Chapter Three
Three weeks later…
Stepping out of the car, the thin, over-sized shorts I was wearing over my bulky diapers did very little to hide them, to say nothing of the telltale waddle that immediately drew attention to me as we entered the large shop run by Anna. I was trembling with nervousness to be here, and still kicking myself for not standing up to my overbearing, smothering mom and her plans for me. She had been insistent from the very beginning that this was a perfect opportunity for me to finally get some work experience, totally underplaying the fact that my face would be inextricably linked to these sissy products forever.
We were led into an office at the far end of the building, many of the female workers looking at me and the prominent bulge around my hips with obvious interest and amusement.
I heard several comments of ‘looks like the new sissy is in town’, and ‘that little mama’s boy will make a cute model’, from a few of them.
Finally, we were ushered into an office where a woman of about forty stood behind a large, mahogany desk.
“Ah, you must be Francis!” she said welcoming us and coming around to shake my hand.
Despite myself, I blushed at the attention of this tall, attractive woman, dressed professionally in a snug blouse, pressed slacks and high heels. Her top seemed barley up to the task of containing her enormous round breasts and the material strained at her buttons, making me think it might burst open at any moment.
Her gaze immediately fell down to my hips, and she smiled knowingly as she took in my fat diapers, hardly concealed inside my short shorts.
“Mrs. Johnson, thank you so much for introducing us to your special little boy,” she said greeting my mother gratefully as she took her hand and guided us to sit down.
I certainly didn’t like to be called a little boy, but I bit my tongue for the time being, taking the opportunity to revel in this woman’s curvy figure. Despite her friendliness, she had an unmistakable aura of absolute authority, and I imagined she was used to giving orders. Right away, I found her to be very intimidating.
“Now I understand that Francis here is already used to wearing diapers, is that right?” she asked pointedly, after the pleasantries had been concluded.
“Yes, my little boy is a chronic bedwetter so he’s diapered before bedtime and also for his afternoon naps,” my mom explained.
“Ahh, I see…” she said, intrigued by the information, “So you’re still taking afternoon naps, hmm? How cute,” she said smiling at me.
I blushed and turned away, embarrassed to have this shameful information revealed so readily.
“Yes and well…recently, he’s had a few accidents during the daytime too, so I thought it prudent to keep Francis diapered full time, for the foreseeable future.”
The corners of Anna’s mouth curled up as she looked me up and down inquisitively.
“And looks like you’re diapered now, aren’t you, Francis?” she asked still smiling.
“Yes he is,” my mom answered for me, and she stood me up awkwardly, easily tugging my flimsy shorts down to reveal the shiny rubber panties beneath, “Honey, are you wet?” she asked suddenly, with concern in her voice.
“No,” I squealed as I waved her hands away, although she still managed to pull my shorts down, clearly revealing my fat, bulging diapers to the interested woman.
“That’s my good boy,” my mom said with obvious pride.
“Well I have to say your son has the perfect look for our collection, with those baby blue doe eyes and his juvenile mop of blond hair, all we need is a touch of pink lip gloss and maybe some blush and he’ll be just the most perfect sissy for our outfits,” Anna chuckled as her steely gaze bore into me, making my cheeks flush anew.
“Although from the looks of it, I think he’s doing plenty of blushing already,” she observed wryly.
The two of them laughed good-naturedly while I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat.
“As you know, we specialize in clothing for the adult sissy who still needs diapers. Our clients are bedwetters, men with bladder problems, wimps, weaklings, pantywaists, and then a fair amount of our products are ordered by women who just want to keep their hubbies in line; maybe they’re limp-dic-ked sissies or they just don’t measure up. We get women all the time who will order a whole wardrobe for their spouse, to dress him at home so she can then be free to go out on dates with a real man.”
“Oh my,” my mom said, and I sensed she was blushing a little.
“If I may say,” Anna continued, “there are two types of males in this world; the virile, hung, Alpha males who want nothing more than to satisfy a woman, and then their are beta sissy bois, like your Francis here, who are destined to serve women as maybe a maid or underling, dressed enfemme, and usually diaper-dependent.
“I’m afraid you’re very much the second type, Francis,” she told me directly, her voice taking on a condescending tone, “It’s obvious you need diapers and I know you’ll be right at home here, finding plenty of outfits here that will suit your prissy personality to a T.”
I could feel my face flush hotly at her frank characterization of me and I couldn’t hold her gaze, so intense was her strong, dominating stare.
Holding down a button on the landline phone on her desk, she spoke into the speaker.
“Michelle? Can you send Stephanie in please?”
“Yes Ma’am,” a woman’s voice replied crisply.
“You have a busy morning ahead of you, Francis,” she said, and I could feel a sudden change in her bossy, authoritative personality, “We’re shooting for our sissy baby line today, and you’re the perfect model for it.”
My mom patted my hand proudly, and she smiled at me with anticipation.
“You going to do just fine,” she assured me as the door behind us opened and a young woman of about twenty-five walked in.
“Stephanie—this is your new model, Francis, can you show him the ropes and walk him through the shoot?”
“Sure thing,” she said casually, her inherent confidence obvious from her youthful good looks. She was slim, dressed in snug shorts and a form-fitting top that hugged her firm breasts in the most enticing way. Long blond hair in a perfect cut spilled over her bare shoulders and once again, I felt completely intimidated by another member of the opposite sex.
My heart pounded in my chest with nervousness as my mom stood me up on my shaking feet. I rushed to bend over and pull my shorts up to try and hide my diapers but Stephanie dismissed the effort.
“You won’t be needing those here,” she told me brusquely and my mom made to gather them up from around my ankles.
I winced with embarrassment, dreading what was about to take place.
“I brought his diaper bag, which has two sets of changes for him, just in case,” my mom offered, setting down the large pink Disney Princess bag on Anna’s desk.
“I’m sure that will come in handy,” the latter said, “Sometimes the day’s events can be a bit much for a sissy on his first day and it’s only natural that they end up wetting themselves. Judging by the look on your boy’s face, I’d be surprised if he made it to lunchtime before he soaks those diapers.”
The three of them laughed aloud and I blushed hotly.
“Oh, one last thing…” Anna said as she opened the drawer in her desk, pulling out a small pink chastity device, “We have a very strict, no-erection policy for males here; this will keep him restrained and under control.”
“Oh—no need,” my mom beamed, “Francis here has been locked in a chastity device since he was thirteen. I’m sure he’s long since forgotten what an erection is,” she told them proudly.
“Well,” Anna said, clearly impressed, “That’s excellent. And it’s just what a sissy like you needs, Francis.”
Once again, I couldn’t hold her intense, intimidating gaze and I shyly stared at the floor instead.
“Come along, Francis,” Stephanie said, guiding me out of the room, “I’ll show you to the studios.”
My mom came over and hugged me tightly, using the opportunity to pat the fat seat of my diapers.
“Be a good boy, Francis, and make me proud.”
“Yes mama,” I bleated, feeling very overwhelmed by the circ-umstances. I trembled with nervousness about what was shortly going to happen. Previously, only my aunt Denise had been exposed to my diapers—now, everyone was going to see me the way my mom dressed me; as a total sissy who still needed diapers like an incontinent toddler.
Stephanie led the way, and we passed numerous desks and work spaces where women were busily designing and sewing new outfits for the Fall line. I kept my head down, too ashamed to look them in the eye as we made our way to the part of the shop that contained the studio.
I also felt completely inadequate to the task but was at least a little comforted by Anna’s seeming confidence in me, despite her condescending nature.
Nevertheless, her words came back to haunt me, and I wondered if she was right; would I always be a sissy? Would I ever find a woman of my own? Were chastity and diapers going to forever be a part of my life?
Not for the first time, had a woman filled me with self doubt and insecurity, making me feel weak, emasculated and vulnerable.
Taking me into a back room, Stephanie sat me at a vanity and she began styling my hair in a more feminine cut. This was followed by a very light mascara, pink lip gloss and a little blusher.
“Oh perfect,” she murmured, “I can see why Anna thought you’d do so well. You were practically born to be our model.”
I blushed, feeling confused by the compliment. I didn’t want to be a sissy—I wanted to be respected as a young man but for some reason, no one here seemed to perceive me that way.
“Okay, let’s lose these sneakers,” she said as she untied my shoes and pulled them off, followed by my socks. She soon replaced them with delicate pink lacy anklets and glossy black Mary Janes that she buckled over my feet.
“There, that’s better,” she said satisfied.
Moving to a nearby rack, she sifted through several outfits until she chose a pink and white gingham dress, very short, with a frilly hem and short, puffy sleeves. Slipping a diaphanous petticoat over my head first, she lowered the dress and zipped it up in back. I squealed with embarrassment as I felt the hem riding up, clearly leaving my diapers and rubber panties fully exposed.
Standing me up, she placed a wide straw boater hat on my head, canting it to one side and viewing me critically.
“Absolutely perfect!” she exclaimed, “Wait until the girls see this.”
I turned to the mirror and gazed at my reflection, shocked by the transformation. Gazing bashfully back at myself, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Gone, was any vestige of maleness. Instead, I looked every bit the precocious toddler in diapers, my sex now somewhat ambiguous and androgynous.
“Oh, and just look at those girly legs of yours—do you shave them?” she asked, clearly impressed.
“Um, no,” I whispered, too embarrassed to tell her I had next to no hair, except that on my head; neither my legs, nor my crotch had ever really grown anything, which tended to give me a decidedly juvenile look.
“Well you’ll be the envy of half the female staff here, that’s for sure,” she quipped, “Let’s go meet them.”
One more look at my babyish reflection in the mirror and I knew I couldn’t go through with this. To think that I would have my face all over the internet and in magazines dressed like a big sissy baby—it was just too much!
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered nervously, “ I c-can’t do this.”
Stephanie’s attractive features darkened and she placed her hands on her hips as she faced me.
“What do you mean you can’t do this? We have a deadline here to meet and it’s too late for you to back out,” she snapped, her voice taking on an angry edge.
Feeling very vulnerable and scared, I backed up in the face of her stern countenance.
“I-I, I just can’t,” I whimpered, “Everyone’s gonna see me dressed this way and I c-can’t do it.”
“Now you listen to me, you little sissy wimp,” she snarled, “You’re going to smile and pose in whatever outfits I decide or there are going to be consequences for you.”
I quaked before her, feeling totally helpless and trapped. To make matters worse, I suddenly felt my diapers growing wet and warm as a surge of panic-induced pee flowed unstoppable into the soft, fluffy folds of cotton swaddling me.
“Oh!” I cried, even as I tried to quench the torrent.
Snatching my wrist, she hauled me out of the room and back through the work spaces to Anna’s office.
“N-no! Stop!” I cried in protest.
Everyone stared at my humiliating march with most of them smirking and giggling. I had never felt so humiliated in my life, stumbling along in my prissy but awkward Mary Janes, my frilly dress and petticoats swishing and doing nothing to hide my shiny fat diapers.
Striding into the open door of Anna’s office, Stephanie stood me before the desk like a prisoner about to receive his sentence.
“This sissy is refusing to do his job now,” she announced angrily.
Anna stood up from behind the desk and regarded me coldly.
“Well, is that so?” she said in voice that set me on edge, “Leave him with me, Stephanie. Oh, and leave the door open too, I want to make sure the entire staff hears this.”
A shiver went down my spine as another warm stream of pee helplessly followed the first flow.
With a smirk, Stephanie turned on her heel and strode out, leaving me quaking with fear before this stern woman.
“You’re about to find out the hard way, how we deal with disobedient sissies,” she said in her strict, commanding voice.
Reaching into the desk drawer, she removed a long wooden Spencer paddle with air holes designed for extra sting. Taking a seat in one of the armless chairs in front of the desk, she pulled me over and unceremoniously yanked my clinging rubber panties down off my diapers without warning.
“Wet already,” she observed dryly, “Why am I not surprised?”
“Look—wa-wait, just wait!” I quailed, the panic rising in my voice, “Y-you can’t spank me!”
“If you were a real man,” she scolded me, wagging her immaculately manicured finger in my face, “you’d get a verbal reprimand or a write up in your records, but as a sissy pantywaist in diapers, there’s only one punishment that’s suitable for you and that’s a good, hard spanking.”
I squealed in terror as another strong stream of pee flooded my already wet diapers and she threw me over her lap.
“Let me go! Let me go!” I cried, kicking my feet helplessly.
Already, some of the female workers were gathering at the door to watch my punishment and their amused expressions said everything.
My baby dress was so short, Anna didn’t have to push it out of the way as she unpinned my soggy wet diapers with crisp efficiency. There was a mirror on the far wall and I looked at my panicked face, seized with abject fear at what was about to happen.
I had never been spanked in my life and I could only imagine how much it was going to hurt. I had a very low tolerance for pain and already, tears were misting my eyes, threatening to tumble down my face and show everyone I was just a big crybaby.
The paddle swung up and then came crashing down, a cruel, blistering slap across my damp, bare bottom. I howled in pain and renewed my struggle across her lap but she only held me tighter and swatted my cheeks even harder.
“WAH-AH-HAH!!!” I wailed as my legs scissored frantically, my body off balance and unable to get up from my compromised position.
The hard wooden paddle seared both cheeks again and again, sending deep waves of agony and fire across my soft, tender buns. Hot, stinging welts quickly formed and I felt like she was spanking me with a red hot frying pan!
I bawled like a baby, hot, salty tears streaming down my wet face now as she harshly blistered my bottom. I cried bitterly as I frantically slapped the floor with my hands, helpless to stop the scalding assault on my rear. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, she'd swat me fiercely, the paddle stinging like a hundred hornets. My Mary Janes kicked wildly behind me but there was no escaping the terrible punishment Anna was meting out.
Finally, she stopping smacking my cheeks and she held the paddle poised over my red, inflamed bottom.
“Are you ready to do your job now, sissy boi?” she barked.
“Y-yes-yes!” I wailed piteously.
The paddle seared itself once more across my punished buns and I wailed at the top of my lungs, a fresh batch of tears tumbling down my face.
“I didn’t hear you, Francis. I said are you ready to do your job now, without complaint?”
I most certainly was ready; I knew I’d never stand up to any of these women, ever again.
“Y-yes, Ma’am, I’ll be a good boy—I promise!” I sobbed.
I braced for another stinging impact but instead, I felt her drawing my clammy wet diapers up and re-pinning them around my hips.
“Stand up,” she ordered me curtly.
Still crying like a baby, I struggled to get up off of her lap, and she reached down to pull my rubber panties up my trembling legs.
“You are to do whatever Stephanie or anyone else tells you—do you understand me?” she snapped.
“Y-yes Ma’am,” I cried, swiping my arm across my wet face.
“You are to do what they tell you without question,” she said as she snapped the stretchy panties in place under the frilly hem of my dress, “And I better not see you in my office to discuss this again.”
“Yes Ma’am, I mean-no, Ma’am-I promise,” I stammered, still sobbing uncontrollably. The fire across my seat was raging like a conflagration and I could barely stand in place, instead anxiously shifting my weight from foot to foot in my prissy black Mary Janes. To make matters worse, the thick cloth of my diapers and the snug rubber panties only served to trap the heat and I felt like a blow torch was being held to my bottom.
“Run along now, sissy,” she said, dismissing me with condescending swat to the seat of my diapers.
Thoroughly chastened, I picked up my fallen sissy hat and waddled out of her office, the stares of everyone upon me. Feeling lower and more defeated than at any time in my life, I sniffled and wiped the tears from my face as I shamefully made my way back to the studio. If all the women here hadn't known before, they now knew that I was a weak, simpering pantywaist, who had just been punished like an errant child.
I found Stephanie waiting, adjusting some lighting and a backdrop that looked like an idealized beach setting, with puppies playing with colorful balls and puffy clouds high in the sky.
“Well,” she said as she saw me shuffle into the room, “I see you’re back. Ready to get to work now?”
“Yes Ma’am,” I said in barely a whisper.
“Anna doesn’t tolerate disobedience, particularly from sissies,” she said as she sat me down in a nearby stool, “I trust that you’ve learned your lesson.”
“Yes Ma’am,” I answered submissively, “I’ll be a good boy now.”
She busied herself fixing my makeup which had runs from the many tears I had shed.
“I’ll bet you’re a real crybaby, aren’t you?” she remarked disdainfully, obviously feeling no sympathy for me.
“Yes Ma’am,” I admitted, knowing it was the truth.
“Well when she spanks—she means business. And you can be sure that’s a lesson you won’t soon forget,” she said firmly as she put some Visine in my eyes to reduce the redness.
“Yes Ma’am,” I replied. To be sure—she was absolutely right; I'd never forget the spanking of my life, administered by the beautiful exec of this company for as long as I lived.
The rest of the morning was spent with me obediently posing in numerous positions before the backdrop, smiling shyly and doing my best to be the perfect sissy model. I certainly didn’t want to anger Stephanie or any of the other ladies here, and I most certainly didn’t want to take another trip to Anna’s office again.
Finally, at lunchtime, one of the ladies changed my soaking wet diapers, replacing them with a fresh set from my mom’s diaper bag. No privacy or discretion was given and several of the women looked down at me with interest as my pee-soaked diapers were changed on the studio floor and a fresh set was pinned back on. A number of them commented on my steel chastity device, which they could see kept my tiny pen-is perpetually soft and safe.
“Looks like your mommy has you well under control,” one of them remarked.
“Perfect for a sissy in diapers,” another opined.
“You just leave the erections to real men, and they'll leave the wet diapers and plastic panties to you,” another one said with a smirk.
I held my tongue as I endured their remarks in silence, not wanting to risk the chance of another paddling.
Pink plastic panties replaced my rubber ones and then I was led to the lunch room for a short snack.
That afternoon, my outfit was changed to a baby blue sissy sailor suit and a nautical theme was erected in place as a backdrop behind me. Stephanie and her crew were very thorough, and I was made to look cute and innocent, batting my naturally large lashes at the camera and stifling a giggle at their instructions.
We were halfway through the shoot when I felt a growing urge to go pee again. Stephanie told me I would just have to wait, but it was only ten minutes later that I couldn't hold it anymore and I flooded my diapers for the second time that day.
Stephanie told the crew to take five and she changed me once more on the floor of the studio as everyone watched.
At the end of the day, Anna came out to observe the shoot and shortly after, my mom arrived to pick me up.
“How did he do?” she asked excitedly.
“Very well,” Anna began, “Initially, we had some discipline problems, and your little boy managed to earn himself a trip over my knee.”
My mom looked shocked and I could see her cheeks flushing. Nevertheless, it was clear that she respected and looked up to Anna, so she was inclined to defer to her way of doing things.
“After that, he was a perfect little sissy and as you can tell by looking at these stills, we had a very productive day.”
Looking over the various sheets of developed film, my mom marveled at the work done by the studio.
“Oh my! He looks just so adorable!” she exclaimed enthusiastically, “I just love these outfits!”
“And I think this is the shot we're going to go with on the cover of the catalog,” Anna said, her pride in her crew obvious.
My mom held the blown up shot in her hands, gazing at my image with a big smile on her face. The picture showed me in a short pink and white baby dress, my big, bulging diapers clearly on display, and wearing a frilly bonnet as I shyly looked out from under the ruffled lace edges at the camera.
“Francis, you look absolutely scrumptious in this!” she gushed.
At the moment, I was wearing a baby blue sailor suit, cut, as with everything else here, very short to keep my diapers fully visible. White, glittery tights encased my slim legs, complimenting the shiny Mary Janes on my feet. Lastly, they had chosen the matching blue satin rumba panties to go over my diapers.
“These outfits are just so perfect for you,” my mom continued, “Is there any way I could convince you to let him wear this one home today?” she begged Anna.
The tall woman smiled at us, won over by my mom's eagerness.
“Sure, I don't see why not,” she agreed, “And it's good advertising for us if you take him somewhere public.”
My mom smiled as she considered it, while I shook my head in frightened concern.
“I think a little picnic on the beach down by the lake would be a great idea,” she suggested.
“Perfect!” Anna agreed, “By the way...he wet both sets of diapers today so I'm afraid you'll need to get him another change at some point.”
“Okay, well, we can stop by the house—it's not far, and I can get him his bottle too,” she replied, very pleased.
I stamped my feet in frustration but with the pacifier they had placed in my mouth, my protestations just came out as babyish whimpering.
Taking me by the hand, my mom turned me to face the female staff.
“Say goodbye, Francis, it's time for us to go.”
I blushed hotly and gave them a weak wave of farewell as they smiled back at me with their looks of smug superiority.
“Goodbye, sissy Francis!” they called out to me.
THE END
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Topic: An Exciting Opportunity for Francis (Read 8422 times)
