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"Geoff says he'll be here by seven," Lori announced, tapping her nails against her wine glass. The sound made me freeze mid-step in the hallway, one foot hovering over the creaky floorboard I always avoided. "And Gerald—" She didn't even turn to look at me. "You’ll be dressed appropriately this time." My throat went dry. The pink satin knickers I was wearing suddenly felt tighter, the ruffled lace at the thighs scratching just enough to remind me they were there. Last week, I’d tried protesting—just once—when she’d laid out a frilly yellow sundress with matching plastic pants. That earned me an evening strapped into the high chair in the corner while she and Geoff shared a bottle of red and laughed about something I couldn’t hear. Jenny arrived at six-thirty, her heels clicking against the porch steps. She was younger than I’d imagined, with her dark hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a clipboard tucked under one arm. "Oh, he’s *adorable*," she cooed the second she saw me, reaching out to pinch my cheek like I was a toddler. I flinched. "Lori told me you’ve been a bit of a handful lately, but we’ll fix that, won’t we?" Lori gave her that smile—the one she used when she’d already decided something and pretending otherwise was pointless. "He just needs structure. And maybe a firmer hand." Jenny’s eyes flicked down to my outfit—the baby-blue dress with the puffed sleeves, the white tights that made my legs look embarrassingly soft. "Mmm. I can see that." She set the clipboard down and reached into her bag, pulling out a thick, folded bundle of fabric. "First order of business: no more disposables. We’re switching to terry cloth nappies for bedtime. They’ll *really* help you remember your place." The terry cloth nappy unfolded in Jenny’s hands like some ominous flag of surrender. Thick and flufffy with pink hheaded nappy pins . My fingers twitched at my sides—part of me wanted to bolt for the door, but the way Lori was leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed, told me exactly how far I’d get. Jenny smiled, sweet as poisoned honey. "Arms up, princess." The dress came off easier than my dignity. Jenny made a show of inspecting me, tutting at the disposable padding I’d been allowed up until now. "Oh, these won’t do at *all*," she murmured, peeling it away with a rip that made my face burn. The air hit my bare skin, and for one wild second, I thought about covering myself—but then Lori cleared her throat, and I froze. Jenny’s fingers were brisk, businesslike as she lifted each of my feet to slide the terry cloth underneath. The material was scratchier than I’d imagined, and when she tightened the straps, I couldn’t help the tiny, mortified noise that escaped me. Jenny patted my hip. "There! Now you look *properly* little." She turned to Lori. "Should we do the plastic pants now, or wait until after his bottle?" Lori smirked into her wine. "After. Geoff likes watching that part." The doorbell rang at exactly seven. Jenny clapped her hands. "Ooh, perfect timing! Let’s get you settled before we answer that, hmm?" She steered me toward the high chair in the corner—the one with the extra-wide seat and the restraints Lori had installed last weekend. The leather cuffs were cool against my wrists, and the click of the buckles sounded final. Jenny leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. "Behave, or I’ll tell Geoff you need an early bedtime." The plastic pants made a crinkling symphony as Jenny tugged them up over the thick terry cloth nappy, each rustle sounding louder than the last in the silent room. They were semi-transparent, the kind that showed just enough to emphasize what lay beneath—the outline of the bulky pink fabric pinned snug between my thighs. The waistband snapped high on my hips with an audible *click*, and when I shifted, the material protested with a chorus of noisy whispers that seemed to echo off the walls. Jenny stepped back to admire her handiwork, tapping one finger against her chin. "Oh, but we're not *nearly* done," she sang, reaching into the dresser drawer where Lori kept my things. The pink satin knickers she produced were absurdly frilled—row upon row of ruffled lace cascading down the front and back, the waistband rising almost to my ribcage. They slid over the plastic pants with a soft hiss, the lace tickling my thighs as she adjusted the layers with clinical precision. "There we go," she murmured, patting the ruffles into place. "Much prettier." The dress came next—a confection of pink satin with puffed short sleeves and a neckline trimmed in lace. It barely reached mid-thigh, and when Jenny spun me toward the mirror, the effect was immediate: the knickers peeked out from beneath the hem with every slight movement, their ruffles a stark contrast against the smooth satin. "Lori was right," Jenny mused, tilting her head. "You really do look best in short hemlines. Lets everyone see what a good little sissy you are." From the kitchen, Lori's laugh floated down the hallway—bright and careless, the way it always was when Geoff was near. The sound sent a jolt through me, and my fingers curled into the dress fabric before I could stop them. Jenny noticed, of course. Her grip tightened on my shoulder as she leaned in. "Ah-ah. None of that." She reached for something behind me—a pacifier on a ribbon, its shield shaped like a blooming rose. "Open up," she instructed, and when I hesitated, her smile didn't waver. "Or should I call Lori in here to help?" The door to the living room swung open just as the pacifier clicked into place. Geoff's voice boomed through the house—"There's my favorite girls!"—followed by Lori's answering purr. Jenny gave my hip a final pat, her fingers lingering just a second too long on the crinkling plastic. "Ready to say hello?" she whispered. But the click of Geoff's shoes on hardwood was already drowning out my muffled reply. Gerald's hands flew to his crotch instinctively, fingers splaying across the crinkling plastic pants in a futile attempt to hide the ruffled pink satin peeking beneath his scandalously short dress. The movement only made the layers shift more conspicuously, the stiff lace of his knickers scraping against the backs of his palms. Lori's giggle cut through the room like a knife—that particular laugh she reserved for when she'd caught him in some fresh humiliation. "Oh, Gerald," she sighed, swirling her wine with exaggerated pity. "As if Geoff hasn't seen it all before." From the doorway, Geoff's chuckle rumbled low and warm, his polished Oxfords clicking against the hardwood as he stepped inside. Gerald kept his eyes fixed on the floor, but he could *feel* Geoff's gaze traveling over him—lingering on the way the puffed sleeves made his shoulders look delicate, the way the satin clung to the outline of the bulky nappy beneath. Jenny's fingers dug into Gerald's shoulder, steering him forward with relentless cheer. "Don't be shy now," she trilled, her voice dripping with mock encouragement. "Go on, say hello to Mr. Taylor properly." Gerald's mouth worked uselessly around the pacifier, the ribbon tickling his collarbone. Geoff's shadow fell across him before he could muster a response—broad-shouldered and smelling of expensive cologne, blotting out the lamplight. "Now *that's* what I call an improvement," Geoff murmured, reaching out to flick one of Gerald's lace-trimmed sleeve puffs. The casual contact made Gerald flinch, his plastic pants emitting an embarrassingly loud crinkle. Geoff's grin widened. "Much better than last week's little... display." He didn't need to elaborate; they all remembered how Gerald had tried to fold his arms over the frilly yellow sundress, how Lori had made him stand in the corner until Geoff arrived to inspect him. Lori slipped her arm through Geoff's with a proprietorial ease that sent Gerald's stomach twisting. "Jenny's been *such* a help," she purred, leaning into Geoff's side. "Already got him switched to proper terry nappies. And wait till you see the new crib we ordered—" Geoff’s fingers drummed against Lori’s hip as he studied Gerald, his gaze lingering on the way the satin dress strained slightly over the thick terry cloth beneath. "Crib’s a good call," he mused, his voice rich with amusement. "But you might want to consider a playpen too. For when he gets... *restless*." The way he said it made Gerald’s toes curl inside his white tights. Jenny giggled, nudging Gerald forward until he stood directly under the hallway light, where every detail of his outfit—from the frilly knickers peeking beneath the hem to the glossy pink pacifier—was impossible to miss. "Oh, he won’t be restless much longer," she chirped. "Not after his new routine starts. Early bedtime, regular nappy checks, and *plenty* of supervised playtime." Her fingers trailed down Gerald’s arm, squeezing just above the elbow. "Isn’t that right, princess?" Gerald’s muffled whimper around the pacifier was answer enough. The ribbon tickled his neck, and he resisted the urge to squirm—Jenny had already warned him about fidgeting. Lori sighed, swirling her wine again. "Honestly, Gerald, you should be *grateful*. Most husbands don’t get this much attention." She leaned into Geoff’s side, her fingers toying with his tie. "Speaking of attention... Geoff, darling, why don’t you show Gerald what a *real* man looks like? Just so he remembers the difference." Geoff’s grin was all teeth. He didn’t move at first, letting the silence stretch until Gerald’s breathing went shallow. Then, with deliberate slowness, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms thick with muscle and a dusting of dark hair. Gerald’s eyes flicked down instinctively—then just as quickly darted away, his face burning. Geoff's cufflinks clinked against the marble countertop as he set them down with deliberate precision. The sound made Gerald flinch—a tiny, involuntary jerk that sent the plastic pants rustling beneath his dress. Geoff noticed, of course. His grin widened as he rolled his left sleeve higher, the fabric bunching around his bicep in a way that made Lori bite her lip. "See this, Gerald?" He flexed, veins rising under tanned skin. "This is what *proper* arms look like on a man." Jenny sighed dreamily from her perch on the armrest, her clipboard forgotten in her lap. "Mmm, *much* better than those twiggy little things you've got," she murmured, reaching over to pinch Gerald's bicep through the puffed sleeve. His whole body stiffened, the pacifier clicking against his teeth as he resisted the urge to whimper. Lori set her wineglass down with a decisive *clink*. "Bedtime's at eight sharp tonight," she announced, smoothing her skirt as she stood. "Jenny will give you your bottle and tuck you in properly—we've got *plans*." Her fingers trailed down Geoff's chest as she said it, lingering just above his belt buckle. Gerald's stomach twisted. He knew exactly what those plans involved—the same ones they'd had last Thursday, when Lori had come home with her blouse buttoned wrong and Geoff's tie stuffed carelessly in her pocket. Jenny clapped her hands, snapping Gerald's attention back to her. "Up we go!" she chirped, unbuckling the high chair restraints with brisk efficiency. Gerald's wrists tingled where the leather had left faint indents. "Let's get those tights off before your bath—no sense ruining such pretty things." Her fingers hooked into the waistband before he could protest, peeling the white fabric down his legs with a practiced tug. The air hit his bare thighs, raising goosebumps beneath the frilly knickers. Geoff chuckled low in his throat—a sound that vibrated through the room like a struck tuning fork. "Still can't believe you used to wear boxers," he mused, reaching out to flick one of Gerald's ruffled garters. The elastic snapped against pale skin, leaving a faint pink mark. Lori giggled, leaning into Geoff's shoulder. "God, remember how he *whined* the first time I bought him proper lingerie?" She mimed a pout, fluttering her lashes. "'But Lori, what if someone *sees*?'" Jenny's fingers worked with practiced efficiency, unpinning the damp terry cloth nappy with a series of sharp tugs. The soggy fabric fell away with a wet slap against the changing mat, exposing Gerald's hairless groin to the cool air of the nursery. His tiny, flaccid penis—barely an inch long—nestled pathetically between smooth thighs, dwarfed by the pink satin ruffles framing it. His testicles were small and tight, barely noticeable against his delicate skin. Geoff's chuckle rumbled through the room as he leaned against the dresser, arms crossed. "Christ, Lori," he mused, shaking his head. "You weren't exaggerating." His gaze lingered, heavy with amusement, as Gerald squirmed under the scrutiny. Lori smirked, running a hand down Geoff's arm possessively. "Mmm, I told you," she purred, fingers tracing the veins on his forearm. "Practically still in diapers in every way." She stepped forward, nudging Gerald's knees apart with her toe. The movement made him whimper around the pacifier, his face burning as Jenny swabbed him down with a cold wipe. Jenny made a show of cleaning him, tutting at the way his minuscule penis twitched under the attention. "Aw, does wittle baby need a fresh nappy?" she cooed, her tone saccharine as she lifted his hips to slide a fresh terry cloth underneath. The thick fabric swallowed his groin whole, the pink pins glinting as she fastened them snugly. Geoff exhaled through his nose, shaking his head again. "Damn. And here I thought my nephew was small." He flexed his bicep absently, the muscle bulging under his rolled-up sleeve. The comparison was unspoken but deafening—Gerald's entire body could've fit in the shadow of Geoff's forearm. Lori's blonde hair cascaded over Gerald's bare chest like a silk curtain as she leaned in, the ends tickling his nipples through the thin satin of his dress. Her perfume—something expensive and floral—filled his nose as she reached between his legs with a damp washcloth, her wedding band glinting coldly in the nursery lamplight. The terry cloth nappy lay open beneath him, exposing his pathetic erection to the cool air, the pink satin ruffles of his knickers framing it like some cruel joke. "Look at that," Lori murmured, her breath warm against his collarbone. Her fingers brushed his straining little cock as she wiped him down, the touch feather-light and clinical. "Three whole inches . Impressive." She glanced up at Geoff with a smirk, her free hand still tangled possessively in his shirtfront. "Told you he gets hard at the dumbest things." Geoff's chuckle vibrated through the changing table as he loomed over them, his shadow swallowing Gerald whole. "Christ. My pinky's thicker than that." He held up his hand as proof, the digit flexing—veiny and blunt-tipped, the nail squared off from years of rugby. Gerald's erection twitched pathetically at the comparison, his hips jerking upward of their own accord. Lori sighed, swatting his inner thigh with the washcloth. "Stop squirming." She pinched the tip of his cock between two manicured nails, making him gasp around the pacifier. The sharp sting sent heat flooding through him, his tiny length bobbing against the terry cloth like a metronome. "God, you're *pathetic*," she muttered, scrubbing harder between his legs. "Getting off on being humiliated by your own wife." Jenny materialized at Lori's elbow with a fresh nappy, her clipboard tucked under one arm. "Aw, but that's what makes him *special*," she cooed, patting Gerald's flushed cheek. Her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth where drool had collected around the pacifier shield. "Most men would be furious in his place. But our Gerald?" She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "He *likes* it." Jenny crouched to retrieve a dropped nappy pin, and Gerald caught the briefest flash of pale blue nylon peeking beneath her pleated schoolgirl skirt—the kind of silky, youthful panties Lori would never wear now that she'd "graduated" to Geoff's taste in lingerie. The glimpse lasted only a second before Jenny straightened, her dark ponytail swinging, but it was long enough to make Gerald's face burn hotter. At nineteen, Jenny had the lithe, effortless grace of a ballet dancer, all long legs and sharp elbows, with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose that made her punishments feel like playground teasing. "Bath time, princess," she announced, popping the 'p' with relish as she hauled him upright by his elbow. The plastic pants hissed with every step toward the bathroom, their crinkling syncopated with the click of Jenny's Mary Jane shoes. She ran the water just shy of too hot—another little punishment—and didn't wait for it to warm before guiding him in. The porcelain was cold against his bare thighs, and he bit down on the pacifier to keep from yelping when she poured a pitcher of water over his head. She washed him with the same brisk efficiency as a nurse scrubbing down a stubborn patient, her nails scraping just enough to remind him she could hurt him if she wanted to. The soap smelled like artificial strawberries, the kind marketed to children. "Arms up," she ordered, and Gerald obeyed, letting her scrub his pitiful biceps with a loofah. She lingered over his chest, where Lori had insisted he get waxed last month, her fingers tracing the now-smooth skin with mocking approval. "Much better," she murmured. "No one wants to cuddle a hairy baby." The towel she used to dry him was suspiciously thin—another calculated humiliation that left him damp and shivering as she herded him toward the nursery. The changing mat crackled under his bare back as Jenny rummaged through the dresser with the casual cruelty of someone who knew exactly how powerless he was. She shook out a fresh terry cloth nappy with a snap of fabric, the pink pins glinting between her fingers like tiny knives. "Legs up," she commanded, and Gerald lifted his hips obediently, the motion sending a drip of bathwater down his inner thigh. The sound of Lori's laughter floated up the stairs—sharp, bright, and entirely unrestrained. Gerald stiffened in Jenny's arms as another peel of it echoed through the house, followed by the low rumble of Geoff's answering chuckle. The nursery door was cracked just enough to let in the clink of wine glasses and the occasional murmur of conversation, each indistinct word prickling Gerald's skin like static. Jenny's fingers tightened around his wrist as she fastened the last nappy pin with a practiced twist. "Ooh, sounds like someone's *very* excited," she cooed, her breath warm against Gerald's temple. Below them, Lori giggled again—that particular breathy laugh she only used when Geoff's hand was somewhere it shouldn't be. Gerald squeezed his eyes shut, but Jenny just laughed, patting his freshly powdered thigh. "Aw, don't worry, princess. I'm sure your wife will tell you *all* about it tomorrow." The plastic pants rustled as she shook them holding them to the light then lifted each leg into them pulling them up his scrawny ,taunt as she tugged them up over the terry cloth, her fingers lingering just long enough to make Gerald squirm. "Though..." Jenny's smirk was audible as she snapped the waistband against his hips. "You might want to cover your ears tonight." She leaned in conspiratorially, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Geoff's big man very big I imagine ." Jenny made a show of selecting his nighttime attire, tapping one finger against her chin as she surveyed the wardrobe labeled "Frilly Baby Knickers" in Lori's looping cursive. The hangers rattled as she pushed through satin and lace, finally pulling out a monstrosity of pink chiffon with ribbons that trailed to the floor. "Oh, this one," she cooed, holding it up so the lamplight shone through the sheer fabric. "Short enough to show off your frilllly knickers and plastic panties , but long enough to keep you modest." Her wink took all the mercy out of the words. Downstairs, a chair scraped against hardwood, followed by Lori's throaty "Oh, *God*—" cut off abruptly by what sounded like a palm slapped over her mouth. Jenny giggled, adjusting Gerald's satin nightie with mock solemnity. "Mmm, and judging by that *bulge* in his slacks earlier..." She traced a fingertip down Gerald's chest, stopping just above the waistband of his plastic pants. "I'd say your wife's in for a *very* educational evening. Now lets get you into some nice frilly bbay knickers oooh these are very pretty they will match your nice frilly nightie "enny gigled as she held up the pale pink frilly baby girl syle knickers covered in matching lace and pink satinbows "very pretty lift your legs good girl " .The cool soft delicate babric slithered up hhis legs and was pulled high over the plastic pants .She looked into hhis eyes and gave him a few rubs at the front . Gerald's pacifier clicked against his teeth as he clenched his jaw, the ribbon tickling his collarbone. Jenny plucked at it playfully. "Bet you wish you could make her sound like that, huh?" she murmured. "Instead of... what was it Lori said? 'A disappointed sigh and three pathetic thrusts'?" Jenny's fingers traced the lace edge of Gerald's frilly knickers beneath the crinkling plastic pants, her nails catching on the satin ruffles as she dipped lower she teased him about his predicamant "I'm sure Geoff will end up staying the night baby girl " she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. Her fingertips found his stiffening length beneath the terry cloth—no thicker than her pinky—and Gerald whimpered around the pacifier as precum dampened the nappy. "Oh God," she laughed, her delicate fingers rubbing him with clinical precision. The contrast was obscene—her manicured nails, against his pathetic erection. "You're *leaking* already? And over *what*?" Her thumb circled the tip, smearing slickness across his tiny head. "Over me telling you the truth? That your lovely wife can't feel you? " Jenny withdrew her fingers with a wet sound, wiping them on Gerald's nightie She patted Gerald's crotch through the rufflled pink satin and plastic pants, the crinkle loud in the sudden quiet. "Be good a good bbay girl , sweetheart. And don't—" She paused, tilting his chin up with one sticky finger. "*Don't* touch yourself. You know the rules." i will be back with your bottle in two mintes. Gerald lay on the changing table listening to his wife and her lover downstairs .Jenny was right he knew they would end up sleeping togther it was inevitable. Jenny's low heeld shoes clicked against the hardwood as she reappered and approached, her pleated skirt swaying. She perched on the edge of the changing table, swinging one leg as she surveyed Gerald's flushed face. "Mmm. Someone's *frustrated*." Her fingers trailed down his chest, stopping just above the waistband of his plastic pants. "But we can't have that, can we?" Jenny's fingers closed around Gerald's wrist with the same cheerful finality of a nurse securing an IV. "Right, let's get you into your cot for the night," she chirped, steering him toward the oversized crib wedged between the dresser and the rocking chair. The bars gleamed under the nursery lamplight, polished to a clinical shine. "You *need* to be asleep before Mommy and Daddy come to bed—" Her grip tightened just enough to make the threat land, "—or you might end up with a smacked bottom. And I *bet* Geoff can spank harder than your wife." The pacifier muffled Gerald's whimper as Jenny lhelped ifting him into his new cot and closing the railing with surprising strength. His satin nightie rode up, exposing the frilly pale pink baby panties and crinkling plastic pants beneath as she deposited him onto the starched crib sheet. The mobile above tinkled—pastel-colored horses frozen mid-gallop—as Jenny leaned in to fasten the safety straps across his chest and thighs. "There we go," she murmured, adjusting the restraints with the precision of someone who'd done this before. "Nice and snug." Downstairs, Lori's laugh spiraled up through the floorboards—bright and breathless in a way Gerald hadn't heard in years. Jenny paused, her head tilting toward the sound like a cat tracking a bird. "Oof. Sounds like someone's *really* enjoying her new bedtime routine," she teased, plucking at Gerald's ruffled collar. The plastic pants hissed as he shifted, the sound drowning out another gasp from below. Jenny's smile sharpened. "You know what I think? I think Lori *likes* getting spanked too. Bet she never told you that, huh?" Gerald squeezed his eyes shut, but Jenny just laughed, tapping his nose with one polished fingernail. "Aw, don't pout. It's *good* for her." She reached for something on the nightstand—a bottle of warm formula with a nipple absurdly large for an adult. "Now open up, princess. We've got *just* enough time for your nightcap before—" A particularly loud moan drifted up the stairs, followed by the unmistakable creak of the master bedroom door. Jenny's grin turned wicked. "—before things get *really* noisy." The formula was cloyingly sweet, the kind designed to induce drowsiness. Gerald gagged around the rubber nipple, but Jenny held it firmly in place, her other hand stroking his hair with mock tenderness. "Shhh, baby. Bottoms up." Her thumb brushed his temple as another thud reverberated through the ceiling—heavy footsteps, then Lori's muffled "Oh *fuck*—" cut off abruptly. Jenny's eyes gleamed. "Mmm. Someone's *definitely* getting a spanking." The creak of the stairs was unmistakable—that particular third step that groaned under Geoff’s weight, followed by Lori’s lighter footsteps, slightly uneven now. Gerald lay perfectly still in the crib, the safety straps pressing into his thighs, his ears straining against the rustle of his plastic pants. The nursery door swung open without a knock, and Lori’s perfume hit him first—jasmine and something darker, mingled with the faint musk of Geoff’s cologne. "Just checking on my sissy baby husband," Lori announced to the hallway at large, her voice husky in a way Gerald hadn’t heard in years. The bathroom light flicked on down the hall, illuminating her silhouette in the doorway. Her silk blouse hung open, revealing a white satin bra edged in lace, the cups straining slightly. Her skirt—normally immaculate—was creased at the hip, as if someone’s hands had been there. Her hair, usually sleek, tumbled over one shoulder in loose waves, the ends slightly damp at the nape of her neck. Geoff’s chuckle rumbled from the hallway, low and warm. "Take your time, princess." The endearment, usually reserved for Gerald, landed like a slap. Lori leaned over the crib railing, her blouse gaping further, and Gerald’s breath hitched. The scent of her—wine and sweat and something saltier—clung to her skin. Her lips, still swollen and glossy, brushed his forehead in a mockery of a goodnight kiss. "You’ve been *so* good tonight," she murmured, her breath hot against his temple. Her fingers trailed down his chest, stopping just above the waistband of his plastic pants. "Jenny says you didn’t fuss at all during your bottle." From the hallway, Geoff cleared his throat—a sound that vibrated through the floorboards. Lori’s hand stilled, her wedding band cold against Gerald’s ribs. "Almost forgot," she whispered, straightening just enough to tug something from her skirt pocket. A single pink satin ribbon, frayed at one end. She looped it around Gerald’s wrist with deliberate slowness, her nails scraping his pulse point. "Geoff’s idea. So you remember who you belong to." The ribbon tightened around Gerald’s wrist with a soft *snick*, the sound barely audible over the creak of the crib springs as Lori leaned in closer. Her breath was warm and wine-sweet against his cheek, but her fingers were cold as they traced the satin bow. "Pretty," she murmured, her voice thick with something Gerald couldn’t name. "Just like you." Behind her, Geoff’s shadow loomed in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the hallway light. He didn’t speak, but Gerald could *feel* his gaze—heavy and amused—sliding over the crib bars, the safety straps, the way Gerald’s plastic pants crinkled with every shallow breath. Lori’s thumb brushed the inside of Gerald’s wrist, her nail catching on the ribbon’s edge. "Don’t take it off," she whispered. "Not even for your bath. I want to see it tomorrow." Jenny materialized at Lori’s elbow with a quiet rustle of her pleated skirt, her clipboard tucked under one arm. "All tucked in," she announced, her tone bright and rehearsed. She reached over Gerald to adjust the mobile, sending the pastel horses into a slow, tinkling spin. "And *such* a good boy tonight. Didn’t even fuss when I put his nappy pins in crooked." Her fingers brushed Gerald’s thigh through the terry cloth, the touch just shy of too rough. Lori straightened, her blouse slipping further off one shoulder. "Good," she said absently, her attention already drifting back to the hallway where Geoff waited. Her fingers lingered on the crib railing for a beat too long, her wedding band glinting dully in the lamplight. Then, with a sigh that wasn’t quite regret, she turned away. "Night, baby," she tossed over her shoulder, the words already half-lost in the rustle of her skirt. Jenny lingered, She leaned over the crib, her dark ponytail swinging forward to brush Gerald’s chest. "Don’t worry," she whispered, her breath minty with gum. "I’ll check on you later. Make sure you’re not *too* lonely." Her fingers trailed down his arm, stopping just above the satin ribbon. "And if you’re *very* good..." She tapped the pacifier shield with one polished nail. "Maybe I’ll even let you suck my thumb." The first whimper came through the nursery wall like a distant radio signal—faint, staticky, but unmistakable. Gerald lay rigid in his crib, the safety straps biting into his thighs as Lori's breathy "Oh—" dissolved into a gasp. The headboard thumped against the shared wall in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made the mobile above him tremble. Jenny had left the nursery door ajar just enough—three inches, he'd counted—and through the crack, the master bedroom's shadows stretched long and suggestive across the hallway carpet. "Faster," Lori moaned, the word cracking halfway through. The bedsprings shrieked in response, the tempo accelerating until Gerald could *feel* the vibrations through his crib bars. A particularly loud creak made him flinch, sending his plastic pants crinkling like cellophane. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that only sharpened the sounds—the wet slap of skin on skin, Geoff's guttural "Take it," Lori's answering sob as she came apart. The satin ribbon around his wrist suddenly felt suffocating, the frayed edge scratching at his pulse point with every ragged breath. Jenny had been right about the dirty talk. Geoff's voice rumbled through the wall, dark and viscous with possession—"Who's your *real* husband?"—and Lori's reply was half-scream, half-surrender. The bedframe slammed against the wall hard enough to dislodge one of Gerald's pastel horse figurines from the mobile. It landed in the crib with a plastic *click*, its frozen gallop now upturned beside his hip. Lori's climax hit like a thunderclap—a series of shattered "Oh God oh *God*s" that tapered into wordless keening. The headboard's rhythm stuttered, then surged harder, faster, until Gerald could *feel* the moment Geoff lost control. Lori's cry splintered into something raw and involuntary, the sound of a woman unraveling at the seams. "Don't stop," she begged, voice ragged, "don't *ever* stop—" The final thrusts were brutal in their precision, each one punctuated by Lori's hitched gasps and the sickening *thwack* of Geoff's hips against hers. Silence pooled in the nursery like spilled milk. Gerald realized he'd been holding his breath when spots danced behind his eyelids. The pacifier had fallen from his mouth at some point, the ribbon now limp against his collarbone. Down the hall, a faucet ran briefly before Geoff's low chuckle filtered through the walls—the satisfied rumble of a man who'd proven his point. Lori's answering murmur was too soft to decipher, but the sleepy contentment in it made Gerald's stomach twist. Geoff rolled off Lori with a satisfied groan, his softening cock glistening in the lamplight—still thick enough to make Lori's thighs twitch as it slipped free. She reached for him instinctively, her fingers tracing the damp trail he left across her stomach before pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "Mmm," she murmured against his skin, her voice still hazy with pleasure. "That was *exactly* what I needed." His cum pooled between her thighs, warm and slick, as she stretched luxuriously against the rumpled sheets. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air—musky and sweet, mingling with the jasmine of her perfume. With a lazy sigh, she reached for her discarded white satin panties, the lace edging them still damp from earlier. The fabric made a soft *thwick* as she pressed it between her legs, mopping up the evidence of Geoff's possession with a slow, deliberate swipe. Jenny's barefeet tiptoed on the floor just outside the nursery door, the sound barely audible over the creak of the crib springs as Gerald shifted. She'd heard *everything*—the headboard slamming against the wall, Lori's shattered cries, Geoff's growling possessiveness. Now she lingered in the hallway, one hand on the doorknob, her pulse fluttering in her throat. The master bedroom door stood ajar, spilling golden light across the carpet, and through the gap she could see Lori sprawled across Geoff's chest, her satin bra askew, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the sweat on his sternum. Geoff's chuckle rumbled through the wall as he palmed Lori's hip, his thumb brushing the reddened skin where he'd gripped her too tight. "Told you you'd like it rough," he murmured, nipping at her earlobe. Lori's answering laugh was throaty and unrepentant, her legs tangling with his as they both lay on top of the bed , the covers lay in a crumpled hheap on he foor . Jenny's breath hitched—she shouldn't be watching, she *knew* she shouldn't—but the way Geoff's hand slid possessively down Lori's spine held her frozen in place.Loris hand was slowly wanking Geoffs oversized penis until he was fully hhard once again ,Jenny caught sight of his hugh erection at least eight inches she thought.She knew cocks came in different sizes but he comparsion between Geoffs and Geralds was significant. Inside the nursery, Gerald's plastic pants rustled as he curled onto his side, the safety straps digging into his ribs. The satin ribbon around his wrist had twisted tight enough to leave a faint mark, the frayed edge scratching at his pulse point with every shaky breath. The mobile above him tinkled softly, the pastel horses frozen mid-gallop, their cheerful colors garish in the dim light. The nursery door clicked open without warning, spilling a wedge of hallway light across Gerald's crib. Jenny stood silhouetted in the doorway, her silhouette haloed by the glow from behind—and for one dizzying moment, Gerald forgot to breathe. Her nightie was scandalously short, the flimsy chiffon barely skimming the tops of her thighs, and the lamplight turned the pale fabric translucent as she stepped forward. Every curve was outlined in stark relief: the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, the pert thrust of her nipples beneath the thin material. The pale blue panties beneath were clearly visible now—silk, he thought dazedly, with a lace trim that peeked just above the nightie's hem as she moved. "Shhh, baby," she murmured, though Gerald hadn't made a sound. Her fingers were cool against his flushed cheek as she leaned over the crib railing, the neckline of her nightie gaping to reveal the shadowed cleft between her breasts. The scent of her—vanilla body lotion and something muskier underneath—filled his lungs as she pressed a hand to his forehead. "Just checking your temperature." Her thumb brushed his temple, lingering just a second too long. "Wouldn't want my favorite sissy getting *overheated*." Gerald's plastic pants crinkled violently as he shifted, the sound absurdly loud in the quiet nursery. Jenny's lips curved as her gaze dropped to where the terry cloth nappy bulged beneath his satin nightie. "Mmm. *Definitely* running a fever," she teased, her fingers trailing down to press against the dampness seeping through the layers. His whole body jerked at the contact, the pacifier falling from his lips with a wet *pop*. Jenny caught it deftly, the ribbon dangling from her fingers like a pink satin snake. "Tsk tsk. You know the rules—pacifier stays *in* at bedtime." Beyond the nursery wall, the headboard resumed its rhythmic thumping—slower now, more deliberate. Jenny's head tilted toward the sound, her ponytail sliding over one shoulder. "Sounds like Mommy's *still* getting her spanking," she murmured, her voice rich with amusement. Her free hand slipped beneath Gerald's nightie, her nails scraping lightly over the crinkling plastic. "Bet she's *dripping* by now." Her fingers found the waistband of his terry cloth nappy, peeling it back just enough to expose the damp padding beneath. "Just like someone else I know." Beyond the nursery wall, the headboard resumed its rhythmic thumping—slower now, more deliberate. Jenny's head tilted toward the sound, her ponytail sliding over one shoulder. "Sounds like Mommy's *still* getting her spanking," she murmured, her voice rich with amusement. Her free hand slipped beneath Gerald's nightie, her nails scraping lightly over the crinkling plastic. "Bet she's *dripping* by now." Her fingers found the waistband of his terry cloth nappy, peeling it back just enough to expose the damp padding beneath. "Just like someone else I know." The master bedroom door creaked open down the hall, spilling laughter and the scent of sex into the corridor. Jenny froze, her fingers still hooked in Gerald's nappy, as Lori's voice floated toward them—husky and sated. "Geoff, *stop*—you'll make me scream again—" The rest dissolved into breathless giggles, followed by the unmistakable sound of a palm connecting with bare flesh. Jenny's eyes darkened as she slowly withdrew her hand from Gerald's nappy, her breath coming faster now. Jenny's fingers traced the scalloped lace along the waistband of Gerald's frilly satin knickers, her nails catching on the delicate pink threads. The fabric barely shifted beneath her touch—no telltale stirring, no hint of the pathetic little nub straining beneath layers of terry cloth and crinkling plastic. She pressed her palm flat against the front, waiting, then let out a theatrical sigh when nothing pressed back. "Awww," she cooed, her voice dripping with faux sympathy as she pinched the empty satin between her thumb and forefinger. "Did widdle baby get *all* excited listening to Mommy take her big rough man?" Her other hand slid beneath the hem of Gerald's nightie, fingertips skating over the plastic pants with purposeful rustles. "I could *hear* how much she liked it—those juicy wet slaps when he really *pounded* into her—" Gerald's breath hitched as Jenny's fingers found the damp spot near the inner thigh of his plastic pants, right where the terry cloth underneath had grown soggy. She tutted, rubbing the moisture between her fingers with exaggerated interest. "Ohhh, *somebody* leaked," she whispered, leaning in so close her vanilla-scented breath fogged the pacifier shield. "Was it the way Geoff growled when he came? Or maybe..." Her nail scraped a slow circle over the plastic, right where his pathetic erection *should* have been. "...when Lori screamed *his* name instead of yours?" Down the hall, the headboard resumed its relentless rhythm—thump-thump-*thwack*—accompanied by Lori's throaty moan of "*Fuck* yes—right *there*—" Jenny's grin turned wicked as she hooked her thumbs into the waistbands of both plastic pants and nappy, peeling them down just enough to expose the pink satin knickers beneath. The ribbons along the sides were still perfectly tied, the bows undisturbed despite Gerald's squirming. "Look at you," she murmured, tapping the satin-covered mound with one polished fingernail. "All dressed up with *nowhere* to go." The plastic pants crinkled loudly as she tugged them back up with a decisive snap, the sound drowning out Gerald's muffled whimper. "Don't worry, princess—" She patted the damp terry cloth with mock comfort. "Mommy will change you in the morning. If she can *walk* by then."

.Your 're wearing them again, aren't you?" I said, not looking up from the laundry basket. A pair of lace-trimmed pink panties clung to my fingertips, the fabric softer than anything in his side of the drawer. He froze mid-step, barefoot on the tiles, shoulders hunched like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The silence stretched just long enough for the air conditioner to kick on, humming through the tension. "You smell like baby powder," I added, finally turning to face him. His cheeks flushed that perfect shade of pink—not embarrassment, not shame, but something warmer, needier. His fingers twisted the hem of his t-shirt, riding up just enough to reveal the elastic waistband of something decidedly not boxer-briefs beneath his jeans. I dropped the panties back into the basket and crossed the room in three strides. He didn’t flinch when my thumb hooked into his waistband, tugging just enough to confirm what I already knew. The crinkle was faint but unmistakable—the sound of plastic-pants and cloth padding, the kind they sell in bulk for toddlers. "Started without me," I murmured, lips brushing his ear. His breath hitched. His jeans hit the floor with a clatter of belt buckle on tile. The diaper was pristine white, swollen thick between his thighs, nappy pinns with pink heads in place . My fingers traced the ruffled leg openings of his pale pink sheer bbay knickers , the plastic underneath dimpled under pressure. "You packed it nice and tight," I said. "But you forgot one thing." I tapped the front, right where the padding bulged. Dry. His whimper was half protest, half plea. "right you are staying in ,lets get you ready for bed .His very sexy attractive 37 year old wife went to the wardrobe and quickly returned with a very short pink frilly nightie and taking of the t shhirt slipped the bbaydoll nightie over his head . "You know the rules," I whispered, dragging one fingernail down the center of the diaper until it caught on the nappy pins .. The second pin opened loose , revealing skin flushed damp with trapped heat. The scent of baby lotion and something muskier rose between us as I peeled the padding back. His tiny cock twitched against his stomach, already slick at the tip. He squirmed when I pressed two fingers against his perineum, his thighs trembling. "Shh," I murmured, circling slowly. "Let me feel how bad you need it." His hips jerked when my thumb brushed the swollen curve of his bladder—not full yet, but getting there. The whine that escaped him was high and reedy, the sound of a toddler fighting a nap. Jim’s footsteps in the hallway made him go rigid. I didn’t remove my hand. "Relax," I said, just as the bedroom door creaked open. Jim’s shadow stretched across the tiles, his chuckle low and warm. "Starting without me?" His work boots thudded against the floor as he toed them off. "She’s got you trained already, huh princess?" The cloth diaper sagged open between my husband’s legs as Jim crowded behind me, his belt buckle pressing into my spine. My husband’s gasp was all sharp edges and broken syllables, his hips jerking like a marionette with its strings cut. The scent of warm urine mixed with the powdery sweetness of the diaper’s lining as it darkened between us, the plastic pants crinkling with every shuddering release. Jim’s other hand slid around my waist, undoing my jeans with one practiced twist. "That’s it," he coaxed, pressing his erection into the small of my back. "Good girl, taking care of him." I barely had time to kick my own wet panties aside before Jim spun me around, lifting me onto the dresser with a thud that rattled the perfume bottles. My husband—no, my *baby*—watched from the floor with glassy eyes, his soaked diaper sagging open as his fingers crept toward his tiny, twitching cock. "Ah-ah," Jim tsked, catching his wrist mid-reach. "Babies don’t touch themselves." He tossed a pacifier into his lap instead, grinning when it was popped between trembling lips without protest. Jim’s grip on my hips was brutal as he yanked me to the edge of the dresser, the wood digging into my thighs. I barely had time to register the cold press of lube before he was inside me in one ruthless thrust, stretching me wide in a way my husband never could. The groan that tore from my throat was half-pain, half-relief, my nails scraping grooves into Jim’s shoulders as he set a punishing pace. Below us, my baby whimpered around the pacifier, her—*his*—legs splayed in a puddle of warm plastic and cotton. Her fingers kept twitching toward that pathetic little nub between her legs, but Jim’s warning glare kept them tangled in the ruffled hem of her nightie instead. The sight of her like that—diaper swollen, lace clinging to damp skin, eyes glazed with submission—sent a fresh surge of heat through me. Jim must’ve felt it too because he swore under his breath and fucked me harder, his thumb finding my clit with rough precision. "Look at her," he growled, teeth grazing my earlobe. "She knows her place." And she did. The way her thighs instinctively spread wider when Jim’s boot nudged them apart, the way her pink-painted toes curled against the tiles—every tremble screamed surrender. The pacifier bobbed frantically between her lips as she watched Jim’s cock disappear inside me, her own tiny erection straining uselessly against the soaked padding. A thin trail of pre-cum glistened on her stomach, proof that she was past the point of shame. Jim’s hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back to watch her too. "See that?" His breath was hot against my throat as his hips snapped forward. "That’s what happens when babies get greedy." He punctuated the words with a brutal thrust that made my vision blur. Below us, her whimper escalated into a full-blown cry, her hips jerking involuntarily as she wet herself again—a hot, desperate gush that pooled beneath her plastic pants. The sound of her sobbing around the pacifier was almost as good as the stretch of Jim inside me. Almost. I reached down to twist my fingers in her hair, forcing her to watch as Jim’s cock glistened with me. "You’ll never feel this," I murmured, thumbing away a tear from her cheek. "But you love watching, don’t you?" Her nod was frantic, the pacifier popping free as she gasped, "Yes, Mommy," before cramming it back in. Jim’s laugh was dark as he pulled me flush against him, his fingers digging bruises into my hips. "She’s dripping," he noted, nodding toward the puddle spreading beneath her. "Like a fucking baby." The crinkle of plastic pants filled the room as she squirmed, her useless little cock twitching against the ruined diaper. I could smell her—warm milk and baby shampoo mixed with something saltier, something desperate. The dresser mirror rattled behind me as Jim’s pace turned jagged, his teeth scraping my shoulder. "Tell her," he demanded, his voice rough. I didn’t hesitate. "You’re never getting out of diapers," I breathed, watching her eyes widen. "Not after this." Her breath hitched, her fingers clawing at the tiles like she might crawl to us if Jim’s boot didn’t pin her in place. The pacifier fell to the floor with a wet clatter as she moaned, her hips jerking in tiny, aborted thrusts. Jim’s hand slid between us, his thumb pressing hard against my clit in time with his thrusts. "She’s leaking again," he noted, nodding at the darkening stain spreading beyond the leg guards of her diaper. I tightened my grip in her hair, forcing her to watch as my back arched. "That’s all you’ll ever do," I panted. "Leak. Like a baby." Her sob turned into a shuddering gasp as her body betrayed her completely, urine soaking the diaper until it sagged between her thighs, the plastic pants gurgling softly with every tremble. The dresser groaned beneath us as Jim’s rhythm faltered, his breath coming in harsh bursts against my neck. "Look at her," he ground out, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave marks. "She’s fucking herself on nothing." And she was—her hips jerking erratically, her tiny cock straining against the sodden padding, her mouth open around silent pleas. The sight sent me spiraling, my orgasm hitting like a punch to the gut, my thighs clamping around Jim as I came with a broken cry. Jim followed with a groan, his thrusts turning sloppy as he emptied himself inside me, his forehead pressed to my shoulder. Below us, our baby girl whimpered, her fingers twisting in the ruined lace of her nightie, her diaper sagging grotesquely between her spread thighs. Jim pulled out with a wet sound and stepped back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Clean her up," he said, nodding at the mess on the floor. "Then put her to bed. She’s done." I slid off the dresser, my legs shaky, and crouched in front of her. Her eyes were glazed, her breath hitching in little aftershocks as I peeled the soaked diaper away. The scent of warm urine and baby powder clung to her skin, mingling with the musk of her arousal. I wiped her down with a damp cloth, her thighs trembling under my touch. "Such a mess," I murmured, taping a fresh diaper around her hips. The crinkle of clean plastic echoed in the quiet room. Jim leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed, watching as I dressed her in a fresh pair of ruffled panties sh—pink, like always—and a sheer pink nightie that barely covered the thick padding. She didn’t resist when I lifted her into my arms, her head lolling against myeer shoulder like a drowsy toddler. The nursery waseer just down the hall, itse pastel walls lit by a nightlight shaped like a moon. The crib waited, its bars gleaming faintly in the dim light. I laid her down gently, tucking a plush bunny under her arm. Her eyelids fluttered as I fastened the safety latch—more for ritual than necessity—and smoothed the blanket over her diapered hips. "Goodnight, baby," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She sighed around the fresh pacifier I’d slipped between her lips, her fingers curling around the crib bars as if to steady herself in this new, smaller world. Jim’s hand was warm on the small of my back as we stepped into the hallway. "She’ll be out before we hit the bedroom," he murmured, nodding toward the monitor where her breathing was already deepening into sleep rhythms. The camera caught the way her diaper bunched thickly under the blanket, the way her thumb drifted toward her mouth even with the pacifier. I leaned into Jim’s chest, letting his heartbeat steady me. "You were perfect," he said, and for once, I believed him.I'm going to bed dont be long Jim" " "Night night baby girl "as I bent down to to kiss my husband on the cheek smiling . Megan’s door creaked open , her slim 18 year old body silhouette backlit by the nightlight in her room. She padded toward us barefoot, her long blonde flowing , hair and brown eyes unable to betray the smile ,her pink satin robe clinging to her curves. "Heard the fuss," she whispered, peering past us into the nursery. "sorry Megan i hope we didnt wake your ...I'm on just off to bed but feel free to check on my bbay girl" Meagan camera feed flickered on her phone, zooming in on the sleeping figure. "Ohhh," she cooed, biting her lip. "Diaper check?" Her giggle was soft as she tiptoed past us, her fingers already tugging the blanket aside. The crinkle was obscenely loud in the quiet room. Megan’s fingers traced the ruffled leg openings of the frilly knickers and tinto the pastic pants and nappy, her nails scraping just hard enough to make our baby stir. "Shhh," she soothed, thumbing the waistband down to reveal the ruffled pink panties beneath. The front was tented pathetically, damp at the tip. "Babydick," she mouthed, grinning up at us as she gave the tiny bulge a condescending pinch. His hips jerked in his sleep, a whimper escaping around the pacifier. Jim’s chuckl temple. "Christ," he muttered. "Even unconscious." She peeled the panties down with exaggerated slowness, pausing to blow on the flushed skin. His cock twitched like a dying insect, barely two inches of desperate pink flesh. Megan’s laugh was honey-sweet as she flicked it with her middle finger. "Look at it *bounce*," she whispered, demonstrating with another tap. The pacifier popped out as his breath hitched, his toes curling under the blanket. Jim crowded behind Megan, his broad frame dwarfing her as he reached over her shoulder to pinch the tip. A pearl of pre-cum smeared across his thumb. "Fuck," he snorted, wiping it on her robe. "That’s not even enough to *spit* on." Megan twisted to grin up at him, her fingers now idly circling the base of his—her—tiny erection. "Should we wake him?" she murmured, thumbing the leaking slit. The panties and nappie bunched around his thighs as Megan tugged them lower, the silky satin catching on his damp diaper. His hips twitched in shallow thrusts, chasing her fingers even in sleep. "Look at him," she giggled, pressing two fingers against the underside where his pathetic length strained upward. "He’s trying so *hard*." she said with a chuckle Megangripped it between his thumb and forefinger like a used cigarette. "Pathetic," she muttered, giving it a condescending jerk that made his toes curl. A thin trail of pre-cum dribbled down Jim’s fingers as he released it, the tiny erection bobbing weakly against his stomach. Megan leaned in, blowing softly until it trembled, her laughter bubbling up when he whined in his sleep. "Watch this," she whispered, pinching the very tip—just enough to make his legs jerk. The diaper crinkled violently as he bucked, his breath coming in little hitches. "Babies don’t get to come," she sing-songed, tracing the vein underneath with one sharp nail. She traced the swollen tip with one manicured nail, her grin widening when a fresh bead of pre-cum welled up. "Aww," she cooed, thumbing it away. "It’s trying so hard." His breath hitched around the pacifier, his thighs trembling as she blew a cool stream of air across his flushed skin. The panties clung to his damp erection like a second skin, the lace trim catching on the wetness leaking down his shaft. Megan’s giggle turned breathless as she snapped the waistband against his hipbone, watching his whole body flinch. Jim leaned in, his shadow swallowing the crib. "Look at that," he muttered, flicking the pathetic length with his middle finger. It twitched violently, the nylon tenting obscenely with each heartbeat. Megan caught Jim’s wrist, guiding his hand to squeeze the meager bulge. "Feel how *small* it is?" she whispered, her voice dripping with saccharine mockery. Jim’s snort was loud enough to make their baby whimper, his fingers clawing at the mattress as they groped him through the silk. She flicked the straining length with her thumb, making it bounce against his stomach. "Does it hurt, baby?" Megan cooed, her nail tracing the vein underneath. His whimper was answer enough. The plstic panties,frilly knickers with the lace trim digging into his trembling thighs. Megan peeled the panties down fully to his ankles , exposing the flushed, leaking tip. A bead of pre-cum trembled before dripping onto the diaper beneath. "Oh no," she gasped, pinching the slit shut with two fingers. His hips jerked violently, the diaper crinkling like crumpling cellophane. "Babies aren’t supposed to *leak*," she scolded, flicking his twitching cock with her nail. His breath hitched around the pacifier, tears welling as she snapped the waistband back into place with a cruel smirk. Megan giggled, she pulled up his nappy and plastic pants twisting her fingers in the lace, pulling the panties tighter up over the nappy and pants until his tiny length strained visibly through the damp fabric of the pink satin . "Look," she whispered, tapping the tip where it tented the silk. "It’s *begging*." His whimper was muffled, his thighs trembling as her nail traced the outline through the nylon. The diaper crinkled obscenely as Megan peeled his panties back down and removing the plastic pants and nappy it away, tossing the soaked padding aside. She wiped him down with practiced efficiency, her fingers lingering just long enough to make him squirm. The drawer squeaked as she rummaged for the frilliest pair—pink lace with satin ribbons, the kind meant for dolls. "legs up, baby," she cooed, slipping a fresh nappy beneath him repinning into place then gathered up a nothe rpair of noisey crinkly plastic baby pants pulling them high over hhis fesh nappy .Taking hold of the frilly knicker hlding them uo to the dim light smiling "oooohh look at these baby girl so pretty and frilly " she puled them him over his ankles. The ruffles brushed his thighs as she tugged them up, the elastic snug against his hips. Megan’s nappy change had to be evidence ,the freshly taken photos—each one a cruel close-up of his tiny erection straining against the silk. The flash had caught every detail: the flushed tip, the bead of pre-cum clinging to lace, the way his thighs trembled when she pinched him through the fabric. Megan twisted her fingers in the waistband, yanking the panties tighter for another shot. "Say cheese," she whispered, framing the tented silk with her phone. His whimper was almost lost under the shutter sound. The ribbons tickled his inner thighs as Megan adjusted the satin bow just above his erection, her nails scraping lightly over the sensitive skin. "You’re gonna wear these tomorrow," she murmured, tapping the screen she had already uploaded the photos to her freinds shared whatsapp album. "And every time you leak, I'm adding another layer." Megan’s giggle was sharp as she snapped the waistband again, watching his hips jerk. "Maybe pink tights next," she mused. "and a pretty pink short baby dress With ruffles. to show off your frilly knickers " The pacifier bobbed uselessly between his lips as Megan slid her hand across the pink satin and lace bay knickers patting them and rubbing them, the crinkle echoing in the quiet nursery. her fingers traced the lace edge of the panties, pressing just hard . "Think he’ll last till morning?" Jim muttered,. Megan’s shrug was all "Doubt it," she whispered, patting the thick padding with a condescending smile. "Babies never do." Jim scrolled through the photos again, zooming in on the close-up of his strained erection tenting the pink silk. "Should print these," he mused, tapping the screen. "Frame ’em above the changing table.". Right sissy I'm going to bed with yiur wife ,shes going to get it aagin she loves it so you lay there and be agood bbay girl understand" Megan giggled she looked at the carpet and peeled the damp panties off the floor by the cot —his wife’s discarded white silky nylon , and held them up with a grin. "Gonna send these photos to the group chat," she murmured, stretching the lace taut between her fingers. The scent of sex and salt clung to the fabric as she draped them over his forehead like a veil, his whimper muffled by the pacifier. From the master bedroom, the rhythmic thump of the headboard syncopated with his wife’s broken moans, each one a nail in the coffin of his masculinity. Megan blew him a kiss. "Tell the girls you say hi." His thighs trembled as she snapped a photo—his face framed by his wife’s stained underwear, the crib bars casting prison-stripe shadows across his tear-streaked cheeks. The flash caught the way his fingers clawed at the blanket and at his knickers to reveal his tiny erection strained pathetically outside the kleg opening against the pink satin ribbons. Megan’s thumbs flew across her screen, tagging her sorority sisters, captioning it *Guess who’s our new dorm mascot?* The first reply pinged instantly: a chorus of laughing emojis and *OMG IS THAT REAL??* She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear as she pressed the damp silk tighter over his nose and mouth. "Breathe deep, baby," she cooed, inhaling sharply herself—the scent of his wife’s arousal and Jim’s musk clinging to the fabric. The headboard thumped louder through the wall, punctuated by a broken moan that made his hips jerk. Megan giggled, twisting the panties into a gag and knotting them behind his head. "Shhh," she whispered, patting the swollen bulge in his frilly panties. " Sshhhh baby girl Your wife is busy getting a good fucking*." The phone screen glowed in her palm as she swiped through the photos—his tear-streaked face framed by lace, the close-up of his pathetic erection tenting the pink sat. Her thumbs flew over the keyboard, sending them to a group chat titled *Daddy’s Little Helpers*. Replies flooded in instantly: *LMAO IS THAT A CLIT?* and *Need a microscope for that thing!* Megan bit her lip, ling the camera to capture the way his thighs trembled as another moan echoed from the bedroom. The flash caught the wet spot blooming the tip of his pantie just as a new message popped up: *Bring him to Rush Week.* The discarded silk clung to his face, still warm from his wife’s body, the scent of her arousal and Jim’s sweat soaking into every thread. Megan pressed them tighter over his nose with a giggle, inhaling deeply herself. “Mmm, smell that?” she whispered, as the headboard slammed against the wall in a relentless rhythm. His hips jerked involuntarily, the diaper crinkling beneath him, while Megan’s phone buzzed nonstop—screenshot after screenshot of sorority sisters zooming in on his humiliation. Someone had already set one as their profile pic. She peeled the panties away just enough to snap a close-up of his tear-streaked face, the lace imprinting little diamonds on his flushed skin. “Hold still, babygirl,” she murmured, angling the phone to capture the way his tiny erection strained against the frilly pink panties, damp with pre-cum. The shutter clicked again—another photo for the group chat, another round of laughing emojis flooding her screen. Someone had started a poll: *How many inches?* The leading answer was *LOL dollhouse furniture.* " about two inches" megan replied The panties smelled like his wife—like sweat and sex and the coconut shampoo she used—and Megan pressed them back over his nose with a grin. “Deep breaths,” she whispered, mimicking the rhythm of the headboard pounding through the wall. His hips jerked involuntarily, the diaper cr inkling beneath him, while Megan scrolled through the replies—*OMG IS THAT A REAL PENIS?* and *Looks like a clit with commitment issues.* She giggled, twisting the fabric into a gag and knotting it tight behind his head. “Shhh, baby.... The adults are *busy*.” Her phone buzzed nonstop—screenshot after screenshot of her college friends zooming in on his humiliation, tagging each other with crying-laughing emojis. Someone had already photoshopped his tiny erection onto a dollhouse chair with the caption *Perfect fit!* Megan blew him a kiss before snapping one last photo—his tear-streaked face framed by his wife’s stained underwear, the crib bars casting prison-stripe shadows across his cheeks. The flash caught the wet spot blooming at the tip of his frilly panties just as another moan broke through the wall. She pulled the damp silk tighter over his nose, her thumb tracing the lace where his wife’s scent clung thickest. "Breathe deep, baby," she murmured, her own breath hitching as Jim’s grunts syncopated with the headboard’s relentless rhythm. His hips jerked involuntarily, the diaper crinkling beneath him, while Megan’s fingers twisted the panties into a gag. "Shhh," she whispered against his ear, her teeth grazing the lobe. "Daddy’s *busy* ruining Mommy’s pussy." The phone screen glowed in her palm as she swiped through the photos—his tear-streaked face framed by lace, his pathetic erection tenting the pink satin—before tapping *send* with a flourish. Replies flooded in instantly: *OMG IS THAT A REAL PENIS?* and *Looks like a clit with commitment issues.* Megan giggled, pinching the sodden fabric between his thighs. "They think you’re *adorable*," she cooed, snapping another shot of his trembling legs. Someone had already photoshopped his tiny erection onto a dollhouse chair with the caption *Perfect fit!*

Amy ran a hand through her long, light blonde hair, the strands cool against her skin. Her brown eyes, usually warm, held a glint of something sharp, something knowing. For years, she had felt it, a quiet hum beneath Tim’s carefully constructed masculinity. He’d confessed once, a whispered memory of delicate panties hidden in a childhood drawer, a secret kept tight. It wasn’t a sudden shift, but a slow unfurling, a seed planted long ago, now blossoming into something he could no longer deny. The transformation was delicate, profound. Amy now aged 43 had navigated the challenges of nurturing his sissy baby identity, a reflection on how rigid norms often failed to fit everyone, especially not Tim. He found comfort in reclaiming regression, on his own terms, and Amy had made space for it. This went beyond roleplay; it was honest surrender. Tonight, Tim lay content in his cot, a fluffy white toweling nappy thick between his legs, encased in crinkling, semi-clear plastic pants. Over those, pretty baby knickers, pale pink satin layered with ruffled lace, peeked from beneath a sheer pink frilly baby doll nightie. His legs, surprisingly smooth, twitched slightly. He looked every inch a baby girl, a large pink pacifier nestled between his lips. Amy, meanwhile, shared her king-sized bed with Jake. Jake's hand, heavy and warm, slid across Amy's hip. His body, hard and muscled, pressed against her back, a stark contrast to Tim's soft, swaddled form in the cot across the room. Jake's cock, thick and insistent, nudged the cleft of her ass. "He looks so peaceful, doesn't he?" Jake's voice rumbled, low and amused. Amy turned, meeting his gaze. "He does. He’s exactly where he needs to be." She arched into Jake, her own desire a rising tide. "You know what he loves, don't you?" Jake grinned, Amy reached down to the floor picking up her discarded panties ,juicy white satin panties she tossed them gently into the cot. Tim’s small hand, still clutching the pacifier, fumbled for them, bringing the silky fabric to his face, inhaling deeply at the wettness in the crotch A contented sigh escaped him, muffled by the pacifier. Amy’s fingers traced the hard line of Jake’s jaw. , her eyes never leaving Tim's cot. "Now, show me how a real man takes care of his woman." Jake rolled, pinning her beneath him. His lips found hers, hot and demanding. His tongue plunged, tasting of salt and desire, swirling with hers, a deliberate, aggressive dance. Amy’s mouth opened, inviting him deeper, sucking on his tongue, a soft shiver running through her. His hand slid down her body, finding the dampness between her legs. She was already slick, throbbing. "So wet for me, Amy," he breathed against her neck, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. "Ready for a real cock, aren't you?" Amy whimpered, her hips lifting instinctively. "Yes, Jake. Please." He positioned himself, his thick shaft pressing against her entrance. The difference was staggering, a raw, undeniable power that Tim, with his tiny, hard penis no bigger than three inches , could never offer. Jake pushed, slow and deliberate, stretching her. A soft gasp escaped Amy’s lips as he filled her, with his thick long eight inches a deep, satisfying pressure. The bed creaked with their movements, a rhythmic protest against their passion. From the cot, Tim stirred, his eyes wide and fixed on them. He made a soft, gurgling sound, the pacifier still firmly in place, Amy’s satin panties clutched to his chest. Jake began to thrust, a steady, powerful rhythm. Each plunge was a deep invasion, his balls slapping against her ass with a wet, meaty sound. Amy arched into him, her nails digging into his broad shoulders. Her breath came in ragged gasps, mingled with the wet, squelching sounds of their bodies joining. "Oh, Jake," she moaned, her voice thick with pleasure. "That's it. Harder." He complied, his thrusts growing more urgent, more primal. The bed rocked, a symphony of creaks and groans. Amy’s clit throbbed, a searing heat building between her legs. She was on the edge, teetering, every nerve ending alive. Suddenly, a wail erupted from the cot. Tim’s face crumpled, tears welling in his eyes. He thrashed, his nappy rustling loudly. Jake paused, his hips still buried deep inside Amy. "Looks like little Timmy needs a change," he chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. Amy laughed, a breathless, giddy sound. "He does, doesn't he?" She looked over at her husband, now sobbing softly, his little penis, no bigger than her thumb, peeking out from the frilly knickers. "Megan will be here any minute. She loves to take care of him." Just then, the front door clicked open. "Amy? I'm here!" Megan’s bright, youthful voice echoed through the house. Amy smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Perfect timing." She locked eyes with Jake. "Now, finish what you started." Jake grinned, pulling out almost completely before plunging back in with a powerful thrust that sent a jolt through Amy's entire body. She cried out, her orgasm building, a wave crashing over her, pulling her under. Her legs wrapped around Jake’s waist, pulling him deeper, demanding more. The pleasure was exquisite, raw, overwhelming. She could feel his cock twitching inside her, a prelude to his own release. Megan, an eighteen-year-old with a lithe, athletic body and a bright, knowing smile, appeared in the doorway, her eyes immediately drawn to the cot. She stifled a giggle, a hand flying to her mouth. Tim, still crying, held out his arms to her. "Well, well, someone's been a naughty baby," Megan cooed, her voice dripping with playful teasing. She walked over to the cot, her hips swaying. Her own panties, light blue nylon panties just visible under her short paid skirt from the baby in the cot , firm curves beneath causing him some excitement. She leaned over the cot, her long dark hair falling forward, tickling Tim's cheek. "Did you make a big mess, little girl?" she whispered, her voice husky with amusement. Tim whimpered, a fresh wave of tears. The pacifier had fallen out, his small mouth trembling. He pointed a chubby finger at his soaked nappy Megan chuckled, a warm, melodic sound. "Oh, you did, didn't you? Such a messy little sissy." She reached inside his frilly baby knickers and under the plastic pants, the crinkling sound loud in the room. The wetness seeped through, a warm, sticky patch against her fingers. She wrinkled her nose dramatically. "Pee-u! Someone needs a good clean-up." Amy's long blonde hair, a silken waterfall, cascaded over her bare shoulders as Jake's rhythmic thrusts drove her deeper into the mattress. His thick, eight-inch shaft filled her completely, stretching her in ways Tim's 'babydick' never could. A low moan rumbled in her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. "God, Jake," she gasped, her hips rising to meet his every powerful plunge. "This is… this is what I've been missing." He grunted, a deep, primal sound as his muscles flexed, pushing harder, faster. The bedsprings creaked a frantic rhythm, a counterpoint to the wet, shlicking sounds of their bodies intertwining. Amy's nails dug into his broad shoulders, leaving faint red crescents on his skin. Her breath hitched, a series of short, sharp gasps as the first wave of orgasm began to build, a delicious tension coiling deep within her. Across the room, in his meticulously arranged cot, Tim lay swaddled in fluffy white toweling nappy thin, noisy, semi-clear plastic pants encased pretty baby knickers, pale pink sheer nylon layered with ruffles of matching lace across his front and rear. His frilly pink nightie short enough to reveal the bulk beneath, adorned his torso. The large pink pacifier nestled, its smooth plastic cool against his lips. Amy's juicy white satin panties, still warm from her body, lay draped over his face, their delicate scent filling his nostrils, a strange comfort amidst the raw sounds emanating from the bed. His tiny, hairless penis, a mere button of flesh when soft ,now pulsed as Megan set about his nappy change , a forgotten appendage ,megan giggling began to remove his frilly adult babyy attire Amy cried out, a long, drawn-out wail as her body convulsed around Jake's magnificent cock. She bucked against him, her climax a shattering explosion of sensation that left her trembling, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "Oh, Jake," she sobbed, burying her face into his sweat-slicked chest, her voice thick with emotion. "That was… the best I've had in years. I've missed having a real man make love to me so much." ,Jake, meanwhile, had reached his peak. With a guttural roar he emptied his seed deep into her sopping wet vagina his chest heaving, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "Always here for you, baby." Megan pulled down the frilly knickers to Tims ankles along with the plastic pants and peeled away the sodden nappy. Tim's thin, puny penis, fully hard despite its diminutive size, sprang free. Megan snorted, a barely suppressed giggle escaping her. "Still hard, huh? My nine-year-old cousin's is bigger than that, Timmy." Amy, still wrapped in Jake's arms, heard Megan's words, a familiar wave of shame and perverse satisfaction washing over her. Megan glanced up, her eyes meeting Amy's for a fleeting moment, a shared understanding passing between them. "Don't worry, Amy," Megan called out, her voice still light. "I've got him. He'll be fresh as a daisy in no time." She began to wipe Tim clean, her touch firm but gentle, her eyes never leaving his small, exposed cock. "Such a tiny babydick. What a good little sissy you are." Later that week, while Amy and Jake were out, Megan's boyfriend, Brad, came over. His presence filled the house with a different kind of masculine energy. Brad, a burly 18 year old man with a thick, powerful build, was a stark contrast to Tim. Megan led him to the living room, their laughter echoing through the quiet house. Tim, dressed for bed in his in a sheer pink frilly baby doll nightie over his nappy, plastic pants, and frilly knickers, lay restless in his cot. The sounds of their escalating passion drew him, a morbid curiosity pulling him from his pacified state. He crept from his cot, a silent shadow, and peeked around the doorframe. Megan was on the sofa, her legs wrapped around Brad's waist, her head thrown back as he drove into her with powerful, deep thrusts. The sofa cushions groaned under their combined weight. Brad's thick cock, a formidable presence, disappeared and reappeared with each plunge. Megan's moans were raw, uninhibited, a symphony of pleasure that made Tim's stomach clench. The sight of Brad’s balls slapping against Megan’s ass, the way her body writhed, the sheer intensity of their coupling, was both horrifying and mesmerizing. He watched, utterly transfixed, a silent, unseen voyeur in his own home. He had seen Brad's thick penis before, and Megan loved it, her ecstasy palpable. He remembered the time Megan had caught him spying, her eyes, wide with a mix of surprise and amusement, had locked with his. She hadn't said a word, just smirked, a silent acknowledgment of his pathetic secret. The warm afternoon sun, filtered through the kitchen window, cast long shadows across the checkered linoleum floor. Tim, a flush creeping up his neck, fidgeted as Jake, a smirk playing on his lips, motioned to the sturdy wooden chair. “Come on, Tim, no use prolonging the inevitable,” Jake’s voice rumbled, a low chuckle escaping him. Tim’s gaze darted to Megan, who held her phone aloft, a glint of amusement in her eyes. Amy, perched on the counter, her friends snickering around her, watched with an unreadable expression. The air thrummed with a strange mix of anticipation and a faint, almost sweet, embarrassment. “Do we have to do this in front of everyone?” Tim mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. Jake’s hand, surprisingly gentle, guided Tim towards the chair. “Part of the deal, isn’t it? You lost the bet.” Tim’s cheeks burned as he felt the cool fabric of his dress tugged up, revealing the frilly pink baby knickers, the crinkle of plastic pants, and the thick bulk of a nappy beneath. A collective gasp, then a wave of giggles, rippled through the small gathering. “Oh my god, Tim, you actually wear baby girl knickers and nappies ” one of Amy’s friends choked out, dissolving into laughter. Jake, with a practiced motion, pulled down the frilly pink knickers , plastic pants and nappy, exposing Tim’s pale, vulnerable ass. A tiny, almost lost, penis peeked out, shriveling further under the sudden scrutiny. “Well, well, what have we here?” Jake’s voice was laced with mock surprise, though his eyes twinkled with genuine amusement. He pulled Tim across his knee, a firm grip on his waist. Amy’s friends, now emboldened, pointed. “Look at that, it’s like a babys !” “Is that even a penis ?” another quipped, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. Tim squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. He felt the sting of Jake’s open palm against his ass, a sharp smack that echoed in the quiet room. “ you will do what you are told in future ” Jake announced, his voice steady. Another smack, harder this time. Tim let out a small yelp, a strange mix of pain and a burgeoning, unexpected sensation. His tiny penis, despite his mortification, began to stir, a faint blush spreading across its tip. “Oh, look, it’s getting excited!” a woman’s voice sang out, followed by more laughter. Amy, who had been silent, finally spoke, her voice a low purr. “Jake’s going to have to show him how it’s really done, won’t he?” A ripple of knowing glances passed between Amy and her friends. One of them leaned in, a conspiratorial whisper. “Remember how big Jake’s is? Tim’s going to feel like a cuckold, watching his Amy get what she needs.” The words, though intended to tease, hit Tim with an unexpected jolt. The spanking continued, each thwack a burning reminder of his humiliation, yet a strange heat coiled in his gut, a confusing mix of shame and something else, something forbidden and deeply arousing. He felt his ass redden, the frilly knickers a stark contrast to the angry red marks blossoming on his skin. He squirmed, a soft moan escaping him, not entirely from pain. Jake paused, a soft huff escaping him. “There, that should teach you.” He released Tim, who scrambled to pull up his knickers ,plastic pants and nappy, his face a fiery red. Megan lowered her phone, a satisfied smile on her face. “That’s going straight to social media.” Tim could only nod, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The room, once filled with laughter, now held a different kind of tension, a lingering hum of unspoken desires and a new, unsettling understanding. He felt the eyes of Amy and her friends on him, not with pity, but with a predatory curiosity. He knew, with a sinking feeling, that this was only the beginning. “From now on, Tim,” Amy’s voice, usually a melodic hum, sharpened into an unfamiliar edge, “Jake has my full permission to spank you. Every single time you step out of line.” Tim’s breath caught, a small, involuntary gasp. His eyes, wide and disbelieving, darted between Amy and Jake. The comfortable familiarity of his home twisted into something alien. “And you,” she continued, her voice gaining a deliberate cadence, “will call him Daddy. And you will call me Mommy. Is that… clear?” The words hung in the air, each syllable a tiny hammer blow. Tim’s throat felt dry, a tight knot forming in his stomach. He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. He looked at Jake, searching for some flicker of dissent, some shared confusion, but Jake’s face remained a mask. “I asked if that was clear, Tim.” Amy’s tone left no room for ambiguity. “Yes, Mommy,” Tim finally managed, the new title feeling foreign and awkward on his tongue, a bitter taste blooming in his mouth. He risked another glance at Jake, who simply pushed off the doorframe, taking a slow, deliberate step closer. The floorboards creaked under his weight. “Good boy,” Jake rumbled, his voice deeper than usual, a subtle shift that sent a shiver down Tim’s spine. It wasn’t a comforting sound. Amy offered a small, almost imperceptible smile. “If you behave, you can sleep in your cot in my room sometimes. Other times, you will sleep in your nursery.” She paused, letting the implications sink in. “Megan and her friends can baby-sit you. And they can tease you.” A fresh wave of dread washed over Tim. Meganand her coven of giggling, sharp-tongued friends. The thought of their collective attention, their merciless taunts, made his skin crawl. “Mommy, please,” Tim pleaded, his voice cracking, a desperate tremor running through it. “Don’t let them. They’re mean.” Amy’s smile vanished. Her eyes narrowed. “Tim, we’ve discussed this. This is for your own good. To teach you discipline.” Her gaze flickered to Jake. “Isn’t that right, Daddy?” Jake nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. He reached out, his large hand settling on Tim’s shoulder, a firm, possessive grip. Tim flinched, but Jake’s fingers tightened, holding him in place. The warmth of Jake’s hand, usually a source of comfort, now felt like a brand. “It is,” Jake confirmed, his voice a low thrum against Tim’s ear. “You need to learn sissy.” The word ‘son’ felt like another twist of the knife. Tim’s eyes welled, but he fought back the tears, refusing to give them the satisfaction. He looked from Amy’s unyielding face to Jake’s stern one, a profound sense of helplessness settling over him. The world he knew had just fractured, replaced by something entirely new, entirely terrifying. The silence that followed was punctuated only by the frantic beat of his own heart. “Amy, darling!” Susan anounced bemused by the scene wearing an expensive ivory sil tight ,the diamond studs in her ears, sparkling ,the outline of panties showing on the rear of her dress have you not thought of a girls name for your erm sissy husband ? Amy paused before they all continued to walk into the lounge where Megan now was about to change Tim's wet nappy.The soft, saccharine scent of baby powder hung heavy in the air, a cloying cloud that clung to the floral wallpaper. Amy watched Tim, or the figure that used to be Tim, as he wobbled slightly on tiny, patent leather Mary Janes holding Megans hand . The ruffled, pale pink satin dress swallowed his frame, its satin bows tied meticulously at each shoulder. A matching bonnet, edged with lace, framed his flushed cheeks. He clutched a plush unicorn. "Tim," she began, the name feeling foreign, rough "yes Susan you are quite right " It didn't fit the vision before her. Not anymore. He tilted his head, the bonnet ribbons swaying. A faint blush crept up his neck. "We can't keep calling you Tim," she stated, her voice softer than she intended. "Not when you look like… this." Her gaze swept over the expanse of pastel fabric. "It just doesn't feel right." He took a small step forward, the unicorn's horn dipping. "I need a name. A pretty name. Something… befitting." She crossed her arms, a small smile playing on her lips. "Something with two parts. A double name." He nibbled his lower lip, a nervous habit. "Like… what?" His voice, usually a baritone, came out a little higher, a little breathier. "Well, 'Tim' certainly isn't going to work. Can you imagine? 'Oh, little Timmy, time for your nap'?" She chuckled, a warm sound in the quiet room. "No, no. We need something sweet. Innocent." She tapped her chin. "How about… 'Daisy Mae'?" His eyes widened, reflecting the soft glow of the lamp. He considered it, the plush unicorn pressed tighter to his chest. "Daisy Mae?" "Yes! Daisy Mae. It's perfect. So delicate. So… baby girl." She clapped her hands together once, a decisive sound. ". "Daisy Mae… sounds nicer." "It does, doesn't it?" She walked closer, reaching out to smooth a The satin felt cool beneath her fingers. "Daisy Mae. My sweet Daisy Mae." He offered a shy smile, a genuine warmth blooming in his eyes. He didn't look like Tim anymore. He looked like Daisy Mae. "Now, Daisy Mae," she continued, her voice taking on a playful lilt. "Are you ready for yo littleur nappy change one?" He nodded, a tiny, almost imperceptible bob of his head. The unicorn clutched firmly,as he layed on his back on the lounge rug as Megan peeled down his frilly pink bbay knickers and removed the pastic pants and wet nappy.His bottom stilll red from the spanking. The scent of baby powder followed, a new, indelible part of their evening ritual.Amy and her freinds watched megan carry out her duties as the woman began sipping on gin and tonics talking about Amys new life ,occasioanly looked down at adult baby girl smiling and teasing him about his tiny little penis and how Amy is getitng sex from a real man .

Hi, really just plucked up the courage to join. I am a diaper wearing sissy. I’m still in the closet and looking for some friends or a nice aunty to play with. just ordered my first pack of nappies xx

Please Mummy can you... Praise me when I'm being good Pat my padding when I toddle Tie on me a towelling bib, then feed me from a bottle Dress me up so daintily Adorable and sweet White ankle socks, then patent shoes, get buckled to my feet Strap me in the high chair Clip tight my baby reins Feed Farley's Rusks for breakfast sing "Here comes the Aeroplane" Sit me in my pushchair then push me to the park Save to keep it secret Might have to do that after dark Tuck your finger in a leg cuff To see if I've been wetting Cuddle me and kiss my cheek To stop this baby fretting Tie ribbon bows into my hair Kindly fill my sippy Swaddle me in Mummy's care Tell Princess she's so pretty Tuck me in my pink barred cot with blankie edged in satin Raise the bars, turn out the light watch over whilst I'm napping Sleepy eyes wake seeing bars as Mummy checks my padding You rouse me from my dreamy daze because you've found me sodden The nursery fills with powder scent You fold a fresh soft nappy Down my legs slide plastic pants These things make me most happy