’t exactly ideal but we had to have the house fumigated immediately and I have to go to my friends bachelorette. I already feel guilty enough, I I hate leaving you all alone and I know you really don’t like it either but it all worked out” she said as she gave shoes leg a pat. Joe for his part gave a noncommittal nod as his wife continued “I mean Tim’s timing couldn’t be better. He moved back to town just in time didn’t he.” The received another small nod from Joe “ummm” he added. Satisfied Julie went on “You must be excited to see your best friend and have your little sleepover sweetie hmm, just like old times” she returned her eyes to the road seemingly unaware of her husbands inner turmoil. Joe gulped unable to speak. a return to old times was just what he was afraid of but he couldn’t say that, there were so many things he couldn’t tell his wife so instead Joe just nodded ”of course I'm excited to see Tim” he said in a small voice ”I'm just gonna miss you I guess” In truth Joe was going to miss his wife but that was not the primary cause of his anxiety. Joe’s feelings of apprehension stemmed from knowing that the minute he stepped out of the car he would be back under the care and complete control of his best friend and former roommate and there was nothing he could do about it. Within minutes the car pulled to a stop in front Tim’s new house. Starting to panic Joe turned and looked at Julie who was still smiling serenely at him ”are you sure you have to go” he ask unable to totally hide the apprehension in his voice. He gazed at his wife hoping to change her answer because he just knew that once he walked though that door things would never be the same. Both of their lives would change forever and he was helpless to stop it. Julie gave her husband a hard look ”yes I do, I made a commitment and anyway I want to see my friends” She gave Joe’s shoulder a genteel rub “Honey Tim is your best friend and he's only just moved back to town. We’ve only seen him once and I know he misses you. I think it's important that you two spend some real time together” Her expression grew concerned as she gazed at Joe’s worried face honey you’re being silly she said gently “it's only 2 nights and I'll only be a couple of hours away okay” Joe nodded “you’re right he sadly squeaked” , And she was. Everything she said was true, Tim was his best friend. This in it self a miracle mostly because at first glance they made no sense together, Tim was huge, well over 6 feet tall with dark hair and eyes. He was extremely athletic physically fit. Joe on the other hand could only be described as cute. He was barely 5 feet tall with a skinny, boyish build and blond hair. He had never been athletic and was often confused for a 10 year old boy. This was still almost a daily problem for Joe at 24, at 18 when he met Tim and they became collage roommates it was a major obstacle in his life and made it way for Tim to take on a dominant role in their relationship. In fact, Joe knew that his looks and lack of physical development were the main reason why Tim decided to take control from almost the moment they met. He couldn’t put it off forever, With a final sigh Joe leaned over to drop a kiss on his wifes cheek ”love you hon” he said trying to sound cheerful “see you Sunday” he gave Julie a fake smile before grabbing his backpack opening the car door. She gave him a quick wink as he exited and then she was gone. Joe blinked away tears as his wife drove off. He stared up at the small white house in front of him. It just a normal looking House but Joe knew exactly what waited inside for him and he felt he had no way to stop it. Joe closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Knowing that he couldn't put off the inevitable any longer Joe slowly made his way to the door. Joe raised his hand and was about to knock when Tim opened the door with a huge smile ”hey little buddy, I’m so glad to see you Joey come in, come in!” Joe tensed Tim was then only one who ever called him Joey. He haven’t been called Joey in over 2 years, Tim and Tim only called him that as a reminder of his place in their relationship. Tim smiled noting the smaller man’s reaction. He held out his hand for Joe’s bag and only once the smaller man had handed it over did he step aside to allow Joe to enter. “This was okay, everything was alright” Joe repeated the mantra to himself silently as he stepped inside. He immediately looked around and froze. Joe closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he should have been expecting this but somehow he just hadn't been. Of course he should have been expecting this. The cause of Joes anxiety was nothing more than a harmless looking wooden crate sitting on floor of the entry way. It was undecorated except for a the the word shoes displayed in large black letters and a picture of red shoes right underneath the lettering. Reluctantly Joe peered inside knowing exactly what he would find and there it was, a tiny desk top trash can in the corner of the crate with a small swinging lid. Joe’s breath caught as he pictured the white board that hung over his bed in their dorm room. He could see the words House Rules written in big letters followed by the words Rule 1- little boys will be barefoot at all times unless given express permission from a grownup. For a minute Joe thought about fighting Tim. He could, he could insist that he was a grown up, not some little boy. He took a steadying breath snd puffed out his chest, then he visibly deflated, Joe knew what Tim wanted and Tim would win! Tim always won. “Just do as you’re told be good” Joe mentally scolded himself. Not wanting to call attention to his momentary flair of rebellion Joe walked right to his crate and quickly toed off his small shoes. He then bent down to place them in the crate. Next he reached down and peeled off his socks and placed them in the small trash can. Before straightening up Joe said a silent goodbye to his socks doubting he would see them again. Joe hadn't been allowed to wear socks his entire 4 years of collage and a big part of him already knew that after today he wouldn't ever be allowed to wear them again. Joe gazed down at his bare toes wiggling them unconsciously. A shiver ran though his whole body. He could never understand why the loss of his shoes and socks made him feel so naked. Tim put Joe’s bag on a nearby coat hook then turned walked directed to the smaller man. Smiling Tim enfolded Joe in his arms and whispered into his ear “you remembered Rule 1, I’m so proud of you my good little boy” He then dropped a kiss on Joe’s hair. In spite of himself Joe melted into the hug and without thinking about it nodded into Tim’s chest. Tim pulled back and smiled down at his tiny friend. Joe couldn’t help but beam back. Though Joe would never admit it, even to himself he only ever felt truly safe with Tim, the same way any little boy feels when he’s with his daddy. Tim stroked is finger down Joe’s smooth cheek and ended by cupping his chin. Joe closed his eyes and leaned into the familiar and loving gesture Tim had always used to grab his attention. Looking at his boy Tim said “Just to make sure we’re on the same page little one, can you remind me what rule 1 is again?” he stroked Joe’s chin as he waited for him to respond. Joe froze noting Tim’s use of the word IS, he said IS not WAS implying that their rules were still in effect and were going to once again be part of Joe’s life. He gulped and mumbled “no shoes and socks, not allowed” Tim pointed down to his own shoe covered feet “what that’s not right is it kiddo, who’s not allowed?” This was one of the things Joe found most embarrassing, Tim always wore shoes and socks and dressed like a grownup. This brought their obvious differences in size and maturity into even more stark contrast. Joe moaned but new better than to ignore a direct question from his…Tim “um just me” he answered slowly “I gotta be barefoot all the time unless you say to wear shoes” he looked up at Tim hating himself for seeking the man’s approval. Tim gave Joe’s chin a tiny shake “that’s exactly right sweetheart and why do you need to be barefoot at all times” he asked the question seriously but smirked at Joe as he awaited Joe’s response. Joe whined just a bit before answering “it’s cause I’m just a little boy and shoes is for big grownups like d… like you” Tim smiled proudly and wrapped his arms around Joe once again “that’s exactly right, my smart little boy”. He dropped a another kiss on Joe’s hair before releasing the boy and landing a playful swat on his bottom “go to the sofa like a good boy please , I’ll meet you right over there” Joe nodded, he made sure to listen carefully to Tim’s command ”go to the sofa” did not mean sit in the sofa it meant go sit on the ground by the sofa until I get there. There were rules about when little boys were allowed to use the furniture right now was not one of those times for Joe. As Joe made his way to the living room he heard the familiar plip plopping sound of his own bare feet against the floor, this sound had been almost ever-present in his collage days especially since early on Tim had trained him to always step heel first so that the ball of his foot always fell to the ground with a plop. This was only reenforced by the fact that Tim only ever let Joe wear shoes like flip flops or clogs that squeaked and slapped when he walked. This only added to his embarrassment and the knowledge that his life was not his own. He belonged to someone else. He belonged to Tim and Being Tims barefoot little boy meant walking like a toddler. Once collage was over and Joe was away from Tim he had started to grow up. Joe changed many thing. For starters he had actively avoided ever being barefoot, in fact Joe doubted that his wife had ever even seen his toes but he knew that was about to change. He repeated rule one over and over in his mind as he listened to the familiar pitter patter of his own little feet. Once in the living room Joe looked around then like a good boy he sat on the ground in front of the sofa and waited for Tim. He didn’t have long to wait which wasn’t surprising in the least. Tim was many things but inattentive wasn’t one of them. In fact he was almost obsessive when it came to his little boy. Tim walked into the living room smiling at the sight of Joe sitting on the ground in front of the couch hugging his knees. Tim smiled upon seeing Joe sitting on the floor and walked over to the sofa. He nodded silent and took a seat, only then did he extend his hand “Joey, come here baby” he said his voice was quiet and self assured it was clear that this was not a request but a comment, an order to be obeyed. Without second thought Joe sprung to his feet. His compulsion to obey was so strong that he grasped Tim’s hand practically jumping into his arms. Then he seemed to regain his composure and stopped himself. He pulled back just slightly giving Tim a shy smile “ah hi” he whispered embarrassed by his own reaction. Tim practically beamed ”hi baby he said as he pulled Joe closer so the little man was standing between his legs. Tim once again cupped Joes cheek and looking into his eyes asking ”why were you sitting on the floor baby” Tim smirked visablly of course he already knew the answer to this question. It was simply a test for his little boy. Joe shrugged and mumbled ”you know, rule 2” Tim nodded seriously ”of course what was I thinking and what's rule 2 again sweetheart” Joe whined but answered ”little boys can’t sit on adult furniture without permission cause it’s up high and dangerous and anyway, I’m still in street clothes which aren’t allowed in the house cause ah you know they’re yucky ” Tim nodded once again ”that’s exactly right sweetheart and you were such a good boy to remember the rule about the furniture. Now then, is there something you need to ask me” Tim kept his voice firm but gentle and pointed to Joe’s shirt. Joe knew exactly what was expected of him, in the four years he had lived with Tim he had never been allowed to dress or undress himself. He was just too little to get it right and Tim could it better and faster. He had to swallow the lump in his throat before asking ”will you in undress me please” he looked away, his cheeks burned with shame as he automatically raised his arms in the air. Tim on the other hand looked positively blissful ”of course baby ” he said as he started to pull Joes shirt over his head. Once Tim had separated Joe from his shirt he paused, he rubbed Joe’s soft round belly noting with pleasure that nothing had changed he still had A creamy complexion, soft hairless skin and the muscle tone of any prepubescent boy. His hands then moved down to Joe’s pants. His fingers moved to button of Joe’s jeans and he tutted with disapproval as he struggles to get it unfastened. He looked Joe in eye as he struggled and said in an almost disappointed tone ”little boys do not need to be messing with complicated buttons and zippers this is ridiculous.” Joe looked away at the admonishment and a tear trailed down his cheek. He felt the same shame and guilt burn his tummy the same way he always did when he knew he had disappointed his parental figure. Tim’s fingers found atheist button hole and worked the button threw quickly. He then allowed Joe’s pants to drop and pool around his ankles. Tim’s annoyance softened when he saw his sad little boy. He sighed and reached up to wipe away Joe’s tears ”oh baby, it's okay I'm here now and I'll take care of everything, we’ll just have to do a little better from now on won't we” Joe nodded fervently not even quite sure what he was agreeing to, just knowing that he needed to make his Tim happy with him and show that he would be a good little boy. Tim nodded too ”right then, step out for me baby boy” Joe obeyed at once looking at Tim as he left his clothes behind and stood there in nothing but his boxer shorts. He shivered slightly as he felt a chill run through his almost nude body yet even as he started to feel slightly cold a feeling of warmth spread through him at the certain knowledge that he once again belonged completely to Tim. He was subject to his rules and domination but he was also object of his love and devotion. Most of all belonging to Tim meant that he was free from all decisions and stress and safe from all harm. Even if it also meant that he was just small child, more accurately he was Tim’s baby boy. Tim eyed his child and former roommate taking note of Joe’s underwear. he knew this would be the last time the little boy wore boxers. He took Joe’s hand again and this time he pulled the little boy onto his lap. He gave Joe a squeeze and began to rock slightly ”missed you so much baby boy” Joe sighed contentedly and leaned his head against Tim’s shoulder. As Tim’s large hands began to gently rub and kneed his back ”missed you too” he whispered just loud enough for Tim to hear. Tim hummed for just a minute, as he Rocked his little boy giving them both time to once again get used to their dynamic, to being a family. He cleared his throat ”I’m so sorry baby, I'm so so sorry that I went away and left you all alone, you know I asked you to come when I moved but you said you couldn't and we weren't even living together. I was in that crappy apartment with no money and you were at least back with your Aunt and Uncle so I figured it might be okay. I mean at least you had a place to sleep and food to eat. but I was wrong to leave you and I'm sorry. It's obvious just by the way you've been dressing that you've forgotten who and what you are, that you're not an adult or even a big boy. You're just a baby, my baby and I'm here now to take care of everything to take care of you. I promise you never have to worry about anything ever again I'm home now”. He stopped for just a moment before saying the words they were both waiting for, the words they both needed to hear ”its okay baby boy daddy's here” he dropped a kiss on Joes forehead ”daddys right here now baby” Joes breath caught as he heard Tims words then without warning he burst into tears sobbing out years of anger, frustration and anxiety. Tim said nothing he simply rocked and rocked his little boy. Once Joe’s crying had died down Tim kissed both of his cheeks before continuing ”I'm so sorry baby and I promise daddy will never go anywhere ever again. I know this just have been so hard for you, I mean you spent 5 years as daddy's baby then you had to pretend to be a big boy but that's over now, you'll never ever have to be anything other than the tiny little baby you are ever again. Joe seemed momentarily calmed by these words but suddenly he went ridged in Tim’s arms. He pulled back trying to get free. When it became clear that that wasn't an option he looked at Tim with worry in his eyes and asked “what about Julie, she can't know about this...I” Joe was silenced as Tim put a finger to his lips ”oh now now none of that, that sounds like a worry to me, is it your job to worry baby?” Joe whined but shook his head ”no, cause I'm little” Time nodded ”such a smart little guy, whats you're job” Joe had a small spasm ”to be a...” the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. He paused to swallow then continued ”to be a good little baby and obey my daddy” Tim smiled and dropped a kiss on Joes hair ”that’s right baby and can you remember what daddy’s job is” Joe paused before reciting from memory ”to make grown up choices and take care of me and know whats best for me cause I'm just a little baby” Tim nodded ”that’s exactly right baby, such a good little boy so I don't want you to worry about anything, Daddy will take care of everything from now on” Joe closed his eyes and without thinking about it folded himself into Tim’s side as he breathed away the anxiety he felt. He reminded himself that he was a baby and his only job was to trust his daddy. This somehow made it all better. Blinking he pushed himself off Tim’s shoulder and looked at the bigger man wondering what came next. Tim gave Joe’s neck a little squeeze ”come on munchkin I think it's time we got you in the tub, it’s getting kind of late” Joe looked at Tim and flushed pink ”no umm no I take showers now and I can do it all by myself I'm good at showers I promise” he chewed his lip nervously. Tim squeezed Joe to him ”now now baby boy you know how daddy feels when you tell fibs now whats the rule” Joe sighed, Closing his eyes, he could picture the white board like it was in this room ”little boys Are given baths and never ever stand in the tub cause it's dangerous” Tim nodded gently ”so no more showers for daddy's little boy you're only little and it's not safe” Seeing no choice Joe simply nodded into Tim’s shoulder where his head had once again settled. Tim shifted Joe in his arms so he was cradled like the baby he was and stood. Tim felt a shiver of contentment pass through his body. He had almost forgotten how much he loved holding his baby. Joe was perfect for him to hold. He was light as a feather and small enough to easily fit in Tim’s arms and lap. He was skinny without being bony, on the contrary he was soft and padded. It was like holding an actual toddler which is exactly what Joe was to Tim. Giving the tiny boy cradled in his arms a little squeeze Tim carried Joe up the stairs to the bathroom. As Joe was carried up the stairs towards his first bath in 3 years he was very aware of the fact that he was about to be naked and totally exposed to his daddy as well as the fact that he had no choice or control in what was about to happen or anything really. He was a baby and daddy had total control. He belonged to daddy. When they walked into the bathroom Tim put Joe on his little feet in front of the toilet and without asking tugged down the boys boxers so they pooled at his ankles. Automaticly Joe’s hands flew to cover his privates. Tim gave a tut and pushed Joe’s hands aside with a light slap ”never ever hide yourself from daddy” he admonished “you know better baby boy now sit and make tinkles while I fill the tub please” Joe nodded and obeyed. As he hopped up on the toilet seat his feet left the floor leaving his discarded underwear behind. Joe wasn't at all surprised when Tim scooped them up and threw them in the trash before turning and going to his knees to fill the bath. Joe closed his eyes, boxers were another thing he'd be saying goodbye to. Tim turned on the taps and adjusted the water temperature humming as he did so. Once he was satisfied the water was not too hot or too cold he turned back to his boy ”I don't hear you making pee pee baby, do you need daddy to help you sweet boy” Joe shook himself from his thoughts and looked at Tim ”I... No daddy, it's just hard to go with someone else in here, even you. I need privacy” he said the last part as an apology. Tim smiled and stroked Joe’s cheek ”well you best get used to it munchkin. Are you allowed in here by yourself? what's daddy’s rule?” Joe cleared his throat and dutifully recited ””little boys aren't allowed in the bathroom or the kitchen by their own selves cause it's dangerous and they need grownups to watch them” Tim took Joe’s face in his hands and lightly kissed his lips ”thats exactly right baby, such a good little boy, you make daddy so happy. Now please go pee pee like a good little baby and we’ll have no more talk about privacy” Joe nodded and looked away torn between sadness at the rebuff and the pleasure he always felt when daddy gave him hugs and kisses, Tim was nothing if not affectionate with his little boy. A sudden thought struck Joe and he looked at Tim in near panic. He took a breath to calm himself before he asked ”umm daddy does this mean I need to use my special potty again” Joe grimaced just thinking about the small red training potty he had been forced to used all though college after Tim had forbid him from using the big boy bathroom by himself. Tim nodded and smiled “such a good memory munchkin of course you’ll get to you you’re special potty again in fact I bought 4 so we can put them all around the house. That will make things much easier won’t it baby” Not meeting Tim’s eyes Joe nodded even as he worked to stifle a sob. “yes daddy” he said in a tiny voice tired of waiting Tim took hold of Joe’s tiny member with one hand and began to gently press on his soft tummy and lower abdomen with the other “this is much better isn’t it baby and actually I forgot you really shouldn't be touching your baby bits should you” Tim whined at the sudden intrusion but nodded “no daddy, it’s naughty for little boys only daddy should touch my tiny weeny little penie” he said remembering Tim’s favorite name for his private parts. Tim smiled and continued his assault “my good boy now go peepee baby boy it’s getting late and we need to get you in the tub” The small bit of pressure both physical and emotional was all it took and as if on commend Joe immediately started to pee. Joe was relieved as he quickly felt his stream slow and stop. He looked up at Tim “all done Daddy, no more peepee” Tim gave Joe’s diminutive penis a little shake to get out any last drops “are you sure baby, I don’t want you going potty in the tub” Joe rolled his eyes but nodded “yes daddy, I’m sure I promise no more peepee” Tim nodded and ripped off some nearby toilet paper. He wadded it up and dapped at Joe’s penis. Once he was satisfied that there would be no drops he stood “ok baby boy you may stand” Joe obeyed but didn’t move knowing what came next. With the tissue still in his hand Tim reached down and gave Joes bum a wipe then inspected it. Shaking his head he said “Joey you haven’t been wiping very well, but no matter that’s daddy’s job now” Tim gave Joe another wipe and once he felt the boy was properly clean he threw the paper in the toilet and gave it a flush “now what baby boy” he asked Joe who was standing there as if frozen seemed to come out of a dream “umm now daddy washes our hands” “That’s right baby” Tim agreed as he lead the way to the sink and turned on the water. He waited for Joe to take his position in front of the sink before standing behind him. He grabbed the soap and cupping Joes tiny hands in his large ones proceeded to wash both at the same time “there we go baby nice and clean” Tim turned off the water Joe knew that it was daddy’s opinion that he was much too little to handle washing his hands or anything by himself and seeing as it was daddy’s opinion that mattered he stayed perfectly still and allowed daddy to do what he wanted. Once Tim pronounced that he was done Joe looked up “thank you daddy” he squeaked. Tim took Joe by the shoulders and turned him around. Once they were facing each other Tim pulled Joe close and enfolded the little boy in his arms “I love my little baby so so much, more then anything else in the whole world” Joe couldn’t help but melt into Tim’s embrace “love you too daddy” he mumbled into Tim’s shoulder. As Tim pulled away Joe was touched by the unshed tears he wiped from his eyes. “I’m just so happy my baby is home with daddy” Tim said as way of explanation “now let’s get you in the tub” he held out his hand. Joe silently took Tim’s hand as he was lead to the waiting tub. Once they were there. Joe stopped and waited relying on their old choreography to know what came next. Wordlessly Tim reached out and hooked Joe under the armpits and easily lifting him off his feet before sitting him in the full bathtub. Joe closed his eyes as his body was enveloped in the warm water. He felt all of the tension leave his body as he leaned against the back of the tub. Joe’s role in the bath ritual had been defined long ago. He knew his job was to do nothing but obey while daddy took care of everything for him. Tim wasted no time in locating a nearby washcloth. He dipped it into the warm water then used a recently purchased bottle of baby body wash to create lather and suds. Smiling he started to gently wash Joe”s tummy making sure to get inside the boys tiny belly button before moving to his shoulders. Tim smiled at the giggles he was receiving before moving on to Joe”s neck and arms. Tim was pleased at Joe”s docility and compliance. He paid close attention to his boys armpits before getting more soap and working his way up the little boys neck to his face. Once Tim was satisfied that Joe was clean from the waist up he knew it was time to go lower. He started with with Joes tiny feet. In truth they were probably his favorite part of his boys body. Tim could remember the first time they met, it was Joe’s feet that made him realized this boy was meant to be his. Tim was sitting in his new dorm room waiting to meet his roommate when he heard a tiny knock at the door. He stood and opened the door to find a worried and confused looking little boy standing there. The boy wasn’t even 5 feet tall. He had light bling hair and bright blue eyes that conveyed anxiety and fear. The little boy opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He swallowed hard and looked at Tim as if for help. Tim gave the little boy what he hoped was a reassuring smile and put his hand on the kids shoulder “hey little guy, are you lost, I know I bet your big brother or sister goes here don’t they? Did you get separated from your mommy and daddy helping them to move in? I can help you find them” he looked around as if expecting the boy’s parents to come running up the hall any second. The tiny boy in front of him just shook his head. Tim sighed “let’s start with this, what’s your name sweetheart” The little boy looked horrified. He opened his mouth again and all but whined “no I ummm I live here, I’m Joe, your roommate Joe” his statement sounded more like a question as his words died away. Tim shook his head as if to clear his thoughts “are you sure… I mean I’m sorry little buddy you’re just so little” Tim quickly eyed the little boy taking in his pixie like appearance, his small stature but landing almost immediately on his shoes. He couldn’t believe that a guy his age could fit into shoes that small, could have such tiny feet. Tim heard a tiny squeak as Joe scuffed his sneaker against the floor and he knew right then that Joe wasn’t meant to wear shoes, Joe was meant to be barefoot. Shoes were for grownups and big boys and Joe was neither of those things. Joe was just a little boy and though he didn’t know it yet Joe was going to be his little boy. Tim wasn’t gay he knew what he was feeling was love at first sight. He wasn’t exactly sure what kind of love but he did know that this little boy was meant to be his. Tim smiled, a plan already half formed “sorry kiddo, come in, come in this is your room too. Just one rule I don’t want you wearing shoes or socks inside so could you just take them off and leave them by the door” if Joe thought this was odd he said nothing, he simply nodded as he obeyed toeing off his shoes then peeling off his socks and balling them up as he stuffed them in his left sneaker. Tim watched this process silently and almost gasped audibly when Joe removed the first tiny foot from from his little shoe. As small as Joe’s shoes were, they were at least a size too big for Joe. This was unacceptable to Tim’s mind, he decided that as soon as possible, maybe even that night he would take Joe shopping. He couldn’t wait to take Joe into the little boys section to shop for shoes and there would be no more wearing too big shoes that just looked like smaller versions of what adults wore, from then on there would be no socks or complicated laces to deal with. Joe would only wear slip on shoes like flip flops and clogs and those would only be worn when absolutely necessary. Tim would make sure to get everything a half size too small so that Joe could still fit them on his tiny feet but would have some extra incentive to slip off his shoes the moment they weren’t absolutely necessary. Tim smiled again at the thought of Joe tugging on his shirt and asking in a small voice “can I be barefoot now” before long it would be a battle to get Joe to wear shoes at all and this was the first step. Tim nodded they would definitely be going shopping that night and not just for shoes, there were so many options in the boys section just perfect for someone Joe’s size. A whole new wardrobe was in order. Tim was shaken from his thoughts as a now barefoot Joe waited at the door Tim ushered him in with a friendly arm around his shoulder. If Joe noticed that despite his request Tim wore shoes he didn’t say anything not that it mattered, very quickly Joe would have to get used to the fact that grownups and little boys have very different rules. Tim couldn’t wait to get to know his new roommate! A huge smile crossed his face as he shut the door. Tim smiled at the memory as he dipped his hand into the bath water wrapping his large fingers around Joe’s little foot he lifted it out of the bath water. Tim loved how Joe’s whole foot was dwarfed by his hand. He took just a second to lay the palm of his hand against the sole of Joe’s foot as he had done so many times in the past. This little game was a subtle reminder to Joe of how tiny he truly was and how much power strength his daddy had in contrast. Although those things had been clearly evident to the little boy since the moment he walked though the door, a subtle reminder of their respective places in the hierarchy was never a bad thing. Tim held Joe’s delicate foot in his hand and made a small tutting sound “look at that baby” Tim wiggled his large fingers against the sole of Joe’s foot “you’re still just as tiny as you were in collage, have you grown even a little” Tim gazed at Joe already knowing the answer but wanting to hear the little boy confirm it” Joe froze for a second before giving a little shrug “I… no Daddy I’m still the same size” he seemed to hide himself in the water as he spoke. Tim nodded “hmmm well then Baby it’s a good thing you’re back with daddy isn’t it, I mean you just can’t take care of you’re self can you?” Knowing the correct response Joe shook his head a bit sadly and said ”no daddy I’m way too little and I need a grownup… I need my daddy” Tim looked from Joe’s foot to his eyes “that's right baby but don’t worry daddy will take care of you from now on, you’re safe” he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the sole of Joe’s foot before gently washing it with soap and water. He repeated the process and placed another chased kiss on the other sole before lowering it back into the bath. Tim made fast work of washing Joe’s little legs and thighs before stopping briefly, this was his other favorite part “almost done baby we just need do you’re little dinky” he gave a mischievous smile “but I can’t seem to find it” Joe remembered this embarrassing game and groaned “it’s there daddy, I promise but it’s tiny just like me so it’s hard to find” Tim pretended to stare then said “ohhh I see it now, but why is your peepee so baby sized” he reached in to wash the tiny member. Giggling in spite of himself Joe responded just like he had been trained “I’m a baby daddy so my peepee is just baby sized like I am” Tim finished up his task happy to see that despite the years, the training he had put in place to keep Joe from getting hard without permission still seemed to be effective. The boy stayed soft the whole time he was being washed. Tim looked up at Joe “ I guess that’s no bigger either is it Baby”. All Joe could do was shake his head. “Let’s do you’re hair now baby then we can get you out of the tub” Tim grabbed the baby shampoo and squirted it into his hand lathering them up before messaging the shampoo into Joe’s blond locks. The tiny boy closed his eyes and gave a groan of pleasure and contentment as his head was messaged. Tim smiled, he loved knowing that he had the ability to make his little boy feel safe and loved with his own hands. Once he was satisfied that Joe’s downy blond hair was clean he stopped scrubbing and used the sprayer attachment to rinse his little boy. Replacing the nozzle Tim hit the switch to drain the tub before reaching behind him to find the hooded teddy bear towel he had prepared for his baby. Joe watched as the water level lowered knowing he wasn’t allowed to move or stand in the tub. He waited until his daddy dropped a fuzzy towel around his shoulders and rubbed him all around to help sop up the water. Tim then dropped the hood over Joe’s head before lifting the little boy into his arms. “ let’s go find you something to wear baby boy”. Without conscious thought Joe clung to his daddy as they made their way to Tim’s bedroom. As they entered the bedroom Tim gave the boy in his arms a little bounce “this is our room sweetheart” Joe was shaken “our room daddy? You mean I’m gonna sleep in here? With you?” Tim carried Joe over to the large bed “ yes baby we’ll share for now, I didn’t have time to set up your crib yet besides, I’ve missed my little boy so much and it will be just like old times” Joe nodded, he’s wasn’t sure why this came as a surprise to him, during thier fist week as roommates Tim had ordered extra tall safety rails for Joe’s bed and once they were set up they had become a fixture all four years of college. From that point on Tim would only refer to Joe’s bed as his crib. Joe had to admit that that made some sense since a crib is what his bed most closely resembled. Tim made it quite clear to Joe that crib was then only correct term for where he slept and would ignore him if he called his bed anyway else. If anyone ever asked about the crib like structure they were told that it was a necessary safety precaution because Joe fell out of bed. Though this caused Joe endless embarrassment it seemed to be effective as neither Joe or Tim were never questioned beyond that point. The crib was a clear symbol of Joe’s status but It was primarily used for naps and punishment. On the first night they were living together, Joe woke up in the middle of the night crying from a nightmare and not sure where he was. Waking up himself, Tim worked to calm his tiny roommate before lifting the boy into his arms and taking him back to his bed where they both fell asleep easily. It was never discussed again but Joe spent the next 4 years sleeping in daddy’s bed which was clearly what he needed as he never had another nightmare. At least until after graduation, sadly over the last 3 years Joe had been plagued with almost nightly bad dreams, he couldn’t help but wonder if being back in daddy’s bed and arms would change that. Placing his baby on the bed Tim continued to rub the boy gently with the fluffy towel until he was satisfied that Joe was completely dry. He then stroked Joe’s cheek “just sit tight baby while daddy finds you something to wear” “Oh um ah I brought clothes Daddy, they’re just in my bag, we can go get them” even as Joe said the words he realized that the clothes he brought were part of a previous life when he was pretending to be a grownup and before he was once again Tim’s child. He knew that he would never wear those clothes again. As if to confirm this Tim gave the little boy a smile “I’ll take care of those later baby, but little boys don’t really need those kind of clothes, do they” he turned and began rummaging though his top drawer” “No daddy, they don’t” Joe sighed and stared at his toes as he waited like a good boy. He could be a good boy. Momentarily Tim spun around holding two bags in his hands “look what daddy has baby boy” Joe’s eyes were drawn to the bags in Tim’s hands. He couldn’t help but groan as his brain registered what his daddy held. Both hands held an unopened package of little boys underwear. The pack in his left hand were emblazoned with Superman graphics while the ones in his right were Spider-Man themed. Tim held them up in emphasis “you remember how this goes sweetheart, do you want to be spider baby or super baby tonight” Joe remembered how this particular game worked Tim always provided him with colorful, childish underwear usually superhero themed and he would always let Joe choose which kind he wanted to wear but he always forced him to replace the word man with baby. Joe sighed “can I be spider baby daddy” Tim nodded happily “of course baby boy excellent choice” he dropped the Superman underwear back in the drawer the ripped open the Spider-Man pack. Pulling out a fresh pair Tim unfolded them and stretched them out before walking back to the foot of the bed where Joe sat. Tim knelt down before his little boy and held the underwear open “come on baby step in” Without hesitation Joe scampered off the bed to obey. Joe stood in front of Tim and knowing just want to do put both hands on his daddy’s shoulders to steady himself. Then he stepped into the waiting underwear one foot at a time. Once Joe had stepped in Tim easily pulled the little undies up his little boys legs and over his bubble butt. He pulled them in place with a little snap and gave Joe’s bum a couple of love taps “there you go baby all nice and dressed”. Tim stood and held out his hand “come on baby let’s go downstairs and find some dinner” Joe knew better than to expect to be dressed in anything else while at home so he simply nodded and took Tim’s hand “what’s for dinner Daddy” he asked as Tim lead him out the door and to the stairs. Tim gave his boy’s hand a squeeze “you’ve been such a good baby for daddy tonight sweetheart so you can choose, do you want Mac and cheese baby boy or chicken nuggets, what will it be?” Joe gave an involuntary shiver of delight. daddy knew all of his favorites. He practically shook with delight and jumped up and down “oh oh mac and cheese please daddy, mac and cheese” Tim chuckled at the little boy’s excitement “sure baby that sounds good to me” when they reached the top of the stairs Joey lifted his arms in the air to be picked up without even thinking about it. Tim noted this with pride and rewarded his boy with a kiss on the cheek as he lifted him up and settled him on his hip. Just as they made it down stairs the door bell rang. Tim could feel the tiny boy in his arms freeze and go ridged. He gave Joe a reassuring squeeze “ohh baby it’s okay, I promise it’s just Corey, the neighbor boy from next door, I forgot that I asked him to come over about now to introduce himself to you, I must say he has excellent timing” As they made their way to the door Joe squirmed and whined “no daddy, I’m not even dressed he can’t see me like this” Tim stopped for a moment and shifted Joe in his arms so he could look into his boy’s eyes “now now baby we’ve talked about this false sense of modesty you seem to have developed, remind me, what do little boys wear at home” Joe sighed, he was trapped and he knew it. There was only one right answer still he felt embarrassed. He hid his face in daddy’s neck as he answered “just their little undies daddy and I’m spider baby”. Even while hating himself a bit for giving in so easily Joe knew his words were true and this was just another part of his life as daddy’s baby boy. Tim gently kissed Joe’s forehead and temple while rubbing his bare back “there’s daddy’s good, good little baby, such a good boy” Despite himself, Joe glowed with pride. Daddy thought he was good, he was a good little boy. Tim resumed his corse to the door but stopped before opening it “now baby what does Daddy expect when we meet someone new, one of daddy’s friends” Joe took a deep breath “umm use pretty manners, and be good, listen and don’t call grownups by their names it’s rude” Tim gave his boy a squeeze “that’s exactly right baby, you have such a good little memory” reaching out Tim and grabbed the door knob then opened the door. In a cheerful voice Tim greeted their visitor “hi Corey, come in, come in. Thanks for coming” Tim moved aside to allow the new person inside. Despite his anxiety, Joe’s curiosity eventually won out. He opened his eyes just a tiny bit and to see a tall boy with a round face and light brown hair. He couldn’t tell how old the boy was . He was definitely taller than Joe but who wasn’t. If he had to guess he would say maybe 13 or 14. Tim moved aside to allow Corey to enter. Knowing Joe was nervous Tim worked to sooth him by bouncing and rocking him in his arms as he addressed their guest. “Corey I just wanted you to come by to meet my little boy since you two will be spending some time together” Joe was confused by this conversation but not enough to raise his head from his daddy’s neck. He felt Tim give him a little squeeze and he let out a small whine” Tim chuckled “Corey this is my little boy, Baby Joey. Baby this is Corey, he lives next door with his parents.” When Joe only squirmed in response Tim went on “sorry Corey, he just being a little bit shy, you know how babies can be” Corey nodded “oh sure, I see this all the time. It’s normal for little guys to be shy around strangers, new grownups can be scary” he stepped closer and reached out a hand to lightly tickle the sole of Joe’s foot “hey there little guy, I’m Corey I’m gonna be babysitting you sometimes when your daddy has grownup stuff to do and I really hope we can be friends” Joe groaned internally a babysitter, this boy was going to be his babysitter. He was overwhelmed by embarrassment but couldn’t see any way out. Just like in college if daddy made a choice all Joe could do was obey. Still he resolved to not move from his hiding spot in daddy’s shoulder until Corey was gone. Then he felt the first tickle. He shivered and let out a high pitched giggle. As Corey continued to assault his soft sole a smile came to Joe’s lips as he gave a little kick. “Mhhhhm” he whined. Corey smiled “there’s a happy little guy” he reached out and repeated the action. This time he was rewarded with a longer giggle and involuntary eye contact from Joe. “There he is”. Corey beamed and looked into Joes eyes “hey there cutie” he reached out to stroke Joe’s cheek “it’s going to be okay buddy I can’t wait to get to know you and I promise we’ll be best buds soon okay” Not seeing any choice in the matter Joe gave a small nod to this near stranger. Tim gave Joe another little bounce and kissed his hair “there’s daddy’s good boy, no need to be shy, Corey is a friend of mine and I know he really wants to be your friend too baby” Tim looked from Joe to Corey and asked “can I leave him with you for a few minutes Corey, I really need to get Joey some dinner before it gets to be bedtime” Corey nodded. “That’s totally fine, we’ll just get to know each other for a bit” “Great” Tim gently pulled a reluctant Joe from his hip and placed him on his feet. He leaned in close to Joe and took his face in his hands “I expect you to be a very good boy for Corey baby, you remember what to do” after getting a nervous nod from Joe Tim smiled and kissed the boy’s forehead then stood up straight and made his way to the kitchen. Finding himself alone with his newly appointed babysitter Joe took a deep breath, he knew what was expected of him. It was the same thing he had to do when ever daddy introduced him to a new grownup. He stepped forward “hi umm sorry about earlier, I get shy around new grownups like you” he nervously rubbed his arm and studied his toes “ like daddy said, I’m baby Joey” he shrugged “you can just call me Joey or baby or whatever you want it’s up to you but umm I’m not allowed to call grownups by their first names, it’s rude for babies like me so can I call you Mr. Corey or Uncle Corey” Corey took Joe’s chin in his hand and forced eye contact “it’s also rude for little boys not to look grownups in the eye baby boy and I’d hate to have to spank your bum bum on our first day together so can you work on that for me baby, can you be a good boy?” Joe froze he hated this and be didn’t think Corey was even allowed to spank him but he realized that he didn’t want to find out so he nodded “yes, I’ll be good” Joe said sadly. Corey smiled “that’s great baby and you can call me uncle Corey since we’ll be spending so much time together. Joe wasn’t really sure that was true either, he didn’t even live there but he knew better than to argue with an adult especially one who was now his uncle. “Yes uncle Corey he softly intoned. Corey smiled “let’s go sit on the sofa baby and have a little chat”. He took Joe’s hand and led the smaller boy to the couch where he sat down and pulled Joe onto his lap. Joe couldn’t believe that he was sitting on the lap of someone at least 10 years younger than him. Still, he had to admit Corey was big and strong. He was sure that Corey would be strong enough to lift and carry him easily. Joe opened his mouth to ask the question he had been wondering since he was introduced to this boy “ummm uncle Corey how old are you?” Corey smiled kindly down at Joe “it’s a really big number buddy but let’s see if you can figure it out, I’m as many as all of your tiny little toes plus one finger, can you guess how many that is little guy?” Joe deflated “that… you’re 11” he said as much to himself as Corey. He couldn’t believe it here he was sitting on the lap of an 11 year old boy, a boy who was already a giant to him and who he had to call uncle and treat as a grownup. A boy who would now be one of his regular caregivers. Joe just knew that soon enough Corey would be bathing him, dressing him and putting him to bed. This thought, more than any other truly brought home the fact that Joe was a baby and there was no way he could deny it to himself or anyone. As much as part of him hated this, he was also shocked at the feeling of contentment this brought. The reality was that he was a baby. Without warning Joe felt tears come to his eyes and like any baby dealing with big feelings he started to sob. Corey had been about to congratulate Joe on his math skills when the little boy started to wail. Instead he quickly changed tacts wrapping his arms around his tiny charge then pulling Joe into a hug. He then began to rock “it’s okay baby uncle Corey’s here, I’ll take care of you. just breath for me little guy, such a good baby” Corey kept up the soothing monologue as he rocked and waited for Joe to settle. As Corey held him Joe laid his head on his babysitter’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice Corey’s manly smell which reminded him just a bit of his daddy. Without thinking he snuggled further into Corey’s neck and inhaled finding the musk familiar and comforting. The thought of Daddy calmed Joe. He took a few deep breaths as his tears dried and with a few last sniffles. He was all cried out . He laid there quietly leaving nothing but a wet spot on Corey’s shirt from his leaking eyes and nose. Corey gently rubbed Joe’s back as he felt the little boy calming in his arms “there we go baby nice and calm, such a good baby” he waited for Joe’s tears to stop entirely before asking “what happened little guy, what made you so sad?” Joe lifted his head and looked at Corey. Averting his eyes he shrugged “I don’t know, it’s just everything is different and things are changing and can’t do anything cause I’m just a baby and too little” Corey smiled “it’s hard being a baby isn’t it, but you know what? You’re lucky because you don’t have to worry about anything. You have Daddy to take care of you and me to help and what do you think your job is?” Joe knew exactly what to say “umm to be a good baby and listen to you and daddy” he said softly. Corey hugged Joe and tucked Joe’s head under his chin. “Such a smart little boy, and if you can do that for Daddy and me everything will be just fine, you’ll see” Joe took another deep breath. He felt that what Corey said was true, his daddy would always love and take care of him and if Daddy thought that Corey was big enough and mature enough to help take care of him then he had to trust that. He had to trust his uncle Corey. In spite of his very real embarrassment Joe was already starting to view Corey as a parental figure. This 11 year old was a grownup and Joe was just a little baby that was the reality. Joe was wasn’t sure how long they sat there before he heard footsteps. Looking up he saw his daddy enter the room and look from him to Corey and back again. Without a thought he raised his arms making a silent request for his daddy to hold him. Tim’s heart melted as he saw his little boy reach for him. Without hesitation he went to Joe and lifted him into his arms for a cuddle “hi baby” he inhaled, breathing in Joe’s freshly bathed scent”. Tim smiled and kissed Joe’s cheek as he turned turned his attention back to Corey “was he good for you” Corey stood and eagerly nodded “he was great, the perfect little guy, just a little sad, but nothing I couldn’t handle” Tim looked down and studied Joe’s face noting the tear tracks on his chubby little cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs “daddy’s one true love” he whispered adoringly to his little boy pressing their foreheads together. Corey made a little noice “um so I should probably be going but I can’t wait to start helping with this little guy” he gave Joe’s foot a tickle “bye little buddy” Tim nodded “that’s probably best, it’s getting late and I need to get my baby fed. Thanks so much for coming Corey, it was actually a huge help and I’ll let you know about tomorrow night” he placed Joe on his feet “go give uncle Corey hugs and kisses baby boy, he has to go home” he gave Joe’s bum a motivating pat. Joe froze feeling overwhelmingly shy but shook himself, he should have expected this. Since early in their relationship Daddy had always made Joe say hello and goodbye to their friends and other grownups by giving kisses and hugs. It never ceased to amaze Joe how many people were happy to receive kisses and cuddles from him. In college he was shocked that even guys his own age weren’t embarrassed by the open show of affection. On the contrary, several of the guys on his floor would seek out a hug or a cuddle when they were having a bad day. Daddy used to joke that Joe was the dorm therapy baby. As Joe hesitated Corey opened his arms wide and motioned for him to come closer. Joe obeyed stepping into the larger boys embrace. Corey wrapped his arms around Joe and squeezed then he release the little boy and tapped his own cheek. Leaning close on his tip toes Joe gave his uncle Corey a dutiful kiss on the cheek. Corey gave Joe another squeeze “bye bye little guy, see you real soon”. Joe felt his daddy’s hand on his shoulder and they walked Corey toward the door “yah buy uncle Corey see you soon” Joe said as Corey walked out the door. “Thanks again” Tim said as ge closed the door behind Corey. He then turned back to his boy “let’s go to the kitchen baby dinner is about done” Overcome by anger, Joe almost glared at Tim. For the first time that night he had steel in his eyes “why would you embarrass me like that!” He stomped his bare foot and then all but deflated “Corey’s only 11” he said in a near whine. Tim’s expression turned dark he placed a firm hand on Joe’s shoulder “that’s right little boy Corey is 11 and how big are you exactly?” Joe squirmed. When Tim called him little boy it was never a good thing. He gulped “I know I’m only little daddy, I’m a baby but” he was stopped mid sentence when Tim put a finger to his lips. “That’s exactly right sweetheart, you are just a little baby aren’t you which is why daddy isn’t going to punish you for questioning me right now and forgetting your place but let’s review, do babies make choices or know what’s best for themselves?” He waited for an answer Now thoroughly intimidated Joe shook his head “I… no no daddy you make choices and you know best, I’m just a little tiny baby” Joe tried to make himself as small as possible” Tim messaged his boys shoulder “that’s right you’re just a little baby and 11 is much bigger than a tiny baby isn’t it” Joe nodded emphatically “”yes daddy much bigger” Tim smiled “good so you’re going to be a good baby for uncle Corey right little boy” Joe nodded again “yes daddy I’ll be good for uncle Corey I promise” Tim let go of Joe’s shoulder and offered him his hand “that’s a good boy now then we won’t have anymore silly talk from little babies will we” Joe shook his head as he took daddy’s hand “Okay then” Tim said “let’s go eat” he took Joe’s hand and led him to the kitchen. As they walked into the kitchen, Joe looked around and couldn’t help but smile. The table was only set for 1 and he knew it was meant for him. The table setting consisted of a plastic plate with SpongeBob and his friends smiling cheerfully all over it. It had been Joe’s from their college days and he wasn’t surprised that daddy had saved it. On top of the plate sat the matching spoon. Joe moved his eyes to the place next to his and knew what he would find. There sat a single fork on a napkin. Daddy allowed Joe to try and feed himself as long as he could use a spoon. Joe was never allowed to play with forks or knives as they were considered much too dangerous for little babies. For anything that required something other than his spoon Joe could either choose to use his fingers or have daddy feed him. The next thing to catch Joe’s eye was the matching sponge bob sippy cup on the table. In spite of himself, Joe swelled with pride. Daddy considered a sippy cup to be a big boy privilege so Joe must have been a very good boy so far if he got to use his sippy. The final thing Joe noticed was also very familiar to him from his collage days. Sitting atop the chair in front of his plate was a bright blue booster seat, the same one Joe had used all through collage and there was no doubt in his mind that he could still comfortably fit in the toddler seat. Joe didn’t have to wait long to find out for sure, daddy brought him right over to his booster seat and lifted him into it before snapping the safety harness in place. Then without a word Tim took the sippy cup from the table “do you want milk or water baby boy “ he asked in a cheerful tone Joe thought for a moment. He briefly considered pointing out that he hadn’t had his daily allotted one cup of juice but knew that daddy would never go for it so close to bedtime. He didn’t want to press his luck “um milk please daddy” Tim smiled “I love the pretty manners baby boy” he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. Joes heart dropped as Tim placed his drink on the table but in place of his sippy cup there was now a baby bottle full of milk. He looked from the bottle to Tim “daddy, I thought… why can’t I have my sippy” he asked in full whine. Tim looked his boy straight in the eyes “I put out your big boy cup before you decided to be naughty and question daddy but it’s clear that at least tonight you aren’t big enough for your sippy. As long as you’re good we can try again tomorrow. Just remember you’re big boy cup is a privilege not for naughty little boys” Joe felt like he might cry “But but daddy!” He whined Tim held up a finger and Joe fell silent “careful baby boy, we can always make it the whole weekend unless you’re ready to be a good baby and drink your baba” Joe shook his head “No, no daddy, I’ll be good, I’ll be a good baby and drink my baba!” As if to prove the point Joe reached for his bottle and planted the nipple between his lips and started to nurse. Tim nodded more to himself then to Joe and took Joe’s plate then turned to the stove dished a Joe sized potion on to the colorful dish then placed it on the table in front of his boy. Before sitting down next to Joe Tim reached into a nearby drawer and grabbed a bib then fastened it around the baby’s neck. As Tim took his seat Joe glanced down to see the words Daddy’s boy printed on his bib. He was overcome with equal feelings of contentment and embarrassment which were the feelings that always seemed to fight each other where his daddy was concerned. Now seated Tim looked at his baby “ok sweetheart do you want to feed yourself like a big boy of do you want daddy’s help” Eager to prove what a big boy he was Joe grabbed the nearby spoon “I’m big daddy I can feed my own self” Tim smiled and ruffled Joe’s hair “of course you’re a big boy sweetheart, But you’re still daddy’s baby too, now eat your dinner, it’s getting late” Joe nodded and carefully scooped some Mac and cheese up. He worked hard to balance it on his spoon as he brought the spoon to his mouth. He lost almost half of the spoons contents as he did. Joe blushed he hated to admit it but the bib was a good thing, he was always a messy eater and his hand seemed to get extra wobbly under Daddy’s watchful gaze. Tim just chuckled and used his own fork to gather the macaroni that had fallen onto his boys bib. He then brought the contents to Joe’s lips and waited for him to bite. The rest of the meal fell into a familiar routine alternating between Joe slowly and clumsily working to feed himself with his spoon and Tim using his fork to feed him bites and speed things along. Once Joe’s plate was empty the little boy looked up at daddy and smiled, happily kicking his feet “see daddy I fed my own self just like a big boy” Tim smiled back, he ruffled his boy’s hair and removed his messy bib “you were a lot of help baby now drink your baba” Tim said with a wink. He he waited for Joe to obey before quickly clearing the table. Once everything was put away Tim turned back to Joe with a damp rag in his hand he proceeded to wipe Joe’s hands and face. “okay baby boy, it’s just about bedtime” Joe looked at his daddy then to the nearby clock then back to daddy “but daddy, it’s only 6:45 I still have a whole hour until bedtime cause it’s Friday and I get to stay up late”. Tim made a mental note that he would have to remove all of the digital clocks from the house, his baby didn’t have to be worrying about time, that was daddy’s job. He gave Joe a serious look “I’m sorry baby boy who makes the rules a clock or daddy” Joe knew he was on thin ice so made sure to sound as cute and little as possible, it was what his daddy liked. “You do daddy, you’re in charge of me” he dutifully answered Tim nodded “that’s right baby and can you please remind me about the bedtime rule” Joe thought for just a second “bedtime for little boys like me is 7:15 except on Friday and Saturday when I can can stay up until 7:45 as long as I’ve been good all week and acted like a big boy. I’ve been good daddy I promise” Joe almost begged Tim stroked the boys smooth cheek “you’ve been so good baby and Daddy is so proud of you but what’s the rest of the rule, you may stay up late on the weekend as long as you’re good all week and go o bed by…” he waited for a reply Joe deflated “7:15 all week” he mumbled sadly Tim nodded “exactly baby, do you mean to tell me you’ve gone to bed by bedtime all week because I think that would be a fib” Joe nodded “yes daddy, you’re right” Tim stood “but we will work on that for next week won’t we sweetheart” Joe nodded as he was once again lifted into daddy’s arms and positioned against his firm chest. He didn’t know how he would explain to his wife that he had to go to bed at 7:15 from now on but he just would. Joe was so distracted by his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice them climb the stairs or enter the bedroom he and Tim would share. He was only snapped out of his trance as Daddy gently placed him on the bed. Tim sat on the edge of the bed and started to play with Joe’s hair “now baby, I just want to say that even though you don’t get to stay up late tonight, you have been such a good boy for daddy and I know it’s hard readjusting to all of our rules but you’re doing such a good job little one” Joe couldn’t help but blush “I… thanks daddy and I promise I’ll go to bed by bedtime from now one” Tim cupped the little boys cheek “I know you will baby” he dropped a kiss on Joe’s forehead then his lips “and because you’ve been such a good boy. I think you deserve a visit from Mr. bear” Joe’s breath caught and he felt an overwhelming spasm of excitement as a shiver ran through his body. Daddy called Mr. Bear his special friend and all through college daddy used Mr. Bear to help Joe make stickies . In fact it was the only way Joe was ever allowed to make stickies as little boys weren’t allowed to touch themself and daddy said that Joe’s peepee was so tiny that it was the only way to make it feel good. As much as it embarrassed Joe he had to admit that Daddy was right. No matter how many other ways he tried to make stickies they never ever felt as good as when he got a special visit from Mr. bear. Joe knew that at least some of that was because a visit from mr Bear also meant that Daddy thought he was a very good little boy. Seeing his boys excitement Tim smiled and opened his top drawer. He pulled out a brown and white teddy bear wearing a happy expression. If you looked closely at the bear you would notice several faded spotted created from repeated offerings from a happy little baby and several trips to the washing machine. Seeing his special friend Joe let out a squeal of delight and started to flap his arms and kick his legs. He opened his arms in anticipation and made grabby hands for the bear. Tim smiled at his happy little boy and brought the bear close place it on Joe’s bare chest. Remembering their ritual Joe immediately gave the bear a hug “hi Mr bear. I missed so so much. Thank you for helping me feel good and making me a happy baby” he then gave the bear a kiss and handed it back to his daddy. Tim watched as his little boy did exactly as he was supposed to. He took the bear back and gently almost reverently pulled Joe’s underroos down to his knees revealing Joe’s tiny member. Like every other part of Joe his peepee could only be described as adorable. As if preforming a familiar dance Tim first brought the bear to Joe’s cheek and rubbed it with the soft fur. Once he was rewarded with a happy sigh Tim moved the bear down to stroke Joes soft belly. This elicited a giggle from the baby who was now a quiver with excitement. Finally The soft fur of the bear leaned on Joe’s peepee which was already erect with anticipation. As Tim started to stroke Joe’s baby bits he said “just a tiny little baby, daddy’s good good little boy, only good little babies get to make stickies and you’ve been so good baby so make stickies NOW!” As if on comment Joe exploded into the soft fur of the bear creating what would soon be another faded spot. Tim continued to rub Joe’s privates both teasing and cleaning his baby. He then grabbed a nearby tissue to finish up. By this point Joe was spent. Once he released he collapsed back on to the bed in an after glow and smiled sleepily as his daddy tended to his needs. Tim worked Joes undies back up his legs and set them in place with a small snap. He them lifted Joe up so he was cradled in his arms. Tim Leaned down and gently kissed Joe on the lips then whispered “we need to say good night to Mr. bear don’t we baby then I think he needs a bath” Joe nodded, when Tim brought the slightly sticky bear to his lips he quickly kissed the bear “thank you for helping me be a happy baby Mr. bear, you make me feel so good, have a good bath.” Placing the bear out of sight Tim rubbed Joe’s tummy and watched his eyes close. He knew he should make his baby go to the bathroom and wash up but the little guy had had a long day. “Someone’s a tired little baby” he cooed “close your little eyes sweetheart it’s time for good little babies to go night nights” Hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion Joe obeyed. He fell asleep almost immediately with a contented smile on his face. He was home. He was Daddy’s.

My character in this story is a young (college age) girl Who is struggling through life, and not doing too well. She goes to your character (a hypnotist, bartender, florist, masseuse) and asks them for help. You decide that what's best for her is to give up responsibilities and become your baby girl, and so hypnotize her to respond to verbal triggers to make her helpless and fully dependent on you. Slowly you add more and more triggers, to make her act like a baby, wet herself, possibly mess herself, forget how to talk, forget how to walk, and other things to make her more babyish, and more dependent on you at your command, or perhaps even the commands of others.

Hello friends. I fully intend on continuing "The Biggest Little Vacation", but here's a story that has been eating my brain for the past week or so - KWOceans and I have written this together (we'll see if you can figure out who wrote which parts!). This one is not as light and fluffy as Vacation, but I hope you enjoy it. I won't be doing my usual one-per-day update schedule on this, as I'm going out of town this week, so it will be a little more irregular than I prefer. Well, here we go... enjoy the ride. ------ CHAPTER ONE Sabrina sat at her computer, typing away, finishing up one last chapter of the book she was working on before she could call it quits for the day. Days like today made it hard to be one's own boss. She wanted nothing more than to toss her computer out the window and go play, but she had bills to pay. She was lucky, honestly - good, steady work that was suited to her talents, she worked from home and thus didn't face a lot of day-to-day discrimination... but in Allemagne that was much less of an issue than on the other islands. Allemagne was very proud of its native Little population and while they weren't quite as socially progressive as Gaule, Littles were safer in Allemagne than on any other island in Europa. As she marked her place in the book she was editing - it wasn't bad, it wasn't top tier fiction, it was a little trope-y here and there... the idea of a Little gaining magic powers and escaping to a world where they weren't on the lowest rung of the societal ladder was done to death at this point, ever since that Witch School series that took the world by storm. But, people were reading more and that meant people needed more books to be edited, and that meant that there was more work for her to do. She had been languishing in obscurity before she got her own short story published in an anthology. She smiled at her copy of An Amazon Below sitting on her desk and ran a finger along the spine. It was almost entirely filled with stories by anonymous authors, very few people were willing to put their name on a story that had Amazons as slaves to Littles, but she had... and she scored no fewer than three new clients off of it. Sabrina Weber - it felt so good to see her name on the cover of the book. She got top billing since there were so many fake names or Anonymous authors in the anthology. No risk, no reward, she smiled to herself. Sabrina hopped down from her chair and got dressed - it was Wednesday night, and that meant Littles night at the club. Violet Intrusion, a hot nightclub downtown that didn't discriminate - if you had ID and credit you were in, they didn't care. She'd been going there a lot since An Amazon Below came out - she had only made a small amount on the book itself, but the other business had her wallet flush in a way it hadn't been before in her life. She stepped out of her loose flannel pants and baggy shirt - she hated pants in general, but they were super comfortable to write in - and put on a bra, which she didn't need normally but she always padded the cups to make her look more shapely, more adult, like the Amazons - it was a risky move, Native Littles were generally small chested... only Portal Littles looked like tiny Amazons and no one wanted to be confused for a Portal Little, they had no rights at all, they were pets and property. Like an Amazon should be, she smirked, wishing. Sabrina had a taboo desire - she wanted to see an Amazon grovel at her feet. It's what all her stories were about, it's what all the stories in An Amazon Below were about. Littles owning Amazons. She imagined having a docile Amazon on a leash as she stepped into her black clubbing dress, pulling it over her well-padded bra. She would be a kind enough mistress, she would love her pet... but the Amazon would know beyond a shadow of a doubt who was in charge. She couldn't wipe the grin from her face as she selected her jewelry for the night - bangles for the left wrist, leather for the right, nice big hoops for the ears and... yes, a simple black choker. She let her waist-length dark brown hair down, cascading as she removed her ponytail holder, and imagined sliding her hands along a naked Amazon body, kneeling before her, begging to be touched. She released a deep shuddering breath before doing her makeup for the evening - a dark red lipstick and heavy eyeliner over her usual foundation and powder. Like the addict she was, she sat down at her computer one last time to check her favorite AmzDom message boards - places where like-minded Littles gathered and shared their fantasies. She had fans from all over Europa, but the majority were here in Allemagne. She was practically untouchable by the Amazons, in order for an Amazon to claim a native Allemagne Little, they had to have a Hunting Permit - which were not easy to obtain, you had to have a target picked out who had been proven to be unfit for society. Unfit meant unable to control their bodily functions AND were unable to support themselves financially. The first could be easily faked, that had been the downfall of the last of the Albion natives who had thought themselves so safe after their Adulthood Declaration laws were passed... but Amazons were clever, they'd get a Little in a position where they couldn't make it to the bathroom one way or another and then before they knew it, they were claimed. Albion didn't even have any free Natives left. Allemagne solved this with the permit system, as well as the requirements. And Sabrina was safer than even most Littles - she was self-employed. She wasn't at the mercy of any boss or company, she was her own boss. Sometimes that was rough - sometimes she had to go a month or two without a contract, but she was booked up for six months solid now, there was a waiting list to get her attention, and things were looking up. So were her points on the AmzDom board, her latest chapter was doing well. She loved each and every person who commented on her stories, she was LittleDomme on the boards and she had a small stable of fans who would read anything she wrote - and she tried to keep them entertained by writing often. There was Ellie, and Ocean, and Trip... but her favorite by far was TinyRebel4. Rebel was always the very first commenter on every thread and always showered her with compliments and tried to predict the twists in her stories, and half the time she was right. Any day that Rebel commented was a good day. Rebel was some kind of scientist - nobody said their real names on the boards, it could make a person's life hard to be outed as an AmzDom fan, but she had dropped enough hints that she worked for some chemistry lab. Sabrina wished that she could crow to the message board that she was in the Amazon Below anthology... but it was risky enough that her name was attached to that book but if her two identities were tied together, it could really make things hard - the story for the anthology was far, far milder than the stuff she posted on the board. Just as she was ready to walk out the door, she noted that Rebel had sent her a message, but if she didn't leave now the wait for the robocab would be dreadful, and she was looking forward to the club. She sat on the small bench next to the front door and pulled on her platform boots - knee-high, laces all the way up, black patent leather, but the best part were the 4" platform soles. Sabrina had always been on the tall side for a Little, but between the padding in her bra and the extra height from her shoes she really felt like she passed for a Mid - and they dealt with substantially less discrimination. She glanced over one more time at the computer, wondering what Rebel had to say. Rebel would have to wait, however - it was Littles Night. The club was gorgeous as always. It was an older building in a part of downtown that was being revitalized, it had been here a long time but the owner had spent a lot of money over the past couple of years renovating it. Now it was ultramodern with a black and silver theme and clean lines, but Sabrina cared much less about the architecture than she did the music. The Violet Intrusion always seemed to have the best DJs, the best bands, and it was one of the few places she wouldn't get hassled for being a Little... well, hopefully people just assumed she was a Mid. She'd still get in for free, her ID showed that she was a Little, but she hoped that the patrons inside wouldn't realize it. Even though it was Littles Night, not many Littles actually showed, this part of town wasn't very Little friendly - the bathroom facilities alone around here weren't adequate for Little needs, but that didn't generally bother Sabrina. She was relatively tall. "Hey Anna," Sabrina smiled as she took her spot at the bar. "Hey Sabrina," the bartender greeted her - the club was just getting warmed up and Sabrina was early, as usual. She liked to make friends with the staff anywhere she went on a regular basis, she was actually pretty good at making friends. "How are you doing?" "Honestly," the Little grinned, "I'm on top of the world. I don't think it could get much better. Work is going great and I feel good. How about you?" "Not as good as you, apparently," Anna laughed. Sabrina loved that laugh, that alto chuckle that she had - Anna had some kind of insecurity, she always covered her mouth when she laughed, but Sabrina didn't mind. A fair share of her Amazon domination fantasies had featured Anna lately. Kind Anna, gentle Anna. She wondered what it would feel like for the woman to actually kneel before her, to submit to the collar... she was snapped out of her reverie, however. "... and then I twisted my ankle! It's better now, but it was a rotten day." "Oh that sucks!" Sabrina sympathized, though she wasn't entirely sure how the story had begun. "I'm glad your ankle is okay, standing all night on a twisted ankle would be awful, and I'd miss you if you weren't here." "You're sweet," Anna smiled, putting away the last of the clean glasses. She was quite attractive, shoulder-length blonde hair, green eyes and pale skin. Her teeth were the tiniest bit crooked, an oddity seeing as how dental correction was a well-understood science, but there was likely a reason. "What are you starting off with tonight?" "Let's see," Sabrina began ponderously, pulling out her comm and loading her wishlist. "Next on the list is the 'Dark N Stormy’." "Sorry," Anna smiled sadly, "I don't know that one - what's in it?" "That's okay," Sabrina knew better than to let anyone mix a drink they didn't know - she was out to try new ones, and if it was mixed wrong, she'd never know if she actually liked it. "How about the Gaule 75? That one's supposed to be really good." "That one I know," Anna grinned, pulling out the ingredients. Anna - Sabrina was pretty sure - thought she was a Mid, she always got Mid-sized drinks here. The frustrating thing about most food and drink places downtown was the fact that even though Little portions were so much smaller, they were almost always the same price as a Mid or an Amazon portion - it was just the way things were, if she wanted fair she had to go to a Little-specific restaurant that only served Little portions. Amazons wouldn't bother going there, it would cost them a fortune to get enough to eat. Sabrina took her first sip of the pale yellow drink - it was strong, but it wasn't as sweet as she had been hoping, but it wasn't bad. She took a long draw from it, savoring the way it burned on the way down. She knew she probably shouldn't drink so much, but an over the counter hangover cure before bed would keep her from feeling it tomorrow after she enjoyed the buzz tonight at the club - alcohol always made the music feel better. She could appreciate the music either way, but if she really wanted to lose herself in it, a drink helped immensely. "Oh," Anna said, walking back to Sabrina's spot at the bar. "I'm supposed to tell you that you have an invitation to the VIP lounge tonight." "What?" Sabrina asked, surprised. "Upstairs? Why?" "No clue," the bartender shrugged. "I just got word that if you came in tonight, you were invited up. I think it's from the boss directly." "Who's the boss?" The Little raised an eyebrow. "Naomi Alexis," Anna replied, but the name didn't ring any bells. "She's nice, a real kind and understanding type. She's a good boss, I'm pretty sure she's up there tonight herself. You'll like her." "Sounds good, I guess I get a glimpse of how the other half lives, huh?" Jump to Chapter 2!

Hello everyone, this is the beginning of my West World inspired diaper story. Feedback is appreciated. Hope you enjoy! Chapter One Welcome to Infantile World Slowly, the tram came to a pleasant stop, with but a small hitch as it settled into its spot. The door slid open silently, but the two occupants of the private compartment didn’t immediately move, instead, they locked eyes, and a wicked smile came over one of them. “Are you ready, Brae?” the smiling one asked coyly. “Vivian, I don’t know if I can actually—” “Braelyn,” Vivian interrupted, quickly rising from her seat to approach the other girl. “I know you’re apprehensive, but this is going to be amazing. Trust me.” “But… Viv—” The encroaching girl was close enough to shove a finger against the other’s lips, silencing her. “You got me into this, remember? You’re the one who had the… fetish… originally, so the fact that I’m now mixed up into it too is all your fault,” Viv said softly, dropping her finger. “The least you can do is indulge me. And yourself, for that matter.” Vivian Locke, ever the dom. Tall, though aided in that affair by her ever-present high heels, and fit with a bit of muscle, she had long black hair tied up in a ponytail, with two short bangs left to hug her slender face. A face that, with but a look, could make Braelyn feel so many feelings at once. Dressed in a pencil skirt and white blouse, Vivian looked ready to kill. Brae blushed, breaking eye contact and looking away. A stark contrast, Braelyn Narmean was on the shorter side, with a slender frame, and light brown hair cut pixie style. She wore blue slacks and a grey t-shirt, looking ready to relax on the couch. The two of them were both twenty-four, though Vivian had always looked older. “You weren’t exactly hard to convin—” Brae started to protest, when suddenly the girl was silenced mid-sentence again, as the other girl shot forward and planted her lips onto hers, kissing her mute. They shared a moment. When their lips did break apart, Brae let out an uncontrollable raspy sigh. “Enough,” Viv commanded, “let’s go… and indulge…” and with that she snatched Brae’s arm up and started to pull the, still slightly unwilling, girl with her. Heels clacking on the floor of the tram, Brae’s flat shoes shuffling, Viv lead her to the still-open doors and out. The tram platform beyond was large and flat, with another empty tram track on the far side. To their left were several sets of escalators, going up to another level. The platform was abuzz with people, several exiting the tram still, but all who left the tram eventually looked to be paired up with a white-clothed person whom lead them to the escalators. Of that, Brae’s attention was drawn to the two white-clothed people standing before her and Vivian. Immediately she was taken by how gorgeous the two women were; truly stunning looking, they could have been supermodels. Letting go of Brae’s hand Vivian stepped forward to one of the women, a short-haired redhead, and immediately grabbed her around the waist, holding her tight. The woman did the same, causing a twang of jealously hit Brae, but she knew it was silly to feel that way. They weren’t exactly… real. “So, remember,” Vivian started, pointing her free hand straight at Brae, “you want the second option.” “Why, again?” Brae asked. “It’s the best, for us, so I’ve been told,” Vivian replied, and as she did so she started to let the redhead take her away, towards the escalators. “I mean, if you want to do one of the other two, by all means, just, you’ll be doing them alone…” “The second one… got it…” Brae said, half to Vivian and half to herself. “I’ll see you inside!” Vivian added, turning fully towards the escalators. But suddenly she craned her neck around and shouted, “and you’d better be padded when you get in there, or so help me!” Nodding, Brae watched Vivian go for a few seconds longer. She contemplated turning around and hopping back onto the tram, but then she caught the eyes of the woman who was still standing patiently in front of her. She was still gorgeous, of course, with shoulder-length blonde hair and the most welcoming smile. Taking a quick breath in and out, Brae stepped up to the woman. “Hi, welcome to Infantile World. You must be Braelyn Narmean, correct?” the woman asked, as if on cue. Brea nodded. “Great. I’ll be your introductory guide. There’re a few questions I’d like to ask you as we make way to the staging area. Follow me?” She stuck out a perfectly manicured hand towards the escalators. Swallowing the strange amount of saliva in her mouth, Brae started forward, following closely beside the woman. They were one of the last to leave the tram platform. As they started walking forward, Brea noticed a sound: a crinkling noise emanating from the woman beside her, which Brae immediately recognized. That sound alone was enough to shoot her heartrate up, and, for just a second, she started to feel excited. “This your first time to Infantile World?” the woman asked almost immediately. She held a small tablet-like device in her other hand, which Brae saw had a bunch of her personal information on it. “I tried out West World once…” Brea replied, just as they stepped onto the escalator, “it wasn’t for me…” “Great, we can skip some of the generic questions then. So, next, would you consider yourself to be more of a submissive or a dominator?” The question caused Brae to blush, which should have been enough to indicate what her answer was alone. “Submissive,” she replied anyways, in a bit of a hushed tone despite the next closest pair being almost off the escalator above her. “Noted. Next, do you consider yourself to be an Adult Baby, a Diaper Lover, or a combination of both?” If the last question had caused Brae to blush, that one caused several blood vessels to burst in her face. Stunned for a moment from the question, only by remembering the fact of where she was heading into kept her from falling over. “I’m… I’m, uh, primarily a Diaper Lover,” she started to answer in practically a whisper, but the woman showed no problem hearing her. “But I’ve… uh, well I’ve always been interested in the AB side, just not really explored it much… well, with Vivian yes but…” her voice grew so quiet she essentially stopped talking. “Great,” the woman replied, punching in something to the tablet, “so would you say about eighty percent DL, and twenty percent AB?” Brae nodded. “Fantastic.” Just then they got to the top of the escalator, and Brae was suddenly jolted forward as her shoes hit the top. Stumbling a bit, she caught her balance, and managed to not make a complete fool of herself. Straightening up, she paused for a moment, taken in by the massive screen wall before her brazenly displaying the words DIAPER WORLD, with some fast-moving ABDL images behind it. She recognized some of them from the sales video Vivian had shoved in her face days prior. The woman just smiled, and then, once Brae appeared to have righted herself, continuing to walk. Brae followed, immediately noticing the crinkling sound again. The guide woman started to lead to a hallway to the left of the screen. She continued with the questions. “Messing. How do you feel about it?” the woman asked plainly. “In our park you will find that messing is a fairly common occurrence, so we’d like to know your preferences towards it.” Blushing considerably less than last time, Brae answered, “I’m… okay with it… well, other than the smell. I think, well Vivian, she mentioned there’s something you’ll be able to do about that?” The woman nodded, “There is. Ah, here we are, through this door now, then the real fun can begin,” she added with a bit of a cheeky smile. Suddenly Brae noticed that the woman had stopped and had led her a door which was in a line of many doors in the hallway. Without much delay the guide stepped forward and swung open the door, beckoning Brae to step inside. With only considerable hesitation, Brae did so. Entering a long hallway, Brae was followed quickly by the guide woman after she’d closed the door. Now that she was presented with a tad more privacy, Brae felt herself relax a bit. The hallway didn’t last long, and led to a white-walled circular room, with a white bench in the middle. The hallway seemed to continue after the room, to another room Brae could see. Stepping into it, Brae noticed that in the walls were in-set displays, holding several peculiar objects that she didn’t know the purpose of—but she assumed she would learn of soon enough. “You can take a seat, if you wish,” the woman recommended, as she came to stand before one of the displays. Brae decided to do so, sitting atop the bench facing the guide, who smiled warmly at her. So convincing… so lifelike. “Before I can move onto these,” she motioned to the objects on the display behind her, “we need to discuss where exactly you’re going! You mentioned that you had been to our affiliate, West World, before?” “Y… yes.” “This park operates a bit differently, but I’m sure you’ll see the fundamentals are the same. You make the story. Here we have three different scenarios that you may choose from, each with a different level of baby-play, as we call it. I… believe I heard your friend mention the second option to you?” “Yeah, she wants us to do the second one… but she didn’t tell me anything about it. So, I’m curious, can you explain what all three options are? I’m still probably going to go for the second one, just because she’ll be there…” The guide smiled, “Absolutely. The first is called our Nursery Scenario. There, guests can regress to as young as they wish, with most choosing from the three-month to five-year range. Either that, or they may become a care-giver within the nursery scenario. It is typically more of a relaxing experience, with not as much in the way of stories to experience or challenges to overcome.” “Oh…” Brae’s face twisted up at that, “that sounds kind-of boring. What’s the third scenario?” “It is more for those with AB preferences,” she added, waving her hand. “The third is called our College Scenario. There, guests attend a college where everyone is diapered, and everyone knows about it. It’s more of an open DL side of things, but there are many stories, and even some challenges to overcome. It’s for those who are really into diapers, let’s just say…” She added a wink after, which Brae almost missed from staring at the woman’s crotch which crinkled as she moved. “That sounds interesting, but I can see why Viv didn’t pick it,” Brae commented, turning her attention back to the beautiful face. “And the last?” “The last is called our High School Scenario. It’s—” A low dull groan escaped Brae. “Is something wrong?” the guide asked. “No… it’s just that… Viv and I met in high school and… well, we we’re both kind-of in the closet at the time,” Brae lamented, explaining. “She admitted to me years ago that she regretted not asking me out back then and… well, she was a lot different… and we didn’t hook up until second year of college… so… that scenario sounds like it’ll be ideal for her.” “But not for you?” “Well…” Brae leaned back putting her hands behind her, the side of her mouth scrunching up, “I didn’t have the best time in high school, let’s leave it at that.” A wide smile came over the guide’s face. “I guarantee you that your second time through high school will be much better than the first. Now, have you decided?” “Yeah… the second one, I guess…” “Fantastic,” the guide exclaimed excitedly. “Now as you mentioned before, we do have a way that we can make messing experiences more pleasant for you. It involves these.” She turned around and picked up something off the display, then held them out in the palm of her hand for Brae to take. “What do they do?” Brae asked, taking them and holding them up to examine. They looked like earbuds, but without the wire connecting them, and they were a bit smaller. “They are olfactory filters,” the guide started to explain, “they go into your nostrils, and will lessen—or enhance—certain smells. Go ahead, put them in.” If Brae hadn’t spent those two days in West World—and seen the rather extraordinary things they had there—then she would have been considerably doubtful. She began to stick the things in her nose, though she was worried that she’d end up speaking like she had a stuffed-up nose the whole time. They slid in fine, sitting up and into her nasal cavity a bit, where they seemed to sit naturally, and not want to fall out. Immediately she noticed that she had no trouble breathing normally through her nose and, in fact, she almost instantly couldn’t notice they were in. “I’ve already calibrated them to a recommended setting,” the guide said, “would you like to test them out, and I can adjust if need be?” Brae raised an eyebrow at that. “Sure…” she said, not really sure. To her shock though, suddenly the guide closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and grunted. She looked to be pushing. A small fart sounded, before the not-so-foreign-to-Brae noise of a diaper filling filled the room. Brae was stunned, her eyes locked on the woman’s white-clad pants as she finished pushing. The guide even turned to the side a little, to show Brae the rather plump deposit sticking itself out of the woman’s backside. It took another second, but the smell finally hit Brae. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, though she was still able to tell what the woman had just done into her pants—well, diaper. A fact that made Brae’s her breathing quicken, as well as her heartrate—now she was excited. “Is that satisfactory to you? The intensity?” the guide asked. Nodding, Brae tore her eyes from the woman’s behind and back to her face. “Uh, yes. It is.” She was still trying to get over the fact that the woman before her—whom was extremely hot—had just done what she had done without hesitation. If this was even slightly representative of what was in store for her… “Good,” the guide replied, before turning around and snatching up the second object on the display behind her. She then turning around and presented it. It looked like a gun, but unlike any gun Brae had ever seen. “What’s that for?” Brae asked with slight horror. “This is customizable localized injection device,” the guide explained. “Like a… needle gun?” Brae’s voice grew quiet. “Does someone not like needles?” the guide asked in an almost patronizing tone. “Who likes needles…” Brae said back in a small voice. “So, what does it do?” “This is to enable some of the more… eccentric role-playing things in the park. It will allow us to inject you with specific chemical concoctions. Nothing is permanent of course. Would you like me to list off all the available options?” “Sure…” “We have… urinary and or bowl incontinence, of varying degrees, or we can just turn you into a bedwetter… reduced motor functions… reduced mental capacity… reduced emotion control… we can give you a lisp… increase or reduce libido…” she proceeded to list off nearly a dozen more. The possibilities were staggering. With the guide done listing off, Brae sat quietly for a moment, thinking hard. She tried to think of what Viv would pick, and if there were any that she could take that would compliment hers. Finally, she thought of one. “Urinary incontinence,” Brae blurted out after a long pause. “Not total, but I’d like to make it hard for me to get to the bathroom on time. Oh, and make me a bedwetter too.” “That can be done,” the guide said, before she turned back to her tablet and tapped a few things on it. Then, she placed the tablet on the display, and held the gun out towards Brae. “If you could present me your stomach for injection please.” Taking a deep breath, Brae rolled her shirt up and presented her belly to the woman. The guide leaned in, pressed the gun against the exposed stomach, and pulled the trigger. “Ow!” Brae exclaimed, the needle hurting a bit more than she was expecting. But that was apparently it, and the woman placed the gun back on the display and grabbed her tablet. Brae rolled her shirt down. “It’ll take a while for the effects to present themselves, so you’ll have time to get some protection on. Now, I believe we’ve spent enough time in here… let’s get you dressed.” And with that she immediately walked over to the entrance to the continuing hallway, though Brae noticed with slightly more of a waddle than she had before. “What about all these other things?” Brae asked, motioning around the room. “They are for the other scenarios…” the guide answered, “if you want to see what they do, you’ll have to come back!” she added cheekily. Brae got up and followed. The hallway was short, and quickly Brae was led into a room that was even more exiting to her than the last: the dressing room. “Everything is bespoke, and to your size,” the guide said, moving to the center of the room to let Brae take everything in. “Take your time.” On one wall was a small closet holding what looked like various sets of private-school uniforms, all adorned with the same red crest on the breast or on the side. Under that were shoes, which varied from standard running shoes to high heels, and even some Mary Janes that caught Brae’s eye. There was also a variety of other accessories, like purses and backpacks. Brae was already picking out her outfit mentally. But it what was on the other wall that made Brae’s heart start to race: diapers. Literally an entire wall of folded diapers, every kind and make that Brae could imagine from the ceiling to the floor. For a solid twenty seconds Brae was consumed with the sight, trying to see how many diapers she could name from the side alone. She had to pick one too, that was going to be impossible! Deciding that it would be best to pick her outfit first she turned back to the closet and got to work. In a way she was thankful that there wasn’t as much choice, otherwise she’d be there for hours. A white blouse first, then one of the navy uniform jackets to go over it. She took a closer look at the crest and saw that it read Blaze Highschool. So, that was the name of her new school, she figured. Throwing that over her shoulder she faced a dilemma: pants or a skirt? She knew what she wanted to pick, but it was also a question of what Viv would want. The plaid skirt was thrown over her arm after little debate. Then finally, stockings of the white variety, and of course the Mary Janes she’d been eying. Oh, and a cute green backpack as well. The mass of stuff piled onto a bench in the center of the room, she stole a glance at the guide whom was still standing there silently. “Uh…” she started to say. “If you would like me to leave then—” “No, no you can stay. Just…” Brae continued, her eyes drifting to the wall of diapers again. There, near the bottom, some thick-looking pink ones with babyish designs on them were calling to her. Leaving her pile, she stepped over to them and pulled one from the wall. “Can you… um… put this… on… me?” She felt like her face was on fire. A tender smile crept over the guide’s face. “Of course. Come, lie down on here,” she said, walking over and motioning towards an adult-sized changing table that occupied the corner of the room, of which Brae hadn’t even noticed, she had been too distracted by the diapers. Excitement mounting, Brae walked over to the awaiting woman and changing table, clutching the diaper like it was a precious jewel. The guide held her hand out, and Brae handed the diaper over. She was panting heavily, the number of dreams that were coming true in that short moment were astounding! The guide didn’t move though, and it took Brae a second to realize what was wrong: she was still dressed. Her old outfit came off with surprising difficulty, her head got stuck in her shirt somehow, probably from her mounting excitement. Pants down, shoes off, she went to go unclip her black bra, only to realize that there wasn’t another for her to put on. She wondered how she was going to do laundry if she was supposed to stay a week in the park, but that was probably a non-issue. She left her bra on. Then, came her plain white cotton panties, which came off for what Brae could only assume would be the foreseeable future. Satisfactorily unclothed, without prompt she leapt up onto the changing table, laid back and waited. The guide got to work post haste, unfolding the diaper and slipping it under Brae’s bottom. Bending down for a second, she returned with a bottle of baby powder and proceeded to sprinkle it generously onto Brae’s crotch. Closing the cap, she then proceeded to gently rub the powder in and around, taking care to get it up a bit on her thighs. Brae was in heaven. She had been changed by Viv before, but this was different. There was a perfection to it, like the woman before her—whom Brae had momentarily forgotten was not exactly ‘alive’—had studied diaper changing like it was an art. Powdering done, the guide grabbed the diaper and pulled it up between Brae’s legs. It was a perfect fold, the first time. The flaps were folded down and tucked, and the tapes were taped up with expert precision. Even lying down, Brae could feel the fit was perfect. The guide stored the powder away and stepped back with a smile on her face. Brae was almost sad that it was over. Sliding over and off the changing table, the diaper was considerably thicker than she was expecting, causing her legs to stick out a bit. The biggest, dumbest grin was on her face. She looked to the guide, and said, “Thank you,” but, in the same moment she remembered the state that the guide was in. “Hey… uh… do… you… want a change?” she asked sheepishly. The guide almost looked taken-aback. “Well… nobody has ever asked me that before,” she replied. Brae found that hard to believe but didn’t say anything to the contrary. “Sure, if you’re offering.” Brae almost squealed, half at the proposition of getting to change the woman’s diaper, and half from getting to change the diaper of an extremely attractive woman. Viv wouldn’t care. In fact, Brae could have bet Viv to offer to do the same thing! The guide put her tablet down onto the bench, then started to slip off her shoes while she was down there. Shoes off, she moved to her pants, which had a set of three buttons at the top to undue. Brae was watching with bated breath, until finally she started to slip the pants down, with the back getting caught and needing a little extra maneuvering to get over the full diaper. The sight of the woman in just her white soiled diaper—the front even looked a little yellow—was enough to make Brae weak in the knees, but she composed herself as the woman walked up to and hopped onto the changing table. “Change me, please?” the guide asked in a sing-song-y voice. Brae was much inclined to oblige. The tapes came off with a bit of resistance. Then, grabbing the front, Brae pulled it back revealing just how full the diaper was. And, to their credit, the nose things worked wonders and the smell was hardly unpleasant. Luckily, it didn’t appear to be too messy, so after finding a box of baby wipes under the changing table, Brae set forth cleaning. Wipe after wipe after wipe went by the gorgeous woman’s sex, with Brae making extra care to get in between her labia—wiping front to back of course—until it was shining clean. She ‘probably’ didn’t need to be as thorough as she was being, but she couldn’t help herself. The used wipes stashed inside the diaper, Brae pulled it out from under the woman, rolled it up, taped it to itself, and then deposited it into a garbage that was sitting beside the changing table. Then, she turned to the wall of diapers. Going by instinct rather than spend an eternity deciding, she went and grabbed a colorful one with blocks on it, and brought it back over, unfolding it as she did. Diaper under, powder retrieved, sprinkled, and rubbed in. She didn’t get the fold correct the first try, having to hike it back a bit before pulling it up correctly. But the tapes were done up, though not quite as well as how the guide had done it, and the change was done. “Thank you,” the woman said as she sat up. “My pleasure,” Brae replied, which was the gospel truth. Deciding that it was probably time to get into the actual park, Brae turned to her pile of clothes on the bench. The guide’s tablet and pants were also in front of her, so, deciding to help, she bent down and picked them up. But upon straightening up she then spun around very quickly, which promptly caused the slick tablet loosely clutched in her fingers to fling out and fly into the wall. Not the soft wall of diapers, of course, the hard wall on the opposite side of the room. The tablet hit the wall, and Brae let out a gasp as she watched the tablet smash gloriously into it, falling down into a heap of broken electronics. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Brae said, apologizing profusely. Just then though, a strange feeling came over her, like a chill up her spine, but it crossed all her bones simultaneously. It was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving Brae to question whether she’d even felt it at all. She shook her head. “No matter. Don’t worry about it, they break so easily,” the guide said sincerely. “Let’s worry about getting you into the park!” “Yeah… let’s…” she muttered, pushing the feeling out of her mind and returning to the task at hand. Brae walked over to her new clothes, and noted how great her diaper felt around her midsection, how snug and thick it was, and that it gave her a definite waddle, though that might have been exaggerated due to how new the experience was. Grabbing the skirt first she undid the single button and slid the zipper down, then stepped into it, sliding it up over the diaper without difficulty. Doing it up, she noted that it came to above her knees, which was just enough to cover the diaper, but her undergarment would be revealed easily if she wasn’t careful. Vivian would be thrilled. The blouse and jacket went on next, and lastly, she grabbed the backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She turned to the guide, whom was standing by the diaper wall now. “You can’t leave without a few of these,” she said, motioning to the wall behind her. “Take as many as you’d like. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more to be had in the park.” Smiling again, Brae quickly scanned the wall and found the remaining stack of diapers the same as she had on. She pointed at them, so the guide slipped them from the wall, walked over and put them into Brae’s green bag. Then, to Brae’s slight surprise, she got a light slap on her diapered rear from the woman. “Enjoy your time in Infantile Land,” the guide said, as she began to lead Brae towards the door at the end of the room, “and remember… act your age,” she added with a cheeky grin, before grabbing the door handle and pulling it open. After sharing one last smile with the guide, a small twinge of sadness that she was leaving her so soon hit Brae. She paused in the doorway. “Wait… I never got your name. If you… have one…” A small smile came to the guide, “it’s Leah. No one’s ever asked me that…” Chapter Two First Day of School “What the hell have you been doing, I’ve been waiting twenty minutes for you!” were the first words that Brae heard the second the door shut behind her, but she barely registered them due to the fact she was trying to figure out where the heck she now was. It was a school bus, that was certain. The seemingly normal door that Leah had opened for her had transformed into the back emergency door of the standard school bus that she now stood in, looking around, confused. The bus wasn’t unoccupied either, as other than her friend whom was sitting in one of the very last back seats of the bus, nearly every other seat was occupied by similarly dressed people as her—though she was unaware of just how similarly. To Brae’s relief though, they appeared to be slightly aged up than what they would typically look like for high school children. Like if the Disney channel had cast them all. It was one thing to go back to high school, it was another thing to have to do it with actual teenagers. “Braelyn! Earth to Braelyn,” Vivian repeated, and suddenly Brae felt a strong tug on her jacket, pulling her down at the same time it brought her back to reality. Vivian was dressed in almost the same outfit, though, as Brae had suspected, she had gone for the pants. She also had a larger black purse slung over her shoulder. “Sorry, just, a bit of a shock is all,” Brae replied zoning into her friend’s existence. “You did West World, how is this…” “Well, just after what I just went though its—” “You changed her, didn’t you?” Viv said with a snarky, knowing tone. The blush that came over Brae’s face was enough to tell. “I didn’t. Probably why I was so much quicker than you. Though that’s what a dom would do, wouldn’t they… make her stay in her own shit for—” suddenly the bus jolted, and began moving forward. Brae glanced out the window and saw that they were on a generic looking suburban street, with trees lining the roads before ticky-tacky houses. “Anyways… so, what did you have done?” “What do you mean?” Brae asked, though she realized it was a stupid question immediately. “Sorry, I… I may have a bit of trouble getting to the bathroom on time, and—” “And you’re a bedwetter?” “How’d… you guess?” “Because you were one, when you were starting high school. Or did you think I’d forget that little fact?” Vivian answered with an evil grin, causing Brae to blush again. She was well away that Vivian had been aware of that fact. “Probably why you developed a fetish for diapers, being kept in them at such a blossoming age… you grew to like them, you sicko.” Brae’s eyes narrowed. She knew straight away what was going on, how Vivian was going to be acting during their excursion—exactly like she’d acted in high school. “What about you, what’d you do?” Brae asked dryly. “I’m not telling,” Vivian replied, sticking her tongue out. “I actually read up before coming here. There’s different options offered between subs and doms. So, you’ll get to figure them out as we go. Oh, lemme see by the way.” She shot her hand forward and grabbed Brae’s skirt, pulling it up before she could do anything. “Hey!” Brae cried, trying to pull her skirt down, but it was to no avail. Vivian had always been stronger than her, but somehow she was way stronger than her now. Brae was starting to suspect she knew what one of the changes that Vivian had done was. “Oh, pink! Very nice, and they look thick, good, good wouldn’t want you to leak when—” Suddenly, Vivian was interrupted by the presence of a face popping itself over the seat in front, followed by a cheery, high-pitched voice. “Hey guys, you must be the new girls who—” the girl started to say, but her eyes immediately landed on the diaper that was presently exposed to the world. She was cute at least, with thick black glasses, thick black curly hair, and a button nose. Vivian let Brae’s skirt drop back down, though she wore a satisfied smile after doing so. The girl continued, “Oh… was that… I’m sorry. I won’t tell anyone, promise. I know there’s some other people that have some… problems too.” Embarrassment washing over her, Brae calmed herself, pushing thoughts of hitting Viv in the face from her mind. “That’s… okay… uh, yeah we’re the new girls. I’m Brae, and this jerk is Vivian.” “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Gabriel,” the girl said cheerfully. “Um, as I was saying, I was going to tell you to watch out…” “For what?” Brae said with a note of concern. She had been to West World, she knew that in order to get anything done one needed to ask questions, and ‘play along’. “Not what, who. Tanya Steiniger,” Gabriel replied, shuddering simply from uttering the name. “She’s like the most popular kid in school, and she wants to make sure that never changes. So, she has a habit of putting new kids in their place and will try to knock you down the second you set foot in school.” “Oh, I’d like to see her try…” Viv said, grinning madly. “So, if she comes up to you and asks you to be her friend…” Gabriel continued, ignoring Viv’s comment, “just say yes. If she asks you to be her enemy… say no. It sounds simple, but you’d be surprised how many people fuck it up. Last year, Freya Longington did, and she had a rumor spread about her that she had chlamydia! Nobody would go to the spring formal with her.” “When’s the spring formal?” Viv asked inquisitively. “Oh, it’s Thursday night this year, so like, only four more days, I’m so excited!” Gabriel replied. “If you don’t have a date, you’re basically nobody, by the way.” “Ha, of course it is…” Vivian said, leaning back. “Thanks Gabriel, we’ll keep an eye out for Tanya. We owe you one,” Brae said, smiling at the girl, who nodded back and then disappeared behind the seat. A dull groan escaped Brae. High school. And she was going to have to do it in diapers… “why didn’t I pick the third option…” she muttered. “Huh?” Viv asked. “Nothing. Oh, hey, are you padded?” Brae asked, reaching over and trying to pat Vivian’s crotch, but she got her hand swatted away before she could do so. “Heck no! That’s not the point of this. You’re the only one who’s supposed to be pissing themselves!” she replied with a firm tone. “Not the point—what? West World didn’t have any point to it! That was the point!” “Well, this place is different. I tried to get you to read the brochure, but you were too embarrassed. Oh, are you in for a shock. I’ll tell you something though…” Vivian leaned in close to Brae, “there’s a really big difference between sub and dom, and it goes past what changes you can make to yourself. Though… I will say, the changes you made… they couldn’t be more perfect. I was worried you were going to go the whole way and be shitting yourself right off the batt!” “So, I’m the only one who’s stuck in diapers?” Brae replied with a huff. “Yep,” Viv answered plainly, before leaning in closer and planting a quick tender kiss on Brae’s lips, “and it’s going to get a whole lot more interesting, trust me…” she added, before leaning back and turning her gaze out the bus window. Something told Brae that ‘interesting’ wasn’t going to mean the same thing between them… - It took less than five minutes for the bus to find its way to the school. Soon enough Brae heard the brakes squeal for the last time as the bus came to a complete halt, and the door at the front folded open. Immediately her and Vivian rose from their seats, Brae throwing her backpack over her shoulder, and they put themselves at the end of the line of students shuffling out. “Have a good day at school boys and girls,” the elderly bus driver said cheerfully as he watched the parade go by. “Wait, we’re not going to have to like… go to class, are we?” Brae asked quietly to Viv. “What? No, not unless you want to, I don’t think,” Vivian replied in an almost condescending tone. “I read that we’re going to get presented with a bunch of options right away. Look at it like we’ve got nothing but spares.” That was a relief to Brae, the last thing she wanted was a reminder at how bad she was at math. Or English. Or science… or French… Stepping out of the bus presented Brae with the first look at her new school. It was a fairly large three-storey building made of maroon brick, with a large version of the crest adorning the front above the main entrance. It had a small yard in the front with a few trees and benches. Looking to her sides Brae saw that there were ten other school busses, all funneling dozens more uniformed students out of every variety. All in all, it was a fairly standard looking suburban high school, not all that different to the one that Brae and Vivian had attended themselves, though they hadn’t attended a private school. Directly ahead, standing by the path into the main entrance, was a woman in her late thirties in a flower dress and glasses carrying a clipboard, with wispy blonde hair tied up in a bun. Immediately Brae noticed that there were three people standing talking to her who, just from their demeanor, she could bet were fellow guests. The woman told them something, and the people nodded, then carried on with the flow of students into the school. There, from the way that they were walking, Brae could tell that at least two of them were padded. “Come on, I bet that teacher will tell us where our lockers are,” Vivian suggested, grabbing Brae’s hand and pulling her towards the clipboard-wielding woman. Scanning around as she was pulled forward, Brae could make out a couple others who were distinctively guests, but they all seemed to be heading off in different directions, and not into the school—with a bit of a waddle of course—likely towards things they knew about already. If they’d done the basics already, and it was their second trip, they were probably looking for something more exciting right off the batt. Brae came to a stop beside Vivian, directly in front of the teacher. “Oh, hello you two, I don’t recognize you. So, you must be some more new students!” the teacher deduced with a cheery tone. “I’m Mrs. Folsom, you might have an English class with me. Did you two get your schedules already?” “No, miss,” Vivan replied in a sickeningly sweet tone. The teacher looked to her clipboard and started to flip through them, finding Vivian’s first, then Brae’s. “Thank you!” Viv added, taking hers and putting her nose to it as she started to slowly walk towards the entrance. “Enjoy your first day at school!” the teacher said. “Oh, and if you need anyone to talk to, or feel lost, I can usually be found in my office.” Brae nodded in thanks, and having obtained her sheet, started to walk away and read it. Before she got far, she felt a tap on her shoulder and stopped. Mrs. Folsom then leaned in close and whispered to Brae’s ear, “Also, if you need any other… special assistance, then I or Ms. Macey in the office can help you. Just letting you know!” Nodding in acknowledgement, and getting a warm smile in response, Brae put her face to the paper and read it over. Apparently, she was scheduled for classes. Three in the morning: Math, Science, and Drama. Then two in the afternoon after lunch: English, and Gym. Gym… Brae hated gym especially when she was in high school, she couldn’t imagine doing it as she was now. Suddenly, Vivian’s head was very close to hers, right beside her, reading off her sheet. “Oh, we have the same schedule, good,” Viv said, pulling Brae’s sheet closer to her. “We are so skipping math… but I guess we should attend at least one or two classes, see what they’re like. They is probably like some story we can stumble upon in them… oh, and our lockers are right beside each other! Well, of course they are…” Just then the two of them started up the stairs into the main entrance, and, right as they walked through the open doors, they found their path blocked. Brae almost walked into the person, but Vivian put a hand out to stop her. Dropping the paper away from her eyes, Brae was presented with the image of the most preppy looking girl she’d ever seen. Perfectly contoured makeup, black hair that looked like it had just come from the salon, perfectly plucked eyebrows, and fully lip-glossed lips. There was an expensive looking handbag over her shoulder. She was flanked by two other girls, whom equally looked as dolled up, though not quite as perfectly. Without the girl even uttering a word, Brae knew that this was Tanya. “Oh, hey guys! You must be new. I’m Tanya Steiniger, and I want to be your best friend!” she spoke with such a fake nice-girl voice, it was grating to Brae. “Anyone who’s anyone in this school knows that being my friend is the best thing ever.” She wore the most sickeningly fake smile too. Clearly remembering the words of the girl on the bus, without missing a beat Vivian stepped up closer to the girl, crossing her arms, “Hey, I’m Vivian Locke, and I like, am so looking for some friends in this place. I think we can become best friends, don’t you think?” The tone of voice that Viv was putting on made Brae almost want to vomit. It seemed to satisfy Tanya though, “absolutely, girl-friend,” she said, flashing a big smile. “How about your friend here?” she motioned to Brae with a perfectly manicured hand. “My friend here is as sweet as sugar,” Vivian said in a mocking tone, “aren’t you Brae?” Seconds away from opening her mouth to pledge her undying loyalty to the girl, a strong feeling overcame Brae, and her words were completely lost to her. She had to pee, really, really badly. The feeling had come out of nowhere! All of a sudden, Tanya went blurry as Brae’s vision focused on the only thing that mattered to her in that instant: the girl’s washroom sign, above a door down the hall. “I uh… excuse me,” she said meekly, before instinctively stepping to the side and attempting to rush past Tanya’s right-side crony. Of course, the crony did exactly what a crony would do, and that’s stick her foot out just enough to cause Brae to trip. She almost predicted it, and yet did nothing to prevent it. Tumbling down, Brae landed painfully on her outstretched arm and rolled to the side. At the very least her skirt didn’t go flying up, but, if it had, it would have revealed the diaper that was getting a considerable soaking from the profusely peeing girl it was attached too. Brae just lay there, peeing, her arm throbbing. The girls above started laughing. Glancing back to shoot daggers from her eyes, Brae was prevented from doing so by the sight of her friend joining in on the laughter as well. Brae couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so embarrassed! While the laughter started to subside, Brae attempted to pick herself up, noticing that her diaper had swelled considerably between her legs. “Well, I guess someone doesn’t want to be friends,” Tanya snapped sarcastically once Brae was standing. “Too bad. Hope you won’t regret it.” she added with a bit of malice. Then she turned to Vivian, and licked her glossed lips, “You on the other hand… I think we’re going to get along. Come on girls...” She waved her hand, and started to walk off down the hall, followed closely by her two lackies, one of which shoved her shoulder into Brae as she went by. Stepping up to Brae, Vivian and brushed a strand of hair from her almost pouting face. “Viv, I don’t know if I like this…” Brae said softly. “Oh, but I’m loving it!” she retorted. “Hey, I’m sure you’ll get to explore your diaper perversion fully soon enough. It’s probably more catered to you than me, so I’ll take what I can get! Speaking of which…” Before Brae could so much as flinch, Vivian reached down and snuck a hand under Brae’s skirt, feeling the girl’s crotch. “I knew it. You’re wet. Well, let me know if you need a change diaper baby. Come on, let’s find our lockers.” Grumbling, Brae started up following Vivian. Immediately she found it very hard to walk normally, as the swelling between her legs was much more pronounced than she’d realized. Of course, Vivian shot a glance over her shoulder and noticed that, smirking wildly. Trying ton force herself to stop blushing constantly, Brae kept her head down and waddled on. The hallway was bustling with students still going this way and that, checking their lockers or talking amongst themselves. It was just like the first day of high school, seeing everyone talking to their friends, sharing connections that Brae didn’t have. “A24… and A25! Here we are, super close to the door, nice,” Vivian declared coming to a halt, and presenting her arm out to a set of lockers. Just then Brae realized something. “We don’t have locks though…” she stated. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Vivian said with a smirk, as she pulled open her locker and tossed her purse in nonchalantly, “what, you worried someone is going to steal your diapers?” “No, just that I… don’t…” Brae started to say as she shoved her bag into her own locker, but her voice trailed off as something caught her attention. A few lockers down from them, a guy was standing in his open locker, sobbing silently to himself. She looked back to Vivian, who looked past her and caught sight of the crying boy as well. “Oh no, I bet he’s got some dumb problem that—and she’s walking up to him,” Viv started to object, but indeed Brae was moving to investigate. “Hey… uh, what’s wrong? You okay?” Brae asked the guy once she was close enough, not exactly sure how to act. A few heavy sniffles, and he turned to look at her with glassy eyes. “It’s Bonnie…” he said, his voice choked up, “she said she’s… done with me. Doesn’t want to go to the spring formal with me either…” he was overcome with sadness for a second. “Oh… that’s… why did she say that?” Brae asked with as much compassion as she could muster. She sensed Vivian come up behind her. “It’s… it’s personal,” the boy said, getting a hold of himself. “She found out something. I don’t want to get into it but—” “Yeah, thanks sob story,” Viv cut in. “You probably wet yourself when you get scared, or something.” She grabbed Brae’s arm and started pulling her away. “Maybe we’ll check in with you later.” “How did… you know?” the boy muttered dumbstruck. “Hey, why can’t we try to help him?” Brae asked, wincing at Viv’s vice grip. “We’re going to be late for our first class if we do!” “I thought we weren’t going to our first class?” “I changed my mind.” Unable to disagree, Brae let Vivian pull her down the hall, the sight of the boy crying into the locker growing farther away… - “Here we are, room 204,” Vivian declared as she and Brae came to an open door. They had gone up to the second floor on the wrong side and had to walk the length of the school to get to the smaller numbered rooms. Brae was almost out of breath, Vivian kept a steady pace that was hard to match in her slightly encumbered state. Once she’d caught up though, Viv stepped into the classroom, and Brae followed. The room was a buzz, with almost all the desks occupied by a student, most chatting lively to their neighbors. Few paid them heed as they entered. Brae couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but there didn’t appear to be any ‘real’ people in the room already. One wall of the room was all windows, and it overlooked the back of the school, which Brae hadn’t seen yet. It looked like a beautiful courtyard with a few garden beds and trees, and then beyond that was a track field adjacent to a soccer or football field. There were two desks in the middle of the room that were open, which, coincidently, were right beside a somewhat familiar face. “Hey guys! We have the same math class together, isn’t that cool?” Gabriel exclaimed as Viv and Brae drew close and chose the two unoccupied decks. “Uh, yeah that’s great…” Viv responded coldly as she sat down, putting her back to the girl. Brae wasn’t going to be so cold. “Don’t mind her. It’s hard to be friendly when you have a stick up your butt.” Gabriel smiled at that. “Hey, you could probably let us know about stuff that’s going on around school that we might not know about, right?” That seemed to light up something inside Gabriel. “Oh, I sure can!” she exclaimed excitedly, almost too loudly. “At lunch today, there’s going to be club sign up in the cafeteria, so you’re not gonna wanna miss that if you wanna join any clubs. Also, tonight after school is cheerleading tryouts, if you guys are into—” “Did you just say… cheerleading?” Viv said abruptly, spinning around to face Gabriel. “Uh, yeah it’s—” “Where?” Viv asked intensely. “In the gym…” Gabriel replied slowly, a little taken aback by Viv, “but just be warned, Tanya Steiniger is the captain, and she doesn’t let just anyone join.” “Is she now? That’s good… good…” Vivian muttered to herself before putting her back to Gabriel again without another word. There was a look in her eye that Brae caught, that she was well aware of the meaning to. Vivian had been a little into cheerleading in high school. “Are you in any clubs Gabriel?” Brae asked after a small delay. “Heck yeah! I’m in AV club, and band, and I was in the debate club, but I had to cut it to make room for—” “Good morning class!” sounded a deep voice from the front of the room, cutting Gabriel’s listing short. Turning to face it, Brae saw that it was a black man in his forties, with greying short hair wearing a suit. Presumably the teacher. He walked over to the desk at the front of the room and plonked a briefcase on top of it. “Good morning Mr. Banners!” sounded off most of the classroom simultaneously. Brae shot a look over her shoulder at Gabriel, “We’ll continue our talk later,” she said. “Okay, friend!” Gabriel whispered back enthusiastically. Vivian let out a stifled snort. “Now, last week we were discussing exponents,” the teacher began, as he opened his briefcase and began taking some items out of it, “and some of you were having some difficulty understanding, so I thought that we would go over some of the—” “Mr. Banners?” a girl in the front row interrupted, her hand shooting into the air. The man in questioned sighed. “Yes, Felicity?” “We have some new students!” Felicity exclaimed. The teacher looked up and across the classroom for the first time since he’d come in, and his eyes slowly scanned the room until he landed on Viv and Brae. “Oh, so we do. Well, welcome to my class. My one rule is that you must have fun while learning and—” a boy near the back corner snorted loudly at that. “Really, Dominique? Anyways, I hope you do have fun. Now, back to what I was saying, some of you were struggling with—” “Mr. Banners?” Another sigh escaped the man’s lips, and he instinctively looked over at Felicity, but her hand was down. Then, at the same time that Mr. Banners did, Brae realized that it had been Vivian, behind her, whom had interrupted. Glancing back, she saw Viv even had her hand up. “Um yes… I’m sorry, I haven’t done attendance, I don’t know your name yet,” Mr. Banners said to Vivian apologetically. “That’s okay,” said Vivian, “I was just wondering if you’d let us introduce ourselves? Since we’re so new here, we were hoping that we could tell everyone who we are.” Snapping her head around Brae shot Vivian a nasty look. The last thing she wanted was to get up in front of everyone and introduce herself! Too bad that Viv was well aware of that fact. “Oh… well, I don’t see why not,” Mr. Banners agreed, and he motioned to the front of the room, “come on up.” “I’ll go first!” Vivian said in a sing-song-y voice before leaping out of her seat and practically skipping up to the front of the room. She turned to face everyone, smile wide. “Hi, I’m Vivian Locke and—” “Hi Vivian Locke,” some of the class repeated back to her. “Herm, well if I haven’t heard that before in a different context…” Vivian said half-under her breath, before continuing, “Some things about me: my favourite sport is volleyball, my favourite band is the Luck and Lovers—you’ve probably never heard of them—I hope to join the volleyball team here, uh… when I grow up I want to be a fashion designer, and my favourite food is… pizza. That’s all about me!” Brae noted that a solid half of those facts were completely false. “Thank you, Vivian…” Mr. Banners said dryly. “Next?” His gaze fell upon Brae. Knowing that even if she refused Vivian would do something to get her up there anyways, Brae rose from her seat and stalked up to the front of the room. As she passed by Viv, she got a slight brush on her behind from the girl, which thankfully went unnoticed by Mr. Banners. Swallowing hard, she turned to face the class. Immediately visions of botched class presentations, from both high school and college came wafting back to her, and she felt positively sick. Vivian found her seat and stared up at the poor girl with a shit-eating grin. “Go on…” Mr. Banners prodded. “Uh… hi, I’m Braelyn,” she started, and paused knowing what was coming after. “Hi Braelyn,” the class chanted, Vivian included. “Some… things about me. Uh, my favourite book is The Fault in our Stars. Well, it’s not my favourite… it’s just, uh, what I’ve read recently and—well, uh, my favourite soccer is… I mean, my favourite sport is soccer, and…” she was fading fast, the nerves getting to her. Suddenly she let out a tiny gasp, as she felt a bit of pee escape her into the already soaked diaper. The last thing she needed was a leaky diaper while standing at the front of the class! She tried to continue, “Uh… when I grow up… I want to be… a… teacher…” She said, though only because she happened to glance over at the teacher. It was far, far from her actual answer. “Great… is that all?” Mr. Banners said, seeming to grow a little impatient. “Ye—” “Hey Braelyn,” Vivian suddenly shouted, cupping her hands over her mouth, “what’s your favourite food?” “Favourite… food?” Brae repeated, like it was the toughest question she’d ever been asked. “Yeah, isn’t it… pudding?” Vivian answered for her. “Yes, it—” Brae started to say, when the strangest feeling suddenly overcame her, and her face went white. She felt an intense cramp in her abdomen, then the strongest urge to poo she’d ever felt. There was no way she was going to be able to hold it, it was too intense—it was like her body wanted to mess. A small fart escaped her, and she was then powerless to hold it back any longer. She voided herself completely into her diaper. With a bit of a grunt, she pushed, filling her diaper with whatever was inside her. To say she was mortified would be an understatement. Devastated, beyond embarrassed, completely without self solace were more appropriate words. Looking out across the classroom, she saw the students looking at her, some with puzzled expressions, others, like Vivian and Gabriel, with knowing ones. Though Vivian looked positively pleased, whilst Gabriel looked concerned. “Braelyn are you—” Mr. Banners started to say, but Brae was having none of it. Feeling on the verge of tears, she put her hands over her face, turned towards the door and ran out as quickly as she could. The sagging backside of her diaper swayed a bit with every step. Out into the hall, the tears came. - Sobs wracked Braelyn as she stood in the washroom stall, crying hard into her hands. She, a twenty-four-year-old woman, had just messed her diaper in front of a high school classroom full of students. It didn’t matter that the place was all make-believe, it felt real to Braelyn. It recalled so many bad memories from her own high school experience. But, to make matters worse… she had no idea how it had happened! Why she was so suddenly overcome with the urge to void herself then and there. But… she had her suspicions… The washroom door opened, and someone stepped inside. Brae tried to hold back her sobs, half in case it wasn’t Vivian, and half in case it was. But she didn’t last long, her emotions overcame her, and she sobbed loudly once into her palms. “Braelyn?” Vivian called from outside the stall. “Go away!” Brae shouted back, her voice cracking. “Well, if you want me to…” Sliding her wet hands away from her face, Brae flicked open the lock and flung open the stall door with unnecessary force. Vivian stood with her arms crossed, looking calm at Braelyn, whom was trying to direct all of her anger towards her, trying to be intimidating. Which was very hard to do in the sobbing, soaked, and messy state she was in. “What the fuck was that!” Brae spat. “What… what did you do!?” “I told you it was going to get more interesting…” Viv answered plainly. “It got more interesting, didn’t it?” “That was the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life!” She screeched back, saliva flying out of her mouth. “Yes… it was… and is that not the point?” Vivian said, turning the tone of her voice more directed. “Braelyn, isn’t one of the reasons you wear diapers because of the embarrassment?” She had a point, Brae had to admit. “Ye… yes, but that was too much! I didn’t ask for that. That’s not why I came to this park!” “See, I remember a time when you wore in public with me, and of you turning beet red when I asked you if your diaper was wet. But then after you were just an animal bed. So, don’t you go crying that that was too much for you to handle, because I know for a fact that you’re going to Jill yourself off later to the memory of—” Vivian’s explanation was cut short by the fact that Brae slapped her across the face. Stunned, Vivian staggered back a step, holding her cheek where she’d been slapped. Unfortunately, she looked more shocked than hurt. A second later a smile crept back onto Vivian’s face. “Admit it!” Viv said with force. “Fine, you’re probably right!” Brae replied. Her tears had subsided, as well as most of her rage. The slap was more satisfying than she was expecting, she’d been wanting to slap Vivian across the face from the moment that she’d forced her to buy the exorbitantly expensive tickets to the park. “But you have to tell me what the fuck is going on! Why did I shit myself like that? Or… how did I?” The smile turned plain evil, “I told you, there’s a really big difference between sub and dom in here.” “Explain. Now.” “Fine. If you want to be a spoil sport,” Vivian almost looked crestfallen. “Remember that injection they gave you, after you picked what changes you wanted?” “Yeah? What about it?” “Well… it had a bit more than what you were told about, in it. Namely… nanites. Tiny robots.” Brae didn’t believe her and raised her hand as if to slap Vivian again, causing Vivian to hold up an arm defensively. “Honestly, I’m not kidding! Nanites! It’s part of the Sub and Dom Experience. Little tiny robots floating through your bloodstream that allow for some very specific… things.” “What kind of things?” Brae said through gritted teeth. “Control. Through commands. I have a list of words that can make you do things entirely against your will! Here, I’ll demonstrate: sugar.” Brae’s eyes grew wide as suddenly she had an uncontrollable urge to pee. For a second she half considered turning around and attempting to use the toilet, but she realized how silly that was quick enough. Seconds later, she flooded her diaper for the second time that day—she could tell now that the garment was to it’s capacity and was probably close to leaking. As her bladder emptied, she just stood and stared at Vivian in disbelief. “See?” Viv said, with a smirk. “There’s like twenty-five command words. I’m likely to forget half of them before long… should have written them down… the hardest part is going to be not saying one of them by accident! Oh, and don’t worry, it only works when I say it.” “This is ridiculous…” Brae muttered in disbelief. But it wasn’t like she was about to run off… “Yes, but…” Viv said softly, as she reached forward and grabbed Brae’s hand. Brae didn’t resist. “It’s also incredibly hot. So yes, I embarrassed the fuck out of you, but… I can tell already that you’re starting to come onto the idea. So…” She took Brae’s hand and held it in both of her hands, caressing it. “As I asked before… indulge me? And indulge yourself?” Those words had significantly more meaning now that Brae knew what weight was behind them. But… her apprehension was slowly being outweighed by her perversion. Ultimately, she’d just gotten scared. There was no permanent harm to be done, just some intensely kinky play. A deep breath followed by a labored sigh, and Brae looked deep into her girlfriend’s eyes. “Sure. But… you’ve got to change me.” A mad grin came over Vivian, as she leaned in and gave Brae a quick kiss. “It would be my pleasure. Let’s check what the damage is first…” she said, as she reached down and flipped Brae’s skirt up. Looking down at herself Brae was genuinely surprised as, with two full wettings, the thing looked packed, yet it wasn’t leaking yet. After getting spun around by Vivian she examined her backside. It was sagging a bit, completely ballooned out and full-looking. Simply looking at it was mildly arousing to Brae. Of course, in that exact moment, the bathroom door opened. “Hey guys, are you okay, Mr. Banners is—” it was Gabriel, who stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes darting from their faces to the sagging diaper. “I’m… I’m s—sorry,” she sputtered, “I’ll tell Mr. Banners you’re not coming back, okay? Okay.” The poor girl then spun in place, yanked open the door, and dashed away. “I think we’ve scarred her a little…” Vivian commented. “Anyways, let’s get baby changed.” “Yeah, about that,” Brae said, slipping her skirt out of Vivian’s grasp. “I’ve got extra diapers in my backpack, but no changing supplies. No wipes, powder. I feel like I need a shower probably…” “That is a problem… well, surely a place in Infantile World has somewhere people can get their poopy diapers changed!” “Actually…” Brae said, suddenly remembering something. “I think I might know where to look…”

I'm not guy myself, but I feel very different in my own way, in a way that I don't fit into any category. I feel like I can't relate to anyone. Before I ask the question, I"ll just say that, one of my long time fantasies regarding diapers is this: Being over powered by a cute girl or group of girls who are not nice and will utilize very strong boyfriends or body guards to control me. In other words, picture a girl who is like a Judge and sentences me to wear diapers for the rest of my life. The other girls in the imaginary court room all giggle and snicker cheering the girl on for her power over me. This causes me to explode in anger and run towards the girl giving the orders. But then I am quickly tackled by her many guards and forced to sit on the lap of the monster restraining me. As the hour's pass in the court room, I end up erupting the seat of my diaper in an unsuccessful struggle to escape the guard who has me on his lap in my dirty diaper. Question: Ok, I know the poopy diaper thing is not for everyone. But do gay guys like when girls have power over man? Do Bi-Girls like this ever?

For just a dollar, you can see more stories like this at my Patreon. If you'd like a short story, you may pledge five dollars and I'll write you one about any image you choose.  https://www.patreon.com/user?u=6660213 Chapter 1: Abducted and Diapered Two large, humanoid, female aliens looked over their advanced tracking system which had located a high concentration of the desired energy which these creatures sought out. The women were tall, slightly pale and had large breasts. Each one looked at each other with pure excitement evident in their eyes. The readouts showed that the immaturity, relative to the subject's ages of the woman below, were absolutely off the charts. "Can you believe these readings!?" The taller female humanoid questioned her partner. "I am having a hard time. These have got to be the two most immature beings on Earth." "Quickly, we must have them on board right now!" The two creatures relayed a series of specific orders to various members of the crew. This was not a drill, typically such scans of alien worlds would be lucky to reveal a few dozen low level readings, but the planet known as Earth had two extremely high level beings. With a press of a button the ship went into cloak mode, rendering it invisible. Chi Chi and Bulma chatted on the patio of Capsule Corp's residential area, completely oblivious to the ulterior motives of the beings on the spaceship. Neither one could see the ship hovering a few hundred feet over head. They enjoyed the fair weather and the opportunity to get together on a beautiful sunny afternoon which was rarely afforded to the two mothers. Goten and Trunks were both quite a handful after all and their husbands were something else entirely. "That Goku is such--" Before Chi Chi could finish her complaining, a sudden energy had paralyzed her body. Bulma was experiencing a similar phenomenon as both women were levitating slowly until they instantaneous disappeared from Capsule Corp only to reappear aboard the alien vessel. Startled and confused they looked around the strange area that they were teleported to. "What happened?" Chi Chi questioned as she stood up from the floor. "I don't know, but everything in here is huge." Bulma replied, looking at a few large tables which stood close by. Her exploration was cut short by a door opening. A lanky, pale humanoid waltzed right in. This entity was eaaily the tallest woman she had ever seen. "Look at these two perfect specimens!" "It's a giant alien!" Chi Chi declared. "I can see that, Chi Chi. Just be calm. Let me do the talking." Bulma stepped forward towards the large woman and noticed that she barely came up to her thigh. Still, she was undeterred and unintimidated by this massive woman. "I'm Bulma Brief, head scientist and CEO of Capsule Corp." The blue haired woman held her hand out, waiting to shake hands with the enormous humanoid. "Oh, that's cute. Look at that, trying to be mature." Bulma felt a twitch of her eye as a big vein appeared on her forehead. "What do you mean by trying to be mature? I'll have you know that I'm a genius and run my father's company!" "Let's get you ready for the adoption protocol. You're going to make someone a very happy mommy!" The alien cooed, entirely ignoring the scientist. "Adoption?!" Bulma turned to run away, but was instantly scooped up by the giant woman as if she weighed nothing at all. "I'm an adult! I have two sons and a husband!" Chi Chi shrieked as a metallic arm grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards the oversized humanoid. "Hold still, young lady!" The alien warned a squirming Bulma. "Hell no!" Bulma barked at her captor. "I want you to take me back to Earth right now!" "Can't do that, sweetie. You, and your little friend, are the perfect specimens for our home world. Now let's get you out of these silly clothes." Bulma was powerless to stop this crazy alien as it ripped her pants clean off of her body. Then she felt her top being pulled off with ease which was unmatched by even her husband, Vegeta.Lifting a grown woman like she weightless and then stripping her like it was nothing more than peeling an orange: This woman was strong! Chi Chi found herself in a similar state of undress after a multitude of metallic hands descended on her like ravenous vultures. Her trademark dress was torn to shreds and her bra and panties didn't stand a chance once they were out in the open. The raven haired woman struggled as best as she could, but she was no match for the machines. Both mothers were now butt naked. Speaking of butts, Bulma noticed that her captor was staring at her ass, almost mesmerized by it. "My stars. By the light of Azzelond, you have such a perfect rump. So fat and round. I just want to pinch it and squeeze it for eternity." "What? My ass is not fat!" Bulma fumed, pinned in the giant's hands. "Yes, it's quite the perfect bubble. Lucky for you, I can't pinch it or spank it. Violates the guidelines that state that the merchandise mustn't be damaged in any way." "Great. So, what? I'm cattle to you?" "No, you'll be the perfect pet or baby for someone who is lucky enough to get their hands on your bouncy booty." "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." Bulma shot back, sarcastically before continuing her rant. "Just you wait till my husband finds out about this. You'll all be sorry. I'm the wife of a prince!" "We've captured royalty before. They are always the most fun to train. Anyway, enough talk. Time to clean you both up." "I'm already clean!" "Yeah, me too!" Chi Chi added. "No, but you will be. Engage cleaning sequence Alpha Beta!" Once more, the machines renewed their assault on Chi Chi, but this time Bulma wasn't left out. Both ladies had their make up washed off, teeth brushed with a tiny high pressure spray from one of the smaller hoses and then a snake like tube slithered across Bulma's leg until it slowly pushed it's way into her ass. Her tight hole was instantly penetrated by the long, glistening tube. She felt it come to life and an odd sensation overwhelmed her stomach: It was pumping some kind of alien fluid up her rear end! "Oh my Kami!" Bulma cried out. "You're going to impregnate me, aren't you!?" Of course, the blue haired loud mouth failed to notice that Chi Chi was already finished with the enema, pissing out the vile oozing slime from her ass and into some kind of waste receptacle. "No, you're the baby. Baby doesn't make babies." The alien laughed while she held Bulma over her lap. The scientist still didn't trust this crazy alien. After all, her belly currently looked to be as large as when she was nine months pregnant with Trunks. Her stomach resembled a massive ballon. "Please, just let me go!" Bulma begged, but to no avail. She was held over the same type of receptacle which collected Chi Chi's waste and felt an intense pressure on her abdomen. She pushed with all her might and was rewarded with a hissing sound as the slime left her body, pouring into the space age bucket while she was held over it. "Thank you, that feels so much better!" Her relief was short lived thanks to the finger of the metallic hand being stuck up her fat butt. "What's the big idea?!" "Temperature, normal. Readings average." The machine spoke aloud while Chi Chi got an identical treatment. "Diaper Sequence: Engage!" The alien ordered. Soon both women were laid out onto a table, side by side. "I'm not going to wear a damn diaper!" "Me neither!" Chi Chi growled. Another bizarre, snake like device lowers down from the ceiling and did a quick scan over each woman's body. "Inappropriate hair detected!" "What's wrong with my hair?" Bulma retorted. "My hair looks great you bucket of bolts!" Unbeknownst to the two ladies, it wasn't refereeing to the hair on their heads, but their pubic hair. A small lazer rapidly burned off all their pubic hairs at the follicular level. Chi Chi lost her massive bush in the blink of an eye. Bulma had always kept her feminine area very well manicured, but the machine desired scorched Earth and quickly had Bulma looking as bare as a prepubescent girl. "What the hell did you do to my bush?!" Chi Chi screamed, utterly enraged. "Who cares about your bush? I spent hours grooming the Capsule Corp logo into my crotch!" While the two ladies bickered, they failed to noticed that two thick, white gleaming plastic diapers were ready, held in the robotic hands. The diapers were made of a special polymer which would allow for multiple wettings or messings. In a flash, the girls had their butts raised off of the table simultaneously . The metallic hands wasted no time and the mothers were oiled and powdered. Each one felt the bulky diaper fastened to their waists. "Well, looks like your both ready for nap time." The alien cooed. "Fuck that!" Bulma yelled at the top of her lungs while Chi Chi valiantly tried to rip her diaper off. The girls were sprayed with a gas specifically designed to knock out humans. "Sweet dreams, little ones."

Taken from The ABDL MedFet Book 6, here is a little story about the power in dominance, the passion in passiveness and the patience in a patient. Part One “Hiya, Erin!” Charlotte said, putting her purse down in the nurses’ station, having arrived a bit early for her night shift - this to the surprise of her daytime counterpart, Erin. “You’re a bit early. Aren’t you?” Erin said with a smile, finishing her last bit of paperwork for the day and filing it away. “Well, yeah,” Charlotte admitted, sitting next to her. “But I wanted to hear about this hunky new guy in room 77 you were texting me about. Greg, I think you said his name was?” “Greg Townsend,” Erin confirmed, getting out his paperwork to show her. “28, white male, 5’10”, 180 lbs. He was admitted about an hour ago, brought straight from a car accident. Injuries include: bruised ribs and possibly torn stomach muscles … and yes, he’s a hunk.” Charlotte smiled, knowing how easily Erin would go weak in the knees for some of the more handsome patients left in her care. For the next week at least, Charlotte and Erin were going to be seeing very little of each other. They were also going to be seeing very little free time as they would be working 12 hours shifts each day. Normally, a third nurse split the job three ways for them. But that nurse was on vacation and with several other nurses in the wing being pulled away for quarterly training seminars that were taking place that week, Charlotte, Erin and all the others who were still there were going to be there quite a bit - the hospital saving on labor costs by not scheduling extra help for the 7th floor of St. Ignatius Hospital. Presently, Erin was covering 7am to 7pm and Charlotte was taking the other half through the night. But they would switch in a few days to allow for a little bit of human life to be shared between the two of them. Charlotte picked up Greg’s incoming paperwork and read, with wide eyes, about the accident he had survived. “Patient was struck by a female driver who was driving well above the speed limit. Patient had no time to react and when she hit his front bumper, his car went up in the air and landed on its side. His seatbelt kept him strapped to his seat, but it wretched him all over the place. And this was how his ribs became bruise as well as how his stomach muscles may have become possibly torn. Degree of the diastasis of the recti muscles to be determined.” “How did he survive this crash? His HPI reads like a horror movie,” Charlotte exclaimed, continuing to read the detailed a gruesome account. “And is the other driver alright?” “It’s a miracle he’s alive,” Erin said with sincerity. “The other driver is in much worse shape, but she was admitted to the ER at the same time he was brought in. I haven’t heard about her condition since. But I was told she was on her cell phone when the crash happened.” Charlotte scoffed. Oh, did she loathe things like that - accidents caused by the preventable carelessness of others. As a no-nonsense kind of person, she was thusly a no-nonsense kind of nurse. But it was Erin who kept her grounded to remember the human element in their work. Erin, on the other hand, was the overly-caring type. She was also a bit of a worrier. But she had learned from Charlotte to double-check herself while not second-guessing herself. Together, they balanced each other out, making a more complete pairing. Charlotte kept a close eye on Greg that first night, as she would have done for any newly-admitted patient. But despite his vital checks every hour, it wasn’t until the 4am check that he finally stirred awake. “Hello?” Greg said with a groggy voice, the lights in room 77 being kept very dim and only showing Charlotte as a silhouette until she walked up to his bedside. “I assume I’m not dead.” “You would assume correctly,” Charlotte said, Greg seeing her last name on her name tag. “Webb?” he asked, still quite groggy - Charlotte checking all three bags of IV fluid that were hooked up to quickly be changed out for him … an indication that his injuries, and therefore his pain, was severe. “I don’t suppose your first name is …” “…It is,” Charlotte said with a knowing grin, having been asked that same question more times than she could recall. “Charlotte.” “Charlotte Webb,” Greg said with a groggy smile. “My mother named me after the character,” she admitted, recording information on the laptop on her rolling cart. “Well, don’t feel too bad. My father named me after his favorite football player,” Greg said, grimacing a little. “I don’t suppose you could crank up the pain killers.” “Not without permission. But doctors will be in to see you in the morning,” Charlotte answered. “On a scale of 1 to 10, where 10 is extreme and 1 is mild or non-existent, what is your current pain?” “I’ve always thought some of the questions asked of hospital patients were ludicrous. That one right there is my favorite,” Greg said with a slight laugh, then cutting himself off from all further laughter as it only worsened the pain he was feeling. “Put down … 7. But you can write the word excruciating right after that.” “Most people just tell me 10,” Charlotte said, recording his answer. “Most people embellish. They will say whatever they think will get them more drugs,” he replied. “The real pain is mental, not physical.” “What do you mean?” Charlotte asked, his first impression showing him to be more than just a hunky-looking guy. “Well, tomorrow morning, doctors will come in here and tell me that I need to rest up while I am hospitalized and then they put all sorts of sleeping medication in me. And I will, in fact, go to sleep,” Greg said. “But then I will constantly be woken up for a list of various reasons, though I’m supposed to be resting.” Charlotte smiled, laughing at his response. How true it was. “How long have I been here?” he asked. “8 hours,” Charlotte said, still smiling at him. “It’s about 4am.” There certainly was a little something more to him than his handsome jaw line and strong build. Rarely did Charlotte ever take to her patients, but Greg was different. She just wasn’t sure how yet. “The girl who ran into me … is she okay?” he asked, a genuine sense of worry in his voice. He obviously knew how bad the accident had been. “She was admitted to the ER the same time you were brought here,” Charlotte answered honestly. “I don’t know anything more about her.” Greg closed his eyes, a bit of concern coming over him. “How long have I had this IV in my arm?” he asked, seeing his right forearm connected to the bags hanging behind him. “9 hours,” Charlotte replied, finishing her current check on him. “IV was first started for you when you were placed in the ambulance to be brought here.” “Before you leave, I’ve got to tell you something,” he said, stopping Charlotte in her tracks as she turned back to listen to him. “I have a weak stomach. I’m serious about that. I’m not joking about … whatever damage my stomach has at the moment. When this IV is taken out of my arm, I will begin to throw up repeatedly.” “Okay,” Charlotte said, not seeing his statement as being alarming. “I apologize in advance if it’s you who has to clean up after me,” he said with honesty. “It’s not gonna be fun for either of us.” “That’s my job. Now, get some rest,” she said, rolling her cart over to the door but then turning back one more time to say something to him. “I’ll be back in two hours to wake you up again.” Greg smiled, then quickly fell asleep. --------------- The next morning at 7:15am, Erin rushed in for her shift. “I’m sorry I’m late,” Erin apologized, setting her stuff down in the nurses’ station. “Traffic was a nightmare.” “It’s alright. Catch your breath, Sweetie,” Charlotte said, taking a seat next to her. “You were right about our hunky boy in room 77. I can tell already that his physical movements will be scarce for a while. But he has a sense of humor about the situation. Here, come with me for a minute. I want to show you something about him.” They walked down the hallway to his room, cracking the door open and peeking in at him. “He has been laying in the exact same position all night, flat on his back with his arms at his side,” Charlotte said. “Most patients do that, but he is doing it naturally. This position of sleep can lead to back pain, but he is smart enough to know, even when sleeping, that a crick in the back is nothing compared to what else he’s dealing with right now.” “Right,” Erin said, not understanding the point she was getting at. “Flat on the back is known as the soldier position,” Charlotte said, leading Erin back to the nurses’ station. “People who regularly sleep in that position have high expectations but also tend to instinctively protect. That’s why it’s call the soldier position. A soldier would sleep like that so he could get up quickly for battle or whatever, if needed.” Erin still wasn’t sure what point Charlotte was making, but throughout the day shift, she would learn a lot about Greg. And her softer nature would begin to rise to her surfaces, like always. But she would wait until he awoke that morning before bothering him again. Sure enough, he would stir as soon as the sun rose high enough to shine in through the Venetian blinds of room 77. “Good morning, Mr. Townsend. My name is Erin,” Erin said, rolling her cart into his room for an 8am check. Greg looked at her name tag, then smiled. “Your name is Erin Runner,” Greg said, the timbre in his voice almost making her knees wobble. “So, there’s Charlotte Webb at night and Erin Runner during the day.” “For now, at least. She and I will switch shifts in a few days,” Erin said, checking the drip bags and beginning to record the information. “Before you ask, just right down my pain as a 6 … with a side note of slowly getting better,” Greg said, trying to sit up but thinking better of the position shift when he felt pain from the movement. “Oh, no. Not yet,” Erin said, easing him back into a laying position. “Soon enough, though.” “I hear there are doctors coming to visit me some time this morning?” he asked, returning to his relax on the mattress. “Yes. They should be here by now. But they’re not always punctual,” Erin stated, then cryptically interrogating him. “Charlotte told me to look into the condition of the lady who hit you. Though, I can’t give you any details, I can tell you that she made it. She’s alive.” Greg sighed softly, closing his eyes - as if a sense of relief had overtaken him. Getting a bit bolder, she walked up alongside him. “Is there anyone you’d like me contact for you? Perhaps parents or relatives … or a girlfriend?” Erin asked with a sweet tone. “Well, you’re gonna have some trouble, there,” he replied with a smile. “Both of my parents passed away. My brother lives in New Mexico. And, if I have a girlfriend, it’s news to me.” Erin shared a smile with him, then going back to her paperwork at the rolling cart. “You have a very pleasant way about you, Erin Runner,” Greg said with a deep timbre that made her shudder and then smile back at him sweetly with raised shoulders of shyness. “Not everybody finds value in simply being nice. That’s a quality I hope you never lose.” “Greg Townsend?” a doctor said, walking into his room. “That would be me … or what’s left of me,” Greg said with a jocular tone, the doctor smiling and shaking hands with him. “As it turns out, you’ll be happy to know there’s more left of you than what we believed when you were admitted last night,” the doctor said. “We no longer believe you to have any muscular diastasis.” “And once I get my hands on a medical dictionary for translation, I’m sure that’s gonna mean a whole lot more to me than at the moment,” Greg said, the doctor laughing at the response. “You have no torn muscles anywhere,” the doctor restated, putting it into layman’s terms. “But you are more than likely in a great deal of pain. Essentially, you have internal bruising. And we are going to monitor you for a few days to make sure that everything inside you is working properly. I’d really like to see you up and walking around in a day’s time. That may not be possible, but here’s some incentive: until you can stand up and walk, you will be peeing in a bottle and relieving yourself in a bed pan. And you’ll return to solid food at dinner today.” “Well, Doc. You have given me all the incentive you’ll need to,” Greg said with a small laugh - anything more being too painful. “My time and my healing are for sale, but my dignity is not. I will be up on my feet before this day is over.” “That’s what I like to hear,” the doctor replied. Erin stood there, listening to Greg and that doctor speak - then feeling sympathy for Greg as the doctor had him sit up. She could tell by the look on his face that he was in tremendous pain. Then she thought about how concerned he was for the well-being of the cellphone-using lady who slammed into him and almost killed him. Charlotte was right about him. There was more than met the eye and it truly shocked Erin that he didn’t have a girlfriend. How was that even possible? He seemed like such a great guy, of what she knew of him. For this reason, she exercised caution in pursuing her curiosities about him. But seeing the doctor pushing in on Greg’s stomach and testing Greg’s limits of pain, Erin grew a soft spot in her heart for him. So, by the time the doctor stopped torturing him and left the room, she was already in a mode of I’m gonna take good care of you now. And with her added traits of worry, she slipped right into the same groove as always, wanting nothing but to make him become pain-free. Before easing Greg back down onto the mattress, Erin massaged the center point on his right shoulder blade while placing a cool right hand on his abdomen. Reaching under his hospital gown to touch his abdomen, she caught a glorious quick view of his endowment. And Wow! was all she could think of it. Trying to show no reaction to what she caught a glimpse of, Erin finally eased him down on the mattress. Then she massaged the very middle of his right foot, at a specific point which lessened the pain in his stomach area and his diaphragm. She wandered if it would be rude of her to tell him that she was also single and available but thought better of saying anything. “Breathe,” she said very quietly - almost in a whisper. “I am,” Greg said softly. Shyly, she smiled - a bit too embarrassed to reveal she was telling herself to breathe, not him. And she was even more too embarrassed to say why she was flustered to the point of needing to remind herself to breathe. His endowment! Oh, my. It would be a momentary vision that would remain in her mind’s eye for quite some time to come. And the massages worked, his pain lessening to a tolerable degree. Greg closed his eyes and fell asleep fairly quickly. But she would remain there by his side for a short while longer, studying the expressions on his face and wondering if he was dreaming. Doing her rounds, she finally had to admit to herself that she was smitten over him. Unlike so many of the other patients who were understandably miserable, Greg was not - though he had just as much right to be. Aside from the fact that he was a good-looking guy who obviously found importance in his appearance, when not in a hospital bed, he also seemed to have a positive-outlook on a negative situation. His heart was in a good place and his head was in a good place, despite where he was and why he was there. There were no red flags she could see. Greg went in and out of sleep all that afternoon. Erin kept checking on him constantly. When not checking on him or the other patients, she busied herself with text message after text message to Charlotte who was probably sleeping - telling her about how intriguing he was and also how well hung he was. By the time the dinner hour arrived, Greg was ready for some sort of sustenance and Erin was ready to dig a bit deeper into who he was - readying herself to open up to him - should all red flags remain at bay. “Be honest with me, Erin,” Greg said, leaning the bed upward to cheat so he wouldn’t have to hold himself up while eating. “Does that doctor really consider broth and Jello to be solid food?” Erin laughed aloud while tucking a napkin into the front of his hospital gown collar. His outlook certainly was a refreshing one for her to hear. He wasn’t really complaining like the other patients - instead, making light of that which needed it. “You’re completely overlooking the fact that he also thinks it’s actual food!” Erin added, sliding his dinner table over the bed and inadvertently trapping his arms underneath it. “Well, now it feels like a torturous tool used in interrogations,” Greg said with a monotone quality in his voice that broke Erin into hysterical laughter. In all honesty, Greg was happy to be able to put anything in his stomach, no matter how unappetizing the food may have seemed. “Where were you on the night of …?” Greg asked with a mocking interrogation tone until Erin cut him off by slipping a spoonful of broth into his mouth and holding the spoon there as he swallowed. “Oh, I’ve got better questions than that when I interrogate someone,” Erin said with a devilish grin and a playful tone, thoroughly enjoying the rapport they were building with each other. “Okay,” Greg, opening his mouth wide for the next spoonful. “How do you not have a girlfriend?” Erin asked, putting another spoonful of broth in his mouth and then using the tip of the spoon to scoop up the minor dribble on his lower lip - then feeding that to him as well. “And I want a real answer or I’ll break out the rice pudding next.” “I have no idea,” he responded after swallowing, his tone showing his honesty. “I guess I just haven’t met the right one yet.” “Have you ever been married?” Erin asked, feeding him another spoonful of broth, then switching over to the Jello. “Nope. Engaged, yes. But never married,” he admitted. “And why didn’t you get married?” she inquired, dipping the spoon into the red Jello and feeding him the first heaping spoonful of it. “Because engagement showed us exactly what engagement was supposed to show us,” he answered honestly again. “And what’s that?” she asked, really getting into this conversation. “That we weren’t meant to be married to each other,” he answered, trying not to laugh as laughter would have been painful for him just then. “How did you get into nursing?” Erin played very coy, returning to feeding him the broth and taking her time in deciding if she was going to tell him anything about herself. But the more intriguing thought in her mind was about what would be fun to actually tell him. She could be cryptic. She was in control and she could clearly see why Charlotte always leaned in the direction of dominating men. There was very satisfying fun in it. But Charlotte’s problem had always been about respecting boundaries. And she would quickly go from appearing as dominant to becoming domineering. Erin had no intention of disregarding her submissive nature. Instead, she would attempt a bit of topping from the bottom. But Greg’s reaction to this was her current primary concern. “I’ve always liked reading books about women who changed the world in some way and left a mark in their fields of work, like Florence Nightingale,” she said with a lowered tone, saucy to say the least as she fed him yet another spoonful of the broth. “She was a pioneer in the nursing field in the late 19th century. Her dedication to patient care got her nicknamed The Lady with the Lamp because she made rounds at night …… and this had never been done before.” Greg swallowed the broth and immediately received another helping of it. She was certainly taking charge of the situation … and of the talk. “Her example of care would forever change the way hospitals treated patients. Most consider her to be the founder of modern nursing,” Erin continued, leaning the bowl towards her as she scooped up more of the broth and fed it to him - Greg not resisting her at all. It seemed he suddenly had a bit of intrigue in her too … or so she was being led to believe. Finishing the last few spoonfuls of broth, she returned to the red Jello, only making him eat half of it. “That’s a really wonderful role model to have,” he said with a smile and authentic tone. “And nursing is noble work.” “It can also be messy work,” Erin laughed, picking up his dinner tray. “What you ate won’t take too long to digest right through you. So, when you get the slightest indication that you need to complete the digestion, please buzz me right away. Do you feel strong enough to take the painful trip to the toilet or do you want to use a bed pan?” “I’ll take the trip to the toilet,” he said with certainty, Erin smiling at the fearful look that momentarily crossed over his irises. --------------- At 7pm, Charlotte arrived for her shift, quite promptly after having awakened and read the string of texts she had been sent. Erin went right into talking to her about Greg, explaining how he was bruised internally but not damaged otherwise. And in the interest of time, she explained he had eaten his first meal at dinner. Charlotte knew what that meant and they both prepared for his forthcoming distress call. A few minutes later, his buzzer sounded and they moved quickly to his room, Erin explaining how flirting had become a common tone with him … and how he was playful about it all. “Okay, Mr. Townsend,” Charlotte said, entering his room and raising his bed to a sitting position as Erin helped him swing his over the side of the bed. “Just remember to keep breathing. It’ll be okay.” “Do most people make it to the toilet in time when they do this?” Greg asked, pain encouraging him to lean over and panic being evident in his tone. “Just be honest with me.” “It may seem like a surprise to you at the moment, but the answer is yes. Most everyone makes it to the toilet the first time,” Charlotte said with calmness, she and Erin helping him stand to his feet. “What may seem like urgency to you is actually anything but that.” “It doesn’t seem possible,” Greg said, going dizzy from being on his feet for the first time in 24 hours. “When you get there, you’ll be amazed how nothing will happen at first,” Erin said calmly, her voice softening in an attempt to ease his nerves. “It will be when you relax that everything begins.” He clung to both of them as they guided his sliding steps in the direction of the bathroom. “Thank goodness they put the bathroom on the other end of the room,” Greg said with jocular nature, seeing how far he still had to walk and wondering why his backside hadn’t let loose yet - for how urgent the need to release felt just then. “A few more steps. That’s it,” Erin said softly, encouraging him with a nurturing tone - Greg beginning to sweat from the whole ordeal. Well, he was either sweating or had just acquired a fever. He suddenly couldn’t tell. And with a dizziness to him that just wouldn’t quit, he likely wouldn’t find out until after all operations had finished. “Okay, just take your time and sit calmly,” Charlotte said as they got to the bathroom, Greg indeed making it to the toilet and sitting - then suddenly waiting for what he expected to have been immediate. “Would you like privacy?” Erin asked quietly. “No. It’s okay,” Greg said with grimace. “There’s no performance anxiety. There’s just currently a strange pad lock on the backdoor.” Charlotte and Erin joined him in a laugh. “A lot of people start to cry and fuss when they get to the toilet the first time,” Charlotte said, chuckling a little at the thought. “I guess I should laugh about that. But I sometimes have to walk out of the room to prevent them from seeing me smiling at their dilemma.” “Well, if you think about it, it’s a grown adult who suddenly can’t act like an adult … for understandable reasons, but still … I can see why that would strike anyone as funny,” Greg said, then freezing in his sitting position on the toilet. “You wanna hear something more funny, stick around a few more seconds. Okay … here it comes.” Greg found the relief his body ached for, never once blushing with embarrassment as that would have taken too much energy to do. But with the evacuation complete, he was much more relaxed - despite the fact that it was Erin who tended to the toilet paper conclusion for him. Then he was helped to his feet, carefully guided back to his bed. “So,” Greg said with a breathy whisper, sitting down on the side of his bed and swinging his legs up onto it before leaning back and sighing - then looking at Erin. “Where do you wanna go on our second date?” Charlotte laughed a bit harder, changing out his drip bags and giving him some medication to drift him off to sleep. --------------- At 2am, as Charlotte made her rounds for patient checks, he awoke. “You’re one of the lightest sleepers I’ve ever met,” Charlotte said quietly, recording his information and walking up alongside his bed. “Well, I have a tendency to talk in my sleep. I didn’t want give away any secrets if we suddenly struck up a conversation,” Greg said with a small laugh, his condition already having shown real improvement. “So, why did you become a nurse?” “The pay,” Charlotte stated frankly, then laughing at her bluntness. “But I’m also a bit of a sadist.” “Really? Well, giving needle shots might satisfy that craving for you, I guess,” Greg said with a grin. “Nursing hardly seems like a career for sadistic purposes, though.” “Well, it depends on how you look at it. Maybe even more than sadism is how I enjoy being needed by my patients,” Charlotte said, checking his drip bags. “That certainly is different than sadism,” he replied. “More maternal, in instinct than anything.” “Not really,” Charlotte said. “In truth, there’s not a maternal bone in my body. But the control factor is quite satisfying.” “I know what you mean, there. Every relationship I’ve been in always put me in a mindset where I thoroughly enjoyed melting her senses … babying her insides, so to speak,” Greg admitted. “So you play Daddy with you girlfriends?” she asked, raising her eyebrows with surprise. “Who’s playing?” Greg said with a devilish grin. “Get some sleep, Mr. Townsend,” Charlotte said, chuckling to herself as she left his room. --------------- At 7am, Erin arrived with as much promptness as Charlotte had the evening prior. And when Charlotte updated him about her talk with Greg, Erin’s eyes grew big and wide - her heart beginning to beat faster. “I don’t suppose that what he said means what I want it to mean,” Erin stated grimly but still with excitement. “Well there’s one way to find out. And I’ll even help you, to start,” Charlotte said matter-of-factly - Erin looking at her with confusion as to what she meant. “Remember that episode of Grey’s Anatomy when the nurses decide to see who was the more hardcore nurse among them?” “Do you mean the one when they wore diapers and took no breaks?” Erin asked, not recognizing the importance of the elephant-in-the-room suggestion Charlotte was making. “Yeah. I have an idea I wanna run past you,” Charlotte said, smiling at how Erin still hadn’t pieced it together yet. “I’ll stick around to help you bathe him in bed this morning. But there’s a little more I wanna do as well. And I know you’re really gonna enjoy it.” Continue on to Part Two

I made some changes to the flow of this story after it was purged from the website. I did not have the first three chapters saved and as a result I went off of the last chapter I had been working on and added the backstory into that, the premise is about the same as I had it before. Enjoy. -BG Chapter One: Searing pain awoke Adam, it happened when he attempted to move his body, particularly his legs. During his futile attempts to move, Adam realized he couldn't move anything other than his head to look around. It was a weird feeling to Adam as his eyes began to focus taking in his current predicament. He noticed he was wrapped up in a very tight blanket as if he was tucked in, but it was more like he was a burrito. He couldn't move. His heart rate began to jump around as he began to panic; however, Adam tried to focus on his surroundings and looked for an escape from this hellish world. A sterile room with childish pictures greeted Adam when he looked around. The childish pictures of carousels and teddy bears made him feel very small, but the worst part was the inability to move his arms. It was unsettling, making Adam look back to his childhood and seeing his baby cousins wrapped up like this. Swaddled he thought. Everything looked massive, and Adams only thought was escape. Voices greeted Adams ears, and a feeling dread came over him as the voices became hushed and shuffling paper filled the silence. Adam didn't see the door open, but he could hear it as well as the massive steps following it. "Did you learn your lesson little one" said the same Amazon as before. Adam kept his mouth closed remembering the pain from before and shook his head in agreement. "Good, I am Doctor Fields, and will be starting you off with the basics" said doctor Fields. "You are going to fit right in when I am done with you, and I can not wait to begin the training". Adam jumped when her large hands reached down and picked him up. The blanket surrounding Adam let up enough slack allowing him to squirm, but his sore and bruised bottom kept him from moving much. Adam was carried like an infant in the Amazons arms, and it terrified him, but somehow it felt okay with him. Almost like Dr. Fields wasn’t a harbinger of pain towering over him, but the look in her eye said otherwise. The blanket wrapping Adam was taken off as he was set onto a cold plastic mat. There was a little bit of padding as it wasn’t very hard, but his naked skin was shocked by the drastic and unexpected change in temperature. He looked around like a panicked animal searching desperately for a way off when he looked over and saw the Amazon walking towards him holding a bottle of something and a white square that had animal wearing diapers on it. “What are you doing to me” Adam asked doctor Fields without realizing his mistake. “This is the least of your worries little one, you should know better than to open your mouth” said Dr. Fields as she set the items down and grabbed a gag of some sort and shoved it into Adams mouth and twisted the top. Dr. Fields looked down at Adam and decided she needed to make sure he remembers not to speak out again. She quickly flipped Adam over and preceded to make his already bruised bottom light up scarlet red, something that would surly leave a mark. Adam’s butt was in so much pain, and he couldn’t make a darn noise after the Dr. Shoved this damn thing into his mouth. It seemed like a pacifier but that didn’t make any sense why would he have a pacifier, most people in his world would have grabbed a ball gag instead. This pacifier would not leave his mouth no matter how hard he tried to spit it out. Dr. Fields flipped him around and another onslaught of strikes hit his butt relighting the pain from before. He couldn’t stop himself from crying, and pacifier seemed to muffle the noises. After Adam was done sobbing, Dr. Fields grabbed the diaper she had previously set aside and began to unfold it making sure Adam could see every step through his tear crusted eyes. Dr. Fields knew Adam had no idea what was in store for him, and frankly it made her happy knowing this. Damn, she thought this one was going to look so cute when she was done, as she grabbed his legs and thrust them into air quickly sliding the diaper underneath his bright red ass. She grabbed some of the powder from early and sprinkled it on Adam in short time gleaming with excitement at what was to come. However, Adam panicked as he felt himself lifted into the air realizing what was happening. He felt a soft shell enveloping his privates making a loud crinkling noise every time he moved. Dr. Fields looked down at Adam and simply smiled at her work. She knew what was about to come to Adam, now that the diapers had been introduced his life was only going to change. He will make a fine baby after she is done correcting some of his behaviors, but that was something she intended to do over the next couple of months. Chapter Two: Adam thought back at how he ended up in this predicament. He recalled his dimension when a portal opened up and Giants began coming out. The Giants stood roughly three times the size of a normal human. And quickly disarmed the population of his earth. Their superior technology was capable of stopping all medium and large caliber weaponry. Their conventional weaponry was simply ineffective to stop the Invading force allowing all the Giants to take over the planet with ease. Bullets had little effect against the giants other then enraging them. At first, it seemed the Giants were not evil when they conquered earth; they had managed to disarm nations of nuclear arsenals and managed to bring humanity to its knees. It wasn’t until people began to disappear that the population truly began to worry; although, the amount of people leaving was small enough most people never truly felt concern. The Giants surrounding Adam referred to themselves as Amazons, and it seemed they had been to Adam’s dimension before; however, the original time the “little humans” managed to sever the inter dimensional gateway allowing Amazons to Earth. This story had been butchered for humanities sake in the attempts to avoid reliving the horror. The butchered story was Jack the giant slayer, and there were numerous components missing. The biggest is the fact the Amazons never ate humans as some accounts of the tale were told, they simply turned them into pets resembling toddlers which Adam was beginning to find out. Adam recalled being in the woods hiking when he was picked up and sent to this hellish word where everything was massive in comparison to him. He found himself being checked out in a medical facility and was ruthlessly “disciplined” if he spoke out. He was beginning to find out the different rules, and slowly figuring out the history of this dimension. Chapter Three: Dr. Fields was pleased with her new find. She had put in a request to her broker for a little fitting Adam’s description. Her luck at finding a little in her dimension had been dismal, and frankly the laws made it difficult to claim one; however, inter dimensional littles had no rights according to the Government and frankly there were very few dimensions truly had littles. Agencies were set up immediately tracking down littles when they appeared in other worlds; however, the cost was excessively high to bring a little over from another dimension. Dr. Fields had spent nearly a years pay to bring Adam over, and she was certainly pleased with the results. She had a particular image in mind for her first little, and she was willing to pay the exorbitant fees the little broker had charged. Adam’s height was a little under four feet when he came through the portal. (It was completely normal for littles to shrink when transferring) His eyes were blue and his hair was blonde, and frankly the crisp white diaper she just put onto his red bottom was absolutely adorable. Dr. Fields stood over 13 feet tall with her green eyes and brown hair. She stood out in the Amazon community not only for her looks, but also for her extensive knowledge in little regression. She is a Medical Doctor by training, but she branched out into psychology focusing on littles from other dimensions. She has been researching ways to make little’s more cooperative to the demands of their adoptive parents pioneering ways to adjust littles from other dimension into their new homes; however, most of the dimensions put up almost no fight and allowed their new Amazons to take over. For the most part Amazons simply left the world in working order and traded the prospect of peace for resources. Adam’s dimension was different from the rest. The dimension Adam came from had a past with the Amazon world. When they were going through their first industrial boom, an Amazon equivalent to Albert Einstein figured out a way to cross dimensions and plunder resources for other worlds allowing the Amazon world to remain a lush thriving and beautiful environment. They had their own littles on the planet that had always been subjugated to the will of the larger Amazon’s who felt it was their obligation to take care of the smaller humans. Overtime this obligation turned into an addictive need where Amazon women simply had to have a little in their care; however, laws changed making it more difficult to claim littles. Everyone understood the reasoning behind the Governments laws about snatching littles off the street and why that might not be the best idea. When dimensional travel was discovered, the first dimension the Amazons discovered was a vastly inferior Earth completely populated by littles. The difference however was the littles put up a massive fight unlike the ones in their own world which nobody had anticipated and they managed to destroy the dimensional portal infrastructure to their world effectively shutting off the Amazons from the largest supply of littles they had ever encountered or would. Over the years, the Amazons were able to re-establish inter dimension travel, but for some reason they never made it back the dimension two. It took decades for the Amazon to finally reestablish the connection, and this time they were prepared. Dr. Fields was the first person to study the littles from the second dimension, and her results were astonishing. Unlike other dimensions where littles had been discovered, these would put up a significant resistance and fight. She found they would reluctantly give into their captors and simply what for an opportune moment to lash out. The only way to truly make the littles accept their new life was to break them hard and slowly eventually building them up with their new parents. Some littles would still resist by taking whatever they could and using it as a weapon which was a fruitless process. Dr. Fields loved the challenge with the littles from the second dimension, and she knew if she was going to have a little of her own, she would have to bring one over and dominate the little into submission. Chapter Four: Adam found himself sore from the earlier spanking and frankly the massive bulk between his legs just felt weird. He struggle to put his legs together, but it didn’t matter to Dr. Fields as she lifted him up sliding a cute onesie over his head and snapping up the bottom snaps. “Now don’t you just look adorable” Dr. Fields said looking down at her soon to be adopted little. Adams blue eyes looked up to her with a scared look as he began suckling on the pacifier she put into his mouth. Dr. Fields made sure to bring a mirror over allowing Adam to Gaze at himself in his new glory. As Adams eyes scanned the mirror for glimpse of himself, he slowly realized the image staring back was him. He had an extra thick Diaper on with a onesie decorated with babyish dinosaurs and a pacifier in his mouth that said “I <3 my Mommy”. He was shocked at the image and simply thought this can not be real. Dr. Fields commented ohh it looks like my new Baby is enjoying his paci aren't you! To Adam's horror he noticed he was in fact suckling on the damn thing which only helped to crush his spirit. Adam knew he needed to break out of this hell and escape, but he was stuck in this monster’s clutches with nowhere to escape. The table he was on seemed to be twice his height and the sterile white floor below him did not look inviting. A prick on Adams arm brought him back to reality as the Dr. began injecting something into him. Adam’s immediate response was to cry out, but the pacifier muffled his screams of pain making him truly sound like an infant with tears falling down his cheek. Dr. Fields immediately went into action. “It’s okay Baby, the shot I gave you will only help you relax and become more accustomed to your new life. You don’t need to worry about anything, Mommy is here” said Dr. Fields. The last phrase the Doctor said threw Adam off. What the hell did she mean Mommy is here? He was already dressed like a baby and had a damn pacifier in his mouth. Did this women think she could keep him hostage or hope Stockholm’s syndrome would kick in? There was no way he would allow that to happen, he needed a plan. At that exact second Adam locked up like a deer in headlights. He froze. Adam noticed his crotch was turning warm, and wet. He thought what the hell, am I pissing myself as a stream of urine flowed into his now wet and ever expanding diaper. Shortly after, Adams bowels began to cramp up and sure enough he defecated into the diaper he was wearing. At this point Adam truly became aware of his predicament and how badly he needed to escape this world. First, he needed to get out of the disgusting mess he was locked in and tried pushing the feeling of helplessness out of his mind like an addict attempts to walk away from their problems. Despair appeared to be the victor this time around as the smell of his bowels caught the Amazons attention...

It was as though an epoch had passed when he finally logged off his work computer. She was waiting for him, standing in the doorway, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he turned his chair and said "I'm done." "Good." was the last word he heard before she walked over, one hand behind her back. She came around to the back of the chair, and playfully pushed his head back down as he tried to look up at her. All of a sudden, the world went dark as the soft black silk was brought over his eyes, and he felt it quickly tied on the back of his head. "Shirt." she demanded. He dutifully pulled his t-shirt up and over his chest, and felt her hands reach in to the neck hole to assist in pulling it cleanly off his head without disturbing his blindfold. He heard the sound of the garment being tossed into a corner of his office, then felt her hand grab hold of his. He offered no resistance as she pulled him to a stand from his desk chair and led him down the hallway. He felt the familiar touch of the carpet in their bedroom meet his bare feet as she continued to lead him onward, then all at once spun him around and gave him a shove. The edge of the mattress took his knees out from under him, and he fell backwards onto the bed. He felt her hands immediately on the crotch of his pants as she deftly unbuttoned and then unzipped the pants, then reached to his hips to pull both pants and briefs down his hips, over his knees, and then off his ankles, tossing them to the side like so much debris. Naked and blind, he felt her hand slide teasingly back up his leg, briefly touching his growing erection before it continued to caress his belly, up his chest, then grabbing his arm suddenly and pulling it upward toward the head of the bed. One hand clutched his wrist tightly as the other wrapped a soft piece of fabric around it, then quickly tied it off. His member was positively throbbing with anticipation now, as he could sense here kneeling above him on the bed and attaching a similar restraint to his other wrist. He could feel her step over his arm and back onto the floor as she snickered "Now you're mine, little boy..." He heard her open a package, and it occurred to him that they had received two shipments via UPS today, both addressed to her, both hid away carefully before he got so much as a peek at them. His suspense as to what one of them was came to an abrupt halt as she chuckled, "or should I say little girl?" All at once she was slipping something incredibly smooth and soft up his ankles and knees, sliding it up to his hips, where he felt part of it stay as she slid the rest up to his chest, then tying strings over his shoulders. Still completely unable to see, he could feel the luxurious satin of the baby doll chamise against his skin, which made his already trembling erection seem to grow to proportions previously unknown. He felt the hem of the nightie lift in the front, and she sneered "Ooooh, you like that, don't you, little girl?" as she reached down to stroke him ever so lightly through the satin of the negligee. He involuntarily shivered from head to toe at her touch, and pulled reflexively against his silken restraints as her fingertips caressed his shaft and balls. It all made sense why, for the first time since they met, she demanded that he shave his face clean, after him wearing a thick beard for half a dozen years. All at once she gave his inner thigh a hard slap. "You're not getting off that easy." she said wickedly. He heard her unzip her pants and pull them down. She straddled his chest as he heaved his breath, rubbing her now bare crotch slowly across his pecs, up over his chin, then lifting up slightly directly over his mouth. "I think you know what to do with this." she stated authoritatively. Instinctively, he lifted his head and worked her clit with his tongue, sliding it down into her vulva periodically, excited even more each time he felt her tremble and moan. As he continued to pleasure her, she began to thrust herself into his face with each stroke, moaning her own pleasure, as he felt his crotch scream for attention under the satin. He was immediately aware of her first orgasm, tasting the spoils as they leaked out of her vagina, lapping them up greedily as her convulsing diminished. "Mmmm, Mommy's little bitch is getting better at her job, isn't she?" she snarled as she dismounted him with a light slap on the cheek. He shuddered with nervous anticipation as he heard her open a dresser drawer. He felt his amply long hair being pulled sharply to one side as she tied an elastic to it, then the other. "Did she just..." he thought, but was quickly distracted by a large object, latex by the taste, being stuffed into his mouth, and a string being tied around the back of his head, securing this gag... this... pacifier?... in place. He was stone still as he heard her footsteps around to the bottom of the bed, her toes now sliding up his calf and thigh ever so gently, causing him to shiver once more. "My baby bitch likes her new binky, doesn't she?!" she mocked. He was incapable of doing much more than moaning a response, muted by the gag. His hard-on was raging, almost to the point of being painful, as she finally pulled back the hem of the skirt and mounted him, sliding her already well-lubed vagina onto his quivering shaft, sliding down tortuously slow, all the way to the base, as he whimpered his delight. She rose back up and started to come down again, but this time stopped just as his tip was all the way in, and bounced up and down just on the head, the stimulation driving him crazy as he lay there, paralyzed, positively squeaking around the huge ball of latex stuck firm in his mouth, aching for her to take him all the way into her. She kept it up for what seemed like an eternity, working the head of his penis, occasionally dropping all the way down in a sudden thrust, which practically rolled his eyes into the back of his head with ecstacy, until he could hear and feel her coming once again, and he was nearly ready to explode. As soon as she completed her orgasm, she dismounted suddenly, leaving him in a heaving, whimpering puddle on the bed, still begging for satisfaction. "Oh, no... my little baby bitch isn't going to make messies on the bed." she snickered. He heard her open a dresser drawer, then heard the sound of plastic rustling. He didn't have long to consider what new torment she had in store before he felt her grabbing his ankles and folding them practically up over his head, then dropping him back down no longer onto the soft coverlet, but something else that crinkled loudly when his bottom made contact with it. She spread his legs and pulled the something... was it?... up between his legs and covered his throbbing erection. It was! She taped the diaper onto him with speed and precision as his hard-on protested painfully, and he whimpered his agreement. "Awwww, my baby bitch wanted to get off?" she sneered as she slapped his face just hard enough to sting a bit. He felt her hand clamp down on his dick through the padding and stroke it softly. "Baby bitch likes that, huh?" she said. He could hear the wicked smile in her voice as she stroked him faster and faster, his breath coming in gasps now through his nose. He was just on the edge of his own orgasm once again when she let go, laughing maniacally. "Aw, poor baby wanted to cream in her diaper, didn't she?" she snarled as he trembled. He had full on blueballs at this point, in near agony at being denied the orgasm he desperately needed. He felt the pacifier gag loosed and popped from his mouth, suddenly realizing he had been suckling the nipple furiously in response to her denial of his release. She once again grasped his desperately throbbing erection through the incredibly thick padding and said "Tell Mommy what you want, baby girl!" "I want to come!" he gasped. She moved her hand down and squeezed his balls painfully. "Wrong answer, baby! I said TELL MOMMY what you want!" "Mommy, I want to come!" he begged. "Is that what you want, baby girl?" she cooed sarcastically. "Tell me what you are." she sneered as she resumed stroking his shaft. "I'm... a baby girl..." he whimpered. "Tell me what a sissy you are." she snarled. "I'm a sissy baby, and I want to come, Mommy!" he groveled Her hand let loose again. "Not until you make me come again, you sissy bitch!" At once her crotch was in his face once more, and he desperately did the business she demanded as the pain in his crotch reached a level he had never experienced before, to the point where he was near tears by the time he had completed his task. As she dismounted once again, he begged "Please, Mommy, make me come!" He could scarcely believe the pitch his voice had reached. He practically sounded like a little girl at that point. "Good girl." she responded seductively, sliding back down onto his chest, her juices smearing all over him. She reached back once more and grabbed his member through the plastic and stroked it as he convulsed, mocking his involuntary movements, "That's right, bitch, BEG for it! Scream for Mommy, you sissy baby bitch!" which happened nearly instantly as he finally exploded into the diaper and collapsed into a quivering pile of gelatin under her. Her voice softened as she felt him release, whispering "good baby girl, good, good baby girl." She tucked the pacifier back into his mouth, which he accepted without a fight. He felt the snap of the leather string slip across his cheek as she pulled it away from the pacifier, then silence for a moment, until a familiar "click-ca-click". He felt her hand reach under his head and untie his blindfold as he heard the printer attached to their bedroom computer whirring away. His hands still restrained, he couldn't get much of a look at himself other than the light purple sheen of the chamise covering his chest, but she was happy to show him the completeness of his domination, a printout of the photo she had taken of him lying spread-eagle, the pale purple diaper clearly visible under the purple sheer nightie, blindfolded, in pigtails, tied to the bed, with the pacifier in his mouth. Were it not for the hair on his legs and arms, one might have confused him for a woman. After allowing him to gape at the image of himself, his dark-haired beauty of a wife tossed the paper aside, releasing his hands from the silken restraints and lying down beside him, turning the light off and pulling the top sheet over them as she rolled him over onto his side, facing away from her, and spooned him. "Think about that next time you think you're wearing the pants in this relationship." she whispered in his ear as she squeezed his still-diapered bottom, and he drifted off to sleep.