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Active Sissy Stories / Re: Fantasy Hotel
« Last post by HallowGiga on Today at 01:32:41 AM »
One Week Later
The shock had faded into a dull, rhythmic despair. The sex workers had established a grueling routine. Tim spent his nights trapped in the mahogany crib in the nursery, his limbs heavy and his mind foggy.
The most terrifying change had come on the third day.
“We decided we don’t want to deal with poopy diapers,” Kate had announced that morning.
They had laid Tim on a changing table, stripping him of his diaper. Lexi appeared with a gallon-sized bag of warm water and a nozzle. Tim’s eyes had gone wide with terror as they flipped him onto his stomach.
The first enema was a violation unlike any other. The cold intrusion, the cramping fullness, and the subsequent forced evacuation into a bedside commode while the women watched and laughed had shattered what was left of his pride.
But it didn't end there.
“To make sure we don’t have any accidents between morning flushes,” Kate said, “we’re going to give you a little stopper.”
She held up a large, stainless-steel butt plug with a wide, pink crystal base. Tim’s muffled screams filled the room as she forced the luncricated thick bulb through his sphincter, stretching his anus to a painful, burning limit.
“There,” Kate said, patting his rear. “Now you can only pee in your diapers like a good girl. The plug stays in until tomorrow morning’s cleaning.”
The constant pressure of the steel plug and the permanent stretch of the coc-k-pacifier became his entire reality. He was a closed system—fed through one end, plugged at the other, leaking only into the plastic against his skin.
One Month Later
Tim—or Tammy, as his brain was beginning to subconsciously respond to—no longer fought when they dressed him. The girls treated his existence as a mundane fact of life, like a household pet or a piece of furniture.
They introduced a new "playtime" activity. In the center of the nursery stood a custom-made rocking horse.
Instead of a saddle, it had a large, upright dil-do bolted to the seat.
Every afternoon, they would remove his butt plug and strap him onto the horse, his legs splayed wide. The rocking motion forced the toy deep inside him over and over again. When the timer dinged, they would take him off, his inner thighs aching, and immediately reinsert the steel plug.
He was never empty.
Two Months Later
The "experience" evolved. To maximize the "value" of the stay, the women set up a second playpen in the lobby, right next to the reception desk.
This was the ultimate humiliation. Regular male clients—men who looked like Tim used to look—would check in for their own sessions. They would see the small man in the frilly dress and diaper, sitting among a pile of dil-dos, suc-kling on a silicone pen-is.
“What’s that?” a client would ask, pointing and laughing.
“Oh, that’s just our Baby Tammy,” Kate would say, leaning over the desk. “She’s a very naughty girl who forgot how to be a man. Feel free to give her a pat or a tease while you wait.”
Men would walk over, poking at his diaper or make lewd comments. Tim would look up at them, his eyes brimming with tears, making frantic “Mmppphh! Mmppph!”sounds, begging for help.
“Listen to her!” Lexi would chirp from the sofa. “She’s such a chatty sissy baby girl today! She’s telling you how much she loves her toys.”
The more he tried to beg, the more they dismissed it as "happy baby babble."
Three Months Later
The day of his supposed release arrived. Tim sat in the breakroom playpen, his stomach heavy with his morning feeding of "sissy food." His jaw ached from the pacifier, a sensation that had become so constant it was almost invisible to him.
Kate and Lexi stood by the coffee machine, whispering. Tim’s heart leaped. Was this it? Were they going to give him his clothes back?
Emma walked in, overhearing them. “Are we really talking about letting her go?”
“The three months are up today,” Lexi said, looking over at Tim.
“But look at her,” Emma said, gesturing to the playpen. “She’s so content. Do you really think she remembers how to be an adult? She hasn't walked on her own in weeks. She hasn't spoken a word. It would be cruel to dump her back on the street. She wouldn't last a day.”
Kate nodded slowly, her chin in her hand. “You’re right. And think of the waste. We’d have to throw away all this custom gear. Plus, we have more clients than ever now; we’ve got plenty of 'food' to keep her fed.”
Tim’s eyes went wide. He began to thrash, hitting his mittened hands against the mesh. No! No, please!
The three women approached the playpen. They didn't look like monsters; they looked like doting parents. They looked down at him with genuine, twisted affection.
“Tammy, sweetheart,” Kate said, reaching down to stroke his hair. “We have some wonderful news. We’ve decided that you’re much happier here with your mommies. You don’t ever have to worry about the big, scary world again.”
“You get to stay our baby girl forever,” Lexi cooed.
Tim’s chest heaved. A long, broken wail built up in his throat, but it emerged only as a series of wet, muffled grunts against the coc-k-pacifier. Tears streamed down his face, soaking into the lace collar of his dress.
“Oh, look!” Emma cried, clapping her hands.
“She’s so excited she’s crying! Happy tears for our sweet Baby Tammy.”
Kate leaned over and kissed his forehead.
“Welcome home, baby girl. Permanent residency is going to be so much fun.”
As they walked away to prepare his next bottle, Tim collapsed onto the pile of dil-dos, the crinkle of his diaper the only sound in the room, knowing the sun would never rise on Tim Miller ever again.
The shock had faded into a dull, rhythmic despair. The sex workers had established a grueling routine. Tim spent his nights trapped in the mahogany crib in the nursery, his limbs heavy and his mind foggy.
The most terrifying change had come on the third day.
“We decided we don’t want to deal with poopy diapers,” Kate had announced that morning.
They had laid Tim on a changing table, stripping him of his diaper. Lexi appeared with a gallon-sized bag of warm water and a nozzle. Tim’s eyes had gone wide with terror as they flipped him onto his stomach.
The first enema was a violation unlike any other. The cold intrusion, the cramping fullness, and the subsequent forced evacuation into a bedside commode while the women watched and laughed had shattered what was left of his pride.
But it didn't end there.
“To make sure we don’t have any accidents between morning flushes,” Kate said, “we’re going to give you a little stopper.”
She held up a large, stainless-steel butt plug with a wide, pink crystal base. Tim’s muffled screams filled the room as she forced the luncricated thick bulb through his sphincter, stretching his anus to a painful, burning limit.
“There,” Kate said, patting his rear. “Now you can only pee in your diapers like a good girl. The plug stays in until tomorrow morning’s cleaning.”
The constant pressure of the steel plug and the permanent stretch of the coc-k-pacifier became his entire reality. He was a closed system—fed through one end, plugged at the other, leaking only into the plastic against his skin.
One Month Later
Tim—or Tammy, as his brain was beginning to subconsciously respond to—no longer fought when they dressed him. The girls treated his existence as a mundane fact of life, like a household pet or a piece of furniture.
They introduced a new "playtime" activity. In the center of the nursery stood a custom-made rocking horse.
Instead of a saddle, it had a large, upright dil-do bolted to the seat.
Every afternoon, they would remove his butt plug and strap him onto the horse, his legs splayed wide. The rocking motion forced the toy deep inside him over and over again. When the timer dinged, they would take him off, his inner thighs aching, and immediately reinsert the steel plug.
He was never empty.
Two Months Later
The "experience" evolved. To maximize the "value" of the stay, the women set up a second playpen in the lobby, right next to the reception desk.
This was the ultimate humiliation. Regular male clients—men who looked like Tim used to look—would check in for their own sessions. They would see the small man in the frilly dress and diaper, sitting among a pile of dil-dos, suc-kling on a silicone pen-is.
“What’s that?” a client would ask, pointing and laughing.
“Oh, that’s just our Baby Tammy,” Kate would say, leaning over the desk. “She’s a very naughty girl who forgot how to be a man. Feel free to give her a pat or a tease while you wait.”
Men would walk over, poking at his diaper or make lewd comments. Tim would look up at them, his eyes brimming with tears, making frantic “Mmppphh! Mmppph!”sounds, begging for help.
“Listen to her!” Lexi would chirp from the sofa. “She’s such a chatty sissy baby girl today! She’s telling you how much she loves her toys.”
The more he tried to beg, the more they dismissed it as "happy baby babble."
Three Months Later
The day of his supposed release arrived. Tim sat in the breakroom playpen, his stomach heavy with his morning feeding of "sissy food." His jaw ached from the pacifier, a sensation that had become so constant it was almost invisible to him.
Kate and Lexi stood by the coffee machine, whispering. Tim’s heart leaped. Was this it? Were they going to give him his clothes back?
Emma walked in, overhearing them. “Are we really talking about letting her go?”
“The three months are up today,” Lexi said, looking over at Tim.
“But look at her,” Emma said, gesturing to the playpen. “She’s so content. Do you really think she remembers how to be an adult? She hasn't walked on her own in weeks. She hasn't spoken a word. It would be cruel to dump her back on the street. She wouldn't last a day.”
Kate nodded slowly, her chin in her hand. “You’re right. And think of the waste. We’d have to throw away all this custom gear. Plus, we have more clients than ever now; we’ve got plenty of 'food' to keep her fed.”
Tim’s eyes went wide. He began to thrash, hitting his mittened hands against the mesh. No! No, please!
The three women approached the playpen. They didn't look like monsters; they looked like doting parents. They looked down at him with genuine, twisted affection.
“Tammy, sweetheart,” Kate said, reaching down to stroke his hair. “We have some wonderful news. We’ve decided that you’re much happier here with your mommies. You don’t ever have to worry about the big, scary world again.”
“You get to stay our baby girl forever,” Lexi cooed.
Tim’s chest heaved. A long, broken wail built up in his throat, but it emerged only as a series of wet, muffled grunts against the coc-k-pacifier. Tears streamed down his face, soaking into the lace collar of his dress.
“Oh, look!” Emma cried, clapping her hands.
“She’s so excited she’s crying! Happy tears for our sweet Baby Tammy.”
Kate leaned over and kissed his forehead.
“Welcome home, baby girl. Permanent residency is going to be so much fun.”
As they walked away to prepare his next bottle, Tim collapsed onto the pile of dil-dos, the crinkle of his diaper the only sound in the room, knowing the sun would never rise on Tim Miller ever again.
2
Active Sissy Stories / Fantasy Hotel
« Last post by HallowGiga on Today at 01:22:23 AM »
This is a short two part story that I’ve been working on for some time now. Full transparency, I did use AI to help with formatting but all of the content is based on my ideas.
The neon sign above the entrance flickered with a rhythmic hum, casting a sickly pink glow over the rain-slicked pavement. Tim, twenty-one and barely five-foot-five, adjusted the strap of his duffel bag. He was exhausted. A wrong turn on a cross-country move had landed him in this nameless district, and all he wanted was a shower and a bed. The building looked upscale enough—heavy mahogany doors, gold trim, and a subtle scent of expensive perfume wafting from the vents.
He pushed inside, the heavy doors muffling the sound of the storm. The lobby was dim, lit by recessed crimson lights. Behind a marble-topped desk sat a woman who looked like she’d stepped off a high-fashion runway, if that runway were in the heart of the Red Light District. Kate, a striking woman in her mid-thirties with dark, sharp eyes and a smile that didn't quite reach them, wore a translucent lace robe that left very little to the imagination.
“Hi, I’m looking for a room for the night—” Tim began, his voice cracking slightly from fatigue.
Kate’s eyes locked onto him, scanning his small frame and youthful face. Before he could finish his sentence, she let out a delighted trill of laughter. “Oh, sweetie, there’s no need for the formal introduction. We’ve been expecting you for hours!”
Tim blinked, his brow furrowing. “Expecting me? I think there’s been a mistake. I just saw the sign outside and—”
Kate leaned over the desk, her laughter bubbling again. She ignored his confusion entirely, her gaze shifting to a doorway behind her. “Emma! Lexi! He’s finally here! Our special client has arrived!”
Two more women emerged from the shadows of the hallway. Emma was tall and athletic, wearing a black leather corset, while Lexi was petite with neon-pink hair and a mischievous glint in her eyes. They both looked Tim up and down with predatory hunger.
“Oh, he’s even smaller than I thought,” Lexi giggled, clapping her hands. “He’s going to be perfect.”
“Wait, wait,” Tim said, stepping back as the women approached. “I’m not a special client. I’m just Tim. I think you have me confused with someone else.”
“Don’t be shy, darling,” Emma said, her voice a low purr. She caught his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “The nerves are all part of the experience. We know exactly what you need.”
Tim’s confusion began to turn into a low-grade panic, but as the women flanked him, his brain struggled to process the situation. He realized, with a jolt of heat to his face, that these women were sex workers, but the way they were handling him felt less like a service and more like a kidnapping. He tried to pull away, but they were practiced and efficient, guiding him—almost dragging him—down a long, plushly carpeted hallway.
“Seriously, I’m not who you think I am!” Tim protested, his voice rising.
“Such a noisy little thing,” Kate called out from the desk, waving them off. “Take him to the Pink Suite. Get him settled into his new life.”
They turned a corner and pushed open a pair of double doors. Tim’s jaw dropped. The room didn’t look like a hotel suite. It was a massive, sprawling nursery, but everything was scaled for an adult. The walls were a soft, nauseating shade of peony pink. There was a giant white crib in the corner, a mountain of plush teddy bears, and a towering highchair bolted to the floor near a small table.
“What is this?” Tim gasped, his heart hammering against his ribs. “Let me go!”
He tried to bolt for the door, but Lexi tripped him with an expertly placed foot. As he stumbled onto the thick, soft carpet, Emma was on him in an instant.
“Time to get out of these dirty big-boy clothes,” Emma whispered, her fingers flying over the buttons of his shirt.
Tim scrambled, kicking his legs, but Lexi sat on his shins, pinning him down. “Look at him struggle! It’s like a little puppy,” she laughed, her voice bright and cruel.
They stripped him with terrifying speed. His jeans, his shirt, even his underwear were tossed into a corner. Tim shivered, feeling small and exposed under the bright nursery lights. Before he could even cover himself, they were forcing his arms into thick, padded mittens. They were spherical and soft, with no finger slots, effectively turning his hands into useless clubs.
“There,” Lexi said, cinching the Velcro straps tight around his wrists. “No more scratching or grabbing.”
Next came the diaper. It was thick, crinkly, and enormous, printed with little yellow duckies. Tim cried out in protest, his face burning with a mix of rage and humiliation as they hoisted his hips and taped the plastic wings tight. Over that, they threw a frilly pink dress with white lace around the collar and puff sleeves.
“You look adorable!” Emma cooed.
“Let me go!” he shouted, but his voice was drowned out as they hoisted him up. Despite his thrashing, they carried him to the highchair. With a heavy clack, the tray was swung down and locked into place, trapping him in the seat.
The door opened, and Kate walked in. She was no longer behind the desk; she was holding a small tray. On it sat a pacifier, but it was unlike any Tim had ever seen. The shield was wide and pink, but the nipple was replaced with a hyper-realistic, three-inch-long erect pen-is made of soft, veined silicone.
Tim’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.
“Let me go you bitches, get that thing away from—MMPPHH!”
His sentence vanished as Kate leaned forward and expertly shoved the coc-k-shaped pacifier into his mouth. It was thick, filling his oral cavity completely, forcing his jaw to stay open in a permanent stretch. Before he could spit it out, Kate pulled a black elastic strap from the sides of the shield and fastened it tightly around the back of his head.
“No more talking for the baby girl,” Kate said, leaning down until her nose almost touched his. She flicked the silicone tip of the pacifier.
“It’s made of a special material. It feels just like the real thing, doesn’t it? Soft, yet firm.”
Tim let out a muffled scream, his eyes darting frantically. He pulled at his restraints, his mittened hands thudding uselessly against the highchair tray.
Kate hummed to herself and walked over to the pile of Tim’s discarded clothes. She picked up his jeans and pulled his wallet from the back pocket. She flipped it open, her eyes scanning his driver’s license. Slowly, her smirk faded. She looked at the ID, then back at Tim, then at the ID again.
“Oh,” Kate said softly. Her eyes went wide. “Lexi, Emma... come here.”
The two women hovered over her shoulder.
“What is it?” Lexi asked.
“This isn't him,” Kate said, holding up the ID.
“This is Timothy Miller. The client we were expecting is a forty-five-year-old CEO from Chicago. This kid is... twenty-one. He’s just a traveler.”
Lexi’s face fell. “You’re kidding. We made a mistake?”
Emma sighed, looking at Tim, who was currently making frantic, hopeful grunting sounds behind his pacifier. “Dammit. I was so excited for this. The order was so specific. Total regression, the special diet... everything was prepaid.”
Kate looked at Tim. She took a step toward him, her hand reaching for the strap of the pacifier to release him. Tim’s eyes lit up with a spark of hope.
But then, Lexi caught Kate’s wrist.
“Wait,” Lexi said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Think about the work we’ve already put in. The nursery is set up. The freezer is stocked. The client—the real one—clearly isn’t coming if he’s this late. And the payment? It’s non-refundable and huge. It’s sitting in our account right now.”
Kate paused. She looked at the highchair, at the small, helpless man dressed in lace and plastic. A slow, wicked grin spread across her face.
“You’re right,” Kate said, tucking Tim’s ID into her robe pocket. “And honestly? He fits the clothes better than the CEO would have.”
She walked back to Tim, patting his cheek condescendingly. “Lucky you, Timmy. You’re getting a real kinky treat, totally free of charge! But we can’t call you Tim anymore. That’s a man’s name. From now on, you’re our little Baby Tammy.”
Tim let out a desperate, guttural sob, but it was nothing more than a muffled vibration against the silicone coc-k in his mouth.
“He sounds hungry,” Emma noted. “Let’s get him to the breakroom.”
The highchair was on wheels. Lexi unlocked the casters and began pushing Tim out of the nursery and down the hall. He felt the vibration of the floor through the seat of his diaper, the humiliation of being paraded through the hall in a dress burning through him.
They entered a large, industrial-looking kitchen that doubled as a breakroom. Several other women were there, dressed in various states of undress, sipping coffee or scrolling on their phones. In the corner stood a massive industrial freezer. It had a hand-written sign taped to the front in bold, pink letters: SISSY BABY FOOD.
“Sit tight, Tammy,” Kate said, positioning him so he was facing away from the counters.
“We’ll have your food thawed out in no time!”
Lexi clapped her hands to get the attention of the other girls in the room. “Attention, everyone! Meet Baby Tammy. She’s going to be staying with us for the next three months!”
Tim’s heart stopped. Three months? The words echoed in his head like a death sentence. He wouldn’t just be here for the night. He would be here all summer.
The women in the breakroom gathered around, their expressions ranging from amusement to mockery.
“Look at those little legs,” one woman sneered, poking Tim’s thigh. “She’s so tiny.”
“She’s built like a doll,” another added, laughing. “She’s definitely made for this.”
Behind Tim, he heard a sharp beep-beep-beep. A microwave door swung open. A moment later, Kate reappeared in his line of sight, carrying a large pink plastic bowl.
Steam rose from it, carrying a heavy, musk-like scent that made Tim’s stomach turn.
She set the bowl on his tray. Tim looked down. The bowl was filled with a thick, translucent white goop. It was viscous, stringy, and pearlescent.
His eyes went wide as the realization hit him.
He knew that smell.
He knew that texture.
The bowl was full of semen.
“Time to introduce our sissy baby girl to her special diet,” Lexi said, reaching behind Tim’s head. She unstrapped the pen-is pacifier.
As soon as his mouth was free, Tim tried to scream. “Please! No! Don’t do this! I’m begging you, don’t feed me—”
“Open wide, Tammy!” Kate interrupted, her voice a mock-song.
She dipped a large plastic spoon into the goop, bringing up a dripping, globulous mountain of it. Tim clamped his teeth shut, tears streaming down his face.
“Don’t be a difficult baby,” Kate warned, her thumb and forefinger pinching his nose shut.
Tim held his breath as long as he could, but eventually, his lungs demanded air. As he gasped for a breath, Kate shoved the spoon deep into his mouth, dumping the warm, salty load onto his tongue.
Tim gagged instantly. The taste was overwhelming—salty, bitter, and cloyingly thick. It coated the back of his throat like slime. He tried to spit it out, but Kate held his chin up with one hand, and from behind him Lexi reached forward and massaged his throat forcing him to swallow. He felt the glob slide down his esophagus, a cold shiver of revulsion racking his frame.
“There we go!” Kate praised. “Every drop, now. We’ve been collecting and freezing the spunk of every client who’s visited over the last six months just for this! The client paid for a c-um-only diet, so that’s exactly what Tammy gets.”
Spoonful after spoonful followed. Tim’s world narrowed down to the rhythmic scraping of the plastic against the bowl and the horrific, repetitive act of swallowing the warm, bitter essence of a hundred strangers.
“It’s an acquired taste,” Lexi said, giggling as she wiped a stray drip of white slime from Tim’s chin. “It’s not so bad really. You’ll probably get used to it. Or maybe not.”
Emma then spoke cheerfully. “I wonder if you’ll feel a little tickle in your tummy with all those little sperm swimming around in there!?!”
When the bowl was finally empty, Tim was trembling, his stomach churning with the heavy, protein-rich load. Kate didn’t give him a moment to recover. She immediately shoved the coc-k-pacifier back into his mouth, stretching his jaw once more, and tightened the strap.
“Good girl,” she whispered.
They wheeled him to the other side of the breakroom, where a large, heavy-duty playpen had been set up. The sides were nearly four feet high, made of reinforced mesh and plastic. Inside, the floor was covered in a confusing jumble of objects: colorful plastic blocks, rattles, and plushies mixed with a dozen realistic silicone dil-dos of varying sizes and colors.
Emma lifted Tim out of the highchair—his diaper crinkling loudly—and dropped him into the playpen. He landed hard on the padded mat. Lexi shut the gate and clicked a heavy latch into place.
“Have fun with your toys, Tammy! We have to get back to work,” Kate said.
The group of women dispersed, leaving Tim alone in the corner of the room. He sat there, mittened hands useless, the taste of semen still lingering in the back of his throat. He looked at the "toys" around him. A blue rattle lay next to a ten-inch black dil-do. The juxtaposition was a nightmare.
A few hours passed. Tim tried to climb the mesh, but the mittens made it impossible to get a grip. He was trapped. Eventually, a new group of sex workers he hadn’t seen before entered for their break.
A tall blonde in six-inch heels spotted him and let out a high-pitched squeal. “Oh my god! Is this the new sissy baby?”
She hurried over, leaning over the rail of the playpen. “You are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen! Look at those big, sad eyes!”
Tim made a desperate “Mmmpph!” sound, shaking his head.
“Oh, don’t be shy,” the blonde said, reaching down to tickle his ribs. “You’re not a real man, are you? No, you were made to be our little toy.”
The other women joined her, leaning over the gate.
“I heard she doesn’t even eat real food,” one said, smirking. “Just a little c-um-bucket in a dress.”
“She looks so much better like this than she ever could as a boy.”
They laughed and headed toward the kitchen. The blonde, however, stayed behind. “You must be hungry again, Tammy. It’s been hours since your dinner.”
She went to the fridge and returned with a baby bottle. Instead of milk, it was filled with more of the thick, white fluid. The nipple was shaped like a small, realistic coc-k.
Tim scrambled to the corner of the playpen, but the blonde simply unlatched the gate and stepped inside. She was much stronger than she looked. She scooped him up, sitting on the floor and pinning him across her lap. Tim thrashed, but she held him with a firm, practiced grip.
She undid the pacifier strap, and before he could breathe, she jammed the bottle’s nipple into his mouth.
“Drink up, you pathetic little sissy,” she whispered, tilting the bottle back. “This is all you are now. A place for us to put the leftovers.”
Tim was forced to suc-kle, the warm, salty spunk pumping into his mouth. He choked and sputtered, but she didn't stop until the bottle was bone-dry.
When she was finished, she replaced the pacifier, cinched it tight, and dumped him back onto the mat. She picked up a large, veined dil-do from the floor and plopped it into his lap. “Play nice, Tammy,” she mocked before latching the gate and leaving.
The neon sign above the entrance flickered with a rhythmic hum, casting a sickly pink glow over the rain-slicked pavement. Tim, twenty-one and barely five-foot-five, adjusted the strap of his duffel bag. He was exhausted. A wrong turn on a cross-country move had landed him in this nameless district, and all he wanted was a shower and a bed. The building looked upscale enough—heavy mahogany doors, gold trim, and a subtle scent of expensive perfume wafting from the vents.
He pushed inside, the heavy doors muffling the sound of the storm. The lobby was dim, lit by recessed crimson lights. Behind a marble-topped desk sat a woman who looked like she’d stepped off a high-fashion runway, if that runway were in the heart of the Red Light District. Kate, a striking woman in her mid-thirties with dark, sharp eyes and a smile that didn't quite reach them, wore a translucent lace robe that left very little to the imagination.
“Hi, I’m looking for a room for the night—” Tim began, his voice cracking slightly from fatigue.
Kate’s eyes locked onto him, scanning his small frame and youthful face. Before he could finish his sentence, she let out a delighted trill of laughter. “Oh, sweetie, there’s no need for the formal introduction. We’ve been expecting you for hours!”
Tim blinked, his brow furrowing. “Expecting me? I think there’s been a mistake. I just saw the sign outside and—”
Kate leaned over the desk, her laughter bubbling again. She ignored his confusion entirely, her gaze shifting to a doorway behind her. “Emma! Lexi! He’s finally here! Our special client has arrived!”
Two more women emerged from the shadows of the hallway. Emma was tall and athletic, wearing a black leather corset, while Lexi was petite with neon-pink hair and a mischievous glint in her eyes. They both looked Tim up and down with predatory hunger.
“Oh, he’s even smaller than I thought,” Lexi giggled, clapping her hands. “He’s going to be perfect.”
“Wait, wait,” Tim said, stepping back as the women approached. “I’m not a special client. I’m just Tim. I think you have me confused with someone else.”
“Don’t be shy, darling,” Emma said, her voice a low purr. She caught his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “The nerves are all part of the experience. We know exactly what you need.”
Tim’s confusion began to turn into a low-grade panic, but as the women flanked him, his brain struggled to process the situation. He realized, with a jolt of heat to his face, that these women were sex workers, but the way they were handling him felt less like a service and more like a kidnapping. He tried to pull away, but they were practiced and efficient, guiding him—almost dragging him—down a long, plushly carpeted hallway.
“Seriously, I’m not who you think I am!” Tim protested, his voice rising.
“Such a noisy little thing,” Kate called out from the desk, waving them off. “Take him to the Pink Suite. Get him settled into his new life.”
They turned a corner and pushed open a pair of double doors. Tim’s jaw dropped. The room didn’t look like a hotel suite. It was a massive, sprawling nursery, but everything was scaled for an adult. The walls were a soft, nauseating shade of peony pink. There was a giant white crib in the corner, a mountain of plush teddy bears, and a towering highchair bolted to the floor near a small table.
“What is this?” Tim gasped, his heart hammering against his ribs. “Let me go!”
He tried to bolt for the door, but Lexi tripped him with an expertly placed foot. As he stumbled onto the thick, soft carpet, Emma was on him in an instant.
“Time to get out of these dirty big-boy clothes,” Emma whispered, her fingers flying over the buttons of his shirt.
Tim scrambled, kicking his legs, but Lexi sat on his shins, pinning him down. “Look at him struggle! It’s like a little puppy,” she laughed, her voice bright and cruel.
They stripped him with terrifying speed. His jeans, his shirt, even his underwear were tossed into a corner. Tim shivered, feeling small and exposed under the bright nursery lights. Before he could even cover himself, they were forcing his arms into thick, padded mittens. They were spherical and soft, with no finger slots, effectively turning his hands into useless clubs.
“There,” Lexi said, cinching the Velcro straps tight around his wrists. “No more scratching or grabbing.”
Next came the diaper. It was thick, crinkly, and enormous, printed with little yellow duckies. Tim cried out in protest, his face burning with a mix of rage and humiliation as they hoisted his hips and taped the plastic wings tight. Over that, they threw a frilly pink dress with white lace around the collar and puff sleeves.
“You look adorable!” Emma cooed.
“Let me go!” he shouted, but his voice was drowned out as they hoisted him up. Despite his thrashing, they carried him to the highchair. With a heavy clack, the tray was swung down and locked into place, trapping him in the seat.
The door opened, and Kate walked in. She was no longer behind the desk; she was holding a small tray. On it sat a pacifier, but it was unlike any Tim had ever seen. The shield was wide and pink, but the nipple was replaced with a hyper-realistic, three-inch-long erect pen-is made of soft, veined silicone.
Tim’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.
“Let me go you bitches, get that thing away from—MMPPHH!”
His sentence vanished as Kate leaned forward and expertly shoved the coc-k-shaped pacifier into his mouth. It was thick, filling his oral cavity completely, forcing his jaw to stay open in a permanent stretch. Before he could spit it out, Kate pulled a black elastic strap from the sides of the shield and fastened it tightly around the back of his head.
“No more talking for the baby girl,” Kate said, leaning down until her nose almost touched his. She flicked the silicone tip of the pacifier.
“It’s made of a special material. It feels just like the real thing, doesn’t it? Soft, yet firm.”
Tim let out a muffled scream, his eyes darting frantically. He pulled at his restraints, his mittened hands thudding uselessly against the highchair tray.
Kate hummed to herself and walked over to the pile of Tim’s discarded clothes. She picked up his jeans and pulled his wallet from the back pocket. She flipped it open, her eyes scanning his driver’s license. Slowly, her smirk faded. She looked at the ID, then back at Tim, then at the ID again.
“Oh,” Kate said softly. Her eyes went wide. “Lexi, Emma... come here.”
The two women hovered over her shoulder.
“What is it?” Lexi asked.
“This isn't him,” Kate said, holding up the ID.
“This is Timothy Miller. The client we were expecting is a forty-five-year-old CEO from Chicago. This kid is... twenty-one. He’s just a traveler.”
Lexi’s face fell. “You’re kidding. We made a mistake?”
Emma sighed, looking at Tim, who was currently making frantic, hopeful grunting sounds behind his pacifier. “Dammit. I was so excited for this. The order was so specific. Total regression, the special diet... everything was prepaid.”
Kate looked at Tim. She took a step toward him, her hand reaching for the strap of the pacifier to release him. Tim’s eyes lit up with a spark of hope.
But then, Lexi caught Kate’s wrist.
“Wait,” Lexi said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Think about the work we’ve already put in. The nursery is set up. The freezer is stocked. The client—the real one—clearly isn’t coming if he’s this late. And the payment? It’s non-refundable and huge. It’s sitting in our account right now.”
Kate paused. She looked at the highchair, at the small, helpless man dressed in lace and plastic. A slow, wicked grin spread across her face.
“You’re right,” Kate said, tucking Tim’s ID into her robe pocket. “And honestly? He fits the clothes better than the CEO would have.”
She walked back to Tim, patting his cheek condescendingly. “Lucky you, Timmy. You’re getting a real kinky treat, totally free of charge! But we can’t call you Tim anymore. That’s a man’s name. From now on, you’re our little Baby Tammy.”
Tim let out a desperate, guttural sob, but it was nothing more than a muffled vibration against the silicone coc-k in his mouth.
“He sounds hungry,” Emma noted. “Let’s get him to the breakroom.”
The highchair was on wheels. Lexi unlocked the casters and began pushing Tim out of the nursery and down the hall. He felt the vibration of the floor through the seat of his diaper, the humiliation of being paraded through the hall in a dress burning through him.
They entered a large, industrial-looking kitchen that doubled as a breakroom. Several other women were there, dressed in various states of undress, sipping coffee or scrolling on their phones. In the corner stood a massive industrial freezer. It had a hand-written sign taped to the front in bold, pink letters: SISSY BABY FOOD.
“Sit tight, Tammy,” Kate said, positioning him so he was facing away from the counters.
“We’ll have your food thawed out in no time!”
Lexi clapped her hands to get the attention of the other girls in the room. “Attention, everyone! Meet Baby Tammy. She’s going to be staying with us for the next three months!”
Tim’s heart stopped. Three months? The words echoed in his head like a death sentence. He wouldn’t just be here for the night. He would be here all summer.
The women in the breakroom gathered around, their expressions ranging from amusement to mockery.
“Look at those little legs,” one woman sneered, poking Tim’s thigh. “She’s so tiny.”
“She’s built like a doll,” another added, laughing. “She’s definitely made for this.”
Behind Tim, he heard a sharp beep-beep-beep. A microwave door swung open. A moment later, Kate reappeared in his line of sight, carrying a large pink plastic bowl.
Steam rose from it, carrying a heavy, musk-like scent that made Tim’s stomach turn.
She set the bowl on his tray. Tim looked down. The bowl was filled with a thick, translucent white goop. It was viscous, stringy, and pearlescent.
His eyes went wide as the realization hit him.
He knew that smell.
He knew that texture.
The bowl was full of semen.
“Time to introduce our sissy baby girl to her special diet,” Lexi said, reaching behind Tim’s head. She unstrapped the pen-is pacifier.
As soon as his mouth was free, Tim tried to scream. “Please! No! Don’t do this! I’m begging you, don’t feed me—”
“Open wide, Tammy!” Kate interrupted, her voice a mock-song.
She dipped a large plastic spoon into the goop, bringing up a dripping, globulous mountain of it. Tim clamped his teeth shut, tears streaming down his face.
“Don’t be a difficult baby,” Kate warned, her thumb and forefinger pinching his nose shut.
Tim held his breath as long as he could, but eventually, his lungs demanded air. As he gasped for a breath, Kate shoved the spoon deep into his mouth, dumping the warm, salty load onto his tongue.
Tim gagged instantly. The taste was overwhelming—salty, bitter, and cloyingly thick. It coated the back of his throat like slime. He tried to spit it out, but Kate held his chin up with one hand, and from behind him Lexi reached forward and massaged his throat forcing him to swallow. He felt the glob slide down his esophagus, a cold shiver of revulsion racking his frame.
“There we go!” Kate praised. “Every drop, now. We’ve been collecting and freezing the spunk of every client who’s visited over the last six months just for this! The client paid for a c-um-only diet, so that’s exactly what Tammy gets.”
Spoonful after spoonful followed. Tim’s world narrowed down to the rhythmic scraping of the plastic against the bowl and the horrific, repetitive act of swallowing the warm, bitter essence of a hundred strangers.
“It’s an acquired taste,” Lexi said, giggling as she wiped a stray drip of white slime from Tim’s chin. “It’s not so bad really. You’ll probably get used to it. Or maybe not.”
Emma then spoke cheerfully. “I wonder if you’ll feel a little tickle in your tummy with all those little sperm swimming around in there!?!”
When the bowl was finally empty, Tim was trembling, his stomach churning with the heavy, protein-rich load. Kate didn’t give him a moment to recover. She immediately shoved the coc-k-pacifier back into his mouth, stretching his jaw once more, and tightened the strap.
“Good girl,” she whispered.
They wheeled him to the other side of the breakroom, where a large, heavy-duty playpen had been set up. The sides were nearly four feet high, made of reinforced mesh and plastic. Inside, the floor was covered in a confusing jumble of objects: colorful plastic blocks, rattles, and plushies mixed with a dozen realistic silicone dil-dos of varying sizes and colors.
Emma lifted Tim out of the highchair—his diaper crinkling loudly—and dropped him into the playpen. He landed hard on the padded mat. Lexi shut the gate and clicked a heavy latch into place.
“Have fun with your toys, Tammy! We have to get back to work,” Kate said.
The group of women dispersed, leaving Tim alone in the corner of the room. He sat there, mittened hands useless, the taste of semen still lingering in the back of his throat. He looked at the "toys" around him. A blue rattle lay next to a ten-inch black dil-do. The juxtaposition was a nightmare.
A few hours passed. Tim tried to climb the mesh, but the mittens made it impossible to get a grip. He was trapped. Eventually, a new group of sex workers he hadn’t seen before entered for their break.
A tall blonde in six-inch heels spotted him and let out a high-pitched squeal. “Oh my god! Is this the new sissy baby?”
She hurried over, leaning over the rail of the playpen. “You are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen! Look at those big, sad eyes!”
Tim made a desperate “Mmmpph!” sound, shaking his head.
“Oh, don’t be shy,” the blonde said, reaching down to tickle his ribs. “You’re not a real man, are you? No, you were made to be our little toy.”
The other women joined her, leaning over the gate.
“I heard she doesn’t even eat real food,” one said, smirking. “Just a little c-um-bucket in a dress.”
“She looks so much better like this than she ever could as a boy.”
They laughed and headed toward the kitchen. The blonde, however, stayed behind. “You must be hungry again, Tammy. It’s been hours since your dinner.”
She went to the fridge and returned with a baby bottle. Instead of milk, it was filled with more of the thick, white fluid. The nipple was shaped like a small, realistic coc-k.
Tim scrambled to the corner of the playpen, but the blonde simply unlatched the gate and stepped inside. She was much stronger than she looked. She scooped him up, sitting on the floor and pinning him across her lap. Tim thrashed, but she held him with a firm, practiced grip.
She undid the pacifier strap, and before he could breathe, she jammed the bottle’s nipple into his mouth.
“Drink up, you pathetic little sissy,” she whispered, tilting the bottle back. “This is all you are now. A place for us to put the leftovers.”
Tim was forced to suc-kle, the warm, salty spunk pumping into his mouth. He choked and sputtered, but she didn't stop until the bottle was bone-dry.
When she was finished, she replaced the pacifier, cinched it tight, and dumped him back onto the mat. She picked up a large, veined dil-do from the floor and plopped it into his lap. “Play nice, Tammy,” she mocked before latching the gate and leaving.
3
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Failed and Faulty
« Last post by Baby Mac on Yesterday at 10:52:34 PM »
It looks like the conditioning is taking hold. Please write more its going fantastic!
4
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Failed and Faulty
« Last post by ace on Yesterday at 08:06:41 PM »
A brief comment. I shall not be selling my stories commercially, nor will I use this wonderful site to tease my readers with extracts that require payment to see the ending.
Thank you for all the wonderful feedback as it keeps me motivated!
Thanks you for all your contributions Antonia, we've had a pretty good run before people started taking advantage, unfortunately I don't believe anyone has permissions to moderate the board since Betty's passing, I know that he would have deleted any posts that attempted to make profit via this board. Similarly he would have deleted the recent posts with contact information.
Let's hope it doesn't degenerate any further, and the loyal poster's like yourself continue in his memory.
Ace
5
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Failed and Faulty
« Last post by Nappysteve on Yesterday at 05:59:39 AM »
Ok Apoligises to All. Won't happen AGAIN.Steve UK
6
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Failed and Faulty
« Last post by BabyJay on Yesterday at 05:27:19 AM »
Antonia, thank you for another delightful episode. I totally agree with you about the commercial aspect, that Author is now on my blacklist. I also feel sorry for Nappysteve and hope He finds comfort soon. Look forward to next episodes of Andy's demise into complete Babyhood.
7
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Failed and Faulty
« Last post by SissyMichaela on Yesterday at 05:05:54 AM »
Steve, this is NOT A DATING PORTAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
8
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Failed and Faulty
« Last post by Nappysteve on Yesterday at 04:27:15 AM »
Hi again any guys in UK into Terry Nappies, Plastic Pants, Rompers, dummy, bibs call me 077 140 34435. I am genuine AB guy. Text 1st if you want. Steve UK
9
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Failed and Faulty
« Last post by Nappysteve on Yesterday at 04:23:32 AM »
Antonia, thanks for this. My week-ends are spent in thick Terry Nappies, Plastic Pants, AB rompers, adult-size plastic bibs, bottles, dummy etc. So thanks for this update. It's 9.20am here in UK so it's times get out my thick Night-time Terry Nappies and Plastic Pants. And after shower I have double Terry Nappies and fresh Plastic Pants for after my shower. It will be another week-end in thick Terry Nappies and Plastic Pants etc. A must for AB guys. Please keep updating this story. Steve in UK
10
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Failed and Faulty
« Last post by antonia on Yesterday at 02:12:12 AM »
A brief comment. I shall not be selling my stories commercially, nor will I use this wonderful site to tease my readers with extracts that require payment to see the ending.
Thank you for all the wonderful feedback as it keeps me motivated!
Chapter 6
Andy felt almost joyful as he pulled the plastic pants up over his nappy. He felt safe and secure but there was something missing and it was the feeling known by any addiction. It was far worse than just a simple yearning, it was the fix needed by a smoker, the first drink of the day of an alcoholic. What was that desire that was eating in to him? His eyes scoured the kitchen, he saw bottle nipples in the steriliser, and they called out to him, but then his eyes fell on to a clear plastic box with a collection of brightly coloured dummies that had been cleaned and dried. He almost ran to the box, removed the lid and chose a bright pink soother. He had his doe-di, his comforter, his binkie, his pacifier - he knew it by so many names. How could this have happened? The silicon teat filled his mouth, the plastic guard completely covered his lips and it rendered any chance of speech impossible. He suc-ked it furiously and the anxiety of his failing escape seemed to diminish as the soother bobbed in and out.
He resumed his search for keys, for anything that might help him. Olivia’s white T-shirt barely covered the waist band of his plastic pants which rustled reassuringly as he searched every drawer and cupboard. His last six weeks of confinement in his cot had left him extremely weak and all the adrenaline fuelled activity had taken a huge toll on his stamina. Olivia had completely baby-proofed the house and he realised he was defeated. He picked up a nappy from the pile on the table, it felt so soft, so beautifully white and fluffy. He buried his head into its enticing embrace and breathed in its babyish fragrance, comforted by its feel on his cheek.
Clutching his new comforter to his cheek, he staggered back towards the stairs. He fell to his knees as his strength ebbed away. He crawled up the stairs and hadn’t the strength to stand back up. He continued his journey back to the nursery as a baby, he didn’t have the strength to be a toddler. He reached the cot and kneeled at the side of the lowered cot rail as if in prayer. He felt a discomfort in his stomach and then realised that he was about to soil his nappy, but for some reason this seemed perfectly normal, indeed it was almost comforting. He felt the back of his nappy being a resistance to his elimination and eventually a warm mass slumped out and to his horror the feeling brought him huge pleasure. He felt proud of what he had achieved.
His last effort was to haul himself back into his cot and cover himself in the soft woollen blanket. His eyes struggled to stay open but he quickly succ-umbed to slumber. The nanny cam in the teddy on the shelf watched Andy’s every move.
K
Olivia was furious, her nanny had let her down badly and hadn’t even had the courtesy to call or explain her absence. She had ignored all her phone calls.
Thank you for all the wonderful feedback as it keeps me motivated!
Chapter 6
Andy felt almost joyful as he pulled the plastic pants up over his nappy. He felt safe and secure but there was something missing and it was the feeling known by any addiction. It was far worse than just a simple yearning, it was the fix needed by a smoker, the first drink of the day of an alcoholic. What was that desire that was eating in to him? His eyes scoured the kitchen, he saw bottle nipples in the steriliser, and they called out to him, but then his eyes fell on to a clear plastic box with a collection of brightly coloured dummies that had been cleaned and dried. He almost ran to the box, removed the lid and chose a bright pink soother. He had his doe-di, his comforter, his binkie, his pacifier - he knew it by so many names. How could this have happened? The silicon teat filled his mouth, the plastic guard completely covered his lips and it rendered any chance of speech impossible. He suc-ked it furiously and the anxiety of his failing escape seemed to diminish as the soother bobbed in and out.
He resumed his search for keys, for anything that might help him. Olivia’s white T-shirt barely covered the waist band of his plastic pants which rustled reassuringly as he searched every drawer and cupboard. His last six weeks of confinement in his cot had left him extremely weak and all the adrenaline fuelled activity had taken a huge toll on his stamina. Olivia had completely baby-proofed the house and he realised he was defeated. He picked up a nappy from the pile on the table, it felt so soft, so beautifully white and fluffy. He buried his head into its enticing embrace and breathed in its babyish fragrance, comforted by its feel on his cheek.
Clutching his new comforter to his cheek, he staggered back towards the stairs. He fell to his knees as his strength ebbed away. He crawled up the stairs and hadn’t the strength to stand back up. He continued his journey back to the nursery as a baby, he didn’t have the strength to be a toddler. He reached the cot and kneeled at the side of the lowered cot rail as if in prayer. He felt a discomfort in his stomach and then realised that he was about to soil his nappy, but for some reason this seemed perfectly normal, indeed it was almost comforting. He felt the back of his nappy being a resistance to his elimination and eventually a warm mass slumped out and to his horror the feeling brought him huge pleasure. He felt proud of what he had achieved.
His last effort was to haul himself back into his cot and cover himself in the soft woollen blanket. His eyes struggled to stay open but he quickly succ-umbed to slumber. The nanny cam in the teddy on the shelf watched Andy’s every move.
K
Olivia was furious, her nanny had let her down badly and hadn’t even had the courtesy to call or explain her absence. She had ignored all her phone calls.
The more you give, the more I can give back.
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