I Have The Name But Not The Story

[Hawkx1]

This time I have the story I even know where to finf chapters of the story but I'm missing parts of it. The story is called "Down, Down Always down i think there's 6 parts to the story and was made by SallyK but i'm not sure. What I am sure about is the name oh sissybecky why did you have to leave

[babyjennie]

This time I have the story I even know where to finf chapters of the story but I'm missing parts of it. The story is called "Down, Down Always down i think there's 6 parts to the story and was made by SallyK but i'm not sure. What I am sure about is the name oh sissybecky why did you have to leave

Dear Hawkx, here you go - suitably edited by me again, I gotta admit. But every story in my huge sissy AB library has been repeatedly edited and 'improved,' every time I re-read it. I hope you enjoy it, despite the minor differences. Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia

Down, Down, Always Down By SALLYKA

I have Jennifer Laura to thank for the inspiration for this story. I’m worried that I am getting stuck in a rut with my stories, so please don’t consider this plagiarism or stealing, but a compliment instead...

Peter and Isabell had been back from their honeymoon for over three months.

Peter had been over the moon when Isabell had accepted his proposal, and even now he counted his lucky stars that he had been so lucky in love. Isabell was everything he had always wanted, and then some. His few complaints sounded churlish, so he had kept them to himself, but when Isabell announced that she was taking a fantastic new job with a big law firm in town, it left Peter somewhat deflated. He had quit his lowly-paid teaching job before the honeymoon, and every time he suggested that he look for a job himself, Isabell responded with a kiss, a declaration of love, and fulsome praise for the job Peter was doing looking after the house while she got her career settled. Her career settled. Peter began to wonder whether he should be the one settling the career.

For all Isabel’s attractions, she was capable of being quite hurtful, Peter thought, as he morosely dwelled during the long lonely days at home, on the niggling things that Isabell would bring up. She seemed lately to have been concentrating on Pete’s less-than-savoury personal habits. The last person to criticise his personal habits in such a way was his mother, several years before. Isabell did it more hurtfully, Peter thought ruefully as he wiped down the kitchen bench tops. One morning she had complained about his supposed urine splashes around the toilet. "It would be better if you sat to pee I think, Peter. I don’t know why men have to stand up. It just ends up with them making a mess. I’d prefer you to sit on the potty properly in future, like I do," she had suggested over breakfast.

Their well-appointed flat which Isabell owned had only one toilet in the big marble bathroom. The next morning Isabell was already in the shower when Peter had to use the toilet. He had no choice but to urinate while she was in the shower. "Are you sitting, Peter?" Isabell asked from behind the shower curtain as she heard Peter lifting the seat on the toilet.

"Yes," muttered Peter, replacing the seat quietly and sitting down with an unseen grimace before doing his business.

“Good boy," Isabell praised him, and Peter churlishly screwed up his face. She wasn’t his mother. And he intended to sit anyway, he lied to himself. Isabell stepped out of the shower while Peter was still sitting on the toilet, and kissed him affectionately on the top of the head. Peter glanced up to see her beautiful full breasts dangling in front of him, and then looked down to see her gloriously trimmed blonde thatch crowning the gap at the top of her legs. That cheered him up, and he forgave her for insisting that he sit to pee.

So that he wouldn’t have to lie to her, which made him feel guilty, he started sitting to pee even when he was alone during the day. It did save those little drops that sometimes inadvertently splashed on the floor, he thought. ‘Why do men have to stand anyway?’ he wondered, and soon found himself sitting without a second thought.

A week or so later, Isabell had arrived home and plopped a container of diaper soaker on the bench where they ate their breakfast. "I noticed recently that you’ve been staining your undies quite badly in the back. It’s not very nice," she complained. "I want you to soak them in this before washing them. You can use the white pail I put in the laundry. Just mix up a solution and leave the pail in the bathroom for when you change if you’ve dirtied your pants.’

‘Great,’ thought Peter despondently. What was he meant to do, check his pants every time he used the toilet, and change if he had "dirtied his pants’? Then use the "diaper pail" as he thought of it, as if he were a small child? But that’s exactly what he found himself doing. She was right again. Peter found that his pants were dirty in the back more often than not, no matter how well he wiped after pooping. There were usually two or three pairs of his soiled white pants soaking in the pail when washing time came around. They did come out of the wash cleaner though, he found. So Pete soon grew used to soaking his undies every night, just as he had the act of sitting to urinate.

Isabel’s passion for cleanliness extended to their lovemaking as well. She always got up and washed after making love, and began to complain that Pete was "dripping" even after he had washed and dried himself as well. Pete had always had a little "post-cum dribble" or whatever it was, and he never had any complaints before. But soon he found himself having to put on a pair of clean briefs before climbing back into bed with his beautifully naked wife after making love.

While Pete had bought up the subject of his looking for work several times, nothing seemed to come of it. "He’s my little house-husband, aren’t you Pet?" Isabell had said with a laugh when one of her female colleagues had visited and asked Pete what he did for a living. "He works very hard, don’t you Pet?" she had insisted loyally, while Peter avoided what he felt were the mocking eyes of Isabel’s workmate.

‘I’d love to borrow him," the other lawyer had said. "Unless you can train my undomesticated big brute. He’d consider it too much of a demotion from stockbroking though, I’m afraid." The lady lawyer had caught Pete’s crestfallen look. "Oh poor baby, I didn’t mean that you weren’t the best little house-husband in town!" she exclaimed brightly, patting Pete’s bottom reassuringly as he picked up their coffee cups.

Peter retired to the kitchen feeling hurt. A few minutes later on following Isabel’s friend to the bathroom, he noticed that the lid on his "diaper pail" was askew, when he knew he had carefully put it on squarely the last time he had used it. Lifting the lid to put back on properly, he saw the labelled band of his white men’s briefs prominent above the cleaning solution. ‘Great! Now she thinks the housemaid stains her undies,’ he thought with annoyance.

He even thought he received a kindly, and somehow demeaning look from the other lady as he returned to the table with more coffee. To make matters worse, the two women were discussing something when he arrived, and clearly stopped talking the moment he appeared. Then Isabel’s friend making a weak comment about the coffee, as if to change the subject. Pete knew that he shouldn’t be so sensitive, but he still felt somehow put down by the whole visit. "You’re a darling, Pete. Isabell is so lucky," commented the other woman enviously as she left, giving the cowed lad a peck on the cheek. He mumbled his farewell, feeling even worse.

"She was very impressed with you, Pet," said Isabell as she walked back into the kitchen. As if that made him feel better, he thought.

That night Isabell kept pushing him away when he attempted to mount her. Not so much away, as pressing his head back down between her legs. Peter normally loved giving his wife oral pleasure, but it was always a prelude to intercourse, not a replacement. He really needed to get inside her, he thought. His erection rubbed frustratingly against the bottom sheet beneath Isabel’s spread legs as he pleasured her as she commanded. He tried to stop before it was too late, but it was already too late. He exploded without touching himself, and he came over the sheet. He stopped his licking and kissing as he gasped and twitched spastically, and then lay still on the bed. ‘Peter?" asked Isabell, straining her neck up and gently pulling his head up to look him in the eyes. Peter avoided her searching blue eyes, but Isabell guessed what had happened. "Oh Pet! You didn’t have an accident, did you?" she softly asked. Peter felt about six years old.

‘Well you wouldn’t let me inside you," he complained petulantly, shifting position and feeling the sticky wet slipperiness beneath his tummy.

‘Oh Pet! Can’t you control yourself, baby?" inquired Isabell, gently stroking his head. Peter felt tears of shame streaming down his cheeks, and tried to hide his blushing red face. It wasn’t just cumming on the sheet, which must have happened to millions of guys. It was the whole thing - the other lady and the diaper pail, being told how to go to the toilet, being told how to make love... He felt Isabell rolling out of bed and he didn’t care. She returned with a fresh sheet and Peter silently helped her strip and change the bed. She wiped Peter’s thighs, tummy and groin with a corner of the old sheet before tossing it in the laundry basket in the corner of the room, then she produced a pair of her thick pastel colored cotton sports briefs. "I know these are mine, Pet, but they have a thicker gusset. Just put them on in case there’s some more mess to come. I’m sorry baby, I know you couldn’t help it," she said kindly.

Peter felt so miserable and less worthwhile, somehow. It was a relief just to do as he was told. Silently he let Isabell pull the thick cotton briefs up his legs, and let her tuck his flaccid penis down so that the head rested on the absorbent towelling gusset of the pants. She pulled the garment right up to Pete’s navel. "There we are darling, all safe and sound," Isabell cooed, patting him on his now broad pale blue rump. Peter caught sight of his freshly pantied bottom as he swung back into bed. He looked like a half-dressed cheerleader, or worse, like his big sister when he caught her undressing when they were children.

He went quietly to sleep, glad to snuggle up to his loving wife. The next morning Isabell asked him nothing more than whether he slept well, and seemed to have forgotten the incident. Peter decided to put the briefs into his pail, just for good measure. The next night as they undressed for bed, Isabell dropped another pair of the big thick undies on the bed. "Just in case, darling. You can take them off later, if you need to," she gently coaxed him. Peter had to admit to himself that the pants were warm and comfortable, even if they were kind of embarrassing. Isabell wanted to go straight to sleep, and Peter felt relieved. This would be the end of the big undies, he thought.

However Isabell woke during the night as she sometimes did, and gently pushed Pete’s head down once more. In his drowsy state Pete didn’t complain, and began his ministrations with his talented tongue She was so aroused, but she would neither let him enter her nor even give him time out. The result was that he uncontrollably ejaculated in his new underpants. He was quite upset and close to tears as he stood beside the bed and let her take charge once again. He gazed unhappily at his reflection in the dressing table mirror. The pale briefs were soaked a darker shade to the top of the half-moon at the top of the towelling gusset.

“Well at least the bed’s dry, baby. I bought another pair of panties for you to wear when you’ve had a little wash," Isabell informed him. "You’d better put your wet panties in your pail.”

‘I don’t need telling,’ thought Peter sulkily, and crawled back into bed wearing the clean pair of briefs feeling like a naughty schoolgirl who had wet her panties in gym class.

Pete soon became used to wearing the sports briefs every night. He even became less upset at the lack of his usual mode of release, and began to look forward to his extra-vaginal ejaculations almost as much as he had the sort he had been accustomed to. Isabell seemed to value his contribution to her orgasmic well-being just as much as ever, and Pete eventually got over his initial embarrassment. It was quite a sensible arrangement he felt, and he was certainly getting - or at least giving more head than most guys, he figured.

Some days later Isabell arrived home with half a dozen packs of Triumph sports briefs. "Here you are darling, I hope I bought your correct size - I had to guess your hip size," she said.

‘I have a waist size," Peter responded somewhat shortly.

‘Well these really go by hip size. They’ve got a little thicker padding than your other panties, so I hope they fit," Isabell said. "I’ve taken out some of your old underwear, so these should fit in your usual panty drawer."

Peter unwrapped the packages while Isabell watched the news after dinner. Women’s briefs, he thought, as he looked at the pictures and the sizing on the packets. They looked smaller than his - than the other panties. He dropped his jeans and jocks and tried on a pair. They were quite stretchy and actually fitted very well. He tucked his penis down the front as Isabell usually did for him. ‘Quite comfortable,’ he thought. “They look lovely, dear," Isabell complimented him warmly as she entered the room, making him blush.

“I’m just trying them on," Peter protested defensively, feeling obliged to explain.

"That’s alright, darling. Why don’t you leave them on for the rest of the day?" she said, reaching down and picking up his discarded jocks. Peter swallowed as Isabell closely inspected the pants he had been wearing all day. She said nothing, but grimaced as she took them into the bathroom where Peter heard the lid of his pail coming off and being replaced. Peter hoped that he wouldn’t mark his new briefs with nasty poo-poo stains. He pulled his jeans back up, and noticed that the tight stretchy undergarment made the jeans fit a little looser. It was nice to feel slightly slimmer, he thought as he pulled up the zipper.

The months passed at Isabell and Peter’s house, and the idea of his going back to work seemed to recede into at least the middle distance. Isabell was apparently very happy with the present arrangements, and Peter was gratified that she seemed so appreciative of his efforts around the home. At Isabel’s suggestion he had been watching some of the daytime cooking shows, and had picked up a lot of useful information. He was now quite an accomplished cook, and was pleased when he could surprise Isabell with an extra special dish.

Most of his day was taken up with household chores, which Peter had organised into a roster system he now worked to from memory. It went very smoothly, even when Isabell requested some extra work be slotted in. One particular morning she asked Pete, "Be a dear and give the silver a special clean will you, darling?" She told him of a dinner party she had planned for some colleagues. Peter set to work polishing the best cutlery and some other silver items. He found some of the polish and whatever black stuff came off the silver on his top and pants, and discovered that it didn’t come off in the wash. He discussed it with Isabell, which was the catalyst for the new work clothes he was now wearing.

Isabell suggested he wear some overalls, and Peter offered to wear his old car-fixing gear. But Isabell objected on the grounds that he would look like a plumber, and would have to change for his regular trips to the supermarket. She would find something more suitable for him and bring it home. So Peter found himself the owner of pair of bright yellow cotton overalls. Isabell said they looked lovely, and Peter found them comfortable and thought they’d be very practical. Peter was sitting on the toilet having a pee the first time he wore the new garment when he noticed that they didn’t have a fly, just a seam in front. His old "garage overalls" not only had a button fly, but also access to trouser pockets through the open pockets of the overalls.

He supposed that these were meant to wear without trousers underneath. The lack of a fly didn’t bother him though, as he sat to pee these days, anyway. He had admired himself in the mirror in the overalls, and noticed that with the short t-shirt he had on, that his stretch briefs were visible at the sides where the garment gaped slightly above the buttons. He wore the stretch briefs all the time now, as Isabell had taken to slipping home sometimes during the day wanting "my little sweetie" to perform oral service for her. It was easier to slip into the warm and comfortable briefs every morning.

Isabell said that the overalls looked so sweet, that it would be a pity to mess them up with any really dirty jobs, even thought they were overalls. So she asked him to wear an apron over them for anything risky, and he readily agreed with her sensible suggestion. So Peter worked away in the home during the day while Isabell battled with the corporate world in the city. He found his world and his priorities oddly contracting. His knowledge of the supermarket grew though, and he became quite houseproud about the way he kept their home. Being a housewife, or at least househusband, wasn’t so bad. He began to feel a bond of equality with the other homebodies he began to meet regularly at the supermarket.

Isabell often admired his long blonde hair, and she even said that she wished her own hair looked as pretty. Peter’s hair had grown during the last few months, and Isabell mentioned that it would be a pity to cut it, as it had such a lovely natural wave. On one Saturday morning trip to the local mall together, she had even convinced him to let her own hairdresser deal with the annoying fringe which had a habit of flopping in Peter’s eyes as he worked.

A few minutes work by the hairdresser fixed that, and he left with a pretty bouncy curled fringe, neatly trimmed a millimetre above his delicate, freshly-waxed eyebrows. The girls had also complimented Peter on his thick and healthy beautiful blonde hair. With all the attention, he began to take a special pride in his long blonde locks. When he complained his fringe was hanging in his eyes the next morning, Isabell showed him how to roll it onto a curler while wet, and then spray it with some hairspray. He took the curler out a few minutes later when his hair was dry, and his bouncy curled fringe bobbed gaily above his eyebrows again.

He began to roll his fringe into a curler every morning without being asked, and Isabell always smiled at him and told him how sweet he looked afterwards, making him glow with happiness. When she suggested a satin ‘scrunchie’ to keep Peter’s hair tidy and out of the way during the day, he readily agreed, and had even worn his scrunchied ponytail to the mall. He only realised after he had returned home, but as no-one had given him so much as a second glance, he continued wearing it for the convenience of not having to brush his hair aside all the time.

One afternoon a week or so after Peter’s first visit to the hairdresser, there was a knock at the door. Peter answered and signed for a parcel for Isabell. "Thank you, Miss," the delivery boy said with a cheerful smile. "Have a nice afternoon." The lad’s mistake didn’t hit Peter until after he had closed the door. Peter glanced in the hall mirror as he passed. Okay, he had his hair in a high bouncy ponytail, but so did a lot of guys. And his neat fringe did look very attractive… and almost feminine, he conceded. But it was a bright afternoon, and he had been standing in the relative darkness of the hall, so maybe the boy couldn’t see him properly. ‘Oh well,’ thought Peter. ‘At least he smiled at me, so even if he did think I was a girl, he found me pleasant-looking enough to smile at me.’ Peter smiled himself at the unintended compliment.

By the time Isabell arrived home, Peter had finished all of his chores and had arranged flowers in all the vases around the house. He wasn’t trying to celebrate anything, but he felt happy nonetheless. He was dying to see what was in the box which had been delivered - a delivery like that really punctuated his day, and he excitedly begged Isabell to open it almost as soon as she walked in, bouncing around his wife like an excited toddler as she walked to the study to put her case down. Isabell smiled at the way Pete’s pretty fringe and shiny blonde ponytail bounced with him, and gave him a kiss before chiding him; "It may not be a present for my baby.” Pete looked exaggeratedly glum, turning out his bottom lip like one of the children sulking in the daytime kids' shows. Isabell laughed and relented, telling him to go and open his present.

Peter ran happily to the table where the intriguing box had been sitting for most of the day.

Isabell watched with a grin as he peeled back the tape securing the package. Opening the lid, he peeked at the contents. Folded inside the box were several garments. Pete pulled out the first one and shook it out. He held up a new pair of overalls, these ones in light blue. He had become very accustomed to wearing his comfortable yellow overalls, and looked forward to their return whenever they were in the wash. His track pants were not really a substitute for the secure contained feeling the snug-fitting overalls gave him. He returned Isabel’s kiss enthusiastically as she leant over to him. "They’re lovely! Thank you!" Pete gushed with feeling.

"Go on, have a look at the rest," urged Isabell with a gay laugh. She was pleased he liked them.

The next item was another pair of overalls, but with very short legs. Pete held them up, then looked dubiously at the short legs and the colour. "They’re pink," he mumbled uncertainly.

“Light red," corrected Isabell. "And the short legs will be more comfortable for you when it’s hot. Peter considered this. Light red was obviously okay, and the short legs would be much cooler. He remembered seeing young women in the supermarket wearing similar shortie overalls, and they always looked very attractive. He felt so lucky to have Isabell looking after him. Once again no fly opening, he noticed, but that wasn’t really a problem for him. He took out the other items. There were four new pairs in all - two long overalls, one white and the light blue ones, and two short ones, one light red and the other the same pale yellow as the ones he had on. "The short ones are called shortalls," she said helpfully.

Pete laughed at the appropriateness of the name. "Shortalls," he repeated, and giggled happily. "My new shortalls.” He fingered the clasp above the bib of one of the pairs. It was in the form a small plastic flower.

"No-one will notice those, and anyway, they’re cute, aren’t they?" Isabell insisted. Peter wasn’t so sure. Still they were very small flowers, and he usually wore a sweater over his overalls. And how many husbands had such caring wives who bought them not one, but four new pieces of clothing! The happy couple celebrated by hopping into bed.

After Peter had brought his wonderful wife to two thrilling climaxes, wards, once he had changed his wet undies, he tried out the light red shortalls. They were a bit tighter around the waist than his old overalls, and Isabell explained that the gathered material was quite stretchy. It was too, he found as he bent over. He hadn’t noticed before, but there was even a stretchy section in each of the crossover straps at the back, which made the garment even more comfortable to wear. He found the feeling of snug security was even better than with his old yellow overalls. He turned around in front of the mirror, admiring his reflection. His bottom and his tummy looked nice and smooth in them. "Like them?" Isabell asked as she hugged Pete.

‘Yes, they’re fantastic! I’ll wear them every day!" enthused Peter. He grinned at Isabell and even felt a bit sorry for her in her rather severe-looking grey flannel skirt and jacket. Not only was it a dull colour, but with Isabel’s long thin face, it made her look a lot older than she really was, Pete thought. 'Although I can’t say that to her,' he warned himself.

"Well, you’ve got the others to wear as well," said Isabell. "Now let’s do your hair.”

Pete sat quietly at the dressing table while Isabell curled his fringe and brushed his shining blonde hair, and then bound it in a high bouncy ponytail. It was a pleasant ritual they had developed, and as she was brushing his locks, Isabell told Pete about the home-cooked dinner coming up with some of her colleagues. "It will be an all-girls’ night tonight," she said. "Monica whom you met the other day, and her friend Jane who works in our accounts section. I thought you might like to cook." Peter’s immediate reaction was one of nervousness. He had only ever cooked for Isabell and himself. "I’m sure you’ll be fine," said Isabell in answer to Pete’s concerns. "We can work out a nice menu, and I’ll help you with anything you’re not sure about.’

"No, I can do it," decided Pete defensively. He knew he could do it without help, even three courses. He began immediately to think of options for the menu.

"Petie baby," said Isabell, interrupting Pete’s excited chatter about soup and entrees, "You’ve got a little wet spot, darling."

"What?" demanded Peter, looking down to where Isabell indicated. There was indeed a small dark spot about the size of a large coin, right in the centre of the crotch of his new light red shortalls. It must have soaked through his briefs. “Oh no!” he cried in alarm.

"It’s alright baby, just a little too much excitement. But I think we’d better change you before it stains," Isabell suggested. "You can put on your other new shortalls.’

Pete felt highly embarrassed. "It wasn’t excitement, it was from before... You know," Pete tried to explain, still looking at the dark wet spot.

"Well, whatever," Isabell dismissively replied. "Come on, baby.’

Isabell led Pete to the bedroom, taking the box of new clothes with her. Pete stripped off and Isabell used one of the wipes she had fetched from the bathroom to clean his damp groin. She went to Pete’s undies drawer and produced a new pair of his briefs, which she handed to him. Then she took something from one of her drawers. "You might be better with one of these as well, Pet," she offered, unfolding something from a plastic pack.

Pete stood stock-still, about to put his legs into the briefs. "What is it?" he asked uncertainly, trying to make sense of the white, soft-looking thing in Isabel’s hands.

‘It’s just a little extra padding, for security," Isabell helpfully explained. "Don’t give me that sour look, baby," she insisted with a laugh, noting his expression of distaste. "Lots of ladies wear things like this all the time.’

Isabell bent down and slipped the fattish, hourglass-shaped panel into the briefs between Pete’s hands. She took his soft penis and settled it in the crotch of the briefs on the soft padding, and helped her small husband pull the briefs up snug. Pete turned and looked at himself in the mirror. His rounded tummy sloped down to the slight bulge of the padding under the stretch briefs. He had a quick vision of an older woman he had seen going into the swimming complex near the mall, wearing a blue one-piece swimsuit which accentuated a very similar profile below her waist. While Pete was distracted by these thoughts, Isabell had taken his new pale yellow shortalls in hand and was holding them open and ready for him. He held her shoulders for support and obediently stepped into the leg holes she held down and open for him, and Isabell pulled up the bib front over his brief white t-shirt and kindly adjusted the straps for him. "There you are, baby," she cooed in a pleased voice. "Look at you now!’

Peter turned in front of the mirror. His short slight frame did seem to be complimented by the shortalls. The shirred elastic sides of the waist band pulled him in tightly above the soft broad curves below. He noticed that the extra padding flattened out his "male bump" to a smooth wide vee, while his bottom seemed very round and full beneath the stretchy material. With the bib, his neat blonde ponytail and white socks and sneakers, he looked almost… feminine, he thought. He got a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Isabell, I look- I look-" he tentatively began.

"Lovely!" Isabell finished for him. "My gorgeous little Pet! Now let’s get to work on this menu," she added, patting his bottom possessively and leading him into the kitchen by the hand. Away from the mirror and with that task in mind, Pete’s fluttery feelings subsided, and he certainly felt glad that he wouldn’t have any more embarrassing leaks showing in front. He could already feel how warm and cosy the padding made his pants, and sat down happily with Isabell to plan the dinner.

After deciding what to serve to Isabel’s colleagues, they both went to the supermarket. Pete felt gratified Isabell agreed with every one of his timid suggestions, and felt the meal was to be more or less all his own work. He was so happy about the way things were going, he barely minded when a motherly woman with food samples in the supermarket called them "ladies" as she offered them the little pieces of food on toothpicks. "Oops," said Isabell, as she wiped the stained bib of Pete’s shortalls with the little napkin she had been given with her sample. Pete had accidentally dropped his laden toothpick down his front. She wiped the corner of his mouth too, where some more food had ended up.

continued....

[babyjennie]

continued...

The lady offering the samples laughed. "My little girl’s just as messy! They never really grow up, do they?" she said, offering Peter another sample. "Here you are, dear," she smiled indulgently down at him.

‘Thank you," Isabell said for him. Pete felt his cheeks going red, and did his best not to drop the replacement.

"My daughter’s nearly thirteen, and she’s always got a spot of something on her blouse," the sample lady said, laughing again as she turned away to attend to some new customers. Pete wondered why the woman was suddenly talking about her teen daughter, but had no further time to think as Isabell whisked him away to finish their shopping.

That night as Peter lay in bed in his padded briefs waiting for Isabell to finish her business notes, he wondered again why the lady had talked about her daughter. Maybe she didn’t have a son, he thought. Then he wondered if he had looked too ‘girlish’ today. He thought over the trip to the mall. No-one else had given him any funny looks or anything, so it couldn’t have been that, he decided. Then Isabell arrived, they had their usual nightly sex, and Pete soon forgot all about it.

He was pleased that with the new padding, he only had to change the pad rather than his briefs, and snuggled up to Isabell feeling warm and happy. The padding might also mean that he wouldn’t need his diaper pail anymore, he thought hopefully as he drifted off to sleep. The next day was Saturday, and Isabell decided to go for a picnic brunch and a ramble in the big park at the edge of town. She dressed him in his freshly laundered light red shortalls, and after Pete had spent some time putting a picnic basket together, the pair headed off. They enjoyed their lunch on the grass, and were strolling around in the big park when Pete suddenly felt the urge to pee. There were other couples dotted around the park here and there, enjoying the brilliant sunshine, and Pete couldn’t see any toilets nearby. He wasn’t really dressed to accommodate a standing male pee, and he had been trying to hold it when he realised that he really needed to go.

‘Just hold on, sweetie, the toilets are near the park entrance. We’ll be back there in fifteen minutes or so, darling," Isabell replied airily in answer to his urgent entreaty. Pete walked quietly on but his gait and posture indicated he was struggling to hold it. He tried to keep his thighs pressed together as he walked, but he was starting to feel a little flushed with the effort. He wondered if the padding in his undies would allow him to release a little of the pressure. He could then use the toilet in the park, and change when he got home. Isabell wouldn’t even have to know. He continued holding on and walking as best he could.

After a few minutes, he knew he would have to try releasing a little of the pressure. He paused and looked at Isabel’s back as she walked ahead of him. He let himself pee for a few seconds, as long as he dared, feeling the warm pee flood through his pad. He hoped he hadn’t overdone it. Isabell sensed that he was no longer walking behind her, and turned to check his progress. "Are you okay, baby?" she asked gently, glancing meaningfully at his crotch. "We’ll be at the gates in a few minutes, honey. Just try and hold on, baby." Pete nodded and frowned. He fought the unbidden tears that were rising in his eyes. Isabell put her arm around him and they walked on more quickly. At least I feel less urgently in need of the toilet, he thought.

At last they reached to gates and the little block of toilets near the kiosk. Pete rushed for the drab brick building, and dashed around the wall where he saw a mother and her daughter emerging. He didn’t notice the lack of urinals in the ladies' toilets, and hurried into one of the two stalls, tore off his bib, pulled his shortalls down to his knees and sat just in time. 'What a relief,' he thought as he peed long and hard into the toilet. Once he had regained his composure, he looked at the sodden pad in the undies between his knees. He lifted it out carefully and checked the thick padded crotch of the panties, running his finger across the towelling there. Still dry, he thought with satisfaction. Then spreading his knees slightly and pulling the leg openings of his undies out of the way, he noticed a wavy dark line each side of the lower front of his shortalls. ‘Damn and double damn,’ he thought in dismay. He rubbed the marks, hoping that he could somehow dry them instantly. He couldn’t.

Carefully he pulled his briefs back up, then pulled up his shortalls. There was no mistaking the inch-wide damp patches either side of the crotch, where the absorbent pad had overflowed at the sides. Pete felt suddenly short of breath and his unwanted tears returned when he couldn‘t fasten the straps by himself. His hand slipped and the shortalls fell to the floor, followed by his damp panties, and he gave a cry of annoyance. At that moment he heard Isabel’s concerned voice outside the cubicle door. "Are you okay, baby?" she asked.

"Y-y-yes," Pete started to reply, but found his voice wavered, and a sob escaped his quivering lips.

"Oh you poor baby, there’s no one else here. Open the door, darling. Let me help you," insisted Isabell maternally.

Pete stood there with his shortalls and panties trapped around his ankles, and hesitantly opened the cubicle door. Isabell saw immediately what had happened. Before doing anything else, she cradled Pete’s bowed head against her full soft breasts. "Don’t worry, darling! You just had a little accident. It’s alright. I can fix it all up for you," she sang as she tenderly stroked his fine blonde hair. Pete felt better that at least she wasn’t cross with him. Isabell helped Pete take his shortalls back down again, and produced from her bag a fresh incontinence pad. She slipped it into his briefs, got it comfortably arranged, and snugged his briefs up before pulling up his shortalls and attaching the straps above the bib. Pete was relieved that she had come to help, but absent-mindedly wondered why she had brought the spare pad with her. He tried to wipe his still tearful eyes, but Isabell did it for him, planting a fond maternal kiss on the top of his bowed head. As they left the toilet block together, Isabell smiled at a mother and her young daughter who were just entering the ladies‘ toilets. Pete was cheering up but still sniffling and looking down at his shoes, hoping no-one would notice the obvious wet patches on his clothing.

As the left the park, the lady in the kiosk waved and bid them farewell. She had watched the little drama unfold, and smiled in understanding at Isabell and Pete. Isabell smiled back, but he looked shyly away, still trying to stifle his sniffling as he wiped his eyes with one sleeve. "It can be a big day for them, can’t it," the lady said kindly. "Especially for the younger ones.’

Pete was quiet all the way home, fiddling with the seat belt in his lap and wishing the wide darker areas which had now met between his thighs would magically dry. He was glad of Isabel’s firm but gentle hand when she reached out to take his. "I thought I’d bring a spare pad just in case, darling," she kindly explained. "If you ever need a change again when we’re out, just ask me, baby. And don’t worry, accidents happen, even to bigger people.’

Pete sniffled again and tried to think of the menu planning and the cooking to come. When they arrived home, Isabell changed him into his new white overalls, and soon Pete had forgotten the morning’s embarrassment as he and Isabell began preparing the dinner for the night’s big event. Isabell had asked Pete to have a relaxing bath at 7 pm, since everything was ready. Her sweet little husband had been so busy, that Isabell felt he deserved to rest before the guests arrived at eight. She had even tossed some of her bath salts in, and Pete could feel the warm fragrant water doing him good as he stretched out and lay back.

Living with Isabell was a dream, he decided. His home life as a child had been chaotic, to put it mildly, and living by himself once he had moved out of his court-declared broken home had been the loneliest experience of his life. Isabell had put his long hair in a shower cap, and Pete enjoyed the muted sound of the bubbles around his head as he lay in the warmth. Isabell certainly knew how to spoil him, he decided. As well as soaking, he lathered himself well with the sweet-smelling soap from the shell on the side of the big bath, and was quite disappointed when Isabell entered in her sexy black underclothes to help him climb out. She looked ravishing, Pete thought. He compared for a moment the thick plain briefs he wore with Isabel’s beautiful lace panties, then reminded himself that boys didn’t wear lacy panties. Oh well, he thought. I still look nice in what I’ve got. "Out we hop, baby," commanded Isabell, scooping him under the arms and helping him out.

Pete stood shivering for a moment, waiting for Isabell to wrap a towel around him as she did after they had had a shower. Instead Isabell turned on the shower and guided Pete in. "Ohh," said Pete in sudden understanding. He didn’t say as much, but he didn’t want to wash off the nice smell from the bath so soon. He stood under the shower and rinsed himself off while Isabell commented on how good he was looking. He slid his hands down one thigh, and realised how unusually smooth it felt. Shaking the water from his face, he looked down. What fine hair was there seemed to have disappeared. He looked down and saw some short blonde strands swirling towards the drain.

"Isabell," he moaned, "I think my hair’s coming off!"

Isabell looked down, and felt his leg. Then "Oh, Pet," Isabell cried, " I think you’ve used my depilatory soap!" She turned to look in the bath. "Yes, you did! Sorry, baby, I should have moved it or told you. Never mind, though darling, there wasn’t much yucky fur there anyway, and now you’re all nice and smooth, your legs will look even better in your shortalls! Out you pop, baby - Mummy needs to get dressed.’

Pete stared at his smooth shins and thighs as Isabell rubbed him down with a big pink towel. She quickly led him into the bedroom, where she pulled a long t-shirt over his head and dressed him into his undies and pad, followed by one of his shortalls. A quick hair brush, a new scrunchie and his fringe rolled in a curler, and he was ready. "You won’t need socks, baby," she decided for him, "just your pretty new sneakers." Pete checked himself in the mirror as he took his curler out. He couldn’t fault the way he looked, and even felt a little vain about his attractive appearance.

He watched in appreciation as Isabell finished dressing and made herself up. It was just before eight by then, and the pair strolled into the living room to wait for their guests. Monica and Jane arrived a few minutes after eight, laughing loudly together and looking and smelling wonderful, Pete thought as he took their coats. Monica wore a long midnight blue gown with a plunging neckline, and Jane had on grey flannel trousers and an open necked shirt. Pete thought she looked a bit mannish compared with her pretty feminine friend.

‘Thank you, little girl," said Jane with a sly grin, handing Pete her tweed coat and Monica’s silk wrap. "What’s your name, kitten?" Pete was surprised to see Monica give Jane a solid dig in the ribs. Isabell laughed and put her arm around Pete, guiding him out of the room and into the bedroom.

‘Aren’t they teases!" she said to Pete with a laugh. "They know each other very well.’

Pete thought they were rough too, and a bit odd. "Doesn’t she know who I am?" he asked Isabell.

‘Of course she does, sweetie! That’s just one of her little jokes," Isabell assured him.

It was "hello Pete" all round when he returned after hanging up their coats. He was still trying to figure out the joke. It had been a while since he had been to any social gatherings, and certainly a long time since he had been near any women so beautifully dressed. He was fascinated by Monica’s appearance. He looked down at his own little rounded tummy beneath his belt line, and drew in his breath trying to mimic the subtle rise of Monica’s almost flat belly beneath her gown. Doing that only accentuated the slight bulk of his pad, so he breathed out again. Isabell had reassured him that even she couldn’t see his pad if he stood normally.

Pete served the drinks and the various delightful courses he and Isabell had dreamed up. The dinner went very well, although Jane was a boisterous type and dominated most of the conversation with her stories of fast driving, travel and drinking. Monica had to ask her not to go on with some of the stories she embarked upon. Pete imagined they might be rude. He was surprised when he realised that Jane and Monica lived together. They didn’t seem much of a match for roommates, he thought, with Monica so quiet and pretty and Jane so loud and rough.

After the dessert was served, Pete needed to pee. He made his way to the bathroom just in time to see Monica going in. He tightened with his lower muscles and went back to the kitchen. Isabell called him from the living room, and he had to stand there while Jane admired his hair. The women had apparently been discussing it. ‘I call that the prettiest head of hair I’ve seen in years!" Jane said in her overly loud voice, and gave Pete a theatrical whack across the bottom. Pete’s pad extended up his backside some way which softened the blow, but it still hurt. Worse, the shock made him pee a little. He tried to smile politely, but he was hurrying to the bathroom when Isabell asked him to take the plates with him first.

He picked them up, took them to the kitchen, and headed straight to the bathroom. This time Jane was disappearing through the door ahead of him. Pete really had to go potty now, and stood with his thighs desperately locked together. If it had been Isabell going in there he could have hurried in, he thought. He felt himself uncontrollably pee some more and clenched his thighs. By the time he returned to the kitchen, he was quite wet. He couldn’t help peeing a little more, and dared to look down. His whole shortalls crotch was visibly wet, along with the inside of his thighs, down his legs and the sides of his sneakers. There was even a pool of yellow pee puddling on the floor. At least the urgency to pee had gone for the present. He gulped back his sobs as tears of shame and disappointment streamed down his cheeks. Everything had been going so well till now.

He heard Monica’s voice as she approached the kitchen. Pete quickly moved away from the puddle and stood with his damp crotch pressed hard up against the sink. He picked up a cup and began wiping it earnestly, praying that Monica would not see the incriminating puddle on the floor. Pete heard Monica walk into the kitchen, and then smelled her intoxicating perfume. He tried to stand even closer to the sink. ‘Hello Pete, we were just saying what a..." Monica paused. The silence burned Pete’s ears. He hoped that she wasn’t looking at the pool of pee on the floor. "...wonderful job you’ve done tonight," Monica eventually completed the sentence.

She stared at the amber puddle of urine, then at Pete’s tightly clenched backside as he leant against the bench. Monica recalled passing Jane on her way from the bathroom, and realised what must have happened. She could see now that the insides of Pete’s pants legs were saturated, and noticed another smaller puddle on the floor where he stood now. 'Poor little Pet,' she thought. She could see that he was desperately trying not to cry.

"Pete," she said as kindly as she could, "Would you like me to fetch Isabell for you?” Pete just nodded. He had stopped pretending to wash the cup he was holding and glanced briefly over his shoulder at Monica, who was touched by the gratefulness in his eyes. She left the room and a few seconds later Isabell hurried in.

‘Oh, Petie, why didn’t you come and tell me?" scolded Isabell gently. Pete had both his knuckles balled up and was rubbing his teary eyes. From the size of the pool on the floor and the condition of his shortalls as he turned to accept her hug, Isabell could see that he had finished peeing.

"I’m sorry Isabell, I tried and I tried to hold on," Pete sniffled, struggling to hold back the tears.

"It’s alright baby, it’s alright," Isabell soothingly assured him. "We’ll just go and get you changed. Come on, baby," she urged, and led Pete into the bedroom. Once again Pete found himself standing still while Isabell stripped and wiped him down, then she dressed him again, this time in his ‘light red’ shortalls. She tossed the wet yellow ones into the laundry basket in the corner. He felt a little different between his legs as he took the first step, and glanced up inquiringly at Isabell.

‘I doubled you up, darling. It’s okay, no-one will notice, and I’m sure you’ll feel much more secure," Isabell crooned. Pete just nodded obediently and smiled wanly. He certainly didn’t want any more embarrassing accidents.

Monica smiled and said, "Hello darlings," as Pete and Isabell returned. Jane laughed gaily and asked if there were a floor show, now that the staff were changing their costumes. That remark earned her another dig and urgent whisper from Monica, to which Jane complained that it was only a bit of fun, and that of course she understood.

Pete did his best to smile bravely at everyone, and was glad to be given the job of handing around the chocolates. Monica could see his shortalls stretched over the bulge of his heavily padded crotch as she took a wrapped chocolate from the little silver bowl Pete held with his small shaking hands. Her heart went out to him.

Jane said "Lovely night!" very heartily as she took her chocolate. Poor Pete dropped the bowl, and Monica had to tread on Jane’s foot to stop her ogling Pete’s doubly-padded backside as he knelt to pick up the scattered delicacies. Isabell felt very proud of him as he gathered them all up, and then proceeded to offer Isabell one as well. "Thank you darling," Isabell said. "You really have done a wonderful job tonight. I’m very proud of you. We’re just going to have a chat, then these ladies are going. So why don’t you say goodnight now, and I’ll see you in the bedroom later?’

Pete thought that was an excellent idea, so he politely said goodnight to the two women. Monica held his hand and gave him a very soft kiss on the cheek, and whispered that she thought Pete was the best thing that had ever happened to Isabell. Jane put her hand around Pete’s backside and kissed him full on the lips. "I could eat you up!" she whispered before she let him go. Pete heard Monica admonishing her partner once more as he left the room. He thought Jane was funny. Pete flopped onto the big bed and shut his eyes.

He felt the pressure of he double pad against his tummy, but any discomfort was shut out by the memories of Monica’s kindness and her sweet perfume. ‘I want to be just like her when I grow up,’ he thought, then wondered why such an odd notion entered his head. He didn’t wonder for long though, and fell asleep still clutching the slowly melting chocolate he had taken from the bowl. Half an hour later after a pleasant chat with Monica - and an unpleasant few minutes listening to one of Jane’s stories of the outrageous lesbian prostitutes of Hamburg, Isabell came into the bedroom quite tired herself. She undressed quietly to her panties, then gently woke Pete.

She took the melted chocolate from his hand and undressed her sleepy husband, noting that he had wet again. After a moment’s thought, she went to her wardrobe and took out a large blue and white folded pad. She turned off the main bedroom light, and manoeuvred her wet husband onto the spread disposable diaper. She wiped him down again, and sprinkled his naked crotch with talc from her dresser. Pete woke as she rubbed in the powder, and he wanted to know what she was doing. "I’m just making sure you have a comfortable night, baby. Just lift your bottom for me," she replied to his mumbled questions.

"Wait Isabell, please," Pete begged, looking down his chest in the soft light. "Isabell, please, is that a diaper?" he asked, looking at her with big eyes.

‘Yes baby, just because you’ve had a little accident and you’re tired, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable during the night. Just lie back, please darling," she ordered gently, and leant forward to kiss him.

‘But not a diaper, please Isabel? I’m not a baby… please?" Pete pleaded, his lips quivering and his eyes filling with tears once more.

‘Shush Pet, Mummy knows best. Just lie still," Isabell commanded, trying to wrap the diaper around Pete’s legs.

Pete kicked suddenly, and looked down again. The light was strong enough for him to see that his groin was smooth and bare, his smooth, soft little willy looking small and useless covered in white talc. He began to sniffle and then cry. Isabell lowered and spread his legs wide apart, and brought the centre of the diaper up between Pete’s legs. He lay still for a second, then swallowed his sobs. "Isabell, what’s happening to me?" he whimpered.

Isabell taped the diaper closed, then stopped to look at her cowering husband. "Nothing’s happening to you, darling. You’re the sweetest, most adorable and dearest thing in the world to me. But you do need to wear this for tonight for Mummy. I think you know you do, darling. Don’t you? Otherwise I wouldn’t be doing this, would I?" Isabell tenderly explained, kissing him again. Isabell wanted him to be kissing her very badly, and squeezed her legs together to gain at least some gratification. She didn’t think it was fair to ask poor Petie to help her tonight.

Isabell settled Pete under the bedclothes as he tried to figure out what Isabell had just said, but he kept drifting back to sleep. Isabell took off her makeup, and slid into bed next to Pete. He was whimpering softly, and Isabell leant over and kissed him gently on the cheek. She smiled at him then after a moment, picked up his hand from the pillow next to his face and moved it downwards. As soon as she held Pete’s thumb to his mouth, he parted his lips slightly and slid his thumb between them. Isabell kissed his cheek again, and rolled over to her side of the bed.

She lay on her back, looking at the ceiling for a few minutes, then began to stroke her moist slit through her silky panties with her fingertips. She closed her eyes, slid her panties off, and brought herself to a series of long, slow, wet climaxes. Isabell woke at 4 am, and propped herself on one elbow. Pete was still sucking his thumb in his sleep. She checked his diaper, which was quite wet, but she knew it would safely last until morning. She lay back, and pleasured herself until the rhythm of her fingers slowed to a gentle stop as she drifted back to sleep.

Okay, that's all I have on this topic, Hawkx. I hope everyone enjoyed it?

Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia

[Hawkx1]

Nice job finding couple of questions though I thought there was 6 pieces to it. The last piece had the baby in diapers but starting to develop breasts like a girl the mommy had also managed in that chapter to have the baby give herself a new feminine name. I would like like it if it could be separated by it's part. Now that I think about it this may be the wrong story but if it is then i don't know the correct one.

[jeremy12312]

oh sissybecky why did you have to leave

Sissybecky is back up on archive.org. Grab as much as you can before it goes down again.

[Hawkx1]

Sissybecky is back up on archive.org. Grab as much as you can before it goes down again.

Unfortunately when i was there i mostly used the search for specific authors and i don't think archive can do searches like that it is actually because it is up that I remembered the title and was able to know that it had at least 5 chapters to it