Search the Community

The Weight of Silence Emma a an attractive slender woman in her later thirties had always believed that love could carry a marriage through anything. For years, she and Daniel had lived by that belief — through the early excitement of their relationship, through Daniel’s medical challenges, and through the quiet routines that had become the rhythm of their home. Daniel had been born with a congenital condition that affected the development of his reproductive anatomy. The word micropenis had been part of his medical vocabulary since childhood, but it had never defined him. He was gentle, intelligent, and endlessly patient — qualities Emma cherished. Still, the condition had shaped their intimacy in ways neither of them had ever fully learned to talk about. His incontinence was another layer of daily life they had learned to navigate together. Daniel managed it with —cloth nappies and plastic pants which allowed him to feel secure and avoid the anxiety of accidents. Over time, he had also developed a set of nighttime routines that helped him feel grounded. Emma had always supported these choices; they were part of how he coped with vulnerability and enuresis. But despite their deep affection, something unspoken had begun to grow between them. Emma felt it most acutely in the quiet moments — when she lay beside Daniel, listening to the soft rustle of his plastic adult sized baby pants feeling a longing she didn’t know how to voice without hurting him. She loved him fiercely, but she also felt a loneliness she couldn’t ignore. Daniel sensed it too. He saw the way Emma’s smile sometimes faltered, the way she hesitated before reaching for him. He knew she needed something he couldn’t give, and the guilt of that knowledge weighed heavily on him. It was Emma that suggested they seek help. “I think we should talk to someone,” she said one evening, her voice steady and soft. “Not because anything is wrong with us… but because I want us to understand each other better.” Emma's relief washing over her.when he didnt object She didn’t want to lose him. She just wanted to stop feeling like she was betraying him with her private thoughts. And so they found Dr. Maren Holt. Dr. Holt was warm, perceptive, and unafraid of difficult conversations. In their first session, she invited them to speak honestly — not to assign blame, but to uncover the truths they had both been protecting.The Doctor specailised in sex therapy,couple conselling she was bright and expereinced nothing would shock her. Maren had been practicng since she qualified ,still very attractive and sexy for a woman in her early forties. She wore her long dark brown hair cut below her bra stap ,dark brown eyes and those sexy darked rimmed spectacles ,Maren often turned many mens heads . Emma spoke about her longing for physical intimacy, open and in explicit terms, unfulfilled sex life — closeness, touch, the feeling of being desired . Daniel listened with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. He spoke about his fear of disappointing her, about the shame he had carried since adolescence, and about how much he wanted her to feel fulfilled.He knew he wasnt a typical man . Emma was quick to admit Daniel liked wearing her silky underwear during when they did become intimate ,"his very small penis isnt a problem wearing my skimpy panties "she giggled Dr. Holt listened carefully, her expression thoughtful she was familair with crossdressing ,she smiled and nodded." if you are both happy why not continue ,its harmeless .Turning to face Daniel ,Dr Holt advised him to consider exploring more if this makes him feel secure, "sharinng your wifes intimiate clothing can be quite thrilling I suppose as long as the both of you can accept it-its about compromising and communcation .You could even try going further with this. Have you heard of adult babies ? You say wearing nappies and plastic pants offer comfort and security well there's a sub group of adult babies known as sissies-they tend to wear clothing designed for baby girls,you know pink satins and frills over exagerated none the less its a harmless fetish." “There are many ways to build a marriage,” she said gently. “What matters is that both of you feel respected, supported, and emotionally safe. Sometimes that means redefining what partnership looks like.” It was in that same session that Dr. Holt suggested they explore the idea of ethical non‑monogamy — a consensual way for Emma to meet needs. " If Daniel is unable to offer you the sexual satisfaction you deisre non -monogamy may be a solution, while preserving the emotional core of your marriage. Its often referred to as cuckolding,in simple terms the woman in the relationship seeks sex from other men while the husband or boyfreind accepts it or learns to live with it" Emma had been hesitant at first though she had often thought of being with other men. Daniel responded “If it helps you feel whole,” he said quietly, “then I want to talk about it.” Dr. Holt emphasized boundaries, communication, and emotional clarity. She encouraged Emma to seek companionship with someone who understood the arrangement, someone who wouldn’t complicate their marriage with conflicting expectations " if one man becomes complicated consider taking several lovers if you feel you are becoming too emotionally attached ...thats is unless you want emotional warmth from a lover as well as pyhsical intimicy ". That was how Emma eventually met Adrian. He was a colleague from a nearby community arts center — tall handsome muscular and thoughtful, respectful of boundaries. They had worked together on a local project months before, and Emma had always appreciated his humor and manly presence. When she knew he wanted to sleep with er and she was more than happy to go to bed with him .The large bulge in hiis trousers made her wonder about his size ,it excited her the contrast between both her hsnand and Adrain were so different . She want him to know about her homelife and after theire third date eventyally later confessed . Adrian listened without judgment. Emma didn’t know where things with Adrian would lead, but for the first time in years, she felt a sense of possibility — not because she wanted to leave Daniel, but because she wanted to stay with him in a way that honored both of their needs. And Daniel, watching her smile return, felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: peace. New Routines, New Realities Dr. Maren Holt had a way of making difficult conversations feel like stepping stones rather than obstacles. In their next session a few weeks later, she focused her attention on Daniel, sensing that he needed space to explore his own comfort and identity within the shifting dynamics of their marriage. “Daniel,” she said gently, “ So you have now began to wear sissy protective clothing at night ,Emma tells me she has been buying lots of adult bbay clothes for sissy babies and finding plenty of comfort in this right ? " your medical needs and your emotional needs are intertwined. The routines you’ve built — your nighttime clothing, now consists of frilly nighties and frilly pink plastic pants from the photos Emma emailed me the protective garments you use ,nappies and plastic pants— these are apart of how you express yourself ,its very brave . They’re tools that help you feel grounded. I want you to continue wear them, not hide from them.” Daniel nodded, relieved. Dr Holt turned to her computer and found the emailed images , turning the screen slightly so the couple could see she went on to explain "These frilly nylon coverd plastic ,cloth nappies and short nightie you now wear at night are simply an extension of managing the incontinence coupled with your penchant for womens underwear by combining both elements your feminine sisde not only gives a sense of security you find it thrilling sexually right?" “These things make me feel… safe,” he admitted. “Like I can relax.,,,and erm yes I like wearing the frilly baby things” “That’s because the baby girl clothing is much prettier than the boys clothing its an important aspect ,” Dr. Holt replied. “And when Adrian eventually visits your home, it’s okay for you to remain in the routines that help you feel calm. You don’t need to present yourself differently. In fact, being in your comfortable nighttime clothing may help you feel less anxious — and it signals that you’re not in competition with him.,,,,how can you be You’re simply being yourself.” I advised that Emma considers purchasing you a large adult cot or similar style bed for bed -this may offer an extra layer of comfort that renforces your status as that of an adult baby sissy ....a sissy baby girl additionally Adrian will at some point be sharing your wifes bed" Daniel exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders and looked at Emma ,she nodded i think its best we do buy a cot for you sweetheart I have been looking on-line and found a nice big pink one that would be perfect." "Its important Daniel dosn't feel left out when Adrain visits so take some time to think where you will put your baby husban Emma" Meanwhile, Emma had been meeting Adrian for after work drinks , long conversations, and gentle companionship. He was patient, and always careful to respect the boundaries she and Daniel had established. Their connection was growing, not in a way that threatened her marriage, but in a way that filled a space she had long felt empty. In one Emma's individual session with Dr. Holt, Emma spoke openly. “I didn’t expect to feel so balanced,” she said. “Being with Daniel gives me emotional safety. Being with Adrian gives me a different kind of closeness. It’s not about choosing one over the other. It’s… harmony.” Dr. Holt smiled warmly. “You’re describing fulfillment, Emma. You’re allowed to feel whole in more than one way.” Emma nodded, grateful for the validation. “And Daniel he now sleeps in a cot most nights ?” Dr. Holt asked. “ Yes he loves it .He’s happy it makes him feel less stress ..secure and relinquishing his responsibility to please me sexully ,not that ever could ,” Emma said smiling softly". " He tells me he feels relieved knowing I’m not carrying frustration anymore. He says it makes him feel like he’s finally giving me what I need — even if it’s through someone else.” "And Adrian have you slept with him yet " Dr Holt asked with a knowing smile. "No not yet but we paln to do next week ..Ive invited him over " "So hes not met Daniel or erm seen him dressed up then?" " Well he has seen him in his baby clothes.... I took some photos of him ..its was more about making it easier to explain than being cruel " "Oh I see and what was his reaction " looking over the top of her glasses as she took notes. Adrain thought it was very funny initailly, we laughed quite alot about about it really it broke the ice and he just said I deserve more and things like that tiny cock belongs on a baby ,no wonder he wears baby girl clothes " Dr Holt responded "well of course hes not entirely wrong ,....on both statements to be brutally honest I hope he will treat you with respect though,I'm sure hes just what you need" "Oh he most certainly is think I wont have an issue with his size I can just tell" Emma said with aknowing smile. Dr Holt took the hint and smiled "Well I'm pleased for you it sounds wonderful Emma I would like to meet him sometime I'm sure hes as nice as you describe" A week later, Dr. Holt visited their home for a scheduled check‑in — something she occasionally did for clients navigating complex emotional transitions. Daniel was resting in his cot in the master bedroom when she arrived, wearing his pink short sheer nylon nightie and his matching frilly baby plastic lined pants his thick bulky nappy on show from the leg openings . He looked peaceful, not embarrassed . The large cot’s high sides and soft bedding made him feel secure, and Dr. Holt immediately recognized the calmness in his expression. “This is perfect for you,” she said kindly. “You look so comfortable, Daniel.” He smiled shyly. “I am.” Emma stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on the cot rail. “He sleeps better like this. And he’s been more relaxed during the day too.” “I can see that,” Dr. Holt replied smiling occasinally looking at him. " You look just like a baby girl ,so pretty " A moment later, Adrian arrived — Emma had invited him so everyone could meet in a structured environment. He greeted Dr. Holt politely, offering a handshake and a warm smile. “It’s good to finally meet you,” he said. “Emma speaks very highly of your guidance.” “And I’m glad to meet you as well,” Dr. Holt replied. “ Emma has told me a lot about you .This arrangement works because all three of you are communicating clearly and respecting one another. That’s rare, and it’s admirable.” Adrian glanced toward Daniel, he laughed a little then gave him a small, genuine nod . Daniel resting comfortably, Emma standing confidently, and Adrian offering gentle respect, Dr. Holt saw something remarkable: a family reshaping itself with honesty, compassion, and courage. When Adrian and Emma kissed in front of Danile he watched excitedly from his cot ,his wife looked so happy she had dressed sexily in a short skirt . From where he lay he could see Adrains hand lift the back of her skirt just high enough to show Emmas sexy underwear she hhas bought especaily for this evening, the soft white satin fabric was always stimulating to see. Dr Holt looked at Daniel , no signs of aggression just acceptance of Emma's imenent adultry ,she smiled at him pleased the couples therapy sessions were going as planned. When the couple broke from their long lingering kiss Adrians jeans had a very large bulge . Dr holt was invited to stay for the evening she was pleased to accept more so to see how things panned out. Later Adrian and Emma retired to the bedroom followed by Dr Holt ,she went over the other side of the double bed where the cot was placed ,Daniel was laying there quiet. She gently reached in and began to sooth him with gentle words of encouregment your wife is about to experiance pleasure from another man sweetie be happy for her and if you wish enjoy yourself too. Adrian and Emma frantically tore at each others clothing, when Emma eventaully discovered Adrains penis she was shocked " oh jeeze its ..its sooo big so thick .Soon they were ontop of the bed ,emma guiding the large thick penis into her slipper wet vagina.Dr Holt looked across she too was excited to see them enjoy each other bodies .She looked at Daniels face he looked upset ,knowing his wife was taking such a huge penis .Dr Holt lifted is nightie and put her hand into the front of his frillies and down into his nappy " this makes you excited dosnt it ..seeing your wife with a very well endowed man ,a man you cannot compete with in terms of penis size.See how Emma is loving the feeling he's giving her...your tiny penis is hard you can masterbate I wont mind. Daniel was more than happy to do as suggested ,yes he was fully aroused seeing hhis beautifuul wife being fucked so well ,her contored face,frown lines on her forehead as she was ully penetrated on the enormous penis . Danile took out his penis and bagn masturbating ,his miniscule memeber less than 3 inches pailed into insignificance compared to Adrians . Dr Holt encouraged him more and more whispering into his ear "see how your wife loves that long thick penis she is going to cum oh baby how you wish you could maker her cum like that eh" She playfully laughed looking at the tiny penis she had nver seen one so small before .Daniel slid his finger and thumb along the almost non existant shaft ,its was funny to see but she knew it played into his maschhotistic tendancies that many cuckolds and sissies have. In no time he began to involuntay jerk lifting his frilly behhind off the padded baby mattress of his cot ,"thats it baby girl make creamies all over your pretty frilly pink baby knickers ...the ones your kind mummy bought you" she sniggered . Emma began to cry and sob her lover pumped his cock in and out of her, legs were wrapped around his waist ,toes curled ,she yepled as the bed shook with each powerful deep downward pentrating thrust ,her body bagan to shake and trembel ,intensive waves of pleasure each convulsion more intense.Emma now more vocal ...OH ..OH ...UGHH ..UGHHH ..GOSH ....YOU FEEL SOO ..SOO BIG SOOOO BIGGG ..ITS WONDERFUL PLEASE OOOH .....YES ..YESSS ...FASTER FASTER PLEASE HUN DON'T STOP ...FUCK ME PLEASE FUCK ME"she cried louder and louder making no attempt to hhide her feelings despite the two observers . Adrain's buttocks flexed his speed and temo increasing ,the long thick shaft slimy with Emma's juices . "he's hurting my mummy he mumbled he's hurting her " .The humilation he felt seeing Emma being so truly fucked by a someone so much bigger while he lay in his cot made him feel extra babyish .referring to his wife as mummy was the fist time he had done so . "Oh baby no no mummy;s boyfreind isn't hurting her no ...awww no baby shes crying becasue shes happy ,he's giving her so much pleasure thats why she has has tears in her eyes ...she's expeeincing pleasure you have been unable to because of your tiny baby sized penis Daniel " " Now you need to make creamies dont you sissy " within seconds of Dr Holts gentle teasing he splashed his creamies over his baby knickers. "oh good girl ,thats so good did mummys baby girl like watching the big rough man fuck your lovely wife with that massive penis " Emma and and Adrain were still making love ,his long thick penis pumping in and out ,stretching her wide and deep .Dr Holt was also facinated at Adrans size and felt an unmistakeable dampness in the crotch of her panties. New Voices in the House Nights when Adrian stayed over had a different rhythm in the house — loud laughter , Daniel, resting in his cot in the spare bedroom, often heard the soft murmur of voices from down the hall. Emma’s laughter, light and unguarded, drifted through the quiet. Sometimes he caught the warm cadence of Adrian’s voice, steady and reassuring. Even when soft moans and the bed thumping against the wall ,Emmas crys ectsasy yes those sounds hurt him but pleasured him., they comforted him. For years, Emma had carried a tension she never voiced — a quiet frustration, a longing she tried to hide. Now, when Daniel heard her speaking softly with Adrian, or laughing in a way she hadn’t in a long time, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. “She’s happy,” he would whisper to himself, adjusting the soft blanket over his legs. “She’s finally happy.” Dr. Holt had told him that emotional fulfillment often expressed itself in small ways — tone of voice, ease of movement, the way someone breathed when they felt understood. Daniel heard those changes in Emma, and it reassured him that their unconventional arrangement was working. A New Helper in the Home As Emma’s schedule grew more complex — balancing her time between Daniel, Adrian, and her own work — she decided to hire a part‑time babysitter to help with household tasks and to keep Daniel company on evenings when she was out. That’s how Lila entered their lives. Lila was nineteen, a college student studying psychology. She had warm lightly tanned skin, expressive dark eyes, and a cascade of long blonde hair she usually wore loose or with a ribbon. Her clothes were simple — skirts ,open neck shirts or t shirts oversized she carried herself with a quiet confidence that made her seem older than she was. From the moment she stepped into the house, she seemed to understand the emotional landscape without needing it explained. “Hi, Daniel,” she said gently the first evening, pulling a chair beside his cot. “Emma told me you like someone nearby when she’s out. I’m happy to sit with you.” Her voice was soft, steady — the kind of voice that made people feel safe. Daniel relaxed almost immediately.He liked her very pretty face and freindly smile. Lila had a natural empathy that made her easy to talk to. She learned how to adjust the cot rails quietly, his favourite frilly nighties and panties without making him feel self‑conscious. Emma noticed the difference right away. “You’re wonderful with him,” she told Lila one evening. Lila smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He’s easy to care for. And… I can see how much you love him. It makes it easy to want to help.” Emma felt a warmth in her chest — gratitude and relief she hhad chosen well. Guidance for the Next Stage At their next session, Dr. Holt listened carefully as Emma described her emotional experiences with Adrian — the sense of being understood, the relief of having her needs met, and the gratitude she felt toward Daniel for supporting her. “I want to make sure we’re staying within the boundaries we set,” Emma said. “I want Daniel to feel secure. I don’t want him to feel replaced.” Dr. Holt nodded. “You’re doing exactly what you should — communicating openly. The key is to keep reinforcing that this arrangement is about fulfillment, not replacement.” Daniel added softly, “I don’t feel replaced. I feel… relieved. I can’t give Emma everything she needs, but I can give her honesty. And that feels like love.” Dr. Holt smiled warmly. “That’s a profound acceptance, Daniel. Many couples never reach this level of clarity.” Emma reached for his hand. “You’re still my partner. Adrian adds to my life — he doesn’t take anything away from us.” Dr. Holt leaned back, thoughtful. “Then the next stage is simple: continue your check‑ins, maintain transparency, and allow your relationships to evolve naturally. You’re building something unconventional, but deeply compassionate.” The three of them sat in quiet understanding — a family reshaping itself with care, courage, and consent. Quiet Understanding Lila had been helping Daniel with his night time routine for a for a few days now. One evening, Daniel’s incontinence had been worse than usual. His plastic pants and nappy were soaked, and he looked embarrassed as Lila entered the room. “It’s alright,” she said gently, her voice warm and steady. “This is just part of your care. Nothing to be ashamed of.” Daniel nodded, grateful for her kindness. As she helped him change she worked carefully though slightly embarrassed ,sliding down his frilly pink satin baby knickers his plastic pants she carefully undid the nappy pins and pulled away the wet nappy .When she finally saw his penis for the first time, she didn’t react as she thought she might feeling a little embarressed Lila stifling an involuntary giggle she was surprised at seeing the tiny baby sized penis ,holding her hand to her mouth to prevent more laughter she immediately felt sorry for her sissy charge, poor Daniel began to blush as the very pretty girl saw his tiny member he looked away to avoid her gaze. In her psychology courses, she had studied congenital conditions that affected genital development. She knew how deeply such conditions could shape a person’s self‑esteem, their sense of identity, and their fears about intimacy. Seeing Daniel’s reality made those lessons feel more human, more immediate. She looked at his tiny hairless penis less than an inch in its flaccid state, his testicles were small and devoid of any pubic hair. She quickly fastened the fresh cloth nappy after a sprinkle of talc, adjusted the soft bulk so it sat comfortably, and helped him into a clean pair of his favourit plastic pants that were covered in a sheer pale pink nylon fabric ,rows of pretty lace on the front and rear designed for adult babies or those who needed extra protection Then she helped him placing a very short sheer matching baby doll nightie over his head Emma had picked out earlier for him to wear .She settled him back into his cot ,a soft blanket over him. “Thank you,” Daniel murmured, his cheeks still pink. “You don’t need to thank me,” Lila said softly. “You’re doing your best. And you deserve care that makes you feel safe. ...I'm sorry for laughing it er took me by surprise and well I guess” She paused, choosing her words with care. “I can understand why Emma needed physical needs with someone else ....a another man ,” she said gently. “Not because you’ve failed her — but because relationships and needs come in many forms.” Daniel exhaled, relieved that she spoke without judgment. “I’m glad she has what she needs,” he said. “And I’m glad you’re here to help me.” Lila smiled, placing a reassuring hand on the cot rail. “You’re a good baby a you make such a cute sissy baby girl you know you are very accepting of your situation , Daniel. Anyone can see that.” Her empathy didn’t diminish him. It made him feel seen — fully, and without shame A New Name, A New Self One evening, during a session with Dr. Holt, Emma spoke the words aloud for the first time. “I think I want Daniel be called Daniella,” she said. “It feels… gentle. Like the person he's becoming.....hes much more soft and girly now he wears clothes for a sissy adult baby ...a great suggestion of yours ” Dr. Holt nodded with quiet pride. “Then Daniella it is I'm very pleased he has adapoted a sissy baby persona ” Emma squeezed her husbands hand. “It suits you.” Lila she began to come to some of the sessions she beamed. “It really does suite him its a lovely name .” And in that moment, surrounded by people who accepted him fully, Daniella felt something he hadn’t felt in years — a sense of belonging that ran deeper than fear, deeper than shame, deeper than the past. He didn't mind having a girls name Afterall he wears frilly baby girl clothes Emma added. Additional Description (Safe & Respectful) All future clinic sessions he was expected to dress as a baby girl ,to fully embrace it .When Daniella entered the conference room for the consultation, his clothing immediately communicated who he was becoming — gentle, soft‑spoken, and grounded in sensory comfort.It was the first time he had been seen dressed like he was out of the home. He wore a very frilly pink short satin dress , the fabric catching the light with a subtle sheen. The short sleeves and neck were trimmed with delicate lace frills , and a small lace panel rested across the chest that read " sissy baby girl" The dress was adult‑sized in typical little girl style layered peticoats , tailored to fit him comfortably which Emma had chosen to help him feel secure in new environments. Beneath the dress, a large thick bulky cloth napppy ,plastic pants with a pair knickers-matching lace to that of his dress frilly pink ruffled knickers in pale pink satin in plain sight just under the hem of the short dress — exposed and emphasized for show and status . The soft rustle of the plastic panties and satin was subtle but audiable to anyone present , and no one in the room reacted to it apart from a few smiles ocasioanlly . Dr. Patel a young urolgist not quite in her 30's and two younger sex threapy students around 22 years of age understood immediately that these clothes were a basic requirement for any sissy adult baby especially one that is incontinent. The pretty young students smirked but made no comment . The students took note of his attire — his soft fabrics ,lace and pastel colours helped him manage anxiety and feel safe. Dr. Holt offered a warm smile. “Your clothing seems to bring you comfort,” she said kindly. “That’s important. Emotional regulation is a valid part of managing any long‑term condition.” Daniella nodded, relieved that she saw him with respect rather than curiosity. Emma added softly, “This is who he is now. And he’s happier.” The students wrote notes - in patients with chronic medical conditions. Chapter 11 — Needs, Boundaries, and Balance The consultation had ended, but the conversation continued in Dr. Holt’s private office. The room was warm, softly lit, and arranged to feel more like a living room than a clinic. Emma sat beside Daniella, her hand resting gently on his knee. Lila sat across from them, attentive and supportive. Dr. Holt folded her hands. “Now that we’ve talked about the medical side,” she said, “I want us to talk about the relational side. Every partnership has emotional, physical, and practical needs. What matters is how you meet them — ethically, honestly, and with consent.” Emma nodded. “That’s what we’ve been trying to do.” Dr. Holt smiled. “And you’re doing it well.” She turned to the two attractive medical students observing the session. “Many couples,” she explained, “find that one partner cannot meet every need the other has. That doesn’t mean the relationship is broken. It means the couple must communicate and find a structure that supports both people.” One student raised her hand. “So… in this case, Emma has needs that Daniella can’t meet?” “Exactly,” Dr. Holt said. “And instead of ignoring that, or letting resentment grow, they’ve chosen a consensual structure where Emma can seek certain forms of closeness with someone else.” Emma spoke softly. “Adrian gives me a kind of physical presence I need.” Daniella nodded. “And I’m relieved she has that. I don’t feel threatened. I feel… peaceful.” Lila added, “It’s actually made the household calmer. Everyone knows their role.” Dr. Holt leaned back, thoughtful. “This is what ethical non‑monogamy looks like when it’s done well. Clear boundaries. Emotional honesty. Mutual respect. No secrecy. No shame.” The students took notes, absorbing the lesson. Emma squeezed Danila’s hand. “I love him. That hasn’t changed. Adrian adds to my life — he doesn’t replace anything.” Daniella smiled softly. “And I’m becoming myself. I feel safe. I feel understood.” Dr. Holt nodded with quiet pride. “That’s the goal. A family structure where everyone’s needs — emotional, physical, practical — are met in a healthy, consensual way.” The room felt warm, grounded, and full of possibility. Scene: The Clinic Lounge – Late Afternoon The soft hum of the air purifier filled the quiet space as the women gathered around the low table, sipping herbal tea. The topic had shifted, as it often did, to Daniella — and the changes they’d all noticed in her demeanour lately. Dr Holt, leaned forward with a knowing smile referring to Daniel as her when she remembered to “She’s calmer now.” Emma nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think it’s Adrian. Or rather, what Adrian brings out in her. That kind of connection… it’s rare.” Maya always the most direct, of the two students tilted her head. “But what about Daniella? I mean, when she hears them you know — the sounds from the bedroom. That can’t be easy.” There was a pause. Then Lila who had spoken with Daniella just days before, offered gently, “She told me it’s strange. At first, it was like a punch to the chest. But then… she started listening differently. Not with jealousy. With awe.” The women exchanged glances. ”Lila continued, Daniell said “‘It’s like hearing her joy echo through the walls. I never knew I could feel so proud and so small at the same time.’” Dr Holt smiled again, this time more wistfully. “That’s love, isn’t it? Letting go of what you thought it had to look like, and finding peace in what it becomes.” Maya exhaled. “Still, it must stir something deep. To hear your wife in bed with another. man” Lila nodded. “It does. But Daniella said it reminds him that his wife is alive again....she’s thriving. And that, somehow, makes it all worth it.” Emma gave her husbands hand a squeeze as he sat there listening. Scene: The Clinic – Quiet Afternoon Daniella sat on the edge of a cushioned bench, her posture relaxed but alert. Across from her, Maya, shifted nervously in her seat, clearly working up the courage to ask something else the other young student ,Laura remained quiet taking notes intermittently and smiling towards the sissy adult baby sat opposite “Daniella,” Maya began, her voice tentative but sincere, “can I ask you something a bit… personal?” Daniella smiled gently. “Of course. That’s what we’re here for.” Maya hesitated, then continued, “I’ve been trying to understand how you feel about… everything. About Emma and Adrian. About hearing them together. I mean, you’re so open about it, but… does it ever hurt? Or… does it ever excite you ... you being a cuckold ?” There was a pause. Daniella looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap, the soft pink ruffles of her pink satin dress brushing against her frilly knickers that were on view to all. She took a breath. “It’s complicated,” she said softly. “At first, it was like standing outside in the cold, watching someone else’s fire burn. I felt left out. Small. But not unloved.” Maya nodded, listening intently occasionally catching a glimpse of the bulky frilly pink satin crotch of the sissy's knickers . “And then,” Daniella continued, “I started to listen differently. Not just to the sounds, but to what they meant. Emma laughing. Adrian murmuring. The moans rhythm of their bodies and the bed creaking. It wasn’t about me being excluded—it was about her being free.” Maya tilted her head. “And when you’re… in your space, in your cot, dressed in your baby girl clothes how you feel most yourself… does that change how you experience it?” Daniella’s eyes softened. “It does. The clothing, the setting—it’s not just about shame or submission. It’s about safety. About being held in a version of myself that feels true. And when I hear them, sometimes I do feel a flutter off jealousy, a deep, aching joy. That she’s alive. That I’m part of a story where love isn’t a cage.” Maya was quiet for a moment, then said, “That’s… beautiful. And brave of you.” Daniella smiled. “It’s just honest. And honesty, in a world like this, is the bravest thing we can offer each other.” Emma began to speak " me and Adrain dont always make him sleep in the spare room ...sometimes we move his cot next to our bed " Maya looked quite interested "oh oh I see so sometimes Daniella is part of your er lovemaking ...I mean he watches you both ? Yes my babyy likes to not only hear me being pleasured but likes to see me as well " Scene: The Clinic Lounge – Later That Afternoon The conversation had grown more intimate, the air thick with curiosity and trust. Maya, still seated across from Daniella, leaned in slightly, her voice soft but earnest. “I hope this isn’t too forward,” she began, “but… when you see and hear Emma and Adrian together—when you see her being… fulfilled sexually —do you ever feel…excited ...aroused? I mean, not just emotionally, but physically? Is that part of it for you?” Daniella didn’t flinch. He took a moment, letting the question settle, then nodded slowly. “It’s a fair question,” “And the answer is… always yes.” Maya’s eyes widened slightly, not in shock, but in fascination. “It’s not about voyeurism,” Daniella continued. “It’s about connection. About knowing that Emma fully herself. That Adrian, touches her, makes love to her in ways that bring her joy. And in those moments, when I’m in my own space—dressed in what makes me feel soft, vulnerable, real—I feel that joy too. It moves through me.” He paused, his voice quieter now. “Sometimes, that joy stirs something physical yes I get erect ... its highly arousing to see my lovely wife being made love to and because I’m part of the story. Because Emma’s pleasure is not separate from me—it’s shared, even if I’m not in the room.” Maya nodded slowly, absorbing every word. “And yes,” Daniella added with a small smile, “everyone involved knows. Emma knows. Adrian knows. We’ve talked about it, cried about it, laughed about it. There’s no shame. Just… honesty. And that’s what makes it beautiful.” The room was silent for a moment, the weight of Daniella’s truth settling gently between them. Then Maya reached out, placing a hand over Daniella’s. “Thank you,” she said. “For trusting me with that.” Daniella smiled. “Thank you for asking with kindness.” Scene: The Clinic Lounge – Early Evening The conversation had deepened, the air now thick with trust. Daniella sat comfortably, her pink satin dress, the delicate ruffles brushing against her thighs each time he adjusted his posture . The satin knickers ,plastic pants and nappy whispered quietly as he shifted, a subtle reminder of the comfort and vulnerability she embraced in this space. Maya, still curious but respectful, glanced toward the two clinicians seated nearby. “Dr. Holt, Dr. Patel… I hope it’s okay to ask, but… what do you both think? About Daniella’s experience? About how she feels hearing Emma and Adrian together?” Dr. Holt, thoughtful and calm smiled gently. “I think what Daniella is doing—what he and Emma are doing—is a remarkable example of emotional maturity. Consensual non-monogamy isn’t just about his inadequacy. It’s about abundance. About allowing love to take different forms.” Dr. Patel, younger and more animated, nodded. “Exactly. And Daniella’s experience—being in her own space, in her chosen clothing befitting someone who is seen as the weaker male in the relationship- feeling safe and soft—doesn’t diminish his identity. It affirms it. The pink satin, the frills, the plastic panties … those aren’t just symbols of shame. They’re symbols of truth. Of comfort. Of being seen and embracing te cuckold lifestyle they both enjoy ” Daniella looked down, her voice quiet but steady. “When I hear them… yes, I feel a stirring. .. I get an erection It’s about comparison. It’s about witnessing Emma’s joy. Knowing she’s with someone who can give her something I can’t. And that’s okay. it turns me on I guess” Maya tilted her head. “So… not just jealousy but humiliation as well ?” Daniella smiled. “Not in the way people expect. There’s a pang, sure. A moment of wondering, ‘Am I enough?’ But then I remember—we’re not in competition. Emma began to speak I have lust for Adrian i really lust after his body but it doesn’t take away from the love me and my baby girl have . It expands it.” Dr. Holt added, “And that’s the beauty of it. Daniella’s arousal, her emotional response, even her physical reactions—they’re not just rooted in humiliation. They’re rooted in connection. In knowing she’s part of something honest.” Dr. Patel leaned forward. “And let’s not ignore the power of preference. Emma’s attraction to Adrian’s body—his size, his presence—it’s real. But so is her love for Daniella’s tenderness, her vulnerability, her courage. They’re not opposites. They’re complements.” Maya looked at Daniella, her brown eyes wide with admiration. “That’s… so much deeper than I expected.” Daniella chuckled softly "thats what Emma said to me aftter the first time she slept with Adrain" The whole room burst into laughter .Emma kissed him on the cheek as she laughed Scene: The Clinic – Private Reflection Room Emma sat across from Dr. Patel, her posture relaxed but thoughtful. Dr. Patel leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle. “Emma, may I ask something a little delicate?” Emma smiled. “Of course. This space is for honesty.” Dr. Patel nodded. “You’ve spoken so beautifully about your intimacy with Adrian — the physical chemistry, the emotional grounding. But I wonder… when you’re with Daniella, especially in his most vulnerable state, do you still feel him? Physically, I mean. Do you experience connection in that way?” Emma’s eyes softened. “Yes. But it’s different. With Adrian, there’s a kind of rawness — a physical intensity that’s undeniable. He’s larger...much larger , yes, and that brings a certain fullness, a stretch that’s deeply satisfying. But that’s not the whole story.” She paused, choosing her words with care. “With Daniella, it’s not just about his very small size he makes up for that with his presence. When he’s with me — in his pink nightie, and frilly plastic pants and nappy its soft and open — there’s a tenderness that’s unlike anything else he suckles on my breasts and thats nce and tender . I feel her in the way she trembles when I rub his knickers ,so we are intimate . When I whisper her sissy name name he loves it .So It’s not about penetration. It’s about being understood and accepting.” Dr. Patel nodded, her expression warm. “So you feel her emotionally, even if the physical sensation is different.” “Exactly,” Emma said. “And sometimes, that emotional connection is nearly as powerful than anything physical. When I hold her, I feel her heart. Her trust. Her surrender. That’s not something you measure in inches.” Daniella , her cheeks slightly flushed as she sat beside Emma, who reached for her hand without hesitation. Dr. Patel smiled at them both. “Thank you for sharing that. It’s a beautiful reminder that intimacy isn’t one-size-fits-all. It’s about resonance.” Emma squeezed Daniella’s hand. “And we resonate. In every way that matters.” Scene: The Clinic – Group Reflection Room The circle of chairs was arranged loosely, the atmosphere warm and open. Dr. Holt and Dr. Patel sat alongside Lila, and the two young medical students , Maya and Laura who had been shadowing sessions as part of their first year sex therapy studies. Daniella and Emma were present too, hand in hand, both comfortable in the space they’d helped shape. Maya, ever curious but respectful, glanced toward the clinicians. “Can I ask something that’s maybe a little awkward?” Dr. Holt smiled at her students “This is a space for thoughtful questions, Maya. Go ahead.” Maya turned to Emma, then to Daniella. “I’ve been wondering… in terms of physical intimacy, is Daniella able to… I mean, are you able to feel pleasure together in that way, is penetration still part of your connection?” There was a pause, not of discomfort, but of care. Emma looked at Daniella, who gave a small nod. Emma spoke first. “It’s a good question. And the simple answer is…no not really ...hes too tiny and often slips out during intercourse don't you darling But it’s not the centre of our intimacy.” Dr. Patel leaned in gently. “Would you say that’s just because of Daniel's physical limitations ...have you tried different positions that may offer a deeper angel of penetration for example ” Daniella answered, his voice calm. “ in a way. Physically, I’m not what most would call ‘typical.’ I’ve always been on the much smaller side, and with the changes I’ve embraced—emotionally, , even in how I see myself—penetration has become less of a focus because its not enjoyable for my wife .” Emma added, “And that’s okay. Our connection isn’t defined by that one act. When we do share physical closeness, it’s about sensation, trust, and presence. Sometimes that includes penetration, sometimes it doesn’t. But I never feel like I’m missing something.” Laura the quieter of the two students, spoke up. “So… it’s not about whether a penis is big enough’ in a traditional sense?” Dr. Holt smiled. “Exactly. Pleasure isn’t one-size-fits-all. For some couples, penetration is central. For others, it’s peripheral. What matters is that both partners feel fulfilled, seen, and respected.” Dr. Patel added, “And in Daniella and Emma’s case, their intimacy is layered. Emotional, sensory, spiritual. That’s just as valid—if not more so—than any physical metric.” Daniella looked around the circle. “I used to worry I wasn’t enough. That my body couldn’t give Emma what she needed. But what I’ve learned is that love isn’t measured in inches. It’s measured in presence. In how we show up for each other.” Emma squeezed her hand. “And you show up for me every day.” "So from a professional point of view in terms of size and physical pleasure are we agreement size matters .. I mean a micropenis is too small isnt it" Laura suggested. Dr patel responded Medically speaking, a micropenis is defined as an erect penile length of less than 2.5 standard deviations below the mean for age and stage of development—typically under 3 inches erect inches (about 6.4 cm) in adult men. It’s a rare condition, often caused by hormonal or genetic factors, and it can be associated with other medical concerns that may require clinical attention Now in terms of sexual satisfaction research and clinical experience show that size is not the sole—or even primary—determinant of pleasure or fulfillment for some women . Emotional intimacy, communication, trust, and mutual understanding tend to play a far more significant role in sexual and relational satisfaction. Many individuals and couples find deep fulfillment regardless of size, especially when they explore what brings them pleasure together. That said, personal preferences do vary, and in consensual non-monogamous relationships like the one you’re exploring it’s entirely valid for couples to acknowledge and navigate those preferences openly and respectfully. What matters most is that all parties feel seen, valued, and empowered in their identities and desires. Everyone agreed . Scene: The Clinic – Afternoon Group Session The conversation had turned tender. Emma was speaking softly about the joy she found in her connection with Adrian—their physical chemistry, the way he held her, the way she felt seen. Daniella sat nearby, listening with a quiet smile, her hands folded in her lap, her pink dress gently rustling with each breath. “I used to feel guilty,” Emma said, “for needing a man in my bed . But Daniella never made me feel ashamed. he willingly accepted it. He wanted me to be fulfilled.” Dr. Holt nodded. “That’s the heart of consensual non-monogamy—honesty, not hierarchy.” As the group continued, Daniella shifted slightly in her seat. A look of surprise crossed her face, followed by a flush of embarrassment. She whispered something to Emma, who immediately reached for her hand. “I think I’ve… had a little accident,” Daniella said quietly, her voice trembling. Dr. Patel stood gently. “That’s okay, Daniella. You’re safe here. Let’s take care of you.” Maya and Laura , the two students, looked concerned but calm. Dr. Holt gave them a reassuring nod. “This is a teaching clinic, and part of what we teach is how to respond to moments like this—with dignity, not shame.” Emma helped Daniella to her feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love.” They moved together to the private care suite, where warm towels were at hand. The clinicians and students remained behind, giving space, but their expressions were full of empathy. Scene: The Clinic – Quiet Recovery Room After Daniella’s unexpected accident during the group session, Emma had gently guided her to the private care suite. The atmosphere was calm, the lighting soft, and the air filled with quiet reassurance. Outside the door, Maya and Laura waited with Dr. Holt and Dr. Patel. The students had seen the moment unfold and were visibly moved—not by discomfort, but by the care Daniella had shown. “I’ve never seen someone so open,” Laura said softly. “Emma didn’t hide. She didn’t apologize.” Dr. Holt nodded. “That’s the strength of this space..” Inside the room, Emma opened her bag and pulled out a fresh set of Daniella’s things: a soft fluffy nappy, and a pair of delicate pink plastic-lined pants, sheer nyon coverd and trimmed with rows of lace acroos the front and rear . She held them gently, as if they were something sacred. There was a knock at the door. Maya peeked in, her voice quiet. “Emma? I er ..thought you might need a hand.” Emma smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart. Could you pass me the lavender wipes from the top shelf?” Maya stepped in, careful and calm. She handed over the wipes, then paused, her eyes catching the soft shimmer of the fresh garments in Emma’s hands. “They’re beautifu such very pretty baby knickers ...so girly l,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “They look like they were made just for her.” Emma nodded. “They were. Every stitch is a reminder that my baby girl is allowed to feel safe. To feel soft. To be exactly who she is.” Maya smiled. “I’m glad she has you.” Emma looked toward Daniella, her cheeks blushing pink but her eyes calm. “And I’m glad she has all of you. This clinic… it’s changed everything.” As Maya looked on she watched how Emma set about removing the frilly panties,plastic pants and wet nappy ,she looked bemused when the nappy was removed and saw that Daniel had an erection "oh dear someone is excited" Emma said breaking the awakward silence . Mmmmm I wonder is it because the pretty young lady is here seeing you like this " she teased . Maya had never seen such a tiny penis before she felt sorry for the both of them .She stepped out shocked and withhout saying a word , she turned to Dr. Patel. “ he's so tiny I think I understand why Emma and Daniella embrace an open relationship no wonder she needs sexual pleasure from another man ,she clearly loves him to stay with him .” Dr. Patel placed a hand on her shoulder. “Exactly. And you helped hold her today.” Later, when Daniella returned—refreshed, changed, and smiling—Dr. Patel welcomed her back with a warm cup of tea. Scene: The Clinic – Research Debrief Room Later that day, Maya and Laura sat with Emma and Dr. Holt in a quiet corner of the clinic. Her notebook was open, filled with observations and reflections from the day’s sessions. She hesitated for a moment, then looked up. “Emma,” she began, “I hope this isn’t too personal, but I’m working on a case study about male anatomy and size diversity. Today was the first time I’ve seen someone with a micropenis, and I’m trying to understand how that fits into the broader spectrum.” Emma nodded, her expression open. “It’s okay, Maya. You can ask.” Maya continued, “You’ve mentioned that Adrian is… different from Daniella in that way. Would you say he’s average? Or… more than that?” Emma smiled. “Adrian is definitely on the larger side of the spectrum. Not just in size, but in presence. He carries himself with a kind of grounded confidence that’s very… magnetic.” She paused, then added, “But that doesn’t mean Daniella is less. Her body is different, yes. Smaller, softer. But our intimacy is no less meaningful. It’s just… expressed differently.” Dr. Holt chimed in. “That’s an important distinction, Maya. In clinical terms, a micropenis is defined by specific measurements, but in relational terms, what matters most is how people feel in their bodies and how they connect with others.” Maya nodded, scribbling notes. “So it’s not about better or worse. Just… different.” “Exactly,” Emma said. “Adrian’s size brings a certain kind of physical intensity. Daniella brings emotional depth, tenderness, and trust. I’m lucky to experience both.” Maya looked up, her eyes thoughtful. “Thank you. That helps me understand not just anatomy, but how people live with it. How they love with it.” Emma smiled. “That’s the real anatomy lesson.” Scene: The Clinic – Research Debrief Room Later that day, Maya sat with Emma and Dr. Holt in a quiet corner of the clinic. Her notebook was open, filled with observations and reflections from the day’s sessions. She hesitated for a moment, then looked up. “Emma,” she began, “I hope this isn’t too personal, but I’m working on a case study about male anatomy and size diversity. Today was the first time I’ve seen someone with a micropenis, and I’m trying to understand how that fits into the broader spectrum.” Emma nodded, her expression open. “It’s okay, Maya. You can ask.” Maya continued, “You’ve mentioned that Adrian is… different from Daniella in that way. Would you say he’s average? Or… more than that?” Emma smiled gently, choosing her words with care. “Adrian is definitely on the larger side of the spectrum. Not just in size, but in presence. He carries himself with a kind of grounded confidence that’s very… magnetic.” She paused, then added, “But that doesn’t mean Daniella is less. Her body is different, yes. Smaller, softer. But our intimacy is no less meaningful. It’s just… expressed differently.” Dr. Holt chimed in. “That’s an important distinction, Maya. In clinical terms, a micropenis is defined by specific measurements, but in relational terms, what matters most is how people feel in their bodies and how they connect with others.” Maya nodded, scribbling notes. “So it’s not about better or worse. Just… different.” “Exactly,” Emma said. “Adrian’s size brings a certain kind of physical intensity. Daniella brings emotional depth, tenderness, and trust. I’m lucky to experience both.” Maya looked up, her eyes thoughtful. “Thank you. That helps me understand not just anatomy, but how people live with it. How they love with it.” Emma smiled. “That’s the real anatomy lesson.” Later that day, Maya and Laura sat with Emma and Dr. Holt in a quiet corner of the clinic. Her notebook was open, filled with observations and reflections from the day’s sessions. She hesitated for a moment, then looked up. “Emma,” she began, “I hope this isn’t too personal, but I’m working on a case study about male anatomy and size diversity. Today was the first time I’ve seen someone with a micropenis, and I’m trying to understand how that fits into the broader spectrum.” Emma nodded, her expression open. “It’s okay, Maya. You can ask.” Maya continued, “You’ve mentioned that Adrian is… different from Daniella in that way. Would you say he’s average? Or… more than that?” Emma smiled. “Adrian is definitely on the larger side of the spectrum. Not just in size, but in presence. He carries himself with a kind of grounded confidence that’s very… magnetic.” She paused, then added, “But that doesn’t mean Daniella is less. Her body is different, yes. Smaller, softer. But our intimacy is no less meaningful. It’s just… expressed differently.” Dr. Holt chimed in. “That’s an important distinction, Maya. In clinical terms, a micropenis is defined by specific measurements, but in relational terms, what matters most is how people feel in their bodies and how they connect with others.” Maya nodded, scribbling notes. “So it’s not about better or worse. Just… different.” “To a point yes ” Emma said. “Adrian’s size brings a certain kind of physical intensity. Daniella brings emotional depth, tenderness, and trust. I’m lucky to experience both.” Maya looked up, her eyes thoughtful. “Thank you. That helps me understand not just anatomy, but how people live with it. How they love with it.” Emma smiled. “That’s the real anatomy lesson.” Scene: The Clinic – Research Discussion Room Maya and Laura sat at a small table with their notebooks open, a few medical journals stacked beside her. Emma ater joined them with a cup of tea, having agreed to help clarify some points for Maya’s ongoing case study on male anatomical diversity, Laura's study was more on fetishes and kinks “I really appreciate you taking the time,” Maya said. “I’m trying to understand the range of what’s considered typical, and how that intersects with real-life relationships. You’ve been so open about your experiences, and I think your perspective could really help.” Emma smiled warmly. “I’m happy to help you both Maya. As long as we keep it respectful, I think it’s important to talk about these things honestly.” Maya and Laura nodded. “Of course. So, in terms of your partners—Daniella and Adrian—you’ve mentioned they’re quite different physically. Would you be comfortable sharing more specific details? I’m trying to compare real-world examples to the statistical averages.” Emma took a thoughtful sip of her tea. “Sure., in the context of your research.” She paused, then continued in a calm, clinical tone. “Daniella’s anatomy falls within the medical definition of micropenis as you now know . When aroused, he measures just under 2.5 inches I knw this because i took a tape measure to it on more than one occasion ... It’s something he’s been open about, and it’s part of what shaped his journey toward embracing his identity. ...and to be brutally honest I actually think likes having a tiny thing we have often fantasizied about me being made love to by another man , i would tell him how big previous boyfreinds were especailly when he was wearing my panties .We just never made it happen but it excited him which is why he readiily agreed when Dr Holt suggested an open relationship may be of benefit but for me of course...not him . ” Maya nodded, jotting down notes. “Well his small size aligns with the clinical threshold of a micropenis. And Adrian?” Emma smiled. “Adrian is… well, he’s on the opposite end of the spectrum. He’s just over 8 inches when fully aroused. So yes, he’s considered well above average.” Maya and Laura looked up from their notebooks and at each other smiling and a little intrigued . “That’s a significant difference.... 5 or 6 inches difference WOWW” “It is,” Emma said "and its just just his length his girth its so thick as thick as my wrist my husbands is no thicker than my thumb". “But what matters most isn’t just numbers—it’s how each of them shows up in our relationship. Daniella brings tenderness, emotional depth, and a kind of intimacy that’s incredibly powerful. Adrian brings a physical intensity so satisfying its very pleasurable being with him and a different he makes me feel like a woman . I shouldn't compare them physically but its impossible not to . I appreciate them for who they are though ” Maya nodded slowly. “That’s really helpful. It reminds me that anatomy is just one part of the picture. Connection, trust, and emotional safety matter just as much ."well nearly as much" Laura said teasingly but I know I can never accept a mans inability to make love to me if he was that small I would ceertainly cheat on him or dump him” Emma smiled. “Exactly given the choice I will opt for the physical pleasure over the emotial one ..certainly now . And I think your research will be stronger for including that perspective some woman can never find satisfaction if their partner is too small unless a workaround is found .” Scene: The Clinic – Afternoon Discussion Circle The group had reconvened after a short break. The atmosphere was calm, the tone reflective. Maya, notebook in hand, had been listening intently as Emma spoke about the different ways she experienced intimacy with both Adrian and Daniella. Maya hesitated, then asked gently, “Emma, if it’s okay to ask… when you’re with Adrian, you’ve described the experience as intense. Does his size ever cause discomfort? And… when you’re with Daniella, can you feel him at all ...just to confirm ?” Emma smiled, appreciating the sincerity behind the question. She took a moment, then continued. “With Adrian, yes—he’s very well-endowed, and that does bring a different kind of sensation. At times, it can be overwhelming, but in a good way I have very poweful orgasms with him something I never have with my husband unless its through oral sex. With Adrain We’ve learned how to move together, how to communicate, and how to make it feel safe and pleasurable. It’s not about pushing limits—it’s about trust.” Maya nodded, scribbling notes. “So it’s not painful?” “Not when we’re in sync,” Emma said. “It’s intensly pleasurable feeling him him so deep....feeling full strecthing me , Adrian struggled with how tight down there I was but when I'm excited ..wet ...I'm talking about then I can manage to take him inside of me , so no not painful. And when it is too much, I tell him. He listens. That’s what makes it work.” She glanced toward Daniella who had just arrived to sit beside her he gave her a soft smile. “And with Daniella,” Emma continued, “the experience is different. His body is smaller, more delicate. Penetration isn’t always the focus for us, but when it is, yes—I can't feel him hes just too tiny for me ...especaily now after Adrain .He can never offer the same depth or stretch, but with a kind of emotional closeness that’s almost as powerful. My husband can't make me cum when Hes inside me can you darling ” she turend to look at him.He blushed and felt his penis harden inside its towelling nappy ."No dear " Dr. Holt who was sat by closely listening added gently, “It’s important to remember that sensation isn’t only about size. It’s about presence, rhythm, and emotional connection. The body responds to being seen and cherished.” Emma nodded. “Exactly. Daniella’s touch is tender. When we’re together, it’s like being wrapped in warmth. It’s not about how far in he goes—it’s about how deeply we connect.” Maya looked up, her expression thoughtful. “That’s… beautiful. And really helpful for my research. Thank you for being so open.” Daniella smiled. “We’re glad you’re asking with care. That’s how we all learn.” Scene: The Clinic – Group Reflection Circle The afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the group. Emma sat comfortably beside Daniella, their hands loosely intertwined. Maya, ever thoughtful and curious, leaned forward in her chair, her notebook resting on her lap. “If it’s okay to ask,” Maya began, “when you’re in bed with Daniella, what sort of clothes does he I mean she wear? And… when you’re with Adrian, is Daniella ever present in the same room? ?” Emma smiled, glancing at Daniella, who gave a small nod of encouragement. “That’s a good question,” Emma said. “When Daniella and I are together, she usually wears what makes her feel most safe and soft. Often that’s a frilly pink short nightie—something delicate, with lace or satin. Sometimes she wears her favorite pink plastic-lined pants with a nappy. It’s not about function, really—it’s about comfort. About being held in a version of herself that feels true .” Dr. Holt nodded. “Clothing can be a powerful expression of identity. Especially in intimate spaces.” Maya scribbled a note, then looked up again. “And when you’re with Adrian?” Emma’s expression softened. “Sometimes Daniella is present, yes. Not always in our bed we might place next to it . He might be in his cot, or curled up nearby in the spare room .My baby girl is never excluded—this is something we all agreed on. When she’s there, she usually wears the same things. Her nightie, her soft frilly baby things. It helps her feel grounded.” Daniella added quietly, “It’s not about watching them . not always .. It’s about being close. Feeling the energy. Knowing Emma is safe and happy.... pleasured That’s what matters to me.” Dr. Holt offered a gentle reflection. “What you’re describing is a beautiful example of negotiated intimacy. Everyone’s needs are acknowledged. Everyone’s presence is honored.” Maya looked between them, her eyes wide with admiration. “It’s so layered. So intentional.” Emma nodded. “It has to be. But when it works… it’s incredibly fulfilling.” Scene: The Clinic – Evening Reflection Circle The room was quiet now, bathed in the soft amber glow of the lamps. The group had grown closer over the course of the day, their conversations deepening with each shared truth. Daniella sat ,soft pink satin knickers, the plastic lining gently rustling as she shifted. It was a sound that had become familiar in the space—one that spoke of comfort, not shame. Emma sat nearby, her voice calm and reflective. “There are nights when Adrian and I are together, and Daniella is in the room. Not as a bystander, but as someone who is part of the energy. She’s not excluded. She’s held in the moment, even if she’s not physically involved.” Maya, ever curious, leaned forward. “And how does that make you feel , Daniella? Being there, hearing…seeing everything?” Daniella smiled softly. “It’s hard to explain. There’s something deeply affirming about it. Hearing Emma’s pleasure, the rhythm of their connection, the way the room fills with that energy—it doesn’t make me feel left out. It makes me feel… trusted. Like I’m part of something sacred.” Emma added, “Sometimes I’ll hear the softest rustle from her cot. The sound of satin and lace shifting. I know she’s there, feeling it in her own way. And I love that. I love that she’s not hiding.” "you mean he's masturbating while you are having sex with your lover "? Dr. Holt nodded. “That’s a powerful example of negotiated intimacy. It’s not always about voyeurism. It’s about presence. About being seen and accepted in your truth. Daniella clearly likes having to relinquish his male duties and allow another man a much better endowed man make love to his wife whislt he takes on the role of their sissy baby girl ...a cuckold ” Maya looked thoughtful. “So Daniella experiences pleasure too, in her own way ?” Daniella met her gaze. “Yes. Sometimes it’s emotional. Sometimes it’s physical. But always, it’s safe. It’s chosen. I’m not there to compare myself to Adrian. I’m there to witness Emma’s joy. And in that, I find my own.” Dr. Patel added, “This is what it means to expand our understanding of intimacy. It’s not always about touch. Sometimes it’s about resonance. About being in the room when love is happening.” Maya scribbled in her notebook, then looked up. “I think this is the most human thing I’ve ever studied. ” Emma reached for Daniella’s hand. “And the most honest.” Scene: The Clinic – Evening Reflection Circle (Continued) The room had grown quieter, the earlier conversations giving way to a more contemplative stillness. Maya, still processing the depth of what she’d heard, turned toward Daniella with a gentle curiosity. “I hope this isn’t too forward,” she began, “but I’ve been thinking about something. Daniella, when you’re present—when you see Emma with Adrian—how does that feel for you? Emotionally, I mean. Is it difficult? Or is it… something else?” Daniella looked up, her expression calm and open. “It’s a mix of things. At first, I thought it might hurt. That I’d feel replaced or small. But what I’ve come to realize is that watching Emma be fulfilled—seeing her body respond, hearing her joy—it doesn’t take anything away from me. It adds to us and like Dr Holt said its highly erotic seeing my wife fucking another man ” Emma nodded, her voice soft. “I always know when Daniella’s there. Even if she’s quiet, I can feel her presenc And sometimes, I’ll hear the faintest rustle from her cot—just the sound of her shifting or playing with her self in her her frilly bbay clohes —and I know she’s with me in spirit. That she’s happy and that makes me happy.” Maya’s eyes widened slightly, not in shock, but in awe. “So it’s not about comparison. It’s about connection.” “Exactly,” Daniella said. “Adrian gives Emma something I can’t. But I give her something he can’t, too. And when I’m there, I’m not excluded. I’m part of the moment, even if I’m not physically involved. I feel the energy. I feel the love.” Dr. Holt added, “This is a beautiful example of how intimacy can be redefined. It’s not about fitting into a mold. It’s about creating a space where everyone’s needs are honored.” Maya scribbled a note, then looked up again. “I think I’m starting to understand. Intimacy isn’t just about bodies. It’s about presence. About being seen, and seeing others fully.” Emma smiled. “That’s the heart of it. And when Daniella is there, I feel more whole. More myself.” Daniella reached for Emma’s hand, her voice steady. “And I feel proud. Proud to witness her joy. Proud to be part of something so honest.” Scene: The Clinic – Evening Reflection Circle (Continued) The room had grown still, the kind of quiet that invites honesty. Emma sat with her hands folded, her gaze soft as she considered Maya’s question. “You asked earlier about fulfillment,” she began. “About whether Adrian makes me climax, and whether Daniella has. And I want to answer that in a way that honors both of them.” She looked first to Daniella, then to the group. “With Adrian, yes—there’s a physical intensity that often leads to climax. He knows my body well, and we’ve built a rhythm that’s powerful. But it’s not just about the release. It’s about the way he holds me afterward, the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world. That’s what makes it meaningful.” Maya nodded, listening intently. “With Daniella,” Emma continued, “our intimacy is different. It’s slower, more emotional. Sometimes it’s playful, sometimes it’s deeply nurturing. And yes, I’ve climaxed with Daniella too—but it’s not always the goal. Sometimes the most powerful moments are when we’re just holding each other, breathing together, feeling safe.” Dr. Patel smiled. “That’s a beautiful reminder that pleasure isn’t always about intensity. Sometimes it’s about presence.” Daniella added softly, “I used to worry I couldn’t give Emma what she needed. But she helped me see that what we share is just as real. Just as complete.” Maya looked down at her notes, then back up. “So fulfillment isn’t about comparison. It’s about connection.” Scene: The Clinic – Quiet Conversation Between Emma and Maya Later that evening, Maya and Emma sat together in the garden courtyard, the soft hum of night settling around them. Maya, still processing the day’s conversations, turned to Emma with a thoughtful expression. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” Maya began. “About how intimacy with Daniella is different from with Adrian. I hope it’s okay to ask… is penetration with Daniella something that brings you pleasure too? Or is it more about other kinds of connection?” Emma smiled gently, appreciating Maya’s curiosity and the care in her tone. “That’s a really good question,” she said. “And I’m glad you’re asking it with such thoughtfulness.” She paused, choosing her words with care. “With Daniella, penetration isn’t the focus. It can be part of our intimacy, but it’s not where the depth of our connection lives. What we share is about emotional resonance, trust, and the way we attune to each other. Sometimes, yes, I do climax with her—but it’s not always through the ways people expect. It’s through closeness, through the way she touches me, the way she sees me.” Maya nodded slowly. “So it’s not about size or mechanics. It’s about presence.” “Exactly,” Emma said. “Pleasure isn’t one-size-fits-all. With Daniella, it’s like being wrapped in warmth. There’s a softness to our intimacy that’s incredibly powerful. It’s not about how much—it’s about how deeply we connect.” Maya smiled, scribbling a note. “That’s going in my case study. Thank you for being so open.” Emma looked up at the stars. “If your research helps people understand that intimacy can take many forms, then it’s worth sharing.”. Maya hesitated, then asked, “If you had to choose—between Adrian’s size and Daniella’s—what would you prefer? I know it’s a sensitive question, but I’m trying to understand how physical differences shape emotional connection.” Emma took a breath, her expression thoughtful. “I understand why you’re asking,” she said gently. “And I’ll give you a direct answer—but I want to be clear that preference isn’t just about size. It’s about context, emotion, and the kind of connection I’m seeking in that moment.” She paused, then continued. “Adrian’s size brings a certain intensity. It’s powerful, grounding, and deeply physical. There are times when I crave that kind of presence—when I want to feel completely enveloped.” Maya nodded, listening closely. “But with Daniella,” Emma said, her voice softening, “it’s different. Her body is smaller, yes, but the intimacy we share is incredibly rich. It’s tender, emotionally charged, and deeply affirming. There are moments when that kind of closeness is exactly what I need.” She looked Maya in the eye. “So if I had to choose?well of course I would choose Adrian's size because my orgasms are intense and as I have mentioned he makes me feel like a woman he cums so very deep inside me its a lovely feeling .” Maya smiled, closing her notebook. “That’s the most honest answer I could’ve hoped for. and do you use condoms then ” No no I like to feel his seed hit my cervix ,its a warm pleasurably feeling and I do take precautions and if I get preganst by him thats something we will have to talk about I.m not opposed to having children" Scene: The Clinic – Daniella’s Reflection The group had gathered again in the soft light of the evening, the atmosphere quiet and open. Daniella sat with her hands folded, her voice calm but full of feeling. The discussion was now about Adrain taking control ,the man of the house the Alpha male as Dr Holt described. Dr Holt brougt up the subject of roles and everyone adapting to them . She asked Emma if she has disciplined her husband since he has now regressed to that as her sissy cuckold. " I have slapped him on the bottom for back talking me once or twice and when i asked Adrain to take over in future he was happy to oblige to be honest I found it stimulationg to watch. "Thats really interesting Dr Holt replied so you allow your lover to punish your husband in what way exactly"? The room was silent as Emma relayed a just the other day she watched Adrain place Daniella over his lap ,pull down his frilly knickers and nappy while she lifted the dress out of the way and watched intently as her lover spanked her sissiesfied husvbands bare bottom to thhe point of tears. Dr Holt turend to Daniella "and how did that make you feel ?" When I’m in that moment,” he began, “when Adrian places me across his lap, it’s not about pain. It’s about surrender. About choosing to be vulnerable with someone I trust completely.” he paused, glancing at Emma, who gave her a gentle nod of encouragement. “There’s something powerful about being in that position,” Daniella continued. “It reminds that I'm not in control . That I can let go surrender .” Maya leaned forward, her voice soft. “And how does it feel, emotionally?” Daniella smiled. “ I feel small vulnerable and , yes its humilaiting —but in a way I do enjoy it ” Emma added, her voice warm, “Watching Daniella in that space is deeply moving. There’s a kind of beauty in her openness. It’s not about punishment—it’s about accepting her baby side About being seen and loved, even in moments of correction.” Dr. Holt nodded thoughtfully. “It sounds like a ritual of trust. A way of affirming roles that bring comfort and clarity.” Daniella agreed. “Exactly. It’s not about what’s done the infraction —it’s about why. And for me, it’s about being reminded that I’m safe, Adrain is the man and my husband is our baby girl and understands who is in charge .I find it increadibly arousing to watch . ” And you Daniella do you find it arousing when being spanked by him " Dr holt asked teasingly with a sexy smile knowing the likely answer. He looked at the ground and paused ,"I have to admit shamefully yes it gives me a thrill "Its to be expected don't be emabarressed ,you enjoy the humiliation of not only being a cuckold ..one dressed as a baby girl but but additionally your sumbmissivness creates a need for humiliation and what is more humiliating than being spanked across your wifes lovers thigh ?" "Your tiny penis only adds to this humilaition insofar you are unable to give your wife the pleasure she desires .So you not only actively encourage her adultry you encourage it and accept, .Many sissy adult babies desire some form of humilation ,their maschotistic tendancies manifest in many ways ,some like you have avery small undersized penis or slightly... real men larger but have that overwhemling desire to see their wives or girlfreinds pleased with much larger men real men ,you are not the only sissy I have come across in my clinic. I hope you both will be happy going forward .We can book another appointemnt in three months for update." The room was quiet for a moment, the weight of her words settling gently among them. It was a portrait of intimacy not defined by convention, but by choice, trust, and the courage to be fully known. TO BE EDITED

After reading a few nice stories here in the forum, I would like to contribute one of my own. I hope you enjoy the first part. And I hope I'll find time for the sequel soon. Feel free to write what you think about the story. My journey back to babyhood – Part 1 Susan had invited me to dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant. San Marco was a very popular restaurant in our town, known not only for its truffle pasta and fresh fish, but also for its overpriced menu. That was one reason why we only went there on special occasions. Upon arrival, we were led to a cozy round table with a purple bench. Susan asked for the drink menu and opened it. “I think I'll have a glass of Zinfandel. What about you, my little boy? I'm not sure if they serve warm milk here,” she said with a broad smile. It was a month ago when Susan found my special suitcase with some adult diapers in it. It wasn't entirely new to her that I had a slight incontinence problem and sometimes used pull-up pants or pads when we went out for a big night of drinking. After a certain amount of alcohol, I couldn't control my bladder as usual. We had talked about it a few times, and I had also told her that I liked the feel of the pants and that wearing them gave me some stress relief. Susan agreed to share a whole bottle of our favorite wine, Zinfandel, tonight instead of lukewarm milk. After she ordered, she put her hand between my legs and squeezed my padded bulge. “That feels pretty warm. Did you wet yourself already? Good thing we put this nice thick diaper on you.” I swallowed a little and confirmed that I had wet myself a little on the way to the restaurant. On the day Susan found out about the suitcase, I was very surprised when she showed me a fresh white diaper. Then she ordered me to strip naked, lie down on our bed, placed the diaper under my bottom, oiled my buttocks and testicles, and professionally fastened the diaper around me. It all happened so fast that I could hardly explain, complain, or resist. Susan was also surprised by my hard erection while she was oiling my lower body. Then she let me get up and touched and stroked my plastic-backed diaper. “That looks very secure. I didn't know they made such nice diapers for adults these days. Why didn't you show me this sooner? The plastic feels very comfortable, and judging by your hard-on, you really like being in it.” Susan made me wear the diapers all evening, and it felt great. I was only allowed to use the diaper until it was completely full. While we were preparing dinner—me wearing only a T-shirt and my diaper—Susan kept checking how thick the diaper had become, touching and hugging me and calling me “my little diaper boy.” During dinner, we talked about me wearing diapers and how she liked it, especially because it turned me on. Later that night, we had the best sex of our lives. And since that night, Susan has ordered me to wear diapers every time we're at home. We had just finished our first plate when the main course was served. Susan had a sea bass fillet and I had a “Café de Paris” fillet steak. “So, what's the occasion for the invitation tonight?” I asked as I took the first bite of my steak. “Oh, I have some really great news: I've been promoted. Next month, I'll be a senior executive at our company.” I was speechless. Susan had only been working at this new IT company for two years and had climbed all the rungs of the ladder in no time. And now she was going to be a senior executive. “That's really fantastic! I'm very proud of you,” I said and gave her a big hug. “There's only one hurdle we have to overcome: we have to move to Seattle, to my headquarters. But everything has already been arranged, and you'd be crazy to say no. The company has already found us a new house with a pool and garden and will double my salary!” Double her salary... that was crazy. Susan already earned much more than I did. It was almost insane. And with that thought in the back of my mind, I felt myself losing control and wetting myself profusely. It just ran out and filled the front and bottom of my diaper almost completely. This time, I put my hand between my legs to check if I had already wet my jeans as well. “Did you wet yourself again?” Susan asked. My face turned purple. “Yes, I couldn't control it. Maybe it was the wine again, or your good news.” Now Susan checked my bottom again. “Everything's fine, you're still dry. But I think you'll need a new diaper when we get home.” Neither of us had noticed that the waiter was standing behind us at that moment. I wasn't sure if he had heard us, but he smiled somewhat confusedly and asked if we needed anything else or if he could bring the check. … to be continued.

This is a long story that develops the characters over time. I will post the first chapter now, and add to it as time passes. Comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated. Chapter 1: The Beginning or the End Carolyn was forty-one, 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 still had 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 hypnotherapist with a discreet practice on the north side of the city. She was petite, dark-haired, always dressed in flowing black, and 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 nice glass of wine and Carolyn with tall glasses of peach iced tea—Carolyn never touched alcohol—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.” They shook hands like business partners. Three nights later Linda arrived for what David thought was a casual dinner. He liked Linda—she flattered him, kept his bourbon coming, and laughed at his war stories. 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 David’s throat. “Good boy.” Linda snapped her fingers. David blinked, straightened, and reached for his bourbon as if nothing had happened. That night, at 3:17 a.m., David stirred. His bladder pressed full and heavy. Normally he would swing his legs over the side of the bed, pad to the bathroom, stand tall, aim. Instead, still half-dreaming, he relaxed. A hot flood spread beneath him, soaking his cotton pajama bottoms, pooling under his hips. He sighed, rolled over into the wetness, and slept again. At six-thirty the alarm buzzed. David woke to the clammy reek of urine. He sat bolt upright, heart racing. “No. No, no, no—” He ripped the sheets off, balled them in a panic, and stuffed them into the washing machine on hot before Carolyn stirred. He showered twice, scrubbing himself raw, and swore it was a one-time fluke—too much bourbon, stress, anything. The next night it happened again. Same warm surrender, same shameful dawn discovery. He was shaking when he hid the second set of sheets. On the morning of the third day Carolyn “discovered” the wet sheets. She touched his arm with theatrical tenderness. “Honey… the bed was wet again. It’s okay. It happens. We’ll figure it out together.” David’s face burned crimson. “It’s not—I don’t know what’s—” “Shh. I love you. We’ll get through it.” That evening Linda returned. Dessert had barely been served when she leaned across the table and murmured, “Lawyer’s rest.” David’s eyes glazed. Fork frozen halfway to his mouth. Linda’s voice was velvet. “Tomorrow morning, when you wake up wet again, you will feel overwhelming relief at the thought of wearing diapers. You will tell Carolyn—your own idea—that the adult thing to do, the responsible thing, is to wear protection until this passes. You will feel proud for suggesting it. You will not remember I told you this.” Snap. David finished his cheesecake, oblivious. The next morning, voice trembling, David said exactly what he’d been told to say. Carolyn let tears well—perfect, sympathetic tears. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s so mature of you. Of course we’ll get what you need.” By noon they were in a bland medical supply store that smelled of plastic and antiseptic. David’s ears flamed as the clerk—heavy-set, bored—rang up a case of thick, white adult diapers with blue leak guards and tiny teddy-bear prints along the landing zone. “Overnight maximum absorbency,” the clerk said cheerfully. “These’ll hold anything.” Back home, Carolyn unwrapped the first diaper with ceremonial care. David stood in their bedroom in just his socks, hands awkwardly covering his groin. “Lie back, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Let me take care of you.” The diaper crinkled obscenely as she slid it under him, dusted him with powder that smelled like babyhood and surrender, and taped it snug. His tiny penis twitched against the padding, already half-hard from pure humiliation. “There,” she whispered, patting the front. “My big strong lawyer, safe and dry.” That night they went to bed. David lay rigid, listening to the loud rustle every time he moved. 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 soaked in a teddy-bear 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.

A Morning After They Both Craved The first rays of sunlight filtered through the nursery curtains, casting a soft pink glow over the crib where Daisy lay curled up, the thick teddy-bear diaper sagging heavily between her thighs. The overnight padding had done its job—absorbent core swollen with multiple floods of shame-fueled leaks throughout the night. Every time the baby monitor crackled to life with Carolyn's moans or Marcus's deep grunts, Daisy had whimpered into her pacifier, hips grinding helplessly against the mattress, the low hum of the plug teasing her without mercy. The nursery door creaked open. Carolyn slipped in, still naked from the night before, her skin flushed and marked with faint love bites. Marcus loomed behind her, boxers slung low on his hips, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Good morning, my little princess," Carolyn cooed, unlocking the crib side with a soft clack. She lowered the bars and leaned in, inhaling deeply. "Ooh, someone made a big messy in her diapee. Did hearing Mommy and Daddy all night make you all squishy and excited?" Daisy nodded, cheeks burning under the smeared makeup from last night. The pacifier bobbed in her mouth as she mumbled, "Y-yes, Mommy..." Marcus chuckled, folding his arms. "Look at her—woke up stewing in her own piss like a real baby. Pathetic." Carolyn helped Daisy sit up, the diaper squelching audibly with the movement. She guided her out of the crib, forcing that familiar waddle as they crossed to the changing table. Daisy climbed on obediently, lying back on the padded surface stacked with fresh diapers, wipes, and powder. "Legs up, baby girl," Carolyn instructed, peeling open the tapes. The soaked padding fell away with a heavy thud, revealing Daisy's smooth, hairless skin and the tiny pink cage locked snugly around her clit—still glistening with pre-cum from hours of denied arousal. "Tsk tsk," Carolyn teased, wiping her clean with cool baby wipes. "Such a leaky little sissy. No wonder you need these big thick diapers every night." She dusted on a generous cloud of powder, the sweet scent filling the air, then slid a fresh overnight diaper—pink with dancing bunnies—under Daisy's hips. The tapes pulled tight, forcing her thighs apart in that humiliating bulk. Marcus watched from the doorway, stroking his chin. "Damn, she's cute like that. All powdered and padded like a toddler." Carolyn zipped Daisy into a fresh frilly nightie—short enough to show off the diaper's ruffled edges—and clipped the pacifier back around her neck. "There. All clean and ready for the day. But first... Mommy and Daddy need a little morning fun. And you're going to help." Daisy's heart raced with that intoxicating mix of dread and desire. She loved this—craved the humiliation that made her feel so small, so owned. Being Carolyn's sissy baby cuck was her deepest fantasy come true, every degrading moment a twisted proof of their love. Carolyn took Daisy's hand and led her down the hall to the master bedroom, the diaper crinkling with every waddling step. Marcus followed, his presence a towering reminder of who really satisfied his wife. In the bedroom, the sheets were still rumpled from the night's marathon. Carolyn pushed Daisy gently toward Marcus, who dropped his boxers and sat on the edge of the bed, his thick cock already stirring. "Fluff Daddy for me, baby," Carolyn purred, pressing down on Daisy's shoulders until she knelt. "Get him nice and hard so he can fuck Mommy properly. That's your job now—prepping the real man who makes me scream." Daisy hesitated for a split second, but the rush of shame-bliss washed over her. She leaned in, glossy lips parting to take Marcus into her mouth. The musky taste of last night's sex lingered, making her whimper as she sucked gently, tongue swirling to coax him to full hardness. Marcus groaned, threading fingers through her ringlets. "Fuck yeah... good girl. Your mouth was made for this." Carolyn watched with gleaming eyes, one hand idly rubbing the front of Daisy's diaper. "See how excited she gets? My little Daisy loves fluffing Daddy. It reminds her how tiny and useless her own clitty is." Minutes later, Marcus was rock-hard, veins throbbing. Carolyn guided Daisy to the chair beside the bed—the same one from last night—and secured her wrists behind it with soft cuffs. No gag this time; she wanted to hear the whimpers. "Watch closely, sissy baby," Carolyn said, climbing onto the bed and straddling Marcus. "This is what a real wedding morning looks like." She sank down onto him with a deep moan, taking every inch in one slow glide. Marcus gripped her hips, thrusting up to meet her, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm. Carolyn's breasts bounced as she rode him, head thrown back in ecstasy. "Oh God—yes— so much deeper than you could ever go, Daisy," she gasped, locking eyes with her bound husband. "Marcus fills me completely... makes me cum so hard..." They switched positions fluidly—Marcus flipping her onto her back, hooking her legs over his shoulders for deep, pounding strokes. The headboard thumped the wall. Carolyn's nails raked his back as she climaxed, crying out his name in waves of pleasure. "Fuck me—harder— you're so much better than my little diaper boy..." Daisy watched it all, squirming in the chair, the fresh diaper growing warm and damp as she leaked uncontrollably. Her caged clit strained against the plastic, aching with denied need. But oh, the emotions—the raw, overwhelming love for this life. She adored Carolyn's dominance, the way she orchestrated every humiliation with wicked affection. Being cuckolded like this, forced to witness her pleasure with a superior man, filled Daisy with blissful surrender. It was perfect, consensual torment—proof that Carolyn knew her deepest cravings and loved her enough to fulfill them. Tears of joy and shame streaked her cheeks as she whimpered, hips bucking uselessly. When Marcus finally roared and spilled deep inside Carolyn, she collapsed against him, both panting and glowing. "Time to clean up, baby Daisy," Carolyn said breathlessly, uncuffing her. Daisy waddled to the bed on trembling legs, the diaper squishing softly. First Marcus: she knelt and took his slick, spent cock into her mouth, licking away every trace of their mingled juices with obedient swirls. The salty tang of defeat flooded her senses, making her leak even more. "Good girl," Marcus rumbled, petting her head. Then Carolyn: Daisy buried her face between her wife's thighs, tongue delving deep to lap up the creamy mess. Carolyn sighed contentedly, stroking Daisy's hair. "That's it... swallow every drop of Daddy's cum from Mommy's pussy. You're such a perfect little cuck-baby." When it was done, Carolyn pulled Daisy into a tender hug, the diaper pressing against her hip. "I love you, my sweet sissy. This is our forever—humiliated, diapered, and utterly mine." Daisy melted into the embrace, whispering, "I love you too, Mommy... thank you." Marcus chuckled from the bed. "Breakfast time? Or round three?" Carolyn grinned. "Both. But first, let's get our baby girl some mushy oatmeal—she earned it." And so the morning after their wedding dawned bright and full of delicious, degrading promise.

The church bells still echoed in their ears as Carolyn and Dave stepped over the threshold of their new home, the white dress trailing behind her like a bridal train, his tuxedo already rumpled from hours of celebration. The door clicked shut. The world outside vanished. Carolyn’s smile turned wicked the instant the deadbolt slid home. “Strip, baby boy,” she purred, voice honey-sweet and razor-sharp. “Let’s get you ready for your dream wedding night.” Dave’s fingers trembled as he obeyed, shirt buttons slipping, belt clinking to the floor. When he was naked, his small cock already half-hard and twitching with nervous excitement, Carolyn circled him like a predator. She produced the thick, overnight diaper—pink, printed with tiny rattles and pacifiers—and unfolded it with a loud, crinkling flourish. “Look at this pathetic little baby dick,” she cooed, flicking the head with one manicured nail. “Barely bigger than my thumb. No wonder you begged me to lock the key away months ago.” Dave whimpered, face burning crimson as she powdered him, taped the diaper snugly around his hips, and gave the front a condescending pat. The bulk forced his thighs apart; he already felt small. Next came the vibrating plug—thick, black, merciless. Carolyn slicked it with lube, pressed the tapered tip against his hole, and pushed. Dave gasped, rising onto his toes as it stretched and filled him, the flared base nestling between his padded cheeks. She twisted it once, just to watch him squirm, then clicked it off. “Hold still, sissy.” The frilly pink schoolgirl dress came next—short pleated skirt, puffed sleeves, white lace trimming. She zipped him in, tied an oversized bow at his throat, and stepped back to admire her work. “Oh my God,” she laughed, clapping her hands. “You are adorable. Dave is gone. From now on you’re Daisy. My pretty little sissy baby Daisy.” Daisy’s cock strained uselessly against the diaper, a damp spot already forming. Carolyn guided—no, marched—her to the straight-backed chair waiting beside the bed. Ankle cuffs clicked around each shin, wrist cuffs behind the chair back. A thick penis-shaped gag was forced between Daisy’s lips and buckled cruelly tight, drool already pooling. Finally, a pink leather blindfold was considered, then discarded. “No,” Carolyn decided. “I want you to see everything.” A firm knock sounded at the bedroom door. Carolyn smoothed her wedding dress, checked her lipstick in the mirror, and opened it. Marcus filled the doorway—six-foot-four, broad-shouldered, dark skin gleaming under the hallway light. His tuxedo jacket was gone, white shirt unbuttoned to reveal sculpted chest and abs. He took one look at the bound, diapered, frilly figure in the chair and grinned. “Well, damn, baby. You weren’t kidding.” Carolyn flew into his arms. Their mouths crashed together, hungry and shameless, right in front of Daisy’s wide, watering eyes. Marcus’s huge hands cupped Carolyn’s ass through the satin wedding gown, lifting her slightly so her heels left the floor. She moaned into the kiss, grinding against the obvious bulge in his trousers. Daisy squirmed. The diaper was already warm—he’d leaked without meaning to, a hot flood spreading beneath the padding, soaking the absorbent core. The shame burned deliciously. Clothes came off in a frenzy. Carolyn’s wedding dress pooled at her feet like surrendered lace; Marcus’s shirt hit the floor. When his pants dropped, Daisy’s muffled whine vibrated around the gag. Marcus’s cock—thick, heavy, veined, easily twice Dave’s size—sprang free, already glistening at the tip. Carolyn sank to her knees, wedding veil still pinned in her hair, and took him deep into her mouth with a greedy moan. Marcus threaded fingers through her hair, guiding her rhythm while staring straight at Daisy. “That’s it, Carolyn,” he rumbled. “Show your little husband how a real man gets worshipped.” Minutes later Carolyn rose, pushed Marcus onto the bed, and straddled him. She reached for the small remote on the nightstand, thumb hovering over the button. “Eyes on me, Daisy,” she ordered. She sank down onto Marcus’s cock in one slow, deliberate slide. Both of them groaned; Carolyn’s head fell back, veil tumbling. The moment Marcus bottomed out inside her, she pressed the button. The plug in Daisy’s ass roared to life—vibrating hard, then thrusting in short, relentless pulses. Daisy screamed into the gag, hips jerking uselessly against the restraints. The diaper squished audibly with every involuntary thrust. Carolyn began to ride Marcus, rolling her hips, breasts bouncing in the white lace bra she still wore. Marcus gripped her waist, slamming up to meet her. “Fuck—yes—so much bigger,” she gasped, voice breaking. “So much better than that little baby clit in the diaper. He could never fill me like this… never make me feel this good…” Each word was a dagger of delicious humiliation straight to Daisy’s cock. Pre-cum soaked the already drenched padding; the plug hammered his prostate without mercy, pushing him to the edge and holding him there, unable to tip over. Marcus flipped Carolyn onto her back, hooked her legs over his shoulders, and pounded into her with deep, punishing strokes. The headboard slammed the wall in rhythm. Carolyn’s manicured nails raked down his back as she came the first time, crying out Marcus’s name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Daisy watched every second, tears of overwhelmed arousal streaking his cheeks, diaper swollen and sagging, plug still buzzing and thrusting inside him. When Marcus finally tensed and spilled deep inside Carolyn with a guttural roar, she hit the button again. The plug slowed to a gentle thrum, just enough to keep Daisy aching. Marcus pulled out slowly, cock slick and shining. Carolyn beckoned with one finger. “Time for the baby to clean up.” The restraints came off. Daisy’s legs nearly buckled as Carolyn guided her to the bed on wobbling knees. Marcus sat back against the headboard, legs spread. Carolyn pressed Daisy’s head down gently but firmly. “Open.” The gag was removed; Daisy’s jaw ached. Marcus’s cock—still half-hard, coated in Carolyn’s juices and his own cum—filled Daisy’s mouth. The taste was overwhelming: salt, sex, defeat. Daisy licked and sucked obediently while Carolyn stroked her hair. “Good girl.” When Marcus was clean, Carolyn pushed Daisy between her own thighs. “Now me.” Daisy buried her face in the warm, creamy mess, tongue delving deep, swallowing every drop of another man’s seed from his new wife on their wedding night. Carolyn sighed contentedly, petting Daisy like a favored pet. When she was satisfied, she laid Daisy on her back in the center of the bed, wedding dress discarded nearby like a shed skin. The soaked diaper squelched as she rubbed the front in slow, firm circles. “Cum for Mommy, baby Daisy. Right in your messy diaper like the little diaper slut you are.” It took less than thirty seconds. Daisy arched, keening, and flooded the already ruined padding with thick ropes of pent-up release. The warmth spread everywhere, shame and bliss indistinguishable. Carolyn cleaned her up with baby wipes, powdered her again, and taped on a fresh overnight diaper—even thicker, decorated with tiny teddy bears. Over it went a frilly pink nightie with ruffled bloomers. Marcus watched from the doorway, arm around Carolyn’s waist, both of them glowing with afterglow. Carolyn took Daisy’s hand—small and trembling in her firm grip—and led her down the hallway toward the nursery. The fresh diaper was impossibly thick between Daisy’s thighs, forcing a waddling gait that made the ruffled bloomers swish with every humiliating step. Marcus followed close behind, one large hand resting possessively on Carolyn’s hip, his deep chuckle rumbling whenever Daisy stumbled. “Listen to that crinkle, baby,” Carolyn teased over her shoulder. “Everyone at the reception thought you were such a big, strong man in that tux. If only they could see you now—waddling like a toddler who just filled her pants.” Marcus laughed. “Damn right. Look at those little legs trying to close. That thing’s gotta be twice as thick as what a real baby wears.” They stopped in front of a white door decorated with a hand-painted sign in pastel cursive: Daisy’s Nursery ♡ Carolyn pushed it open and flicked on the light. The room was a pink paradise of calculated regression. Soft rose walls were stenciled with teddy bears holding rattles and balloons. A changing table—adult-sized, complete with stacked towers of oversized pink diapers, wipes, powders, and lotions—dominated one wall. Above it hung a mobile of spinning pacifiers and plush toys. In the corner sat a rocking horse with a pink saddle and reins. Shelves displayed rows of frilly dresses, bonnets, booties, and onesies in every shade of pastel. A faint scent of baby powder and lavender hung in the air. And in the center stood the crib: white bars rising high enough to contain even a grown adult, topped with a locking hinged side. The mattress was covered in waterproof vinyl printed with tiny ducks and diapers, piled high with stuffed animals and a thick comforter folded at the foot. A large pink pacifier clipped to a ribbon dangled from one bar. Daisy’s breath hitched. This was the room they’d built together in secret over the last year—every detail chosen by Carolyn, every purchase making Daisy leak helplessly into whatever diaper she’d been wearing that day. Carolyn guided her forward until Daisy’s padded hips bumped the crib railing. “Go on, sissy baby,” she cooed. “Climb in. Show Marcus how obedient my little Daisy is.” Daisy hesitated, cheeks flaming. Marcus folded his arms, smirking. “What’s the matter, princess? Too big for your crib? Nah—you’re exactly the right size. Tiny where it counts.” With a whimper, Daisy gripped the bars and hoisted one leg over, the diaper crinkling obscenely loud in the quiet room. She had to squat awkwardly to clear the high side, the bulk between her legs spreading them wide. When she finally tumbled onto the mattress, the impact made the fresh padding squish softly beneath her bottom. Carolyn leaned over the rail, smiling down like a proud but wicked mommy. “Look at you,” she whispered, voice dripping with mock affection. “My pretty little diaper girl, safe behind bars where you belong. No big-boy bed for you tonight—or any night. Real men get to sleep with their wives. Pathetic little diaper babies like you get locked in their cribs with a diaper on and a plug up their asses and dreams of what they'll never have.” Daisy's cock twitched traitorously in the thick padding, the humiliation flooding her with that familiar, intoxicating heat. Marcus chuckled low from behind them, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Look at her, Carolyn. Bet that tiny clit of hers is already leaking again." "Oh, I know," Carolyn replied airily, “Now look at Daisy: all diapered up for the night in her pretty nightie, and not a single hair below her head because real babies don't get pubes. Isn't that right, sweetie?” Say 'yes, Mommy' if you agree you're just a worthless, tiny dicked diapered sissy loser who couldn't satisfy any woman." Daisy's voice came out small and broken, barely above a whisper, her face buried in her hands. "Y-yes, Mommy... I'm just a worthless, tiny dicked diapered sissy loser..." "Louder, baby! Let Daddy Marcus hear how much you love being my humiliated little cuck-baby. Or do I need to turn that plug back on and make you hump the crib bars like the desperate slut you are?" "Yes, Mommy!" Daisy yelped, the words tumbling out in a rush, her body trembling with the exquisite burn of shame. "I'm just a worthless, tiny dicked diapered sissy loser who couldn't satisfy any woman!" Marcus barked a laugh, pulling Carolyn back against his chest for a quick, possessive kiss over Daisy's head. "Damn, she's good at this. You train her up nice, or does she just come pre-loaded with that sissy whimper?" "Both," Carolyn said with a wink, then turned back to Daisy, hoisting her up by the armpits like a toddler and plopping her unceremoniously onto the crib's mattress. The padding whooshed softly under her weight, the diaper squishing against the waterproof sheet. "Up you go, my leaky little mess-maker. Time to tuck in the sissy who couldn't even keep her diapers dry during the vows." Carolyn tested the latch with a rattle, then leaned over the rail, her full breasts spilling forward in a way that made Daisy whimper and avert her eyes. She clipped the oversized pink pacifier to the front of Daisy’s nightie, then popped it between Daisy’s lips without asking. The rubber bulb filled her mouth completely, reducing any protest to muffled baby babble. Marcus reached through the bars and ruffled Daisy’s hair roughly. “Night-night, princess. Try not to wet the bed too much. Though we both know you will.” "One more thing, sissy Daisy. You were such a good little cum-guzzler tonight, lapping up Daddy's load like it was your favorite baba. So, Mommy's gonna leave your plug on low—just a tiny buzz to remind you what a plugged-up sissy slut you are. And if you flood this fresh diaper before morning? Well, you'll wake up stewing in your own shame, listening to us go at it again. How's that sound? Perfect justice for the husband who traded his balls for a babydoll dress?" Daisy's breath hitched, the low thrum of the plug already pulsing faintly against her insides, syncing with the rapid beat of her humiliated heart. "P-perfect, Mommy... th-thank you..." "You're welcome, my pathetic sissy baby princess." Carolyn blew a mocking kiss, then turned to the dresser, picking up the baby monitor—a sleek white unit with a curly cord. She plugged the speaker end into the outlet just outside the crib bars, positioning it so the grille faced inward, inches from Daisy's ear. The receiver clicked into her hand, its tiny screen glowing faintly. "This little toy? It's so you can hear every filthy detail of what real lovers do. Every moan, every slap of skin, every time I scream Marcus's name instead of yours. You'll be drifting off to the sound of your wife getting railed properly—while you hug your teddy and wish that sad shrimp in your diaper could do half as much." Marcus wrapped his arms around Carolyn from behind, his hands sliding down to cup her hips as he nuzzled her neck. "Hell, maybe we'll crank it up loud enough for the whole neighborhood to know who's really running this house now. Poor Daisy's going to cream her crinkles just from the audio." "Oh, she will," Carolyn purred, flicking off the nursery's overhead light. The room plunged into a soft glow from a star-shaped nightlight plugged into the wall, casting twinkling shadows across the murals like accusatory eyes. “Look at you,” she whispered, voice dripping with mock affection. “My pretty little diaper girl, safe behind bars where you belong. No big-boy bed for you tonight—or any night. Real men get to sleep with their wives. Babies get locked in cribs, listening to Mommy get fucked properly.” "Sweet dreams, baby Daisy. Dream of all the big, thick cocks you'll never measure up to. Mommy and Daddy are going to make this a wedding night you'll leak over for years." With that, Marcus flicked the main switch by the door, bathing the nursery in darkness save for the nightlight's feeble stars. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Daisy alone in the crib—curled up under the comforter, thick diaper crinkling with every shift, the plug's gentle hum a relentless tease against her core. The mobile tinkled overhead, a lullaby of mockery. Through the monitor's speaker, the sounds began almost immediately: the master bedroom door shutting with a thud, the rustle of sheets, Carolyn's delighted laugh bubbling up like champagne—"God, Marcus, I need you again already"—followed by the low rumble of his voice, too muffled to make out but thick with promise. Then the bed creaked, rhythmic and insistent, Carolyn's gasps building to moans that pierced the quiet like arrows: "Yes—harder—fuck me like my sissy husband never could..." Daisy pressed her thighs together, the fresh diaper warming with fresh shame, and surrendered to the night—exhausted, aching, perfectly, utterly fulfilled in her cage of pink humiliation.

I still remember the exact moment I stopped being Dave and became nothing but a ridiculed, leaking sissy baby girl in front of the man who was about to claim my wife. Carolyn had spent the entire day preparing the house, and me. She laid out the outfit on the bed like a wedding dress from hell: the thickest Rearz princess diaper money could buy (already unfolded and sprinkled liberally with baby powder so the scent would announce me before I even walked into a room). Over that came gleaming, crinkly plastic panties trimmed with four rows of cascading white lace. Then the dress: a blinding bubblegum-pink satin confection with a massive built-in petticoat that forced the skirt to flare out obscenely, the hem barely reaching the tops of my thighs. Puffy cap sleeves, a white lace bib collar embroidered with the word “BABY” in glittering rhinestones, and a back zipper she made me beg her to pull while she recorded it on her phone. She finished the look with knee-high white socks that had three rows of ruffled lace, patent pink Mary Janes with tiny silver bells that jingled with every waddling step, and an enormous satin hair bow the size of a dinner plate. Finally she clipped an oversized pink pacifier to the front of the dress with a ribbon that read “SISSY DAISY” in glittery letters. My face was already streaked with humiliated tears when she forced me to drink two full baby bottles of water laced with diuretic, then taped the swollen, already-damp diaper extra tight so there was no chance I’d stay dry for long. At 7:15 the doorbell rang. Carolyn made me open it myself. I toddled to the front door on trembling legs, the bells on my shoes announcing my approach like a leper’s bell. I opened it to find Mark leaning against the frame, arms crossed, smirking down at me. “Well, fuck me,” he laughed, loud enough for the neighbors across the street to hear. “You really are just a pathetic little diapered fairy, aren’t you?” Carolyn appeared behind me in a skin-tight red dress that left nothing to the imagination. She kissed Mark deeply right there on the doorstep, her tongue visible, while I stood frozen in my frills. “Tell him, Daisy,” she ordered, pinching the back of my neck. “Tell Mark exactly what you begged me for on your knees last week.” My voice cracked like a little girl’s. “I—I begged Mommy Carolyn to replace me with a real man while I watch in my wet diapers and sissy baby dress. I begged to be forced to fluff you and clean you both and have everyone find out what a pathetic excuse for a husband I am.” Mark reached down and flipped the front of my tiny dress up, exposing the bulging, already-yellowed diaper for the entire street to see. He gave the sodden padding a loud, wet smack that echoed. “Jesus, it’s already pissed itself,” he announced, laughing. “Come on, baby girl, show me where Mommy keeps the toys.” They marched me into the living room. Carolyn had set up ring lights and three different phones on tripods, all recording in 4K. A large pink playpen sat in the center of the room with a sign on it: “Daisy’s Time-Out Corner.” Mark sat on the couch and spread his legs. Carolyn pushed me to my knees between them, my dress riding up so my plastic panties and soaked diaper were on full display to the cameras. “Time to get Mark ready for your wife, sissy. Show him how grateful you are.” I sobbed openly as I took him into my mouth, the bells on my shoes jingling with every bob of my head. Carolyn narrated the entire thing for the recording. “Look at my little Daisy, everyone. This is what she begged for, remember that. She wrote me pages and pages about wanting to be a cocksucking, diaper-wetting baby while a real man breeds her wife.” Mark grabbed my bow and used it like a handle, forcing himself deeper until I gagged and drooled rivers down my chin onto the lace bib. When he was rock hard and slick, he pulled out and slapped my tear-streaked face with his cock. “Thank me, baby girl.” “Thank you for letting a pathetic diaper baby taste a real man’s cock, Sir,” I whimpered. Carolyn stripped naked and lay back on the couch, legs over Mark’s shoulders. She made me hold her hand like a supportive girlfriend while he entered her in one brutal thrust. She moaned louder than I’d ever heard in fifteen years of marriage. I was positioned on all fours right next to them, face inches from where he was stretching her, forced to watch every stroke while my soaked diaper squished beneath me. Every few minutes Carolyn would reach down and squeeze the front of my diaper, laughing. “Feel how full baby is getting? She always leaks when she watches real sex.” When Mark finally came, he pulled out and shot the last few ropes across my face and open mouth while Carolyn filmed a close-up. Then came cleanup. I lapped her clean while she stroked my hair and cooed, “Good little cuckold baby. This is your new job.” Afterward, the real humiliation began. Carolyn made me kneel in the playpen holding a large white board that read in my own handwriting: “My name is Daisy. I am a diapered sissy baby who begged my wife Carolyn to cuckold me with a real man because my tiny clitty can’t satisfy her. I sucked his superior cock and watched him breed her. I am wearing a soaked diaper and baby dress because this is all I’m good for. Please laugh at me and share these photos so everyone knows the truth.” Mark took hundreds of photos from every degrading angle: face covered in cum and tears, dress flipped up, diaper sagging to my knees, pacifier in mouth, the sign clearly visible. One particularly soul-destroying shot had me on my back in the playpen, legs in the air like a real toddler getting changed, while both of them pointed and laughed. By 11 p.m. the posts were live. Carolyn created a new public Instagram, Twitter, and FetLife account all titled @RealDaisyExposed. The first post, already pinned, was a ten-photo carousel with full captions: “Many of you have asked why I stepped out on my husband Dave. Here’s your answer. Meet Daisy (she/her). She begged for every second of this. Please share widely so nobody ever thinks I’m the bad guy, I’m just giving my little girl exactly what she needs. Diaper checks in the comments encouraged.” Within an hour the photos were everywhere: my coworkers’ group chat, our neighborhood Facebook group, my sister’s family thread, even emailed directly to my boss with the subject line “HR might want to see this.” Comments poured in by the thousands: • “Holy shit that’s actually Dave??” • “Look at the size of that diaper LMAO” • “Tag your friends who need to see this” • “Permanent baby girl now, no going back” Carolyn curled up with Mark on the couch, scrolling through the notifications while I sat locked in the playpen, soaked, sticky, bells jingling every time I sobbed. She looked over at me and smiled, sweet as poison. “You begged for forever, Daisy. Congratulations. As of tonight, Dave is legally dead. From now on, every single person who ever knew you will only ever know the ridiculous, cocksucking, diaper-wetting little girl in the viral photos.” She blew me a kiss. “Sleep tight, baby. Tomorrow we’re going to the mall for your first public outing in the stroller. The whole internet wants to meet you in person.” And as another thousand shares rolled in, the bells on my Mary Janes jingling with every terrified shiver, I finally understood: Daisy wasn’t just exposed. Daisy was eternal.

hello :3 i'm kind of new to all this.... I've been dressing up and playing with diapers on my own for awhile but now I find I'm always thinking about wearing a diaper if I don't have one on. Looking to make friends, learn from other littles and maybe have some playdates.... also would love to meet Mommies and Daddies who I can learn from and potentially talk/play with. I have lots of experience in kink RP scenes, but in my actual play experience with others, ageplay and diaper stuff is new territory hehe Anyway merci! hope you have a really fun day ❤️ 🍼

Hi everyone! I’m Shawn or Sissy Jessica a devoted sissy and adult baby exploring my ABDL journey. I love embracing my submissive, feminine side fully — from wearing pink, ruffled diapers to enjoying the complete sensory experience of waddling, crinkle, and squish. I’m fascinated by diaper training, stretching, and enema play, always aiming to push my limits while remaining safe. I adore the humiliation and submission aspects of ABDL, and I find dressing up in full baby outfits, boosters, and even scented diapers deeply satisfying. I’m here to connect with others who enjoy ABDL, sissy play, and intense diaper experiences, to share tips, stories, and maybe some encouragement for pushing my boundaries.

Date Night (ABDL, Humiliation, Femdom) Mark lay on the soft changing mat in the living room, the cool air against his bare, hairless legs. His heart raced as Susan, his very attractive wife, unpinned his soft white cloth nappy the soaker pad saturated ,between his legs revealing the snug pink chastity cage locked around his smooth little cock. She hummed softly as she began wiping him clean. She wore a tight fitted black dress, revealing an obvious visible pantie line, her hair ,makeup and perfume carefully done. Mark noticed her effort but didn’t think much of it. It was a Friday evening, and sometimes they went out for dinner. Just as Susan lifted his ankles to finish wiping him, the doorbell rang. Mark froze. “Stay right there baby,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his belly as she got up and walked toward the door. Mark lay on the mat, naked from the waist down, the small pink plastic cage clearly visible between his legs. The front door opened, and he heard a woman's voice, warm and friendly. “Susan, you look incredible.” Mark’s breathing increased as he recognized the voice. Lisa, an old friend of wife’s from high school, stepped into the room. She was an open-minded sex therapist who gave lectures at the local girls college on sex education . She always had a relaxed and confident demeanour . Her long blonde hair slim figure and attractive looks made her popular with men as much as his wife did . Mark liked her for her easy-going attitude, though he was certain she had no idea about his more private interests. Lisa paused as her eyes landed on Mark, and a soft chuckle escaped her lips. “Well, well. Isn’t this adorable?” she teased, clearly amused by the sight before her. Mark’s face turned red. He hadn't known Lisa would be there tonight, but Susan must have invited her over. Lisa’s playful tone and easy confidence made it clear that she understood exactly what she was walking into. Mark remained silent, too stunned and embarrassed to speak he quickly covered his genitalia with his hands blushing bright red. Susan returned and knelt beside him whilst he remained laying on the carpet " awww don't be shy in front of Lisa, Lisa this is my sissy baby girl Melissa". Lisa raised an eyebrow and began to laugh hysterically "such a sweet name for a sissy. And you look dressed for something fun,” she said casually. “Who’s the lucky guy?” Susan smiled without looking up from her work. “Someone big. Clearly someone whose idea of good sex isn’t spurting through a tiny chastity cage into soggy nappies and wearing frilly baby clothes.” Lisa burst out laughing, and Susan joined in. Mark’s face burned hotter as he looked between them, confused by his wife's answer. It took him a moment to piece it together. “Lisa’s watching you tonight,” She said as she sprinkled baby powder over him and slid a fresh nappy under his bottom. “I have have a date.” “A date?” Mark blinked, his voice quiet. Susan pinned the thick terry nappy snugly into place. “Yes, remember? We talked about this. You said it was okay .....it makes you excited .” Mark nodded. But he hadn’t known it was tonight or if infact she was going to sleep with other men, Or that Lisa would be here. Susan produced a pair soft crinkly plastic pants from the nappy bag and drew them up his hairless legs. Next came a frilly pink pair of see-through nylon baby knickers covered in lace ruffles across the front and rear .The knickers were so sheer his plastic pants and nappy were visible. His wife tucked in his nappy under the elastic of his plastic pants .Lisa sat watching in amusement "oooohhh yesss such pretty frilly baby knickers he looks adorable Susan " His wife laughed yes my husband likes to dress up all pretty in his baby clothes it makes his tiny willie very hard .Next came his matching short frilly pink baby doll nightie she slipped it over his head the hem falling almost to the crotch of his knickers The pale pink colours and frills designed made him feel very girlie .He was very embarrassed under Lisa’s gaze as she could take er eyes of the sissy adult baby laying on the carpet. She had read about the fetish but his was her first hand experience of the fetish. “Aww, he looks so sweet,” Lisa said. “A proper little baby girl " Susan smiled and grabbed her purse, the key to Mark’s cage hanging around her neck she handed Lisa a spare in case he soiled himself and needed cleaning "There's food in the kitchen for him. You’ll find some pasta and sauce in a container by the fridge. And make sure he eats in the special chair. You’ll definitely know which one I mean when you see it.” “Got it,” Lisa said. “Be a good girl for Lisa,” his wife added as she kissed him on the cheek. Her long dark hair cascading over his face as he smelled her expensive perfume. He watched her as she turned ,staring at the visible pantie line. I bet she was wearing those very sexy string bikini silky nylon panties she had recently purchased from Victoria's secret . Then she was gone. Lisa leaned back. “Didn’t expect me, did you?” Mark shook his head. “Oh yes, I have to admit, I kind of like that,” she said with a smirk. “Susan finally gets to have some pleasure, and you get to dress up as her baby girl. It’s honestly kind of cute.” She gave the front of his frilly knickers a little squeeze. “So nice and thick I know you like your nappies and frilly panties. I bet your little peepee is pressing hard against the inside of that tiny cage right now. isn't ” Mark squirmed, his cock twitching helplessly in its plastic prison. Lisa chuckled. “Yes Susan told me all about your little fetish and your very small penis she said it turns you on when she tells you she can barely feel you inside her, you really like that, don’t you? You enjoy knowing you can never please a woman with a tiny baby sized penis , anything under four inches isn't great but three inches is considered a micro penis and Susan said yours is barely three inches ,It’s okay, baby girl . I know all about your little secret games you play with your wife , how you like to play with her sexy panties .How you confessed it would turn on it if she cheated on you with a much bigger man ,cuckolded you. Well its finally going to happen dear sissy Melissa there's no going back ” Soon, Lisa opened the kitchen door and gestured for Mark to follow. When she spotted the adult-sized highchair pushed up to the kitchen counter, she raised her brows. “Wow... you two really went all in,” she said, amused. The custom piece, clearly expensive and impossible to miss, had only arrived a few weeks ago. She unlatched the tray and helped Mark climb in, his thick diaper pressing down against the cold wooden seat. She buckled him in, locked the tray in place, and retrieved the pasta Susan had left for him. She spooned it slowly into his mouth while watching his face. “Open wide, Melissa...baby girl ” she teased. Mark blushed deeply. The position was humiliating. The tray sat snug against his chest, and the scent of baby powder mixed with the crinkles of his fresh night diaper made him feel completely exposed. Just as he swallowed another bite, a faint hissing sound escaped from beneath the table as a stream of warm pee flowed through his tiny chastity cage, soaking into the soft, terry absorbent padding. Lisa paused, tilting her head. “Did you just...?” Mark stayed quiet, looking down with a red face. She smiled to herself. “Good thing you’re wearing nappies, huh?” Her voice was soft, amused, maybe even a little intrigued. She continued feeding him slowly, clearly enjoying every moment. Mark could feel the warm wetness spreading through his diaper, swelling between his legs and creeping toward the back as he shifted uncomfortably. After dinner, Lisa wiped his face with a washcloth, then nodded toward the rug in front of the living room TV, where a few scattered Lego bricks lay. “Good to go, Melissa . Now sit and play.” Mark obediently waddled over, the thick diaper forcing his legs apart with every step. Sitting took a moment as he shifted awkwardly before finally settling down. As he moved, a baby-pink pacifier swung gently from the clip fastened to his sheer nightie Lisa noticed it, plucked it up, and popped it into his mouth with a firm little smile. “There. Much better.” She turned on the TV and sank into the couch, phone in hand. She scrolled through her feed, occasionally glancing up to watch him. Mark sat stiffly on the rug in front of the screen, cheeks warm with embarrassment as he began building with the Lego bricks. At one point, he thought he heard a soft camera click, but when he looked back, Lisa was just smiling at her phone. Then Lisa’s phone buzzed. She grinned and answered the video call. Susan appeared on screen, lying on a hotel bed, her cheeks flushed and her dark brown hair slightly tousled. “Hold the phone up,” she said to Lisa, her voice low and pleased. “I want him to see.” Lisa angled the phone toward the rug, where Mark sat in full view. With the thick diaper bulging beneath his frilly pink baby girl knickers and the pacifier bobbing between his lips, he looked every bit the overgrown baby girl Susan had promised. His eyes were wide, his face stiff, staring at the screen in stunned silence. A tall man stepped into view behind his wife, shirtless and clearly aroused. He glanced at the screen and let out a short laugh. “Well damn,” he said. “You weren’t kidding hes wearing little girls clothes” Susan smiled, glancing back at him " actually they are baby girls clothes my husband is wearing" before returning her gaze to the camera. “Yes he likes to be kept as my sweet little sissy baby.” The man kissed her neck, then pulled her onto her back. Susan kept her eyes on the screen as he removed his boxers ,his erection springing free its fully hard eight inches ,thick and veiny .He climbed on top of Susan she grabbed his thick oversized shaft with both hands and guided him to her pussy ,he entered her inch by inch , she began moaning softly as his enormous long thick shaft penetrated her aroused wet vagina.The view that sissy and Lisa got was like watching a live porn film ,the mans thrusting driving deeper and deeper ,Susan's' legs wrapped around his back as her body quivered and shook ,she climax quickly followed by another climax, her soft moans turned into loud sobs as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her body. Lisa ended the call a moment later, looking down at Mark with a smirk. “She’s definitely enjoying herself ...he's huge isn't he ? Mark froze, eyes wide. His mouth hung open, the pacifier nearly slipping out. His penis hurt because of his own painful rection caged up in its plastic confines. His wife looked so sexy she never made those noises when they had sex it reinforced his own adequateness . Lisa stayed on the couch, eyes on the TV and fingers scrolling her phone, tossing the occasional teasing remark about Mark’s soggy diaper. He’d soaked it a few times by now, and the swollen bulk squished with every shift he made. Lisa decided to change his nappy. She took him upstairs into his nursery .She laid him on a changing matt and quickly began to pulled his frilly knickers plastic pants down to his ankles she unpinned his nappy and pulled up his nightie out of way .Lisa unlocked his Chasity cage to give him a thorough clean. She smiled as she slid the cage away to reveal the smallest penis she had ever seen in all her 36 years. Mark's penis was less than an inch long flaccid. Lisa giggled "oh mark ,sorry mean Melissa that is so so tiny ,its pathetic you certainly belong in a nappy its so infantile looking ,like a babies penis. No wonder Susan needed a real man with a big thick cock" .Those words began having an effect on Mark and this didn't go unnoticed. Lisa teased him more " he certainly made your wife cum Susan told me she cant cum with you unless you give her oral sex ,she said you are so teeny tiny " Mark shamed by her words but clearly excited his wife shared their sex life and secrets with her friend had the desired effect. His penis sprang up rigid all 2.9 inches and not much thicker than Lisa's index finger. Lisa bust out laughing placing her hand to her mouth stifle her giggling. She took out her phone and took several photos of Mark in his aroused state. After washing him she pinned him into a fresh cloth nappy and drew the plastic pants and frilly knickers that were at his ankles back up around his waist. She settled his nightie and back in place and helping him to his feet placed him into his cot. Lisa left the cage off his tiny penis so he could play with himself later. After a few hours the front door opened and Susan stepped inside, glowing and breathless, her hair a little messy and her smile impossible to hide. Lisa stood, grinning. “Hey Girl. Your baby girl was very good today.” she said, leaning in to kiss her friend on the cheek .Wow he was something wasn't he ...by god he's huge your poor husband was stunned into silence when he saw you and your lover having sex .Hes in his cot ". "Oh gosh Lisa the sex was amazing" she said as they both climbed the stairs and entered the nursery. "He had stamina we did three times ,I'm very sore now .He went so deep inside me it hurt but the feeling of being filled was just amazing." "I'm so pleased for you Susan you deserve a decent sex life even if its not with your husband .I had to changer her nappy she wet herself so much and oh Susan I saw his tiny penis he was so hard when I changed him “ Both woman began laughing. "So are you meeting lover boy again ?" "Oh god yes we are going out again and I'm bringing him home to meet my baby girl ,he can't wait to see her " I think that's a great idea but make sure your lover always sees your husband dressed as a baby girl you need to have clear boundaries and roles if its to work ,who knows perhaps your lover will be a Daddy to your baby husband . As for sex with your husband I would suggest the occasional creaming him into his nappy if she behaves he will need some sexual relief" "And what if he doesn't behave doesn't want to accept it Lisa then what?! "Well that's where Daddy fits in ,he will be in the position of authority ,the Alpha male so he can punish your husband going forward if he causes you any nonsense" "You mean like physically ?" That's exactly what I mean ,your baby husband over your lovers lap, frilly knickers and nappy down to the ankles and spanked on her bottom until she submits and accepts." The two women looked down into the cot at the overgrown baby and laughed. Mark began to sob no please I don't want to be spanked by your lover Susan" Lisa saw right through his pathetic attempts of being against this idea "C'mon Marky we both know you want this ,you are turned on by another man fucking your wife and spanking you this is part of your psyche. I'm no stranger to this sort of thing I have come across similar in couples sessions." Susan agreed "we are going to make this arrangement work like it or not" She lifted up her dress and peeled down her silky white panties and placed them over he baby husbands head ,the panties were sodden with her and her lovers cum. Enjoy your little present, sissy baby”. The wetness and intoxicated smell of sex in the soft silky fabric made his penis fully hard once more. Lisa looked at her pathetic cuckold wearing baby girl clothes and his wife's cummy soiled panties over his head she sniggered and teased the poor baby took her a few more photos on her cell phone before leaving .Susan stood over the rails of his cot stroking his head. “Hey sweetheart how about you come with Me to the bedroom and show her how grateful you are?” Mark’s pulse quickened as she unlocked the side of his cot and followed her to the master bedroom the loud crinkle of his plastic pants accompanying each waddling step. A flush of anticipation coursed through him as a warm trickle of precum dripped into the already soaked absorbing material between his legs. His wife lay back on the bed, parting her thighs, her body flushed and already dripping with arousal from her earlier encounter. Mark knelt between them, knowing what to do. He was till wearing her panties on his head so Susan moved them slightly away from his mouth as his tongue gliding over her slick pussy, it was red and swollen and gaping with slow, hungry strokes he licked her wetness. The sharp scent enveloped him, and the lingering taste of another man's release coated his lips, unmistakable as he savoured their juices. Each deliberate lick deepened her moans, her pulsing heat urging him on. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, hips rocking until she shuddered in climax, holding him firmly against her. His dick throbbed, straining with unfulfilled desire, yet a quiet thrill filled him, revelling in the pleasure her lover had given her and the pleasure he was giving with his tongue. "Does my baby girl want another present?" She reached between his legs and withdrew his fully erect baby sized penis from the leg opening of his frilly knickers. She guided his miniscule member to the entrance of her soaking wet gaping pussy the tiny thin shaft slipped in with ease but this time her vagina felt different. She was much more looser than she had ever felt before .He began to moan softly into her ear as he pumped his baby dick in and out ,Susan had to hold him tight because he kept slipping out ,she grabbed the waistband of his knickers placed her legs over his shoulders and held him tightly ,he began to cry and sob ,the nose of his frilly knickers and plastic pants crinkling and rustling with each thrust. C'mon baby deeper deeper faster faster , awww poor baby Melissa your tiny little penis is no good for mommy especially now I have been spoilt by such a real man with his big thick eight inches of cock .Don't cry baby this will work out for the best ,we can move your cot in here so you can watch Mummy and Daddy fuck all night long wont that be nice for you eh? And if Lisa cant babysit your you I'm sure one of her pretty students will be able to .I think she is going to use our arrangement as a case study on sissy adult babies" Mark could take no more and his own orgasm jerked its load into his pretty wife as she stroked his head gently and whispered, “You’re such a sweet and understanding baby.” Mark curled against her, warm and content in soaked nappies the plastic pants keeping his frilly knickers dry, her praise sinking deep. In that moment, he felt a surge of acceptance, embracing his role as her cucked little baby girl with a strange, fulfilling pride. “Thank you, Mummy for showing me my place.” His eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted into sleep, comforted by her presence and the sense of belonging beside her.

Harper crossed her legs and glanced around the therapy office with one eyebrow raised. “Is it just me, or does this place look like it belongs in a Montessori catalog?” Pastel blue walls. No desk, just a soft white rug, three beanbag chairs, and shelves stacked with plush animals, board books, and oversized blocks labeled Patience, Listening, and Soft Touch. Dylan shrugged, sinking into one of the beanbags. His knees spread instinctively, until Harper cleared her throat and shot him a look. “Don’t manspread in therapy,” she hissed. He closed his legs like a scolded child. The door opened, and in walked a woman with silky, graying curls, a high-neck cream blouse, and a clipboard in her hand. She smiled, warm but unreadable. “Good afternoon,” she said. “I’m Dr. Cleo Harrow, clinical sexologist and developmental intimacy specialist, but since we’re going to be working closely, I prefer something simpler.” She sat delicately on the beanbag across from them. “You can call me Mommy.” Dylan blinked. Harper coughed. “I—I’m sorry, what?” Harper asked. “Mommy,” she said again, warmly. “All of my clients do. It helps set the tone for re-conditioning.” Harper narrowed her eyes. “We thought this was going to be… you know… adult relationship work. Fixing our sex life. Not—” “Harper,” Mommy Cleo said gently, “when was the last time you let someone touch you without bracing for disappointment?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Just turned the page on her clipboard. “And both of you, when was the last time intimacy felt like something other than work, or worse… obligation?” Harper glanced at Dylan, while Dylan looked down as if the floor suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. Mommy Cleo smiled, not cruelly, just knowingly. “Exactly. That’s why you’re here. So don’t question the means to the end you both claim to want.” She opened the cabinet behind her, soft fabric rustled. “Let’s begin the assessment.” Cleo began with soft questions, typical, even. “How long had they been together? How often were they intimate? What did they feel when they touched each other?” But the more they answered, the more the questions veered. “When you get overwhelmed, Harper, do you shut down or lash out?” “Dylan, would you say you require prompting to act on desire?” “If I gave you both coloring books and a timed task chart, would you find that comforting or condescending?” Ten minutes in, Harper was fidgeting. Dylan was blushing. “Based on your dynamic,” Mommy Cleo said at last, “I’m diagnosing a shared state of arrested erotic development.” “A…what now?” Harper said flatly. “You’ve both regressed emotionally, Harper yours is into avoidance, Dylan into appeasement. You’re functionally incompatible with adult intimacy.” She rose and opened a cabinet behind her. “Which means we don’t move forward with toys, talk therapy, or role reversal games.” She turned, holding up two folded onesies. “We move backwards.” The fabric was pastel. One was pink with “Crybaby 1” stitched across the chest. The other was lavender, ruffled at the shoulders, labeled “Crybaby 2.” “Absolutely not,” Harper said. “I don’t wear pink,” Dylan muttered. “You don’t wear pants either,” Cleo replied calmly. “Not until you’re evaluated for emotional readiness.” She pulled open another drawer and revealed two fluffy white diapers. Printed. Thick. One had little red hearts and pacifiers. The other had cartoon bows and the word sissy in script. Harper blinked, and Dylan swallowed. “You’re free to leave at any time,” Mommy Cleo said sweetly. “But if you stay, you’ll surrender adult privileges for the duration of your therapeutic contract.” “What does that mean?” Dylan asked. “It means no unsupervised bathroom access, no adult language, and no orgasms. Until you earn them.” She smiled as she noted lastly, “And we’ll be locking that away shortly.” Harper stood, arms crossed, staring down at the onesie labeled “Crybaby 1.” “It’s a metaphor, right?” she asked. “Like… symbolic?” Mommy Cleo was crouched beside Dylan, gently taping him into the cartoon-printed diaper with practiced precision. “No, sweetheart. It’s corrective. You’re not being punished, you’re being relieved of responsibility. Adult roles haven’t worked for either of you. So we’re giving your nervous systems what they’ve been craving: safety, containment, surrender.” Dylan whimpered softly as the final tape pressed into place. Mommy Cleo patted the front of his diaper with clinical detachment. “Still dry. Good girl.” Harper blinked. “Did you just—?” “Yes,” Cleo said. “From now on, Dylan will go by Delilah.” “I didn’t agree to that,” he muttered, pink rising in his face. “Exactly,” Cleo replied calmly. “That’s why you’re here.” Dylan shut up after that, he didn’t fight the name, there was really no fight in his to begin with, but something inside him folded. Not with fear, but with the sickening, silent click of inevitability of “Delilah”. It slid over his old name like paint over rotted wood, stripping not just his masculinity, but his history. The worst part? He began to crave seeing how far it would go. The nursery room was shockingly cozy. Two large adult-size cribs sat side by side. Between them, a padded changing bench and a pastel highchair built for two. The walls were lavender and cream, decorated with decals of clouds, moons, and a giant stenciled phrase: “Littles Thrive Under Love & Structure.” Harper hesitated at the threshold. “Is this a sex dungeon disguised as a daycare?” she muttered. “It’s a re-attachment space,” Cleo said, pulling a pair of matching rompers from a drawer. “You’ll be sharing a crib tonight, and every night, until I deem you emotionally differentiated enough to sleep apart.” “What does that even mean?” “It means,” Cleo said, gently pressing the pink romper into her arms, “you still flinch when he touches you, and he still apologizes before every sentence. You’re not partners. You’re co-dependent toddlers with adult resentment.” Delilah stood awkwardly by the changing table, blushing, fidgeting, the diaper crinkling loudly with every shift. Cleo looked at Harper. “Now, do you want to dress her, or shall I?” Harper stared at her boyfriend, no, her diapered… baby sister, and something flickered. Amusement? Power? Maybe even a flicker of curiosity. “I’ll… I’ll do it,” she said. The romper was pale pink with puffed sleeves and a little white heart on the chest that read “Mommy’s Softest Girl.” Harper slipped it over Delilah’s head with practiced ease. She zipped it in the back and pulled the tail of it snug over the thick diaper, patting her partner’s crinkled rear with a mock-smile. Delilah squirmed. “It’s tight…” “You’ll adjust,” Harper said. “Babies don’t complain. Right, Mommy?” Cleo beamed. “Excellent instinct.” Delilah stood awkwardly in her pink romper, head bowed, hands folded over her crinkly diaper, standing between them, his diaper thick, romper zipped, name tag swinging, Delilah felt like a mannequin for their shared undoing of him. Harper adjusted the puffed sleeve while Mommy Cleo smoothed the rump. Their eyes didn’t just see him, they studied him, admired the damage. Every flick of their gaze erased another piece of the man he used to be. Harper finally zipped her up, patted her padded rear, and even smirked, but the satisfaction had faded fast because now, Cleo was holding the other romper. Blue with a frilly pink collar. “Crybaby 1” stitched across the chest in looping baby script. “This one’s yours,” Mommy said, already unzipping the back. Harper didn’t move. “I can do it myself.” But Cleo was already circling behind her. “No, sweetheart, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You keep insisting on doing it all yourself, even when your body’s begging to be helped.” Harper opened her mouth to protest, but the zipper was already gliding down her back. The cool air hit her skin as then hands, gentle and practiced, slid the romper up her legs, over her hips, and snugly over her chest. Cleo adjusted the collar like she was prepping a preschooler for picture day. “There,” Mommy murmured. “Such a brave little girl, letting someone else take over.” Harper swallowed.The fabric was soft, infantile and too snug in the thighs. The collar tickled her neck. She had dressed Delilah without flinching, but now, standing still while Mommy dressed her in return… she felt her throat tighten. Cleo zipped her up slowly. “Regression isn’t weakness. It’s a return to the body, and your body, Harper, has been starved for surrender.” A name tag clicked onto her collar, “Crybaby 1: Harper,” Delilah peeked up at her, eyes wide, and for the first time in weeks, she saw her partner looking at her with something like awe. Once dressed, the two of them stood side by side, identical from the neck down, two padded, flustered, color-coded littles. Mommy clipped name tags onto their collars: “Crybaby 1: Harper” and “Crybaby 2: Delilah.” Then she sat on the changing bench and crossed her legs, clipboard in hand. “Now,” she said. “Before we proceed to feeding hour, we’re going to work on sensate reconditioning.” She looked at Harper. “You’ve internalized withdrawal as protection, from this point forward, I want you to replace it with dominance.” Harper blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” “You’re going to ride her.” Delilah’s eyes widened. “I—ride?” “In your diapers,” Cleo said, as if explaining a yoga pose. “Fully clothed, You’ll sit on her lap, face-to-face, and rock gently while maintaining eye contact. It’s called synchronized regulation. Originally developed for skin-to-skin contact in premature infants. In your case, we’re adapting it to reintroduce pleasure, presence, and a sense of power.” Delilah let out a shaky breath. Harper looked down at her padded hips. “But I—” “There’s no need for direct stimulation,” Cleo said calmly. “That’s not what this is about. It’s about presence layered over surrender, feeling closeness, and the quiet weight of your decision resting on him. He needs to feel that you’re here, that you’ve chosen to lead, and more than that, you need to believe it too.” The crib creaked as Harper climbed in. Delilah lay back, nervous, clutching a plush bunny Cleo had handed her “to fidget with.” Harper straddled him, sitting carefully, the crinkle of both diapers loud in the silence as their eyes met. Harper rolled her hips slowly. The friction was soft. The pressure between them thickened. Delilah whimpered, but didn’t look away. “Say something nice,” Cleo instructed. Harper exhaled. “You look… cute like this.” Delilah blushed. “You feel… safe.” Cleo wrote something on her clipboard and smiled,“We’re getting somewhere.” The nursery had gone quiet except for the soft mechanical hum of the bottle warmer and the rhythmic crinkle of movement on padded floors. Harper and Delilah were close, closer than they had in weeks. Except weeks ago they weren't dressed, collared, labeled “Crybaby 1” and “Crybaby 2.” Their onesies brushed at the seams, and Delilah’s padded hips pressed a little too eagerly against Harper’s. It wasn’t intentional, or maybe it was. Either way, the air between them felt charged. Harper narrowed her eyes. “You’re pushing it.” Delilah’s lips parted, as his eyes flicked down toward where their bodies had touched, just for a second too long and something gleamed in them, shame, need, a flicker of something far more vulnerable. “Still trying to make it about you, little one?” Mommy Cleo towered above both of them, seeing larger than life. Like a goddess was descending as her hand reached down to inspect Deliah. “I wasn’t—” Delilah murmured. “You’re not in trouble, sweetheart,” she said, voice as soft as it was certain. “But you do need a gentle reminder of your role. This is about trust, about letting go, not just for you, but for both of you.” From a velvet-lined pouch, Cleo retrieved something small and blush-pink, glossy like a toy but serious in its intent. The chastity cage gleamed under the nursery lights. Delilah’s breath hitched as the front of his onesie and diaper were unfastened. Cleo worked with clinical ease, fitting the device into place, her fingers were practiced, patient. “There,” she murmured with a satisfied smile. “That’s better. Much more fitting for a delicate clitty like yours.” Harper flinched, not from shock, but from something deeper. Desire? Envy? She watched her boyfriend, now baby sister, lower her head, lips trembling. There was no resistance. Just a quiet inhale and a distant look in his eyes, like he was already fading into the role being shaped for him. Harper’s thighs pressed together, and there was something wrong about how much she liked how this look suited him, and yet, she didn’t just want to join in the power play, she wanted to feel it too. To lose and to win, to kneel beside Delilah one moment, then press her heel to the floor the next. Her chest tightened with longing and pride. Cleo stood tall, the nursery light catching the tiny pink key between her fingers. “This,” she said, “belongs to you now.” Harper’s breath caught. “Me?” “You’ve proven yourself. She—” Cleo’s eyes flicked to Delilah, curled up on the plush mat, cheeks still flushed, “needs someone steady. Someone who can model obedience and hold control in the same palm.” Cleo didn’t wait. She stepped close and slowly tucked the key down the front of Harper’s onesie, pressing it just below the navel. “You’ll keep it here,” she said, palm flat, her voice dipping low. “Right where it belongs, close and warm.” Harper’s knees weakened at the word. Delilah’s gaze followed every motion, wide-eyed, chin trembling. Cleo turned Harper gently by the shoulders, so she was facing her fully. “You want to show her how surrender looks?” Harper nodded. “Then you go first.” Mommy Cleo said as hands gentle but insistent, unbuttoned Harper’s onesie, exposing the pale skin of her belly and the soft bulge of her diaper. She pressed a kiss to Harper’s navel, right where the key rested, then trailed her lips lower, over the crinkly plastic. “Such a good girl,” Cleo murmured, her voice thick with affection. “My little leader.” Harper whimpered, her hips bucking slightly. Cleo slid a hand between Harper’s thighs, cupping the heat of her pussy through the diaper. She could feel how wet Harper was already. “You like this, don’t you?” Cleo teased. “Being my special girl?” Harper nodded frantically, her eyes wide and pleading. Cleo smiled and began to rub slow circles over Harper’s clit through the diaper. The friction was maddeningly soft, but it was enough to make Harper moan and writhe beneath her touch. Delilah watched from across the room, his heart pounding in her chest. He felt a strange mix of arousal and jealousy as he watched Cleo pleasure Harper. He wanted to be the one making those noises, wanted to feel Cleo’s hands on his own body. But he also knew that this was what he needed, so he watched like a good little baby sister as Cleo continued to tease Harper, whispering filthy things in her ear and praising her for being such a good girl. He watched as Harper came undone beneath Cleo’s touch, crying out as she reached climax. Afterward, Harper sat cross-legged, dazed but glowing, the key still nestled against her. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hair clung to her forehead. “Well done, little leader,” Mommy Cleo whispered, tilting Delilah’s head. Harper hadn’t expected it to feel like this. Not power., not exactly. That would’ve been clean, tight and hot, like snapping a leash. This was slower, muddied, and each moment sank deeper into her skin, until she couldn’t tell if she was acting or becoming. “I’m the one in the blue onesie”, she kept thinking, while grinding. “I’m the one labeled Crybaby 1. I'm, first, I’m number one, my needs come first.” Across the nursery, Delilah was now curled up beside a plush unicorn on the padded mat, staring at the rotating mobile above with a far-off gaze. His thumb hovered near his mouth, not quite touching, almost though as Delilah felt different too, a tightening and pulling. Every tickle of ruffle, every pat on his thickly padded butt, every time Mommy or Harper called him, “good girl” after they climaxed in front of him, he felt humiliated but also just… littleness. One that left him pink and helpless and hot. “Feeding hour,” Mommy Cleo announced, her voice lilting like a pre-recorded daycare jingle. She patted a large adult-size highchair built for two. “Front and center, Crybabies.” Harper obeyed first, then Delilah. The seat was padded vinyl, sticky under their thighs. Their diapers crinkled in stereo as they shifted. Crinkle crinkle. Cleo locked the tray in place with a click. She set down two sippy cups, one with apple juice, the other with a thick, off-white shake, and two bowls of bright pink mush. Harper stared at the shake. “What’s in it?” “Lactose-heavy nutrition blend,” Cleo said sweetly. “With a natural bowel softener. Nothing aggressive. Just enough to ease the tension.” Harper looked at Delilah, and Delilah, again, looked down at his bowl like it was the most interesting thing in the world. A tiny gurgle from his tummy broke the silence. Grrooorrrgl. Mommy handed Harper a spoon and motioned toward Delilah’s bowl. “Remember your assignment: regulated dominance. Feed her, and keep her eyes on yours., and even when she starts to squirm, don’t stop.” Delilah whimpered. “I can feed myself…” “Too bad, sweetheart,” Cleo said. “Big girls don’t get to speak once they’ve been renamed.” Harper dipped the spoon, lifted it, and guided the warm pink goop toward her baby sister’s mouth. “Open up, princess.” Delilah hesitated, his blush reached his ears but he opened. The first bite went down slow, then the next, and the next, as his legs started to twitch under the tray, the diaper crinkling louder with each squirm. “Harper,” Cleo murmured, “press your thigh against hers.” She did and Delilah gasped. “I—I need to—” Pppfrrrrrrt. A soft fart slipped out, muffled by layers of padding. Cleo didn’t blink. “Good girl. Keep feeding.” Harper held the next spoonful steady. Delilah’s voice cracked. “Please, I think I’m—” Hssssssssssss. The sound of wetness filled the highchair as his bladder gave out. Harper’s eyes widened, and Delilah trembled under her wide-eyed gaze. “Oh my god,” Harper whispered. Delilah whimpered. “It’s warm…” Mommy’s voice was cool, clinical. “That’s your body learning it no longer belongs to you.” They sat in silence for a moment, but then it happened. Pppprrrbbbtttt. Squelch. Psssshhhh… Harper didn’t need a psychology degree to recognize what was happening. Delilah’s face crumpled, and he grabbed the sides of the chair. His whole body hunched forward, straining. The room filled with a pungent, unmistakable scent. Mommy Cleo didn’t flinch. “Let her finish. This is pushies time.” Harper whispered, “You’re really doing this?” Delilah’s voice was a cracked moan. “I couldn’t hold it…” He finished with one last humiliated grunt, and his diaper squished audibly beneath him. Harper couldn’t look away. Her stomach turned, and twisted with something darker, and the tiniest flicker of arousal, buried in dominance and disbelief. Cleo leaned in. “Now ask for a change.” Delilah sobbed. “Please…” “Louder.” “Please, Mommy, I made pushies… I need a change…” “Not yet,” Cleo said, standing. “You’ll stay in it until Harper earns her first wet star.” “W-what does that mean?” Harper asked, throat tight. “You’ll know,” Cleo said, walking out with her clipboard in hand. “The moment you’re ready to stop being his girlfriend… and start being my little baby girl.” The sound of the door clicking created a sense of finality to their situation as Cleo left the room. The silence after the door closed felt padded, too., like it soaked up all the air in the nursery. Delilah whimpered softly beside Harper, shifting in the muck of hia own diaper. Squish. Crinkle. Squish again. The scent lingered, heavy and warm, curling under Harper’s nose and into her thoughts. She’d seen it all happen, heard it, even, but her brain hadn’t caught up. Her thigh still pressed against Delilah’s, tacky with sweat and guilt and something else. Harper sat still. Her spoon trembled in her grip. She’d just made her baby sister mess himself, and had made him hold eye contact through the shame of it. She should feel horrified. She did. But also… “I’m the one in the blue onesie,” Harper thought again. “I’m Crybaby 1. I’m first.” Delilah was still panting, the flush on his face deepening as he rocked gently, the sounds beneath him now squelchy. Harper stared, then reached into her diaper until she found the key. The key was covered in the remains of the a different mess she’d made earlier, it was covered in her cum and warmth for the interaction. Her fingers closed around it slowly. Delilah noticed. “I…” he whimpered, voice cracking, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Harper stood, and she stepped out from the highchair, her diaper crinkling with every movement. She walked carefully, barefoot across the mat, and knelt in front of Delilah. “You made pushies,” Harper said flatly. Delilah’s lip trembled. “And you’re not getting changed until I earn a wet star,” Harper added, voice low. Delilah’s eyes welled up. “I didn’t mean to go…” “But you did.” She reached forward, brushing her palm along the front of Delilah’s onesie, over the lumpy, sagging bulge beneath. Delilah whimpered and flinched, but didn’t stop her. Harper breathed in, and the smell made her stomach twist again, but she didn’t stop either. “This is what Mommy meant,” she murmured. “You’re not mine anymore.” Delilah blinked. “What?” Harper held up the key. “She gave you away.” And then, softly, almost without meaning to, she added: “I’m the first. I go first. I’m the bestest one…” Her voice broke around the childish rhythm of the phrase, her body suddenly curling in, a shiver shaking through her as she hugged herself tightly and dropped backwards onto her padded rear. Crinkle. Thud. Delilah was now staring at her the way she had moments ago, but he didn’t say anything. From the hallway, there was the sound of approaching heels., Mommy Cleo returned holding a fresh stack of laminated star charts. “Perfect timing,” she said, eyes scanning their expressions, their posture, their stink, before declaring, “You’ve both done beautifully,” with a wide smile on her face. She walked over, lifted Harper’s chin, and smiled. “Now let’s get my little matching set all cleaned up,” she cooed, “You’ve got so many more stars to earn.”

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Female domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Depictions of non-consent and other forced actions of a sexual or other type of encounter Emasculation and feminization through various means and to differnt ends Degredation of human anatomy and mental status This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Hey everyone! Welcome back and I hope everyone had as good of a break as I did! Work was stressful as usual these days, but it’s always nice to get away for a little bit from trying to meet my own personal deadlines, especially after such a large project as my last few stories were with some requiring all the completely new world-building and whatnot. Now, though, it’s just as equally good to be back and writing stories again. Unlike my previous story, due to how the system works here, I needed to be very precise in calculating everything out before I wrote a single word down. That being said, some of these chapters have proven to be temperamental and don’t quite make the page count I thought they were going to or are entirely too long for a single one. So, right now, the total chapter count stands at 27, but this is subject to change. Some of the later chapters are mapped out precisely as they are and won’t change, but some of the chapters in the middle may need to be altered or fleshed out to give more growth to these characters here. Which I guess is all to say that if the final tally of chapters changes at all, I will let you all know. Now, as much joy as I’ve derived from this story so far, I need to mention two caveats. First, I have based this story on a CYOA I found years ago. I’ve looked for the creator for at least five years now, but no such luck. I have also modified it for the story a little, but the concept is still there. Also, I should point out that because of some of the themes here, it will be a little coarser and more mature. I will try to give out warnings before some of the more intense scenes, but be warned, this one is not all fluffy diapers and pink princesses. Next, as is typical these days, I will post the next poll at the start of the following chapter. Looking ahead, I already know that this concept will be a one-off story, so there will not be a sequel in its future. With that in mind, the next poll will contain one DD story and two others that are a little more on the supernatural/spooky side. Because of this, I might try to put out more than three chapters a week and I might take a shorter break, but I think the stories are interesting enough on their own and plus, they have never been shown in one of my polls before. So, be on the lookout for all that next. Also, looking ahead, I’m absolutely tasking myself with writing/editing at least three chapters a week. That being said, with 27 current chapters and at least three a week, this will definitively bump into about mid-October, which means that I will be pausing at least at one point for a multi-day vacation. Once again, I’m headed down to Florida, but this time, it will be for some Halloween-themed events, so you just never know what twisted or fantastical tales I might come back with for new story ideas, so take comfort in the delay with the prospect of at least other future stories from me. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my next story! Chapter 1: Starting Off, 35-01 Blindfold. Gag. My hands are behind my back and tied with something… rope, I think. The truck I saw for a brief second before getting hustled up into it has a rusty axel that’s connected to a suspension that bounces heavily each time that we hit a pothole or some other ungodly bump in the road. The sound of cars, machinery… even people… all that vanished at least three hours ago now. In the back of the canvas-drawn over truck, I can feel the intense heat rise all around me as each hour passes and the day creeps on. Thinking back, though, despite my current circumstances, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised that this is where I ended up… but really, I just wanted a job again. * * * The suited man opens the door for me and gestures inside. I look and blink a few times at the sparseness of what I’m seeing inside the hole that is the room he is gesturing to. “You’re kidding, right?” The older gentleman glares at me from his at least six inches above me. “No. You want the help… you go inside. No questions asked and you follow the instructions… or you’re out. No exceptions.” I wince a little and even turn around to view the door I just came from. I recite over in my head how to make a quit exit in case I need to. ‘Three lefts, down one floor, and through the main lobby and the security there and then out the front doors.’ There, it would be freedom and the life I had… rather than a barren room of unknown before me. But I also know what’s out there waiting for me beyond those front doors. The world sucks for people in my position, and my pride went out the window the first time another bill came in without the funds to fully back even one or two more of them. Simply put… I’m desperate. So, with a deep plunging breath, I go forward into the room. Once inside, with a sigh, I sit in the far metal chair with my back to a mirror… likely a two-way like an interrogation room. I feel the hair stand up on my neck and a growl inside my stomach… warning me to run, but these people have me cornered with the prospect of opportunity. So, even as the main door closes to this little barren room, I can really only just sit there and squash my horrid feelings deep down. Now alone with my thoughts and trying not to assume or think the worst-case scenario, I look around the room and try and check if this is some trick or a test of some kind. ‘No… no hidden messages on the walls… no pen or paper. Not even a whisper of something I should be listening for.’ It’s just me and the singular metallic desk and two hard metal chairs… both cold and unfeeling as they slightly glint off the single overhead light that slightly pendulums back and forth. Gratefully though, not to long after, the door then reopens, and another suited man comes in with a manilla folder. His expression is mostly neutral but his taught features and cropped haircut reek of ex-military and no nonsense. I could immediately feel a tightness in my stomach, one which I try to will away as I shift slightly in the chair. The man then closes the door and sits down calmly and without even a single word back to me before opening the folder out flat on the table. I immediately notice my photo on the upper right holding on by a single paperclip. “State your name for the record,” he commands, taking out a black-cased pen from the inside of his suit jacket. I swallow hard and wish more than anything that a glass of water would have been right there in front of me in that moment. “Jack… Thomas.” The man pauses and looks up at me with a hint of a hateful and annoyed glared in his eyes. “Your full name, Mr. Thomas.” I hesitate for a moment, hating my middle name… always have, but the man keeps staring at me. Maybe if the room was pastel blue and I hadn’t been frisked on my way in, I might have asked a simple ‘why,’ but my present circumstances tell me that any perceived ‘backtalk’ or questioning would be unwise. “Jack… Marie Thomas.” I can’t help but say my middle name with a slight distaste in my mouth. ‘Stupid family name…’ As typically happens, as I say it out loud, despite likely knowing it beforehand and just confirming my identity, even the stern man before me seems to find my middle name amusing… Ultimately though, he says nothing about it. He then uses his pen to go through several more verifications of my identity… social security, gender, age. All typical for someone trying to confirm I am who I say I am. Working for the government before, all that at least doesn’t faze me. But then comes the questions afterward. At first, they seem pretty normal for someone in my situation… like how long I have been unemployed, or, what my financial situation looks like, but then they start to veer towards the realm of being highly uncomfortable as why they would even need to be asked in the first place. Questions like, “Do you have heart troubles?” or “Do you have any family that miss you if you were absent?” are among the more particularly alarming. Finally, after he asks me if I’ve ‘had any surgeries,’ I can’t take it any longer. “Okay!” I shout, standing up and forcing my chair backward toward the likely two-way mirror. “No more questions! I’ve answered everything from my size to sexual preference to even if I have any allergies to medications or latex! What the hell does that have anything to do with finding a job?” The suited man glares at me and calmly stands up, towering over me. “Sit down, Mr. Thomas. These are all vital questions, I assure you… and we’re almost done.” His calm presence slightly infuriates me and only adds to my already-present anger. “Sit down? That’s all?” I smack the table. “Screw this, mister! I’m getting out of here right this second!” I march toward the door, but as my hand touches the doorknob, the man speaks up once more. “Mr. Thomas… Jack.” He calmly walks over to me and stands right up against my left side, staring down at me… not with rage or annoyance, but almost a calm passivity of a parent to a child. It more than halts my efforts in leaving right away. “You will find no locks on these doors or any others in this building toward the exit. You are free to go anytime you please...” Determined and still disturbed, my hand turns the knob. “Well, then. I’m getting the hell out of…” “But I encourage you to stay,” he says resolutely in a way that stops my hand cold… almost like he knows something I don’t. He then walks back over to the desk and retrieves my file before switching it to one of the pages on the left side. “It says here you’ve been out of a job for about a month now, which you also just confirmed for me. I’ll stop the questions, but… let’s talk about that for a second.” He pauses briefly. “Promise. Nothing more.” I hesitate to move back to the table, but I at least remove my hand from the doorknob and reface him. If nothing else, he seems happy about that. “Good. Now, come back to the table and sit down. Or stand… I just want to lay out your options here, Mr. Thomas.” I grumble and nearly leave on the spot, but there’s an odd quality about this man that makes me stay. I don’t know what it is, but that intangible quality eases me up a little. So, at least curious now, I walk back over to my chair… but I don’t sit down. “Very good, Mr. Thomas.” He calmly flips through several pages in my file. “So, again… you were laid off from your job about a month ago, correct?” “Correct,” I confirm, feeling a little deflated at admitting that. “I knew it was coming though. I’ve been working part-time for almost eight months now. Budget cuts and all…” The suited man nods. “Yes. The economy isn’t doing wonders at the moment and there have been several cuts to federal programs. Seems like your program was hit but you managed to linger on… at least until last month.” “Yes,” I admit, my ego deflating even more. “And from your earlier confirmation and from what it says from the application you filled out online that you’ve been looking for a job since then?” he asks before looking up at me. “But nothing since?” I shake my head. “Nothing serious. Small positions. Some part-time work I’m looking at in the meantime, but… I need something more. You can’t live in this area without something steady anymore.” “Yes…” The suited man’s eyes nearly seem to glow with opportunity, happiness, and another quality underneath that would amount to something nearly sinister. I focus on that last bit. “I see all that on your file here. Some college debts remaining… ouch on those, but a car payment… three years from paying off, and…” He looks back up at me and squints his eyes. “No savings?” I shake my head, and I feel I can’t sink any lower now in this room, sitting in the chair in a slump of built-up defeat before this mysterious figure… a deflated and defeated individual. “No… I have some savings, but… the form asked if I had less than $1000 in savings… which I do. So, yes, some saving, but not enough to check off the box indicating something higher.” “I see… so practically nothing and you’re living on fumes now as well…” He doesn’t wait for me to respond as my silence does plenty of talking alone. “So, you see, Mr. Thomas… when I ask you these questions… I know they may be intrusive, but honestly, this is for a government position and what amounts to an ultimate handout. With the economy and layoffs recently, I’m sure you can understand that we have many candidates in search of work or money these days.” He lets his points hang in the air for a moment, each one a painful reminder of my desperation and how close I am to failing completely. I wished I could say I had backups or a plan to bail me out, but that would be a lie. My parents are far away and broke themselves after sinking their money into some long-term investment. My brother is too busy with his wife and a new kid on the way… and we aren’t even that close. And friends? Well, I’m not exactly a social butterfly and the loss of my job hasn’t helped with that any in finding new ones. The suited man has me cornered and while the door is unlocked… it might as well be a safe door as far as I’m concerned for leaving through it now. Despite my apprehension, I know that this is one of the few chances I have to get out of the hole I’m digging myself further into every day. And terribly, the suited man knows it. His underlying smile, so subtle as to almost even be unseen, ripples along and emphasizes my desperation and his next question. “So… may I continue?” Submissive to his whims and with the knowledge that I have nowhere else to turn, I merely nod my head. He smiles, but this time his glee is obvious over my compliance with what he wants. “Excellent. Now,” he flips another page from the right side of my file, “do you have any fetishes… sexual deviancies? I really try not to judge… Purely for the record.” An hour later I’m back out on the street in Washington D.C. It’s been my home for years now, but lately it’s felt more like a self-contained prison. Each Brutalist building contrasts heavily with the Greek Revival ones, but each seems like a slap in my face now as I pass by them. ‘That’s where I used to work…’ is my constant theme these days, and each day that passes without a solid job, those words feel more distant. So, in an attempt to blur my lines of what is real and what is crushing, I head to the nearest bar I can remember. It’s a small little thing and usually a pretty quiet behind the Archives building… mostly a place for stuffy politicians or glassy eye curators. For me, though, I just order a beer and sigh as I look down into it and the bubbles fizzing up from the bottom. It’s a small distraction, but it still work its magic and let’s me forget for a second… “Pretty shit, huh?” the bartender asks out loud, catching me off guard. I look up with bleary eyes and squint back at him as he polishes off another glass with his dish towel. “Huh?” He gestures to the nearby small TV, almost looking at odds with the rest of the older style bar in the district. Still, unlike most others in the city, it displays the news instead of sports. Most newcomers request to change it, but that’s not what this place is about, and they’re always shot down. In this place, it’s all about governmental policy and change. So, when I look up at the TV and see yet another news report, it’s not surprising, but the headline opens my eyes more than I care to admit. “Government eases testing standards for new programs.” It could be worse, especially in the modern climate, but still… it makes me wonder. “Hard to believe. Maybe chickens won’t be tested as well or something. Saving a buck or two, I guess…” I shrug, not really knowing the answers and not being surprised by most anything on the news anymore. The bartender eyes a nearby chicken sandwich with more than a little unease but ultimately collects it and comes back. “Maybe, but… ready for another round tonight?” He gestures at the once full beer in my hands currently. I sigh and stare at my nearly empty glass. I want another, but ultimately, I shake my head. “No, would love to but…” I don’t finish my thoughts and simply pull out my only 20-dollar bill and hand it over. From the change I get back, I am sure to still leave a decent tip. I might be screwed these days, but I just can’t find it in myself to tip poorly. I walk back to my apartment rather than taking the metro. It saves me a little money, and the walking feels good… despite the fact that the weather is unseasonably warm for this time of year. It especially doesn’t help as I make my way up the flight of stairs and to my actual apartment. Little beads of sweat are already pouring from my forehead as my keys turn to my barebones living space. With my previous job, I was never here much before, so I never felt the need for more. Now though, especially as I immediately go back to job hunting and checking my email, it feels especially lonely. Tonight however, while I’m looking through my emails, I see what I’ve been looking for now for a month. The newest email in my inbox blinks and is all in bold. “Your application has been accepted.” It’s all I can do to keep myself from jumping up and down in joy after reading the header of the fresh and beautiful email message. “Yes! Finally!” I briefly stifle my joy and check out the job… just in case of spam. To my utter relief, it seems all legitimate. So, not wasting a second, I quickly reply back to set up an interview. My hand nearly shakes the whole time I’m writing the email back to them. I can feel the electricity of the potential in the moment. It feels like… freedom… opportunity. Once I hit send though, I allow the waves of euphoria to fully pour through me. I’m electric… thrilled… jubilant. I jump up and after even do a little dance before snapping my fingers. “This calls for a celebration!” So, once more, I grab my keys and head out my door to the nearest convenience store. It’s small and a little dingy around the back, but they have a great selection of chips and ice cream… perfect for a little late night snack celebration. I almost go for chocolate and cherry, but considering the heat and the occasion though, I grab my favorite flavor of chocolate and peanut butter. It feels so good to clutch that pint of cold deliciousness in my hand and I even whistle slightly as I checkout. “Man, I wish I could be that happy about something,” the store owner tells me. “Oh, it feels great,” I acknowledge. “Just got a job application back and I’m waiting to set up an interview. I can honestly say that it’s the best news I’ve had in a month.” The store owner’s eyes light up and he smiles wide. “Congratulations, sir! Best of luck to you on that,” he says, handing me the receipt with nearly a bounce in his words now. Most people know the horrible state of the economy and the huge numbers of joblessness. An interview was always great before, but these days… it’s an even bigger deal. I smile even wider and take my receipt. “Thank you! I really think things are just about to turn the corner for me…” I then exit the store and head back to my apartment. I’m humming along the darkened street… a few lights out from the lack of maintenance. Crime is up in the area, but my apartment isn’t far, and I almost have developed sixth sense about these things by now. But I’m happy. That wouldn’t be a problem normally, but I’m nearly in bliss. There’s something so alluring and free about the prospect of an interview for me. It’s a light at the end of the tunnel and a beacon of hope I can turn toward through the rough storms that is my life at the moment. It should all be grand. I’m even whistling a bit once again and focusing just on what is in front of me. I’m distracted. I don’t hear the crack of a twig on the sidewalk behind me like I normally would. I don’t pay attention to the rubber turning on the pavement off to the side or the deft footsteps on the alleyway down on my left. I’m oblivious to all other things other than my own happiness that yes, I’ve turned the corner in life. Yes, most absolutely, things will be different. Turns out… just not in the way that I wanted. The personnel that surround me are very quick. Professional, burly, and imposing masked figures. They bear no insignia, and I can’t make anything out of them except their maybe six inches to a foot in height and maybe 30 pounds of muscle over me at least. One gets me from behind and places their hand over my mouth with some kind of cloth. Two go for my arms quickly after and lock me into place. The fourth goes for my legs in a vice-like grip. I can’t move and I’m being hauled away… right down the darkened alleyway and into a van. I try to scream. I try to flail around… but it’s useless. I’m useless. I’m packed into the black van in seconds, and I hear the side sliding door crunch over on its tracks and then slam shut before the vehicle lurches away. I barely move with how I’m still being held. No voices around me. Just hand signals and quick and efficient meaty hands that go to work around me. I’m locked in and I can’t do anything about it. Darkness starts to envelop me. The van is dark and curtains black out most of the light, but quickly, I know with terrifying horror that this is something more. My limbs become heavy. The fight inside me begins to fade whether I wish for it or not. I want to kill these people… at least scratch or beat them senselessly and flee back into the night and up to the relative safety of my apartment. But those are the actionable desires of someone fully conscious. Simply put, that isn’t me anymore. A hand is still over my mouth. Though the edges of my world begin to blur, I still smell something chemical in front of me. ‘The white rag covering my mouth and nose must be laced with something.’ There’s no other rational explanation for how I’m feeling right now. It’s a terrible sinking feeling in my gut. But it doesn’t matter. The figure that was once holding my legs now comes over to me, and while the van is still mostly black, a flash of light streams in from the front and highlights the metallic cylinder precariously balanced in their hands. The needle at the tip almost seems to sparkle and drip with something magical and yet unwanted. I’m not a genius, but it doesn’t take one to realize what is about to happen. With my last efforts of strength, I thrash about. But again, I’m useless. Before, it was the locked position of the personnel holding and pinning me in place. Now, I feel their grip is still locked but now significantly loosened. If anything, my efforts against them come off as simply pathetic. So, whether I wish it or not, the person takes advantage of my uselessness and weakness and comes forward. Before I can even attempt to scream out, he quickly jabs the needle right into my arm. It burns heavily and I wince and try to scream in pain as it plunges deep. But again, I’m useless. I’m powerless to stop anything, and worse… the blackness, at first creeping, now surges forward around my vision like a crashing wave. Now, there is nothing more. I feel nothing. I am nothing. * * * The bumps that jostled me awake earlier are no less smooth now than they were previously from what had to be at least three hours ago. I have to pee something fierce but the truck I’m bound, gagged, and blindfolded in has shown no signs of stopping. Occasionally, I hear something on the radio or hushed whispers, but that’s about it. I could forgive anyone from thinking that it meant I didn’t know anything. True, I couldn’t hear or really touch anything, but my other senses were ever more focused. I had watched a documentary last year about a woman who fled her kidnapper and because she remembered the sound of a train going by not long before the car she was in stopped, the police were able to later apprehend her kidnapper. So, drawing at least a few parallels between our situations, as soon as I had come to my senses, I tried to figure out anything I could in this less-than-ideal situation. The road was rough and bumpy. As I noted before, it’s what jostled me awake after I had passed out in D.C., but that was another prominent thing. Also, yes, it was summer in D.C., and the old swamp area was particularly humid, but now… it is still hot around me, but more of a dry heat. I feel the sweat accumulate slightly around my body in the back of the truck… likely poorly ventilated and maybe even open to the outside in places. I’m not entirely sure about that, but the heat and lack of humidity tell me that I’m nowhere near to where I live. Potentially problematic, yes, but also telling. Loving to travel, I’ve been to most of the surrounding states near D.C., and what’s absolutely certain, nowhere right now is receiving dry heat as their weather forecast right now. It’s either something akin to the swamps of Satan or the near drownings of a wretched batch of storms in the areas… not this. So, I begin to check off in my mind where I could be. ‘Definitely west of the Appalachian Mountains… but no cold or extreme breezes of the Rockies… plus maybe too far. Back roads definitely… so not near a city. No traffic lights either, since we haven’t stopped once, so that kills a lot of places as well. Figure a straight drive since last night and the amount of heat… intense and not boiling but growing… means early or midday… but that also would only place me somewhere along just east of the Mississippi longitude from when I was kidnapped last night to now.’ I paused and winced. ‘No… that’s not right, so… crap. Was I out for a whole day already? My bladder… shit. I’m even further west. Maybe a full day then… Still a big area though. Doesn’t narrow it down too much, but it’s something.’ I hope I’m wrong in most of that in a way, since going to a barren area hardly ever spelled something good, but considering I was kidnapped already… my luck doesn’t seem that good. The truck bounces me about a few more times and my need to pee is near to the bursting point. I try thinking about almost anything else, but that’s proving an issue. Between my hunger, my bladder, and my confinement, I nearly feel bugs crawling over my skin in a near phantom itch to move… to run. Just… anything more than this. I try to speak, but the gag prevents anything but a muffled sound emitting instead of the pleas to let me go or at least let me move around that I truly intend. It does attract the attention of my kidnappers though… “Hey, you!” a gruff voice nearly growls at me. “Cut that out. We’re almost there, so just sit tight. We can’t hurt you, but we can make your last moments out here very miserable.” I feel a hand shove me slightly back. “So… what’s it going to be? Stay calm or are we going to have to get… creative?” I sense his threat is exactly that. There was no hesitation or even any signs of a bluff on his part. This man, whoever he is, seems to have both done this before and be pretty okay with it and whatever else was necessary in his role to subdue me. So, weighing my options, considering my current state of being trapped, mute, and blind… I settle down and don’t say a word. The man chuckles. “Good boy. Maybe there’s hope for you yet…” His words do nothing to help the already pent-up and dreading feeling I had since I had been taken. Still, despite his gruffness and threats to use possibly violence or torture or some other nasty thing against me, the man was at least telling the truth that we would soon arrive. The van quickly lurches to a stop. A few shuffling noises later, my blindfold is finally removed. I have to blink a few seconds as the light streams all around me from the windows in the front and the back. I find it strange that the van is so open like that now as compared to last night with the curtains on the windows, but the figures in front of my vision fully distract me from any further thoughts on the matter. Masked and geared to the hilt, they exude an ex-military vibe that I often saw in my previous job when dealing with mercenaries and security personnel we contracted out for our safety sometimes. Not saying a word, the lead man then points out the door that is soon opened. More light floods in and I look back to the man who gestured to the door for more answers. I’m not sure why he isn’t just using his words, but at this point, I remember the veiled threat before. Whatever this is, I absolutely don’t want to make it uncomfortable… or at least more so than it already is. The man simply waves his hand at me out the door. I take his meaning this time to exit the vehicle. I’m still gagged, and my hands are bound together tightly… uncomfortably at this point, but again, I don’t want to cause any more problems for myself. Simply put… between the dry heat, the backroads, lack of traffic lights, and the amount of time it took to get here and stop, I don’t like my chances of escape. Terrifyingly, my suspicions are confirmed when I exit the vehicle. Desert… or at least at best a barren wasteland of dried-up prairies stretches for what seems like miles in all directions. Hazy mountains flank to the west, and to the east… nothing. I think I see a shimmering glint of maybe a tower… a fence… something, but definitely not civilization. If anything, even those signs of something else seem to reinforce the barrenness of where I’m currently standing. Another masked and geared man comes up to me and holds up a tablet of sorts near my head before glaring right at me. “Confirm… Jack Maria Thomas,” he directs right as another man removes the gag from my mouth from behind. I smack my mouth together a few times in an effort to remove the nasty threads left on my tongue. I can already feel the dryness of a lack of water from all that time, but I also see the masked man’s eyes. Sharp, focused… full of duty, sternness, and no-nonsense. I saw the same in the other man and I know not to screw around, but I know I need to try. “Please… just let me go and…” “Confirm,” he presses again, this time with a small amount of anger behind his voice and one of his fingers seemingly itching toward the stock of the gun he’s carrying as well. I swallow hard at the scene, and I nod as fast as I can. “Yes… that’s me.” I take a breath. “But what…?” “Silence.” His voice isn’t annoyed, angry, or even shrill like I might has expected. Just more to the point and focused on the task he seemingly has to perform. To me, it seems we both have our roles to fill… ‘Definitely not the overall leader of this thing.’ The man taps a few more things on the tablet before him, before strangely looking dismayed. I almost question him, but with everything going on around me, my thoughts bounce from one subject to the next and his looks take a momentary backseat. My vision moves from the desert landscape to the horizon line, to the distant mountains, to the men with guns… and then even to what I am currently wearing. Before, back in D.C., I was still wearing the suit I had worn to the interview earlier in the day. I had removed the suit jacket once I got home, but the button-up shirt and pants were definitely still attached to me. Now, they’re gone and in their place is a faded green prison jumpsuit of sorts. I swallow hard at the implications… Finally looking up from his tablet, the man looks at me once more. “Okay… here’s your situation. In a moment, you’re going to a bunker of sorts. You will be there for one year, and at the end… you’ll get a substantial payout for your services.” I frown back at him in confusion, but I keep my mouth shut, my eyes still drifting to the rifle attached to his body. ‘Definitely not where I thought this was going…’ “I see you have questions,” the man notes, stepping closer to me, “but they will have to wait. We need to do two things right now. First, know there are only three ways out of this.” He holds up one finger. “First… quit. You do that and all the money reserved for you at the end will be forfeited, and you will receive no government assistance of any kind afterward.” He holds up a second finger. “Two… flee. You try to escape, and…” He pivots over and points to the shiny point at the distance I had seen earlier. “You see that?” I quickly nod. “Good. That’s a watch tower. They’re all around you,” he notes menacingly as he gestures in a circle around where we’re standing before he rests his hand on his large gun. “They have guns just like this one… or even much larger. You escape; they have the option to shoot you on sight. You survive; you go back and incur a penalty… a harsh one.” He glares at me. “I wouldn’t suggest that route.” I wince but note internally that there’s still one more option. “And third?” I ask hesitantly, the first two options seeming truly terrible and hoping beyond measure that somehow the third would be more reasonable. “Third…” He smirks down at me, his few inches of height over me seemingly a lot more in our current roles. “Well, third is that you finish the year here. It might seem like a burden and impossible in the days ahead, but considering the others, I would still recommend option three.” Again, I quickly nodded. Another person, feistier and more combative might have fought, but that wasn’t me. I was trying to use my head, and simply put, I saw my options and the remoteness of where I was. Fight, escape, and flee, but to where? Out here, even if I managed to avoid the towers with big guns, my survival out here wouldn’t be guaranteed in the slightest. So, as much as a little voice inside my head was telling me to, my instincts told me as plain as day that fighting back would be pointless… foolhardy at best. “Very good. Maybe there’s hope for you after all…” He smirks and turns back to his tablet before holding it back up to me. “Now then… in you go…” I blink back at the man and look around. “Go? Go where?” The man points nearby and while I have to squint my eyes to see it, only about thirty yards away is what amounts to a slit in the ground. Only about 20 feet long, I see the ground plunges inward and leads to a submerged door right under the surface of the soil above. All of it concrete… devoid of emotion… uninviting. I feel a cold splinter of fear enter my heart. “Wha… what’s down there?” I ask, a weakness and subsequent trembling sensation beginning to take over my limbs as the true measure of my situation begins to unfold before my eyes. “That…” the man noted smugly. “That… is your new home for the next year… or at least the entrance to it.” He pauses for a minute, but me still not budging, the man then scowls back at me and raises his rifle barrel to my chest. “Now… I said to move. Or are you going to be giving us a problem already?” I see his rifle. I see the desperation of my situation being stuck in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by towers that had ‘shoot on sight’ orders. It was horrible, but it was that or the unfeeling bunker-like entrance now before me. Underground and heavy duty… there now seemed to be a permanence to my situation that I hadn’t felt before. I didn’t want to go down there. That’s for sure. I had read and heard about these things before… down there meant torture or death or imprisonment. I would be lucky to ever see the sun again. But… the gun in the hands of a scowling and tough ex-military masked figure before me presents an unmistakable choice, death or compliance. Unlike the previous man in the van before, the one in front of me had made no such promises of not hurting me. Somehow, the van ride now felt like the preliminary phase of all this, but now that I was here, the stakes of it all… the reality and actual event seem to be at my feet now. I didn’t like it… but I knew my options… and their limits. So, I meekly raise my still-bound hands as best to surrender and walk over to the entrance… no fight… no protest… Again, despite him still aiming his gun center-point at my chest, he smiles and soon follows me over to the slit in the ground that is to be my ‘home’ for the next year. Stopping right before the steps to the door, I turn around and hold my bound wrists up. “Can I… well, can I at least be free before I go down?” I try to widen my eyes and seem as desperate as possible. I want to stay strong, but I felt there was a wide gap between entering the creepy bunker with my hands bound versus them free. So, I had to try at least. There’s a grumble and an annoyance from my masked captors, but the main leader nods his head to one of the other men behind me. This new masked man comes at me hard and quickly flicks out a long knife from one of his chest pockets. It shines underneath the desert sun; glinting and deadly. I wince and shut my eyes… painfully aware that I’ve likely lost the protection that was once promised to me before. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, with everything going on, I’m no longer taking anything for granted… not even my safety or my life. But the man only ambles over, roughly takes my wrists, and cuts the rope that was binding them together. I open my eyes and see my now free wrists. “Thank you…” I muster out. The man only grunts and turns away… leaving the leader to point his gun once more at me. “Alright… you’re free. Now, down you go.” Again, his actions are clear, and his gun speaks the volumes that he doesn’t. It says threat and deadly force is now authorized on my hide. It says this is serious business and whatever awaits me in the hole, in case I already knew what was happening, isn’t going to be much better… or at least to the point where they would need to threaten me with entering or face down death itself. I rationalize that most things are better than death and then place my foot on the first step going down. My knees wobble as I turn around full now and head down the stairs. The morning sun begins to arc overhead and fill the hole with light, showing off all the dust floating around in such a barren climate. I see the door ahead of me… it’s shine in stark contrast to the rusted stains on the concrete around it… almost like the place had recently been repurposed… like I was the first guest to come here in years and precautions to keep me in needed to be upgraded. Seeing all that, my hands tremble as they reach out to the large wheel to open the door before me now. But, just in case, I turn around and look one last time at the leader. “I…” I don’t get to finish my thought… my counter to all this, hoping to plead one more time to leave. Instead, the man points his gun at me, but this time… he also makes sure to place his eye along the top rail of the gun, aiming at me with deadly precision. His new actions are clear to me now. Get into this bunker-like structure underground now and be a smear against the door instead. With such an ultimatum, I snap back to the door. I reach out with both hands this time and turn the wheel. It creaks and moans in an awfully hellish way like I am about to enter the very bowels and devilry of the earth. My stomach drops more, and I feel a single bead of sweat perspire on my forehead as the wheel finally budges. It turns and turns some more… the door finally opening. Inside is just another set of stairs downward. Darkness enshrouds more than a few feet, and I hesitate, but my ears pick up the faintest clicking noise. With my last job and growing up with a few who took me to a shooting range, I knew that sound… it was a gun loading its ammo… the weapon aligning with the bullet. Next stop, my head… my body. I have no choice. I don’t even turn around this time to plead to be let go or question a thing. I simply walk forward to my fate, sheer blinding light behind me and nothing but cold concrete and darkness before me. I swallow hard and give myself over to be swallowed by the earth and whatever this place is. Fully in, the door slams behind me. To my relief a few lights flicker on ahead of me. The stairs don’t descend as far as I originally thought but the ominous cramped feeling of all this place gives me a terrible case of claustrophobia. I immediately want out, but a quick turn of my head only reveals a thoroughly shut door behind me… and no handle or even a wheel to let myself out even if I chose that option and forfeited the end prize. Now, whether I want it or not, I’m truly trapped. Suddenly, a speaker overhead crackles to life. The sound coming from it takes a second to synch and come in as more than static, but even in the old-fashioned clicks and echoes of a speaker system at least thirty years old now sounds like, the words are very clear. “Keep moving.” I don’t know why, but I merely nod my head in compliance. I can’t go back. The sealed door and lack of egress proves that at least ten times over in my head. I can only go forward, and now with the lights… it’s not just wandering around blindly in the dark. It’s a concession for sure as to how far I’ve fallen into this terrible plot seemingly against me, but again… I feel I have no choice, or at least not a real one... Wandering down the staircase, holding onto the rail the entire time, I eventually come to a landing zone of sorts before another door. The speaker in front of me this time crackles once more. “Scan your hand on the pad in front of you.” I look and that beyond the grungy metal fittings and the leaking concrete in places, there is a brand-new electronic system… right next to where there is a large pad. It blinks a few times and then stops. Looking around, I don’t see any traps, so, I sigh and place my hand on the pad as instructed. The pad hums and blinks a few times before turning green. “Excellent,” the voice behind the speaker says once more. “You may proceed inside.” A hiss follows and the large metallic door before me opens wide. “Step in,” the voice calls out overhead. Not wanting to stay any longer in the hallway than I need to, I step inside… only to wish I saw just about anything else. Inside is only what I could describe as a jail cell. A simple plastic-like faded green bed has been shoved against one wall. The most basic metallic and uninviting toilet and sink are against another. A barred door is at the other end and as if I didn’t remember for whatever reason, the other door behind me slams and hisses close. Curiously, as I turn back, I am only greeted by a flat wall with a single seem around the edges of where the door had opened up. It’s all cold, barren, and unfeeling… except the electronic device in the corner of the room. Compared to everything else, it seems out of place. Not much larger than an oversized notebook, it blinks to life, and a single plain computerized image of a person appears. “Come here,” the voice from before says without emotion, now sounding more like a computer recording than an actual human being. I step forward cautiously and for whatever reason, I wave at the thing. “Hello?” “Greetings… candidate 35-01.” Again, the voice grates and there’s almost a synthetic whine behind it as well. “Please confirm identity and place hand on screen where indicated.” Like before, I see the blinking panel just to the left of the computerized plain head staring back at me. I sigh and place my hand where instructed. “Jack Marie Thomas.” I was starting to get annoyed at having to say my name… particularly my middle name, so often. A ping goes off and the voice returns. “Welcome, 35-01… Mr. Thomas. You have been selected by the government from a contest of over a thousand candidates to participate in a year long study and observation, known to authorities as ‘Operation Hebe.’ During this time, you will be required to make certain selections in order to facilitate your life… benefits or consequences.” The screen then changes to a counter, but to my dismay it starts simply at 100 and then counts down to only 5. “These are your starting points. As you will see, think of these as a money system of sorts. The more you have, the more you can obtain. All candidates are assigned what you will find labeled as the ‘jail cell.’ You may opt out of this at any time but know that your points can never equal less than zero. Answer, ‘acknowledge’ that you understand this.” Seeing the numbers count down to only 5 quickly gives me an uneasy feeling in all this. I feel queasy… faint and dizzy too. I nearly fall over right then, but I place one hand against the wall at the last second and take a deep breath. “Acknowledge.” The words feel like poison over my tongue, but I don’t see many other ways out. “Recorded.” The screen then flickers briefly and then changes to a large screen with several labels on it. Even in my brief look before it flashes away, I see two labels… listed as ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners.’ “What the fu…?” “Please, 35-01,” the electronic and mostly faceless voice interrupted. “Look through these first few categories that are mandatory. We will give you some time to choose as we know this may be a shock to your system, but your non-compliance will be met with punishment.” The screen flashes back to the selection options. ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners’ appears, but so do others before the screen switches once again to one labeled at the top as ‘Medicine Effects at 6 Months.’ My eyes instantly widen in shock at the options… particularly with the flashing ‘Selection of One Mandatory’ sign near the top, highlighted all in red. “Hair growth? Incontinence? Penis shrinkage? IQ drop?” I yell out at the screen to where I once saw the lifeless computerized head of the only voice I had been hearing down here. “What the hell is this place?” I smack the bars next to the screen, but there is no response. It’s just me here… me alone with these horrid options. Me alone in a self-described ‘jail cell.’ Me alone after being kidnapped and now confirmed to be part of the government. I slump on the bed in realization of everything clicking together. “The government… the interview I did…” Me, the homeless, ex-government employee walked right into this trap. I wanted a job, and now… for the next year, I seemed to have one. My mind swirled, but it didn’t last long. “35-01. Please make your choice. You now have one hour to make your choices… or suffer the subsequent punishments,” it calls out, its electronics seeming fragile in this state as it droned on. I look over at the still-flashing screen and the selection I have to make. Considering the methods that were employed to get me here… the guns… the towers… the desert… even the bunker I was now in. It all leads me to the same conclusion… punishments mean business here and finding out what they were was ill-advisable to say the least. I sigh and stand up. “Fuck… this is going to be a very bad year…”

Hello… I am new here and looking to hopefully find some like minded friends who love wearing diapers. I do like to play dress up with panties et al, but I really like a nice wet diaper and a friend. PM open always.

Dear Readers of E. Leet Weekly, I'm having some issues with my new husband, and I was hoping some of you may have had similar experiences and could share solutions. Overall, my husband and I have had two issues. One concerns his performance in our household, the other his lack there of in our bed. Both, together, point to a larger issue: my calm, logical, rational thinking vs his spoiled, immature, bratty emotional "thinking." About six months ago, I got married. It was a sort of marriage many of you are probably familiar with- one arranged based on wealth and status, rather then affection, or even having met before. He was the youngest child and only son of a new money family, and I am from a family with a dozen generations of titles and history, recently widowed from another arranged marriage to a husband with even more. For them, the marriage gave their family titles and social status they would never get otherwise. For me, it meant I had some company in my old age, and they had plenty of assets I had experience in growing. Together, it left us one of the richest and most powerful families around. That left just one, less relevant issue, to figure out- the husband itself. All I knew was his name, Toby, and that he was the youngest of his family. That should have been warning enough- what kind of name is "Toby?" Imagine my disappointment when I saw him on the wedding day. A 'man", if you could call him that, barely in his twenties. I could tell right away the sort. Immature, weak, with a soft, whimpering chin, likely dominated his entire life by the powerful older women around him, and still reliant on his parents unable to make his own decisions. I guessed, rightfully as I later confirmed, that he was still being spanked for misbehavior to that day, and in fact it took a good spanking to encourage him along the way. Still, I could make due. He couldn't make decisions on his own, but he didn't need to with me there, and if that meant he would go straight from over his mother's lap to my own, then at least he'd be used to the sensation. The problem, as is often the case, concerns the difference between expectation and reality. Apparently, this whimpering, silly little boy expected to be treated as the man of the house. I quickly showed him he wasn't even the "man" of our relationship. I still remember his face in his first lesson. It was a sight to behold... almost as much a sight as his red bottom! Once I took over all his accounts and wealth, I set about investing and purchasing as I saw fit. This did not sit well with Toby. Apparently, he thought this would be HIS job, despite my FAR greater experience and ability. After he realized I was making decisions without his input, he came in to discuss it with me. "Discuss" we did, if you could call his throwing a temper tantrum as I calmly explained that his input wasn't needed, his part was complete when he gave me his wealth and his sisters and mother got a name they could attend parties with, and he should obey me. I told him he could sign his name next to mine, even take credit in public, but it would be my choices. He continued whining as I rational explained this, until i decided that if rationality wasn't getting through his thick, adorable little head, I could try it through another path. I nodded along to his whining, then with one swift motion, grabbed his wrist, undid his pants, and pulled him over my lap. He was too shocked to respond at first, perhaps guessing it was some kind of sex game (more on THAT topic later), but when the first spank fell on his upturned bottom, the reality of the situation hit as hard as the spanking he was about to receive. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Many readers here will recognize the good, sure effect of a spanking for their misbehaved husbands. I really wonder what worked better for my husband's mentality. The pain, or the embarrassment of my having to punish him as if he was a child, with members of our staff watching on top of it! He probably thought he was above them, so having them see him get spanked, knowing if anything THEY were all respected workers above such treatment and merely laughed at his naked bottom, did wonders for his mentality. Oh, sure, he struggled. He whined, cried, called for the staff to help him, kicked, punched... all for naught. He may have thought that as a "man" he could overpower me, but a lifetime of privilege had left the narrow shouldered, thin armed boy with little muscle or knowledge of how to fight, while I had spent years exercising and practiced judo with the other women for self defence. A brief pause, an arm twisted behind his back, and I continued the spanking with new vigor. Soon, he was in tears and just begging me to stop. Once I decided he had enough, I waited for his apology, then sat him on my lap, pants still around his ankles. It was a fine sight for a "man," cuddling in my lap, knees practically in a fetal position, and huffing and sniveling into a handkerchief like a baby. (More on THAT later too) I then calmly explained the reality of his situation. He was a silly little boy with no valuable skills or experience, who was lucky to come from a rich family. The only benefit he could provide was what was now exposed between his legs, and the opportunity it provided to his parents to marry him off. They wanted social status, and had traded him, along with a hefty dowry, to me for that. Now, his part was done, and he could enjoy his rich, luxurious life as the real adults made decisions for him. All he had to do was be a good boy and let us make the decisions, and I'd let him continue his life while buying him all the toys and pretty clothes he wanted. If he fought too much, I had no issue "losing" him somewhere on the street, and everyone BUT him would still get what they wanted. Oh, sure, there was more whining, but it was hard for him to argue while squirming on his recently spanked bottom. This was the first time he challenged his situation, and ended quickly, but it would be far from the last. Though I couldn't yet ensure he always behaved, however, we now established a good way to correct his misbehavior. To me, it was more important to teach him that I could spank him when I saw fit, and would do so when needed, then to simply stop the one outburst. So, from then on, his spankings came regularly. Any fighting or backtalk, any sign of his bratty attitude, or just any time my rational explanations didn't land in his confused brain (which was often), I'd fix the issue by pulling him over my lap, pants down, for a long, hard, spanking. At first, he struggled and fought, which probably humiliated him even more he realized how easily I could overpower him. Then he moved to whining and begging, which really just made the situation all the more adorable for me. He tried ordering, then asking, the staff for help, which lead to them snickering and reinforced he had no power over them despite officially being the "man" of the house. (At this point they were already calling him "boy of the house" as a joke) He at one point threatened to out my behaviour to his family, and I invited him to do just that, go to his family and tell them his new wife could over power him and spank him at will. His blushing face said it all as he realized their reaction would probably be laughing and congratulating me for finding the right way to deal with their bratty younger brother. And really, what choice did he have? I explained each possible outcome. He could ask for help from others, and be laughed at. He could divorce, but then his submissiveness would be made public in court, and not only would he lose all his fortune to me, but his pride. Then what? He could run to his family, but would they take the sad little loser who had lost most of their money? They never respected him to begin with, and they got what they wanted from him-connection to old wealth. Or, he could exercise and try to fight back, but the staff were on my side, and unlike him my complaining about him would lead to people supporting me rather then laughing and an even more one-sided divorce. I had him by the balls, or whatever he had where they should have been. So, the spankings continued. I added some other punishments. For anyone wondering, "corner time"- having them stand facing the corner and unmoving for an hour or so- will work wonders on your husband when they throw particularly emotional tantrums. Embarrassing clothes (MUCH more on this later) help, as did early bedtimes. However, the spankings still reigned supreme as the authority in my husband's new life. The staff learned to recognize the signs, and would snicker at him as he sat squirming on his aching bottom, or laugh outright when they waled in on him, nose in the corner, with his pants around his ankle and bright red bottom on display for all to see. He, of course, threatened to tell people. I'm sure in his spoiled little brain that made sense in a way, and he envisioned some force coming to help him. I simply laughed, and told him to do it- tell everyone that he was upset because despite his being a grown man, his wife was spanking him daily for misbehaving like a naughty child. His face dropped, and I sent him to the corner. It only took a few weeks and perhaps a one or two dozen spankings for him to accept them and start crawling over my lap on command. If he argued, all i had to do was raise an eyebrow and point to my lap, and he sighed, then bend over obediently. What a good boy he was, for a short while. That is when I started pushing further. I think, in his mind, while he was clearly beneath me, he still saw himself as above the staff. This idea was soon squashed. The first time I sent a maid to collect him, he shouted and argued as bad as the first disagreement. I had noticed an error in the paperwork I had him fill out, and sent her to tell him to come to me for his spanking. I fixed this problem by going down myself. When he saw me with my arms folded, he stuttered and claimed he didn't believe the maid. I assured him she wouldn't lie, told him he had doubled his spanking and corner time by arguing, and ordered him over my lap. From then on, I almost exclusively used maids to order him in, reinforcing his new status. (This one is already written and the next parts should be up soon. I just need to edit to fit the rules of this page)

Sitting on his mother-in-law’s lap, diapered and sucking on a pacifier, Steven couldn’t help but wonder how his life had come to this. Just months ago, he was Joan’s husband, struggling to find work but still a man in his own home. Now, he spent his days dressed as a baby, under the complete control of his mother-in-law, Margaret. Maybe if he had refused Joan’s idea, things would have turned out differently. Maybe he would have found a job and kept his dignity. Maybe Joan wouldn’t have reconnected with her ex—wouldn’t be dating him, sleeping with him, while Steven sat in a nursery, waiting to be fed and changed. But it was too late for maybes. Margaret pulled the pacifier from his mouth and offered her breast. Steven hesitated, but his body had already been trained to accept. He latched on and began to suck, slowly at first, then faster as the familiar routine took over. “That’s my good baby,” she said, her voice warm but firm. Steven shifted, uncomfortable, feeling his diaper grow warm as he nursed. He knew what was happening, but there was no point in fighting it. This was his life now. His mind drifted back to the beginning—to how it all started. Chapter 1 Mother-In-Law Steven sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as Joan drove toward her mother’s house. His hands were clenched in his lap, his stomach twisting with shame. He didn’t dare look at her. Not after everything. This was his fault. At least, that’s what Joan said. Losing his job was bad enough, but failing to find another for over a month? That sealed it. Bills kept piling up, and with Joan’s salary alone, they couldn’t afford to stay in their home. She had given him a choice—move in with her mother or be on his own. She wouldn’t wait around forever, and she wasn’t going to waste her life supporting a man who couldn’t pull his weight. If he refused, she would leave, and divorce would follow. Steven couldn’t risk that. Joan was everything to him. So he agreed. They packed up their things, said goodbye to the home they had built together, and now here they were, pulling into his mother-in-law’s driveway. Margaret’s house was as pristine as he remembered. Big, elegant, the kind of home that radiated wealth and success.The kind of success he had failed to provide for Joan. And there she was—Margaret herself, waiting on the porch. Even at fifty-five, she barely looked over forty. Her posture was perfect, her hair flawlessly styled, her presence commanding. At first glance, no one would ever guess she was a mother, let alone to twins. Margaret was always polished. Always in control. And she had never been shy about her opinions—especially about Steven. The moment Joan parked, Margaret stepped forward with a warm, welcoming smile—directed entirely at her daughter. “Joan, sweetheart,” she said, pulling her daughter into a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here. You must be exhausted from the drive.” Then her eyes flicked to Steven. The warmth dimmed slightly, her smile tightening at the edges. Not quite a sneer. But not far off. “And Steven,” she said smoothly. “I assume you’ll be staying as well.” Her tone was polite, but Steven felt the unspoken words hanging in the air. For now. Margaret’s home was just as immaculate inside as it was outside. Not a speck of dust in sight. Everything had a place, and everything stayed in it. She led them through the hall, guiding Joan toward a spacious guest bedroom—clearly set up with comfort in mind. Steven stepped forward instinctively, but before he could enter, Margaret turned to him with a raised brow. “You two can stay here,” Margaret said. “Millie is out of town this week. But she should be back next Monday.” Steven exhaled in relief. Millie was Joan’s mirror image—tall, blonde, gorgeous. But that’s where their similarities ended. Millie was the most obnoxious woman Steven had ever met. Lazy, entitled, living off Margaret’s money without a care in the world. “It’s going to be fun,” Margaret continued, a note of amusement in her voice. “Having my two babies back home again. And well… Steven too, I suppose.” Steven’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Joan dropped onto the bed, already making herself comfortable. “Thanks, Mom. You’re a lifesaver.” “Of course, sweetheart. You deserve to be comfortable.” Then she turned to Steven. “And you’ll be looking for work right away, I assume?” Steven straightened, eager to show effort. “Yes, absolutely. I’ve already put in some applications.” Margaret tilted her head slightly. “That’s good to hear. But until something comes through, you’ll need to contribute around the house.” “Oh, uh, sure. I guess I can do a few things—” Steven said. “That’s a good boy,” Margaret said with a grin and something darker behind her eyes. Something about the way she said it made his stomach twist. The first few days were physically exhausting and mentally draining. Steven was up early every morning, scrubbing floors, vacuuming, dusting, washing dishes. Whenever he had time to spare, he was forced to work on his resume. Meanwhile, Joan was already getting calls about possible jobs. “You can’t just leave me here alone with your mother,” Steven said when Joan told him about her interview. Joan frowned. “We need the money. The faster we both find jobs, the faster we can leave.” “But—“ “No buts,” she cut him off. “Now get back to your chores. You know Mom doesn’t like you lazing around.” Steven sighed. There was always more to do. No matter how much he cleaned, Margaret always found something else. And she always watched him. "A real man takes responsibility.” "You should be grateful to contribute, Steven.” "Is Joan the only one who ever cleaned up after you?” He wanted to argue. Wanted to snap back. But what could he say? He was a guest here. He had no leverage. So he kept his head down and did what he was told. On the fourth day, Margaret called him into the kitchen. “Steven, dear. Remember how you were complaining about doing the dishes?” Steven hesitated. He didn’t remember complaining—just saying his clothes were getting wet. “Well, I remember.” She said, holding something pink and frilly in her hands—an apron covered in Disney princesses. “That won’t be a problem anymore.” Steven blinked. “Uh… what’s that?” “Your apron,” Margaret said simply. “If you’re going to be doing housework, you should at least dress the part.” Steven stared. She couldn’t be serious. “…You expect me to wear that?” Margaret arched an eyebrow. “I expect you to show me some respect and thank me for getting you such a cute apron.” He looked toward Joan, expecting her to say something. To defend him. But Joan just sighed. “Steven, just wear it. Stop making things difficult.” Steven felt his face flush. “It’s ridiculous,” he muttered. Joan’s expression hardened, and she didn’t need to talk for Steven to know what she was thinking. Her words had been very clear. Either he obeyed her mother, or he could pack his things and find a place to live without her. Slowly, reluctantly, he took the apron and pulled it over his head. The fabric felt absurd, hanging over his clothes. Too soft. Too delicate. Too childish. ‘Thank you, Margaret,” he forced himself to say with a smile. Margaret beamed. “There’s a good boy,” she said, patting his cheek. Steven’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to stay quiet. This was just temporary. Just until he found a job. How could it get worse? Chapter 2 The Incident The week passed in a slow, suffocating haze. Every day blurred into the next—wake up early, clean the house from top to bottom, endure Margaret’s judgmental gaze, and try not to react when she made pointed remarks about what a real man should be doing with his life. Steven had started to adapt, as much as he hated to admit it. He had little choice. Joan was too busy applying for jobs to argue on his behalf, and Margaret had made it crystal clear that he was expected to earn his keep. The apron, as humiliating as it was, had become part of his routine. It wasn’t worth the fight. And just when he was starting to settle into the rhythm of things, Millie came home. The front door swung open with force, and a shrill, excited voice echoed through the house. “Mommy! I’m home!” Steven barely had time to process the words before heels clacked against the hardwood floors, and Millie swept into the kitchen like she owned the place. She had the same blonde hair and striking features as Joan, but where Joan exuded maturity and elegance, Millie was all about herself. Her designer handbag was tossed onto the counter without a second thought, and she flashed Margaret a perfectly manicured smile. You wouldn’t believe she was a woman in her mid-thirties. “Did you miss me?” she asked, leaning in to press a dramatic kiss to Margaret’s cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.” Margaret chuckled, smoothing her daughter’s hair fondly. “The house has been far too quiet without you.” Then her eyes landed on Steven. “…Oh my God.” Steven tensed as she burst into laughter. “Oh, this is too good.” Millie stepped closer, grinning ear to ear. “You’re wearing a princess apron?” Steven’s face flushed hot. He wanted to tear the damn thing off, but he knew Margaret wouldn’t allow it. “I mean, I always knew you were a bit of a sissy, but this?” She turned to Margaret, eyes twinkling. “You’re making him play housewife?” Margaret smiled sweetly. “Oh, he’s been very helpful. Haven’t you, Steven?” Steven’s jaw tightened. Millie giggled, reaching out to ruffle his hair like a child. “Aww, you’re adorable.” Steven jerked away. “Don’t touch me.” Millie smirked. “Relax, princess. I was just admiring Mommy’s little helper.” Steven wanted to disappear. And worst of all—Joan didn’t say a word. She just sat there, looking at her phone as Millie and Margaret mocked him. It was as if she didn’t care anymore and it had only been a week since they moved in. He feared his relationship with his wife would deteriorate at this rate. But he endured it because he felt they were right. If he couldn’t provide for Joan, what could he expect from her? The following weeks were pure hell. If Margaret was subtle in her condescension, Millie was the exact opposite. She took every opportunity to mock him—calling him princess, housewife, and even Margaret’s little sissy maid. She never missed a chance to pat his head, pinch his cheek, or smirk at his discomfort. Steven tried to tune her out. But then Joan got a job, and things got worse. “You’re working for him?” Steven’s voice came out strained, disbelieving. Joan barely looked up from her phone. “Yeah. It’s a great opportunity.” Steven’s chest tightened. “Joan, he’s your ex.” “And?” She gave him a bored glance. “It’s not a big deal, Steven.” Steven gritted his teeth. “It feels like a big deal.” She sighed, setting her phone down. “Steven, grow up. It’s a job. He owns the company, but I don’t even report to him directly.” Steven crossed his arms. “That doesn’t change anything.” Joan ran a hand through her hair, her frustration evident. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. You should be happy for me. This job pays well, and it means we can move out sooner.” The word stung. Like she was the only one trapped here. Steven swallowed hard. “That’s not the point.” Joan grabbed her purse, rolling her eyes. “Whatever, Steven. I don’t have time for your insecurities.” And then she was gone. Leaving him alone with Margaret and Millie eight hours a day, five days a week. Joan was home less and less. At first, Steven tried to ignore it, told himself it was temporary, necessary—she was just busy. It was good that she had a job, right? They needed the money. But something felt different. She started coming home later and later. At first, it was only an hour or two past dinner, but soon, Steven found himself eating alone at the table, pushing food around his plate while Margaret and Millie cast knowing glances at each other. She used to text him during the day—little things: How’s your job search? Miss you. Hope your day’s okay. Those messages stopped. Now, whenever her phone buzzed, she’d glance at it, smirk, and turn the screen away. And the worst part? She had started dressing differently. Joan was never the type to care about makeup or her hair when going to work, but now she left the house looking like she was going on a date. At breakfast, Steven watched as she smoothed out her skirt, adjusting the way it hugged her hips. Her perfume lingered in the air, something subtle and sweet—something she hadn’t worn in years. Steven swallowed, forcing a smile. “You’re really dressing up for this job, huh?” Joan didn’t look up from the mirror. “I just want to look professional.” Steven nodded slowly. “Right. Professional.” His stomach twisted. The days were long, filled with endless cleaning, cooking, and listening to Margaret’s passive-aggressive remarks about what a husband should be. Every evening, his body ached, his mind exhausted from constantly keeping up, keeping quiet, keeping small. So when the first accident happened, he blamed the coffee. It was late afternoon. His knees ached as he scrubbed the kitchen floor, Margaret standing over him, checking for invisible specks of dirt. The warm scent of lemon cleaner lingered in the air, and the cool tiles pressed against his palms. Suddenly, it happened. A strange warmth pooled between his legs. His body tensed. His breath hitched. For a moment, his mind refused to process it. But then, the slow, horrifying realization sank in. His hands trembled as he lurched to his feet, bolting toward the bathroom. Margaret’s voice followed him. “Steven?” He slammed the door shut, heart hammering. Frantically, he yanked down his pants, staring at the small but undeniable damp spot. It was nothing. Just an accident. Too much coffee. Stress. That’s all. Nothing to worry about. He cleaned himself up, forcing deep, steady breaths. When he stepped out of the bathroom, Millie was leaning against the counter, her lips curled into a smirk. Steven froze. “Something wrong?” she asked. Her eyes flicked to his pants. Steven forced a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “No. Nothing.” “Mmm. If you say so.” She knew. Somehow, she knew, he could see it in her eyes. But it was a one-time thing. It wouldn’t happen again. The next day, it happened again. Then again. It was just a few drops. But it became more frequent. Nothing, however, would’ve prepared him for when it happened in his sleep. The first time Joan noticed, Steven woke to the sound of her sharp intake of breath. It was still the middle of the night. He didn’t register what had happened at first. The room was dimly lit, the hum of the ceiling fan the only sound—until Joan ripped the covers off him. “Oh my God, Steven.” The sheets beneath him were soaked. Steven’s breath caught in his throat. Panic rushed through him, cold and suffocating. His hands clenched into fists as he scrambled to sit up, but the damage was undeniable. “Are you kidding me?!” Joan asked in disgust. Steven opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind was blank. Horrified. “I—I’m sorry,” he finally stammered. “Steven, you’re a grown man. This is not acceptable!” The door creaked open, and Steven flinched as Margaret stepped inside, her sharp eyes immediately scanning the scene. It was his worst nightmare. His mother-in-law stood there with that disapproving gaze of hers. “Well,” she said smoothly, exhaling as if she had been waiting for this moment. “I think Stevie here is showing us who he truly is.” Speechless, Steven tried to argue. He tried to tell her to get out of his room. But it wasn’t his room. It was hers. It was her home and he was only a guest. “I suppose we’ll have to take some precautions,” Margaret said with a grin. “We can’t have you ruining the mattress.” She turned to Joan, her voice practical, almost casual. “I think it’s time he started wearing protection.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle — Back to Basics: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DWJ38LPL You can also find Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

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….